Page 16 of Mountain Gift

I peek over at Boone, wondering what he thinks about my hometown. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road as he drives, not even letting himself glance at the businesses and homes we're passing.

"So," I say hesitantly, "how do you like Cooper Hills?"

He blinks and takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look out the window. "It's nice," he says. "It's different than back in Texas. But I think that's what I like most about it."

"How is it different?" I ask.

Boone shrugs. "I'm from Barton Beach, which is a small town by Texas standards. But it's still busy. And there's always something going on. But out here, it's peaceful. Quiet. It's nice."

"You're right. Things probably are different on the mountain," I tease with a little snort. "It's amazing my brothers can run a relaxing retreat at all with their amount of energy. But obviously, they're great at it. So, what do I know?"

"You know a lot, Caroline. You've been a great hostess."

As I watch him, I notice something change about Boone's expression. He's not a very vocal man, and he's definitely not the most visually expressive person I've ever met. But still, something about him has shifted.

And when he turns his head to look briefly into my eyes, I think I figure out what the change is. He's gotten more… pensive about something. Admiring it.

If I had to guess, that something is me.

I feel a blush creeping up my neck again, but I do my best to hold it back until he turns away.

"Thank you," I say before biting my lip and looking back out the window. He's rattled me again. Even when he looks at me, I feel all shaken up inside. "I guess it runs in the family. Maybe I should have gone into the resort business with them. I certainly could make more money that way."

"But that's not what you want," he says matter-of-factly.

Blinking in confusion, I turn to peer at him again. "What do you mean?"

"I meant that it's not your passion," he says. "Over the past few days, I've seen what you like doing. You like to get close to your customers. Your style is more… intimate."

"I guess you're right about that," I say, curious how he figured all this out about me.

Was he really watching me that closely at the café?

"I do like working directly with people. Getting to know them. I guess that's one of the reasons I've stayed at the cafe for so long. Longer than I probably should have."

"When did you start working there?"

"Twenty-five years ago. I was seventeen." I pause for a moment as I'm reminded of what a big chunk of my life that is. "It's my first and only job."

"And you got your car eighteen years ago."

I peer at him across the car. For the first time today, he gives me a cheeky smirk.

"How could you possibly know that?" I ask.

Boone shrugs. "I know a few things about your Buick. Years ago, I used to volunteer for a local mechanic's shop between deployments. One of the regular customers had a car just like it. We kept telling him to just get rid of it, but he never did. It was his wife's before she passed away."

I bite my lip. "My car has a… similar story."

Boone reaches across the center console and laces his fingers through mine. "I know it does, baby."

We're quiet again as we wait for the light to change. But despite the awkwardness, I'm actually surprised by how warm I feel inside.

"I've always loved crafting," I say, trying to ignite the conversation again. "But that's not a full-time gig. Even if I sometimes wish it was."

"Would you ever want to do it full-time?" He asks.

I look back out the window, trying to come up with a good answer. For some reason, his opinion means a lot to me.

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