Stranger in the Shadows. Shirlee McCoy

was right, and Chloe wasn’t sure she was happy about it. “What gave it away?”

      “Your eyes.” He didn’t elaborate and Chloe didn’t ask, just lifted the closest cup, inhaling the rich, sharp scent of the coffee and doing her best to avoid Ben’s steady gaze.

      Which annoyed her. She’d never been one to avoid trouble. Never been one to back away from a challenge. Never been. But the accident had changed her.

      She took a sip of the coffee, pulled more ribbon from the box, forcing lightness to her movements and to her voice. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If you’re seeing black coffee in mine, I’m in big trouble.”

      “I’m seeing a lot more than black coffee in there.” He grabbed a bouquet of roses, holding it while Chloe hooked it in place and tied a ribbon around the stems, feeling the heat of Ben’s body as he leaned in close to help, wondering what it was he thought he saw in her eyes.

      Or maybe not wondering. Maybe she knew. Darkness. Sorrow. Guilt. Emotions she’d tried to outrun, but that refused to be left behind.

      She grabbed another ribbon, another bouquet, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of the job.

      “The flowers look good. Are they Opal’s design, or Jenna’s?” The switch in subjects was a welcome distraction, and Chloe answered quickly.

      “I’m not sure. They were designed months before I started working at Blooming Baskets.”

      “Do you like it there?”

      “Yes.” She just wasn’t sure how good she was at it. Digging into the bowels of a computer hard drive to find hidden files was one thing. Unraveling yards of tulle and ribbon and handling delicate flowers was another. “But it’s a lot different than what I used to do.”

      “What was that?”

      “Computers.” She kept the answer short. Giving a name to her job as a computer forensic specialist usually meant answering a million questions about her chosen career.

      Former career.

      “Sounds interesting.”

      “It was.” It had also been dangerous. Much more dangerous than she ever could have imagined before Adam’s death. But that was something she didn’t need to be thinking about when she had a few dozen pews and an entire reception hall left to decorate.

      Chloe pulled out more ribbon, started on the next pew and wondered how long it was going to take to complete the decorations on the rest. Too long. Unless she started working a lot faster.

      She moved forward, more ribbon in her hand. Ben moved with her, his sandy head bent close to hers as he helped hold the next bunch of roses in place, his presence much more of a distraction than it should have been. “Maybe we should split up. You take the pews on the other side of the aisle. I’ll finish the ones over here.”

      “Trying to get rid of me?”

      Absolutely. “I just think we’ll get the job done more quickly that way.”

      “Maybe, but we seem to be making pretty good headway together. Two sets of hands are definitely helpful in this kind of work.”

      He had a point. A good one. If she had to hold the flowers and tie the ribbons it would probably take double the time. And time was not something she had enough of. “You’re probably right. Let’s keep going the way we are.”

      “Silently?”

      Chloe glanced up into Ben’s eyes, saw amusement there. “I don’t mind talking while we work.”

      “As long as it’s not about the past?”

      “Something like that.”

      “I bet that limits conversation.”

      Chloe shrugged, tying the next bow, grabbing more ribbon. “There are plenty of other things to talk about.”

      “Like?”

      “Like what Opal’s going to say if she gets here and we’re not done.”

      The deep rumble of Ben’s laughter filled the air. “Point taken. I’ll lay off the questions and move a little faster.”

      

      Four hours later, Chloe placed the last centerpiece on the last table in the reception hall; the low bowl with floating yellow, cream and burnt umber roses picked up the color in the standing floral arrangements that dotted the edges of the room. Roses. Lilies. A half a dozen other flowers whose names she didn’t know.

      “You did it! And it looks almost presentable.” Opal Winchester’s voice broke the silence and Chloe turned to face the woman who’d been surrogate mother to her during long-ago summers, watching as she moved across the room, her salt and pepper curls bouncing around a broad face, her sturdy figure encased in a dark suit and pink shirt.

      “I didn’t do it alone.”

      “I know. Where is that good-looking young pastor?”

      “Home getting ready for the wedding. Which he’s officiating after spending almost four hours helping with the floral decorations.”

      “Did he complain?”

      “No.”

      “Then I don’t expect you to, either.” Opal slid an arm around Chloe’s waist and surveyed the room. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

      “It is. You and Jenna did a great job.”

      “So did you and Ben.” Opal cast a sly look in Chloe’s direction, her dark eyes sparkling. “So, what did you think of him?”

      “Who?”

      “Ben Avery. As if you didn’t know.”

      “He’s helpful.”

      “And?”

      “And he’s helpful.” Chloe brushed thick bangs out of her eyes and limped a few steps away from Opal, smoothing a wrinkle out of a tablecloth, determined not to give her friend any hint of how Ben had effected her. “How was your drive?”

      “You’re changing the subject, but I’ll allow it seeing as how I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished this morning. The drive was slow. I thought I’d never get here.” Opal adjusted a centerpiece, straightened a bow on one of the chairs. “But I’m here and happy to announce that Jenna had a bouncing baby boy fifteen minutes ago.”

      “That’s wonderful!”

      “Isn’t it? A wedding and a birth on the same day. You can’t ask for much better than that. I’m going to stop by the hospital after the reception is over. Maybe slip Jenna a piece of wedding cake if Miranda and Hawke don’t mind me bringing her some. Speaking of which,” She paused, spearing Chloe with a look that warned of trouble. “You’re going to have to attend.”

      “Attend?”

      “The wedding.”

      “No way.” She had no intention of staying to witness the marriage of two people she didn’t know, two people who, according to both Jenna and Opal, were meant to be together.

      Meant to be.

      As if such a thing were possible. As if meant to be didn’t always turn into goodbye.

      “I understand your reluctance, Chloe, but it’s expected.”

      “You know I never do what’s expected.”

      “I know you never did what was expected. You’re starting fresh here and in a small town like Lakeview, doing what’s expected is important.”

      “Opal—”

      “Don’t make me use my mother voice.” She glowered, straightening to her full five-foot-three height.

      “I’m