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Bride Wanted
Renee Andrews
Troy Lee has been writing to his future bride since he was a boy, though she’s never been more than words on a page…until now. When he meets Destiny Porter, he thinks he may have finally found the woman he’s been waiting for. But Destiny came to Claremont with a single purpose—get Troy’s permission to print his letters in her magazine. Yet the minute she lays eyes on the handsome Southern man, Destiny knows she’s in trouble. After reading and rereading the letters his grandmother secretly submitted, she’s surprised to find herself wanting to be that bride. But will he still want to be her groom when he finds out who she really is?


Dear Bride-To-Be…
Troy Lee has been writing letters to his future bride since he was a boy. Still, she’s never been more than words on a page…until now. When he meets Destiny Porter, he thinks he may have finally found the woman he’s been waiting for. But Destiny came to Claremont with a single purpose—to get Troy’s permission to print his letters in her magazine. Yet once she lays eyes on the handsome Southern man, Destiny knows she’s in trouble. She can’t help dreaming about being Troy’s bride. But will he still want to be her groom when he finds out who she really is?
“You okay?”
A deep clearing of his throat brought her attention back to the guy outside the car. He tilted his head with the question.
Destiny noticed he’d leaned against the pump and crossed his arms, which drew more attention to biceps that would put every guy in her Atlanta gym to shame. And she suspected from his letters that he wasn’t the kind of guy to hit a gym. He’d mentioned putting in a good, honest day’s work every day. She also knew that he’d support his wife’s choice if she wanted to work outside the home, but if she decided to be a stay-at-home mom, he’d support that just as much.
She knew so much about this guy, but he didn’t know the first thing about her. She’d have to change that, and she couldn’t waste time about it. Those letters could save her magazine. So she had to gain his trust and then get the rights to run them.
No sweat.
RENEE ANDREWS
spends a lot of time in the gym. No, she isn’t working out. Her husband, a former all-American gymnast, co-owns ACE Cheer Company, an all-star cheerleading company. She is thankful the talented kids at the gym don’t have a problem when she brings her laptop and writes while they sweat. When she isn’t writing, she’s typically traveling with her husband, bragging about their two sons or spoiling their bulldog.
Renee is a kidney donor and actively supports organ donation. She welcomes prayer requests and loves to hear from readers. Write to her at Renee@ReneeAndrews.com, visit her website at www.reneeandrews.com (http://www.reneeandrews.com) or check her out on Facebook or Twitter.

Bride Wanted
Renee Andrews


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
—Ecclesiastes 4:12
This novel is dedicated to the real Jolaine Bowers, my mom. Mama, I hope you like your character (and before you ask, she’s only named after you; it isn’t actually you…or that’s my story).
I love you, Mom!
Contents
Chapter One (#u5f11cc0b-eee9-5e8d-9375-43a34940ee22)
Chapter Two (#ue3846317-90b6-5ec8-ad19-a782629a6bcc)
Chapter Three (#u388ca6d5-30c1-5669-9442-02bf8edc68f5)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“RuthEllen was talking today at her shop about the reason she believes you haven’t married, and I think she may have it figured right.” Jolaine Bowers peeked beneath the hood of her Camry so that Troy Lee had no choice but to look up and face his grandmother head-on. “Do you want to know what she said?” Her brows were raised and her eyes were so wide he could see white all the way around the blue.
“RuthEllen Riley? At the beauty shop?” Troy wondered how many Claremont ladies had been getting cut, permed or shampooed while RuthEllen chatted about his marital status. Then again, she probably wasn’t the only one discussing it if his grandmother had been there, too. “Y’all were talking about me? At the beauty shop? Just how many women were there?”
“The regulars. Maybe a few extra since everyone is getting their hair done before all of the Fourth of July activities this week.” His grandmother raised a shoulder. “And we always talk about you, dear. We talk about everyone we care about.”
He kept checking the engine on the car. “There’s something not quite right about that.”
Her mouth flattened. “We only talk about you because we’re worried. So, don’t you want to know what RuthEllen said?”
He momentarily stopped trying to determine why her car was making what she described as a “weird rattle-rumble kind of sound,” climbed out from under the hood and answered her with the only response she’d accept. “Sure, what did she say?”
She stepped away from the car, took a quick breath then spouted, “She said you’re a player.”
Not at all what Troy expected. “A player?”
His grandmother nodded, then converted the move into one of those subtle head shakes that said she couldn’t believe his sad state. “Yes, that’s what she said, and everyone in the shop agreed.”
It was all Troy could do not to laugh, but she looked so serious that he held it in check. “Does RuthEllen even know what a player is? And do you?”
She fished a bottle of water out of her purse, unscrewed the lid and took a long swallow. Then she twisted the top on and dropped it back in. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t know until the girls at the shop explained it, but from what they say, it’s a guy who, you know, acts like he is interested in a girl and then drops her like a hot potato.” She settled her purse strap on her shoulder. “That’s you.”
He grabbed a shop rag from his back pocket, wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to determine the best way to explain to his sweet grandmother the difference between being a player and being selective. “I’m not a player. I just don’t continue dating someone if I can’t see myself marrying her.”
“That’s what I told RuthEllen, but she said that’s called leading them on, and I’m thinking she might be right. Troy, you’ve dated nearly every girl in Claremont once. Sometimes twice, but mostly once. They get their hopes up, and then you’re gone.”
Troy winced at the truth of her statement. He’d realized the same thing recently, when it seemed every time he ran into a female in town he received the awkward “what went wrong?” stare.
She grabbed her water bottle again and tilted it toward his face. “See, you know it’s true. But I don’t think it’s that you’re trying to be a player. You’ve set the bar too high, with all of that letter writing you do and envisioning the woman you want to marry and all. That was supposed to get you started thinking about the kind of woman you want. It wasn’t supposed to exclude every girl from fitting the bill.”
“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have even told you about those letters.” Troy had assumed his grandmother would instinctively understand the importance of those letters to his future bride. Now he wondered if every lady at the Cut and Curl knew about them. “You didn’t tell RuthEllen and the other ladies about them, did you?”
She blinked, twice. “No...why?”
“Because they’re private. I wrote them to one person, and she’s the only one I plan to share them with.” He paused. “Assuming I ever find her.” Troy’s first letter to his future bride had been written when he was twelve as an assignment at church camp. Most kids wrote the required letter and then let that be it, but he’d continued over the years. And as he wrote to her, he’d clearly defined the woman he wanted to spend his life with.
He just hadn’t found her yet.
“Well.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I didn’t tell the girls at the shop about your letters, dear.” She looked as though she wanted to say more, maybe ask if he’d reconsider letting her share the fact that he’d been writing for over a decade and a half to a wife he hadn’t met, but then she must have thought better of the idea and snapped her mouth shut.
“That’s good,” he said. “I appreciate you keeping that to yourself.”
“You’re probably right.” She fidgeted with the water bottle again. “I shouldn’t tell anyone about your love letters.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Right,” she whispered.
Troy had returned his attention to the engine but heard a hint of worry in her tone, so he looked back to his sweet grandmother, twisting the lid on and off the bottle. “Hey, it’s okay that y’all were talking about me at the shop. I understand that’s what ladies do, and I understand you do it because you care about me. I’d just rather the love-letter part stay out of any conversations, okay?”
She nodded and gave him a little smile. “Okay. Well, RuthEllen and the other ladies and I all decided what you need to do. You need to find someone who didn’t grow up in Claremont, someone who doesn’t know you’re a player.”
“I’m not a player.” Troy couldn’t hold back his grin now, finding a lot of humor in making the statement to his grandmother. And while he was supposed to be working, no less. Luckily Bo and Maura Taylor trusted him to get all of his work done at their filling station, and they also understood his grandmother’s need to visit him at his job place every now and again.
“Troy Alan Lee, this is not funny. You’re twenty-seven years old.”
His grin grew. He couldn’t help it. “You know, I’ve heard of guys who didn’t get married until they were in their forties.”
“Not in Claremont.” Her hands weren’t fidgeting now, and she uncapped her water bottle to take another swig.
