Claire forced herself to action. Locked away the truth andgot down to business, just as she always did.
“Peaches, please. Mr. Riordan... uh...”
“Tony,” he interjected easily.
Claire almost surprised herself with a smile. “Tony. Tonytold me he was coming back to visit tonight. I just forgot. Ihad a tough shift.”
Peaches’s scowl grew geometrically until it took up mostof his face. “You sure, girl?”
And Claire found shecouldsmile, because whatever elsehad happened in her life, she could always depend on this formidable miracle of a human who had found his way toher home. She walked on over and patted his arm.
“I promise. Everything’s fine. Go on back to bed. Youhave to start baking early tomorrow.”
Peaches took one last look over at Tony, his warning morethan implicit in his expression, and nodded. “You say so,” he allowed. And then he just left.
Claire managed an amazed little chuckle. But then,Peaches always did that to her.
For a second, Tony just stared at the screen door. Then heshook his head. That was when Claire saw the scar she’d missed. Old, puckering alongside his left eye, it trackeddown along the edge of his mustache. Worn by time, maybeby good surgeons. She didn’t ask. She just grabbed a ragand bent to clean up the beer.
“He always that protective?” Tony asked from wherehe’d stayed by the counter.
“You should see him with the kids.”
Her hands were still shaking, but Claire didn’t notice anymore. She willed herself instead to focus on the easybaritone of Tony’s voice, the smell of beer and the soundsof crickets in the yard. The owl that roosted in the pine treeby her bedroom window. She willed herself to the present, where it was safe and nothing could hurt her.
“You said manslaughter,” Tony said as if they had justmet at a bar. “How’d he find his way to pastry chef at awomen’s restaurant?”
Claire smiled as she regained her feet and tossed the ragin the sink. “My very good luck.”
“How’d he get a name like ‘Peaches’?”
“He’s from Georgia.”
Peaches had explained it that way, and after meeting him, Claire hadn’t thought to question him. Heading back for therefrigerator, she pulled out her last beer, figuring by nowTony couldn’t possibly turn her down. If she were he, she’dwant a beer. She was she, and she wanted a beer. She wantedsomething to settle the panic that crowded her throat. Butshe knew better. Johnny and Jess were due home any minute.
They were due home, and if Tony Riordan hadn’t shown up, they would have found her crouched in the corner.
Claire fought a terrible urge to yank open her liquor cabinet and pour a full tumbler of Scotch. Instead, she justhanded off the beer.
“Better?” Tony asked, and Claire looked up to see awealth of understanding in his expression.
She hesitated. There was so much suddenly she wanted tosay.
“Yes,” she said instead. “Thank you.”
Tony nodded and popped the can. Leaned his hip againstthe counter as if he belonged here and enjoyed his firstdrink. Claire needed to move. She looked around her kitchen for something to do, something else to clean.Cleaning was safe. It was hard and time-consuming and it took some concentration. Just like nursing and decorating and restoring an old house.
Just like children.
Her heart stumbled all over again.
“You won’t say anything to John and Jess,” she said.Pleaded. Her heart was hammering again, and it had nothing to do with sudden noises. She was afraid of what thisman with his sweet, soft voice and gentle hands could do toher.
He considered her for a second. “They don’t know?”
“Know what?” she countered anxiously. “This has never happened before. I told you. I had a bad night at work, andyou’d been here, and... well, I don’t know….”
He settled his gaze right on her, and Claire stilled beforeit, trapped. “Claire, I didn’t come here to hurt you....”
