fine if someone hadn’t left a flowerpot sitting in the middle of the walkway. With the heel of his boot catching the edge of the pot, Mac found himself cartwheeling toward the edge of the porch.
He had to give Holly credit for a quick reaction. She grabbed the front of his shirt and reversed his momentum. “A little clumsy this morning, Chief.”
The mischievous grin left her face as Mac’s backward motion transferred to forward motion and she found herself pressed to the wall of the bakery. Mac’s hands landed on either side of her head as he tried to prevent himself from smashing into her.
Her expression a mixture of surprise and alarm, Holly shoved at his chest. “What the heck, McAndrews?”
Hands still pressed to the wall, Mac stared at Holly. Her green eyes locked on his face, her lips parted. Mac’s memory brought up a picture of a fifteen-year-old Holly, holding an orange flower in the palm of her hand, smiling up at him. He took a slow breath. “Are you—”
“Get off me, McAndrews. You’re squishing me.”
This time Mac’s jaw dropped. “You grabbed me.” He backed up a step. “And may I remind you who just came plowing through that door like a runaway horse?”
“Did you just call me a horse?” Holly brushed off his hands and pushed past him. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
She stalked down the boardwalk toward the coffee shop. When she reached her door, she turned and shot him a laser beam of a look that sent a shiver up his spine. What was her problem?
He escaped into the bakery and shut the door with a sigh of relief. Holly wasn’t fifteen anymore. She had grown into a strong, smart woman, just as he always knew she would. And if she didn’t like him very much, well, that didn’t come as a surprise.
He glanced at Sue, expecting a smile. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Well, did you find anything out?”
His eyes lighted on the cookie jar clock, hoping against hope it was quitting time.
It wasn’t.
And who was he kidding? No such thing as quitting time for the chief of police.
* * *
HOLLY RACED INTO the shop and slammed the door. Striding over to the counter, she leaned on it and took a deep breath. Why, after six months, was that man suddenly underfoot? She closed her eyes.
She had liked him at first, when Chris brought the new kid to the family Christmas party. Then when she saw him in gym class, everything changed. He was nowhere near the nice, polite boy who helped her father set up the Christmas tree that had fallen victim to one of her brothers’ all-too-common tussles. He had everybody fooled. Everybody except her.
She slapped a hand over her chest and belatedly looked around the room, hoping no customers had observed the owner’s brief foray into madness. No one had. The teens were gone, the blonde was gone and apparently her mother and Louise were gone. Her pounding heart slowed. “Mom?”
A voice wafted from the far corner of the store. “Over here.”
Holly went around a wall divider and peeked into an alcove stacked with books and magazines. Her mother lay sprawled on a beanbag chair, studying a business magazine. Holly propped her hands on her hips. “Comfortable, are we?”
Rose laughed as she struggled to rise from the chair, which kept collapsing as she pushed on it. She reached out a hand. “Pull me up, honey.”
Holly gripped the outstretched hand and pulled. “What were you doing?”
Rose straightened her apron and returned the magazine to a neat pile on a shelf. “I was straightening up this area and I happened to see an article on bed-and-breakfasts. I had to read it.”
“Of course.” Holly followed her mother to the counter. “You should head home anyway. Dad’s probably waiting for his dinner.” She drummed her fingers on the counter as her mother removed her apron. “What’s he up to today?”
Her mother folded the apron into a small square of fabric before answering. “When I left this morning he was putting the finishing touches on the backyard gazebo. He’s always doing something, you know. He can’t seem to sit still.” She rested a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be down soon, honey. He’s proud of you.”
“He’s so proud of me he refused to offer me the same terms as Sonny and Thomas because he thinks I don’t have business sense.” Her father would rather do hard labor than visit Holly’s coffee shop. He had told her in no uncertain terms that leaving the air force was a mistake, that she should “tough it out.”
“Oh, Holly.”
She squeezed her mother’s hands. “Thank you, Mom, for your help. I wish I had the money to pay you.”
Rose laid a hand on her cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” She carried the folded apron into the kitchen. When she came out she had two paperback books in her hand and her purse looped over her shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything. Look at all the free books I get to read.”
Laughing, Holly propped both elbows on the counter as her mother passed with a wave. “Wonder who the blonde lady was.” A stranger in their little town stood out and usually ended up being someone’s relative.
Rose paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned, brow wrinkled in thought. “What did you say, dear?”
“The blonde who was drinking a cappuccino, working on a laptop. She doesn’t look like a local.”
Rose leaned against the open door and put a finger to her lips. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve guessed she was Mac McAndrews’s wife. But of course she can’t be. His wife passed away three years ago.”
“How do you know what she looked like?” Holly’s antenna emerged. Mac was married to a woman who looked like the blonde cappuccino-drinker?
“Chris showed me a picture once. She was on the cover of an equestrian magazine.” Rose turned in the doorway, hands clasping her books to her middle. “Beautiful woman. Bye, dear.”
With a backward wave she was gone, leaving Holly to wonder: after he’d been married to a woman like that, who could possibly meet Mac McAndrews’s standards? She pitied the next woman to fall under his spell.
Holly looked up as the bell over the door jingled. “Mom, did you forget—”
Instead of her mother, Holly was greeted with the sight of Sonny, the expression on his ruddy face intense. He flipped her sign to Closed and locked the door. “Mom’s halfway home.”
Holly held up a hand like a stop sign, her eyes closed as she anticipated her brother’s wrath. “Whatever you’re going to say—”
“I’m not saying anything. Carolyn said you might need help cleaning up.” He walked behind the counter and stared at the dual coffeemaker. “Is it okay if I turn this off and empty the pots?”
Holly stared at her brother, momentarily taken aback at the offer of help. Go figure. I can’t even understand my own brothers half the time. Men. “Sure, just
