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  Of course India wouldn’t ask Julia to leave her sick child. It was one of the things she loved most about her best friend: she was always there for family and friends, no matter what. India understood why Julia felt so conflicted; her friend knew how badly India needed her shoulder—and ear—right now. But Julia also knew that this time it was her little girl who needed her most.

  India had just balled up part of her sleeve to dab at the corners of her eyes when she heard his voice for the very first time.

  “Waiting half an hour for luggage makes me want to cry too.”

  India sniffled, straightening her shoulders and trying to shake off the tears that had snuck up on her so unexpectedly. She turned and found herself looking up at one of the most ruggedly beautiful human beings she’d ever seen. Thick dark curls peeked out from under his ball cap, and a half smile produced a dimple she instinctively wanted to put her finger in. But that voice. The hair on her neck stood up as she tried to speak.

  “Oh right. It does seem to be taking a long time.” She blinked rapidly, trying to regain her composure. “I think I have something in my eye.”

  What was that? It was the best she could do with those whiskey-colored eyes examining her so closely. She waited for to him to speak again.

  “Allergies this time of year can be something,” he said over his shoulder as he walked a few steps to a nearby coffee kiosk and grabbed a handful of napkins. He returned and handed them to her, watching her as she dabbed at her eyes. “Is this your first time in Knoxville?”

  India tried to remind herself to breathe. Was the air thinner in Knoxville? Why had it suddenly become so warm in the terminal? She reached up and fingered her necklace nervously with her free hand, watching him closely.

  “Yes, first time,” she said, admiring the hands that had just handed her the napkins, her tears already forgotten.

  She realized she shouldn’t be wasting time staring at his massive hands when there were so many other things to take in. But she couldn’t help herself. She had a flash of all the things he could do with them, and instantly felt the blush rise up from her neck to her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, I seem to be having some kind of reaction to something. It’s awfully warm in here, isn’t it?”

  Wyatt Hinch had hardly moved a muscle. He stood rooted in place, fixated on this beguiling woman who couldn’t seem to get herself together. The luggage belt sprang to life with a buzzer so loud, she jumped and involuntarily inched another step closer to him.

  He caught the scent of her.

  Springtime.

  He surprised himself with that. It had been so long since he’d let a woman close enough to be in any way affected. But this woman was struggling, and the least he could do was be a gentleman. He watched her prepare to grab her duffel. “Here, let me help,” he offered as he brushed by her to lift it off the belt himself. “Whoa. It must not be a short trip,” he added as the bag came to a rest with a soft thump at her feet.

  As if his hands weren’t enough, the flexing of those forearms as he lifted her bag off the belt was almost more than India could take. It took physical effort not to swoon.

  “Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Calm down, India, she thought, annoyed with herself for feeling more flustered than usual.

  “Of course,” he said with a smile. “Enjoy your trip.”

  Handsome and kind. It was like seeing a unicorn. India did her best to breathe normally as he turned away from her to watch for his own bag.

  She pulled up her luggage handle, and she was about to head outside when her phone started ringing. She fumbled to find it in the bottom of her purse and answered just before it went to voice mail. It was Julia.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I am totally failing you as a friend in your hour of need. I should just tell Mike that he can handle this and get my ass to the airport, shouldn’t I? Are you OK? How was the flight? Did the snow this morning make you crazy? I stalked you with the Find My Friends app, so I knew you were already there.”

  Julia prattled on, obviously still feeling guilty about her decision to stay home with the baby. It was clear she was working on very little sleep and copious amounts of darkroast coffee. India tried to put her mind at ease, telling Julia that it was fine, and that if she had to be alone for a week, Blackberry Farm wasn’t a terrible place to be stranded.

  “It’s OK, Jules. You’re a sweetheart for feeling so guilty, but your family needs you. Besides, that’s why God invented FaceTime. Just promise me when you finally get everyone to sleep, and the puking stops, you’ll crawl into a bottle of wine and call me.”

  “Promise. It’s a date. Love you, friend. Take care of yourself this week. And find some hot ranch hand to have your way with, OK?”

  Instinctively, India glanced over her shoulder and saw that the man who’d helped her with her bag was watching her. A blush betrayed her again. Damn it. There had to be a laser treatment to solve that problem. Making a mental note to call her dermatologist the minute she got home, she smiled weakly, and answered, “OK, Jules. I’ll get right on that.”

  “That’s what she said, heh-heh. Talk later.”

  India hung up and started to gather her luggage and purse. With one last look at the man, she smiled.

  “Thanks again. I appreciate the kindness.”

  He had retrieved his own bag now, and he started walking away from the baggage claim alongside India.

  “I couldn’t help but overhearing that you’re going to Blackberry Farm. I’m actually headed that way myself. I’m happy to give you a lift if you haven’t made other arrangements?”

  What the hell was he doing? The words came out before he realized what he was saying. But there was that blush again, creeping across her chest and onto her cheeks. He smiled in spite of himself. It felt good to know he still had it.

  It had been way too long since he’d even thought about flirting with someone. Besides, this was a harmless offer. He would drop her at the farm, and she would disappear into the flowers and fauna for the week. He probably wouldn’t see her again.

