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purpose, only this time it was fueled
by fear. When she thought of losing her business to Grounds for
Thought she felt a choking panic grip her throat. She pumped her
arms and legs faster.
    And why wouldn’t her customers go
there? Grounds for Thought did everything right: the atmosphere,
the staff, and the pastries. Simply delicious. As much as she hated
the café, she’d still thought about going back every morning this
week. She hated the idea of giving the woman her hard earned money,
but those baked goods…
    She couldn’t compete with
that.
    And that girl, Eve, was definitely
determined. Margaret would have admired her in any other
circumstance.
    In the dark of the night, Margaret
considered letting Crumpet go. But then she woke up and couldn’t
imagine what she’d do without it. She’d fade and become more of a
ghost than she already was.
    Determined, she picked up her pace,
not stopping even when she got to the top of the hill. Hugging the
right side, she strode through the Presidio Golf Course parking lot
to the spot where the homeless man camped out. Like every morning,
she set a meal out for him without disturbing his slumber and
walked on. Out Arguello Gate, to the right, four blocks, and then
she’d be home.
    A golf ball bounced in front of her,
startling her out of autopilot. She stopped and watched it bounce
twice more before it rolled under a car.
    “ Sorry about
that.”
    She looked left to see a smiling man
jog toward her. He waved one hand apologetically and held a golf
club in the other. If the golf club wasn’t indication enough that
he was a golfer, he wore orange plaid pants that hurt her
eyes.
    Instead of going after his ball, he
stopped directly in front of her, cutting her off from finishing
her walk. When he smiled, he looked like an older George
Clooney.
    “ I have a confession to
make,” he said.
    “ I’m not a
priest.”
    “ Thank God for that. I’m
getting old, but I hope I’m not so old that I mistake a priest for
a beautiful woman.” He laughed, the sound warm and rich as though
it came from the warmest part of his soul.
    That laugh could thaw a woman
out.
    Startled by that thought, she reached
for her pearls. She didn’t care what he could or couldn’t do. She
stepped around him and kept walking.
    He fell in step next to her. “That had
to be the best shot of my life, even though it’s going to cost me
my game. I aimed my golf ball to stop you. I can’t believe it
worked, and I didn’t hit you.”
    What she really wanted to cap off this
damn walk was a lunatic following her home. She lengthened her
stride. Worst case, she would run into the clubhouse and ask
someone to call the police.
    “ You see, I play golf here
three mornings a week with my friend Don, and every morning I see
you right as we get to this hole.” He waved at the green to the
left. “Don was so sick of me waxing poetic about you cresting the
hill that he threatened to stop playing with me unless I talked to
you.”
    Some feminine part of her that she
thought had been buried with Harry felt flattered. Mostly though,
she was annoyed. “And now you’ve talked to me, so you can go back
to Don.”
    “ Are you married?” he asked
out of the blue.
    That stopped her in her tracks.
“What?”
    His light eyes crinkled. “It’s a yes
or no answer.”
    She swallowed thickly, holding on to
her necklace. “No.”
    Tension visibly melted from his body.
“Good. Have dinner with me.”
    “ No.” She started to walk
again.
    “ Wait.” He caught her
hand.
    The touch shocked her, and she gasped.
No one had held her hand in over eight years.
    His radiated heat and strength. The
calluses on his palm scratched her skin in an intriguing way. He
held her firmly, but loose enough that she could pull away if she
wanted.
    Suddenly she wasn’t sure what she
wanted. She looked into his eyes.
    “ I’ve handled this badly.
Let me start over. My name is Grant, and I’d love to take you to
dinner. Or for a beverage