Jillian Hart - His Hometown Girl

It wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.

He took a ragged breath….

No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.

Some things weren’t meant to be.

Zach did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.

grew up on the original homestead where her family still lives, left home to earn an English degree at Whitman College and later met her husband on a blind date arranged by her best friend. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she reads, stops for café mochas and hikes with her husband in the pine forests near their home in Washington State.

You should be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.

—1 Peter 3:4

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Letter to Reader

Karen McKaslin scrambled out of her car in the small back lot behind her coffee shop. The gravel crunched beneath her sneakers as she strolled toward the back steps, squinting against the first fingers of sunlight. Dawn painted the eastern skies with bold strokes of crimson and gold, and larksong merrily drifted on the temperate breeze.

Another beautiful Montana day.

“Hey, Karen!” Jodi Benson called out from the alley as she hurried, the hem of her short skirt snapping with her fast gait. “I heard about you and Jay. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine, except that everyone keeps mentioning that man’s name.” Karen lifted one hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the low glaring sun. “You’re late for work, too.”

“Don’t mention it to my boss, will you? He won’t be in until seven. Hey, don’t let this get you down. Every bride-to-be has cold feet. You and Jay will patch things up.”

Not in this lifetime. Karen hiked her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jodi. Have a good day.”

Jodi was already at the end of the alley and lifted a hand in answer.

It’s not as if they were close friends, Karen thought, so there was no reason to try to set the woman straight. Rumors were rumors and they didn’t matter.

She knew the truth, but her troubles felt heavier as she hurried up the back steps. Sweet peas tumbled from the planters on the wooden rail and waltzed with carefree happiness in time with the breeze.

Karen’s key clicked in the lock, and she pushed open the glass door with one elbow. She wasn’t going to worry about small-town rumors and setting everyone straight, because Jay wasn’t her true problem. No, the real problem was before her as she stepped into the little dining room she and her older sister Allison had decorated together.

Today was the third anniversary of Allison’s death. Karen had vowed to try to live this day like any other, but at 6:10 in the morning, she’d already failed. She only had to close her eyes to see how this shop looked four years ago when she’d unlocked the door for the first time.

Allison’s footsteps had tapped across the subflooring as she’d held her arms wide. “Imagine all these windows with ruffled gingham curtains. And a counter over there. Our coffee shop is going to be a success, I can feel it.”

Karen opened her eyes, the remembrance slipping away, her heart aching. The echo of her sister’s voice bounced off the walls, an eerie echo of a memory that felt too real.

Gone were the days when she’d made plans with her sister to run the coffee shop together. Plans cut short by a small-plane crash on this day three years ago. Allison’s loss would be forever felt.

Sell the shop, Jay had told her. When we get married, I won’t have my wife working for anyone but me.

Red-hot rage sliced through her like a sharp blade, and she hated it. Hated both the force of her anger and Jay’s unsympathetic demand to sell this place she loved so much.

“Karen?” A man’s chocolate-smooth voice broke through her thoughts.

Startled, she spun around. Zachary Drake stood in the doorway, wearing his usual gray Stetson, a white T-shirt and jeans.

Wide and strong and a little rough around the edges, Zach nodded once in greeting. “Standing around daydreaming?”

“Wishing I could pay someone else to get up this early every morning and open for me.” She pasted on a smile, since her problems were her own. “You’re early today.”

“Got a busy morning. Saw you pull in the alley and figured you might make me some coffee even if you aren’t open yet.” He ambled inside, bringing with him the scent of fresh morning breezes and Old Spice. “So, how about it?”

“For the man who keeps my trusty car running, anything.” She slipped behind the counter without another word and stowed her purse.

“Looks like you’ll have a busy day, too.” Zach couldn’t stop his gaze from following her every movement as she broke open a fresh bag of coffee beans. “What with all the tourists dropping by for a cold glass of whatever you’ve got.”

“The tourists are too busy staying on the highway heading for Yellowstone.” She flashed him an easy smile, one that didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Besides, it’ll be too hot for anyone to want coffee.”

“I might stop by later and get one of those iced things you make.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite customer.” Karen grabbed a pitcher of water. “Let me set up and I’ll get your cappuccino. It’ll take just a minute.”

“Appreciate it.” Zach turned toward the window, pretending to watch the activity out on the street. Except at eighteen minutes past six on a weekday morning in this small town, there was no activity to watch.

Larks roosted on the edge of the green planter boxes on the wooden rails out front. The streets were empty, and the stores still closed up tight. In the window of the diner just down the road, Jodi Benson appeared and turned the Closed sign to Open.

