Page 4 of Jasmine Street Blues

He looked her in the eye. Green eyes, he noticed. Very, very green. “Why Mac what?”

She pointed. “It says Maxwell on your shirt, so shouldn’t it be Max? Why Mac?”

It was a simple question, one he’d heard before. One he never answered. “Long story.”

Tuck wagged a fork in his direction. “I asked you that when we first met, and you never…”

A glare silenced Tuck, who was glad to change the subject when Olive walked into the room. “Blackberry cobbler!” he said when he found his voice again. “Olive made it herself.”

“Is that a warning or an attaboy?” Mac asked.

Olive smiled as she placed the pan on the table. She didn’t look at all insulted. “Why can’t it be both?”

The topic of conversation shifted to the success of Olive’s cobbler, then to the latest excitement at Tuck’s bar, which was located on the highway. There was always excitement of some sort at The Magnolia.

Mac only half listened. His mind remained on Loran’s question. Why Mac?

Because once upon a time my new stepdaughter couldn’t say Max. It always came out Mac, and that stuck. Even when Carrie started calling me Daddy, everyone else still called me Mac and I liked it, because it reminded me of her.

Everyone but Kylie, who continued to call him Joe even after her death.

He might hold a grudge against Loran for bringing that memory back with her simple question, but in truth he hadn’t been able to shake it since he’d seen Kylie’s ghost in Hart’s Vinyl Depot.

2

Mac made her nervous. Cops always did, even though despite what some might claim she hadn’t broken any law and no one should be looking for her. Should be being the qualifier that made her nervous.

Small towns like this one were often protected by a small force of locals who did their best but weren’t exactly top notch. When she relocated, which she did often, she always sought out sleepy places like Seawolf Beach. Yes, people were friendly and they asked questions, but normally it was easy enough to make her own place, to blend in, to fade into the background until she had to run again.

And in the summertime, the town was anything but sleepy…

Police Chief Maxwell was no normal small-town cop. He was big, sharp-eyed, tense, and curious. Heaven save her from curious hunks who looked at her with dark eyes filled with questions she couldn’t answer.

“You really don’t need to walk me home,” she said as she led the way across the lawn. “I mean, I’m right here.” She gestured to her rental, which was next door to Tuck and Olive’s big white house. “I don’t want to put you out. It looks like you’ve had a busy day.”

“I don’t mind,” he said in a low voice. “It’s not exactly a long walk. To be honest I usually do what Olive asks because if I don’t she’s going to give me shit I don’t need.”

Loran found herself smiling, as they approached the front steps to the little blue cottage she rented from Colt. “She can be… determined.”

“That she can.”

Midway up the steps she turned to face the man who stood on the walkway. “Sorry about tonight,” she said. “I imagine you were as surprised as I was that we were set up.”

“Ambushed.”

Her idea of an ambush wasn’t quite so pleasant. “It’s okay. The meal was great and I didn’t have to cook.”

“True,” Mac said. “The company wasn’t horrible.”

She imagined that was a compliment, coming from him.

“Ditto.”

He didn’t turn and walk away on the heels of her ditto, but stayed put, feet firmly planted on the walkway, eyes on her. “I do have one question.”

She suspected he had more than one, but…

“Loran. Is that a double-barreled Southern name, maybe Laura Ann said fast, or is it one I’ve never run into before?”