Page 24 of The Way Back Home

“You know you didn’t mention you were a vet.”

“Because you up and disappeared on me before we had a chance to have a real conversation.”

“Well, I didn’t want to mess with the Du Pont fan club. Word is, you’re the hottest bachelor in town.” I scan the parking lot for a white beat up old Chevy.

“And yet you can’t stop making googly eyes at August Cotton.”

I snap my gaze toward him. “I do not make googly eyes.”

“Sure about that?”

“I want to help him,” I explain emphatically, as if this should already be obvious.

“Right, you just keep telling yourself that.”

I sigh. We are not talking about my attraction to August Cotton because ... I do not have an attraction to August Cotton. And I do not make googly eyes. Simple. The doc is way, way off. Still, he might be clueless about the signals women throw off toward the opposite sex, but he is sweet. He didn’t have to help me out in that viper den. “Thanks for vouching for me in there, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I know what makes a good assistance dog, and what doesn’t. So, unless one of my dogs becomes sick, I don’t think I’ll be needing your help.”

He smiles, but it looks more as if he’s indulging a small child during a tantrum. “Well, if it will give these folks peace of mind, I think you should come see me once you have your candidates picked out.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”

I let out a puff of air and give him a tight smile. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Yep, guess you will.” Jude winks and wanders down the church steps. I watch his retreating figure with a frown.Cocky bastard.

Moments later, adults and children start filing out of the church, and I sit there until Bettina comes wandering out, glancing around nervously for her brother. “Bett.” I wave. “Over here.”

“Wivvie,” she shouts, and several pairs of eyes swing my way. I pay them no mind as the rambunctious four-year-old hurtles toward me.

“Hey, baby doll.”

She giggles and barrels into my legs, squeezing me tight. “Where’s Auggie?”

“He’s waitin’ in the truck,” I smooth her hair over her shoulder with my free hand as she continues to hold onto me. “Come on, I’ll walk you over to him.”

“What happened to your dwess?”

“Let’s just say I had a little fight with a sandwich.” Her features twist into a puzzled expression and I’m certain she thinks I’m as crazy as her brother does. I take her hand and my sandwich that—soggy or not—I still have big plans for, and I lead her over to the beat up Chevy truck. She climbs on in, and August starts the engine. Bett scoots over to the middle and pats the seat. “Are you commin’?”

“No, I’m going to ride home, but thank you,” I say, shutting the door and giving them a wave as an impatient August peels out of the parking space. Bett waves as they drive away, but August doesn’t look back. I swear, every time I think I’m making headway with that man, I just end up right where I first started.

As I turn, my gaze meets Jude’s from across the lot, and while August may have been ignoring me as best he could, it seems the good doc is doing the exact opposite. There’s a frown on his face as he opens the door of his sleek black Aston Martin. I don’t know what the hell that’s about, but I know there is definitely bad blood between those two men. No doubt I’ll find out about it sooner or later. That’s the way it is in small towns. Everyone knows everything. Nothing is secret, and the word privacy doesn’t exist.

Jude climbs into his car, and I glance back at the good folks of Magnolia Springs. Almost every pair of eyes darts away awkwardly, as if they weren’t just staring at the show those Alabama boys just put on. I shake my head and cross the lot to my bike where I climb onto the seat, ignoring the sound of tearing fabric as my skirt decides one peep show isn’t enough for today. With my head held impossibly high, I ride toward home.Home. Home is where the heart is, but it seems I forgot the way a long time ago.

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