“That won’t be necessary. You’re forgiven.” She returned his smile, but it wasn’t the relaxed, easy smile he was used to.
He cast another glance in Bernie’s direction. She still stood there, watching them. She wasn’t even trying to be inconspicuous. She probably wanted to view her success, or failure, firsthand.
He turned his attention back to Jami. “How about letting me take you out for all the nice stuff you did for me?”
“That’s what dinner at your place was for.”
“No, that was in exchange for you taking me whitewater rafting. What about the geocaching?”
She stepped around him to open the driver door. “Trust me, your cooking made up for both.”
He sighed. Had he really messed things up so badly she didn’t want to see him again? The thought left a hollow emptiness inside.
“I still want to take you to dinner tomorrow night.” He gave her another tentative smile. “To quote a pretty newspaper reporter I know, ‘I’m not beyond begging.’”
Her lips quirked up, and some of the tension between them evaporated. “I can’t. I’ve got plans for the evening.”
Bernie hurried around the car and joined the conversation. “No, you don’t.” She turned her back on Jami. “Dinner sounds great. Tomorrow night, you say?”
He eyed her with raised brows. She was bold. And she obviously had an agenda. Before he could formulate an answer, Jami cut in, a touch of annoyance in her tone.
“Since when are you my appointment secretary?”
“Since you’ve gotten it in your head to be stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn, just busy.”
Bernie leaned against the Sunbird and crossed her arms. “You’re not as busy as you think you are. Tomorrow night’s free.”
“No, it’s not. You invited me over for Scrabble, remember?”
“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to uninvite you. Something’s come up.”
Grant stifled a chuckle. Whatever put Bernie in his corner, he would thank her later.
Jami shot her a warning glance.
“All right, all right.” Bernie winked and scurried back around to the Bug, then got inside and backed from the parking space.
Grant watched her leave, unable to hide his amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like Bernie.”
Jami grinned, and this time, the gesture seemed to touch her eyes. “Believe me, no one else has, either. God broke the mold after he made her. But I have to say it’s been nice having her here. I feel like I have my own personal mentor.”
“I’m sure it makes settling in a lot easier.”
“It does.”
“So when is the McAllister article coming out?”
“Week after next. Next week the Humane Society one is running. It’ll of course feature Bailey and Morgan.”
“Two of my favorite furry friends.”
Her smile broadened, chasing away the last of the tension. “That one was easy to write. The McAllister feature is turning out to be a lot harder. So let me know when you change your mind.”
So now it was when instead of if.
But she was right. As much as he wanted to see if she would keep her promise, when it came down to it, he wouldn’t be able to tell her no much longer.
Dinner, a walk in the park and a few more kisses, and he would end up giving her anything she asked for.
Jami put her key into the lock, and immediately dual barks sounded from inside the house. When she opened the door, Morgan and Bailey stood looking up at her, bodies wiggling in excitement. She squatted to pet them, and they both rolled onto their backs for tummy rubs.
“I’m so glad Bernie talked me into that trip to the Humane Society.”
Tails wagged in response. When she moved farther into the room to lay her purse on the coffee table, they pranced after her. She smiled down at them. At least Bernie had done something right. Bringing home two dogs was a lot more practical than trying to build any kind of relationship with her temporary neighbor.
The last thing she’d expected was for him to show up at the Scout yesterday afternoon. She couldn’t say she was angry with him. Although she didn’t excuse him for refusing to talk to her, she wasn’t blind to her own part in the misunderstanding. Even though she’d called off the engagement before she ever met Grant, she should have told him about Robert. Robert was gone, thousands of miles away, so there’d been no chance of them running into one another. But with all the rumors flying about, there was too much chance that Grant would have a conversation with someone ill informed. She should have considered the possibility, because that was exactly what had happened.
She took the two leashes from the hook by the door and, after connecting them to both dogs, stepped out into the front yard. The whole incident had upset her too much. In fact, it had almost devastated her. Which was nuts. Number one, she hadn’t known him that long. Number two, Grant wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture in Murphy. From the moment she first laid eyes on him in the Holiday Inn parking lot, she’d known his stay would be brief. But what her brain acknowledged, her heart refused to heed.
Now she’d been hooked into dinner, thanks to one scheming, meddling matchmaker.
Bernie loved trying to bring people together. But she didn’t consider the fallout—the broken hearts left behind when things didn’t work out.
It had been easier when Jami thought Grant wasn’t attracted to her. At first, he hadn’t even seemed to like her. And although they’d gotten past that bumpy start, she’d been sure he felt nothing more than friendship for her. But the almost kiss at the waterfall had put a big dent in that theory. And the two actual kisses blew it apart. There was a definite attraction, and it wasn’t one-sided.
But it didn’t matter. She’d been through enough of that type of relationship, where the signs Start Here and Dead End shared the same post.
She gave the leashes a small tug and led two reluctant dogs toward the house. They’d both finished their business and now seemed engaged in nothing more than a sniffing expedition. Grant was going to be there in thirty minutes, and she wanted to freshen up her makeup and change clothes before he arrived. She didn’t know where he planned to take her, but he’d said to dress casual.
