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I hear the front door open and close. She’s talking in a hurry to Mom and Daddy. Now they’re all coming to my room really quick. Dr. O’Neal is the first one in. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s breathing fast like she’s been running. There’s a big tear in her coat. You can see the stuffing. Her boots have mud on them. Her hair needs brushing.
But I don’t care. I’m so happy to see her.
But she looks even more happy to see me.
Epilogue
Six weeks later
Using the familiar old-fashioned room key, Rye let himself into the cabin, but stopped short on the threshold when he saw Brynn sitting on the end of the bed.
This first sight of her since he’d told her goodbye at the Griffins’ house sent his heart into arrhythmia, making it difficult to appear cool. But he tried to act nonchalant as he stepped inside and shut the door.
“Do you come with the cabin now?” He took in the familiar burlap lampshades, paint-by-number artwork, the striped bedspread. “Must say, you spruce up the decor.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure you would recognize me.”
His brows went up as he shrugged off his jacket. “I recognize that biting tone.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to start right in.”
“Hmm. You were going to work up to telling me what a bastard I am?”
“Oh, I’ll get there.”
He came even to where she sat and propped his butt against the dresser. “I’ve only seen you in one set of clothes, so you do look different.”
She laughed softly. “I have cleaned up a bit since I last saw you.”
He would have bet his bomber jacket that he remembered how much he liked her face, but the wager would have lost him his prized possession. Even his most vivid memories of her paled in comparison to the living, breathing version.
She was wearing a slender black skirt and high-heeled boots. Her pale gray sweater was thin, not bulky. It clung to her breasts, which he knew were a perfect fit in his palms.
He gave a soft cough. “Marlene tell you I was coming today?”
“She called to inform me a few days ago. Said she hoped I was free. I think she’s matchmaking.”
As though the idea of Marlene White playing Cupid was amusing, he made an effort to smile. It didn’t quite work. “She didn’t know where I was staying.”
“No. I played a hunch.”
“You talked a key out of the pothead?”
“I played him, too.”
“I bet.” He looked her over. “That getup. He’d have to be a monk to hold out, and probably not even then.”
She blushed over the compliment but didn’t acknowledge it. “How was Brady’s flight?”
This time his smile was automatic. “He was like a kid at Christmas. I gave him control a couple of times. I swear, it was so much fun to watch him having so much fun. We flew over this wide-open pasture in a valley. I banked, came around for a second pass, went in real low, almost like I was going to do a touch-and-go, then climbed out steep. Brady—” Catching himself, he stopped.
Her expression was knowing, a trifle smug. “How nice that you can give him such a treat, but remain detached and uninvolved.”
He looked down and studied the toe of his boot. When he raised his head, he met her steady gaze head-on. “It was great.”
She didn’t gloat over his admission. Her victory lap came in the form of a soft smile. “I know today meant a lot to both of them.”
“It meant a lot to me.”
