Saving Laurel Springs (8 page)

Jeannie giggled. “You must have read Billy's mind. He drove into Newport to the hardware store today to buy one.”

“Good.” Carter stood up, looking toward the door. “I'll go see if he's come back and I'll help him put it on.” He glanced toward Rhea and scowled. “Rhea, you, your mother, and grandmother live alone. I don't like the idea of someone breaking into houses and climbing into windows at night.”

Rhea crossed her arms in irritation. “Don't you worry about Mother and Nana and me. We manage just fine. And if I remember correctly, the only person I ever recall climbing into our windows uninvited at night was you, Carter Layman!”

Carter chuckled remembering that as he walked down the main Assembly Road, eating one of Estelle's fried pies and looking for Billy.

CHAPTER 7

R
hea hated that she'd let Carter rile her up again. That dang man. She noticed Jeannie and Estelle exchanging knowing looks after Carter left, too.

She took a damp cloth over to clean off the table where the children had dripped their ice cream cones and righted the chair Carter had knocked over.

“Carter sure was mad to see Marshall in here cozying up to you,” Jeannie said, unable to resist making a comment.

Estelle laughed, pushing a hand through her short, curly hair. “Yeah, it seemed almost like old times to see those two ready to duke it out again.”

Rhea busied herself picking up trash on the floor without making a reply, glad to notice Estelle soon busy helping another customer.

“You're avoiding answering me,” Jeannie said, at her elbow now.

“Maybe because I don't want to talk about this.” Rhea crossed her arms and turned to frown at her friend.

Jeannie shook her head. “I can't figure you out sometimes, Rhea Dean. Never mind what went on between Marshall and Carter here today, what I can't figure out is why you're going out with Marshall Sutton at all.” She wrinkled her nose. “He's so full of himself—and so intense. He always looks like a
GQ
magazine.”

Rhea bristled. “What's wrong with being serious or dressing well?”

“Oh, come on, Rhea.” Jeannie rolled her eyes. “We all used to laugh at Marshall in high school, with his neat, button-down shirts always tucked in and that briefcase he carried to school.”

“Maybe Marshall was simply showing an early maturity.” Rhea lifted her chin. “He manages one of the Cosby Bank branches now and he's very respected in the community.”

Jeannie snorted. “Yeah, and he makes sure you know it, too! He's the biggest bragger. He went on and on when he came in here today about the boat he'd just bought, pointing out how prestigious it was and being sure he told us how much he paid for it so we'd be impressed.” She shook her head. “He always does that—as if how much he spends on something reflects on his worth in some way.”

Rhea wanted to argue, but there were some aspects about Marshall that unsettled her, too, despite the fact that they'd been going out over the last months. “It's not as though there are a lot of hot choices for dates around Cosby,” she said at last in a surly tone. “And
you
told me last year I needed to date more.”

Jeannie headed back to the counter to help Estelle with the customers. “Well, I didn't have Marshall Sutton in mind when I made that suggestion, you can be sure.”

Rhea headed over to the register in a few minutes as she saw that Jeannie and Estelle needed her help.

“Howdy, Rhea,” said Caleb Dorsey, the sound man for the Gabes Mountain Band, moving over to the register. “I got a bunch of lunch orders for you to ring up for the band.”

“Is the group practicing at the church today?” Rhea asked, taking the bags and tickets from Estelle and starting to ring up the totals.

“Yep.” Caleb smiled. “I left them working on a new number Leroy wrote. I think they're going to try it out at service on Sunday before singing it at the festival over in Bryson City on the Fourth of July weekend.” Caleb hadn't inherited the musical talents his father, mother, and brothers shared in spades, but he excelled at handling the soundboard and setups for the group.

After Caleb and the other customers let themselves out, Estelle sat down on a stool behind the counter. “We've been busy as beavers today. Thanks for coming in to help out, Rhea, especially while Jeannie had to take Beau to the dentist earlier.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that,” Jeannie added, cleaning up the sandwich counter while she talked. “It's slowing down now and you can head on home if you want.”

“How'd the dentist visit go for Beau?” Estelle asked.

