Imagine That Read Free

of guy who made oil paintings? Wouldn’t his crew have a good laugh?
    â€œNot that kind of painting,” he said. “Houses. Exteriors mostly.”
    â€œHouses? How interesting.”
    Her voice dropped, and her lashes flickered down as she shifted again. Nate got the feeling she was disappointed. Blue collar must not be worth much in her eyes. She might be flaky, but her fancy sports car and the cat with the smashed-in face advertised she came from a refined world. Pride stiffened his shoulders, and tension squeezed the back of his neck.
    He’d tried going down a similar road before and ended up broad sided and spun into a ditch. His foot pressed harder on the pedal as he willed his faithful truck to hurry. He needed to deposit Rainbow Shorts at the repair shop and concentrate on more important things.
    Like how he was going to tell his brother their mother was dying.

Chapter Two
    Nice going, Em. Way to insult your rescuer. You ’ re as bad as Wordsworth.
    Seemed her manners had gone the way of her imagination. She’d just been so excited to meet a fellow artistic soul. Writers, artists, sculptors, actors. They all shared a bond. A bond born of the unstoppable need to create something. The struggle, the blood, the tears. The stupid brain freezes. Nate probably wanted to shove her out the door. Emily wished a giant hole would swallow her up.
    A couple minutes later, Nate made a turn.
    Right back in time.
    Her head came up. Before her eyes stretched an honest-to-goodness Main Street straight out of a 1950s’ era television show. Adorable shops lined the street and each featured a colorful awning. Yellow ones, blue ones, red ones, canvas ones, striped ones. Shop windows announced summer was in full force, and flowers exploded all over the place. They filled every window, as well as the planters hanging from old-fashioned street lamps.
    She’d lived in metropolitan cities around the world, visited fourteenth century villages in Europe, and her sports car had motored through back-of-nowhere towns across the United States, but nothing she’d seen had ever come close to Covington Falls’ slice of Americana preserved.
    As they topped the hill a church came into view. White and sparkling, with a tall silver steeple stretching up into a cerulean sky.
    â€œOh…” She took in a deep breath breaking the silence. “Look at it!”
    â€œThere are three more,” Nate said, unbending enough to smile. “North, south, east and west. The one I attend is at the opposite end of Main Street.”
    â€œLike a circle of protection.” She liked the image of a God who wrapped His arms around His people. She’d never seen The Almighty as a benevolent caregiver. She’d never pictured Him much at all, but if she did, she was more likely to conjure up the Old Testament, fire and brimstone version of God. The God of Judgment Day.
    Nate’s gray eyes darkened like clouds rolling in before a thunderstorm. “We don’t enjoy protection from everything in Covington Falls.”
    He didn’t offer any further explanation and since Emily was still kicking herself about the insult she’d leveled on her rescuer, she didn’t push for one. Instead they drove in silence to the end of the block until the truck rattled to a stop in front of an auto repair garage.
    Fred ’ s Fix-Em . How quaint. Emily conjured up an image of good ole’ Fred. Nate jumped out and walked around the truck. Emily knew he was coming to open the door, but there was no way she could handle touching him again so she scrambled out.
    Nate’s mouth quirked as he stopped, hand already poised to grab her door. Ignoring him, she spun around and grabbed Wordsworth’s carrier. She straightened and saw Nate had trained his eyes on his boots. So, no sneaking a look at her rainbow patches again. Maybe she wasn’t the only skittish one.
    Behind her, a door swung open. A young girl about