eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not a kid.”
He slowly looked Nora up and down. “No, ma’am. You’re certainly not.”
Nora colored fiercely, but he gained only a grim pleasure from her discomfort. Why should he care about her? She certainly didn’t care for him.
Shortly after he had left town, he had called his mother and said he couldn’t go through with the deal. His tormentor had been silent for a second before crisply advising him to keep moving.
“Your high-and-mighty McCall girl got married last week.” Even now, he could still hear the cold taunt that had ripped apart his soul.
Stunned, he had dropped the receiver and walked away from the phone booth. Nora had run into another man’s arms. She hadn’t waited. She’d never pined for him.
So he had kept moving, seeking to put as much distance as possible between him and his past.
“Connor?”
He realized Christina had spoken.
“What?”
“I said we were all sorry about Ed Miller’s passing.”
The dull ache whenever he thought about the loss of the old man who had been his surrogate father throbbed. “Thanks.”
Eve was brasher. “We figured you’d be there at the funeral.”
“I couldn’t get away.” His jaw tensed. Missing Ed’s service had torn him apart, but carrying out his promise to the farmer who had befriended him all those years ago had to come first. It wasn’t until he’d gotten Ed’s deathbed phone call that he’d learned he would finally get a chance to pay Ed back.
Nora accepted his statement without rebuke. “I’m sure you wanted to come, Connor. Ed was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.” More than anyone in the town would ever guess. Ed had been Connor’s remaining link to his past, keeping him bound despite Connor’s ending up in Florida. When Connor called Ed, the taciturn farmer had been circumspect about everything but his crops. Finally, desperate for news, Connor had asked the old man point-blank how Nora and her husband were doing. Ed had barked, “Husband. There’s no husband.”
Connor remembered his grim satisfaction in learning of her divorce. However, he never could ferret out any additional information in subsequent calls to Ed. All the farmer would ever mutter was that “the McCall womenfolk were doing just fine.”
He sure did miss the old coot.
Ever sensitive to other people’s emotions, Christina said softly, “Pastor Devlin must be thrilled you’ve returned.”
Pastor, not mother—Sheila Devlin would appreciate the distinction. She had certainly tried hard enough to distance herself from the role his birth had thrust on her. He hitched his shoulders. “She doesn’t know I’m here. Yet.”
Christina looked startled. “Oh.” She huffed out a breath. “Well.” Sadness flitted across her face. “Your mother performed a fine eulogy for Aunt Abigail.”
Connor realized he hadn’t offered condolences. He’d picked up the phone a hundred times when he had learned of their aunt’s death. He’d replaced the receiver a hundred times because he hadn’t known what to say.
He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about Abigail’s death. She was a good woman.” He gestured at the shop. “She’d be proud of what you’ve accomplished here.”
Eve didn’t mask her curiosity. “Thanks, Connor, but how did you—” The doorbell chimed. Eve narrowed her eyes.
A wave of new arrivals crowded around Nora and Christina. Breaking the crowd apart, Nathan Roberts, a tall lean man, sauntered past Eve, brushing so close that she had to step back to avoid contact. Watching the familiar byplay had Connor fighting to keep his lips flat. Some things never changed.
Nate crossed to Connor and clasped his hand. Behind wire-rim glasses, Nathan Roberts’s slate-gray eyes warmed with amusement. “So, the town’s favorite hell-raiser has returned. Will he receive a prodigal son’s welcome?” He thumped Connor’s shoulder.
Connor winced. “And you’re still spouting off the biblical references.” He studied his friend as they shook hands. Whatever life had chosen to throw Nate’s way, it hadn’t seemed to change him. His sandy hair was still shaggy from too-infrequent trips to the barbershop, his movements still languid as if he had all the time in the world.
Together, Nate and Connor had skipped stones across Miller’s Lake as young boys, chugged down illicit beers at age eleven and discovered the allure of girls in high school. Nate had been a true friend and was the only local Connor was genuinely delighted to see.
Releasing Nathan’s hand, Connor turned, cocked his head and curled his lip at the older man hovering behind his friend. “Nice to see you, too, Mr. Ames.”
The high-school principal, without acknowledging the greeting, darted back into the shelter of the crowd. Nate chuckled. “He’s never forgiven you for the time you set a skunk loose in his office.”
Connor’s grin was unrepentant. “It didn’t have its odor sacs.”
“A pity Ames didn’t realize that little fact before he pulled the fire alarm, bringing the entire department racing to the school. It was a day to remember.”
Connor shifted to keep Nora within his line of sight. At that moment she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. An intense awareness jolted through his system. He remembered the intriguing spot on her body where warm, soft skin contrasted with cool, silky hair. Nora looked up and caught him staring. Irked with himself, he offered a bland smile. She shot him a withering look and turned her back.
Even as Connor fell into easy conversation with Nate about their past adventures, he continued to torment himself with the tantalizing vision of the long graceful sweep of Nora’s neck.
On the other side of the shop, Nora was suffocating, the weight of suppressed, raw emotions pressing all air from her lungs. If one more person made a cutting comment about Connor, she would scream. She had to escape.
She glanced around and spotted Connor and Nate deep in discussion. Connor rubbed his knuckles along his deeply shadowed jaw. Fascinated, she remembered the rasp of his developing whiskers. How would his face, roughened with manhood, feel against hers? Connor looked across and caught her staring. A smile, slow and cocky, curved his mouth. Her cheeks heated as if she was standing too close to the kiln.
The two men broke apart, and Connor plowed into the crowd, heading in her direction. No, she couldn’t bear any more polite conversation with him while half the town watched. She bolted for the front door.
Outside she drank in the fragrant air. Deep breathing, a technique she had learned to calm pretrial jitters, slowly untangled the knots in her stomach. She rolled her head and stilled, the sky capturing her attention.
White plumes of cloud drifted across the achingly blue October sky. She lifted her face and took another bracing breath of frost-edged air, laced with woodsy overtones.
Her gaze lowered. Chased by the playful fall
