Willowleaf Lane. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ painful encounter, she couldn’t help a little tingle of dismay. Was it like that for him everywhere he went?

      “Are you ready to go?” he asked his daughter.

      She nodded and headed for the door.

      “Thanks again,” Spence said. He cocked his head, his gaze narrowed. “You look familiar. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot now I’m back in Hope’s Crossing. Did I know you when I lived here before?”

      For a horrifying moment, Charlotte didn’t know how to answer him. He didn’t recognize her. How could she tell him they’d sat across from each other a couple nights a week at her dad’s café for years? That she spent night after night helping him with his English homework?

      That he had once broken her heart into a million tiny glass shards?

      She had to say something, even though she knew perfectly well what his reaction would be.

      “Yes,” she muttered.

      He scrutinized her harder, obviously trying to place her. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’re going to have to help me out.”

      She didn’t have to do anything. Just for a moment, she wished one of her older brothers was around to politely encourage him to leave her store. They were just as big, just as tough as Spence Gregory. In fact, she thought Jamie might even be bigger.

      “Charlotte Caine,” she finally murmured.

      Just as she expected, his eyes widened with disbelief first and then astonishment.

      “Char... Of course. Wow. You look fantastic!”

      “Thanks,” she said, her voice clipped.

      “Really fantastic. I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

      “You didn’t.” She pointed out the obvious.

      “True enough.”

      “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you. Somehow I hadn’t heard you were coming back.”

      “You mean nobody has started a petition yet to keep me away?” He said the words in a joking tone but both of them knew it wasn’t far from the truth.

      “Not that I’ve signed yet.”

      Though his mouth quirked up with amusement at her pointed reply, she thought she saw just a hint of bleakness in his gaze. Again, she felt that flutter of unexpected sympathy.

      “Harry Lange brought me in to be the director of the new recreation center in town,” he answered. “I’m starting tomorrow.”

      Of course. She should have known Harry Lange was somehow involved. The town’s richest citizen didn’t seem happy unless he was stirring up trouble somewhere. Still, this seemed a bold move, even for him. Why would he select a man for the job who had, by the skin of his teeth, just barely avoided going to prison for supplying steroids and prescription drugs to his teammates? And whose wife died under mysterious circumstances the very day those charges were thrown out?

      “I suppose getting engaged at seventy years old can make a man lose a few brain cells,” she answered.

      The words tasted ugly on her tongue and she wanted to call them back. Usually she liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, but she just didn’t have it in her to be objective when it came to Spence Gregory.

      His mouth tightened and he looked almost hurt, though she knew that couldn’t be true. What did he care if she welcomed him with somewhat less-than-open arms?

      “Apparently,” he murmured. “Yet here I am. For the next six months, anyway. It’s a temporary position.”

      That was something, anyway. She could endure anything for six months, even having him back in the same zip code.

      “Let’s go, Peyton.”

      “Okay.”

      Peyton looked subdued instead of angry now and Charlotte directed her sympathy where it rightfully belonged—to a young girl who had lost her mother far too young and spent her days under the cloud of her father’s scandal.

      Having to live with the man many considered responsible for her mother’s death couldn’t be an easy situation for a young girl.

      She gave her a warm smile. “See you around, Peyton. It was really nice to meet you. Enjoy the fudge.”

      “I’m sure I will,” she mumbled. She pushed open the door and walked out into the summer afternoon.

      Spence hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something else, but he finally lifted a hand in a wave and followed his daughter.

      After the door closed behind them, Charlotte pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting the urge to rush over and flip the sign to Closed, lock the door and sag against the counter.

      She liked to think she was a pretty good person most of the time. She volunteered at the animal shelter, she always paid her taxes on time, she tried to throw a little extra into the collection plate at church on Sundays.

      She didn’t consider herself petty or vindictive. She was friendly with just about everyone in town, even the cliquey girls who had once made her life so painfully hard at school and had grown into cliquey women with the same prejudices.

      But a small acrid, angry corner of her heart despised Spence Gregory with a vitriol that unsettled her.

      What was Harry Lange thinking? She had to wonder if Mary Ella knew what her fiancé was up to, bringing back the man who had once been the darling of Hope’s Crossing but was now considered a pariah.

      Maybe it was one of Harry’s twisted schemes. The man appeared to have been turning over a new leaf in the past year since reconnecting with his son Jack and the granddaughter he didn’t know existed, but maybe it was all for show. Maybe Harry wanted the recreation center he had basically financed to fail so he could sweep in and somehow make money off it for his own purposes, perhaps as a tax write-off for a business loss.

      Whatever the reason, she couldn’t believe she would be the only one in town upset at this new development, though she had very personal reasons to be angry about the return of Spence Gregory.

      The cowbell clanked suddenly and, for an instant, fear spiked that she would have to deal with him again, while she was still trying to come to terms with his return.

      Seeing Alex McKnight rush in, her long blond curls flying behind her, was a sweet relief.

      “Hi, Alex.” She even managed a smile, envious, as always, at Alex’s effortless confidence. She was smart and sexy and a brilliant chef—and was comfortable enough in her own skin that none of it mattered to her except the chef part, of which she was fiercely proud.

      “Guess who I just saw walking Front Street?” Alex said, her green eyes wide.

      “Spencer Gregory,” she answered dully.

      “Wow. You are good.” Alex looked surprised and a little amused.

      “Not СКАЧАТЬ