Page 5

H onor pulled into the small parking lot and killed the engine, fingers lingering on the wheel as she glanced across the street. There it was—the storefront her sister mentioned. It was right on the corner, next to a store with faded awnings that featured sundresses in the big window.

The corner spot had a wide display window as well, streaked with what seemed to be years of dust. A hand-painted FOR LEASE sign hung at a crooked angle.

She slipped out of the van, the packages she needed to mail forgotten as she stood on the pavement, staring at the storefront. She locked her van, stepped up to the crosswalk and looked both ways. The streets of Willowbrook were busy at this time of day, but not what she considered busy compared to the last place she lived.

When she crossed the street and approached the vacant building, her steps stalled. The midday sun warmed her bare shoulders as she moved forward to peer inside the dirty window. The space was empty inside, besides a wooden counter pushed against the back wall. Scuffed floors had seen better days.

But she bet with a little—maybe a lot—of elbow grease and a spit shine, the place had a lot of life left in it.

She could see it now—displays of jewelry on flat tables arranged in rows around the space and on the walls. A little bouquet of flowers on the wood counter and soft lighting to highlight her jewelry.

In the corner, she could set up a workbench to design new jewelry while customers browsed.

Her heart fluttered with excitement, and she pulled out her phone to jot down the phone number. Even if she didn’t think her bank account could handle a lease, a phone call was free.

A horn blast on the street behind her broke her out of her dream. Right. Post office. She had packages to send out.

She quickly returned to her van and scooped the packages off the seat. Juggling them, she managed to open the post office door. As soon as she looked up, a sigh slipped out before she could stop it.

There was a line. Of course. The small post office only had one window, and judging by the slow-moving conversation taking place, Honor was in for a wait.

One of the padded envelopes slipped out of the stack she held. She quickly clamped the bunch more tightly in her arms.

After several minutes, the customer at the front of the line said her farewell to the worker and slipped out of line, but she stopped to talk to the man behind her. The line shuffled forward.

The older lady at the window started chatting with the next person in line about her granddaughter’s upcoming wedding. The man in line after them droned on with another customer about the good weather they were having, but his pessimistic view was that it wouldn’t hold out for long.

Honor glanced at the window, bright with sunshine. She shifted from foot to foot, her arms starting to ache from holding the packages. Stifling the urge to groan, she reminded herself that small-town post offices were a place for community gatherings as much as conducting business.

She tuned out most of the chitchat, focusing on the sound of the door swinging behind her. A deep voice drifted through the room. Rich and oddly…familiar.

“After you, ma’am.”

Honor turned, her gaze landing on the man holding open the door for a woman struggling to find her keys in her enormous handbag.

Recognition shot through her. The man from the coffee shop.

Before she could shut down her reaction, her stomach did a ridiculous little flip. God, he really was hot. He wasn’t even doing anything to look hot—just standing there. Something about the way he carried himself with that confident ease, and the small smirk on his lips when the woman murmured, “Thank you,” made Honor’s pulse spike.

She quickly faced forward, focusing on anything but the man. The discussion at the window. The fact she was third in line.

Back at the coffee shop, the hot guy was in a rush to get his lid for his drink and get out, and she had taken her sweet old time, even going so far as to taunt him a little just to lighten him up.

Now she was the one in a hurry.

If she weren’t so intent on redirecting her focus, she’d have missed it through the window.

The van.

A van just like Sully’s rolled past the post office. Honor lurched onto the toes of her leather sandals to see better as it progressed down the street and turned the corner.

Her pulse spiked for another reason now. It couldn’t be her ex’s van.

But what if it was? What would he be doing here in Willowbrook?

The urge to rush outside and see if it really was him burned like a hot coal in her chest.

“I like your toenail polish.”

It took her mind a moment to clear and understand that the thirty-something woman in front of her had turned around and was speaking to her.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“It takes guts to wear three different colors.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the guy from the coffee shop looking down too. At her feet.

