I’m not sure when I’ve smiled so big, but here it is. I’m absolutely beaming, because knowing my crotchety, fierce, business-savvy boss is trying to protect me is better than I ever could’ve imagined.
“Small-town life, though you’d think being a lifelong resident would get me some good faith.” He shrugs as he holds the door open for me.
Jerry scowls at him. “You’re too pretty for good faith. All a’ you Ryans are. And our girl here is starting over, so she gets priority.” She pats me gently on the back.
It’s not quite motherly or even grandmotherly. It’s what an aunt might do, I guess? I never had one so I can’t really compare.
Grant holds up his hands. “I won’t argue with you there.” Those aforementioned pretty eyes shift to mine, and he dips his head subtly. “You get priority.”
I practically float through the rest of my time serving Dec and Grant, and even the rest of the day. I’ve never felt like I truly belonged anywhere, but I do here. Yes, at Jerry’s, but here in Juniper View. Especially when I leave and Georgia Sullivan toots her horn at me, rolls down the window, and hollers, “You finally ready forsome library work?”
My cheeks hurt from so much smiling, and I climb in bed with Mr. Bingley curled up on the edge of my comforter, sighing out a huge breath so full of contentment, I say a prayer of thanks. I truly never imagined feeling like this so soon, and especially today. I’d been dreading talking to Grant. I didn’t want to have to say I don’t trust or know myself out loud, didn’t want to lay myself open even more to him.
As usual, he greeted my vulnerability with some of his own—no. He started with his own. That made me brave. And then he didn’t guilt me over it, didn’t get a hard edge because I effectively turned him down.
I fall asleep with his bright eyes and that signature chin dip and the words “you get priority” bouncing around in my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Grant
Poppy unbuckles her car seat straps before I park the car.
“Pops! That’s not safe, honey.” I’m scrambling to go after her because she is already out of the car and bolting toward the garage.
“Where are you going?” Lily yells as she’s wrestling out of her seatbelt.
We catch up with Pops, who’s currently sporting rainbow stretchy pants, bright pink rain boots, and her rainbow rain jacket, kneeling on the cement and peering under the juniper tree to the left of the garage.
“Poppy, what are?—”
“Shhhh! Don’t scare him!”
Lily and I share a look, though I’m certain I’m bracing more than Lil is. When Poppy found a nest of baby racoons in the woods, Lily was in love. I immediately called thepediatrician since they had touched them. She’s tried to aid an untold number of birds, especially at my parents’ house since they have giant windows on the top floor of their home that were a magnet for birds until they put some appropriate measures in place to deter them.
My Poppy has a bleeding heart for creatures, and I would love to not be dealing with this tonight.
“What is it?” Lily crawls up next to her, then exclaims, “Mr. Bingley!”
At the sound, the cat bolts from under the tree to the bushes in front of our house. I instantly have a far better sense of how Poppy got lost following him last month.
“Don’t keep chasing him, girls. We don’t want him to go too far.” I find Sam’s contact information and connect the call.
“Hey, Sherriff.” Her tone is warm, and if I wasn’t afraid I’m fooling myself, I’d say she sounds downright happy to hear from me.
“Hey, Sam. Poppy spotted Mr. Bingley outside. Wondering if you wanted us to corral him back in?”
I’m pretty sure she does, but maybe she’s letting him be indoor-outdoor. I don’t recommend it out here so close to the woods because there are predators who’d love to make a meal of a house cat. I need two hands to count the number of childhood pets taken down by the likes of coyotes and wildcats.
“How is he doing that? I need to figure out how he’s escaping. I don’t think I can get there, but yes. If you can catch him, please do. He doesn’t have any idea how to defend himself against the wildlife.” I can hear voices in the background, but I don’t think she’s working today.
“I’ll let you know as soon as we get him inside.”
I try not to enjoy her saying my name when she thanks me before hanging up, but I fail. Miserably.
“Thank you, Grant,” echoes in my mind with each step I take toward my front porch.
The girls are huddled up making high-pitched little sounds begging him to come closer. I decide I’ll take a different tack and step as close as I dare before scooping down into the middle of the bush and plucking the fluffball out from the top.
