LITMIR.BIZ

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her heart. “I’m staying a few weeks to write stories about life in a small Southern town.” That was true; she did plan to write about Claremont and about the couples she’d meet during her visit, as her magazine focused on love, but that wasn’t what brought her here.

      Troy Lee did.

      “Well, then, you’ve come to the right place. You don’t get much smaller than Claremont.” He sighed, a nearly inaudible sound, but one Destiny heard, since she hung on to every word. “But in my opinion, we’ve got everything anyone could need.”

      And there it was, the sentimental side she’d sensed in his letters and the guy who’d treat a girl like pure gold. Destiny fought the urge to sigh right back. However, she’d dated quite a few guys who started out acting that way and then their true colors came shining through, thicker and darker than hard Georgia clay. She hadn’t met an honest, sincere one yet. But if Troy Lee’s letters to his future bride rang true, he could be the real deal. And the type her readers wanted to hear about.

      She cleared her throat. “So, what does Claremont have, besides the dude ranch and the fishing camp?”

      He grinned. “I was right. You aren’t the dude-ranch or fishing-camp kind of girl.”

      She found it very easy to smile at Troy. “I’ll be honest. I’m afraid of horses, but truthfully, I’ve always wanted to learn how to fish.”

      “Really, now? Well, I might be able to help you out.”

      Destiny already knew that, of course, but she kept her poker face intact. “How could you do that?”

      “It just so happens that I have a second job on the weekends running the fishing hole. It isn’t as organized and all as the new fish camp. The Cutter family owns that, and it’s more of a vacation spot. But my grandparents James and Jolaine Bowers own the fishing hole, and it’s the type of place to go if you want to have some quiet time for a day, relax outside, take in the scenery.”

      “And catch some fish?”

      His dimple popped back into place with his smile. “Yeah, that, too.”

      “So you’ll be there this weekend?” Destiny was doing a little fishing right now, and she wasn’t all that discreet about it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

      “I will.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a leather wallet. “I think I have a couple of their cards left in here. I’ll get you one. It’ll have the address for you. We’re open pretty much from sunup till sundown, so you can come whenever you like.”

      “I don’t need a reservation?”

      Blue eyes glittered as he looked up from a forest of black lashes. “Nah, it’s not that kind of place.”

      She watched his hands, covered in dirt and oil, thumb through the worn wallet, and she noticed a small emblem on one corner of the leather, a gold cross. The symbol reminded her of the main theme of his letters.

      I want a bride who loves the Lord more than she loves me.

      The statement had caught Destiny unaware, shocked her a little. She didn’t have that kind of faith, didn’t really understand it, but the guy wrote about it so much that she honestly believed he meant those words. And that intrigued her even more.

      “I know I have them in here somewhere.”

      As he searched for the card, Destiny took the chance to look at his face, and she realized with surprise that it was also fairly well covered with dirt and grime, and one thick smear of what she guessed to be oil across his forehead. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed it before. His features had apparently drawn her attention to the important things. Or maybe it was the words he’d written on those love letters that hid any imperfections.

      “Here it is.” He withdrew the card and handed it to Destiny. “You’ll have to excuse the smudge.” He pointed to a black smear along the edge. “You can still read the important stuff. And there’s another business on the back.”

      Destiny flipped the card and saw the contact information for the Bowers’ Sporting Goods Shop on the Claremont square.

      “My grandparents thought it’d be smart to consolidate their two businesses on one card.”

      “Sounds like a good idea.” She tucked the card inside her purse.

      The gas pump made a loud racket as it screeched to a stop. “Looks like it’s done.” He moved the nozzle from the tank to the pump. “Took fifty-three dollars’ worth.”

      She fished three twenties from her wallet and placed them in his palm.

      “Hold on, I’ll get your change.” He turned and walked toward the station where Bo and Maura quickly jerked their attention from the gas pumps to something else at the counter.

      Destiny’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the display, saw her managing editor’s name, then answered. “Everything okay with today’s blog?”

      The magazine’s website ran an original blog post each day. Usually Destiny wrote the material, but Rita had taken on today’s so Destiny could get on the road sooner. Plus, since their entire staff consisted of merely the two of them, if Destiny didn’t do it, Rita did. Destiny may have footed the start-up expenses and therefore held the “owner” title, but Rita cared just as much about the magazine’s success. Hopefully, if Destiny could keep her advertisers and subscribers happy, she’d one day be able to pay her friend a salary worthy of her efforts.

      “Of course, everything’s fine,” Rita said. “I told you I can handle things.”

      Destiny grinned. “Okay, so why are you calling?”

      “To find out if you met him yet, naturally. Have you? And does he look as good as he sounds on paper?”

      “No, he looks better.”

      “You don’t say? Well, maybe I should’ve been the one to volunteer for this road trip. Then again, it may be a moot point. His grandmother just called again to make sure we weren’t publishing his letters and also asked for us to return the originals.”

      Destiny frowned. Troy’s grandmother had entered several of his love letters in the magazine’s first Love Letter Contest, and his had blown all of the other entries out of the water. Then, when they’d phoned the lady to let her know she’d won, she admitted she didn’t have her grandson’s permission to share them. Rita had offered to call and talk to Troy, but the woman had said she’d try to get his permission. When that didn’t happen quickly, Destiny decided to head to Alabama herself and request it personally. “Did she say anything else?”

      “That Troy had told her specifically today that he didn’t want anyone but his future bride seeing those letters and that she wanted to make sure we gave the prize money to whoever came in second...and returned those letters. She said she wants to put them back where she found them before he realizes they’re missing.”

      “None of those other letters even held a candle to his, Rita. You know that. And we promised our advertisers a sneak peek into the heart of a true Southern gentleman. Obviously, there aren’t that many of them left, and we’ve found a winner. I’m not giving up on getting his permission to publish them.”

      Rita’s laugh echoed through the phone. “I thought you’d say that, but I figured you’d want to know what she said. We still need to mail those letters to her, you know.”

      Destiny glanced at the letters that she’d read and reread continually ever since they’d arrived in their PO box. Funny, she felt almost territorial about them, as though they were written to her or something. But they weren’t, and his grandmother wanted to return them to where she had found them. “Okay. We’ll send them back,” she said regretfully.

      Troy exited the station and started toward her car.

      “Hey, he’s coming this way. Call you back later.” She hung up and tossed the cell back in her purse.

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