Where Their Hearts Collide: Wardham Book #2 (3 page)

Even still, the thought gave her a little thrill.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmmm?”
She turned to see father and daughter watching her with matching amused expressions.

“You’ve gone through a whole thing there, staring at the shelf
—”

“
—normally flour doesn’t make people react quite so much,” Megan chimed in.

Heat rushed to Karen’s face, and she waved her hands at the shelves. “Oh, you know...options, right?
Very exciting. Do you want pre-sifted? Unbleached?”

Paul wrinkled his brow, but the rest of his expression remained carefully neutral. “Any of these would be fine. Whatever’s cheapest, I think.”

Karen grabbed a bag of all-purpose flour, and strode away, swiping baking powder and a bag of chocolate chips as well. She dumped the supplies on the conveyor belt at the first checkout, then headed for the dairy section. “Need eggs?” She tossed the question over her shoulder, but didn’t wait for a response. She needed a minute to compose herself. This reaction was bizarre. She’d only had one conversation with the man. Sure, she’d observed him in a creepy stalker fashion for weeks, but they barely knew each other. She’d gotten carried away with some romantic fantasy of the good-looking cop next door.

“Megan says we need milk.” Paul stepped up beside her. Karen looked around. “She got sucked into your magazine display.”

“Oh.”

“For dunking.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The milk.
We’ll need it once the cookies are cool.” He grinned. “Or so I’ve been instructed.”

Good lord, that smile could light up a room.

“It’s a classic combination,” she breathed, kicking herself as the words came out sounding funny. He must have heard the warble too, because his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered for a moment. “What kind do you want?”

He flicked his gaze back to her eyes and blinked. “1%, I guess.”

“It’s behind the last door there.”

He brushed past, close enough for her skin to prickle, but not quite making physical contact, and she sucked in a breath. He paused, because how could he not have heard it, but then he opened the cooler and pulled out a bag of milk.

They stood for a minute, her with the eggs, him with the milk, and he smiled again, but this time it seemed wistful. “You’re an interesting neighbour to have, Karen.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Her lips curled up of their own volition. “You’re unlike any
neighbour I’ve ever had.”

“I came to Wardham for peace and quiet, you know.”

She couldn’t contain her surprise. “You think I’m a troublemaker?”

He grinned. “I’m quite certain you are.”

“And you don’t like trouble.” It spilled out before she could filter the words into something less pleading. “I mean—”

“I have a professional interest in avoiding it.” He interrupted her, but his tone wasn’t rude. It was warm and low and full of...
heat
? He stepped closer. “On a personal level, I have a history of liking trouble more than I should.”

Oh, shit. “I’ve never been trouble before,” she whispered.

His knuckles brushed hers. Milk, eggs and a boatload of issues apparently stood between them, but at that moment, all she could feel were the hard, hot points of contact as the back of his hand pressed into her skin. His words, when they came, drifted toward her as if through a fog. “This is probably too much.”

“Yeah.”
She took a big step back and shook her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He laughed. “They’re our groceries. I’m not sure we need eggs.”

Oh. So she’d invented a whole moment there. Fantastic. “You’ll use them up. Hard boil them for lunches.”

She spun on her heel to head for the checkout again, but he reached out and stilled her movement with a press of his hand to her arm. “Karen...”

“Mmmm?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” She shot him a bright smile. “Just being neighbourly.”

He nodded, then took a breath and held it, as if he had been about to say something, but changed his mind.

Her imagination could do wonderful things with that pause, but Karen didn’t harbour any illusions. Paul wouldn’t be the first crush she’d gotten over. Probably not the last. “Really, it’s fine. Come on, let’s find Megan. You guys have cookies to bake.”

She nodded her head down the aisle, but his hand still lingered. Warmth transferred through her shirt and sent tendrils of want slithering throughout her body. What would it be like to have him touch her bare arm?
Her neck? Her breasts? Not here, of course. It would have to be somewhere private. Maybe on a weeknight he didn’t have Megan...

“Dad?
You get everything?”
Megan!
Crap on a stick.

Karen took a giant step back, bumping into the
endcap. She whirled and headed for the cash. What was she thinking? Maybe she was more trouble than she thought.

The idea gave her more pleasure than it should.

Karen copied the last files to the online dropbox for her bookkeeper and stretched back in her chair. Managing a grocery store required a surprising amount of butt-in-chair time. It was one of the reasons she walked or biked to work, even in the winter. That was pretty much the only exercise she got.

“Hey, boss, you wanted me to remind you to get the hell out at 3:30.”

She glanced toward the door of her office with a rueful smile. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t mean for you to repeat my awful language, Mitchell Wagner.”

The
high school senior flashed a grin that they both knew was effectively disarming.

“Where did you learn to be so charming? I remember it wasn’t so long ago that you were cracking butt jokes.”

“Chicks don’t like crudeness.”

“We don’t like to be called chicks, either.”

Another grin.

“Whatever, my weekend is finally here, I don’t care.” She glanced at the schedule on the wall. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” She pushed away from the desk and headed to the front of the store.

Her favourite part-time cashier, Melody, was waiting with an overflowing shopping bag. “Here, I packed you some food because I noticed you didn’t eat lunch.”

“Am I going to have to cook it?”

Melody laughed. “I gave you both options. There’s pita, hummus, lettuce, tomatoes and falafels, already cooked, but I also gave you a big-ass steak and some mushrooms. It’s a nice day to grill.”

“Grilling I can handle.
Thanks, sweetie.”

