Praise for the novels of
STEPHANIE
BOND

“The perfect summer read.”

—Romance Reviews Today on Sand, Sun…Seduction!

“[My Favorite Mistake] illustrates the author’s gift for

weaving original, brilliant romance that readers

find impossible to put down.”

—Wordweaving.com

“This book is so hot it sizzles.”

—Once Upon a Romance on

She Did a Bad, Bad Thing

“An author who has

remained on my ‘must-buy’ list for years.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“True-to-life, romantic and witty,

as we’ve come to expect from Ms. Bond.”

—The Best Reviews

“Stephanie Bond never fails to entertain me

and deserves to be an auto-buy.”

—Romance Reviews Today

Baby, Come Home
Stephanie Bond

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This book is dedicated to every person

who has answered the call of going home.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie Bond was raised on a farm

in eastern Kentucky where books—

mostly romance novels—were her number one

form of entertainment, which she credits with

instilling in her “the rhythm of storytelling.”

Years later she answered the call back to books

to create her own stories. She sold her first

manuscript in 1995 and soon left her corporate

programming job to write fiction full-time.

Today Stephanie has over fifty titles to

her name, and lives in midtown Atlanta.

Visit www.stephaniebond.com for more information

about the author and her books.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

1

“We’re way behind schedule,” Marcus Armstrong announced.

“That’s ridiculous,” Porter Armstrong said, smacking his hand on the desk between them. “We’re way ahead of schedule!”

Kendall Armstrong looked back and forth between his older brother and his younger brother and gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to jump in, like always, to mediate between his stubborn siblings. Serious-minded Marcus had a tendency to be overly cautious, and the more reckless Porter had a predisposition for leaping before he looked—literally. His younger brother had only recently rid himself of the casts on his broken leg and broken arm that had kept him hobbled for the whole summer and most of the fall. With the holidays behind them and a new year begun, everyone was feeling the pressure of the one year plus change that remained on the federal deadline to prove their green experiment of rebuilding the mountain town of Sweetness, Georgia, would work. The brothers had started from nothing—worse than nothing, really. Ten years ago an F5 tornado had flattened their small hometown, sparing human life, but obliterating businesses and homes. The devastation had been the death knell for the tiny town already dwindling in population and economic prosperity. The town council had elected not to reorganize; residents had relocated. When the Armstrongs had arrived a year ago, the roads into Sweetness were choked and overgrown, the land consumed with kudzu vines and littered remains of buildings, vehicles and trees shorn by the twister. Wild animals roamed freely among the rubble. It was as if the outside world had forgotten about Sweetness.

Now, including the two hundred and fifty or so workers the men employed, the hundred or so women who’d come en masse from Broadway, Michigan, in response to an ad the brothers had placed in a local newspaper, looking for women who wanted a fresh start, their children and miscellaneous relatives who had since followed, and various professionals and trade experts who’d come to help them shape the town, the population of Sweetness had grown to— Kendall turned his head to look at the latest number written on the chalkboard by the door—536. “Ahead of schedule?” Marcus said to Porter. “What calendar are you looking at?”

“The same one you’re looking at,” Porter said, jerking his thumb toward the giant calendar that papered the walls of the office.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

They suddenly stopped and looked over at Kendall, who sat in a chair across the room.

“Aren’t you going to weigh in?” Marcus asked.

“You’re just going to sit there?” Porter said.

Kendall pursed his mouth and nodded. “That’s right.” He scooted his seat back against the wall, then made a rolling motion with his hands. “Go ahead, have at each other. Settle this like real men. Porter hasn’t been in a cast for a while.”

Marcus frowned. “You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

Porter scowled. “Yeah, it doesn’t suit you, brother.”

Anger sparked in Kendall’s stomach, sending him to his feet. “Really? Because it feels pretty damn good! I’m tired of constantly trying to wrestle you both back to middle ground. You’re wearing me out. I have half a mind to leave this place and never come back!”

He stopped, surprised but relieved that he’d voiced the thought that had been hovering in the back of his mind for months now. His brothers gaped at him.

“Leave?” Marcus said, sounding alarmed.

“You can’t leave,” Porter said, his eyes wide. “Not now, not when everything is going so well.”

Kendall gave a little laugh—his brother could afford to be cavalier since he’d fallen in love with the town physician, Dr. Nikki Salinger. “Everything is going well for you, Porter. You have Nikki and you’ve started building your own home. You have a reason to stay here.” He stopped, before he said too much. Before he revealed the cause of his increasing restlessness.

But from the way the expressions on his brothers’ faces changed, he knew he’d tipped his hand.

“This is about Amy Bradshaw,” Marcus said.

Porter sighed. “Kendall, why don’t you just call Amy and ask her to come back home?”

Kendall fisted his hands. “How many times do I have to tell you? She told me to leave her alone. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I was able to put her out of my mind when I was in the Air Force, but coming back here dredged things up again.” He stopped, embarrassed, expecting one of his brothers to step in to rib him.

But they didn’t. They just looked at him with such pity, he couldn’t bear it. He was pathetic, he conceded. Amy Bradshaw had left Sweetness over twelve years ago, before the tornado had struck. He’d come home from the Air Force to attend her aunt’s funeral, and Amy had expected to leave with him. But he wasn’t ready to get married. When he’d suggested she stay in Sweetness for a while to give herself time to grieve her aunt’s passing, she’d turned cold. Her parting words were branded in his brain.

You think I’m going to sit in this podunk town and wait for you? Forget it. Goodbye, Kendall. And don’t ever try to contact me.

She’d left. Climbed into her beater Chevy and drove away without looking back.

He hadn’t known where she was for the longest time. She’d left a few distant relatives in Sweetness, but none of them had been close to Amy—or forthcoming about where she’d moved, if they’d known. He’d almost gone mad with worry until a buddy in the Air Force with superior computer skills had tapped into some kind of national database and traced her social security number.

“Broadway, Michigan,” the man had announced. “Want her address and particulars?”

Kendall had passed. He hadn’t wanted to violate Amy’s privacy. And he really didn’t want to know if she was living with someone, or perhaps even married and hadn’t changed her name. It was enough to know where she’d landed, that she had found a new place to call home. But he’d thought of her every day for the past twelve years.

And when Marcus had charged him with attracting one hundred single women to Sweetness to help them grow the town, he’d reasoned that Broadway, Michigan, had seemed as good a place as any. The economy was depressed, and the unemployment rate was high. It seemed likely that women in a cold climate would find the Southern sun appealing.

And yes, he’d hoped that Amy would see the ad and answer the call to come home to Sweetness.

Come home to him.

But she hadn’t. As luck would have it, Amy and Nikki Salinger had been friends in Broadway. Amy hadn’t told Nikki that she’d grown up in Sweetness, but the women had stayed in touch after Nikki had relocated and subsequently decided to stay. Nikki had inadvertently exposed Kendall’s strategic placement of the ad when she’d mentioned Amy’s name to Porter who had, in turn, confronted Kendall and outed him to Marcus.

Now that his brothers knew why he’d picked that particular town for the ad, Kendall’s humiliation was complete.

“It’s been a long time,” Porter said quietly. “Maybe Amy’s changed her mind about you contacting her.”

Kendall’s temper flared. “Porter, I did contact her! I put a damn ad in the newspaper, didn’t I?”

Porter pressed his lips together. “Maybe she’s waiting for something more personal. Like a phone call.”

Marcus grunted. “Since Amy still hasn’t told Nikki about her ties to Sweetness, that kind of proves the woman has no intention of ever setting foot here again, doesn’t it?”

Kendall’s heart bottomed out.

Porter reached over and boxed Marcus’s ear.

Marcus pulled back, then looked contrite. “I’m just saying.”

“Ignore him,” Porter said to Kendall. “He’ll get his someday. Look, I know you said you didn’t want to know anything about Amy, but Nikki said—”

Kendall held up his hands. “I don’t want to know, Porter, unless Amy tells me herself. I don’t need details to obsess over. And I’m not going to stalk her.”

“Right,” Marcus said drily. “Placing an ad in her local newspaper isn’t stalkerish at all.”

Porter glared at him. “Shut up already!”

Marcus jammed his hands on his hips. “It needs to be said. I’m sorry, Kendall, but you had your chance with Amy and you blew it. You need to move on with your life. Can we get back to work, please?”

Porter’s face reddened in anger, but Kendall held up his hand, then dropped into the chair and sighed. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. “Marcus is right. I need to let go of this thing with Amy.” He looked up, grateful at that moment to have his brothers around. Then he straightened his shoulders. “We have a town to build. What’s next?”

“Next,” Marcus said without missing a beat, “is having our ducks in a row when the representative from the Department of Energy shows up to file a progress report. The guy’s name is Richardson.”

“Do we know when to expect him?” Kendall asked, trying to force his mind to the matter at hand. “You should expect him sometime over the next couple of weeks,” Marcus said.

Kendall blinked. “Since when did I get voted spokesman?”

Marcus looked at Porter, then raised his hand. “I vote for Kendall to be our spokesman to the D.O.E. rep.”

Porter raised his hand. “Ditto.”

Marcus turned back to Kendall. “You’re in.”

Kendall frowned, but knew when he was outnumbered. “I assume this will involve some sort of presentation?”

“And a tour,” Marcus said. “Plus lots of schmoozing to make sure we don’t lose our grant for being behind schedule.”

