The Boss's Bride. Brenda Minton

look like a woman he wanted to argue with. Her short hair was perfectly cut. Her suit, a skirt, jacket and blouse, looked expensive. And she looked angry.

      “Where is she?” The woman marched down the aisle between the saws and drills, her mouth a tight line of disapproval.

      “I’m sorry?” He reached for the dark green work apron he wore in the store.

      “Gracie Wilson. Where is she?”

      And then it hit him. Mrs. Morgan. Lovely woman. He wondered why the dog hadn’t barked. A good dog would have barked a warning.

      “She isn’t here yet.”

      “When do you expect her?”

      He glanced at his watch and caught the groan before it slipped out. “Soon.”

      “Then I’ll wait.”

      He caught sight of an old farm truck and he knew that Gracie would soon walk through the back door. The dog out front seemed to be waiting for her. It stood, wagging a wiry brush of a tail. That confirmed his suspicions that the dog might be getting fed here at the store.

      “Maybe if you come back later it would be better.” He took the woman by the arm, nearly choking on the cloud of perfume that clung to the air around her.

      “I need to speak to Miss Wilson because there is the small matter of what she owes me.”

      The front door opened again. Patrick didn’t know if he should breathe a sigh of relief or pray for mercy. A hardware store, at least the one he’d grown up in, was a man’s world. He knew about building things, fixing things. He didn’t know about small-town politics, drama and what appeared to be women on the warpath.

      Coraline Connolly marched down the aisle, her nose in the air and her pace brisk. She wasn’t a big woman, but she walked with the authority of a woman who had been a school principal and knew how to handle problems.

      “Mrs. Morgan, my goodness, imagine seeing you here.” Coraline smiled a frozen smile that Patrick was pretty glad he wasn’t the recipient of.

      “Coraline, this has nothing to do with you.”

      Coraline moved Patrick aside. “Oh, I know that. I just thought the two of us could take a little walk. We have some fund-raisers coming up in town and I’d love to be able to put your family name on the list of benefactors.”

      “I need to speak to Gracie.” Mrs. Morgan pulled her arm from Coraline’s grasp.

      “I’m sure you do, but I have other appointments and you are so great at organizing events. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” Coraline offered. “I’m sure Gracie will be here by the time we’re finished.”

      Mrs. Morgan glanced around the store and finally sighed, giving in to Coraline. Patrick watched as the mother of Trent Morgan was escorted from the store.

      “Is it safe?” Gracie walked through the door, peeking around the store for any sign of the woman who, had things been different, would have been her mother-in-law.

      Patrick walked to the front of the store and looked out the window. “For now.”

      “Good.” She slipped her work apron over her head. “I’m going to have to face her eventually.”

      “Probably.”

      Gracie tied her apron and reached for a coffee cup. “I’m sorry this is becoming your problem. It shouldn’t be. I’ll talk to her. I need to give the dress back, and maybe that will start the road to making things better.”

      Giving the dress back would be a step toward making this real. She obviously couldn’t explain that to her boss; the man seemed pretty uncomfortable with the conversation.

      “Are you sure you don’t want to think about this before giving the dress back?”

      The coffee overflowed on her hand. She pulled back, reaching quickly for a napkin to wipe her scalded hand and then the drops of brown on the floor. She glanced up at Patrick as she straightened to throw the napkin away.

      “I’m positive I don’t want that dress or a chance to think.”

      He shrugged and let it go, handing her a wet wipe for her hand rather than commenting further.

      “I stopped at the Gazette and put the ad in for the Workshops for Women.” She shifted topics because she was tired of the current subject. Trent. It was time to move on. The workshops would be a great way to bring in customers. And it gave them something to talk about other than the wedding.

      “That’s good, thank you.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Will you be okay here for an hour or so? I got a call last night from a woman who needs a light installed.”

      “Did you?” She smiled because even though she was done with romance, that didn’t mean everyone should be. At her church’s ladies’ meeting last night she’d told Annabelle to give Patrick a call, because he had to be the greatest catch in Bygones.

      “I did.” He had started toward the front door but he turned. “Why is it you don’t seem surprised?”

      She thought about avoiding answering. Instead she smiled her best innocent smile and told the truth. “Because last night a friend mentioned needing a light installed and I told her you do great work.”

      “Thanks, I think.”

      Gracie ignored the growing lump in her throat because in the shadows she saw something on his face, a sadness, or loss. It had to be her imagination. And maybe the way her heart shook a little was her imagination, too.

      “Would it help if I said she’s pretty and very sweet?”

      “Not really.” He cleared his throat. “Gracie, I’m really not looking for someone.”

      “No one ever is. Sometimes the right person happens into our lives when we’re least expecting it.”

      “Happens. As in, they come along unexpectedly, not because everyone in town is helping it to happen.”

      She laughed a little and felt the lump dissolve because his smile had reappeared. “Isn’t it great living in a small town?”

      He flipped on the open sign and headed back in her direction. She felt that tightness in her throat again. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair always looking a little messy. Last night one of the ladies at the church meeting asked why Gracie wanted to push such a handsome man off on someone else. Gracie had to admit she didn’t have a clue. Self-preservation maybe?

      “Oh, I also submitted information about the block party on Main Street. Coraline said it would be great for the school to put together fund-raisers, maybe baked goods, candles, that type of stuff.”

      “Changing the subject?” He pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter.

      The door chimed. Saved by the bell. She exhaled and grinned up at her boss. “Not at all, just filling you in on everything.”

      “Do you have a list I should know about? Ad for workshops. Check. Article about block party. Check. Get Patrick married off. Check.”

      “Something like that. I can give you a full list later.”

      “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” He grinned and pulled keys out of his pocket. “Does she have the light fixture or do I need to take one?”

      “She has it.” She grabbed a piece of paper off the counter and wrote out the address. “Here you go.”

      “I’m not sure if I’m going to thank you for this.”

      “You will.”

      He left and Gracie turned her attention to the customer at the front of the store. She smiled at Mr. Fibley, once the pharmacist in town. Now that the drugstore had closed, he spent his days at the bookstore and sometimes visiting Ann Mars at This ’N’ That. He was a dapper little