  Harmless flirting felt safe.

  And, damn, it felt good.

  “Oh, I have a rental car,” India said. “Wait. I actually don’t. I mean, I did.”

  Spit it out, India, she thought.

  “My friend was supposed to meet me, and she had the rental car lined up. She had to cancel, so I guess now I technically don’t have a ride. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? I promise not to babble the entire way.”

  “No problem. You probably won’t want to leave the property once you’re there anyway. A car is kind of a waste. Why don’t you wait, and I’ll run out to the lot and swing around to meet you here. I’ll be in a green pickup.”

  Of course he drove a truck. There was no way this man folded himself into a fussy luxury car. India watched, along with several other female passengers, as he hustled across the passenger lanes and then disappeared into the long-term parking garage. He was almost as good-looking from behind.

  She was a little surprised at herself for accepting a ride from a total stranger, but she was banking on the fact that someone kind enough to help her out in a moment of need wouldn’t turn out to be a total psycho.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  Wyatt climbed into the old green truck he’d affectionately named Olive and fired up the engine. “Uncle John’s Band” filtered out of the speakers, making him smile. Now that he was back in Tennessee, he felt himself relax a little, the energy of his home turf loosening his bones and easing his spirit. He loved to travel, especially when it was for work.

  He’d been freelancing as a photographer for National Geographic for the past decade, and the work fed his soul like nothing else. The thrill of capturing the perfect shot never got old, whether it was a sweeping snap of a mountain range in Washington State or the craggy face of a Buddhist monk in Nepal. That instant his finger made contact with the button and captured a moment in time w
as it for him. Such a rush.

  He’d always loved taking pictures. His mother had insisted that her son be well rounded, not solely focused on sports and brawn. While he loved the satisfaction he got from heavy labor on the farm growing up, he was also encouraged by his parents to explore other pursuits. Wyatt had participated in a photography camp one summer in high school, and he’d been instantly hooked. He’d saved every penny to invest in some high-quality equipment, which he’d fooled around with on his own. But those camps were really where he’d cut his teeth. The young woman who ran them, Violet, was then a recent graduate from the Rocky Mountain School of Photography, and her passion for the outdoors was evident in the way she taught.

  Now, years later, he sometimes partnered with Violet and her husband, Rex, to shoot marketing materials for Blackberry Farm. They had become the best of friends, and Violet and Rex had seen Wyatt through the darkest time of his life. They’d been there when he and Claire had attended that final summer camp. They’d witnessed the love that had bloomed between them—the wild, unbridled passion of young lovers getting their first taste.

  And they’d been there when Claire had gotten sick.

  Even now, the thought of seeing his old friends after two months away put a smile on his face. He wondered what they would think if they saw him showing up with a beautiful woman in the passenger seat. He shook his head at the thought. Better not let Violet get a sniff of that, or she’d try to play matchmaker. She’d have him married off if it were the last thing she ever accomplished.

  As he rounded a curve, he could see her up ahead, waiting where he’d left her on the sidewalk. To say she was striking would be an understatement. She was simply one of the most naturally beautiful women he had ever seen. She had to be five ten, because, at six three, he didn’t tower over her the way he did with most women. And he’d only helped her with her bag as a courtesy; she was athletic and looked more than capable of handling it herself.

  It was more than her physical beauty that was mesmerizing. She was an interesting combination of confidence and a seeming lack of self-awareness. It was the sadness in those clear blue eyes, though, that had drawn him to her in the airport, encouraging him to offer his help. Her expression betrayed a vulnerability. She was wounded, and the part of him that was also damaged wanted to know why.

  Jesus. He was just giving her a ride. No need to make a Movie of the Week out of this. He unconsciously shook his head as he eased his old truck up to the curb. Jumping out, he hustled around to interrupt her efforts to drag her own bag into the bed of his truck.

  “Here, please, let me. Although I don’t doubt you’re capable, this baby isn’t exactly a featherweight.”

  He grabbed the handle and effortlessly swung the duffel into Olive’s backseat.

  “Besides, you never know when rain could surprise us. East Tennessee weather can be a little unpredictable. Better to keep it back here to be on the safe side.”

  He set her shoulder bag next to her duffel on the backseat and then stepped toward the passenger door to open it for her.

  India had been trying not to stand there watching him like some slack-jawed imbecile, but she was fighting a losing battle. This man was an uncommon find, to say the least. She felt herself smile a little at his suggestion of her capability. It was something she wasn’t used to with Jack. He had always been the perfect gentleman, but he’d also managed to make her feel like a helpless weakling, which she most certainly was not. It felt good to witness chivalry on her behalf, while not feeling like she was less-than for accepting the help.

  “Thanks. I didn’t consider that. I do have some equipment in that carry-on that I’d rather not get wet.”

  India pivoted toward the open passenger door and climbed into the truck. She was instantly intoxicated by the smell of leather and something else. What was it? Burning leaves? Tobacco? Whatever it was, the interior of this truck smelled like he looked.

