Read Online Small-Town Hearts by Ruth Logan Herne - Free Book Online

the perks outweigh those. Most days.” She headed for her door, her manner suggesting she needed to return to work. “I’m glad you like the cookies.”
    He fell into step beside her. “Right now they look like supper.”
    You’re leaving. She’s staying. What part of this are you not getting?
    â€œYou haven’t eaten?” Meg asked.
    He shook his head. “Worked through it. I was going to grab something then didn’t, which was fairly short-sighted because I was hungry, so when I got out of the car and found these on my doorstep, I was one happy man.” He bent and retrieved the basket of cookies, a part of him longing to ask her to go out with him once she’d closed the store in another hour. Grab a bite to eat. Talk. Laugh. From the crinkle lines framing her eyes, he knew Megan Russo laughed often, a trait he found appealing, but then there wasn’t much about this woman he hadn’t found appealing, which made applying the brakes tougher than it should have been. Way tougher. He raised the cookies into the air. “Thank you, Meg.”
    She dipped a curtsy, a move that candy-coated his heart, not even close to playing fair. “You’re welcome, kind sir.”
    She started back into the store, the sounds of Crystal’s and Hannah’s voices mingling with that of a Little League team, a fun mix, totally summer.
    He wanted to slow her escape, despite the noisy call of herbusiness, the throng of young people on the front steps. Part of him yearned to linger, to dawdle, to enjoy the late-day sun, the chatter of birds, the excitement of little-boy voices heralding a great win.
    But the reality of their lives intruded on his conscience. His job was to leave. Mary Clare’s phone call reminded him that he might have to duck out at a moment’s notice, that his sister’s emotional state might not be up to the rigors of East Coast marketing and monitoring, even though he knew this challenge was good for her.
    And good for him, he admitted, though he wouldn’t necessarily want to confess that to his mother. The peace and quiet of this sweet community enticed him.
    Or was the enticement the beautiful woman before him?
    Both, he decided.
    In any case he had a job to do, a job he loved, one that kept him on the road way too often. He moved back, smiled and hiked the cookies once more. “Thanks again.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    He didn’t wink. Didn’t smile too wide, didn’t angle his head and give her the slow, measured look that said too much. No. He turned and quietly walked away, pretending he hadn’t been listening for her feet on the steps every morning, the jangle of the bell saying she’d entered the quaint store, the sounds of the back door banging shut as she and Hannah loaded the van with cookies going here, there and everywhere.
    He’d faked disinterest the past few days, turning left when he wanted to turn right, quietly leaving when he wanted to stay and hear her voice, make her laugh, watch the expressions she made so well, faces that said she didn’t mind being the center of attention except in matters of the heart.
    Right there was reason enough to walk away, protecting them both, but how he wished he didn’t have to.

Chapter Seven
    W ay too close for comfort.
    That’s what Danny Graham was, Meg decided the next morning, ignoring the predawn darkness. She yawned, stretched and headed into the production kitchen, needing to get ahead on cookies before the predicted midday heat. Even with Hannah’s and Crystal’s help, and the college girls she hired to run cookie and fudge stands at area festivals, the monumental summer production work got her up in the early hours and back to bed late, so she ought to be too tired to even think about Danny Graham.
    Wrong.
    Too busy?
    Nope.
    Too smart?
    There you go, her conscience agreed, the inner voice sounding a little too pleased.
    Meg