Page 35 of It’s Always Been You (Always #1)

Caitlin made a beeline for the artisan craft store that Ms. Betty had mentioned. Southwest Virginia was well known for its Heartwood Initiative that supported talented artists of all types of media.

Travis made it just inside the door when he mumbled he’d wait for her in the coffee shop that annexed the place.

Men . Caitlin smirked as she took in all the gorgeous glass art, twisted metal masterpieces, earth-toned Appalachian pottery, and exquisitely carved wood bowls.

A glass display of hand-made jewelry also drew her eye.

There were a couple of customers milling around, so she took her time scrutinizing some pieces that interested her.

Caitlin shuffled further into the store when the door chimed and her attention was drawn to the front of the shop.

That was when she saw it. The sun catcher by the window in all its stained-glass glory.

It was mostly an abstract floral design, with a fairy flitting on top.

The sun illuminated the area around the fairy, giving it an ethereal glow.

She realized she had made her way back to the front of the store and was staring right at the piece of glasswork.

“Stunning isn’t it?” a female voice said behind her .

Caitlin turned around to face a ginger-haired, freckle-faced woman about the same height as she was. She was dressed in a vintage crocheted tunic with bell sleeves. Her wiry hair was bunched in a loose ponytail.

“It is,” Caitlin replied.

“Eighty-five percent of the items in this shop are made by artists around Southwest Virginia,” the lady explained. “I’m Meghan, by the way.”

Caitlin smiled, but didn’t offer her name in return.

“You’re staying at Ms. Betty’s place?”

“Yes.”

The woman nodded, realizing Caitlin wasn’t chatty, but she pressed on anyway. “We have gorgeous ceramics back here if you want to take a look.”

“I would love to.”

Meghan left her alone after that. It wasn’t that Caitlin was anti-social; she sadly realized she didn’t have much history to make small talk.

She needed to lay down roots and shape her life on her own terms, not what people forced her to be.

What did she like? What had been her interests and hobbies?

She knew, when she was with Jase, she always admired the stained glass architecture that adorned the ancient churches.

They had travelled around Italy for a while and she really liked the alfresco walls, too.

Caitlin wondered if Travis would mind if she redecorated their home.

As it stood right now, it really needed furniture and some personal touches.

Maybe then she wouldn’t mind being cooped up so much in the enormous house.

She’d do it. And Travis could suck it up if he didn’t like the selections she made today, because he didn’t want to come in.

Caitlin smiled inwardly. Somehow she knew Travis wouldn’t object; he’d simply indulge her.

Her heart skipped a beat like it always did when thoughts of her husband crossed her mind.

She was infatuated no doubt, in love, most likely.

But she was taking her time, because this process of falling in love was simply too delicious to hurry along. She wanted to savor the feeling.

The doorbell chimed again. A woman who was a younger replica of Meghan stormed in carrying a tray of iced coffees. “Meghan! Oh, my God, you wouldn’t believe the hunk-a-licious man at Paddy’s coffee shop.”

Caitlin stiffened.

“Celia, how many times have I told you that bikers and hippies don’t mix,” Meghan scolded the other girl. Noticing that Caitlin was looking at them, she added, “This is my sister, Celia. She makes some of the ceramics around here and seems to have a crush on half of the Iron Skulls.”

“I just look. I’m not one of their club bitches.”

“Language, young lady,” Meghan said sternly. Turning to Caitlin, she said, “That’s what they’re called, but they’re not really bitches. Most of them are really nice.”

“It’s a whole subculture, I hear.” Caitlin picked up several ceramic flower pots and laid them on the counter. Travis’s mom liked to keep plants around the house in more than the typical clay container. “I’ll take these.”

“Amazingly enough, we get along well with the MC,” Meghan continued. “We love their president. He’s a force to be reckoned with in this town, and he takes care of us. The MC owns this stretch of property the shop sits on.”

“The man at the coffee shop is not a biker,” Celia interjected, a bit petulantly. “He looks like some model for a sports magazine. He’s married though—ring on his finger.”

“All the good ones are taken,” Meghan said wistfully. She looked down at Caitlin’s left hand. “You’re not married?”

“Actually, I am. I lost my rings a couple of weeks ago when we went to the beach.”

The lie came out easily.

