Page 17 of Rescued Hearts

She tuned out most of the chitchat, focusing on the sound of the door swinging behind her. A deep voice drifted through the room. Rich and oddly…familiar.

“After you, ma’am.”

Honor turned, her gaze landing on the man holding open the door for a woman struggling to find her keys in her enormous handbag.

Recognition shot through her. The man from the coffee shop.

Before she could shut down her reaction, her stomach did a ridiculous little flip. God, he really was hot. He wasn’t even doing anything to look hot—just standing there. Something about the way he carried himself with that confident ease, and the small smirk on his lips when the woman murmured, “Thank you,” made Honor’s pulse spike.

She quickly faced forward, focusing on anything but the man. The discussion at the window. The fact she was third in line.

Back at the coffee shop, the hot guy was in a rush to get his lid for his drink and get out, and she had taken her sweet old time, even going so far as to taunt him a little just to lighten him up.

Nowshewas the one in a hurry.

If she weren’t so intent on redirecting her focus, she’d have missed it through the window.

The van.

A van just like Sully’s rolled past the post office. Honor lurched onto the toes of her leather sandals to see better as it progressed down the street and turned the corner.

Her pulse spiked for another reason now. Itcouldn’tbe her ex’s van.

But what if it was? What would he be doing here in Willowbrook?

The urge to rush outside and see if it really was him burned like a hot coal in her chest.

“I like your toenail polish.”

It took her mind a moment to clear and understand that the thirty-something woman in front of her had turned around and was speaking to her.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“It takes guts to wear three different colors.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the guy from the coffee shop looking down too. At her feet.

What was it with people in this small town and their interest in her toenails? Hadn’t they ever seen someone paint their nails more than one color?

And as if this interaction wasn’t embarrassing enough, a hot guy was involved.

What she first liked about the small town now felt oppressive. How did people live like this? Knowing what their neighbor planted in their backyard garden and the color they painted their toes?

There was so much more to worry about right now—like the luxury van that lookedsoout of place in this town.

She was dying to drop the packages, toss a few bills at the woman behind the counter and run outside.

“Where do you buy your polish?”

The woman’s question threw Honor for a loop. She realized the woman wasn’t finished discussing her toes.

“Oh, you know, I pick up a bottle here and there.” She gave her an exaggerated shrug she hoped would close the topic for good.

Who cared about her feet?

Her neck prickled with awareness. She glanced over to find a set of stunning gray eyes centered on her.

“It’s you. From the coffee shop.” His rough baritone scraped across her senses the same way his stare did. But she didn’t havetime to appreciate either one—she needed to check on that van she saw. Or thought she saw.

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