“Ahhh, jeans and a t-shirt.”
“No, silly. Underneath.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said after a pause. “The weather’s beautiful.”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “I thought you were alone.”
“Nope.”
“Who’s with you?”
After another awkward pause, she said, “Um, Tommy. We were just going over the inventory.”
“Put him on for a minute,” Ty said. “I want to ask him a quick question.”
“Ah…his cell phone just beeped and he’s on a call.”
“Good. So tell me what you’re wearing.” He tipped back in the seat and imagined Jill in her office. Naked.
“Oh, gosh, Meredith’s here and she needs me in the restaurant. I’ve got to go.”
His chair hit the floor. “Okay. Call me later?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
“I love you,” he said before he realized she’d hung up. He sat listening to the dial tone and felt everything in his world start to tip. He was losing her. He’d been gone just long enough for her to realize she didn’t need him in her life. He rubbed his chest where it began to ache, just above his heart.
His dad wasn’t scheduled to come off bed rest for another four days. Ty could envision living every one of those ninety-six hours on the edge of sanity. He’d never make it.
He shot to his feet and barreled out the door, toward the back where a pile of pebble rock waited to be spread. He tugged his shirt off, reached for the shovel, and put his body to work. No way was he going to sit around and worry for four solid days.
Chapter 38
“There it is,” Jill said and pointed to the raft shop entrance. “Up ahead on the right.”
Her dad eased off the gas and set the turn signal.
“Thank the Lord,” Bobbie said from the back seat. “I’m so ready to get out of this truck.”
Jill yanked the visor down and scowled when she realized it didn’t have a mirror. She turned in her seat to face her mom. “How do I look?”
“Oh, sweetie. You look beautiful. And nervous.”
“I am. What if he’s not happy to see me? What if he feels bombarded?”
Jill’s dad laid a hand on her knee. “In my experience, a man doesn’t ask a woman to marry him if there’s any chance he’s going to change his mind.”
“I know, but—Oh, God. There’s his dad’s car. He’s here.”
“Isn’t that why we just drove fifteen hundred miles?” Gary asked. “Where should I pull this thing?”
“Over there,” Jill said. “Out of the way of the main thoroughfare.”
Gary stopped and put the truck into park.
“Where do you think he is?” Jill asked.
“You’re never going to figure it out sitting here,” her mom said. “Get out of the car, Jill, and go find him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jill opened the door, glanced at both of her parents, who looked back at her with expectant faces, and closed the door. She turned around and faced the two buildings. From Ty’s pictures, she knew the larger of the two was the raft shop and office, and the smaller housed the restrooms and changing facility. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and carefully made her way toward the larger of the two buildings.
There were a handful of cars in the parking lot, but otherwise the place was quiet. She opened the door and walked hesitantly inside. Two teenaged girls whipped around from where they’d been leaning on the windowsill.
“Oh, sorry,” one of them said. “Girl moment.” She pointed with her thumb toward the window. “The owner’s son is working with his shirt off. His hotness cannot be overstated.”
Jill should have been jealous, but she found herself stepping to the counter, leaning over to try and get a peek. “Do you mind if I take a look?” she asked.
They waved her back and made room on the side of the window. Ty stood about twenty yards away, shoveling rocks in low-slung cargo shorts and work boots. His sweat drenched hair was plastered to his neck and the muscles of his back rippled with every movement. “Wow,” Jill said. “That is a sight to see.”
As if on cue, Ty stood up, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and tossed the shovel like a spear into the gravel pile. He ambled down to the river, sat on a boulder, and untied the laces of his work boots. He flung the socks to the ground before standing up and easing into the wide and meandering river. Jill’s mouth went dry and one of them, she’s not sure who, actually groaned.
“Do you have any towels?” Jill asked.
“Towels?” one of the girls said.
She nodded with her head toward the window. “He’ll need a towel when he gets out.”
“And you’re going to take him one?” the other asked as if Jill had suggested she strip naked and join him in the water. The thought had crossed her mind before she remembered her parents.
“If you don’t mind.”
The taller of the two reached under the counter and tossed Jill a fluffy yellow beach towel. “This I gotta see.”
Jill walked out the front door, around the building, and down the slope toward the boulder where Ty’s shoes sat abandoned. Her heart beat a steady drum in her chest and the cheerleader in her stomach began practicing her tumbling moves.
At the boulder, she stopped, clutching the towel to her chest, and stared. Ty had completely submerged himself in the thigh deep water and floated on the surface with his eyes closed. He looked so completely at peace she hated to disturb him.
He let out a huge breath, stood up, and shook his hair, spraying water droplets in an arc around him. When he pivoted and took a step to get out of the river, he looked up and saw Jill. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open, and blinked his eyes twice. When he dropped his hand to his belly, Jill’s heart soared.
“Jill?”
“I thought you might need this?” She held out the towel.
He bolted out of the water and up the bank, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her into his arms. Jill held on with everything she had, soaking her clothes in the process. She nuzzled her lips against his neck, drinking in the scent of his skin.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “How did you get here?”
