Claiming The Single Mom's Heart

“You’re the best friend in the world, Tori.”

But when would Tori’s fiancé recognize the treasure he had in her? He hadn’t asked her to return the engagement ring, so that had to mean there was hope, didn’t it?

“It’s the least I can do, with you letting me stay here. I couldn’t stay in Jerome and risk bumping into Heath every time I turned around. Or having people ask me about him, probing to find out what’s going on with us when I don’t know myself.”

“Have you—” Sunshine paused, knowing this was sensitive territory “—considered breaking the engagement yourself? Provoking him into working through whatever it is that’s gotten into him?”

“I know it sounds stupid.” Tori looked down at the ring on her hand. “But I’m not ready to close the door yet. I love him.”

Ah, yes, love.

Sunshine had been there herself and couldn’t point fingers at her friend now. “Whatever happens—wedding or no wedding—know that I’m here for you.”

When Tori returned to her room, Sunshine again moved restlessly to the window. Yes, that was Grady down there, now talking with the man she knew to be his contractor.

He’d promised to show her those historic cabins, but they hadn’t firmed that up. The likelihood that she’d make new discoveries under those roofs to confirm her grandmother’s story was slim, but it would be worth a try.

She glanced down at her watch. She had thirty minutes until she had to unlock the gallery doors for another business day.

“Tessa?” she called, intending to see if she’d like to go on a walk, which would coincidentally lead past the renovation of the store next door.

But then she stopped herself.

That thinking—or rather not thinking—was exactly how she’d gotten tangled up with Tessa’s father. And this guy was a descendent of Duke Hunter.

* * *

Windshield wipers beating a steady rhythm, Grady applied the brakes as he rounded another wet curve on the way back from visiting his mother at the hospital Sunday evening. She’d had an adverse reaction to her medications a few days ago, but seemed to have stabilized and might soon come home. Then would begin the long haul of postsurgery physical therapy and chemotherapy treatments.

Man, he hated to see her go through that. Dad, too.

Please, God, heal Mom. We need her.

Now, halfway between Canyon Springs and Hunter Ridge, twilight had given over to darkness, and clouds from a late-season monsoon rain hung low. The days were rapidly growing shorter and summer was pretty much over as the nighttime temperatures dropped into the midforties. Elections would soon be upon them. Would Mom stick it out or withdraw from the race?

He lowered the volume of the country tune belting out of the stereo speakers. It was a mournful love song that, for some irritating reason, made him think of Sunshine.

He’d been relieved that after their conversation a few days ago, she’d made no further attempts to visit the Hideaway or to try to see his mother. Nor had she pressed him to show her the old family cabins that appeared to have captured her imagination when he’d mentioned them. So his family’s concerns that she had ulterior motives were unfounded.