No Place Like Home. Debra Clopton
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the edges.
“And don’t you see the size of the wheels on that truck,” he continued. “Jake and his friends spend the better part of every other night mudding across half this county. Believe me when I say he can pull anything.”
Well, yes, she could see all of that. But still—
“That should do it.” Jake scooted from beneath her vehicle, sprang to his feet and walked jauntily over and attached the chain to the ball of his truck. Dottie heard an audible sigh from Cassie as he hurried to the RV’s open door, leaned in and adjusted the gearshift. By the time he slammed the door and jogged back toward them, Dottie had forgotten her trepidations and was on board with the whole “he can pull anything” campaign. He certainly seemed competent.
“Can I give you a lift over to the site?” he asked.
“Yeah! I mean, sure!” Cassie gushed.
Miss Tough Girl had turned into a breathless shambles. Dottie nearly fell over when the girl practically skipped to the huge truck and hoisted herself up into the high seat!
And then, just like that, Dottie found herself alone with Sheriff Brady. Not at all a situation she was comfortable with.
“Shall we?” he drawled, sweeping his hand to follow the truck.
Dottie hesitated in the dying light, then fell into step beside him.
Dark was nearly upon them as they walked down the road together. Through the shadows she stole a glance at the handsome man. He overpowered everything around him…including her good sense. He made her aware of every step they took. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit!
Out of nowhere her heart trembled and sparked. No! She almost tripped in her surprise—
“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping her elbow to steady her.
“F-fine,” she stuttered, pulling away. This was not good. She was here in this adorable town because of Cassie. Cassie was the one window-shopping for a man. As for her, Dottie Marie “Fickle” Hart, her life was complicated.
She gave the sheriff her best nonchalant glance. It didn’t matter how good-looking a man he was, or how crazy her pulse was jigging at his nearness. It didn’t matter how kind he appeared to be. And it truly, certainly didn’t matter if he made her feel as weak on the inside as her body felt on the outside.
Sheriff Brady Cannon seemed like a great guy, who had no wedding ring on his finger. But none of these facts mattered. And that was the way it would remain. She had an agenda that left no room for infatuations of the personal kind.
Period. She wasn’t that fickle.
She had an agenda of the heavenly sort, a payback for a life changed. And that thought was all it took to get her head on straight again.
Too late, Brady realized he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d suggested they walk. Dottie seemed a little unsteady. She was obviously weak, a woman didn’t pass out without a reason. What a buffoon he was! And now here they were, walking along and she was limping—stumbling even, and trying hard to hide it. He slowed his pace to match hers, causing her to glance at him, her eyes wide.
“I needed the exercise,” she blurted out as if reading his mind, as if not wanting to admit a weakness. Her words were breathless. “I, well…I get a little stove up when I ride long distances all at once.”
He nodded, noticing how she moved away from him. “You came far?” He glanced at her, curious about her but trying not to be intrusive, a hard thing for a cop.
She nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
Single-word answers were not what he was looking for. Though his beat was different here in his tiny hometown, his previous life as a cop on the streets of Houston still imprinted everything he did. He wanted details and suddenly he was full of questions. “How far? Where are you from?” Smooth, Brady.
“I started out in Florida five days ago.”
“Ouch! That is a long way.”
“Oh, yes, but most people would’ve made it here in three days. I hurt my hip in an accident and can only travel so far before I’m forced to stop for the day. That is if I want to be able to move the next day.”
“What kind of accident?” What are you doing, Brady?
She locked her arms and looked into the distance, as if she really didn’t want to elaborate, then focused back on him. “I was bullheaded enough to think I could protect my home from a hurricane.”
“Ohhh.”
She grimaced. “Sounds stupid, I know, believe me, and the house collapsed on me, despite my personal efforts at holding it up under category-three winds.”
He could tell, though she gave a quick smile, there was nothing funny about her ordeal. However, he knew only too well in his line of work that sometimes humor took the edge off.
“I spent three months in the hospital. I was a mess. Not a vacation I’d recommend at all, as you can imagine. I spent several months rehabilitating. I’m doing great, considering everything. I can’t run a marathon yet, though.”
She met his gaze, her expression blank and unreadable but entirely captivating with the intensity of her words. How much pain and suffering must she have endured? It was obvious Dottie still hurt. He could see it. As a cop he’d learned to read people pretty well. And Dottie was a book that had to be read slowly. Carefully.
“But I will.” She smiled.
He stopped. They’d made the fifty-yard walk to the corner. Though she hadn’t voiced any of it, he had a vivid picture of this fragile woman in pain unlike any he’d ever experienced. Looking into her eyes, he searched harder this time. He glimpsed a shadow of…anger, despite the smile. He’d seen it before…but suddenly he wondered if she even knew it was there. “I bet you will,” he said. “You impress me as a person who can do anything she sets her mind to.”
To his surprise she shook her head, and her eyes misted with tears.
“Only by the grace of God.” She lifted her chin and blinked away the mist. “You can’t imagine how many times I felt like quitting. But that verse! It kept popping into my head, forcing me on, reminding me that God was there, right beside me. The truth is—until I was so low I couldn’t get any lower, I never really understood that I can really do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Her earnest expression melted into another smile. “That’s what got me through grueling rehab, through days that I couldn’t take on my own. God’s faithful. He can take the worst of times and make something good. If we let Him.”
Brady was in trouble.
He knew it the moment she smiled at him again.
He knew the moment she lifted her eyes to the sky and winked, like she and God had a secret. It was as if she was defying the tears and the anger to grasp the joy.
Oh yeah, Brady was in trouble all right, because although he’d only known Dottie Hart for less than thirty minutes, he knew he wanted in on her secret.
Chapter Two
Mule Hollow was getting ready for a pretty big day. Even in the dusky light Dottie could see there were spots sectioned off in the field for booths and trailers. They’d even set up electrical services for vendors, which she wasn’t. But how coincidental that she was both a baker and a candy maker on her way to California, who just happened to find Cassie on the side of the road, which brought her to Mule Hollow where her motor home happened to die. She smiled, reminded of the song about the old woman who swallowed the fly.
It had dawned on her just now talking to Sheriff Brady—Mule Hollow seemed like a safe place to be stranded. God had protected her. Even before she knew she needed protecting. How sweet was that?
He’d even given her a way of saving her money for California. At least