“We’re in good shape,” Porter insisted with a sense of casual confidence that Kendall envied. “Our downtown is growing every day. The clinic received Rural Health Clinic certification, the helipad is done, we have a school, a General Store and a post office.”

“The post office is inside the General Store,” Marcus added.

“For now,” Porter countered.

“The most important thing is we got our zip code,” Kendall said. Since the tiny post office had opened, he’d checked every day for a letter from Amy. So far—nothing.

“Right,” Porter said. “Demand for our recycled mulch is growing, the windmill farm is generating power for the town, the community garden is supplying seasonal produce for the dining hall.”

Marcus winced. “We’ll be in trouble if the representative eats at the dining hall.”

Porter nodded. Colonel Molly McIntyre ran a tight ship, but the cuisine wasn’t exactly cruise-worthy.

“Maybe we can distract Molly with the Lost and Found webpage, then ask someone else to step in for the day,” Kendall suggested.

Porter snapped his fingers. “The D.O.E. rep should see the town’s new website. All of our progress is recorded there, with photos.”

Kendall nodded, glad to have his mind diverted from…well, there he went again, thinking of Amy. He gave himself a mental shake. “Okay, I’ll prepare a presentation. Meanwhile, what’s next on our plate?”

“The residents are asking for a church,” Porter remarked. “A lot of couples are pairing up.”

“But we don’t even have a minister,” Marcus countered.

“Because we don’t have a church,” Porter said.

Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Are you planning to walk down the aisle soon?”

Porter blanched. “N-no. Nikki and I haven’t…gotten…that far.”

Kendall bit back a smile at his little brother’s sudden nervousness. He had no doubt Porter was head over heels for the doctor, but everyone—including Porter—had assumed he’d be a bachelor forever. He was still easing into the idea of being half of a couple.

“For now then,” Marcus said pointedly, “we can continue to hold services in the dining hall or in the great room of the boardinghouse. I think we need to shift our focus to rebuilding Evermore Bridge over Timber Creek.” Marcus walked over to an aerial map and pointed to a large green section of land.

“This land is within the city limits, but it’s cut off from everything else. I think we should relocate the recycling center we’re planning to build to this parcel, away from town because of potential noise levels. A new bridge will make this farmland accessible for other projects, too. I received a proposal this week from a scientist who’s looking into new uses for kudzu.”

Porter snorted. “That vile weed has a use?”

The Japanese vine had been introduced to the state of Georgia as ground cover along the inter-states, but had taken on a life of its own, spreading via seed and runners, consuming anything that didn’t move. Virulent and aggressive, kudzu was widely considered a nuisance.

“This man thinks it produces a chemical that can treat Alzheimer’s.”

Kendall wiped his hand over his mouth. There were some moments when the brothers couldn’t believe the ramifications of this undertaking—this green experiment was so much bigger than just rebuilding their mountain hometown. “What is he asking for?”

“He has his own grant for a laboratory and staff. He’s asking for a half-acre of land for his lab, and twenty-five acres of kudzu.”

“Hell, let’s give him fifty acres of the stuff,” Porter said.

“Okay, this one’s yours.” Marcus handed him a printed email, then turned back to the map. “I say we rezone this entire parcel for commercial use,” Marcus said, “but we have to provide access to it. That’s why I think we need to move the bridge up on our priority list.”

“Kendall can build us a new bridge,” Porter said.

At his brother’s reference to his civil engineering degree, Kendall made a rueful noise. “But I can’t design one. We need a structural engineer for that.”

Porter held up his finger. “I—”

“Got it covered,” Marcus cut in, giving Porter a look that said he’d take care of finding a structural engineer. He glanced at Kendall. “That will free you up to get ready for the D.O.E. rep.”

Kendall nodded. “I trust your judgment. We’re going to need some crackerjack contractors, too, guys who know how to pour concrete in cold temperatures.”

“Understood,” Marcus said, then he clapped Porter on the back. “While Kendall and I build a bridge, you can get started on a church if you want.”

Porter pursed his mouth. “I think you’re right—we should hold off for now. I think I’ll go scout out the parcel across the creek.”

Marcus smiled. “Thought you might.”

Porter left and Kendall stood, then reached for his laptop. “Guess I’ll head to the media room and get started on that presentation.”

Marcus nodded. “Sounds good.”

Kendall reached the door, then turned back. “Marcus, about earlier…”

“Yeah, sorry about that, man.”

“No…you’re right—I need to move on. Thanks for the wake-up call.”

“Sure thing,” Marcus said, then picked up his phone. “Speaking of calls, I need to make some.”

“Right. See you later.” Kendall grabbed a jacket, then turned and walked out of the office trailer toward the center of town. The temperature was bracingly cool, just what he needed at the moment to clear his head.

As he approached the crop of buildings that made up the new downtown area, he realized they had much to be proud of. School was letting out, and the sound of children’s laughter hung in the air. Pedestrians bustled around and a couple of cars rolled down Main Street. Soon they would have to start thinking about installing a stoplight.

Sweetness had been revived. If he squinted, the scene reminded him of the way the town looked when he was young. Then he sighed. There was only one thing missing.

Amy.

2

Amy Bradshaw pulled out her desk drawer in search of chocolate. Most days she took solace in the surety of the demands of being an engineer—there were no gray areas when it came to CAD drawings and blueprints and per square inch load of reinforced concrete. But going out on her own after being laid off from the state of Michigan’s Department of Transportation was another matter.

Her former boss had recommended her for small jobs here and there, but she was waiting to hear if she’d been selected as project leader for a big reservoir project, and the suspense was driving up her stress level. She was qualified for the position, and she’d been told by insiders that the longer it took, the more likely the news would be good—engineers that were out of the running had already been notified.

She had a lot riding on this job.

When her fingers closed around a cellophane wrapped chocolate cupcake in the back of the drawer, she whooped in triumph. She tore open the wrapper and bit into the cake, not caring that it was stale and dry.

While she chewed, momentarily gratified, Amy noticed that underneath the cupcake was an ad she’d cut out of the local newspaper over six months ago. She pulled it out and swallowed, wincing as the hard ball of empty calories scraped down her throat.

The new town of Sweetness, Georgia, welcomes one hundred single women with a pioneering spirit looking for a fresh start!

Sweetness, Georgia…her hometown. Her initial shock at seeing the advertisement for women to help rebuild the small town that had been devastated by a tornado ten years ago was trumped only by the names of the men behind the ad: Armstrong.

As in Kendall Armstrong and his brothers Marcus and Porter. As far as she knew, Kendall didn’t know where she’d settled after leaving Sweetness. On the other hand, the chance of the ad landing in her local newspaper seven hundred miles away strictly by coincidence seemed a little far-fetched. The first few days after the ad had appeared, she’d been besieged with paranoia, looking over her shoulder and half afraid to answer the phone. But Kendall hadn’t appeared on her doorstep and slowly she’d relaxed. Then the group of women, including her friend Dr. Nikki Salinger, had left Broadway to make the trip south to Sweetness. Again, she’d held her breath that Kendall would contact her.

And again, he hadn’t.

And then another emotion had crept in—curiosity. Obviously, Kendall knew where she was. So why hadn’t he called or…something?

Because she’d told him not to. That last conversation was burned into her memory.

Wait for me, Amy. I’ll come back for you.

But Amy had been tired of waiting for Kendall to commit to her, tired of him coming home for a few days of leave from the Air Force for marathon lovemaking, then taking off to another adventure, leaving her behind.

You think I’m going to sit in this podunk town and wait for you? Forget it. Goodbye, Kendall. And don’t ever try to contact me.

Amy worked her mouth back and forth. He’d taken her at her word.

Despite her bravado, after leaving Sweetness, she’d spent many long nights crying over Kendall Armstrong. And he’d been heavy on her mind as she’d pursued an engineering degree in night school. Their mutual interest in the science of structure had been one of the things that had drawn them together in the first place.

They’d been an unlikely couple—she was a tomboy and had a tendency to get into scuffles with kids who teased her over her wiry red hair and Goodwill clothes. Kendall was a scholar and an athlete from an upstanding family, with a cloud of beautiful girls around him. One day between classes, he’d pulled her off the back of a boy who’d questioned her sexuality. His blue eyes had twinkled as he explained he’d been afraid for the boy’s life. She’d fallen head over heels in love with him on the spot. Kendall had been the smartest and the sexiest boy she’d ever met. He’d made her feel feminine and pretty. She’d known he was destined to go out into the world and do great things—she’d just always assumed he’d take her with him.

But she’d never shared his adventures. After leaving Sweetness, she’d periodically entered his name into internet search engines and drank in details of “Airman Kendall Armstrong” aiding in the El Salvador earthquake recovery, then “Senior Airman Kendall Armstrong” raising temporary housing in post-tsunami Indonesia, then “Staff Sergeant Kendall Armstrong” erecting modular housing for victims of Hurricane Katrina.

By comparison, she’d been landlocked and relegated to more mundane projects, such as shoring up aging highway infrastructure and designing parking garages.

Amy scanned the ad again, conceding a little thrill at the thought of rebuilding an entire town. She and Nikki had stayed in touch, so she knew things were progressing…and that all the Armstrong brothers were still single. She nursed a guilty pang about not telling Nikki that she’d grown up in Sweetness, but she didn’t want her friend to inadvertently divulge information about her to the Armstrongs.

