Small Town Secrets. Sharon Mignerey
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Make sure he lived up to his aunt’s faith in him. Keep to himself and keep a low profile. The feelings Léa Webster aroused in him were a sure path to trouble even if her ex-husband wasn’t a cop.
“Why not?” she asked, breaking his train of thought.
He shrugged, not sure he could adequately explain. “It’s just different, that’s all. Being around other people and not having to worry about exposing your back.” That was definitely more than she needed to know. Since he’d met her ex-husband, the part about not worrying about his back wasn’t even true. So much for keeping his word to himself about telling the truth.
“I was really shy when I was a little girl,” she said, “and going into a roomful of people scared me to death.”
“You don’t seem shy now.”
She turned onto the street where they lived. “Not usually. When I was in second grade my mother told me to pretend all those people I didn’t know were simply friends I hadn’t made yet.”
“Most kids are taught strangers are dangerous.”
“In a town this size there aren’t that many strangers.”
Remembering the way Kim had seemed to know everyone this morning, Zach figured that was right. “So you grew up here?”
“I did, over on Second Street near the school.” She waved in that general direction.
“Your parents still live there?”
Her expression clouded, and she shook her head. “They were killed in a car accident coming back from Denver a couple of years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” The automatic words were out of his mouth before he could think.
“My house, the one where I live now, belonged to my grandmother,” she added. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m living here. I couldn’t wait to escape, so I thought I’d arrived at Utopia when I went away to college.”
“Where to?”
“CSU in Fort Collins,” she said. “And after I graduated, I had my dream job.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a pastry chef for a French restaurant in Denver.”
“Impressive. So, why’d you come back here?” he asked.
“Love.” She drew out the word, then she shook her head. “I met Foley at a party when I came to visit my parents, and a month later we eloped. Now that I have the benefit of hindsight—”
“You can beat yourself up based on what you know now.”
To his surprise she chuckled, and her gaze was warm when she looked at him. “That’s pretty good advice.”
He shook his head. “I don’t give advice.”
“Hmm. Too bad that’s how it sounded, then.” She parked the car in her driveway next to the house and gave him another of her infectious smiles. “If you were a really good neighbor…”
He grinned, ignoring the caution light at the back of his brain as he hoped his plans for the next couple hours were about to change. “Here it comes, the sucker punch.”
“All I want is to borrow your drill.” She opened the car door and got out.
“Ah. The lady assumes I have a drill.”
“I know Sadie has one.”
“And you’re qualified to use it,” he said.
She laughed. “Probably not, but if I want to get this project done today, I definitely need power tools.”
“Need anything besides the drill?” he asked, climbing out of the car and meeting her gaze over the top of the vehicle.
“No.” Then she grinned. “Well, drill bits, too.”
“I’ll be right back.” He headed across the street to his aunt’s house.
“You don’t have to do that—I can come get it.”
“I don’t mind bringing it over.”
“Well…okay.”
Unlocking the house and letting himself inside, he recounted all the reasons he had to find the drill, leave it for her and walk away. Being neighborly was one thing, and he knew the emotions she roused in him had nothing to do with being neighbors. Taking her in last night had been meant to be a gesture of comfort. And now, here he was like some teenage boy looking for any excuse to be with her. The least he could do was be honest with himself about that.
He found the key for the workshop and went out the back door. Since Sadie’s house was the last one on the block and the last one at the edge of town, the back of her property still looked like the ranch it once had been. The herd of twenty or so Angus cattle grazed in the field closest to the barn. Unlike the sandy bluffs in the distance, the field was green.
He loved the view, and he figured he’d never tire of it. As he had so many times in the last few days, Zach whispered a prayer of thanks.
He unlocked the workshop and found it dusty but as well organized as he remembered. Within five minutes he was heading back across the street to Léa’s.
A nondescript blue sedan was parked in front of her house, which provided him with an excuse to drop off the tool, then leave.
“Foley Blue stopped by my office this morning,” a woman said from inside the house, her voice carrying through the screen door.
Zach knew he should knock, but at the mention of Léa’s ex, his hand dropped to his side.
“And,” she continued, “he said that he was to be added to your petition to adopt a child, though he’s more interested in an older child than an infant.”
Adopt? Léa was trying to adopt a kid? Zach knew he should leave, but he remained rooted right where he stood.
“He what?” Léa’s voice sounded as sucker-punched as Zach felt.
“I take it then, he hadn’t spoken with you about this.” The other woman’s voice was soothing.
“No. He didn’t.” Though Léa’s voice shook, the words were as emphatic as they had been last night when she had told Zach they weren’t getting back together. “Nothing has changed, Dottie. I don’t know what he may have said to you, but none of this has anything to do with him.”
“I did think it was a bit odd.” There was a short pause. “With the home inspection done, one more step is completed.”
The woman made it sound as though the adoption was likely, which raised a dozen questions in Zach’s mind. He would have thought adopting would be a hard thing for a single woman.
“One more,” Léa agreed.
“But,” the other woman continued, “this whole business worries me.”
“Whatever reassurance you need, Dottie, I’ll do it.”
“You need to set him straight. And I need to be assured that I’m not placing a child in a potentially volatile situation.”
“You won’t be,” Léa said. “You have my word.”
From inside the house, Zach heard footsteps, so he made a point of walking across the porch and tapping on the door. Through the screen Léa was shadowed, as was the older woman coming toward the door.
“Oh, good. You’re here,” Léa said. “Come on in.”
Zach pulled open the door and Léa introduced him, then followed the other woman outside with an “I’ll be right back,” to Zach.
Holding on to her frustration, Léa followed Dottie Franklin, the social worker in charge of her adoption application, to her car. She was furious that Foley