Her Homecoming Wish
Autore
Jo McNally
Letto da
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Capitoli
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HarlequinChapter One
How could a liquor store owner not have any booze in his house?
Mackenzie Wallace kept opening and closing her dad’s kitchen cabinets as if she hadn’t searched each and every one already. Hell, she’d even checked the bedroom closets and the cabinet in the laundry room.
She did not want to go downstairs to her father’s liquor store in the middle of the night.
But she did want a glass of scotch.
And Dad’s apartment was dry as a bone.
There was no sense procrastinating. She grabbed the keys hanging by the back door. Dad’s old gray hoodie also hung there, worn and faded. Mack looked down at her purple pajama shorts and green cotton camisole. No one would see her in the dark, wee hours of the morning, but she was still a little too naked for venturing outside. The hoodie barely fell past the hem of her shorts, but at least it covered her almost see-through top. And it would protect her from the cool night air. It might be the end of April, but in the Catskill Mountains of New York, that could mean snow flurries as easily as daffodils.
If nothing else, she’d have a great story to tell Dad when she visited him at the hospital tomorrow morning. No, later this morning. Ugh. She needed some serious sleep after too many hours packing, driving and unpacking in one day. Surely a glass of Dad’s top-shelf scotch would do the trick. All she had to do was let herself into the liquor store and find it.
She’d watched her brother do it dozens of times when they were kids. As much as she’d tried to distance herself from Ryan’s bad behavior, he’d pressed her into lookout duty more than once—a nervous ten-year-old standing outside the door, praying no one would come by. Especially Mom and Dad. Young Mackenzie could never bear the thought of disappointing her parents. And look at her now—slinking back to her childhood home as a bitter divorced woman in need of booze.
She side-eyed her reflection in the small mirror by the back door—put there by her mom, who’d never had a hair out of place when she left the apartment. Mom, who’d been gone so many years now, would definitely not approve of Mackenzie’s appearance or her behavior. Mack raised her chin. As much as Mack had adored her late mother, she didn’t want to be her. Not anymore. Her days of living up to someone else’s standards were over.
She tucked her unruly hair behind her ears and slipped her feet back into her bright red leather flats. If the ladies of Glenfadden Country Club could only see her now. Mack snorted, talking to the large orange tabby cat watching her from the armchair, “As if we care what that group of two-faced Connecticut snobs think anymore, right?”
Her cat, Rory, meowed in response, casting a malevolent gaze around the apartment. He was clearly ticked off about being stuffed into a canvas cat carrier for the four-hour drive from Greenwich. Mack walked over and scratched the top of his head. The Maine coon cat was as big as a small dog. Her ex-husband hated him. But it was Rory’s attitude of fierce independence that drew Mack to him in the shelter two years ago. Maybe she’d had a premonition that she’d need a tough friend, and Rory was it. He tried to ignore her touch in true Rory fashion, but he couldn’t disguise the purr that rumbled in his chest. She grinned. “You stay here and guard the place. I’ll be right back.”
The closest full-time residents in the row of shops and apartments in downtown Gallant Lake lived three doors down and were surely sound asleep. Still, she tiptoed down the stairs outside the back door. The metal fire escape stretched the length of the block on the second level, connecting the buildings. Stairs to the parking lot were spaced along the walkway. She was going to a ridiculous length for a drink, but now that it was on her mind, she couldn’t turn back. It would only take her a few minutes to grab a bottle of Macallan and get back upstairs.
She used the back door to the store, knowing she’d be able to find her way through the familiar space without needing to search for any light switches that might attract attention at 2:00 a.m. The door opened easily, letting out a low groan as it swung closed. She waited, then let out a long sigh of relief at the silence that followed. Didn’t look like Dad ever installed that alarm system he kept threatening to buy.
She’d just let herself into her father’s store without permission, barely dressed, sneaking around as if she was some kind of thief. She couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at doing something so out of character. She had every right to be here, of course, but it still felt deliciously naughty.
She used the flashlight app on her phone to work her way around the boxes in the back hall and into the store itself. And that’s where her plan took a turn. Her father may not have installed an alarm, but he’d completely rearranged the store in the year since she’d been home. There were three café tables and a bunch of stools pushed together in the back corner of the store, and the display shelves had been rearranged. More space was devoted to wine now, which was a change she definitely approved of, but where was the top-shelf liquor that used to be displayed back here?
Working her way down the aisle with her phone light, she found the gin and vodka. She wasn’t looking to make cocktails, so she kept going, being careful not to bump into the displays on the endcaps. A car drove by slowly outside—probably some poor soul heading home from working the night shift somewhere. She found the good stuff behind the checkout counter.