She hadn’t counted on Nikki falling in love with Porter Armstrong. Amy shook her head as memories of the youngest brother came back to her—cute and reckless. It was hard to imagine Porter all grown up and ready to settle down. She wondered if Nikki had ever mentioned her friend Amy back in Broadway. And if she did, would Porter connect the dots? So far, Amy’s friend hadn’t confronted her. Regardless, Amy was relieved she hadn’t shared all the details of her life with the woman she’d met in yoga class scant weeks before Nikki had left to move to Sweetness.

For the time being, anyway, it seemed as if her secrets were still safe.

The shrill ring of the phone on her desk broke into her thoughts. Amy crossed her fingers that the call was an offer for the reservoir job, then picked up the receiver.

“Amy Bradshaw.”

“Amy, hi,” a deep male voice sounded over the line. “This is Marcus Armstrong.”

Amy blinked in surprise, then found her voice. “Hello, Marcus. This is…unexpected. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

“Fine,” she said automatically.

“Good. I assume you know my brothers and I are rebuilding Sweetness.”

She hesitated, her gaze falling on the ad in front of her. “Er, yes, I’m aware of your…project. A friend of mine moved there, and we stay in touch.”

“Dr. Salinger, yes, I know. She mentioned your name to Porter and he put two and two together as to why Kendall chose that particular town to run the ad.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she remained silent.

Marcus cleared his voice. “Look, I’ll get right to the point. I’m calling with a proposition.”

Wary, Amy sat forward in her chair. “I’m listening.”

“We need a bridge designed to replace the old covered bridge over Timber Creek.”

A picture of the splendid Evermore Bridge came to her clearly. Lovingly constructed from original stand timber—wood from old-growth forests—and painted a rustic red, the old landmark had been a faithful steward of the safety of all those who had crossed it. How many times had she and Kendall walked there, hand in hand, to stare up at the intricate ceiling trusses and dissect its construction?

“It didn’t survive the tornado?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not. It was blown away, like everything else. Only sections of the foundation remain, but I doubt if they’re salvageable.”

Amy pressed her lips together. “What does this have to do with me?”

“We need a structural engineer to design and oversee the construction. And I understand that’s your specialty.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She chose her words carefully. “How much do you know about my life, Marcus?”

“More than Kendall,” he said evenly.

Feeling light-headed, she sat there, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her.

“What I propose,” he continued in her silence, “is that you return to Sweetness…for the time it would take to rebuild our bridge.”

“A new covered bridge?”

“As close to the first Evermore Bridge as possible, considering the original blueprints no longer exist. We have a grant from a preservation society to offset some of the costs and they provided blueprints from a similar bridge in Ohio.” He gave her an overview of the project budget and the amount they could offer for her services. “Not a king’s ransom, I know,” he said.

“No, it sounds very fair,” she said, tightening her grip on the phone. Had Kendall told Marcus how much that bridge had meant to her? Rebuilding it would be a great personal achievement. “So…you’re offering me a temporary job?”

“That’s right. The way I see it, I need a bridge, and it would give you a chance to see if things have changed around here.”

If things had changed… He was alluding to Kendall and their old feelings for each other.

“Whose idea was this?” she asked.

“Mine. Kendall doesn’t know I’m making this call. As far as I know, he doesn’t even know you’re an engineer.”

Because he didn’t care enough to find out? But even as hurt squeezed her heart, she was grateful Kendall hadn’t delved deeper into her life. She wondered again how much Marcus knew.

“And if I say no, what then?” she asked.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. “Then nothing. No matter what I think, Amy, you have a right to your privacy.”

She exhaled. “Thank you, Marcus. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

“Then you’ll think about it?”

Amy’s mind swirled with the possible outcomes of returning to Sweetness. It had taken years for the sharp pain in her heart over Kendall to subside to a dull ache. If she returned now, there would be more at stake. Much more. And it was more than she was willing to gamble.

“I’m sorry,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster, “but I’m going to have to pass. I have commitments here that I can’t turn my back on.”

A regretful noise sounded on the line. “I’m disappointed, but I understand. It’s been nice talking with you. Call if you ever need anything.”

She smiled into the phone. “Thank you. Goodbye, Marcus.”

Amy set down the receiver and sank into her chair. That was close. She sat for a few moments, her mind traveling down the road not taken, wondering if her response would’ve been the same if Kendall had called instead.

She closed her eyes and conjured up his handsome face, his serious deep blue eyes, his intense approach to everything.

Including lovemaking, she remembered with a smile. He’d been her first lover and the only man who’d ever moved her. Every man in her life after Kendall had suffered in comparison to his strong body and keen intellect. If Kendall had been able to commit to her or had loved her enough to come looking for her, her life would’ve been so different.

Amy gave herself a mental shake. Luckily she had Tony in her life now…a different set of blue eyes to lose herself in. She’d learned long ago that nothing productive came from rehashing the past.

She reached for her computer mouse and returned to the CAD drawing she’d been working on before her chocolate attack, the addition of a wheelchair ramp to an existing structure. A worthwhile project, to be sure…but not very challenging. Even as she double-checked the fine details on the screen in front of her, her mind kept straying to her memories of the Evermore covered bridge over Timber Creek.

Always happy for a reason to get out of the cramped, tension-wrought house where she lived with an elderly aunt, Amy had thought the bridge was the most romantic place in Sweetness—the way it enveloped her and Kendall when they entered one arched portal to slowly walk or ride across the length of it, counting timbers as they went, their footsteps and voices echoing off the plank walls. She would pretend it was their home. They’d certainly shared a lot of intimate moments there, tucked out of sight in the dark corners of the supports, enjoying the vibration of their sandwiched bodies when cars rumbled past.

Unbidden, desire stabbed her midsection. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to think about the way Kendall had made her body come alive. In hindsight, the excitement of sexual discovery had clouded her judgment. It had made her believe that Kendall was in love with her, that they shared an unbreakable bond. She had been such a fool.

Still, Marcus had stirred her curiosity about the town’s progress. Nikki had mentioned a website, but Amy had purposely avoided it. Now, though, she found herself clicking away from her CAD drawing and on to a search engine. A few keystrokes later, she found the official website of Sweetness, Georgia, The Greenest Place on Earth.

Green enough on its own, she remembered, with trees as far as the eye could see. But the slogan was a play on the fact that the Armstrong brothers were rebuilding the town on the industries of recycling and alternative energies. She skimmed the pages of description. The pictures showing the devastation of the tornado still rocked her to the core—those were all places where she’d once walked. The “before” and “after” slide show featured pictures of the overgrown wasteland the town was when the Armstrong brothers had returned to reclaim it, and pictures of the progress that had been made. Nikki was in one of the photos, standing beside the sign for the Sweetness Family Medical Center, next to a short bespectacled man who, from his white lab coat, appeared also to be a doctor. Rachel Hutchins, the busty blonde who used to be the receptionist for the dermatologist Amy used in Broadway, was in several of the photos, flashing her Miss America smile. Nikki said the woman would probably be mayor when the first elections rolled around.

There was a Lost and Found page listing hundreds, maybe thousands of items that had been found after the tornado and warehoused until they could be returned to the rightful owners. Former residents of Sweetness were encouraged to sign up on an email list to be kept apprised of developments. A social network site for the town had also been established.

On the About page, Amy found what she’d been looking for. A picture of the three Armstrong brothers standing outside, dressed in dusty work clothes. Amy instantly recognized each one of them. Porter, always the ham, was grinning at the camera. Marcus, the stoic one, looked highly inconvenienced at having his picture taken. And Kendall…

Her heart stuttered. Kendall had grown from a beautiful boy into a devastatingly handsome man, his shoulders wide and muscled, his skin tanned, his brown hair streaked by the sun. He wasn’t quite smiling and he wasn’t quite scowling. As always, he was square in the middle of his brothers’ temperaments. He had the same deep blue eyes as Marcus and Porter, but where Marcus looked stern and Porter, mischievous, Kendall was the calm one.

The cautious one. The one who couldn’t commit.

With a sigh, she closed down the page and reopened the CAD drawing, hoping to lose herself in the details of the diagram. But her mind kept wandering and she kept making mistakes. Then she inadvertently pressed a key that undid an hour’s worth of work.

“Dammit!” she muttered.

The ring of the phone offered a welcome distraction from her burgeoning frustration. Out of habit from the past few weeks, she crossed her fingers and picked up the receiver.

“Amy Bradshaw.”

“Ms. Bradshaw, this is Michael Thoms from the Greater Michigan Water Commission.”

Her pulse spiked—the phone call she’d been waiting for. She strove for a calm tone. “Yes, Mr. Thoms…I’ve been expecting your call.”

“I have to apologize for the delay. Funding for the Peninsula Reservoir was held up in legislature, so we were holding off on filling positions on the project team.”

“I understand,” she said, her chest tightening with anticipation.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Bradshaw. The project manager position went to another engineer who had slightly more experience.”

Her shoulders fell in disappointment, but she rallied her voice. “I understand.”

“If it’s any consolation, you were in the top three and the decision was close.”

She smiled. “That’s very kind of you to share, thank you.” After a few more minutes of small talk, Amy returned the receiver and tamped down the panic that licked at her. She’d been counting on that contract to stabilize her work hours and finances for the next two years. With the economy in the hard-hit manufacturing state still struggling to its feet, those kinds of public works projects were few and far between. She looked back to her computer screen. It would take a lot of wheelchair ramps to make up the difference.

