Home At Last. Deborah Raney

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СКАЧАТЬ looked at the clock again. The bakery in Langhorne would still be open. He probably should call and make sure everything was okay. He could almost hear his dad’s voice. It would be the right thing to do. Dad was always all about doing the right thing.

      He grabbed his jacket and his keys off the counter. If he hurried, he had time to do one better: he’d go and see for himself if everyone was really okay.

      Chapter 3

      3

      The bells on the door jangled, and Shayla Michaels looked up to see who had the nerve to show up five minutes before closing time. She’d just sent her part-time college help home early, and she was eager to call it a day.

      Her breath caught. It was the guy from this morning—Link. She pretended not to see him and busied herself boxing up the day’s unsold pastries for the homeless shelter in Cape Girardeau—ironically where she’d first met him. They’d been on a first-name-only basis, but thanks to Google, she now knew his name was Link Whitman. And his parents ran the Chicory Inn up the road a few miles off Chicory Lane.

      He strode toward the counter now, but she didn’t look up until she could see his reflection in the display case. “Yes?” Her trembling voice betrayed her, but probably not for the reason he thought. “May I help you?”

      “I just came by to check on your daughter. I’m Link Whitman. I’ve never properly introduced myself.” He stripped off his gloves and extended his right hand.

      She held up her own plastic-gloved hand. “Sorry. I’m working with food.”

      “Oh. No problem.” He withdrew his hand. “I understand. Is she doing okay? Your daughter?”

      “She’s not my—Like I told you this morning, she’s fine.”

      His mouth tilted in a sheepish smile. “Maybe the question is, how are you holding up?”

      She couldn’t help but stare at the steel gray-blue of his eyes. From that first day at the shelter, his eyes had reminded her of Portia’s eyes. “I’m fine.” If she said anything else, she might dissolve into tears again. He’d already caught her losing it once today. That was plenty.

      “Listen . . .” He shifted from one foot to the other, then back again. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I know that must have scared you to death. I don’t have kids, but I’ve seen my sisters freak out about a lot less with their own kids.” He looked at the floor. “I honestly don’t think I was driving too fast or anything, but—well, if it was my fault, I’m really sorry. I’ve had nightmares about it.”

      She tilted her head and eyed him. “It just happened this morning. How could you be having nightmares?”

      “Well, nightmare. I’m working extra shifts lately. So sleeping at odd hours. Like this afternoon. And I had a wild dream, a nightmare. I’m not lying to you.”

      “Never said you were.”

      “That’s where I’m headed now. Work.” He nodded to where his truck was parked out front. “But I wanted to be sure your daughter was okay first. I could tell your husband was upset and I just—”

      “My husband? What in the world are you talking about?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so shrill.

      “The guy in here this morning.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “Sorry. That wasn’t your husband?”

      She couldn’t help laughing. “That’s my dad.”

      “Oh.”

      If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he looked relieved. Don’t go getting any ideas, Shayla Jean. You’ve got no business—

      “Sorry. He . . . he doesn’t look old enough.”

      “Yeah, well . . . Listen, you need anything from the bakery?” She pointed to the empty case. “This stuff is all going to the shelter in Cape, so if you want anything, speak now.”

      “Or what? Forever hold my peace?”

      She smiled before she could stop herself. “Something like that.” The warmth that slid into his eyes somehow worked its way inside her as well, and she remembered how he’d made her feel when they were flirting.

      “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t need anything. Other than . . . I just wanted to see how you were doing. And to check on your daughter.”

      “Oh. She’s not my daughter.” Not that it was any of his business.

      “What? What in the world are you talking about?” His voice went as shrill as hers had seconds earlier.

      They both laughed at his parroting of her words. But he looked confused. “That wasn’t your little girl this morning?”

      “Portia is my brother’s child,” Shayla offered.

      “Porsche! I knew it!”

      “What?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Somebody better start talking some sense here pretty quick.”

      He grinned. “That’s your daughter’s—I mean, your niece’s name? Porsche. Like the car?”

      “It’s Portia.” She spelled it for him. “And what do you mean ‘I knew it’?” She mimicked his crowing.

      “In my dream—my nightmare—you were yelling that. Porsche. Over and over.”

      Now he was dreaming about her?

      “I guess you were yelling that in real life too. Portia. Her name, I mean—it sounds like the car. You know—Porsche?”

      “I know what a Porsche is.”

      He shrugged. “I don’t remember much, but I remember you yelling her name. The whole thing is kind of a blur.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. But yes, I’m sure I yelled her name. Scared the potatoes out of me.”

      He laughed. “Yeah, me too. I just keep thinking about what could have happened. It could have been so much worse—”

      “No.” She waved a hand at him. “I don’t even want to go there. I’m just trying to forget it happened.”

      “So what did your brother say when he heard about it?”

      Oh boy. Here it came. She swallowed and averted her gaze. “My brother?”

      “You didn’t tell him yet?”

      “Oh.” She looked at the floor. “He doesn’t know. He’s . . . out of town.”

      “Well, I’ll vouch for you, if you need me to. There wasn’t anything anybody could have done. It was just . . . one of those things. So, you were babysitting?”

      She stared at him. He was awfully nosy. Good looking as all get out. But nosy. “Something like that,” she said.

      He СКАЧАТЬ