“Sorry, Dad,” she whispered. Hopefully, he’d forgive her for helping herself to store inventory. It was a small price to pay for bringing her back to Gallant Lake ahead of schedule. She’d really been hoping for a few weeks on a beach somewhere before she swallowed her pride and moved back home with Dad to figure out her next steps. It wasn’t as if Dad planned on falling off that ladder, but it had succeeded in giving him what he’d wanted—one of his children running the family business. At least for now.
Well played, Dad.
She tore the wax seal from the bottle and tugged the top off. Reaching under the counter, she found the heavy crystal tumblers Dad always kept handy for after-hours tastings with friends. Her phone sat on the counter near the cash register, light shining upward, casting soft shadows, but the old-fashioned streetlights on Main Street spread enough light into the store that she didn’t need it. Those lights were new, and she liked the quaint atmosphere they created in the village. The rim of the glass had just touched her lips when she heard the muted groan of the back door closing.
No. It couldn’t be. She’d locked it. She was sure she’d locked the door. But that was definitely the same sound the door made when she’d come into the store. A hot flush of adrenaline washed under her skin, spiking her heart rate to the point where it threatened to jump straight out of her chest. Would the intruder be able to hear it? Because there was no doubt in her mind—there was an intruder. Someone had just let themselves into the store in darkness. Time seemed to slow as she listened to what were definitely soft footsteps coming down the hall.
Now what? Hide? Run? Scream? No. She’d vowed to herself on the drive over here from Greenwich that she was done acting meek and playing nice. This was Wallace Liquors. She was Mackenzie Wallace, and she wasn’t going to let some low-life criminal mess with her family’s business.
She swallowed the scream still threatening to break free. She needed a plan. A fast one, because there was another footstep. Damn it, she wasn’t good at thinking on the fly. Good girls who never got in trouble didn’t need escape plans. Her shoulders straightened. Good thing she wasn’t a good girl anymore, wasn’t it? She took a quick inventory.
Her phone was only a few feet away, but with the flashlight app still on, it would send a beam of light moving around and draw the intruder’s attention to her location. Calling 911 would mean speaking aloud, again exposing her to the bastard who’d dared to enter her father’s store while Dad was lying in a hospital bed. Fear began to morph into rage. She pulled the hood up over her long blond hair and toed off her shoes for silence. Logical or not, she couldn’t help thinking the element of surprise was her greatest advantage.
What would Dad do in this situation? She reached under the counter and smiled. There it was. Dad’s old baseball bat, suspended on brackets. He’d always called it his “burglar alarm.” Mack slowly lifted and removed the bat. This would at least give her a chance. If she scared him away, or even incapacitated him a little, she’d have time to call for help. Or run.
She crept toward the back corner by the hallway. This was just the perfect end to a far-from-perfect day. Focus, Mackenzie. She heard one footstep. Another. He was at the end of the hall. The beam of a flashlight cut into the darkness. If she didn’t move now, he’d see her with his next step. She raised the bat, breathed a quick prayer and stepped forward, swinging with every ounce of strength she had.
There was a sharp, shouted curse, and the next thing she knew, she was being slammed against the wall so hard she saw stars. The bat was wrenched out of her hand, her body spun to face the wall, her arm twisted so high behind her back she was sure it was going to break. Something hard and cold touched her neck, directly under her ear. Her bad day just got a whole lot worse. For the first time, it occurred to her that this could be her last day.
Was this really what her final moment on this earth would be like? Half-dressed, defending her dad’s liquor store in freaking Gallant Lake, New York? It hardly seemed fair. Her vision blurred, but she refused to pass out and let this jerk have his way without a fight. Focus!
In between some of the harshest swear words she’d ever heard, she heard some others that refused to compute.
“Don’t move, you son of a...”
Swear. Swear. Swear.
“Give me your other hand.”
Swear. Swear. Swear.
“You’re under arrest, pal.”
Wait.
What?
She tried to make eye contact, but he had her face pressed so tightly to the wall she could hardly breathe, much less move.
“Arrest? Wait, no... Are you...a cop?”
There was no humor in his responding laughter. “Yeah, it’s your lucky night. Breaking and entering and assaulting a police officer. You picked the wrong town...”
Mack gathered the deepest breath she could, blinking back tears at the pain in her arms.
“I’m not a thief! This is my father’s store! I didn’t break into anything. I used a key!”
A thick, tense blanket of silence fell on the hallway. Not a sound. No breathing. No movement. Finally, the pressure on her arms and against her chest eased. He stepped back half a step. The man’s voice went from cold and commanding to incredulous.
