see the library on story day when half the preschool audience needs a nap.”
He gave her an answering grin, and dimples appeared. Oh, mercy! His muscular body had been impressive even before he turned around, but now that he was smiling and his eyes shone with—
“What the heck happened here?”
Hadley glanced past Dimples to find a bewildered Violet Duncan, holding a bag from the pharmacy while she gaped at the sobbing boys and scattered boxes. Violet was a web designer who volunteered her skills to keep the library’s online community calendar updated.
The horizontal twin lifted his tearstained face and responded, “It w-w-was a accident!”
“Grayson yelled at Sam!” the other twin accused.
Grayson...
Good Lord. Dimples was Grayson Cox? Hadley hadn’t recognized her former classmate. She knew he was Violet’s nephew, of course, but she’d been under the impression that his visits to Cupid’s Bow were as rare as unicorns. Was he in town for their high school’s ten-year reunion next Saturday? And who were these little boys? With their brown eyes, she might have guessed they were his except the kid had called him Grayson, not Dad.
“I did not yell!” Grayson defended himself. “I told him to stop running, which he didn’t, and then I pointed out the consequences of not listening.” He gestured at the mess around them.
Violet scooped up Sam and set him in the shopping cart. The action startled the boy out of his crying.
“I’m too big to ride in the cart,” he protested.
“You’re also too big to throw temper tantrums in the grocery store,” Violet said mildly. “If I let you walk, will you quiet down?”
With one last dramatic sniffle, Sam nodded.
“Good. If you and your brother will behave, you can come help me pick out something for dessert tonight.” With a sigh, she turned to Grayson. “You want to finish restoring order here and meet us in the baking aisle?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his gaze, looking as boyishly chagrined as young Sam.
When Hadley chuckled at his expression, all eyes turned to her.
Violet gave her a wan smile, acknowledging her as she shepherded the boys away. “Hey, Hadley.”
“Hadley?” Grayson echoed, turning back toward her. He blinked. “Hadley the Cannon?”
“No.” The quick denial felt like a protective gesture, warding off the once beloved nickname. “I mean, no one calls me that.” Not since she was seventeen.
“But you are Hadley Lanier?” He studied her from top to bottom, the intensity in his gaze making her shiver. Like her, Grayson had brown eyes, but his were a few shades lighter, nearly the color of her dad’s favorite bourbon, ringed in a circle of darker brown that made his eyes unforgettable. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him sooner—or that she had yet to look away. Quit staring. Easier said than done.
Outside, she’d felt the prickle of storm-charged electricity against her skin, but that was nothing compared to the sizzle that went through her now. “I, uh... What was the question? Oh!” Her cheeks burned. “Yes. I’m Hadley.”
His hand clenched around a cereal box as he scowled at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Grayson hadn’t meant to blurt out the question so rudely. But the idea of Hadley Lanier in Cupid’s Bow was almost as ridiculous as his being here.
Her eyes narrowed, their coldness making him belatedly realize how much he’d been enjoying her earlier warm interest. “I’m grocery shopping, same as you. But without toppling displays and making small children cry.”
Less than twenty-four hours in town, and they’d already made a public scene. Yeah, he was really winning at this parenting business. “I didn’t mean what are you doing here in the store,” he said impatiently. “Why are you in Cupid’s Bow? Last I saw you, you were headed off to play college softball, with big plans to get your diploma and see the worl—”
“Plans change.”
Ain’t that the truth. He felt a spark of kinship with her, probably his first ever. During their school years, he’d spent a lot of time annoyed with her. Even before high school and her blind devotion to Reggie George, Grayson had hated the excited class reports she gave about other countries. Her vivid social-studies presentations about all the places she planned to see made him realize how big the world was, how many places his mom could be. While he was cooped up in a classroom, listening to some stupid report from a know-it-all girl, was his mother swimming in an ocean? Surveying Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower? Whether she’d been in Paris, France, or Paris, Texas, the result was the same—his own mom hadn’t loved him and all his classmates knew it.
“Hello, Hadley, dear.” At the other end of the aisle, a stooped elderly woman nudged her cart forward and stopped in front of the hot cereal. She eyed Grayson with open curiosity. “Would one of you be so kind as to reach the grits for me?”
“I’d be happy to, Miss Alma.” Hadley smiled, but the expression seemed forced—especially when she cut her eyes toward Grayson. “We were done here anyway.”
No, they weren’t. Curiosity about her life choices aside, he needed a chance to apologize for his rude bluntness. You’re a role model now, remember? He could just imagine Aunt Vi’s response if she heard how he’d spoken to Hadley. Probably something like “You want people to think I didn’t raise you with any manners?”
Stalling, he fussed with the cereal display, making sure the boxes were perfectly lined up while he waited until he could talk to Hadley alone again. He listened with half an ear to Alma’s chatter. “How’s your mama, dear?” and “Looks like some storm blowing in” and “Who’s the hottie?”
“Miss Alma!” Hadley sounded mortified, and Grayson registered he was the “hottie” in question.
Grinning inwardly, he darted a glance toward his former classmate. With her hair pulled back 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
