by Gina Wilkins
Deciding to fall back on the obvious, he nodded toward her sling. “How did you break your arm?”
Glancing downward, she shook her head. “It isn’t broken. Just a sprain. I’ll probably stop wearing the sling within a day or two.”
“I was in a sling myself until last week. Tore up my shoulder.” Among other things that he didn’t want to go into right now.
She glanced at the healing scar at his temple. “You were in an accident?”
“Yeah. Six weeks ago. But I’m almost completely recovered.” At least, that was what he hoped to convince his doctor in the next couple of weeks.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Abandoning the deck sniffing, Oscar approached Jake, standing on his hind legs to plant his front paws on Jake’s thigh in a blatant request for an ear scratching.
“You gave him food,” Stacy murmured. “You’re his new best friend.”
Obligingly patting the dog, Jake studied Stacy’s faint smile. She had a nice mouth. Soft and curvy. Perfect white teeth. He’d bet a full smile from her would be dazzling.
Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he thought of how striking they were. Such a light, clear gray-blue, surrounded by long, dark lashes.
He would like to hear her laugh. He’d bet her whole face lit up when she laughed, and her cool blue eyes warmed. He wondered what had happened to make her so guarded. Or was she just naturally reserved? She didn’t seem to be shy, exactly. But there was definitely an invisible wall around her.
“You have a nice place,” he said, nodding toward her cabin.
“It belongs to my brother, actually. He comes here almost every weekend during the summer, and fairly often in fall and winter.”
“I see.”
A brief silence fell between them, and then Stacy made an attempt to keep the awkward conversation going. “Do you own this cabin?”
“No. It belongs to a friend of mine. He’s letting me use it until I’ve recuperated enough to get back to work.”
“What do you do?” she asked, lifting her glass to take another sip of milk.
So she really didn’t recognize him. He hadn’t been sure until now. Not entirely unusual—some people just didn’t follow NASCAR. But because he was usually surrounded by friends and associates from within the sport, it had been a long time since he’d met anyone who had no clue who he was.
It was sort of refreshing, actually. Especially now, after his season had ended so heartbreakingly.
“I’m a driver,” he said, leaving her to make of that what she would.
She nodded. “My best friend’s husband drives a truck. Are you on the road all the time, like he is?”
He really should correct her misconstruction of what he did. But he found that he wasn’t quite ready to deal with that. Instead, he answered honestly, “Yes. I travel a lot in my work.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I love it,” he answered simply. He lived for it, he could have added. Racing was in his heart, his blood, every breath he took. But maybe that would sound just a bit too dramatic, he thought wryly.
“What do you do?” he asked, instead.
“I’m a freelance editor for a small publishing company. Mostly nonfiction—biographies and history and a few self-help books.”
“Now, that sounds interesting. Being freelance, I suppose you can set your own hours?”
“For the most part, though obviously I have to meet the publisher’s deadlines.”
“So you’re taking a little vacation this week?”
She gave a small shrug. “Like you, I’m recuperating here, even though I brought some work with me.”
“How did you hurt your arm?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t getting too personal, considering how private a person she seemed to be.
She gazed down into her glass of milk. “I fell.”
He got the distinct feeling that she was telling the truth—but not all of the truth. And because it was exactly what he’d done when she asked about his job, he frowned, wondering what her real story was.
Not that it was any of his business, of course, he reminded himself.
As he had earlier, she quickly changed the subject back to him, diverting attention away from herself. “You said you were in an accident. Was it on the job?”
“No, it was a boating accident,” he said, knowing his expression had gone grim. “Some fool showing off for his friends barreled without any warning into the boat I was driving. It was like he came out of nowhere. I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. But with the exercises I’ve been prescribed and a little more time, I’ve been assured I’ll recover completely, except for a few scars.”
And some very painful memories.
Her eyes were somber on his face. “Were you the only one in your boat?”
He spoke a bit gruffly, finding the words difficult to say, “No. A friend was with me. He was killed in the impact.”
She looked dismayed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Do you want another brownie?”
“No.” Setting her half-empty glass aside, she reached for Oscar’s leash. “I’d better get back to work,” she said, her expression still somber. “I have another couple of chapters I want to edit today.”
He nodded, relieved that she had let the subject of his accident drop. Maybe she had sensed that he didn’t really want to talk about it now. “Thanks again for the brownies. I’ll enjoy the rest of them while I’m here.”
“You’re welcome.” Clutching the leash in her good hand, she turned toward the steps.
“Stacy?” he said impulsively.
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Now that he’d stopped her, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d wanted to say. “Um, since your brother owns the cabin, I assume you’ve spent some time in these parts?”
She nodded. “I’ve been here many times.”
“Any recommendations for something a bored out-of-state visitor can do? I’m getting a pretty severe case of cabin fever.”
“There’s a lot to do around here. The obvious, of course, fishing. And hiking. And if you drive into Mountain View, about a half hour from here, there’s the Ozark Folk Center and Blanchard Springs Caverns and lots of quaint little shops and music shows.”
