Dreaming Of You: Bachelor Dad on Her Doorstep / Outback Bachelor / The Hometown Hero Returns

He nodded, dragged in a breath of her scent as she edged past him, then watched as she let herself out of the shop and disappeared into the evening.

He turned to stare at the wall she meant to paint.

With a muffled oath, he strode into the storeroom, disconnected the computer and tucked it under his arm.

He told himself he’d do the same for anyone.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3ea32e4f-9241-5191-9031-c7ad61a0b4dd)

AT LUNCHTIME on Wednesday a group of teenagers sauntered through the bookshop’s door and it immediately transported Jaz back in time ten years.

Oh, dear Lord. Had she ever looked that…confrontational? She bit back a grin. All of them, boys included, wore tip-to-toe black, the girls in stark white make-up and dark matt lipstick. Between the five of them they had more body piercing than the latest art-house installation on display at the Power House Museum. Their Doc Marten boots clomped heavily against the bare floorboards.

Jaz stopped trying to hold back her grin. She shouldn’t smile. They were probably skiving off from afternoon sport at Clara Falls High. But then…Jaz had skived off Wednesday afternoon sport whenever she could get away with it too.

‘If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know,’ she called out.

‘Cool,’ said one of the girls.

‘Sweet,’ said one of the boys.

Jaz went back to studying the book she’d found in the business section half an hour ago— Everything You Need To Know About Managing aBookshop. So far she’d found out that she needed a new computer and an Internet connection.

One of the girls—the one who’d already spoken—seized a book and came up to the counter. ‘Every week, I come in here to drool over this book. I can’t afford it.’

It was a coffee table art book—Urban Art. Exactly the same kind of book Jaz herself had pored over at that age.

‘Look, we know the people who used to work here quit.’ The girl ran her hands over the cover, longing stretched across her face. ‘If I worked here, how many hours would it take me to earn this book?’

Jaz told her.

‘Will you hire me? My name is Carmen, by the way. And I’m still at school so I could only work weekends, but… I’ll work hard.’

Jaz wanted to reach out and hug her. ‘I’m Jaz,’ she said instead. They probably knew that already but it seemed churlish not to introduce herself too. ‘And yes, I am looking for staff—permanent, part-time and casual.’ At the moment she’d take what she could get. ‘How old are you, Carmen?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘I would love to hire you, but before I could do that I would need either your mum or dad’s permission.’ No way was she going to cause that kind of trouble.

Five sets of shoulders slumped. Jaz’s grew heavy in sympathy.

‘I hate this town,’ one of them muttered.

‘There’s never anything to do!’

‘If you look the least bit different you’re labelled a troublemaker.’

Jaz remembered resenting this town at their age too for pretty much the same reasons. ‘You’re always welcome to come and browse in here.’ She motioned to the book on urban art.

‘Thanks,’ Carmen murmured, but the brightness had left her eyes. She glanced up from placing the book back on its shelf. ‘Is it true you’re a tattoo artist?’

‘Yes, I am.’ And she wasn’t ashamed of it.

‘And are you running drugs through here?’

What? Jaz blinked. ‘I could probably rustle you up an aspirin if you needed one, but anything stronger is beyond me, I’m afraid.’

‘I told you that was a lie!’ Carmen hissed to the others.

‘Yeah, well, fat chance that my mum’ll let me work here once she catches wind of that rumour,’ one of the others grumbled.

The teenagers drifted back outside.

Drugs? Drugs! Jaz started to shake. Her hands curved into claws. Just because she was a tattoo artist that made her a junkie, or a drug baron?

She wished Mac could hear this.

The whole town would boycott her shop if those kinds of rumours took hold. Very carefully, she unclenched her hands. She drummed her fingers against the countertop for a moment, a grim smile touching her lips. Very carefully, she smoothed down her hair. Her smile grew. So did the grimness.

She hooked the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign to the window, locked the door and set off across the street. ‘You’ll enjoy this,’ she said, without stopping, to Mrs Lavender, who sat on her usual park bench on the traffic island. She reminded herself to walk tall. She reminded herself she was as good as anyone else in this town. Without pausing, she breezed into Mr Sears’s shop with her largest smile in place and called out, ‘Howdy, Mr Sears! How are you today? Aren’t we having the most glorious weather? Good for business, isn’t it?’

Mr Sears jerked around from the far end of the shop and his eyes darkened with fury, lines bracketing his mouth, distorting it.

‘I’ll take a piece of your scrumptious carrot cake to go, thanks.’

The rest of the bakery went deathly quiet. Jaz pretended to peruse the baked goodies on display in their glass-fronted counters until she was level with Mr Sears. ‘If you refuse to serve me,’ she told him, quietly so no one else heard her, ‘I will create the biggest scene Clara Falls has ever seen. And, believe me, you will regret it.’ Her smile didn’t slip an inch.

Mr Sears seized a paper bag. He continued to glare, but he very carefully placed a piece of carrot cake inside it. It was a trait Jaz remembered, and it brought previous visits rushing back. He’d always treated his goods as if they were fine porcelain. For some reason that made her throat thicken.

She swallowed the thickness away. ‘Best bread for twenty miles, my mother always used to say,’ she continued in her bright, breezy, you’re-my-long-lost-best-friend voice. A voice that probably carried all the way outside and across to where Mrs Lavender sat grinning on her park bench.

Carmen emerged from the back of the bakery. ‘Hey, Dad, can I…’ She stopped dead to stare from her father to Jaz and back again. She swallowed, then offered Jaz a half-hearted smile. ‘Hey, Jaz.’

‘Hey, Carmen.’ Carmen was Gordon Sears’s daughter? Whew! His glare grew even more ferocious. She grinned back. That was too delicious for words. ‘And I’ll take a loaf of your famous sourdough too, Mr S.’

He looked as if he’d like to throw the loaf at her head. He didn’t. He placed it in a bag and set it down beside her carrot cake. His fingers lingered on the bag, as if in apology to it for where it was going.

Jaz grinned and winked as she paid him. ‘It’s great to be back in town, Mr S. You have a good day now, you hear?’

He slammed her change on the counter.

‘And keep the change.’

She breezed back outside.

To slam smack-bang into Connor. His hands shot out to steady her. His eyes danced with a wicked delight that she feared mirrored her own. ‘Lunchtime, huh?’

‘That’s right. You too?’