“I was referring to Frosty. He looked in need of swift intervention.” Colin could hold it in no longer. His pressure-cooked laugh released. He nodded to the snowman, then cast the pretty woman a glance he hoped would humor her. “Domestic dispute?”
Her lips thinned in a manner that made him ponder ducking. She gripped the shoe tighter and looked sorely tempted to hurl the thing at him.
He palmed the air. “Hey, kidding. In all seriousness, I noticed you seem upset. Anything I can do?”
“Unless you can fix a roof and my catering kitchen in seventy-two hours, no.”
He grinned, liking her spunk. “Actually, I may be able to help. Construction’s my trade. My name is—”
“I know who you are, but you obviously don’t remember me.” Her chin rose.
Dread hit him like a two-by-four. “Uh . . .”
Her arms locked across her chest. “You and your friends ruined my life. At least my high school experience.” Arms dropped, she shook her head and started to turn.
It all flooded back for Colin, who she was and everything she’d endured. He swallowed fiery lumps remembering: his part in inviting her to the lake, then his friends driving off without her. Terror and betrayal clouding her eyes as she stumbled after them.
He reached for her arm. “Oh wow, Meadow. Sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”
“You didn’t back then, either.” She shrugged. “I am just as I was, overlooked and easily forgettable.” A frustrated glower flooded her expressive face.
His chest tightened with a marbling of remorse and remembrance, acknowledgment and empathy. Things he should’ve felt back then . . . but didn’t. Not really.
“I’m truly sorry.”
He meant it. From the depths of his heart, did he ever.
She rolled her eyes. “I bet. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
Actually, it did. If the splinter still festered a decade later, it mattered a whole lot. He couldn’t let this go. Could not walk away from the distress in her eyes.
Gorgeous eyes. Hair the color of polished mahogany, too, deep shine included.
He had to make the past up to her somehow. “Let me help you, Meadow. Please.”
Her fortitude ran sturdy as she shook her head. “You? Help me? Not on your life, Colin McGrath. You hurt me once. I’m not giving you a chance to do it twice.”
Her words hit like hacksaws, driving Colin’s ego to its knees. Oh well. Better place for it anyway. Pride was never a bad thing to lose. Not knowing what to say next and rendered wordless for just about the first time in his life, Colin clamped his mouth shut.
Retort would only convince her she was right about him.
Irish temper blessedly absent, Colin tipped his ball cap to her. “Good day to you then, ma’am.” He resisted the urge to bid the snowman good-bye before turning to cross the street. Meadow’s hilarious tirade had somehow humanized the thing.
He’d forgotten how fickle southern Illinois weather could be. Last week it was seventy degrees. This week Havenbrook’s sky dumped historic amounts of icy snow. He crunched over it walking back to his new house. The movers were finishing the last load.
Colin drew in a breath of fresh air, hometown nostalgia and peace he hadn’t felt in a decade. He loved Havenbrook. Meadow’s welcome had been the only one not warm.
What did he expect after the way he’d treated her in high school? His gut knotted like old pine as images assaulted him. His then-girlfriend, mayor’s daughter Blythe Matthews, calling Meadow a loser. Strong Meadow leaving school in tears. Blythe calling after her that she’d never be popular, never be one of the cool kids, never fit in.
Colin had stood back against the lockers feeling horrible for Meadow yet not doing one thing to stop the bullying.
Colin swallowed. Hard. No wonder Meadow wanted nothing to do with him now.
Except, that was the old him. He determined to show her the new him.
Wanting to make sure she made it in without slipping on snow-packed ice, Colin glanced back to find Meadow looking stumped as she stared at him. Surprise swept through him at that.
Swiftly readapting her caustic body language, she tromped across her yard. But her baffled-curious look had convinced him he’d made a slight positive impression.
A car pulled up next to the curb where he stood. A harried woman plowed out of it and into him. When she pulled back, recognition flickered in her eyes, and she paused.
“Colin McGrath. Heard you were moving back.”
He recognized her as one of Meadow’s many siblings. “Flora. Nice to see you.”
“You check on her? She all right after the cave-in?”
Her words hammered dread into him. “Cave-in?”
“She didn’t tell you?” They began walking back across the street to Meadow’s.
“No. Well, not in so many words.” He grinned. “She mostly just told me off.”
Flora glanced sideways at him. He peered across the yard, assessing where Meadow’s damage was. He shrugged. “I deserved it.”
Flora looked like she wanted to say something kind but stopped herself. Good. He didn’t deserve the grace of accolades where Meadow Larson was concerned.