“Hi,” the guy said. “I’m Eric Hawkins. You can call me Hawk.”

“How delightful for me. I’m Nicole Keyes. You can call me Ms. Keyes. Are you with the police?” She looked him over, trying not to be impressed by so much male perfection in such a tiny space. “Is your uniform at the dry cleaner’s?”

His smile widened. “I’m the football coach at Pacific High School. One of my buddies at the station took the call and phoned me.”

People thought of Seattle as a big city, but it was made up of a lot of small neighborhoods. Mostly Nicole liked that about her hometown. Just not today.

Disgusted, Nicole looked at the woman behind the counter. “Maggie, would you call the police again?”

“Maggie, hold that thought,” Hawk said. He nudged Nicole’s cane aside so the kid could scramble to his feet. “Raoul, are you okay?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. What could possibly have happened to him?”

“He’s my star quarterback. I’m not taking any chances. Raoul?”

The kid shuffled and ducked his head. “I’m good, Coach.”

Hawk took the kid aside and had a whispered conversation with him. Nicole watched warily.

Washington State might not be Texas, but high school football was still a big deal here. Being the winning quarterback of a high school team was nearly as good as being Paris Hilton. Hawk probably expected her to succumb to his questionable charm and let the kid off with nothing more than a shrug over the misunderstanding. Which was so not happening.

“Look,” she said, her voice as stern as she could make it. “He stole five dozen doughnuts. In your world, that might be perfectly fine, but it’s not okay to me. I’m calling the police.”

“It’s not his fault,” Hawk told her. “It’s mine.”

She was sorry she’d rolled her eyes before-it meant she couldn’t do it now. “Because you told him to steal?”