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holidays, any time he could get leave, he came back to Hunter Ridge. To her.
    Would he come back this time? After everything that happened last week?
    And what would she say to him if he did?
    Hey, Will, I acted like an idiot. The sex we had was incredible, the best of my life. And oh, you’re going to die.
    She paced the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, as her heart pounded against her ribs in a steady rhythm of panic. She had to tel him. Warn him. So what if he was probably furious with her? Maybe if she said something, she could alter what she’d seen.
    Lifting her chin in determination, she grabbed the cordless phone from the counter. She jumped when it started ringing in her hand.
    Hope bloomed in her chest. Quickly pressing the talk button, she lifted the phone to her ear and said,

    “Thank God you cal ed!”
    There was a beat, then a soft female chuckle. “Why do I get the feeling you were expecting someone else?” came Paula Durtz’s amused voice.
    Disappointment jolted through her. “Oh. Hi, Paula. I, um…what’s up?”
    “I just wanted to see if you’re stil coming into town today.”
    Town? Oh, right, she’d promised to drop off that necklace for Paula. “What time did we say again?” she asked.
    “Two. So are we stil on?”
    Mac glanced at the clock hanging over the sink. It was quarter to, which meant she needed to get going.
    Yet the idea of leaving the house troubled her. She wasn’t in the mood for socializing, not when she couldn’t stop thinking about the vision. About Wil .
    About what it would cost her if she lost him. Actual y lost him.
    But Paula was the closest thing to a friend she had in Hunter Ridge. Maybe if she talked to her, told Paula what she’d seen…? Maybe her almost-friend could offer some advice.
    “Yeah, we’re on,” she final y said. “I’l meet you in the square in fifteen.”

Chapter Four
    “I love it,” Paula declared fifteen minutes later, holding up the pendant to admire it. The late afternoon sun caught on the little gold heart, making it sparkle.
    Mackenzie gave a wry smile. “You hate it, and we both know it. It’s not your style at al .” She emphasized her remark by shooting a pointed look at al the jewelry currently draped over various parts of the older woman’s body. A chunky silver necklace hung around Paula’s neck, and the numerous bracelets around her wrists boasted colorful costume gems and dangling charms. Even Paula’s wedding ring, a thin silver band encrusted with little diamonds, seemed elaborate in comparison to the simple necklace Mac had created for the woman. Not that Paula’s accessories were gaudy—if anything, Mac’s necklace was just too plain.
    Paula laughed. “If it’s not my style, then why did you make it for me?”
    “Because it’s as far as my skil can take me,” she grumbled.
    “Wel , if you just let me pay you for reading my fortune, then we wouldn’t have to go through this jewelry pretense, now would we, hon?” The lines around Paula’s mouth creased in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m wil ing to buy al the necklaces you want to make me. But don’t kid yourself, Mackenzie Wade. You’re not a jewelry maker, plain and simple.
    You’re a psychic.”
    Mac tried not to flinch. She hated that word. Hated it. She wasn’t in denial; she was quite aware that her visions did indeed make her psychic. She just didn’t like thinking of herself as that. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d struggled with her gift . She loathed the visions. Didn’t need ’em, didn’t want ’em. And, as an adult, she’d tried hard to distance herself from them.
    She’d graduated from high school, gone to col ege, learned how to make jewelry. She’d moved back to Hunter Ridge, determined to work on her craft and start a business, and though the townsfolk humored her by buying her pieces, Mackenzie wasn’t stupid.
    She knew they only cared about her psychic abilities.
    She also knew