He set his laugh free. “No, probably not in Claremont, but twenty-seven isn’t ancient. And just so you know, I have a date with a girl on Friday who I’m sure doesn’t see me as a player.”
She capped the bottle and tossed it back in her purse. “Really? Who is she?”
Troy could tell from the excitement in her tone that she’d probably make a beeline straight to RuthEllen’s shop when she left the filling station with the glorious news. “Don’t go getting too anxious. It’s a first date, but her name is Haley Calhoun. She moved here from Florida to take a veterinarian job with Doc Sheridan. He’s planning to retire in a few years and decided he needed an assistant, someone who could get familiar with all of the families and livestock and such in the area.”
A bright smile claimed his grandmother’s face. “That’s perfect! She isn’t from around here, so she won’t know about how you date and run. Maybe she’s the one meant to get your letters. You concentrate on making it to at least date number three, and I’ll make sure to tell all the girls at the beauty shop and in my quilting group not to say anything to her about you being a player.”
He knew better than to try to stop her, so he nodded. “You do that.” Then he opened the driver’s side door and climbed in. “I didn’t see anything under the hood that would cause that rattling you described. Let me drive it and see if I hear the noise, too.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go inside the store and visit with Maura. I’m so excited about your date with the Calhoun girl. I have a good feeling about this.” Grinning, she turned and headed toward the store connected to the garage.
He cranked the car and took it for a short drive away from the station. And while he drove, he thought about the fact that he was evidently now seen as a “player” around town. The absurdity of that was laughable. He wasn’t a player, but he had dated a lot of girls, most of them in town, he supposed. And he hadn’t gotten serious with any of them. He’d always thought God would make it clear when he met the right one, but maybe all of the letters he’d been writing had clouded his vision. He hadn’t given anyone a chance because he had his sights set on perfection. No one was perfect; Troy knew that. But he’d really thought he would know when he met the girl he’d been writing to all these years. He hadn’t considered the fact that it might take more than a date or two to determine whether he’d met “the one.”
God, help me out here. Part of me thinks my grandmother is right. I haven’t given anyone a chance. Help me to see clearly this time, Lord. And help me to know when I meet the right person, and to spend enough time with her to tell. I want to at least see what could happen with Haley. If You could somehow show me whether she’s the girl for me, I’d sure appreciate the help. In Jesus’s name, amen.
He pulled back into the station and heard the horrid rattle that his grandmother described. He’d heard it a few times throughout the short drive, and it hadn’t taken him long to pinpoint the source of the hideous noise. But he couldn’t miss the fun of showing her, so he waited for her to come outside to identify the problem. Maura Taylor walked alongside her as she neared the car.
“Well, did you hear it?” Jolaine asked.
“I did. And you’re right, it’s a horrible racket. I don’t know how you’ve put up with it.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s been driving me crazy for the past week. How bad is it? Do I need a new car, or is it something you can fix? Tell me it’s something you can fix.”
“Definitely something I can fix.” He climbed out, then squatted down by the driver’s seat. “And I can take care of it right now without a single tool.” Sliding his hand under the seat, he withdrew an empty water bottle, then another and another. He pulled six bottles out from under the seat, while Maura muffled her laughter with her hand over her mouth.
“Is that what was making the racket? Those bottles rolling under the seat? James would get on me big-time. Don’t tell your grandfather, Troy. I’ve been meaning to clean out the car.”
“I won’t tell him, but I’m not sure you’ll get so lucky with Mr. Taylor knowing.”
Her cheeks reddened as Bo Taylor neared the group and didn’t attempt to stifle his laughter. She pointed a finger at the man. “You keep quiet, Bo.”
“I’ll make sure he does,” Maura promised.
“I think you’ll find your ride much more peaceful now.” Troy tossed the empty bottles in a nearby can.
“Thank you, Troy.” She kissed his cheek. “Anyway, I got to visit with you and let you know about what you need to do.”
“Yes, you did.” Troy knew she didn’t mean any harm, and he loved her dearly for her attempt to help his love life. Maybe she even steered him in the right direction. He had been a bit picky, and thanks to her visit, he’d made a conscious decision to rectify that soon, this Friday, in fact, with Haley Calhoun. One way or another, he’d make it to date number three.
* * *
Destiny Porter sat in her car and waited at the end of the line for gas, all the while watching the mechanic in the garage to the right of the filling station. He wore traditional blue coveralls, and she could tell he had thick, jet-black hair, broad shoulders and a lean waist, but that was it.
She’d left her apartment in Atlanta, packed her things for an indefinite stay and then driven 120 miles to Claremont, Alabama, to see the man and convince him to share his love letters with the world. And now he had his head tucked under the hood of a car.
“Come on, turn around.” Her plea was interrupted when an older version of Richard Gere tapped on her window. Destiny rolled it down. “Yes?”
“Ma’am, I can’t reach your tank unless you pull up to the pump.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what held her attention. The mechanic had finally come out from under the hood and had moved to a bevy of tools against the opposite side wall. “Aah, so you’re another of Troy’s admirers. I wonder if I shouldn’t start paying him some sort of commission for all of the extra customers I get.” The man chuckled then nodded toward the pump, still several feet away. “Why don’t you move forward a little so I can at least pump your gas while you’re doing a rather pitiful attempt at flirting long-distance?”
“Oh, I wasn’t, or, I didn’t mean to stare.”
He raised a dark gray brow.
Destiny felt her cheeks flame. “I’ve never even met the man.” And that was the truth. But she did know everything he wanted in a woman and how he’d treat the one who earned his love, which was why she’d made this trip. However, she wouldn’t share that with this man. She also wouldn’t share it with the mechanic, who apparently had lots of admirers around town.
He’d have plenty more if he let her publish those letters.
She decided she’d change the subject and attempt to save herself any further embarrassment while the man removed the nozzle and busied himself with his work. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a real full-service gas station.”
He nodded as he put gas in her red Beemer. “I suspected as much. You aren’t from around here.” He pointed a knowing finger toward Destiny’s face. “Claremont’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and I’m pretty sure if you were from around here, I’d have noticed.” He glanced toward the garage. “But it isn’t my attention you’re trying to get anyway, is it? Not that it’d matter. I’m happily taken.” He winked. “So, you just passing through or staying awhile?”
Destiny wished she could control her traitorous eyes, but the guy in the garage had finally faced her and she was, quite frankly, speechless.
The older man cleared his throat. “I’m Bo Taylor, by the way. The lady who just walked into the station is my wife, Maura. Assuming you’re listening to my rambling and all.”
Destiny blushed again. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t mean to...”
“Yeah, you do, but that’s okay. Every young lady from town comes here as often as possible.” Bo frowned as the nozzle clattered and the gas stopped pumping. “This isn’t full yet. Let me get her started back up.” He flipped the silver lever on the pump and the thing clicked to life again. “Tell you what, I’ll go get Troy and offer an introduction. The customer line is gone now anyway.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him.”
The man nodded once as though the matter was decided, ignored Destiny’s protest and started toward the garage. And the gas, which was taking forever to pump, clicked to a near standstill when he walked away. Destiny didn’t even know the numbers could turn that slowly, but then again, all of the gas stations in Atlanta had digital displays. This one, like everything else she’d seen so far, seemed straight out of the 1950s. And since it continued turning slower than traffic on I-285 at rush hour, she barely had three gallons in the tank when Bo returned with tall, dark and mesmerizing Troy Lee by his side.
He was a good six-two, easy, the jet-black hair even darker shining in the sun. Destiny’s hands involuntarily tightened on the wheel, and she made her fingers relax so the blood could start flowing again. Did he really look this good, or was it the fact that she already knew so much about the man and the thoughts of his heart that made her feel as if she were going to pass out merely looking at him? The subscribers to her magazine would simply have to have a photo to accompany his love letters...once Destiny had the authority to put them in print. Which she’d have, one way or another, before next month’s issue. She had to; she’d already promised her advertisers.
“Troy, this is...” Bo Taylor waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Destiny,” she said. “Destiny Porter.”