And that was why the last decade had passed in a blur. For all that she never
saw herself taking over from her parents, running the store meant that she spent every day with awesome people, both staff and customers, in the heart of the town she loved. And at the end of the day, she got to stroll home, and sit on her deck with a cold beer and a good book.

When she reflected on it like that, she felt guilty for complaining. And yet...it wasn’t her passion. It was good, but it wasn’t great.

Too bad she didn’t have the drive to go for great. Good would have to be enough.

As if the universe had signal
ed to her mother that her oldest child was considering traitorous revolt, Karen’s phone rang out with the dedicated Beyonce ring tone Grace Miller hated. She shifted the bag of groceries to her other hip and dug it out. "What beautiful part of the warm south are you and Dad in this week?"

Her mother laughed gently at the other end of the phone. "We arrived in Phoenix last night. Staying at the same camp we visited last year. Your brother
’s got a couple of days off after the games this weekend. Do you want to fly down?"

"Mom..." Karen hated this conversation. Her parents offered on a regular basis, and her younger siblings took them up on it, but she didn't like to take advantage. Maybe it was because
she knew the ins and outs of their business, and how much the store made. Her parents were comfortable, but not independently wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. Chase did well, and he was generous, which Karen was also uncomfortable with, but these offers were coming out their pocket, not his. "I see Chase when he plays Detroit. And when he's home in the summer. Plus I need to work."

"You should hire a part-time manager."

"Actually...I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Hiring someone? Go for it."

"Not exactly." Karen had practiced this conversation many times over the last couple years. It hadn't helped.

"Is this about the community
centre?"

“So you heard.”

“I can’t believe it took you two weeks to tell me.”

“Mom...” The truth was
, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.

“I know,
Kare-Bear.”

“Okay, I’m thirty
-four. The nickname can be retired.”

“Never.
You’re my first baby, you’re stuck with it. So, what are you thinking? Do you want to go back to school?”

Karen trudged up her driveway. The front door was locked, but the back wasn’t, and if she went in off the deck, she wouldn’t need to dig for keys. “That didn’t wo
rk out so well the first time.”

“That was ten years ago.”

“I’d have to sell my house.” She mentally ran through the list of universities that offered library science programs. It was probably telling that she didn’t have to think very hard to summon the information.

“You could rent it out.”

And pay rent in London or Toronto? And tuition? She knew the offer that would come next and she’d nip it in the bud. “Whatever I decide to do, Mom, I’ll be doing it myself.”

“You’re too stubborn.”

“And you’re too generous.” She pushed into her kitchen and dumped the bag of groceries on the counter before heading back to the deck to start the barbeque. “Listen, I just got home, and I haven’t had lunch yet. Can I talk to you later?”

“Of course.
Hey, remember to call your sister!” The baby of the family, Audrey was studying at the University of Windsor just down the road. But for as often as they saw each other, it might as well have been a plane ride away. Thirteen years separated them, and Karen sometimes worried that might be an insurmountable barrier to real friendship like her friend Evie had with her sister, Laney. “Karen?”

“Yep, I’ll call her. How are her exams going?”
See, Mom? I know what’s going on.

“Oh, fine, I think. You remember what twenty-one was like. She’s not big on sharing with me right now.” Grace laughed.
“Seems that doesn’t really change. Remember, honey, your dad and I don’t need to travel this much. If you want to just take a leave of absence from the store, we’ll come home, no questions asked.”

It sounded like the perfect solution. So why didn’t it ease the tug of worry in her stomach?

She mulled over the options while she munched on a torn piece of pita and put away the rest of her groceries. Thoughts crashed together in her brain as she grabbed a beer and the steak and headed outside. By the time she’d flipped it over for the last few minutes of grilling, she was no closer to clarity, and she had a pounding headache to boot.

“H
i, Karen!” Megan’s high, clear voice rang out behind her. Karen turned and smiled as the girl crossed the asphalt drive between their decks and climbed up Karen’s stairs.

“Hey to you, too.”
Karen looked around, but Paul was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s your dad?”

“On the phone with my mom.
I’m hiding.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. He’s just asking her if I can be a bit late going home tomorrow, he wants to take me to a football game.”

“Fun.”
Megan raised one eyebrow and Karen couldn’t help but laugh. “Not fun?”

“He makes it fun, but I’d rather just hang out here and read or something.”

“You should tell him that.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean, you could tell him that. He’d probably like to know that you’re happy spending time with him wherever.”

“Yeah...”

Karen turned back to her barbeque for a moment to pull the steak off onto the waiting plate. She turned the propane off and set the meat aside to rest before moving to the steps of her deck and taking a seat. She patted the wood beside her. “Sit, tell me what you’re reading right now while you wait for your dad.”

Talking to Susan always set Paul on edge. It wasn’t like his ex said anything explicit, but he could always hear an undercurrent of judgment and concern in her voice. As if he needed reminding that sleep was important on a school night. The game would be over by 6:30, so even with traffic, Megan would be home well before eight. And the needling about not trying too hard...
God
. Of course he needed to try hard.

Through the back window he could see Megan sitting on Karen’s deck, her knees pulled up under chin as she listened to Karen talk about something big and exciting, judging by her hand gestures and animated facial expressions. His daughter laughed, and the tension in his chest eased. Moving to Wardham had been a good decision. It was Saturday afternoon and he wasn’t going to be paged, didn’t need to have a babysitter on standby,
wouldn’t catch flack from Susan for neglecting his time with Megan again. He had a backyard for the first time in six years.