Green Mountain Collection 1 by Marie Force (3)

She’d left her scent in his truck. All the way home to his cabin in the woods outside of town Will was stuck with the reminder of his encounter with the city girl. Meeting her had brought back memories of women he’d known in college, who’d come to the University of Vermont from the city and spent four years poking fun at the mountain lifestyle he treasured.

Actually, she reminded him of Lisa, who’d arrived at UVM from Boston. Will had made the monumental mistake of falling in love with her and of thinking he could convince her to stay after they graduated. Ignoring the signals she was sending that she couldn’t wait to go home to the city, Will had proposed, hoping he was enough to convince her to stay.

He wasn’t.

He hadn’t thought of that disaster in a long time, and it was no coincidence that the encounter with Cameron had brought it all back to remind him to steer clear of women like her who didn’t belong in his world and never would. From the tips of those extravagant suede boots to the ridiculous fur-trimmed vest to the cultured way she spoke, she was a city girl through and through. Even her silly little car was so out of place in the mountains it was laughable.

Just because everything male in him had stood up and taken notice of her didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. In fact, he’d be wise to continue pretending that nothing about her appealed to him. Tomorrow, she’d get a good dose of the Abbott family dynamics, and if she was smart, she’d hightail it back to the city the minute her toy car was drivable again.

Speaking of her car, Nolan already had it hitched to the tow truck.

On the way by, Will slowed down and opened the window. “Thanks, Nolan.”

“Hey, Will, no problem. Fred did a number on the car, huh?”

“Sure did,” Will said. “The owner is a woman named Cameron.”

“Is that a girl’s name?”

“So I’m told. She’ll be by to talk to you in the morning. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

A few miles past the scene of the accident, Will turned on to the muddy road that led to his cabin, and his truck switched automatically into four-wheel drive. This time of year, mud rather than snow made the roads impassable. Bumping over the chuckholes in the road, he made his way—slowly—to the end and cut the engine.

As he approached the front door, the scurry of paws on wood met him as they did on evenings when the dogs didn’t accompany him to work. He opened the door to an enthusiastic greeting from his two yellow labs, Trevor and Tanner. “Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late tonight. Had to help a damsel in distress.”

Will fed the dogs and cracked open a beer before he reached for the phone to call Hunter.

“Hey, man,” Hunter said. “What’s up?”

“Dad’s done it again.”

“What now?”

Will told his brother about his encounter with the web designer from New York City.

“Are you serious? What part of ‘we don’t want a website’ didn’t he get?”

“Apparently the part where we said no.”

“Goddamn it. When is he going to retire anyway?”

“Who knows?”

“This is great,” Hunter said with a long sigh. “I’m so not up for another big showdown with him.”

“Neither am I.” Will took a drink of his beer. “So what’s the plan?”

“Damned if I know. I guess we’ll hear what she has to say and then figure out how to give her the polite brush-off.”

“Why does he want to take our perfectly nice local business and turn it into a big national production? We all make plenty of money. Why isn’t that enough for him?”

“You know how he is. Always thinking bigger and better.”

“While we’re thinking smaller is good—and manageable.”

“Right. So what’s she like? The web designer?”

“Typical city girl. You know the type. Get this—she smacked her car into Fred on the way into town.”

“No shit?” Hunter let out a bark of laughter. “That’s a hell of a welcome. Is Fred okay?”

“He seemed fine, but her car—not so much. She got a bruised nose and a coupla shiners from the airbag.”

“Ouch. Well, hopefully she’ll get the gist that we aren’t buying what she’s selling and we’ll be rid of her.”

“Let’s hope so.” Will didn’t want to ponder the alternative. If she stuck around, he already sensed she’d challenge his pledge to avoid women like her. It would be just as well if she left before resisting temptation became a problem.

Cameron woke up the next morning feeling like she’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. With her face throbbing, she tried to remember if she’d been in an actual fistfight the night before. As images from the mooseastrophy ran through her mind, she realized even her lips seemed swollen. Moaning, she forced herself out of the incredibly comfortable bed and into the bathroom to view the damage.

She let out a scream at what greeted her in the mirror. Her features were black, blue and swollen almost beyond recognition. Sure enough, her lips had exploded overnight. No amount of makeup would cover this mess. Tears filled her eyes as she went looking for her phone. “Please have a signal. Please.” The phone lit up with three strong bars. “Thank you, Jesus.”

