Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

“Don’t you get lonely out here?”

Sara asked. “This is beautiful country and all, but if I were you, I’d miss people.”

Adam couldn’t help noticing everything about Sara. She was attractive. Appealing. Almost endearing. He would have turned away and fled if there was anywhere else to go. He finally found his voice. “I don’t miss people at all.”

“But you did once, didn’t you?” Sara’s words were soft, gently spoken. Without realizing it, she’d drawn on her internal resources to express the spiritual love Adam needed. The love that he’d banished from his wounded soul.

He stiffened. “My life is none of your concern, so don’t try fixing it.”

That statement acted like a bucket of ice water in Sara’s face, negating the compassion blossoming in her heart. If anybody’s life needed fixing, it was hers. Still, she sensed that Adam needed her in his life—more than he even realized…

VALERIE HANSEN

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

The Wedding Arbor
Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Call unto me and I will answer you and

will tell you great and hidden things

which you have not known.

—Jeremiah 33:3

To my special prayer partners, Angie, Bette,

Brenda, Chris, Karen, Wanda and the wonderful,

caring ladies of the Seekers Sunday school class.

Chapter One

“How do I get myself into these things?” Sara Stone said to herself, gripping the steering wheel of the compact car and hoping the road ahead hadn’t washed out. Not that she’d know for sure until it was too late!

Peering into the sheeting gray rain she gritted her teeth and pressed on. Red-clay-colored runoff water was cresting uneven berms on the upper side of the road, carrying with it rocks the size of tennis balls and all sorts of other rubble.

Sara’s knuckles were white on the wheel. She started to pray silently for safety, then paused, uneasy. There was a time when she had blithely sworn God answered all her prayers. Lately, however, she found herself anything but confident.

“Please, Lord?” she said cynically, only half believing she’d be heard. “I’m nowhere near ready to die. Okay?”

Suddenly the compact little hatchback began to fishtail. Losing traction it kept sliding no matter what she did. Finally it came to rest precariously on the edge of the roadway. One rear wheel hung off in space. The other was bumper-deep in the sticky clay.

“I can still get out of this.” She gunned the motor. The wheels spun. The car’s chassis shuddered and bucked as it sank even deeper into the mire.

Disgusted, Sara shut off the engine, sat back and took a deep breath. Rumbles of thunder shook the skies. Isolated and alone, she held perfectly still, waiting for whatever peril was sure to follow. Her whirling mind returned again and again to the old comedy line about being in “a fine mess.”

If only she hadn’t panicked and run away when the police refused to believe she was being stalked. Tensing, she glanced in the direction she’d come, half expecting to see the headlights of Eric’s car. That would serve her right, wouldn’t it?

Samson’s ears pricked up. He raised his broad, white head to stare at the door, then at his master, Adam Callahan.

“You should have thought of that before the rain started,” Adam warned gently. “If I let you out now you’ll have to spend the night on the porch.”

The enormous white dog looked back at him wisely.

“I mean it, boy. There’s no room in this cabin for a soggy dog the size of a Shetland pony. I don’t care how lovable you are.”

Samson rose. Walking slowly to the door he appeared to listen for a moment before returning to stand beside Adam’s chair. His chin rested on the man’s knees, his chocolate-brown eyes pledged sincerity. When Adam made no move, the dog nudged him gently.

“Okay, but you won’t like it out there. You’re going to get soaked.”

Already waiting at the door, Samson was not wagging his tail, an unusual reaction Adam found rather disquieting. “Don’t go far.” He flicked on the porch light and eased open the door.

The dog burst out into the night. Adam’s jaw dropped. “Hey, you, come back here!”

Adam pulled on a yellow slicker with a hood, and heavy, black rubber boots. Quickly snapping them he stepped out onto the porch to peer into the storm. Samson’s distant baying was the only clue to where he’d headed.

Adam left the cabin at a trot. The next time that mangy ball of fur wanted to go out in the rain he was going to tie a long rope to his collar and stand on the porch holding the opposite end.

“My next house is going to have a spare room to keep wet dogs in,” he murmured, starting into the forest. “And my next dog is going to be a miniature dachshund, or some other little breed, instead of a Great Pyrenees. It’ll have short hair and stubby legs. Then let’s see it get away from me in the middle of an Arkansas monsoon!”

Sara hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat since she’d lost control of the car. She had no idea whether it was safe to climb out.

Making a droll face she remembered praying for patience and wondered what kind of sense of humor God must have. If there was a God, after all.

She recalled her recent disillusionment with Eric Rydell. He’d been hired to teach sixth grade in the school where she taught kindergarten and first. She had trusted him implicitly and introduced him to all her friends. She’d even taken him to church with her until she’d discovered what an accomplished liar he was. His pious, conventional facade was so convincing that most of her acquaintances still refused to believe how unstable he was. They were trying to talk her into getting back together with him! What she really needed was their moral support.

In truth, it was the man’s unnatural possessiveness that most frightened her. None of her fervent prayers for deliverance from it had been answered. She swore he had even begun watching her house. That was when she’d taken matters into her own hands, rented a different car in which to make her escape, and headed for the Ozarks. Maybe, by the time school started again in the fall, he’d have gotten over his ridiculous obsession with her.

And maybe not. Her heart sped, her palms sweating. Had she imagined getting a glimpse of his car in her rearview mirror back on the highway? Were his threats genuine? And if so, had he noticed when she’d turned off the paved road? Or was she simply conjuring up demons where there were none?

The storm raged on. A bolt of lightning struck. Sara flinched and felt the car shift slightly. Tiny hairs prickled at the back of her neck and her forearms. The car offered more protection than she’d find outside in the wilds but there was something immensely disquieting about teetering on the edge of goodness-knows-what while she waited to slide into oblivion!

Sara jerked open the driver’s side door before she could change her mind. She felt the car’s precarious balance change. The roar of a rain-swollen river echoed from somewhere behind. It sounded so close. That ended her choices. No way was she going to take the chance of sliding into the water, car and all!

“Okay, okay,” she told herself. “Take it easy. The main thing is, to not panic.”

She eased her left leg out and placed one foot on the ground. Reaching for the waterproof backpack containing personal items and her precious laptop computer, she eased it past her chest and out into the rain as she stood up.

“Oh, yuck!” Mud squashed beneath and all around her sandals. It oozed between her toes. Wind-driven rain plastered her clothing to her body like panty hose sticking to bare legs on a humid, southern summer day.

“There are no bears, there are no bears,” Sara chanted. “There are no…aaah!”

She clutched the pack to her chest like a shield. The fingers of one hand covered her lips to stifle a squeal. A dingy-white specter rushed out of the underbrush and headed straight for her.

Sara tried to half fend it off, half catch it. She screamed, her high pitch carrying well above the din of the storm.

The animal’s greater weight and momentum propelled them both backward into the mud. She was quite relieved to realize it was a dog and not a deer or a mountain lion. It stood above her and slobbered friendly greetings all over her face and neck. Sara tried in vain to sit up.

