The Kings Meadow Romance Collection

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Wish that girl would find the right guy,” Midge said as Charity settled once again in the swivel chair before the large mirror. “She sure couldn’t find a nicer one than Buck, so if he’s interested, I’m all for it. Always have liked that young man, even when he seemed to be breaking every gal’s heart between here and McCall.”

  Charity wished Midge would be quiet about Buck. It bothered her in a way she couldn’t define.

  “I was long married and had a couple of kids with a third in the oven by the time I was Skye’s age.”

  Charity suddenly felt ancient.

  “What is it with girls like you and Skye that you’re still not married at your ages? Not that either of you are that old,” Midge added quickly. “I know times are different now. We married younger in my day. And compared to my mother, I was verging on being an old maid when I said ‘I do.’ ” She leaned in a little closer, once again looking at Charity in the mirror. “So how’s your love life, hon? Or are you too busy being a famous author to take time for romance?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks.

  “Don’t you go all modest and humble on me with that blush. I’ve seen those write-ups in the newspaper and those national magazines. I keep hoping Hollywood will turn your books into a movie. They’d be so good up on the screen. Oh, they’d be so good.” Midge began to trim Charity’s hair with a small pair of scissors. “I used to think I’d like to write a novel. But there never seemed to be enough spare time, what with my business and raising a family. Now the nest’s empty, and I’m just too blamed tired to try something new.”

  Charity gave Midge a smile, thankful that the woman’s conversation had veered away from a discussion on her love life and toward the topic of writing. Still, she’d learned it was better to say nothing when others said they wanted to write a book. Unless they asked her point-blank for advice. Then she had a few simple but encouraging things to say.

  Fortunately for Charity, Midge didn’t ask any questions about writing a novel and seemed content to move on to other topics of interest to most residents of Kings Meadow.

  Chapter 16

  UPON HIS RETURN FROM CHURCH THAT SUNDAY, Buck tied one of his horses in the shade of a large tree and began bathing the tall black gelding. His movements were slow, almost languid, befitting the heat of the day. Neither horse nor master minded being splashed by the cold water coming out of the hose.

  Buck had finished rinsing the animal’s coat when a small sports car—a convertible—pulled into his driveway. He straightened, then watched as the driver got out of the car. A frown wrinkled the stranger’s brow and nose as he looked around. Eventually his gaze landed on Buck.

  Buck wondered if the man could be someone wanting to book a trip into the wilderness, but he dismissed the notion at once. This was a city dude if ever he’d seen one. He wouldn’t know the front end of a horse from the backside.

  Buck turned the nozzle on the hose, shutting off the flow of water, and strode toward the man. “Can I help you?”

  “Is this the Anderson house?”

  “No. You came one place too far.” He motioned with his head. “That’s the Anderson home. But they aren’t there at the moment.”

  “I’m here to see Charity. Not her parents.”

  Buck felt like grinding his teeth. Maybe it was the dismissive way the man had spoken. Or perhaps it was something about the way he almost smiled but didn’t. Or maybe it was enough that he knew Charity.

  “Sorry for troubling you,” the fellow said.

  Buck watched the stranger return to his car and waited until the convertible backed out of his driveway and pulled into the Andersons’. Then he returned to the gelding. He grabbed a brush and got back to business, glad he couldn’t see the Andersons’ front door from where he stood. Proud of himself for not even listening for the sound of Charity’s voice when she answered the door. Still, he couldn’t help wondering who the guy was and why he’d come to see her.

  None of my business.

  Maybe not, but he wanted it to be his business.

  Who is he?

  It didn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter. But still he wondered.

  Maybe the guy was her contractor. Some contractors made a lot of money and drove fancy sports cars. Maybe he’d come to see her about the restoration of her house.

  On a Sunday? Him come to see her? Not likely.

  Again he felt like grinding his teeth.

