His expression didn’t alter. “I really have.”
“I’d like to hear those stories.” Nana looked between him and Donna.
“I don’t believe in stories,” Donna said. “Anna, I’ll catch you later.” She leaned over and kissed Nana’s forehead. “I’ll bring those pots over tomorrow before work.” Then she met Cormac’s eyes. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Ditto.” He watched her all the way to the door and a few beats after it closed.
Nana shot me a look. I cleared my throat, loud enough to break his trance.
Cormac turned back, still smiling. “Sisters?”
I lifted my chin. We hadn’t given him my last name. “Yes, but most people don’t realize that,” I said. “We don’t look alike.”
His grin deepened. “Your auras do.”
Nana gasped. “They really do, don’t they?”
“Yep.” He looked at her again, the corners of his mouth easy and sure. “So what do you say?”
Nana hesitated, studying him for a beat. “I’m sorry, Cormac.”
“Call me Mac. Most people do.”
The warmth returned to her eyes. “But Cormac is such a lovely Gaelic name,” she said happily. “The silver boxes are family heirlooms. I couldn’t sell them.”
He shifted his weight, his body appearing relaxed. “All righty,” he said, still cheerful. “Will you be putting up a reward for their return?”
She blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
His dark green shirt brought out the green in his eyes. With his worn jeans, he appeared innocuous. Kind of. I couldn’t read him. “When you do, let me know. I’m staying at Mrs. Brannigan’s Bed and Breakfast,” he said.
Her brows lifted. “Are you now? How delightful. She’s particular about her guests.”
“Oh, really?” he asked mildly. “All I did was make a phone call.” Then he turned that full-strength smile on me.
I narrowed my gaze. Who exactly was this guy?
“I’ll be in touch.” He gracefully turned and exited, closing the door behind himself.
I stared at the door. “That wasn’t weird at all.”
Nana hummed. “His energy was pure charm.”
“It was something.” I turned and looked out the front window, seeing him near a silver truck, a phone to his ear. He caught my gaze and smiled.
No dimple this time.
Chapter 6
The Elks Lodge smelled like lemon cleaner, coffee, and time. I had so many good memories from the older brick building, which had been scrubbed so many times the varnish had surrendered decades ago. Sunlight slanted through tall, narrow windows, catching the wood-paneled walls that had aged from honey to amber to something resembling fine whiskey.
Long tables stretched across the hall, their metal legs scuffed from a thousand community dinners. Faded banners hung high, curling at the edges but still proud. Someone had polished the brass elk head over the fireplace until it gleamed, somehow untouched by dust.
I followed the sound of humming into the kitchen. It was spotless but worn. The stainless steel counters had lost their shine, and the old double ovens ticked softly as they cooled from Birdie’s morning baking.
She stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hair twisted into a loose bun. Her lipstick was a pretty mauve, and her dress a light blue. “Good morning, Anna,” she said without turning. “How is your Nana holding up after the fire?”
“She’s fine, mostly irritated and really worried about the missing boxes.”
