Her Homecoming Wish Read online

  “Messed you up how?”

  She sighed, leaning back against the rock wall behind her and closing her eyes. The air was sharp and clear up here, and it felt good in her lungs. She inhaled deeply and imagined it cleaning away the past few years. Her thoughts drifted to Greenwich. The way everyone watched her perform her perfect-wife act for years. The cool admiration in their eyes until she flipped the script and told them all what she really thought of their little games.

  “Mack? What happened to you after you left Gallant Lake?” Dan’s voice was firmer now, and she opened her eyes to find him leaning toward her in worry.

  “Nothing happened. That’s the point. For years and years, not one damn thing happened in my life that meant anything. And I’m ready for something to mean something, Dan. Hell, even these blisters mean something. They mean I did something. I felt something. You have no idea what a big deal that is to me right now. How much I need it.” Her fervency surprised her as much as it did him. It was the first time she’d really articulated those feelings out loud since her divorce from Mason. Another milestone. She bumped her shoulder against him. “You told me you’re not Danger Dan anymore. That’s too bad, because I’m going to give Danger Mack a try.”

  Dan leaned back next to her. She didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly found his daughter before he relaxed. “A couple of blisters don’t exactly make you dangerous. If they make you happy, fine. But I can’t let you walk down the trail in your bare feet. That’s just begging for tick bites and open cuts that could get infected. It’s bad enough you’ve got those blisters to worry about. We don’t need you and your dad laid up right now.” He reached into her boots and pulled out her sweaty white socks. “Let me tie these tighty-whities over the blisters to protect them, then you can wear the boots as far as your car.”

  “Wow. You went from Danger Dan to Captain Responsibility. Impressive. And dull.”

  He glared at the ground in silence. Before Mack could ask what was bothering him, Chloe ran up, breathless and clutching a handful of flowers. “Here, Mack! I found eight different kinds of flowers and two types of grass. Does that count? Aren’t they pretty? Have you picked a color for your bracelet yet?”

  “If I remember correctly,” Dan started, “Mack’s favorite color used to be mint green or anything pastel. That’s all she used to wear.”

  Chloe grinned widely enough for Mack to see she’d recently lost a tooth. “I have pastel colors! Grandma Buckley asked for a bracelet like that. I’ll just make two!”

  Terrific. Mack and Grandma liked the same colors. She narrowed her eyes when she heard Dan’s choked laughter. He wouldn’t look up, concentrating very hard on wrapping her ankles and sliding those infernal boots on her feet. He wasn’t wrong. She’d been the queen of buttery-yellow sweater sets and powder-blue skirts. She carried her tendency for soft, safe, ladylike colors to Greenwich, too, with a few touches of classic black for trips to New York. But to get the same color as Chloe’s grandmother? Nope. She took the flowers from Chloe and pointed to the girl’s sparkly bracelet.

  “Actually, Chloe, that’s not true anymore.” Mack glanced at Dan before smiling at his daughter. “My favorite color these days is the same as yours—purple! Can you do that? A bright purple glittery bracelet?”

  “Oh, yes! I have new glitter beads that will be perfect! Daddy, can I make Mack’s bracelet at your house?”

  Dan’s eyes were on Mack. “Sure, baby. Make it as big and bright as you want. Because apparently I don’t know Mack as well as I thought.”

  Mack dipped her head in acknowledgment of his confession. She was no longer a woman of pastel good behavior. And Dan was no longer a guy looking for danger. She couldn’t help thinking that was a pity. She was going to be in Gallant Lake awhile—forever if Dad had his way—and Danger Dan would have been a fun diversion. But Dudley Do-Right Dan? Not as tempting. Or so she kept telling herself.

  * * *

  Mack stared at the doctor in shock. “Six weeks?”

  The doctor, who seemed barely old enough for medical school, much less practicing medicine, nodded with a bright smile, as if having no idea what his words were doing to her. She’d figured Dad would be home in a week or two. Hobbling around on crutches, maybe, but home, so she’d be free to figure out her life. But now he was having surgery?

