her skin?
As they drove in silence, Kellie studied him. Ryan Marsh had a classic hero complex. No wonder he took his fiancée’s accident so hard. A guy like him would torture himself over not preventing it from happening.
Overprotective? You better believe it.
Overbearing? Yes, ma’am.
And way too easy to look at.
“What?” Ryan caught her staring.
“You can turn left after the next mailbox.” She pointed beyond the road, hoping to distract him from that quizzical look he gave her. Her cheeks felt way too warm.
He slowed down and then pulled into the long drive.
“You can let me out here.”
He kept going.
“Did you hear me? This is good.”
“Yeah, but I’d just as soon see you get in the door safe and sound.”
Yep, ridiculously overprotective.
Again, the image of him as a gallant knight ready to slay a lurking dragon flitted through her mind. It was a refreshing change from what she’d been used to—guys who didn’t even bother to open doors. Ryan reminded her of what she’d always dreamed of—a prince who’d rescue her from the darkness. She quickly shook away those girlish thoughts. She’d learned that fairy tales didn’t come true and had the scars to remind her of that.
He slowed to a stop, but the rumbling sound of his huge truck would no doubt alert her landlady to their presence.
“Great. Now I’ll have some explaining to do to Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Who’s she?”
Kellie savored the moment to rub his nose in her situation and wipe away his poor-little-rich-girl impression. “She’s the elderly lady I live with. Rent a room from actually.”
Ryan gave her a swift look of surprise. She’d scored a hit. “How are you getting to work tomorrow?”
None of your business. But Kellie smiled sweetly instead. “I have a bike.”
Again, another look of surprise. “A motorcycle?”
“No. A bicycle.”
He frowned.
“It’s not too far to bike to town. I’ve done it before.” Several times in fact, to save on gas money. She slipped out of the truck before he could respond. Before he could recommend a different solution. “Thanks for the ride.”
Running up the walkway to the porch, Kellie turned and waved. True to his word, Ryan remained parked in Mrs. Wheeler’s driveway until she slipped into the house.
“Mrs. Wheeler? I’m home.” Home—yeah right.
It had been years since Kellie knew what a real home felt like. When she and her brother were little, there’d been happy times in their Grand Rapids area home. Especially at Christmas, her favorite holiday. They’d pile into the car and drive north of the city to hike into the woods and chop down a tree. Kellie and her mom took hours to decorate it. And she’d drink and eat her fill of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.
A slender, white-haired woman peeked around the corner. “Oh. Kellie. I’m glad you made it. I started to worry.”
That was nice of her, but Kellie knew better. Mrs. Wheeler was more concerned about having her home after dark so she wouldn’t be all alone in her big house.
“My car broke down, so I got a ride.”
“From who?” The elderly woman looked horrified.
“Someone from work.” That’s all her landlady needed to know.
“Good. A young girl like you can’t be too careful, you know.”
“True. And I am careful. Well, good night.” Kellie turned to go to her rented room but hesitated when it looked like her landlady wanted to say more.
“All right then. I’m headed for bed and the TV. I’m glad you’re home.” Mrs. Wheeler usually made her way upstairs at nine-thirty on the dot. Every night. Tonight, she was early. Surely, the woman hadn’t worried herself sick. Kellie wasn’t used to anyone worrying over her.
“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Wheeler?”
“Just a little tired today.”
Kellie narrowed her gaze. The woman looked healthy as a horse. She gave her landlady’s arm a quick and awkward pat. “Okay then, sleep well.”
“You, too.”
Kelly headed up the back stairs to her room. She had her own bathroom and a makeshift kitchen set up with a dorm-sized refrigerator, hot plate and George Foreman grill. What more could a girl want?
A whole lot more.
In time, things would be where she wanted them to be. Right where she’d prepared for things to be. Years of putting herself through school with menial jobs and student loans lay behind her. A good future lay ahead.
If she got that job in Traverse City.
Kellie kicked off her boots, shrugged out of her jacket and scarf and settled on the lumpy futon couch situated between two long, thin windows that overlooked the driveway. She pulled out her phone and scanned the internet for Ryan’s name and address. She found an R. Marsh with an address near her own.
3410 Lakeshore Drive.
No way did he live only a few houses away from her. In fact, they’d passed his place to get to hers. How could she have not noticed his address on his assessment paperwork? But then, he’d unnerved her from the beginning.
She jotted down his address onto an envelope. She’d confirm it at outpatient and then, as soon as she got paid from her part-time job, she’d drop fifty bucks into his mailbox.
* * *
Saturday morning, Ryan stepped into the office of Three Corner Community Church. His new sister-in-law had told him he’d find his brother here preparing for Sunday’s sermon.
Sinclair looked up once he heard him coming down the short hallway. “Hey, Ryan, what’s up?”
“Do you have a minute?” Ryan wasn’t on easy terms with his brother. Not like they used to be.
Three years ago, Sinclair had dared Sara to mow an S in the grass growing on the side of a hill along the hayfield they were cutting. Sara’s tractor flipped and crushed her. And Sinclair had run off on a mission trip to Haiti a week after the funeral. He’d stayed there until only a few months ago.
“Yeah, sure.” His brother cocked his head to the side and waited.
Ryan sat down. He hadn’t seen much of his brother since he’d recently married Sara’s sister, Hope. Ryan was glad they’d finally gotten together, but watching them around the Marsh family dinner table reminded him too much of happier times. He didn’t want to dampen their happiness with his dark moods, so he’d stayed away.
Ryan spotted Sinclair and Hope’s wedding picture on the desk and his fists clenched. “I need to do some community service hours and wondered if you knew of a good place around here.”
Sinclair sat forward. “Actually, I have the perfect solution. A single mom in our congregation is having a house built by a nonprofit group of churches that builds homes for needy families. They could really use someone with your skills.”
Ryan nodded. He’d been picking away at refurbishing his cottage for over a year now. Other than minor finishing work, it was pretty much done.
His brother pushed a sticky note with contact information toward him. “This is the church in charge of the program, and Jeff is the guy who oversees the construction.”
“Thanks.” Ryan picked it up and slipped