Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
I froze beneath the weight of him. His big body and that honey stare.
Then I bit down on my bottom lip when I realized Pamela was right across the room, trying to go incognito where she had been packing up her things to leave but suddenly found our interaction much more interesting.
Ezra fumbled back a step when he realized it, too, and he refused to look at either of us as he turned and strode for a hallway to the left of his office. I sent her a furtive glance, lifting my shoulder in an I have no idea what that was about gesture. I didn’t want to contemplate it, either. Then I bolted along to catch up to the man whose legs were so freaking long he took the entire room in like four steps.
Apparently, he really did have places to be.
He moved down the hall before he tossed open a door to the left.
It was a typical locker room, the floors and walls tiled in the same drab beige tiles. A row of tall lockers were attached to the wall on the right with different last names carved into plates. On the opposite side were three shower stalls, and a mirror and sinks were straight ahead.
He set my bag on a bench next to a fresh towel that had been placed there.
My stomach tightened in a fist.
Had he already been in there getting it ready for me?
I knew better than to believe any person could be this kind. But God, he seemed it.
Sweetly overbearing.
Harshly considerate.
Like it was his God-given duty to care for those around him. I wondered if it was really out of kindness or if he believed it was his responsibility. Or maybe he was just a master manipulator like the rest.
“Here.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “That’s my favorite restaurant in town. I talked to the owner. She’s a lifelong friend and is dating my cousin. She is about the nicest thing around. She was excited to hear I had someone who might be interested in a job because she’s definitely in need of some help.”
I scanned the note.
Time River Market & Café
245 E. Manchester
8 a.m.
Ask for Dakota
Below it was a second address with 6:00 p.m. written next to it.
“What’s this?” I asked, pointing at the extra line.
He hesitated for a beat before he said, “A safe place for you to stay.” Then he quirked a brow. “You know, because I don’t want to have to haul you in for trespassing again.”
“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the way my chest squeezed tight.
He’s married. He’s married. He’s married.
Silently chanting the reminder seemed prudent.
My self-preservation whispered that it shouldn’t matter if he wasn’t. It wouldn’t have changed anything.
He already had the door open and was heading out when I managed to call, “Why are you doing this for me?”
Uncertainty flashed through his rough features. “Like I said before, everyone needs some help every once in a while, Savannah.”
“And do you give it to everyone who stumbles into your path?”
Those eyes both flared and softened. “Only to the ones who deserve it.”
FIVE
SAVANNAH
It was 7:45 when I pulled into the parking lot of Time River Market & Café. Refreshed from the shower and wearing a cute sundress that I’d paired with a thin cardigan since the mornings and evenings were cool.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I scanned the lot. Searching. Sifting through the faces of the few people who were either leaving or entering the restaurant. Wondering if they knew anything. If they’d seen her. If she was near.
If I was only being paranoid, jumping to conclusions that were foolish to be made. If my gut that promised that she was in trouble and needed help was correct or if she was actually fine.
It was funny that both scenarios would shatter the last piece of my battered heart.
Because I’d been unable to accept the last thing that she’d said to me—when she’d told me that she didn’t need me anymore.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I climbed from my car and headed to the entrance of the cute restaurant that sat on the main drag of Time River.
A bell dinged overhead, and my mouth watered as I was inundated with the most delectable scents.
Freshly baked pastries, coffee and cream, bacon and syrup.
The front portion of the restaurant was a country store. Displays full of jewelry and handmade soaps and every other bauble and trinket you could imagine were set up throughout the room, but it was the forty or so people milling around waiting on a table that made me sure that Ezra hadn’t been exaggerating the owner’s need for help just for my sake.
Hope swelled. This was exactly the type of place I needed to be. Where I could watch and listen.