Or you could go build a bridge, her mind whispered.

She pushed to her feet and walked over to a bin that held tubes of rolled up blueprints. She flipped through them until she located the cardboard tube she had in mind. It was soft and shopworn from so many moves over the years. She opened the tube and withdrew several yellowed pages, then unrolled them on a drawing table and used paperweights to hold down the curled edges.

Building plans for Evermore Bridge, Sweetness, Georgia, 1920. Official copy, do not remove. She had removed them from the courthouse, though…stolen them, to be more precise, as she was inclined to do in those days when something caught her fancy.

And now it seemed that things had come full circle. Amy released a bittersweet laugh. It seemed as if the universe was telling her she should go home to Sweetness.

Before she could change her mind, she picked up the phone and scrolled back to the number Marcus had called from, then pushed a button to connect the call. As the phone rang, she wondered nervously if Kendall would answer and if he did, what she might say.

But to her relief, Marcus’s voice came on the line. “Marcus Armstrong.”

“Marcus, this is Amy,” she began, but her voice petered out. She cleared her throat, then rushed ahead before she lost her nerve. “Is that offer of designing your new bridge still open?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then…I’ll take it.”

“Great. I’m glad you changed your mind. How soon can you get here?”

Tony would not be happy about her leaving. “Um, I need a week to tie up some loose ends. Will that work?”

“Sure. I guess I don’t have to tell you that you’ll be working with Kendall.”

She swallowed. “I assumed so.”

“Would you like to talk to him? He’s not here, but I can give you his cell phone number.”

“No, thanks,” she said. She needed to get her story straight before she faced Kendall Armstrong again. “I’ll see him soon enough.”

3

The more familiar the surroundings became, the tighter Amy’s hands gripped the steering wheel. The passenger seat of her SUV was littered with candy bar wrappers and an empty box of chocolate donuts. In hindsight, sugar and cocoa hadn’t been the wisest stimulant for the long drive. She was wired, and every sense seemed to be firing on all cylinders.

Despite the winter month, the north Georgia mountains were plenty colorful, with soaring evergreens thriving in red clay, and banks of snow high on rock ledges. Cottony clouds hung in a sky of the clearest, deepest blue…the color of Kendall Armstrong’s eyes.

She was, she conceded, a nervous wreck about seeing him again. For a week she’d been giving herself pep talks to steel herself against the onslaught of emotions she knew would hit her, but she wasn’t sure the mental gymnastics had done any good. Tony, as she’d expected, wasn’t happy about her leaving. Of course, he wasn’t happy about many things these days, so it was hard to pinpoint if she was the cause of his discontent or just a target.

When she turned off the state road onto the more narrow one that would take her to Sweetness, a hot flush climbed her neck. When she’d left this place, she hadn’t planned on ever coming back. Now, it felt as if the years away were collapsing. The landscape had changed somewhat, had suffered from the decade of neglect after the tornado. Kudzu vine encompassed entire copses of trees and hillsides. She knew from industry journals just how concerned civil engineers in the South were over the encroaching plant. It was referred to as the “mile-a-minute vine” that could consume bridges and overpasses in a matter of weeks.

But the surroundings became more cultivated as she entered the outskirts of the small town. The road was newly paved, she noticed, and wider than before. The fluorescent center and shoulder paint lines looked freshly applied. A low guardrail might seem unnecessary to newcomers, but she knew the railing would keep weeds at bay, and serve as a hindrance for wild animals to wander onto the road.

Her first sign of civilization was a car coming in the opposite direction. Once upon a time, she would’ve recognized not just the car, but the person driving it. The fact that she didn’t know either one made her feel like an outsider.

When she rounded the last curve before the straightaway into town, she glanced to the left for a glimpse of the Evermore Bridge that had always welcomed people into town. Marcus had told her it had blown away, but she wasn’t prepared for the sinking sensation in her stomach over the yawning gape in the landscape where the bridge had once stood. In fact, if a person didn’t know better, they might not know the fine landmark had ever existed. From an engineer’s point of view, she should be glad the demolition of the existing structure would be minimal, but it was alarming that something that had been so solid, so…steadfast could be there one minute, and gone the next.

Like Kendall…

The site where the mercantile had once stood was equally haunting. Once a hubbub of activity where farmers bought feed and lumber and women bought fabric and books, it was now an overgrown plateau covered with scrub brush and spindly saplings.

Just when she’d started to think she would recognize nothing about this place, Amy looked up to see the water tower perched high on a ridge and her heart unfurled. The inverted white capsule-shaped tank was topped by a pointed roof that resembled a hat. It looked like a stalwart soldier, standing watch and heralding, “Welcome to Sweetness.” When Nikki Salinger had relocated to the town, she’d called Amy from the water tower because it was the only place her phone could get cell service. As Amy drove closer, she could make out graffiti on the side of the tank—giant red letters that spelled out “I Nikki.”

Amy smiled. It looked as if Porter Armstrong had resumed the age-old tradition of proclaiming love publicly with a can of spray paint.

And apparently, it had worked. The last time she’d spoken with Nikki, her friend had sounded deliriously happy and in love. Amy felt guilty about not letting Nikki know she was coming, but honestly, she was afraid she might change her mind at the last moment. She’d sworn Marcus to secrecy.

The fact that the historically disagreeable man was being so accommodating only reinforced her belief that Marcus knew more about her life than he was letting on.

The approach into Sweetness was long and flat, giving her a few more moments to collect herself and figure out what to do when she arrived. She slowed as buildings came into view in the distance. To the right was a broken paved road that led up to Clover Ridge where the Armstrongs had lived. She’d spent many hours there with Kendall and, after he’d left to join the Air Force, visiting his mother, Emily. Her heart squeezed. Emily Armstrong was the mother she’d always wanted, kind and cheerful and loving. Amy had been loath to leave her company and go home to her aunt who was perennially bitter that Amy’s parents had died in a car accident when she was a toddler and left Amy for her to raise. Aunt Heddy always said that Kendall Armstrong only wanted one thing from a girl like her. In hindsight, she had been right.

After Amy left Sweetness, she’d wondered if Emily Armstrong had persuaded her son that Amy wasn’t the right girl for him, that she wasn’t good enough to be part of their family. Now, though, she conceded it had been a defense mechanism. If Kendall had rejected her because of her coarse upbringing, he had done it on his own.

She tapped the brake again as she approached what she presumed was the new downtown. The rise where their high school had once stood was now a windmill farm, the enormous white blades turning like a flower garden in motion. Amy kept driving, then squinted. The exterior of most of the buildings looked as if they’d been built with a patchwork of materials—a school, a General Store, a large structure with a wraparound porch that she surmised was the boardinghouse Nikki had mentioned, and other unidentifiable establishments that seemed to be bustling with activity. She stopped to allow a group of children to cross the road in front of her vehicle. From the armloads of books and sagging backpacks, it appeared that school had just let out. Amy smiled when they gawked—the town was obviously still small enough for everyone to recognize a stranger.

She’d dressed carefully in slacks and low-heeled leather boots, a tailored blouse and jacket. She’d had her unruly red curls tamed with a relaxer and wore it pulled back at the nape of her neck. When she’d left Sweetness, she’d been a ragamuffin tomboy. She was determined to return as a successful professional. A glance down at her collar elicited a moan—a smear of chocolate marred the look she’d so carefully orchestrated. So much for sophistication. Amy tucked the collar underneath the lapel of her jacket and gave a self-deprecating laugh.

You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.

Her fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as she pondered her next move. She was considering calling Marcus or Nikki when, up ahead, she spotted a familiar sign from the website— Sweetness Family Medical Center. Nikki would probably be there. She’d stop first to say hello to her friend…and buy more time before she had to face Kendall.

Kendall pushed back from his laptop, then walked over to a color laser printer in the corner of the new media room in the boardinghouse to pick up the aerial view printouts. The presentation for the Department of Energy representative had been tweaked and retweaked until it was damn near perfect.

But they were still waiting for the guy to arrive.

“Kendall?”

He turned to see Rachel Hutchins, the informal spokesperson for the original group of women who had arrived from Broadway, standing there in all her blondeness. She was a little flashy for his tastes, but a treat for the eyes, for sure, with her long legs and tight sweaters. It had been months since he’d place that ad—Amy obviously wasn’t coming home. Maybe he owed it to himself to start…looking.

He smiled. “Do you need something, Rachel?”

She dimpled. “A picture hung in my bedroom.”

He almost balked, then told himself he was over-reacting. “No problem. Let me shut down here.” He slid the color printouts into a folder, then stashed every thing in his laptop bag. Carrying the bag, he followed her through the hallway of the boardinghouse they’d built for the women they’d attracted with the promise of room and board for two years.

The atmosphere was slightly different now, though, since some of the women’s children had arrived. He stepped aside as two school-aged boys ran by, roughhousing and shouting. When school let out, the media room was usually packed with children playing video games and accessing social networking sites. It was a far cry from the way he and his brothers had spent their extra time.

He often wondered if he ever had children, would he even be able to relate to them. Even if they were raised here in his resurrected hometown, it was obvious their experience would be different from his own.

