Afterward, we eat the takeout, sitting at my kitchen table and making plans for the future. I don’t know what that might be, but we’ll face it together. Jace has some decisions to make about what he does next, but I get the feeling that with his resourcefulness, he’ll land on his feet.
After lunch, even though I’d love to go back to bed, this town we both now call home needs us. We head out in my car for our second date: cleaning up Hope.
13
JACE
Kayla parks near the bus station at the end of Sycamore Avenue, Hope’s main street. From the trunk, we grab a wide wooden broom and all the trash bags she had at her place.
The street is full of residents picking up trash and sweeping debris into piles. I spy Owen up ahead. As acting town sheriff, he’s directing people to where the help is needed most. We make our way to him, with Kayla’s hand tucked snugly into mine.
“Where can we help?”
Owen frowns when he sees me, and his gaze darts to Kayla’s hand in mine, but if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He’s much too good at his job for that.
“I heard you were lost in the mountains.”
I scoff. “Rangers don’t get lost. Just because I’m not on the job anymore doesn’t mean I’ve lost the skills.”
A dark-haired woman walking past stops and turns to us, her sharp eyes giving us the once-over. “Did you say you were lost during the storm?”
Owen scowls at her. “This is not the time, Daphne.”
She pointedly ignores him and holds out her hand. “I’m Daphne Willcocks. I work forHope Matters, the local paper.”
Both Kayla and I introduce ourselves.
“I’m capturing real life experiences during the storm. I’d love to share your story and hear how you spent the storm.”
An image of Kayla spread out on the bedroll, her nipples hard peaks and her face soft with desire fills my mind. “I don’t think our story is fit to be shared.”
Kayla suppresses a giggle, and I squeeze her hand.
“If you change your mind, let me know.” Daphne hands over a business card.
“Stop harassing people,” Owen grumbles at her.
She turns to face him as she backs away with her hands in her back pockets. “Just bringing the news to the town, sheriff.”
He watches her go with a frown on his face.
I spy Grant outside one of the businesses along the street. As we approach, the damage here seems worse than the other storefronts. There’s smashed glass, and the sign is blown down and mangled.
“It’s Sweet & Strong.” Kayla recognizes the bakery at the same time I do. What’s left of it, that is. The cake displays in the window are a heap of gooey mess with shards of glass sticking out of them.
“What happened here?”
The other storefronts have debris blown against them and piles of silt where the drains overflowed and carried it down the street. None of them have broken windows, and a smashed-up sign. It’s as if a mini tornado came right through the cafe.
I recognize Hannah, the woman who helped me choose the cupcake for Kayla. Her mouth is in a thin line, and she seems shaken. She wears thick gardening gloves as she sweeps glass out of the window display. Grant is helping her, silently, as I knew he would be. The man hangs around the bakery more often than a kid with a chocolate addiction.
Kayla uses her broom to start sweeping, and Hannah gives her an appreciative nod.
Grant saunters over to where I’m standing on the street in front of the shop. He crouches down and inspects a large stone that’s rolled onto the road from somewhere. The intensity of his look puts me on guard. “What is it?”
He points to the broken window and the shattered glass on the pavement. “This isn’t storm damage.”
He says it quietly so no one else can hear.
