Smoky Mountain Sweethearts. Cheryl Harper
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job,” Avery said with a wave of her hand, “you’ll have time and distance. That makes it so much easier to see through my mother’s expert finagling.”
Sam shot her a quick look and then hung an arm out the window. “Yeah, and what brings you home, then? Time and distance sound good to me.”
“Sometimes you miss that finagling,” Avery said as she fussed with those windblown curls. “Sometimes you need it, Sam.”
The quick trip through Sweetwater was silent as he thought about her words. As he parked in a spot in the center of town, perfectly situated for both the library and the pie shop, Sam wondered if she was warning him. He’d never been away from home. What if he was as restless and dissatisfied in Colorado as he was here? There weren’t any bigger mountains for him to climb.
Avery opened the door and then paused. “I don’t know what my mother told you...about last night, but I wasn’t even thinking of how I might possibly someday want to kill myself.” Her cheeks were pink as she met his stare. “You know me, Sam. That’s not me.”
She wanted him to agree, so he did. “Of course it’s not you. That was part of the finagling, I bet, a way to get me to leave my nice, cushy vehicle and head out onto the dark, cold trail.” He stretched in the seat. “They were already matchmaking. No way did I ever believe it, AA.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face, like she wanted to trust him but wasn’t sure she could. Then she tipped her chin up. “You coming in?”
“To the library?” Sam asked in his best “you’ve got to be joking” voice. “I’m headed for pie and right now.”
She shut the door. “Meet you there in five.” Then she was trotting slowly across the small lawn in front of the library. In the old days, she might have thrown a cartwheel in for punctuation. As it was, he was glad she made it to the door without stopping. In the light of day, he could see the same fatigue in her face, but something had changed in her eyes.
And that was the thinking of a man who was spending too much time considering a woman who would never be his type. Ever. They made better competitors than friends, but he was glad she’d pushed him as hard as she had. Right now, she needed some pushing. He could do that.
First, he was going to get two fried pies, and if she took longer than fifteen minutes, he was going to eat them both.
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