“All of that sounds great. Maybe you’d like to show me around one afternoon? If you don’t have anything better to do, that is.”
“Oh, I—”
He held up one hand to stop her, giving her an out before she had to come up with one. “I understand if you’re too busy with your work. You probably came here to get away from interruptions.”
“I did,” she agreed with a slight nod. “I’ve fallen a little behind.”
“No problem,” he assured her. “I can get around on my own.”
She started to take another step toward the edge of the deck. And then he heard her sigh lightly. She turned back around, her face oddly rueful now. “I can probably take off a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. If that’s—”
“That would be great,” he cut in with a big smile. “It will be nice to have the company. And Oscar’s welcome to come, of course.”
“After lunch, then? Say, one o’clock?”
“One o’clock,” he repeated. “I’ll be looking forward to it. And I promise to be on my very best behavior, so you won’t regret spending time with a perfect stranger.”
She smiled suddenly, and the way it transformed her face almost made him gulp. The change was even more dramatic—and more appealing—than he had imagined. “Are you saying you’re perfect, Jake?”
“Not even close,” he admitted, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But for tomorrow, I’ll make an effort.”
“Should be interesting,” she remarked, and finally left the deck, heading toward her brother’s cabin without looking back. Oscar bounded along at her feet.
“Should definitely be interesting,” he murmured, watching her go.
LATER THAT EVENING, St
acy sat in the living room of her brother’s cabin, a manuscript on her lap, and a cup of hot tea on the table by her side. She wasn’t paying much attention to either. Her gaze was focused on a side window, through which she could just see the lights from the cabin next door. Even after several hours had passed, she was still finding it hard to believe she had agreed to go sightseeing with Jake tomorrow afternoon.
There were so many reasons she should have declined. The fact that he was pretty much a stranger to her—a “perfect stranger,” as he had asserted—was primary among those reasons. She wasn’t usually so trusting.
She wasn’t comfortable making conversation with people she didn’t know. She supposed that was a throwback to her youth, when she had always worried about how much new acquaintances knew about her family. Specifically, the scandal that had rocked her family when she was twelve.
Her most recent brush with notoriety was even more incentive for her to keep to herself this week. Maybe Jake—it occurred to her only then that she didn’t know his last name—had missed the news coverage of her recent misadventure, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be recognized by someone else while they were out. And that would be awkward, to say the least.
So many reasons she should have said no. And only one why she’d said yes. It had been the bleak look in his eyes when he had told her about the accident in which he’d been injured and a friend had been killed.
He hadn’t embellished the explanation, had kept his voice steady and his expression unrevealing. But she had seen the suffering in his eyes and it had reminded her of the way he had looked sitting on his deck earlier. Sad. And alone. And before she could muzzle it, her too soft heart had made her blurt out an offer to be his tour guide the next afternoon.
She shook her head in self-reprimand. When was she going to learn to stop getting involved with other people’s problems?
Maybe she should consider therapy. At the very least, she should work harder at remaining detached. After all, she had come here this week to get away from other people and their requests—and darned if she hadn’t already met someone who appealed to that exasperatingly tenderhearted side of her!
She doubted that Jake would appreciate being seen as the object of her pity. She’d gotten the impression that he was accustomed to taking care of himself, for the most part, despite his quip about needing a whole crew to keep him out of trouble. After all, he had come here alone to recuperate. She doubted that a guy who looked like he did, with a smile like his, would be alone in a vacation cabin unless he wanted to be.
Apparently, he was beginning to rethink that decision. He’d looked forlorn when she had spotted him earlier, and he had invited her to have a brownie with him with almost humorous eagerness, even though she hadn’t been particularly encouraging to him.
Even his suggestion that they should spend some time together sightseeing tomorrow had seemed to be motivated more by loneliness and boredom than flirtation. As if he’d have been just as likely to befriend her brother, had he been the one staying next door this week.
Instead of feeling slighted by that possibility, Stacy found it rather a relief. She had enough feminine ego to secretly hope a good-looking man like Jake found her at least somewhat attractive, but she was in no mood for a vacation flirtation. She had far too much to worry about right now without adding that complication. Even making a new friend was awkward enough, since it would eventually lead to a conversation she just didn’t want to have.
But Jake had only asked her to show him around the area for an afternoon, she reminded herself. Just a few hours of pleasant companionship. A harmless diversion. It would probably be good for both of them to spend some time with another person, distracted from dwelling on the circumstances that had brought them into seclusion in the first place.
So she would go. She would be friendly and affable without encouraging anything more. He would go back to wherever he came from impressed with Arkansas hospitality, and she would have a nice afternoon to remember from her enforced vacation.
“A win-win situation,” she murmured aloud to reassure herself.
Asleep on the couch beside her, Oscar snorted softly.
