“Good point.” Molly set the pillows at the head of the bed, giving Grace a put-upon look. “Go on. Get out of here.”
“Thank you.”
She was already halfway out the door when Molly called, “But you better text me when you have a signal!”
Chapter Eleven
Grace was nervous about spending the better part of two days with Wyatt—but not for the reasons Molly had stated.
Having him behind her as they hiked was unsettling. She kept wondering how she looked in her jeans and if her hair was coming loose from her ponytail. Since when had she cared about such things? She’d never been like other girls. Hadn’t fussed over who she was going to prom with or what she was wearing to this party or that event. She didn’t even bother with makeup most of the time.
What was it about this man that made her care? That made her want to keep those chocolate-brown eyes fixed on her? She hated herself a little right now for that. And for single-handedly getting herself into this overnight camping trip. Her conflicting feelings made her dizzy.
It would be fine. He was obviously set on finding this particular spot, and the least she could do was help him do that.
She led the way on the marked trail following the rippling water of Lone Creek. The path was wide, paved, and ascended slowly into the hills. Towering deciduous trees rose above them, and a thick undergrowth sheltered the small critters scurrying about the forest floor. She breathed in the earthy smells of leaves, pine trees, and moss and caught a whiff of Wyatt’s clean scent in the mix.
She stepped over a fallen tree, taking the time to hitch her backpack higher on her shoulder. Wyatt had taken the bigger of the two and managed the move like his pack weighed no more than a feather.
“Enjoy the paved path.” She started off again. “It goes on for about four miles, then becomes a footpath.”
“And after that?”
“A deer path, more or less. It’s been a while since I’ve been out that far, though, so it might be overgrown. How long ago was it you were here before?”
“I was just a kid. But I have a good visual memory of the area. I’ll know it when I see it.”
They continued in silence, her footfalls and the chattering squirrels filling the quiet. She wondered again what drove Wyatt to find this area. But that was his business.
There was a lot she wanted to ask him. About his job, his life—and yes, his love life. But her job was to be his guide, not to pry into his personal life. If he wanted to talk, he’d talk, and she’d be happy to accommodate. If not, it was going to be a long, quiet two days.
“What was it like growing up here?” he asked as if privy to her thoughts.
Grace’s first thought was of that terrible afternoon when the minivan had followed her down the deserted country road they lived on at the time.
“Pretty great really. I had loving parents, and we didn’t want for anything. A nice, comfortable small town where everybody knows everybody, a lake to swim and fish in, and mountain trails to hike. Couldn’t ask for much more.”
“Some people think small towns are boring. Especially teenagers.”
“It would be if you didn’t like the outdoors.”
“I guess you found the right business to launch. Did you like the space you looked at in town yesterday?”
“Loved it. Unfortunately, the building’s as old as Methuselah, andit’s been vacant awhile. It needs a lot of TLC. Did you find what you were looking for at the library?”
He paused a beat. “Mmm. Not really.”
“Right genre, wrong author?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m not much of a reader myself. I think Molly got all of the literary genes, though Levi likes to read a little too. Molly’s husband is an author—writes under the pen name of Nathaniel Quinn.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“He lives in Bluebell now. Nice guy. They met when he came to stay at the inn.”
“And your brother’s engaged?”
