by Lori Foster
They sat in prolonged silence. Boone picked at a loose chip of wood in the dock. She watched his hands.
With a groan, Sunshine rolled to her back and let her head drop toward April. Her tongue hung out, her eyes a little silly. As she watched April, her tail started to thump.
“Yeah,” Boone said, rubbing the dog’s chest, “you pick up on things, don’t you, girl? Always have.”
It bothered her, seeing Boone like this. Had she hurt him without knowing? Was it possible that day had been as difficult for him as it had been for her?
She’d still been here with her family and friends—but he’d moved away from everything familiar, under the worst possible circumstances. Even knowing she shouldn’t, April couldn’t resist. “What else does she know?”
He continued stroking the dog, but said softly, “It wasn’t just that day that’s special to me.” Boone met her gaze. “You’re pretty damned special, too.”
CHAPTER THREE
COULD THAT BE TRUE?
It was so very tempting to believe him. Tempting—and scary because she wanted it so much.
She needed to leave before she said or did things she might later regret. Like grab him, kiss him and tell him he was just as special to her.
This was way too soon, her first visit with him in years, and yet...it felt so right.
But she wasn’t eighteen anymore. She had to be responsible, thoughtful, and that meant taking it slow.
“I’m glad you’re home, Boone.”
Expression arrested, he asked, “But?”
“But,” she repeated, “there’s no rush, right? You’re home to stay, so we’ll see each other?”
“Count on it.”
Oh, the way he said that, a heated promise filled with resolve. Her bare toes curled, and her stomach gave an excited flip. “Okay, then.” She looked out at the sun. If she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t get home in time for her date—a date she really wished she could skip. “I should go.”
He nodded, rolling to his feet and offering her his hand.
As she stood, she said, “Thank you for keeping that day secret.”
“Thank you for coming by to see me.”
Darn it, now she felt guilty. With an exaggerated wince, she said, “I didn’t come to be nice.”
“I know.” He grinned, and seeing it made her really want to stay. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you came by. I think we’ve cleared the air a little, and eventually you’ll let me take you out.”
“You’re sure of that, huh?”
“You and me,” he said, pointing back forth. “We’re meant to be.”
* * *
PHILLIP DOWNEY WASN’T her idea of a hot date on any day of the week. But after visiting Boone?
April kept wondering what she was doing here, sitting across the table from him, struggling through meaningless conversation.
He snapped his fingers at Dawn, their waitress. It was a nasty habit that annoyed April. To counter that, she smiled and said, “When you have a second, Dawn, we’re ready to order.”
Dawn winked. “Two minutes.”
“Two minutes,” Phillip grumbled. “It’s already been five. I don’t know why you wanted to eat in this dive. We could have gone outside Buckhorn for some real food.”
April resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You asked me where I’d like to go. Well, this is it.” Celia, a longtime family friend, still owned the diner, but it was mostly run by others now. The place had a lot going for it, including being nearby—meaning she’d spend less time in Phillip’s company—with lots of friends and neighbors as customers, and her favorite pecan pie.
Wearing a horrified expression, Phillip said, “The menu is sticky.”
Okay, that did make her roll her eyes. She took it from him, looked it over and said, “It’s a tiny bit of coffee, probably from the last customer.” She used her own napkin to wipe off the laminated front. “There, good as new.”
He started to say more, but Dawn hurried over. “Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”
“Water would be nice.”
Dawn wore a strained smile. “Of course.” She turned to April. “Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact...” April gave her entire meal and drink order to save Dawn from two trips. Put on the spot, Phillip had to do the same—but he took his own sweet time about it, acting like nothing on the menu was up to his culinary standards before finally settling on soup and salad with sugar-free tea.
It was almost laughable since April ordered a loaded cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake.
Once Dawn left, Phillip reached across the table for her hand. April tried to withdraw it, but she wasn’t fast enough.
He caught her, his grip firm—and sweaty.
While he tugged her hand uncomfortably over the table, she tried not to think about the clamminess of his palm. “So,” she said, hoping for an upbeat note. “How’ve you been?”
Given how he jumped on that mundane question, he’d been waiting for it.
“Successful, actually. I’ve done so well that I’ll be opening my own photography studio. Not here, of course. There’s not enough business in Buckhorn. I’m setting up just outside Louisville.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Thank God he’s not staying in Buckhorn. “Congratulations.” Again she tried to subtly free her hand.
Again, he held on, oblivious or uncaring of what she wanted. Locking his blue-eyed gaze on hers, he murmured, “If you’d like to advance your career—”
“Here you go.” Like an intervening angel, Dawn delivered their water, setting the glasses close to their hands—on purpose, April assumed, since it afforded her the opportunity for escape.
“Thank you.” She gratefully pulled free to grasp the glass. “Perfect timing.”
“Yeah, you looked...thirsty,” Dawn drawled with a knowing smirk. “I’ll have your food right out.”
