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“What makes you think I know anything about them?”

“Women always have knowledge about anything mysterious.”

“You think of olives as mysterious?”

“And you don’t, which proves my point.”

He had sandy brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. His expressionwas friendly and interested without being too aggressive. His suit lookedexpensive but not crazy. He was clean-shaven, broad-shouldered andnormal-looking. Not at all her type.

She would have excused herself and walked away except she wastired of always getting it wrong. Every guy in her life had been a disaster,probably because when it came to men, her gut didn’t know what it was talkingabout.

So maybe she should ignore her lack of interest and see whatelse the nice man had to say. It was unlikely this one would steal her creditcard or buy a car in her name, then not make payments.

“Olives can be difficult,” she said, moving her cart to theside so other people could get by. “Now, when the oil is difficult, you knowyou’re in trouble.”

He laughed. The sound was low and pleasant. Easy. As if he werethe kind of guy who laughed a lot.

“I’m Cliff,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Violet.”

“Nice to meet you, Violet.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” She paused, not sure what to saynext.

Cliff continued to smile at her, as if she were the brightestpart of his day. “I work in finance, which sounds more impressive than it is.I’ve been in town about five months and the only people I know are the ones onmy floor at work. I’m putting in eighty hours a week because I don’t know whatelse to do with my time. Have dinner with me?”

Nice, she thought. The guy was nice. And, of course, she wasn’tthe least bit interested.

“Thanks, but no.”

He gazed into her eyes. “I know meeting a guy in a grocerystore isn’t much better than meeting a guy in a bar. What do you really knowabout me, right? Giving me your number wouldn’t be safe. So let me give you mycard.”

He withdrew a card from his suit jacket pocket. “My work numberis there, along with my cell. How about next Tuesday?”

“I don’t get to Austin much. I live in Georgetown,” she saidwithout thinking, not sure what to do about the invitation.

“That works for me. How about the Wildfire Restaurant? It’snext to the Palace Theater. Tell you what. I’ll be there at seven. I hope you’lljoin me.”

He held out the card until she took it.

“I’m a good guy,” he told her. “Ask anyone on my floor.”

She stared at the card. The company name was one she recognizedand the location was a high-rise in Austin. Apparently Cliff really did have ajob, and it was a good one.

She looked up only to see he’d turned away and was already atthe end of the aisle. He rounded the corner without looking back.

He probably was a good guy, shethought as she tucked the card into the back pocket of her jeans. No man hadever gone out of his way to make her feel safe before. Women like Jenna wereprobably well-treated all the time. They didn’t know the world could bedifferent. But Violet did. She knew how ugly it could be.

She was tired of losers who made her heart beat faster. Ofjerks who hurt her, either physically or emotionally. Jenna made normal seempretty damned wonderful. Maybe it was time for Violet to experience normal forherself.

Five

The last time Jenna had had this manybutterflies in her stomach, she’d been getting married. Hopefully the reopeningof her store would prove to have a happier ending. She waited anxiously by theoven as cookies baked. As per their plan, food would be available the second thedoors unlocked.

While she waited for the three-hundred-and-fifty degrees towork their magic, she glanced around the store. She and Violet had rearranged afew shelves and reworked most of the displays. Gone was the rigid order she hadso loved, and in its place was a welcoming riot of color and equipment. Dishtowels spilled out of mixer bowls, mugs nestled next to coffeemakers. A gourmetcoffee display was nearby.

The website was up and working, ads were in all the localpapers, coupon inserts in two, and somehow Violet had managed to get theminterviewed for a local blog.

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