“You know,” my dad says carefully, “I saw that sign and got to thinking about that dream of yours. You could—”
“How’s the campaign going?” I cut him off, my heart stampeding in my chest. Every word he spoke got me more and more excited, and I don’t need that.
My father frowns, and I know it’s because he wants to talk about this more. He knows better than anyone how much I’ve always wanted my own restaurant. While he knows the gist of what happened, he doesn’t know just how deep I got cut in Chicago. I’m already working in a kitchen at Stick Taps. Can’t that be enough?
“This new guy is good, no doubt about that,” my father says, letting me change the subject. “I’m still ahead in the polls, though, so that’s always a plus.”
“Good or not, your opponent doesn’t stand a chance against you. The county loves you. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I doubt they’d feel that way if they knew about my heart thing.”
I realize I’ve been so caught up in Ezra and the remodel that I haven’t even asked about it in a while. He hasn’t complained, so I’ve figured he’s okay. He would say otherwise. We’ve always been honest with each other.
Like you’re being honest by sneaking around with Ezra.
I push that thought away. “Speaking of that, how have you been feeling this week?”
“Not bad. Just a little heartburn, but nothing my pills can’t fix.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Are you sure it’s just heartburn? Do you need to see your doctor?”
“If I’m not allowed to worry about you, then you’re not allowed to worry about me.”
“You can worry about me, Dad, but being sick for a few days is different than me getting a call in the middle of the night because of your heart.” I shoot him a glare. “If this campaign is causing you stress, then you need to drop it. You don’t have to be the sheriff.”
He looks offended I’ve even suggested that, but I bet the thought has crossed his mind a time or two. My dad isn’t exactly old, but he’s not as young as he once was either. He has more than enough time under his belt to retire. It might even be good for him.
“Being sheriff is all I’ve known for the last fifteen years. I’m not looking to hang up my badge just yet.”
“Dad, I—”
He holds his hand up. “I’m okay, Summer. I promise if I feel like I can’t do this job, I’ll consider retirement.”
I don’t miss his wording. He’llconsiderretirement. That’s not good enough, but I know it’s all I’m going to get.
“Fine. I just love you, okay? I want you happy and healthy.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m happy as long as you’re happy?” He winks at me, then points to my half-eaten food. “Now finish your meal. You need the calories after being sick.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” I smart off, earning me a glare.
We finish breakfast, and I promise to text him and let him know how I’m feeling in a little while before he leaves.
I take my time getting ready, then climb into the cruiser ten minutes before I actually need to leave for my shift at Stick Taps. I tell myself it’s because I want extra time to get there in case of traffic, but this is Port Harbor, for crying out loud.
I’m going early because I want to stop at Sunnie’s. I can’t stop thinking about it, even though I shouldn’t. Even though that little voice is still whispering in the back of my mind.
You failed before, Summer. How will this time be any different? Face it—you couldn’t hack it. You’re a has-been.
I pull up to the bakery and park along the curb in front, and my heart begins to hammer when I see that it’s true.
Right there in the corner of the window is the sign.
For Sale by Owner
I can’t seem to stop myself from opening my door, dying to know more. I say it’s just because I’m curious why he’s selling it, but I know that’s not true. I want to see if he has a buyer.
“Summer!” Ken, the owner, grins at me from behind the counter when I walk into the cute little shop. “How are you, kid?”