He eased her onto her feet, ran his hands through her hair, and kissed her long and deep and so thoroughly she clung to his arms when they came up for air. “We brought your truck back. And the boat.”
“We?”
He jerked his head up and around, searching the parking lot. Jill watched the shock register on his face when he spotted her parents, standing arm in arm between the two buildings. “Your parents are here?”
She nodded while the cheerleader stomped in her stomach. “They wanted to meet your parents and see where we’ll be living.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders almost painfully. “Living? Does this mean…?”
She glanced up and met him stare for stare. “I’m accepting your marriage proposal, if the offer still stands.”
She was back in his arms before she even knew what happened, twirling in the air, the sound of his laughter ringing in her ears.
“Oh, God, Jill. I thought I was losing you.”
“What?”
“You were so distant when I called. I thought you were pulling away.”
“I was lying through my teeth. I’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“No more lies,” he said when he set her down. “My heart can’t take it.”
Jill’s mom and dad approached. “Is it safe to say hello?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Jennings.” Ty held out his hand after using the towel Jill handed him. “I’m totally blown away. Thank you for bringing Jill here.”
“We brought your truck, your boat, and Jill and I packed up all your things from the cabin,” Bobbie explained.
Ty’s grin went from ear to ear. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well,” Gary said, “you can tell me you’ll make my daughter happy.”
Ty tightened his hold on Jill’s shoulders. “I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life making sure I do.”
“That’s good enough for me, Bobbie,” her father said and turned to look at her mother. “What about you?”
“Is it good enough for Jill?” Bobbie asked.
“It’s everything,” Jill said as she turned into his arms. “I got everything I’ve ever wanted.”
About the Author
Christy Hayes writes romance and women’s fiction. She lives outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, two children, and two dogs.
Discover Other Romance & Women’s Fiction Titles by Christy Hayes
Angle of Incidence
Dodge the Bullet
Good Luck, Bad Timing & When Harry Met Sally
Heart of Glass
Misconception
Shoe Strings
The Accidental Encore
The Sweetheart Hoax
Connect with Christy Hayes Online
http://www.christyhayes.com
http://twitter.com/SeaHayes
If you enjoyed Mending the Line, please consider leaving an honest review at your point of purchase location.
Coming soon…Book 2 in the Golden Outfitter Series…Olivia Golden meets her match in Guiding the Fall!
Continue on to read the first chapter of the book that started it all: Shoe Strings!
Shoe Strings
Every second of the last ten years disappeared when Angelita Barros drove up to her boutique and saw her father fingering the shoes she’d created, the same shoes that were making waves in the industry where names like Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo were synonymous with style and fashion. One look was all it took and she knew everything she’d built since the day he’d thrown her out of the house--her business, her success, her sanity--meant nothing. How dare he, after everything he’d done, after everything he hadn’t done, come trespass on the life she’d built despite him?
There was gray in his hair now, just a dash around the temples, and she saw a paunch around his beltline that hadn’t been there before, but everything else was the same. After all these years, she’d recognize Davi Barros anywhere. But what was he doing inside her store? Her shoes were fun, frilly, and fabulous, the tag line Atlanta Wears magazine intended to use in their upcoming spread. From flip-flops to low-heeled sandals to drop dead gorgeous three-inch heels, Angelita Feet was becoming the brand everybody wanted and the brand she wanted everyone to know about. Everyone but him.
Lita watched him smile at Sophie, her business partner and best friend, the only one who knew the sordid details of her past. To Sophie, Davi was no more than a stranger, a customer who deserved the best. If only Lita could warn her, tell her to throw him out, tell her not to reveal a single detail of her life to the man responsible for nearly crushing it. But she couldn’t risk exposing herself, so she peeled out of the parking lot and headed north, instead of south toward the airport and her planned vacation to Florida. Sophie wouldn’t tell her father anything, even if she didn’t know who he was. She’d never give a stranger, or the father she knew Lita hated, any personal information. But if he’d shown up at her shop after ten years of no contact, her father was up to something. Damn. Her beach vacation, in the span of seconds, had become a thing of the past. But where should she go?
Just drive, she told herself as she pulled onto I-85 and kept on going, past Atlanta’s affluent Buckhead community, beyond the edges of its perimeter highway and out beyond the teeming suburbs. She drove and drove until her need for a clear-cut plan forced her off the interstate. What now?
She pulled into a gas station and decided a clear plan called for a clear head and that meant caffeine. She purchased a large coffee and, back inside her car, pulled up a map of the southeast on her phone. Where could she hide for awhile until she figured out what to do? A Google search for mountain cabins in the Southeast brought her to a Web page advertising two cabins for rent by the week or month in western North Carolina. Owner Calvin Bloodworth answered on the second ring and the singsong melody of his voice sounded as peaceful to Lita as his description of the brook that ran through the property and the stunning bird’s-eye view the cabins offered.
