Saving Grace (Madison Falls) by Lesley Ann McDaniel

don’t…”
    Slowly, he pulled a crowbar from behind his back and raised it to shoulder level.
    Fear seized her. Her gut told her to slam the door but her arms felt paralyzed.
    A grin tugged at his lips. “I could pull up those tiles for you, if you’d like.”
    She let out a long breath and put her hand to the hollow of her throat. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll just get my wallet. How much?” She stepped inside, trying to tame her quaking limbs as she reached for her purse.
    “The bar’s ten.” He paused. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
    She turned to see him looking around her unadorned abode with a slight smirk on his undeniably handsome face. “Uh…thanks.”
    “That adds a nice touch.” He nodded toward the water globe still doing its solo show on the mantel.
    “Yes well, I’m a minimalist.” She flicked a ten toward him.
    He took it, handing her the crowbar. “Apparently.”
    Flushed with an awkward irritation, she dug through the change in her wallet. “And the tax?”
    “No sales tax.” His face lifted in a disarming grin. “You’re in Montana, ma’am.”
    She grimaced, returning her attention to her purse. “Plus the six for the globe.”
    “Consider that a housewarming gift. Doesn’t look like you’ve gotten too many.”
    Jerk. “I don’t exactly have a lot of friends in the area.”
    “Too bad. That’ll change.” His mouth curved up slightly as he slipped the ten into his shirt pocket.
    She frowned. Why would he assume she’d want to get to know anybody around here? Even the highly cultured, educated people who populated her world failed to capture her extended interest. What made him think that this town could produce anyone worthy of the effort?
    Angling a glimpse over her shoulder, he raised a brow. “Sure you don’t want me to have a look?”
    She reeled in her focus. “A look?”
    He lifted a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “At your floor. You know, since I’m here.”
    She shook her head quickly. “No. It doesn’t really matter. I won’t be staying that long anyway.”
    He slanted her an inquisitive look.
    Why had she said that? His presence on her porch was off-putting, and she felt a sudden need for him to leave.
    Tipping his head back, he made a smacking noise with his lower lip and upper teeth. “Not too taken with our little town, huh?” His eyes lowered onto her face. They seemed an even darker grade of chocolate than the other day. “Maybe that’ll change too.”
    He turned, leaving her to stare at his departing back. She leaned against the doorjamb as he got into a dinged-up dirty blue pickup truck that sat in front of her house.
    She bristled. Maybe that’ll change . What was that supposed to mean?

Chapter 10
    “Don’t you have any Fig Newtons?”
    The determined expression on the ruddy face of the man in front of her made Grace highly value the counter space between them.
    “No, I—”
    “What about ice?”
    Flustered, Grace shook her head. Why were people shouting at her like she was deaf? A sea of bobbing heads and fists waving cash crashed against her little window. How could this miniature theatre hold so many people, and why were they all so ravenous?
    “I’m sorry, I’m out of ones.” Grace pushed a stray hair from her eyes and plopped a fistful of quarters into an outstretched hand. She silently thanked whoever had voted down a state sales tax. If she had to make change for fifty people in fifteen minutes, at least it was with round numbers.
    “I wanted chocolate cream, not chocolate chip.”
    A dour woman slid the offending cookie back toward Grace, who suppressed a shriek of frustration.
    “I’m sorry ma’am, I—”
    The end-of-intermission chime felt like a life preserver. The disgruntled cookie woman turned away with a sneer and the flow of patrons at last ebbed. Grace leaned her elbows on the counter, covering her face with her hands. She’d survived, but she couldn’t possibly subject herself to