Cameron found her best friend and business partner Lucy’s number on her list of favorites and pressed Send.

“Buenos dias,” Lucy said, endlessly cheerful in the morning, which had long ago stopped irritating Cameron, who was anything but a morning person. “Did you make it there in one piece?”

“Luce,” Cameron said, trying not to fall apart completely.

“What is it, hon?”

“I smashed into the town moose, my whole face is swollen, I lost my suede boots and the car is demolished.”

“You lost the new suede boots?”

Leave it to Lucy to focus on the boots. “Lucy! My face is a wreck, and I have the meeting at the store in just over an hour. What am I going to do?”

“I, um, what about cover-up?”

“Hang on.” Cameron went into the bathroom, snapped a photo of her face in the mirror and texted it to Lucy. A second later her friend’s scream came through the phone line loud and clear. “Thanks. That helps.”

“Holy hell,” Lucy said. “How did that happen?”

“Have you heard anything I said? I smashed into the town’s moose, the airbags deployed and did this to my face.”

“The town has a moose?”

“Lucy, have you taken your ADD meds today?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot.”

Spurred by the reminder, Cameron took the tiny pill that kept her focused during the day and chased it with a drink of water. “I can’t do the meeting. Not looking like this.”

“You have to do it. We need the retainer, Cam. The payroll for next week is a bit tight.”

Since Lucy often sugarcoated bad news, Cameron knew “a bit tight” meant nonexistent. “Don’t pay me.”

“The tightness includes not paying you.”

“Crap.”

“Land this new client, and we’ll be saved.”

“How can I go in there looking like this?”

“Do they know about the accident with the moose?”

“One of the sons does. He sort of rescued me and infuriated me at the same time.”

“Oh, do tell. Sounds like there’s a story.”

“He’s hot but cranky. Definitely not my type.” As she said the words, a tingle of sensation attacked her backbone, making her squirm on the bed. No matter what her backbone might be trying to tell her, she was not attracted to Will Abbott. She hadn’t even liked him.

“Hot but cranky. Very interesting.”

“Lucy, focus! What do I do about my face?”

“Well, you can still talk and still walk them through the PowerPoint we put together, right? I don’t see why you can’t take the meeting and apologize for your messed-up face.”

“I so don’t need this right now. And my car,” she said with a moan. “My beautiful new car that I couldn’t afford.”

“Cam, I know you don’t want to ask your dad—”

“Stop. Don’t go there. That’s not an option.”

“Then you’d better land that new account today, bruises or no bruises.”

“I’ll do my best.” The thought of seeing sexy, grumpy Will Abbott again when she looked like the creature from the black lagoon turned Cameron’s stomach. She prided herself on her impeccable appearance and often relied on her equally impeccable sense of style to wow prospective clients.

Well, her face may be a mess, but she could still bring it on the style front. “I’d better get going if I’m going to make the ten o’clock meeting. I also have to figure out what’s up with my car.”

“Keep me posted. We’re all pulling for you, hon.”

“Thanks, Luce. I’ll call you later—if there’s a signal.”

Cameron jumped in the shower to wash and condition her long blonde hair. She spent twenty minutes drying and straightening, keeping her focus on her hair so she wouldn’t obsess about the bruises on her face or the tinge of red surrounding the hazel iris in her left eye.

Since it was still quite chilly in Vermont, she decided on a brown cashmere sweater dress with another pair of boots. Thank goodness she’d brought backups, she thought, pained once again over what had become of the gorgeous cinnamon boots. Maybe she could get back out there today to rescue them from the mud. Her dry cleaner in the city would know what to do with them.

Her growling stomach was a reminder that she needed to eat something—and get coffee into her system—before the meeting. As she donned her down vest with the faux fur collar, she remembered the LCD projector in the backseat of her car that she needed for the presentation at the store. First, coffee, then find the car and the projector.

Carrying her purse and computer bag on her shoulder, she opened the door and nearly tripped over a package in the hallway. “What the heck?” She put down her belongings and unfolded the brown paper bag from the Green Mountain Country Store. Inside she found a pair of stylish fur-lined snow boots. They were brown with tufts of white and tan fur at the top. Cameron smiled as she looked inside the bag for a note but didn’t find one.

