feelings made her dizzy.
It would be fine. He was obviously set on finding this particular spot, and the least she could do was help him do that.
She led the way on the marked trail following the rippling water of Lone Creek. The path was wide, paved, and ascended slowly into the hills. Towering deciduous trees rose above them, and a thick undergrowth sheltered the small critters scurrying about the forest floor. She breathed in the earthy smells of leaves, pine trees, and moss and caught a whiff of Wyatt’s clean scent in the mix.
She stepped over a fallen tree, taking the time to hitch her backpack higher on her shoulder. Wyatt had taken the bigger of the two and managed the move like his pack weighed no more than a feather.
“Enjoy the paved path.” She started off again. “It goes on for about four miles, then becomes a footpath.”
“And after that?”
“A deer path, more or less. It’s been a while since I’ve been out that far, though, so it might be overgrown. How long ago was it you were here before?”
“I was just a kid. But I have a good visual memory of the area. I’ll know it when I see it.”
They continued in silence, her footfalls and the chattering squirrels filling the quiet. She wondered again what drove Wyatt to find this area. But that was his business.
There was a lot she wanted to ask him. About his job, his life—and yes, his love life. But her job was to be his guide, not to pry into his personal life. If he wanted to talk, he’d talk, and she’d be happy to accommodate. If not, it was going to be a long, quiet two days.
“What was it like growing up here?” he asked as if privy to her thoughts.
Grace’s first thought was of that terrible afternoon when the minivan had followed her down the deserted country road they lived on at the time.
“Pretty great really. I had loving parents, and we didn’t want for anything. A nice, comfortable small town where everybody knows everybody, a lake to swim and fish in, and mountain trails to hike. Couldn’t ask for much more.”
“Some people think small towns are boring. Especially teenagers.”
“It would be if you didn’t like the outdoors.”
“I guess you found the right business to launch. Did you like the space you looked at in town yesterday?”
“Loved it. Unfortunately, the building’s as old as Methuselah, and it’s been vacant awhile. It needs a lot of TLC. Did you find what you were looking for at the library?”
He paused a beat. “Mmm. Not really.”
“Right genre, wrong author?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m not much of a reader myself. I think Molly got all of the literary genes, though Levi likes to read a little too. Molly’s husband is an author—writes under the pen name of Nathaniel Quinn.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“He lives in Bluebell now. Nice guy. They met when he came to stay at the inn.”
“And your brother’s engaged?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “How’d you know that?”
“He was on the phone discussing wedding plans when I passed him yesterday.”
“Yeah, their wedding’s coming up in just over two weeks. His fiancée lives in LA, and the wedding will take place here, so the planning’s been a little tricky.” She left out the part about his fiancée being a celebrity. They were trying to keep the wedding quiet to keep reporters away.
There was a nice lookout just up the hill with a grassy bank that overlooked the rippling water. “I’m about ready for a water break. How about you?”
“Sounds good.”
At the designated spot she shrugged off her backpack, but it connected with Wyatt’s shoulder.
He flinched at the impact, his lips going tight. He pressed his hand to the spot.
“I’m sorry,” she said, even though she hadn’t hit him hard enough to inflict pain. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.” His hand fell away. “It’s nothing.”
Maybe he had a bad shoulder or something. In that case he probably shouldn’t be carrying that heavy backpack. But he dropped the pack and rooted through it. He seemed fine. Maybe she’d jabbed him with something.
She mentally shrugged and went in pursuit of her own water bottle.
* * *
By the end of the day Wyatt’s shoulder was throbbing. Two days of backpacking had set him back. He’d also neglected the physical therapy regimen he’d been religious about before this trip. He needed to get back to it but suspected the injury was aggravated enough for now.
“I’ll gather some firewood,” he told Grace, scanning