“Get off me, you big ox. Now!”

“Just tell him to get down,” a male voice quickly offered.

“He is down. We both are. Oh, my…” Her last statement ended in a gurgled shriek as the dog renewed its efforts to lick her face with a tongue as wide as her palm.

Twisting her head she blinked hard against the rain and tried to get a better look at the stranger.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was gruff.

“Oh, fine. Just peachy.” Sara continued to try to forcibly remove the determined animal. “Would you mind?”

“Samson.” The enigmatic stranger spoke with authority. “Down. Let the nice lady go.”

After one parting swipe with his tongue the dog backed off. Sara felt imbedded in the soggy ground and pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to avoid getting any more mud on the precious pack.

Looking up, she tossed her head to swing her bangs out of her eyes, then reached up to smooth the blond hair back with one hand. She realized too late that she had just drawn a band of red clay across her forehead.

“That was cute.” The man was not smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re impressed.” Sara was anything but amused, herself.

“Actually, I’m not,” the blue-eyed man said. “I can understand my dog wanting to come out in the rain, but I’d think a person like you would have more common sense.”

“I was trying to find my great-grandmother’s old homestead.”

“In the middle of this storm?” His tone said more about his opinion of her poor planning than his actual words.

“It wasn’t raining when I left home.”

“So, why didn’t you turn around when you saw what the weather was like?”

Sara was not about to admit she’d been running away. “I couldn’t turn back. The road was too narrow. The visibility was bad.”

He snorted with derision. “You mean, you might have wound up in a ditch if you’d tried to go back? Seems to me that’s exactly what did happen.”

“It wasn’t my fault. I slid backward.” She was growing exasperated with his know-it-all attitude. Wiping one hand on her ruined skirt she held it out to her would-be rescuer. He made no move to help lift her the rest of the way. She stared up at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, aren’t you going to give me a hand?” She hoped he didn’t remember that stale old joke and literally applaud her predicament.

“You said you’re not hurt. I’m glad. The way I see it, you got here all by yourself—in spite of the worst storm we’ve had this season—so you must be the independent type. Why should you need me for anything?”

Sara struggled to her feet to face the man eye to eye. She was disappointed to find she’d have had to stand on a box to avoid literally looking up to him. Clearly, she needed to do something to alleviate his annoyance. Perhaps if she introduced herself…

“I’m Sara Stone.” She shielded her face from the downpour with both hands and tried to smile. “Who are you?” For a few uneasy moments she thought he might refuse to tell her.

“Adam Callahan,” he finally said.

“I could use some help with my car, Adam. Please?”

He glanced past her shoulder to eye the stranded vehicle with disdain. “Do I look like I have a tow truck?”

That did it. Sara was through trying to be polite. She was drenched and freezing. There was a fair chance Eric would drive up and accost her at any moment. And the new laptop computer she had finally decided to buy was likely to be ruined if she didn’t get back in the car soon.

“If you could just help me push the stupid car, I’ll gladly go away.” She had to shout to be heard above the noise of wind and rain.

“It’s much too dangerous to drive anywhere while the roads and creeks are flooded.”

She made a disgusted face. “So, what do you recommend I do?” Noting the perplexity in Adam’s expression she couldn’t help grinning. “Besides, take a flying leap, I mean.”

He glanced over at the muddy, blue hatchback. “Looks to me like you almost did that, already.”

“I know.” Wide-eyed, she suddenly realized how close she had come to sliding into the rain-swollen gully. “I’ve never driven on anything but smooth pavement before.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Sara watched him study the car’s hazardous position. “Can we push it?”

“Sure.” He shot her a cynical look. “You put your water wings on, get behind it, and push while I steer.”

“Very funny.” She faced him with her hands on her hips, keeping her stance wide for better balance due to the rising wind. She sure wished she’d worn something more suitable for stomping around in mud and water.

Adam turned away, ignoring her. He scanned the nearby underbrush, then broke a long, bare limb off a fallen tree. Swinging it around he gave Sara a momentary start until he placed it under the stuck rear bumper of her car and got into position to lift with his shoulder.

“You go over to the other side. Open that door so you can get a good hold and push from there,” he ordered.

“My camping gear will get rained on.”

“If it isn’t waterproof you got cheated when you bought it. Do you want my help, or not?”

“I do, I do.” She pressed her hands and inside shoulder to the door frame. “Okay. Ready when you are.”

“Now!” he shouted.

Sara held her breath and strained with all her might.

The tree limb snapped with a loud crack. Adam yelled and his hood fell back. Sara jumped away. She could finally see the dark, thick hair and chiseled features he’d had hidden beneath the yellow slicker. She could also see he’d given up his attempt to help.

“It’s no use,” he shouted. “We can’t do it by hand.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“How should I know? If I had a brain in my head I’d leave you here and go home where it’s warm and dry. But I can’t do that, can I?”

For the first time since they had met, Sara thought beyond the immediate present. If Adam wasn’t going to leave her, then he must intend to keep her with him. That presented a whole new set of problems. Was it safe to go anywhere with a man she’d known for only a few minutes? Could she trust him?

“Go ahead. Leave me here.” Sara put on a brave front. “I’ll just wait till the storm passes.”

“And then what? In case you haven’t noticed, that old wreck of yours is axle-deep in mud.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I have a sleeping bag and plenty of provisions.”

“Where?”

“In the back seat and under the hatchback.”

“How do you propose to reach them without falling off the cliff?”

“Well, I…”

Adam scowled at her. “I thought so. I suppose you’d better come with me then. My conscience won’t let me leave you here. Come on. I’ll take you to my place.”

Sara didn’t move. She insisted she wasn’t afraid. Not really. She just couldn’t make up her mind whether or not it was a good idea to go with him. The safest choice was to continue to decline his neighborly offer, no matter how innocent it was.

He wiped his wet face with a quick pass of one strong hand and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Well?”

“I’m not going with you.”

“Fine. In that case, I think you should know one thing. These hills are riddled with limestone caves. Every once in a while, when the soil gets waterlogged like it is now, the ceiling of one of the caves collapses.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Adam eyed the contents of her car. “Have you got a tour book in there?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Look it up. There’s a big one in southern Missouri. Grand Gulf, I think they call it. A cave roof fell in and created such an impressive canyon they made a state park out of it.”

Sara had been analyzing him as he spoke, trying to accurately judge his truthfulness. After being fooled so completely by Eric, she no longer trusted her intuition. Still…“You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.” He held out his hand. “Well?”

She hesitated, changing her mind repeatedly. Should she? Shouldn’t she? The idea of being warm and dry certainly sounded appealing, even if she was forced to listen to more of the man’s unwarranted criticism while in his company.

Adam shook his head in disgust as another bolt of lightning struck across the wooded valley. “That was too close. I’m not going to stand here and beg while we both freeze to death or become toast.” He reached down and grabbed her wrist.

Sara gasped. “Hey! What…?”