It was nice of him, she thought begrudgingly as she went back inside to change into the new boots. Perhaps seeing them on her might soften him up when it came time to talk about a website for the store. Or perhaps not … Her feet slid into the boots, which were lined with something soft and warm.

“Heavenly,” she whispered, wondering how he’d known what size to get her. The boots looked great with her brown dress and down vest. Although she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them in the city, apparently they were what she needed to combat Vermont mud season.

Still trying to process the fact that he’d brought her the boots, she gathered her belongings and headed downstairs, allowing her injured nose to lead her to coffee. It was a relief to know her nose was still working properly. As she passed a couple in the lobby, she caught the horrified look the woman sent her way.

“Face versus airbag,” Cameron said with a wry grin that she instantly regretted. “Airbag won.”

“Oh my goodness! Are you all right?”

“I will be, but my modeling career is on hold for a few days.”

That made them both laugh as she’d hoped it would. Cameron firmly believed if you couldn’t laugh at yourself, you weren’t allowed to laugh at anyone else either.

“Hope you feel better soon,” the man said.

“Thank you.”

Cameron followed the sound of voices and the smell of mouthwatering food to the back of the inn. In a room made entirely of glass, guests had a breathtaking view of the forest and Burke Mountain in the distance as they enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.

“Good morning, Cameron.”

She turned to find Mrs. Hendricks, who looked totally different without the curlers and housecoat. Wearing a red sweater with jeans, she looked years younger than she had the night before. “Morning.”

“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Hendricks zeroed in on Cameron’s face. “Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t feel great, but it could be worse. At least nothing feels broken.”

“That’s good. How about some breakfast?”

“I’d love some coffee and maybe a muffin to go.”

“We can fix you right up.”

Five minutes later, Cameron sipped surprisingly robust coffee as she stepped into cold fresh air heavily scented with woodsmoke and crossed Elm Street to Nolan’s Garage. The sign outside said GAS, REPAIRS, OIL CHANGES, USED CARS, PLOWING AND FIREWOOD.

“Now there’s a combination you don’t see every day,” Cameron said as she got her first daylight look at the charming little town, made up of colorfully painted buildings that housed a variety of small businesses. From where she stood, she could see the Clip & Dye hair salon with an Aveda sign in the window. Cameron was instantly comforted to know there was a full-service salon in town. Next door to the salon was the Fish-Ski-Hike store with snowboards and hiking boots in the window.

An art gallery shared space with a coffee shop and beyond that was a glassblower’s studio, a couple of restaurants and a bookstore. She glanced in the other direction and took in the brown and tan Victorian that housed the town hall with the volunteer fire department attached, and a white-steepled church at the end of the street. Her gaze landed finally on the Green Mountain Country Store, which was bigger than it had seemed the night before.

The green-clapboard building was two stories with a delightful front porch where black rockers lined up invitingly. She might’ve mistaken it for a private home if not for the painted GREEN MOUNTAIN COUNTRY STORE sign above the porch.

Cameron couldn’t wait to check out the store before the meeting with its owners, but first things first. She entered Nolan’s garage to find out the status of her injured car.

Bells on the door announced her arrival.

A good-looking man who Cameron gauged to be in his mid-thirties emerged from the garage area, wiping his hands on a red oilcloth as he came into the office area, wearing a navy blue work coat and pants with sturdy boots—the kind that got you through a harsh Vermont winter and mud season. He took one look at her face and grimaced.

“You must be the gal who went one-on-one with Fred last night.”

“That’d be me. Cameron Murphy. Nolan, I presume?”

“The one and only. I’d shake your hand, but I wouldn’t want to mess you up.” He had dark hair and brown eyes that glimmered when he smiled.

“Thanks for that and for fetching my car from the mud bath.”

“No problem.” He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her battered face. “Did you get that looked at?”

“Nah. Looks worse than it feels.”

“If you say so.”

“How’s my poor little car?”

“She’s seen better days.”

“Like yesterday, the only day I owned her before she got smooshed.” As she watched him choke back a laugh, she waved a hand. “Oh go ahead and laugh. It’s kinda funny.”

Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s not funny that you got hurt.” Seeming embarrassed by the blunt statement, he turned toward the garage. “Come take a look.”

