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“When’d you get back from New York?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“And you’re at the Silverton place now?”
“Yeah, trying to kick out the trespasser, but he’s locked in and won’t budge.”
Jake laughed, the sound only adding to Grayson’s irritation. “Look, maybe you find it funny, but I’ve had a rough couple weeks and I’m not in the mood to deal with a vagrant who’s decided this is home. So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you coming over and dealing with it yourself.”
“Hey, sorry, man. I know things have been rough. Tiffany and I have been praying for your brother. Most of the people in Lakeview have. How’s Jude doing?”
“He’ll be in the hospital for another couple of weeks. Then in a rehab facility. It’ll be a while before we know if he’ll ever walk again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Now, are you coming over here or not?”
“I was already on my way when you called. Seems the new renter thinks someone is trying to break in.”
“Renter?” Surprised, Grayson stepped away from the door.
“Moved in last week. A nurse, her daughter and sister-in-law.”
“No husband?”
“Nope. Rumor has it, he’s deceased, but I haven’t actually met the woman or heard the truth from her.”
“She was out in the yard and saw me coming through the shrubs that separate our property. I must have scared her half to death.” Grayson’s anger fled, and he glanced at the darkened window. He could picture the poor woman cowering just out of sight, a phone clutched to her ear as she prayed the police would arrive before he broke down the door. He had a vivid image in his head—a woman in her forties or fifties. Widowed with a teenage daughter and an older sister-in-law who lived with them. Short. Round. Salt-and-pepper curls.
Terrified.
“You scared her enough that she called nine-one-one. I’ll have my dispatcher tell her you’re a concerned neighbor and there’s nothing to worry about. See you in a few.” Jake hung up, and Grayson hesitated. Should he knock again? Walk away? What was the protocol for this kind of thing?
Before he could decide, the door cracked open, an old-fashioned chain pulled tight across the space. “Grayson Sinclair?”
“That’s right.”
“It appears we’re neighbors, then.” Her voice held a touch of Ireland, its husky timbre reminding Grayson of cool fall evenings and warm laughter.
“It appears so. I’m sorry for frightening you. I’ve been out of town for a couple of weeks and hadn’t heard the place had been rented out.”
“And I’m sorry for calling the police on you. I get nervous when strangers chase me across the yard. Hold on.” She closed the door, and Grayson could hear the chain sliding free. When she opened it again, he caught his breath in surprise.
His new neighbor was not in her forties or fifties.
Not round.
Not sporting salt-and-pepper curls.
Not anything like he’d imagined her to be.
“I’m Honor Malone, Mr. Sinclair. It’s good to meet you. Despite the circumstance.” Her half smile pulled Grayson’s attention to lips that were soft and full.
He jerked his gaze to her eyes, irritated with himself. Obviously, driving all night had left him a few brain cells short of clear thinking. “It’s good to meet you, too. Jake didn’t say when you’d moved in.”
“A week ago. Mr. Silverton mentioned that the place had been empty for a long time. I’m not surprised you were worried about squatters.”
“We have had a problem with vagrants a few times over the years. That and kids using the house as a party resort.”
“Let’s hope that you won’t have either problem again. Come in and have a cup of coffee while we wait for the sheriff.” She turned and walked through the tiny mudroom, not bothering to wait for his response.
Grayson followed, intrigued by Honor Malone despite the voice whispering in his head and reminding him that he’d washed his hands of relationships and women months ago.
He paused at the threshold of the kitchen, impressed by the changes he saw. Honor had already begun making the old bungalow into a home. Layers of grime had been scrubbed from the countertops, revealing bright blue vintage tiles. The faded wood floor had taken on a high shine that must have taken hours of labor. Cabinets that Grayson would have been willing to testify under oath were beyond salvaging, were now a bright white.
“The place looks great.” He spoke out loud, and Honor turned to face him, her cheerful yellow flannel pajamas at odds with the strain he saw in her face. Despite her smile, she looked worn, her eyes deeply shadowed.
“Thank you. It’s been a labor of love.”
“It’s a lot of work to put into a rental property.”
“Not if you’re renting to own.” She grabbed coffee cups from the cupboard, the sleeves of her pajamas falling back to reveal delicate wrists. Her fingers were long and slender, her left hand bare.
“You plan to buy this place?” The surprise in his voice must have been obvious, because Honor stiffened.
