Griff shook his head and barely restrained a laugh. His sister, on the other hand, couldn’t stop renovating. Louise Griffin Alvarez had married a mere twelve years ago, and already she’d renovated her house twice. Good thing her husband had a sense of humor and a healthy bank account.

  Griff loved his little sister. She was so much like their mother. In fact, Louise had built an in-law suite during her last renovation, and their mom loved living with her daughter and her grandkids. Louise teased that if Griff would just get around to having kids of his own, maybe he too could enjoy some nana time. Griff glanced around the old kitchen and couldn’t stop the flood of images and sounds that echoed in his brain. He and his sister had been happy growing up here. The only bad memory was when he’d found his father down by the pond, and even that one wasn’t all bad. His father had died the way he’d wanted to. He’d been working in the yard and gotten overheated. He’d taken a break in the shade by the pond—one of his favorite places.

  Taking walks down memory lane happened more and more often these days. Maybe because his sister reminded him every chance she got that he wasn’t getting any younger. And it was hard not to visit the past when he lived in the house where he’d grown up. His grandfather had built the home and the barn. His father had grown up here too. His parents had planned to live here until they passed, just as his grandparents had. Though things hadn’t worked out exactly as planned, Griff intended to go for that same goal. He just hadn’t expected to do it alone. When he’d come back eight years ago, he’d figured that eventually he’d meet someone and start the rest of his life. So far that had not happened—he hadn’t even come close. He shook his head and pushed away from the counter.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he did need to renovate. Shake things up. New paint colors and all that.

  Too bad the woman his heart seemed intent on wasn’t interested and likely wouldn’t be impressed by a shiny new kitchen.

  Speaking of Meg, he spotted her truck coming up the drive. Meg had insisted on bringing the food. All he had to do was provide hot coffee and orange juice. The scent of the fresh brew lingered in the room. He opened the fridge door, grabbed the carton of orange juice and placed it on the counter, where he arranged a couple of glasses and mugs. He considered pouring a cup of coffee to take to Lonnie, but the knock on his front door derailed the notion.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, took a breath and headed through the home. The place was a typical farmhouse. Two stories. All the bedrooms and a bath upstairs. The common rooms and a half bath that was added in the fifties downstairs. Nothing fancy. Hardwoods on the floors. Painted plaster on the walls. All in need of a refresh, according to his sister.

  Still, the place suited him. He was happiest in a pair of jeans and boots. He wore a cowboy hat the way his father and grandfather had. When his ex-fiancée insisted the hat had to be saved for the proper occasion, he should have realized things between them would never work. He’d grown up with cows and horses and chickens and such. The proper boots and hat were more important than any other attire he’d worn.

  Meg liked his hat. He smiled at the memory of her saying so.

  He opened the door and the woman standing on his porch made him smile even wider. Meg Lewis had the brownest eyes he’d ever seen. So dark they were like gazing into midnight. And the hair. He loved her hair. Long, dark and thick, but she almost never allowed it to hang free. It was always in a single braid hanging down her back all the way to her waist or draped over one shoulder with a cute little ribbon tied at the end.

  Today there was no ribbon.

  His gaze roamed back up the pink tee that sported images of blooming botanicals then to her face. She smiled, and that alone had his heart stuttering.

  He almost laughed at the reality of just how pathetic he was. Maybe it was the idea that forty was looming in the not-so-distant future and the wife and kids he’d expected to have were still nothing more than an expectation. Or maybe it was the idea that he’d finally met the one, and she only wanted to be friends.

  Meg held up a brown bag with the diner’s logo on the front. “Katie insisted we try her new breakfast burritos.”

  Griff hummed a note of anticipation. “If Katie made them, they’ll be good.” He hitched his head. “Come on in.”

  Meg stepped inside. “How’s your herd this morning?”

  “Nervous.”

  “Guess so. I saw Lonnie’s truck out there.”

  “Yep.” His stomach rumbled. “Man, those burritos smell good.”

  * * *

  MEG COULDN’T AGREE MORE. She hoped the food would help stave off his questions about last night. She’d tossed and turned the few hours she’d spent in bed wondering how to get past the questions he would no doubt have. To some degree, Griff saw through her facade. His ability to view her so clearly made her a little nervous.

  Deputy Battles had been happy to accept her explanation of what happened—or at least he appeared to do so. But Griff would have other concerns. Like how had she managed to react so exactingly? How had she recognized how deep the knife should go to inflict the necessary result?

  Worse, she hadn’t been able to suppress the worries about her photo ending up in the media. All this time, she had been so careful to ensure she stayed below the radar. To her knowledge, not a single photo had been taken of her since her arrival in Piney Woods. But if this rescue of hers picked up too much steam in a slow news cycle, the reporters involved would go to great lengths to find something on her.

  If that happened...

  Just stop. She cleared her head. She had no control over what others did. All Meg could do was take this one step at a time. Maybe the whole thing would fizzle out today. Maybe Griff wouldn’t ask as many questions as she feared he would. And maybe he would accept her answers without wanting additional clarifications.

