Praise for the novels of USA TODAY
bestselling author

RaeAnne Thayne

“Mystery, romance, vivid characters and a

wonderful story; really who could ask for more?”

—Debbie Macomber,

#1 New York Times bestselling author

“A solid plot, realistic, compelling characters and

strong tension make this story hard to put down.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Cold Creek Baby

(4 ½ stars)

“A richly plotted story with characters

that are easy to care about, this one is as emotional

as it is funny. Keep some tissues handy.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Cold Creek Holiday

(4 ½ stars)

“Sure to touch many hearts with its wonderfully

sweet romance and exquisitely written characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on

The Cowboy’s Christmas Miracle (4 ½ stars)

“Well-developed characters,

plus plenty of raw emotion—and humor—

add up to one of the author’s finest books.”

—RT Book Reviews on His Second-Chance Family

(4 ½ stars, Top Pick)

“A warm, wise story with

emotionally complex and intriguing characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Daddy Makeover

(4 ½ stars)

Dear Readers,

More than twenty years ago, my husband and I bought our first home in a small rural Utah town. At the time, we were focused on the charm and potential of the old house itself, too young and naive to think much about the neighbors or the community we were joining. We made friends, had our first child, settled into small-town life.

We didn’t truly realize the importance of community until after we had our second child, who was born with serious medical complications. Suddenly our neighbors and friends rallied around us with countless acts of kindness. Meals and lawn-mowing, a quick note of encouragement, a basket of home-baked treats. During our most difficult moments in the years since, our neighbors and friends have always stepped in to buoy us up.

We have seen the very best of people and we have also learned that a few determined souls can lift and strengthen an entire community, causing ripple-effect kindnesses and bringing everyone together. That’s the message I hope readers take away from Blackberry Summer—that when we reach beyond ourselves, even just a tiny step outside our comfort zone, together we can change lives.

All my best,

RaeAnne

Blackberry Summer
RaeAnne Thayne

As always, to my wonderful husband and children,

who fill my life with laughter and love.

Special thanks to Nicole Jordan for a hundred

different things, but mostly for believing in me.

Blackberry Summer

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE

“We are each of us angels with one wing. And we can only fly embracing each other.”

—Luciano de Crescenzo

LOUSY, STUPID HOROSCOPE.

Claire Bradford stood with one hand on the doorway and the other clutching her coffee go-cup as she stared at the chaotic mess inside her store.

According to the stars—at least according to the horoscope in the Hope Gazette she’d scanned while standing in line at her friend Maura’s coffee shop for her morning buzz after dropping the kids off at school—she was supposed to prepare herself for something fun and exciting headed her way today. She had been thinking more along the lines of a few dozen new customers at her bead store or maybe a big commission on one of her more intricate custom pieces.

Discovering that String Fever had been burglarized during the night didn’t exactly fit her personal definition of either fun or exciting.

Beads covered the beige berber in a glittery, jumbled disaster as apparently someone had yanked out an entire vast display of tiny clear drawers and dumped their contents all over the floor. Her cash register drawer was open and the small amount of cash she kept on hand to make change was missing. Her office door had been left ajar, too, something she never did, and even from here, she could see a big, dusty, empty spot on her desk where her computer should be.

She could handle the material loss and her computer was automatically backed up off-site several times a day. The mess, on the other hand, would be a nightmare to clean up. Claire gave a tiny whimper and closed her eyes, dreading the hours and days of work ahead of her, re-sorting all those scattered beads into their hundreds of proper compartments. String Fever was hanging by a thread anyway in the uncertain economy. How could she afford the time and energy involved in setting things to rights again?

Chester whined beside her, his basset hound features even more morose than usual. He was uncanny at picking up her emotions. She scratched behind his acres-long ears. “I know, buddy. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

She dug in her coat pockets to find where she’d stowed her cell phone so that she could dial 9-1-1. She had only punched in one number before the phone vibrated in her hand and suddenly the nuclear meltdown alert ringtone she had programmed for her mother sounded its death knell through the empty store.