  “Yes, Miss Wallace...”

  Dad interrupted with a grumble. “It’s Mrs. Burns.”

  “Actually, Dad...” She gave him a warning look. “It’s not anymore. You should be happy I took your name back.” It was frustrating that her own father refused to accept her divorce. He was still in the Did you try hard enough? phase. But then again, Dad had no idea what Mason had done. She looked back to the young doctor, determined to focus on the present, not the past. “You’re saying he can’t put weight on that foot for six weeks? Not even...?”

  The young doctor knew how to scowl. “No weight whatsoever. Not a single step. That tendon was hanging on by a thread, and if we don’t give yesterday’s surgery time to take, it won’t heal at all. And there are very few options at this point if it doesn’t.” He brightened. “But we’ll give Carl a scooter to use so he’ll still be mobile.”

  “But his apartment is upstairs.” She turned to her father. “Did you know this, Dad?”

  He was sitting up in his hospital bed. Even in his pea-green hospital gown, he looked surprisingly robust and completely unconcerned at the prospect of not being able to access his home of thirty years. He gave a sharp nod.

  “It’s okay, Doc. We’ll figure something out.”

  “We will?” she asked after the doctor left them alone in the room. “You say that like you have a solution in mind, but I’ll be damned if I can see one.”

  Her father gave her a sharp look. “Watch your language, young lady. And yes, I have options, but I need to talk to some folks first. How’s the store doing? Is Bert covering enough hours for you? What were your numbers for last week?”

  She followed his lead and talked business until it was time for her to go, but the whole time she was wondering where Dad was going to live. She looked at the hulking shape of Gallant Mountain looming over the town as she parked behind the store. Despite her worries, it made her smile.

  Hiking had been fun last weekend, but the blisters still hadn’t healed, and her feet were too tender to wear those damn boots for a while, even with the extrathick wool socks Dan had dropped off for her yesterday. He’d had a good laugh when he walked into the store and saw her soaking-wet hair and foul mood. She’d discovered shortly before his arrival that kayaking was not going to be one of her adventures.

  Nate Thomas had loaned her a small kayak and tried to show her how to use it shortly before Dan showed up, but she and kayaks just didn’t get along. Maybe it was a balance thing, but she’d wobbled and shaken so much that she couldn’t manage to stay upright. And when the kayak flipped, she’d panicked every time. It wasn’t the water as much as her claustrophobia—being upside down in the lake while strapped into a vessel determined to hold her there. Nate was a patient soul, but even he suggested she might want to try another hobby.

  So this weekend, she was going to take her brand-new bicycle and she was going to hit the roads. It wasn’t a mountain bike, but she figured one step at a time. Besides, it would help her get in shape, and biking was something she hadn’t done much as a little girl. Her bike had been for riding back and forth to school or over to her friend Shelly Graber’s to do homework when they were twelve. So pedaling through the hills around town would be fun and at least a little adventurous.

  She had Shelly Graber—now Shelly Markson—on her mind this week. Shelly had actually walked into the liquor store the other day. Mack wanted to hide behind the counter. She’d left Shelly in the dust back then after Ryan’s accident. Things had been chaotic at home, and Mack had started down her path of people pleasing. Or parent pleasing. And teacher
pleasing. Not so much friend pleasing. Friends couldn’t get her into college and out of the little town that was suffocating her.

  But she didn’t hide. She’d looked her onetime best friend in the eye and asked her how she could help. Shelly hadn’t changed much. Tall, athletic and devil-may-care, wearing jeans and a Gallant Lake sweatshirt, with her long brown hair tucked into a ball cap. Shelly laughed at Mack’s expression and asked for two bottles of Mack’s best cheap wine. Then she’d invited Mack to join her and her friends at the Chalet. Mack stared in stunned silence at the question until Shelly set the bottles down on one of the café tables and gave her a warm embrace. She said of course she’d forgiven Mack for ghosting her all those years ago. Shelly reminded Mack that neither of them were in high school anymore. She told Mack about her four children—four!—and invited Mack to country music night at the Chalet.

