From the Start (30 page)

She obeyed, slipping off her vest as she lowered. “Didn’t realize there was an apartment over Coffee Coffee.”

“I heartily recommend living above a coffee shop. Always smells good. I’d show you the rest of the place, but it’s pretty bachelor-pad-y at the moment.” He pulled a coffee mug from the cupboard.

“Your kitchen’s nice.”

He set a cup in front of her, steam rising. “That’s your sister’s doing. She came up here once for something or another, took one look at my sparse décor, and declared it unlivable. Personally, I couldn’t care less if my dishcloths match my curtains, but you know Raegan.”

The strudels popped up, and he stuck them on a plate, then plopped into the seat across from Kate.

“Don’t you want any coffee?”

He shook his head. “Love the smell—hate the taste.”

“But you already had it made?”

He made quick work of icing the pastries. “You ever wake up with a strange feeling today’s going to be a different sort of day?”

“I usually just feel groggy.”

“Well, every once in awhile, I wake up crazy early and pray and stuff. And that’s what I did today, and I had a weird thought that someone might be showing up here. Since I’m one of approximately two people in all of Maple Valley who doesn’t survive on caffeine, I thought whoever it was might want coffee. So I made it.”

Intriguing guy, this Bear McKinley.

He pushed the plate of strudels to Kate. “Eat up.” She took a bite, sugary warmth slicking down her throat, and reached for her coffee.

“Since you’re here, Kate, I have to confess something—”

She sputtered on her swallow of coffee—like drinking water next to Dad’s muddy brew. And the flavor . . . She flinched as her taste buds protested.

His dark eyebrows furrowed. “That bad? I don’t make it often.”

“Only when you get strange feelings?”

He grinned. “And when friends are around.”

She set her cup down. “And they’re still your friends?”

He laughed and reached for the remaining pastry on the plate. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.” Something serious slid into his expression. “It’s about Raegan.”

A mix of curiosity and concern accompanied her nod. “Okay.”

“She and. . . . we . . . you see, I think . . .”

Kate hid her grin behind another bite of her pastry. Not hard to understand why her sister liked this guy. Tall, dark, and
handsome. Check. Cute when uncomfortable. Check. Kind, too, from what she’d seen and heard.

Even if he did make lousy coffee.

“From what I’ve seen of the two of you, there’s more to the friendship than kitchen decorating.” They were a match waiting to happen, chemistry practically tangible. Like perfectly arranged firewood just waiting for a spark. She should know. She’d written romances for a living for how many years now?

Of course, her understanding of her own romantic life was obviously in malfunction mode. Otherwise she wouldn’t have found herself awake this morning before sunrise, wrestling with emotions she should’ve been smart enough never to let in, and . . . well, pining.

Yes, sometime between that conversation with Hailey yesterday and standing on those bleachers last night, taking in the appearance of the woman Colton had at one point planned to marry, she’d become the kind of woman who pined after a man she couldn’t have. Because he was returning to California next week. And because of the stark reminder that was Lilah Moore’s appearance—that Colton was oh so out of her league.

“Thing is, it’ll never work.”

Bear’s words nudged her back to attention—
his
situation, not hers. “But . . . why?”

“By this time next year I’ll be living in South America planting a church and staying there to pastor it until God leads me somewhere else. I’m leaving in the spring.” He took a bite, chewed, met her eyes. “And Raegan . . . she loves Maple Valley more than anyone I know.”

He had a point. Her little sister had always been a homebody, even more so after Mom’s death. And Kate saw the truth in Bear’s eyes as he looked down at her now, as if hoping she’d counter him but knowing she wouldn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt her.” His words were soft, revealing.

“Thing is, once your heart’s involved, I think a little hurt might be inevitable.”

“You think?”

I know.

“But it would be better to pull back now, right? I mean, before she . . . we . . . you know, get even more invested. Draw a line in the sand and stop inching so close to crossing it. Just friends.”

A few weeks ago, she might’ve agreed with him. Told him that was exactly what he needed to do if he didn’t want to lead on her sister.

But turned out, lines in the sand were no match for greedy waves, their frothy waters reaching to wipe away safe borders.

“Tell me something—why South America?”

“That’d take one long, winding journey of a story to answer in full, but suffice it to say, it took me a while to land on a purpose or vision or whatever you want to call it. But I knew I wanted to travel and I knew I wanted to be in ministry.” He laced his fingers together on the tabletop. “Pastor Nick’s been a mentor of sorts, and he told me a while back that I didn’t have to have a big plan for my life. I just needed to do the next right thing. Somehow doors started opening and South America became the next right thing.”

“Sounds wise.”

He tipped his chair away from the table, leaning against the wall behind him. “Oh yeah, it’s great advice . . . until you aren’t sure what the next right thing is. Might’ve helped me figure out my calling, but as far as relationships go . . .”

He shrugged and stood, reached for her coffee cup and walked to the sink to pour it out. Both hands gripping the counter edge, his gaze became distant as he faced the window.

There was a pensive bent to the man she probably never
would’ve noticed if not for these few one-on-one minutes.
He has a story to tell.
“Bear—”

He straightened suddenly. “Huh. She’s still in her car.”

“Who?” Kate stood and joined him at the window, spotted the yellow VW bug parked behind her Focus and the form behind the wheel. “Megan?”

“I saw her car pull up when I was pouring your coffee. Wonder why she’s still sitting there.”

Kate turned and reached for her vest. “Think I’ll go check on her. Thanks for the breakfast and the coffee I didn’t drink.”

“Thanks for the conversation.”

“Don’t feel like I helped.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah, but . . . I get the feeling you understand.”