  She could tell he’d had the truck for some time by the scattered hints of comfortable ownership. There were coins and a pack of gum in the cup holder. A pair of aviator glasses hung from the rearview mirror, and a small photo of a little girl with ringlets was tucked against the dash. The seats were worn in and inviting, the vehicle almost as appealing to her as the man who drove it. This truck was clearly loved.

  She startled as he jerked open his door and swung himself into the driver’s seat. He started up the engine and brought the truck to life.

  “This old girl might be well worn, but she’ll get us to where we’re going. My friends were kind enough to drop her off at the airport for me, so I’d have a familiar face to come home to. I’ve been gone awhile, so it’s nice to get home to Olive.”

  So he was married. Damn. He wasn’t wearing a ring, so she’d been sure he wasn’t. She frowned slightly, suddenly despising someone she had never met.

  “Will Olive mind that you’re giving me a ride? It’s not too late for me to jump in a cab.”

  He chuckled under his breath.

  “I hope she doesn’t mind, since you’re sitting in her. Olive is my truck. She’s the familiar face I’m happy to see. This truck has been my partner for a dozen or so years. She’s pretty understanding, and she’s not the jealous type.”

  There was that blush again. He could get used to that, if only because it told him he was having some effect on her. “Oh, OK. It’s a cool truck. I can tell you’ve had it for a while.”

  He gave her a sideways glance, and crooked his eyebrow in question as he eased onto the highway. India felt her stomach flutter.

  “I mean that as a compliment! It’s obvious that the two of you are comfortable with each other,” she said.

  She watched as the concrete buildings of the airport gave way to the verdant green landscape along the Lamar Alexander Parkway. She felt herself relax a little, but she was still aware of the electricity crackling between them. She realized she hadn’t introduced herself yet.

  “I’m India, by the way. It’s strange—I know the name of your truck, and I haven’t had the good manners to introduce myself.” She smiled. “I really appreciate the ride.” He smiled back at her, nodding his head.

  “I’m Wyatt. And it’s my pleasure. What brings you to town?”

  He noticed her shift in her seat and saw the shadows flicker briefly in her eyes. She didn’t let them linger, though. He sensed her need to show strength again, like she’d tried to do back in the terminal, and he made a note of it.

  “I was supposed to meet my best friend for a photography workshop and wellness week, but her daughter got sick, so now I’m solo. It’s OK. I’m happy to have the peace and quiet and the chance to regroup.”

  The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  “What are you regrouping from? If you don’t mind me asking. If you do, just say so. I won’t be offended.”

  Wyatt could tell that she wouldn’t go into great detail, but it felt rude not to ask when she had offered the reason for her visit so freely.

  She took a breath and decided to be honest. She wouldn’t see him again after this, and it would feel good to talk to someone about the whole situation, especially since she wouldn’t get to break it down with Julia this week.

  “I’m taking some time off from my job to reassess my life,” India offered. “And when you work in Manhattan, you want to get as far away from civilization as you can. Turns out . . . people are overrated.”

  She gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Have you ever had a plan in place, and then, all of a sudden, felt like the rug got pulled out from under you? Yeah. So that happened, and I guess now I have to come to terms with it. The trouble is, I’m not sure where to go from here. I’m not used to feeling so lost.”

  He was quiet. The silence was deafening, so she stole a glance at him, and noticed his jaw was locked and he looked a little pale. It was a moment or two before he spoke.

  “Yeah, I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me befo
re. Plan B can be tough to figure out. I’m still working on it.” He sighed, clearly troubled by something.

  “You’re coming to the right place, though,” he informed her with forced cheer. “The farm is peaceful, and the photography seminar you mentioned is great. My friends are the teachers, actually. People come back year after year to build on what they’ve learned. And there is no better place to get lost with your camera and your thoughts.”

  He knew he was rambling and did his best to stop.

  “So that’s the equipment you wanted to keep dry, I’m assuming?” he asked.

  He tried to relax his grip on the steering wheel. Way to masterfully change the subject. Smooth as silk.

  It was clear to India that he didn’t want to hear about her personal drama and was politely trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. She forged ahead.

  “Yeah, photography is kind of a passion of mine. I studied it back in college, even thought I might pursue it after graduation, but it wasn’t in the cards. This seemed like a good opportunity to revisit it, since I have some unexpected free time now.”

  That was better. Talk about something safe until they reached the farm and she could get the heck out of his truck without embarrassing herself any further. It was clear he had no idea who she was, and she wanted to keep it that way. She’d had enough public humiliation to last a lifetime. She’d be surprised if this man even owned a television. He seemed too smart for that.

  “Your friends are the teachers?” India asked. “I seem to remember reading that the female instructor has a knack for still-life photography. I think the brochure said that she studied out in the Rockies somewhere?”

  His easy smile returned. It was clear he held his friends in high regard.

  “Violet is one of the best. She and Rex met while they were students at school in Missoula. They used to teach a youth camp here in the summers, which is where I met them years ago. Violet pretty much taught me everything I know. You’ll love them both.”

  So he was a fellow photography enthusiast. She was about to ask him about it, when he adjusted the knob on the radio, and the strains of a U2 song filled the truck. She took the hint and sat back to enjoy the view.