“I’m taking you home with me, lady, and if you scream or pitch a fit I’m going to let go and leave you right here. I’ll be happy to forget my idiotic dog ever led me to you. Got that?”

“Perfectly.” She made a successful grab for the strap of her pack, lurching and stumbling along behind Adam.

The man had a valid point. It was pretty stupid to just stand there and argue. When he’d had time to calm down she’d tell him exactly what she thought of his high-handed tactics.

But I’ll do it politely, if it’s still raining, she added, shivering. Being warm and dry sounded wonderful. She wasn’t about to risk being pitched out into the storm again because she was too outspoken.

Chapter Two

“Watching history on television does not prepare a person for this,” Sara shouted. “How in the world did the women cope in long skirts back then?”

“They probably didn’t go brush-busting in the first place.” He lifted her feet off the ground as he pulled her up behind him on a rocky ledge. “We aren’t taking the usual trail. It’s too far that way. The sooner I get out of this blasted weather the better I’ll like it.”

“How much farther is it?” She was breathless.

“Just up this hill and through the little valley beyond.”

Sara didn’t want him to let go of her wrist because she was afraid she might not be able to keep up without help. The ground beneath her ruined sandals was slippery. She’d lost her footing repeatedly. She’d barked her shins and torn her skirt on brambles and briars. Not to mention almost winding up impaled by a deadly-looking tree with thousands of three-inch-long thorns!

“What happened to your dog?” she asked.

“Knowing Samson, he’s bringing up the rear to make sure we both get home okay.”

“Good. I’d hate to have anything bad happen to an animal that likes me so much.”

Adam gave a hard tug and pulled her up beside him. They were balanced on a narrow rock ledge beneath the canopy of a gigantic oak. The leaves didn’t stop all the rain but they did offer a slight respite from the wind-driven torrent.

“Yeah. I don’t understand that,” he said, scowling. “He’s supposed to treat his family like a flock of sheep and be really leery of outsiders.”

“Guess he could tell I was friendly.” Sara looked up into her companion’s deep-blue eyes and wondered for an unguarded instant if she was crazy to have placed all her trust in the rugged-looking, taciturn stranger.

Sensing her uneasiness, Adam softened his expression. “Look, lady. I promise I won’t hurt you. I really am trying to keep you out of danger and get us both back inside before we catch pneumonia.”

“I know.” She gave him a sweet, trusting smile. “If I had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was on your road.”

His approachable countenance faded. His eyes darkened to the color of the foreboding sky. “I wish I could agree with you.”

Sara wasn’t sure exactly what kind of home she had expected Adam’s to be. Certainly not anything as tiny as the cabin to which he led her.

The house sat at the edge of an apparently large clearing. The farthest perimeters were obscured by continuing rain. Square and made of stacked logs, his home looked like something straight out of a history book. Except for electric lighting and, she fervently hoped, indoor plumbing.

Adam led the way onto the porch, shook himself free of his slicker and stamped the loose mud off his boots. He turned to look down at Sara as if just now realizing who and what he had dragged home.

“Looks cozy.” She managed a fairly convincing smile even though her teeth were chattering.

“It is—for one person.” He paused at the door.

Sara understood his reluctance to invite her in, given her disgusting, filthy condition. “Is there any way I can get the mud washed off my back before we go inside? I don’t want to dirty your nice cabin.”

Adam’s expression was cynical. “I’m a bachelor. What makes you think the house is any cleaner than you are?”

“Well, I…” She knew she was blushing but there was no way to stop. In spite of the man’s contentious attitudes and mercurial moods she kind of liked him. Which meant that his teasing affected her more than it normally would have.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, checking the parts of her clothing she could only assume were as ghastly as they felt.

“You’ll do,” Adam said. “Rain washed the worst of it off. By the time we both get clean and dry the place will be a mess, anyway. Come on.” He opened the door and ushered her inside, giving her a cautious but firm shove between the shoulder blades.

Sara felt Samson try to scoot through the door beside her. Only Adam’s presence of mind and stem command kept the sopping-wet dog from joining them. “No. Out!”

“Can’t he come in, too?”

“You and I will dry him off later. After we get ourselves taken care of.” Adam paused and frowned. “That is, providing I can come up with enough towels.”

Hugging her pack to her chest, Sara scanned the narrow, rectangular room. The place looked more like a hunting or fishing lodge than it did a house. There was a half-full dog dish the size of grandma’s Dutch oven tucked beside a long-legged, antique gas stove in the kitchen area. Next to the food sat a water bowl nearly as big.

The remainder of the room seemed to be centered around a coal-black, wood-burning behemoth. It sat on abbreviated legs, silently radiating heat and looking just like a pudgy oil drum with cast-ron decorations.

Sara hesitated. The place smelled very masculine. Oh, not like old socks or anything. Just different. As if a man, this man, had made it his private den. Clearly, the cabin was his special sanctuary. And she was an intruder.

“Really, I…” Embarrassed, Sara hung back close to the door. She didn’t want to impose any more than she already had. Yet what choice was there? All her camping gear and clothing, except what she carried in the one small pack, was back at the car, inaccessible. If she were in her companion’s shoes she would gladly offer shelter and assistance, so why did it bother her so much to accept the same from him?

Adam had removed his boots and was stoking the wood stove, oblivious to her uneasiness. “Slip off your shoes and leave them on the rug there by the door.” He flipped open the cast iron door with a noisy clank and poked the dying embers with a stick. “I’ll take care of them later.”

Sara suddenly felt his gaze settle on her, warming her far more than the stove. She tensed. “What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Grumbling, Adam looked away. “No. Just hurry up, will you? I’d like to get out of my wet clothes.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“There’s only one bathroom. I don’t intend for us to share it, okay?” He gestured with a tilt of his head. “Over there. Through that door. And don’t use up all the hot water.”

Sara giggled softly. “The bathroom is inside, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to tell me I have to walk across the yard and back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s inside.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile, then quickly resumed its usual moody position. “I have a generator for the electricity to pump the water, too, so you won’t have to go fetch it from the well in a bucket.”

“Oh, good.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.” The wry smile threatened to reappear. “There are towels in the cabinet under the sink, I think. If not, that means I didn’t remember to do the laundry and we’re both up the creek.”

“Please,” Sara said, “don’t mention creeks or rivers or anything else pertaining to water. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

“Stick around these hills long enough and you’ll get used to it,” he told her. “Locals say, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes and it’ll change. It’s kind of a standing joke.”

“I can believe that.” She was eyeing the bathroom door. “Um, I do have one other request, if you don’t mind.”

“What is that?”

“Well, there’s a sweatshirt and some personal things in my pack but I don’t have any other dry clothes with me at the moment. Do you suppose you could loan me something to wear? Just till my skirt dries.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I can find something that will fit you.”

To Sara’s surprise he went to the bed instead of the dresser and dragged a low, flat, storage box from beneath it. Straightening, he tossed a pair of jeans her way as if they were of no consequence, but she could tell by the expression on his face that he cared very much about whoever the clothing belonged to. Or had belonged to.

