by Glynna Kaye
Delaney exchanged a look with Paris and her friend nodded.
“We’ll check it out. Thanks, Lacy. It’s been good meeting you.”
On the street, the two friends paused to get their bearings, and Delaney pointed toward where she thought the recommended store would be. “It’s getting close to lunchtime, but should we first go see if that store carries wallets?”
Paris didn’t respond and Delaney caught her staring down the street in the opposite direction.
“Paris? Should we—”
“Who is that?”
Delaney tracked her line of vision. Then her heart gave a jerk of recognition. Luke. Sleeves rolled up to display impressive biceps, he was unloading boxes from the back of his pickup outside the Hunter Enterprises office.
“That’s Luke Hunter.”
Paris turned to her, openmouthed. “You haven’t even been here a full week and you actually know that guy? And you didn’t think it important enough to tell me about him?”
Warmth permeated Delaney’s cheeks and she prayed it wasn’t translating into a telltale blush. “He has teenagers in the youth group.”
The light in Paris’s eyes dimmed and her mouth took a downturn. “Okay. I get it. Married. Bummer.”
“Actually...he’s not. He’s a widower.”
Her friend again cast an interested look in Luke’s direction. “Not for long, I imagine.”
“Six years, I’ve been told.”
“You’re kidding. A gorgeous guy like that has been running loose for six years?”
“Stop staring at him.” Delaney uttered the terse words under her breath. “He might see you.”
Too late.
Luke spotted them, recognized Delaney and lifted a hand in greeting. No smile. Heart hammering, Delaney waved back, then he returned to his work.
“I want to meet him.” Paris took a determined step forward, but Delaney gripped her arm.
“No, not now.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Hunter and I...” What could she say that wouldn’t encourage her friend to interrogate her further?
Paris arched a brow, sensing Delaney’s reluctance to be drawn into discussion. “Mr. Hunter and you...what?”
Delaney tugged on her arm, forcing her friend in the direction of the Echo Ridge Outpost. “We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye on the youth group project right now. In fact, he’s dead set against it and being rather uncooperative.”
“What’s his problem with it?”
“He thinks the family we’re fixing up the house for is undeserving. He—and apparently many people in town—bear an animosity toward the growing community of artists, which both the mother and father of this family are a part of.”
“And you.”
“Me?”
“You’re an artist, too, remember.”
“I haven’t been invited into the inner circle, remember?” She’d already explained, in excruciating detail, that humiliating meeting with the manager of the Artists’ Co-op.
“You should go to one of the campaign meetings you were telling me about. Maybe you can earn brownie points.”
Delaney shook her head. If her craftsmanship hadn’t won Sunshine over, she certainly wouldn’t try to finagle her way in through the back door.
They paused outside Echo Ridge Outpost where Delaney looked doubtfully at the display window filled with hunting and camping gear. “I’m not sure this place will have what you’re looking for, but I guess it’s worth a try.”
They’d barely stepped inside when a friendly male voice called out. “How can I help you ladies?”
Delaney’s eyes widened as a thirtyish-looking man with collar-length blond hair and piercing blue eyes approached. Jeans, work boots and a slate-blue river driver’s shirt painted the picture of a man at home in the outdoors. That image was completed by a shotgun held casually in one hand, its barrel pointed, thankfully, at the floor.
“We’re looking for men’s wallets. For a gift.”
“Right this way, then.” He led them to a display case near the cash register where he gently placed the gun atop it.
“Not loaded,” he assured with a smile that could send the North Pole into meltdown. Then he slipped behind the case and pulled out a tray of leather billfolds and silver money clips.
Paris set the bear bag on the floor by her feet, then examined the display. “These are beautiful.”
“Locally made and one of a kind,” the clerk assured.
“What do you think?” Paris picked up one and ran her finger across the skillful tooling. “Do any of these strike you in particular, Delaney?”
“Delaney?” Curiosity lit the clerk’s eyes. “Delaney Marks?”
“Yes.” Should she know him?
“That’s not a first name you hear too often.” He thrust out his hand. “Sawyer Banks, owner of this establishment. Good to meet you.”
She shook his hand and introduced Paris. “How do you know my name?”
“I heard you’re working for Christ’s Church this summer and that you’re a jewelry maker as well.”
Small towns. Everyone probably knew her shoe size and what brand of toothpaste she used, too. “I dabble in silverwork and also beaded jewelry.”
He motioned around the store. “As you can see, I could use something more feminine in here to cater to discriminating ladies. Do you ever sell on consignment? Fifty-fifty?”
Fifty-fifty? Was that the going rate for consignment sales at most places? She had no idea. But with her jewelry priced as that of a novice, it probably wouldn’t cover the cost of her supplies, let alone her time.
“Thanks, but I’m still a beginner. Not quite there yet.” As tempting as his offer was, after what Sunshine had said about her jewelry, wouldn’t that almost be like trying to dupe customers into accepting inferior work?
Paris nudged her. “You should do it, Delaney.”
“I don’t—”
“You have to begin somewhere, don’t you? Few writers start out on the New York Times bestsellers list.”
