Page 14 of Home Town

That fact wasn’t doing Corey’s heart any good as it continued to pound fast until her feet were firmly planted on the tile floor. He couldn’t fight the suspicion that she did lots of things he wouldn’t approve of while he was away from home.

“You obviously need someone to worry about you since you don’t show a care for your own safety,” he said in defense of himself.

“Pfft. Don’t be silly. I was perfectly safe.”

That was up for debate but he didn’t have time as his mother looked him up and down. “You need to take a shower and put on a shirt.”

He agreed with her, and that had been the plan until he’d stumbled upon her tight rope walk across the countertop.

“I’m planning on it, as soon as I grab something to eat,” he said as he opened the refrigerator door.

“Nope.” Standing at the sink, the coffee pot in her hand, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Shower first. I have cinnamon rolls in the oven. You can eat one after you’re dressed. But now you have to scoot.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“The committee will be here in half an hour. I have to get the coffee made and cups, plates and spoons put out?—”

His plans for a big breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast dashed, he drew in a breath and closed the fridge door. “What committee?”

Historical society. Rotary. Church. His mother was involved in so many things, this committee could be just about anything.

“The two-hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration planning committee,” she said over the sound of the running water.

“Ah. Of course. Okay, I’m taking a shower.” He shook his head as he walked out of the room, not knowing what exactly they were celebrating from two-hundred and fifty years ago but not curious enough to ask.

There’d be hot fresh cinnamon rolls waiting for him. That was enough of an incentive for him to speed through a shower and get dressed in record time.

Grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, he pulled both on.

He wasn’t exactly fit for public, but he wasn’t going to worry about what he wore on his first full day home to lay around and do a whole lotta nothing—as prescribed. He had no intention of sticking around to see the members of the committee once he’d gotten his coffee and pastry anyway.

No one would see him and that was for the best. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be social. And he definitely wasn’t in the mood for conversation or questions about his injuries.

In fact, he needed to remind his mother about that. She knew where he’d been serving. In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have sent her that USS Eisenhower coffee mug. But she needed to not mention that to anyone if he was going to avoid the inevitable grilling about the attack that had made the national news.

Trotting down the hallway toward the kitchen, he’d just turned the corner when he slapped smack into a sweet smelling and even sweeter feeling feminine body.

It was reflex that had him gripping the woman by the shoulders to keep her upright.

It was self-preservation that had him dropping that grip when she glared at him and basically growled, “You can take your hands off me now.”

He did as he’d been told as realization hit.

She was older. Her hair different, shorter, sassier, rather than long and permanently in a ponytail like in high school. But there was no doubt. Particularly because of the resemblance to her brother Quinn, whom he’d just seen.

“Josie?”

“Corey,” she said in a voice low with barely contained anger.

Jeezus, this girl was acting as if she hated him. Why? He had no clue.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, since that seemed like a better place to start for their first conversation in a decade.

“I’m on your mom’s committee,” she bit out between clenched teeth.

“The centennial anniversary committee or whatever?” he asked in shock.

Josie was part of what he’d assumed would be an all blue-haired old lady committee? That was weird, right? Even his addled brain realized that.

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