Her Homecoming Wish Page 3

  Naturally, Asher picked up on his body language. “Nate’s quite a catch, you know. Maybe not the most exciting guy in town, but he’s steady and reliable and single...”

  “I don’t see a hardware store owner as Mack’s type.”

  Asher’s shoulder rose. “You didn’t see her as an adventurer, either, but it looks like she’s ready for hiking, biking and kayaking all in one shopping trip. Either Nate’s more of a master salesman than I gave him credit for, or you don’t know Mackenzie Wallace as much as you think you do.”

  Mack turned and walked across the street toward the liquor store, loaded down with shopping bags and supplies. “I knew her as a skinny, stuck-up kid who liked to follow her brother and me around and lecture us like she was our grandmother. But somewhere in the last twenty years, she’s clearly blossomed.”

  Asher scoffed as they walked to the back of the shop again. “Blossomed, huh? Now who’s been watching girlie movies? And FYI—you can laugh at that romance channel all you want, but they have some pretty deep stuff, and it puts Nora in the cuddling mood, which suits me just fine.” He held his hands up at Dan’s expression. “Okay, I’m dropping the subject. How’s Chloe doing with school?”

  Dan took a sip of soda and smiled. His daughter was a topic he was always happy to discuss. He told Asher how the eight-year-old was acing her grades. Her teacher, Sarah Conway, regularly sent emails saying what a delight Chloe was to have in her class.

  Now that he thought about it, Chloe was a little like a young Mack—always eager to please and striving to be the best at everything. The only difference was Chloe was a tomboy through and through and had the scrapes and bruises to show for it. Just this week, she’d tried to slide down the banister in his renovated Victorian house and nearly broke her arm when she tumbled off halfway to the ground floor. His ex-wife, Susanne, had a fit when she saw Chloe’s puffy wrist, but the doctor confirmed it was just a minor sprain.

  Asher finished his lunch and moved to the unfinished dresser on the work table, and Dan knew it was time to go. He had shift in a few hours. He’d usually spend his extra time with Chloe, but Susanne had taken her into the city to shop this weekend. He could probably use a nap after working overtime last night to help out another deputy. That’s what a smart man would do.

  But Dan wasn’t all that smart, because he headed right down Main Street toward the liquor store.

  Chapter Three

  Mack sat behind the counter and stared at the hiking poles leaning against the back wall, right between the cognac and the whiskey. She shifted on her dad’s weathered old stool, and her hiking boots clunked against the counter. Damn, these things were bulky. Nate had told her they were the highest-rated hiking boots on the market, and that she should wear them a few hours at a time to break them in and get used to them. So here she was, clumping around Dad’s liquor store in boots that would horrify the ladies back at Glenfadden Country Club. She grinned. That just made her like these boots all the more.

  Her dad’s friend Bert Jenkins worked in the store part-time. He’d been covering full-time since Dad’s fall five days ago, so she’d given him a couple days off. It was weird being back in Gallant Lake, working the store on a Saturday. Everyone wanted to know about Dad, who had been grumpy as hell when she’d seen him this morning. But everyone also seemed a little hesitant to start up a conversation with her. Most of them had watched her grow up in this place.

  To be fair, she hadn’t been much of a social butterfly those last few years she’d lived here. It felt like half the town hated them back then because of Ryan’s accident and Braden’s death. Then Braden’s family sued. And lost. Ryan was a mess. Her mom was sick. Dad did nothing but work. And Mack had spent her days tap-dancing like crazy to keep everyone happy at home and get good enough grades to earn a scholarship to a college as far away from Gallant Lake as possible.

  She slid off the stool and walked to the back of the store, where the café tables and chairs sat in disarray. The stroll down memory lane wasn’t doing a thing to make her feel better about coming home again. She started arranging the tables and chairs.

  Dad had told her he’d read an article about having wine tastings to draw in new customers, though he hadn’t gotten around to having one yet. But he had ordered the furniture. And rearranged the store to shift the wine section toward the back wall, where the tables were. It was an interesting concept, since wine was his biggest seller. Forcing people to walk past the bottles of vodka and gin to get to what they came for probably led to some impulse purchases. Dad had owned this liquor store for thirty years, but he never stopped trying to make it better. She slid two more chairs over to a table. She’d been to her share of fancy wine tastings back in Greenwich and could probably bluff her way through a wine night or two. If she was going to run the place, she should try to contribute something.

  Dad had seemed more than happy to give her free rein over the store this morning. It used to be strictly his domain, but he’d shrugged off her news of taking a bottle of scotch last night—she skipped over her run-in with Dan. He told her it was a family business and she was family, so she could make her own decisions. Maybe it was the pain meds making him so amenable. He’d seemed resigned to spending a little more time at the hospital and then going to the rehab center as his ankle healed.

  The bell over the front door chimed. She turned with a smile, but the smile faltered when she saw Dan Adams standing there. Her skin warmed at the memory of him pressing her against the wall last night after she’d tried to bash his head in. He was out of uniform now, in jeans and a well-worn henley. But he still sported the slanted smile she was beginning to think was a regular feature. It made him look perpetually amused, but his eyes were watchful. As if the half smile might just be a mask he wore to make him look nonthreatening. For some reason, she wanted to rattle him out of that disguise.