Yeah, not much fun or excitement there, either. Rotten horoscope.

Chester whined again. He hated that ringtone as much as she did. Claire swallowed her groan and despite thirty-six years of better instincts, she hit the talk button to accept the call. Ruth Tatum had trained her daughter well. “Mom, I can’t talk right now. Sorry. The store has been robbed. I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay?”

“Robbed? You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Really, Mom? You think I’d joke about something like this?”

“How would I know?” Ruth went on the defensive, as she did so well. “You’ve always had a weird sense of humor.”

Yeah. That was her. Making up stories about her store being robbed just to go for the cheap laugh. “I’m not joking. The store really has been robbed.”

“That’s terrible! What did they take?”

“I don’t know yet. I just walked in the door and barely had a chance to even react before you called. I need to go so I can call the police, Mom.”

“Well, call me as soon as you can and tell me what’s going on. Do you need me to come down there?”

Sure, like she needed to stick a couple dozen earring hooks in her eyeballs. “Not right now. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up and quickly dialed the police.

“Hope’s Crossing Emergency Dispatch. What is the nature of your emergency?”

She recognized the dispatcher as a neighbor and one of her frequent customers, Donna Mazell, though her voice seemed pitched a little higher than normal.

“Hey, Donna. This is Claire at String Fever. I need to report a crime. I just came in to open my store and discovered an apparent burglary.”

“Oh, lordy be. Not another one!”

“Another one?”

“You’re the fourth store in town to report a break-in today. We’ve got ourselves a genuine crime spree! The guys are going crazy trying to stay on top of everything.”

Hope’s Crossing, Colorado, had a population of only five thousand year-round residents, although those numbers swelled in the wintertime to ten times that with skiers and those who owned vacation homes or condos in the canyon near the vast Silver Strike Ski Resort. Still, Claire knew the town’s police force consisted of only eight officers, supplemented by deputies from the county sheriff’s department when the need arose.

“Can you spare somebody to send here?”

“Oh, sure. No problem. The new chief is just down the street at Pinecone Property Management, but I think he’s wrapping things up there. I’ll give him a holler and tell him to head over to the store first chance he has.”

“Thanks, Donna.”

“Tell me they didn’t take those gorgeous Czech crystals you bought for Genevieve Beaumont’s wedding gown.”

Her stomach took another dive. “Oh, I hope not. It took me two months to import those through Customs. I don’t know if I’ll have time to get more and finish the design before the wedding.”

“Keeping my fingers crossed here. I’ll call Riley right now and tell him to head over there when he’s done over at the real estate office.”

“Thanks, Donna.”

“You bet. Give me another call if somebody doesn’t show up in the next ten, fifteen minutes or so. And don’t touch anything.”

“Yeah, I watch television. I know that much. I’ll wait outside with Chester until Riley can get here.”

“It’s freezing, darlin’. You can’t wait outside in this weather and neither can that dog. He’s not as young as he used to be. The chief won’t care if you grab a chair inside and sit down until he can make it, just as long as you keep Chester close so he doesn’t go mucking around the crime scene.”

Too much restless energy zinged through her for her to sit calmly and wait for the police, so she remained standing in the doorway, horrified all over again that someone would be so malicious. Stealing from her was one thing. They could have the money and her computer, she didn’t care about that. But why make such a mess? This blatant vandalism was intended to gouge and wound—causing trouble for trouble’s sake, something she had never understood.

Why would someone want to be so hurtful? And why her? She tried hard to be kind to most people she came in contact with. Sure, she had a few disgruntled customers at the store who seemed to think it a crime that she expected to make at least some profit for all the resources of time and energy she poured into String Fever. But she couldn’t imagine any of them being so vindictive as to trash her store just for the fun of it.