“Nice to meet you.” He gave her an easy smile, and a deep dimple popped in place slightly beneath his left cheekbone. Somehow that single indention made him even more incredible.
“She’s from out of town, but I didn’t find out yet if she’s passing through or staying awhile.” He looked again to Destiny.
She really had to get a grip. “I’m from Atlanta. Staying awhile.”
Bo nodded. “Troy, my throat is parched. I thought that line of customers was never going to die down, but Ms. Destiny is the last one for now. Can you finish up here? I’m going to head on in and get a soda with Maura.”
“Sure.” Troy nodded at the man retreating to the station and didn’t seem to notice how guilty he looked as he left Destiny to deal with her unwanted attraction on her own. She did not need to be distracted by his looks. She simply needed his signature on a contract, a contract that would allow her to expose his innermost thoughts to the world.
Nervous, she looked away from the handsome country boy and spotted the latest copy of her magazine in the passenger’s seat, as well as a printout of the email that caused her to take this trip. And the love letters—this man’s love letters. She reached into the backseat, grabbed her gigantic purse and flung it over the evidence.
A deep clearing of his throat brought her attention back to the guy outside the car. “You okay?” He tilted his head with the question.
Destiny noticed he’d leaned against the pump and crossed his arms, which drew more attention to biceps that would put every guy in her Atlanta gym to shame. And she suspected from his letters that he wasn’t the kind of guy to hit a gym. He’d mentioned putting in a good, honest day’s work every day. She also knew that he’d support his wife’s choice if she wanted to work outside the home, but if she decided to be a stay-at-home mom, he’d support that just as much.
She knew so much about this guy, but he didn’t know the first thing about her. She’d have to change that, and she couldn’t waste time about it. Those letters could save her magazine. So she had to gain his trust and then get the rights to run them.
No sweat.
But she was sweating now, and she didn’t think it was necessarily due to the Alabama heat. Did all guys down here look like that?
Destiny saw that he still waited for her to answer his question. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just wanted to have my purse handy when it’s time to pay.” She shot a glance at the churning pump. “I’m guessing the customer lines have something to do with the speed of the pumps?”
He laughed, and the sound rippled over her skin like cocoa butter on a hot day at the beach. She’d have never thought a guy from a tiny town in Alabama could have this effect on her senses. Then again, she’d have never thought a guy from here would be as sensitive and heartfelt as the one standing beside her car.
But he didn’t know she knew about that. She snuck a glance at her passenger seat to make sure his letters were covered.
“So, you said you’re staying awhile. What are you planning to do in Claremont? We aren’t exactly the tourist capital of the world, other than the dude ranch and the fishing camp. But you don’t seem like the dude-ranch or fishing-camp type.” He shrugged broad shoulders. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She felt her heart rate slow and was glad she was becoming more at ease talking to the guy who’d so thoroughly, and unknowingly, touched her heart. “I’m staying a few weeks to write stories about life in a small Southern town.” That was true; she did plan to write about Claremont and about the couples she’d meet during her visit, as her magazine focused on love, but that wasn’t what brought her here.
Troy Lee did.
“Well, then, you’ve come to the right place. You don’t get much smaller than Claremont.” He sighed, a nearly inaudible sound, but one Destiny heard, since she hung on to every word. “But in my opinion, we’ve got everything anyone could need.”
And there it was, the sentimental side she’d sensed in his letters and the guy who’d treat a girl like pure gold. Destiny fought the urge to sigh right back. However, she’d dated quite a few guys who started out acting that way and then their true colors came shining through, thicker and darker than hard Georgia clay. She hadn’t met an honest, sincere one yet. But if Troy Lee’s letters to his future bride rang true, he could be the real deal. And the type her readers wanted to hear about.
She cleared her throat. “So, what does Claremont have, besides the dude ranch and the fishing camp?”
He grinned. “I was right. You aren’t the dude-ranch or fishing-camp kind of girl.”
She found it very easy to smile at Troy. “I’ll be honest. I’m afraid of horses, but truthfully, I’ve always wanted to learn how to fish.”
“Really, now? Well, I might be able to help you out.”
Destiny already knew that, of course, but she kept her poker face intact. “How could you do that?”
“It just so happens that I have a second job on the weekends running the fishing hole. It isn’t as organized and all as the new fish camp. The Cutter family owns that, and it’s more of a vacation spot. But my grandparents James and Jolaine Bowers own the fishing hole, and it’s the type of place to go if you want to have some quiet time for a day, relax outside, take in the scenery.”
“And catch some fish?”
His dimple popped back into place with his smile. “Yeah, that, too.”
“So you’ll be there this weekend?” Destiny was doing a little fishing right now, and she wasn’t all that discreet about it, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I will.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a leather wallet. “I think I have a couple of their cards left in here. I’ll get you one. It’ll have the address for you. We’re open pretty much from sunup till sundown, so you can come whenever you like.”
“I don’t need a reservation?”
Blue eyes glittered as he looked up from a forest of black lashes. “Nah, it’s not that kind of place.”
She watched his hands, covered in dirt and oil, thumb through the worn wallet, and she noticed a small emblem on one corner of the leather, a gold cross. The symbol reminded her of the main theme of his letters.
I want a bride who loves the Lord more than she loves me.
The statement had caught Destiny unaware, shocked her a little. She didn’t have that kind of faith, didn’t really understand it, but the guy wrote about it so much that she honestly believed he meant those words. And that intrigued her even more.
“I know I have them in here somewhere.”
As he searched for the card, Destiny took the chance to look at his face, and she realized with surprise that it was also fairly well covered with dirt and grime, and one thick smear of what she guessed to be oil across his forehead. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed it before. His features had apparently drawn her attention to the important things. Or maybe it was the words he’d written on those love letters that hid any imperfections.
“Here it is.” He withdrew the card and handed it to Destiny. “You’ll have to excuse the smudge.” He pointed to a black smear along the edge. “You can still read the important stuff. And there’s another business on the back.”
Destiny flipped the card and saw the contact information for the Bowers’ Sporting Goods Shop on the Claremont square.
“My grandparents thought it’d be smart to consolidate their two businesses on one card.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” She tucked the card inside her purse.
The gas pump made a loud racket as it screeched to a stop. “Looks like it’s done.” He moved the nozzle from the tank to the pump. “Took fifty-three dollars’ worth.”
She fished three twenties from her wallet and placed them in his palm.
“Hold on, I’ll get your change.” He turned and walked toward the station where Bo and Maura quickly jerked their attention from the gas pumps to something else at the counter.
Destiny’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the display, saw her managing editor’s name, then answered. “Everything okay with today’s blog?”
The magazine’s website ran an original blog post each day. Usually Destiny wrote the material, but Rita had taken on today’s so Destiny could get on the road sooner. Plus, since their entire staff consisted of merely the two of them, if Destiny didn’t do it, Rita did. Destiny may have footed the start-up expenses and therefore held the “owner” title, but Rita cared just as much about the magazine’s success. Hopefully, if Destiny could keep her advertisers and subscribers happy, she’d one day be able to pay her friend a salary worthy of her efforts.
“Of course, everything’s fine,” Rita said. “I told you I can handle things.”
Destiny grinned. “Okay, so why are you calling?”
“To find out if you met him yet, naturally. Have you? And does he look as good as he sounds on paper?”
“No, he looks better.”
“You don’t say? Well, maybe I should’ve been the one to volunteer for this road trip. Then again, it may be a moot point. His grandmother just called again to make sure we weren’t publishing his letters and also asked for us to return the originals.”
Destiny frowned. Troy’s grandmother had entered several of his love letters in the magazine’s first Love Letter Contest, and his had blown all of the other entries out of the water. Then, when they’d phoned the lady to let her know she’d won, she admitted she didn’t have her grandson’s permission to share them. Rita had offered to call and talk to Troy, but the woman had said she’d try to get his permission. When that didn’t happen quickly, Destiny decided to head to Alabama herself and request it personally. “Did she say anything else?”
