“I don’t believe you,” she said flatly. “I was there for two months, and I didn’t see anything odd happening. I think that you realized you were a jackass four months ago, and that an apology won’t cut it, so you made up this fantastical story about a murder to make it seem like you gave me the boot for my own good.” She pushed her chair back and stood, pointing a finger at him. “I know exactly how you think, because I grew up surrounded by men just like you.”

He looked angry—and confused. “Your father and cousins and uncles are no-good liars, who make up stories to…to what? Control their women?”

“No, they’re warriors whose first thought is survival by any means, fair or foul. They act first and deal with the consequences later. When I told you I was pregnant, your instinct was to fight your way free. And now you’ve come up with this elaborate story to make me think you acted like a jerk that day for my own good.”

Jack also stood up, his jaw clenched. “You can’t compare me to the men in your family. You don’t even know me.”

Megan glared at him across the table. “I knew someone named Wayne Ferris. He was a sweet, gentle scientist who could soothe a frightened gosling we were banding, but he couldn’t talk a girl out of her clothes to save his soul.”

“That is me,” he said, thumping his chest. “I am a good guy—and it’s not a crime to want to take things slow.”

“You are a warrior clear down to your DNA, Jack Stone—if that’s even your real name. I’m giving you the boot.” She pointed at the door. “Good-bye Wayne, Jack, or whoever the hell you really are.”

He stood staring at her in disbelief.

Good! She hoped he realized he’d blown his chance four months ago, and that his heart was breaking just like hers had.

She went over and opened the door, and waited.

He finally set his napkin on the table and silently walked out, grabbing the six-pack of beer on his way by.

Megan closed the door behind him, fighting back tears. She had done the right thing—the sensible thing—for her and her baby. If she couldn’t trust him with her own heart, how could she risk the innocent heart of her child?

She had been smart to see him again, if only to learn that the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t exist. The man who’d sat across the table from her tonight, thinking she was gullible enough to believe such a story, was a complete stranger.

Chapter Eight

J ack set down his third bottle of beer, still burning at Megan’s little tirade. She thought he had a fantastical imagination? Halfway through his explanation of why he’d sent her packing four months ago, the woman suddenly decides he’s lying through his teeth, he’s some sort of warrior, and that he definitely isn’t anyone she wants anything to do with.

Couldn’t talk the clothes off a woman to save his soul, could he? And just when had rushing headlong into a relationship become a good thing? Maybe he’d gotten a little too caught up in playing Wayne Ferris the shy nerd, but Megan had seemed especially attracted to his nerdiness.

She sure as hell wasn’t attracted to warriors—she’d said the word in a way that implied it was a bad thing.

Which was weird. Jack had met a lot of her extended family now, quietly gleaning information from them about the woman who had charged into his life like a fast-moving storm. Having seen how protective the men were, he understood why Megan could have decided he’d sent her packing for her own safety.

But as hard as it had been on her that day, it had been even harder for him to watch her expression change from disbelief to shock to anger, then see her cringe away when he’d had to get tough. Her silence had been the worst, as she’d packed up all her belongings that had slowly accumulated in his tent over the previous weeks. And Megan sitting on her suitcase by the makeshift airstrip, looking totally dazed and brokenhearted as she waited for the supply plane to arrive was an image Jack would carry to his grave.

He gave a start when the cell phone in his pocket suddenly started vibrating. Who in hell was calling him at eleven-thirty at night?

“Hello?”

“Frank Blaisdell, who owns the restaurant on Main Street, said he heard a noise coming from the direction of the bakery when he was walking to his car. He said it sounded like someone was inside.”

“Ethel? Are you at the office?”

“No, I’m home in bed.”

“Then how do you know what Frank Blaisdell heard?”

“He called me, because he didn’t know your number.”

“He’s supposed to call 911, not any of us personally.”

“I told him that, but Frank thought 911 would get him the county sheriff instead of you or Simon. He tried Simon first, but the boy’s not home tonight. Are you going to go investigate or not?” she asked impatiently.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jack said, striding to the bedroom to get his gear.

“You want me to call Simon’s cell phone? He mentioned going to Greenville tonight. It’ll take him an hour to get back here.”

“No, I’ll handle this,” Jack told her. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get word to everyone to call 911 so this doesn’t happen again. See you in the morning.” He strapped on his gun belt as he strode back into the kitchen, then quickly laced up his boots and grabbed his jacket on the way out the door.

This was his chance to catch the little bastards red-handed!

Jack spun out of his driveway and headed to town, nearly colliding with Megan’s sister as she came speeding up the camp road. He spun into a snowbank to avoid her car, then backed out of it, snapped on his lights and siren, and raced toward town with a feral smile. If her look of horror was any indication, Camry MacKeage would think better of it the next time she felt the urge to throw a pie in his face.

Turning onto the main road, Jack quickly brought his attention back to his mission. He sure hoped he didn’t have to shoot his gun tonight. It might be hard to convince the state police that even though he had three beers in his system, he was stone cold sober and quite capable of confronting Pine Creek’s criminal element.

Camry stormed into Megan’s house. “That maniac nearly ran into me! He went tearing out the camp road like a charging bull moose.”

“And you were just crawling in, I suppose?”

“He didn’t even have his siren or strobes on.” She snorted. “He turned them on after he nearly smashed into me.” She sat down on the ottoman, sliding Megan’s feet over to make room. “So out with it, sis. What did you say that sent him tearing into the night like that?”

“I have no idea why he tore out of here, since he left my house over two hours ago. He must have gotten a police call.” Megan dropped her feet to the floor and sat up. “Maybe those brats are at it again. Last night they took the F off Farley’s store across the street and nailed it on Winter’s sign, so that it read Pine Creek Fart Gallery.”

“At least they have an imagination,” Cam said with a laugh, unbuttoning her coat. “Which makes me think the bakery break-in was somebody else. The kids have been sticking to harmless pranks.”

Megan stood up with a yawn. “Or they really like day-old doughnuts. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell me how tonight went.”

“He claims Jack Stone is his real name, and that he hunts down runaway kids.”

“He’s not a biologist?”

Megan shook her head.

“Then that must be what the Internet ad was for. He hires out to parents looking for their children.” Camry brightened. “That’s a noble profession.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “It’s a lie, Cam.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. He claims he was working undercover to get close to one of the students so he could talk him into returning home to his parents. He said Billy had run away when he was sixteen, four years ago.”