Phillip scowled at her as she waltzed away. “She won’t be getting a tip.”
“She will from me,” April stated.
“Nonsense. This is my treat, and I refuse to reward bad service.”
April firmed her mouth. “I’m paying for my own meal.”
“What?” He sat back in affront. “I didn’t mean—”
“I insist.”
Wisely, Phillip gave up, but did so with ill grace. “Fine. Can’t be offending your feminist spirit, now, can I? Besides, I don’t want to argue about a few dollars.” He leaned forward. “I have an offer you can’t refuse.”
Want to bet? “We’ve been through this, Phillip.” Too many times to count. “I have plenty of business in the area.”
“Yes, for now. But if you came to work for me—”
I’d be a complete and utter fool. “Thank you,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear his pitch again. “Seriously, that’s so generous of you. But I’m happy here.”
Anger washed away his congenial expression. “Have you forgotten that I gave you your start?”
“Nope,” she said through tight lips. But I’ve regretted it every single day. She’d still been in college and a student in Phillip’s photography class when he’d recommended her to a family looking for an inexpensive photo shoot. He’d rightfully claimed that a portfolio would do her a world of good.
He’d been right. In fact, she’d gone on to do other shoots in exchange for adding photos to her online site. She’d rapidly gained popularity from her fun setups and ability to get good shots with kids and animals.
Most of her work was in and near Buckhorn, but she did travel to Louisville several times a year, as well as other neighboring cities.
Phillip gave her that first start, but she’d built her business and reputation on her own.
“I’ve told you many times that I appreciated the recommendation. However, that does
n’t obligate me to leave my hometown.”
“April, April,” he scolded. “You’re not thinking big enough. You’re destined for more than this Podunk town.”
“I love Buckhorn.” You obnoxious ass. God, this “date” was a mistake. “Plus, I have all the business I can handle.”
He leaned forward again, his gaze beseeching. “It’s not just your talent I’m interested in. You have to know that I—”
“Here’s your food!” Dawn sang, shoving Phillip’s plate in front of him and forcing him to sit back.
Snapping, he turned on Dawn. “You are the worst waitress—”
“Or the best,” April corrected. Depending on your perspective. “Thank you, Dawn. I’m starved.”
Phillip seethed, and for a moment it unsettled April. He looked genuinely furious, his chest rising and falling, his hands curled tight, all that antagonism aimed at Dawn as she departed yet again, heading to another table.
And that’s when April saw him.
At a booth on the other side of the restaurant, Boone sat eating. Alone.
He couldn’t have known she’d be here; she hadn’t told him where or what time her date would be.
Then again, the restaurant was one of the only places to eat in Buckhorn proper. If Boone hadn’t felt like cooking, this was where he’d go rather than driving out of town.
The sight of him sent her heartbeat racing.
Dressed in worn jeans, a snowy white T-shirt and sneakers, he concentrated on his food and ignored the glances he got from women in the diner. In fact, when Dawn stopped by to ask if he needed anything, Boone shook his head and politely thanked her, nothing more.
And Dawn was supercute.
He must have felt April staring because he glanced up and away—and then his gaze shot back to her.
He smiled—until his attention shifted to Phillip.
“Who is that?” Phillip asked suspiciously. “Why is he staring at us?”
Us? He’s staring at me, April wanted to sing.
God, she was easy. Boone gave her a look, and she nearly melted in her chair.
But I was only ever easy for him.
April looked away and managed a polite smile. “Boone Barton.” Fudging the truth just a bit, she explained, “He used to go to school here with my cousin Adam, but moved away when his dad became terminally ill. Now he’s moved back.”
“Why now?”
“His father passed and I guess this is home.” To get Phillip’s attention off Boone, she added, “These french fries are delicious. Do you want one?”
With a smarmy expression, he leaned forward and opened his mouth.
Oh gag.
He expected her to feed him?
Worse, she could feel Boone watching her again, taking in the scene with interest. The blush started up her chest and bloomed in her face.
Compromising, April stabbed a french fry with her fork and extended it to Phillip. He caught her wrist and slowly drew the bite toward his mouth.
Damn it, she didn’t want to do this, especially with the way he closed his eyes, doing his best to make the whole thing sexual and, in her opinion, failing miserably.
A gruff masculine laugh interrupted Phillip’s display. They both turned to see Boone coughing into his napkin. When he lowered his hand, he looked as somber as a coroner.
And he didn’t so much as glance their way.
“Let’s eat,” April said, pretending nothing had happened as she tucked into her burger.
If she wasn’t mistaken, Boone ate a meal identical to hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dip a fat fry in ketchup.
Phillip droned on about his amazing success, interspersed with complaints about the limp lettuce in his salad, the annoying weather, a past client and everything in between.
Occasionally nodding, April concentrated on consuming her food—and not staring at Boone.
But darn it, she kept seeing his face when he’d talked about his dad and it ate her up. He shouldn’t be sitting alone, not when he’d been back only a few days, not in his hometown.