“That Troy had told her specifically today that he didn’t want anyone but his future bride seeing those letters and that she wanted to make sure we gave the prize money to whoever came in second...and returned those letters. She said she wants to put them back where she found them before he realizes they’re missing.”
“None of those other letters even held a candle to his, Rita. You know that. And we promised our advertisers a sneak peek into the heart of a true Southern gentleman. Obviously, there aren’t that many of them left, and we’ve found a winner. I’m not giving up on getting his permission to publish them.”
Rita’s laugh echoed through the phone. “I thought you’d say that, but I figured you’d want to know what she said. We still need to mail those letters to her, you know.”
Destiny glanced at the letters that she’d read and reread continually ever since they’d arrived in their PO box. Funny, she felt almost territorial about them, as though they were written to her or something. But they weren’t, and his grandmother wanted to return them to where she had found them. “Okay. We’ll send them back,” she said regretfully.
Troy exited the station and started toward her car.
“Hey, he’s coming this way. Call you back later.” She hung up and tossed the cell back in her purse.
“Here you go.” He placed the bills in her hand, and the simple gesture sent a ripple of awareness up her arm. “So, did you have any other questions?”
“Other questions?” She folded the cash and placed it in the console. “Oh, yes, I do. I need to find the Claremont Bed and Breakfast. Could you tell me where it’s located?”
“Sure, you keep heading down Claremont-Stockville Road, the way you’re going, and you’ll run right into the town square. Head to the opposite side and take the road to Maple Street. It’s a block down on the left. It’s an antebellum plantation, white with double porches all the way around, one on the top floor and the other surrounding the bottom. You can’t miss it. Nice place. L. E. and Annette Tingle run it. They’re good folks. They’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t make any effort to start the engine. She really didn’t want to leave him, but she couldn’t think of another reason to stay.
“But that wasn’t what I meant.” His relaxed and easy tone highlighted his contentment in his world, even if he hadn’t found the woman he’d written to for, oh, fifteen years.
“Wasn’t what you meant? What wasn’t what you meant?”
“I was asking if you have any other questions about small-town living. Maybe I could help you out, beyond just showing you how to fish this weekend. Assuming you visit the fishing hole.” He grinned. “Anyway, ask away. You’re our only customer for the time being. Might as well take advantage of a few minutes to ask small-town questions of the small-town guy.”
She racked her brain for every line of those beautifully written letters, and she suddenly knew exactly what to ask in her quest to begin winning Troy’s trust. “Just one more question, for now.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s Wednesday, and I’d love to attend a midweek worship. Can you tell me if there’s a church in town that I could visit tonight?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d graced a church for a midweek service. In fact, she missed more Sundays than she attended, but she did find her way to church every now and again. And this morning, she’d even found her Bible and packed it for the trip because faith was important to Troy. So for now she’d find hers again, too. Never hurt to spend time in church; she just rarely found the time to make the effort. But she’d make it now.
He hesitated, then one corner of his mouth kicked up a notch, and that dimple made a reappearance. “Sure, Claremont Community Church has a midweek worship. And it’s pretty easy to find. There’s a sign for the church at the end of a road a little ways before you get to the square. You can’t miss it. Worship starts at seven.”
A little ways. The quaint term sounded adorable, especially when delivered with that deep drawl. Instead of asking him exactly how far that constituted, she said, “Sounds great.” She turned the key. “And will you be there?”
“I try to never miss.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” She gave him her best smile and a small wave, and then drove away from the guy she’d planned to meet ever since her magazine received that batch of letters from his grandmother last month. And she’d seen it in his eyes: her church question took him by pleasant surprise. Good. She wanted to convince him to trust her, be her friend and eventually agree to help save her magazine. Perhaps in the process, he’d get his own version of her magazine’s name.
Southern Love.
Chapter Two
Today I saw a vision of what I want for us in the future. Maura packed a picnic lunch for Bo, and the two of them sat behind the service station while I ran the place and they enjoyed their quiet time. I look forward to having quiet time with you, time to reflect on our day, time to reflect on our faith. I look forward to many years sharing quiet time and enjoying each other’s company, building our love together and coming to know each other so well that we can read each other’s thoughts without words.

Troy folded the letter and placed it in the wooden box that held the most recent of the letters that he’d written for the past fifteen years. The thing was, his grandmother had struck a nerve today with her impromptu visit to the station. He hadn’t anticipated passing his twenty-seventh birthday and still not finding the recipient of these letters. Then again, he asked God to send her in His time, so he knew that the Lord would put the right woman in his life one day. Maybe this weekend’s date with Haley Calhoun would be the start of something that would last longer than a date or two.
His mind flashed to Destiny Porter, the woman who’d come by the station today. Silky chocolate hair and bright blue eyes in a pretty heart-shaped face. She wasn’t overly made-up and didn’t appear fake like a lot of girls he knew. Then again, they only seemed fake when they started the bizarre flirting that Troy couldn’t stand. He wanted a woman who spoke from the heart, and he hadn’t found that yet. But this woman, Destiny Porter, had seemed undeniably real. However, she was only passing through, here for a while to write about small-town living. She had big city written all over her, from the snazzy clothes she wore to the flashy car she drove.
No, he couldn’t see himself dating someone like that, but he had found her easy to talk to. And she’d asked about church, not merely church on Sunday but the midweek service. She was visiting from out of town and still took initiative to find a church for worship in the middle of the week.
Troy couldn’t deny he’d been impressed on several levels. Her natural appearance, pretty but not overdone. Her interest in faith, genuine and without putting on a show. And the easy way she’d talked to him, looked at him, seemed comfortable with him.
He glanced back at the wooden box. Those were qualities he’d described several times over the years, a woman who was real, a woman who had faith and a woman he could relate to easily. He’d met Haley at church Sunday morning, and she’d seemed right at home talking about faith and God, even if she’d had to rush out after church when she’d gotten a call about a sick calf. Luckily, he’d already asked her if she’d like to have dinner Friday before she got that call.
He left his house and drove to the church wondering if he’d see the new vet at tonight’s service. Turning onto the parking lot, he immediately spotted Destiny’s bright red convertible parked beneath a huge magnolia. She leaned against the side of the car, a Bible tucked beneath her arm, and the setting sun highlighted her there, smiling at Troy as she held up a hand.
She wore a pale blue sundress with a white sweater and white sandals, her brown hair pulled into a low ponytail on the side, the same way it’d been when he saw her at the station. Like earlier today, she had a natural girl-next-door quality that Troy found appealing. He found himself wondering if she had a guy back in Atlanta, then shook the thought away. She was in a different league, lived a different life than small-town Claremont, and Haley had the very same qualities, pretty and natural and real, but she lived here and admittedly loved small-town living. Troy should keep his focus on the girl he’d go out with in two nights.
But there was no harm in helping the city girl with her story. He pulled his truck in next to her car, grabbed his Bible off the seat and climbed out. “So you found the church okay?”
“Yes, and thanks, your directions were spot-on.” She lifted her shoulders a little as she spoke, and Troy noticed the thin line of pearls circling her slender neck. Matching tiny pearl earrings dotted each ear, and again he thought about how much he liked her simple yet elegant taste. Her look wasn’t over the top, but it was very feminine.
“Well, I’m glad you made it here okay.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of waited for you.” Her smile was shy, sweet, and Troy found himself returning the gesture easily.
“You waited for me?”
“I knew you said you were coming and, I know this sounds crazy, but I get a little nervous when I go somewhere for the first time. I guess it’s that first-day-of-school type feeling, where you don’t know anyone and are hesitant about how you’ll fit in.”
He knew the feeling well and remembered each time he’d experienced it. “First day of school, first day on a job, first date with a girl,” he said, grinning when he thought about how many of those he’d had, “or in your case, with a guy.”
She laughed, and he liked the way even her laughter seemed real, natural, right. “Yes, that’s it. First-day jitters. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind showing me around, maybe letting me know where the classrooms are, or does everyone meet in the auditorium on Wednesdays?”
“We have a few different classes, the youth, singles, young marrieds, middle marrieds, new parents, those types of things.”
