Catch the Flame (Fire Lake #1)

Chapter One

Faith Winters hadn’t planned on staying in Fire Lake any longer than it took to fuel up and grab some food.

It was supposed to be a pit stop on the way to Maine, nothing more.

But the car she’d bought for five hundred bucks only four days earlier had other plans, and about three miles from town, the engine started making clunking noises.

Two miles later, the beat-up Chevy began to shake and growl, and one mile after that, it died on the side of the road in a cloud of smoke less than ten feet from a sign that read:

A place like no other on God’s good earth

As dusk approached that early June day, Faith walked into town with all her belongings stuffed into a backpack, tugging on a tired navy suitcase with only one working wheel, her dog Taco at her side.

The town was cute, a slice of Americana that most folks didn’t believe existed anymore.

There were large brick homes with big front yards, the kind that had been built to last, sheltered on tree-lined streets that screamed character.

As she slowly walked up Main Street toward the center of town, she passed large flower boxes overflowing with petunias — pinks, purples, and whites — as well as baskets filled with ivy and begonias that swayed gently from the streetlamps.

She noted a lot of pretty shops with whimsical names like The Pastry Chef, A Single Note, which she assumed was a music store, Fresh Fairies (clothing and gifts), A Bit of Magic (antiques), and Sprinkles and Cream, a coffee house.

But the names were too quaint. Too vanilla.

Too much like the Gilmore Girls. It made Faith nervous.

Nothing was this perfect.

The coffee house was closed, and, annoyed, she kept walking, dragging her suitcase behind her, the shepherd-retriever mix tugging on his leash and sniffing everything he could.

She knew she needed to find a place to sit — to eat and recharge — or she’d end up like her car, broken down and out of gas.

Faith hiked up her backpack for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes and sighed.

She was so damn tired. For a second, hot tears poked at her eyes, but she forced them away and emptied her mind.

She wasn’t going to cry and wouldn’t think about the reason for her being here.

About the shame and hurt and utter disappointment she’d been living with for weeks.

“I can’t,” she whispered fiercely. After a moment or two, she slowly exhaled and moved on.

Eventually, she spied an elderly man perched on a bench outside the pharmacy, his legs spread out and relaxed. He was dressed in denim pants and a blue plaid shirt buttoned up nice and crisp despite the heat. He leaned forward as she approached, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Good evening,” he said slowly, with the laid-back flavor you’d expect in a town that boasted a coffee shop called Sprinkles and Cream. “I expect you’re new here.”

Faith propped up her suitcase and rolled her tired shoulders. “Anywhere good to eat?” Her voice was polite. Neutral.

“Sure is,” the man replied, taking off his faded and worn fedora to reveal a full head of white curly hair. “But not much open on a Sunday after five except the diner.” His eyes lingered on her suitcase. “You looking for a place to stay?”

“I am.” She hiked up the backpack. “Is there a motel or something cheap close by?” She paused. “A hostel maybe that welcomes pets?”

“I don’t exactly know what a hostel is, but we don’t like motels around here. They tend to fill up with the unsavory sort.” His bushy eyebrows rose. “You know, the kind who like to stay by the hour.”

He sounded so offended that in another life, she might have laughed or giggled. But all the light had fallen away from her, so instead, she frowned.

“Well, I need more than an hour. I guess I’m out of luck.”

He sat back. “You could try Trixie’s, but I think she’s full up with a marching band from out of state.” Then he glanced up the street. “Your best bet would be to ask at the diner. Talk to Tully.”

He told her to keep walking, and she’d eventually find the place, which was open until at least nine o’clock and served up some good eats and a respectable cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” Faith grabbed her suitcase.

“Where did you say you were from?” he asked, scratching at the whiskers on his chin.

“I didn’t.”

His eyes never left hers, and she knew he expected some sort of answer.

“Someplace far away from here.” It was all she was willing to give.

“You don’t say.” He eyed up Taco and frowned. “You might have to leave your dog tied up outside. They don’t belong indoors.”

Taco’s ears moved forward, and he wagged his tail while she offered a small smile and thanked the man.

She then continued on her way, bypassing the town center, which, again, looked like something out of a Rockwell painting.