She forced herself to do a little of the circle breathing her best friend, Alex, was always trying to convince her to practice and shifted her gaze out the wide store windows at Hope’s Crossing’s Main Street. The morning seemed gray and cheerless, a dreary sort of day. Even though it was mid-April, spring took its dear sweet time arriving in the Colorado high country.

The weather forecasters were predicting a late snowstorm would be moving in later that evening. The ski resort would appreciate a few more inches for the diehard skiers who opted to spend their spring break hanging on to the last struggling days of winter instead of heading to the beach. By this time of year, she was heartily sick of more snow, but at least a little fresh powder would cover the tired, gray piles out there.

Despite the cold and the promise of a storm, she could see a pretty good Monday morning crowd at the Center of Hope Café across the way. She’d noticed the same story at Dog-Eared Books & Brew.

Of course, none of those shoppers would be heading her direction anytime soon, not with the Closed sign still firmly turned in the doorway.

The thought had barely formed in her mind when the door behind her opened with a musical chime. Claire opened her mouth to explain the store was still closed and then shut it again, her spirits sinking even more.

Her fun and exciting morning only needed this, she thought as she watched her ex-husband’s new wife burst through, looking pert and cute and glowing with pregnancy hormones.

“Hi, Claire!” Holly Vestry Bradford chirped, beaming the smile her orthodontist father had worked tirelessly to perfect as she unbuttoned her red wool peacoat and stamped snow off her black UGGs.

Chester grunted and plopped onto his belly, never a big fan of Holly’s.

“Um, this really isn’t a good time,” Claire began. She wasn’t at all in the mood to be sociable right now, especially not to Holly, who seemed to bring out the worst in her, despite her best efforts.

“Oh, my word!” Holly exclaimed. “What happened in here?”

Claire had made a firm policy for the last two years—since Jeff moved out and put an official end to their marriage that had been broken for much longer than that—to be as gracious as she could stand to Holly. “I think we were robbed,” she said, without a hint of the sarcastic retort she wanted to make.

“Oh, no! Have you called the police?”

“I just did. They’re on the way.”

“Oh, Claire. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know which she disliked more: the sense of invasion from the robbery, contemplating the endless work putting the store back in order, or being on the receiving end of Holly Bradford’s pity.

“I’m sure everything will be okay. My insurance should cover any losses. But I have to ask you not to touch anything, okay? We can’t mess up the crime scene.”

“Crime scene. That sounds so scary! Right out of CSI: Miami! Where’s Horatio?”

Was she ever this young when she was twenty-five? Claire wondered, then answered her own rhetorical question. No. By then, she’d already been married for over a year, had given birth to Macy and had been working two jobs to put Jeff through medical school.

“I’m sorry things are in such disarray.” She tried on a smile and found she still had one or two in reserve. “Maybe you can come back later today after I’ve had a chance to start cleaning things up.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I didn’t need anything urgent. I guess Macy probably told you about our crazy shopping trip to Vail, didn’t she?”

“She might have mentioned it.” Twenty or thirty times. Her twelve-year-old daughter adored her stepmother. Why wouldn’t she? Holly was the big sister Macy had always wanted. She was fun and young and hip. Holly had read all the Twilight books and had MySpace, Twitter and Facebook accounts.

Claire tried hard not to resent their bond. Macy loved her mother, too, although sometimes she didn’t act very much like she did as she tested her wings on her way to adolescence.

“That girl is a shopping maniac!” Holly gushed. “Jeff just cut us loose with his credit cards while he and Owen went snowboarding and Macy helped me buy a whole new maternity wardrobe. When we got back home and I started opening all those bags, I realized what I really need now are some killer accessories to distract people from my big fat belly.”

Right. Although she was five months along in her pregnancy, Holly could still probably fit into a size 4 pair of jeans, at least if they were low cut.

“You know you look beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing. But new jewelry is always nice.” Particularly when it was handcrafted out of the pricey Venetian glass beads Holly liked, the ones that netted String Fever a healthy profit. “I’ll be glad to help you with some ideas after the store opens later today, if you don’t mind coming back.”

