Page 9 of Mack

He grinned. “I was born and raised here.”

Candace stared at him. “You look familiar.” She frowned, then it dawned on her. “Mack Reinhardt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, it’s been a long time. You probably don’t remember me.”

“I do. You used to be a schoolteacher. I had you for math.”

She laughed. “Yes, you did. I’m always happy to see my students do the right thing.” She nodded at his badge. “You left here right after graduation.”

“Yes, I went to work for the US Marshals.”

“Good for you. Are you happy to be back?”

“Yes,” he said and left it at that.

She sealed the box, pressed the label on, and set it on the conveyor belt. “All set. She should have it tomorrow or the day after.”

“I appreciate it. What do I owe you?”

She gave him the price, he swiped his card, and she handed him the receipt with the tracking number.

“You have a good day, Mack.”

“You too, Mrs. Murphy.” He touched the brim of his hat and headed back out into the heat.

He crossed the street, jogged up the courthouse steps, and pushed through the glass door, sighing at the cool air inside.

He nodded at Betty Lou on his way through, settled into his chair, and got to work on the reports he’d been putting off. When he finally finished, he stuck his head into Sam’s office.

“Going to make my rounds.”

Sam nodded without looking up. “Stay cool out there.”

Mack snorted and headed for the parking lot.

When he opened the cruiser door the heat hit him like something with a temper. He stepped back, reached in, turned the key, and cranked the A/C before committing to getting inside.

He put his sunglasses on and pulled out of the lot, easing onto Main Street. When he passed Festive Finds he didn’t look away as fast as he should have.

He really wanted to ask her out.

When his weekend finally came he was ready. He headed to Dewey’s hoping Mallory would be there, hoping her brother needed her tonight.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this interested in a woman. After Ariana he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it, but he also knew he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone. He was forty-two, not dead.

Saturday evening, he sat at the bar and stared at his beer. She wasn’t here. Same band, different singer. He tried not to let the disappointment show.

“Hey, Mack. Can I get you another? That one has to be warm by now.” Dixie Townson folded her arms on the bar and grinned at him.

“Does Logan know what a smartass he married?”

She laughed. “I’m sure he does.”

“No thanks on the beer, Dixie. I’ll nurse this one.”

“Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.”