“Then you’ll love it that I swiped his towel and threw it in the snowbank.”
“You what!” Megan laughed even harder.
“I was afraid he’d chase after us. I didn’t see anything, though; I was too busy running for my life.”
Megan sighed, then shook her head. “Okay, so tonight isn’t the best time to confront him. But I don’t care that he beat me to the punch, because I’m going to have the last word—right before I send him packing.”
Megan walked into the Pine Creek Art Gallery, smiling as she headed toward the counter.
Winter was dusting a picture on the back wall. “What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.
“I’m reporting to work. I still have a job, don’t I?”
Winter eyed her suspiciously. “You look different. Sort of excited. Or maybe eager is more like it.” She wrinkled her brow. “And you just got a new job. What about your watershed project?”
Megan took off her coat and carried it into the back office. “It’ll take two months for me to design the survey, and I can do that in the evening.”
Winter followed, obviously still suspicious. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”
“Really? Since when?”
“Since I didn’t tell you about Kenzie.”
“Ah, that. How is our ancient warrior, anyway? I haven’t seen him around lately.”
Winter shrugged. “No one’s seen Kenzie since he went to live with Father Daar.”
“Maybe they’ve killed each other already.”
Winter eyed her closely again. “So what are you really doing here this morning?”
“I’m really going to work for you. Cam is driving me crazy. Somebody needs to tell her that she’s not an interior decorator. You should see the curtains she bought for my living room windows—they’re heavy red velvet! I left her to put them up by herself.”
“Speaking of which, when is she going back to Florida?”
“She said something about not going back until the end of the month.”
“But that’s four weeks away! She’ll lose her position at NASA.”
Megan shrugged. “Talk to Mom. She knows what it’s like to be stuck in the middle of a project and keep hitting a brick wall, no matter what you try. Cam said she needs to give her left brain a rest for a few weeks. I think she’s really just too damn nosy to leave right now.”
“Nosy about what?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Megan slapped her forehead dramatically. “What am I saying? You kept Kenzie a secret from me since Thanksgiving.”
“Are you going to keep making me apologize for that?”
“You bet I am. Okay, listen up: Jack Stone is actually Wayne Ferris.”
“What!”
“Wayne is here. Camry and I met him last night, when we took him a pie. Wayne Ferris answered the door.”
“Oh my God.” Winter groped behind her for a chair, then sat down and stared at Megan, her expression horrified. “What did you do?”
“I ran. Cam threw the pie in his face.”
Winter didn’t laugh. “I’m still confused. You’re saying Wayne Ferris and Jack Stone are the same man?”
“That’s what we figure. Why else would Wayne be answering Jack’s door—wearing only a towel, late at night?”
“But what’s he doing here?”
“Who knows? Cam said it can’t be to make amends, because he wouldn’t have taken a job if that were the case. He would have walked up to Gù Brath, knocked on the door, and dropped to his knees to beg my forgiveness.”
“And are you going to forgive him?”
Megan shook her head.
“Then is there any particular reason you’re so chipper the morning after finding out he’s in town?”
“Sure is,” Megan said, going back into the gallery. “For the first time in months, I’m free.”
“Free?” Winter echoed, following her. “The father of your baby—the man who broke your heart—all of a sudden shows back up in your life, and that makes you free?”
Megan walked to the door and flipped the sign to Open. “When I was hiding in shock in my kitchen last night, it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t dropped dead at the sight of him. You know how mad I get at myself for being scared of something? Well, for the last four months I had built Wayne up to be this scary, fire-breathing dragon. And last night I was reminded that he’s only a man.” She shrugged. “I’ve done more damage to myself than he ever could.”
Winter gaped at her, utterly speechless for once.
“So,” Megan said, rubbing her hands together. “Do you want me to continue dusting or should I start filling out the yearly inventory sheets?”
“Do Mom and Dad know he’s here?”
“No, and I don’t want you telling them, either. I’ll tell them once I find out what he wants.”
“Maybe Matt should be the one to have a talk with him. Or Robbie.”
“Un-uh. I don’t need either of them interfering. Wayne is my mess.”
Winter suddenly jumped up and dragged Megan into the back office. “He just walked by,” she whispered, reaching over and snapping the lock on the back door that joined her shop to Dolan’s Outfitter Store. “I think he’s heading to Rose’s next door. Somebody stole her antlers again last night, and this time they also took the bulletin board right off the building.”
Megan pulled free, smoothed down the front of her sweater, tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked back out to the counter. “I am not hiding from Wayne. If we bump into each other in town, that’s his problem.”
“Okay,” Winter said, her cheeks flushed. “But promise me you’ll have your talk with him in a public place.”
“Why? You think he’ll try to run off with me or something? I gave him that chance up in Canada, and he tossed my offer back in my face. I’m not about to give him the chance to do it again.”
Chapter Seven
E very muscle Jack owned ached, his left hand wouldn’t stop bleeding, and if he had the strength, he’d kick himself in the ass for breaking his rule of not working in law enforcement. He’d known better, but had that stopped him from taking this job to be near Megan? Nope. And today he’d gotten an up-close-and-personal reminder that every sleepy town, anywhere in the world, had a dark underbelly of abuse and oppression.
He’d nearly had John Bracket calmed down enough to get him handcuffed and in the cruiser when that damn dog had come out of nowhere. The melee that had followed would certainly be etched in Simon Pratt’s psyche for a while, and it would take a month of Sundays before Jack’s gut unknotted.
He’d nearly drawn his gun and shot the dog, when it had finished chewing on his hand and gone after Simon. Bracket’s powerful right uppercut was the only thing that had stopped him. And Mrs. Bracket hadn’t helped matters, screaming bloody murder as she’d scrambled after the dog despite her bleeding lip, black eye, and sprained wrist.
He should have added the charge of assaulting an officer when he’d booked Bracket into the county jail. But remembering the two children who’d peered wide-eyed out the window, and knowing Bracket was their only means of support, Jack had persuaded Simon to overlook the incident by promising they’d keep a close watch on Bracket when he returned home. Which was another problem with small towns; not getting personally involved was nearly impossible.
With a groan that was as much frustrated as tired, Jack got out of his truck and limped up his porch steps. He didn’t know which made him madder: that Mrs. Bracket would undoubtedly bail her husband out tomorrow morning, or that now he wouldn’t be able to talk to Megan like he’d been planning all day. He wasn’t about to show up on her doorstep looking as if he’d just lost a fight to a dog.
Jack opened his storm door with a sigh of regret, and was just slipping his key in the lock when he noticed the envelope taped to the door. He opened the door and stepped inside, snapped on the kitchen light, then tore open the envelope. YOU’RE INVITED TO DINNER AT MY HOUSE AT