“No problem. I’ve got nothing else on my schedule today.”

Oh, that she could say the same. Claire summoned another smile. “I’ll try to call you after the police clear the store for me to reopen.”

“You’re so sweet to me. Thank you so much, Claire.”

Before she quite knew what she intended, Holly grabbed her in a hug and Claire had no real choice but to endure it and even hug her back a little before she quickly eased out of the embrace.

She didn’t really dislike Holly. The situation was just so awkward, living in the same town with her and Jeff, bumping into each other all the time, sharing concentric circles of friends.

No matter how much Jeff claimed Holly had nothing to do with his unilateral decision to leave the marriage and no matter how much Claire knew she bore equal responsibility for the problems and the distance that had grown between them those last few years, Jeff had started living his little cliché—dating the young, beautiful receptionist in his orthopedic surgery practice—just a few weeks after their divorce was final. He’d married her six months after that and now they were starting their own family.

Whether Claire liked the situation or not, they were all three coparenting the children. When Owen and Macy were with their father, Holly was a major influence in their lives and for the sake of her children, Claire couldn’t afford to be bitter or spiteful. Nor could she move away from Hope’s Crossing, not when she had a business here and not when Macy and Owen needed their father in their lives more than just on weekends.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Holly asked. “Maybe I should stay with you while the police come. You know, for moral support.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she started to say, but the last word was barely out when the bells on the door chimed out again. She and Holly both turned at the sound and despite everything—especially whatever shred of good sense she had left—the day suddenly seemed far less bleak.

The town’s brand-new chief of police stood in the doorway, dark-haired and gorgeous and almost ridiculously male looming over the glittery beads strewn across the floor. He wore jeans and a light blue dress shirt and tie and beneath his unzipped official Hope’s Crossing Police Department parka, she saw a badge flash on one hip and a handgun at the other.

The chief took a long look around at the carnage and shook his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you, Claire? I turn my back for fifteen years or so and just look at the trouble you get yourself into.”

In spite of everything, she had to laugh. Apparently Riley hadn’t lost his uncanny ability to tweak that weird sense of humor her mother had been talking about. He stepped toward her, his arms wide, and without even thinking, she walked into them. Unlike Holly’s brief embrace, this one was warm and familiar and completely natural, and for the first time all morning she felt as if she had something solid to hang on to.

Too soon, he eased away to study her and she was suddenly painfully aware of every single one of her thirty-six years and the two kids and divorce she had in her back pocket.

“You look terrific, Claire. How long has it been?”

She never could resist that smile, even when he was only her best friend’s annoying kid brother who thought his sole purpose on earth was to taunt and tease and basically do his best to drive her and Alex crazy. This little flutter of attraction couldn’t be appropriate, not with all the water that had flowed under their respective bridges. Especially not when her life and her store were in crisis.

“I’m not sure. A few years anyway. That’s what happens when you head off to the coast and leave everybody behind.”

“Word on the street is that you finally dumped Dr. Idiot. About damn time. You were always too good for him, even back in the day. I don’t know what you ever saw in a little weasel like him.”

About thirty seconds too late, Claire remembered with a mix of horror and a tiny, petty secret amusement she knew she ought to be ashamed to entertain that Holly was still hovering around. With an inward wince, she shifted to direct his attention toward the other woman.

“Oh. Riley, um, have you met Holly, Jeff’s new wife? Holly, this is Riley McKnight, former town hellion and now the new chief of police in Hope’s Crossing.”

With her color high and her mouth pursed, Holly looked as if she might have been choking on an 8-millimeter rounded bicone.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Riley offered an apologetic smile, even as he held his crossed fingers behind his back so that only Claire could see. “Claire’s an old friend and I’m afraid I spoke without thinking.”

