Every Kind of Heaven & Everyday Blessings. Jillian Hart

      “You know, I have relatives who work on the local paper. That’s where the list came from. I had nothing to do with it. I’m just a working man, so I bet I can understand. Try me.”

      A cute little furrow dug in between her eyes, over the bridge of her nose. Adorable, she shrugged one slim shoulder, and for a moment she looked lost. Sad. “My mom really wasn’t happy being a wife and mother. I know that. But when I was little it felt like I was the one who made her unhappy. I was always spilling stuff and knocking into furniture and forgetting things. Not that I’ve changed that much.” She shrugged again. “This isn’t what you want to hear.”

      “This is exactly right. Exactly what I want to know.”

      He laid his hand over hers, feeling the warm silk of her skin and the cool smoothness of the magazine page. One picture was of bistro tables washed in sunlight, framed by golden, scrolled wood and crisp white clouds of curtains. It looked like something out of a children’s storybook, where evil was easily defeated, where every child was loved and where love always won.

      That’s what he knew she saw on the page, he knew because he could see her heart so clearly.

      She drew in a ragged breath, her voice thin with emotion, her eyes turning an arresting shade of indigo. “One thing that always went right was when I was with Mom in the kitchen. She wasn’t much of a baker, but I had spent a lot of time with Gran in the kitchen, she taught me to bake, and I liked the quiet time. Measuring sugar and sifting flour. Getting everything just right.”

      She paused as if noticing for the first time that his hand still covered hers. She didn’t try to move away. Did she know how vulnerable she looked? How good and true? He didn’t think so. He feared his heart, hurting so much for her, would never be the same.

      “This reminds you of baking with your Mom,” he said.

      “Sort of. I remember the kitchen smelled wonderful when the cookies or the cakes were cooling. And afterward there was the frosting to whip up and the decorating to do. It’s the one thing I could always do right. It made everyone happy, for how ever little time that happiness lasted, it was there.”

      “And then your mother left?”

      Ava gently tugged her hand out from beneath his. She lowered her gaze, veiled her heart. That was a scandal of huge proportion. Everybody had known at the time, and in a small city that was really just one big small town, everybody still remembered although twenty years had passed. “I want this to be like a place where customers feel like they’ve stepped into a storybook. Not childish, just—” She couldn’t think of the word.

      “You want a place where it feels as if wishes can come true.”

      How did he know that? Ava took a shaky breath and tucked away the honesty she shouldn’t have hauled out like dirty laundry in a basket. She was so not a wishing kind of girl. Not anymore.

      She grabbed her bag again, not remembering when exactly it had slipped from her shoulder to the floor. “I’d better get going. I’m late for my shift at the bookstore.”

      “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

      “Yes.” The word popped out before she could stop it.

      He winced. “Well, that’s not my intention. We got off on the wrong foot. Is that what’s bothering you?”

      “No. Yes.”

      “Which is it?”

      “I don’t know.” All she knew was that he felt way too close, although she’d crossed half of the kitchen on the way to the door and it still didn’t make any difference. She took a shaky breath. “I should have recognized you. I mean, I’m usually so busy in my own little world, I don’t notice everything I should.”

      “Well, I didn’t introduce myself, so when you think about it, it could be all my fault.”

      “You’re being too nice.”

      “That’s better than being Mr. Yuck, right?”

      “Maybe.”

      That made his dimples flash. “What do you do with your time, besides baking incredible cakes?”

      “Hang out with my sisters, mostly. Doing my part to contribute to consumer debt. That kind of thing.” And that was all she was going to share with him because anything else would be way too personal. “Okay, what did I do with my keys?”

      “I might have ’em.” He reached into his back pocket and then there they were in the palm of his hand.

      Oops. It looked as if she would have to move closer to him to get them. Her chest tightened and her emotions felt like one big aching mess. Was it because of the story she’d told him, about baking with her mother? Or was he the reason?

      She knew the answer simply by looking at him. His appearance—the worn T-shirt, battered Levi’s and beat-up black work boots—all shouted tough guy, but in a really good, hardworking way. Add that to his kindness and class—and he was totally wishable.

      Not that she was wishing.

      As he strode toward her with the slow measured gait of a hunter, she didn’t feel stalked. No, she felt drawn. As if he’d gathered up her tangled heartstrings and gave them a gentle shake. There were no more knots, just one simple, honest feeling running up those strings and straight into her heart.

      She didn’t want to be drawn to any man. Especially not him.

      She grabbed the keys, careful to scoop them from his hand without any physical contact. But something had changed between them and she couldn’t deny it.

      “Thanks,” she said in a practically normal-sounding voice. “You have my cell number if there’s a problem, right?”

      “Right.”

      She could feel him watching her as she yanked open the door. Rex bounded toward her and she almost forgot about Brice. She knelt down to give his head a good rubbing. “It was very nice meeting you, boy. I’ll bring some muffins tomorrow. Is that all right by you?”

      Rex lapped her cheek and panted in perfect agreement.

      She had one foot over the threshold when Brice’s voice called her back. “See you tomorrow, Ava. And thanks for sharing a cup of coffee with me.”

      Coffee. That made her screech to a total halt. Her mind sat there, idling. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted to do in the beginning? He’d wanted to get to know her over a cup of coffee.

      And he had.

      She wanted to leap to the quick conclusion that she’d been tricked. But it wasn’t that simple. She’d been the one to bring the coffee in the first place. It was her coffee, her kitchen, her renovation project. It was her heart she had to hold on to as she took the other step through the door and closed Brice Donovan from her sight.

       Chapter Five

      Ava burst through the employee’s entrance door in the back of the Corner Christian Bookstore. The big problem? Her oldest sister was heating a cup of tea in the break room’s microwave and she had that look. The one where she frowned, shook her head slowly from side to side as if this was exactly what she expected.

      “Oops, I’m late.” Ava slid the bakery box onto the small battered Formica table. “My bad. But I brought chocolate.”

      “That doesn’t begin to make up for it.” The corner of Katherine’s mouth twitched, as if she were holding back a smile. “What am I going to do with you?”

      “Nothing. I’m your little sister and you love me.”

      “Not at much as Aubrey,” she teased.