  Yeah, right. She’d never get that lucky.

  Whatever happened, she would do what she had to.

  The trouble was Avery Griffin had spent seven years as a forensic auditor in one of Nashville’s top financial groups. He was trained to look beyond what he saw and to find the reasons behind the results. Actually, she suspected his university training had little to do with this ability. She firmly believed the man instinctively saw what others didn’t. For the past year she had worked extra hard to keep him at arm’s length.

  Not an easy task. She took in his crisp white cotton shirt and faded blue jeans. The boots...she resisted the urge to sigh. Too distracting, too desirable. The man just got under her skin somehow.

  He was just too good-looking. Too nice. Too...good.

  In the kitchen, he gestured to the counter. “Coffee’s ready. Orange juice is handy.”

  Meg placed the bag of burritos on the table. She liked this house. The big farm-style kitchen with the table in the center made her want to bake bread, and she’d never baked bread in her life. It just felt so homey. “Should we invite Lonnie? I’m sure we have enough food.”

  Griff frowned before he seemed to catch himself and fix his smile back into place. “He mentioned that Mrs. Bauer made him breakfast this morning. He was helping out with the birth of a calf.”

  “You have a sick animal, or is he here for routine examinations?” She opened the bag and removed the warm wrapped goodies. It was Sunday after all. Not the usual office hours even for a country vet.

  “Just vaccinations and checkups.” He poured two steaming mugs of coffee. “He has a big week coming up and wanted to get a head start.”

  He didn’t have to ask how Meg took her coffee. They’d had coffee together enough times that he knew she liked it black. They’d made fast friends only a few weeks after she got her shop going. He’d gone out of his way to send business in her direction. He brought two or three of his dogs each week. She doubted he’d ever bothered with a groomer before, but he was thoughtful like that.

  By the time she had the food on the plates he’d provided, she was salivating at the delicious smells of peppers and onions and cheeses. The eggs and spicy sausage and all those other juicy ingredients were rolled into homemade tortillas. She was ravenous this morning. She wouldn’t mention this though since most people wouldn’t likely understand her having any sort of appetite after what happened last night.

  Griff placed the mugs of coffee on the table and filled two glasses with orange juice, then they sat.

  “You feeling okay this morning?” he asked as he unwrapped his burrito.

  His first question was simple enough. She relaxed a little. “I’m good. Not as sore as I expected after that dive to the floor.” Realizing her missed opportunity, she added, “I’m working on not thinking about the other part.”

  “I’m sure that part will just take time.”

  “Hope so.”

  They ate for a time. Whatever question he had next waited. Suited Meg. The burrito was so good she devoured it in record time. Felt a little guilty about wolfing it down. She toyed with her napkin a bit, finished off her orange juice and considered whether she wanted another cup of coffee. The man brewed good coffee. Or maybe she’d go for another burrito.

  “You ready to talk about it?”

  No. Absolutely not. But she had promised to talk to him this morning, so refusing was not an option. Not to mention how worried he looked. Her goal was to alleviate his concerns without prompting his curiosity. Always a fine line.

  “Sure.” She took a deep breath and launched into her practiced story. “You know how I love watching my little part of town. I could just sit at my front window and watch all day—or night—long.”

  “You spotted the trouble,” he suggested as he reached for a second burrito.

  “I usually take a look before I go to bed.” She made a face, a bit embarrassed. “It’s just a silly routine of mine. I swear I’m not nosy or some sort of peeping perv.”

  “I always take a walk around outside before going to bed. Check on the animals.” He laughed. “Say good night. So I understand.”

  He really was such a nice guy. She would never want him to know how she’d had to lie her way into this life. “I do that too—say good night, I mean. Some folks might think that’s a little strange, but it feels like the right thing to do.”

  His smile faded, and he held her gaze for a long moment. Her pulse reacted. “I think that’s part of why I like you so much, Megan Lewis. You’re my kind of people.”

  The want in his eyes, the sound of desire in his voice—every ounce of strength she possessed was required not to give in. How many times had she thought about taking him to her bed? Or joining him in his? God, she didn’t even remember how long it had been since she’d had sex. Forever...it seemed.

  But she would not—could not drag this man more deeply into her life. The potential for a bad outcome was far too great a risk.

  Friends. They could be friends.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “I spotted the guy with the gun and immediately called Deputy Battles. He was ten minutes out and there was no one else, so I did what I had to do.” She stared into her empty coffee mug for a long moment. “By the time I got across the street, the guy was dragging Jennifer into the storeroom. I knew what would happen. I had to do something. She didn’t have ten minutes.”

  The unfinished second burrito went back onto his plate. He reached for a napkin and wiped his hands as if needing time before speaking. “Ernie said you saved her life.”

  Meg shrugged. “I’m just glad I spotted what was happening.”