Holly didn’t seem to know how to respond, whether to defend her spouse or let the awkwardness of the moment pass. She looked ruffled and insecure and terribly young, even though Riley at thirty-three would only be eight years older.

Finally she must have decided to ignore him completely. Instead, she spoke in a stiff voice to Claire. “I guess you don’t need me to stick around, then?”

“I think I’ll be okay.” Now she was ashamed of that brief moment of small-minded amusement. “Thanks, though. It was really, uh, great of you to offer your moral support, Holly. I’ll let you know when the store opens again and we can start working on those accessories for your new maternity wardrobe.”

“Don’t worry. We can do it another day. I guess I’ll see you tonight at Owen’s play, then? Jeff and I can save you and Macy a seat if you want.”

She supposed she deserved that little dig, intentional or not, the reminder that Claire would be arriving at the annual Spring Fling pageant at Hope’s Crossing Elementary with her twelve-year-old daughter as her date while Holly would be comfortably ensconced next to her handsome and successful orthopedic surgeon husband.

“Thanks, but I don’t know what time I’ll get there.”

“We’ll save a seat for you guys anyway. I’m sure Macy will want to see me wearing one of the new sweaters we bought.”

“No doubt,” Claire answered calmly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

As soon as Holly left the store, Claire managed to shrug out from under Riley’s arm, trying not to notice how much colder she felt away from him. Her store had been robbed, for heaven’s sake. This wasn’t exactly the time for a warm, fuzzy happy reunion.

“Donna Mazell told me when I phoned dispatch that String Fever wasn’t the only store that was hit during the night.”

He nodded, even as he reached down to scratch Chester’s jowls. “Apparently the town’s criminal element had itself a busy Sunday night. At last count, four businesses were burglarized.”

“I have a security system. Why wasn’t the alarm tripped? The security company should have responded.”

“That’s a good question. I’m going to take a guess here that you’re with Topflight Security.”

“Yes.”

“I’m thinking it might not be a coincidence that every other business that was hit in the night also happens to be with Topflight Security. That’s just one of the angles we’re going to be working in our investigation.”

She frowned. “Surely you don’t think someone there had anything to do with this?” The owner of the security company was a friend and she couldn’t even contemplate that he or any of his employees might have been involved.

“One of the good things about being away from town all these years, I guess, is that I can come back without a lot of preconceptions. Right now I don’t know what to think. We’re looking into the possibility that their computer system had been hacked to allow someone access to the businesses without alerting Topflight, but we don’t know yet. At this point, we’re just adding everything to the pot and we’ll sort through it later. What time did your store close yesterday?”

“During the shoulder seasons in the spring and fall, we stay closed on Sundays. It could have been robbed at any time from Saturday night to this morning.”

“Let’s take a look at the damage. Have you figured out what’s missing yet?”

“My office computer is gone. It was a fairly new iMac I bought only about six months ago. The drawer for the cash register was emptied, but I only keep about fifty dollars in change there overnight. I took care of the night deposit myself Saturday before I went home.”

She was grateful for that at least. The weekend had been crazy, between running Owen to his dress rehearsal and her mother asking her at the last minute to pick up a couple of prescriptions for her, but she clearly remembered going to the drive-up at the bank and dropping off the deposit.

“Did they take anything else?”

“To be honest with you, I haven’t looked very carefully. I didn’t want to mess up the evidence.”

“Go ahead and walk through, see what else might be missing.”

The thieves hadn’t touched the locked glass-fronted cabinet where she kept the pricier Czech crystals Donna had been talking about and some of the handcrafted Venetian glass, or some of more valuable finished jewelry pieces either she or Evie had made or she sold on consignment for her customers. It was still intact. She did see three empty hooks on the wall where she had hung a few of the less valuable custom necklaces she had created. One good thing about that—she would instantly recognize her own pieces if the thieves were stupid enough to flaunt their loot around town.

