in a long, loose ponytail, he had a clear view of her face turning pink. He remembered that about her from high school, that she’d been prone to blushing. Her jackass boyfriend would pass her notes, their contents guessable by the color of Hadley’s cheeks. Oh, hell, what if the jackass boyfriend was why Hadley had settled in Cupid’s Bow? He could be the jackass husband by now.
When Hadley caught him looking at her, she planted her hands on her hips. “I suppose you’re referring to Grayson Cox, Violet’s nephew?” Hadley asked Alma. “I don’t see anything ‘hot’ about him.”
Alma snorted. “Then you should make an appointment with Dr. Shaffer to get your vision check—Oh! Violet’s nephew, you say?” She lowered her voice to a whisper.
Grayson’s stomach churned. He hated knowing he was the topic of discussion. Gossip had followed him throughout childhood—people talking about his mom’s disappearance, his father’s drinking, his aunt taking him in when she was so young. There were townsfolk who thought Violet and Jim McKay had been on the verge of getting engaged before Grayson disrupted her life; he’d always been too afraid to ask her if he was the reason she and Jim had ended things.
There was a break in the whispering, and Hadley cast him a quick look over her shoulder. Instead of her earlier irritation, now there was pity in her eyes. Screw it. He didn’t need to apologize that badly. Time to get out of here. He strode away from the reorganized cereal display, but Hadley caught up with him, nearly matching his stride. She was a tall woman. Though she’d been known on the softball field for her pitching, she could haul ass around the bases when necessary.
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “I take it you got an earful?” How much did Cupid’s Bow citizens already know about his moving back?
“Apparently, Alma heard from Dagmar, the florist, who overheard Violet tell the sheriff’s wife that you and your godsons... Grayson, I’m sorry about your friends.”
His breath caught, a painful knot in his lungs. He couldn’t talk about them. Logically, he knew Blaine and Miranda were never coming back—he’d had to remind the boys of that on several heart-wrenching occasions—but he still hated discussing it. As if talking about their death made them more dead somehow. He gurgled an inarticulate response to her condolences.
“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. Which is saying something,” she added, wry humor edging into her sympathy. “Because I have a very vivid imagination.”
He was surprised she’d made a joke about herself instead of dwelling on his situation. Some of the pressure in his chest eased, and he offered her a tentative smile.
“That’s why I didn’t recognize you,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“When I first saw you in the cereal aisle, I didn’t know it was you.”
Ditto. Grayson hadn’t reconciled the curvy stranger with the girl he’d known. In his memory, she was either in a softball uniform or snuggled up to Reggie George.
“You smiled when I offered to help,” she explained, “and those dimples are an effective disguise. The Grayson Cox I went to school with never smiled at me.”
“Don’t take it personally.” He hadn’t done much smiling at anyone during his adolescent years.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I better run. I have company coming for dinner, and I’m behind schedule.”
“Hot date?” he asked before he could stop himself. He didn’t see a wedding band or engagement ring, but she could still be dating Reggie. Then again, Hadley was smart. Despite her long-ago loyalty to her boyfriend, surely she’d figured out sometime during the last decade what an entitled bully he was.
“My sister, actually. And if I don’t get my butt in gear, she’ll reach my house before I do.” She turned back to her abandoned cart.
“Hadley? I’m sorry I was so abrupt earlier. The boys and I just got here last night, and I’m...adjusting. To, um, everything.” Cupid’s Bow always brought out the worst in him.
“Maybe you can make it up to me with a cup of coffee sometime,” she said lightly. “It would be nice to catch up with an old friend.”
“We were never friends.” How could they have been, when he’d spent so much time holding everyone at arm’s length? Never mind that she’d been dating his nemesis.
“No, I guess we weren’t.” Her dark eyes flashed with hurt.
Crap. He hadn’t meant to insult her. “But like you said earlier...things change, right?”
She nodded, not looking entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”
* * *
“OW, DAMMIT!” HADLEY yanked her hand back from the pot. As she’d dropped pasta into the boiling water, her thumb had grazed the metal.
Leanne paused in the act of uncorking the wine. “You need me to finish up cooking? You’ve been distracted since I got here. You’re lucky you didn’t catch your sleeve on fire lighting the burner.”
“I’ve got it under control now.” Possibly. “Besides, you shouldn’t have to help cook. You’re the guest.”
“Big sisters don’t count as guests. What’s on your mind, anyway? Thinking about one of your stories?”
“No.” Until Hadley had sold a couple of short stories to a mystery magazine last year, it had been a well-kept secret that the town librarian also dreamed of being an author. She was still hesitant about discussing it, but her sister had been super supportive. Leanne was the one who’d recently encouraged her to apply for a unique writer-in-residence opportunity. “I was thinking about new friends. Or old friends, I guess. If it was an old friend who wasn’t actually your friend.”
“Uh...” Leanne held up the chardonnay. “Did you finish one of these without me before I got here?”
“Ha—I barely had time to carry in the groceries, much less down a bottle of wine. I had a strange encounter at the supermarket.” She lowered her voice the way she used to when making up ghost stories to thrill her sister when they were kids. “On this stormy night, I ran in to a tall, dark man from my past.”
“For real? Last time I went to the grocery store, the most noteworthy thing that happened was I had to wait ten minutes for a price check.”
“Grayson Cox is back in town.” At Leanne’s blank look, she added, “He’s my age and was kind of a loner. You might not remember him.”
During Hadley’s junior year in high school, her older sister had run off with a man nearly a decade older. She’d declared him the love of her life, but it only lasted four months. By then, she’d had a waitressing job in Albuquerque and soon landed in an even worse relationship. Although she sounded miserable whenever Hadley talked to her on the phone, she’d been too proud to come home. It wasn’t until after their mother’s stroke that Leanne returned.
“Grayson is Violet Duncan’s nephew,” Hadley elaborated. “Bryant Cox’s son?”
“Oh. His dad was the one who crashed into that big oak tree on Spiegel.”