Truth was, he’d rather stare out at nothing because if he turned around and watched Karen work, she just might notice the way he was looking at her. Mooning after her like a man with a secret crush.

Sure, she’d broken off her engagement. Normally a man might take hope in that. But Zach knew, figured like everyone in this town, that Karen and Jay belonged together. Whatever had torn them apart a month before their wedding would be easily fixed, he was sure, and the two would marry at the end of the summer.

He could deal with that. His heart took a blow every time he talked with her, every time he saw her.

“Here you go. One cappuccino, double shot.” She set the paper cup on the counter and held up her hand when he reached into his back pocket. “No, I don’t have my till set up yet, so don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“I’m real worried.” She flashed him a smile, a friendly one that had entranced him since his first day of kindergarten. She leaned both elbows on the counter and studied him for a moment. “Can I ask you for a favor? I know you said you’re busy, but could you possibly find a spare minute to take a look at my car?”

“You mean that rusted-out rattletrap you drive?”

“That rusted-out rattletrap is paid for, cowboy. That’s how I can afford the luxuries of being self-employed.”

“Sure, you can’t afford a vehicle that runs.”

“Hey, my car runs. Sometimes.” She lifted one shoulder and made an attempt at a smile.

“Since I’m the only mechanic in town, I guess the real question is, can you afford to have me look at it?”

“Now you’re getting greedy.”

“Lots of folks accuse me of that.” He winked. “But for you, being my favorite customer, I’ll make an exception.”

“Oh, boy,” she teased back, but the sadness in her eyes remained, dark and steady.

And he knew why. He didn’t know if he should say anything. Didn’t know if bringing up the subject of her sister would give her more pain. Comforting her…well, it wasn’t his right. That right belonged to the man whose ring used to sparkle on her left hand, a small diamond on a gold band.

“I’ll come over and take a look when things get slow. On a hot day like this, I never know if I’ll be bored to death or if radiators will be boiling over all around town.”

“I’m running late. I’ve got to get in the back and start the muffins baking. Thanks again, Zach.”

“No problem.” He watched her move away, heading toward the kitchen with ease and grace, leaving his heart hammering.

Longing filled him, and he controlled it. He didn’t want her to suspect how he truly felt. Not today of all days, with the memory of her sister’s death and the pain of her breakup written on her face.

Zach grabbed his cup of coffee and headed out into the morning. The sun didn’t seem quite as bright.

Thank heavens for a busy day, Karen thought as she laid two slices of bread on the cutting board. A few hours ago, a tour bus had limped into town, blowing blue smoke out the back. The stranded senior citizens had divided themselves between the coffee shop and the town’s diner. Add that to the regulars and she could hardly make sandwiches fast enough.

“How are you, dear?” a kindly woman asked from the other side of the counter. “I heard about the breakup. You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”

Karen reached for the mustard jar and slathered a knifeful on both slices of bread. “I’m doing fine, Mrs. Greenley, and don’t believe those rumors you’re hearing.”

“I never do. Just don’t you worry about what people are saying. What matters is doing what’s best for you.” The older woman turned around in line. “Helen, come up here and take a look at your granddaughter. She appears exhausted to me.”

“I’m not exhausted.” Karen layered ham and cheese slices on top of the mustard-coated bread.

There was a shuffle in the line, and Karen saw Gramma elbowing her way up to the counter.

Great, just what she needed—the woman who could see past her every defense.

Karen concentrated very hard on laying thick slabs of fresh tomato and crisp lettuce leaves just so, before she sliced the sandwich in half. “Gramma, I’m fine. Go back to your place in line. You’re cutting.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Gramma protested, causing a louder ruckus as she pushed her way to the edge of the counter and circled behind it.

Karen laid the sandwich neatly on a stoneware plate and set it on top of the glass barrier. “And, no, I don’t need any help.”

“Hogwash. Nora’s right. You’re as pale as a sheet, and the only place I’ve seen dark circles like that is on a raccoon. You need to hire help so you can take a day off now and then, missy,” Gramma admonished as she grabbed Nora’s five-dollar bill and marched to the cash register. “Now, go. Scoot. Nora and I will cover the rest of the lunch crowd.”

“You bet,” Mrs. Greenley said eagerly. “I’ve made a sandwich or two in my time.”

“There’s no way.” Karen shouldered against her grandmother and counted out change from the till. “I’m perfectly fine. Make yourself a sandwich, go sit with Mrs. Greenley and have a good visit.”