Free Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) by M. Kate Quinn Page A

barber shop.”
    “Well, that’s not good,” she said, her jaw clenched. “I don’t want Hannah to know anything about that silly permit problem. You understand?”
    She heard the mommy voice coming from her own lips. She swallowed hard. “Norman, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want people buzzing about this. It’ll be remedied soon enough.”
    “Okay, Sarah,” Norman said and offered a prideful smile. “I’ll defend you.”
    Oh boy.
    When Norman was gone she sat down with pen and paper and began a new to-do list. She needed to keep her mind focused on the wedding and let go of the idea that the permit might not come through. That was not an option.
    She barely heard the soft rap at the front door. If it was Norman coming back to defend her she might have to start drinking during the day. She opened the door.
    Benny stood at the threshold with her dish in his grasp. His face was contorted into a scowl like someone had wound him too tight. He thrust the dish in her direction. “Your dish.”
    She accepted it into her hands.
    “Did you make those muffins?”
    “Um, sort of. It was a box mix.”
    “Oh. Well, they were a little dry. If you’d made them from scratch I’d have advised you to add more liquid to the recipe. I like apple sauce. It adds more moisture without more fat.”
    She was in the Twilight Zone, she knew that now. This crazy man was channeling Julia Child. Everything about him was suddenly pissing her off. She wanted him gone from her presence, wanted him off her front porch. This gourmet needed to gallop on out of her way.
    “If there’s nothing else then…” She slowly inched the door closed. “Thank you for returning my plate.”
    “Sarah…wait.”
    To her own surprise, she let her hand fall from the doorknob.
    “The cops came to my door.”
    “I see.”
    “They questioned me about that little note you received. I know you didn’t believe me when I told you I’m not the one that put it under your door.”
    “That’s right.” She kept her tone and gaze steady and emphatic. Inside she was pure jelly.
    “Well, they did. Have they reported back to you?”
    “Not yet.” She felt her face flush at his scrutiny. She momentarily closed her eyes. You hate this guy. You hate this guy.
    “Actually they think it might be some sort of prank. From someone you know.”
    “People I know don’t do things like that, Benny.”
    “I’m just relaying their opinion.”
    He surprised her by smiling. It was a lopsided curve of his mouth.
    Benny continued, “Want my expert opinion?”
    “Does it involve apple sauce?”
    “Not this time.” Both sides of his mouth matched now. A full jack-o-lantern grin was plastered on his face. “My advice is to ignore it. Don’t give it any credence and it’ll just go away.”
    “I’ll take that under advisement. I’ll use that strategy with all my annoyances, beginning now. If you’ll excuse me…good day, Benny.”
    He hesitated for the briefest of moments, his eyes piercing, stilling her breath. Please go.
    The air expelled from her chest when Benny turned way. She watched him retreat—his muscular body navigated the stairs with ease and his ordinary, non-designer jeans hugged his legs—before closing the door.
    Sarah startled at her observation and its contradiction to her common sense. All the time that she’d failed to notice anything physical about a man, and now eyeballing faded denim stretched across the butt of this nuisance gave her a lightning-like jab of electricity.
    This was a problem.
    ****
    By the time Hannah arrived for the weekend, Sarah had her game face on. She had wrestled herself free of the effects of Benny’s physicality and did her best to put aside her worries about the wedding and the cryptic note.
    She knew that when the weekend was over, she’d focus on proving who wrote the anonymous little tidbit. Damn the local PD for advising her to ignore the note, “chalk it up to a prankster” was how they’d put