Deserving of Luke. Tracy Wolff
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on her first day back—”
“Come to stay with her sister, in that pitiful little B and B—”
“She must be broke and is mooching off Penny—”
“I don’t think she’s broke. Did you see her car? Must be some drug dealer’s girlfriend—”
Paige slammed her purse down on the small check-writing counter, and began bagging the groceries as the clerk—a teenaged girl who didn’t seem to be aware of the barbed chatter—asked if she was new in town. Normally, bagging your own groceries was considered the height of rudeness in Prospect, as it indicated a desire to leave instead of participating in a nice, long chat. But being thought rude was the least of Paige’s problems, so she shoved a head of broccoli into the same bag as a loaf of bread and a chocolate bar and prepared to call it a day.
“We’re here for the summer,” Luke told the girl with his quick, easy grin. “Mom says she’s going to teach me to surf.”
“Oh, yeah?” The girl looked impressed. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that myself.”
“Well, maybe my mom can teach you, too. She’s really good at it.”
Paige laughed. “By really good, he means I fall off the board only about half the time.” She put the last bag in the basket. “How much do I owe you?”
“Ninety-seven forty.”
“And she’s taking me for lunch at Prospector’s,” Luke continued. “She says they make the best strawberry shakes in all of Oregon.”
“Maybe in the whole universe,” the girl agreed. “And they’re even better if you have them throw a banana in with the strawberry ice cream.”
“Really?” Luke looked skeptical.
“I swear.”
He turned to Paige. “Can I try one, Mom? Please? I looooove bananas.”
Cursing under her breath because she’d completely forgotten her promise to take her son for lunch, Paige forced a smile, even as she prayed for patience. “You can have whatever kind of shake you want as long as you eat some vegetables with lunch. Sound fair?”
Luke groaned, but agreed, “Sounds fair.”
After signing the credit card slip and handing it to the girl, Paige let Luke push the basket to the car. Watching him carefully maneuver around the other vehicles made her smile, despite the worry that lingered in the corners of her mind. What was she going to do if Luke clued in to what kind of reputation his mother had had when she’d run away from this old-fashioned bastion of bigotry?
And how was she going to explain her reasons for doing what she’d done to him? He was already the only kid in his private-school class who didn’t at least know who his dad was—something he seemed to be taking reasonably well. But she wasn’t sure what old gossip could do to him—and she didn’t want to find out.
One thing was for sure, she vowed as she slid into the driver’s seat. After today, she was going to do her damnedest to keep him away from this place and the people who wanted nothing more than to hurt him, simply because he was hers.
Whoever had said ignorance was bliss definitely knew what he was talking about.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY, the kind that made Logan Powell grateful he’d returned to Prospect after his big-city marriage had failed. Oh, he’d liked Seattle well enough—if you didn’t mind the fact that it rained something like eighty-seven percent of the time. But after Melissa had left him he’d been ready for a change. And the fact that he’d been shot, had nearly bled to death in a drug bust gone bad, hadn’t hurt his desire to return home, either. Prospect was the epitome of a sleepy coastal town and he liked it that way.
After parking his cruiser in the first available spot, Logan stepped into the street. He took a deep breath, held it in his lungs as long as he could before letting it out. In that breath was everything he loved about Prospect—sunshine, salt water and an abundance of greenery.
A glance at his watch told him he had plenty of time before he was supposed to meet his date at Prospector’s, the local sixties diner, so he decided to take the long way around. There might not be much crime in Prospect, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take his job as sheriff seriously. These people depended on him and he wasn’t going to let them down.
Today was a perfect time to weave his way through the tree-lined streets and check on the local businesses. It was a little early in the season for tourists to be descending, so he could enjoy this duty that would soon become a chore. He would still patrol the streets once they were packed with people in shorts and sundresses, haggling for antiques and beach shells, but the camaraderie he experienced now would be swallowed by strangers’ demands.
Completely content with his lot in life, Logan took his time strolling the heavily shaded streets. The sun was shining, a nice breeze wound its way between the buildings and, in the background, the ocean crashed soothingly onto the sand. Yes, it really was a beautiful day.
As he made his way down Sycamore to Main, he whistled a little tune, something happy he remembered from his childhood. Perhaps he’d stop by the clinic to see if Jake was on call tonight. If he wasn’t, maybe his old friend would be up for a few hands of poker. Logan was feeling lucky, and since the bastard had scalped him in their regular first Thursday of the month game, he owed him a chance to recoup his losses.
He’d barely stepped onto Main Street before realizing the streets—and the people walking down them—were abuzz about something. Of course, it didn’t take much to get the residents up in arms.
He wondered if Mr. Walker’s Rottweiler had escaped again, plowing into God-only-knew whom. Or if the Harbinger brothers had gotten into another fight in the middle of Town Square. The last time it had happened they’d nearly killed themselves and he’d been stuck hauling both of them to jail. Before all was said and done he’d ended up with a black eye and his own assault case against the two of them. He’d let the charges drop on the understanding that they kept their differences non-violent in the future. But if they’d been fighting again—
“Morning, Sheriff.” Marge Hutchinson’s brusque voice pulled him from his reverie.
“Morning, Mrs. Hutchinson.” He smiled at the boutique owner who had been slipping him a piece of red licorice behind his mother’s back since he was three years old. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m doing just fine. Gearing up for the tourist rush.”
“Glad to hear it. They should be here before you know it.”
“Another week or two at the most. Bob’s talked me into carrying some fancy soaps and perfumes. You should stop by and check them out,” she said with a wink. “Maybe pick up something for your new girl.”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Today’s lunch was only his second date with Joni—the first had been a cup of coffee a few days ago—but already the town had the two of them paired up. It didn’t annoy him the way it did some. Instead, it amused him. Where else but Prospect would his love life be a public service project?
“Good. I’ll set some of the gardenia products aside. They’ll smell real good on Joni. And you’ll be needing them after she finds out—” She looked away, her crimson painted lips pressed tightly together.
His radar went on red alert. “After she finds out what, Mrs. Hutchinson?”
“I suppose I should just tell you. It’s better than you hearing it from one of those old busybodies down the street.”
He barely bit back a smile. She was one of the busiest bodies in town. Despite her feigned reluctance, she was probably rejoicing in the fact that she’d beaten Ruth Oberly to the punch.
“Well, I was in the grocery store earlier today and you’ll