Late afternoon sun heaped through the windows of Grayson Chandler’s pickup as he made his way down Fourth Street and parked. He climbed out and headed for the front steps of Bistro on Fourth, a trendy little coffee shop he’d been told was the best in town.
A slight breeze whipped tiny green leaves on a nearby aspen, the kind of breeze that carried the smell of the surrounding mountains. He bent and rubbed behind the ears of a golden retriever lying on the steps. “Hey friend, you’re looking pretty comfortable in the sunshine.”
“That’s Chelsey.”
Grayson glanced up. In the open doorway stood a man wearing a white apron over a flannel shirt and jeans. A long gray braid dangled beneath the back of a well-worn ascot cap. “You’ll find the ‘ole girl there most days. Except in the winter, of course. Then she moves inside by the fire.”
Grayson stood and extended his hand. “Oh, hey.”
“Nash Billingsley.” The guy lifted a towel off his shoulder and wiped his hands before shaking. “I’m the owner of this joint.”
“Grayson Chandler. Just moved here from Fairbanks.”
“Alaska, huh? Well, welcome to town. C’mon inside.” The guy motioned him through the door flanked with pots of brightly colored blooms and pointed him to an empty table. “What can I get you?”
He slid into a chair. “Uh, cup of coffee will do. Black.
“You got it.” Nash headed for the counter.
Grayson looked around. A young couple in running gear sat near the window. At the table next to them, a balding man in wire-rimmed glasses read a Stephen King novel.
“Here you go.” Nash planted a massive blue mug on the checkered tablecloth. “I use a specialty roaster. This blend is one of my favorites.”
Grayson reached for the steaming mug and took a sip, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Nash positioned himself in the chair to his right. “Alaska? That’s a far ways off. How’d you find your way to Sun Valley?”
Grayson explained he was a backcountry pilot. Despite loving Alaska winters, he’d grown tired of the cold endless seasons without sun. He’d flown with a friend to central Idaho and spent a few weeks in the Sawtooth primitive area losing his heart to the jagged mountainous area known as the Frank Church River of No Return. Outside of Alaska, few places in America could provide a wilderness experience to match—a land of clear rivers, deep canyons, and rugged mountains.
He didn’t mention the move also allowed him to escape a rugged relationship.
“Well, you’ll fit in just fine around here. Despite the seasonal influx of tourists, we’re just a small mountain community. One big extended family.”
Nash patted his shoulder and motioned to the gal behind the counter. “Hey, Lucy. Our friend here needs topped off.”
The young woman with blonde hair and a bit too much lipstick nodded and quickly appeared tableside with a carafe. She boldly gave him an appreciative once-over, checking him out. “You’re new around here.” Her voice drifted across the table like the smoke from a cigarette.
“Uh, yeah. Grayson Chandler.”
A flirtatious smile lifted the corners of her red lips. “Well, welcome to the area.”
Feeling awkward, he simply nodded.
She gave him a hopeful look as she filled his mug. “Hey, let me know if you need anything. Like the song says, all you have to do is call.” She winked and sauntered back in the direction of the kitchen, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
Nash hesitated, waited until she was out of earshot, before he leaned close. “Good help and a nice gal at heart, but Lucy’s one of those firecrackers who wears her jeans entirely too tight. Know what I mean?”
Grayson managed a smile. “Got it.”
Outside the open doorway, a woman with long dark hair crouched and petted Chelsey. “You soaking up the sunshine, girl?” She gave the golden retriever a final pat on the head before making her way inside.
His throat went dry.
It was her—Karyn Macadam.
He couldn’t seem to look away as she moved to the counter and ordered, unaware she was being watched. “I’ll have a large coffee to go.”
Nash lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “On the other hand, some women wear their pants just right.”
From across the room, Karyn turned and their eyes met. She surprised him with a hesitant smile.
He smiled back, feeling her gaze clean down to his socks and shoes. She had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen.
Nash slid the towel from his shoulder and wiped a spot from the table. “So, you know Karyn?”
“We’ve met briefly.” Grayson watched her carry her coffee out the door and down the sidewalk to her car.
Nash shook his head. “Such a sad thing. They were the it couple, know what I mean. Few people were made for one another more than Dean and Karyn Macadam.”
Grayson stared into his cup. After the morning at the memorial, he’d googled and learned all about the accident that took Dean’s life. “Must’ve been really hard on her.”
“Sure was. The entire town was worried about her. Especially Edwin, her dad.”
“Yeah, I met him too. Seems like a nice guy.”
“Oh, that he is. A third generation owner of a large sheep ranch south of town. Lost his wife to cancer years ago. Raised those three daughters all on his own. And they were young, Leigh Ann was barely a teenager and I think Joie was only about six. Or maybe a bit younger, I don’t remember for sure.” Nash shrugged and flipped the towel back on his shoulder. He pushed his chair back. “Well, the lunch crowd will be heading in soon and I suppose I best get back to the kitchen.”
He shook the gray-haired man’s hand. “Enjoyed the chat.”
Grayson finished up his coffee thinking he was going to like living here. He’d moved to Sun Valley in order to leave his old life behind—the one Robin had pushed to the curb with one swift kick and her good-looking stock brokerage business partner.
Here in this resort town at the base of the Sawtooth Mountains, he planned to start over. Clean slate. No entanglements.
Odd thing was, every time he encountered Karyn Macadam, a vague yearning sprouted in his gut.
It would be too simple to say he admired her casual beauty, looks that couldn’t come from some drugstore bottle, or that she had a classy sweetness about her. While he barely knew her, her eyes held a deepness of soul he found captivating.
Every encounter left him feeling like a schoolboy with a crush on the prettiest girl in class.
Still, he had to remind himself it was likely too soon. For him, and certainly for her. He probably should just stay clear.
Even if she had the perfect smile.