AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And by the way, I saw Lexi with Anton, and they are definitely more than friends.”
“Boyfriend or not, Lexi made one mistake. She’s a good kid deep down, and you can trust her.”
Spoken by a woman who didn’t have children.
“Oh, sure, I can trust her. In the same way my mother could trust me? You mean in that way?”
Vera put her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Deep breath.”
But then the glass door to the café opened, and Jack strode in alone. That uniform—the gun holstered near his slim hips, the whole cop look—did nothing but good things for him, and Maggie’s heart raced into overdrive.
Good friend that she was, Vera stepped forward from behind the counter, finger pointed.
“Now listen, Jack Butler. Maggie didn’t do anything wrong. So if you’re here to tell her so, I’d like to know what Penal Code she violated. Overprotective Mom Code 101?”
Hands thrust on her waist, Vera tossed her pale blonde hair to the side. If she wasn’t Maggie’s best friend, she might just have to hate her for being so beautiful.
“No violation,” Jack said. “I just want to talk to my neighbor. If that’s OK with you, of course.”
Vera stepped aside. “You can ask her.”
“Can we have a seat, Maggie?” Jack gestured toward one of the empty tables.
Maggie let out a breath and took a seat. “Are you going to write me a ticket or lecture me?”
He took a chair across from her. “Neither. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Not unless you count being clueless.”
The first real smile she’d seen on him tipped his lips.
Wow. I was right. Devastating.
“We get one silly call a day, usually from people who are bored. This is not the first time someone has called in a report that turned out to be false.”
“So why are you here?”
“I feel like I should apologize.” His blue eyes were warm and inviting.
“You?Apologize to me?”
“I left you hanging about Anton, and you must be curious. I should have taken the time to explain and not leave you to your imagination. I see you let it get the best of you.”
“That’s probably true.”
And though she was still curious about that, Anton could have been the pastor’s son and she would have still been anxious about this situation.
“So ask me whatever you want to know.” He set his palms on the table.
“Really?”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you know where Anton lived without asking?”
“A couple of reasons. And this is just between us. Anton’s father is Attorney Tim Whitman.”
“The defense attorney?” She’d just seen him on television last week, defending a young woman accused of murdering her child.