She looked surprised. “Wow, that’s a lot of options.”
“Yeah, we have quite a few, but there aren’t that many people in each group. Claremont’s a small town, you know, but the folks at church like their Wednesday night study groups to cover applicable topics.”
“So do you go to the singles class?”
“Nah.” He glanced around for the pale blue pickup that Haley had driven on Sunday but didn’t spot it in the parking lot.
“Looking for someone?”
“Yeah, but I guess she didn’t make it this evening. You ready to go in?”
“I am.” She walked beside him toward the building. “So what class do you go to?”
“I usually go in the auditorium for Brother Henry’s lesson with the main group. Truth is, it’s mostly all of the elderly members of the congregation.” He waited to see if she’d ask why he’d selected that group, and he wasn’t all that certain how he’d explain the choice. Because I’ve dated everyone in the singles class, and I’m not married yet, so young marrieds and middle marrieds won’t exactly fly. Somehow that answer didn’t seem best. Thankfully, she didn’t ask, so he didn’t have to worry about how to respond.
“Could I go with you to that one then, since I’ll know someone there?”
“Sure. Bo and Maura, the couple that you met this afternoon who own the service station, will be in the class. And the Tingles, who own the bed-and-breakfast where you’re staying, will be there, too. So you’ll actually know a few.”
“I can feel those first-day jitters going away already.”
He opened the door for her when they reached the top of the church steps. She passed near him, smiled and thanked him. And Troy found himself inhaling her faintly floral scent, not a strong perfume that overpowered his senses, but a pleasing fresh fragrance.
She responded to the greeters inside the lobby, and he noticed how easily she chatted and exchanged small talk with Bryant and Anna Bowman, the older couple assigned to welcoming everyone this evening. If she did feel the first-day jitters, or like a fish out of water, in the small community church, it didn’t show. In fact, she looked very much at ease making her way through the lobby with Troy introducing her to those still visiting before class.
By the time they reached the auditorium, Brother Henry was getting ready to pray. Troy directed her to his regular pew, midway from the front and in the center of the church. He saw a few church members take an unhidden interest in the woman situating herself on the pew beside Troy. Most noticeable were his mother and grandmother, sitting together as usual in the second row. No, they shouldn’t have turned around and gawked at Troy when he came in, but that was their nature. And it took his grandfather and father tapping their shoulders before they turned around. Of course, his grandfather and father also stared at the pretty girl by his side.
Troy sent his dad a subtle shake of his head to make sure he’d get the hint that this wasn’t anything more than him sitting with the newcomer. Hopefully his dad would fill his mother and grandparents in before church ended and they were stuck to Ms. Porter like white on rice.
As was typical with the Wednesday night service, Brother Henry moved around the room and offered each member in attendance a chance to read the next passage in their class material or the next Bible verse. Troy noticed Destiny having a difficult time locating Philippians, and when it neared her time to read, he leaned over and touched her Bible.
“Want me to help you find it?”
Her cheeks blushed pink, and he was afraid he’d embarrassed her.
“I noticed you’re using a new Bible, so I’m sure you’re probably still learning where everything’s located in that one. Amazing how a different font or a translation can do that, huh?” He kept his voice as low as possible so as not to disturb the other class members and also so he wouldn’t point out the fact that she was having a hard time.
Her look of embarrassment all but disappeared. “Yes, thanks.”
“You want to take the next one, Troy?” Brother Henry’s voice took their attention off each other and back to the study.
Troy read the verse. As soon as he finished, he flipped to the next verse in Destiny’s Bible, so she was ready when Brother Henry asked if she’d like to read.
When the class ended, Troy wasn’t surprised to see his mother and grandmother making a beeline for his pew. He knew better than to try to leave; they’d just chase him down in the parking lot.
“Mom, Grandma, this is Destiny. She’s visiting from Atlanta.”
“Really? You don’t say.” His mother’s ambitious nod and smile went overboard. Troy knew she was ready for him to find the right one, but she could stand to tone down the look of hope at him merely standing beside the visiting lady.
But his mother’s look had nothing on his grandmother’s. Jolaine Bowers’s blue eyes were so wide, her smile so bright, that Troy wouldn’t be at all surprised if she didn’t start clapping and tell him that it was high time he gave her some great-grandchildren, and that she thought Destiny perfect for the job. Then her head tilted, and she looked confused. “Destiny? I thought your name was Haley. Haley Calhoun.”
“Haley didn’t make it tonight,” Troy said.
Her brows shot up with such force they nearly disappeared beneath her bangs. “I thought our talk today helped you.” She attempted to whisper, but people in the lobby probably heard.
“Destiny is visiting town to write a story, and I offered to help. She also asked where to attend a midweek Bible study, so I told her, and she came.” Troy picked up his Bible from the pew and waited for the interrogation to continue.
His grandmother didn’t disappoint. “So you’re still going out with Haley on Friday?” She looked to Destiny. “I’m sorry, dear, but we’re working on the fact that my grandson has been labeled a player.”
“Mother, really.” Troy’s mom shook her head. “Forgive my mom,” she said to Destiny, “I’m afraid she’s long since lost her filter for what information to share and what she should keep to herself.”
“The whole town knows it,” his grandmother said. “Just go to the beauty shop and ask them. Or the quilting group. Or our online loop.”
Troy could tell Destiny didn’t know how to respond, and he grinned. “My grandmother’s definition of a player and the one you’re thinking of probably don’t coincide, but for now, I won’t try to explain.” He edged toward his grandmother, hugged her and lowered his voice. “I appreciate you attempting to help me out, but I think I’ve got this. I’m still going out with Haley on Friday, but I believe I can help Ms. Porter write her story on small-town living, too.”
She huffed out a breath. “If you say so.” But then she seemed to focus on the positive aspect of Destiny’s occupation. “Wait, you’re a writer? You write for newspapers, magazines? Or do you write books?” Her look of admiration grew along with the size of the publications she listed. “Are you a bestseller or something like that?” Her head bobbed and she appeared a bit starstruck. “Have you written anything that we might find at A Likely Story?”
“A Likely Story?” Destiny asked, handling this grilling fairly well, in Troy’s opinion. He’d have to apologize profusely later, if he ever got her away from his mother and grandmother.
“A Likely Story is our local bookstore, on the town square,” his mother explained. “It’s been here since I was a little girl, and it’s adorable. You have to visit the store while you’re in town.”
“Oh, yes, you must visit,” his grandmother continued. “Maybe we could set up a book signing for you there. Do you have any recent releases? I’ll make sure to ask David Presley, the store owner, to order plenty of your books.”
“No relation,” Troy’s mother said.
“Relation?” Destiny asked.
“To Elvis, of course,” his grandmother explained, and Troy began to think that he probably owed this woman more than an apology, maybe a cup of coffee or even dinner, for what his mother and grandmother were putting her through right now. But that’d qualify as a date, and he’d already asked out Haley Calhoun. No need to feed his player reputation by asking the writer out, too. But if his grandmother didn’t back down, she might ditch her story on small-town living. Or title it “The Twilight Zone” and sell it to a sci-fi mag. “And we can put it in the church bulletin announcements. When would you like to have your signing, dear?”
He could tell Destiny didn’t know how to answer his eccentric family’s questions, so he decided to help her out. “She said she’s writing a story about small towns,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure that means she’s writing for a newspaper or maybe a magazine. Probably not a novelist, are you, Destiny?”
Her cheeks lifted with her smile and made her eyes appear a more brilliant blue within the long, dark lashes. “That’s right, I’m not.” And then, at his grandmother’s obvious look of disappointment, she added, “But I’ve always dreamed about writing a book. Maybe I’ll try it one day.”
Grandma’s grin reclaimed her face. “Well, that sounds wonderful, just wonderful. You should write one about Claremont, definitely. It’s a small town, but plenty goes on in a small town, let me tell you.”