  He should have asked her out already. He should have gone over to her house the instant he admitted his feelings to himself. He didn’t have to take her dancing on their first date. He could take her to dinner or a movie or both. He could impress her with his fancy footwork later on.

  He put down the brush and moved away from the shade, not stopping until he could see the front of the Anderson home. He’d half hoped he would find the stranger still standing on the front steps, but he wasn’t there. His convertible seemed to mock Buck from where it had been left in the driveway.

  “YOU LOOK GREAT, CHARITY,” NATHAN SAID AS SHE handed him a tall glass of iced tea.

  “Thanks. You too.” She settled onto the sofa opposite him.

  Nathan’s glance roamed the living room. “I was by your house this morning. Just happened to be in the neighborhood.” His eyes returned to Charity. “What’s going on there?”

  “There was flood damage in May.”

  “Must have been right after we stopped seeing each other.”

  She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “The insurance inspection revealed more problems than anticipated. So I’ve got a major renovation going on now. It’ll last through the summer.”

  “Well, now I understand why you came up here to stay. I wondered. I always got the impression you didn’t like being in Kings Meadow.” He took a long drink from his glass before setting it on a coaster on a side table. “I turned into your neighbor’s place by accident. He said your parents aren’t here. Will they be home soon? It would be nice to see them again. I liked them a lot the time you brought me up here.”

  It was strange, the reluctance she felt to tell Nathan her parents wouldn’t return until September. She couldn’t think of a reason to feel that way. Yet she did. “No,” she answered after a lengthy silence. “They won’t be home soon. But when I see them, I’ll tell them you were here and asked about them.” Carefully chosen words that were completely true. Yet . . .

  “Mmm.” He looked at the glass of iced tea as if he might pick it up. “Charity, I’d like you to reconsider.”

  “Reconsider what?”

  His gaze lifted to her again. “Us. You and me. We were good together. We were real good together.”

  “Nathan—”

  “Hear me out. Please.”

  Reluctantly she nodded.

  “Remember how you said you’d decided you’d like to get married and have kids? I just don’t think you’ve thought that last part through. Not the baby part. I’ve seen the way you avoid ever being around them. You’re like me. I’m not a baby kind of guy either.”

  Charity felt a sudden chill and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

  “I’m sure about the kid thing, but maybe I was wrong to say I never want to get married. Maybe I’ll change my mind about that eventually. But how will we know if you don’t give us a chance?”

  I don’t want to wait to see if you’ll change your mind. The thought surprised her. I want a man who already knows what he wants.

  He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “Is there someone else?”

  Buck’s image flashed in her mind, but she shoved it away. That was a dead-end street. And besides, Buck was apparently interested in an adorable, dark-haired dance instructor.

  “What do you say?” Nathan pressed. “Can we try again? See if we can rekindle some of that old spark.”

  “I’m up here for the rest of the summer.” It wasn’t exactly a refusal but not very encouraging either. “And with my deadline, I don’t have time to be driving back
and forth to Boise.”

  “You could come stay with me at my house until your place is done.”

  She drew back, surprised by his suggestion. She’d never let any relationship get to the place where living together had been a possibility. Besides, her newfound faith wouldn’t allow it, and Nathan knew that. “I couldn’t.”

  “I have an extra bedroom. You’d be a guest. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nathan, it wouldn’t look right to outsiders.”

  “We’d know we weren’t doing anything wrong. Wouldn’t be like we were sleeping together.”

  The past rushed at her. She knew only too well what could happen if she let her guard drop. Even sober, there was risk involved. Too much risk. Especially with the wrong guy.

  Is Nathan the wrong guy?

  He gave his head a slow shake. “All right. Bad suggestion. It’s just that I want to see you. A lot. I want to make up for lost time.” He stood and took a step toward her. “I want a chance, Charity. I’ve missed you, and I want us to try again.”

  Nerves quivering, she rose to her feet. Maybe she had made a mistake in ending things so abruptly. Maybe he’d deserved a chance to change his mind.

