Murphy's Law

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” Garrett cut an awkward—he was still favoring his right leg—bow, then turned and reentered the apartment.

It might have been her imagination, but Murphy swore she heard Mrs. Trumble suck in a gasp. Her last glimpse of the old woman, before Garrett closed the door, was of her standing in the same spot, her mouth still sagging open.

Murphy laughed. “The poor woman. You took the steam right out of her. I've never seen Mrs. Trumble speechless before.”

“Then maybe it was about time you did?”

“Definitely,” Murphy agreed, and smiled. “I can imagine the questions she'll hit me with next time I see her. After she complains about my music, of course. I usually use my headphones, you see, but…” her voice trailed away. The last thing she wanted to admit was that the reason she hadn't been wearing the headphones today was because she'd been afraid she wouldn't hear Garrett when he arrived, afraid he'd come and go without her knowing it. “Maybe I should start leaving by the back hall?”

Her skin heated when she felt his gaze raked her head to toe. She'd forgotten how very blue his eyes were. Memories—dreams, fantasies—did not do their color justice.

“I can't see you sneaking out back doors, Murphy McKenna.”

She sneezed again, and at the same time wondered how Garrett could know her so well. “You're right. But I could start.”

“You know, you don't seem too shocked to see me,” he noted. “Why do I have a feeling one of my sisters called you?”

“Probably because one of them did?”

He didn't look surprised. “Which one?”

“Elise.”

Garrett grinned.

Murphy's heartbeat accelerated. That was something else she'd forgotten; the beauty, the power of this man's smile. It took her a second to be able to draw enough air into her burning, oxygen-deprived lungs to speak. “Would you, like a cup

of coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Decaf?”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “What's the sense in drinking coffee if there's no caffeine in it?”

“Ah, my kind of woman!” Garrett's smile broadened.

Murphy's stomach somersaulted, her palms went cool and moist. It was ridiculous to feel nervous around Garrett; in the short time they'd known each other they'd been through a lot. Yet nervous was how she felt. Nervous and…very excited, very happy to see him again, even if this would be the last time.

Her jaw clenched. She didn't want to think about that right now.

Telling him to make himself at home, she retreated to the kitchen. It took her twice as long as it should have to pour the coffee, and not only because her eyes were still puffy and watery. She was purposely going slow, giving herself some time to regain her composure.

The man in the next room was only Garrett Thayer, she reminded herself. Repeatedly. There wasn't a reason in the world to be nervous. Why didn't knowing that help? Why did she still feel more jittery now than she had on her first day of college?

The reason was as simple as it was illogical. This would be the last time she and Garrett would ever see each other, and Murphy wanted the short time they had left to be perfect. If it was, then maybe, just maybe, he might think about her, wonder about her, every now and again in the years to come.

She wasn't sure why that was important to her, it just was.

Garrett's sneeze echoed from the living room. Knowing she could no longer loiter in the kitchen without appearing rude, she picked up the copper serving tray—on which was balanced two mugs of coffee, a creamer, a sugar bowl, two spoons, a glass of water, and two of the Benadryl capsules that she'd scooted out to the store to buy after Tom had left—she'd already swallowed a couple herself—and carried it very carefully into the living room. A sigh of relief whispered past her lips only once she'd settled the tray on the glass-topped coffee table in front of the sofa.

With her luck, it was amazing she hadn't tripped and wasn't now wearing the coffee. Yet here she was, her white blouse and black skirt spotless, not a grain of sugar spilled.

Murphy's Law has to change sometime.

Maybe her luck really was changing?

She glanced at the coat Garrett had tossed casually onto the wicker chair. A nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. It was his brown leather bomber jacket. The frayed corner of a paper bag peeked from beneath the weathered sleeve. Her curiosity piqued, but only for a second.

Her attention shifted. Garrett was standing next to the window across the room. And suddenly she forgot all about the bag and what might be in it.