She stood up and smoothed her hands over her flowered housedress. “It’s only been five years since my Sherman passed on. I’m still in mourning.”

Ian sent her a disarming smile, one he’d used so often in his work as police chief. “You’re an attractive lady, Mrs. Fibbler. A man like Mr. Cuddleston would have to be blind not to see that.” He congratulated himself when a tiny smile crept across her stern expression. It was a wonder how little he used his police training here in Bonnett Harbor and how much he relied on his charm.

“Do you really think he’s-” She paused and pressed her palm to her chest, her cheeks coloring with a modest blush. “I-I suppose I could offer an olive branch. Perhaps invite him for dinner?”

“As chief of police, I’d have to say that’s a brilliant course of action, Mrs. Fibbler. Brilliant.”

The elderly lady bustled off down the sidewalk, a wide smile now beaming from her face, her shopping bag clutched to her chest. She turned back once and gave Ian a little wave and Ian returned the gesture with a weak smile.

“Another damsel in distress rescued from certain danger,” he murmured.

When he’d moved back to Bonnett Harbor from Providence two years ago, he’d never expected his social life to take such a hit. It had been easy to date in the city, the available women in endless supply. But here, everyone knew him. If he chose to date someone in town, the entire population knew the details within a day or two. The out-of-town affairs had been satisfying, though short-lived, since his work seemed to consume most of his free time. In the past year, he’d dated three women for a grand total of thirteen weeks.

Hell, he could almost imagine himself as Mr. Cuddleston in a few years, fighting over garbage simply to get a woman’s attention. He looked up at the light as it turned red again, then tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient to get his coffee and escape before any other problems arose.