There was a large white pavilion surrounded by gardens, trees, and benches, and a fountain that spouted water from between the teeth of a large wolf.

Eventually, she saw the diner across the street.

It was hard to miss with its neon pink sign that glowed, The best there is and more.

Faith crossed over with no issues and felt some relief when she spied four tables on the sidewalk just to the left of the front door.

She gave Taco a pat on the head and tied him to one of them before tucking her suitcase under a chair.

Taco was generally friendly, but he was also possessive and had the kind of bark that meant business.

She doubted anyone would try to steal her bag.

A quick glance at her clothes made her wince — her jean shorts were stained from when she’d spilled coffee on them the day before, and her white, long-sleeve T-shirt was a rumpled mess, a byproduct of sleeping in her car.

Her long auburn hair was tucked up into her cap, and with a makeup-free face, she looked closer to twenty than her actual age, which was twenty-seven.

Just turned twenty-seven, she thought, thinking back to her birthday dinner a few months earlier when her world had come tumbling down.

Shit. There were those damn tears again.

She angrily wiped them away and took a moment.

There was no point in crying. No point in remembering. There was just . . . no point.

Faith tugged on the brim of her ball cap, then lowered it as much as she could without impairing her vision. With her backpack firmly in place, she signaled Taco to sit and went inside.

The diner wasn’t as big as she’d first thought, with a smattering of tables, three of which were occupied by two couples and a lone male with his back turned to her.

That left three open tables and a long counter that sat at least ten.

Currently, all of the stools were free except the one farthest away, where a woman sat, hunched over, busy on her phone.

Faith walked over, stopped a few feet from her, and waited patiently.

After several moments, the woman sitting on the stool glanced up, obviously surprised to see Faith there.

Her platinum hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wore glasses that sported a thick black frame.

The glasses amplified eyes frosted with bright blue eyeshadow and enough mascara to last a week.

Her face was lined around the mouth and eyes, and her lips were a bright, shiny pink.

A leopard print shirt was a tad too tight across the breasts, and a pink bra poked over the top, while her light blue jean shorts were about an inch less than respectable.

The folks sitting at the table were very interested in Faith, but she ignored them as best she could and smiled at leopard print lady.

“Oh my,” the woman said, getting up quickly, smoothing her top and tucking it into her shorts.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She smiled widely and winked.

“But I’m trying to beat my husband at this silly game we play, and I only had five minutes to get my answers in.

” As she spoke, her eyes slowly made their way down Faith’s body until they settled back onto her face. There was no judgment. Only curiosity.

“What can I get you?”

Faith did a mental inventory of her financial situation and decided to keep things simple. “Any specials?”

The woman nodded. “We’ve got a chicken wrap with roasted potatoes and salad or soup as a side. It’s creamed cauliflower and cheese. Frank made it fresh this morning and I don’t mind saying he’s real good at making soup.”

“How much?” Faith’s stomach rumbled.

“Ten dollars.”

“I’ll take the wrap with soup.” Faith dug through her bag and handed over a bill, then pointed toward the window. “I’m sitting outside.”

“No worries, I’ll bring it out as soon as Frank whips it together.” The woman cranked her head. “That your dog?”

Faith nodded.

“I’ll bring him some water.”

“Thank you,” she murmured and then headed back to her table. Once there, she retrieved Taco’s small bowl and added a scoop of dry kibble. While the dog happily inhaled his dinner, she sat with her back to the window and tried to relax.

It was hard to do. She was strung tighter than a snake about to strike.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The woman set down a bowl of water for Taco, and as the dog eagerly lapped it up, she stood and watched. “My name’s Tully.” She offered a smile, then glanced at the sad piece of luggage that contained everything Faith had to her name. “You looking to stay a while?”

Faith sighed and nodded. “My car broke down outside of town, so I guess I’m here for a while.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I hate spending money on vehicles.

I mean, I’ll spend a fortune at the salon, but new brakes?

” She shuddered and shook her head. “No thank you.” She frowned.

“Burt Tannis could help you out, he owns the local repair shop though he doesn’t work Sundays or Mondays. He should be back at it by Tuesday.”