The soda fountain was on his left, partially blocked by a section of shelves with first-aid supplies and a new display of condoms. Talk about times changing. He couldn’t think of a better example. He recalled the first time he’d ever come into the store to buy condoms. They’d been behind the pharmacy counter then. He’d blushed brick red when he’d had to ask Mabel Hastings to give them to him. It was a wonder he’d ever gone back. His only consolation had been that she’d seemed even more embarrassed. After that he’d always made sure Eli was on duty when he’d returned for a new supply.

A half-dozen teenage girls were sitting on one side of the U-shaped soda fountain, probably discussing schoolwork, or, more likely, boys. An equal number of boys was on the opposite side, tongue-tied and uncertain. The sight of them brought back a slew of memories best forgotten.

There was no sign of Melissa, though clearly someone had served the kids their shakes and hamburgers. Cody fought a bitter feeling of disappointment. He hadn’t wanted to come here, but now that he had gathered the courage, he wanted to get this encounter out of the way. He wanted to shove the past behind him once and for all. He doubted a meeting would be enough to keep him in Texas, but maybe it would buy him some peace of mind.

“Hey, Missy, customer!” one of the boys shouted as Cody slid onto a stool close to the cash register.

“I’ll be right there,” a voice capable of raising goose bumps on any man past puberty sang out from the back.

The door to the storeroom swung open. Melissa emerged, her arms loaded with two trays of glasses piled atop each other. Her gaze zeroed in on Cody with impeccable precision. Every bit of color washed from her face. The trays wobbled, then tilted. Glasses crashed to the floor. Her gaze never wavered from his, despite the sound of breaking glass.

Several of the teenagers sprang to their feet and rushed to clean up the mess. Cody couldn’t have moved if his life had depended on it. Apparently Melissa couldn’t, either. Not even the swirl of activity at her feet caught her attention. He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

This definitely wasn’t the reaction he’d been praying for. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He’d wanted to look into those soft, sea green eyes of hers and feel eighteen months of hurt and anger boiling into a fine rage. Or, better yet, he’d wanted to feel nothing at all.

Instead it appeared his hormones were very glad to see her. Obviously they had a different sort of memory pattern than his brain.

“Missy, are you okay?” one of the boys asked worriedly. He scowled in Cody’s direction.

“Fine,” she murmured.