Mended Hearts. Ruth Logan Herne

appreciated. Considered.”

      “So because I shot down your plea for a home-cooked meal, I’m being lectured on the ins and outs of fundraising?”

      He sat back, confused. “Listen, I—”

      She slid forward in her seat as if ready to do battle, a tactical move that surprised him considering her previous timidity. “For your information, I am perfectly capable of running this thing completely on my own. So feel free to take yourself back to Grandma and tell her I can fly solo, because it will be way more fun than dealing with a corporate know-it-all who pretends other people’s opinions matter when clearly they don’t.” She stood, back straight, face set, determination darkening her blue eyes. “And as for cooking you dinner, not only would you be wise to not hold your breath, you might want to consider a weekly grocery delivery service so the inconvenience of shopping doesn’t interrupt your goals and ambitions. Why should something as mundane as food interfere with total world domination? Let your grandmother know I’ll be glad to take this on independently. End of discussion.”

      She strode out of the restaurant, shoulders back, head high, not glancing left or right.

      Total world domination? Jeff sat back, mystified. Her reaction revealing two things. She had plenty of backbone, a trait he’d respect more when he wasn’t being publically reamed out over nothing.

      And someone had done quite a number on her and he was paying the price.

      He refused to glance around, not caring to see the surprise or sympathy the other diners might bestow his way.

      The waitress appeared looking slightly stressed. “Uh-oh.”

      “Yeah.” He sent her a look of bemusement. “Can I have the appetizers to go, please? Looks like I’m dining on my own tonight.”

      “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

      Her look of sympathy didn’t help his deflated ego.

      Smacked down in public.

      Ouch.

      That hadn’t happened in … ever. Which made it almost interesting, despite the embarrassment factor.

      Still … she hadn’t looked faint or weak or intimidated as she headed out that door after dressing him down. She’d looked strong. Angry. Invigorated.

      Not exactly the emotions he’d been going for, but at least they were normal. Understandable. He glanced at his watch, nodded his thanks to the young waitress and tried to exit with his head high, fairly sure half the dining room was just too polite to stare.

      They didn’t need to. He felt conspicuous enough as it was.

       Chapter Three

      She’d call Helen first thing tomorrow, Hannah decided as she kicked off her shoes in her apartment fifteen minutes later. If she had to embrace this task, she’d take the helm and do it alone. The idea of dealing with a power-hungry ladder climber like Jeff Brennan touched too many old chords. Her teaching success. Brian’s drive and goal-setting passions. The perfect couple when all was well.

      No, being around Jeff nudged too many insecurities to the surface. She was better, she knew that.

      But still scared. And scarred. Emotionally, if not physically.

      The doorbell rang.

      Hannah headed to the front entry, surprised. She stopped as her heart shifted somewhere closer to her gut.

      Jeff stood framed in the glass, a to-go sack in his hand, his expression sincere, almost as if he was truly sorry for setting her off when he’d done nothing wrong except evoke bad memories.

      Self-recriminations assaulted her from within. She opened the door, and sighed, letting the door’s edge offer support. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”

      “Why did you?”

      Hannah refused to open that box, although lately the cover seemed determined to inch off on its own, a concept that both worried and strengthened her. “You struck a nerve.”

      “Sorry.” He didn’t demand an explanation, just stood there looking truly apologetic. He hoisted the bag. “I can’t eat these alone. I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

      The gentility behind this surprise move softened her heart. Meg had proclaimed Jeff to be a downright nice guy, invested in the community. At this moment, Hannah couldn’t disagree. “Come in.”

      He smiled, not triumphant or teasing, but amiable and friendly as if he’d teased her enough for one night. A part of her wished she could play those getting-to-know-you games she used to be good at, but she’d lost that skill and had no interest in resurrecting it.

       Get it back.

      She sensed the inner admonition, felt the internal thrust forward and resisted, her fear of risk standing its ground.

       “Do not be afraid for I am with you… .”

      Isaiah’s words tinkered with her heart, her soul.

       “I will strengthen you and help you… .”

      “This is nice, Hannah.” Jeff swept the front room an approving look, then raised the bag again. “Here or in the kitchen?”

      “The kitchen’s fine.”

      “Lead the way.” He followed her, set the bag on the table, then faced her.

      “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have run away.”

      “Interesting turn of phrase.”

      She grimaced acceptance. “A trait I’m trying to change.” Tonight, with him here, delicious smells wafting from the to-go containers, a part of her longed to embrace change. And food. “I’ll get some plates.”

      “Perfect.”

      It wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but by coming here he’d leveled their playing field. Brian would never have swallowed his pride and come calling to make amends. She withdrew two plates from the cupboard and turned to find Jeff procuring silverware from the drawer alongside the sink.

      “These okay?” He held up two knives and two forks.

      She nodded. “Fine, yes.”

      “Then let’s eat.” He drew her chair out, a gentlemanly gesture, then sat in the chair opposite her.

      Hannah flushed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

      “What?” He looked genuinely puzzled about her meaning.

      “Sit over there. Here would have been fine.” She indicated the chair to her right with a nod.

      He raised a brow in amusement. “If you’d prefer …”

      “Not what I meant and you know it.”

      The smile deepened. “I’m good here for the moment. The extra space gives me a buffer zone.”

      This time Hannah smiled. His banter was tinged with a hint of compassion, just enough to help calm the encroaching waves within. Her therapist had told her she’d know when to test the waters, dive back into the game. Hannah hadn’t believed her then, and longed to believe her now, but mingled fears constrained her.

      She wanted new memories. New chances. New beginnings. Wasn’t that why she’d come to Jamison in the first place?

       You came here to hide. Nothing more, nothing less.

      Then she wanted to stop hiding.

      A rustle of wind brushed the leaves against the windows. The sights and sounds of fall leveraged her anxiety, but only if she allowed it to happen.

      Determined, she sat forward, met Jeff’s gaze and