Falling For The Hometown Hero. Mindy Obenhaus

helping people. That’s how we are in Ouray.”

      While she stared out the window, he started the vehicle, crossed Main Street and headed down Seventh Avenue.

      Grace jerked her head in his direction. “How do you know which way to go?”

      “Easy.” He eyed the cross streets for traffic. “There are only two RV parks within walking distance of Main Street. I saw you coming up Seventh before turning into the hardware store.” He shrugged. “Simple process of elimination.”

      She didn’t say anything, but her narrowed eyes told him she wasn’t necessarily pleased with his observation. Not that he cared. War had taught him to pay attention to detail.

      He made a right onto Oak Street, gravel crunching beneath the Jeep’s heavy-duty tires. “I’ll have to rely on you to direct me to your campsite, though. Either that or drive around until I see your motorcycle.”

      “Wouldn’t take you long. I’m just a few sites into the campground.”

      Sure enough. Once they’d passed the office on the right and showers to their left, he spotted her motorcycle and camper.

      Grace was halfway out the door before he even brought the Jeep to a stop in front of her campsite. She moved around the vehicle and continued straight on to her tent.

      Women. He hoped she wasn’t going to be this stubborn about everything.

      She had a tire that needed fixing, though, and he intended to do just that.

      He stepped out of the Jeep and retrieved his toolbox from the backseat. When he turned around, Grace reappeared—carrying a toolbox.

      Uh-oh. Tread lightly, Palmer.

      “For the record—” he set his toolbox on the ground beside her motorcycle “—I’m not a chauvinist or anything. I just like to make sure things are done correctly.”

      She set her toolbox down with a thud, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t think I can do it correctly?”

      “I didn’t say that.” He eyeballed the flat tire, spotting the nail right away. “It’ll just make me feel better, that’s all.”

      Kneeling on his good knee, he lifted the lid on his toolbox and reached for a pair of pliers. “Do you have a compressor or something to inflate the tire once it’s repaired?”

      She continued to glare at him. “Wouldn’t take a road trip without one.”

      “Glad to hear it.” Using the pliers, he pulled the nail from the tire. “You said you had a plug tool?”

      Her brow shot up. “You mean you don’t have one?”

      He pondered the spitfire staring down at him. “Actually...” He dug through his toolbox until he found his own plug kit tucked in the bottom. “Yep.” He held it up.

      Threading the thick rubbery plug through the eye of the tool that was best described as a giant needle with a handle, he glanced over his shoulder.

      “That’s an interesting setup you’ve got there.” Definitely not like the campers he was used to seeing. Instead of the pop-up going up and out on both ends, it went up and then out on one side, making it look like a tent sitting on a wagon.

      “Thanks.” Arms still crossed, she watched as he jammed the tool into the tire. “It belonged to my dad.”

      Melancholy wove its way through her last statement, telling him far more than her words.

      “I take it he’s no longer with us?”

      “Cancer.” She scraped a booted foot across the gravel. “Four years ago.”

      Even with the distance of time, her grief was evident.

      “He must have been a young man.” Kaleb pulled the tool back out then grabbed a pair of cutters to trim the excess plug.

      “Fifty-six.”

      That had to be difficult. Losing someone who, by all counts, was in the prime of their life. He knew what that was like. Tossing his tools back into the box, he stood and looked at her, his annoyance fading. “I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” Despite a momentary chink, her armor was back in place. “I’ll get that compressor.”

      She turned and again headed for her tent, but not before he noticed the sadness in her hazel eyes. Beyond the striking mix of green, brown and gold, there lurked something that intrigued him all the more.

      For all of Grace’s toughness, it seemed her heart was as tender as the wildflowers that blanketed the mountains in late July. Those that endured the harshest of winters only to flourish and grow more beautiful.

      Not at all like Gina, his ex-fiancée. She’d wilted as soon as the storm clouds rolled in.

      The hum of an electric engine drew his attention. Looking up the road, he spotted Luann Carter zooming toward him in her signature red golf cart, her grin as wide as ever.

      She slowed to stop in front of him. “I thought that was you, Kaleb.” She hopped out, scurried around the cart and greeted him with a hug. “It’s always a joy to see you.”

      “How’s it going?” He released the sixty-some-year-old redhead and peered down at her. Luann was a short one all right. Not even reaching five feet tall. But what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in spirit.

      “Just wonderful. And how ’bout yourself? I’m sure you’re so busy you’re havin’ to turn away customers.”

      “I wish things were that good, Luann. But I’m hoping they’ll pick up after Memorial Day.”

      “That reminds me. ” She wagged a finger his way. “Make sure you bring me some brochures. I want to have plenty on hand so I can tell everyone about the new Mountain View Tours.”

      He couldn’t help smiling. Seemed the whole town had rallied around him, willing him to bring this fledgling company back from the brink of disaster. He was determined to show that their faith in him wasn’t unfounded.

      “I’ll be sure and do that just as soon as I get them printed.” Of course, before he could do that, he had to have someone design them. Add that to the long list of things he had yet to do.

      “Well, hello there.” Luann’s attention shifted to somewhere behind him.

      He turned to find Grace, compressor in hand. “Luann, I’d like you to meet my new office manager. Grace McAllen, this is Luann Carter. She and her husband, Bud, own the campground.”

      “Pleasure to meet you.” Grace smiled at the older woman. “I think I met your husband when I checked in.”

      Luann waved a hand. “Probably. I’ve been out running errands most of the afternoon.” Her assessing gaze skimmed over Grace. “So you’ll be working with Kaleb?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “Well, let me tell you, sugar, this is probably one of the finest young men you could ever work for.” Luann rested a hand on his arm. “He is kind, generous, respectful...” She hesitated a moment, then forged on. “Ol’ Bud and I were having some car trouble back this winter and, well, things were a little tight financially.” She gently squeezed his arm. “So Kaleb here fixed it for us and didn’t charge us a thing, ’cept for the parts.”

      Warmth crept up Kaleb’s neck as Grace’s focus shifted to him.

      “Poor fella spent two days in that freezing-cold garage and never asked for anything more than one of my coconut cream pies.”

      He cleared his throat. “Grace, if you ever have one of Luann’s coconut pies, you’ll understand that it was a very fair trade.”

      Luann playfully swatted him, her own cheeks turning pink. “Oh, stop, you.”

      Grace