her every time she looked in the mirror. The shorter cut had encouraged waves to tighten into corkscrews. Coupled with her small frame, instead of achieving the practical professional look she had aimed for, Maddie felt she looked as if she was auditioning for the part of a waif in a musical.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sophie sang as she opened the door.
Maddie felt a hint of envy at Sophie’s easy vivaciousness, her delight in the potential for excitement. She could warn her, of course, that the path was fraught with danger and betrayal, but Sophie wouldn’t listen. Who believed, in the flush of youthful enthusiasm, such things could happen to them?
Hadn’t she known, in her heart, her parents would not have approved of the supersuave Derek? Hadn’t people tried to tell Maddie that her fiancé might not be worthy of her? Including the friend who had—
“Welcome to the Black Kettle, the coffee shop that won the People’s Choice award for Mountain Bend.”
This was news to Maddie, but Sophie had decided she would take marketing when she saved up enough money for college. She obviously was testing her skills and looked pleased with the result.
Because the men, if they had been debating whether to stop in, suddenly had no choice.
“Thank you,” the darker, younger one said, moving by Sophie first.
His voice was deep and velvet edged, as confident as everything else about him. In those two words, Maddie detected a delightful accent. Maddie felt the air change in the room as soon as he entered, something electrical and charged coming through the door with him.
Electricity is dangerous, she told herself primly. Not to mention expensive.
“Good morning,” Sophie said, beaming at his larger companion and batting her thick lashes at him. The man barely glanced at Sophie.
Instead, he surveyed the coffee shop, tension in his body and the set of his jaw, as if he was scanning for danger.
In a just-opening coffee shop in Mountain Bend?
For a reason, she could not put her finger on, Maddie thought that the men did not quite seem equals, the younger man effortlessly the leader between them.
“We aren’t usually open yet,” Sophie said to the bigger man’s back. “But you looked like a couple of hungry guys.”
“Thank you,” the other said, his pleasantness making up for his friend’s remoteness. “That’s very kind. We are hungry. It would be dinnertime where we are from.”
That accent, Maddie decided, could melt bones. Plus, there was something about him, a deep graciousness, that went with beautifully manicured hands, the perfect haircut, the fresh-shaven face. Despite the khakis and sport shirt, this was not your ordinary let’s check out the hiking and fishing type of man who spent a week with his guy friends in the mountainous Oregon village.
“Have a seat anywhere,” Sophie invited them. “We don’t offer dinner—we’re just a day café. We close at three o’clock. But we have a great breakfast. I’ll bring menus. Unless you want to look at the display case?”
“Menus, thank you.” Again, it was the younger one who spoke.
Sophie nearly tripped over herself in her eagerness to get the men menus as they took a table by the window. Maddie ordered herself to get busy. Still, even as she filled cream pitchers, she was aware of that man, reluctantly feeling as if she had been given an irresistible reprieve from the worries that crowded her waking moments.
“So, in what exciting part of the world is it dinnertime right now?” Sophie was back. She hugged the menus to herself instead of giving them out.
The big man looked at her, irritated at Sophie’s question. His look clearly said, Mind your own business.
“Scotland,” the other said, flashing Sophie an easy smile.
Maddie felt her heart dip at, not just the perfect teeth, but the natural sexiness in that smile, a heat that continued to his eyes, making the sapphire in them more intense.
“I thought so,” Sophie said sagely, as if she was a world expert on dialects. “I detected a certain Braveheart in the accent. Your car is dreamy. I’m Sophie. And you are?”
Maddie put down the cream. “Sophie, if I could see you?” Obviously, she was going to have to give a lecture on being a little more professional. Dreamy car and introductions, indeed.
“In a sec,” Sophie called.
“I’m Ward,” the younger man, the one with the amazing presence, said easily.
The other said nothing.
“Lancaster,” Ward filled in for him, giving him a look that might have suggested he be friendlier.
“Lancaster, are you by chance a policeman?”
Both men’s eyebrows shot up.
Really, Maddie needed to step in, to stop this inquisition of customers, to take this opportunity to brief Sophie on professionalism, yes, even here in Mountain Bend. But if Sophie found out what Lancaster did, wouldn’t it follow that Ward might volunteer what he did, as well?
There was something about him that was so intriguing, some power and mystery in the way he carried and conducted himself, that he had made Maddie aware there was a whole world out there that did not involve baking scones, fretting about bills, or watching helplessly as your world fell apart and your hometown declined around you.
Ridiculous to feel as if hope shimmered in the air around a complete stranger.
Because wasn’t hope, after all, the most dangerous thing of all?
That, Maddie told herself, was the only thing she needed to know about the man who had entered the little main street coffee shop.
Not that he was a reprieve from a life that had gone heavy with worries.
No, that he was the exact opposite. That all her worries would intensify if she followed this lilting melody humming to life in the base of her being—the one that coincided with his appearance—to where it wanted to go.
She touched the gold chain on her neck. It was a pendant made with a gold nugget that her father had found a long time ago and given to her mother. Touching the pendant usually had the effect of grounding her. Sometimes, Maddie even imagined her father’s voice when she touched it.
What would he say, right now, if he were here and saw her in such a ridiculous state over a man she had only just laid eyes on, to whom she had not even spoken a single word?
Something, she was sure, practical and homespun. Whoa, girl, go easy.
But she did not hear her father’s voice, not even in her imagination. Instead, the pendant seemed to glow warm under her fingertips.
“LANCASTER DOES HAVE a military background, to be sure. What would you recommend from the menu?” It was Ward who spoke, his tone easy, but for the first time it seemed he would like to close the conversation with the young waitress
“Does Scotland have an army?” Sophie asked, nonplussed. “I wouldn’t have thought—”
“Sophie, would you please give those gentlemen their menus, and then I need to talk to you for a minute?”
Ward turned and smiled at her and his smile was charismatic and sympathetic, as if he entirely got that training young employees was a little like trying to train an overly enthusiastic puppy.
Sophie surrendered the menus in slow motion. “What brings you to Mountain Bend?”
“We’ve come from a few days’ holiday in California,” Ward answered.