Angel of Smoky Hollow Read Online Free PDF Page B

bag on the table. “Guest bedrooms are off the hall to the right when you entered. Bath farther along. Might need sheets which are probably in the hall linen closet. Webb Francis’s room is in the back. Need anything else?”
    â€œNo, I’m fine. Thank you.”
    â€œWant to go to town today or wait until the morning?” he asked, his dark eyes gazing into hers. His entire body seemed focused on her.
    â€œTomorrow’s fine. I’ll settle in this afternoon.” She wanted to look away, but those dark eyes held. What was Kirk thinking as he gazed at her? She never could figure out how other people thought. She held her breath until he nodded and turned.
    He glanced around. “If you need anything, holler. I’m next door.”
    â€œNext door?” she repeated. He had the log house she’d seen when they arrived.
    â€œProblem with that?” He looked back.
    She shook her head quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Kirk Devon to have a clue how badly he affected her equilibrium. “I’ll be fine.”
    â€œTomorrow at ten then.”
    Â 
    Angelica followed him to the door and watched as he backed the truck out of the driveway and in only seconds pulled into the one by the log house she could see through the trees. He parked the car on the far side. Behind was another building. Was that his garage? It was hard to see through the thick growth of trees and shrubs. There was so much green!
    Sighing softly, she returned to the kitchen to put the food away. Then she wandered around the cottage, checking each room. She ended up in the small room Webb Francis had told her about. It was lined with shelves that seemed to hold an inordinate amount of sheet music. There were harmonicas in cases on one shelf, two violins, a banjo and a mountain dulcimer. Two music stands stood in the corner, two folding chairs leaned against one wall. She ran her fingertips over the strings of the dulcimer. She’d only heard one played once.
    She leafed through some of the sheet music. She recognized a couple of songs from the class at the conservatory. For the first time in a long while she felt some excitement about playing.
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    It was growing dark when Angelica put her violin down. She hadn’t practiced like that in a long time. Feeling lighter and happy for the first time in months, she went to prepare her dinner. It was after nine. She’d eat, go to bed and be up in themorning in time to go with Kirk to meet people Webb Francis thought could help her.
    Getting ready for bed a little later, she glanced out the bedroom window toward Kirk’s house. It was dark. But the building behind was lighted. What was he doing in the garage this late at night? Tinkering with his car? She stared at the building for a long time, lost in thought about her reluctant neighbor and the wild fantasies she was weaving in her imagination. He’d probably laugh himself silly if he knew. She sighed softly and turned away. She was here to get rejuvenated, not fall for some man who lived hundreds of miles from New York City.

CHAPTER THREE
    I T WAS EARLY when Kirk kick-started his bike and headed for his grandfather’s place. He checked on the old man two or three times a week. Pops rarely came to town any more—preferring his own company on the farm to mingling with others. No one cared. He had the disposition of a surly bear.
    But he was the one who raised Kirk and he had a deep abiding affection for the old man.
    When he pulled into the yard a short time later, the old hound barked and ran to greet him. Soon Pops came out of the back.
    â€œYou here for breakfast?” he asked gruffly.
    â€œIf there’s any going, I am,” Kirk said. He took off his helmet and propped up the motorcycle. Glancing around he saw a farm still going strong. He hoped he had the energy and determination when he was in his seventies that his grandfather did.
    â€œHow’re you doing for