Levi sighs dramatically. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. This town is so hostile to heroes.”
He backs out.
Ellie turns back to the padlock like she wants to rip it off with her hands. “My inventory. My—” Her voice catches. “My ledger is in there.”
I step close enough that my chest almost brushes her back. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need my clothes,” she snaps, because it’s easier than admitting she needs anything else.
“Clothes,” I repeat.
“And my paperwork,” she adds, quieter. “My supplier contracts. My—” She swallows hard. “Everything.”
I lean in. “We’ll get it.”
Ellie’s shoulders lift, tense. “You keep saying that like you can just?—”
“I can,” I cut in.
She turns, face inches from mine, anger and fear sharp in her eyes. “You can’t fix this with your firefighter voice.”
My gaze drops to her mouth. “I can fix a lot with my voice.”
Ellie’s breath catches. Her cheeks flush.
She hates that she reacts.
I like that she reacts.
I don’t let myself show it. I step back and pull my phone out. “Saxon’s getting the sheriff to serve the bank with a request foraccess. In the meantime, you grab whatever you can from the open shelves. Anything you can’t replace.”
Ellie swallows. “Wyatt?—”
“Move,” I say, firm.
She glares, but she moves—grabbing boxes, tossing them into a tote like she’s in triage mode. The flannel sleeve slides up her arm and I get a glimpse of skin. My attention snags. My control strains.
Sadie steps in, calm and efficient, helping Ellie stack items. “Take the high-value inventory first. Truffles. Gift boxes. Anything sealed.”
Ellie nods, jaw tight. “Thank you.”
Sadie’s gaze flicks to Ellie’s face. “You don’t owe anyone thanks for helping you stay alive.”
Ellie’s throat works.
Then the front bell—still installed because apparently Graham didn’t think to remove joy—jingles softly.
I freeze.
My head turns toward the front of the shop.
Levi’s voice echoes faintly from the sales floor. “Oh. Ohhh. We’ve got a visitor.”
Ellie’s hand tightens on a tote strap. “Who?—”
I’m already moving.
I step into the main shop, and the sight hits like a match struck in gasoline.
