“Apple muffins.” Sam’s arm snaked along the back of the seat, ostensibly to turn around and see where he was going as he put the truck in Reverse.
But Amy didn’t mind the warm brush of his fingers on her shoulder and hoped that part wasn’t accidental.
“Wegot apple muffins for your afternoon of running errands?”
“She might have seen you sitting out here in the truck and drawn her own conclusions about the errands I had in mind.” He kept his expression neutral, but she heard the teasing note in his voice.
“Clearly she knows you much better than I do since I don’t have a clue what you could be planning.”
“I figured I’d use the muffins to bribe information from you.” He slid the basket from her hands and set it in the console as he headed in a familiar direction—out toward the Spencer farm, where they used to sneak away to be alone.
“Did they teach you that in police school? Bribing with Baked Goods 101?”
“No. I improvise my technique based on the situation. And since you’re proving to be a tough customer, I’m upping my game.” He turned down a quiet road that ran in the same direction as Main Street.
She smiled to see it was still deserted. She used to drag race bicycles with her siblings here. As the youngest, she never won contests like that, but the best days were the ones when they left the house in the morning and didn’t return until dinnertime.
“Well, now that I can smell those muffins, I’m starving. So what is it you need to know, Sheriff?” She tucked her boots under the truck’s floor heater to take the chill off her toes. It wasn’t cold out—the truck’s thermometer read sixty-four degrees—but she liked her feet to be warm.
“Why did you have tears in your eyes when I first walked into the nursery earlier?” He kept his eye on the road, slowing down for a wide pothole in a place where live oak branches from trees on either side created a tunnel of Spanish moss.
She wanted to lie and say it was because he’d turned down her flirting efforts. But not even ten years apart would make him believe she’d changed that much.
And, truth be told, it was better than having to talk about that last summer. She’d made some peace with her miscarriage at least.
“I had a second-trimester miscarriage last year and it...wrecked me.” There was no other way to describe the devastation that day had caused on her life.
“Oh, Ames.” His use of her old nickname slid right past her defenses and melted her heart, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I never would have asked if I’d had any inkling it was something like that.”
“I know.” She did, too. He wasn’t the kind of man who would pick at a wound to see it bleed. “It’s not as raw now. But seeing Aiden reminds me of those hopes and dreams I had.”
He turned the truck onto a dirt road around the back of the Spencer farm, close to where the creek ran. The old orchards weren’t as full as they used to be since the farm hadn’t been working for years, but small peaches littered the ground from trees that still produced fruit.
“What about the father?” he asked quietly, shutting off the engine near a wooden bridge. Old Mr. Spencer had built the bridge over the creek decades ago, but it had held up all these years.
“He lasted about five minutes into my pregnancy and decided fatherhood wasn’t for him.” She’d been too in love with the news that she was expecting to spare much thought for her ex. A sure sign she’d been with the wrong guy anyhow. “I was more than prepared to be a single parent.”
“You want to go sit on the bridge?” He pointed toward their old spot.
He’d kissed her for the first time there.
Had he thought about that when he’d brought her to this place?
Dappled sunlight danced on the water, and the sound of the gurgling rush was apparent now that he’d turned off the engine.
“If you bring the muffins.” She reached for the door handle but waited to lift it until he nodded.
In the short walk to the creek’s edge, she moved to skirt around a muddy ditch, not wanting to ruin her boots. But Sam lifted her up easily, his arm circling her waist and plunking her down on the other side of the ditch before she had nearly enough time to savor his touch.
Still, her skin tingled beneath her dress for long moments afterward as they stepped up onto the gently rounded arch. The bridge supports were a naturally bowing tree branch that the old man must have sawn down the middle since the curved log halves perfectly matched. Sam rinsed his own boots in the water before he climbed up beside her and then lowered himself to sit on the planks, their legs dangling over one side.
With the sound of birds and rushing water in her ear, and the warm splash of sunshine on her shoulders, Amy felt more at home than she had at any other time since arriving in Heartache. Sitting beside Sam, with his strong arms and easy way with her, was a tantalizing memory she knew she shouldn’t get too caught up in.
She wasn’t staying in Heartache. And Sam had plenty of problems of his own to work through with a new baby at home.
But for now? He was not in a relationship. And theirpast had ended on a giant question mark that had lingered in her mind and in her heart for years.
“So you brought me here to reminisce?” she clarified, wanting him on board with whatever happened next.