CHAPTER THREE
JAKE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN particularly surprised if Stacy changed her mind about accompanying him Tuesday afternoon. She had definitely been skittish about accepting his spontaneous invitation, and he still wasn’t sure what had made her change her mind. Not that he was complaining. Looking forward to the outing with Stacy had given him a reason to get out of bed this morning.
He was pleased when she came out of her house to meet him promptly at one o’clock. She looked especially nice in a pretty pink top with jeans and wedge sandals that revealed pink toenail polish. Her brown hair fell in soft curls to just brush her slender shoulders.
Once again, it occurred to him that the word feminine seemed to suit her perfectly.
“You look nice,” he said, keeping his tone offhand since he didn’t want her to think he was making advances.
“Thank you.”
“Where’s Oscar?”
“He’s staying at home today. Since I thought you might like to go into some of the local shops and attractions, it’s better if Oscar isn’t with us. Don’t worry,” she added, “he’ll be fine. There’s a small fenced enclosure on the other side of my brother’s cabin and a little doggie door Oscar can use to go in and out when he needs to. My brother built it for his own two dachshunds, and Oscar is very comfortable with it.”
“Oscar doesn’t mind being alone?”
“Not for a few hours. He has food, water and his favorite toys, and I leave a television on for noise. He seems to like country music videos.”
Jake laughed. “Not what I would have expected from a prissy little Yorkie.”
Stacy raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Jake wondered if he’d offended her. But then she smiled and murmured, “I guess that teaches you about judging on appearances.”
He chuckled. “I guess it does. Not wearing the sling today?”
She had been subconsciously holding her left arm bent in front of her. At his question, she slowly straightened it. “No. I didn’t think I really needed it.”
He wondered if the sling had made her self-conscious. “You’re sure? Bad sprains are nothing to take lightly. I’ve had a few myself.”
“A few? You seem to be the accident-prone type.”
He had to laugh at that. “I’ve had my share.”
She studied him curiously, but said merely, “I’ll be fine without the sling, as long as I don’t overuse the arm. It’s time for me to stop wearing it anyway.”
“So I guess we’re ready to go, then.”
Her nod looked a little less than certain.
JAKE HAD RENTED a car when he’d arrived in Arkansas. They strapped in and then he backed down the driveway. “Which way?”
She pointed, and he turned obligingly. “Where are we going?” he asked, not that he really cared as long as he was getting out of that cabin for a few hours.
“We have a couple of options, actually.” She dug in the olive-green canvas bag she’d carried as a purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget any of the local attractions, so I went online this morning.”
He was amused at how seriously she’d seemed to take his request to show him around the area. He hadn’t meant the suggestion quite so literally, but he was game for sightseeing. “What are our choices?”
“One of the bigger draws to this area is the caverns. Blanchard Springs Caverns. I’ve been through them several times, and they’re quite impressive. There are guided tours on a regular basis throughout the day, anything from a fairly easy walking trail to a tougher trek through the wild part of the cave.”
“As intriguing as that sounds, I’m not sure I’m up to climbing through a cave just yet,” he admitted rather reluctantly. He’d gone for a short hike in the woods earlier that morning, and had been dismayed by how diffic
ult it had been. He still had a way to go to rebuild his former stamina—which meant that he would work even harder with the free weights and other workout equipment that had been provided for him in the cabin.
Stacy nodded. “No problem. There are several other choices. The Ozark Folk Center is pretty interesting. Lots of demonstrations of old-time crafts and blacksmithing and herbal gardening. Or there’s the town of Mountain View itself. Have you driven around this area at all?”
“No. I came straight from the airport, following my friend’s directions. I didn’t really see anything of the local area.”
“The town is a popular destination in itself. Full of crafts and antique shops and music stores. There’s a courthouse square where people gather from all over the area just to play instruments and sing. Old bluegrass and country and gospel songs mostly. And there’s a museum of local history—or if you’re interested in racing, we can drive to Batesville, which isn’t very far from here. My nephew likes to visit the NASCAR museum there. It’s located in a car dealership owned by a NASCAR driver who grew up in this area. I’ve never been, but my nephew loves it.”
Jake had to make a deliberate effort to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. “You’re not a NASCAR fan?” he asked lightly.
“I’m afraid the extent of my sports viewing is limited to watching Olympics coverage every couple of years. But if you’d like to see the museum, I’m certainly open to expanding my knowledge.”
He supposed he should tell her exactly what he did for a living. That he not only knew who had started that particular museum, but he was actually on a friendly basis with the guy, one of his early NASCAR heroes.
For one thing, there was always the chance that he would be recognized by someone else while they were out, though he had done what he could to change his usual look. His hair was longer than he usually wore it. He was still bearded, though he’d done his best to neaten the look that morning. And he wore a plain green polo shirt with his jeans, rather than the customary team or sponsor shirts he was usually seen in. He’d brought along black-plastic-rimmed sunglasses, rather than the branded aviators he typically wore, and a hat that bore the logo of his favorite football team instead of his race team.