Troy feared that she might start telling her all about the plenty going on, courtesy of her time today at the beauty shop. “Grandma, I’m going to walk Destiny out to her car.” He knew if he left without Destiny, the questioning would continue, and he could only imagine what they’d ask if he wasn’t standing nearby. “I’ll see you at the fishing hole on Saturday.”
“Would you like to come to the fishing hole, too, Destiny?” his grandmother asked. “It’s really a lot nicer than it sounds. James and I have been fixing the place up for years, and it’s almost as pretty as Hydrangea Park. It’d make a good addition to your story. I’ll fix you some of my famous chicken fingers while you’re there. And a chocolate pie. Maybe some of my peach delight. I bet you haven’t had peach delight before.”
“I’m sure she’d love your peach delight, Mama, but she probably needs to leave. The church is nearly empty.” Troy’s mother wrapped an arm around his grandmother and kissed her cheek. He loved them both dearly, even if they did tend to meddle a little—or a lot—more than they should.
“Aw, thanks, dear. Well, maybe Destiny could put the fishing hole in her book.” She gave another look of hope, and this one had nothing to do with eliminating Troy’s player status and everything to do with advertising. “What do you think?”
“When I write the book, I just might,” Destiny said, and Troy commended her silently for appeasing his precious, albeit determined, grandmother.
They walked toward the lobby, the crowd thinning as everyone made their way home, and Troy noticed the straight white-blond hair that had first caught his attention Sunday morning. The new veterinarian stood at the church doorway chatting with Brother Henry. “Haley?”
She turned and smiled. “Hey.”
Troy took the few steps to close the distance between them. “I figured you didn’t make it to the service.”
“I put on a watch that I’d forgotten to change from Eastern to Central time and actually showed up an hour early. Then I left when I got a call from John Cutter about his mare getting sick. And by the time I got done there and cleaned up, I was late to church.” She laughed. “Seems I can’t ever get my timing right.”
“That’s okay,” Brother Henry said. “We’re glad you made it. Which class did you attend?”
“The singles class, and I enjoyed it very much.”
“Maybe you should attend that class again, Troy.” His grandmother had naturally been eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation. “I’m Jolaine Bowers, Troy’s grandmother. So you’re Haley Calhoun? The new vet?”
Haley nodded. “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand.
“Wonderful to meet you,” his grandmother said, taking Haley’s hand and then squeezing it. “My, you sure are pretty, aren’t you? Don’t you think so, Troy?”
Troy said a quick prayer that his grandmother would let up. “Yes,” he said, then when he was certain his grandmother had looked away, he mouthed to Haley, “Sorry.”
She laughed softly, and he liked the sound. Then she looked from Troy to Destiny, still standing nearby.
Troy mentally slapped himself for forgetting the natural introduction. “Haley, this is Destiny. She’s visiting Claremont from Atlanta and writing about small-town living. She came by the station today, and I offered to help her with her story. Then I told her about the church service tonight, and she came.” Why did he feel like he was giving an explanation of his normal actions?
Luckily, neither girl looked as though his clarification sounded odd, but he caught his grandmother’s brow lift and knew she could tell he was, for some reason, uncomfortable.
“I think a story about Claremont would be very interesting. I moved here last week from Ocala, Florida. The lifestyle is so different here. Everyone knows everyone.” She grinned. “They even know each other’s pets.”
“Maybe I could talk to you about the differences between Ocala and Claremont,” Destiny said, then added, “for my story.”
“That’d be great.”
“I’m going to head back to the bed-and-breakfast.” Destiny looked to Brother Henry. “I enjoyed your lesson.”
“Thank you. I hope we’ll see you again while you’re in town.”
She glanced toward Troy, then Haley, and answered, “You will.”
Troy said goodbye and watched her leave, then he chatted awhile with Haley about her day and about the plans he had for their upcoming date. She was easy to talk to, naturally pretty, obviously loved God and had a strong faith. But Troy couldn’t deny that while he talked to the attractive vet, looked into her deep green eyes, he kept thinking about the woman who’d sat beside him in class, let him help her navigate the new Bible and kept his interest throughout the day.
Troy swallowed, put the image of bright blue eyes away and focused on trying not to live up to his player classification. “I’m looking forward to Friday, too,” he said, while out of the corner of his eye, he watched the red Beemer drive away.
Chapter Three
“You do realize I don’t expect you to work on the holiday.” Destiny hit the speaker button and placed her cell phone on the white wicker table beside her rocking chair on the B and B’s porch. She’d been out here writing and surfing the internet most of the day, but she hadn’t expected Rita to spend her Fourth of July away from fun, too.
“I know that, and I’ve been at Lake Lanier all morning with my family. Just thought I’d check emails this afternoon before we head to the fireworks in Gwinnett County tonight.”
Destiny took a sip of Annette Tingle’s delicious fresh-squeezed lemonade. She imagined a lot of families spent the day together on lakes or beaches or merely visiting in the family home. Her own family had gathered for a barbecue, according to one of the many text messages her mother had sent throughout the day. The majority of the texts, of course, reminded Destiny that she was chasing a pipe dream and told her she should be in Atlanta with her family and spending her time finding a real job. And as if the text messages weren’t enough...
“Hey, did your mother ever get hold of you?”
The sweet lemonade suddenly turned bitter. Destiny placed the cool glass on the table and took the phone off speaker in case Mr. or Mrs. Tingle came outside. She didn’t need to share her family’s discontent with the world. “Did Mama call you?”
“Just a couple of times. Mostly she sent texts. Oh, and here’s a couple of emails from her in my in-box.”
Destiny’s jaw tensed, and she consciously forced it to relax before she chipped a tooth. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known she wouldn’t have been satisfied with my responses to her texts.”
“How’d you respond?”
“Same way I always respond. I told her I’m fine.” Destiny heard the front door creak open and turned to see Mr. Tingle heading out with more red, white and blue bunting for the porch railing. Mrs. Tingle followed, opened her mouth to say hello but then closed it when she saw Destiny on the phone, and gave her a polite finger wave as they went about hanging even more decorations. They’d already lined the sidewalk with tiny American flags, placed planters filled with red, white and blue flowers on every porch step and draped each bush with patriotic twinkle lights. And they weren’t finished yet.
“That’s it? You texted that you’re fine?” Rita didn’t do a very good job at muffling her laugh. “So I’m guessing she’s now totally convinced that you aren’t fine, right? Back in college, she’d have already driven over to figure out exactly what was wrong.” Before becoming Destiny’s pitifully paid but devoted managing editor, Rita had been her best friend through high school and her roommate in college. And during those years at the University of Georgia, she got a full taste of Geneva Porter’s persistence.
Destiny’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she didn’t bother checking the sender. No doubt her mom’s persistence was still in full force. “She never thinks I’m fine, because if I’m not doing exactly what she has planned for my life, then I’m obviously doomed.” Destiny noticed the Tingles exchange a look as they hung the next section of bunting and realized her voice easily carried across the porch. She smiled at the sweet couple, and Mrs. Tingle smiled back, but there was a hint of pity in her eyes.
Destiny smiled brighter, determined to convince someone today that she really was fine. “The decorations look amazing,” she said to the pair.
“Why, thank you, dear. L.E. is a real champ helping me decorate everything for the holidays. You should see this place at Christmas.” She leaned toward her husband and kissed his cheek.
Destiny may not have ever found love herself, but she knew it when she saw it, and she made a mental note to write the Tingles’ love story for her magazine before she headed back to Atlanta.
“The town is decorated for the Fourth?” Rita asked, reminding Destiny that her friend was still on the line.
“Yeah, every house on Maple Street looks like a cake decorated with red, white and blue icing.”
Mr. Tingle, obviously hearing her description, nodded as though that were an accurate assessment, and Mrs. Tingle followed suit. They were so content, so undeniably happy running the bed-and-breakfast together. Destiny wondered what that’d be like, to “fit” so well with someone that even regular daily activities became a joy because you were together.
She’d never known that. And truthfully, she’d never seen that in her own home. Her mother, quite frankly, didn’t seem to be happy unless she was miserable. Or making someone else miserable, namely Destiny. Her sister, Beverly, however, did no wrong. Destiny loved her younger sis, even if her mom did play favorites and she’d come up with the short straw.
