More Than a Feeling by C. J. Carmichael

Author:C. J. Carmichael
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance series, cozy mystery, sweet romance, romantic suspense, vermont, small town romance
Publisher: C.J. Carmichael
Published: 2014-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Robin had a hard time focusing for the rest of the afternoon. She was scheduled to leave at four, and kept checking her watch, mostly dreading the moment she’d be free to leave. For years she’d dreamed of this confrontation with Allan. But now that it was about to happen, she felt sick with nerves. Her mind told her that she had nothing to fear. She was an adult now, and she’d be meeting Allan in broad daylight.

Maybe she should call Spencer and ask him to come with her?

But she’d already gotten him too involved in her family problems. This was something she had to do.

By four o’clock Robin was almost sick with worry, but she got into her SUV and drove to the Fix–It Shop, determined to see this through. Another vehicle was already parked in front of the store and through the window she could see a young mother with two children approximately the same age as Duncan.

While Robin waited for her to leave, she glanced around, noticing with some surprise that most of the snow had melted in the past week. The grass was even starting to look green.

Spring had arrived in Carol Falls. How ironic.

Finally the woman and her two children left the shop. It was time to make her move.

“Bree. Gavin. Stay close, please, it’s time to get back in the car.”

Robin held the door for them, and once they’d left, slipped inside herself.

The manoeuver gave her a few moments to study Alistair. He had his back to her, facing the arched opening that led to the stairway. As she watched, he drew in a breath, as if he was about to speak.

Was Allan there—just out of her sight?

But then Alistair turned in her direction. His eyes widened, and the words he’d been about to say remained unspoken.

“I’m here for my blender.”

He stared at her with eyes that seemed shockingly cold and hard. Then he blinked, and once again was the confused and sad scholarly man she’d seen just a few hours ago.

Late afternoon sunshine was spilling in from high windows on the west–facing wall. The shop felt hot, and Robin wished she hadn’t worn a sweater. She noticed that for once Alistair didn’t have on his knitted vest. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“Your blender,” he finally said, as if to remind himself why she was standing there.

She nodded. She’d pay first, and then she’d ask to see Allan.

Alistair stepped out from the counter and moved toward the shelf behind her. As she stepped out of his way, he reached above her head.

And that was when she saw it. A round, puckered pink scar on the underside of his right arm.

Don’t be afraid, little girl. It’s just a pretty rose. Don’t you like roses?

She gasped and stepped back, her heart suddenly pumping frantically. Every nerve in her body was tense. This was the rose. The one from her dreams.

Her gaze went from the scar, to his face.

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