Blue Ridge Sunrise

by Denise Hunter

  It wasn’t until later that she realized it was much more than that.

  A shiver of fear pebbled the skin on her arms. She clasped her throat. “I-I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  His eyes pierced hers. “The market or . . . us.”

  She bristled. “There is no us.”

  “You made that abundantly clear when you left, Zoe.”

  She lowered her hand as they stared each other down. Her breathing had sped, her lungs pulling in the musty air in big gulps. This was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. There was too much between them—both good and bad.

  “Are we ever going to talk about what happened between us?” he asked.

  She crossed her arms, looking away. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Maybe I have some questions. Maybe we should clear the air. Get everything out on the table.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. They couldn’t talk about what happened without mentioning her pregnancy, and she wasn’t ready to go there.

  Her heart beat up into her throat. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s in the past.”

  He exhaled hard, looking away for a long moment before his eyes returned to hers. “Look, Zoe. Let’s just call a truce, okay? You’re right. It was a long time ago. We’ve both grown up, moved on. But we’re going to have to find a way to work together one way or another.”

  She wondered if “moving on” meant a current girlfriend for him. Then she chastised herself for the thought. It was none of her business.

  He was right. They would have to work together whether she did this market thing or not. And she was going to have to find a way to make some money. Might as well be self-employed, she supposed. She could work the shop herself if need be, and bring Gracie with her.

  She gave the space one last sweeping glance, seeing it all cleared out with rustic shelving and half barrels filled with peaches and apples. She saw her grandma’s cobbler and muffins and granola in a lit display, and her heart leaped at the thought of continuing Granny’s legacy.

  If she was going to make a new life for herself and Gracie, she might as well do it up right. And in time for Peach Fest.

  She blew out a breath. “Okay . . . okay, Cruz.” She held out her hand and found it enclosed in the warmth of his. “Truce.”

  A wide smile stretched across his face. “Truce.”

  chapter twenty

  I don’t have time for this,” Zoe said. Hope had her by the elbow as if Zoe might run for the hills—and she just might.

  Downtown Copper Creek was all but deserted on the Sunday afternoon, the diagonal parking spaces empty. Colorful canopies jutted from brick storefronts and young maple trees lined both sides of the two-lane street.

  Hope had snatched her after church. Miss Ruby had swept up Gracie’s hand and shooed them out the door, and that’s when Zoe realized she’d been conspired against. She told Hope she was supposed to clean out the barn with Cruz, but Hope whipped out her phone and dashed off a quick text to him.

  “Done,” she’d said.

  Zoe was already perspiring under the afternoon sun. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the humidity made the air as thick as mud.

  “I cannot look at that blond hair another second.” Hope pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “Cruz says he’ll be at the barn whenever you get there.”

  Great. She could hardly wait. They came to a stop, and Zoe frowned. “This is a barbershop. You brought me to a barbershop?”

  “Don’t be fooled. The stylist is a genius.”

  “They’re closed on Sundays.”

  “I made a special appointment.”

  The bell tinkled as Hope opened the door.

  “Of course you did. I can’t afford this, Hope.”

  “Which is why I said it’s my treat. Are we going to stand here arguing all the livelong day, or are we going to go in there and fix that hair?”

  She’d worn it blond for years. Kyle was attracted to blonds, and he said the red looked orange under the stage lights. Her stomach quivered at the thought of going back. When had she grown so comfortable in his shadow?

  “Well . . . ?” Hope said.

  What did it matter? Zoe heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

  They were met inside by the stunning blue-eyed blond she’d met earlier at the Rusty Nail. Hope all but pushed Zoe into the stylist’s chair.

  Josephine whisked a black cape around her and Velcroed it snugly at her neck, pulling Zoe’s long blond hair out around her shoulders.

  The stylist met her eyes in the mirror. “So Hope said you used to be a redhead.”

  “A gorgeous redhead.”

  Zoe gave Hope a look before meeting Josephine’s eyes again. “It was sort of auburn.”

  “And curly. She has gorgeous natural curls. I don’t know why she’s been flat-ironing the daylights out of it.”

  “Is that what you want, Zoe? Auburn color and a cut that brings out your natural curl?”

  Zoe’s eyes cut to her friend. “You mean I have a choice?”

  Josephine studied Zoe in the mirror. “Hope’s right, the auburn will compliment your skin tone. And the curls will soften your features. A few bangs will call attention to your eyes—they’re gorgeous.” She ran her hands through the long strands. “It’s in good shape. Fresh color, a little trim, and a few layers. What do you think?”

  It was only hair. This would be cheaper and easier in the long run. No more touching up her roots or battling her natural curl. It was futile in this humidity anyway.

  “Sure. Whatever you think.”

  Hope gave a little golf clap. “Now we’re talking.”

  Two and a half hours later Zoe stared in the mirror, hardly able to believe her eyes. It was the old Zoe, but updated a bit with side-swept bangs and layers. The stylist had tamed her hair with some miracle product, making her curls tumble over her shoulders in soft waves.

  Mi leona. The pet name rushed up from the past, making her chest squeeze tight.

