Page 5 of The Locksmith's Promise

He faced me and wagged his eyebrows.

Of all of them, I would miss Lucky the most. He reminded me of Miller, and he made me laugh when for a long time, nothing had been remotely funny.

Minty closed the door and sashayed toward us, blond hair elegantly upswept, a small smile on her serenely beautiful face. She positively exuded grace, yet I’d seen that woman get down and dirty with the best of them.

She contained multitudes.

I tilted my head to the side. “What have you got there, Minty?”

Her cheeks pinked. “You know we get all kinds of donations for the music program at Lucky’s school.” She hiked up the guitar case in her hand. “This would be wasted in the classroom.”

I shook my head. “I can’t take something away from the kids.”

She held out a graceful hand and arched her brows. “It’s not polite to refuse a gift, Baxter Martin, and I know you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

I shook my head, lost for words.

“If it makes you feel better, the man who donated it asked that it go to a skilled musician. Someone who was worthy of it,” she added softly.

Are you worthy of her? Are you worthy of her like this?

My throat thickened.

I slanted a glance at Lucky. “I’m going to hug your girl, Luck.”

Minty handed the case to Lucky and opened her arms.

Soft and sweet, she gently wrapped her arms around my back.

I knew exactly how long it had been, to the very day, since I’d last had this.

3

Sweet Tooth

Maggie

Before Corwin rolled out of bed, I was already dressed and out the door. I loved early mornings when the rest of the world was still half asleep. Stepping off the curb in my serviceable running shoes and certified mom-jeans, I zipped my fleece hoody up to my throat and jogged across the street.

I’d forgotten how quickly summer succumbed to fall up here in Moose Lake. I knew what Moose Lake was like, but being away for more than ten years did funny things to my memory.

It wasn’t until I was hit with the smell of fir trees in the air, the brisk touch of the wind on my face, and the sight of sun-burnished leaves raining to the ground that I truly remembered how sweet and pure and good it was.

And most of it was good.

But the bad was so sharp it cut my heart out of my chest.

You and me, Mags. You and me against the world.

Shaking off the past, I refocused on my goal to hit Jenny’s bakery, Buns and Biscuits, before they ran out of Corwin’s favorite cinnamon buns dripping with cream-cheese icing.

With this being his first week back at school, he’d missed out on his morning cinnamon bun fix.

I was quite proud of myself for being able to go in there and talk to Jenny after everything that happened. There would never come a time we could be friends again, but Moose Lake was a small town.

She needed the support.

And forgiveness was practically a surcharge to living peacefully.

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