Page 52 of Snowed In With the Mountain Man
Every other Sunday, he called his mother. He timed it so that he called when she and his father and his younger sisters had returned home after church for their weekly lunch together, so he could say hello to them all at once. The call was brief, and not exactly warm, but it let everyone know he was alive and well and made him feel like he was doing his due diligence as a son.
Of course, it was too little too late for that as far as his parents were concerned. He’d already proven to be a disappointment.
He shoved those thoughts to the side. These Sunday morning hikes were to clear his head of the past. To cut off any worries about the future.
These Sunday hikes were to feel close to God and to find peace in the present moment.
And at this particular present moment, he had a lot to give thanks for. As he made the slow hike back to his lodgings, he listed them out. He loved his job. Loved his friends. Loved this town and the community that had embraced him.
Before he knew it, his thoughts had drifted back to Dahlia again.
He was thankful for the day he’d spent with her, that much was certain.
He wished he’d thought to ask her if she had any plans for today. But she probably did. It was her last day in Aspire. She’d want to spend it with Rose.
And he wouldn’t try to seek her out, he told himself.
He’d just let things lie, because there was no use trying to get close to a woman who had one foot out the door.
He’d decided he wouldn’t take another shot at a long-term relationship when his marriage had fallen apart, and he wasn’t going to rethink that decision now just because some stunning brunette had made his heart pound and his blood run hot.
Still, when he got out of the shower a little while later and was getting changed to head into town, he found himself wondering if he’d run into her.
And there was no denying that it was hope he felt when he thought it.
Right or wrong, he sure hoped he could see Dahlia one more time before she left.
17
Maybe Dahlia was getting sick. That would explain it.
She sniffled once more. and Rose glanced over at her with a concerned frown before passing her a packet of tissues.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone…” The minister’s voice carried throughout the small church as he went on about the redemptive power of love. About forgiveness and healing.
Dahlia tugged out a tissue and dabbed at her nose.
She wasn’t crying. She never cried, and definitely not over a sermon, no matter how well-spoken it might have been.
Rose reached for her hand and squeezed. Dahlia squeezed back.
Maybe it was allergies.
The minister had started by talking about a woman caught in adultery, and Dahlia had worked herself into a fine fury over the way the woman had been treated while the man she’d been sleeping with had walked away scot-free. These religious men wanted to stone her to death. And then Jesus stepped in.
The minister then started down this path about love and forgiveness and—
“Are you all right?” Rose whispered.
Dahlia nodded quickly. “Of course. It’s just allergies.”
Rose arched a brow in disbelief.
Probably because it was late January—not exactly a high time for allergies. And also, Dahlia had never really been prone to hay fever in the past.
She ignored Rose’s searching gaze.
She was totally fine. This week was just taking a toll on her, that was all. She needed to get back to normal. The sooner the better.
