The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance) Read Free

exchanged whispered comments, and he felt their surreptitious glances at his scar.He ought to be used to stares by now. The problem was, every stare was another reminder.
    “Thanks for the information,” Will said and, every eye on him, hustled out.
    He strode toward the van, parked half a block away. Of course he could have simply purchased the honey, as the man had suggested. But honey wasn’t his reason for coming to Garden Valley.
    The sight of a brand-new Honda motorcycle parked behind his van made him smile, nostalgic. It was an auspicious reminder of his decision to walk out of his old life and begin a new one. He paused to admire the bike, much flashier than his old Harley Davidson.
    The Harley had been the last of his personal possessions to go. Will had kept putting off selling it, the symbol of a wilder, more carefree life. Before the accident.
    His gaze shifted to the somewhat beat-up camper van, a far different symbol for the new direction his life was taking. The flare of nostalgia suddenly died. No regrets. Will climbed into the van, carefully eased out of the parking spot and, with one last glimpse in his rearview mirror, headed down the main drag of Essex, North Carolina.
    It was a pretty town with a larger commercial center than he’d expected for a population of eight thousand. Though he didn’t know if that figure—emblazoned on the town’s welcome sign—included the outlying rural area. What he did know was that as soon as the van had begun its descent from the foothillsan hour ago, he’d been so awestruck at the size and beauty of the valley that he’d had to pull off the road.
    Garden Valley was a fitting name for the lush countryside that rolled away beneath him. The rooftops of Essex, clustered at the base of the hill, glittered beneath the midafternoon sun. Surrounded by verdant pastures and tracts of woodland, the town sparkled like underwater treasure. It could be a scene out of a fairy tale. It was definitely a scene out of the magazine article folded up on the seat beside him.
    He headed southwest, as the store owner had instructed, taking his time. Now that he’d finally reached his destination, he had no idea what his next step was. Pull out the article and confess he’d saved it since he was twelve years old? Yeah right. Now that he was here, what did he expect would happen?
    That was the issue, he mused as he searched the signs at each crossroad after leaving Essex behind. His ex-wife had once accused him of running away from his problems and he’d bristled at the suggestion. Yet here he was, proving her right. Suddenly he caught the sign for Dashwood Side Road, slammed his foot on the brake and turned onto the hard-packed gravel.
    Five miles in, the man had said, and then make a left at somebody’s orchards. Will had forgotten the name of the farm itself, but the barn behind the house was supposed to be bright red. Weren’t all barns red? He was going less than twenty miles an hour and had plenty of time to make his turn when he spotted a redbarn and silo immediately ahead on his left. What he failed to notice was the other vehicle coming at him like a tornado.
    Pebbles and dirt pelted the van as Will cranked the steering wheel right. By the time he’d straightened out the van, the other vehicle—a mud-brown pickup—had disappeared. Damn. Country drivers were no better than city ones. Will kept going, occasionally checking the rearview mirror in case the maniac in the pickup came back.
    Another three or four miles after the turn, according to the store owner, and he’d see the sign at the end of a long driveway. Will passed fields of some kind of bushy, flowery crop on both sides of the road, crossed over a narrow stone bridge spanning a strip of bubbling water, rounded a curve and spotted a yellow and black sign up ahead on his left. As he drew nearer, he pulled over and turned off the engine.
    The sign, with its curlicue scrawl Ambrosia Apiaries, J. Collins and Family,