Cameron followed him into the bay where her car was raised up on some sort of lifter thing. “Oh man. It’s way worse in the bright light of day.”

“She took a pretty good hit. Old Fred is a sturdy fellow, and you probably got him square in one of the legs. The way I see it, we’ve got two options. We can total it, and you can fight it out with your insurance company. Or I can fix it up pretty close to new, but it’ll take some time.”

“How much time?”

“How long are you here?”

“A week. Maybe two.”

“Two ought to about do it. I’m mostly a one-man operation, so I’d have to fit it in between other jobs. I’ve got a guy who’s amazing with the bodywork, but he’s somewhat unreliable. I have to take what I can get with him, so the two weeks is mostly an estimate. Could be more.”

Pondering her options and realizing she might have to be here longer than she wanted to be, Cameron took in the mangled front end. “This is the first car I’ve ever bought for myself.” She didn’t share the fact that she had used the last of her dwindling savings to buy it so she’d have a way to get all her stuff to Vermont and get around while she was there.

“Since you only got a day out of it, seems to me it’s worth trying to salvage. The engine is brand-new after all, and BMW makes a mighty fine engine.”

“So you’d try to save it if it were yours?”

“Oh hell, yeah, but I’ve got nowhere to be in the next coupla weeks. You might have other plans.”

Cameron’s tired brain whirled as she pondered her options. If she had to go back to the city before the car was done, she could always fly. She’d considered flying into Burlington, except she’d had too much stuff, such as the LCD projector that was still in the car, to manage the flight by herself. She had ballet tickets in two weeks that she had no intention of using, but her father had given them to her and would expect her back in time to “use” them.

Other than that, there was nothing on her calendar that she couldn’t handle from here, provided she could get a decent phone signal and Internet connection.

Will Abbott had intrigued her last night talking about the big family that worked together to run a business. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in spending some time with a family like that, provided they decided to hire her, and provided Will and his siblings didn’t hate her for building a website they didn’t want. If they didn’t hire her, she’d fly home and then come back for the car when it was ready.

Cameron glanced at Nolan, who was watching her as she had her internal debate. “Go ahead and fix it. I’ll get the claim started.”

He pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to her. “They can call me for pictures and estimates.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll do my best to make her as good as new.”

“That’s very kind of you. Would it be possible to get something out of the backseat?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“The LCD projector behind the front seat. I need it for a ten o’clock meeting with the Abbotts.”

“I’ll fetch it and bring it over to you.”

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks again. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be here.”

With half an hour until her meeting, Cameron strolled across the street to the store. Walking through the front door, she felt like she’d traveled back in time as the sights and scents of the place filled her senses. Every square inch of space was in use. From barrels full to overflowing with peanuts still in their shells to Coca-Cola placards on the walls to antique household items sitting on thick wooden beams, it was almost too much to take in as she wandered down an aisle full of toys. She pressed the top of a jack-in-the-box and jumped back when the tightly sprung toy leaped out at her.

“May I help you find something?” a cheerful woman asked.

Cameron purposely didn’t look her way so she wouldn’t have to explain her injured face. “I’m just looking. Thanks.”

“Enjoy. I’ll be up front if you need any help.”

The toys gave way to rows of health and beauty items and a table that held bushel baskets of fragrant handmade soaps in a variety of colors and shapes. Cameron picked up a square of tan soap and breathed in the spicy scent before returning it to the basket. She took a sample of one of the lotions that bore a VERMONT MADE sticker and rubbed it into her hands, absorbing yet another appealing scent, this one lavender.

Shelves were filled with kitchen tools, baking pans, modern mixed in with practical, gadgets she’d never seen before and wouldn’t know what to do with, spices and cornmeal and pancake mixes in brown paper sacks with colorful VERMONT MADE labels. An entire wall was devoted to jugs of maple syrup, which apparently came in a staggering array of colors and grades. Cameron, who’d never been a fan of syrup, took a minute nonetheless to read the sign next to the display that gave a brief overview of the sugaring process that resulted in maple syrup.

She picked one of the jugs off the shelf, noted the Abbott label and realized the syrup came from Will’s brother’s sugaring facility. Which brother was that? She couldn’t recall. She’d have to write down all their names if she got the job.