“Is there some reason why I shouldn’t?”
“It’s…” Neglected? Past hope? A money pit? “Going to take a lot of work.”
“What doesn’t, Mr. Sinclair?”
“It’s Grayson, and you’ve got a point. Most things worth having take hard work to achieve.”
“I told myself that a hundred times while I was removing layers of wax from this floor.” She smiled, her face going from girl-next-door pretty to stunning in the beat of heart.
More intrigued than ever, Grayson studied her face. Heart-shaped with high cheekbones dusted with freckles. Full lips and wide green eyes tilted at the corners. Not conventionally beautiful. There was something there, though. Something that made him want to keep looking.
“What?” She frowned, her cheeks turning scarlet.
“I was expecting a drifter. Instead, I found a beautiful woman.”
“And I was expecting an intruder and instead found a man who knows how to turn a sweet phrase.” She busied herself gathering mugs, cream and sugar. Apparently not at all impressed by his flattery.
He supposed that was for the best. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Even if he were, flattery wasn’t the way he’d pursue one. He believed in the direct approach.
A soft knock saved Grayson from having to reply to Honor’s comment. Jake. Finally. Grayson could offer another apology to his friend, then be on his way. His life was already complicated enough. He didn’t need to add more trouble to the mix.
And something told him that’s exactly what Honor Malone would be if he let her—trouble.
Compelling, alluring, distracting trouble.
TWO
Honor hurried through the dining room and living room, sure that she could feel Grayson’s steady gaze on her back. His eyes were the bright blue of the flowers that had bloomed in her mother’s garden every spring. Looking in them had been like coming home.
Frustrated by her foolish thoughts, she yanked the door open, not sure how she had gone from enjoying a hot cup of tea alone to making coffee for a good-looking, smooth-talking man.
“Next time you might want to ask who it is.” A dark-haired stranger stood on the porch, his hard face shadowed by the dim morning light, his sheriff’s uniform shouting his identity.
“I knew you were coming, so—”
“You can never be sure who is standing on the other side of the door, ma’am. It may not always be who you’re expecting.”
“I know. I guess with everything that has happened this morning, I wasn’t thinking clearly. You are Sheriff Reed, right?” She knew her face was three shades of red, but Honor tried to smile anyway.
“That’s right. And you’re Honor Malone.”
“Come on in.” Honor stepped back, allowing the sheriff to move into the living room. “The dispatcher said you were coming out to make sure everything had been cleared up with my neighbor.”
“And to meet you. This is a small town, and I make it a habit to say hello to people when they move in.” He didn’t even crack a smile when he said it, and Honor wondered if his reasons for meeting new people were altruistic or if he just wanted to add to his list of potential suspects.
She didn’t dare ask.
“I’ve just made a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” It seemed like the right thing to say, but Honor couldn’t help hoping that the sheriff would refuse her offer. Two men standing in her kitchen drinking coffee was two more than Honor could handle.
“A cup of coffee would be good right about now. Thanks.”
Wonderful.
She led the sheriff toward the back of the house, sure he was noticing every detail of the cluttered living and dining rooms—the still-packed moving boxes, the faded furniture and dusty floors. The peeling wallpaper that she planned to pull down as soon as she had a spare minute. Lily’s crayons were scattered across the dining room table. Candace’s textbooks were piled on a chair.
In the past week, Honor had spent all her time making the kitchen warm and inviting. In her mind, it was the heart of the home, the place where the family gathered to share in each other’s lives. The sheriff wouldn’t know that, though, and would probably think the chaos was a normal part of Honor’s daily life.
“I’m really sorry about the mess, Sheriff Reed. We just moved in a week ago, and I had to start my job two days later. Things have been hectic and…”
Her voice trailed off as she stepped into the kitchen. The room was a lot more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago. Not only was Grayson still there, but Candace and Lily had joined him. The first wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt, her blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. The second wore pink-and-red-striped tights, a pink tutu, an orange sweater and a baseball cap. Both were looking at Grayson as if he were a fairy-tale prince come to life.
Appalled, Honor strode across the room, deciding to deal with the only problem she could. Her daughter’s attire. “Lily Mae Malone, what in the world are you wearing?”