Was she that transparent? Or was Bear simply that good at reading people? The questions followed her down the steps and out to the curb but cut off when she saw Megan’s hunched form behind her steering wheel. Concern filled her, and she tapped on the passenger side window. “Hey, Megan, it’s Kate. You okay?”

“Fine.” But the muffled sob at the end of her words said otherwise.

Kate tried the door handle. Unlocked. Indecision stalled her for only a moment before she pulled it open. By the time she’d lowered into the seat, Megan’s tears had erupted, shaking her whole body.

“Oh, honey, what is it? What’s wrong? You’re still sick? I can drive you to the doctor if—”

Megan shook her head, dark hair slipping over her face. “I don’t need to go to the doctor. I went yesterday.”

“Good. Did they get you on any kind of med—”

Another sob interrupted her. “I don’t need . . . that’s
not . . .” Megan took a shaky breath and finally looked over. “I’m pregnant.”

The beat of his own footsteps on the gravel lane kept Colton moving even as his breath sharpened against the morning’s chill. Case Walker’s house came into view as he rounded the bend, golden sunlight dashing across the home’s wooden exterior in broad strokes and glimmering in its windows.

And there on the front porch—Lilah.

His pace slowed to a jog, the ache in his bad knee fussing and cold air burning in his lungs. He hadn’t expected Lilah to arrive so early. But his surprise now was no match for the shock that had sprinted through him last night when she’d showed up at the game. There’d been no uncoiling the mess of thoughts and emotion her appearance prompted—not as he’d sat next to her for the rest of the game, not when she’d tagged along to Frankie’s Pizzeria with the team after, not later when he’d said good-night outside her hotel, when it’d been impossible to miss the harvest moon reflected in the diamond on her ring finger.

She waved now as he passed her rental car in the driveway and slackened to a walk.
Lilah. Here.
In Iowa.
And where was Kate’s little car?

“Since when did you become an early bird?” Lilah called as he approached.

He stopped in front of her and leaned one elbow on the railing leading up the porch steps, breath tight. “There’s something about Iowa mornings. Fresh air. Early runs.” The still and the quiet and autumn’s whispers growing more pronounced each day. Watching the daily progress of farmers as harvest cut its path through one field after another.

“You said to come over for breakfast. I wasn’t sure how early that was. I texted but you didn’t answer.”

Heartbeat finally slowing, he looked at Lilah now—really looked at her. Glossy black hair and lithe form unchanged since he’d seen her last. Her boots reached nearly to her knees, edging up to the hem of her belted gray dress.

Coordinated, fashionable, ever put together—that was Lilah. He’d never once, not even on the day she’d broken up with him, thought she looked out of place or overly uncomfortable.

Until now. She twisted her hands in her lap, and there was a pinch to her smile.

“I think I left my phone in the press box at the field last night.” He lowered onto the stair below Lilah, leaning against the railing to face her. “As for breakfast, we’ve gotten into the habit of eating at seven thirty.”

“We?”

“Whoever’s home. Kate, Case, Raegan. Seth is usually at the restaurant early, but every once in a while he’s around.”

“Kate and Raegan are Logan’s sisters, Case his dad. And Seth owns the restaurant, right?” She recited the names as if memorized from flash cards. “I didn’t meet him yet, though, did I?”

Actually she had. Along with Ava and Bear and Webster and the Clancys, Sunny from the hardware store and her husband, Lenny, the woodshop guy, Alec the Scottish expat who ran the Chinese restaurant, Coach Leo, Pastor Nick from the church Colton had attended for three Sundays now—long enough that the Walkers’ pew had begun to feel like his own.

“You met a lot of folks last night. Wouldn’t expect you to remember all of them.”

“You seemed to know them all really well. Did you hang out in this town when you were in college or something?” She fiddled with the long earring dangling from one ear.

“No, but Maple Valley is the sort of place that kinda reels you in whether you like it or not. One day you’re new in town. The next you find yourself driving parade floats and organizing train pulls and going to town meeting after town meeting.” Okay, truthfully, he’d only been to two town meetings. That first one at Seth’s restaurant when he’d stood along the wall and wondered what he was getting himself into, and the second one earlier this week, when the mayor had announced the city would move forward with its Depot Day plans and keep the depot open through the rest of this season—and hopefully beyond—thanks to the success of the train pull in drumming up public interest.

The mayor had actually called him to the front of the room, credited him with the whole thing, made him stand there while the crowd clapped.

And he’d have been lying if he didn’t admit he’d lapped it up. For a few minutes he’d almost felt like Colton Greene the admired quarterback again. The guy worthy of applause, or at least appreciation.

“You like it here.” Statement, not a question. Lilah leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You’re different here. Calmer and steadier and all that good stuff.”

Her words burrowed into him, tilling and turning over hurt he thought he’d finally buried under solid ground. Her words the day she’d broken things off sprouted anew.
“Yeah, it’s
the football, Colton—the lifestyle, the travel, all of it. But it’s also you. I don’t think you
know how to live a normal life.”

“Why are you here, Lilah?” The question came out more abruptly than he’d intended, but maybe it was better this way. No more tiptoeing around the subject like they had last night. She had to have come for a reason. “If Ian asked you to try to talk me into—”

“He didn’t.” She reached behind her head to bunch her hair
together and then let it fall—a move he’d grown used to during the year they’d dated. “I need to resign from your foundation, Colton.”

He exhaled as an angsty breeze reached under the porch roof to travel over them.

He should’ve known this was coming. With her political career on the incline, Lilah wouldn’t have need for a part-time gig managing a foundation that’d never gotten off the ground anyway. He had been unable to give her direction, didn’t really know what he wanted her to do with it. “You could’ve called.”

She lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Like you would’ve answered.” Her tone softened then. “Besides, I wanted to tell you in person. I felt like you deserved that.”