Allison Leigh - Just Friends?

Here, everything was familiar. The only missing element was Ruby herself. But she’d died when Leandra was away at college.

The entire town had attended the diminutive woman’s funeral. But Leandra hadn’t returned for it, even though Ruby had been part of her extended family—great-grandmother to Leandra’s aunt, Hope. No, Leandra had been too busy to come home for that event. Too involved in her studies, too involved in her own life.

She stepped through the doorway.

The first thing she smelled were the famous cinnamon rolls.

The first person she noticed was Evan Taggart.

He sat at a booth, facing the doorway, and, as if he’d been waiting for her arrival, he was watching her with not one wisp of surprise in his expression. She gave him a brief nod as she moved through the somewhat-crowded café toward the counter, but the casualness of the motion was belied by the butterflies that were suddenly batting around inside her stomach.

“Hey there, Leandra.” The girl behind the counter smiled widely as she poured coffee for the patrons sitting at the counter in front of her. “You need to tell my brother that I should have some face time on your show.”

“Tabby, if we put your pretty face on WITS, nobody is going to be interested in watching your brother,” Leandra teased as she slipped onto the only vacant red stool at the counter.

Tabby dimpled. She really was as striking as her brother. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” She sighed dramatically, managing to deliver a plate of corned beef hash and eggs without spilling a drop of coffee as she continued topping off coffee cups. “You here for breakfast? Daily specials are up on the board.”

Leandra glanced at the chalkboard that was propped on a shelf. It, too, was a familiar sight. The looping handwriting, though, was undoubtedly Tabby’s. “Just give me the special,” she said. “And a half-dozen cinnamon rolls to go for Sarah, if there are any left.”

Tabby nodded. “I’d already saved in back a dozen for my brother. But you can have half. He won’t mind.”

Leandra wasn’t so sure. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder back at the booth where he’d been sitting.

“You want to join him, I’ll bring your food on out in a sec.”

No, Leandra didn’t want to join Evan. But even as she told herself she wasn’t going to, she was aware of more people entering the café. She was taking up a seat at the counter out of cowardly orneriness.

She took her coffee cup—flipped over and filled up by Tabby without a word—and headed over to Evan’s booth. She was halfway there, and everyone in the café knew it, when Leandra’s feet dragged to an abrupt stop.

The coffee sloshed over the cup’s rim, stinging hot on Leandra’s hand.

Evan wasn’t alone.

A pint-size little girl sat opposite him in the booth.

She had striking blue eyes, creamy white skin and shining black hair that was as dark as midnight.

She looked like a miniature, female version of Evan, and the sight of her was a blow to her midsection.

She’d heard of Evan’s niece, of course, but she hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with her.

And she’d never known that she was so like her uncle she could have been his daughter.

Evan breathed a soft curse as he saw the color drain from Leandra’s face. He was already moving out of the booth and heading for her when she seemed to sway a little, spilling coffee over her hand.

She looked up at him as he took the coffee cup from her. Her eyes seemed to dwarf the rest of her small face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect—”

“I watch Hannah for Katy sometimes.” Katy was his half-sister by blood and his cousin by marriage. Mostly, though, she was Hannah’s mom.

She blinked once. Twice. “Right. Of course.”

He could see the reluctance in Leandra’s expression as it began edging out the shock that had encompassed her. He could also see that she looked decidedly shaky.

Jake had warned him that Leandra still found it difficult being around small children. But seeing it with his own eyes twisted something painful inside him. She looked like a wounded, trapped animal.

He didn’t even think about it. He just slid his arm around her and nudged her down onto the bench, across from where Hannah sat, watching them both with her evasive way of viewing the world around her. “Hannah,” he said calmly as he sat down beside the little girl, “this is my friend, Leandra. Can you say hello?”

She kept her gaze half-averted from them. “Say hello,” she repeated obediently. Her thumb steadily stroked the wheel of the matchbox car she was holding, turning it again and again.

“Tabby.” He caught his little sister’s attention as she was bustling around behind the counter. “Can we have some more coffee over here?”

“Coffee here,” Hannah repeated softly. She shifted, pressing her shoulder against Evan’s side. He smoothed his hand through her shoulder-length hair. Despite the convoluted history entwining their families, she was a light in his life.

“I should be going,” Leandra said.

“Wait until Tabby has a chance to top off your coffee. And when’s the last time you ate? I heard you order the special. So unless you plan on walking out on the order, you might as well relax.”

Her lashes shielded those dark, dark brown eyes. Bambi eyes, he used to think. Round, velvety soft and surrounded by lashes that were long and delicate, all at the same time.

Tabby arrived with the coffee carafe, saving him from his teenage, angst-ridden memories. “Your food will be up next, Leandra. Ev, you or Hannah want anything else?”

Hannah had made a typical mess of her toast and scrambled eggs, eating half of each and decorating the table with the other half. “We’re good, Tabby. Thanks.”

“No prob.” She was moving off in a flash.

“For some reason, I’m always surprised at how good she is at this. Tabby’s worked here for more than a year now, but it is still a surprise.”

“Your thoughts have her perpetually stuck in pigtails, playing with dolls?”

“Playing Little League baseball, more like. But, yeah.”

Leandra’s lips curved ever so faintly. The tiny smile was heartbreakingly sad, though. “I know the feeling.”

He hadn’t gone to California for Emi’s funeral.

He should have.

He was Jake’s best friend, wasn’t he?

Something, though, had kept him away. And he’d never forgiven himself for that particular display of cowardice. But before he could form any words, Leandra was looking—somewhat stalwartly, he thought—at Hannah.

“How old are you, Hannah?”

She didn’t look up from spinning the wheels on her little car. “Leandra is talking to you, Hannah,” he prompted calmly.

“Talking to you,” she repeated.

“It takes her a while to warm up to new people,” he excused.

“I understand.”

Did she? He wasn’t all that certain. Leandra Clay may have grown up in Weaver, but he knew her life had been fairly charmed—at least until the devastating loss of her daughter. And now she worked on a show that followed veterinarians around, for God’s sake. She observed life now, instead of living it.

“Four,” Hannah suddenly said.

If Leandra was surprised by the belated response, she didn’t show it. “Four is a fun age to be. I like your car, there. Is it your favorite one?”

“Yes. It’s red.” Hannah didn’t look up as she replied.

“I like red, too.”

Hannah’s thumb spun the wheels. She didn’t reply.

Tabby delivered Leandra’s meal, as well as two neatly wrapped packages of cinnamon rolls, and disappeared just as quickly. Leandra picked up her fork, but didn’t move it near enough her food to suit him. “How is Katy doing these days? Is she still in the service?”