Both cabins were available, as early March was before the official summer crunch, but only one was ready for occupancy. As the first caller of the season, Lita could rent the smaller cabin for as long as she liked. Since she’d chucked all common sense out the window when she peeled out of her boutique parking lot, she agreed to a two-week rental with an option for more. What better place to hide and figure out what her father was up to than a spot that promised the extremes of both quiet nature and adventure at a leisurely pace? Could it really only take two-and-a-half hours to get a lifetime away?
It wouldn’t be such a big deal to change her plans and stay away a week or so longer than she’d planned. The photo shoot for Atlanta Wears had taken two days and nearly twenty hours to complete. Angelita Feet was on the brink of expansion. Where she’d once thrown herself into work after losing the most important thing in her life, now she needed to come up for air. Her exhaustion, the looming decisions about her company, and her inability to design over the last few months had prompted her getaway. The reemergence of her estranged father simply meant a spontaneous change in plans.
She took the exit into the tiny riverfront town of Sequoyah Falls and wound her way through the old-fashioned two-block downtown and up a side street into the foothills. She passed mobile homes, log cabins, and small structures she could only describe as shacks tucked beside oceans of forests. The rich smell of pine sifted through the car’s windows along with the pungent aroma of the red clay earth. She couldn’t have been farther from her life in the city if she’d taken a shuttle to the moon.
The entrance to Bloodworth Cabins was marked with an overhanging wooden sign dangling between two enormous tree trunks and a drive that led straight up the mountainside. This, she mused as she geared down to low, was not a driveway she’d want to traverse in the winter. Around the second bend, the trees parted to reveal a wooden and stone structure as quaint as the footbridge that led to what looked like a storage shed. She pulled her car to a stop next to a late model Lincoln Towncar.
Two oversized cats greeted her as she got out of her SUV. One was a shiny black and the other a gray with brown stripes. Angelita wasn’t sure what to do when they began purring and rubbing furiously at her ankles. Just as she shook her ankle to dislodge the black cat, a tall man with a head full of windblown silver hair walked around the side yard onto the drive to welcome her. He wore fraying khaki pants, a well-washed golf shirt, and rubber boots.
“Angelita?” he asked and walked to within a few inches of her. He removed a soiled glove and offered his hand for a shake.
She nodded and placed her hand in his larger one. She could feel the calluses on the underside of his tanned grip. “Mr. Bloodworth. Thank you for letting me stay.”
“Thanks for inquiring. And since you’re going to be here awhile, you’d better call me Cal. I won’t think to answer to Mr. Bloodworth.” He flashed a crooked smile complete with dimples and a chiseled jaw. Lita grinned like a schoolgirl. Despite his age and shabby attire, Calvin Bloodworth was a devilishly handsome man.
“Please, call me Lita.” She turned to look over the crest of the property, shielding her eyes as the sun had finally burned away the morning fog. “You have a beautiful property, Cal. Your website doesn’t do it justice.”
“Thanks. I’ve enjoyed that view every day for the last thirty years. My wife and I moved up here in ‘74. Couldn’t see another living soul in any direction. Still just as peaceful now, even with the few cabins and homes that have popped up over the years.” He ran his hand through his mass of silver hair. “Tell the truth, I’m glad to have some neighbors around. Gets pretty lonely sometimes.”
“And your wife?”
“Oh, she passed eleven years ago next month. Cancer. Took her fast, mercifully fast.”
&
nbsp; “I’m very sorry.”
“She’s in a better place.” With a hand on his lower back, Cal arched into a stretch. “Way I’m feeling lately, won’t be too long before I’ll join her.”
Lita looked at Cal. He couldn’t have been more than sixty. How could someone as virile and robust looking be near death? “Are you ill?”
Cal laughed, a deep-chested rumble that seemed to come all the way from his toes. “Just feeling my age.” He walked with her to the back of her car. “You got some luggage I can help you carry?”
Lita struggled with the unfamiliar latch on the back of her new SUV and watched as Cal, despite his claim to be aging quickly, heaved her bursting-at-the-seams suitcase from the back as if it weighed no more than a sheet of paper. She gathered her cosmetics bag, shoe suitcase, and purse before trailing after him into the nearest cabin.
Cal set the heavy case down at the start of a small hallway. “You don’t travel light, do you, Lita?” he said with a huff.
As she looked at the mountain of suitcases at their feet, she had to agree. “I’m a shoe designer. I’m afraid most of these are filled to the brim with shoes.”
He looked down at the zebra print wedges she’d slipped on that morning. “Oh, well…” Men were always at a loss when it came to her line of work and most were surprised at her success. Few would believe the humble beginnings that had inspired her first creation.
The Mommy Sandal, she’d called it. At seventeen, seven months pregnant, and no longer able to reach her toes, much less see them, her feet were a size and a half larger than normal and swelling in Atlanta’s signature summer humidity. Because none of her shoes would fit and she didn’t have the money for new ones, she attached an adjustable watchstrap to her dollar store flip-flops and managed to ease both her comfort and her bank account as word of the pregnancy shoes spread.
Mending the Line Page 22
