Christmas in Angel Harbor - Jeannie Moon Page 0,14
was shorter, a bit grayer as she’d noticed earlier, but even styled, at this hour Danny looked delightfully rumpled in his thermal T-shirt and faded denim. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that suited his face, and the seriousness of his expression.
He tilted his head, probably wondering why she was staring. It was a legitimate question, but Jane didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so she kept the truth of her ogling to herself.
He was gorgeous, and she was completely enjoying the flutters in her belly. It had been a long time since that kind of awareness raced through her. Over twenty-five years and the man still made her nervous.
Now that he’d looked up from his work, she wouldn’t feel like she was interrupting. With a hot cup of coffee in her hand, she walked back to the table and set it down next to him. Then, she sat down herself.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He sipped the coffee and smiled. “I should be saying thanks for this. I’m going to need the caffeine.”
“Nah. It’s decaf.”
“Sacrilege,” he joked, his eyes narrowing and crinkling at the corners. “Why the thanks?”
“Your advice got my daughter to submit her story. She tends to obsess over her work, and it’s hard to watch her doubt herself.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes. My everything. She’s seventeen.”
“She sounds like a lot of us creative types. I just told her to bite the bullet.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t tell her who you are. I mean, she said you’re ‘kind of a writer.’ Kind of?”
He laughed, deep and strong, and the sound vibrated through her. “There are critics who would agree with her.” He took another sip from the steaming brew and leveled his gaze at her. “She wouldn’t even know who I am.”
“Her mother owns a bookstore! I have all your books with a local author label right on the front. I mean, granted, you look nothing like that creepy author picture, but if you said your name, she would know.”
“Creepy?”
Realizing she might have insulted him, Jane hesitated. “Well, yeah.”
That elicited another laugh. Deep and genuine, it unexpectedly brought her tremendous joy.
“You’re still the best at doing that,” he said. “I haven’t laughed much lately.”
Jane expected he’d had a rough time of it since the murder last year. She could tiptoe around the subject, but since he’d alluded to it, she figured she could offer some comfort. “I’m sorry about what you’ve been going through. Being linked to that young woman’s death must have been awful.”
“It has been.” His eyes darted to the front of the store when the bell let them know someone had come in. He tipped his head down and played with the expensive executive pen that rested on his notebook.
“Is that why you’re hiding out at your sister’s place?”
Shifting in his seat, that observation appeared to poke at his pride a little. “Hiding out?”
“Yes. Hiding out. You don’t want people to know you’re here. That’s why you didn’t tell Tara. Your reaction just now, when that customer walked in, was confirmation.”
“You’re too observant.”
“It’s a Fallon thing,” she reminded him.
“I remember,” he grumbled. “Angel Harbor does not need a press swarm. Neither does my family.”
“I won’t say a word, and you’re welcome to hide out in here as much as you like.”
“I appreciate that.” His words were simple but sincere.
“You’re a big chicken, though.”
That teased another smile out of him. “Maybe.”
The customer, who stopped in at least once a month, went up to the counter and Jane rose to attend to her business. Part of her wanted to lock the doors and sit and talk to her old friend. She had so many questions. Where had he gone? Why didn’t he keep in touch with her? What was so horrible that he had to run away, and never look back?
She and Danny had been friends since fifth grade, but that summer before he went to law school had been incredible. Life-changing. Jane had found her nerve and told him how much he meant to her.
She’d thought he felt the same. But she was obviously wrong, because he’d never looked back.
They couldn’t be more different. While Danny’s life was profiled in magazines, Jane was an unknown outside of her little town. Not that it was a problem; Jane had never wanted to be famous, but she’d wanted to make a mark.
When her father died, her mother had been crushed. Her grandmother inconsolable. Jane was numb. The flight from Glasgow was a blur. The memorial and funeral had