He doesn’t say much.
I don’t say much.
But when I pull up in front of his door—again—he looks me square in the eye and doesn’t even try to get out of the car. “Tell me another puzzle.”
“What?”
“Tell me another puzzle. About the people here.”
“No.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll pick one on my own from what I remember in Hawaii.”
“That’s not—” I start, but my words leave me when he flashes me a grin.
Grey.Duke.
Flashing me the most impish grin I’ve ever seen in my life.
He swings the door open and pulls himself out of my car, then trots up to his own doorstep without looking back.
I think I lost that round.
Actually, I know I did.
And for that smile?
Worth it.
I. Am. In. So. Much. Trouble.
I take a fast shower before heading back to the café solo, where I get funny looks all day long.
Or possibly I don’t get funny looks and I’m imagining it all since I don’t know if Zen is the type to spread rumors about the cheese incident.
And it’sobvioustoeveryonethat there was a powdered cheese incident in the kitchen.
That takes a lot of clean-up.
Saturday, the roads are clear, but Grey’s not at the café.
And finally, it’s Sunday.
I have an entire day to myself, and I can’t hide from the other thing I’ve been hiding from all week.
It’s time to work up the courage to go see Emma.
Slowly.
I’ve started a text to her probably every other waking hour since Theo left Silver Horn to pick her up at the airport on Monday, but I haven’t found the right words, nor do I want to do this over text.
Laney reports she hasn’t seen Emma either, but Theo has nearly daily and says she looks sad. I’ve fielded questions from more friends and neighbors about if she’s back yet, telling everyone I haven’t seen her—which is the truth—but the entiretownknows she’s due back this weekend.
And not because she does half the town’s taxes as our most popular accountant.
It’s more about the viral video and the reporters who were hanging out here for a week or so after the wedding hoping for more juice for their stories.
But today, I’m doing it.
