LITMIR.BIZ

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looked at him as if she weren’t quite sure whether he was joking. “So you gave up your boyhood dream because of laziness?”

      “Exactly,” he answered readily. “Writing’s a lot easier. I hardly ever break a sweat doing that.”

      “I would think that being a reporter for the local newspaper is a fairly demanding career.”

      Without pausing at his task, he gave a bark of laughter. “Working for the Evening Star? Have you actually seen the local newspaper?”

      “Well, no. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago and I…”

      “Take my word for it. Real news happens maybe once a month during an exciting year in this town, and there are two of us on staff to cover it. Basically it’s a part-time job for me—which leaves me free to pursue other interests.”

      “Yes, I heard you’re writing a novel.”

      Riley looked over his shoulder. Had she been asking about him? He rather liked that idea. “Did you?”

      “Marjorie told me,” she said with a shrug that instantly deflated his swelling ego. “She tells me about nearly everyone who comes into the diner. She didn’t seem to think you’d mind.”

      “Harmless gossip is one of Marjorie’s favorite pastimes. I wouldn’t dream of depriving her of it.” He tightened the last lug nut, then lowered and removed the jack. “Ready to roll.”

      “I really do appreciate this, Mr. O’Neal. Thank you.”

      “Riley,” he corrected her. “And you’re welcome.”

      He loaded the jack and flat in her trunk and closed it with a snap. And then, because he could tell she was expecting him to make another attempt to flirt with her, he moved toward his own car. “Drive carefully, Teresa. See you around.”

      She was still blinking in surprise when he closed his door and started his engine. He found himself grinning as he drove away after lingering only long enough to make sure she was safely in her own vehicle.

      He had never liked being overly predictable. But he would be flirting with her again eventually. It was too much fun to resist.

      Chapter Two

      Riley had never dealt well with rejection. It was a facet of his personality that he freely acknowledged and accepted as unalterable. He would even go so far as to admit that he was rather spoiled to having his own way.

      An indulged only child of older parents and the only grandson on either side of his family, he’d never had to compete for attention or affection. Grades and friends had come easily to him in school, and he had enough trust money from his late grandparents to allow him to live comfortably, if not lavishly.

      His job with the Edstown Evening Star was hardly lucrative, but he enjoyed it for the most part. It forced him to interact with other people on a regular basis, counteracting his natural inclination to hole up alone with his books, his music and his imagination. And yet the undemanding structure of the job gave him plenty of freedom to do just that when he wanted. He’d been known to disappear into the duplex apartment he owned for days at a time without making an appearance unless he was truly needed at the newspaper.

      It was probably his aversion to rejection that had kept him from submitting one of his fantasy novels to a publisher. While characteristically confident about his talent, he was realistic enough to accept that most aspiring writers had to deal with at least a few rejections along the road to publication. He wasn’t sure how he would react to anyone turning down his submission. Until he was ready to find out, he told himself he was content writing for his own pleasure.

      He’d rarely encountered rejection from women, either. Maybe it was because he didn’t issue invitations without being fairly confident they would be accepted, but his success rate in that area—as in the other parts of his life—was quite high. He had definitely become spoiled.

      Teresa Scott was threatening to ruin his impressive record.

      Emboldened by their amiable encounter on the side of the road, he’d asked her out three times during the past two weeks. Though she’d been friendlier to him since he’d changed her tire for her, she’d turned him down every time. Politely, even amusingly, but very firmly. She’d made it clear enough that there was no reason for him to keep asking, but that hadn’t stopped him.

      So far, he’d asked her to dinner, to a movie and to a high school football game that he had to cover for the paper. Rather than becoming annoyed or discouraged by her consistent rebuffs, he was beginning to see them as a form of entertainment. He figured he might as well keep asking—just to watch her reactions. And who knew, she might change her mind if he was persistent enough.

      She filled his coffee cup on the Friday morning almost three weeks after their first meeting. “What would you like today?” she asked.

      “A date with you,” he replied promptly. “How about tonight?”

      “I’m painting my fingernails tonight. What do you want for breakfast?”

      Chuckling at her rejection, he replied, “I’m in the mood for oatmeal today. With fruit, toast and coffee. How’s your schedule for tomorrow night? Are you free then?”

      “No, that’s when I paint my toenails to match my fingernails. I’ll go turn in your order now.”

      She’d shot him down again, but he was pretty sure he’d seen a fleeting glimmer of amusement in her blue eyes. Maybe he hadn’t won her over yet—but she found him somewhat entertaining. It was a start.

      Okay, so he was reaching, he admitted with a wry smile as he lifted his coffee cup. But still, there was always a chance….

      “Hey, Riley.”

      Glancing up, Riley smiled. “Hey, Chief. What’s up?”

      Chief of Police Dan Meadows slid into a chair on the other side of Riley’s table without waiting for an invitation—but then, he knew he didn’t need one. “Lindsey’s covering some sort of early meeting this morning, so I’m on my own for breakfast.”

      Riley shuddered dramatically. “It’s the annual PTA breakfast at the middle school. Some bigwig from the state department of education is there to make a speech, and a bunch of sixth graders are putting on a musical production. Lindsey offered me the assignment, but I let her take it—I knew she’d hate to miss a program like that.”

      Dan chuckled. “Very noble of you.”

      “I thought so. I’m sure glad you married Lindsey and convinced her to stay in Edstown instead of taking a job with one of the big newspapers. If she’d left, I’d be the one listening to a bunch of moppets warbling off-key at this hour in the morning.”

      “Happy to oblige.”

      Riley found his friend’s drawled response amusing—as if Dan had only wed Lindsey a few weeks ago to keep her from leaving the Evening Star. Lindsey had been in love with Dan for years—but Dan had been a bit slower to acknowledge his feelings. He’d made up for that by losing no time marrying her. Dan wasn’t one to put his emotions on display, but Riley had noticed a new glow of contentment in his friend’s eyes since the wedding.

      Teresa returned to set Riley’s breakfast in front of him. She glanced at Dan, who was studying her curiously. “Good morning. Would you like a menu?”

      “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll have scrambled eggs, ham and grits.”

      “Toast or biscuits?”

      “Toast.”

      Riley looked from one to the other. “Have you two been introduced? No? Teresa Scott, this is Dan Meadows.”

      “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Scott.”

      “You, too, Mr. Meadows.”

      “Chief Meadows,”

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