Was he was hiding out up here in the wilderness to lick his wounds? Recovering from a disappointing love affair? Well, why not? She was.

“Thanks,” Sara called back, as she headed for the bathroom and ducked inside. The room was spartan but definitely adequate. Turning on the shower she quickly shed her ruined clothes and stepped into the spray. Oh, it felt good to be clean!

Reveling in the warmth she let her mind wander where it wanted. Life was so confusing. Sometimes, it seemed as if she were stumbling along without purpose or guidance. At other times, like now, it was as if God had taken an interest in her future, after all.

She sighed. If that were so, there would be no real accidents in her life, would there? Not even slippery roads and unbelievable thunder storms.

Not even meeting Adam Callahan.

Adam sat on an upended log beside the wood stove and stared at the bathroom door. How long had it been since anyone else had been in his house? It seemed like forever.

He vividly recalled Gene’s last visit. They’d had a great time getting reacquainted. Older by ten years, Adam had always felt responsible for his brother’s welfare, even after they’d both grown up and gone separate ways.

Adam had even offered to quit the force so they could go into business together. Gene had insisted he had his own plans. Plans that didn’t include settling down to a regular nine-to-five job. He wanted to have fun. Explore the wild side of life. If he hadn’t had a cop for a brother, he might have succeeded.

Blinking away the final scene in his brother’s short life, Adam got to his feet. It should have been him who died, not Gene. Adam was the unlucky one. The jinx. It wasn’t safe to be around him. Which was one of the reasons he always gave for his life of isolation.

His thoughts returned to his guest. Sara Stone was spunky. Most women in her shoes would have collapsed in tears. She was definitely not his type, though. Which was for the best. The last thing he needed or wanted was to become involved in someone else’s personal life.

As if on cue, Sara called out from behind the bathroom door. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I hate to bother you, but I just unwrapped my sweatshirt and it’s damp. Got one I can borrow till it dries?”

“Sure. Hang on.” He found a gray fleece that would do. “Here.”

The slim, smooth arm she held out from behind the almost closed bathroom door gave him a start. She had long, tapering, expressive fingers, and delicate, unblemished skin that looked softer than satin.

Adam slapped the rumpled sweatshirt into her hand and turned away. What was the matter with him? Had he been alone so long that any woman, even Sara Stone, looked good to him?

What’s wrong with the way she looks? he admonished himself, analyzing his curious thoughts. What difference did it make? He didn’t intend to relinquish his hard-won tranquility for any reason. All he wanted was to be left alone. Period. End of story.

Reaffirmed, he hunkered down by the fire to wait his turn in the bathroom. He was fine. Content. He had his dog and the wilderness, enough to eat, and a roof over his head. Plus, he could always check on the status of his investments or draw more cash by merely driving to the mom-and-pop grocery store a few miles away and making some phone calls. It was a perfect system. A perfect life.

The bathroom door slowly creaked open. Steam bearing pleasant, feminine fragrances accompanied Sara into the room. Adam found it suddenly difficult to breathe. She’d wrapped one of his towels around her wet hair and twisted it on top of her head. Her long, graceful neck arched above the loose neckline of his sweatshirt. Wisps of light, golden hair had escaped the confines of the towel to curl gently downward and caress her pale skin. Her feet were bare. And she was still lugging that ridiculous pack.

His gaze traveled Sara’s full length and back to her face where she greeted him with the warmest smile and the most appealing hazel eyes he’d ever seen. This beauty was under all that mud? Heaven help him when her hair dried!

“The waist is kind of big but the jeans fit pretty well,” Sara said. “Thanks.” She shook out the fleecy red shirt she’d had wrapped around her laptop computer. “This isn’t nearly as wet as the rest of my clothes. It should dry by the fire in no time.”

“Good.” Adam swallowed hard. Having her staying there, even for one night, was going to be a lot harder on him than he’d imagined. “Are you through in the bathroom?”

“For now.” Sara padded across the floor to stand beside the warm stove. “I left my other clothes on the floor in the corner. As soon as you’ve had your shower I’ll clean up everything. Okay?”

“Sure.” He hoped his consternation didn’t show.

“I kept my shower short so you’d have plenty of hot water.”

“Thanks.” Adam disappeared into the bathroom. What in the world was the matter with him? Why was he so uptight? Anybody would think he’d never been alone with a pretty young woman before.

Stripping off his shirt and jeans he threw them forcefully to the floor. Pretty was an understatement. How could he have been so wrong about Sara’s looks? And how in the world could she have managed to smell so good when all he had on hand was his usual generic shampoo?

A quick glance at the shelf in the shower answered his question. She’d packed for any emergency, the way women did, and brought along all sorts of potions. The bottles were lined up on the lip of his shower stall like little tin soldiers.

Adam closed his eyes and stepped under the stinging spray. He placed both hands on the wall of the shower and bowed his head, letting the water cascade over him. This was the feeling he’d dreaded; the moment he’d tried with all his might to postpone. For the first time in nearly two years he was forced to admit that maybe he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life alone, after all.

Sara heard her host turn off the shower. She had hung the red sweatshirt next to the stove to finish drying and was carefully checking the condition of her portable computer. It seemed to be functioning well.

“You still there?” he called from behind the closed door.

Sara thought the question totally absurd. “Nope. I went out for pizza. Why?”

“Can’t you give a simple, straight answer?”

Approaching the door she laughed lightly. “Apparently not. Is that all you wanted to ask?” She heard unintelligible muttering.

“No. I wasn’t thinking. I came in here without clean clothes. Would you please hand me some?”

“Sure.” Sara stifled another laugh. “Boy, with a memory like yours it’s a good thing you weren’t going to the store or something, huh?”

“Very funny. Just hand me a pair of jeans and a shirt. There’s a stack of clothes piled on the chest at the foot of the bed.”

“Okay.” Complying, she noticed that nothing was folded. Not that it surprised her. She supposed a bachelor did well to just wash and dry the dirty stuff once in a while. Never mind put it neatly away.

“How shall I get them to you, shove them through the keyhole?” Sara waited for him to open the door.

Again, she overheard muttering. The poor man must really be used to his solitude. Still, even a certified grump needed a little humor in his life. And besides, she was so thankful to have been rescued she was feeling the need to share her elation.

A damp, hairy arm emerged from behind the door, fingers grasping impatiently. “Well?”

“Here.” She crammed the clothes into his hand in a wad. When he didn’t express any thanks she added, “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Callahan.”

Adam flung open the door seconds later, catching her by surprise. This was the first time she’d taken a really good look at her reluctant benefactor. He was tall and muscular. Adam Callahan was clearly a man who used his muscles. Oh, boy, was he!

Stop that! Sara lectured herself. Since when have you been nuts about grouchy Neanderthals?

“I’m not nuts.” She realized belatedly that she had spoken aloud.

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll step out of the way I’ll go tend to Samson.”

“Oh, sorry.” In moments she had recovered her lucidity. “Can I help? I feel like I owe it to him. After all, he did rescue me.”