On the back of the jug was a photo of a man who resembled Will in the face except he had a beard the same color as his long golden-brown hair. Despite the overabundance of facial hair, he had the same sexy, rugged appeal as his older brother. Our guarantee of the finest maple syrup you’ll find anywhere, or your money back.—Colton Abbott, Abbott Family Farms. Below Colton’s signature the words Sealed in accordance with Vermont laws were bolded. A gold foil sticker on the front of the jug said VERMONT FANCY GRADE. Whatever that meant.

Cameron was suddenly very curious about what that meant. She wanted to know how the syrup was made, what the different grades were about and what “Vermont Fancy Grade” was, too.

She returned the jug to the shelf and moved farther into the store. Smack in the middle of the building, a cast-iron potbelly woodstove cast a cozy glow over a wooden checkerboard. Two older men were bent over the board, engaged in a fierce battle of black versus red and didn’t pay her any notice.

Around another corner the pungent odor of cheese greeted her. A refrigerator case held every type and flavor of cheese imaginable, most bearing the VERMONT MADE label she was coming to recognize.

Another whole case was devoted to Vermont cheddar. A cheeseaholic through and through, Cameron would be taking some of that home with her.

She turned to head for the clothing area and nearly crashed into a red flannel-clad chest.

Will reached out to steady her and managed to save the coffee that jostled precariously between them.

“Oh, good save,” she said as he handed the cup back to her.

He took a long look at her battered face, but his expression never changed, scoring him a point or two in her book. Without the knit cap he’d worn the night before, she could see that his hair was the same honey color as Colton’s. He wore it on the longish side, and without the length to weigh it down it might’ve been curly. “You’re big on crashing into things, huh?”

“Only things that get in my way,” she retorted, annoyed to realize he was even more stunningly beautiful in the light of day than he’d been the night before.

Freshly shaven cheeks; full, sexy lips; golden-brown eyes and, judging from what she’d landed against, a rock-hard chest made entirely of muscle. And then he smiled and ruined everything. Oh. My. God. Cameron, who lived in a city full of extraordinarily good-looking men, had never seen one quite like him. Beautiful, sexy and rugged. Who knew that rugged was so appealing? Not her. Not before now anyway.

And then she remembered she looked hideous and was suddenly extremely self-conscious about her face. Her hand came up to cover her swollen upper lip.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone gentler than she’d heard yet from him.

“Not too badly.” She forced herself to look up at him. “Thank you for the boots.”

“Oh. No problem. I figured you needed something substantial for the mud.”

“How did you know what size to get me?”

“I … um … I guessed. Was I close?”

“You were perfect.”

The words hung in the charged silence between them as he stared at her, and she stared right back at him, unable to look away.

“What did Nolan say about the car?”

“It’s going to take awhile to fix it, but he said it can be done.”

“Did you meet Skeeter?”

“Who’s that?”

“Nolan’s sometime assistant. That guy is a real piece of work. He’s amazing with cars but a total oddball.” He leaned in close to her, setting off heart palpitations as she tried to gauge his intent. “Rumor has it that when his cat died, he wrapped it up and stashed it in his mother’s deep freezer until he had time to bury it. They didn’t find it until the mother died ten years later.”

“You’re making that up!”

“Am not. He’s batshit crazy, but no one does bodywork like Skeeter does.”

“That’s very comforting. I think.”

Grinning, he said, “Do you want me to show you around?”

“I’d love that,” she said, even though her better judgment was telling her to run far and run fast from her sexy rescuer. Her heart beat a funny staccato when he reached out to relieve her of the heavy computer bag.

“I’ll carry that for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Whew, is it hot in here or is it just me? Desperate to make innocuous conversation, Cameron tried to think of something she could say to get her mind off the fact that every cell in her body was attuned to him. “What do you do for the store?”

“I oversee the Vermont Made line.”

“I saw the stickers on the syrup and some of the other stuff.”

“Ever had Vermont maple syrup?”

Cameron turned up her nose and instantly regretted it. Wincing from the flash of pain, she blinked back tears that pooled in her eyes. “Note to self: Don’t wrinkle injured nose. Ouch.”

“Are you okay?”

His concern touched her. “Yep, but that hurt. Anyway, I don’t like maple syrup.”

He looked at her like she’d just said something downright un-American. “For real? Who doesn’t like maple syrup?”

