T. R. McClure - Wanted - The Perfect Mom

When Mac had started calling her names, every boy in the class took up the chant. Jump, Frog, jump. But they were all smart enough not to use the nickname when Chris was around.

She wasn’t that embarrassed little girl anymore. She gripped the edge of the counter and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “John? John McAndrews? I didn’t know you were back home.” So she told a little white lie. The family didn’t know she knew. She had been crazy busy the past six months.

“I came back last fall. Personal reasons.”

“I’ll bet Mac would kill for a shot of your heavy-duty espresso, Holly.” Sonny leaned on the counter. “I heard the Smith boys had you up and around pretty early this morning.”

Mac nodded at Sonny and then turned back to Holly. “How have you been?” His gaze drifted upward. “You cut your hair.”

Holly ran her fingers through her hair and lifted her chin. “A long time ago.” Propping her hands on her hips, she stared at the dark glasses. “I’m doing great. How are you?”

Mac pulled off his shades and Holly’s stomach plummeted at the sight of the dark blue eyes. His body had changed, his hair was different, but the soft blue eyes were the same.

One corner of his mouth curved up, as if smiles were at a premium. “It’s nice to see you again.” He reached across the counter.

Holly hesitated, and then stretched out her hand and allowed him to wrap his fingers around hers.

He wanted a shot? She’d give him a shot, all right.

One shot was all she needed to repay him for making eighth grade miserable, for taking away Chris, her closest brother and confidant. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She could take anything he dished out and feed it right back. After all, she was a veteran of the United States Air Force.

She met the gaze of the boy whose sudden appearance at Bear Meadows High School had changed the course of her teen years.

Jump, Frog, jump.

CHAPTER TWO

“WOULD YOU LIKE a shot, Officer?” With no little effort, Holly pulled free from Mac’s tight grip and returned her hand to her hip. She gave him the same chilly smile she’d given the young lieutenant who thought he could ask enlisted staff to bring him coffee.

“Black coffee is fine, if it’s no trouble.” Mac’s gaze drifted to the menu behind her. “I usually get my coffee at Charlie’s gas station on the edge of town.” He smiled. “Only fifty cents a cup.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. The man dared to compare her special blend gourmet coffee to the stuff at Charlie’s gas station? Mac hadn’t changed at all. “Your first cup is on the house.” With effort she kept the smile on her face. “Wouldn’t want to break the bank, would we?”

Sonny straightened, spread his hands on the counter and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, which perhaps she had. “Why don’t you just get the man a cup of coffee, Holly?” He grimaced before turning to Mac. “You should know, sis, being a business owner, Mac is the chief of police now. You never know when you might need his assistance, now that you own a business.”

Her back to the counter, Holly’s shoulders stiffened as she drained Wildflower Special Blend into a take-out cup. She took a deep breath. “Chief of police? Congratulations. That was quick.” She flipped the spout closed and reached for a plastic lid. Pressing the lid onto the cup, she turned and set the coffee on the counter, finally meeting Mac’s eyes. “You can’t have been on the force long. You must have impressed somebody.”

Mac wrapped his fingers around the cup, then met Holly’s eyes. “Chief Stone died in January. He had a heart attack while he was out shoveling snow. The choice was me or Moose Williams, and he’s just out of the academy.”

Once again Holly’s stomach dropped. If she kept this up, she would need surgery to reattach the organ to her middle. Had she been so busy researching business requirements last January she had missed the man’s death? Chief Stone had been around forever.

“What a shame,” she said. “He was a great guy.” She smiled at the memory of the antics she and Louise and her brother’s friends had dreamed up. “Kept us out of trouble, didn’t he?”

Mac pursed his lips and nodded. “He certainly did.” He reached for his back pocket. “What do I owe you?”

Holly raised her palms. “Like I said, the coffee’s on the house, Mac.” She couldn’t resist an added jab. “Since my coffee is out of your price range.”

“Thank you.” Cup in hand, Mac walked across the wooden floor. At the door he turned, lifted his cup to Sonny and with a brief glance at Holly, left. As he slammed the door, the bell rang once and fell to the floor.

Holly gaped as he passed the front windows. After he was out of sight, she eyed the little silver bell in the middle of the floor. The silence brought her back to her spot behind the counter. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on her.

Sonny slammed a fist on the counter. “What’s wrong with you, girl? The man just moved back to town after losing his wife. You were downright rude.”

“He insulted my coffee.” She lifted her chin high and returned her brother’s glare. “Would you mind hanging up my bell?”

* * *

OUT OF SIGHT of the coffee shop, Mac sat in a wooden rocker at the end of the strip mall, leaned his head back and shut his eyes. He hadn’t been the nicest to his best friend’s little sister when they were kids. Apparently she remembered, as well. Holly, the precious, youngest girl of the big, happy Hoffman family... Well, she’d just happened to be in the way. Always underfoot.

He opened his eyes and took the lid off his cup. Steam wafted upward and he breathed deeply. Smelled a lot better than the unknown substance he’d bought at Charlie’s gas station earlier.

Across the street the bank president exited the building. With a wave at Mac, he walked to the adjacent parking lot and got into a late model sedan parked under a cherry tree. Pink petals flew into the air as the dark blue car pulled out of the lot and roared down the street.

Next to the bank, Joe Miller, a bag of mulch slung over his shoulder, left the hardware store, followed by his hugely pregnant wife and a toddler. He tossed the bag into the trunk of a car parked at the curb as his wife settled the toddler into his car seat. Joe helped his wife into the car, trotted around to the driver’s side, got in and drove away.

Mac sighed. The Millers were the picture-perfect American family. They probably had a dog at home, too. At one time, he’d had that life.

Three years later and he was back where he’d started and life was all about work. As he stared at the cherry tree across the street, the thought struck him that he would have been married nine years this month, nine years May 15. Where had the time gone? Mac rubbed his hand over his face and sipped his coffee. So many changes...

He turned as a brand-new four-wheel drive truck roared into one of the slanted parking spots next to the strip mall and jerked to a stop. A group of teenagers spilled out of the pickup and jumped onto the boardwalk. Chattering excitedly, the two boys and two girls didn’t even notice Mac sitting in the chair. They sauntered down the walk and disappeared into the coffee shop.

School was out for the day.

Mac heaved himself out of the chair and crossed the street to his police car. Setting his cup on the roof, he paused, taking in the vacant lot between the hardware store and the old library, now empty. Holly’s shop was one of five occupied storefronts—a beauty salon, a computer store, a used clothing store and a bakery. The boardwalk, with scattered benches, rocking chairs and potted plants, invited customers to stroll and shop. Across the street were the bank and the hardware store.