Page 4 of Mountain Man Officer

Since everyone knew everyone else in Singer’s Ridge, it was a normal thing to strike up a conversation. “You don’t have a lot of room for your shopping,” I observed.

She laughed. “It’s true, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She peered at me through strands of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. “What are you here for?”

“Oh, I’m renting a cabin,” I said, turning back to the display of mirrors. “I’m trying to spruce it up. Which one do you think?”

“You’re renting a cabin?” Macy sounded interested and completely ignored my question. “Where?”

“Just north of town,” I said. “Off of Miller Road.”

“My husband and I have a cabin off Miller Road too,” Macy said. “We just might be neighbors.”

“Really?” I laughed. “Do you love it?”

“We love it,” she confirmed. She turned back to the mirrors. “Maybe that one, with the gold frame.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said, placing the chosen mirror into my cart.

“I love your hair,” Macy said conversationally.

“Thanks.” I reached up to brush the well-placed strands. “I’m a hairdresser.”

“Really?”

In his seat, the toddler began to fuss, reaching out chubby hands to his mother. She lifted him out of the shopping cart and settled him on her hip.

“I work in town. You should come by,” I said.

“I think I will,” Macy said. “Dillon can watch these two for a couple hours.”

“I work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.”

“Saturday’s perfect,” Macy said. “I’m Macy Ford, by the way.”

“I know.” I smiled. “Small town. I’m Lindsey Parker.”

“My reputation precedes me?” Macy joked.

I shrugged. “There aren’t that many people who settle in Singer’s Ridge.” There were even fewer people who had missing posters plastered all over the grocery store, but I kept that observation to myself. I knew Macy had worked at the grocery store as a cashier, and then the missing posters went up. When she resurfaced, she began working as an art therapist, got married, and started a family. There were more than a few people who gossiped about it while sitting in the salon chair. But Macy didn’t need to know that. “If you give me your number, I’ll text you the address.”

Macy removed a strand of her hair from tiny fingers and smiled. She recited her cell phone number while I typed it in. I sent her a quick text so she would have my number as well.

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” I said.

Macy laughed, shaking her hair out to the delight of her child. “As long as I have hair left by Saturday,” she said.

I had never wanted children, not really. I enjoyed babysitting when I was younger, but the thought of all that responsibility made me uneasy. Still, watching Macy with her son made me consider the possibility that there might be something redeeming about parenthood. She seemed to be happy.

I made my purchases at Walmart and moved on to the grocery store in town.

I was examining apples when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. When I looked up, there was a man standing at the salad bar with his back toward me. He had a shopping basket in one hand, which meant he wasn’t there to buy much. His shoulders were wide and square, his back straight. My eyes followed the line of his figure all the way to a toned butt, snug inside a pair of jeans.

My heart leapt, and I felt a pang somewhere even lower. The man turned to move toward the bakery area, giving me a full side view of his face. His jaw was cut and dark with stubble. His eyes were calm, and yet, tired. I had never seen him before, and in a town this size, that meant he wasn’t local.

I longed to introduce myself, to ask where he had been and whether he was staying in town. Maybe he would want to have a drink, and we could go back to my new cabin and… I stopped myself before my thoughts could go any further. Whoever he was, it was none of my business. I forced myself to focus on the apples, choosing the biggest and brightest to make it into my cart.

When I looked up again, the man was gone. My mind called up an image of him walking toward the bakery, like that residual pattern you see if you stare at something bright for too long. It was as if his body was burned into my retina, too perfect, too masculine. I shook my head. I didn’t know what came over me. I usually wasn’t this crazy.

I finished my shopping, hoping to run into him in every aisle. I didn’t see him again, though. He must have taken his basket to the checkout lane and disappeared. I loaded my purchases into my trunk, slammed the lid closed and climbed into the driver’s seat. I had something better than a hot guy waiting for me at home, I told myself. I had my very own cabin in the mountains.

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