Open Your Heart (Kings Grove #4) - Delancey Stewart Page 0,50

back of his neck again—Cam’s thinking pose. “Nah,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

“Okay,” I said. “Be back soon.” I jogged back to the car, feeling Cam’s eyes on my back. But when I climbed back into the car and looked, his door was closed again. That was Cam—a closed door.

The little Kings Grove Market was set on the opposite side of the parking lot from the diner and ranger station, separated from the post office by the hardware store. I glanced around for my father’s car, but then remembered it was Sunday, and let my breathing relax a bit.

That was my first mistake.

“Harper!” Dad’s voice came across the wide lot, and I looked up from pulling my bag from the car to see him striding across the expanse toward me.

I sighed and greeted him as he reached us. Tuck stood at my side so I introduced him.

“Hi, well,” Dad stumbled, clearly nervous. “It’s good to see you. Both of you, I mean. I just…Harper, I wondered if maybe you, or we, I mean, could have dinner.”

I winced. “Dad, I’m pretty busy. I’ve got work tomorrow…”

I could feel Tuck looking between us, probably wondering what made for such an awkward encounter between family members.

“It’s just not a convenient time. Tuck just got here, we’re going to need to get him set up and talk about the movie he’s shooting for the Inn…” I was rambling, reaching for excuses.

“Another time then,” Dad said, looking momentarily defeated but replacing the hurt look with a smile quickly. “Tuck, welcome to Kings Grove. I look forward to knowing you better.”

“Likewise,” Tuck answered, and the two of us went into the grocery store, leaving Dad on the sidewalk out front.

Tuck was easy enough to get along with, and if nothing else, having him around distracted from both the loneliness of the big house and the uncertainty and misplaced longing I felt when I thought about everything that had happened with Cam. Tuck was solid and certain, almost in your face with his vivaciousness. He was a complete contrast to the brooding dark haired man just behind us, and that particular man didn’t show himself again all day as I helped Tuck acclimate to the strange small town of Kings Grove. I’d gone down to ask him to join us for dinner, but no answer had come except Matilda’s barking from inside. I guessed he had gone for a hike—he did that a lot.

“Have you been to these mountains before?” I asked Tuck as we shucked corn and chopped vegetables for dinner.

He shrugged and shot me a blue eyed glance over a wide smile. “Been to Yosemite.”

“Of course. Sequoia’s spotlight-hogging sister.”

“Seemed nice up there.”

I laughed, surprised at the way my Kings Grove loyalty had flared to life though I’d been back only a short time. “It is. And honestly, it’s better that people go up there. Keeps the roads here clear of tourists and the trails and public areas cleaner.”

“They’ve got the big trees too.”

I dropped a piece of corn on the cutting board and grabbed another. “A few groves. No place in the world has them like we do here.”

“Seen one big tree, you’ve seen ‘em all, right?”

My hands stilled. “No,” I said, looking up at him. “I don’t think so, actually.”

He chuckled and then went back to slicing tomatoes, the smile never leaving his face. “Why not?”

I found the feathery top of a new piece of corn and yanked the outer coverings down as I thought about why I’d had such a knee-jerk reaction to his statement. “I guess I just feel like each one, or each grove at least, is different. Like when you walk into a grove, there’s a certain atmosphere that surrounds you, and no two are the same. And the ones where people go most often? Those are the ones that feel least sacred.”

“So the ones in Yosemite are like those Elvis chapels in Vegas basically?”

“Maybe.”

“And the ones up here are more like the Sistine Chapel?”

I thought about that. “No, I don’t think so.” A memory flashed through my head from when I’d been small, hiking with my dad. “There are hidden groves up here—huge trees that no one found until recently, that stood there in their own shadows for centuries before they were discovered… and those groves feel like…” I squinted trying to find an analogy. “Like a stone circle, like Stonehenge or something.”

“Ancient, mysterious,” Tuck helped.

“Exactly.”

We finished making dinner, and I couldn’t help glancing out the window now and then