The man turned Gyllenhaal-blue eyes on me. “I apologize for my daughter barging in on you.”
“Oh, she didn’t barge in...” I hesitated. I didn’t want to get herin trouble, but on the other hand, I didn’t want him to think I’d been standing out in the yard dressed like Mata Hari, luring stray children inside. “... exactly. I mean, apparently she regularly visits my grandmother.”
“So you’re Mrs. McCauley’s granddaughter,” the man said, straightening.
Sophie scrunched up her brow. “You’re really a granddaughter?”
I smiled down at her. “We come in all ages.”
“Really?” Sophie asked.
“Sophie!” called a woman’s voice from outside. “Sophie!”
“In here!” Sophie bellowed. “Come on in.”
Great, just great. At this rate, the whole town would soon be in the kitchen, wondering why I was dressed like Lana Turner. The porch door squeaked again, and a moment later, an attractive blonde about my age walked in. Her eyes widened as she took me in. She glanced at the man, then back at me, then rushed to Sophie. “Honey, we were so worried! You know you’re not supposed to leave the yard without an adult.”
“I didn’t. I came over to see Mizz McCauley.”
The woman smoothed Sophie’s hair.
“I’m Hope Stevens,” I explained, extending my cookie-free hand. “I’m Mrs. McCauley’s granddaughter.”
“I’m Jillian Armand.” She gave my hand a tentative squeeze.
The man held out his hand. “And I’m Matt Lyons.” His palm was solid, his fingers strong. A rush of adrenaline zinged through my veins. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it. Touching him made it hard to remember much of anything.
“How’s your grandmother?” asked Jillian.
“Better. She’s regained consciousness.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Matt. “I was really worried when I found her in the shed.”
Pieces of information clicked together in my head. That’s why I recognized his name—Mrs. Ivy had mentioned it on the phone.Come to think of it, Gran had mentioned it last winter when she told me about new neighbors moving in next door. “I owe you a huge thanks.”
Matt lifted his shoulders. “It was unusual for her shed door to be open, so I thought I’d better check.”
“People in Wedding Tree try to look out for each other.” Jillian’s gaze flicked over my gown, then darted away, as if she were embarrassed. “But we can talk about all that later; it looks like we caught you at an inconvenient time.” She nudged Sophie toward the foyer. “We need to get out of here and give you some privacy.”
“Oh, um, that’s all right,” I stammered.
“Are you here with your husband?” Jillian asked.
“My husband? Oh, no. He’s not—I mean, I’m, uh, divorced.” Oh, God—did she think I’d been in the middle of an afternoon delight? The attire certainly suggested it. Holy furburgers—did Matt think the same? My face burned. “I was just, uh, trying on some of my grandmother’s clothes. I was looking in her closet... I’m a vintage clothing freak, and...” My voice trailed off weakly.
“Well.” Jillian glanced at Matt as she herded Sophie toward the door. “We should leave you in peace.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay,” I babbled.Way to go, Hope. Beg them to stay so you can humiliate yourself some more.
Jillian opened the screen door and ushered Sophie onto the porch. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” called Sophie. “Thanks for the cookie.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Matt said. I could tell he was trying to keep his gaze above my neck, but it slipped downward as he exited the house. A wave of heat flushed over me.
Terrific, I thought, closing the heavy door behind them and sinking against it. Nothing like making a good first impression on the neighbors.