“Hello, Cupid,” Rachel cooed as she stopped to scratch the ears of the doe the woman had nursed back to health and domesticated, allowing it to roam free in the house. The animal was even housebroken. Scampering at its feet was Rachel’s black-faced pug. For some bizarre reason, the dog seemed enamored with the deer. Rachel crouched and made smooching noises. “Hello, Nigel, baby.” She straightened and looked at Kendall. “I think we should expand the pet section at the General Store. Our pet population is almost fifty, you know.”

He hadn’t known, but he nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Just talk to Molly.”

Rachel made a face. “Need I remind you that the Colonel doesn’t believe in having animals indoors? I don’t think she’s the best person to be in charge of ordering supplies anyway.”

It wasn’t the first time that girly girl Rachel and no-nonsense Colonel Molly had butted heads, but both women had proved their mettle by contributing countless hours and good ideas to the effort of rebuilding the town. The Armstrongs couldn’t afford to alienate either one of them.

Kendall offered a congenial smile. “But it makes sense because Molly’s ordering supplies for the dining hall anyway.”

Rachel sniffed and resumed walking. “We have to do something about that cafeteria, too. It’s depressing. When are we going to turn it into a restaurant?”

“It’s on the list,” he assured her. He indulged in watching her curvy behind sashay in front of him. Amy’s build was smaller, more athletic. And she’d had the most beautiful head of red hair.

“Here we are,” Rachel sang as she reached for the knob of a door and pushed it open.

Kendall hesitated, then guiltily glanced both ways down the hall to see if anyone was watching before stepping inside.

When she closed the door behind him, he felt trapped, which made him realize how long it had been since he’d been alone with a woman. The room was built and furnished similarly to others in the house—one window, a bed and dresser, love seat, chair, coffee table, writing desk, closet, and a bathroom.

But the otherwise tidy room was strewn with various pieces of clothing—a silky white nightgown, a tiny pink T-shirt that read “Maybe, Baby,” a denim skirt, a pair of tall black boots. Through the bathroom door, two pairs of panty hose were hanging over a towel rack. Kendall’s face warmed at the implied intimacy. He glanced at the door and considered bolting, but realized how idiotic that would look. Then he forced himself to relax. Who said Rachel was interested in anything more than a little decorating?

But she was looking at his crotch. “I see you brought your hammer.”

He blanched. “Pardon me?”

She pointed to the tool belt he wore so often, he forgot he had it on. “A hammer…for pounding in a nail?” She held up a picture-hanging hook, then pointed to a picture leaning against the wall.

He felt like an idiot. “Oh, right. Where do you want it?”

“Can you hold it up for me?”

“Sure.” He reached for the picture, then stopped when he realized it was a photograph of the old covered bridge that had once spanned Timber Creek. “Evermore Bridge,” he murmured. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get this?”

She stepped close to look over his shoulder. Her floral perfume filled his nostrils. “I was going through some photographs in the Lost and Found warehouse, and thought this one was really great.”

“It is great,” he agreed.

“So you remember the bridge?”

He nodded slowly, assailed with memories. “It was a fantastic piece of workmanship.” And it was his and Amy’s place.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t the original photo,” Rachel said. “I scanned it in—this is a color copy.” Then she bit into her cherry-pink lip. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he said, irritated with himself that everything these days reminded him of Amy. “Do you want it hung here, over the dresser?”

“Yes, please.”

Kendall held the picture against the wall. He glanced down to see a lacy red bra of considerable cup size lying on the top of the dresser. He averted his gaze to Rachel to take direction from her, but all he could visualize was her wearing that red bra…or worse—not wearing it.

She lifted her arms, emphasizing her generous breasts. “Higher.”

He stifled a groan and lifted the picture higher.

“To the right.”

Good God, if he got an erection while his arms were up in the air, there would be no hiding it.

“No…too much. Back to the left.”

He moved the frame again, trying to think of something other than the sexy woman. But when he looked at the picture of Evermore Bridge, he was reminded of all the intimate things he and Amy had done in their special place. His groin tightened.

“How’s that?” he blurted.

She angled her blonde head. “Maybe.”

“Let’s try it,” he said, then handed her the picture with his right hand while marking the spot on the wall with his left. He was glad to turn his back because he was definitely sporting wood now, like a damn teenager.

“Can you hand me the hanger?” he asked over his shoulder.

Rachel came up behind him and reached around with a long, tapered arm. “How’s this?” she asked, her mouth close to his ear.

“F-fine,” he said, but almost dropped the hanger. He held it against the wall, then pulled a hammer from his tool belt. Her perfume was messing with his mind. “Um…you might want to step back a little. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, stepping away.

But the red bra was so close to his face he could take a bite out of it. He had to get out of here. He lifted the hammer and brought it down hard…

On his thumb.

Kendall howled, Rachel screamed, blood spurted.

“Oh, my God!” she shouted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, but the jolt of pain shot up his arm and brought tears to his eyes. He dropped the hammer, which landed squarely on his foot.

He grunted, then lifted his injured foot to ease the pressure. Of all days not to wear steel-toed boots.

“You’re bleeding. Here.” Rachel wrapped something soft around his thumb, which instantly turned red from his blood. “Let’s get you down to the clinic. Can you walk?”

He nodded, feeling like a damn fool, then limped out of her room. He tried, but there was no talking her out of going with him. She trotted beside him, holding his wrapped hand as if it had been severed. Her lavish breasts rubbed up against him throughout. They attracted a lot of attention as they walked through the boardinghouse. He was sure the gossip had already started before the door closed behind them. God, he hoped his brothers didn’t see him. His hand and his foot both throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the beating his pride had taken.

The only thought that cheered Kendall as he and Rachel stumbled in the direction of the clinic was that surely this day would get better.

4

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Nikki said, smiling wide over her mug.

“I should’ve told you that Sweetness is my hometown,” Amy said. They were sitting in the clinic lounge drinking strong coffee from the pot on the counter.

“So why didn’t you?” Nikki asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“It’s a long story,” Amy hedged, embarrassed to hear emotion thickening her voice.

“Well,” Nikki said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “It sounds like you’re going to be here long enough for us to catch up.”

Amy nodded and seized on another subject. “This place certainly seems to agree with you. You look fantastic.” Nikki’s hair was highlighted and cut in a new style that set off her beautiful green eyes. Her cheeks glowed with vitality, although Nikki suspected her high color could be attributed more to Porter Armstrong than to the fresh mountain air.

“Thank you,” Nikki gushed. “I’m so happy. Sweet ness feels like the home I’ve never had.”

Amy’s chest pinged with mixed emotions to hear someone else talk about her own hometown with such obvious affection. She hadn’t felt a kinship with the place when she lived here before. In fact, she’d felt constrained and isolated. And she was already fighting that familiar closed-in feeling.

“So are the two of you going to get married?”

Nikki blushed. “The town doesn’t even have a church yet. But Porter said he was working on it, so I hope that’s a sign. After living with Darren in Broadway and that relationship going south, I don’t want to move in with Porter until we’re married.”

Amy smiled at her friend, remembering the feeling of living in this town and being hopelessly in love with an Armstrong. She hoped it worked out better for Nikki than it had for her.

The door opened and a young bespectacled man Amy recognized from the photo on the website stuck his head in. A pair of safety goggles sat high on his head. His hair stuck out at all angles. He wore fluorescent orange rubber gloves.

“Excuse the interruption, Dr. Salinger,” he said in a precise British accent. “We have a walk-in, and I’m stuck…er, I’m still giving flu shots to the elementary students.”

“I should let you go,” Amy said, pushing to her feet. “I need to see Marcus anyway.”

Nikki stood, as well. “I’ll handle the walk-in, Dr. Cross. May I introduce my friend Amy Bradshaw? She’s in town to build us a bridge.”

“Brilliant,” he said. “We British are very fond of bridges.” He gave Amy a flustered smile. “Very pleased to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to some miniature terrorists.” He lowered the safety glasses and backed out of the room.

Amy laughed. “How did he wind up here?”

“We worked together in Broadway. He’s a great doctor, even if he’s a fish out of water here.”

Amy felt a rush of sympathy for the man—she knew how he felt. “I’ll let you get to your patients.”

“I assume you’ll be staying at the boardinghouse?”

“I honestly don’t know. Marcus just said that accommodations would be provided.”

“It just dawned on me,” Nikki said as she opened the door and held it for Amy to walk through. “You must know the Armstrongs.”

“Yes,” Amy said carefully as she exited the lounge into a large waiting area. “We grew up together.”

Nikki grinned. “You went to school with Porter?”

“That’s right, although I knew his brother better.”

“Which brother?” Nikki asked.

“Nikki!” came a screeching woman’s voice. “Help!”

Amy looked up to see the owner of the voice, Rachel Hutchins, standing there in all her vivacious glory.

“You remember Rachel,” Nikki murmured in an amused voice.

“Yes,” Amy said, but her gaze was riveted on the man next to her, the man Rachel was holding on to in a very proprietary way.

Kendall Armstrong.

Her heart stood still. He was broader and taller than she remembered. His hair was still dark and wavy, and he was sporting a light mustache and beard, probably in deference to the cooler season. It suited him, she acknowledged, and emphasized his strong jaw. It was jarring to see the boy she remembered matured into a man she didn’t know. His deep blue eyes were still as intense, but framed with character lines that, if possible, only made him more handsome. Tony’s face flashed in her mind for a split-second comparison. She opened her mouth to gulp air and her heart resumed beating.