  She said her older brother might join them for a drink. Mack remembered Owen Graber as a handsome boy who always had an easy smile and a mischievous gleam in his eye. Owen had been part of Ryan and Danny’s wild bunch, but Shelly said he was settling down after sowing many years’ worth of wild oats, including a short stint in jail a few years back. Shelly warned that Friday-night crowds could get a little rowdy, but Mack waved off her concern. Rowdy was definitely not Old Mack’s style. Neither were ex-cons. Her heart beat a little faster. Maybe Owen was just the bad boy she needed right now. Maybe Owen’s company would keep her from wondering what Danny Adams was up to on a Friday night.

  Chapter Six

  “Why are we doing this again?” Dan asked as Asher parked at the Chalet. “Like I don’t see enough drunks when I’m on the job, you’re bringing me to a bar on my first full weekend off in ages? Besides, it’s late. Why can’t we just drink at your shop like we used to...?”

  “Whah, whah, whah.” Asher slammed his car door. “Will you stop whining? You’re not having your wisdom teeth extracted, for Chrissakes. You’re going out for a drink to celebrate your friend’s engagement. I’m pretty sure it won’t kill you.” They started walking across the lot. Asher looked over at Dan, then shook his head. “And the only reason we’re late is because you were dragging your feet trying to beg off. You used to rag on me about becoming a hermit, but look at you. When’s the last time you had social interaction with someone that didn’t involve handcuffs, Sheriff Dan?”

  Dan thought about Mackenzie dancing on the mountain last weekend. Mack didn’t seem terribly impressed with his status as Sheriff Dan, Hero of Gallant Lake. Maybe she hadn’t heard the wondrous—and often exaggerated—tales of his derring-do. The truth was, he’d never been that comfortable with the title, and he resented the pressure it put on him. The folks new to town knew him as the lawman. A benevolent good guy keeping them safe. And the folks who’d lived here awhile looked at him as the bad boy who’d turned his life around. Both versions of the story ended up with him on some sort of pedestal, and that was a very narrow place to build a life.

  When Asher opened the door to the Chalet, noise poured out—laughter, shouting, music, glasses clinking together. A typical Friday night at a townie bar, and the partying was in full swing. It was too late to turn back now.

  Shane Brannigan and Nate Thomas were drinking at a booth by the windows. Shane, a sports agent, was married to Melanie, the owner of the upscale boutique in town who was helping Chloe pick out a dress for that gala. Dan spotted Blake Randall at the bar. The owner of the Gallant Lake Resort, with two restaurants of its own, didn’t spend a lot of time hanging out at the Chalet. But his wife, Amanda, had insisted that he and the guys celebrate Nick West’s engagement to Cassie Zetticci somewhere other than the resort where Nick and Blake worked.

  The man of the hour, Nick, was standing next to Blake, accepting well wishes from the crowd. Nick had come to town the previous summer as Blake’s director of security. He’d been a police detective in LA before making the move, and he and Dan had become good friends.

  Nick saw Dan standing there and waved him over as Asher moved on to the booth. “Hey, look, it’s Sheriff Dan in the flesh!” Nick announced loudly. “Let me buy you a beer, Dan-o.”

  Dan hated that name, but Nick had clearly had a few beers already, so he let it slide. He accepted the beer and shook Nick’s hand.

  “Stop reminding everyone of my profession tonight—it’s a buzzkill.” He clapped Nick on the back. “Congratulations, man. Have you and Cassie set a date?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’ve promised to show up at the appointed time, but the rest of the details are up to her.” He took a long swig of his beer. Nick was lean and tough—a rock climber and white-water kayaker. Blake’s build was broader and taller. And he had that air of being in charge, even leaning on the bar at the Chalet. Blake bumped Nick’s shoulder.

  “How is it that I know more about your nuptials than you do? You’re getting married in September. At Halcyon. On the veranda if the weather’s nice. Inside if it’s not. The women are all over it.”

