to do serious.
“Don’t worry, I won’t come knocking for a cup of sugar. I don’t bake.” If Holt could put her at ease, lower her guard, he could get close. At this rate, he wasn’t getting nearer than arm’s length, and that wasn’t good enough.
“Neither does she,” Gigi called from the cab of the truck. “My head hurts. Let’s go.”
Blair stepped forward and froze. “My gun! Where’s my gun?”
“I have it. You weren’t exactly thinking clearly back there.”
“I’d like it back before I go anywhere with you.” Her tone was laced with suspicion, caution.
Holt slipped it from his waistband and handed it to her. “What are you doing carrying a gun?”
“Why does anyone carry a gun? And I live in the South.” She grabbed her purse from her truck, tucked her gun inside, locked the doors and slowly made her way to his truck. He hoped she had a license to carry a concealed weapon. “Gigi, get out. I’ll take the middle.”
Safeguarding her little sister from the mysterious and probably—in Blair’s eyes—dangerous man. Something about her fierce protectiveness unraveled a cord he’d kept a tight rein over.
No doubt, this woman would sacrifice herself for her family. Whether she was the good guy or the bad. But which was she?
* * *
Blair sat next to Holt in Doc Drummond’s office, staring through the gold lettering painted across the large picture window announcing that this was indeed a doctor’s office. The heat filtering through the pane warmed her face.
“You doing all right?” Holt asked. He hadn’t budged since they entered. This man didn’t even know them. Why would he stick around like this?
“What do you think?” She hadn’t meant the question to come with a sting. “Sorry.” Blair lightly touched the bandaged area of her head where she’d hit it against the steering wheel. Thankfully, her hair covered it. She didn’t need the town asking a bunch of questions, although news traveled at warp speed, so they’d know about the wreck. Not the bullets, though. And she preferred to keep it that way.
Doc Drummond had bought her quick story, which wasn’t a lie, of losing control of the wheel and running off Farley Pass. She probably should have come here in the first place, but she’d been rattled and frightened. She’d wanted to get home. Safe.
Down the cobbled streets, neighbors bounced in and out of shops. Kids licked dripping ice-cream cones; friends laughed and peeked inside each other’s shopping bags. Vehicles lined the area in front of the regal courthouse.
Felicity Potts, the owner of Read It and Steep Bookstore and Tea Company, was sweeping the welcome mat. Blair caught her eye and she waved.
Blair waved back.
“Tea shop. How about I go over there and get a cup for you?” Holt asked.
Blair tried to see past Holt’s good looks to the kindness he showed. Was it real? When it came to men, her judgment stank. Mateo had proven that. “Are you going to get some for yourself, too?”
“Yeah, I don’t do tea.”
Blair smirked; couldn’t help it. “Chamomile.” She reached into her purse. “Let me get you some cash.”
He laid a hand over hers. “I got it. Be back in a minute.”
“Thank you. For the fourth time.”
“Five if you want to thank me for the drive over.” He swept his dark hair out of his eyes and left, jogging across the street.
Blair loved Felicity’s tea. She loved this town. Barely any crime. But today someone had tried to kill Blair and Gigi. Guilt wound her shoulders tight and drummed in her neck. She’d brought a can of worms to Hope. Somehow. Holt had asked her if she was going to call the police. It had almost sounded like he was testing her. Could the man buying her a chamomile tea be behind the attack? His popping up seemed awfully suspicious, but he’d done nothing but help and be friendly.
Mateo had been friendly, too. Charming. Sweet. Fun. Look where that had gotten her.
She leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes.
The door opened and a blast of heat sucked the cool air from the waiting area. “Blair Sullivan. What in the world happened to your head?”
Blair didn’t need to look up to know who was standing over her. The familiar sugary scent permeated the room as her voice tinkled. Riella Drummond. Doc’s wife. “G and I had a car accident on the way home from the auction today.” Blair opened her eyes to the most-well-put-together woman she’d ever seen. Hair worthy of shampoo commercials and naturally bronzed skin.
Riella sat next to her and laid her purse on a table filled with up-to-date magazines. “Do you need anything? I can have Sophia bring dinner over.”
Sophia, Riella’s housekeeper, made a mean enchilada dish, but Blair didn’t feel right about taking something for nothing, especially when nobody was dying. “No need for all the fuss. We’ll grab a bite at the Black-Eyed Pea if G feels up to it.”
“Ah. Well, I just came to bring my man something to eat. He missed lunch. You sure you don’t want anything? I have plenty.”
Blair inhaled the tangy scent of Italian food. She must have stopped in at Mangiare. Another reason Blair adored this town—the wide variety of ethnic groups represented here. And the variety of food choices because of it. It really was a wonderful life.
Until today.
“No, really. I’m fine and Gigi will need to get home soon anyway. She’ll probably want to lie down.”
Riella glanced outside. “You met the man who leased the store next to yours yet?”
Holt Renard. “I did. He gave us a lift, but I don’t really know much about him.” Not nearly enough to feel comfortable. And with the way he’d sent her pulse skittering at the auction, she couldn’t get to know him. “He’s opening an outdoorsman store.”
Riella’s eyebrow lifted. “Speaking of...”
Holt made an entrance and handed Blair her tea.
Riella introduced herself and chitchatted with Holt while Blair sipped her chamomile tea and fretted. She hoped he wouldn’t blab to Riella about the circumstances surrounding the wreck. But Blair couldn’t tell him not to, either. She’d instructed Gigi to keep mum before she saw Doc. She’d have to do some explaining when she got her alone. She’d never wanted Gigi to know how stupid and naive she’d been to fall in with Mateo and his crowd. No way around it now.
“Well, on behalf of Hope, welcome. I’ll have Sophia whip you up a welcome meal.”
Riella didn’t mind offering meals to everyone and anyone. She never had to cook them.
Doc Drummond led Gigi into the waiting area. “No concussion, but watch her anyway. She can take Motrin for the pain. Wake her up every thirty minutes to an hour just in case, and she’ll be right as rain.” He flashed a grin at his wife. “I smell a meatball sub.”
Riella raised a red-and-green bag. “You’re welcome.” She kissed his cheek. Blair hooked her arm around Gigi’s. “Thanks, Doc. We appreciate your help.”
“Be more careful next time, Blair. That beast of a truck is a lot to handle.” Doc Drummond winked. “Nice meeting you, Holt. I’ll have to swing by and check out the store when it’s up and running.”
“Sounds good.”
Doc escorted his wife to the offices. Holt held the door while Blair and Gigi stepped outside underneath the white-and-yellow awning. Even with the shade, it felt like they were charging toward a fire-breathing dragon. Blair looked at Holt. “Can I have a couple of minutes alone with my sister?”