Willa backed away from the window, realizing just how serious this could be. That truck hadn’t been outside her house earlier today because of Declan. It had been there because of her.

“Stay here,” Declan said.

He pulled his gun from his waistband holster and darted outside.

She practiced breathing steadily. Evenly. Trying to remain in control.

All she wanted to do was run outside and see what was going on.

But she couldn’t seem to move.

Declan returned quickly, his phone to his ear and his gun back in its holster. He hung up and turned toward her. “I called the police chief. He’s putting out a BOLO. I couldn’t catch the guy, but at least the police know that we saw him.”

She nodded slowly, stiffly. “That’s good, right?”

He stepped closer, his gaze—once focused and all professional—turned warm and compassionate. “That is good. It’s a lead. I know the description of the pickup. I saw the last three numbers on the license plate. Hopefully that will lead us somewhere.”

She nodded again, her brain trying to process everything that was going on. It all seemed surreal, like she’d wake up and discover it was all a nightmare.

Yet it wasn’t.

Declan was very much here. Those threats were real. People she cared about could be in danger.

“How about that dinner?” Declan said, pulling her from her thoughts. “I’ll help.”

Cooking. That would be a nice distraction.

She slipped away from Declan. Only when she was a good four feet from him did she feel like she could breathe again. He’d always had that effect on her—the ability to make her magically aware of every inch of air around her. For her body to come alive. For her heart to race out of control.

This wasn’t good.

“Chicken primavera sound okay?” Her voice sounded more scratchy than she wanted. Scratchy actually didn’t describe it. She was downright husky with emotion.

“It sounds great.”

Declan followed her into the kitchen, where she began pulling out the ingredients she needed, as well as pots and pans. She assigned Declan to make a salad and garlic bread.

“I think I can handle that,” he said.

He worked beside her as she began cooking the pasta and sautéing the chicken in butter.

For a moment—a very brief moment—she forgot all the concerns pressing on her. She forgot what it was like to struggle with bills. To worry about her son. To allow guilt to creep into her life.

Instead, she felt like a woman. Like a friend. Like someone having a good time.

Her cell rang and snapped her out of the laidback vibes she was feeling.

She left the chicken and veggies simmering and rushed toward her phone, which she’d left on the table behind her.

Was it Trevor? Was he okay?

Instead she saw a number she didn’t recognize. It could still be about Trevor. Maybe one of the counselors was from out of town and was calling from a cell phone.

“Hello?” she rushed.

Silence answered her.

No, not total silence. There was something in the background.

Birds?

Were those birds cawing? Was that the sound of wind hitting the speaker?

The caller was outside, she’d guess. Had someone accidentally dialed her?

“Hello?” she said again.

The phone beeped. The caller had either hung up or they’d been disconnected.

“Who was that?” Declan asked, snitching a cucumber slice from the salad.

She set the phone back down, trying to pretend it was nothing. Because it had probably just been a wrong number. “Not sure. No one was there.”

The corners of Declan’s eyes pinched. He wondered if there was more to it also, she realized.

Right now, Willa was going to concentrate on dinner and try to put that phone call out of her head . . . because worrying would only make her feel neurotic.

The food smelled wonderful, and the company was more than Declan could have ever hoped for.

He never thought that hanging out with Willa could be so nice—not after the way things had ended between them.

They’d been making lighthearted talk all evening, about everything from sports to old movies to snippets about their current lives.

But he could sense the mood was changing as they sat at Willa’s kitchen table—an older piece of furniture that she’d painted white. Some cheerful hydrangeas stood in a vase in the center and paper napkins served as their linens for the evening.

Declan thought it was perfect.

And he thought Willa looked perfect as she sat across from him, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail and her makeup minimal—just as always. She’d never needed makeup or fancy clothes to look pretty. She was just naturally stunning.

It reminded him of their first date. He’d taken her to a barbecue restaurant down the street and had arranged for a corner table—he’d known the owners. Even though there were people around them, it had felt like it was just the two of them.

It had been his first date with his dream girl. Even though he was the popular quarterback at their high school, he’d gotten sweaty palms when he’d thought about asking Willa out and had put it off for weeks.

They’d been inseparable after that date. Until he’d gone to college. And then . . .

His gut twisted again.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the strange things that have been happening,” Willa said, wiping her mouth and lowering her fork. He could see the concern in her gaze.

