Coming Home to You Excerpt
The thumping started when Kate Kennedy reached Greta’s Gifts on Red Arrow Highway. Cheese curls churned in her stomach as she tapped the brakes. Almost home but something was wrong with the kayak strapped to her roof. Gravel crunching beneath the tires, she pulled into Greta’s and parked. The sun bounced off the hood of her SUV, but a cool May breeze bathed her face when she climbed out.
Welcome to Michigan. Her eyes felt grainy from fourteen hours on the road, but she was home.
Stretching, Kate breathed in the lake, damp and beachy. The tightness in her shoulders eased. Pine trees caught a high spring gust and the familiar rustle made her smile. Her stomach gurgled. Not much to eat the whole ride from Boston except peanut butter and jelly, plus bags of cheese curls washed down with coffee.
Looking up, she exhaled. At least she hadn’t lost Gator, her green kayak. A red security tie flapped in the breeze. Must have lost the other strap along the way. Kate scrubbed her face with hands shaking from all the caffeine. A semi roared past, kicking up dust. She tugged up the zipper on her hoodie.
“Doggone it, Gator.”
The kayak slid a bit farther. Too bad she’d left her small kitchen stepladder in the Boston condo, along with a lot of other stuff. When she yanked the remaining red band, it fell away in her hand. One frustrated shove and Gator retaliated, smacking her square in the chest before clattering to the ground. The pain bent Kate over like a paper clip. She almost didn’t hear the door slam behind her.
Blinking furiously, she pulled herself up, grateful for the sunglasses. No way would anyone see Kate Kennedy cry. A man ambled toward her in work boots, worn jeans, and shoulders that tested the seams of a beat-up jean jacket. That walk looked familiar and her heart kicked up a beat. He wore aviator sunglasses, so no telling for sure. A black and white dog hung out of the pickup, Great Dane ears pricking forward. Big muzzle, big dog.
“Need some help?”
Yep, it was him. Kate’s legs weakened. “No, I’m fine.”
His eyes shifted to the kayak on the ground. “Doesn’t look fine to me.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m fine. And so is Gator.” Her chest throbbed.
Blue eyes swept like a July wave over the tops of his sunglasses. “Gator?”
She swallowed. “My kayak. Seemed appropriate.”
“I see.”
But Cole Campbell had never understood why Kate wanted all her belongings named and in their proper place. Shoot. They’d been on the high school debate team together, and he didn’t recognize her? Maybe it was her recent drugstore dye job. She’d had brown hair in high school. Now she ran a hand over blonde hair, crisp from two days of neglect.
He swayed back on his heels, a Good Samaritan with second thoughts. The two empty seats of the kayak stared up at them. “Lucky you didn’t lose it on the road. Could have smashed into another driver. You need to batten it down.”
“Thought I did. It was dark when I loaded it.”
“Try doing it in the daytime. You could kill somebody.”
“I left at midnight.”
“Midnight?” He lowered the glasses and his eyes darkened.
Her chin came up. “Highway’s quiet at night. Just the truckers.”
“Exactly. Truckers. You think that’s safe?”
None of his business. “I’ve, ah, probably got some rope in the back.” She seriously doubted it.
“I’ll be glad to help.” Cole’s attention shifted to her jeans. The corners of his lips lifted. “You saving that for something?”
Kate looked down. A cheese curl was caught in her crotch and she batted it away. No time for games. Especially not with him.
His eyes flitted from her to Gator and back. A stern mask slipped into place. Cole’s teenage acne had left faint pockmarks that definitely didn’t detract from his macho appeal.
Was he going to help her or not? Her chest throbbed. Could this day get any worse? The boy she’d lusted for in high school didn’t even recognize her. Kate’s throat closed. Nothing like feeling forgettable.
Read more of Coming Home to You at the following stores:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
The thumping started when Kate Kennedy reached Greta’s Gifts on Red Arrow Highway. Cheese curls churned in her stomach as she tapped the brakes. Almost home but something was wrong with the kayak strapped to her roof. Gravel crunching beneath the tires, she pulled into Greta’s and parked. The sun bounced off the hood of her SUV, but a cool May breeze bathed her face when she climbed out.
Welcome to Michigan. Her eyes felt grainy from fourteen hours on the road, but she was home.
Stretching, Kate breathed in the lake, damp and beachy. The tightness in her shoulders eased. Pine trees caught a high spring gust and the familiar rustle made her smile. Her stomach gurgled. Not much to eat the whole ride from Boston except peanut butter and jelly, plus bags of cheese curls washed down with coffee.
Looking up, she exhaled. At least she hadn’t lost Gator, her green kayak. A red security tie flapped in the breeze. Must have lost the other strap along the way. Kate scrubbed her face with hands shaking from all the caffeine. A semi roared past, kicking up dust. She tugged up the zipper on her hoodie.
“Doggone it, Gator.”
The kayak slid a bit farther. Too bad she’d left her small kitchen stepladder in the Boston condo, along with a lot of other stuff. When she yanked the remaining red band, it fell away in her hand. One frustrated shove and Gator retaliated, smacking her square in the chest before clattering to the ground. The pain bent Kate over like a paper clip. She almost didn’t hear the door slam behind her.
Blinking furiously, she pulled herself up, grateful for the sunglasses. No way would anyone see Kate Kennedy cry. A man ambled toward her in work boots, worn jeans, and shoulders that tested the seams of a beat-up jean jacket. That walk looked familiar and her heart kicked up a beat. He wore aviator sunglasses, so no telling for sure. A black and white dog hung out of the pickup, Great Dane ears pricking forward. Big muzzle, big dog.
“Need some help?”
Yep, it was him. Kate’s legs weakened. “No, I’m fine.”
His eyes shifted to the kayak on the ground. “Doesn’t look fine to me.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m fine. And so is Gator.” Her chest throbbed.
Blue eyes swept like a July wave over the tops of his sunglasses. “Gator?”
She swallowed. “My kayak. Seemed appropriate.”
“I see.”
But Cole Campbell had never understood why Kate wanted all her belongings named and in their proper place. Shoot. They’d been on the high school debate team together, and he didn’t recognize her? Maybe it was her recent drugstore dye job. She’d had brown hair in high school. Now she ran a hand over blonde hair, crisp from two days of neglect.
He swayed back on his heels, a Good Samaritan with second thoughts. The two empty seats of the kayak stared up at them. “Lucky you didn’t lose it on the road. Could have smashed into another driver. You need to batten it down.”
“Thought I did. It was dark when I loaded it.”
“Try doing it in the daytime. You could kill somebody.”
“I left at midnight.”
“Midnight?” He lowered the glasses and his eyes darkened.
Her chin came up. “Highway’s quiet at night. Just the truckers.”
“Exactly. Truckers. You think that’s safe?”
None of his business. “I’ve, ah, probably got some rope in the back.” She seriously doubted it.
“I’ll be glad to help.” Cole’s attention shifted to her jeans. The corners of his lips lifted. “You saving that for something?”
Kate looked down. A cheese curl was caught in her crotch and she batted it away. No time for games. Especially not with him.
His eyes flitted from her to Gator and back. A stern mask slipped into place. Cole’s teenage acne had left faint pockmarks that definitely didn’t detract from his macho appeal.
Was he going to help her or not? Her chest throbbed. Could this day get any worse? The boy she’d lusted for in high school didn’t even recognize her. Kate’s throat closed. Nothing like feeling forgettable.
Read more of Coming Home to You at the following stores:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo