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Authors: Stephanie Bond
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ahead on the left was the old Evermore covered bridge—no, the original had blown away. This had to be a replica, but the sight of a familiar landmark tucked into the picturesque curve lifted his spirits.
But when he rounded the curve and looked up, a bona fide grin spread over his face. The white water tower, the only structure spared by the twister, still stood on the top of a ridge heralding “Welcome to Sweetness” in black letters. Its surface was marred with bits of graffiti—apparently climbing the tower and proclaiming love with a spray can was still a popular activity. He’d always thought he’d do the same someday, but hadn’t yet been inspired before the tornado had struck and his family had left town.
Oh, there’d been plenty of pretty girls around when he’d lived in Sweetness, and because he was a jock, they’d seemed eager enough to spend time with him, but there had never been anyone particularly special then…or since. He’d joined the Navy after high school and the transient lifestyle had been exciting, but solitary. Becoming a SEAL had been a professional and personal pinnacle, but the deployment and covert missions didn’t lend themselves to a long-term relationship. He’d never let his mind go there.
And now—
He saw a flash of color out of the corner of his right eye, on the shoulder of the road. Too late, he realized it was a runner—a female runner—just as he plowed through a puddle of water, drenching her head to toe.
Chapter Two
IN THE SIDE MIRROR of the Jeep, Barry saw the runner stop and lift her arms helplessly as water sluiced off her. She shouted something he was relatively sure was meant for him. He winced and slowed, then checked his rear view mirror and backed up until the Jeep was next to her.
“You okay?”
She was wearing orange running shorts and a white T-shirt, which were now plastered to her slender curves, he noticed appreciably. Water dripped from her dark ponytail, and wet bangs hung in her eyes—eyes that were shooting lasers at him. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
“Actually,” he ventured, “you look pretty good from here.” He gave her his most charming smile. “Sorry about that—I didn’t see you.”
“Really?” She indicated her neon-colored running clothes. “Are you blind?”
“No,” he said cheerfully. “Hop in, I’ll give you a ride.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know where I’m going.”
“I grew up here—wherever you’re going, it can’t be far.”
She angled her head and stepped closer. “You’re Barry Ballantine.”
He grinned. “That’s right. Do I know you?”
“No,” she said, then took off on a jog in the direction she’d been running.
Barry frowned, then backed up the Jeep to keep pace with her. She ignored him and slung water from her long arms. His mind raced to place her, but he felt sure if he’d seen this dark-haired beauty before, he’d remember it. Porter Armstrong knew he was coming—maybe word had gotten around town to be on the lookout for a stranger. Sweetness was like that…or at least it used to be.
“C’mon, jump in,” he cajoled. “I’m sorry—let me make it up to you.”
“You can’t,” she yelled.
“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m trying here.” A horn blared behind him. He slammed on the brakes and the car went around him.
The woman had stopped, her hands up, as if bracing to see a collision.
“You’re going to cause an accident,” he said pointedly, then leaned over and opened his passenger side door. “C’mon, get in. You’re shivering.”
The woman looked at the door, then down to her soaked clothes and relented with a drop of her shoulders. She strode to the Jeep wordlessly. Barry scrambled to move the wooden box in the seat to the floorboard. She swung into the seat and banged the door closed, but sat as close to it as possible, as if she might dive through the open window if he made a wrong move. Her shoes squished and water dripped from the end
But when he rounded the curve and looked up, a bona fide grin spread over his face. The white water tower, the only structure spared by the twister, still stood on the top of a ridge heralding “Welcome to Sweetness” in black letters. Its surface was marred with bits of graffiti—apparently climbing the tower and proclaiming love with a spray can was still a popular activity. He’d always thought he’d do the same someday, but hadn’t yet been inspired before the tornado had struck and his family had left town.
Oh, there’d been plenty of pretty girls around when he’d lived in Sweetness, and because he was a jock, they’d seemed eager enough to spend time with him, but there had never been anyone particularly special then…or since. He’d joined the Navy after high school and the transient lifestyle had been exciting, but solitary. Becoming a SEAL had been a professional and personal pinnacle, but the deployment and covert missions didn’t lend themselves to a long-term relationship. He’d never let his mind go there.
And now—
He saw a flash of color out of the corner of his right eye, on the shoulder of the road. Too late, he realized it was a runner—a female runner—just as he plowed through a puddle of water, drenching her head to toe.
Chapter Two
IN THE SIDE MIRROR of the Jeep, Barry saw the runner stop and lift her arms helplessly as water sluiced off her. She shouted something he was relatively sure was meant for him. He winced and slowed, then checked his rear view mirror and backed up until the Jeep was next to her.
“You okay?”
She was wearing orange running shorts and a white T-shirt, which were now plastered to her slender curves, he noticed appreciably. Water dripped from her dark ponytail, and wet bangs hung in her eyes—eyes that were shooting lasers at him. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
“Actually,” he ventured, “you look pretty good from here.” He gave her his most charming smile. “Sorry about that—I didn’t see you.”
“Really?” She indicated her neon-colored running clothes. “Are you blind?”
“No,” he said cheerfully. “Hop in, I’ll give you a ride.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know where I’m going.”
“I grew up here—wherever you’re going, it can’t be far.”
She angled her head and stepped closer. “You’re Barry Ballantine.”
He grinned. “That’s right. Do I know you?”
“No,” she said, then took off on a jog in the direction she’d been running.
Barry frowned, then backed up the Jeep to keep pace with her. She ignored him and slung water from her long arms. His mind raced to place her, but he felt sure if he’d seen this dark-haired beauty before, he’d remember it. Porter Armstrong knew he was coming—maybe word had gotten around town to be on the lookout for a stranger. Sweetness was like that…or at least it used to be.
“C’mon, jump in,” he cajoled. “I’m sorry—let me make it up to you.”
“You can’t,” she yelled.
“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m trying here.” A horn blared behind him. He slammed on the brakes and the car went around him.
The woman had stopped, her hands up, as if bracing to see a collision.
“You’re going to cause an accident,” he said pointedly, then leaned over and opened his passenger side door. “C’mon, get in. You’re shivering.”
The woman looked at the door, then down to her soaked clothes and relented with a drop of her shoulders. She strode to the Jeep wordlessly. Barry scrambled to move the wooden box in the seat to the floorboard. She swung into the seat and banged the door closed, but sat as close to it as possible, as if she might dive through the open window if he made a wrong move. Her shoes squished and water dripped from the end
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