Page 13 of Mack

Something in her demeanor gave him pause. The way she’d tucked herself back at the last second, the careful distance she kept even when she was standing right next to him. It was too familiar. After what he’d watched his sister go through, he knew the signs better than he wanted to.

He hoped he was wrong.

He finished his coffee, paid Dixie, and stood watching Mallory for a few minutes longer. When she glanced his way he touched the brim of his hat, turned and walked out.

The following week brought snow flurries and overnight temperatures that dropped to thirty degrees and hung on during the day. Mack strode along the sidewalk with his jaw set against the cold, regretting leaving his coat at the office. He hadn’t planned on being out in it long.

Most of his day was going to be inside, working through reports. But first he was going to stop at Festive Finds.

He’d made up his mind. He was going to ask her out. He just hoped she said yes.

He pulled the door open, stepped inside, and nearly walked back out. The shop was packed, shoppers moving shoulder to shoulder through every aisle.

“Damn it,” he murmured.

He’d wanted to catch her privately. That wasn’t happening today.

She was with a customer near the back but glanced up when he came in, held his gaze for a second, then turned back to the woman she was helping. Mack moved into the shop but quickly realized there was no graceful way through the crowd. He worked his way toward the counter, caught her eye, nodded once, and walked back out.

He’d try again at lunch if the day allowed it.

Chapter Three

Mallory watched him go and wished the shop had been empty.

She knew why he’d come in. He’d looked around, seen there was no way to reach her, and left rather than try to talk over a crowd of strangers. That told her something about him.

The problem was everything she noticed about him told her something, and she didn’t know what to do with any of it.

He was in her thoughts every morning and her dreams every night. It scared her and she couldn’t quite shake it. Troy had seemed like a good man too, once. Patient, attentive, and easy to be around, right up until the night he wasn’t. She knew that wasn’t every man. She knew that in her head. It was the rest of her that hadn’t caught up yet.

She rang up the next customer, smiled, said all the right things, and told herself to stop thinking about gray eyes and a Stetson and the way he’d touched the brim of his hat before he walked out.

It didn’t work.

By noon, the shop had thinned out enough to breathe. Mallory sent her part-time employee, Ruth, to lunch and stood behind the counter doing inventory, grateful for the quiet.

The bell above the door chimed.

She looked up and felt her stomach do the thing she was trying to train it not to do.

Mack stepped inside, snow dusting the shoulders of his coat and hat. He looked around the empty shop, then at her.

“Better timing,” he said.

“Little bit.” She set her clipboard down and folded her hands on the counter, keeping them still. “I was busy this morning.”

“I know.” He crossed the shop and stopped at the counter, close enough that she could see the cold still in his cheeks. “I wanted to ask you something and it seemed like the kind of thing that shouldn’t be shouted over a crowd.”

Her heart was doing something inconvenient. “That sounds serious.”

“I’d like to ask you out—”

“I have a three-year-old son,” she blurted, her voice tight. Better to get it out now and see his reaction than to wait. She held her breath, shoulders tensing.

“Oh.” He removed his Stetson, raked his fingers through his hair, then settled it back on his head. “Can you get a babysitter, or would you rather bring him along?”

“Bring him along?” She raised her eyebrows.