  He took hold of her shoulders and kissed her, gentle and unhurried.

  She waited. Waited to feel the old spark. Actually tried to feel it. It didn’t happen. Not the way it used to. But perhaps all she needed was time.

  Nathan kept hold of her shoulders when he drew his head back. “I could drive up on the weekends until your house is ready and you’re home again.”

  “I have to write on Saturdays,” she replied softly.

  “Then Sundays. You can spare Sundays, can’t you?”

  At last she nodded. “I’m home from church a little after twelve o’clock.”

  “Good.” He released her shoulders, grinning. “Now, what is there to do in this town on a Sunday afternoon?” Something in his tone implied hick town was what he meant.

  She tamped down sudden irritation and answered, “Take a walk with the dog. Ride horses. Lie in the shade and read a book. Have a barbecue. Go fishing or whitewater rafting.”

  “Is there a movie theater?”

  She shook her head. “No, but there’s a store in town that still rents DVDs.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.”

  “Decent restaurant?”

  “Pretty decent.”

  He pressed his lips together, appearing to give his choices some thought. “Let’s go fishing, then. I’m not much of a fisherman, but it’ll give us time to catch up without any interruptions.”

  BUCK WAS BATHING THE FOURTH OF HIS SIX HORSES when Cocoa ambled over to say hi to him. He turned off the spray and leaned down to pet the dog.

  “Cocoa,” Charity called.

  “Come on, girl.” Buck left the shade and headed to the front yard. “She’s here.”

  Standing in the driveway of the Anderson home, Charity looked in Buck’s direction. She was dressed in shorts, sleeveless top, baseball cap, and sneakers and had a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder. The guy with the sports car stood not far behind her, fishing tackle in hand.

  Once again, Buck felt that urge to grind his teeth.

  “Come on, Cocoa,” Charity called. “We’re going fishing.”

  Cocoa shot away from Buck. He was no competition for an afternoon by the river.

  Charity motioned for Buck to come over. When he neared the driveway, she said, “Buck, I’d like you to meet my . . . my friend, Nathan Gilbert.”

  Buck remembered the name from the night they’d shared the baked salmon dinner. Nathan had been her boyfriend for more than a year. She’d told Buck it hadn’t worked out between them. So what was he doing in Kings Meadow, carrying fishing tackle?

  Nathan stepped forward and held out his right hand. Fair-haired and handsome, he was a tall man, one who looked as if he spent regular hours every week lifting weights at a health club. There was an air of confidence and success about him too.

  The two men shook hands. Buck was sorely tempted to start an arm-wrestling match, right there on the front lawn. He was certain he could take the guy down without a problem, despite Nathan’s height and build.

  Before the temptation could get the better of him, he loosened his grip, took a step back, and said, “Hope the fish are biting.”

  Something flickered across Charity’s face. It was there and then gone, too fast for Buck to begin to figure out what she felt or thought. “See you later, Buck,” she said before turning and walking toward her SUV.

  “Have a good time,” he called after her—but the twist in his gut told him he didn’t mean it.

  Chapter 17

  THE BEST FISHING SPOT ON THE RIVER—A WELLKEPT family secret—was located, as the crow flies, about six miles from the Anderson home. To reach it, one had to park a car or truck and then hike a fair stretch. Charity’s dad had taken his two daughters there as far back as she could remember. She thought about going there with Nathan, but she couldn’t do it. He wasn’t family. She drove to a less secluded place with easy access from a parking spot adjoining the highway. Two other vehicles had arrived before them.

  “Looks like we aren’t the only ones who thought about fishing this afternoon,” Nathan said as she opened her car door.

  “It’s not exactly a crowd. We’ll find a bend in the river for ourselves.” She opened the back door. “Come on, Cocoa.” The dog hopped out.

