Pollard promised to her bank account in no time.
The sound of children drifted through the open car windows as Hannah drove past a park. Mothers sat on benches watching children play on swings and teeter-totters. An old-fashioned wooden band shell, painted white, graced the edge of a boardwalk. Beyond it, the body of water that bore the same name as the town spread out toward the horizon, glittering bright blue in the sunshine.
She pulled up to a Stop sign across the street from an old hotel. It had probably been the pride of the town back in the days of logging and lumberjacks, but now it was abandoned, its windows boarded up, its front steps crumbling. A shame since the little coffee shop on the other side of the hotel looked as if it had been refurbished. Cute café curtains in the windows, a wreath on the door, and—
“Oh, my,” Hannah murmured when she noticed the man in front of the coffee shop.
He was sitting on a plain wood chair, tilted back far enough to raise the front legs off the sidewalk. His arms were up, elbows out, hands linked behind his head, eyes closed, his face tilted skyward, soaking up the afternoon sun. Above him was a sign that said Sweet Buns. And quite a delicacy he was, too. True, she couldn’t see his backside so she had no idea if his buns were sweet, but what she could see was pretty yummy. His muscles did a nice job of filling out his simple white T-shirt and battered, faded jeans. His brown hair, brushed back from his face, was a little long and attractively tousled. He had a square chin, a strong jaw, and a wide, full mouth.
Beefcake. Right out there on the main street of town. But sweetly meaty specimen that he was, what made him even more compelling was the look of pure, obvious pleasure on his face. Hannah was still staring when he lowered his head, opened his eyes, and looked straight at her.
She’d never seen eyes that blue before. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring but when she caught his mouth lifting into a wry little grin, Hannah decided she’d been looking too long already.
She jerked her gaze back to the road and started to ease her foot off the brake just as an elderly man with a cane stepped off the curb. She hesitated seconds too long and ended up having no choice but to wait for him to cross the street. Hannah concentrated on his shuffling feet, steadfastly ignoring the urge to look over at the coffee shop. She ran her hands through her windblown chin-length brown hair, trying to comb out the knots with her fingers, then took her time picking a piece of lint off her black suit jacket. But the pull from those blue eyes was stronger than the will to not embarrass herself again.
She gave in and turned her head—and found herself nose to nose with the beefcake in denim.
Oh, those eyes. They were enough to make a girl shiver.
“Lost?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said, using haughtiness to keep the shivers away.
The beefcake leaned his head farther into the car to look at the slip of paper taped to her dash. “That the address you’re looking for?” he asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but, yes, it is.”
“Then you might not be lost yet, but you’re on your way.”
“Excuse me?”
“You made a wrong turn.”
The last thing Hannah wanted to do was ask him for help, but she was already running late. She looked at her watch. The Walkers expected her for lunch and it was after one. She sighed. “Would you mind giving me directions, please?”
“That might be kind of hard to do, considering your bad sense of direction. Tell you what, I’ll show you the way.”
She thought he was going around to get into the passenger seat and she totally panicked. “I—I don’t think that will be necessary,” she yelled out the window. “I’d really rather you didn’t get into—” she broke off when he plopped himself down on the hood of the Granny’s Grains station wagon. Apparently, he had no intention of getting into the car.
“Make a U-turn,” he yelled.
She stuck her head out the window. “Are you insane? Get off my car.”
He rapped his knuckles on the logo emblazoned on the hood. “Doesn’t look like it’s really your car. Looks like it belongs to Granny’s Grains. So unless you’re Granny—”
“Save it. I’ve heard that same joke several times in several different ways all the way up from Chicago. I’m late. So if you would please—”
Behind her a car honked. And then another. She closed her eyes and groaned. Nice entrance. Holding up traffic in a town with such a low crime rate might be transgression enough to make the front page of the local paper. Mr. Pollard would not be pleased. Behind her, the honking started again so she set her jaw, stepped on the gas and made the U-turn, all the while hoping that the beefcake would fall off in the process.
He didn’t.
Instead he’d turned into a talking hood ornament. “Full speed ahead,” he commanded loud enough for her, and probably the whole town, to hear.
Hannah slunk down in the seat and started to drive, hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Fat chance with the local hero waving and yelling at just about everybody they passed. Bad enough she’d had to drive all the way from Chicago in a bright red station wagon with the company logo displayed prominently in several places, now she had to arrive to meet the Walkers with the local beefcake perched on the front of the car like it was a float in the homecoming parade. She felt like she was hanging onto the last of her professional dignity by her very short, ratty fingernails.
Luckily, they’d only gone a few blocks when he yelled for her to pull over. She checked the address taped to her dash. Yes. This was it.
The house was large, its narrow clapboard siding painted lemon-yellow. The shutters on the windows that reached nearly to the ground were painted white, as was the trim. And there was a huge porch stretched low across the front with a swing swaying gently in the early June breeze.
“Perfect,” she murmured again. Just the kind of house Hannah had always dreamed about. It was even better than the one Lissa had grown up in.
“Want me to carry your cereal for you, sweetheart?”
While she’d gaped at the house, Hannah had nearly forgotten all about him. He was leaning in the passenger window this time.
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly as she got out of the car. She was glad she’d worn the black tailored pantsuit and the gorgeously tailored white shirt she’d borrowed from Lissa. It made her feel professional enough to put the beefcake in his place. He was draped attractively against the car, showing no sign of leaving. “I don’t think I’ll get lost between the front sidewalk and the front door,” she told him. “You can go now.”
She didn’t wait to see if he did. This was too exciting a moment to let him spoil it. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a real scientific research study, but Lissa had been so right. It was going to be quite an adventure—getting to know the family that was going to represent not only Super Korny Krunchies but also her fondest fantasy.
It wasn’t until she was standing at the Walkers’ front door, ready to ring the bell, that she realized that she wasn’t alone.
He
