Time to make a break for it.
Rachel Maddox beelined for the back of the church and the sanctuary of the outdoors.
In the last five minutes, since the service had ended, she’d been cornered by three well-meaning women. Each had wanted to know every detail of her life since she’d left town six years ago. The first had wrinkled her nose with confusion when Rachel mentioned her future plans, instead—moving to Houston for a high school guidance counselor position she hoped to get. As though she hadn’t understood Rachel’s desire to hightail it out of Fredericksburg as quickly as possible.
The second had been hard of hearing, and she’d asked what perfume Rachel was wearing. Since the answer was none, she’d tried to change the topic, but after numerous requests, she’d finally piped up and said, “It must be my deodorant,” at a volume high enough to have several confused glances swing in her direction. Sigh.
Number three had questioned why she wasn’t married yet—as if twenty-four equaled old maid status—all while giving her a pointed look that said she knew exactly why. Rachel had been reduced to a teenager in that moment—as though her old mistakes, attitude and poor decisions were strapped to her back for the world to see.
Ouch.
The nosiness was just another reason she wanted out of this small Texas town she’d grown up in. Rachel had this strange desire not to live in a place where she’d been a mess. It was time to start somewhere new, and just as soon as she got the job in Houston, that’s exactly what she planned to do.
She dodged around two older gentlemen, the need to escape causing her throat to constrict.
Rachel had grown used to anonymity over the last few years. She attended big churches where nobody knew her name and lived in a city where people didn’t stop her at the grocery store to chat about the weather or to ask how her sweet nephews were doing. This town was suffocating her, and she’d only been home a few days.
How was she going to survive a month or two?
People parted before her, and she clicked along in her sleeveless blue pencil dress and strappy brown wedges, the taste of victory and freedom spurring her forward.
When a little girl darted out in front of her, Rachel screeched to a stop. Tiny strawberry-blond pigtails bounced on the top of the girl’s head like small antennae. Based on the fact that she roamed the sanctuary without a parent in tow, Rachel assumed she must be escaping, too. They were kindred spirits.
She only looked to be around two years old. Too small to continue her romp of freedom alone. So much for her escape plan. Rachel knelt down, gently touching the child’s arm. “Where’s your mama, sweetie?”
“Mama.” The girl’s face broke into a smile. Adorable. Not exactly helpful, but definitely cute.
“Should we go find her?”
The tot’s head bobbled. Rachel attempted to take her hand, but the little girl didn’t budge. When Rachel opened her arms, the girl came right to her. No stranger danger with this one. Rachel scooped her up and stood, a sweet orange scent reminiscent of the push-up treats she used to eat as a kid tickling her senses as she scanned the space for a harried mom. None appeared. Hmm. She couldn’t exactly drop the toddler in the lost and found.
And then, instead of a worried mom, she saw a man steaming toward her. One she knew well. Hunter McDermott. Never fun to run smack-dab into a past mistake. And to think, she’d been so close to making a getaway.
He stopped in front of her, and to her surprise, the little girl lunged into his arms. Hunter...had a daughter? Rachel hadn’t heard that he’d married. But then, when her sister-in-law, Olivia, started telling her about local news, Rachel often tuned out.
“Rach, I didn’t realize you were home.” Surprise laced his voice, joining the quirk of his eyebrows. The fact that he’d used her nickname seemed lost on him. “Sorry about that. Kinsley’s a bit of an escape artist.”
“It’s okay. I completely understand.” But, then again, he should know that. Hadn’t he been upset with her for making a break for it six years ago?
Time had barely aged him. Hunter had never lacked in the spine-tingling looks department, yet he managed to pull it off without any effort. Of course he’d wear a casual, short-sleeved plaid shirt and jeans to church along with cowboy boots. His cropped, dark blond hair looked as though he’d shoved a hand through it, glanced in the mirror and shrugged. He somehow managed to look laid-back and dangerous all at the same time. Two good words to describe the man who’d trampled all over her heart before she’d left for college. Though