“Oh, no, I hope you have insurance,” Celia said.

“I believe it’s covered. At least, that’s what my husband said.” Caitlin moved over to the metalwork display. Celia followed her. “Some of the bikers in this town make those.”

“It’s creative,” Caitlin replied. She was suddenly hit with an unsettling feeling in her stomach. Metal. Why did that word affect her?

“Are you all right?” Celia asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. I think I had too many pancakes this morning.”

“Ms. Betty makes the best breakfast. It’s easy to overindulge,” Celia said. “On Sunday mornings I usually go help her in the kitchen and that lady sure can feed an army.”

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s menu.

Something fancy like oatmeal soufflé,” Caitlin said, feeling better as her attention shifted back to food.

She pointed to the sun catcher in front.

“I’d like to take that as well, but I’m afraid I’ll break it if I take it down myself.

” It was set up high, which her little stature couldn’t reach without jumping and yanking it down.

“Yes, we little ladies need the extra boost of a step stool. I can have these wrapped and delivered to the bed and breakfast if you want.”

“If it’s not too much trouble—”

“Not at all, sweetie.” Meghan smiled as she rang up another customer.

Caitlin was enjoying her little chitchat with Celia while her sister was attending to other customers when the doorbell chimed again.

Celia, who was facing the door, gushed, “Oh, my God. It’s the Greek God. Pssst, Meghan.”

Caitlin turned, and as she suspected, it was Travis who walked in. Her man smiled at her, and she heard Celia whisper none too quietly, “I think my panties just dropped.”

Caitlin’s lips twitched as she tried not to burst out laughing.

Travis stopped in front of Caitlin, ducked his head and kissed her lightly, “You were taking too long. Making sure I have time to make provisions for shipping your purchases in case you decided to buy the entire store.”

“Smart-ass. Just for that, I’ll fill up the back of the Suburban with pottery.”

Travis winced. “Not the first time. Mom used to drive Dad crazy with her penchant for ceramic.”

“I’m done though, just need to pay up.”

Travis walked past her to the cash register, presumably to settle her purchases with Meghan. Caitlin noticed Celia was flushed red with embarrassment and mouthed “Sorry” to her. She just grinned at her.

Celia started to mock-fan herself with her hands and then pointing to Travis, she mouthed “Hot” and gave Caitlin a thumbs-up.

A warm feeling gripped her heart once more. At this moment, all her troubles melted away, and she was feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Tents of various size and color were set up for the weekly epicurean market held at the main park in Iron Ridge.

Food vendors, some from out of town, came to showcase their culinary expertise and specialty.

The market was crowded. Again, it was a mix of hipsters and bikers.

The out-of-towners were easy to spot in their shorts, sneakers, and baseball caps.

Caitlin sat on a wooden bench waiting for Travis to return with her order of carnitas in soft corn tortillas from the taco slinger situated in the center of the market.

That particular vendor had the longest line, so she figured it must be good.

Travis tried to steer her toward the North Carolina barbecue stall, but she had insisted on the taco.

Shaking his head in resignation, he told her to find them a bench, and he’d fall in line for their food.

It was fun being a stranger in a small town where she could people watch and while away the hours of the day with the sun warming her skin.

She closed her eyes momentarily, soaking in the sounds of people’s chatter and children laughing, the light breeze that grazed her skin like a lover’s touch and finally, the aroma of hickory wood, scenting the air with the mouth-watering offerings of this food extravaganza.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Bennett.”

And just like that, the mood was gone.

She opened her eyes to stare up at Nicholas Crane, who was holding a hotdog in one hand, and a beer in the other. Ashe and another leather-clad biker were right behind him.

“Mind if we join you?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Thank you.” The biker boss sat his ass beside her. The other guys just stood around the bench, keeping a watchful eye on the place.

“There’s a variety of gourmet food around here and you order a hotdog?” Caitlin scrunched her nose in mock disdain.

Crane laughed, “Ah, my dear. This is not a hotdog. This is homemade garlic sausage. The guy who makes this is from the south of France and insists it’s delicious. And it is.”

“Fancy,” Caitlin grinned.

“We’re more cultured than you think. Just because we’re bikers from the backwoods doesn’t mean we’re all beer and burgers.”