Page 31 of Lake Shore Splendor

Bennett held up both palms. “Got it.” Then he fished his key fob from his pocket and with the press of a button, his Bronco beeped a hello. “Pizza, anyone?”

“Oh yeah!” Gemma’s enthusiasm made up for Nathan’s mild shrug. “Is it deep dish?”

“Uh . . .”

“It’s almost as good as Lou Malnati’s,” Hazel said into Bennett’s hesitation.

“How do you know about Lou Malnati’s?” Gemma asked.

Hazel shrugged. “My brother had it mailed when he was in Chicago several years back. Janie, my best friend, decided it was bread from heaven, and she and her mom—we call her Mama Bulldog—set out to make their own version. It’s pretty close. Janie serves it on Fridays at her café during the fall and winter.”

“Look at that.” Bennett slid into the driver’s seat, and everyone else entered the car as well. “We didn’t leave everything behind.”

“House. Friends. Big-screen TV. Lake Michigan. Private pool. Starbucks.” Nathan listed his protest, tabbing each deadpanned item off with his finger.

Bennett looked at Hazel. She shook her head and ignored the boy’s contrary attitude. From what she knew, he was entitled to a bit of resentment. Heaven knew how she’d be if someone tried to take her out of Elk Canyon.

Actually, everyone knew how she’d be—pulling stunts on helpless men that would land her in jail.

She had no room for judgment.

Ten

Thesunrimmedthewestern peaks as Hunter took the last curve on the road into Luna. It had been a while since he’d enjoyed a Friday evening in the old café. The last time he had, in fact, Janie hadn’t yet taken over the business—it had still been under the direction of her great-aunt Lucy. Back then, Friday night fare was pot roast and potatoes, just like every other evening.

According to Hazel, Friday nights at Janie’sCafé were deep-dish pizza nights.

A bulge of satisfaction billowed in his chest as Hunter pulled alongside the boardwalk across from the county jail and parked.He’dbeen the one to introduce Janie to Chicago deep dish, and as he’d hoped, Janie had loved it. So much so that she’d apparently spent over a month working on a copycat to serve at her own establishment. And all of Luna was forever grateful.

You’re welcome for that.The smug thought was directed more toward the six-hundred-plus souls who, whether by choice or lack of choice, called Luna home. When his mind fixed onto Janie though, the smugness fizzled, and pride warmed his heart.

She was something, that Janie Truitt.

As Hunter stepped onto the boardwalk, that admiration seeping from his mind and filling his heart, he drew to a hard stop.

That would not do.

He’d spent the week trying not to think about Janie. Trying to dispel the deeply disturbing image of her sweet smile pinned on a man who wasnothim. The effort had been agony. And largely fruitless. The only way, in fact, he could imagine that he could succeed in not caring about her flirting with Grady was that he not care about her.

At all.

Janie would be like a faceless stranger on a sidewalk in some city. A nameless passerby who drew from him exactly zero emotion, good or bad.

That would be his strategy—he would wear an armor of indifference.

It was time to don the shield then, because the woman was just down the walkway. Through that door markedCafé, just past the bell that chimed a little too cheerfully, and likely in the kitchen that smelled like heaven.

Hunter sighed, running a palm down his bearded face, as if he could literally make his expression blank with the swipe of his hand.

She is nothing to me . . .

The kick of his pulse argued that point, but Hunter ignored it. He pushed his stride forward, markedly less eager than moments before, and made his way to the gathering he was to be a part of.

He pushed through the door markedCafé,ignored the happy tinkling above his head, and decided thatheavenwas certainly an exaggeration for the aroma of baked bread, perfectly paired tomatoes, garlic, and onions, and melted cheese that caused his mouth to water, and categorically denied that his heart stuttered when a pair of forget-me-not blue eyes met his involuntary gaze from the door of her kitchen.

She is nothing to me . . .

The electricity in his veins proclaimed that to be the lie it was. Even so, Hunter repeated it in his mind.

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