“I promise to stay out of your hair.”
It wouldn’t be a problem. She should be spending most of her time at the bakery, anyway. And it was the right thing to do. Anthony was a good guy who did a mildly dumb thing a long time ago. Plus, his words weren’t gospel. Truthfully, she doubted anyone even remembered the article besides a few stubborn townspeople who still felt as though Anthony needed to learn a lesson in loyalty and roots.
“Who is he?” Anthony asked, suddenly.
Faith’s eyes snapped up to her friend’s. “What? Who?”
“Who’s the guy in the back of the café? The one who isclearlydistracting you.”
“I’m not distracted,” she protested, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, his words calling her completely out. “I’m fully engaged in this conversation with you.”
“Faith, you can’t tell me there’s not something going on with you and that guy.” He pointed his finger in Mitch’s direction.
“There’s nothing going on,” she insisted in a whisper shout, diving over the table to smother Anthony’s hand so Mitch didn’t accidentally catch him pointing. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because when you’re not busy staring at him, he keeps looking over at you. You two are playing a serious game of eye tag.”
Was Mitch really looking at her? Her cheeks grew hot, her neck flushed. Suddenly, every movement, every gesture felt like it was being recorded. It made her skin itch.
“I should get back to the bakery.” Everything in her wanted to run, to abandon this conversation and this disconcerting feeling of scrutiny. “Here.” Jamming her hand into her tote bag, she fished around and retrieved her big ring with the keys to her apartment, bakery, and car. With hurried movements, she unthreaded the one for her place and slid it across the table toAnthony. “The key to the apartment. And actually, if you have time, would you mind running down to the hardware store to have a copy made? This is the only one I have.”
“I can do that.” Anthony nodded his head as he pocketed the key. “I can get that done right now, in fact. And I’ll swing by the Market and grab one of those chickens you like for dinner. What kind of side do you feel like? Veggies? Garlic bread?”
“Whatever’s on sale. Just not—”
“Green beans. I know.”
She smiled. It was comforting that they had the sort of friendship where they memorized one another’s favorite meals, along with their culinary dislikes. Faith realized Anthony’s arrival wouldn’t be entirely well-received by the majority of Snowdrift, but in time, she hoped they would soften their staunch attitude toward him. Otherwise, Anthony was in for an uphill battle that he might not be able to climb. Not alone, at least.
Despite her insistence that the bakery was calling, Faith hung back a moment after Anthony had packed up and left. If Mitch hadn’t been there, she would have been on her way, but something about his presence held her in place like a very frustrating magnet.
And moments later when he stood from his table, tossed his cup into the trashcan near the barista bar like a basketball into a hoop, and then walked past her without so much as a ‘hello,’ she felt a peculiar combination of relief and regret, wondering if that magnetic pull between them was strong enough to hold them together, or destined to keep them just out of reach.
CHAPTER 13
Mitch considered everyone at Station 24 a highly trained expert. Despite Troy’s often crude comments and chauvinistic ways, when it came to firefighting and emergency response, he was focused. There was a sense of professionalism among them, a united commitment to the job.
And yet, today when the call came through to respond to an accident at Snowdrift Stables, Mitch sensed a shift in the atmosphere. He didn’t know how to classify the mood inside the truck when they powered up the hill to the ranch, siren wailing as it echoed throughout the Summit. Maybe it was panic, but he didn’t necessarily think that was the case. There was just a quiet underlying tension, a current of concern that made him agitated.
Captain Anderson gave their orders while they drove, and Mitch nodded as every detail was laid out.
Thankfully, the streets had recently been plowed, and someone had shoveled all the way up to the horse barn, so they were able to park directly next to the big, brown structure. Also trained as EMTs, Mitch and RJ collected their medical kits, and Mitch placed his personal protective equipment onwhile simultaneously jogging toward the pasture where it was reported the accident had occurred.
“She’s right over here,” a bearded man decked head to toe in what Mitch would label cowboy attire said in a rush. He came up beside Mitch and matched his stride while he spoke. “Just inside the fence line.”
“Is she conscious?” Captain Anderson inquired.
“She lost consciousness for a bit there. Blacked out for maybe thirty seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity.”
“Always does. And what’s your relation to her?” the Captain asked, leading the string of men toward the pasture.
The man’s throat pulled tight as he swallowed down his emotion. “She’s…” His voice shook. “She’s my grandmother.” He opened a small gate leading into the biggest snow-covered pasture Mitch had ever seen. It looked like a blanket of white, save for the hoofprints the size of dinner plates that created shallow craters in the otherwise pristine snow. Holding the gate while the responders passed through one by one, the man said, “I’m Spencer, by the way.”
“Mitch.” He didn’t have a free hand for a shake, so he tipped his head cordially. “Is that her over there?” Several yards up, Mitch could see a crumpled heap of a figure, a tiny, frail body bent crudely and motionless. “Josephine?”
“She goes by Jo,” Spencer corrected. The woman began to stir, a prolonged moan following her slow, painful movements.
“Jo, we’re here to help you.” Already, Mitch could see her right arm was broken, the bones bent in an unnatural manner that would make someone with a weaker stomach wince. “We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?”