He remembered those photos of Willa with her face crossed out. She had no idea that she was the target. Was it really better this way? He wasn’t sure.

“I know,” he finally said.

“Ryan is the most decent guy I know. And this is coming from someone who had to suffer through many occasions of him pulling my pigtails and sticking frogs in my bed.”

Declan smiled. “I know he’s a good guy, but that doesn’t mean someone with less than stellar motives isn’t going after him. There have been a lot of notes, making it obvious that this guy isn’t giving up.”

“And the truck that keeps passing by my home?”

“He could be connected.”

“Why did someone break in twice?”

His jaw twitched. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

She shivered and rubbed her arms, her food all but forgotten. “I don’t like this situation.”

“Neither do we. But I’m working on figuring out who is behind this.”

“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. I’d hate to see anything happen to either Ryan or Daleigh.”

There she went again, thinking about others. Putting the needs of her loved ones above any concern for herself.

It was actually refreshing. Most people Declan met were so focused on themselves. But he could also see where it was dangerous. Willa needed someone to take care of her, whether she realized it or not.

“I will,” he finally said.

Just then, her phone rang again.

Declan’s back muscles tensed when he saw her look at the screen and frown.

It was the same caller from earlier, he guessed.

Willa seemed to hesitantly answer. “Hello?”

Her frown deepened, and Declan paused, waiting with baited to breath to hear what was happening.

Finally, she shook her head and hung up. “No one was there.”

He pushed his plate away also. “Do you get those kinds of calls often?”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t say I do. You think this is connected?”

“I have no idea. It’s possible. Can I see the number?”

Willa handed him her phone, and he made a note of the unknown caller ID. He doubted he’d be able to trace it. Most likely the person had gotten a burner phone. It was unfortunate.

“I’m going to put my number in here. Is that okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

He programmed his cell number in her contacts, just in case she needed him.

When he was done, Willa let out a long breath. “Okay, let’s talk about something else. Anything else. Please.”

She’d mentioned rocky road ice cream earlier. “How about dessert?” he suggested.

“That sounds like a plan.”

After they ate, Declan realized he should go. Willa was yawning and had pulled an afghan up around her when they’d moved to the couch.

He stared at her. She looked as beautiful and cozy and warm as ever. Almost as if the past twelve years hadn’t happened.

His heart lurched at the thought, at the sight.

The truth was, he didn’t want to leave and go back to his house. For more than one reason. Mostly because he was enjoying her company so much. Despite these crazy circumstances, he’d felt a bit of that familiar old sizzle they’d once shared.

He pushed himself to his feet.

“I should run,” he said, his voice tighter than he’d like.

Willa stood, rubbing her eyes, which looked heavy with exhaustion. “Of course.”

They paced toward the door together.

“I hate the idea of you staying here alone,” he said.

She raised her chin and offered what looked like a forced smile. “I’ll be fine. You changed the locks.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Nor could he stay. So . . . “I’m next door. Call if you need me.”

“I will.”

He went back to his house. But he had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. For more than one reason.

“I need you to go into Edenton for me,” Daleigh said the next day. “And take Declan with you.”

Willa propped her hip against her desk and crossed her arms, trying to think this through. She and Declan had fun last night eating together and catching up. But she had to remind herself to keep her distance. He would leave soon.

That had been Willa’s goal for the day—to stay away from Declan and keep her emotions in check. And now Daleigh wanted them to work together? That was going to make her goal more difficult to achieve, to say the least.

Willa carefully chose her words. “What’s this you’re talking about? Why would I go to Edenton with Declan?”

Daleigh walked to her own desk and began sorting through some papers. “I had some T-shirts printed and got a great deal from a little mom-and-pop business there. The boxes are going to be heavy, though.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” she said.

“You need his truck anyway, which he’s volunteered to drive.”

“But—”

Willa tried to think of more excuses, but she couldn’t. Really the only reason Declan shouldn’t go was because Willa didn’t want him to. But she could clearly see that Daleigh wasn’t going to accept that as an excuse.

“I guess we should get started,” Willa said finally.

Daleigh smiled a little too brightly. “Great. Go ahead and grab some lunch while you’re out. There’s this great little restaurant there on the water. It’s my treat.”

Warning bells sounded in her head. “Lunch? Edenton’s really not far enough away to justify that. Besides, that might seem too much like a date.”