“Oh, just got another text from your mom. She’s asking me if you’ve talked to your sister today.”
Destiny closed her eyes, counted to five—if she went to ten, she’d just miss another text from her mom—then said, “Something must be up. I’ll call you back later. Let me figure out what’s going on with Mom.”
“Good luck with that.”
Destiny smiled and was grateful that her friend was able to afford her that luxury. “Yeah, I know. You go have fun and enjoy the fireworks, and tell your family I said hello.”
“I will, but promise me you’ll do the same. There’s gotta be something fun to do there if they’re decorating the place so much. Maybe Claremont, Alabama, will top the Gwinnett fireworks display.”
Destiny doubted the small town did all that much for the holiday, but if the decorations on Maple Street were any indication, they went all out as much as they could. “I’ll see what’s going on.”
“And you’ll actually join in the fun?” Rita asked. “That’s part of your problem, you know, you work too much and don’t get out to enjoy life. Who knows, you may actually meet Mr. Right down there.” Then before allowing Destiny to provide her trademark answer, that she didn’t believe such a man existed, at least not for her, Rita added, “Hey, what about Troy Lee?”
“What about him?” Surely her friend wasn’t suggesting that the country boy with the tender heart was Destiny’s Mr. Right. Because that would never work, ever. The only reason she wanted to even meet the guy was to get his permission to run his love letters. She’d never take an interest in him herself.
Vivid blue eyes within a sea of black lashes suddenly flashed into her mind, along with that deadly dimple. And the fact that he was so solidly grounded in his faith. That rich baritone reading the Bible verses in church last night had given her chills, and in a good way. He hadn’t been putting on a show at church; he’d believed every word he read in those Bible scriptures about rejoicing. And listening to him, Destiny had found herself yearning to feel that way, to experience that faith, to find that kind of contentment. In fact, she’d thought about the Bible lesson several times throughout the day and about how Troy truly seemed to have the joy mentioned in those scriptures.
She’d never had that kind of joy, or that kind of faith, which emphasized how different her background was from Troy’s. And then there was his family. She’d read lots about them in his letters and how he wanted a family like that one day—big and boisterous and happy. Destiny couldn’t imagine a family like that for herself. No, she and a guy like Troy Lee would never mesh.
“Did you see him today?” Rita continued. “You said you were going to try to talk to him again at the filling station, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I’d planned to, but I wasn’t thinking about today being a holiday. I rode over early this morning, but it was closed.” Then she’d come back and camped out on this porch all day. Oddly, she hadn’t felt bored. The scene was too pretty not to enjoy every minute, and she’d gotten a good deal of writing done for her next few blog posts, primarily focusing on Southern charm and the way all Southerners enjoy a reason to celebrate. She wondered how Troy was celebrating. “I’m going to try to see him tomorrow.”
“Think he’ll give you permission to run the letters? We had another batch of emails from subscribers asking when they’d get to read some of the love letters you promised in last month’s issue. I think they’re wanting some sort of teaser.”
“Well, the teaser was when I said we’d have them this month. That’s as good as I can do until I gain the rights to publish.” And she had to gain Troy Lee’s trust first, which meant spending time with him, but there hadn’t been a way to make that happen today. According to his grandmother, he had no desire whatsoever to share his private letters with the world. Destiny had to somehow change his mind.
“Maybe you should write about him in your blog posts, that you’ve met him and all. Describe him to your readers so they can get to know the man whose letters they’ll read in the next issue.”
“That’s a good idea. And I’ll go back to the filling station tomorrow, and then I’ll go to the fishing hole on Saturday. Should be able to spend some time with him both days.” And she also knew how to see him on Sunday: by making another appearance at church. Funny, she found herself looking forward to visiting the small congregation again.
“Well...” Rita drew out the word. “Maybe he’s your Mr. Right.”
Destiny controlled the tone of her response to hide any indication that she’d discounted that very thought not five minutes ago. “You’re dreaming big today, aren’t you?”
“They say opposites attract.”
Destiny wondered how many opposites Rita noticed when she thought of herself and Troy. Let’s see, there was the faith thing; that was one. A big, happy family; that was two. Honest and trustworthy; a big fat three and four.
She shook the thought—and all of the many opposites, which, she assumed, could pile up quick if she kept counting—and decided to nip this conversation in the bud before Rita got carried away with the crazy notion. “He’s dating someone.” That wasn’t actually true, since from what his grandmother said at church his first official date with Haley Calhoun was tomorrow night. But the two had looked quite beautiful together when Destiny left them talking at the church. And that was close enough to dating; plus, it’d get Rita off her back.
“Aw, that’s a shame.”
“I write about the good guys and the potential that they actually exist. I don’t pretend to believe that one will ever be a part of my world. For me, it’s the bad experiences that ring true. I’ll just keep writing about those, when it comes to my love life.” She forced a laugh. “I sure have plenty of material to work with.”
“Bless your heart.” Annette Tingle’s whispered words came from the other side of the porch railing, where she and L.E. continued tacking up the bunting, and Destiny was once again reminded how her voice carried.
“No, really, it’s okay,” she said to the sweet lady, and gave her another smile that must’ve come off as pretty fake, judging from the way Mrs. Tingle still shook her head.
Another text buzzed in on the line, and Destiny wrapped up the conversation. “Mom’s still trying to get me. I’ve gotta let you go.”
“Okay, but I’m not hanging up until you promise you’ll have some fun before the day ends.”
Destiny laughed, a real one this time. “I’ll have some fun.”
“You’ll have some fun today. Say it.”
“I promise I’ll have some fun today.” She looked up in time to see both of the Tingles nodding.
“We’ll get you an itinerary of tonight’s activities on the town square. Claremont really pulls out all the stops for holidays,” Mr. Tingle said.
“I heard that,” Rita chirped through the line. “And if they ‘pull out all the stops,’ then there should be something you can do to have a good time and forget about work.”
Destiny grinned. “I’m sure you’re right.” She really did need to get her mind off the magazine for a little while. The toll of knowing the majority of her advertisers threatened to pull out if she didn’t get her subscription numbers up was wearing her down.
If she hadn’t sunk almost all of her savings into starting and then advertising it, and if she didn’t have to listen to her mother tell her every day of her life how unwise a move that was, maybe it’d be a little easier to relax and have fun every now and then. Plus, there was Rita. Destiny’s friend had believed in the idea from the get-go and worked as hard as Destiny to make it shine. If Destiny could get her numbers up and gain those subscriptions and advertisers, she’d finally be able to pay Rita the type of salary she deserved. Rita was such a great friend, even calling on her holiday to make sure Destiny had some fun.
The phone buzzed with yet another text message.
No doubt Destiny wouldn’t be allowed to have fun until her mother was appeased. “Talk to you later, Rita.” She disconnected then scanned the list of missed calls and texts.
Shockingly enough, not all of them were from her mother. Half were from Beverly. And as Destiny wondered which person to call first, the phone rang. Thankfully, it was her sister. She clicked the call button.
“Hey, Bevvie, what’s going on?”
“Has Mom called you? Have you talked to her yet? I told her to let me talk to you first, but I know how hard it is for her to keep anything to herself.” Her sister’s voice was breathless, as though she’d just finished the Peachtree Marathon or something. Which, come to think of it, the annual marathon had been this morning, and Bevvie usually ran in the event.
“Oh, wow, did you win the Peachtree?”
Beverly’s laughter rolled through the line. “No, silly, I didn’t even run. I’d planned to, but Jared wanted me to go with him this morning to Stone Mountain. We hiked to the top and watched the most amazing sunrise I’ve ever seen. Oh, Destiny, it was so beautiful.”
The happiness in her sister’s voice pierced Destiny’s heart a little, not because she was jealous of what Bevvie had found with Jared, but because she doubted she’d ever sound—or feel—that happy. How many guys had broken Destiny’s heart? Oh, right, she’d stopped counting after five. “That sounds nice, Bev.”
