LITMIR.BIZ

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with Thunder Canyon’s Presents for Patriots this year, and she suspected that the boxes were linked to that effort.

      “Kayla—hi.”

      She didn’t need to look up to know it was Trey who was speaking. It wasn’t just that she’d recognized his voice, it was that her heart was racing the way it always did whenever she was near him.

      But she glanced up, her gaze skimming at least six feet from his well-worn cowboy boots to his deep green eyes, and managed a smile. “Hi, Trey.”

      “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, flashing an easy grin that suggested he was genuinely happy to see her.

      Which didn’t really make any sense. She not only hadn’t seen the guy in four months, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him in that time, either. There had been no exchange of emails or text messages or any communication at all. Not that she’d expected any, but her infatuated heart had dared to hope—and been sorely wounded as a result of that silly hope.

      “How have you been?” he asked.

      Pregnant.

      The word was on the tip of her tongue because, of course, that reality had been at the forefront of her mind since she’d seen the little plus sign in the window of the test. But she didn’t dare say it aloud, because she knew he couldn’t understand the relevance of the information when he didn’t even remember sleeping with her.

      “Fine,” she said instead. “And you?”

      “Fine,” he echoed.

      She nodded.

      An awkward silence followed, which they both tried to break at the same time.

      “Well, I should—”

      “Maybe I could—”

      Then they both stopped talking again.

      “What were you going to say?” Trey asked her.

      “Just that I should be going—I’m on my way to the newspaper office.”

      “Do you work there?”

      She nodded. “I’m a copy editor.”

      “Oh.”

      And that seemed to exhaust that topic of conversation.

      “It was good to see you, Trey.”

      “You, too.”

      She started past him, relieved that this first and undeniably awkward encounter was over. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was a mass of knots, but she’d managed to exchange a few words with him without bursting into tears or otherwise falling to pieces. A good first step, she decided.

      “Kayla—wait.”

      And with those two words, her opportunity to flee with her dignity intact was threatened.

      Since she hadn’t moved far enough away to be able to pretend that she hadn’t heard him, she reluctantly turned back.

      He took a step closer.

      “I wanted to call you,” he said, dropping his voice to ensure that his words wouldn’t be overheard by any passersby. “There were so many times I thought about picking up the phone, just because I was thinking about you.”

      Her heart, already racing, accelerated even more. “You were thinking about me?”

      “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we danced at the wedding.”

       Since we danced?

      That was what he remembered about that night?

      She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Under other circumstances, it might have been flattering to think that a few minutes in his arms had made such a lasting impression. Under her current circumstances, the lack of any impression of what had come afterward was hurtful and humiliating.

      “I really do have to go. My boss is expecting me.”

      “What are you doing later?”

      She frowned. “Tonight?”

      “Sure.”

      “I’m going to the movies with Natalie Crawford.”

      “Oh.”

      He sounded so sincerely disappointed, she wanted to cancel her plans and agree to anything he wanted. Except that kind of thinking was responsible for her current predicament.

      “Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.

      He held her gaze for another minute before he nodded. “Count on it.”

      She walked away, knowing that she already did and cursing the traitorous yearning of her heart.

      * * *

      Trey helped finish unloading the truck, then headed over to the boarding house. He arrived just as his grandmother was slicing into an enormous roast, and the tantalizing aroma made his mouth water.

      “Mmm, something smells good.”

      Melba set down her utensils and wiped her hands on a towel before she crossed the room to envelop him in a warm hug. “I was hoping you’d be here in time for dinner.”

      “I’d tell you that I ignored the speed limit to make sure of it, but my grandmother would probably disapprove,” he teased.

      “She certainly would,” Melba agreed sternly.

      “In time for dinner but not in time to mash the potatoes,” Claire said, as she finished her assigned task.

      His grandmother let him go and turned him over to his cousin, who hugged him tight.

      He tipped her chin up to look into her brown eyes. “Everything good?”

      “Everything’s great,” she assured him, her radiant smile confirming the words.

      “Levi?” he prompted, referring to the husband she’d briefly separated from in the summer.

      “In the front parlor, playing with Bekka.”

      “It’s so much fun to have a child in the house again,” their grandmother said. “I can’t wait for there to be a dozen more.”

      “Don’t count on me to add another dozen,” Claire warned. “I have my hands full with one.”

      “At least you’ve given me one,” Melba noted, with a pointed glance in Trey’s direction.

      He moved to the sink and washed his hands. “What can I do to help with dinner?” he asked, desperate to change the topic of conversation.

      “You can get down the pitcher for the gravy.” Melba gestured to a cupboard far over her head. “Then round up the rest of the family.”

      Trey retrieved the pitcher, then gratefully escaped from the kitchen. Of course, he should have expected the conversation would circle back to the topic of marriage and babies during the meal.

      “So what’s been going on in town since I’ve been gone?” he asked, scooping up a forkful of the potatoes Claire had mashed.

      “Goodness, I don’t know where to begin,” his grandmother said. “Oh—the Santa Claus parade was last weekend and the Dalton girl got engaged.”

      The potatoes he’d just swallowed dropped to the bottom of his stomach like a ball of lead. “Kayla?”

      His grandmother shook her head. “Her sister, Kristen.”

      Trey exhaled slowly.

      He didn’t know why he’d immediately assumed Kayla, maybe because he’d seen her so recently and had been thinking about her for so long, but the thought of her with another man—engaged to another man—had hit him like a physical jab.

      He’d been

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