Ruth Herne - Small-Town Hearts

But he should leave sweet Megan alone. She seemed like the kind of girl who deserved nothing but the best, a guy who would be home day after day, the American dream of home and family she’d talked about so openly. Danny’s job kept him in the field so much that he was rarely in any one place for too long.

Home. The idea of starting a home had once seemed alien to him, an impossibility, one of those things that happened to other guys. And while several of his friends had married recently, several others were still footloose, and that had been fine because Danny hadn’t felt that spark, that hint of happily-ever-after possibilities.

Until now. With a woman completely off-limits. What was the good Lord thinking?

Three days later Megan was contemplating the likelihood of being arrested for peeking out a window, watching for her neighbor’s return, totally wrong behavior that felt strangely right.

She’d obviously crossed a line. She definitely needed to leave her neighbor alone. Absolutely, positively alone.

Then why had she left a welcome basket of assorted cookies on his doorstep an hour before?

Simple. She was a glutton for punishment with little self-discipline.

Or she was a great neighbor. She brightened at the thought. That was what people did, right? They offered a welcome to their new neighbors, inviting them to be part of the community? Of course they did.

Nevertheless, Megan was still determined to keep her distance from Danny, but if he came over to thank her for the cookies, she’d be nice. Sweet. Friendly.

You are so in trouble, and the guy just got here. What are you thinking?

That was just it. She was trying so hard not to think about him that she was constantly thinking about him. A bad sign. Really bad. His footsteps down the back stairs made her breath hitch, wondering if he would turn right, toward her door, or left, toward the driveway.

He’d gone left, every day, just like she’d asked him to, but that didn’t stop her heart from skittering every time she heard him pull into the driveway, the quiet engine and the car door closing marking his presence late in the day.

So now she was tempting him across the divide with homemade baked goods. What on Earth was she thinking?

“Megan, you here?”

“Alyssa.” Meg stepped through the candy kitchen door and beamed at her married, very pregnant friend. “Oh, my gosh, look at you. I don’t see you for two weeks and you—”

“Popped.” Alyssa hugged Megan, then laughed and passed a hand over six months of baby. “That’s what the locals are calling it.”

“Perfect.” Megan stood back, perused Alyssa, then grinned and nodded. “You look so happy.”

Alyssa’s smile confirmed Meg’s assertion. “I really am. I should feel guilty about being this delighted with life.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Megan offered her best scolding look, very nineteenth century. “You deserve to be happy. God gives us chances. Our job is to either take that chance or duck and run. You took the chance and happiness was just one of the fringe benefits. How’s Cory doing?” Cory was Alyssa’s four-year-old daughter from a former marriage. The precocious preschooler had been hospitalized the previous summer with a heart condition, a scary time for Alyssa’s family and the entire town.

“She’s wonderful. You’d never know she’d had problems, to look at her, and she’s got Trent and Jaden wrapped around her little finger. I’m hoping some of that will ease once this baby arrives to give her a little competition.”

“Then Trent can spoil them all,” Megan noted. “Have you got time for coffee? Say yes, please.”

“Yes,” Alyssa laughed. “How about you?” She motioned toward the production area.

“Yup.” Meg headed into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of mugs. “I’ve got the morning work done and it’s quiet until two or so, so this is the perfect time to chat. I can’t believe we live ten minutes apart and I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Are you in a Chocolate Glazed Donut coffee mood, French Vanilla or straight?”

“Chocolate. Always. And gainful employment and family stuff manage to steal time, don’t they?” Alyssa smiled her approval when Megan backed through the swinging half door with two mugs of flavored coffee.

“Oh, yum.” Alyssa leaned forward, breathed deep, and relaxed into her chair. “This is lovely.”

Megan laughed. “It is. And you look marvelous.”

“Thank you. I’m not quite to beached-whale stage yet, so I’ll accept your compliment graciously. In six weeks, I may bite your head off, so be forewarned.”

“I’ll take it under consideration. Are you helping staff the restaurant’s booth for the Balloon Rally?” Alyssa’s family owned and managed The Edge in Jamison, a gracious hilltop restaurant that overlooked the valley, now doubling as a wedding reception and special-occasion hot spot. Alyssa’s mother made to-die-for strudels, and the family sold them at a rally booth every year.

Alyssa nodded. “Absolutely. It will be fun. I kept that weekend clear of weddings because it’s silly to overbook and drive the servers crazy. We’ve got to have enough people on-site for the rally to bake and serve, and who wants to miss the balloons or fight traffic to do a wedding on Balloon Rally weekend?”

“Good point. And there’s only so much you can handle at this stage of pregnancy, right?”

Alyssa shot her a look of disbelief. “Unfortunately, once you’ve got a kid, that scenario goes out the window. You hit the ground running once they’re born and you don’t look back. Trent keeps telling me to slow down, but I feel…” She sighed, smiling. “Wonderful.”

“You’re married to one of the greatest guys on Earth, have a beautiful home perfect for raising babies and a job running a great restaurant. I’d say you have reason to feel wonderful.”

“I agree.” Alyssa sat forward and grasped Megan’s hand. “And I wish the same for you. I heard that Brad and Denise were coming into town this week, and I had to hold myself back from going over to Jacqueline’s house and having it out with them.”

“Old news.”

“It still hurts.”

Megan shrugged. “It really doesn’t. Not anymore. Oh, don’t get me wrong.” She met Alyssa’s raised brow with a half smile. “I don’t like the fact that they’re going to be underfoot all summer, but I really wish them well. It was a long time ago and I hope they’re happy together. And Brad did me a favor.” She sent a knowing look Alyssa’s way. “You and I both know that.”

“And Michael?”

“Grrr…” Megan mock scowled. “He did, too, but that whole left-at-the-altar thing? So not cool. My parents still go ballistic thinking about it, but I heard gossip that he’s cheating on his new girlfriend over at Alfred State, so again, it’s just as well. I’ve read half a dozen self-help books, and the conclusion is that I need to up my standards considerably. Not trade down.”

“I won’t disagree there, and you’re better off without Michael. We all know that.” Alyssa squeezed her hand and leaned forward, her look empathetic. “But more than anything, I want you happy.”

“Like you.”

She beamed. “Exactly like me. So we can raise our kids together. Coach soccer teams. Watch football under the lights while we eat hamburgers grilled by our husbands for the Sports Boosters’ Fund.”

“Smalltown, USA.”

“But good.”

Megan sighed. “It is good, but pretty unreachable. It’s not like Jamison and Wellsville are overflowing with a truckload of available thirty-somethings dying to settle down. Most of the available guys are unmarried for good reason.”

Alyssa contemplated that, then nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right. But they’re not the only game in town, I hear.” She slid her gaze left. “I understand we got a new tenant last week.”