“I’d be glad to help you find—”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t need rescuing. I am not a helpless fairy tale princess trapped in a tower.”

That made him smile.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s exactly what you looked like last night when you got out of your car in that dress—a lost fairy tale princess.”

“Oh.” I tried not to be offended. “Well, maybe that was the old me, but it’s definitely not the new me. I can take care of myself. I just might . . . need help.” I sighed, feeling my pride deflate. “Do you think that’s the same as being rescued?”

“Not at all. If you were trapped in a tower and someone offered to lend you a ladder, it would be stupid not to use it, right?”

“Right. It’s just not how I wanted things to go.” I caught myself. “But it’s okay—not everything in life is going to go exactly like I want it to. I’m tough. I can deal with setbacks.”

“We all have them.”

“And this is temporary, right?” I perked up a little. “I’ll get through it.”

“I have no doubt.”

I opened my mouth to ask the next question, then hesitated.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just . . .” I took a breath and told myself to be brave. “I hate asking you this. But do you think I might continue to work for you at the desk until my car is ready? I’m worried about being able to afford a place to stay and the repairs.”

“Actually, that’s perfect. Lanette was sort of an emergency hire. Every qualified person we interviewed wanted a permanent job, and my mother is planning to come back as soon as she can. In fact, I’m still paying her.”

I smiled. “I’ll take the temporary position, if it’s available.”

“It’s all yours. But after lunch, I should probably show you how to schedule appointments in the computer.”

I smiled with relief. “Great! I’m starving, and I saw a little deli this morning that looked nice.”

“Main Street Deli. They make great sandwiches.”

“Got a favorite?” I picked up my pen again.

“I like the roast beef. With spicy mustard.”

“Got it. How about Andy?”

“He brings his lunch.” A grin appeared. “Pretty sure his mom makes it for him every morning. Probably cuts the crust off his sandwiches.”

I laughed. “What about your other employee? I haven’t been introduced yet, but would he like a sandwich?”

Griffin shook his head. “Nah, McIntyre goes home for lunch to let his dog out. He lives close.”

“Okay, then it’s just you and me.” I smiled and slung my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back, boss.”

“Just a second.” He pulled his wallet from his jeans and set a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “You don’t have to buy lunch. You’re covering for me today.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because you gave me a place to stay last night. I’m trying to pay you back. I might be low on funds, but I can afford a couple sandwiches.”

“I don’t want your money, okay? Take this.” He shoved the twenty closer to me. “I’m buying lunch.”

“No, Griffin.”

His eyes held mine for a moment. “Don’t make me come behind that desk.”

The flirty threat, delivered with a straight face and gruff tone of voice, ignited something inside me. “You’re a tough boss, you know that?” But I picked up the twenty and tucked it into my purse.

He leaned a little closer over the counter. “And don’t you forget it.”

Five

Griffin

Blair had been gone about twenty minutes when my cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, dear.”

I grimaced. “Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine. Just got back from physical therapy. The therapist says my hips will feel good as new soon.”

“That’s good.”

“But listen, dear. I didn’t call to talk about me.”

“No?” I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what she was calling about.

“Who is she?” she asked, confirming my suspicion.

Leaning back against a workbench, I decided to play dumb. “Who is who?”

“Don’t play games with me, Griffin Dempsey. I ran into Yvonne Davies at the physical therapist’s office. Her daughter Natasha works at the Bulldog Pub, and she told Yvonne there was some sort of accident last night involving a mysterious woman in a wedding gown. And then late last night—after midnight, in fact—Natasha was driving home from her shift and saw you and the mysterious bride going into your apartment. Then this morning, Louise from the diner told Fern Walton—she’s the nurse at my physical therapist’s office—that the mysterious woman had supper alone there last night but that she was back again this morning ordering coffee for two and a dozen donuts to take back to the garage. And she specifically mentioned you by name!”

I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. Fucking small towns. “Are you done?”

“No, because I just got a call from Neona Pappas, who said she was at the Main Street Deli just now and she saw a mysterious dark-haired woman ordering sandwiches for two, and one of them was roast beef with spicy mustard, which I happen to know is your favorite.”

“Jesus, Mom. She’s not even back from the deli yet.”

“So, who is she?”

“She’s a—”

“Why haven’t I met her?”

“Because I—”

“Griffin Dempsey, if you got married without telling me, I will march over to that garage and blister your hide!”

“For Christ’s sake, Mom, I didn’t get married!”

“Are you sure? Because Natasha saw you—”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a second in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Well, it’s not like you ever tell me anything. For all I knew, you’ve had a secret fiancée all this time.”

“No secret fiancée, no sudden wife. She’s just . . .” I tried to think of what to call her. “A friend.”

“Oh.” Her tone went sulky. “Well, I won’t say I’m not a little bit disappointed.”

“Mom, you just said you were going to blister my hide if I got married without telling you.”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger, you know. I’d like one of my kids to give me some grandchildren before I go.”

“I thought you felt fine.”

“I do. But life is short, Griffin. You can’t keep letting it pass you by.”

“I’m not. I’m perfectly happy with my life just the way it is.”

A dramatic, heavy sigh, which would be followed—as always—with her addressing my late father. “Where did we go wrong, Hank? Why don’t our kids want to have families? What happened to our dream of growing old with a dozen little Dempseys running around?”