One of Adam’s dark eyebrows raised. His deep-blue eyes peered down at her. “Who rescued you?”

“Well, you did, in the end. But if Samson hadn’t heard my car and gone looking for me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t remind me,” Adam grumbled, “or I may leave him out on the porch for the rest of his miserable life.”

That stern warning sounded far too genuine. Sara placed both hands on her hips, her expression defiant. “Now look, mister. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble for that poor, innocent animal, so knock off the threats. Samson didn’t do anything wrong and you know it.”

“Well, well, you do have a serious side, after all, don’t you? I was beginning to wonder.”

“I can’t help finding humor in lots of different things. It’s just my nature. I guess that’s one of the reasons I’m good at my job.”

“Which is?” Adam grabbed a couple of large bath towels from the laundry pile and started for the door.

“I teach kindergarten and first grade.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Kids. You know, those cute, short people who like to play in the sand and eat cookies?” She chuckled at the droll expression on his face.

“I have heard of them, yes.”

“I love children.” She smiled sweetly, recalling the students she had just passed on to second grade. If it hadn’t been for Eric’s unnatural obsession with her, she’d probably have volunteered to teach summer school. The disappointing recollection wrinkled her brow.

“So, do you have kids of your own?” Adam asked.

She sighed. “No. I’m not married.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop a lot of women these days.”

“I’m a Christian. I have different rules of behavior. At least I’m supposed to.”

“Ah.” Adam nodded. “I used to be one, too.”

“Used to be?”

“Yeah.”

Sara could sense how uncomfortable he was so she changed the subject. “So, what do you do up here? Live off the land?”

“In a manner of speaking. Why? Do you disapprove?”

“Of course not I’m sure lots of people do it.”

“I get by.”

She smiled sincerely. “Good. Which reminds me. I have a whole box of freeze-dried meals in my car. If you’re short on food, I’ll be glad to share mine.”

“No need. There’s a fresh-stewed owl in the refrigerator. We’ll have plenty for supper.”

Speechless, Sara gasped.

Adam’s mouth began to twitch at the corners. “You should see the look on your face!”

“We’re not having owl?” She swallowed hard.

“No. We’re having chicken. I take it you’re not opposed to eating dinner with Samson and me.”

“Not a bit. As a matter of fact, I was in such a hurry to get to the Leatherwoods I didn’t stop to eat. I’m starving.”

“Then let’s hurry up and dry the dog so we can let him in and get to the food.”

“It really will be a normal meal, won’t it?” she asked, hoping for further confirmation that he had been kidding.

“As normal as you’d find in any big city. I never serve ants or grubs when I have company.” He was working to stifle a chuckle. “And possum is way too greasy. Too much cholesterol.”

“Oh, good. Then I suppose skunk is out, too?”

“Uh-huh. Samson isn’t partial to it, although he does get a kick out of chasing the little black-and-white stinkers. Tries to herd them like sheep, sometimes.”

Adam opened the door to admit his soggy dog. He caught hold of the animal’s ruff as it tried to push past him and quickly draped a towel over its back.

Sara grabbed another towel and followed his lead. She was almost in time to ward off a shower as the dog gave a mighty shake. “Eesh! He’s a mess, isn’t he?”

“Not as big a mess as you were when we found you.”

“Which reminds me, thanks for the great rescue.” Her voice took on a lilting, childish quality. “You were wonderful.”

Adam was about to offer a modest response when he realized she was talking to his dog.

Chapter Three

“So, what brings you to the Ozarks?” Adam asked later, over dinner.

Sara didn’t intend to admit she was running away from anything. “Oh, just a whim.” Which was at least partially true.

“But why come up here? You mentioned the Leatherwoods, before. You do realize that forest has been gone for almost a century, don’t you?”

“So my granny told me. It’s a shame. I would have loved to see a tree with bark so strong a person could actually make shoes out of it.”

“That’s the way the story goes. It’s my guess the finished product wasn’t anything like what you and I would consider decent shoes.”

She glanced at her mud-stained sandals by the door. “Well, maybe. Right now I’d settle, though.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll dry.”

Sara rubbed her arms through the fleecy sleeves of the borrowed sweatshirt. “I know.” She shivered. “Do you mind if I go stand by the stove where it’s a little warmer? I’m still chilly.”

“Not at all. Are you done eating? There’s plenty of chicken left if you want more.”

“No, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

“Okay. Go get warm. I’ll clean up the dishes.”

Sara made a silly face at him. “What did you say?”

“Go get warm.”

“No, the rest of it,” she drawled. “I could have sworn you mentioned doing the dishes.”

“So?”

She giggled. “So, you’re going to have to bribe me not to tell anybody that I actually found a good-looking guy who can not only cook, but cleans up after himself.”

“I’d just as soon you didn’t mention meeting me at all.” His scowl confirmed how serious he was.

“Don’t worry,” Sara assured him. “Nobody would believe it, anyway. Far-fetched news like that falls into the same category as a sighting of Sasquatch.” She smiled. “Hey! Maybe I could sell your picture to the tabloids and retire for life on the proceeds.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” His voice was gruff, emotionally charged. “They didn’t pay me anything the last time.”

Hesitating, Sara tried to decide if he was kidding. Studying his closed expression didn’t help. She quit speculating and asked. “Are you serious?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. I have a history of making rotten choices in men. I’d like to know if I’m stuck out here in the woods with a famous criminal or something.”

Adam had been noticing how she glanced at the door and tensed up every time there was a crack of thunder or the wind blew debris against the windows. For the first time since they’d met, it occurred to him she might be frightened of something other than the storm.

He held up his hands for assurance, palms facing her. “I’m as honest and normal as anybody. A regular guy. Real apple pie.”

Sara made a face.

“What do I have to do, stand at attention, salute and sing the national anthem to prove it to you?”

Her eyes followed the path of his gaze. A guitar was propped in a far corner. “Do you really play and sing?”

“Some.”

“Oh, would you? I love folk music!” Given the natural ambience of the cabin, a wood stove for warmth, the cadence of the rain against the roof, she couldn’t think of anything she’d like better than hearing a softly strummed guitar.

“Maybe all I know is rock.” Adam watched her face to see what secrets her guileless features might betray. He usually played only for himself. The songs were more than company. They were catharsis. Did he really want to share that private part of his life with a stranger? He sighed. Maybe he should. If she was truly fearful, the distraction might help. The last thing he needed was to be trapped in a one-room cabin with a terrified woman.

“Anything will be fine.” Sara wanted to be agreeable, above all. “Afterward, I’ll help you clean the dishes.”

“That’s hardly scale wages for a musician.”

“Maybe not, but it is a big sacrifice for me,” she said. “I have an automatic dishwasher at home. All I have to do is load it. It does the whole job all by itself, even most of the pots and pans, providing I don’t burn them cooking.”

Adam was amused by a droll thought. He lifted the guitar carefully. “Actually, it’s Samson who usually does my dishes for me. I just set them on the floor and…” The distressed look on Sara’s face made him laugh. It was diverting to have such a gullible audience.