What was it with people in this small town and their interest in her toenails? Hadn’t they ever seen someone paint their nails more than one color?

And as if this interaction wasn’t embarrassing enough, a hot guy was involved.

What she first liked about the small town now felt oppressive. How did people live like this? Knowing what their neighbor planted in their backyard garden and the color they painted their toes?

There was so much more to worry about right now—like the luxury van that looked so out of place in this town.

She was dying to drop the packages, toss a few bills at the woman behind the counter and run outside.

“Where do you buy your polish?”

The woman’s question threw Honor for a loop. She realized the woman wasn’t finished discussing her toes.

“Oh, you know, I pick up a bottle here and there.” She gave her an exaggerated shrug she hoped would close the topic for good.

Who cared about her feet?

Her neck prickled with awareness. She glanced over to find a set of stunning gray eyes centered on her.

“It’s you. From the coffee shop.” His rough baritone scraped across her senses the same way his stare did. But she didn’t have time to appreciate either one—she needed to check on that van she saw. Or thought she saw.

“Yep, it’s me,” she said in a dismissive tone that wasn’t like her at all.

Was the van still lurking outside, maybe driving down Main Street again?

She darted another look at the window and then the door behind him. If her ex was in town, she needed to know why.

The coffee shop dude was watching her too closely, as if he noticed how nervous she was. And that was dangerous. Because she just might spill everything.

That her ex might be lurking.

That the van was really his.

That her gut was screaming for her to find out what the hell was going on.

Instead of saying a word, she did the only thing that made sense. She jumped out of line and bolted out of the building, packages and all.

Behind her came the guy’s voice, sounding startled by her reaction. “Hey—”

But she ignored him and ran outside, searching the streets for that van.

* * * * *

Gray adjusted the stack of letters in his hand, shifting them against his palm. He hadn’t expected a line in the post office, but it didn’t surprise him. Every small-town transaction came with a personal update.

With a sigh, he scanned the line and saw her . The woman from the coffee shop. The one who took ages at the drink station. He’d only seen her once, but it was enough to prickle in the back of his mind. His encounter with her even intruded on his thoughts a few times since. Even now, he wondered how he appeared to outsiders.

Cold. Unfriendly. Unmoving.

He was all those things. But he was a lot more.

That day, she’d been calm and engaging. Right now, she was anything but mellow.

The woman in front of her asked about her toenail polish, and Gray looked down at her toes peeking out from under the leather strap of her sandals. Shades of lime, peach and sky blue were definitely a choice he hadn’t seen before, not even on his little sister.

She answered the woman in quick tones that said she didn’t want to make small talk. Now that he understood. He still had to run some errands for the ranch, which meant long talks in the hardware and feed stores.

At that moment, she swung toward him, her gaze landing on his.

Gray’s world narrowed to a single point—blue.

Blue eyes.

Crystalline blue just like the sea near the equator. As he fell into their depths, they shifted from clear skies to stormy seas.

“It’s you. From the coffee shop.”

“Yep, it’s me.”

She fidgeted foot to foot, and the packages she held threatened to topple to the floor. Suddenly, she did something completely unexpected.

She rushed past him and out the door.

As she ran by the window on the side of the building, he tracked her movement and the way her long, thick hair swirled around her.

Gray didn’t even think—he just moved.

He strode to the door and scanned the street. Nothing appeared different in the quiet little town. A young mom pushed a baby stroller. A little dog trotted along beside her.

Rounding the corner of the post office, Gray spotted the woman he was looking for, not moving toward her car or a local shop. Just moving away.

She scanned the parking lot, packages wobbling in her arms with her quick intakes of breath. As he looked on, she backed up against the side of the building.

His pulse ticked faster. He’d seen things like this before—people trying to disappear into the cracks. People who had something to be afraid of.

People who were hunted.

As he approached, the woman inched to the other far corner of the building and peeked around the side, completely oblivious to him. Which was even more dangerous. No one should ever be unaware of their surroundings.

