A Place to Belong by Linda Goodnight

Author:Linda Goodnight
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2011-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Kitty felt like a fool. What has she been thinking? A romantic ride in a boat and she’d practically thrown herself at Jace. And he’d rejected her.

What had come over her? She didn’t date. She didn’t even flirt. She was committed to her husband.

A husband who was gone.

At the voice in her head, tears sprang to Kitty’s eyes. She slashed angrily at them. Dave was dead. And she had promised to honor his memory all the days of her life.

But she really liked Jace Carter.

Obviously, he did not return the sentiment.

On her knees in the flower bed next to the cottage, she yanked at a wad of crabgrass, pulled it up by the roots, and slammed the tenacious weed into the bucket at her side.

She was lonely. That was all. And Jace was a nice guy kind enough not to take advantage of a pathetic widow.

Yet for a minute there, she’d felt…something. She didn’t know. All last night she’d tossed and turned, confused and upset. This morning, she’d awakened exhausted and cranky.

Most likely she’d misread Jace’s signals. It had been a long, long time since she’d been out on a date.

Not that yesterday had been a date.

She yanked another weed and slammed it into the plastic bucket.

“Weeds do have a way of frustratin’ a fella.”

She jerked her head up to find GI Jack standing not two feet away. Dressed like a bum and unshaven, gray sprigs shooting from beneath a disreputable ball cap, he was a frightful sight. Good thing she knew and trusted him or she’d run screaming.

Next to GI, his equally disheveled business partner, Popbottle Jones, studied her with interest.

“Oh,” she said, embarrassed at having been caught in a fit of temper. “Good morning.”

“Is it?”

She sat back on her heels, one wrist resting on the bucket rim. Weeds and dirt spread around her like battle carnage. She had been having a fit.

“This is the day the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.” Her forced smile was nothing short of hypocrisy.

“Indeed,” Popbottle tilted his long neck to one side. “Yet, I detect an uncharacteristically disgruntled undercurrent in your normally blithe demeanor. Is something amiss?”

“I’m fine. Really. How are you two this morning?”

Before either could answer, the rumble of an approaching pickup truck drew their attention. They glanced toward the end of the drive and the approaching truck. Shading her eyes with a forearm, Kitty rose to her knees.

The truck pulled to a stop and a familiar-looking young man hopped out. Kitty recognized him from the lumberyard.

A slammed door disturbed the quiet.

“Ms. Wainright? We’re here to replace that bad ceiling. Jace Carter sent me.”

“Jace? But I thought he—” She stopped when Popbottle and GI both turned speculative gazes on her. “Unit 8.” She motioned in the general direction. “The door’s open.”

“Right.” The young man’s face was pleasant. “I’ll get you fixed right up.”

Kitty watched him go, an odd dissatisfaction taking root in her belly. Why had Jace sent someone in his place?

“Brought you a little something, Miss Kitty,” GI Jack said.

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