Pieces of the Heart by Karen White Page A

Hart’s Peak.”
    “I know that. But it rains a lot and sometimes it’s too hot or cold to be outside. It’s a lot easier in a gym.”
    He snorted and she opened her eyes. “And here I was thinking you were the resident and I was the visitor.” He smirked. “Tourist.”
    She threw the washcloth from her forehead at him but he caught it before it made contact. “I know a lot more about this mountain and valley than you’ll ever know. My family has owned this house for almost forty-five years, and I’ve been coming here since I was in diapers. You can’t call me the tourist.” She looked away for a moment, and she seemed to be grappling for the right words and the right attitude to say them with. Lifting her chin, she said, “And I don’t want to be caught out on a trail somewhere and have . . . an episode . . . without help nearby.”
    He had a good idea what it must have taken for her to admit to that chink in her armor. Despite the lift of her chin, he had seen her vulnerability. It had reminded him suddenly of Shelby, of the way she had always faced the world as a strong, independent woman, but whose eyes held depths of loss and secrets he had never felt privy to.
    Drew sat back. “I’m not suggesting you go alone. I’d like to learn more about the back hills and places only the locals know about. You could be my tour guide, and you’d be getting good exercise, too.”
    She frowned and he added, “And I promise not to talk to you at all.”
    Her head fell back against the lounge chair again and she crossed her arms over her chest. She smirked. “There’s a trail at the top of the mountain where people fall off all the time. I’d be happy to show you that one.”
    His desire to help her diminished somewhat, but unfortunately the guilt did not. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure there’re trails closer to the valley and lake that might be more fun for both of us. I’d learn about my new home and you’d get your exercise and pass the time more quickly so you can return to Atlanta and whatever it is you do there.”
    “I’m an accountant.”
    “And I never would have guessed that.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him again in an expression that was beginning to be very familiar.
    “So . . . what do you say? I think it would be a nice, easy trade.”
    She snorted. “You’re a lot like Jewel, you know? God forbid either one of you ever does something just to be nice.”
    “To you?” Now it was his turn to snort. “You’re not really the type to inspire the warm fuzzies, are you? People need to have some kind of reciprocal guarantee in their dealings with you to make sure they’re not turned to stone or something.”
    She began to sit up but he held her shoulders firmly back against the chair. “Now don’t go getting upset again or I will call your mother.” She relaxed but glared at him as he stood to leave. “Just think about it and let me know.” He moved the phone closer to her so she could reach it, then wrote his phone number down on the cover of a magazine that was lying next to it. “I’ll be home if you need anything.”
    “Like a gun?” She smiled sweetly at him and he couldn’t resist smiling back.
    “Don’t give me any ideas.” He started to turn away before he remembered something she’d said earlier. “What did you mean about Jewel and me being just alike?”
    She waved her hand in the air. “Nothing important—just that she drives a hard bargain.”
    “Yeah, that sounds like Jewel. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    Caroline raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She lay back once more on the chair and watched him as he turned around again, and for a moment she looked like a tiny, helpless kitten . . . with very, very sharp claws.
    He was almost to his back door when he heard her call out, “Thank you.” He turned around to look and saw that she’d already turned her head away.
    “You’re welcome,” he called back, then let himself into the