“What are you doing?”

She gasped, spinning so fast that two packages hit the ground.

Gray held up his hands to indicate he was harmless. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He took a step toward the things she dropped. “Let me just grab these for you.”

Those blue eyes skittered left to right and then darted back to the cars passing on the street out front.

Moving with the same slowness he’d approach a bomber—or a frightened horse—he crouched to scoop up the packages. Her expression flipped between alarm and exasperation.

He held out the packages to her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the way her fingers trembled when she reached for the items.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing put that worried line between your brows?”

Her chest dropped on the air trickling out of her. “I thought I saw someone I knew. That’s all.”

“Who?”

When she didn’t respond to him, he crossed his arms. Maybe it was a dick move, getting into the you-better-tell-me-now stance, but he found it usually got him answers.

“What’s your name?”

She gave him a sideways look, blue eyes tumbling over his face to his chest. “Honor. Who are you?”

“Gray.”

Her gaze snapped back to his for a suspended heartbeat.

“Now that the introductions are out of the way, are you going to tell me who you thought you saw?”

After a long second, she huffed out an annoyed breath. “Fine. I thought I saw my ex.”

Something inside him went cold.

He’d spent enough time in the military to know there was a story here. One she wasn’t eager to share.

He didn’t push, but continued to take in everything about her demeanor. Whatever she had seen—or thought she did—rattled her.

“I’ve seen you twice. Do you live here now?”

“I’m staying with my sister. She owns the bookstore.”

Now he recalled her discussion with the barista at the coffee shop. He’d never been in the bookstore before but had seen the owner around Willowbrook.

Studying Honor closely, he noted the family resemblance in her light hair and blue eyes.

He didn’t know what made him want to keep her here with him, talking. But the thought of leaving a frightened woman alone—especially one who thought she’d seen her ex—didn’t sit well with him.

He hesitated before he spoke again, softening his stance. “Listen, I don’t know your story, but I know what it looks like when someone is afraid.”

She bristled, straightening her spine. “I’m not afraid.”

He cocked his head, watching her. “Then what are you?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her gaze flickered toward the street, to the cars, to the faces passing by.

Finally, she let out a breath, her shoulders curling forward around the packages in her arms. “I don’t know.”

Gray nodded. He’d seen this before. People facing things that were too big to put into words. Someone trying to convince themself they weren’t in over their head.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“You have anyone watching your back?”

Her gaze rocketed back to his. “I can take care of myself.”

She hesitated a fraction of a heartbeat as if weighing her options. She either faced her ex or the unknown—which was Gray.

“You planning to stay in the area or are you just visiting?”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, the vapor of vulnerability replaced by the steel of determination.

“I’m still thinking about it.” She darted another wary glance at the street. She was trying to put down roots—or outrun someone.

“I’ll walk you back inside the post office.”

She looked down at the packages she gripped against her chest like a protective shield. “I think I’ll mail my things another time. I’ve got to get to the bookstore. I’m running a workshop.”

He searched her expression for signs that she might be lying to him but didn’t see a tell in those blue eyes or a crease in her clear skin. “What kind of workshop?”

His questions were beginning to relax her. Getting her talking was normalizing her day after what she’d seen.

“I have a small business designing, creating and selling jewelry. My sister thought it would be nice to introduce me to her customers. She’s got tons of books on crafting and the history of jewelry that I’m sure will draw sales for her too.”

Looking at the woman in her flowing dress with flowers embroidered around the neck and the multi-colored toenail polish, he wasn’t surprised to hear what she did for a living.

“I’ll walk you to the bookstore.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He stepped closer to her for reasons he didn’t quite understand. This woman was trouble. And he was already in too deep.

Staring down, he took in her striking face, a face that made a man look twice.

“I’ll come with you,” he said firmly, then added a quirk of a smile to soften his demand. “Making jewelry sounds great. I was thinking about taking up a hobby.”