Kendall appeared to recognize her at the same time and froze. Time seemed suspended, the air between them thick and gluey. Her blood rushed in her ears. How many times had she rehearsed this moment in her mind? She wanted to say something smart and cool, but her tongue was paralyzed. Kendall’s mouth opened, but Nikki interrupted whatever greeting he’d been forming.

“What happened here?” she asked, gesturing to his wrapped hand.

“Kendall was hanging a picture for me and smashed his thumb with a hammer,” Rachel said, unwinding the cloth. “He hurt it really bad.”

“I just need a Band-Aid,” Kendall argued, still staring at Amy.

Hearing his voice again was a shock to her system. Years of travel and experience hadn’t changed his deep tone or his rolling accent. She averted her gaze to his pulpy thumb, fighting the urge to reach out to him. It frightened her how easily she could fall back into old patterns around him, but knowledge was power. She would endeavor to spend as little time alone with Kendall as possible.

Nikki was looking back and forth between Amy and Kendall. “Let’s get your hand cleaned so I can have a better look,” she said, leading Kendall away.

“I’m coming with him,” Rachel announced, confirming Amy’s suspicions that she and Kendall were an item.

“Why don’t you stay here and wash up?” Nikki suggested in a kind but firm voice, indicating Rachel’s own bloodstained hands. Nikki looked back at Amy. “Let’s have dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good,” Amy called.

Kendall looked back at her, too, as if she were an apparition, then disappeared with Nikki.

Amy exhaled. So much for a dramatic reunion. Apparently Marcus had kept his word to stay mum about her arrival. Was it because he knew that Kendall didn’t want her here?

“I hope he’s okay,” Rachel murmured. “His thumb was bleeding like a stick pig.”

“I think you mean ‘stuck’ pig,” Amy volunteered, still stung by the sight of Kendall and Rachel together. Although what had she expected? Of course Kendall had gotten on with his life. Probably many, many times.

Rachel squinted at her. “I know you…Amy, right? You were a patient at the dermatologist where I used to work in Broadway.”

“Right. Amy Bradshaw.”

“Rachel Hutchins,” the woman offered. “Are you just now answering the newspaper ad?”

“No. I’m a structural engineer. I was hired by Marcus Armstrong to rebuild the covered bridge over Timber Creek.”

Rachel’s face lit up. “You’re kidding? I love that bridge. In fact, the man Nikki took away was Marcus’s brother, Kendall. He was helping me hang a picture of the covered bridge in my bedroom when he smashed his thumb.”

“Really?” Amy was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. Evermore Bridge had been her and Kendall’s place. It hurt to know he was sharing the memory of it with someone else.

Rachel nodded. “If you need a picture of the way it looked before, I can get you one.”

Amy bit down on her tongue. Rachel couldn’t know she’d committed every detail of the bridge to memory. She glanced down at the bloody cloth Rachel held that had been wrapped around Kendall’s thumb—it was a cropped pink T-shirt that read “Maybe, Baby.” She’d also memorized every detail of the body of the man Rachel was apparently now cozy with.

“Thank you,” Amy managed to say.

“Hello, Rachel.”

The women turned to see Dr. Cross standing there, gazing up at Rachel as if she were a movie star.

“Hello, Dr. Cross,” Rachel offered as if she were addressing a pesky child.

“Do you need attention?” he asked, then stabbed at his glasses. “Medical attention, I mean.”

Rachel glanced down at her hands. “No…this isn’t my blood.”

His face fell. “Pity.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it’s a pity you weren’t hurt…I meant…that is…” He cleared his throat, then tapped the clipboard he held. “I was going through my list of patients who’ve had a flu shot and couldn’t help but notice that your name is missing.”

Amy wryly watched the man’s bumbling attempt to flirt with the blonde who towered over him by a good eight inches. He was obviously besotted. Like Kendall.

Rachel made a face. “No offense, Doc, but I don’t like needles.”

“Ah, but you’ve never had a prick from me.”

Amy bit back a smile.

“When I want a prick,” Rachel said drily, “I’ll let you know.”

“You do that,” he said cheerfully, then wheeled away.

Rachel looked at Amy, then rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll find a ladies’ room and wash my hands. Will I be seeing you around?”

“Probably,” Amy said. Considering she’d be working with Kendall, and Rachel was attached to Kendall at the hip, it seemed likely. When jealousy toward the blonde beauty threatened to surface, Amy squashed it. She had no claim on Kendall. “Could you tell me where I might find Marcus Armstrong?”

“Marcus usually sticks pretty close to the construction office. It’s a trailer down the gravel road that runs alongside the dining hall.”

“Is it walking distance?”

Rachel looked down. “Not if you’re fond of those gorgeous boots.”

“Thanks.” Amy lifted her hand in a wave to Kendall’s girlfriend and walked out of the clinic tingling head to toe. “Kendall’s girlfriend,” she murmured. The words felt surreal on her tongue. That person had always been her.

Amy looked up and down the main street of the new town of Sweetness—also surreal…and different.

Both good things, she told herself as she opened the rear hatch of her SUV to remove a pair of sturdy work boots. Because without attachments, it would be easier to leave this place once Evermore Bridge was rebuilt.

5

Kendall squirmed as Nikki wrapped a bandage around his thumb.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

“No.” It did, and his big toe hurt, too, but he just wanted to get out of there.

“You look a little flushed.”

He wasn’t about to tell her it was humiliation. For years he’d imagined seeing Amy again, yet when the moment had presented itself, he’d been as tongue-tied as a teenager.

Nikki felt for his pulse on his uninjured hand. “Your heart rate is up.”

From seeing Amy. “I appreciate your help, Dr. Salinger, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”

She nodded. “Rachel is waiting for you.”

He grunted. “I need to get back to work.” He turned his head for a glimpse out the window through slitted blinds, yearning for another look at Amy, wondering why she was here and terrified she’d leave before he could talk to her. “That woman you were speaking to in the lobby…”

“Amy Bradshaw?” Nikki asked. “She’s a friend of mine from Broadway. I thought you might know her—she grew up in Sweetness.”

“I used to know her,” he said absently. “Did she say why she’s here?”

“She said Marcus had hired her to build a bridge.”

Kendall blinked. “A bridge?”

Nikki nodded. “Amy’s a structural engineer.”

He blinked again. “Really?”

“Really. I guess the two of you haven’t stayed in touch?”

“No…we haven’t.”

Nikki smiled. “Looks like you’ll have some time to get reacquainted.”

Kendall pressed his lips together and looked away, his mind churning.

Nikki patted his arm. “All done. Leave it wrapped for a few days. You’ll probably lose the nail, and it’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. Use the antibiotic ointment to stave off infection.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, then stood and walked to the door, trying not to limp.

“Kendall.”

He turned back.

“Why don’t you and Porter join me and Amy for dinner tonight at the boardinghouse?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“It’s the hospitable thing to do, don’t you think? To welcome her home?”

He nodded. “Okay. See you later. Thanks again.”

Kendall left the exam room and walked out into the waiting area, looking right and left. To his relief, Rachel was nowhere in sight. But neither was Amy. He practically ran to the door and out into the cool air. He spotted an unfamiliar burgundy SUV with a Michigan license plate and wondered if it belonged to Amy. The color reminded him of her deep auburn hair. It was empty. He glanced all around, but didn’t see her.

Kendall pulled out his phone and dialed Marcus, determined to get to the bottom of Amy’s appearance. When he didn’t answer, Kendall lit out walking toward the construction office. By the time he reached the steps leading up to the trailer, his foot throbbed and his temper had ballooned into something he’d never experienced. He burst through the door. Marcus was sitting behind his desk, just disconnecting a call on his cell phone.

“What did you do to your hand?”

Kendall fisted his injured hand. “Cut the crap, Marcus. Amy Bradshaw? You hired Amy Bradshaw to rebuild Evermore Bridge?”

Marcus sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Actually, she’s only going to design the bridge. You’re going to build it.”

“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?”

Marcus pursed his mouth. “You were busy getting the presentation together. I told you I’d find a structural engineer, and I did. I guess you ran into her?”

Kendall put both hands on Marcus’s desk, his blood pressure rising. “Blindsided is more like it.”

“Funny, she didn’t mention it.”

Kendall straightened. “She was here?”

“Of course. She wanted to discuss the project. I told her she should get settled in first, then we could all meet tomorrow afternoon for a conference call with our contact on the Preservation Society.”

“So she’s at the boardinghouse?”

“No. She wanted to get right to work. She borrowed a four-wheeler to ride out to the site—”

Kendall didn’t hear the end of the sentence—he was already out the door. He bounded down the steps, jogged to where several ATVs were parked and climbed on one. Working the hand grips hurt his thumb, but he welcomed the pain—it cut through the mush in his head. He steered the four-wheeler toward a side trail that ran parallel to the main road and led to the site where the covered bridge had once stood. As the cool air rushed by him, he tried to think of what he was going to say to Amy, but everything sounded lame and inadequate. Long time no see. How’s life been treating you? I’ve missed you every day we’ve been apart.

As he approached the area and spotted the ATV she’d parked, his stomach churned. The fact that she’d known she was coming here and hadn’t contacted him spoke volumes, didn’t it?

Maybe there was nothing to say.