  “You are a genius, Josephine,” Hope said. “I love it when I’m right.”

  Cruz pushed the rusty old tiller into the bed of his Silverado and strode back to the barn. He’d made good headway the last few hours. The main floor was almost cleaned out, except for the bulkier items that required more manpower. He’d already made two trips to the dump. He kept thinking of Zoe, wanting her to be pleased with his progress. How pathetic was that?

  The radio he’d brought cranked out a country tune, and he whistled along as he pushed an old wagon out of the way. There was wooden shelving piled along the back wall. That should save Zoe a little money.

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It was hot, dirty work. The temperatures were in the nineties, and the air in the barn was stale.

  He stooped, hefting a rickety wooden ladder. Then he turned and headed toward his truck just as Zoe entered the barn.

  She stopped on the threshold.

  The whistle died on his lips.

  Her face was in the shadows, but the sunshine flooding through the open door glinted off her red hair like sparks off a fire.

  Mi leona.

  She was a vision from his past. Stealing his breath. Making his heart flip around like it hadn’t done since she’d left. His fingers ached to push into those curls. His arms ached to pull her close. His lips ached to taste those rosebud lips again and convince her she was still his leona.

  He tightened his grip on the ladder. Cleared his throat and forced himself to speak.

  “Hi.”

  Brilliant, Huntley.

  “Hi.” She ducked her head, touching her hair as she skirted him. “Sorry I’m late. You sure got a lot done.”

  “Yeah, just the loft to go now. Except for the bigger stuff.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” He turned to watch as she gathered her hair, twisted it up on her head, and clipped it there. A crime, restraining it that way.

  She’d thought her hair was u
gly back in the day, but he’d eventually convinced her otherwise. He had a feeling Kyle had undone all his work.

  “It looks nice.” Nice, Huntley? Try sexy as all get out.

  Her gaze glanced off him. “It was Hope’s idea.”

  “Suits you better.”

  “Yeah, well . . . It’ll be easier this way. And cheaper besides.” She began climbing the ladder to the loft.

  She’d changed from her church clothes into a pale-green T-shirt and cutoffs. His eyes fell over her feminine form, from her graceful neck to her trim waistline to her long shapely legs.

  He dragged his gaze away and headed toward his truck, hitching the ladder on his shoulder.

  Seeing her this way, so much like she used to look, put a bounce in his step. Maybe the upkeep would be easier for her this way, but maybe it was something else too. Maybe she was trying to find her old self. And he couldn’t help but hope she would find the part that had once loved him.

  A trickle of sweat dripped down Zoe’s back as they scooted an old table from the cobwebbed corner of the loft. Cruz seemed to like her hair color. Not that his opinion mattered. Seemed everyone liked her better as a redhead except Kyle.

  She thought of Gracie’s reaction when she’d gone home to change. Her little brown eyes had widened an instant before she smiled. “Mama! We match!”

  “You can use this, don’t you think?” Cruz ran his hand over the table’s dusty surface.

  “Sure. How are we going to get it down the ladder?”

  “Very carefully.”

  A COUPLE HOURS later they’d cleared out the last of the junk except for an old piece of farm equipment. Once that was in Cruz’s truck he’d be ready for his last trip to the junkyard.

  Zoe dusted off her hands and shelved them on her hips, surveying the space. She hadn’t noticed the beamed ceiling before, but it added character.

  Cruz had removed the shutters from the windows, and that let in a lot of light. They’d still need help with the electricity, additional lighting, and plumbing. But Cruz had found a whole bunch of shelving she could use. The floor would do; the wood planks just needed a good cleaning.

  “What do you think?” He shuffled to a stop beside her.

  “I’m starting to see it. I think the counter and register should be set up over there. And the tables should run in rows going this way. Baskets of fruit. I want the shelving over there. A few rows of it for jams and jellies. I’ll have to buy a display case for the baked goods.”

  “That shouldn’t be too costly.”

  Everything seemed costly when you were buying with borrowed money. She was going to take out an income starting tomorrow. Pay Hope back and buy a few necessities. And just hope harvest brought in enough to pay off the loan and see them through winter.

  “Stop worrying. It’s going to be fine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “God’ll work it all out. You’ll see.”

  Easy for him to say. His life wasn’t completely off the rails. Or maybe her life had been off the rails with Kyle, and she was only now getting back on track? She wasn’t sure yet. At least she was taking control of her destiny. Surely that was one step in the right direction.

  “Ready to move this thing?” Cruz grabbed one end, and she took the other. They walked it sideways out the wide door.

  A call buzzed in on her phone, but she ignored it. Kyle had been texting her for a few days. Trying to sweet-talk her like he always did after he messed up. It wasn’t going to work this time.

  “Have you heard from Kyle?”

  Could he read her mind or what? “A little bit.”

  She hadn’t responded to the texts at first, hoping he’d give up. But she’d finally texted back yesterday, asking him to stop. He’d responded by calling, but she hadn’t yet answered.

  The buzzing stopped, only to start up again as they hefted the equipment onto the truck bed.

  “I’d be happy to answer that for you.”

  Yeah, because another man answering her phone would settle Kyle right down. She gave Cruz a look.

