Her Last Best Fling. Candace Havens

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dog ducked beneath the chair and tossed out several stuffed animals, a ball and chew bones that had seen better days. Once she had her stash from under the chair, she moved the items one at a time to the charcoal-gray sofa. The booty soon became a pillow as she lay atop her toys, sighing as if she’d been on a long journey.

      “Poor girl,” Blake whispered. The sight of her relaxing choked him up.

      “That’s the first time I’ve seen her sleep since he passed,” a feminine voice whispered.

      Head snapping around, he took in Macy Reynolds’s tight jeans, pink hoodie and those furry boots women wore when the thermometer dipped below seventy. The town was having an unusually cool October, and the temperature hung around the fifty-degree mark. A sleepy angel with no makeup, and more beautiful than she’d been the day before.

      “I saw her running past my mom’s house when I left this morning and I decided to follow.” He held up a hand. “I swear she made me unlock the door. She showed me where the key was.”

      “I believe it. Evidently the drama was about her missing toys. I don’t blame her,” Macy continued to whisper. “I’m kind of fond of my stuff. I don’t have that much, but what I do have is precious to me.”

      Odd since he’d learned she inherited her uncle’s house. He assumed she had tons of stuff.

      “What?” She checked her clothing as if she might have missed a button.

      “Nothing. I...heard last night that you inherited your uncle’s new mansion.”

      She scrunched her face. “Yes, he— Yes.”

      “For the record, I haven’t been stalking you. Some of the gossips at the party were talking about it.”

      She smirked and moved to the sofa to sit beside Harley.

      “Is there an expiration date or something on being the subject of town gossip? I’ve never lived in a place where other people were so in your business. Usually, as a reporter, I’m the nosy one. It’s disconcerting. And I don’t think they like me very much, although I’m doing my best to turn their local into a paper that resembles more than tractor reports.”

      He laughed, and the dog opened an eye and glared at him.

      “Unfortunately, until the next interesting person moves to town, it’ll be all about you.”

      “Yes, but the hero has returned.” She nodded in his direction. “Can’t you be the subject of conversation for a while?”

      “Nah. I’m not nearly as interesting as a Yankee woman who wears pencil skirts and sky-high heels. And according to the gray hairs, you have a scandalous past where you combed the world reporting on everything from celebrities to wars. Some man broke your heart, and you’re here hiding away.”

      Her eyes opened wide. “Wow. They are good. I wish they’d be as generous with their words with me. Honestly, I know heads of state who give more in an interview than people in this town.”

      She hadn’t bothered to deny any of what he’d said, so it must have been true about combing the world and the man who was in her life. He wondered if that relationship was really over. He shrugged. “Give it some time, they’ll come around.”

      “Will you talk to me?”

      He frowned. “I thought that was what we were doing.”

      “No—I mean, yes.” She waved her hand. “In an interview. The Tranquil Waters News should do a feature on the town hero.”

      That was the last thing he wanted.

      “There isn’t a lot these folks don’t already know. I’ve been gone for about seven years. I’m back, a little worse for the wear but alive. There isn’t much more to tell. I was doing my job but happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

      She sighed, not unlike the suffering sound the dog had made. “I should have known. You’re no different than the rest.”

      The disappointment in her voice forced him to do something he promised he never would.

      “All right, if you want to talk, that’s cool, but not right now. I need to get to the feed store to help my mom.” Small white lie, but he had to stall to gather his thoughts. “I was on my way there when I saw Harley.” At least that part was true.

      She glanced from the dog to him as if she were trying to discern the truth. “We could do something a little less formal, if that would make you more comfortable. How about tonight? I could make you dinner at my place.”

      He almost laughed at the look on her face as if she couldn’t believe she just asked him to dinner.

      “If food is involved, I’m there. If you’re sure?”

      She nodded. “How about seven-thirty?”

      “See ya then.” He stood.

      “Don’t you need the address?”

      He chuckled. “The house is where the old Gladstone farm used to be, right?”

      “Yes. It overlooks the lake.”

      “Trust me. I know that area very well.” More than once, he and his friends had thrown a party at the old barn, which had been torn down years ago.

      “Do you need help with the dog?”

      “No, I’m going to go grab my laptop and work here so she can rest. I have a feeling she’ll follow those toys wherever I take them.”

      “Okay, see ya later.” He patted the dog and walked out the front door.

      He had a date. Well, it was technically an interview, but he was practiced at giving nonanswers. He’d done it his entire military career. All of his assignments were classified, so he couldn’t share anything.

      Hope she won’t be too mad when she finds out I’m as tight-lipped as the rest of Tranquil Waters.

      He started the truck engine. The last thing he wanted was the sleepy angel mad at him.

      * * *

      “WHAT WAS I thinking?” Macy blurted into the phone. “You don’t invite people you’re interviewing to dinner.”

      “Yes, you do. It’s just the dinner’s at a restaurant most of the time,” her friend Cherie chimed in. “Chill, girl. You’re going to have a heart attack. This guy must be superhot to make you so nervous.”

      Macy slipped on a pair of flats. After his comment about the heels, she realized she’d been trying too hard. Except for those over sixty, this was more of a jeans and T-shirt town. She was perfectly comfortable in that attire.

      It wasn’t until her breakup with Garrison that Cherie, her nearest and dearest friend, forced her to leave Boston and took her for a makeover in Manhattan. They tossed out everything she’d owned and decided to start fresh with a sexy new wardrobe. Add a brand-new haircut that was perfect for her shoulder-length curls. And a newfound passion for accessories. Cherie had convinced

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