“Terrible.” Jeannie frowned. “Beau didn't want to open his mouth for the cleaning and he bit the dentist. I was just
so
embarrassed.”

Estelle laughed. “He's a lively one, that Beau.”

“Where is he now?” Rhea asked. “With Nana?”

“No, Mary Jane is keeping him.” She grinned. “He and Taylor Layman have struck up a fast friendship. They want to be together about every minute possible to play. I'm even letting Beau spend the night tonight. The boys are so excited about that.”

“That's real sweet that them boys have become such fast friends,” Estelle said. “Beau was needing him someone about his age to play with.”

“Yeah, and I'm getting Billy Wade to take me out to dinner and a movie tonight since Beau is spending the night with Taylor.” She paused thoughtfully. “You know, that little Taylor is the nicest, most polite boy. I sincerely hope his goodness wears off on Beau.”

“Mary Jane says the boy is too serious and adult by half.” Estelle brushed some crumbs off her apron. “She told me he's had a hard time these last years, being mostly with adults and having to watch his mother die. She hopes Beau's carefree, fun-loving nature will wear off on Taylor.”

“Well, maybe they'll find a compromise.” Jeannie laughed, but her eyes slanted toward Rhea.

Rhea watched Estelle and Jeannie give each other a thoughtful look then, realizing they were thinking about Carter and his earlier visit once more.

She took off her store apron. “I'm going to head on out now. I need to run by the office and do some paperwork before I go home.” She didn't want to take a chance that they'd start probing her again about Carter—or Marshall.

Rhea slipped out the back door when she left and took the shortcut leading through the campground and across the creek to the ad-min building and her office, hoping to avoid any sight or sound of Carter Layman again. She hated herself for all the feelings Carter stirred up in her after all these years. And she felt furious at herself for having them.

At home later, over dinner, she felt relieved that her mother and Nana Dean kept up a steady stream of conversation. She didn't feel sociable, just stressed and anxious. Having Carter back was proving to be very difficult. Every day, Rhea resolved to go on with her life and not be affected by Carter's return, and every day, he managed to turn up to irritate and embarrass her in some way.

Tired and confused over the events of the day, she went to bed early with a book, trying to think how she was going to handle Carter being around Laurel Springs continually. And worrying even more about how she would handle him staying on permanently—if he actually did.

A scratching sound outside her window awakened her shortly after she dozed off. Rhea listened intently. It sounded like someone was on the roof, scrambling around! Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the incidents with the vandal recently. Rhea sat up in bed, heart racing a mile a minute now, as the sounds grew closer. She looked frantically around the room to see if she could locate a weapon. As her eyes spotted an old softball bat in the corner, she crept out of bed and padded quietly across the room to pick it up.

“I hope you're not planning on using that on me,” a familiar voice said with amusement from outside the window.

Rhea turned around, in annoyance now, to see Carter pushing her bedroom window the rest of the way open to climb in.

“What
are
you doing here? You scared me to death!” She seriously considered hitting him with the bat but then put it down, her thoughts moving in a new direction.

She wore nothing but a short, silk nightshirt with spaghetti straps, and Carter's eyes were already roving over her in a way that sent Rhea scurrying to the closet to hunt for a robe.

He chuckled. “The view from the back is as good as the view from the front. You always did wear the sexiest nightclothes, Rhea Dean.” He sat down on her window seat and made himself comfortable, just like he'd done so many nights in the past when they'd been young. “It was always one of your little surprises. You dress mostly in tomboy clothes or homemade jumpers and dresses your Nana makes but you wear sexy nightclothes and underwear. I always loved that—visualizing skimpy black panties and a bra covered in lace lurking under your frayed jeans shorts and old T-shirts.”

“I do not wear black underwear!”

“No, but you wear pretty colors.” He gestured to a pink bra draped carelessly over her bedpost.

Rhea snatched it up to stuff it in her underwear drawer, while pulling on a short silk robe—the only one she could find. She wished it were longer and less scanty, like one of Nana Dean's thick, floor-length chenille ones. She sat down on the bed, covering up her bare legs with a quilt.