  Her nerves tightened with each quiet buzz until it felt as though they might just snap.

  By the time they had the machinery in the truck the phone had gone silent again.

  “You should file a restraining order.”

  “I can handle my own life, thank you very much. I don’t need you and Brady running it for me.”

  He angled a look at her. “You’re not thinking of going back to him, are you?”

  “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

  “Darn it, Zoe . . .”

  She was in no mood for this. “Drop it, Cruz.”

  “If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for your daughter.”

  The daughter she’d managed to raise all alone? That daughter? “I can take care of Gracie just fine.”

  “So last Saturday when he hurt her, that was the first time?”

  “That was an accident!”

  “Are you seriously defending him?”

  She mashed her teeth together until her jaw ached. Then she grabbed the tailgate and slammed it into place. “We’re done here.”

  “Zoe . . . ,” he called as she shut and locked the barn doors into place.

  But she didn’t answer. And he didn’t try to stop her as she slipped into her grandpa’s truck and drove off.

  chapter twenty-one

  What’d Cruz think of your hair?” Hope licked her strawberry ice cream cone, giving Zoe a coy look.

  Zoe dabbed at Gracie’s mouth with a napkin. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It’s my hair.”

  “Then why are the tips of your ears red?”

  “Because it’s ninety degrees out here.” Her cone was melting faster than she could lick it, and she was grateful Gracie had a cup instead of a cone.

  She’d come into town in the middle of the day to get cash from the bank and pay Hope back. It had been Hope’s idea to meet at the Dairy Barn.

  “Look, Mama!” Gracie said as she stirred her ice cream. The picnic table shook as she shifted. “I made swirls.”

  “Very pretty. I like your rainbow sprinkles.”

  “Are you two, you know, getting closer as you’re working together?”

  “We’re getting the barn ready—that’s all.”

  “So he doesn’t still make your blood hum? Make you all melty inside?”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes at Hope. “I told you way too much back then.”

  “There’ve been sparks shooting off between you two as long as you’ve known each other. I didn’t reckon a few years apart was going to change that any.”

  “Well, we’re adults now. Humming and melting only go so far when you’ve got—” She darted a look at Grace. “Responsibilities. And water under the bridge. Murky, swirling cesspools of treacherous danger.”

  “Speaking of swirling cesspools . . . Any thoughts on when you’re going to tell him?”

  Zoe’s stomach clenched as it always did when she thought of telling Cruz. “Stop pressuring me. I’ll find the right time.” Like tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

  “The longer you wait the angrier he’s going to be.”

  “I’ll tell him when we’ve finished refurbishing the barn. Now can we talk about something else? My dire financial situation? The current state of national politics? The latest natural disaster?”

  “Okay, let’s talk about He Who Must Not be Named. Have you heard from him?”

  Zoe shot her a look.

  “What? It’s a change of topic.”

  “He’s out of the picture. I’m ignoring his texts and calls, and eventually he’ll give up.”

  “You know why you were with him, right?”

  “Are you fixing to psychoanalyze me?”

  “He was like your dad, Zoe. Always trying to control you. You didn’t let your dad get away with it, but Kyle—”

  “Rolled right on over me. Yeah, yeah, I’m aware.”

  I
t hadn’t been that way at first. He’d been all about buttering her up and supporting her. But the more success Kyle had experienced, the bigger his ego had gotten and the more controlling he’d become. Once Gracie had been born Zoe’d felt trapped, and somewhere along the line she’d stopped fighting it. He’d critiqued her constantly, and part of her had felt as if she’d deserved it.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Zoe sighed. “I feel so lost. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  Hope placed a hand over hers. “You’re the same Zoe you’ve always been. Find your identity in God, not in any man, ever.”

  “God . . .” She’d all but forgotten about Him the past few years. “I can’t believe how far I’ve fallen. I’ve completely lost my way, Hope.”

  “Well, lucky for you, God specializes in recovery of the lost.”

  “I just have to get back on track. Start making my own decisions. Take control of my life again.”

  “Mama.” Gracie licked her spoon. “When’s Kyle coming back?”

  Zoe traded a look with Hope. Her daughter was way too smart. “Remember what I told you? He’s living back in Tennessee, and you and I are going to live here now in the big farmhouse.”

  “With Miss Ruby?”

  “Yes, with Miss Ruby.”

  “She plays Candy Land with me.” Gracie caught the eye of a baby at the next picnic table and waved. “Look, Mama, a baby.”

  “She’s a cutie pie.”

  Gracie went back to her ice cream, making faces at the baby between bites until the little boy giggled.

  Hope leaned closer to Zoe. “Kyle doesn’t really seem like the type to give up.”

  “He’s got too much pride to keep on for long. But let’s talk about something else.” Zoe gave her a saucy look. “You, for instance. How’s your love life going?”

  Hope’s lips went flat. “I have no love life, as you well know.”

  “What about that guy you were going to go out with last week? The friend of Josephine’s?”

  “The one who talked about his ex-wife all night? The one who drank five beers during supper and had to be driven home? The one who ended the night crying on my shoulder?”