A Perfect Love. Lenora Worth

humidity.

      Warning flares went off in Summer’s weary mind like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

      Putting the rickety old truck into Park, he said, “Need some help?”

      Summer decided that was an understatement, but she hid that behind what she hoped was a serene smile. “Kinda looks that way, doesn’t it?”

      “Want me to look under the hood?”

      “No need,” she said, ignoring the homesick delight his Texas drawl caused along her skin. “It’s the radiator. Probably finally busted for good.”

      He got out and walked to the raised hood anyway. Since he was a man, Summer figured he didn’t trust her word on car maintenance. Had to see it for himself. Probably thought just because she was a blonde, that she didn’t have any brain cells. Never mind that she had been a double major in college. No need for this handsome interloper to know that just yet.

      He turned and wiped his hands down the sides of his worn jeans. “Yep, looks like you’re right. It’s too hot to even touch right now.”

      Summer noted his solid build and laid-back swagger. “I told you so,” she said with a hint of sarcasm to hide the hint of interest she had in him.

      He ignored the sarcasm, his gaze filled with his own interest. “Where you headed?”

      “Athens.” She didn’t feel the need to give him any more information.

      “I live there,” he said. Then he extended his hand. “Mack Riley.”

      “Summer Maxwell,” she said, taking his hand and enjoying the strength of his touch a little too much.

      He pulled his hand away with a quick tug, making her wonder if he’d felt that little bit of awareness, too. “Summer?”

      “Yes,” she said, thinking she saw recognition in his beautiful eyes.

      “Pretty name.” He hesitated, then said, “And just who are you visiting in Athens?”

      “My grandparents,” she replied, mystified by his suddenly odd behavior. “I wanted to surprise them.”

      “Oh, I reckon they’ll be surprised, all right,” he said as he shut the car’s hood. “Who are your grandparents? I might know them.”

      “Jesse and Martha Creswell,” Summer said, thinking he probably did know them. Everybody knew just about everybody else in the small town of Athens, Texas.

      He stepped back, gave her a look that shouted confusion and surprise. “Well, how ’bout that.”

      “You know them?” she asked, echoing her thoughts.

      “I sure do,” he replied. “Good people. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride into town, then we’ll send a tow truck to get your car.”

      “I’d appreciate that,” Summer said, sending up a prayer that he wasn’t dangerous. She knew better then to get in a car with a complete stranger, but he seemed normal, and he knew her grandparents. But just to test that theory, she put her hands on her hips and asked, “Will I be safe with you?”

      He laughed, shook his head. “I’m not on any Top Ten Most Wanted List, if that’s what you mean.”

      Oh, but he could be on a Top Ten Hunk list, Summer decided. His smile was criminal in its beauty.

      “Okay,” she retorted as she started locking up the car. “I just had to be sure. ’Cause my granddaddy, he shoots first and asks questions later.”

      “I hear that,” he said, helping her to latch the convertible top. “I do believe Jesse would have my hide if I let anything happen to you.”

      “So how well do you know my grandparents?”

      “I met them when I first moved here.”

      Why did she get the feeling he was being evasive? Maybe because he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. And maybe because she’d learned not to trust people on first impressions.

      “Am I missing something here?” she asked, determination causing her to dig in her heels.

      “Do you have suitcases?” he asked back, misunderstanding the question, maybe on purpose.

      “Oh, yes, I do.” She unlocked the trunk.

      He laughed as he looked down at the beat-up brown leather duffel bag. “How’d you ever get that in this poor excuse for a trunk?”

      “You’d be surprised just how much this trunk can hold.”

      He nodded, grabbed the considerably heavy bag without even a huff of breath, then tossed it in the back of his truck. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

      “I guess so,” she said as she rounded the truck to get in. Once he was all settled behind the wheel, Summer stood at her open door, glaring at him. “Except the part you’re leaving out.”

      He lifted his brow. “Excuse me?”

      “You’re not telling me the whole story here, are you, Mr. Riley? And I’m not going anywhere with you until you do.”

      “Call me Mack,” he replied, a look of resolve coloring his eyes. He cranked the truck, motioned toward the seat. “And I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

      Summer had learned all about deceit on the streets of New York, from working with women who lived through the worst kind of deception and deprivation. She could smell it a mile away. “I think you know more about my grandparents than you’re telling me. And I want to hear the truth, all of it.”

      He let out a long sigh, as if he didn’t know how to handle such a direct statement. “I said I know them. Can’t that be enough for now?”

      “Nope,” Summer replied, smiling sweetly. “You might not be dangerous or a wanted man, but you’re being mighty quiet about my grandparents. And I want to know why.”

      He looked up and down the long road, then nodded. “I guess you deserve an explanation. Get in and I’ll give you one, I promise.”

      Mack Riley stared over at the assertive, no-non-sense woman sitting in his truck. She was a looker, no doubt about that. He’d heard enough about Summer Maxwell to know, though, that all that long blond hair and those bright-blue eyes couldn’t hide the fact that she was also very intelligent and sharp.

      Too sharp. And right now, not too trusting, either.

      What was he supposed to tell the woman? That he knew her grandparents on a first-name basis. That he also knew her rich, jet-setting parents, through conversations with Jesse and Martha, and through having met them on the rare occasions they decided to drop in and check on Summer’s grandparents. That he recognized her now, from the many pictures of her growing up that Martha had displayed in her living room. And that he knew enough about Summer herself to fill a book and his own needy imagination.

      Mack wasn’t ready to open up and have a heart-to-heart with this intriguing woman. Not yet. So he did what he’d always been so very good at doing. He tried to avoid the issue.

      “I’m waiting,” Summer said, causing him to glance over at her.

      He tried to deflect that in-your-face-look. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say, or where to begin. Okay, I do know your folks—real well. Is that a crime?”

      “Oh, no,” she said, folding her arms as she stared at him. “The crime would be in you withholding information from me. And I think you are. You said you’d explain things. So start talking. Just tell me—is one of them sick? Has something happened, something terrible, that I don’t know about?”

      Mack made a turn onto yet another long highway. “They’re both just fine,” he said. “But…a lot has happened over the last few months. When was the last time you talked to them?”

      “I