Anyone that stumbles on the quaint coastal town of Shelter Bay might call it sleepy. They may even mistake it for a place where nothing much happens.
Perhaps that's because it's a tight-knit community full of happy families and local businesses go...
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I'd probably wiped down the same tabletop at least four times, but I couldn't remember. My mind was pinging like popcorn kernels in a microwave while I replayed that morning's events over and over (and over again).
My whole body felt jittery as if my nerves were so full of the excess energy they were sparking.
It all happened so fast, exactly the way Pastor Steve said an attack would occur in the real world. I froze up and I couldn't recall the self-defense basics I needed to save myself from an ambush.
Eyes, nose, mouth, and throat. Sometimes that list played in my dreams like a broken stereo.
So, why couldn't I remember it when that dickhead Jeffery Wallace was threatening me and calling me names?
He used my distraction to his advantage and cornered me outside of his mother's garage.
Like a true coward, Jeffery was waiting in the shadows, ready to pounce the moment my back was turned after my morning run.
"You, ok?" Monica asked to make me jump like a bunny and whirl around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"
"A little," I panted through my heart palpitations.
"You still thinking about this morning?" Her amber eyes grew sympathetic.
"Yeah," I hugged my ribs and abandoned the table I was pretending to wipe down. "It got pretty ugly."
"I believe you," Monica nodded her fishtail braid in solidarity. "That Jeffery guy sounds like an entitled brat. You have every right to be in that apartment, Wildflower, rental contract or not. Have you told Noah what happened yet?"
My stomach knotted as I tried to put on a braver face.
We were in the middle of the Sunday brunch rush and The Brick's dining room was close to capacity. You could barely hear the peppy country-pop music Maggie always played from all the cherry chatter all around us.
"No," I confessed, staring at my feet.
I didn't want to tell Noah about my problems because they were my own damn fault. I insisted on reporting his mother missing, which brought Jeffery-the-jerk back to town.
"Well, you're about to," Monica said, lowering her gaze to get my attention back. "Because he just walked in looking for you. Maggie says you're on break."
"I-what?" I stuttered as I noticed the strapping frame of a familiar lawman stepping into view.
Monica nodded and smiled in his direction, so I turned to square off with Sergeant Taylor.
As usual, I found myself transfixed by the smoldering embers of his campfire eyes.
Of course, I saw how Noah's oatmeal-colored cable knit sweater hugged the contours of his muscular shoulders and toned pecs. And yes, I noticed his facial scruff was a little longer than usual, which softened his angular jawline and added a bit of rugged neck stubble for me to fantasize about later.