When she answered the door a short time later, Grant stood there wearing a polo shirt, a pair of khaki pants and a smile that turned all her defenses to mush.
“How about we bring the dogs?”
She raised a brow. “I don’t know of any pet-friendly restaurants in Murphy.”
“We won’t need one. I have something different planned for tonight.”
His something different was a picnic at Koneheta Park. As he removed containers from a large cloth-lined basket, pleasant aromas mixed with the scents of nature.
“I know how much you love the outdoors. I thought this would be a good alternative to a night out at a restaurant.”
Warmth infused her, and she released a sigh filled with longing. Why did he have to be everything she’d ever dreamed of, a real-life Prince Charming? She closed her eyes and let the rustle of leaves and the hum of cicadas weave through her, adding peace to the blanket of contentment already swaddling her.
She needed nature as much as she needed food and water. It was where she refreshed and recharged and drew her inspiration. And it was where she connected with God. And the fact that Grant understood that after just two short weeks endeared him to her even more. “This is perfect.”
He laid out place settings, then uncovered the bowls. Everything matched.
“Did your grandmother have this picnic set?”
“No. I made a Walmart run this morning.”
She stabbed a piece of baked chicken, then spooned potato salad and green bean casserole onto her plate. “And the food?”
“All homemade. I gave up my room at the Holiday Inn today and moved into the house. It makes things much easier.”
After silently blessing the food and including thanks for
the unexpected addition of a certain man in her life, however temporary, she opened her eyes to find him breaking off some bites of chicken and slipping them under the table.
“They already ate, you know.”
“They always look hungry. But I know you have to keep them from getting fat. If this becomes a regular thing, I’ll have to curb my urges to spoil them.”
If? Was there even the remotest chance dinners together could become a regular thing? No, and she refused to get her hopes up. She was a dreamer, not delusional.
They each finished their dinner with a leash around one wrist and dogs between their feet. When their plates were empty, Grant took a final container from the picnic basket.
“I hope you like banana pudding.”
He removed the lid, and she looked into the bowl. The dessert had whipped cream topping and vanilla wafers lining the edge. “Mmm, looks delicious.”
He plopped a generous serving into each bowl, then took a bite. “What else do you have planned for me?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve still got one week left on this get-to-know-Murphy tour.”
“I thought that was off. You already agreed to not sell to Vanguard.”
“I guess I did. But I’ve decided to still hold you to the tour.”
“Alrighty then. I guess we’re back on for the art walk tomorrow night, the Salty Dog Saturday and Fields of the Wood Sunday.”
He grinned. “I still say Salty Dog sounds like a pub. Maybe even a biker bar. Are you sure we’re not going to get there and have to make our way around a bunch of Harleys?”
She giggled. “I’m positive. I’ve been there. No Harleys, unless it’s the mode of transportation for one of the miners.”
When their dishes were empty, Grant stacked everything and put it back into the basket. “Will this be okay here unattended? I’d like to take the dogs for a walk along the river. You, too.” He held out a hand to help her up.
“I don’t think anyone will mess with it.” They’d left the Mercedes in the parking area of the recreational center, and it was a bit of a hike back.
Even though she was on her feet, he didn’t release her. But she didn’t mind. Walking hand in hand with Grant as the sun sank toward the horizon somehow felt right.
He dropped her hand to drape an arm across her shoulders. “Thank you for agreeing to this, in spite of my stupidity.”
“Yeah, for someone smart enough to graduate from law school, that was a pretty dumb move.”
He gave her a playful shake. “You didn’t have to agree so readily.”
“It’s okay. Everybody’s an idiot at one point or another.”
“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
“I’m not one to hold grudges.”
He drew to a stop and turned her to face him. “I’ve seen that. And it’s one of the things I love about you.”
Love? No, silly. He’d just used the word in the same sense that one talks about loving hiking or Mustangs or broccoli.
He tilted his head downward and pulled her closer. As the distance between them dissolved, an image flashed into her consciousness—that diamond-shaped yellow sign with bold black letters—Dead End. A nanosecond later, his lips met hers, and the image was gone, sucked into a tornado of sensation that threatened to carry her away, too.
In the back of her mind, a small sliver of something still rational flashed a warning. There was a precipice ahead, and she was running straight for it.
But that distant little voice wasn’t nearly as persuasive as the pressure of his mouth on hers or the waterfall of emotion flowing through her. Maybe it was stupid. But she was going to grab hold of her dream with both hands.
She would deal with the consequences later.
THIRTEEN
The rapid click of computer keys filled the large, open space of the Cherokee Scout office, and the air hummed with a focused, productive energy. Fridays were always busy, with everyone trying to wrap things up to go to press the following week. At least someone was getting something accomplished.
Jami tapped her pen on her desk and frowned at the pages in front of her. The writing wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good, either. She had tried to make it snappier, tried to inject some emotion into the story. All four pages bled red ink, testimony of her failed attempts—words changed, sentences added, then deleted. Sure, it wasn’t the final draft. But even her rough drafts usually had more life than what she was holding.
