do that I would need either your mum or dad’s permission.’ No way was she going to cause that kind of trouble.
Five sets of shoulders slumped. Jaz’s grew heavy in sympathy.
‘I hate this town,’ one of them muttered.
‘There’s never anything to do!’
‘If you look the least bit different you’re labelled a troublemaker.’
Jaz remembered resenting this town at their age too for pretty much the same reasons. ‘You’re always welcome to come and browse in here.’ She motioned to the book on urban art.
‘Thanks,’ Carmen murmured, but the brightness had left her eyes. She glanced up from placing the book back on its shelf. ‘Is it true you’re a tattoo artist?’
‘Yes, I am.’ And she wasn’t ashamed of it.
‘And are you running drugs through here?’
What? Jaz blinked. ‘I could probably rustle you up an aspirin if you needed one, but anything stronger is beyond me, I’m afraid.’
‘I told you that was a lie!’ Carmen hissed to the others.
‘Yeah, well, fat chance that my mum’ll let me work here once she catches wind of that rumour,’ one of the others grumbled.
The teenagers drifted back outside.
Drugs? Drugs! Jaz started to shake. Her hands curved into claws. Just because she was a tattoo artist that made her a junkie, or a drug baron?
She wished Mac could hear this.
The whole town would boycott her shop if those kinds of rumours took hold. Very carefully, she unclenched her hands. She drummed her fingers against the countertop for a moment, a grim smile touching her lips. Very carefully, she smoothed down her hair. Her smile grew. So did the grimness.
She hooked the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign to the window, locked the door and set off across the street. ‘You’ll enjoy this,’ she said, without stopping, to Mrs Lavender, who sat on her usual park bench on the traffic island. She reminded herself to walk tall. She reminded herself she was as good as anyone else in this town. Without pausing, she breezed into Mr Sears’s shop with her largest smile in place and called out, ‘Howdy, Mr Sears! How are you today? Aren’t we having the most glorious weather? Good for business, isn’t it?’
Mr Sears jerked around from the far end of the shop and his eyes darkened with fury, lines bracketing his mouth, distorting it.
‘I’ll take a piece of your scrumptious carrot cake to go, thanks.’
The rest of the bakery went deathly quiet. Jaz pretended to peruse the baked goodies on display in their glass-fronted counters until she was level with Mr Sears. ‘If you refuse to serve me,’ she told him, quietly so no one else heard her, ‘I will create the biggest scene Clara Falls has ever seen. And, believe me, you will regret it.’ Her smile didn’t slip an inch.
Mr Sears seized a paper bag. He continued to glare, but he very carefully placed a piece of carrot cake inside it. It was a trait Jaz remembered, and it brought previous visits rushing back. He’d always treated his goods as if they were fine porcelain. For some reason that made her throat thicken.
She swallowed the thickness away. ‘Best bread for twenty miles, my mother always used to say,’ she continued in her bright, breezy, you’re-my-long-lost-best-friend voice. A voice that probably carried all the way outside and across to where Mrs Lavender sat grinning on her park bench.
Carmen emerged from the back of the bakery. ‘Hey, Dad, can I…’ She stopped dead to stare from her father to Jaz and back again. She swallowed, then offered Jaz a half-hearted smile. ‘Hey, Jaz.’
‘Hey, Carmen.’ Carmen was Gordon Sears’s daughter? Whew! His glare grew even more ferocious. She grinned back. That was too delicious for words. ‘And I’ll take a loaf of your famous sourdough too, Mr S.’
He looked as if he’d like to throw the loaf at her head. He didn’t. He placed it in a bag and set it down beside her carrot cake. His fingers lingered on the bag, as if in apology to it for where it was going.
Jaz grinned and winked as she paid him. ‘It’s great to be back in town, Mr S. You have a good day now, you hear?’
He slammed her change on the counter.
‘And keep the change.’
She breezed back outside.
To slam smack-bang into Connor. His hands shot out to steady her. His eyes danced with a wicked delight that she feared mirrored her own. ‘Lunchtime, huh?’
‘That’s right. You too?’
‘Yep.’
His grin widened. It made her miss…everything.
No, it didn’t! She stepped away so he was forced to drop his hands. ‘I’d…er…recommend the carrot cake.’
‘The carrot cake, huh?’
‘That’s right.’ She swallowed. ‘Well… I’ll catch ya.’ Oh, good Lord. Had she just descended into her former teenage vernacular? With as much nonchalance as she could muster, she stalked off.
His laughter and his hearty, ‘Howdy, Mr S,’ as he entered the bakery, followed her up the street, across the road and burrowed a path into her stomach to warm her very toes.
She unlocked the bookshop door, plonked herself down on her stool behind the sales counter and devoured her piece of carrot cake. For the first time in her life, Mr Sears’s baked goods didn’t choke her. The carrot cake didn’t taste like sawdust. It tasted divine.
When she closed her eyes to lick the frosting from her fingers all she saw was Connor’s laughing autumn eyes, making her feel alive again. In the privacy of the bookshop, she let herself grin back.
An hour after she’d last seen him, Connor stormed into the bookshop with a computer tucked under one arm and the diminutive Mrs Lavender tucked under the other.
Jaz blinked. She tried to slow her heart rate, did what she could to moderate the exhilaration pulsing through her veins. Just because she was back in Clara Falls didn’t mean she and Connor were… anything. In fact, it meant the total opposite. They were…nothing. Null and void. History. But…
No man had any right whatsoever to look so darn sexy in jeans and work boots. Thank heavens he wasn’t wearing a tool belt. That would draw the eye to…
No, no, no. Jaz tried to shoo that image right out of her head.
Connor set the computer on the counter. Jaz glanced at it, then back at him. She moistened her lips, realised his gaze had narrowed in on that action and her mouth went even drier. ‘I know the question is obvious, but…what is that?’
‘This is a computer I’m not using at the moment and is yours on loan until you get a chance to upgrade the shop’s computer. This—’ he pulled a computer disk from his pocket ‘—is the information my receptionist—the receptionist
