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“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Norman.” No need to fake anything here. Unlike the mayor, this man exuded authenticity and kindness.
“He says we have to shore up the entry points first,” said Carrie. “I need all new locks too, apparently. The joys of having an old house.”
“But she’s such a beauty,” said Scott. “Houses like that should be kept up. Not all of them can be, of course. Like the old Lewis place that you bought, Ethan. I don’t blame you one bit for tearing it down. That one was beyond hope. Follow me.”
That was odd, thought Ethan. Of course he’d had to tear down and rebuild. Had anyone thought otherwise?
Scott led them to the appropriate area of the store and began discussing the various merits of different products. Ethan nodded, asking the right questions to sound like he knew what he was doing, without revealing his opinion that this wasn’t exactly rocket science.
“I’m glad Carrie’s got someone looking out for her,” said Scott, as he accompanied them to the front of the store with the supplies they’d chosen. He chuckled and stepped behind the till. “You’re good people, Ethan Nash.”
Ethan’s chest warmed. Even though the hardware store owner had zero basis for saying it, it felt good to hear it, especially after talking to Calloway.
A good guy, Scott Norman. He took things at face value, and believed in a world of sunbeams and laughter, where bad things happened to other people and everything ended with happily ever after.
If only such a world existed.
“You see?” said Carrie, as they walked to his car. Though she was careful not to touch him as she walked, he could feel the warmth of her body shimmering next to him. He could also feel an I-told-you-so coming.
“We’re one for two,” he said. “That’s not exactly a whirlwind success.”
“Killjoy.” She punched his shoulder with a surprisingly firm fist. “Good job playing dummy, too. I saw you, pretending you needed his help.”
“Lying. It’s my special gift.”
“Or,” said Carrie, “we can call it tact. You have potential, Mr. Nash. I can work with that.”
She bent over to put the packages in the trunk of his car, and sent a teasing grin over her shoulder as she did so. Her honey-gold hair fell to one side, revealing a length of creamy shoulder and neck, and something about that smile, that posture, hit him like a two-by-four.
She was flirting with him.
He groaned, inwardly.
He would not, could not, take advantage of her, he reminded himself.
But Carrie Logan was an easy mark, in every sense of the word.
Chapter Eight
‡
“I changed my mind,” said Carrie. “Let’s go to the grocery store after all. The mayor left me with a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I thought it was too domestic.”
“I need milk.” She thought for a moment. “We’ll take separate carts though. No need to overdo it.”
“If you like,” said Ethan, not quite ready to end their day, “I could get steaks. We’ll grill them up, you can make a salad.”
“That’s way too domestic.”
“It’s simply good client service. Nothing more.”
She thought for a moment. “I am hungry.”
“Steaks it is.” He headed over to the market and pulled into the parking lot, aware for the first time of how much his car stood out next to the other cars. Maybe he was a show-off.
“Forget carts,” said Carrie. “One basket is plenty. But you can carry it.”
They were rounding the produce aisle when he saw the blonde-haired woman from the park. She saw him at the same time, and pulled her son close to her side, casting a clear, if wordless, message in Ethan’s direction.
“Mommy,” Ethan heard George say in his childish whisper-shout. “That’s the dog man.”
Without acknowledging him, the woman pulled her kids and her cart into the next aisle.
“What’s with Amanda?” asked Carrie. “That was a pretty chilly look.”
“She’s one of the women I met in the park last week. The one Calloway says is so traumatized.” He sighed. “You don’t really need produce, do you?”