“Well, no, but...”
“Bring your stuff by,” Sawyer urged. “Let me take a look at it and pick out a few pieces. We’ll write up a contract and get you started right here at the Outpost.”
An outdoor gear shop? Wedged in among backpacks and shotguns? That wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned her professional debut.
“Come on, do it.” Paris’s eyes danced with excitement.
Butterflies bumping the walls of Delaney’s stomach, she glanced up at Sawyer who nodded encouragingly.
“I... Okay, I guess.”
Paris slipped her arm around her for a sideways hug. “This will be fun, Delaney.”
Would it?
What if Sunshine heard she was doing this? In a town this small, she was certain to. Would she think that her advice to acquire a mentor and improve her skills had been kicked to the gutter by artistic arrogance? Then again, hadn’t she said that even at this stage of her experience, Delaney could expect to make reasonable sales? Sunshine wouldn’t have mentioned it had she not meant it, would she?
As if in a fog, her mind racing as she mentally inventoried the jewelry pieces she’d stuffed in a box only a few days ago, she observed as Paris selected a wallet for her fiancé’s friend. Sale finalized, Sawyer sent them off with a reminder that he expected to see her work soon.
Outside and a short distance down the street, Paris and Delaney exchanged a glance and drew to a halt, then broke into laughter.
“Did that just happen? My jewelry is going to be sold on consignment in an outdoor gear shop?”
“Right next to the canteens and shotgun shells.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Delaney squeezed her friend�
��s arm. “I must be insane.”
“No, no. This is good. A great marketing ploy.”
“It is?”
“Of course. You know how diverse the merchandise is at Dix’s Woodland Warehouse in Canyon Springs and what a wide variety of shoppers cross its threshold. Dix’s takes stuff on consignment all the time. People who might not set foot in a jewelry store or art gallery see those items there and whip out the old credit card.”
That was true. Owner Sharon Dixon Diaz wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t mutually advantageous to both her and the craftsmen she dealt with. People like Paris’s future mother-in-law, for instance, who designed Christmas wreaths and other holiday decorations for sale there.
Paris lowered her voice to a whisper. “And think of the bonus.”
“Bonus?” Delaney also kept her voice low.
“You know, an excuse to periodically drop in on Sawyer.”
Delaney laughed softly. “You thought he was cute, too?”
“Are you kidding me? Those blue eyes and the way his hair dips across his forehead? Oh, my goodness. You may have to take up trapshooting this summer.”
With another laugh, Delaney’s voice returned to its normal tone. “I could do that!”
“You could do what?” Someone else intruded into their conversation.
Both of them started at the sound of the low male voice and turned to see Luke Hunter as he stepped out of the store behind them.
Chapter Seven
Pretty as a picture, the both of them. But from the look they exchanged, he’d have been better off to have minded his own business.
“Girl talk, Luke.” Eyes dancing, Delaney smiled up at him, not hiding her pleasure that he’d joined them. “We’re making plans for our summer.”
Her friend looked as if she wanted to laugh.
“Paris,” Delaney said, motioning to him, “I’d like you to meet one of the youth group parents, Luke Hunter, who also happens to be my landlord. Luke, this is my best friend, Paris Perslow. From Canyon Springs.”
“Good to meet you, Paris.”
The brunette studied him with open interest. “Likewise.”
“Paris is getting married soon, so we’ve been shopping for a gift for her fiancé’s best man.”
He nodded toward her friend’s shopping bag. “Into wildlife, is he?”
Paris laughed at the furry face peeping over the top. “Actually, this cute guy is for my fiancé’s nephew. We got his best man a wallet.”
With a sense of satisfaction, Luke noted that the smaller bag she lifted from the larger one carried an Outpost logo. Had Sawyer come through for him? He didn’t dare ask. “A wallet’s a good choice. Hard to slip a teddy bear into a back pocket.”
“It is.”
He glanced at Delaney, who was still smiling at him, and his heart did a slow rollover. He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t want to hold you ladies up if you’re on a shopping mission.”
“I think we’re finished.” Delaney looked to Paris for confirmation. “We’re heading to lunch now. I want Paris to see the Log Cabin Café.”
Luke nodded. “That teddy bear will feel right at home.”
Paris smiled. “You can join us, too.”
He cut another glance at Delaney, catching the surprised look she shot her friend. “Thanks, but I don’t want to intrude on your day in town.”
“You wouldn’t be.” Paris adjusted her grip on the shopping bag. “I’m looking forward to getting to know Delaney’s Hunter Ridge friends this summer.”
Delaney again flashed the smile that always set off warning bells in his head. Surprisingly, their differences over the project house never seemed to dim the openly interested look in her eyes for long. But he wasn’t free to follow through on any attraction and it wasn’t right to give her the impression that he might.
“I’m afraid I—”
Someone roughly bumped him from behind and he saw Garrett standing there, rocking on his heels and innocently gazing up at the cloudless blue sky. Nevertheless, he rewarded his cousin with a grateful smile. Saved by the bell, so to speak.
