He smiled, revealing a set of dimples. “Yeah. It was.”

Leah laughed to herself as she reached into her purse for her keys. “Wow. That was seriously the worst apology ever.”

She heard him chuckle, and when she looked up, he was still smiling down at her with those dimples. “Well, damn. Can I try again?”

She shrugged. “Go for it.”

Daniel reached forward and opened the driver’s side door for her, bowing slightly as he gestured for her to have a seat. “Here you go, milady. My deepest and sincerest apologies for insinuating that you were a stupid asshole.” He straightened. “How was that?”

“Better,” she said through a laugh as she turned to get into the car. Just before she slid inside, her eye landed on the bay window in the kitchen. She could see Catherine sitting alone at the table, cautiously sipping her tea.

As Leah sat in the driver’s seat, she turned to look up at Daniel. “I’m glad she has you,” she said sincerely. “Don’t ever stop taking care of her.”

She watched his dimples fade as his expression fell, and then he nodded.

“It was nice meeting you,” Leah said, reaching to close the car door, and he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets again.

“You too,” he said absently.

She smiled as she pulled the door shut and started the car. Daniel held up his hand as he took another step back, and she returned the gesture as she pulled out onto the street.

She liked the idea of him taking care of her. That kind of thoughtfulness was a trait that jumped out at Leah now, because the absence of it should have been the red flag in her last relationship.

Whatever the reason, she couldn’t deny that it was extremely attractive when a guy was as family-oriented as Daniel seemed to be.

And there was something inherently attractive about a guy with manners, too—the way he had apologized for his language, how embarrassed he’d looked at having offended her.

Who was she kidding? There was something attractive about him. Period.

The pitch-black hair with the light eyes, the masculine jaw with the boyish dimples. He had the kind of face she wanted to stare at, just to appreciate the way all the pieces complemented each other.

But of course, she hadn’t done it. That would have been weird, and completely inappropriate.

For a second, Leah found herself wishing she knew his last name. After all, if he had a Facebook profile, she could examine his picture as long as she wanted without it being weird—

The second the idea crossed her mind, her cheeks flooded with heat, even though no one was privy to the ridiculousness of that last thought but her.

What the hell was she doing?

Since when was she the kind of girl who stalked guys on the internet? Since when was she the kind of girl who pursued guys at all? She’d never been the one to initiate a relationship. Besides, she hadn’t been involved with a guy in two years, nor did she have any desire to be.

Although, if all it took to turn her into a creeper was a pair of dimples and some manners, maybe there was some subconscious part of her that was tired of being alone.

Leah shook her head at that; she wasn’t tired of being alone. She was just tired, and it was making her scatterbrained. She leaned over and turned on the radio, letting the music chase away her thoughts as she pulled up to the intersection.

Giovanni’s was about six blocks from her old house; it was an old-fashioned, family-owned Italian deli that hadn’t changed since she’d first been there with her parents as a little girl. The red awning out front was faded and worn so that it appeared to be almost pink, and the white block letters that spelled out the store’s name were now a murky, grayish color. As Leah pulled onto the deli’s block, she was reminded of something else about the place that never changed: there was a line nearly out the door. It was a popular deli on an average day, but during Christmastime it was borderline legendary.

She began her usual routine of circling the block, looking for an open parking space, and on her second pass, amazingly, she noticed a spot had opened up right in front of the door. She cut the wheel sharply, pulling into the spot without using her blinker and glancing around to make sure she hadn’t just snagged the spot from someone who had been waiting.

No one.

“Wow,” Leah said to herself, cutting the engine and grabbing her purse. In all the years she’d been shopping there, she’d never even gotten a spot on the same block, let alone right out front. “Must be my lucky day.”

She stood in line for almost half an hour, tossing items into her handheld basket as she inched up the aisle toward the counter. When she finally reached it, she placed her order, remembering to include the fresh ravioli her brother loved so much he would often eat them raw before she could cook them.

As the girl behind the counter totaled up her order, Leah reached inside her purse to grab her wallet.

And that’s when she noticed it.

Her stomach lurched as she shook her wrist. “No,” she whispered in a panic, pushing up her sleeve with her other hand. “Shit!” she said, rummaging frantically through her purse, hoping it had just slipped off and fallen inside.

“Is something wrong?” the girl behind the counter asked.

“I lost something,” Leah said, stepping up to the counter and abruptly dumping the contents of her purse over the top of it. The girl jumped back, a startled expression on her face as Leah sifted through the change, makeup, and receipts scattered across the counter.

She whipped around in a frenzy, her eyes scanning the floor behind her. “Did anyone see a bracelet?” she asked, nudging her way through the line of people behind her. There were a few mumbled no’s and sorry’s as she scoured the floor near the shelves, looking for any sign of it.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but there’s a line,” the girl at the counter called.

She continued pushing through the crowd until she had a clear view of the door where she came in. She needed to retrace her steps.

“Miss,” the girl called again.

“Yeah, okay,” Leah said, her voice detached as she walked backward toward the counter, bumping into people as her eyes continued to comb the floor. By the time she made it back to the front of the line, it was clear that any sympathy from the crowd had now transitioned into annoyance.

She swiped everything on the counter back into her purse and absently paid for her things, turning every few seconds to inspect the floor behind her again.

The woman handed her the box of food, and Leah balanced it precariously in her arms as she rushed out of the deli. It was freezing, but she could already feel a cold sweat breaking out over her back.

She hurried to her car and threw the box inside before turning to examine the sidewalk. The distance between her car and the door to the deli couldn’t have been more than five feet, but she already knew that if she had dropped it outside, it would most likely be gone. Someone would have picked it up and taken it, no doubt. Still, she continued her futile search of the sidewalk for another ten minutes.

By the time she got back in her car, she felt like she might actually be sick. Leah arched her back, struggling to remove her jacket in the confines of the driver’s seat before shaking it out frantically.

“Please,” she said to herself, hoping it would fall out from one of the sleeves.

It didn’t.

She contorted her body, checking under the seats, in between the seats, under the pedals, next to the console.

Nothing.

“Shit,” she said again, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and letting her head fall back against the seat.

It was gone. She had lost it.

She had lost her mother’s bracelet.

Leah’s father had given it to her mother on their eighth wedding anniversary, the same day she had given birth to Leah’s little sister. Embedded in the white gold of the bracelet were three solitary diamonds. One for each baby she had given him, he had said.