  Nathan carried the fishing gear. Charity carried a small cooler plus a canvas bag holding suntan lotion, bug spray, and a few other miscellaneous items. A well-worn path took them to the river, and as promised, Charity led the way to a place where no other fishermen were in sight.

  “Been a long time since I did this,” Nathan said as he set down the gear.

  “My dad and I fish near my backyard just about every time he and Mom come down for a visit. He’s caught some whoppers there. But this remains his favorite fishing grounds.” She tugged on the brim of her baseball cap to block the glare of the sun. “I miss not getting to go fishing with him this summer.”

  “Why not? You’d think it would be easier than ever with you staying with them.”

  Darn. She hadn’t wanted to tell him her folks were away.

  “Charity?”

  “Sorry. I forgot you didn’t kn—” No, that wasn’t true. She inhaled quickly and started again. “Mom and Dad are on vacation. In Europe.”

  “Wow. For how long?”

  “The rest of the summer.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows rose. “So you’re all by yourself up here?”

  She shrugged. “Only as alone as I want to be. Remember. This is where I grew up. I know just about everybody in Kings Meadow.” Deciding to change the subject, she reached for one of the fishing poles. “We’re lucky it isn’t as hot today as it has been. This’ll be fun.”

  Charity’s dad was an expert fly-fisherman, but fly-fishing felt like too much work to her. She preferred to cast the line and let the hook and lure sink beneath the surface of the water. She found it relaxing to slowly reel in the line while waiting—hoping—for a fish to strike. On the river, she didn’t have to think or feel. She could simply enjoy the sounds of water in motion and of the breeze in the trees.

  But being alone wasn’t the purpose of this afternoon by the river. They were here so she could reconnect with Nathan after a few months apart. To see if she still had any feelings for him. So when her hook was baited, she didn’t wander far afield as she normally would. Instead, she moved only far enough away that their lines wouldn’t get tangled.

  Sunlight glinted off the surface ripples. If not for her dark glasses, the brightness would have blinded her. She looked upriver, away from the sun, and cast the line into a deeper section of the water. A few moments later, Nathan tried to do the same. The attempt was slightly pathetic.

  “Told you I haven’t done much fishing.”

  She would have known that without him telling h
er.

  After a lengthy silence, he said, “I never pictured you as a fishing kind of girl. You’ve always liked parties and crowds.”

  She shrugged. What could she say? That she’d been running from herself for more years than she cared to count. That she’d lost track of what mattered most to her without even realizing it. Those were truths that she’d only begun to grasp in the last year.

  “Maybe it’s the elevation.” He jerked on his line, looking frustrated that nothing was there.

  “What about the elevation?”

  “Maybe you’re different up here where the air is thinner.”

  She reeled in the line and cast a second time.

  “Whatever it is, it looks good on you, Charity. But you always look good.”

  She waited for the compliment to cause a flutter of pleasure in her heart. But before that could happen, her pole arched.

  “Hey, you’ve got something already!” Nathan shouted. He dropped his own pole on the bank and came to stand near her.

  She reeled in the line, the way her dad had taught her to do, until the fish was out of the water.

  “What is it?” Nathan asked.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was kidding. “A rainbow trout.”

  “Hmm. Looks big. Is it? For a trout, I mean.”

  “It’s a nice one.” She heard impatience in her voice and tried to cover it when she said, “Bet you’ll catch the next one.”

  “That’s all right. It’s more fun to watch you.”

  Charity baited her hook, then waded into the river, the water only mid-calf deep where she stood. It was a few moments before she realized she’d walked into the water to get farther away from Nathan. Not a positive sign.

  HOT AND SWEATY, BUCK STOOD AT THE KITCHEN sink and guzzled a third glass of water. He was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. He’d accomplished a lot this afternoon. But it was time for him to get his right leg elevated. He hadn’t been on his feet for this long of a stretch since before Cocoa knocked him flat, and the ache in his ankle told him he was going to regret it. His wrist had a few complaints of its own.