But one thing stuck out to Gabe. Vera knew Felicity let her employees go and questioned if the bookshop was closing.
“She wants your storefront. It’s the most prominent place in town.”
She lifted a hand to scrub the spot between her wispy brows. “I don’t know about that, Gabe.”
“Is it possible she had something to do with the break-ins?” He captured Felicity’s stare and held it.
She looked back for a long beat. “I don’t know. She’s a gossip and she’s difficult during meetings of the small business bureau. But I don’t think she’s malicious.”
He flicked his attention back to the alley.
He didn’t trust the woman, especially knowing she had designs on Felicity’s space.
He rested a hand on Felicity’s back. “Let’s get that lunch.”
“Okay.”
“But not at the bakery.”
“No.”
They cut through the alley and stepped out onto the sunlit sidewalk. He kept his hand on her back as they walked, not because she needed steadying, but because he needed the contact to remind himself she was right here, safe.
He hated that someone had placed a target on her back. And he hated that she’d lived so long thinking she had to face everything alone.
Her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked, and Gabe felt a hitch low in his chest—a pang he wasn’t ready to name but wasn’t going to ignore.
He wasn’t watching out for her because Carson told him to. He wasn’t sticking close because the job required it.
He was staying because somewhere between her velvety laugh in the cookbook aisle and the gutted look on her face when she realized that journal was missing, everything inside him had shifted.
And whoever was circling her—whether it was Vera, or someone worse—was about to learn the hard way that Felicity St. James wasn’t alone anymore.
Not while Gabe was breathing.
* * * * *
The sandwich place at the end of the street wasn’t gourmet, but Felicity’s appetite fled the minute she saw the journal was missing.
Still, the walk did her some good, and the fresh air restored her a little. She and Gabe ordered sandwiches, but before she could fish out her wallet, he had his card ready.
“I’ll get the food,” she protested. “It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
He waved her off. “I got it. I want to.”
With a bag of food in hand, they strolled to the park in the center of town. It only had a war monument and a few benches, but they didn’t need more. They claimed a bench and sat in the warm sunshine to eat their sandwiches.
Her mind kept looping into the same spiral.
I’m having aterriblerun of bad luck. First the break-in at my store and the possible attempt at my house. Now my car and the missing journal. It’s just ajournal.So whyme? Why is someone afterme?”
“I know. It’s a lot to process. Not to mention Mayfest coming up.”
That reminded her of Vera’s too-bright eyes and the way the cops brushed her off. All of it created an itch beneath her skin, but there was no way to relieve it.
“Maybe I can pull out a miracle and participate in Mayfest.”
His encouraging nod made her feel a little more stable. Plans were good. Plans meant she was moving forward.
