A Small-Town Reunion by Terry McLaughlin Page B

gopher was the clincher. When do you want me to send it?”
    His smile turned sheepish. “How about today?”
    “When’s her birthday?”
    “Tuesday.”
    Addie masked her dismay at the thought of the expense of custom packaging and express shipping for such a fragile item. Still, whatever her costs might be, Mick was the one coming out on the short end of this deal. And he’d be working overtime for her, squeezing this favor in between his part-time work for Quinn Construction and his commitments to his team. “No problem,” she said.
    “That’s my girl.” Mick laid one of his big, capable hands on her shoulder and bent to press a quick, affectionate kiss to her cheek as her door clicked open and set the bell above it jingling.
    She turned to find Dev in the entry, his hands in his pockets and a strange, unreadable expression on his face. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she froze in place, trapped between embarrassment and annoyance. “Dev.”
    “Hi.”
    He flicked a glance over her head at Mick, who had yet to remove his hand from her shoulder…and who had probably felt her body go rigid when she recognized the man who’d entered her shop. Mick’s fingers tightened reassuringly.
    Possessively.
    His hand slid away, in a light stroke down her back, and she cleared her throat. “Dev Chandler, Mick O’Shaughnessy. One of Quinn’s crew members. He’s, uh, fixing some shelves for me. Dev’s an old—” What was he, exactly? She waved a vague, introductory wave in his direction. “He’s Tess’s cousin.”
    Dev’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. She shut her mouth before her rambling got out of control.
    Mick released her and leaned forward, offering his hand, as casual as could be. Dev took it with a nod.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked Dev.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid . This is a shop, she reminded herself. And what would Mick think of her squeaky voice and her gawky manners?
    “I came to check on the windows,” Dev said. “As a favor. For Geneva.”
    “Oh. Of course.”
    She flinched when Mick yanked his tape measure from his toolbelt. He stalked back toward his small pile of lumber and sawdust. Dev’s gaze tracked his every move.
    Addie aimed a thumb over her shoulder. “They’re over here.”
    She stepped behind the counter, into her work space, and waited for Dev to join her there. He followed slowly, scanning the items on her shelves and displays. He’d never been in her shop. Not once, in all these years.
    And why would he? It wasn’t as though they were old friends, as she’d nearly told Mick. Two people had to be friendly to make that claim.
    Tucked into a rear corner, beneath a tall set ofshelves filled with boxes of inventory, stood a neat row of thick foam boards, plywood sheets and crates, all stacked on end. She dragged out one of the large, narrow boxes Quinn had built to protect the windows while they were transported and stored, and pointed to the identifying information scrawled in fat, black lettering. “I won’t be able to do much until I get a space cleared,” she said as she shoved the container back into place. “They’re bigger pieces than I normally work on.”
    Dev frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets as Mick’s saw screamed through another cut, waiting to speak. “What are you going to do to them, exactly?”
    “Exactly?” She paused, considering how much detail she wanted to go into with Mick keeping one eye on her and Dev keeping one eye on Mick. “A lot of that depends on what I find when I start to take them apart.”
    “Apart?”
    Whomp, whomp, whomp. Mick’s nail gun fastened one more narrow edging strip to the front of the remodeled storage bins.
    She nodded. “I can’t simply cut a new piece of glass to replace the broken one and slip it back into place. I’ve got to start at one side and work my way in, piece by piece, dismantling the caming until I reach the area that needs the repair.”
    “Caming.” Dev paused to watch Mick