“For the second time . . . what are you doing here, Carter?” She crossed her arms and scowled at him.

“Just stopping by to visit.” He stretched and grinned at her. “You were the one who all but invited me to stop by this afternoon.”

“I did not!”

He propped his long legs on the bed nearby. “Sure you did. You said you remembered me climbing into your window—and all but implied that you, your mom, and Nana would be safer because I'm around now to do just that again.”

“I said no such thing!” He was always twisting her words around. “I said you were the only person I could remember who climbed into our windows uninvited.”

He shrugged. “Same thing.”

“It is not!” Rhea heaved a sigh. “Carter, we are not kids anymore. It's been nine years since you were home last. And it's totally inappropriate for you to be climbing in my bedroom window.”

His lips twitched. “Rhea, it was always totally inappropriate that I climbed into your bedroom window—or that you climbed into mine—but we always did it anyway. Seems like we had some of our best talks at night, me sitting in your windowsill, or you curled up on my other twin bed.”

She felt her annoyance rise. “And your point is?”

“We need to talk, and I thought this might be a good place and time.”

“I don't think we have anything to say that hasn't already been said.”

“Well, I disagree.” He got up and began to wander around her room, picking up things and examining them distractedly along the way. “We need to get along, Rhea.”

She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “And maybe I don't want to get along.”

“I've seen that.” He picked up a bottle of her Jean Naté from the dresser to sniff at it. “But you need to make more of an effort to change your viewpoint in that area. I'm working hard to rebuild our friendship. You need to do the same.”

“Hmmmph.” She punched at a throw pillow. “I guess you'd call taking over my tour today and coming into the store and insulting Marshall Sutton your way of trying to rebuild our friendship.”

He turned to her with a cocky smile. “It was
you
who gave the tour to me, with that nasty little challenging look of yours, acting like I wouldn't know what to say, when I grew up here the same as you.”

She hated it that he was somewhat right. “I thought you'd decline politely and take the hint to back out on interfering in the tour so much.”

Carter shook his head. “You always were competitive, and I never have been able to resist your little challenges. You should have known exactly what I'd do.” He walked over to tweak her cheek and then leaned his face in intimately toward her neck.

She slapped him away.

He sat down on the bed. “You still smell the same, Rhea Kaden Dean. Citrusy, lemony, and musky like the Jean Naté you've worn since high school. And there's another heady smell that's just totally you in the mix—a sweet and sultry scent that's your own unforgettable essence.”

He leaned toward her again, nostrils flared, his voice growing husky. “I always so loved it.”

Rhea tried to stop her pulse from beating faster at his words, from noticing that he still smelled like she remembered, too, of woodsy English Leather, minty toothpaste, and the strong male scent that defined him.

He leaned closer to trace a hand over her shoulder and down her arm. “You're even more beautiful than before. And more exciting to be near. Have I told you that?”

A protective fear clutched at her heart, and she pushed his arm away. “Get off my bed, Carter,” she said between gritted teeth.

He hesitated.

“I mean it—or I'll call out for Mother.”

Carter rolled his eyes, got up, and went over to stretch out on the window seat again. “Far enough away, Rhea?”

“Only back in California will be far enough,” she shot back, pulling her quilt up to cover the chill she felt.

Carter shook his head. “I don't intend to go back. I've told you that.”

She hugged a pillow to her. “I'm sorry to hear it—once again.”

Irritated at her remark, he got up to wander around the room again, picking up her pictures to look at them, poking in her jewelry box, looking at the books on her shelf. “I remember the year we read every one of those Zane Grey Western books. Don't you?”

He picked up a yellow topaz ring. “I gave you this birthstone ring for your sixteenth birthday, too. It took me six months to save up the money.”

She felt like throwing her pillow at him.

Rhea crossed her arms. “Why did you insult Marshall today? That sort of behavior will not help you and I to get along.”

“He didn't offer his hand in greeting. Purposely held it back.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I thought he was edging too close to you. Bothering you.”

She glared at his back. “And what's that to you if he was?”

His eyes flashed as he turned around to face her. “Are you really dating him, Rhea?”