“Oh, it was so much better than nice, Destiny. I’m so happy! And I’m glad I’m getting to tell you before Mom. You haven’t talked to her yet, have you?”
The phone buzzed, and Destiny didn’t check the display to verify that her mother was still going at it. “Not yet, but I think she’s still trying to get through.”
“Awesome, then I get to tell you the news. Jared asked me to marry him this morning, as the sun came up. Marry him! Destiny, I’m engaged! Can you believe it? Engaged! And we’re going to have a short engagement, planning to get married on Christmas Eve. Won’t that be great? I want you to be my maid of honor, of course. You will, won’t you?”
Destiny blinked a couple of times. “Of course.” She swallowed, gathered her bearings. Her little sister, three years younger, had a great job, a super guy and an engagement ring on her finger.
“I’ve been waiting to put the pictures on Facebook until I talk to you, but you’ll be able to see them soon. Mom took them. Can you believe that? After Jared asked Daddy for my hand—wow, it’s so exciting saying that!—anyway, after that, then he asked Mom and Dad if they could hike the mountain early this morning so they could witness everything and take the photos. I didn’t even see them up there, but they were watching and saw everything. Dad even cried.”
Their mother always sported a camera and loved taking photographs, though Destiny was sure taking engagement pictures of their daughter topped any other photo op. “I’m happy for you, Bevvie.” And she meant it. She was happy. Which really didn’t make sense with the tears dripping solidly down her cheeks. They traced a path along her jaw and down her throat, and Destiny didn’t bother wiping them away.
A tissue materialized in front of her face, and she looked up to see Mrs. Tingle handing her an entire box. She forced a smile, mouthed “thanks,” and then continued to listen to Beverly discuss everything about her morning and her plans for the wedding while Destiny swiped at her cheeks, jaw and throat. “The entire church will be decorated snow-white and accented by crimson poinsettias. I think we’ll use a lot of those little twinkle lights, too. But a lot of that will be up to the wedding coordinator, or wedding planner, whatever you call it. Mom says we’re getting the best, one of her friends from the country club. Can you believe it?”
Destiny imagined all of the plans their mother had already started. Finally, a daughter getting married. Definitely cause for a Geneva Porter celebration. “It’ll be gorgeous, Bevvie. I can’t wait.”
“Me either!”
Destiny took a deep breath, lifted the Fourth of July itinerary from where Mrs. Tingle had placed it on the table by her lemonade and box of tissues, and saw that the parade would start in an hour. She could use a parade right now. Actually, what she could really use was a ridiculous abundance of ice cream, but a parade would do. “I’m going to check out some of the holiday things going on in Claremont tonight. Give Jared a hug for me and tell him I’m excited to be gaining a brother.”
“Oh, I will. I’ve been hugging him all day, isn’t that right, honey?” She laughed as she apparently distributed another hug to her boyfriend—correction—fiancé. “Love you, sis!”
Destiny closed her eyes and prayed that the tears slipping beneath her lashes were the last of them. “Love you right back.” She heard the line click as Bevvie, still laughing, disconnected, then opened her eyes and saw she’d missed two more texts from her mom. Rather than attempt a conversation with her right now, when she knew her mother would pick up on her tiny pity party, she sent a simple text.

Bevvie called with her news. So happy for her! Can’t wait for her big day.

Then she powered down the phone, finished her lemonade and decided that one way or another, she was going to follow Rita’s instructions and enjoy the rest of her day. Starting with a parade.
* * *
Troy loved the Fourth of July. His family always got into holiday gatherings, but the Fourth was especially fun because Claremont had so much to offer for the big day. They’d started out the morning at the fishing hole with the annual family fishing competition. The youngest member of the group, Troy’s three-year-old niece, Lily, won...with a little help from Troy, handing her his fishing rod whenever he caught a fish, while the remainder of the family pretended not to notice and Lily did her best to keep the secret. It was almost as much fun watching the little girl try to contain her giggles as it was to see everyone cheer for her accomplishment each time she “caught” another fish.
Next they’d eaten enough of his grandmother’s crispy fried chicken fingers, creamy potato salad, buttery corn on the cob and every other traditional fixing she’d prepared, then followed that with a family Bible study by the lake. After a little more fishing, a refreshing swim and then quite a few family members taking naps on quilts by the water while Troy and his brothers played a fairly intense round of ultimate Frisbee, the entire group cleaned up and gathered again at the town square for Claremont’s night of “Fun on the Fourth.”
Troy’s four younger brothers, ranging in age from fourteen to twenty-one, were already involved in an impromptu game of tag football with some other guys their age while the town waited for the parade to start. At twenty-seven, Troy was older than the group, so he didn’t join in. He still liked sports, but the guys his age didn’t typically hog the large grassy area near the center of the square the way they did when they were teens. Most, in fact, were here with their wives, and some already had kids. However, the “older” gang still got together regularly for their men’s baseball league, which Troy enjoyed immensely. But even then, he was usually the odd man out, since the remainder of them had their wives or steady girlfriends in the stands cheering them on.
There was a baseball game scheduled for Sunday afternoon. Maybe, if tomorrow night’s date went well, he’d see if Haley wanted to come. He’d texted her earlier and asked if she’d be attending the parade tonight, and she’d responded that she was catching up on some paperwork but that she’d try. He let her know that his family would watch the parade in front of the Sweet Stop candy shop, same place they camped out every year for the event. Scanning the area beneath the red-and-white-striped awning that identified the store, he didn’t see any sign of the pretty blonde. He’d keep an eye out for her, though, because it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time with her tonight. A “pre-date” date, so to speak. And it’d give his family a chance to get to know the girl he planned on trying to go out with more than once. Their opinion of his future bride was important, as he’d written in several of his letters over the years. Funny how he suddenly felt as though they’d meet her soon, or maybe had already met her.
Is that feeling coming from You, Lord? Have I finally met her? Would he spend this Fourth of July at the town square watching the parade with his future bride?
“I don’t care how many times we come here for the Fourth, it always takes my breath away.” Troy’s sister, Becca, Lily’s mom, smiled brightly as she took in the scene. “I wish Joey could’ve come with us.” Her husband, a Claremont policeman, was on duty tonight and would miss the fun at the square; however, he’d been with the family for fishing and picnicking earlier, so he’d at least participated in some of the family’s holiday fun.
Troy and the remainder of the family tried to keep Becca busy whenever Joey pulled night duty. Even though there was little to no crime in Claremont, his sis still got nervous when her husband patrolled at night.
“I’m sure the decorations will still be up tomorrow for the First Friday celebration. Maybe the two of you can bring Lily here for that and he can enjoy the scene then.”
“I’d forgotten about tomorrow being First Friday.” She nodded. “That’s a great idea.”
On the first Friday of each month, Claremont held a festival where the local artists and vendors displayed their wares and performed for the town. Everyone came to the event and, while it wasn’t the Fourth of July, it would still be a fun activity for Becca to enjoy with her husband. The smile on her face said she agreed.
“And I bet you’re right,” she said. “They’ll keep all the decorations up for tomorrow. Probably the only thing missing will be the fireworks.”
“Probably so.” Troy took in the scene as well, tiny white lights capping the eaves of every storefront, patriotic ribbons and flags hanging from each window and lamppost, even red, white and blue spotlights showcasing the three-tiered fountain in the center of the square.
The place was always appealing, but especially so on holidays, when all the shop owners brought their merchandise out to the sidewalks and visited with the customers and one another as the entire town joined in the fun. Troy’s parents were helping his grandfather welcome customers at Bowers’ Sporting Goods, but his grandmother had opted to stay with the remainder of the family, mainly because she loved watching all of the kids enjoy the parade, and she also liked to catch a little candy for herself.
Several local bands, including Troy’s favorite Christian group, More Than This, took turns playing on the event’s main stage. An abundance of artists had easels set up and were painting outside Gina Brown’s Art Gallery, and Troy spotted Gina alongside her protégés. He waved at the sweet lady who, like Troy, attended services at the church every time the doors were open and, with paintbrush in hand, she waved back.

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