“You don’t!”

“No, I don’t. Except on possum night,” he jibed. “The extra grease in his diet is good for his coat. Makes it real shiny.”

“Oh, stop!” Laughing with him, Sara made a mock swipe with her hand as he passed.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re very naive?” Adam took a seat on the sofa and propped the guitar across his lap.

“I’m afraid so.” She cast a furtive glance toward the closed door. “Someday, I’ll have to tell you about Eric.”

Someday? Adam’s mind echoed the idea. Sara was talking as if they had a future together. That was pure fallacy. Yet he could see why she’d fallen into the trap of thinking their unique relationship would continue. There was already a kind of natural camaraderie between them. It sprang from the amiable rivalry of two corresponding intellects.

Talking with Sara was an adventure for his mind; one which he was thoroughly enjoying in spite of himself. He’d be willing to bet she was, too.

Which meant nothing. Adam strummed an opening chord and began to sing a plaintive ballad. By the third song, Sara’s eyes had closed and she’d dozed off, slouched in a chair she’d pulled close to the fire. He would have covered her with a blanket and left her there if he hadn’t been worried she might accidently get burned. Laying the guitar aside, he approached.

“Sara?” The shadows of her long, pale lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened slowly, their depths misty and unfocused. She began to smile. Adam was pleased to see that she’d recognized him immediately.

“Oops.” Her groggy expression grew apologetic. “I didn’t mean to nod off. Your singing was wonderful. It’s just that this has been a long, trying day.” Not to mention the weeks and months preceding it, she added silently.

“No problem.” He glanced toward the narrow bed. “I suppose you’d like to turn in.”

Sara’s strong sense of fairness surfaced. “I’m not taking your bed, if that’s what you mean. I’ll just make myself a pallet here on the floor, next to the fire where it’s warm.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.”

She was wholly awake, now, her stubbornness in full flower. Getting to her feet she faced him, hands on her hips. “Who says?”

“I do. Not only is this my house, I’m a lot bigger than you are.”

“But I have Samson on my side.” Sara reached down to lay her hand atop the dog’s broad head and ruffle his silky ears. “Don’t I, boy?” The dog snuggled against her legs, his thick fur fluffier than usual due to the vigorous towel drying he’d received.

“I wouldn’t count on him to stay loyal,” Adam warned. “All I have to do is open the door to the refrigerator and he’ll be all mine again, heart and soul.”

“Just like a male. Always thinking about his stomach, right?”

Adam huffed. “Well, he didn’t get that big without considerable help from me.”

“I suppose not.” She gave the dog another affectionate pat. “I can see he’d have turned out to be a Chihuahua if you hadn’t taken such good care of him when he was a puppy.”

“You’re not going to distract me by making a joke out of it.” Adam had to stifle the smile brought on by the image of Samson as a lap dog. “You get the bed. End of discussion.”

“But where will you sleep?”

The moment she uttered the innocent question Sara felt her cheeks begin to burn. This was the awkward moment she had anticipated. Yes, she trusted her host—sort of—yet she felt compelled to remind him of her strong moral code. The problem was finding a way to express herself clearly without sounding as if she were preaching.

Adam remained firm. “I plan to sleep on the floor.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” She broke off, unsure of how to proceed.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He pulled extra blankets out of the chest at the foot of the bed. “And you don’t have to explain. I already know you weren’t inviting me to bunk with you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Does it surprise you?”

“A little.” Remaining near the warm stove she folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself for extra emotional support.

“Well, it shouldn’t. I’m usually a pretty good judge of people.”

“Usually?” Sara wished she could say the same for herself.

“Yeah. Sometimes I goof big time.” Like when I relaxed my guard and got Gene killed, he thought sadly.

Sara noticed Adam’s gaze dart for an instant to the box of clothing peeking out from under the bed. The place where he’d gotten the jeans she was wearing. Evidently, his reference to making a mistake had to do with whoever had once belonged to the expensive things. Which was a conundrum in itself. Anyone who could afford such luxuries would be seriously out of place in Adam Callahan’s austere life.

With a sigh, Sara crossed to the bed and perched, exhausted, on its edge, hands folded, shoulders slumped. “Okay, you win.”

“Good.” Adam regarded her quiet capitulation with puzzlement. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.” She yawned. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” He busied himself making a pallet on the opposite side of the stove.

“About misjudging people. Apparently, you and I have that in common, too.”

“Too? What else is there?” He peered around the side of the portly black stove.

“Well, for one thing, Samson likes us both. Which naturally means he must be a really intelligent animal.”

“Come to think of it, you’re right. I probably should have paid more attention to his opinion in the past.” He paused, thoughtful. “Good night, Sara.”

Fully dressed she crawled under the covers and pulled them up around her chin. “Good night, Adam.” A silly bit of nostalgia popped into her mind and she added, “Good night, Grandpa, good night, John-Boy.”

Adam muttered softly as he padded across the floor to turn out the lights. Sara managed to stay awake barely long enough to thank God for her rescue and the kindness of the stranger who had taken her in. Before she was through praying she had fallen soundly asleep.

It was a nudge from Samson’s wet nose that roused her the following morning. Opening her eyes, Sara found him staring at her from barely six inches away. The effect was startling. So was his doggy breath!

Wide-eyed, she sucked in air to fuel a scream before she fully realized where she was. Or what kind of creature she was facing.

From across the room she heard a facetious, “Good morning. You going to sleep till noon?”

“I’m on vacation,” Sara countered. “Cut me some slack.”

Adam snorted. Apparently, his guest was not a morning person. “Yes, ma’am. Do you always wake up with such a sunny disposition?”

“No. Sometimes I’m much worse. What time is it, anyway?”

“Pretty late. Almost seven.”

With a theatrical moan, Sara ducked down and pulled the comforter up over her face. Samson, however, was not about to let his new playmate hide from him. He immediately began to root under the edge of the blankets with his broad nose, coming up inside the bedclothes next to Sara’s face.

“Aagh!” She bolted out of bed. Landing on the floor in her bare feet she glared at Adam. “You stinker! You put him up to that!”

“Not me. You’re the one who petted and fussed over him yesterday. If he’s spoiled, it’s your fault.”

Sara stood there in a half stupor and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She never had been able to deal amiably with morning. This day was no different. Only the debt of gratitude which she owed her rescuer was keeping her from being a certified, card-carrying sourpuss.

She padded softly across the room. Adam was up to his midforearms in suds from the dishes they hadn’t taken the time to wash the night before. The man was too good to be real. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare cup of coffee?”

“Not till we stoke the wood stove, again. I’m running low on diesel and I’m not sure when I’ll be. able to get into town. I shut down the generator.”

“Oh, dear. What about the refrigerator?”

“It’ll stay cold if we don’t open it too often.” He shot her a condescending look. “You want coffee, go out to the woodshed, get an armload of dry kindling, and I’ll build you a fire.”

“Me?”

