At Home in His Heart. Glynna Kaye
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“Very good.” Her tone reverted to the impersonal, as if she’d again realized to whom she’d been talking—chatting with the man who’d done his best to save his buddy from a lifetime of regret. She headed back down the aisle. “I can check you out up at the front.”
He followed her to the polished wooden counter and set the box down, then fished in a back pocket for his wallet. Pulled out a twenty, then broached a touchy subject. “I guess the museum will be open Memorial Day?”
With Sandi being the president of the local historical society, he’d had to call her several weeks ago. Had to notify her of upcoming changes to the agreement on the space his grandma leased to the Canyon Springs Historical Museum. It hadn’t gone over well.
She gave him a probing glance as she rang up his purchase. “Is there a problem with the museum being open?”
“No. Just wondering what to expect.”
“If you hadn’t moved into the apartment above it with your grandma, you wouldn’t be bothered by the historical society’s comings and goings.”
Grandma said Sandi had devoted herself to the museum since Keith’s death, but who was she to judge if he should or shouldn’t move in with his grandma? Grandma Mae was his first and only concern, and if her ability to remain relatively independent depended on having him close by, well so be it.
“Didn’t say I was bothered. Just need to know what the plans are so I can keep my grandmother informed. After all, it is her home.”
“I haven’t forgotten that.” Sandi’s gaze sharpened as she handed him his change. His heart rate ramped up a notch, anticipating her fingers would again brush his, but she carefully placed the bills and coins into his palm without contact. “But it may have slipped your mind, Sergeant, that while you were dashing around the world on yet another tour of duty, the rest of us were right here making sure her needs were met.”
No, maybe he hadn’t been here, but nobody else managed to keep Grandma from falling down the back stairs, either. Or keep her from breaking her ankle, a wrist and a few ribs. He counted slowly to ten, determined not to let Keith’s wife push his buttons. Grandma Mae always said the unspoken words you are master of, the spoken words are master of you.
Not that he’d always listened.
“That’s something I’m well aware of, thank you, and for which I’m grateful.”
“Then please make an effort to remember that—” her words came softly enough, but he didn’t miss the underlying edge “—the next time you think about raising the rent on the historical museum and send us scrambling to make up the difference. That’s why we’re keeping it open on a holiday.”
It was clear she thought the increase was nothing more than fun money for him. No doubt her husband had filled her in on the off-duty lifestyle of Old Bryce. Probably didn’t know there was a New Bryce now. He hadn’t exactly announced it to the town. She didn’t know, either, that his volunteer work and part-time jobs were just biding time until the hiring freeze ended and that promised firefighter position opened up. Well, he wasn’t going to explain his reasoning for the rent increase to her. It was nobody’s business but his and Grandma Mae’s.
Sandi tilted her head, her expressive eyes questioning, still waiting for a response to her pointed remark. But this time that cute little mannerism didn’t stir him. Much. He shifted the gear of his tone into neutral and held up the aspirin box. “I’ll keep your recommendation in mind. And thanks for your help.”
He turned away and headed to the door, conscious of her annoyed stare piercing into his back.
A shame such a pretty little gal had a mile-wide unyielding streak. Nobody would ever guess looking at her—at the full, soft mouth, eyes the color of a twilight sky, the winsome little mannerisms.
A mighty big shame.
And he could see right now this museum business was going to put him in front of the firing line of her prickly disposition. Especially when she found out the museum’s days were numbered.
But he’d keep that to himself for now.
“I have no intention of getting married again. Ever. And certainly not to him. So you can get that notion right out of your head, Devon.” Sandi Bradshaw laughed at the look of dismay her words elicited from her pretty, matchmaking sister-in-law.
But at the mention of Bryce Harding’s name her mind’s eye had flashed to the big, dark-haired man with a neatly clipped beard and mustache who’d stood before her at the Warehouse last night. Twinkling brown eyes. Broad-shouldered and built like a bulldozer. If it weren’t for the baggy cargo shorts, flip-flops and untucked black T-shirt emblazoned with No Regrets, she’d have thought he’d just stepped off the playing field of a Scottish highlands festival game.
But in the same instant she’d turned to him, his dark eyes had sobered with recognition and her own erratically pounding heart confirmed him as the man who’d come way too close to convincing her husband not to marry her.
“See?” Sandi’s mother-in-law, LeAnne Bradshaw, shook back her stylishly cut, salt-and-pepper hair. She cast a knowing look at her daughter, Devon, across the glass-topped table of a Canyon Springs outdoor café—one of the many eateries and business establishments open only from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day. “I told you Sandi and I are two of a kind. Each of us blessed beyond measure to have married the man of our dreams and no one else could ever replace either of them.”
“I’m not saying anyone could replace Keith.” Her expression still troubled as she eyed Sandi, Devon sliced off a bite of homemade apple pie. “But don’t you remember, Sandi, how the two of you always laughed about wanting a house full of kids? Gina’s already six years old. Don’t you want any more children? Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Remorse bayoneted Sandi’s heart, her memory flashing to the last words she’d spoken to her husband. But she nevertheless rallied the same bright smile she determinedly affixed each morning. Tucking a strand of her chin-length hair behind an ear, she managed another little laugh. “I guess—”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Devon, stop nagging the poor girl.” LeAnne shot a withering look at her daughter. “When would she have time to get lonely? Teaching at the high school nine months out of the year. Church activities. And have you seen that ‘to do’ list of hers? Then there’s Gina. She’s more than a full-time handful.”
“Well, all I can say—” Devon fixed Sandi with a playful look “—is if she’s not fast on her feet, Sergeant First Class Bryce Harding will be off the market in no time. I haven’t been in town but a few hours and I’m already hearing he’s the hottest item on this summer’s menu.”
Sandi’s mind again rushed to the man who, prior to that first encounter last winter, she’d seen only in photographs. A man who’d had the nerve on that snowy day to stop her on the street, introduce himself and express his long-overdue condolences. She’d no idea he’d come back to town. Was so shocked at his unexpected introduction that she hadn’t handled their meeting well.
At all.
Hadn’t done so hot last night, either.
It had been no easy feat avoiding him since that first ill-fated encounter months ago. Not only did he escort his grandma to church on Sundays—looking as uncomfortable there as might be expected, given his lifestyle—but now he lived above the Canyon Springs Historical Museum. Right above her home away from home since Keith’s untimely death five years ago.
With considerable effort, she directed a wink at her husband’s little sister. “Help yourself to him, Dev. You’ll have no competition from me.”
No chance of that. Not in a million years.
With a sassy grin, Devon brushed a hand through her dark, shoulder-length hair and struck an alluring pose. “Maybe I will.”
“Don’t