He pulled the four-wheeler next to the one parked and cut the engine. He couldn’t see her through the trees, but he walked toward the area where the old bridge used to stand. When she came into view, his feet slowed and his heart sped up. Amy had set up a tripod and was bent over, looking through the camera lens. Her trim, athletic figure was silhouetted against the blue sky. She was all business in her slacks, tailored jacket and field boots, but the wind ruffled her luxurious hair that had escaped from a clasp at her neck.

She was, in a word, breathtaking.

He was sure she’d heard the four-wheeler, probably knew she was being observed. But if he wanted proof he couldn’t rattle her, he had it, because as he walked closer, she didn’t move, just kept snapping away. He stopped a couple of yards away.

“Hello, Amy.”

She stopped and glanced up. “Hello, Kendall.” Then she picked up a folded screen and extended it. “Would you mind holding this in front of the sun so I can get a few more shots?”

Her voice was the same, but her accent had changed—her pronunciation was more precise and more…Northern. He stepped forward and took the screen, feeling thoroughly dismissed. He fumbled with it, but finally opened it and held it up.

“A little to the left, please.”

He obeyed, flashing back to earlier when Rachel had been giving him similar directions.

“More to the left…and higher.”

Kendall poked his tongue into his cheek. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

She lifted her head, but was looking at the future bridge site, not at him. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think we should talk?”

“Twelve.” She snapped a few more photos, then straightened and looked at him. “It’s been over twelve years.”

He swallowed under the full force of her stare. If possible, she was more beautiful now than the last time he’d seen her. Gone was the gangly freckle-faced teenage lover who’d followed him around. Here stood a woman who’d grown into her skin and her looks and who had an aloof air about her that…well, frankly, impressed him.

And worried him.

Amy’s eyebrow arched. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

He gave a little shrug. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” she said in a tone that indicated she was surprised he’d think otherwise.

“I hear you’re a structural engineer.”

“That’s right,” she said. “My resume isn’t as exciting as yours, but I’ve stayed busy.”

“Who said my resume is exciting?” Kendall asked, wondering if Amy had kept tabs on him over the years.

It was her turn to shrug. “I just assumed that if you’ve been in the Air Force all this time, you’ve been involved in some interesting things. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t make the Air Force a career.”

I missed you too much. “I missed…my brothers.”

She offered a flat smile. “Of course. Well, it seems as if you’ve found a way to be together again. And always.”

Kendall detected censure in her voice. “You don’t approve of our efforts to rebuild Sweetness?”

“I don’t disapprove. I just don’t understand why you’d want to rebuild the town.” She leaned over her camera and snapped more photos. “I suppose you have better memories of this place than I do.”

“I do have good memories,” he admitted, thinking they were mostly of her and feeling disappointed she didn’t share his opinion. “And I think this town deserves a second chance.”

“Good for you.” She straightened and picked up the tripod, then walked to another location.

Nonplussed, Kendall followed. “I understand you’re going to rebuild the covered bridge.”

She set down the tripod. “That’s right. Marcus called me last week and offered me the job. I take it you didn’t know?”

Kendall bristled. “I’ve been working on something else.”

“Does it bother you that I’m here?”

Only every cell in his body. “Of course not. I was just…surprised to see you, that’s all.”

“As surprised as I was to see an advertisement for single women to come to Sweetness in my local newspaper?”

His face warmed and his mind raced for an explanation.

Amy gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry. I figure that was Marcus’s idea, too. He seems to think you and I have some unfinished business.”

His tongue was like lead in his mouth.

Her berry-colored lips turned up in a little smile. “I assured him we said our goodbyes long ago.”

He nodded, like a puppet.

“And that it wouldn’t be a problem for us to work together on rebuilding this bridge.”

Kendall finally found his tongue. “Right, no problem. We’re…professionals.”

“And it’ll only be for a few weeks,” she added. “I’m thinking three months, tops.”

He swallowed hard. He already didn’t want to think about the day she’d leave. “Meanwhile, I can’t think of anyone better to redesign Evermore Bridge.”

When she looked up, her hazel-colored eyes held reproach. “Why?”

He could tell she was ready to deny any emotional attachment to the bridge…or maybe he’d projected his own association with the bridge onto her. “Because you knew every stick of that bridge.”

She nodded without acknowledging that she’d memorized the construction of the bridge during the hours they’d spent there together. “Were you planning to give the new bridge the same name— Evermore?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

She let out a little laugh that left him weak in the knees. “Do you and Marcus ever talk?”

“There’s a lot to be done around here. We’re usually working on different things.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re Head of Picture Hanging?”

At the reference to the injury he’d gotten hanging a picture for Rachel, a hot flush climbed his neck. “I was just doing a favor for a friend and lost my concentration.” Too late, he realized he’d made it sound as if Rachel had distracted him, when Amy herself was as least partly to blame.

She pursed her mouth, then leaned down to take another photograph. “Could you hold up that screen again, please?”

Kiss me again, please? Make love to me, please? He’d always teased her for saying please—as if he’d needed any encouragement to touch her or to do things that would make her happy.

He held up the screen while she took more pictures, taking the opportunity to drink in every inch of her that was so familiar, yet so changed. She’d matured into a beautiful woman with elegant taste. Her clothes were sensible, but beautifully tailored to fit her streamlined figure. He had to smile, though, at the smudge on the collar of her blouse—Amy was still a chocoholic.

His hands itched to brush her thick red hair away from her face and pull her lean body against his. It was jarring to realize that he no longer had the right to touch her, and he wondered what lucky man claimed that role these days. The fact that she wasn’t wearing a ring on her left hand didn’t necessarily mean anything. Lots of people whose jobs required them to be on construction sites didn’t risk wearing jewelry.

“Did you marry?” he asked, then held his breath while she took her time answering.

“No.”

He exhaled and waited for her to ask the same of him. When she didn’t, he volunteered, “Neither did I…nor did my brothers.”

She pulled a notebook from her pocket and jotted a few notes with a mechanical pencil. “According to the water tower, Porter’s pretty far gone over my friend Nikki.”

Kendall smiled. “She’s changed him, all right.”

The pencil point broke with a snap. Amy clicked down a new length of lead, then continued writing. “I hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

“With Porter? It’s been six months. I think she knows him pretty well by now.”

“I meant living here.”

Kendall bristled. “I know the town doesn’t look like much now, but we have plans.”

“I know. I saw the slide show on the website. Meanwhile, it’s more primitive even than when you and I grew up here.”

He tamped down a spike of anger. “Maybe Nikki is happy in Sweetness because the man she cares about is here.”

Amy’s mouth twitched down. “I hope that’s enough for her.”

Kendall felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. If he’d wondered about the possibility of Amy coming home to Sweetness to stay, he had his answer. And they hadn’t even broken ground on the new bridge.

Unless her mind could be changed. After all, his negotiating skills had been honed by some pretty serious head-butting between his brothers since they’d all taken on this project. Seizing on a classic mediation opener, he asked, “What can I do to make your job easier?”

She looked up from the notebook, her expression wary. “I think I have everything I need for now.” She tucked away her notes, then picked up the tripod and moved in the direction of the all-terrain vehicle she’d driven over. Kendall followed her, carrying the folding screen.

He was mesmerized by watching her move. He still couldn’t believe she was here…within arm’s reach. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, find out everything about her life since he’d last seen her. But from the closed expression on her face and her tight body language, she wasn’t in a sharing mood. And she didn’t seem to care what he’d been doing for the past twelve years.

She stopped at the four-wheeler and lifted the seat to stow her camera equipment, then reached for the folding screen he held. “Thanks.”

Then she climbed on, started the engine and took off before he could even reach the ATV he’d driven over. He goosed the gas to keep up with her, flashing back to when they were teenagers, riding horses all over this countryside. He had always lagged behind on purpose, so he could see Amy’s wild hair fly behind her and watch her tight little behind snug against the saddle. He’d loved chasing her…and apparently things hadn’t changed—except for the catching part. He followed her back to the construction office, saddened when the ride ended, already loath to be away from her.

She was off the ATV and striding toward town before he could regroup.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he called. “Maybe we can catch up.”

She turned, still moving, her hands full of equipment. “No, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep things between us strictly business. I’ll see you on the jobsite.” Then she turned and kept going.

Kendall watched her walk away and had to keep himself from running after her. He hadn’t been successful in convincing Amy to stay in Sweetness last time. But he had three months to do it this time.

Starting with dinner tonight with Porter and Nikki.

6

Amy looked at her reflection in the mirror in her bedroom and worked her mouth back and forth. Was a skirt too dressy for dinner with Nikki downstairs in the rear great room? It seemed like a pretty casual atmosphere, but since Amy was usually in sturdy, sensible clothes on jobsites during the day, she tried to dress up after hours. The memory of standing in the shadow of Kendall’s splashy “friend” Rachel cinched her decision not only to go with the outfit as planned, but to add hoop earrings, high heels and the Topaz ring that Tony had given her for Christmas. It was always better to be overdressed than underdressed.

She glanced at her watch—she was still twenty minutes early. Enough time to call Tony, she realized, although it wasn’t something she was looking forward to under the circumstances. Guilt stabbed at her, impelling her to pick up her cell phone and punch in his number. When the phone rolled over to his voice mail, she wondered if he was really busy, or if he was avoiding her calls. He hadn’t been overjoyed about her leaving Broadway without him and had asked a lot of questions. Had he picked up on the fact that she hadn’t been completely forthcoming about her connection to the town for which she was building a bridge?

