Bride Wanted. Renee Andrews
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But then she seemed to focus on the positive aspect of Destiny’s occupation. “Wait, you’re a writer? You write for newspapers, magazines? Or do you write books?” Her look of admiration grew along with the size of the publications she listed. “Are you a bestseller or something like that?” Her head bobbed and she appeared a bit starstruck. “Have you written anything that we might find at A Likely Story?”
“A Likely Story?” Destiny asked, handling this grilling fairly well, in Troy’s opinion. He’d have to apologize profusely later, if he ever got her away from his mother and grandmother.
“A Likely Story is our local bookstore, on the town square,” his mother explained. “It’s been here since I was a little girl, and it’s adorable. You have to visit the store while you’re in town.”
“Oh, yes, you must visit,” his grandmother continued. “Maybe we could set up a book signing for you there. Do you have any recent releases? I’ll make sure to ask David Presley, the store owner, to order plenty of your books.”
“No relation,” Troy’s mother said.
“Relation?” Destiny asked.
“To Elvis, of course,” his grandmother explained, and Troy began to think that he probably owed this woman more than an apology, maybe a cup of coffee or even dinner, for what his mother and grandmother were putting her through right now. But that’d qualify as a date, and he’d already asked out Haley Calhoun. No need to feed his player reputation by asking the writer out, too. But if his grandmother didn’t back down, she might ditch her story on small-town living. Or title it “The Twilight Zone” and sell it to a sci-fi mag. “And we can put it in the church bulletin announcements. When would you like to have your signing, dear?”
He could tell Destiny didn’t know how to answer his eccentric family’s questions, so he decided to help her out. “She said she’s writing a story about small towns,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure that means she’s writing for a newspaper or maybe a magazine. Probably not a novelist, are you, Destiny?”
Her cheeks lifted with her smile and made her eyes appear a more brilliant blue within the long, dark lashes. “That’s right, I’m not.” And then, at his grandmother’s obvious look of disappointment, she added, “But I’ve always dreamed about writing a book. Maybe I’ll try it one day.”
Grandma’s grin reclaimed her face. “Well, that sounds wonderful, just wonderful. You should write one about Claremont, definitely. It’s a small town, but plenty goes on in a small town, let me tell you.”
Troy feared that she might start telling her all about the plenty going on, courtesy of her time today at the beauty shop. “Grandma, I’m going to walk Destiny out to her car.” He knew if he left without Destiny, the questioning would continue, and he could only imagine what they’d ask if he wasn’t standing nearby. “I’ll see you at the fishing hole on Saturday.”
“Would you like to come to the fishing hole, too, Destiny?” his grandmother asked. “It’s really a lot nicer than it sounds. James and I have been fixing the place up for years, and it’s almost as pretty as Hydrangea Park. It’d make a good addition to your story. I’ll fix you some of my famous chicken fingers while you’re there. And a chocolate pie. Maybe some of my peach delight. I bet you haven’t had peach delight before.”
“I’m sure she’d love your peach delight, Mama, but she probably needs to leave. The church is nearly empty.” Troy’s mother wrapped an arm around his grandmother and kissed her cheek. He loved them both dearly, even if they did tend to meddle a little—or a lot—more than they should.
“Aw, thanks, dear. Well, maybe Destiny could put the fishing hole in her book.” She gave another look of hope, and this one had nothing to do with eliminating Troy’s player status and everything to do with advertising. “What do you think?”
“When I write the book, I just might,” Destiny said, and Troy commended her silently for appeasing his precious, albeit determined, grandmother.
They walked toward the lobby, the crowd thinning as everyone made their way home, and Troy noticed the straight white-blond hair that had first caught his attention Sunday morning. The new veterinarian stood at the church doorway chatting with Brother Henry. “Haley?”
She turned and smiled. “Hey.”
Troy took the few steps to close the distance between them. “I figured you didn’t make it to the service.”
“I put on a watch that I’d forgotten to change from Eastern to Central time and actually showed up an hour early. Then I left when I got a call from John Cutter about his mare getting sick. And by the time I got done there and cleaned up, I was late to church.” She laughed. “Seems I can’t ever get my timing right.”
“That’s okay,” Brother Henry said. “We’re glad you made it. Which class did you attend?”
“The singles class, and I enjoyed it very much.”
“Maybe you should attend that class again, Troy.” His grandmother had naturally been eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation. “I’m Jolaine Bowers, Troy’s grandmother. So you’re Haley Calhoun? The new vet?”
Haley nodded. “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand.
“Wonderful to meet you,” his grandmother said, taking Haley’s hand and then squeezing it. “My, you sure are pretty, aren’t you? Don’t you think so, Troy?”
Troy said a quick prayer that his grandmother would let up. “Yes,” he said, then when he was certain his grandmother had looked away, he mouthed to Haley, “Sorry.”
She laughed softly, and he liked the sound. Then she looked from Troy to Destiny, still standing nearby.
Troy mentally slapped himself for forgetting the natural introduction. “Haley, this is Destiny. She’s visiting Claremont from Atlanta and writing about small-town living. She came by the station today, and I offered to help her with her story. Then I told her about the church service tonight, and she came.” Why did he feel like he was giving an explanation of his normal actions?
Luckily, neither girl looked as though his clarification sounded odd, but he caught his grandmother’s brow lift and knew she could tell he was, for some reason, uncomfortable.
“I think a story about Claremont would be very interesting. I moved here last week from Ocala, Florida. The lifestyle is so different here. Everyone knows everyone.” She grinned. “They even know each other’s pets.”
“Maybe I could talk to you about the differences between Ocala and Claremont,” Destiny said, then added, “for my story.”
“That’d be great.”
“I’m going to head back to the bed-and-breakfast.” Destiny looked to Brother Henry. “I enjoyed your lesson.”
“Thank you. I hope we’ll see you again while you’re in town.”
She glanced toward Troy, then Haley, and answered, “You will.”
Troy said goodbye and watched her leave, then he chatted awhile with Haley about her day and about the plans he had for their upcoming date. She was easy to talk to, naturally pretty, obviously loved God and had a strong faith. But Troy couldn’t deny that while he talked to the attractive vet, looked into her deep green eyes, he kept thinking about the woman who’d sat beside him in class, let him help her navigate the new Bible and kept his interest throughout the day.
Troy swallowed, put the image of bright blue eyes away and focused on trying not to live up to his player classification. “I’m looking forward to Friday, too,” he said, while out of the corner of his eye, he watched the red Beemer drive away.
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