Forming any kind of relationship with the woman who happened to be the spitting image of their degenerate mother was out of the question. For all Kat knew, the two women could share more than their outward appearance. Addiction was often hereditary, and Kat had already watched her mother self-destruct. She couldn’t handle any more heartache.
As she reconsidered her impulsive plan, she felt a faint tap on her shoulder. Instinctively acting on several years of self-defense training, she grabbed the large, burly hand and stepped backward swiftly. With a sharp, forceful twist, she pinned the man’s arm behind his back.
“Easy!” he howled. “That’s my favorite limb.”
Realizing what she’d done, she blushed and immediately released her hold. “I’m sorry, I— You caught me by surprise.”
“I can see that.” He rubbed his shoulder, his vivid blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
“I’m sorry about your arm. I hope I didn’t hurt it too badly.”
“No worries. I still have the left one.” He grinned good-naturedly, and Kat couldn’t help returning his smile. Normally, she avoided talking to strange men, but this one exuded warmth and kindness, instantly putting her at ease.
“Word of advice,” she said with a lighthearted tone. “It’s not safe to sneak up on people. I could have broken your arm.”
“Are you sure you didn’t?” He cradled it with an exaggerated grimace, and Kat’s smile widened, enjoying his playful sense of humor.
“Where’d you learn a move like that?” he asked.
“I teach Krav Maga, a combat technique used by Israeli soldiers. Although, my classes are mainly for self-defense.”
As he surveyed her petite five-six frame he appeared genuinely impressed. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”
“Who says you’re on it?” she teased, surprised to find herself flirting with this man. She didn’t flirt—ever.
“Does it help that I rescued your scarf from a pile of diabolical leaves?”
As her gaze fell on the houndstooth fabric in his grasp, her hand flew to her throat. “Oh! I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it. Thank you.” As she reached for it, their fingers grazed, and a pleasant warmth crept up her arm. Had he felt the same sensation?
Feeling like a romantic comedy cliché, she hastily wrapped the scarf around her neck and prepared to duck inside the antiques store, if only to escape the unsettling effect he had on her. She’d never experienced this type of instant connection before and it didn’t sit well. Once she got what she came for, she’d be on her way home, with zero plans to ever return.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a great café right down the street. Cassie has a knack for knowing exactly what kind of coffee you’ll like. And Eliza’s desserts are legendary.”
Kat blinked. Had he just asked her out? “Oh, um… thank you, but I won’t be in town long. I’m hoping to find something at the antiques store, then I’m heading back home.”
Was it her imagination or did he look disappointed?
“I’m sorry to hear that. Apart from the dislocated shoulder, it was a pleasure meeting you…” He trailed off with a questioning glance.
“Kat Bennet,” she answered against her better judgment. What had gotten into her? She never gave strangers her name, let alone her last name, too. It felt oddly formal and unnecessary, as though she wanted to disassociate herself from her sister as much as possible, even though this man had no way of suspecting any connection whatsoever.
“I’m Jack Gardener. It was nice to meet you, Bennet. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
And with that, he turned and strolled down the street, leaving her bizarrely breathless.
Rattled by the exchange and the unexpected yet pleasant way he used her last name instead of her first, she pushed open the door and quickly stepped inside as though fleeing the scene of a crime.
Immediately, the scent of dried lavender and aged leather greeted her, accompanied by the sultry crooning of Ella Fitzgerald’s “White Christmas” emanating from a crackling gramophone.
“Hi! Welcome to Thistle & Thorn. What can I help you find today?”
Like a vivid apparition, a younger version of her mother approached from across the room, her friendly smile doing little to assuage Kat’s turbulent heartbeat or flood of unwelcome memories rushing to the surface. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, afraid the burning sensation was a precursor for unwanted—and embarrassing—tears.
Keep it together, Kat, she chided herself.You have to do this. For Fern.
“I—I’m looking for a vintage brooch. But first, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh?” The statuesque redhead tilted her head to the side in curiosity.
