Suddenly Family. Christine Flynn
are right just the way they are. I’m just going to hope he’s dropped off the planet again.”
The middle-aged Irish woman opened her mouth, undoubtedly to ask T.J. what she would do if he came back, but the bell over the door gave a melodic tinkle. Two ladies in cargo shorts and tank tops strolled in, their pale skin pink from a morning in the sun.
The women gave the bestseller display a desultory once-over. Seeing nothing they were interested in, the blonde in the black baseball cap turned to the brunette in the red one and they left to join the stream of summer people clogging Harbor’s main street. The door had yet to swing closed when three more potential patrons wandered in.
The long, low moan of a ferry whistle filtered inside.
“This obviously isn’t a good time to talk. Look,” Maddy continued, her voice low as she backed up the aisle with T.J., “I didn’t mean to hit you with this out of the blue. I really thought you’d seen him. I just wondered what had happened.”
T.J.’s smile was soft, forgiving. She liked Maddy, but she wouldn’t have told the woman what had happened even if Brad had shown up. There wasn’t a malicious bone in the older woman’s body, but Maddy was notorious for trying to fix peoples lives. She also never failed to solicit everyone else’s opinion about how that could be accomplished—which meant anything she said to Maddy would be all over town in under an hour.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” she asked, truly hoping she wasn’t about to become a staple on the local grapevine. “I’m glad you let me know he was here.”
“Miss?” An elderly woman in an orange T-shirt and pea-green sun visor had stopped near the wildlife section. She waved to T.J. over the shoulder-high bookshelves. The older gentleman in baggy safari shorts, dark dress socks and sandals had to be her companion. He wore orange and pea green, too. “Can you help us?”
Eyeing the couple as she and T.J. returned to the counter, Maddy whispered, “If anyone asks, the pies today are apple and fresh blueberry.”
“What about your cobblers?”
“Peach and cherry.”
“Chowder of the day?”
“Fresh corn.”
“Got it.”
The bell over the door sounded again, the call of seagulls drifting inside along with the fresh salt air and an eclectic blend of buyers and lookers. T.J. loved the hustle of summer and the variety of people who visited the friendly little shop. Just as she loved the quiet solitude of the island when fall and winter came and the residents could reclaim their turf from those who had come to watch the whales, kayak in the coves and hike the lush forest. She liked belonging here.
At the moment, she was simply thankful she was busy. Busy was good. Busy meant she didn’t have time to obsess over what Brad’s reappearance might mean.
She soon discovered that she didn’t have to be consciously thinking about it for the development to affect her. What Maddy had told her silently preyed on her nerves as she went about her chores, helping customers, answering their inevitable questions about the history of the island, the best places to spot dolphins, where they could find rest rooms. The distractions helped. But she couldn’t shake the agitation that put her senses on alert and had her darting furtive glances toward the door every time it opened.
The sight of any tall blond male with angular features caused her stomach to drop.
She was overreacting. She knew she was. Maddy had said she’d seen Brad leave on the ferry, and as sure as rain in the northwest Maddy would let her know if he was back. Still, T.J. couldn’t help the prickling sensation at the back of her neck when, just before noon, the tinkle of the bell caught her kneeling behind the counter. Before she could rise from where she was restocking bags beneath it, her heart jumped when something heavy hit the long, gray surface above her head.
Still on her knees, she glanced up to see a large dog-eared volume in the space between the cash register and a display of novelty note cards. The book definitely wasn’t from the store’s stock. Not tattered as it was. The thought was lost, however, as her wary glance shot past the front of worn jeans to the tall, broad-shouldered male in a chambray work shirt.
Sam Edwards’ impossibly blue eyes met hers.
“Hi,” she said, unbelievably relieved to see that it was him.
A faint frown furrowed his brow as she rose and pushed back her hair.
“Hi,” he echoed, staring at her hand.
Realizing her hand was shaking, she shoved it into the pocket of the teal work apron she wore over her T-shirt and long khaki skirt. Benders’ Books arched across the bib in pale-yellow embroidery.
“I wondered if I would hear from you,” she admitted, forcing a smile. She glanced at the book. From upside down, she read Principles of Flight. “I take it you’ve reconsidered your stance on the lessons?”
Watching her curiously, Sam nudged the volume forward. The vitality that had so impressed him the other day was missing. So was the ease and brightness of her smile. Her lips were curved in greeting. But the light he’d noticed before in her eyes was nowhere in evidence.
“What can I say? I recognize a deal when I see one,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “That’s why I came by. To tell you I’ll take you up on your offer…if it still stands,” he qualified. “And to bring you this, if it does.”
Her glance fell back to the book.
“I thought it would help us both if you’re familiar with the instruments and parts of the plane we’ll be flying.” Aware of a teenage boy in black spandex shorts, a racing shirt and a crash helmet browsing the magazine racks a few yards away, he consciously lowered his voice. “Unless you’ve changed your mind,” he said, looking as if he thought she would be more enthused about his acceptance of her proposal.
“No. No,” she quickly repeated. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
She really hadn’t. Not about her part of the proposition, anyway. She was just feeling so uneasy about Brad at the moment that she wasn’t sure about going through with the rest of it. She couldn’t tell Sam that, though. Not without him asking questions she’d rather not answer—especially with a customer less than ten feet away and her very bright little boy playing underfoot.
“Flying lessons for child care,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to be sure they were actually on the same track.
“Flying lessons for child care,” she echoed and watched his eyes narrow on her face. His glance was thorough and assessing as it moved over the faint strain in her features.
Had any other man studied her so openly, she would have immediately drawn back. The mechanism was purely protective, an instinct that snapped into place when any male over the age of consent paid more than passing attention to her. But she knew for a fact that this big, attractive pilot was there only because of his children. Since she’d practically badgered him into cooperating with her, she didn’t doubt that his only interest was in trying to figure out why she didn’t seem more pleased.
“I really do appreciate you bringing the book,” she insisted over a faint churring near her feet.
He still looked skeptical. “Then give me a call after you’ve read the chapters I’ve marked. We’ll set something up.”
“How about I call you at the airport tomorrow?”
Skepticism turned to curiosity when the soft sound continued. His glance shifted to the space beside her. “If you think you can get through the material that fast, that’ll be fine.”
The churring turned to a squeak. The moment it did, his brow snapped low.
It was such a relief to have his scrutiny off her that some of the strain slipped from her smile. “That’s our newest guest,” she told him, wondering at the faint flutter he’d left in her stomach.