“You’re the one who wants hot coffee, remember?” He snatched his recently used mug off the sink and dunked it in the dishwater before she could take notice. He’d brewed instant coffee in the microwave just before cutting the power. It was a wonder she hadn’t smelled the tantalizing aroma.

Sara was a bright woman. Adam figured she’d realize he was teasing long before she made the trek to the shed. After all, he was washing the dishes in hot water. And the antique cookstove was propane powered with a manual ignition, so it required no electricity at all. He stifled a smile. Until she woke up all the way, figured out he was kidding, and told him off, it was fun to watch the disgruntled look she was trying to hide. To see the sparks of indignation in her hazel eyes.

“I don’t believe this.” She gave up trying to remain cordial, stomped off to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her.

It took Sara only a few minutes of private prayer and serious contemplation to convince herself she was being unfair to her host. He had taken her in when she was in dire circumstances and had been as nice as can be since then, give or take the odd wisecrack. If it was dry firewood he needed, she’d get it. Without complaint.

She eased open the door and peeked out. Adam still stood at the sink, his back to her. Samson was nowhere to be seen.

She cast a sad glance at her soggy, ruined sandals. There was no use bothering with shoes. Judging by what she had seen through the bathroom window, the sun was out and the well-worn path to the shed was clear. The trip was a short one. Bare feet would be considerably easier to clean than shoes—if she’d had any others to sacrifice. She’d do this for Adam. Because she owed him that much, and more. And because she needed to make it up to him for grumbling without cause.

The cabin door creaked as she opened it and ducked out. Behind her, she heard Adam shout, “Wait!”

“I’ll just be a minute. Ooh. Ah. Eesh!” Off the porch, Sara danced through the cold, slippery mud.

“Sara! Come here.”

“I will, I will.” Pausing at the woodshed she turned to look back. “How much of this stuff do we need?”

He was sorely tempted to say, “None,” but held his peace. If his guest hadn’t overcome her dour morning mood he didn’t think she’d appreciate his little joke. Might not, anyway. He figured it was best to simply use whatever firewood she brought, rather than confess.

“I’ll bring all I can carry, okay?”

“Okay. Just get in here before you catch pneumonia.”

“Right.” Loading her arms with the smallest diameter logs she could find, Sara started back to Adam. She was three steps from the safety of the dry porch when a bolt of white shot past. It knocked into her left leg. She teetered. Whirled. Spun like a leaf in a whirlwind.

“Aaah!” Unable to regain her balance, Sara felt herself start to fall. All she could think of was keeping the wood dry. She tried to pass it to Adam.

He lunged toward her, hoping to avert the impending calamity. It was far too late. For both of them. He slipped on the bottom step and went sailing through the air, shouting. “Look out!”

Any assistance Adam might have been able to render was thwarted by the jumble of limbs and sticks Sara literally threw his way. One particularly heavy piece nicked his temple, leaving him dazed. When he shook the sense back into his head he was kneeling at the foot of the porch steps in a tangle of bark, raw lumber, and slippery red clay.

Seated opposite, Sara was up to her back pockets in the same mud. “What happened?”

“I think Samson wanted in.”

She shook her hands at arm’s length like a kitten with its paw dipped in the milk bowl. “Ugh. Remind me to give him the right-of-way the next time.”

“No kidding.” Adam tried to subdue his wide grin. He failed. “You should see yourself.”

“You’re no prize, either, mister,” Sara retorted, giggling in spite of herself. She sobered. “What happened to your head?”

“My head?” He gingerly lifted one muddy hand, then decided it would be wiser to not touch the injury until he’d washed.

“It’s bleeding.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.” Adam got cautiously to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on. I owe you a cup of coffee.”

“But, what about building a fire, first?” Clearly, her efforts at gathering wood to stoke the stove had failed.

“We’ll make do.”

Taking his strong hand she let him help her to her feet. She’d expected him to let go as soon as she was upright. He didn’t The sense of safety in his warm, dynamic touch was far more soothing than she’d anticipated.

“You take a shower first,” he said, penitent. “I’ll have coffee waiting when you’re done.”

“You’re probably going to have to lend me more clothes. I’m really sorry about the jeans. I’m afraid they’ll never be the same.”

“Neither will I,” Adam muttered.

Sara gave no indication she’d heard what he said. He was still holding her hand. She loved the sympathetic gesture. It made her feel as secure as if she were enfolded in a tender embrace.

Her cheeks warmed. She averted her gaze. Her fingers slipped between his and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Never be the same? Boy, no kidding!

And he wasn’t the only one affected that way. No matter what else happened, she’d never be the same, either. Not now that she’d met Adam Callahan.

Chapter Four

The aroma of coffee greeted Sara the moment she left the bathroom. Adam handed her a steaming mug, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and backed off discretely.

“Umm. That’s better,” she said, cradling the mug in both hands. She took a sip, smiled. “How did you manage?”

“It’s an old-fashioned, homesteader secret.”

Sara envisioned his blue-and-white enameled coffee pot buried in the smoldering ashes of the woodstove or hanging from a hook over an open fire. Curious, she pressed him for details. “Tell me. I’d love to have some genuine pioneer lore to share with my students this coming school year.”

Clearing his throat, Adam decided to confess. “I made it on the stove. It’s propane fired.”

She was certain her gas stove at home required an electrical connection, too. “But, how…?”

He reached into a kitchen drawer and took out a red-handled tool that looked like a wand with a trigger. “You light the burners with this. A match would do the job, too, but this igniter is easier. It works like a cigarette lighter, only the flame comes out the end of a long snout so you don’t get burned.”

Sara was still hoping she hadn’t been as dimwitted as she was beginning to think. She scowled. “But, last night you heated dinner in the wood stove. I thought…”

“The chicken and potatoes were already cooked and the coals in the stove were perfect for warming everything when we got back. I just thought you’d get a kick out of eating a meal that had been roasted on the coals in a Dutch oven. I never meant to imply that I couldn’t have done the same thing on the stove.”

Sara’s mouth gaped, then snapped shut in indignation. What a fool she’d been. “And you thought it would be fun to send me out into the mud for firewood? What did I ever do to you?”

“Outside of half drown me and totally disrupt my peace and quiet? Nothing,” he countered, trying a wry smile to see if she’d respond.

“You’re forgetting alienation of affections,” she snapped. “I’ve thoroughly ruined your dog.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow at Samson, who had made straight for his favorite spot by the stove and laid down to lick his wet paws. He always did the same thing, whether there was a fire burning or not. “To tell you the truth, that mutt was already pretty spoiled. I’ve been trying to teach him not to barge through doors ever since he was a pup.”

“Your dog training techniques could use some serious improvement.”

“I guess my houseguest etiquette could, too.”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

That, and a lot more, Sara admitted, blushing and looking away. She didn’t want to dwell on how much she liked Adam, nor did she intend to let him know it. There were a few logistical problems, however, which she felt were safe topics for discussion.

