The Lost Daughter Of Pigeon Hollow. Inglath Cooper
“What do you recommend?” he asked.
“Eggs and bacon are always a sure thing. Pancakes, too, but you don’t look like a guy who eats a lot of starch.”
“Eggs and bacon, then. But add a pancake, too. I’m feeling like a walk on the wild side.”
Willa scribbled the order on her pad, a small smile touching her mouth. “And to drink?”
“Coffee.”
She nodded. “Your order will be out in a few minutes.”
Judy was back from the ladies’ room when Willa got to the front counter. “What did he say?”
“Eggs and bacon. Add a pancake.”
Judy snorted. “I really am starting to worry about you. A man like that walks in here, and you don’t even flirt with him.”
“I said he looked like he doesn’t eat a lot of starch. Does that qualify?”
“Struck instant lust in his heart, I’m sure.”
Willa smiled, poured coffee in a cup, then carried it to the man’s table. He looked up, and she noticed how blue his eyes were. Magnetic, really. She wanted to look longer, but she jerked her gaze away and set the coffee down. “Your food will be right out.”
He stood, stuck out his hand. “Owen Miller,” he said.
“Willa.” She cleared her throat. “Addison.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“Dinner? Ah, thank you, but I—” She waved a hand at the diner. “I’m here until pretty late.”
“Late is okay.”
She stood there, tapping a thumb against the coffeepot. “I take it you’re passing through?”
“Can’t deny that.”
“What would be the point?”
“Conversation?”
For a moment, Willa actually considered it. He was gorgeous, and she was tempted. But her life already had enough complications without pursuing something that would end up going nowhere. She’d already done nowhere. She shook her head. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said, “but no.”
NO.
He hadn’t expected rejection. It was the first time in his life he’d ever been turned down by a woman. The thought was completed with no particular amazement; it just wasn’t something he was used to. And so, he wasn’t exactly sure how to react to it.
Owen took the front porch steps to the bed-and-breakfast two at a time.
Mrs. Ross smiled when he came through the door. “Morning, Mr. Miller.”
“Good morning. Do you know what time the Top Shelf closes in the evening, Mrs. Ross?”
The woman gave him a knowing look. “You must have taken a liking to Willa Addison’s food. They close at nine.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated and then said, “What can you tell me about her?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Enough to figure out how to get her to go to dinner with me.”
Mrs. Ross chuckled. “Don’t know that it’ll do any good. Got a load of responsibility with that young sister of hers.”
The phone rang. Mrs. Ross reached for it. Owen thanked her and headed up the stairs.
“Young man!” she called out.
He dropped back down a few steps. “Yes?”
“There is one thing I remember about her as a little girl.”
“What’s that?”
“She loved strawberries.”
CHAPTER THREE
HE WAS SITTING ON A BENCH outside the diner when Willa closed up that evening. One leg crossed over a thigh, an arm draped across the back of the bench. Beside him sat a basket of strawberries.
He was the kind of man who made women stop and stare.
Willa stopped and stared.
“I was told you had a fondness for these,” he said, picking up the basket and holding it out in one hand.
She started forward with a jolt, tripping on a raised edge in the sidewalk, the library books in her arms cascading to the ground.
He stood instantly, retrieved the books, scanning the covers of each as he handed them to her. “Fitzgerald. Tolstoy. Alternative medicine. Interesting mix.”
She eyed him carefully, taking the books from him. “Thanks.”
“I asked Mrs. Ross at the B and B how I might talk you into going to dinner with me. She said strawberries would be worth a try.”
Growing up, Willa had picked berries from the patch in Mrs. Ross’s backyard every spring. Buckets full, which Willa’s mama had put in the freezer for pies and ice cream. “That was nice of you.”
“Was she right?”
Willa hesitated. She really shouldn’t. She didn’t know him. He was passing through. He didn’t look like a criminal—quite the opposite, in fact—but then what did that mean? Ted Bundy had been the boy next door with a cast on his leg.
“We can go somewhere public,” he added, his voice low and insistent enough to weaken her resistance. “I’ll meet you there if that’s better. You name the place.”
Clearly, he knew his way around women. She shot a glance at the Range Rover parked at the curb. A man like this in Pigeon Hollow? There had to be a catch.
“Are you married?” she asked, failing to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
His eyes widened. “No.”
“May I see your left hand?”
He held it out. She looked at the ring finger, then turned his hand over and glanced at the other side. No telltale mark where a ring had been removed.
“Trust issues?” he asked.
“Let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first man to misplace his wedding band.”
He smiled. “Hmm. It’s the bad guys that—”
“Give the good guys a bad name.” Common sense told her she should go home. But Judy would never let her forget it. And besides, what did she have better to do than wait for Katie to bust her curfew again? Just a few moments ago, she’d felt weary to her heels, dreading the inevitable confrontation. Delaying it suddenly had enormous appeal.
“Now?” she asked, surprising herself.
He brightened. “Now would be great.”
“There’s a place over off 260.”
“I’ll follow you,” he said, looking just pleased enough to make her heart beat a little faster.
ON THE WAY, WILLA USED her cell phone to call Judy.
Judy’s disbelieving shriek pierced her eardrum. “You’re meeting him for dinner? I can’t believe it.”
“He brought me strawberries. I thought I’d better let someone know where I am in case he turns out to be an ax murderer.”
Judy laughed. “Yeah, I read the story in yesterday’s paper. Well-to-do hunk terrorizing small-town diner owners with poison strawberries.”
“It could happen.”
“You read too many books. What are you wearing?”
“Black