Purposefully driving on the quiet side roads kept me away from the traffic of Main Street. The back roads made it easier to check for someone who might be following me. When I had weaved through town, I backtracked, stopped at Rotary Park, and took off my jeans and jacket. Grabbing a water bottle, I scanned the area. The park wasn’t crowded—a few families and older couples dotted the grass.
Towering pine trees surrounded the parking lot, and I darted between them, sprinting toward the paved bike trail that would take me close to my usual running route. If anyone had kept up with me, they would hopefully think I was just out for a run.
With my destination over two miles away, I slowed to a comfortable pace and tried not to think about the diamonds pressing against my chest. My watch showed that I had already been gone for an hour. It was almost seven, and by the time I finished the run and diamond drop, it would be eight o’clock. The list of things I needed to do during the week cycled through my mind. Stressing over it wouldn’t get the job done, so I forced myself to count steps in an attempt to keep my running cadence even.
The bushes near the trail grew thick this time of year, and I had to dodge a few low branches. The path curved slightly, and I saw “the hottie” coming toward me. My heart rate increased, and I panicked. What if he was the diamond smuggler? It would have been easy for him to figure out my running route because we’d passed each other at several different points over the past few months.
But we hadn’t passed each other for a few days. My runs had been more sporadic with everything going on at the shop and wedding season in full swing. Maybe he’d been busy stealing wedding gowns.
He approached at a fast pace, and with a quick glance I knew that this part of the trail offered no access to hiding places. We were about a half mile from any sort of business. If he had come to get his diamonds, there was little I could do about it. He had his shirt off. Today would have been a perfect day to admire his firm abs if he wasn’t a diamond smuggler. Instead, he’d probably kill me.
I felt my face tighten as we closed the distance between us. Odd, I thought—something about him seemed familiar today. Thirty feet from me, he yanked out his earbuds.
“Adri. How are you?”
I nearly tripped as he stopped beside me. Grateful that my sunglasses gave me time to hide the confusion in my gaze, I sucked in a breath and choked when he pulled off his sunglasses.
“Luke?”
I was so surprised and grateful that I wasn’t about to be murdered on a bike trail that I nearly hugged him. I took a step forward and remembered this was Luke Stetson, divorce lawyer against marriage, and leaned back. My balance was off, and I wobbled. Luke grabbed hold of me.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
All this time, “the hottie” was Luke. Lorea would never let me hear the end of this one. He stared at me. “I kept wondering why you seemed familiar.”
“I didn’t recognize you with your sunglasses and hat.” My words sounded clipped, and it was a good thing my face was already red from running because I felt mortified to think how many months I’d been admiring him. Every time we’d run past each other, I had secretly hoped for a chance to meet him. My fantasy crumbled.
Luke let go of my arm and pulled off his hat. He squeezed the brim and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been thinking about last week. I’m really sorry.”
The words I wanted to say burned on my tongue, but I waited a moment.
“You have a right to be angry with me,” he said. “I was out of line. And then I heard about your wedding dresses getting stolen—it was bad timing. I was rude.”
I realized I had stopped breathing and took a big gulp of air. “You were. I don’t understand why.”
Luke’s stance relaxed, and he looked at the ground for a moment. I watched him swallow, and he lifted his eyes to mine. “I need to explain. It’s not something I want to do, but I owe it to you if you’ll give me a chance.”
“I’m listening.”
“I haven’t always been so cynical about marriage.” He lifted his left hand. “I was married—I mean, I’m a widower—my wife died.” He stumbled over his words, and the pain etched across his face made my heart hurt.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “Please don’t say anything. Don’t say you’re sorry. Just listen.”
My mouth clamped shut, and I blinked rapidly, chiding myself for the tears threatening to fall at his display of grief. It was easy to see that the pain was still raw, and I wondered how long it had been. He cleared his throat and answered my unspoken question.
“Three years ago. Hodgkin’s disease. She was supposed to get better.” Luke closed his eyes, and his jaw tensed as he blew out a deep breath. “We were married for five years—she helped put me through law school. Our whole life was just beginning. A few months before the diagnosis, we were talking about starting a family.”
My throat seemed to collapse on itself as I struggled to swallow the anguish I felt for him.
He clutched his hat, turning it over and over in his hands. “It’s not something I want people in this town to know. I’ve been able to keep my past a secret, and I want it to stay that way—it’s easier.”
I wanted to speak, but I
