Mending The Widow's Heart. Mia Ross

a new life with her son as far from the military as she could get. She was rapidly approaching thirty, and now that she’d made it through the worst storm she could imagine, it was time to make some serious plans for the future. For both her and Chase.

      They’d spend their summer with Aunt Daphne, getting her back on her feet and enjoying this picturesque part of New Hampshire to the hilt. Then, in August, Holly would be ready to make some solid decisions about their futures and get Chase registered in a new school if they found themselves somewhere other than Boston. Nowhere in those plans did she have the time or the energy to take on another emotionally scarred soldier who may or may not become whole again. Chase was only six when Brady died, so he had hazy images of his father. To her mind, his ignorance was a blessing considering the tragic way Brady’s life had ended.

      But now her son was old enough to get attached to people and be devastated if they were suddenly yanked out of his life. For her sake and Chase’s, Holly knew that the smartest thing she could do was keep Sam Calhoun at a nice, safe distance.

      * * *

      Sam had never been the chatty type.

      His mother had often accused him of being a poster child for the staid New Englander who didn’t have much to say but meant every word that came out of his mouth. Still, in thirty years of living he’d never found himself tongue-tied around a woman. Until now.

      Holly Andrews was more than easy on the eyes. A few blond strands had escaped her ponytail, framing her brilliant blue eyes in a halo of curls. When she’d pegged him as former military, he’d braced himself for the awkward moment when he’d have to explain where he’d served and why he was back.

      To his great relief, she didn’t ask. Probably because she was familiar with veterans and could sense that he didn’t want to talk about his experience. The interesting thing was, she didn’t treat him like someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves the way so many folks did. Instead, she’d given him sympathy and understanding. For someone who’d dealt with every conceivable reaction during the past year, Sam found her matter-of-fact approach to him a refreshing change.

      Realizing that her drink was nearly gone, he asked, “Would you like a refill on that?”

      “That’d be great. It was a long trip, and we still have to drive to Auntie D’s and unpack.”

      “Auntie D?” he echoed in disbelief as he poured coffee into her mug and added some hot water to make it more to her taste. “That’s what you call Daphne Mills, the greatest actress of her generation?”

      “Oh, that’s just a bunch of hype invented by her agent.” Holly waved it off with a laugh. “She’d be the first to tell you there were actresses better than her. Not many, of course, but a few,” she added with a fond smile.

      “I guess she’d know.” Then he remembered what had brought Holly into the bakery in the first place. “I think that envelope you were asking about is back here somewhere. Gimme a sec.”

      “Don’t rush. If we’re not in the way, I’d rather hang out here until it quits raining, anyway.”

      “According to the weatherman, this storm’s not moving off till tomorrow morning.”

      “Oh, well.” Glancing at her son, she shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Them’s the breaks, right, bud?”

      “We won’t melt,” he assured her brightly.

      She rewarded his optimism with a proud mother’s smile and slit open the envelope Sam had given her. A pile of cash spilled onto the counter, followed by a house key.

      She let out a sound that was half moan and half laugh. “Oh, Auntie, what’re you thinking?”

      “Whoa,” Chase commented. “That’s a lotta money.”

      “It certainly is,” Holly replied, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

      Sam was trying hard not to snoop, but it was impossible to miss the large, scrawling message on the pale pink stationery.

      Get whatever you want, Peaches.

      Reaching back inside, Holly pulled another piece of paper from the envelope. She opened the note and studied it with a frown. When she started spinning the page, he felt compelled to ask, “Something wrong?”

      “I’m assuming this is meant to be a map.”

      When she turned it for him to see, he realized that even a local like him would have trouble following the vague drawing anywhere. “City folks like your aunt aren’t much for giving directions. They like their GPS.”

      “It’s very helpful,” Holly informed him primly. “I managed to get all the way here from Boston using it.”

      “To the town, sure, but you won’t find Daphne’s place that way. That road’s not even on a state map.”

      He seldom engaged anyone so directly, especially not someone he’d just met. Why had he chosen this afternoon—and this particular woman—to change his approach? No explanation immediately came to mind, but he couldn’t help feeling that something important had just happened to him. Something bigger than an out-of-towner needing directions.

      It gave him a sliver of hope that he might be able to regain his emotional footing, after all. Since his return, he’d felt like a stranger in the hometown that had always been a haven from the world. No matter what he’d tried, that impression had stubbornly remained, leaving him convinced that as much as he loved the town that his family had built from nothing, it might not be the best place for him anymore.

      What would it be like to start over? he’d wondered more than once. To go someplace where no one knew him and wouldn’t ask about things he’d prefer never to talk about again? Sometimes, after a particularly difficult day, moving away was the only choice that made any sense to him.

      When it dawned on him that Holly was speaking to him, he yanked his wandering mind back to their conversation.

      “She told us that’s one of the things she likes most about Liberty Creek,” Holly went on. “After dodging Hollywood paparazzi for so long, she’s thrilled about having her privacy back and being treated like a regular person.”

      Sam chuckled. “No offense, but there’s nothing regular about her. She’s one of a kind.”

      When Holly tilted her head and gazed up at him, he wondered if he’d stepped over some unseen line of etiquette. He’d just met her, after all, and she could easily misinterpret what he’d intended to be a compliment. He’d never had much luck reading women, so he waited anxiously for her to say something.

      “I think so, too,” she finally agreed, adding a cute grin. “Just don’t tell her I said so. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

      It didn’t occur to him that he’d been holding his breath until it came out in a rush. Hoping to mask his bizarre reaction to her, he held out his hand. “Deal.”

      As they shook, Holly’s hand felt small and vulnerable in his, but her grip was firm. Trusting was the word that leapt into his mind, and he sternly pushed it aside. Nice as she seemed, there was no way he’d drag a woman into his wreck of a life, especially one with such a young child. Even though every word she said in that lilting Southern accent of hers made him want to smile.

      He’d just made that decision when she said, “I hate to impose, but is there any way you could help me get out there? She’s coming home from the hospital on Friday, and I have a lot to do before then, so I’d like to get started first thing in the morning. Even a new map would be better than this,” she added, waving the useless drawing before tossing it on the counter.

      “Sure.” Sam reached for an order pad and pen, then stopped. His parents had drummed hospitality into their children’s heads since they were old enough to grasp the concept. It certainly didn’t include sketching roads on a piece of paper for a visitor who’d probably get lost once she left Main Street. “Actually,