“May I help you?”
Justine turned to find a middle-aged employee smiling at her.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Blake,” she said, smiling back. “Glad to see you’re still here. I’d like to order some cedar paneling for one of the cottages.”
“I thought it was you. Back from Toronto, I hear. Your dad told me you’d be taking over Winter’s Haven.”
Justine nodded. “I’m glad to be back.”
As she handed him a piece of paper with the measurements a feeling of contentedness came over her. She had made the right decision, coming back home.
This was what she loved about living in a small town—knowing the names of local merchants, dealing with people who knew her parents.
She had felt the call of the big city, and had enjoyed it for a time, but the breakup with Robert and the lonely month that had followed had made her realize how truly alone she was. With no job and no meaningful friendships—the people Robert had introduced her to didn’t qualify—she’d yearned for the small-town connections of Parry Sound. Home. The place she had always felt safe in, nurtured and supported by family, friends and community.
“Are you thinking of running the business on a permanent basis?” Mr. Blake glanced at her curiously.
“I sure am.” She beamed. “I can’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven again.”
Mr. Blake glanced over her shoulder, as if he were looking for someone, and then gave her a hesitant smile. “Well, good luck to you. When your order is ready I’ll give you a call. You can let me know then when you want the job done.”
“Sounds good!” Justine leafed through her bag and took out her car keys. “Thanks, Mr. Blake, and have a great day.”
Justine strode toward the exit, wondering why the expression on his face had seemed to change after her saying she couldn’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven. She grimaced when she came to the door. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and she regretted leaving her umbrella in the car. She would get drenched despite the short distance.
She made a run for it, giving a yelp as she stepped in a sizeable puddle.
“Damn,” she muttered as she inserted the wrong key in the lock. She should have brought a rain jacket, she berated herself, slamming the door at last.
Her top was plastered against her, and although she had planned to do some further shopping she was not about to go anywhere in this condition. Her jeans were soaked as well—front and back—and she couldn’t wait to get back home, strip everything off and take a shower.
She backed out carefully and drove out of the parking lot. Although it was barely mid-morning the sky had darkened, and she could hear ominous rumbles of thunder. Her wipers were going at full-tilt, but the rain was pelting the windshield so hard that she could barely see through it.
As Justine drove slowly out of the town limits and toward the long country road that would take her home she tried to ignore the clammy feeling of her wet clothes against her skin.
A sudden beeping noise behind her startled her, and she glanced immediately in the rearview mirror. She could see a burgundy pickup truck, but it was impossible to see the driver.
To Justine’s consternation the honking became more persistent. The truck didn’t have its indicators on, so the driver couldn’t be in any kind of trouble. And she didn’t imagine it was an admirer. She wasn’t unused to appreciative smiles from male drivers once in a while, along with the occasional whistle or honk of their horn, but she doubted that this was the case today.
The rain was subsiding—thank goodness. And as she looked in the rearview mirror again she saw that the driver had his arm out the window, signaling for her to pull over. Now she felt alarmed. Was it a cop? No, not in a pickup truck. And it wouldn’t be for speeding...
He honked again and she looked back, but a sudden rush of oncoming cars made her concentrate on the road. She cautiously pressed on the gas pedal. Too many weirdos on the road, she thought. She swerved around a bend, and a quick look reassured her that the creep was gone.
She reached the turnoff to Winter’s Haven. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds. She clicked off her wipers, headed directly past the office building and turned into the road through a lengthy wooded stretch that led to her driveway. She sighed, but had barely turned off the ignition when she heard the crunch of an approaching vehicle.
A moment later the burgundy pickup truck she’d thought she had seen the last of pulled up right next to her.
She was more angry than worried now. How dare he? Without a thought to any potential danger, she flung the car door open and got out, her cheeks flaming. The man had gotten out of his truck and was leaning against it, casually silent, as he watched Justine march stormily up to him.
“Why are you following me?” she demanded, stopping a few feet away from him. “It was bad enough trying to drive with you tailgating and honking incessantly. Can’t you find a more civilized way of pursuing a woman? Highway dramatics don’t do anything for me.”
The man’s mouth twisted and he continued to stare at her through dark sunglasses. A few seconds passed. Why wasn’t he answering her? Maybe she should have stayed in the car. He might have a knife. She could scream, but nobody was close enough to hear her.
She looked at him closely. She might need to file a report if she managed to get away from him. His faded jeans and jacket seemed ordinary enough, but his bearded face, dark glasses and baseball cap might very well be concealing the face of an escaped criminal. Would she be able to run back to her car? No, she’d never make it if he intended to pursue her.
She shivered and said shakily, “What do you want?”
Another twist of his lips. “Your hubcap flew off a few miles back,” he drawled. “So you can relax. I’m not about to attack you.”
Justine let out an audible sigh. And then she felt her cheeks start to burn. She had accused him of pursuing her.
“I’m usually more civilized when it comes to pursuing women,” he said, and laughed, as if he had read her thoughts. “And ‘highway dramatics,’ as I believe you put it, are not my style.”
Justine’s discomfiture grew. “I apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion, but you can hardly blame me, can you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your voice sounds familiar...”
For some reason, the realization bothered her.
A suspicion suddenly struck her in a way that made her knees want to buckle.
“Haven’t figured it out yet?” he said, removing his sunglasses.
Tiger eyes. Damn!
With the cap, sunglasses, casual clothes and truck, and two weeks’ growth of beard, she hadn’t even suspected.
“It’s...you!” she sputtered, wide-eyed.
“Nice to see you again, too,” Casson Forrester murmured, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. “Actually, I spotted you in the hardware store, but you left before I could reach you. There are a few things I want to discuss with you.”
“You didn’t have to follow me.”
“I didn’t think you’d accept my call.” His eyes narrowed. “Among other things, I was going to suggest you don’t bother paneling or doing any other kind of work if you’re going to end up selling the place...”
Justine’s eyes flashed their annoyance. “That’s your mistaken presumption,” she retorted. “And were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“I didn’t have