“I didn’t expect him to.” It was a job. In law enforcement. The fact anyone had offered him anything after what happened in Chicago was nothing short of a miracle. More than anything Luke wanted back on a squad, but there was no moving beyond a failed psych eval and a loss of nerve. At least not when it came to firearms, bombs and explosives. Not many of those around in Butterfly Harbor. “I do have some questions.” Luke nodded at the half-packed boxes piled with old photos and awards. Thirty years as the town sheriff and, like Luke, everything Jake had fit into the back of a patrol car. “If you’re ready for them.”
“Take a seat.” Jake gestured to one of the cushioned green vinyl chairs across from him. “And let’s get to it.”
CHAPTER NINE
WHATEVER UNIVERSAL POWERS were responsible for the Butterfly Diner’s flood of customers, they sure had a twisted sense of timing.
Twyla’s dentist appointment had culminated in a root canal, leaving Holly all but pirouetting her way around the tables with little time to breathe, let alone think. It wasn’t until an hour later she realized most of the customers were onetime regulars who hadn’t stepped foot in the diner in weeks.
She had Luke Saxon to thank for something after all, at least according to the whispers and looks she received. For once, rumors—or the town’s desire for them—were paying off with order after order and the continuous ringing of her cash register. Whether it was Luke, gossip or just plain luck, Holly was grateful.
It didn’t help her concentration that thoughts of Luke were distracting her completely. She’d nursed a twelve-year grudge when it came to the new sheriff, but try as she might, that built-up resentment had abated with unexpected sights of him boarding up windows on abandoned buildings and town rumblings of his one-man after-the-storm cleanup crew. Tales of Luke and his chain saw were overriding the old bad-boy legends. She could only imagine what those same residents would have said a decade ago if they’d seen teenage Luke wandering town hacking up trees and putting various power tools to use. Either way, in mere days, Luke had already left another indelible impression on Butterfly Harbor.
It didn’t help he’d looked incredibly handsome hefting plywood into his truck earlier today. Holly squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late to stop the image of the quirky grin on his full lips, the restrained twinkle in glittering eyes. His unexpected calm and controlled demeanor had kicked a giant hole in her belief as to who she thought he was: untrustworthy, unreliable and straight-up trouble.
Right now, the only quality she’d wager big bucks on was trouble.
As she balanced two burgers, a club sandwich and a piping hot French dip on her already singed forearms, Holly glanced over to make sure Simon was still nose-deep in the thickest of his most recent book acquisitions. At least something was going her way. Her son had been scribbling notes faster than she could ever hope to from the second they’d returned to the diner from the bookstore. Someday she was going to have to get a look at that notebook of his, but she was determined to respect his privacy. She remembered how violated she’d felt when her mother had read her diary when Holly was ten. Holly had been devastated, doubly so when her mother didn’t seem to understand how much of a betrayal the invasion had been. Holly wasn’t about to do that to her son.
Holly sighed, stifling a yawn. With the late-lunch crowd giving way to the early-dinner crew, she was going to need a serious boost of energy soon.
The door chimed—that thing hadn’t stopped jingling all afternoon—and a young woman and pigtailed little girl stepped inside. The child had a frown on her freckled face aimed directly at the group of teens outside as they waltzed and shouted their way down Monarch Lane.
“Hi.” Holly offered what she hoped was a friendly expression of welcome as she passed by them to deliver an order. “Menus are right there. Take a seat wherever you’d like. I’ll be with you quick as I can.”
She heard the woman’s soft “Oh, but I—” as Holly hurried off.
Ursula’s kitchen bell chimed again. The sound of rattling pans and metal spatulas scraping the stovetop echoed in Holly’s ears as she served up three shakes and two hot fudge sundaes. It wasn’t until five customers later that she realized some folks had already been served drinks she couldn’t remember getting. “What the—” She spun on her squeaky sneakers and found the young woman who had come in earlier behind the counter taking orders from the customers who had foregone booths.
“Hi.” The munchkin who came in with Holly’s fairy god-helper tugged on Holly’s belt loop, a crooked grin on her tomboy face. “Mom said to give you this.” She held up the help-wanted sign from the window.