Daleigh stepped closer. “Willa, when was the last time you went out to eat without Trevor?”

She tried to think of a time. But she couldn’t remember one, so she said nothing.

“Exactly,” Daleigh said. “I know you miss him this week. But enjoy yourself. Do something you wouldn’t do with Trevor. For a minute, just be a woman. You deserve it.”

“But—”

Daleigh put her hands on her hips. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’d send you to a spa for a day if I thought you’d accept. I know you won’t. But you do have to eat.”

Willa still wasn’t buying this. “This isn’t about Declan, is it? Because I have no desire to—”

Daleigh raised a hand to stop her from blathering and making excuses. “Don’t worry. I promise not to try and fix you up without your permission first. You remember my guitarist, Langston? He wanted me to introduce you two something fierce, but I didn’t do it. This is purely work-related. Can you handle it? Or is it too hard to be around someone you used to date? Because I wouldn’t want to be insensitive.”

Willa’s cheeks heated. “Oh, I’m over him. I’m so over him and our breakup. That was a long time ago.”

Daleigh grinned. “Exactly. That’s what I thought you’d say. Now, go. Have a good time. And pick up those T-shirts.”

Declan gripped the steering wheel and listened to a soft country-western tune play on the radio. He didn’t even know what song it was, but something about this area beckoned him to listen to this music from his past. It made life seem simpler, and he could appreciate that.

He gave a side glance to Willa as he drove, trying to get a read on her. He’d thought they had a good time last night—a surprisingly good time. But, right now, she didn’t appear thrilled at spending the day with him.

Despite that, he was glad she’d be close today. Declan was still trying to get a feel for the situation, and until he had more answers, he preferred not to take his eyes off her.

While Willa had met with Daleigh this morning, he’d taken the opportunity to talk with Chief Haven about everything that was going on. Though the chief was aware of the situation and sending a patrol car past Willa’s house every hour, the department was small and that was all the manpower they could offer. Chief Haven and his officers had been trying to figure out who might be behind this, but hadn’t had any luck with that either.

Declan was still at square one, still trying to watch Willa’s back without knowing what exactly was going on or how far someone was willing to take this. And that wasn’t something that he liked.

“Why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror?” Willa’s soft voice broke him away from his thoughts.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she corrected gently with a knowing look. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Declan couldn’t deny it. He’d been checking every few minutes, trying to make sure no one was behind them. But he didn’t want to tell her that. One look at her determined gaze, and he knew that Willa was smart enough to figure it out, whether he admitted it or not.

“You think the man who’s been driving past my house—the man who possibly broke into my house, not to mention who asked Arnie about me—is following us,” she stated as a matter of fact.

“I didn’t say that.” He felt his jaw twitch.

“You’re not denying it either.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m just trying to be cautious.”

“I can appreciate caution.”

“I want to be proactive and not reactive, considering everything that’s been going on,” he admitted.

“I can appreciate that also. You always did seem proactive.”

Was there an underlying tone of accusation to her voice? Or was that his guilt speaking—his guilt over breaking up with her and leaving town?

“Maybe we should talk about what happened twelve years ago, Willa.” His voice sounded coarse and thick with emotion.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She stared straight ahead, as if unaffected.

“I beg to differ.”

She cast a quick glance his ways. “Declan, you’ll be leaving soon. This is just a temporary stop. So there’s no need to dredge up the past in hopes of changing anything. Because a conversation isn’t going to make a difference.”

Declan wasn’t sure he agreed with that. Sometimes conversations could be just what the doctor ordered to help healing. And there was so much he wanted to tell her. To explain to her.

Most of all, he wanted to beg for her forgiveness.

But if Willa wasn’t willing to listen, then there was no need for him to start. She’d only resent him more. It was killing him inside, though.

He pulled to a stop in front of the print shop. “Here we are.”

Before he climbed from the car, his phone buzzed. He quickly glanced at it.

It was a text from Ryan. He’d taken pictures of . . . some photos, it appeared.

---

Just got these. Left outside the shop. Be careful.

---

Declan sucked in a breath as he perused the photos. They were pictures of Willa . . . and Declan. Walking down the road. Talking in her front yard. Changing the door lock.

Worry churned in his gut.

This guy was still watching. And, if anything, he was becoming more aggressive and bold.