A Perfect Love

“You’re not telling me the whole story here, are you, Mr. Riley? And I’m not going anywhere with you until you do.”

“Call me Mack,” he replied, a look of resolve coloring his eyes. He cranked the truck, motioned toward the seat. “And I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Summer had learned all about deceit on the streets of New York, from working with women who lived through the worst kind of deception and deprivation. She could smell it a mile away. “I think you know more about my grandparents than you’re telling me. And I want to hear the truth, all of it.”

He let out a long sigh, as if he didn’t know how to handle such a direct statement. “I said I know them. Can’t that be enough for now?”

“Nope,” Summer replied, smiling sweetly. “You might not be dangerous or a wanted man, but you’re being mighty quiet about my grandparents. And I want to know why.”

He looked up and down the long road, then nodded. “I guess you deserve an explanation. Get in and I’ll give you one, I promise.”

Mack Riley stared over at the assertive, no-non-sense woman sitting in his truck. She was a looker, no doubt about that. He’d heard enough about Summer Maxwell to know, though, that all that long blond hair and those bright-blue eyes couldn’t hide the fact that she was also very intelligent and sharp.

Too sharp. And right now, not too trusting, either.

What was he supposed to tell the woman? That he knew her grandparents on a first-name basis. That he also knew her rich, jet-setting parents, through conversations with Jesse and Martha, and through having met them on the rare occasions they decided to drop in and check on Summer’s grandparents. That he recognized her now, from the many pictures of her growing up that Martha had displayed in her living room. And that he knew enough about Summer herself to fill a book and his own needy imagination.

Mack wasn’t ready to open up and have a heart-to-heart with this intriguing woman. Not yet. So he did what he’d always been so very good at doing. He tried to avoid the issue.

“I’m waiting,” Summer said, causing him to glance over at her.

He tried to deflect that in-your-face-look. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say, or where to begin. Okay, I do know your folks—real well. Is that a crime?”

“Oh, no,” she said, folding her arms as she stared at him. “The crime would be in you withholding information from me. And I think you are. You said you’d explain things. So start talking. Just tell me—is one of them sick? Has something happened, something terrible, that I don’t know about?”

Mack made a turn onto yet another long highway. “They’re both just fine,” he said. “But…a lot has happened over the last few months. When was the last time you talked to them?”

“I saw them at Uncle Stuart’s funeral,” Summer replied, her blue eyes going dark. “They invited me to come home for a visit. I told them I’d think about it. I did, and so here I am.”

“That funeral was over two months ago,” he said, reasoning that she might not know all that had happened since then after all.

“Yes. But they both seemed fine, in good health. Of course, we were all upset about Uncle Stuart.”

“So you didn’t call ahead, to let them know you were coming?”

She squirmed a bit. “No. I didn’t want them to worry since I decided to drive across the country. I wanted to take my time, do a little sightseeing.”

Mack got the feeling she hadn’t noticed the scenery on her long trip home. Maybe she’d just needed some down time.

He could understand that.

“Well, they’ll be surprised, that’s for sure.”

Then he witnessed some of that famous temper Martha had told him about.

“Listen, mister, I’m getting very bad vibes here. You’re scaring me. If there’s something I need to know about my grandparents, good or bad, then you’d better spit it out.”

Mack stopped the truck in front of the old two-story white farmhouse that had been the Creswell home for many years.

Summer looked up at the house. “Oh, we’re here.”

“Yes,” he said, hating to be the one to break the news to her. “But…there is something you need to know.”

“I knew it,” she said, her expression grim. “Something bad has happened, right?”

Mack looked at the house, then back to Summer Maxwell, deciding he’d have to be up front with her. There was just no other way. “Depends on how you look at things,” he said, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Because?”

“Because, well, Summer, your grandparents no longer own this house.”

“What?” She opened the door of the truck and ran around to stand in the tree-lined yard, her gaze moving from him to the house and back. “What do you mean?” she asked as she turned and stomped back to him.

Mack got out of the truck, dread filling his heart. “I mean, your grandparents decided to sell out and move. Your dad bought them this fancy patio apartment in a new retirement village about a mile up the road.”

“He did what?” Summer shouted, her vivid eyes flashing a fire that only added to her obviously fiery nature. “I can’t believe this! He sold their home? How could he do that? Memaw and Papaw have lived here for over fifty years.”

“I know,” Mack said, wishing he could soften this news for her. “I know all about this house.”

“Oh, yeah. And how come you know so much about all of this?”

Mack glanced at the house, then down at his scuffed work boots. Then he lifted his head and looked straight into Summer’s fighting-mad blue eyes.

“Because I own it now,” he said. “Your daddy sold this house and the surrounding land to me.”

Chapter Two

Summer blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right? Did you say you own this house now?”

Mack Riley nodded, shifted his feet, let out a long sigh. “I bought it fair and square about a month ago.”

Summer blew at the wispy bangs slanting across her face, one hand on her hip as she wondered whether just to let him have it and get it over with, or wait and attack her father instead. “Fair and square? Fair and square? Yeah, I’ll just bet my father sold it to you fair and square. How in the world did he get them to agree to this?”

Mack stepped closer, holding his hands out palms up, as if to protect himself. Which wasn’t a bad idea right now, by Summer’s way of thinking. “Your grandparents seem happy with the arrangement. In case you haven’t noticed, this house is old and in great need of repair, and…well, your grandparents are in about the same shape.”

She advanced. “And just who are you to be telling me about my own grandparents?”

He stepped closer, no fear in his eyes. More like defiance and that resolve she’d seen earlier. Which only made Summer even more mad.

“I’ll tell you who I am,” he said. “I’m about the only one around here who does know about your grandparents. You see, I talk to them on pretty much a daily basis. Your father and mother call every now and then, and you…well, you said yourself you haven’t seen them or talked with them since your uncle’s funeral. So that leaves me. And believe me, I think they are better off in that retirement village. At least there, they’re among friends and near qualified people who can help them.”

Summer couldn’t believe he was standing here preaching to her! “Oh, well, excuse me. Since you obviously know so very much about my shortcomings, and since you are such a saint for watching over my grandparents, I guess that gives you every right to just bully them out of their home.”

“I didn’t bully anybody,” he retorted, his voice low and full of frustration. “I liked the house and knew it was where I wanted to live. So I bought it.”

“Fair and square, of course.”

“Yes. I made them a good offer and they took it. It’s that simple.”