“Mackenzie?”
Deputy Sheriff Dan Adams willed his heart to fall back into a steady rhythm again, but the damn thing wouldn’t cooperate. He’d expected to confront some dumb-ass teens looking for trouble in Carl’s store. The whole town knew about Carl’s fall from a ladder. The popular local businessman had ended up with broken ribs and a badly broken ankle. Dan figured some punk was taking advantage of Carl’s situation to get some free booze or easy drug money. The one thing he didn’t expect? Seeing the distinctive dark shape of a baseball bat whipping toward his face.
At that point, his training took over. He went through the motions without a lot of thought. Other than thinking he was royally pissed off.
Disarm the perpetrator. Subdue him. Restrain him.
Express extreme displeasure with the perp’s behavior.
Throw him in the car and haul him to jail.
And then the perpetrator spoke. A woman spoke. And claimed to be Carl’s daughter.
Well, son of a...
Carl only had one girl.
Dan reached up and tugged at the hood, uncovering a tumble of thick blond hair.
Mackenzie freakin’ Wallace.
He’d just held a nightstick to the head of Mackenzie Wallace. Little Mack. The sweet baby sister of his best friend in high school. She was still face-planted against the wall, probably afraid to move, even though he’d released her. That was when the old protective feeling kicked in, along with a flood of horror at how many ways this could have gone seriously wrong.
“Jeez, Mack, what the hell?” Dan turned her around. “I could have killed you. You know that, right? What the fu...what are you doing here?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Danny? Danny Adams?”
He spread his hands. “I go by Deputy Sheriff Adams these days.”
That didn’t seem to compute.
“You’re a cop? You?”
As Dan studied the look on her face, he couldn’t blame her for whatever mix of anger and shock she was feeling. If he’d seen teenage him do some of the things she had seen growing up, he wouldn’t believe it, either. But that was a different time. A different Dan. He took another step back, but he had to ask.
“Mackenzie, seriously.” He looked down at long, bare legs. “Are you naked under that hoodie? What are you doing in here at two o’clock in the morning?”
Her voice chilled. “What are you doing in here at two o’clock in the morning, Deputy Sheriff Adams? Besides assaulting innocent women on their own damn property?”
He understood why she was ticked off. He’d scared her. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I drove by, saw someone moving around in here with a flashlight and investigated. Your dad gave me a key years ago. I had no idea you were back in town.”
“I didn’t know I had to check in with the sheriff when I arrived.” Sharp words, but some of the fire left her voice. Mackenzie rubbed her wrist, and Dan felt a stab of guilt.
“I’m sorry, Mack. You had the hood up, I had no way of knowing...”
“Was that a gun I felt against my neck?”
“Was that a baseball bat I saw swinging at my face?”
She gave a short laugh, and Dan felt something shift a little in his chest. It was the husky laughter of a grown woman, not the giggle of the cute little pigtailed girl from his memories. She nodded, running her fingers through her hair to push it off her face.
“Fair enough. I couldn’t get to sleep, and Dad didn’t have any good stuff upstairs. So I figured I’d pull a Ryan and help myself.”
“That’s definitely something your brother would do.” Dan frowned into the darkness. Ryan and Mack had always been as different as night and day, with Mackie being the Goody Two-shoes to Ryan’s wild ways.
“I don’t suppose you can join me while you’re on duty?”
“Join...?”
“There’s an open bottle of very expensive scotch on the counter, just waiting for someone to enjoy it.” She laughed again, softly this time. “And I’d really like to hear the story of how Danger Dan turned into a lawman.”
Dan grimaced. He hated that stupid nickname Ryan made up, especially coming from Mack. Even if he had earned it back then.
“Is your husband waiting upstairs?” Dan wasn’t sure where that question came from, but, to be fair, all Mack ever talked about was leaving Gallant Lake, having a big wedding and a bigger house. The girl had goals, and from what he’d heard, she’d reached every one of them.
“I don’t have a husband anymore.” She brushed past him and headed toward the counter. “So are you joining me or not?”
Dan glanced at his watch, not sure how to digest that information. “I’m off duty in fifteen minutes.”
Her long hair swung back and forth as she walked ahead of him. So did her hips. Damn.
“And you’re all about following the rules now? You really have changed. Pity. I guess I’m drinking my first glass alone. You’ll just have to catch up.”
He frowned. Mackenzie had been strong willed, but never sassy. Never the type to sneak into her father’s store alone for an after-hours drink. Not the type to taunt him. Not the type to break the rules.
Looked like he wasn’t the only one who’d changed since high school.