  “Nice.” Nick raised his glass, which seemed to have magically refilled itself. “Married in a castle. Who’d have thunk it? Come on, let’s get back to Shane and Nate.” Nick wavered on his feet, making Dan wonder A—how much had he had to drink? And B—who was driving this crew home? As if reading his mind, Nick gave him a lopsided grin. “Relax, Officer. Shane’s our designated driver tonight.” They approached the table. “See? He’s drinking soda. Or something. What the hell are you drinking?”

  Shane lifted his glass of ruby liquid. “Cranberry juice. You’d think I’d be sick of it by now, with Mel wanting nothing but for the past month or so, but my pregnant wife has me hooked on the stuff. Although I’ll admit, I generally add lots of vodka to mine at home. But not tonight.” He drained half the glass and sighed. “Tonight I’m sober. I promise, Sheriff Dan.”

  “Christ, will everyone stop calling me that?” Dan sat down with a growl. He glared at Asher. “This is why I don’t go out. Between everyone calling me Sheriff Dan like I’m some kind of cartoon character and then not being able to get respectably drunk in the same town I’m supposed to be protecting.” His glass of beer was still distressingly full. He’d be nursing that one all night, or at least until he got home to have a whiskey—or three—in private.

  “Yikes.” Shane laughed. “I thought my wife was hormonal. What’s got you in such a twist?”

  Asher chuckled. “More like who has him in a twist. A ghost from his past has him shook.”

  Nick set his glass down, his smile fading. “What kind of ghost? Someone you arrested?”

  “No,” Asher replied, more than happy to speak for Dan. “A lady ghost. Carl Wallace’s daughter is here to help run the liquor store while he’s laid up.” Asher gave Dan a speculative look. “And it turns out our buddy Dan went to school with Mackenzie Wallace.”

  Nate Thomas’s head bobbed up and down. “We all went to school together, but she was a few years behind...” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right—you and her brother, Ryan, were best buds! It was you two who tore up the football field doing doughnuts with your dirt bikes, right? Hey, did you know she’s...”

  “Wait...” Blake held up his hand. “Sheriff Dan got in trouble in school? Please, tell us more!”

  Nate interrupted. “Dan, she’s h—”

  Asher jumped in. He knew about Dan’s past and knew why Dan didn’t want to talk about it. “What are we, a bunch of gossiping old women? We all had adventures in high school. And I imagine we all had some girl we’d like to see again...” He glanced at Dan. “Or not. So give the guy a break. Nate, how’s business been?”

  Music swirled around them. Country wasn’t Dan’s thing, but judging from the crowded dance floor, people were into it. There was a lot of hooting and hollering involved, which meant Nate had to practically yell to be heard.

  “Business sucks, as usual lately. But Mackenzie...”

  Asher tried again to distrac
t Nate. “And that stupid parrot of yours—how’s he doing?” Nate’s parrot, Hank, was a minor tourist attraction. He lived in a large cage in the hardware store and liked to swear. A lot.

  “Still likes to curse a blue streak.” Nate shrugged. “Might be why business is so bad, but what can I do?” He leaned toward Dan. “She’s here.”

  “Who’s here? Your parrot?” Nick looked around, as if Nate would actually bring Hank to a bar like some pirate.

  “No, you idiot.” Nate looked straight at Dan. “Mackenzie Wallace. She’s over on the other side of the bar, with Shelly Markson and Kiara Kelsoe. Shelly’s brother was over there, too.”

  Dan went very still. Mack was here? With Owen Graber? Christ, he knew she wanted to find her adventurous side, but hanging out with Owen Graber wasn’t a great idea. His friends moved on to discussing baseball, which was normally a conversation Dan would gladly be a part of. But he couldn’t focus on anything other than Mack being in the bar. With Owen.

  Back in high school, Owen had been part of their group of troublemakers. Outsiders on the far edge of polite society. Punks thinking they were clever rebels of some kind. They’d never met a rule they didn’t want to break, and Dan really couldn’t remember why, or what the point was. Attention? Danger? Fun? For him it was probably just an escape from his parents’ divorce and all the tension at home. His father was angry and distant, and often drunk. Dan’s friends became his family, even if they were often drunk, too.