Making His Way Home

During the short amount of time they’d spent together at the box social, she’d had to remind herself—frequently—that Cole wasn’t her friend. He was the one who’d broken her heart.

But the most disturbing thing was, Grace couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he possessed the power to do it again.

She watched Cole begin to weave his way between the clusters of people. Her gaze skipped ahead of him in a panicked attempt to guess his destination.

And landed on Kate and Abby, taking a break from the dancing on one of the wooden benches that lined the wall.

Her friends looked up as Cole stopped right in front of them.

Don’t be paranoid, Grace chided herself. Just because he hasn’t left town yet, it doesn’t mean he’s looking for you.

Abby and Kate were both laughing now at something that Cole said, as if they’d known him for years. Then they exchanged a knowing look that made Grace’s blood run cold.

Don’t do it! she silently pleaded. Don’t. Do. It.

Two hands lifted. Two fingers pointed in her direction.

And Grace took cover behind the nearest post.

* * *

“That’s strange.” Abby O’Halloran rose to her feet, a frown puckering her forehead. “I just saw Grace behind the beverage table a few seconds ago.”

Cole shifted his weight and tried to see over the heads of the couples that whirled past him. Given the number of people packed in the barn, the entire population of Mirror Lake must have turned out for the event.

The space behind the beverage table was empty. Where had she...

Cole saw a dab of yellow calico peeking out from behind one of the weathered support beams.

“Thanks.” He smiled at Grace’s friends. “I’ll head over there and see if I can find her.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind about escorting Grace to the dance tonight,” Kate said.

Changed his mind?

If it hadn’t been for Candy Sullivan, Cole wouldn’t have known that he was supposed to be Grace’s escort that

evening.

After she’d left him, Cole had finished his lunch and set out to find the elusive Marty Sullivan. The man had managed to elude him all afternoon, but Cole had received a tip—from a guy collecting aluminum cans in the alley—that Candy Sullivan always checked her bid on eBay before she locked up for the day. Cole set up a stakeout at the law office and waited. Sure enough, his informant was right. Candy had shown up sixty seconds before closing time.

“I know this is probably a bad time—” He had followed her inside and flashed what he’d hoped was a charming smile.

Candy hadn’t been charmed.

“Can’t whatever business you have with Marty wait until Monday morning?” She’d glared at him over her computer monitor. “Some things are more important than business, you know.”

Right. Things like box socials, square dances, Pin the Tail on the Donkey and whatever else was in the works for Mirror Lake’s birthday celebration.

Finally acknowledging that resistance was futile, Cole had given in. “When will he have time to meet with me?”

“Monday morning. Nine o’clock.” Candy scooped up a snakeskin purse roughly the size and shape of a bicycle tire from the floor. “Now you better get on over to the Redstones’ place before Grace thinks you stood her up.”

“Stood her up?”

“You won her basket at the box social, you’re her date.”

“For the square dance?”

“For everything.” Before Cole had a chance to ask Candy to clarify that cryptic response, she marched to the door, grumbling. “The last thing a woman needs is a guy who won’t step up to the plate and do the right thing.”

The words had continued to cycle through Cole’s mind on his way to the parking lot.

He had done the right thing.

It was the reason he’d left Mirror Lake.

And Grace.

* * *

When a large, masculine hand curled around the beam a few inches above her head, Grace realized she should have hidden behind something larger. Like a bale of hay. Or the rain barrel.

She dared to look up and found herself neatly trapped in a pair of cedar-green eyes.

“Cole.”

“Grace.” The crooked smile made an appearance, but it wasn’t the boyish one that she remembered. This was a potent, take-no-prisoners grown-up smile. And it packed more of a wallop than Delia Peake’s cane.

She retreated to the beverage table again and poured a glass of lemonade. For herself. Because her mouth had gone as dry as the sawdust scattered on the floor.

Cole propped a hip against the side of the table, clearly in no hurry to leave. “That looks good.”

“Would you like a glass?” Grace asked reluctantly, because as a member of the hospitality committee, it was her duty to be...hospitable.

“No, thanks.” He planted both hands on the table and leaned forward. “But I would like to know why you didn’t tell me that I was supposed to escort you to the square dance tonight.”

In a town the size of Mirror Lake, she should have known someone would spill the beans.

“You told Kate you were leaving.” Grace shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

Cole raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more. Grace resisted the urge to smooth a wayward strand back into place, which only proved the theory that those who didn’t learn from history were destined to repeat it.

“I had a few things to take care of and they took longer than I thought.”

Disappointment rattled through her, bumping and bruising everything in its path.

Did you really think he stuck around so he could spend more time with you?