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the kitchen with a handful of plates.
    â€œRight up.” Krista squirted sweetened whipped cream onto a plate and spooned a dollop of jam beside it. Some liked their scones extra sweet. She wondered how Agent McIntyre liked his.
    No, he’d probably never tried a scone. He seemed more the doughnut type of guy.
    Why was she thinking about him again? She was tired, that’s all. Tired and frightened out of her right mind between the mouse and firearm.
    She’d never forget the look on his face when he’d swung around and pointed it at her. He looked powerful and determined.
    And maybe a little frightened. Was that possible?
    Sure, even in his line of work a person felt fear, she reminded herself.
    â€œHow’s the order for table seven?” Tatum Sass asked.
    â€œAlmost there.” Krista refocused on the tea sandwiches in front of her and arranged red rose petals in between them.
    Make them feel special, Mom had taught her. It was Krista’s role to give local women a place to gather, share dreams, hopes and fears, in a safe environment.
    Yet Krista wasn’t feeling safe right now. Between the jet lag, lack of sleep and this morning’s excitement, she was exhausted and more than a little off kilter.
    â€œYou look tired,” Tatum said, waiting for her order.
    â€œThanks, now I feel so much better,” Krista joked.
    â€œWhy don’t you take a break? This is the last food order.”
    Krista nodded. “I’ll be out back.”
    She untied her apron and flung it over the hook. She could use a few minutes of fresh air. Luckily, it was unseasonably warm for a November day in Michigan, so she grabbed a sweater and stepped outside.
    And spotted Luke trimming back the rose bushes. She’d meant to do that before her trip, before the fall hit. But she’d run out of time, what with the Sass girls starting up community college and having limited availability.
    As Luke tended to the rose bush, she remarked how normal he looked, like a regular guy. Not like a violent man who packed a gun against his ribcage.
    With seemingly gentle fingers, Luke snipped the rose stem with some kind of knife. A pocket knife.
    â€œHey, I’ve got pruning shears,” she said.
    He turned to her and she could have sworn she read regret in his eyes, probably because he’d scared the wits out of her earlier.
    â€œHang on,” she said. She went back inside, dug into the white china cabinet and found the shears. As she opened the door to go back out, she nearly ran into him.
    She didn’t expect him to be so close. Nor did she expect her heart to skip a few beats. And not out of fear.
    She handed him the shears. “Thanks.”
    â€œIt’s the least I can do considering I scared the—” he paused “—you know.”
    â€œHave you been out there all afternoon?”
    â€œPretty much.”
    â€œDid you get lunch?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œI’ll make you a sandwich.” She motioned him into the shop, but he hesitated.
    â€œCome on, it’s safe,” she joked.
    He followed her inside and washed his hands.
    â€œTurkey okay?” she asked, putting on gloves.
    â€œYou even guessed my favorite sandwich? How do you do that?” He settled at a table in the back.
    â€œEveryone likes turkey.” She pulled out bread, lettuce and tomatoes.
    Tori came into the back with a tray of plates. She slid them by the sink and turned to Krista. “Who’s the guy?”
    â€œA friend of Chief Cunningham,” Luke said.
    Krista kept working on the sandwich. She couldn’t blame Luke for acting the way he did this morning. It was his job to suspect danger around every corner.
    And that suspicion might keep her safe.
    Tatum joined her sister in the kitchen.
    â€œChief Cunningham’s friend,” Tori explained to her sister.
    Tatum walked over to the Luke and shook his hand. “I’m Tatum and this is