“Um, me?”

“Have you ever had any that didn’t come from a grocery store?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never liked it.”

“You have to try ours before you rule it out forever.”

“I’ll take your word on the fact that it’s good.”

“You have to try it.”

“No, I don’t.” She turned away from him and stepped into a scent that made her mouth water. “What is that? What do I smell?”

“Vermont cider donuts. Best donuts in the known universe. Want one?”

The muffin she’d brought from the inn was quickly forgotten. “Ah, yeah.”

Damn it, he smiled again. That smile was freaking lethal. “Plain or cinnamon sugar?”

“Cinnamon sugar. Definitely.”

“Morning, Dottie,” he said to the older woman working behind the counter.

She lit up at the sight of him. Hell, she was only human. “Morning, Will. What can I get you?”

“We need two cinnamon donuts, a coffee for me and a refill for Cameron.”

“Hi, Cameron,” Dottie said. She was busy filling their order so she didn’t notice the face from hell—until she looked up to hand them their donuts and gasped. “Honey! What happened? Oh, you’re the one who hit Fred, aren’t you?”

“Does everyone know about that?” Cameron asked with a moan.

“’Fraid so,” Will said with a grin. “Word travels fast in a small town.”

Cameron longed for the anonymity of New York City. “Fabulous.”

“Don’t worry,” Dottie said, patting Cameron’s hand. “Something else will happen in a day or two to make us forget all about your auspicious arrival. In the meantime …” She smiled and shrugged.

“It’s all me and Fred all the time, huh?”

“You got it.”

Next to her, Will chuckled, but Cameron didn’t look. She didn’t need to see that smile again. Twice was enough for one morning, she thought, as she took a bite of the piping-hot donut and went straight to heaven. “Oh wow, that’s good.”

“Told ya,” Will said. “Thanks, Dottie.”

“Yes, thank you,” Cameron said. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, honey. Hope you heal right quick.”

“I hope so, too.”

A loud argument from the center of the store drew them in that direction.

“My grandfather’s two best friends fight like cats and dogs,” Will said as they approached the red-faced men. “What seems to be the problem, boys?”

“He’s cheating, as usual.”

“Better watch yerself, old man. I ain’t too old to punch yer lights out.”

“Cameron, meet Cletus Wagner and Percy Flanders.”

Both men shook her hand. Cletus was bald with a bushy white mustache and blue eyes. Percy had a head full of white hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in a year and warm brown eyes.

They muttered greetings and got back to their game.

Will gestured for Cameron to walk toward the clothing area, which was still selling warm winter wear long after the stores in the city had switched it up for spring.

“What a couple of characters,” Cameron said.

“They’re here every day, year-round. And they fight every single day.” He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the two men were absorbed in the game. “My gramps told me they called Cletus ‘Clitoris’ all through school.”

Cameron sputtered with laughter even as her own clitoris tingled at the sound of that word coming from him. “Why would you tell me that? I’ll never be able to look at him and not think of that!”

“Welcome to my world,” Will said with the engaging grin that brought all her girl parts to the party. He was just too hot for words.

“I love those sweaters,” Cameron said between bites of delicious donut. She was desperately seeking another topic of conversation that didn’t involve her most sensitive region. The Icelandic knit sweaters came in red, blue, brown and tan and bore the VERMONT MADE sticker.

“They’re handmade by a woman in Rutland. She shows up every September with a truckload of sweaters for us.”

“They’re gorgeous. Oh look!” She laughed at the flannel pajama pants with the moose on them. “I need to get a pair of those to commemorate my meeting with Fred.”

“It’s cool that you can laugh about it.”

“Should I not laugh? Fred wasn’t really hurt, was he?”

“The town vet, Myles Johansen, went out to check on him this morning.”

“How did he know where to find him?”

Will shrugged. “We all know where to find him. He hangs pretty close to town, thus his official status as town moose. Anyhow, he’s fine. Your car definitely got the worst of it.”

“Maybe people will stop worrying about poor Fred and start worrying about my poor car now that he’s been checked out.”

“Sorry, the moose is always going to trump the car around here.”

“That’s really not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

Truer words were never spoken, but Cameron kept the thought to herself.

“I still think it’s cool that you can laugh about it when you got so banged up.”

“What else can I do? Crying won’t get me anywhere.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, seeming stricken by the thought of it.