Garrett nodded to the ladies. Did his gaze linger a tad longer on the smiling Delaney? “Good morning. That wedding day is fast approaching, isn’t it, Paris?”
“Almost here.”
He turned to Luke. “Paris works part-time at Canyon Springs Christian when she’s not showing properties to potential buyers and renters.”
Luke nodded, putting two and two together. She must be one of the Perslows of Perslow Real Estate and Property Management. A prominent area family. For whatever reason, he hadn’t gotten the impression that Delaney ran in those circles, but maybe he was mistaken. She’d said Paris was her best friend.
“This is the last day of school, isn’t it, Luke?” At Luke’s nod, Garrett said to Delaney, “So you should soon have plenty of worker bees available for the project. Will there be a kickoff tomorrow?”
“Not until Saturday.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Luke. “That is, if the youth group parents approve once they see the place on Friday night.”
A crease formed between Garrett’s brows. “What’s that about? Of course they’ll be on board. The youth project is a big deal every summer. Even when I was in high school.”
“It looks as if the house may be in worse shape than anticipated, so it was suggested that parents should have an opportunity to weigh in. And then...” She paused, but didn’t look at Luke. “There are concerns that there might be parental pushback due to the intended occupants.”
She exchanged a quick glance with Paris. So she’d clued her friend in on the issues he’d brought to her attention.
Garrett grimaced. “You’re kidding. What grinch told you that?”
Luke cleared his throat. May as well fess up. “This one.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Garrett shook his head. “Well, get over it, cuz. This project is no different than any other that’s been done in the past. It’s a good cause. And one the church has committed to.”
Luke crossed his arms. “I think it would be a good idea to—”
“I agree.” Delaney looked him in the eye, then back at Garrett. “I want parents to feel ownership in this project. To encourage their kids to be a part of it. So I’ve arranged with High Country Hope Ministries to have someone on staff be present Friday night at the project house to answer questions. Your presence would be much appreciated, too, Garrett.”
“I’ll check my calendar and if it’s clear, I’ll be there.” He cut a disgruntled look at Luke. “But I’m not sure this meeting provides added value. It delays your start by several days.”
“I believe the head of Hope Ministries said you’ve seen the place. So you know the condition it’s in. I admit, I was taken aback when Luke and I saw it for the first time yesterday.”
“It’s definitely going to take a lot of sweat and elbow grease.”
“So you can see,” she continued in a reasonable tone of voice, not pointing an accusing finger at Luke, “why having a few days to make decisions on where the junk will be moved or disposed of may be a blessing in disguise.”
Garrett raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say. I’m not going to argue with a determined woman.”
And a pretty one. Even though Garrett hadn’t said it aloud, no doubt he was thinking it. Did he notice how her hair shimmered in the light? Did his fingers itch to reach out and touch it?
“When Paris heads home after lunch,” Delaney said, “I plan to go over there and get organized. Maybe start sorting things.”
Garrett nodded. “I can stop by this afternoon, too.”
Like that came as any surprise? This guy was so transparent it wasn’t even funny.
Give your cousin a break, Hunter.
Luke�
��s conscience nagged. Garrett might come across as happy-go-lucky most of the time, but life hadn’t been all sunshine and roses for him, either. And being a pastor of a church without a helpmate at his side, well, that had to be rough. Lonely.
And Luke understood lonely.
Garrett looked at him expectantly. “Are you available this afternoon?”
“I’m afraid not. I have to get back to the Hideaway.” There was no point in horning in on Garrett’s time with Delaney. Although, knowing Garrett’s standards for himself, he’d make sure he and Delaney weren’t alone at the house, unchaperoned for long.
How did a single pastor manage to pull off a courtship and keep tongues from wagging? As God’s representative, he had more pressure than most to protect his reputation. How did he make sure there were no false accusations of misconduct by women he encountered on a day-to-day basis?
But sympathetic to Garrett’s plight or not, Luke wasn’t volunteering for chaperone duty. And his reluctance had nothing to do with Delaney Marks, whose eyes met his with an unsettling shadow of disappointment.
* * *
“And this,” Lizzie Mason said on Friday morning, proudly draping her arm around the preteen at her side, “is Samantha.”
Stunned by the similarities to her younger sister, Delaney shook the girl’s hand as she took in the ponytail and slash of dark brows contrasting with the golden hair. Coltish long legs. A wide, shy smile.
Samantha would one day be a beauty, as no doubt Tiffany would have been. What would it be like to now have a grown-up sister to laugh with? And share secrets? Would she have married by now and made Delaney sister-in-law to some great guy? Maybe even an aunt?
“It’s good to meet you, Samantha.”
The girl met her gaze briefly, then thrust her hands into her back jeans pockets. Just like Tiff used to do.
Min Chambers, head of High Country Hope Ministries who had helped sort and box Bachelor Bob’s remaining possessions the past day and a half, placed her hands on her ample hips, a warm, motherly woman who had a gift for making those around her feel comfortable. “I know it’s hard to envision with these boxes stacked around, but what do you think of your new room, Sam?”