he’d filled out his gangly frame quite nicely.
“I thought”—he paused and looked directly at her—“that was your kid.”
“Gosh, no!” She gave a snort of laughter, which sounded remarkably like one of Bacon’s. “He is pretty special to me, though.”
“So I can see.” He stepped back. “Why don’t you and . . . Bacon take a seat in my truck while I get this car loaded up? There’s a flask of coffee in there if you need it.”
True to his word, it didn’t take long for them to be heading toward Morgantown. As they drove down the deserted main street, Veronica gazed eagerly at the town she’d called home for the first eighteen years of her life.
“It looks good.” She half turned to Ted who hadn’t said much since they’d gotten under way. “I was worried it might have gone downhill like a lot of small towns.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been back?” Ted asked as he drove the tow truck into a vast garage, which easily swallowed her car as well. He closed the doors, leaving them in relative silence.
Her smile dimmed. “Yeah, not that I haven’t wanted to come back, but things got . . . complicated.”
“I know how that goes.” He grimaced. “I didn’t think I’d still be here when I was pushing thirty. I thought I’d be living in a big city doing something with the motor sport industry.”
Impulsively, she reached over and patted his denim-clad knee. “You could still do it. You’re not that old.”
“Thanks.” His smile was wry as he turned off the engine and opened his door. “I feel about ninety some days.”
He came around to her door and offered her his hand. “Don’t want to wake the pig.”
She let him help her down, her hand firmly grasping the front of his open jacket, her face momentarily buried against his chest. He smelled like motor oil, leather, and coffee, which was surprisingly comforting.
“Thanks for this.” She followed him to the far corner where there was a door. “How much do I owe you?”
He unlocked the door and went up a flight of stairs into a large open-plan apartment that faced right down onto Main Street. The town was festooned with Christmas lights and looked like something out of a history book, with its raised walkways and false-fronted buildings. Ted took off his baseball cap and heavy jacket, and stepped out of his boots before turning back to her.
“No charge.” His swift smile was disarmingly sweet. “Consider it a welcome-home gift.”
“That’s really nice of you.” Veronica answered his smile with one of her own. But Ted was nice, he always had been, and it seemed nothing had changed. “Now where can I put the pig?”
He gestured at one of the doors. “How about my dad’s bathroom? It’s got a tiled floor.”
Veronica bit her lip. “Won’t he mind?”
“He’s not here. He’s gone on a Christmas cruise to the Hawaiian Islands.” Ted went down the hallway and opened the door. “If he sends me one more picture of him drinking mai tais and basking in the sun I’ll send him one of the pig.”
Veronica studied the pristine tiled space. “I think this would do nicely.” She gently placed Bacon on the floor still wrapped in his blankie, but he didn’t stir. “I’ve got his food and the rest of his stuff in my luggage.”
“I’ll go and get that for you.”
Ted was already halfway out the door before she could offer to get it herself. Considering how badly she’d disrupted his evening, he was being very kind.
After using the facilities and making sure the bathroom door was firmly closed, she wandered back down the hallway to the kitchen and family room. Although the space looked relatively new, there was very little furniture in it. If Ted and his father were the only people living there, maybe they didn’t care about décor.
There was a small kitchen table with two chairs, a black leather couch, a huge TV, and an ancient recliner that desperately needed recovering. There were blinds, but no drapes, cushions, or photographs.
Ted came back with her bags and stacked them behind the couch.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Veronica turned a slow circle. “Did you guys just move in?”
“We’ve been here about two years. Why?” He went into the kitchen and started making coffee.
“No reason,” she said, trying not to make eye contact.
He grinned at her. “It’s okay. My sister, Beth, thinks we look like squatters, too.” He held up the coffeepot. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” She leaned