“Hi, sweetie, it’s me.” She wet her lips. “I just wanted to let you know that I made it to Sweetness, Georgia, and I have cell phone service, so call me whenever you want to.” She hesitated, knowing how much he disliked her being too effusive, but it had been an emotional day. “I love you,” she murmured, then disconnected the call, her heart squeezing over all the conflict they’d endured the past year, for which she felt largely responsible. She was looking forward to better times once she returned to Broadway…once she got some closure on the situation with Kendall Armstrong.

She walked across the second-floor bedroom she’d been assigned—a pretty room decorated in chocolate-brown and sage-green—and glanced out the window, down at the new town of Sweetness. Dusk was settling quickly. A tall light illuminated the area in front of the boardinghouse. Across the street, the dining hall was lit up, and the headlights of two cars rolling down the main street cast beams on what appeared to be freshly painted pedestrian crosswalks.

The town would need sidewalks soon. In her mind, she visualized the wooden forms that would have to be built to contain the leveled concrete snaking down both sides of the asphalt road. She could pour them in her sleep, even in this cold weather, and she could incorporate recycled materials like tumbled glass to give them a custom look. Maybe she’d suggest to Marcus—

Amy caught herself. This wasn’t her town, and she wasn’t about to start making suggestions that would add projects to her to-do list. She was here to design a covered bridge—in and out.

She stepped back from the window and walked into the bathroom to frown at her auburn hair that was showing increasing signs of frizz. All those rainy, snowy days in Broadway, and she was able to keep it under control. A few hours in this place in the dead of winter, and it was already kinking up like a pig’s tail.

She sighed and ran a boar bristle brush through her thick tresses, knowing it would buy her only a few minutes of smoothness, at best. Then she left her room and descended the stairs to the first floor in search of Nikki. Along the way, she passed several women, all smiling and laughing and apparently happy to be there, lots of children who seemed to travel in friendly packs, and a few men who were apparently only visiting because, as she’d read in the boardinghouse rules, males were not allowed in the boardinghouse overnight.

A quaint regulation…very Southern…but comforting, Amy acknowledged. And clever, because it would spur the town to grow faster since couples who wanted to live together had no choice but to build their own home. She wondered if Nikki and Porter were on the fast track to marriage. She also wondered if Nikki realized what a feat she’d accomplished to corral one of the Armstrong brothers. They had always been the most confirmed bachelors in town. She knew that firsthand.

But what had Kendall said? That Nikki had changed Porter. Just thinking about it made her cheeks sting. It left her feeling inadequate that she hadn’t been able to change Kendall.

She found Nikki in the crowded common kitchen, sliding a pan into one of the large ovens. The atmosphere was festive and aromas tantalizing as women crowded around pots of pasta and shared thick chunks of warm bread. A couple of children ran through, snagging brownies from a plate. Amy looked after the laughing children with a tug of longing that she squashed as quickly as it rose. The family environment took her by surprise, and she could see why it would appeal to some people. But the trade-off was living in a fishbowl where opportunities were limited. She hadn’t left to educate herself only to come back and settle for something less than she could become.

“I hope Chicken Kiev is okay,” Nikki said, her cheeks pink from the heat. “I don’t have much of a cooking repertoire.”

Amy gave a little laugh. “That sounds pretty impressive to me. I usually eat frozen dinners. What can I do to help?”

“Pick up those wineglasses and follow me,” Nikki said, nodding to the countertop. She picked up a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and turned toward the opposite doorway.

Amy frowned at the number of wineglasses—four—but gathered them in her hands and followed Nikki down a hallway into the rear great room that apparently served as the main gathering place for residents to dine and watch TV. The computers that lined one wall were another surprise. The new Sweetness was wired and perhaps not as isolated as she’d imagined.

Nikki stopped at a square wooden table situated away from other tables and chairs that were largely occupied. From all the couples dining together, Amy surmised the ploy to bring women to Sweetness as companions for the Armstrongs’ workers had succeeded. Noticing the four salads on their own table, Amy balked. “Is someone joining us?”

Nikki cut the foil on a bottle of wine. “I hope you don’t mind if Porter eats with us. We typically have dinner together.”

“No, that’s fine.” Although she was a little disappointed that she and Nikki wouldn’t be able to catch up, she understood that she was the interloper here. Before she could ask about the fourth place setting, Nikki beamed at someone behind Amy.

“Here’s Porter now.”

Amy turned and smiled at Porter, who’d been a fresh-faced sophomore when she’d last seen him. He’d filled out and matured, but his wide grin and cleft chin were still prominent and recognizable, along with those infamous blue Armstrong eyes.

“Amy Bradshaw,” he said, extending both his hands to her and lowering a kiss on her cheek. “You grew up good.”

She blushed. “Still the sweet talker, Porter. The years have been kind to you, you devil.”

“I never thought I’d see you in Sweetness again.”

“That makes two of us,” she quipped. “Marcus can be persuasive.”

He grinned. “That isn’t the word I’d use, but Marcus seems to know how to get things done. And what good luck that you and my Nikki are friends.”

It was so like a Southern man to refer to his girlfriend in a possessive way. Amy expected Nikki to take offense at the “my” part, but instead she seemed inordinately pleased as Porter pulled her to his side for a squeeze.

Amy smiled. “Yes, it’s…fortuitous.”

“Anyway, it’s great to see you again.” He looked down at Nikki. “Who’s our fourth for tonight?”

“That would be me.”

Amy tensed at the sound of Kendall’s voice behind her. She slowly turned to see him, dressed in chino pants and filling out a deep blue collared shirt that reflected his eyes perfectly. He looked so handsome, her throat closed.

“If that’s okay with Amy,” he added, pinning her with his steady gaze.

“I invited Kendall,” Nikki said cheerfully. “To help welcome you home.”

Amy’s cheeks flamed. Nikki was the only one in their foursome who didn’t know she and Kendall had a history and had parted on less-than-friendly terms…unless Porter had filled her in.

“That was kind of you,” Amy managed to say. “Of course it’s fine.” She wasn’t going to be able to avoid Kendall, so she might as well get used to acting as if he didn’t affect her.

As if he didn’t make her heart race and her body warm with unbidden desire, just like old times.

Kendall gave her a little smile, as if he knew how much being nice was costing her. Then he stepped forward and handed Nikki a white bakery box.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Something for dessert.”

“How nice,” Nikki said. “Let me put this in the refrigerator and check on our dinner. Porter, will you pour the wine, please?”

“Sure thing, baby,” he drawled, but watched her until she left the room before turning back to them and the wine. As he uncorked the bottle, he whistled happily under his breath.

Baby. Kendall used to call her baby, Amy recalled. She darted a look at him, but when she saw he was looking at her, she glanced all around, settling on the ceiling. “Nice trusses,” she offered. “Is this a modular building?”

Kendall nodded. “The clinic, too. And the General Store. We used reclaimed materials for siding on all the buildings except the clinic.”

“I could tell,” Amy said. “Are you planning to incorporate any reclaimed materials in the covered bridge?”

“We’ve been putting aside any boards we find that might’ve been used in the original bridge in the Lost and Found warehouse.”

She nodded. “I read on the website about the place where you’re storing things you find so former residents can claim them.”

“You’re welcome to walk through the warehouse,” Kendall said, “or look over the lists to see if you recognize anything that might’ve belonged to your family.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but there’s nothing from here that I want.” When she realized how brusque she sounded, she conjured up a little smile. “But I’d like to see the materials you have set aside for the bridge.”

“I seem to remember the two of you hanging out at the bridge a lot,” Porter offered.

Amy swung her head to stare at him and felt Kendall’s gaze follow hers. Porter looked back and forth between them, his expression innocent as he handed each of them a glass of red wine. “Oh, so we’re not supposed to talk about the elephant in the room?”

“What elephant in the room?” Nikki asked, returning.

“Amy and Kendall used to be a hot item,” Porter said nonchalantly, then handed her a glass of wine.

Nikki’s mouth rounded and she shot Amy an apologetic glance.

“It was a long time ago,” Amy said quickly.

“To old times,” Kendall said, lifting his glass, “and to building bridges.”

She couldn’t very well decline the toast, Amy thought wryly, lifting her glass to clink with the others. The bandage on Kendall’s thumb reminded her of his “favor” for Rachel Hutchins, and she took a deeper drink than she’d meant to.

Kendall looked at her over the rim of his glass, his expression soft and blurred. Was he thinking of graduation night, when they’d snuck a bottle of cheap zinfandel to the bridge and sat on the edge with legs dangling, drinking it from paper cups? It had made them tipsy and giggly and Kendall had made promises about all the adventures they’d have together. Afterward, they’d made such sweet love… It was the last really good memory she had of them together.

Days later, he’d left to join the Air Force while she’d been tethered to Sweetness to take care of the sickly aunt who’d taken her in. Amy’s loneliness had been exacerbated by her aunt’s bitterness and the nagging sense that she was missing out on the life she was meant to have. But when her aunt had passed away a scant few weeks later, Amy had been besieged with guilt, yet eager to leave. When Kendall had come home for the funeral, he’d backpedaled on the promises he’d made. He’d told Amy they shouldn’t be in such a rush to get married, that she should take some correspondence courses and that he’d be back for her. Heartbroken, she’d packed a bag and left Sweetness to strike out on her own.

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