At the same time, she was glad he didn’t have female company.
When she’d set out to see Boone earlier, she’d had a preconceived notion of how things would go. But this Boone...no, he wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
He was still angry but less cocky, still confident but also uncertain. She literally felt his desire for a home, for forgiveness from the past, for peace. In many ways he seemed wounded, and she couldn’t keep herself from reaching out to him, wanting to offer comfort.
No, she absolutely could not hook up with him...but she could be his friend, right?
* * *
IT WASN’T EASY, pretending not to care. Boone wanted to go to April, be by her side, proclaim to the diner—maybe all of Buckhorn—that she was his, and then toss her date to the curb.
What a clown.
The miserable putz was coming on strong, and the only thing that made it tolerable was that April kept shutting him down.
Then again, she’d shut him down, as well. The difference was that she kept peeking at him, and Boone would take that as a sign of interest.
Hell, even idle curiosity was something he could work with.
Just not now, not with the slobbery, bitchy dude occupying her time.
What the hell did she see in the guy? Trying to view him critically, Boone supposed he was attractive enough. Tall, superslim, blond—but not as blond as April—and blue-eyed, although the jerk’s eyes lacked the sparkle that April’s had.
She was a ten, easy.
The guy sitting across from her? Maybe a six if a person felt generous. Add to that his abrasive personality, and Boone seriously wanted to annihilate him.
Shoving the last french fry in his mouth, he finished his dinner and pulled out enough money to pay, with a generous tip. Dawn noticed and hustled over. The girl was cute, friendly, flirting...and not what he wanted.
He wanted April.
Only April.
Leaning a little too close to him, Dawn said, “Here’s your check. I can take your money when you’re ready.”
He handed her the bill. “Keep the change.”
“Hey, thanks.” Smiling, she lingered near him. “Everything was good?”
“It was perfect. Really hit the spot.”
“So you’ll come back to see us?”
Amused, Boone accepted that he couldn’t stand up until she moved. “Much better than eating another cold sandwich at home.”
Her eyes lashes lowered. So did her voice. “And where is home?”
Boone could feel April openly watching him now. Was she a tiny bit jealous?
Or just getting the wrong impression?
Shit. “My dad passed,” Boone explained. “Pierce Barton? I moved into his place in the cove.”
“I’m sorry to hear that about your father.” Her fingertips settled on his shoulder.
In another time, another life, he’d have been flattered.
Today, with a goal of winning over April? Not so much.
“Appreciate it.” She started to say more, but Boone edged out of his seat, forcing her to retreat a step. “I’m remodeling the place, so I better get back to it.” Plus, Sunshine would be waiting.
The dog was still getting used to their new home, and he tried not to leave her for long. She loved the outdoors and swimming in the lake, but hated it whenever he left.
She was used to hanging with his dad and uncle.
That thought plagued him as he headed toward the door, and on the way he felt April still watching him. Would it be rude to leave without saying anything? Probably.
He glanced at her, and saw it wasn’t only April looking.
The putz gave him the stink eye.
Challenge accepted, asshole.
Yes, Boone had outgrown a lot of things, but apparently this wasn’t one of them.
He smiled. “Hey, April. I see you made it home okay.”
Though it was obviously a dig at her date, the comment didn’t faze her, and she said, “Of course I did. Were there doubts?”
“It was a long way to paddle. You should have let me drive you.”
“Wait—” The dude looked between them, his ire rising. “When were you with him?”
Tilting her head, April said, “Not that it matters, but I welcomed him home earlier today.”
Scrawny shoulders tensing, the guy growled, “Define welcomed.”
A stillness settled over April.
Hell, it settled over everyone remaining in the diner, including Boone. Like a spark fed gasoline, the urge to come to her defense surged to life.
He didn’t move.
Women could be touchy about these things, taking a guy’s instinct to protect as overbearing, or a lack of faith in their own abilities. Boone was under no delusions. He couldn’t return one day and play her bodyguard the next.
He instinctively knew April wouldn’t like that.
So he locked his jaw and waited.
Nothing happened.
Utterly composed, April continued to stare at the guy, so long that he started to fidget.
Finally, the putz stammered, “I mean, you don’t have anything going on with him, right? You were just being neighborly?”
Now she slowly lifted one brow—and stared some more.
Wow, that death stare was damned effective.
Boone suddenly noticed that she wore a sundress, a gauzy, strappy little thing, white with tiny blue flowers.
She looked like an angel...with hellfire in her eyes.
It was sexy as fuck.
DA—because yeah, her date was a dumb ass, too—ran a hand over his face. “Look, I thought we could go back to my place.”
Boone’s eyes widened. Talk about a misstep. Did the idiot really consider it a good idea to drop that in there now?
April’s mouth twitched as if she might laugh. Gently, she said, “No, Phillip. That won’t be happening.” Lifting her purse to her lap and digging out some money, she tossed it on the table and rose.
