But she couldn’t make herself walk away. Because for every too-easily-dismissed fault, there were a hundred instances of sincerity. Moments too pure, too intense, to be anything but genuine.
God, she had to be careful.
* * *
Megan couldn’t believe it had come to this.
She knew which waffles Connor liked. Not only did she know which waffles he liked—she cared about which waffles he liked. And even worse—she’d spent the past ten minutes standing in the open door of the frozen-breakfast section determined to find waffles even better. So she could be the one to offer the best damn toaster waffle her husband had ever wrapped his tongue around.
Oh, this was bad. Very bad.
And totally embarrassing, now that she stopped to think about it. They were waffles, for crying out loud.
Feeling suddenly conspicuous, she glanced down the aisle half expecting to find a crowd of snickering onlookers taking bets on which brand she’d opt for, only, instead her focus caught on a head of short salt-and-pepper curls topping a face she hadn’t seen in the two decades that had weathered it.
Her breath leaked out of her in a thin, chilled wisp. “Pete.”
She blinked, stepping forward before she’d even thought to curb the impulse. It couldn’t be him. In all the years, it was never actually him. But this time...she could swear it was.
Heart pounding, she felt a bubble of laughter rising in her chest. Did she hug him? Shake his hand? Tell him that even now she could feel the way she’d missed him all those years ago.
He had to live around here. Though, the way he loved to travel, maybe he was just passing through. Either way, she was already reaching for him when he said, “Say, Sprout, whadiya think about chocolate with peanut butter and marshmallows?”
She stopped, too confused to make sense of the words she was hearing.
Only, then he glanced over at her and let out a bark of surprised laughter as he took a quick step back.
“Oh, heck, pardon me, young lady. For a minute I thought you were my daughter.” His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Serves me right, not looking at who I’m talking to.”
Just then, a heavily pregnant woman rounded the corner rubbing her belly with one hand as she scanned her grocery list. “No marshmallows, Dad, but I’m down with the peanut butter.”
Pete gave her a nod and reached into the case to grab another carton. He dropped it into his cart and then looked back at Megan expectantly.
Because she was staring. And he had no idea who she was.
Of course he didn’t. Though he looked so much the same it hurt her heart to see him, she’d been a little girl the last time he saw her. “Pete, I’m Megan Scott. I mean I was Megan Scott. I got married. It’s Megan Reed now.”
Heat burned through her cheeks as she realized how much it pleased her to be able to tell him that she’d married. To think that she might be able to introduce him to Connor. They’d get along. She knew they would. It hadn’t really struck her until just that second, but there were actually a number of similarities between them.
Only, then her racing thoughts ground to a halt and all that excited energy died as the furrow between Pete’s eyes dug deep.
“Megan...Scott?” He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, standing a few feet off wearing a pleasant smile on her face, and then snapped his fingers, looking back at Megan. “From the bank over on First?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HE’D BEEN LOOKING for a fight, that much Connor could admit. Pulling around the corner to the house, he’d felt the gathering tension through his back and neck, the same kind of jacked pulse he got before walking into a major negotiation. The fact that his system was ramping for conflict in anticipation of seeing his wife only made it worse.
There hadn’t been any new “tests,” but the emotional distance, the guarded looks and speculation when she thought he wasn’t looking—and hell, sometimes even when she knew he was—had only increased. Something was coming.