Page 17 of Barron

Honestly.

Clothing didn’t affect her ability to take dictation, type, and assist her boss. Why couldn’t she wear one of her comfy overalls and sneakers to the station?

And give Captain Weaver a heart attack?

She giggled, thinking of his reaction.

Dressing should be easy. It wasn’t, and Friday mornings were the worst. By the end of the workweek, she’d run out of choices and inspiration.

One last desperate search through her closet saved the day. She retrieved an almost-forgotten aqua top pushed behind a ton of old stuff, then put it together with the black skirt she’d worn on Monday.

Perfect. The outfit worked. No heart attack for Captain Weaver.

She returned her cup to the kitchen sink, ran the water, and stopped. Someone was knocking at her front door.

“Coming,” she shouted.

The knock repeated, and she shouted again, “I said I’m coming. Hey, give me a minute.” She pulled the front door open as she spoke. “I don’t stand next to the door.” She gasped. Andrea, the neighbor who lived at the end of her block, stood on the other side. Embarrassment flushed Yoanni’s face. “I’m sorry, Andrea. I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s okay, dear.” Andrea smiled, and her thin, prematurely aging skin broke into tiny lines everywhere. “I realize you weren’t expecting me, and I’m sure you’re getting ready for work. I won’t keep you long.”

“You know me, I can get a bit loud when running around. But I’ve got time. Please come in. Would you like some coffee? I can make you café con leche. It’s really good. My family raves about it.”

“I’m sure you make great coffee,” Andrea said, her pale blue eyes crinkling with amusement. “Next time, I’ll take you up on it. But this morning, I’ve already had two mugs, and that’s enough caffeine for one day.”

“Okay. I’ll hold you to it, but please, come in.” Yoanni waved, urging Andrea to enter her home.

Andrea Miller was a sweet and quiet neighbor. Yoanni had met her within the first week of moving to her cottage. She’d knocked at Yoanni’s door with a welcome-to-the-neighborhood peach cobbler, which she inhaled within two days. The friendship bloomed on the spot.

Knowing Yoanni lived alone, Andrea stopped by on occasion to check on her, and she watched the bungalow while Yoanni went to work. During her leave in Miami, she trusted the lady so much, she gave her keys to check the house. Andrea had taken care of her mail and other matters, including watering theconstantly thirsty pothos. As it turned out, the plant thrived in Yoanni’s absence, thanks to Andrea’s green thumb.

At Yoanni’s urging, Andrea moved five feet inside her foyer and no farther. “I really don’t want to delay you. I came to talk to you because I thought you should know.”

“Okay.” Yoanni folded her hands, waiting.

“Last night, when Mr. Miller came home at the end of his shift… You know how the plant keeps him late sometimes.”

Yoanni nodded, keeping her amusement private. Andrea always referred to her husband as Mr. Miller.

“As he drove past your house, he saw a young man on your sidewalk. Well, he thinks it was a young man. He sat on a motorcycle, staring at your house. Mr. Miller flickered his lights, but the man didn’t move or ride away.”

A motorcycle? Yoanni’s stomach jumped.

“Did Mr. Miller happen to see any features?” Yoanni asked carefully. “Something recognizable?”

Andrea tightened her eyebrows. “No… He didn’t mention any memorable details. Only that the young man didn’t move when he drove past. Mr. Miller parked in the garage in a hurry. He wanted to see if the biker fella was still watching your house, but he slipped on a garden tool. By the time he walked out, the man had left, and Buddy, the O’Connor boy, was standing outside.”

“Did Buddy say anything to Mr. Miller?”

“Not much. Only that the man rode away after Buddy slowed his SUV and parked.”

“I see,” Yoanni murmured.

But did she see?

Her thudding heart told her the young man was Barron. He’d used the cover of night and the late hour to stop by her place. Because he didn’t have the guts to face the heartache he’d left behind. Before Barron Priestly, Yoanni had known infatuation, but love? Never. Barron was the first, the conqueror of herwild virgin heart. He’d inspired monumental emotions she could barely contain and manage, a love that would last a lifetime on this earth and beyond…

“Are you all right, sweetheart?”

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