  “I take it,” he ventured, “you’ve had self-defense or survival instruction of some sort.” He glanced away. “Ernie mentioned you’d been attacked before.”

  She’d known the two would have this discussion. Not only had they been best friends since their school days, they’d been on the basketball team together. Theirs was a tight bond.

  “Mugged,” she said, going for the less complicated scenario. “He roughed me up a little. Bruises, broken wrist. I decided that was never going to happen again, so... I made myself smarter, more prepared for the unexpected.”

  The relief on his face was palpable. “I think that’s smart. I’ve urged my sister to do the same. Everyone should know how to protect him-or herself.”

  “It’s important.” Meg had met Louise. And his mother. He’d taken her to Thanksgiving dinner last year. He’d wanted to take her to the family’s Christmas gathering as well, but she’d pretended to be sick. Family Christmases were far too intimate.

  Her decision hadn’t been about not wanting to spend time with his family. Like him, they were all very nice. It was about protecting herself and him from the mistake he so badly wanted to make.

  She could not be what he wanted, and to pretend otherwise would only do harm.

  “I need you to promise me something, Meg.”

  She held her breath. Hoped this was not going to be one of those things that would make remaining friends even more difficult.

  “I’ll try,” she offered.

  “Next time, call me. Let me help.”

  That she could agree to. “I will. There just wasn’t time last night. It all happened so quickly.”

  “I understand, but I want to try and be there whenever you need me for whatever reason.”

  She relaxed just a little. Maybe he wasn’t going to go after answers the way she had feared. “I appreciate that.”

  He cleaned up the remains of their breakfast while she washed their mugs and glasses. She adored the vintage sink with its attached drainboard. It was all so homey. So comfortable.

  “You can never change this sink,” she said as she dried her hands. “It’s amazing.”

  He leaned against the counter and grinned. “Don’t ever say that in front of my sister. She thinks I need to gut the place and have all new everything installed.”

  Meg’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “No. This kitchen is perfect. The cabinets are perfectly imperfect. I love the pale green color.” She put a hand to her chest. “And the stove. It’s a Wedgewood. You can never ever change the stove either.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  The amusement in his tone and in those gold eyes made her feel far too warm. “Sorry,” she offered, “I get a little carried away when people talk about ruining something as awesome as this kitchen.”

  “Since we’re on the subject,” he said, “what about the paint?”

  It was yellow. Nice. Very light. “This must have been your mother’s favorite color.”

  He grinned. “It was. She repainted it this same color every few years.”

  Meg’s cell sounded off from the back pocket of her jeans. Saved her from having to say that she’d never really cared for yellow. “Excuse me a moment.” She checked the screen. Jodie Edwards. “It’s Jodie. I have to take this.”

  Griff knew both her employees, Jodie Edwards and Dottie Cowart. One or the other usually worked with Meg on Sunday afternoons to get the weekly deep cleaning done, but today they’d suggested the two of them handle the shop for Meg. After last night’s misadventures, Meg hadn’t argued. They would also hang around for the pickup of the boarded animals. Prevented Meg from having to answer the questions the owners would no doubt have. Frankly, she was glad to have the day off.

  She accepted the call. “Hey, Jodie. What’s up?”

  “There’s a couple of reporters hanging around outside,” Jodie whispered. “One from the Chattanooga Times and one from the Tennessean. They’ve knocked on the door wanting to talk to you.”

  Meg suppressed a groan. She had been afraid of this. “Tell them not only are we closed but that I won’t be around today.” She made a face. Tried to think how she would manage to stay out of sight until this whole thing blew over.

  “Actually, I was thinking that I can handle things for a couple of days,” Jodie offered. “Dottie is happy to come in and help if I need her.”

  Meg wilted with relief. “That would be great, Jodie. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  She laughed softly. “Are you kidding? My kid has a birthday next month. I can take all the extra hours you want to give me.”

  “You are a lifesaver,” Meg assured her. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”

  “Just relax,” Jodie insisted. “I’ve got this.”

  The call ended, and Meg tucked the cell back into her jeans pocket.

  “Problem?”

  She turned toward Griff. Now for the next issue. If she couldn’t go to work, what should she do?

  Spending too much time with this man was not a feasible option.

  That would only get her into more trouble, and she was in enough already.

  Chapter Four

  Pampered Paws

  Pine Boulevard

  12:55 p.m.

  Meg parked at the medical clinic and walked the block and a half back to her shop. Most of that distance, she kept to the woods behind the alley. Griff had lent her one of his trucks. He had several vehicles that sported the logo for Sundown Farms. Her own truck carried the Pampered Paws one, too easy for the reporters to spot.

  It would have been better to avoid coming back for a few hours more, but she really could not stay with Griff any longer. At least not without the risk of crossing a line she did not need to cross. She’d learned to keep their alone time to small windows. Besides, Jodie and Dottie had finished for the day, and the boarded animals had been picked up. Meg could sequester herself to the second floor and just stay stashed away at least until tomorrow.