Rescued by the Farmer by Mia Ross Page A

sidewalks had been rolled up for the night. The vintage-style street lights were on their lowest setting, so that anyone out for a stroll wouldn’t stumble, and the upper end of Main Street had a see-you-in-the-morning kind of vibe.
    At the other end, though, shining like a beacon of modern-day convenience, stood the newly refurbished Oaks Café. The small porch was full of rocking chairs and hanging baskets of flowers that reminded him of the old homes populating the town. With large front windows and strains of modern country music pouring through the open front doors, it seemed to invite anyone who was still around to come in and stay a while.
    Standing near the door, Drew found an old friend he hadn’t seen in at least ten years. “Cam Stewart?” he exclaimed in surprise as they traded an enthusiastic hug. “What are you doing in town? You said the only way you’d ever come back here was in a pine box.”
    “Yeah, well, Mom’s last stroke changed my mind.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Drew murmured. “I heard she was doing better.”
    “You heard wrong.”
    No mention of the details, and no invitation to ask about them, Drew noticed. Taking the hint, he turned to Bekah. “Bekah Holloway, this is Cam, the black sheep of the Stewart family.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” she said, ducking her head as they shook hands. In the past few days, Drew had decided she wasn’t necessarily shy but definitely avoided making eye contact with new acquaintances. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was trying desperately to keep people from remembering her face.
    But why?
    All the reasons he’d come up with were bad, so he put the question out of his mind for now and forged ahead. Keenly aware of Bekah’s discomfort, he said, “I see the Laundromat’s open for business. I don’t suppose you’ve got any tables in there?”
    “Sure, we do,” Cam retorted as if the question was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Folks need something to do while they’re waiting for their loads to finish. It’s mostly young people who do their laundry that way, and I thought if they had a chance to grab something to eat and chat with the other customers, it’d be more of a social thing than a chore.”
    “You always were the smart one.”
    “Speaking of smart,” Cam said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them. “I hear Mike married a teacher. How’d a cranky old hound like him manage that one?”
    “It’s a mystery, that’s for sure.”
    A young man who looked barely old enough to drive alone at night appeared outside the swinging doors that led to the back of the diner, waving his arms at Cam in a frantic gesture. Frowning, the diner’s new manager patted Drew’s shoulder on his way to put out whatever fire had erupted in the kitchen. “You go on in and find a seat. Menus are on the tables.”
    “Thanks.”
    Hefting the bag on to his shoulder, he noticed Bekah was sticking close to his side as they walked through the dining room to the laundry facilities. He’d like to think she was cozying up to him out of fondness, but he knew better. Being so much bigger than her, he made the ideal shield for her to hide behind until they were through the dining room and in the less crowded snack bar.
    They were the only people with laundry, so they commandeered three washing machines and loaded them up. Dangling the empty bag from one strap, Drew chuckled. “How’d you get all that—” he nodded at the chugging machines “—in here?”
    “Practice.”
    Her wry tone warned him not to pry any further, but once they’d ordered their dinners, he picked up the subject again.
    “So,” he began in the most disinterested voice he could manage, “wanna tell me why you’re a packing savant?”
    Shrugging, she sipped her ice water before responding. “Not really.”
    Strike one, Drew thought. Then again, he still had two more, so he gave it another shot. “Okay, so how’d a nice Chicago girl like