She walked through the retail section of the store and the workroom where she kept beading equipment for her customers to use on-site—bead boards and looms, reamers, cutters. Nothing else appeared to be missing.

She headed into her office last and suddenly gasped.

Riley was there in an instant. “Whoa.” His gaze sharpened on the wedding dress still hanging in the protective bag, both slashed to tatters with what looked like a pair of her own scissors from the workroom. “Now that’s interesting.”

Interesting? She could come up with a hundred different adjectives and that particular one wasn’t among them.

“That’s a designer wedding dress,” she moaned. “I’ve had it for only two days so I could customize the beadwork on the bodice. It was a huge commission.”

A commission she could now see imploding—along with possibly the store’s entire future. “Who would be so destructive?”

“Wild guess here, but maybe somebody who’s not too crazy about the bride. Who did the gown belong to?” he asked.

“Genevieve Beaumont. The mayor’s daughter.”

Her grand society wedding to the son of one of the region’s richest bachelors was still eight months away. Maybe Gen would have time to order a replacement gown between now and then and Claire could still have time to finish the beadwork.

Or maybe the somewhat spoiled bride-to-be would decide to sue Claire for every penny she eked out of the store, for whatever breach in security had potentially ruined Genevieve’s big day.

Chester nudged her leg with his head and she wanted to sink to the floor in the middle of all those spilled beads, gather him in her arms and indulge in a big, soggy pity party. The emotions clogged her throat and burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them back and swallowed hard. She had no time to indulge in tears, not now when she had such a mess to clean up—and especially not in front of the new chief of police, for heaven’s sake.

“This is a nightmare. It makes no sense. Why just destroy the dress when they didn’t even bother to take the crystals? They’re worth a fortune.”

“I don’t know the answer to that yet. But I promise you, Claire, I’ll find out.”

Riley might have been an annoying little pest when he was younger and a hell-on-wheels troublemaker when he hit his teen years, but all she had heard over the years from Alex and the rest of his family indicated he had shaped up from his wayward youth and truly found his calling with police work.

Most people in Hope’s Crossing seemed to think the town was lucky he had agreed to give up his life as an undercover detective in the Bay Area to come back, although she had heard rumors there was discontent in the police department over his hiring.

“Tell me what else I can do to help you, then.”

“Just sit tight while I finish processing the scene. Maybe you and your dog here could head over to Maura’s place for coffee or something. I might be here a while.”

“I’d rather stay, if you don’t mind. We’ll do our best to keep out of your way.”

“Not a problem. I’m glad to have the company, I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

For the next hour, she had a front-row seat as Riley worked the scene—collecting evidence, lifting fingerprints, taking photos.

It was a bit of a jarring dichotomy trying to reconcile the pain in the neck she remembered with this wholly competent officer of the law. Mixed in there was the wild, angry teenager he’d been after his parents’ divorce, but by then she’d been living in Boulder for college and had only heard everything secondhand about his drinking, smoking and more.

The Riley she remembered was the one who had hidden a voice-activated tape recorder in his sister’s room during one of Claire’s frequent sleepovers at the McKnight home so he could overhear what she and Alex talked and giggled about.

Their conversation had inevitably centered around boys, of course, because they were probably twelve or thirteen at the time and beginning to be obsessed with the opposite sex. Claire had just started to notice the smartest, cutest boy in the grade ahead of her, Jeff Bradford. Alexandra at the time had been enamored with the quarterback on the freshman football team, Jason Kolpecki.

They had talked long into the night about their current crushes with no clue that Riley, the sneak, had recorded all of it—and then threatened to share the tape recording with the boys in question if they didn’t meet his demands, a mortifying prospect.

It was probably a good thing those who weren’t thrilled about Riley’s return didn’t know their new chief of police had once included blackmail in his repertoire. She and Alex had spent every Saturday for two months taking over his customary duty of mowing and edging the McKnights’ lawn in exchange for Riley’s promise to destroy the tape.

