Dangerous Season

^>*Sisters of the Heart

^>*Sisters of the Heart

^>*Sisters of the Heart

@Harbor Intrigue

Keir appeared at her Dutch door, and leaned against the lower part of it. In spite of the cool lake breeze, he wore only a black T-shirt that stretched over his powerful arms and chest.

His unexpected appearance plus his nonchalant pose threw her off-kilter. Her mouth formed an O. “I didn’t…expect you…” she stammered. Pizza sauce had spattered her face and white apron. A navy bandana covered her head. She lifted the back of her dough-gooey hand to brush away a wisp of hair that had escaped.

Dismay swirled the pit of her stomach. Would he ask about Chad? No, of course not. Not with Brent able to overhear their every word. Great.

He gazed at her and then lifted a toolbox. “I hear your spring has sprung.”

LYN COTE

Lyn now lives in Wisconsin with her husband, her real-life hero. They raised a son and daughter together. Lyn has spent her adult life as a schoolteacher, a full-time mom and now a writer. Her favorite food is watermelon. Realizing that this delicacy is only available one season out of the year, Lyn’s friends keep up a constant flow of “watermelon” gifts—candles, wood carvings, pillows, cloth bags, candy and on and on. Lyn also enjoys crocheting and knitting, watching Wheel of Fortune and doing lunch with friends. By the way, Lyn’s last name is pronounced “Coty.”

Lyn enjoys hearing from readers, who can contact her at P.O. Box 864, Woodruff, WI 54568 or by e-mail at [email protected].

Be angry and sin not.

—Ephesians 4:26

Speak the truth in love.

—Ephesians 4:15

To the memory of my unofficial aunt,

Audrey Dornbush Seipold, and her daughter, Mary Seipold, who left us much too soon

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Driving down the two-lane highway into Winfield, Sheriff Keir Harding yawned in the bright early-morning light. Friday was the first day of the Memorial Day weekend and the kickoff of the summer tourist season. Each challenging summer Winfield’s population swelled at least ten times. And this was his first summer as sheriff. That must explain why he’d awakened this morning both tired and keyed up—as if toeing the starting line at a race, yet groggy. Coffee, I just need coffee to wake up.

At this thought, the attractive image of a tall, slender blonde pouring fragrant coffee into a mug came to mind. But fortunately, a familiar red-and-white sign, shaped like a lighthouse, caught his eye. The unique sign marked Ollie’s, the local gas station convenience store. Now it almost flagged him down like a NASCAR pit crew. That’s right. I need gas, too. And I really don’t need her fancy coffee.

“Yes, but her fancy coffee is so good,” a persuasive voice whispered inside him.

Resolutely, he pulled into Ollie’s and up to a gas pump. The place looked deserted. Many tourists were still sleeping in after the long Thursday-night drive or flight north. Even more would be traveling north tonight. He got out of his Winfield County Sheriff Jeep. The air smelled fresh and its chill was invigorating. He reached for the gas pump, when suddenly he heard a loud boom.

Jerking back, he looked around the gas pumps. From the rear of the store, flames leaped high. He bounded inside the convenience store, past the empty counter and toward the rear. There, he found Beau, Ollie’s teenage grandson, incoherently shouting while unlocking a fire extinguisher cap. The back door stood open and he could see bright orange flames outside. Heat rolled inside.

“Are you okay?” Keir demanded. “Anyone else here?”

“Nobody else!” The kid began advancing toward the doorway, competently spraying white foam at the flames.

“Shut that door when you can!” Keir reversed himself, ran out and around to the back. When he got there, the kid had moved outside and was spraying foam onto wooden pallets stacked around the door. The contents of the nearby dark green Dumpster were ablaze, too. But the fire had nowhere else to spread in the asphalt alley. Black smoke roiled skyward.

Heat buffeted Keir. Ash and sparks danced overhead. Rather than waste time waiting for the volunteer fire company, Keir located the outside faucet and hose. Picking up the spray-nozzle of the hose, he turned the water on full force. He sprayed the pallets and while advancing, sprayed inside the Dumpster. When he got close enough, he slammed down its blasted, twisted and warped plastic lid. From the side, he funneled more water inside the Dumpster. Within minutes, he and the kid had the fire out. The soggy, still-warm remains hissed with steam.

“Wow,” Beau said, lowering the now-empty, red fire extinguisher. “Am I ever glad Gramps replaced the old extinguisher last week!”

“What happened?” Keir kept wetting down the smoldering remains of the charred pallets, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “How did this start?”