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The lines around his eyes softened, but his jaw was still hard. “That was a hundred years ago. Flag’s tattered to ribbons now.”
“You were going to finish telling me your theory about the robbery.”
“I’ll call you when I’ve got it worked out.”
Stormy felt a dull ache in her heart. “When will that be?”
“Who knows.”
She slowly turned away and headed for the path that led up to the house.
Tyler watched Stormy’s retreat,which was lit by a ribbon of moonlight.
Damn. Falling in love was hell on a man. One would think the powers that be would keep that in mind. It was supposed to be wonderful. Arguments weren’t supposed to start until after the honeymoon.
Deep inside, he felt a sensation he barely recognized, but as it became stronger, he knew it for what it was—a mixture of fear, want, need, and hope, so deeply embedded, it was engraved on his soul.
The only other time he’d been aware of the sensation was when he’d watched the paramedics working on Priss at the side of the swimming pool. He had needed her to be alive, had stood there begging God to let the paramedic look up and say,We got a pulse.
But it hadn’t happened.
And he’d had to live with the guilt. If only he’d arrived home five minutes earlier. If only his wife had not gone into the house to get a towel. If only…
Stormy had reached the kitchen door. She went in; the deck lights went out.
If only, Tyler thought, then stopped.
He’d be damned if he’d allow Stormy to become another of hisif-onlys!
He looked up to the sky, taking in the panorama of the heavens and the moon hanging among the stars. Stormy was a woman. She should have known what he was talking about—probably before he did. Women always knew.
A wave came rushing in and caught him unexpectedly. It soaked him to his calves.
He looked down at his ruined loafers and began to slog up the beach, as mired in confusion as he was in damp sand.
Hell, he couldn’t ask her to be his—not yet. Never mind that this case was like an exploding hand grenade, scattering chaos everywhere he looked.
He needed a real break on this one—in more ways than one.
There wasa holiday spirit in the air. The flea market was packed with shoppers. Stormy missed having Liane at her side, but the child was thrilled to spend the day with Janelle. In brief respites between customers, Stormy’s thoughts traveled to Tyler.
Life wasn’t fair—she knew that with a passion. The man was interested in her, so why did he keep pulling back? For that matter, why did she keep pushing him away? He couldn’t possibly be as confused as she was. Men never were. They always knew what they wanted and simply took it.
Was he just trying to make her miserable?
“Hi.”
Stormy jerked from her reverie. “Sandy! What are you doing here?”
“I’m combining business with pleasure. Meet my children,” she said, her eyes alight with pleasure. “Ned and Terry Jean.”
The youngsters were towheaded, shy, and polite. They shook hands with Stormy.
“I only have them for today, this time,” Sandy said. “We’re heading from here to Noreen’s to dye Easter eggs. But I wanted you to see what I’ve been buying up with your money.” She opened a huge plastic bag and pulled out dozens of stuffed animals and dolls. “These washed up fabulously, don’t you agree?”
“They’re great!” Stormy said. “You have time to spare? Let’s get price tags on them right now and put them on the table.”
“You know how you said to keep an eye out for other things?” Sandy said hesitantly while they were pricing.
