than once, he’d referred to her as a lady. Not only that, she mused as she started walking, he actually made her feel like one. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had done that for her, and despite her lingering misgivings, she had to admit she liked it.
* * *
Lauren Foster was like a Thoroughbred, Ben quickly realized. Beautiful to look at but skittish as anything.
Dressed in conservative gray trousers and a navy blouse, she appeared to be ready for work in an office somewhere. When she turned her head to look across the street, he noticed the way her ponytail caught the sunlight in a cascade of honey-gold curls. It was an intriguing contradiction to the all-business outfit, more suited to a picnic than a job indoors.
Women usually took to him right away, so her standoffish manner baffled him. Then again, he amended as they strolled along, maybe it wasn’t him. The idea that someone in her past had done something to make her so timid riled his protective nature, and he had to remind himself it was none of his business. She was Julia’s friend, nothing more. Still, he wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, figure out what was going on behind those amazing blue eyes.
“Isn’t that the church in Julia’s model village?” Lauren asked, pointing to the old-fashioned white chapel tucked into the town square.
“The Safe Harbor Church. Pastor McHenry is Julia’s future father-in-law, and he’ll be doing the ceremony.”
“I couldn’t believe it when she told me Nick’s the son of a preacher. I’ve read his Kaleidoscope magazine online, and in his picture he looks more like the dark, dangerous type.”
“Oh, he is,” Ben assured her with a laugh. “Except with Julia. She doesn’t let him brood too much, which is why she’s perfect for him.”
“That’s nice.”
Ben sensed she was less than impressed by his buddy’s religious background, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to nudge her a little. “Our pastor’s really great, and not intimidating at all. If you wanted to come to Sunday service with Julia, we’d be glad to have you.”
Lauren gave him a suspicious once-over. “You go to church?”
“I met Nick in Sunday school.” Recalling the early days of their friendship made him grin. They were both twenty-eight now, and they still rarely agreed on anything. “When we were kids, we got in a fight over the best way to build the walls of Jericho.”
“Weren’t those the ones that came down?” she teased.
That he’d finally gotten this very somber woman to lighten up a little made Ben feel like he’d scored a touchdown. “To be fair, God had a hand in that. It wasn’t the masons’ fault.”
“I guess.” Her brief moment of humor evaporated into a frown. “I appreciate the invitation, but religion’s really not my thing. We used to go when I was a kid, but now I’m more the sleep-till-noon-go-have-brunch kind of girl.”
Ben suspected she could use some of the warmth he always found in the old chapel, but he’d learned long ago that it’s impossible to convince someone of something they don’t half believe already. You could try, but in the end, you were just wasting your breath.
“That’s fine,” he said as he pulled open the door to the bakery. “If you change your mind, you know how to get there.”
Once inside, Lauren paused and took a deep breath. “Mmm...something smells delicious. What is it?”
“Carolina’s snickerdoodles, runner-up at the state fair last summer.”
“Carolina? Are they named for the state, or is that someone’s name?”
“Carolina and her sister Georgia are from Alabama, but they’ve been here ever since I can remember.” Affectionately known around town as the Bakery Sisters, they were two of Holiday Harbor’s favorite residents. “They came up for a vacation with their husbands and never left. Kinda like Julia.”
Lauren gave him an odd look. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Great minds and all that.” Her eyes narrowed, and he tried not to take her reaction personally. Judging by her rapidly shifting moods, something was going on with her, and he opted to cut her some slack. For better or worse, he’d had a lot of practice with that kind of thing. “If you wanna try the snickerdoodles, we should get ’em now. They won’t last long.”
“That would be great. If they were second place, I can’t imagine what came in first.”
“Mavis Freeman’s gingerbread. She’s our lighthouse keeper, and she wins every year.”
“I thought all those beacons were automated these days,” his guest commented as they joined the line.
“Not the Last Chance Lighthouse,” he informed her. “Mavis would strap herself to the tower if we tried to change anything out there.”
“Let me guess. It got its name because it’s the last chance a boat has to change course before it crashes on the rocks.”
Grinning, he pointed at her. “You got it.”
“There seems to be a story for everything in this town. It’s interesting.”
That was a nice way of putting it, he thought. Growing up, he’d enjoyed living in his quirky hometown, with its salty character and down-to-earth people. Now that he was getting older and still right where he’d started, the age-old traditions were starting to wear on him. Nothing ever changed here, and he knew the villagers inside and out. Maybe that was why Lauren had snared his attention so quickly. Tired of the same old, same old, he was dying to experience something new.
That was it, he decided, relieved to discover the reason for his fascination with her. She was pleasant company, but nothing more than that.
When they arrived at the counter, Georgia Bynes greeted them with a bright, grandmotherly smile. “There’s our favorite fix-it man. And you must be Lauren.” She reached across the counter to shake hands. “We’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person. Carolina—” she called out “—Julia’s friend is here!”
A slightly younger version of Georgia bustled through the swinging doors, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron before echoing her sister’s greeting. “Good to see you both. Your trays are ready, so I’ll just go get them.”
“Don’t bother,” Ben said, strolling over to the antique cooler that occupied half of the back wall. “I got ’em.”
While Lauren signed the delivery receipt, he slid the three trays free and closed the door with his boot. When she appeared behind him with her hands out, he was confused. “What?”
“I can carry at least one.”
“They’re all balanced and everything. If you just get the door, I’ll be fine.” She didn’t respond, but she didn’t drop her hands, either. After a brief standoff, he relented and let her take the top tray from him. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not
