of the newcomer was his silhouette cutting through the strong lemony rays of the western sun. It was a silhouette cut so fine, everything within her stilled, awestruck by the iron-strong impression of his wide-shouldered outline.
“Why, thank you, sir,” Opal’s genteel alto rang with admiration. “You’re a fine gentleman.”
“You have a nice afternoon, ma’am.” He stepped out of the touch of the light. His shadowed form became substance—a fit, capable soldier dressed in military camouflage, who looked as if he’d just walked off the front page of the newspaper and into the bookstore.
Wow. Definitely, one of the good guys.
“Good afternoon.” The soldier removed his hat, the floppy brimmed kind that was camouflage, too, revealing his thick, short jet-black hair. He nodded crisply in her direction.
“Uh. G-good afternoon.” Was that really her voice? It sounded as if she had peanut butter stuck in her throat. Totally embarrassing. “Do you need any help?”
“I might. I’ll let you know.” He stood too far away for her to see the color of his eyes accurately, but his gaze was direct and commanding.
And familiar. There was something about him. It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to find their way in here, down from the army base up north.
Could he be a repeat customer? She considered him more carefully. No, she sure didn’t think he’d been in before. His face was more rugged than handsome, masculine and distinctive with piercing hazel eyes, a sharp blade of a nose and square granite jaw.
Kelly, you’re gawking at the guy. Again, a little embarrassing, so she went in search through her backpack instead. Her aspirin bottle was in there somewhere—
“Hey, I know you. You’re Kelly, right? Kelly Logan?” The handsome warrior grinned at her, slow and wide, showing straight, even white teeth. Twin dimples cut into lean, sun-browned cheeks. “South Valley High. You don’t remember me, do you?”
Then she recognized the little upward crick in the corner of his mouth, making the left side of his smile higher than the right. Like a video on rewind, time reeled backward and she saw the remembered image of a younger, rangy teenage boy.
“Mitch? From sophomore math class. No, it can’t be—” Like a cold spray from the leading edge of an avalanche, she felt the slap and the cold. The past rolled over her, and she deliberately shut out the painful blast and held onto the memories of the man standing before her. The shy honors student who’d let her, the new girl, check her homework answers against his for the entire spring quarter.
“Yep, it’s me.” A very mature Mitch Dalton strode toward her with a leader’s confidence. “How are you?”
“Good.” A sweet pang kicked to life in her chest. She remembered the girl she used to be. A girl who had stubbornly clung to the misguided hope that her life would be filled with love—one day. Who had still believed in dreaming. “You have changed in a major way.”
“Only on the outside. I’m still a shy nerd down deep.”
“You don’t look it.” She glanced at the pile of textbooks on the counter. She, on the other hand, was still a shy bookish girl—and looked it.
“You haven’t changed much.” Mitch halted at the edge of the counter, all six feet plus of solid muscle, towering over her. “I would have known you anywhere.”
“Why? Because—wait, don’t answer that.” She saw the girl she’d been, so lost, so alone, in and out of foster care and relatives’ homes. She belonged nowhere, and that had been a brand she’d felt as clearly as if it had been in neon, flashing on her forehead. She still did.
Forget the past. Life was easier to manage when she looked forward and not back.
Mitch jammed his big hands on his hips, and the pose merely emphasized his size and strength. “It’s been a long time since we sat in Mr. Metzer’s advanced algebra class.”
“Math. You had to go and remind me of that particular torture. I was lost until you took pity on me and gave me a little help. I wouldn’t have passed Algebra Two without you.”
“Math’s not so bad. I’m planning on getting a math degree after I get out next summer.”
“Out of the army?”
“Please. I’m a marine.”
“I should have known. The distinctive camouflage outfit gives it away. Not.”
His left eyebrow quirked as he glanced down at his uniform and then at his name on his pocket—M. Dalton. “Did you really remember me, or did you just read the tag?”
“You were too far away when you walked in. So, this is what you’ve been doing since high school?”
“Yep. Being a soldier keeps me busy and out of trouble.”
Kelly wasn’t fooled. His hazel eyes sparkled with hints of green and gold, and humor drew fine character lines around his mouth. He didn’t look as if he caused trouble. No, he looked as if he stopped trouble when it happened. “Are you stationed up north?”
“It’s only temporary. I’m here for more training. Then it’s back to California, and the desert after that. They keep me pretty busy.”
“The desert, as in the Middle East? Like, in combat?”
“That’s what soldiers do.” His smile faded. He watched her with a serious, unblinking gaze, as if he wanted to change subjects. “How’s Joe doing?”
“J-Joe.” She froze in shock. Didn’t Mitch know what had happened? Her chest clogged tight, as if she were buried under a mountain of snow. She wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but here. Talking about anything, anyone.
It felt as if an eternity had passed, but it had to be only the space between one breath and the next.
Silent, Mitch loomed over her, the surface of the wooden counter standing between them wide as the Grand Canyon. The late-afternoon sun sheened on the polished counter, or maybe it was the pain in her eyes that made it seem so bright. Looking through that glare and up into Mitch’s face was tough. It was tougher still to try to talk about her broken dreams. They were too personal.
She’d stopped trusting anyone with those vulnerable places within her when she’d buried Joe.
And that’s the way she still wanted it.
She slipped her left hand into her jeans pocket so he wouldn’t see that there was no ring. She could not bring herself to answer him as the seconds stretched out longer and longer and she looked down at the counter, too numb to think of anything to say, even to change the subject.
The truth of the past remained, unyielding and something she could not go back and change. There were a lot of things in her life she would have wanted to be different. A man as forthright and strong as Mitch Dalton wouldn’t understand that. Not at all.
The phone jingled, like a sign from above to move on and let go. She had a reason to step away from the tough marine watching her, as if he could see right into her.
“Excuse
