He was the designated welcoming committee. Josh, who owned the cabin, was in Denver, and Clint, the second vet who had been in residence at the cabin, was completing a law enforcement training program in Colorado Springs.
Nate had volunteered before he learned the new occupant was a woman, and an officer at that. Officers didn’t bother him much. The woman part did. He’d made an art of avoiding them for the past four years. Burned once, her fault. Burned twice, his fault.
Josh’s cabin seemed to have come under a spell. First Josh. Then Clint. After moving in, Josh had gotten married, and now Clint, the second occupant, was more or less engaged. Hopefully. Nate had never been superstitious, but damn, there was something about that cabin that brought even the most marriage-averse people to the altar.
He looked around the freshly painted lobby—warm sand tones with a huge oak beam reaching across the arched ceiling and a stack-stone fireplace. He was more proud of the inn than anything he’d previously built. Josh had provided his own money and a bank loan and turned Nate loose on design. They’d stretched every penny a yard long. The furniture was coming from a firm going out of business, and it was quality at a low price.
All they needed was guests.
The preview opening was scheduled in seven weeks, which was why Josh was in Denver. He was making the rounds of the state tourist association, tourist publications and newspapers. They were offering complimentary three-night stays to anyone who could help them promote Covenant Falls.
He glanced at his watch again. He wanted to be at the cabin at 8:00 a.m. The newest vet was expected between nine and ten. He’d stacked wood for the fireplace yesterday, and he knew that Josh’s wife had stocked the kitchen.
He locked the front door of the Covenant Falls Inn and drove to the cabin. The mayor, Josh’s wife, called it the Rainbow Cabin. She’d fallen in love with Josh there, almost, she said, from the moment she had seen him. The same thing had happened to Clint when he’d met the town veterinarian.
Josh had said the new resident was a military nurse, a lieutenant. All he knew was that she had been injured and had PTSD. She would be the first female veteran in town, and he wondered how she would fit in, particularly at the Monday-night poker games. But he would do his part in making her welcome. He fervently hoped she was plain and obnoxious.
The cabin was spotless. Someone, probably Eve, had placed flowers in vases on the dining table and on the table next to the sofa. There was a platter of Maude’s sweet rolls in the kitchen.
He made a pot of coffee and walked outside to the porch swing. It was a fine April day with a cool breeze and bright sun. He thought about the day he’d met Josh, when he’d hired him to replace the floor on the cabin. His life had changed dramatically. Even the town had a new vitality since Josh’s arrival. Clint added his own impact.
Nate wondered if this military nurse would also rock the Covenant Falls boat.
He was looking at the lake when an old Volkswagen turned into the driveway. Yellow. And not old, but ancient. A relic, really. His gaze followed its path until it stopped. He stood, opened the porch door and went out to meet the new resident.
She didn’t move. She just sat in the car looking at the cabin. A dog sat protectively next to her. Then, as he reached the car, the driver opened the door and got out. Reluctantly, it appeared.
His worst fears were realized. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. Not in the accepted sense. But she had a quality even more dangerous. She was slender, even gaunt, but her face was something out of a painting. Strong lines and jaw, with striking, haunted light gray eyes that dominated all the other features.
Nate realized he had been staring. “Lieutenant Stuart,” he said, holding out his hand. He tried to steady his voice even as he was affected by the ethereal sadness in her. He noticed her left hand was in a leather brace.
“I’m Nate Rowland, your welcoming committee,” he said. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll show you around, give you the keys and answer any questions.”
She nodded and took his hand, but there was no heart in it. “Thank you. And it’s not lieutenant. Not any longer. I’m just Andy Stuart.” She turned, and the dog, outfitted with a service animal’s coat, jumped out and stood close to her. “This is Joseph. We’re just getting to know each other. I was told he would be welcome.”
“More than welcome. This is a very dog-friendly community,” Nate said. “Can I get your luggage?”
She hesitated, and he sensed that she was reluctant to take any help. “I don’t have much,” she said, “but perhaps you can help with Joseph’s belongings. He has more than I do.”
She waited while he opened the trunk that was filled with dog food, a dog bed and a cardboard box full of dog dishes, toys and a leash. She was right about her luggage. He saw only a medium-size duffel.
Only too aware of her presence, he picked up the dog bed and the big sack of dog food while she reached for the duffel with her good hand and used the wounded fist to slam the trunk closed. Then she followed him inside. He watched surprise spread across her face as she took in the comfortable interior. “It’s very nice,” she said after a moment. “Are you the owner?”
“No. Just a friend of the owner.” Nate placed the dog bed in front of the living room window and, still holding the dog food, led the way into the kitchen. “I made some fresh coffee, and the owner of the town’s diner sent over some sweet rolls. They’re great. The owner’s wife also filled the fridge. You’ll find a couple of casseroles and cold cuts along with bread, eggs, milk and sodas.”
“Thank you,” she said. It was politely said with little emotion.
“There’s a bathroom next to the master bedroom down the hall. There’s also a second bedroom that’s mostly a library now. Help yourself to any of the books. There’s a desk in there, as well.” He paused, then added, “As for town, you probably drove through it. There’s a general store, grocery, hardware store and pharmacy there, along with Maude’s Diner. The food is very good, especially the steaks, and they’re easy on the wallet.”
She nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
She was scarce with conversation, but that was all right. So was he. Usually. “How long have you been driving?” he asked, strangely reluctant to leave.
“Since midnight. I like driving at night and dawn when there’s little or no traffic.”
He suspected it was more than that. Depending on the severity of PTSD, late-night and early-morning driving had fewer distractions.
“That car looks like a real collector’s dream,” he said, probing for more information, even as he knew he should be leaving. And quickly. She was distant.
“The Bucket,” she said with the first hint of a smile. “She’s been with me fifteen years, and she was pretty ancient before that. I’ve nursed her back to health more times than I can remember, but she’s a tough old lady. I couldn’t leave her behind.”
He mentally filed that information. Nursed back to health? The car? Was she a mechanic, too?
He was lingering. He had intended to say, “Hello, here’s the keys and goodbye.” He gave himself a mental kick. That was exactly what he should do.
“I’ll leave you to get some rest,” he said. He took out a sheet of paper he’d prepared. “My number is there, along with several others you might want to know. The veterinarian. The town doctor. Josh Manning, who owns the cabin.”
She nodded.
He handed her the keys to the cabin, then leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears. “Joseph? Of the many-colored coat?”
“It seems to have been the inspiration. I had nothing to do with it,” she said defensively.
“He’ll