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one hundred percent certain that he was.
    As they wandered around the local grocery store, she picked out chicken breasts, fresh parmesan, bread crumbs and aimed for fresh potatoes next. Lily wondered if it was possible to make it five feet without yet another woman flashing a smile at Griff. The smiles all had the same brand—the kind of slow, Southern smiles that told a man he was the best thing she’d ever seen in a month of Sundays.
    By the time she caught up with him the next time, she’d gotten the potatoes—and everything else she’d sent him after—and found him cornered between the oranges and grapefruit by a redhead in frayed denim. He spotted Lily. His eyes lit up—not necessarily out of exuberant lust—since it looked as if he’d have groveled to anyone who could save him from the buxom redhead’s gregarious chatter.
    â€œLily! Mary Belle Johnson…this is Lily, Lily Campbell.”
    The redhead whirled around, green eyes narrowed—took in Lily in a glance. Instead of spitting fire, the woman’s face immediately calmed. Possibly, it was Lily’s simple blue crocheted top and white capris that conveyed that she was just no competition for Griff’s attention. Not compared to a woman with Mary Belle’s substantial figure and charming ways.
    â€œI swear, Lily, I been hearing about you since you got into town. My daddy told me you’d come back. I was wondering if I’d have a chance to set eyes on you.” The woman lifted a critical hand to her hair. “I could do something with that.”
    â€œYou—?”
    â€œYeah. I run the salon on Main Street. Belle Hair. I do makeovers, too.” Another evaluative look at Lily’s face. “I really know my eye makeup.” Mary Belle glanced down at her hands. “And manicures.”
    â€œWell, thank you so much.” Lily didn’t laugh, but she was inclined to. She hadn’t been insulted so thoroughly—or so kindly—since she could remember.
    Griff took off with the grocery cart toward the checkout like a bat out of hell. “That’s the scariest woman in town,” he said sotto voce, when Lily finally escaped and caught up with him.
    â€œCome on. You could handle her with both hands behind your back.”
    â€œAre you kidding? I was about to dive into the grapefruit. See if a commotion might make her go away.” Griff shot her a wry look. “She didn’t seem to upset you. And as far as I could tell, she was trying her best.”
    â€œI desperately need a haircut. And a woman knows never— ever —to offend anyone who could have power over her hair.”
    He let out a husky chuckle. “You don’t need a hair cut. It’s great the way it is.”
    â€œWhy thank you, sir. But you don’t have to waste flirting on me.”
    â€œWaste? Since when is flirting a waste?” He paid for the groceries, scooped up both bags.
    â€œI saw what you were doing. The blonde. The second blonde. The brunette. Then the redhead.”
    â€œWhat? What?”
    â€œYou were telling the ladies that I was with you. Which’ll be all over town—” she glanced at her watch “—probably within the next ten minutes. Is that why you asked me out to dinner? To make sure people knew I had a friend in town?”
    â€œAre you kidding? I have no interest whatsoever in being your friend .”
    Man, he was full of the devil. It was good for her feminine ego. But his protective streak—no matter how vociferously he denied it—was as transparent as glass. “She mentioned her daddy—”
    â€œYeah. The sheriff. She’s Herman Conner’s daughter.”
    â€œI thought you said her last name was Johnson?”
    â€œI did, but it’s darned hard to keep track. Mary Belle’s changed her last name around three times in the last decade. She must have been about ten years older than you