“Why not?”

“I don’t do tears. Especially girl tears.” He shuddered dramatically, making her laugh.

“Wimp.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Liking him more with every passing second, Cameron wandered around yet another corner and came to a stop in front of an extensive collection of Beatles memorabilia that was sealed off behind a glass wall. “Whoa. What’s all this?”

“My father’s not-so-secret shame. He’s obsessed with all things Beatles. He has one of the most extensive collections in the country.” He pointed to a frame that held parchment bearing scrawling black handwriting. “See that? It’s a replica of John Lennon’s lyrics for ‘All You Need Is Love.’ The original sold for $1.25 million in 2005. He couldn’t afford that so my mom got him the copy.”

“I love that song. It’s one of my favorite Beatles songs.”

“Mine, too, although if I never hear another Beatles song, it’ll be too soon.”

“You don’t like them?”

“It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s that I was overexposed growing up. When I say my dad is obsessed, that’s putting it lightly. He would’ve named Hunter, me, Wade and Colton after the Beatles, but my mother intervened. She said when he could have the babies, he could name one of them Ringo. He fought hard for John, Paul and George as well as Jude and Prudence, but she fought back harder.”

“So you would’ve been Paul?” Cameron asked, amused.

“Or John, I suppose. Dad goes back and forth between the two of them when you ask him which one is his favorite. He took John’s death really hard. My mom said he wasn’t himself for months afterward.”

A gorgeous yellow lab came bounding up to them and nearly knocked Cameron off her feet with an enthusiastic greeting.

Once again, Will grabbed her arm and kept her from toppling over.

“That crash was not on me,” she said, making him laugh.

Will bent to scratch the dog behind one of his ears. “Cameron, meet Ringo the third.”

Cameron busted up laughing, which made her face hurt like a mother. “If you can’t name your kids after the Beatles …”

“Right. He’s had two of each, and now we’re into the third generation. George the third is probably with Dad in the office. This fella comes in every morning for a donut from Dottie. Go get your treat, buddy.”

Ringo bounded off toward Dottie’s counter, nearly knocking over a stack of sweaters with his bushy tail.

“I’ve got two just like him at home, and their tails are every bit as lethal as Ringo’s.”

Oh my God, all this sexy goodness, and he has dogs, too. Cameron had always loved dogs and still mourned Jimmy, the terrier who’d been her constant companion as a child. She kept meaning to get another one, but losing Jimmy had been so traumatic she hadn’t yet been able to go there. “Ringo is adorable, and he understands English, just like Lassie did.”

“Now there’s a TV reference even I recognize. ‘What’s that you say, girl? Timmy is stuck in the old mine and we need to go rescue him?’”

Cameron didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to share a warm smile with him. She didn’t want anything to do with his sweet gruffness or his adorable sexiness. This was a temporary assignment in a place so far from her reality it was hard to believe it was still in the same country. There was absolutely no point in allowing herself to be attracted to Will Abbott, who lived in the alternative universe known as Vermont.

As she had that thought, her girl parts tingled in protest.

“Hey, Will,” Dottie called from the donut counter, saving Cameron from having to admit that, despite all the reasons it was a very bad idea, she was, in fact, attracted to Will Abbott.

“Over here,” he said.

“Your dad is looking for you upstairs.”

Will checked his watch. “Yikes, it’s almost ten.” To Dottie, he said, “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Cameron had never known a half hour to pass more quickly and suddenly felt panicky about the challenge ahead. “I need to set up for my presentation. Can you show me where to go?”

“Right this way.”

As he led her deeper into the store, Cameron tried not to notice that the back of him was every bit as spectacular as the front. Softly faded jeans hugged a very nice ass, not that she was looking.

Much.

Desperate to find something else to stare at, she diverted her gaze and honed in on a display of colorful beaded jewelry. She stopped for a closer look at the intricately made bracelets, necklaces and earrings.

“That’s my sister Hannah’s handiwork,” Will said.

“It’s beautiful.” Cameron could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of his sister. Naturally, that made her like him even more. Where in the world had her cranky rescuer from the night before gone?

The presentation she was about to give would remind him she was an interloper from the city, here to threaten his way of life. That ought to get them back on track toward being absolutely nothing to each other.

Or so she hoped.