Chapter Two #3
The goats, startled by the new voices, began trotting in circles, their signs flapping. ClamClam, apparently deciding she’d made her point, let out one final, earsplitting “MRAAAAAAAOW!” before leaping gracefully back through the truck’s open window.
“I am so sorry about this,” Rachel said, feeling her carefully planned entrance crumbling around her. “This is Benjamin Wiles, my engineer friend from San Diego I told you about. Benji, this is my dad, Matthew Johnson, and his fiancée, Bethany Walker.”
“Delighted to meet the father of this brilliant woman,” Benji said, extending his hand with his usual charm. “And the soon-to-be stepmother, who has excellent taste in both men and goat-themed entertainment.”
Bethany laughed, but Rachel noticed her father’s slightly puzzled expression as he shook Benji’s hand.
Oh no. Her dad looked up and down Benji’s impressive frame.
At six foot two, tanned, with blond California surfer vibes, he looked the part of a very significant, significant other.
He thought Benji was her boyfriend. She’d have to clarify that later.
“So,” Rachel said, eager to change the subject, “what’s this about a redevelopment committee? And why are there protests?”
Her father and Bethany exchanged a look that made Rachel instantly suspicious.
“It’s a long story,” her father began.
“Service got approved for a substantial rural development grant,” Bethany started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But there’s disagreement about priorities. I’ve been advocating for a medical clinic with a nurse practitioner.”
“Which is desperately needed,” her father interjected.
Rachel thought the clinic had a steady supply of patients. “What happened to the clinic we had?”
“Petey,” her dad snapped.
“Budget cuts,” Bethany added. “And others want to focus on municipal buildings, training center, that sort of thing, rather than the health of this community,” she finished.
“Others like Petey and Noah?” Rachel asked, his name slipping out before she could stop it.
Another loaded glance between the engaged couple.
“Noah’s been appointed to the committee,” her father confirmed carefully. “Along with Mayor Judelson and Bethany.”
“Oh, that Noah,” Benji piped up, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “The one Rachel never talks about.”
Rachel shot him a death glare.
“Actually,” Bethany said with a brightness that immediately set off alarm bells in Rachel’s head, “we’ve been thinking of bringing in an outside perspective. Someone with expertise in urban planning and development. Someone who could help bridge the divide between different factions.”
No. Oh no.
“Given your experience with city revitalization projects,” her father added, “you’d be perfect for the committee, RJ.”
The world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. Rachel stared at them, momentarily speechless. Work with Noah? Spending hours in meetings with the man who’d broken her heart, who’d chosen his dream over their future? Who still expected the world to arrange itself according to his wishes?
“I’m only here for two weeks,” she managed finally. “The wedding.”
“The committee’s on an accelerated timeline,” Bethany explained. “Major decisions will be made within the next fourteen days. You could make such a difference, Rachel.”
A sudden image flashed in her mind. Noah’s guilt on prom night, when she’d confronted him about the rampant rumors, when she’d refused to stay in Service. The hurt, the anger, the utter incomprehension that she could choose something else—anything else—over him.
“I don’t think I can help, sorry.” Not sorry.
“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWWWW!” ClamClam howled from inside the truck, as if offering her opinion on the matter.
“Your cat seems enthusiastic about you thinking on the matter,” her father observed with a small smile.
Before Rachel could respond, the distinctive rumble of a powerful engine drew everyone’s attention to a gleaming red truck approaching from the town side of the road. Her heart stuttered as the vehicle slowed to a stop behind the goats.
The driver’s door swung open, and a tall figure in a pressed uniform stepped out, Pro Warrington boots polished to a black diamond finish, navy pants pulled smoothly over lengths of conditioned muscle, a silver badge pinned to a broad chest that reached her before the rest of him.
Time seemed to suspend as he adjusted his hat, revealing a chiseled jaw, pillowy bottom lip, and a bronzed face that had haunted Rachel’s dreams.
Noah Calvary, somehow even more handsome than she remembered, raised his head and surveyed the scene with those keen hazel eyes. Then his gaze locked with hers, and a slow, devastating smile spread across his face—equal parts surprise, pleasure, and pure cowboy.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice carrying easily across the distance. “If it isn’t Rachel Johnson, come home to cause trouble.”
One of the goats bleated loudly, as if in greeting. ClamClam responded with another ear-splitting howl. And Rachel stood frozen, caught between her past and her future, as Service, West Virginia, wrapped itself around her once more.
She’d walked away from Noah Calvary once. But something told her that this time, escape wouldn’t be so simple.