Grace
Grace stoodin her front doorway, coffee cooling in her hands, and stared.
Luke Bennett was on her porch.
Not sneaking around the back. Not glancing up and down the street like he expected to be caught doing something wrong.
He was on her porch in broad daylight, tool belt slung low on his hips, sleeves rolled up, forearms streaked with dust and paint chips.
Her porch.
The one with the sagging railing she’d meant to fix for years and never quite had the money or the energy or the heart to deal with.
Luke had propped it up with a temporary brace and was crouched near the post, tightening something with a socket wrench. The wood creaked softly, then settled.
Grace leaned against the doorframe, watching him like she might be hallucinating.
Afternoon sunlight cut across the street. Leaves skittered along the sidewalk. Somewhere a lawnmower droned.
And Luke Bennett—Crystal Lake’s careful, image-conscious cop—was repairing her porch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He glanced up and caught her staring.
“Hi,” he said easily.
She blinked. “You’re… very visible.”
His mouth twitched. “Yeah. I noticed.”
She stepped onto the porch slowly. “You know Mrs. Keaton’s curtains are open, right?”
Across the street, the faint twitch of lace confirmed that yes—Mrs. Keaton was absolutely watching.
Luke tightened another bolt. “Good.”
Grace’s heart stuttered. “Good?”
He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Keeping what I feel toward you as a secret?” He looked at her. “I’m done with that.”
Grace frowned. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said.
“I wanted to.” He nudged the railing experimentally. It didn’t budge. “This thing’s been one good lean away from giving up the ghost.”
She smiled faintly. “It’s been like that since I moved in.”
Footsteps crunched on the sidewalk. Mrs. Keaton herself, power-walking past with her little white dog tucked under one arm like an accessory.
She slowed. Very obviously.
“Well,” Mrs. Keaton said brightly. “Good afternoon, Grace.”
Grace smiled. “Afternoon, Mrs. Keaton.”
The woman’s gaze slid to Luke. Took him in—the tools, the work gloves, the fact that he wasfixing things.
“Haven’t seen you out front much before,” she said mildly.
Luke blushed. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Now I’ve got my head out of my ass.”