  “What can I help you with, Officer? Looking for another Macallan?”

  His smile deepened. “In the middle of the afternoon? Seems a little indulgent. I think that’s a drink best saved for evening hours.” He walked to the back, spotting the chairs and tables she’d set up. “So Carl’s going through with his plan for wine tastings?”

  Mack shrugged. “I think he’s a little intimidated by the idea, since he’s not a huge wine drinker himself. But he was all for it when I told him I might give it a try. He has to call the licensing commission to make sure I qualify as a legal agent of the store so it’s all on the up-and-up.” She stepped back to inspect the tables, trying to determine if they were spaced far enough apart and making sure they weren’t blocking access to the wine displays.

  Dan gave a low whistle. “Those are some pretty fancy boots you got there, Mackenzie.”

  She looked down at her sturdy footwear. “I’m breaking them in. Nate Thomas says they’ll keep me warm and dry when I hit the trails.”

  “Hit the trails? You could climb Everest in those things. I watched you grow up, kiddo, and I never once saw you on any trails around here.” Dan pulled out a chair and made himself at home.

  Mack lifted her chin with a sniff. “I grew up a long time ago. I’ve changed.”

  “Yeah? Is this part of that new-leaf thing you talked about last night?”

  Her chin rose. “As a matter of fact, yes. It is. I’m tired of the sweater-set-and-pearls crowd.”

  Dan shook his head. “I don’t know what that means, but the Mack I knew wore nothing but sweater sets.”

  She studied him for a moment, tipping her head to the side. “That’s the whole point of a new leaf. I think I made it clear last night that I’m not the Mack you knew.”

  He looked around the store, showing no signs of responding. Was he ignoring her? Dismissing her? Taunting her? Insecurity made her chest go tight. She’d vowed not to give a damn about how anyone judged her, but old habits died hard. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She turned away and straighten
ed some wine bottles, refusing to speak before he did. She could wait him out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his slow smile return. Instead of reacting to her comment, he jumped to a new topic.

  “You said you weren’t married anymore. What happened?”

  She huffed out a surprised laugh. “Nice segue, Danger Dan. Just dive right into the deep end, why don’t you?”

  A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face before he composed himself again. “Sorry. Sometimes I fall into cop mode with the tone of my questions. It’s just...” He ran his hand through his hair, leaving finger trails in the short, thick locks. “The last I knew, you were living your dream life over in Connecticut. Big house. Rich investor husband. Queen of the country club crowd. At least, that’s the way Carl made it sound.” He looked down at her feet again. “And now you’re clumping around your dad’s liquor store in hiking boots. I’m curious how that happened.”

  She turned back to the wine display, fussing with the same bottles she’d just straightened, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Well, you know what they say—be careful what you ask for. Some dreams aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. So I’m starting a new dream, here in Gallant Lake. And nowhere near my ex-husband and his social circle.”

  Gallant Lake might not be where she’d planned to be living at this point in her life, but it was where she was needed. It wasn’t easy to think about facing everyone and explaining her failed dreams, but she’d just have to suck it up. Hopefully, she hadn’t burned all her bridges with her Mean Girls act in high school. She stared blankly at the bottle of merlot in her hand. It would serve her right if the whole town shunned her.

  Dan’s voice went hard. “Did he hurt you?”

  It made sense that a law enforcement officer would go there first, but the question still made her look up in surprise. The memory of how her marriage collapsed still stung.

  “Not the way you’re suggesting, no. But it wasn’t fun.” She’d left everything she’d known behind in Greenwich, including her so-called friends.

  Dan sat at one of the tables with a sigh. “Divorce is never fun.”

  She spun on her heel, which wasn’t easy in those boots.

  “You, too?”

  “Three years ago.” He nodded, staring at the floor. “Susanne and I were able to keep the focus on what was best for our daughter, but it still feels like a failure, you know? You don’t have kids?”

  Her heart pinched tight. “No. No kids. And yes. Feels like a failure.” She gave him a thin smile. “But I did get custody of our giant grumpy cat.”

  Dan chuckled. “I can’t tell from your tone if that’s a win or a loss.”

  She thought of how Rory had tried to smack Dad’s bowling trophies off the shelf one by one that morning while she scrambled to catch them like a juggler, cursing the cat the whole time.

  “I’m not sure, either,” she laughed. “He’s a pain in the ass. But he keeps the bed warm.” Oh, damn. She waved her hand in dismissal. “Well, crap. Talk about oversharing.”

  Dan gave her a quizzical look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s not a criticism, but... I don’t remember you swearing. Like...ever.”

  She gestured to herself. “New leaf, remember? This is new and improved Mackenzie, with no mouth filter. And hiking boots.”

  And twenty extra pounds since high school. She cringed inside. He must think she’d just let herself go entirely.

  “Hey...” Dan’s voice was soft as he stood and took a step toward her, forehead furrowed. “New leaves are supposed to make you feel good. What’s wrong?”

  Her breath caught as she tried to steady herself. She could not have a postdivorce meltdown right now. Those were reserved for late evenings, when she was alone and in the dark. She bit her lip hard to bring herself back under control.

