Hart's Harbor. Deb Kastner
“Let’s walk to the restaurant,” Gracie suggested, stepping one foot off the curb and looking back, eagerly holding her hand out for him to follow and smiling in earnest.
Kyle readily agreed. How could he resist? It was a warm spring afternoon, slightly exceptional for May in Wisconsin, though in fact he wouldn’t know personally since this was his first, and probably only, year in the state, having been born and bred in the Lone Star State.
Texas.
Kyle took a deep, ragged breath and forced his dark memories as deeply as they’d go into the back recesses of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to be treading back on his melancholy. He’d already been brooding enough in poor Gracie’s company.
It was a wonderful, sunshine-filled day, and he was with a beautiful woman. The air was ripe with spring, with the pungent scent of budding flowers and fresh green grass just after its first spring mow.
A man couldn’t ask for more blessings than that, now could he?
Gracie, Kyle realized with a start, had been chattering along as they went, while he’d been completely consumed by his thoughts. And, he also realized bluntly, he hadn’t a single clue as to what she had said.
She was quiet now, though, observing him with a tantalizing tilt of her head that sent the sunlight shimmering off the highlights of her red hair.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said, her voice rich and warm.
He chuckled awkwardly and jammed his fingers through his thick black hair. “Trust me, Gracie, you don’t want to know.”
Judging from the jewel-fine gleam in her eyes and the way she cocked her hands on her hips just so, she was obviously going to argue the point, but he quickly cut her short.
“We’re at the restaurant,” he pointed out, gesturing to the front door of Harry’s Kitchen. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry enough to eat a whole menu’s worth of items. Let’s go in and get a table before we end up having to wait.”
She pressed her full lips together and surveyed him keenly. “Kyle—” she began, and then stopped without finishing her sentence. She stared at him a moment more, and then said, “Okay. Let’s go in.”
Relief flooded through him. Thankfully, she wasn’t going to press the issue. But that emotion was quickly followed by a surprising surge of another, less familiar feeling.
Disappointment.
“Look, Hart, the whole town must be in here for lunch today,” Gracie exclaimed, obviously pleased by that tidbit of information.
Kyle wasn’t so sure how he felt. He looked around at the green-upholstered booths of the eating establishment and indeed, there were many familiar faces staring wide-eyed back at him, waving him—and Gracie—inside the door with eager grins.
Feral grins, he thought caustically, at least on some of the older women he knew from church. They’d had their matchmaking eyes on him ever since he’d arrived in Safe Harbor.
In Kyle’s mind, and in his newly unattached state, there wasn’t a thing in this world more daunting than a group of determined, small-town ladies wanting to hitch a man up to the marriage wagon, and no amount of objection made a difference in their minds, or in their plans. He had protested, as politely but loudly as possible, for what little good that did him.
He was a reasonably young, and reasonably—ahem—handsome, single man in a small town with an abundance of young, single women. As far as the self-appointed town matchmakers were concerned, he was fair game. No amount of denial on his part would make them see the light.
The only light the older members of the Safe Harbor Women’s League wanted to see was candles at the end of a sanctuary aisle with a white wedding runner leading right up to it. And him in a tux, smack-dab in the middle of the whole picture.
He could see the news on the front page of the Safe Harbor Courier already—Wedding Bells Ahead for Dr. Kyle and Nurse Gracie.
It almost sounded like a soap opera. He slid a look at Gracie, but she’d already headed off toward the first table to greet some of her friends. She was grasping hands and hugging necks and kissing cheeks and being her sweet, charming self.
What man wouldn’t be proud to walk into a restaurant with a woman like Gracie Adams on his arm?
He smiled in spite of himself. Gracie was animated and pretty, the perfect woman to charm a bitter widower’s heart. It was a compliment to him that they considered him dating material for her.
But the Women’s League would have to look elsewhere to pair Gracie Adams up.
True, a man would be foolish to not want a woman like Gracie in his life and in his heart.
But Kyle wasn’t any man. He didn’t have a heart left to give.
She was, he realized, heartache peeling back as fresh as if it were just yesterday and not over a year ago, certainly not anything like his wife Melody, neither in looks nor in personality.
Melody had not even come up to Kyle’s shoulder, and had long blond hair and rosy cheeks. She’d been quiet, though not shy, preferring to think things through before she spoke, and then she would speak slowly and calmly, even when things were in chaos.
Though Melody had cheerfully held a job to help see Kyle through medical school, her true passion in life was making a home, baking cookies, sewing gingham curtains and refinishing antique furniture.
The happiest day of her life was the day she’d brought their new daughter home from the hospital. He knew she had dreams of playgrounds and PTA meetings.
But that was not to be. Kyle grit his teeth until he could feel the pulse in his jaw.
A drunk driver had taken all that away from her—from them. Kyle had wanted to give them so much. What else had he been working so hard for?
But his window of opportunity had been taken from him before he’d even had the opportunity to give them a tenth of what they deserved. One man’s bad decision had robbed him of a lifetime with his wife and daughter.
So while Kyle had no doubt it was a compliment to him that the older women staring so openly at him considered him dating material for a young woman like Gracie Adams, the Women’s League would have to look elsewhere to pair her up.
With a grimace he shifted his gaze—and his attention—back to Gracie, who continued to glide from table to table, catching up with the latest news and gossip from old friends.
Gracie caught Kyle’s tolerant gaze for a moment, then turned to the next table, glad Kyle was so easygoing about her taking a few minutes with her friends.
She especially wanted to have a moment to chat with Constance Laughlin before rejoining her handsome lunch partner. She wouldn’t say she was avoiding Kyle exactly, but the space to catch her breath was doing her a bit of good.
“Constance. I didn’t know you frequented Harry’s,” Gracie said, leaning down to give the dear middle-aged woman a hug and a kiss on her cheek.
Constance flashed her the same wide-eyed, guilty gaze of a child caught with her hand stuck squarely in the middle of a cookie jar. Dual slashes of pink flushed high on her prominent cheekbones, and she shook her sleek, bob-cut black hair in immediate denial.
Gracie had been half-prepared to be the one to field the question about her handsome male lunch companion, the topic at nearly every other table she’d visited.
But Constance hadn’t even appeared to notice. At least not yet.
Which could only mean something else was going on. Something bigger.
She lifted her head and scanned the small restaurant, more than a little curious what that something could be, but nothing looked out of the ordinary, except perhaps the sparkling eyes of Dr. Kyle Hart. He winked and smiled at her, and her heart missed a beat, then raced like mad to make