The Way To A Soldier's Heart. Gina Wilkins

his “deepest secrets,” Elle winced before murmuring, “I doubt he’ll be back.”

      “He’ll be back.” Her mom lifted the lid off the chili and stirred briskly with a wooden spoon, her bracelets jingling merrily. “I think you’ll be seeing quite a bit of that nice young man. I told you big changes were coming for you.”

      “Oh, my gosh, Mom, give it a rest,” Elle said with a groan. As much as she adored her mother, it was sometimes difficult to be patient—not her strength, anyway, she had to admit. “He was just a customer. Speaking of which, I’ve heard the bell ring a couple times, so the lunch crowd is starting to come in.”

      Crowd was perhaps a generous word for their average patronage this time of year, but still they’d be busy for the next couple of hours. Too busy to obsess about good-looking guys in black leather jackets, she thought with a sigh. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t think of him a few times as the day wound down.

      She almost wished her mother’s prediction would be right this time. She wouldn’t mind seeing Shane Scanlon in her shop again.

      * * *

      THE MAN IN question returned to the shop the next morning, just at the end of the breakfast rush. He wore his black leather jacket again, this time with a black shirt and gray pants. Though an early rain and a brisk breeze had left a chill in the air, most of Elle’s customers had seemed comfortable enough in long sleeves or light windbreakers. Someone must have told Shane how very good the jacket looked on him, she decided as she stepped forward to greet him.

      “Good morning,” she said. “Welcome back. What can I get for you?”

      “I thought I might score one of those chocolate-filled doughnuts today. I figured they must be good, as fast as you ran out yesterday.”

      She motioned toward the display case. “We just happen to have two chocolate-filled doughnuts available.”

      Shane glanced at the other end of the counter, where her mother was taking care of the only other customers, and then at the play corral, in which Charlotte played contentedly with her toys. Leaning an arm on the stainless steel counter, he asked, “Any chance you’d like to have that second doughnut and a cup of coffee with me? Unless you can’t take the time.”

      The invitation surprised her a bit. If this was his way of flirting, he was rather serious about it. He’d given her a graceful out, and his expression made it clear he would take the hint. She wasn’t in the habit of socializing much with customers, despite the occasional pickup attempt by randy tourists or bored businessmen looking for a night’s entertainment. But this was as good a time as any for her to take a coffee break, and Shane did seem interesting, if only for a brief, likely enjoyable conversation.

      “I’ll skip the doughnut, but coffee sounds good.”

      He gave her a little smile, teasing out those oh-so-sexy dimples. “Great.”

      Silently clearing her throat, she motioned her intentions toward her mother, who sent her an approving, not-at-all-subtle thumbs-up.

      They carried their cups to the table in the window he’d chosen yesterday. Elle took a sip of her pumpkin-spice latte while Shane bit into the flaky pastry filled with a creamy chocolate ganache. “That is good,” he said after swallowing. “No wonder they go so fast. You made the filling, too?”

      His compliment pleased her perhaps more than it should have. “Yes. It’s a fairly simple recipe, easy to whip up and pipe into the doughnuts.”

      He chuckled. “You make it sound too easy. You should say you slaved over it for hours.”

      Amused, she lifted her cup again. “Maybe I should. I do start very early every morning.”

      “Do you do all the cooking yourself?”

      “Not all of it. My mother and several part-time employees help. My staff and I work Wednesdays through Saturdays and my business partner and her crew take over Sunday morning through Tuesday. We switch off as needed. It’s a good division of labor for all of us.”

      “You’re only open for breakfast and lunch, right?”

      “We close at four,” she confirmed, though the shop’s hours were posted on the sign at the door.

      He nodded and glanced at the play corral. “And you bring your daughter to work with you every day?”

      “Most days. Having my mom working with me here makes it easier to juggle everything.”

      Setting down his cup, he picked up the doughnut again. She saw his gaze sweep her left hand as it lay on the table, and she figured he noted the lack of rings—just as she was aware of his bare left hand. Not necessarily proof that he was single, of course.

      “Family first,” he murmured before biting into his pastry.

      “Always,” she agreed.

      She wondered if there was something going on in this conversation she wasn’t fully aware of. She was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with this handsome stranger’s focus on her and her family, though he was probably only trying to pass the time. There was enough of a drawl in his deep voice to let her know chatting with strangers was as familiar to him as to anyone south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

      “Are you in Shorty’s Landing on vacation?” she asked, deciding it was time to turn the conversation to him.

      He didn’t seem to mind. “Mostly business. I’m making sales pitches to some of the resorts in the area.”

      This seemed an innocuous enough topic for two thirtysomething professionals. “What business are you in?”

      “Risk management consulting. I’m a partner in a family-owned company, Scanlon Risk Management, Inc. We’re based out of Fayetteville, North Carolina, my hometown.”

      “Which resorts have you visited so far?” she asked while she processed that unexpected response. There were several popular resorts within a twenty-mile stretch of coastline around Shorty’s Landing. Shane had a target-rich environment if he was pitching to tourist establishments.

      “I arrived in the area only yesterday, so the meetings have just started,” he replied. “I have an appointment with the owner of Wind Shadow Resort this afternoon.”

      “Trevor Farrell,” she said with a smile. The luxurious Wind Shadow Resort was only about twenty minutes by car from The Perkery. In addition to having visited for various social events, she served quite a few guests from there who wandered into Shorty’s Landing to explore and shop.

      “I’ve known Trevor for several years. A very nice man. He’s known particularly for hiring and working with veterans,” she added, thinking of Shane’s military background.

      “Yes, I’ve heard that. It’s a practice he and I have in common in our businesses.”

      So, she mused, Shane Scanlon worked in his family business and believed in giving back to the military community. He sounded upstanding enough, but that was accepting him only on his own words. She’d learned the hard way not to take anyone at face value.

      “From the military to a risk management career. That’s quite a leap. My mother was apparently right that you’ve led an interesting life,” she said lightly. “We won’t tell her, though. It would only reinforce her fantasy that she has a special sight.”

      He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I’m not sure how following my family’s tradition of serving a couple of hitches in the army, then joining the business my dad and uncle started would qualify as particularly exciting.”

      Judging by her own instinctive reactions to him, she suspected this man was considerably more interesting than he let on. Maybe more than even he realized. For some reason, he didn’t strike her as the risk management type. She’d have pegged him as something much more adventurous—which only proved yet again that she was no more clairvoyant than her mother. “Was it always your plan to join the family business