  “Like you said... Divorce is a failure, and mine’s officially only a month old. And look at me. I’m an overweight mess dressed in combat boots.” She blinked, willing this pity party to go away. Dan’s gentle laughter helped.

  “Okay, let’s break down that comment. I said divorce felt like a failure, not that it was one.” He ran his eyes up and down her body. “I don’t see a mess, or anything wrong with your weight. I see a woman who’s just as beautiful as ever, in a very grown-up way.” A funny vibration started low in her abdomen. He thought she was beautiful? His hand touched her upper arm gently. “And if you want to call those combat boots, you go right ahead. You’d make a kick-ass soldier, and you’re gonna knock the hell out of this new leaf of yours.”

  * * *

  Dan sat in his patrol car a few nights later, thinking about that conversation with Mackie. She considered herself a hot mess, but all he could see was her sass and sharp humor. The new fighting spirit she seemed to have. She’d stood her ground that first night, wielding a baseball bat. Every inch of her was an intoxicating, curving temptation. If that was a hot mess...he was into it.

  He shifted on the seat, glancing at the radar as a sedan rolled slowly and carefully by. He’d intentionally parked so he’d be easily visible to drivers. Anyone who whipped by him tonight over the speed limit was literally begging for trouble. But he was really hoping no one would. He was worn-out and looking forward to a few days off. The swing shift schedule was a killer, but he didn’t have much choice.

  When Gallant Lake decided it couldn’t afford its own police force ten years ago, the county sheriff’s office had taken over. Dan was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie back then, but the town and county made an agreement. They made a position for him as a deputy sheriff, along with the former police chief, Mike DiNofrio, and gave Dan and Mike the Gallant Lake district to cover. It was the county’s way of reassuring the locals that they’d still have coverage by guys they knew.

  But they were stretched thin these days, thanks to budget cuts. If there was something going on elsewhere in the county, Gallant Lake was out of luck, with the nearest on-duty sheriff up to twenty miles away. The state troopers helped with coverage, but again, it depended on who was where. There were too many times when there wasn’t a law enforcement officer anywhere near Gallant Lake, much less patrolling its streets on a regular basis.

  And now that the Gallant Lake Resort was expanding and bringing a lot more tourists and workers to the area, the town needed more law enforcement coverage, not less. There’d been some talk about restarting the local police force, and the new mayor was behind the idea. But it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, thanks to politics—one of the few things Dan hated almost as much as he hated the cheap, deadly drugs coming into this area lately.

  Several more vehicles meandered past his post. The last one gave him a glare and jumped on the gas shortly after passing him, as if taunting him. He was too tired to play games today. He didn’t hit the lights right away, watching to make sure the guy wasn’t stupid enough to stay at the high speed. Sure enough, the truck slowed back down again. Good thing. He was in no mood to deal with some hotshot kid in a jacked-up truck.

  When Dan picked up his daughter the next morning, after far too little sleep, Chloe had enough energy for the both of them. As usual, she was the life force that kept him going.

  “Dad! Oh my God! Did you hear? There’s a fashion show at the resort and Mom said I could be in it! I’m gonna be a model! In a real fashion show!” Chloe grabbed his hand on the sidewalk and tugged him toward Susanne’s house. Which used to be their house. Back when they were a family. His daughter’s words didn’t sink in until they were walking inside.

  “Wait...did you say you’re going to be in a fashion show, Chloe? Is it a contest or something?”

  “I don’t think it’s a contest. But Miss Mel at the shop said she’ll order me something special to wear, and she said it could be purple!” Dan couldn’t help smiling, despite his confusion. Chloe’s entire room was purple, from walls to curtains to carpet. At both houses.


  Susanne stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway and waved at Dan. “Hey! Come have a cup of coffee while she gets her stuff ready. I’ll fill you in on the big fashion show.” She winked. “No reality TV stuff, I promise!”

  While Susanne was pregnant, she and Dan had made themselves a few promises, as all new parents do. They’d provide a united front at all times. They wouldn’t be overprotective helicopter parents, but they wouldn’t be free-range parents, either. And they’d never push their child to do something they didn’t want to do. No screaming stage mom. No cursing hockey dad. No unhealthy competition of any kind. They’d let their child be a child. No overwrought reality show parenting.

  That became their mantra for all of it. No reality shows! Susanne had a particular hatred for the cable shows that seemed to glorify horrid parents exploiting their children, who were pushed to win dance contests or kiddie beauty pageants or whatever. After Chloe was born, they realized parenting—not to mention marriage—was a lot more complicated than they’d ever anticipated. When one of them thought the other—or Chloe—might be getting a little too carried away, they’d remind each other there were no cameras around. No need for drama.

  A fashion show? That one sounded straight out of reality show land.

  “I swear she’s only doing it for fun,” Susanne said as she handed him a mug of coffee. “No competition. It’s part of the big charity fund-raiser the resort does for that veterans’ group every year. You know, with the golf tournament and the fancy gala? Samir is on the board this year, with Amanda Randall. She said they were going to be looking for local fashion models, including children. So he suggested Chloe.”