About ten feet away, she spotted two men. Considering she knew Darwin Twitchell well—and he was close to eighty years old and cranky as a badger with gout—the other guy had to be Bowie Callahan, the new director of research and development at the Caine Tech facility in town.
Years of habit couldn’t be overcome by sheer force of will. That was the only reason her stomach muscles seemed to shiver and her toes curled against the leather of her sandals. Or so she told herself, anyway.
Okay. She got it. Sam was totally right. The man was indeed great-looking: tall, lean, tanned, with sculpted features and brown hair streaked with the sort of blond highlights that didn’t come from a salon but from spending time outside.
Under other circumstances, she might have wanted to do more than look. In a different life, perhaps she would have made her way to his end of the aisle, pretended to fumble with an item on the shelf, then dropped it right at his feet so they could “meet” while they both reached to pick it up.
She used to be such an idiot.
The old Katrina might not have been able to look away from such a gorgeous male specimen. But when he aimed a ferocious scowl downward, she shifted her gaze to find him frowning at a boy who looked to be about five or six, trying his best to put a box of sugary cereal into their cart and growing visibly upset when Bowie Callahan kept taking it out and putting it back on the shelf.
Katrina frowned. “You didn’t say he had a kid. I thought you had a strict rule. No divorced dads.”
“He doesn’t have a kid!” Sam exclaimed.
“Then who’s the little kid currently winding up for what looks like a world-class tantrum at his feet?”
Ignoring her own stricture about not staring, Sam whirled around. Her eyes widened with confusion. “I have no idea! I heard it straight from Eliza Caine that he’s not married and doesn’t have a family. He never said anything to me about a kid when I met him at a party at Snow Angel Cove or the other two times I’ve bumped into him around town this spring. I haven’t seen him around for a few weeks. Maybe he has family visiting. Or maybe he’s babysitting or something.”
That was so patently ridiculous, Katrina had to bite her tongue. Really? Did Sam honestly believe the new director of research and development at Caine Tech would be offering babysitting services—in the middle of the day and on a Monday, no less?
She sincerely adored Samantha for a million different reasons, but sometimes her friend saw what she wanted to see.
This latest example of how their paths had diverged in recent months made her a little sad. Until a year ago, she and Sam had been—as her mom would say—two peas in the same pod. They shared the same taste in music, movies, clothes. They could spend hours poring over celebrity and fashion magazines, dishing about the latest gossip, shopping for bargains at thrift stores and yard sales.
And men. She didn’t even want to think about how many hours of her life she had wasted with Sam, talking about whichever guy they were most interested in that day.
Samantha had been her best friend since they found each other in elementary school in that mysterious way like discovered like.
She still loved her dearly. Sam was kind and generous and funny, but Katrina’s own priorities had shifted. After the events of the last year, Katrina was beginning to realize she barely resembled the somewhat shallow, flighty girl she had been before she grabbed her passport and hopped on a plane with Carter Ross.
That was a good thing, she supposed, but she felt a little pang of fear that while on the path to gaining a little maturity, she might end up losing her best friend.
“Babysitting. I suppose it’s possible,” she said in a noncommittal voice. If so, the guy was really lousy at it. The boy’s face had reddened, and tears had started streaming down his features. By all appearances, he was approaching a meltdown, and Bowie Callahan’s scowl had shifted to a look of helpless frustration.
“If you want, I can introduce you,” Sam said, apparently oblivious to the drama.
Katrina purposely pushed their cart forward, in the opposite direction. “You know, it doesn’t look like a good time. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to meet him later. I’ll be in Haven Point for a month. Between Wyn’s wedding and Lake Haven Days, there should be plenty of time to socialize with our newest resident.”
“Are you sure?” Sam asked, disappointment clouding her gaze.
“Yeah. Let’s just finish shopping so I have time to go home and change before the shower.”
Not that her mother’s house really felt like home anymore. Yet another radical change in the last nine months.
“I guess you’re right,” Sam said, after another surreptitious look over Katrina’s shoulder. “We waited too long, anyway. Looks like he’s moved to another aisle.”
They found the items they needed and moved to the next aisle as well but didn’t bump into Bowie again. Maybe he had taken the boy, whoever he was, out of the store so he could cope with his meltdown in private.
They were nearly finished shopping when Sam’s phone rang with the ominous tone she used to identify her mother.
She pulled the device out of her purse and glared at it. “I wish I dared ignore her, but if I do, I’ll hear about it for a week.”
That was nothing, she thought. If Katrina ignored her mother’s calls while she was in town for Wyn’s wedding, Charlene would probably mount a search and rescue, which was kind of funny when she thought about it. Charlene hadn’t been nearly as smothering when Kat had been living halfway around the world in primitive conditions for the last nine months. But if she dared show up late for dinner, sheer panic ensued.
“I’m at the grocery store with Kat,” Samantha said, a crackly layer of irritation in her voice. “I texted you that’s where I would be.”
Her mother responded something Katrina couldn’t hear, which made Sam roll her eyes. To others, Linda Fremont could be demanding and cranky, quick to criticize. Oddly, she had always treated Katrina with tolerance and even a measure of kindness.
“Do you absolutely need it tonight?” Samantha asked, pausing a moment to listen to her mother’s answer with obvious impatience written all over her features. “Fine. Yes. I can run over. I only wish you had mentioned this earlier, when I was just hanging around for three hours doing nothing, waiting for someone to show up at the shop. I’ll grab it.”
She shut off her phone and shoved it back into her little dangly Coach purse that she’d bought for a steal at the Salvation Army in Boise. “I need to stop in next door at the drugstore to pick up one of my mom’s prescriptions. Sorry. I know we’re in a rush.”
“No problem. I’ll finish the shopping and check out, then we can meet each other at your car when we’re done.”
“Hey, I just had a great idea,” Sam exclaimed. “After the shower tonight, we should totally head up to Shelter Springs and grab a drink at the Painted Moose!”
Katrina tried not to groan. The last thing she wanted to do amid her lingering jet lag was visit the local bar scene, listening to the same songs, flirting with the same losers, trying to laugh at their same old, tired jokes.
“Let’s play it by ear. We might be having so much fun at the shower that we won’t want to leave. Plus it’s Monday night, and I doubt there will be much going on at the PM.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell Sam she wasn’t the same girl who loved nothing more than dancing with a bunch of half-drunk cowboys—or that she had a feeling she would never be that girl again. Priorities had a way of shifting when a person wasn’t looking.
Sam stuck her bottom lip out in an