Noah And The Stork. Penny McCusker

Janey agreed. It was more than that, but the rest of the similarities were subtler, deeper, and she was the only person in town who knew Noah well enough to pick up on them. “Anyway, he said he was here on business, and that he’d be back this way when he was done.”

      “And you haven’t seen him.”

      “He’s back now.”

      “So I hear, but you haven’t seen him.”

      “It can’t be easy for him, either, Clary, discovering he has a nine-year-old daughter.”

      “It didn’t have to be a surprise, Janey.”

      “I know.”

      “And yet here you are, defending him.”

      “Yeah,” she said with a humorless smile. “But here’s the thing. Being angry with him won’t make this easier on any of us, especially Jessie.”

      “You’re right.” Clary flipped off his Stetson and rotated it in his hands as he always did when he was agitated. “It’s just…With his track record, I’d hate to see her get her hopes up.”

      “Trust me, she’s not going into this with false hopes.” Janey smiled for real this time, remembering the way Jessie had seen Noah off that morning two weeks ago. “And she’s not going to make it easy on him, either.”

      “She’s your daughter,” Clary said, his face folded into its usual sober lines. “Don’t think you have to go through this alone, Janey. If you need anything…”

      “You’ll be the first one I call, but Clary—” she put her hand on his arm and he stopped, turning to look at her “—I know how you feel.”

      “I know.” His face went red again, and there was so much hope shining in his eyes it was almost painful to see.

      “Just for the next little while, I have to concentrate on Jessie.”

      “Sure. I understand.”

      “Thanks,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

      Clary opened his mouth to speak, but something over her shoulder caught his attention. “Does Bryant drive a red Porsche?” he asked.

      Janey turned around and squinted in the same direction, barely making out a bit of red behind the rusted-out hulk of Arliss Cunningham’s truck parked a ways down on the opposite side of the street. “You can tell from here that’s a Porsche? Must be a guy thing.”

      He gave her a sheepish smile that hardly registered, since Janey was busy looking up and down the street. Sure enough, she saw a tall suit-clad form coming out of Keller’s Market. Unfortunately, so did Clary. He took one step in that direction before Janey blocked him.

      “Where are you going?”

      “I just want to have a little talk with him.”

      “Is he doing something wrong? Something illegal,” she qualified.

      His expression was stony as he watched Noah change directions and come straight toward them. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

      Chapter Five

      Noah had been standing by the cash register in Keller’s Market for what felt like hours, talking about the weather and the price of beef with Owen Keller, his mind wandering because Owen…well, Owen tended to be a putz, which Noah had forgotten until he ran into the market to get a Coke and Owen wouldn’t stop talking. So, about the time Owen was claiming his astronomical profit margin had nothing to do with the fact that Keller’s was the only market for fifty miles around, Noah glanced out the wide front window, searching for an excuse to bug out of there—politely, if at all possible. What he saw was Janey. With Sam Tucker.

      Noah had never liked Sam Tucker all that much. He was too slick, always smiling and strutting around like this little backcountry town was New York City and he owned Fifth Avenue. Even from where Noah stood he could see there was manure on Sam’s boots. He probably had dirt under his fingernails and smelled bad, too, but Janey didn’t seem to mind when Sam draped his arm over her shoulders. She should’ve known better than to be taken in by a cheap-talking veterinarian who went through women faster than Niagara Falls made mist, but there she was, strolling slowly down the street with him, their heads bent together in conversation—until Sam peered over his shoulder, clearly scooping out her butt.

      In two seconds flat, Noah was standing out on the board-walk, with no clue what he intended to say or do. But Sam was already walking away, and Janey had been joined by Jessie and a tall man who could only be described as square: a square jaw, square shoulders, square pleats down the front of his cop’s shirt. The only thing that wasn’t by the book was the way he looked at Janey.

      Noah found himself walking over to them and saw Janey send Jessie off toward their house a minute or so before they spotted him. The big, bad sheriff stepped out from behind Janey and braced himself for a confrontation—and damn, Noah thought, if he wasn’t happy to oblige the son-of-a-gun. Then Janey turned around and saw him. Even from a block away he could see the warning in her eyes. Whoever Janey chose to spend her time with was none of his business, she was saying, and she was right.

      And it wasn’t like she didn’t already have enough reasons to be mad at him.

      For a moment, Noah considered climbing into his car and driving off. But that would only postpone the inevitable. And he definitely wouldn’t be doing himself, or Janey, any favors by avoiding her in front of the whole town.

      Apparently, Janey felt the same way. She lifted her hand against the glare from the sun and waited for him to cross the street as if there was nothing in the world she’d rather do than say hello. He saw the waver in her smile, though, and saw her hands clench together at her waist before she dropped them to her sides.

      “Hey, Janey,” he said, casually joining her on the board-walk. “Pretty day, isn’t it?”

      “It was.”

      That stung—in a nostalgic sort of way. Janey had never been one to pull her punches. And he’d never been able to resist tweaking her back. He glanced over at the uniformed man beside her and swooped in to give her a peck on the cheek before she could avoid him.