Sipping her coffee, she enjoyed its familiar warmth while she formulated her latest idea, then spoke. “What I do think is that I’ve worn out my welcome. You’ve been more than generous, sharing your cabin and your food and all, but I ought to be on my way.”

“Is someone expecting you?”

She decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell him that much. “No. Nobody’s lived on the old place since my great-grandmother died. I just meant it’s time for me to go.”

“Okay. I agree. Now, how do you propose to accomplish that?” Adam leaned against the sink, his arms folded across his chest.

“Well, the rain’s stopped. We’ll just hike back to the car and…”

“We?”

Sara set her cup on the table and faced him, hands on her hips. “Yes, we. It’s either that or I camp here for the rest of the summer.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“Probably. At least I hope so.”

He was a little surprised that she’d taken his clichéd comment seriously. Then he recalled what she’d said about being a Christian and vowed to watch his references to that kind of thing in the future.

Sara went on, “The trouble is, I have absolutely no idea how to get back to my car. You dragged me through the woods in the dead of night in the middle of a hurricane. There’s no way I’m going to be able to backtrack by myself.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t even know which direction to go to start looking.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Too soon for what?” She frowned at him.

Adam scowled back at her. “It’s going to be at least two or three days before anybody can negotiate the roads up here, even with a four-wheel-drive truck like mine.”

“Meaning?” Sara mirrored his stance, her arms folded, her back stiff.

“Meaning, we’re stuck here. Just you, me and the dog. A real happy family.”

“That’s impossible. Surely, you can call me a tow truck or something.”

Acting far more nonchalant than he felt, Adam shrugged. “Look. Tell you what we’ll do. I don’t have a phone. As soon as I’m sure the weather will hold, we’ll hike down to the mom-and-pop grocery store at Flatrock and see if we can get somebody to come up and pull you out.”

“Somebody professional? I’d hate to damage my rental car, even though it isn’t new.”

“You should have thought of that before you drove it off the road,” he countered.

“Actually, I was trying to see if it would float,” she quipped dryly. “But it got stuck on the berm before I could make it all the way to the river, below.” Sara saw her rescuer’s countenance darken.

“Don’t make jokes like that,” he warned. “Life-threatening situations aren’t funny.”

“I never said they were. I was just…” The look in his eyes kept her from continuing. Something or someone in Adam’s past must have contributed greatly to his negative response. That wasn’t her fault. However, she could tell he was clearly beyond accepting any innocent attempts at humor so she backed off and faced him soberly.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. All my life, I’ve tended to make jokes out of all kinds of situations, even the most desperate ones. I guess it’s my way of coping. I don’t mean anything bad by it.”

She paused, studying his closed expression and trying to guess what made him tick. “Before you came up here and shut yourself away like this, were you a doctor or an ambulance driver or something?”

He shook his head slowly, his blue gaze capturing hers and holding it as securely as if he’d taken her hands and was forcing her to look at him. “No,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “I was a cop.”

The rain resumed by lunchtime. Sara had insisted they start the generator long enough for her to run a load of laundry through the washing machine perched on the narrow back porch. Her rationale was flawless. One more slide in the red clay of the yard and she’d be out of wearable clothing, not counting the unmentionables she had stuffed in her pack.

Using the dryer, however, was impossible in the wind-driven downpour, so they’d carted the damp, clean clothes inside and rigged up ropes as clotheslines to dry the wettest articles. By the time the laundry was hung, the tiny cabin reminded Sara of a soggy, ramshackle maze.

“I feel like a mouse,” she called, ducking a stiffening pair of jeans located close to the stove’s radiating heat and making her way toward Adam.

He threw a last bath towel over the rope and looked in the direction of her voice. “A what? Where’s a mouse?”

Sara laughed lightly. “No. Not a real mouse. I mean, this arrangement feels like we’re stuck in some kind of a bizarre maze.”

“It’s not normally this crowded in here when I have to resort to this method,” he explained. “A pair of jeans and maybe a few towels by the stove is usually all I hang. It’s a good thing the weather’s stayed cold or we wouldn’t have the heat from the stove to help dry this stuff.”

She lifted the lower corner of another towel and peeked past it to smile up at him. “I really am sorry I inconvenienced you and disturbed your solitude.”

“I’ll live.”

She swept aside the towel and stepped into the confining space between the row of laundry and the edge of the sink where Adam stood. “Don’t you get lonely way out here? This is beautiful country and all, but I just think, I’d miss people.”

Adam stared at her. The already humid air seemed suddenly rarified. The hanging laundry had enclosed the two of them in such a small space he couldn’t help noticing everything about Sara. His oversize sweatshirt had never looked so good. She was attractive. Appealing. Almost endearing. He would have turned away and fled if there had been anywhere else to go. He finally found his voice. “I don’t miss people at all.”

“But you did, once, didn’t you?” Sara’s words were soft, gently spoken. Without realizing it, she’d drawn on her internal resources to express the spiritual love Adam needed. The love that he’d banished from his wounded soul.

He stiffened. Mentally withdrew. “I don’t know how we got on this subject but let’s drop it, okay? My life is none of your concern, so don’t try fixing it.”

That statement acted like a bucket of ice water in Sara’s face, negating the compassion blossoming in her heart and refocusing her mind. If anybody’s life needed fixing, it was hers. For the first time in hours she thought of Eric, remembered her earlier fear, wondered where he was and if she had truly escaped his uncalled-for interest.

She huffed. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about. If I could fix any life, I’d start with my own, thank you.”

“Yours?” Adam was surprised. “From the things you’ve said and the way you’ve been kidding around, I’d have thought for sure you were happy.”

“That’s a subjective term,” Sara countered. “If you’d asked me the same question six months ago, I’d have told you everything was perfect.”

“And now?”

Her glance darted past Adam to the window above the sink. Eric could be out there in the woods. Watching her. Hidden by the rain. Just waiting for his chance to get her alone, again. To scare her to death with his cool assurances that they were meant for each other no matter how many times she told him no.

Why God had allowed that charlatan to fool her—to fool everyone—so completely, was a mystery Sara still hadn’t figured out. Maybe she never would. At this point, all she wanted was to be free of Eric Rydell. To be able to go to bed at night and not worry that he was stalking her.

She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself. “Now,” she said quietly, answering Adam’s query, “I just want to get to Grandma Stone’s homestead. I need time to think.”

“Alone?” Adam asked perceptively.

“Yes,” Sara said. “Alone.”

It was later in the day before Adam decided to broach the subject of his guest’s uneasiness again. The laundry had dried, thanks to the added heat from the wood stove, and the cabin was no longer so crowded it felt claustrophobic. He’d noted that Sara had relaxed appreciably, though she probably wouldn’t stay that way for long. Not once he started asking questions. He fully intended to cross-examine her until he found out who or what she was afraid of.

She’d found a paperback mystery to read and was curled up comfortably by the fire, apparently ignoring him. If Adam hadn’t been trained to notice nuances of body language and details of his surroundings he might have actually believed she wasn’t paying attention to anything but her reading.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.