All the teasing and mischief of their childhood seemed worlds away, buried deep under the weight of all that had come later. Her father’s scandalous death, her mother’s subsequent breakdowns, his father’s midlife crisis that had decimated his family and Riley’s own wild youth.

Sometimes she thought she would give anything to go back to that peaceful time, when the only thing she had to worry about in junior high was her algebra grade and Riley leaking to Jeff Bradford that she had a crush on him.

After another half hour while he spent considerable time on his cell phone with, she assumed, officers working the other crime scenes, he finally collected the last evidence and loaded everything into a bag.

“That should do it,” he said. “I’m going to send everything here to the crime lab and hopefully we can get a print or two.”

“Thanks, Riley. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“No problem. I hope to have information for you as soon as possible.”

He gave her the big, broad, charming smile he had perfected as the youngest and only boy in a family of five sisters, the same smile that helped him wiggle out of more trouble than she cared to think about.

A little sizzle of attraction sparked through her, just like the flickering lights floating down the mountainside in the hands of skiers during the annual Christmas Eve candle festival at the resort. She frowned, especially when he stepped a little closer and reached for her hand.

“It really is terrific to see you, Claire. When things settle a little, what do you say I take you up to the resort for dinner so we can catch up under better circumstances?”

Okay, she had been out of the dating scene for pretty much ever, since she had started seeing Jeff when she was fifteen, but that sounded suspiciously like Riley McKnight was asking her out.

“Uh.” Brilliant answer, she knew. She couldn’t help it—she couldn’t remember the last time anything beyond leaving her grocery list at home managed to fluster her. Surely she must have misunderstood. He was just being polite, wasn’t he?

“It was only a simple dinner invitation, Claire.” A dimple quirked at the edge of his mouth. “I didn’t intend to send you into a panic.”

She forced a bland smile and reminded herself this was pesky Riley McKnight. “The day you send me into a panic is the day I dye my hair purple and join a punk-rock band.”

“Now that I would love to see.”

Too late, she remembered that he never backed down from a challenge. Once when they were kids, Alex had been grounded for a month when she dared her brother to ride his bike down from the top of the Woodrose Mountain trail without hitting his brakes once. He’d made it almost to the bottom before his spectacular crash—and, of course, never once considered braking to slow his descent. That would have been cheating.

That was years ago. A man didn’t become a decorated law enforcement officer without gaining a little wisdom along the way and learning how to pick his battles, right?

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” she answered as calmly as she could manage. “Alex tells me you’re renting the old Harper place on Blackberry Lane. That’s just down the street from my house. I’m in the redbrick house with the portico.”

He smiled again. “Great. Guess I know where to head when I need to borrow a cup of sugar.”

How on earth did he manage to make such a simple statement sound vaguely sexy? She decided to ignore it—just as she decided it would probably be better not to mention it had been a long time since she’d loaned anyone a cup of sugar—or enjoyed any other euphemism, for that matter.

“Is it all right if I reopen the store now? I can’t afford to be closed all day.”

“As far as the police are concerned, sure. Do you need me to send somebody over to help you clean up?”

She shook her head. “I’ll check around and see if I can round up a crew.”

“Okay. So I’ll call you, right?”

She frowned. She was so out of practice at this, she had no idea how to tactfully discourage him. Better to just plow ahead, she decided. “Riley, I don’t know if that’s such a great idea…”

He gave her a long, amused look. “Funny, I figured you’d want to know what’s going on with the case.”

“Of course I do!”

“What else did you think I meant?”

She had no way of answering that without sounding like an idiot. Now she remembered why he used to drive her and Alex crazy.

“Absolutely nothing. Please do call me. About the case anyway.”

“Right. I’ll be in touch.”

Only after he left and she moved to close the door behind him did she remember that silly horoscope. Something fun and exciting is heading your way. That was Riley McKnight, all right. Too bad she wasn’t in the market for either of those things—and especially not with her best friend’s younger brother.

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