If Grant would just give her the go-ahead to use what she’d learned from those letters, she could wrap it up in no time. And she’d have a great article. He seemed close to giving in. Right on the verge, actually. But something was holding him back. He was testing her, seeing if he could trust her to keep her word. She was sure of it.
She wrinkled her nose at the pages on her desk and crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. Maybe she should set it aside and work on something else. She still had another week to get it together. She worked better under pressure, anyway. Nothing like a deadline to force creativity out of a lazy slumber.
She slipped the pages into a neon-green file folder marked McAllister and sat back in her chair, eyes closed. With her fingers at her temples, she made several slow circular motions, easing stress and soothing the frustration brought on by the not-so-productive morning.
At least her assignments for next week’s edition were already finished and edited. In the meantime, if she couldn’t manage any coherent writing, maybe she could jot down some ideas. She picked up a pen and held it poised over the legal pad on her desk. How about “Money-Saving Day Trips”? Or maybe a “Things to Do in and around Murphy” series. She’d have to get the idea approved, but she could run with that.
She picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Hey, Jordan. Is Samantha off the river yet?”
After a few moments of silence, Samantha came on. “Just finished my morning run. What’s up?”
“How about a feature article on Wild River Outfitters?”
“I never turn down free publicity.”
“Once I get the okay, I’ll be out for pictures.” She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “Guess who showed back up Wednesday afternoon.”
“Grant?” The hope in Sam’s tone was obvious.
“We had a picnic in the park last night. Tonight we’re doing the Murphy Art Walk. Even though he’s promised not to sell to Vanguard, he’s holding me to my offer to give him the deluxe two-week tour.”
“Good.”
“I don’t know how good it is, but Bernie didn’t leave me any choice. On dinner, anyway. She pretty much accepted the invitation for me.”
“I’m not surprised. Speaking of Bernie . . .” The line fell silent a moment. “Is she sitting next to you?”
“No, she left for a while.”
“Good. I have news to report. I stopped by Wayne’s Feed Store today, and Hank was bebopping around like a teenager. He was even whistling.”
Jami laughed. Hank and bebop didn’t belong in the same sentence. The e-mails were getting the response they wanted. So had the plant they’d had delivered to the store for Hank’s birthday the prior week. Now if they could just get Hank and Bernie thinking about each other.
“We need to change our tactics,” Jami said. “We’re trying to get Bernie sweet on Hank, and she’s fantasizing about some tattooed Harley rider with a ponytail.”
“Uh-oh, that’s not good.” Sam’s tone was somber, but there was a definite smile underneath. “What do you have in mind?”
“Stronger hints. You know, something pointing Hank to Bernie and Bernie to Hank.”
“Hmm, they both have May birthdays.”
She was right. They were the last week of the month, five days apart. “What do you have in mind?”
“What if we say something about it in the e-mails?”
“Good idea. That would eliminate eleven-twelfths of the prospects.”
“How about this?” The exaggerated clearing of h
er throat told Jami whatever Samantha came up with wasn’t going to be serious. “My love for you is immeasurable, my friend, my companion, my soul mate. Now we share a birth month. Soon we’ll share so much more.”
Jami giggled and rolled her eyes. “Leave off the cornball sentence at the beginning, and you might have something we can work with.”
“How about this?” This time Sam sounded serious. “Did you know we share a birth month? Soon I hope we’ll share so much more.”
Jami frowned, still not convinced. “You don’t think it’s too suggestive?”
“Not unless your mind’s in the gutter. I say we use it. For both of them.”
“All right. I’ll e-mail Hank from Bernie’s dummy address, and you can e-mail Bernie.” A satisfied smile crept up her face. It was going to take a lot of creative thinking, but if they were successful, Murphy’s most notorious matchmaker might find her own happily ever after.
They ended their conversation in the nick of time. Jami had just hung up the phone when Bernie stepped through the front door, the monster handbag she always carried over one shoulder and her cell phone in her hand. A minute later, she plopped the oversize purse on her desk and held up the phone.
“Things are smoking between me and Mr. Wonderful.” Bernie pulled a tape recorder and legal pad from the bag and dropped her phone inside. “We’ve been burning up the Internet, sending those e-mails back and forth.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. It was a good thing Holly didn’t take a summer job between school terms, because it was all they could do to answer them all. Hank was keeping them busy, too, but he wasn’t nearly as prolific as Bernie. “That sounds encouraging. Any idea who it is?”
“Not a clue. I told him I wanted to meet him, but he wants to woo me a little longer.”
“A true romantic.”
“I know. Isn’t he wonderful? Just like your Grant.” She released a sigh. “Dinner out, kisses in the moonlight. Someday you’ll thank me.”
“Or kill you.”
“Not this time. I’m breaking my losing streak with this one. I feel it in my bones.” With that, she removed some earbuds from her top desk drawer, opened a new Word document and set about transcribing what she’d recorded.
Trust My Heart Page 17