“My princess clothes.” Lily met Honor’s gaze with wide-eyed innocence, her curly brown hair brushing against cheeks still baby-smooth and chubby. At four years old she was only just beginning to lose the baby look, her bright eyes and bowed lips making her look like a mischievous cherub.
“You know better than to entertain guests dressed like that. Now, march back to your room and put on something else.”
“But—”
“Go. Now. Before you lose your library privileges.” It was the worst threat she could make, and Lily’s eyes widened even more. Precocious and imaginative, Lily had begun reading at three and liked nothing better than to check out books of fairy tales from the library.
“I’ll help her find something.” Candace spoke quietly. Her eyes—so similar in color and shape to Lily’s—were much more somber than her younger counterpart’s. She shot a last look in Grayson’s direction before taking Lily’s hand and hurrying her from the room.
“I’m so sorry if the girls were bothering you, Grayson. We haven’t been here long enough for Lily to make friends, and Candace has been busy with her college schedule. They were both probably anxious for a little change in the new routine.” Honor grabbed another mug, poured coffee and handed a cup to the sheriff.
“They weren’t bothering me. And your sister-in-law isn’t really a girl.” Grayson stood near the mudroom door, his hip leaning against the counter, a coffee cup in his hand. Light brown hair fell to just below his collar and a hint of stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked rugged and outdoorsy. Exactly the kind of guy Honor would have taken note of years ago.
But this wasn’t years ago, and she’d decided after Jay’s death that her days of noticing men, of dating them, of falling in love were over. She’d had enough of all three to last a lifetime. “No, she isn’t. She’ll be nineteen in a few months.”
“You said she was a college student. Is she attending Liberty University?”
“Why do you want to know?” Honor’s question came out much more abruptly than she’d intended it to. A month ago, Grayson’s curiosity wouldn’t have seemed odd. Now she was suspicious of everyone.
“Because he can’t leave his work at the office,” Sheriff Reed answered, a touch of amusement in his voice and a half smile easing the harsh angles of his face.
“His work?”
“He’s a prosecuting attorney for the state of Virginia. And he’s never met a question he didn’t want to ask.”
“Guilty as charged.” Grayson flashed a dimple Honor hadn’t noticed before and shouldn’t be noticing now. “Sorry. Sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. Although this time I had a good reason for asking. We’ve got several teens in the community who are attending Liberty. I thought Candace might like to meet them if she’s attending the same school.”
“She is.” Feeling foolish, Honor stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee and topped it off with a dollop of cream. She was suspicious of everyone lately and knew she shouldn’t be.
“I’ll give the kids a heads-up. Maybe they can stop by one day.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s no problem.” He raised an eyebrow as she spooned more sugar into her coffee, but didn’t comment.
“And I may be able to hook your daughter up with a play date or two. How old is she?” The sheriff broke into the conversation, and Honor gladly pulled her attention away from Grayson.
“Four going on forty.”
“Mine is three going on thirty. They probably have a lot in common.”
“I think they probably do. Would either of you like a biscuit to go with your coffee? I’m sure I’ve got shortbread.” She opened the cupboard closest to her and stretched to reach the box of biscuits on the top shelf.
“Let me.” Grayson grabbed it from her hands, his fingers brushing hers. It had been a long time since a man had helped her like that, and Honor’s cheeks heated, her heart jumping in silent acknowledgment.
“Thank you. The biscuits are from Ireland. My mother sends them every few months because she knows how much I enjoy them.” She opened the box of biscuits, biting her lip to keep from saying more. The last thing she wanted to do was babble on about biscuits when what she should really be doing was hurrying the men through their coffee and out of her house. With Grayson on her left and the sheriff on her right, Honor was boxed in. Out-sized and outnumbered by two men who seemed to be taking up more than their fair share of space.
“Ireland, huh? I thought I heard a bit of Irish brogue in your voice.” Grayson took a biscuit from the open box she held out to him, smiling his thanks.
And what a smile it was.
Stunningly warm and inviting, begging Honor to relax and enjoy the moment.
“Yes, well, it’s faded a lot since I arrived in the States thirteen years ago. Would you like one?” She held the box out to the sheriff, but he shook his head, setting his mug in the sink.
“Actually, I’ve got to head out. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Malone. It was nice meeting you.”
“Thank you for coming out for a false alarm. I’ll see you out.” She set her coffee down, but Sheriff Reed shook his head.
