Chapter 24 Char
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAR
Ellie’s practically vibrating with excitement, her smile so bright it could power the town’s Main Street. “I can’t get over what a great surprise this is! How long are you here for?” she asks sliding a glass of water in front of me before taking a seat.
I shrug, sliding onto one of the restaurant barstools.
“Don’t know yet. I guess I’ve been doing the same thing for so long in Candy Cane Key, I needed to hit the pause button.
” I grin, nudging her playfully. “And I miss you. I have friends back home, but it’s not the same.
” My eyes hold hers as if she can somehow read my mind.
“They’re not you. I’ve got enough saved for a bit.
Thought I’d see if I could help you get ready for the arrival of your little ones. ”
Her smile softens as she pulls me into a side hug. “Char, you have no idea how happy that makes me. But are you sure? You’ve got your salon.”
Slashing my hand through the air, I quickly change the subject. “I don’t want to impose or overstay my welcome,” I say quickly, feeling a pang of guilt for arriving uninvited. “I know I should’ve called—”
Ellie cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Stop. You’re family. Never forget it.” The word family niggles against something tender in my chest, and I nod before I can get too misty-eyed.
She leans her elbows on the counter. “So, how was your trip?”
“It was good.” I grin, twirling the pad of my fingertip around the rim of my water glass.
“I really wanted to stop and tour St. Augustine. I’ve driven through the area several times now, and it looks like such a cool place.
” I let out an exhausted sigh. “But honestly, once I arrived there, I just wanted to get here already.”
Well, that, and not wanting to do that alone with the threat of a killer on my heels.
“I stopped near Amelia Island again. My new fairy godmother, Betty, took me to an Oktoberfest celebration in the area. It was a hoot. She dressed me up in this traditional German getup she just happened to have at the ready.” I laugh thinking about it.
It was a bit big, but she pulled in on the ribbons of that corset like a scene from Gone with the Wind.
“It was this fantastic royal blue dress and sheer cream-colored apron over a white off the shoulder puffy sleeve V neck.” I retrieve my phone to show her the picture Betty took, the large beer truck at my back.
“Oh, how fun.”
“I honestly felt like I was in the old country.” I giggle. “We danced, drank German lagers, ate bratwurst and schnitzel, and gorged on pastries that could’ve sent me straight into a diabetic coma.”
Ellie grins, perching her cheek in her hand. “That sounds amazing.”
“It was! It was really cool. They had whole families arrive dressed in German attire, many of them dancing the night away. I think I slept better that night than I have in years.” I pause.
Okay, not including the last night I spent in Sycamore Mountain.
The visual floods back, uninvited. My eyes nervously flick over to where Dave is sitting, hoping he isn’t privy to this conversation.
Once we’d finally separated long enough to sleep, it was the most blissful night’s rest I’ve ever had. Between the way he completely wrung my body of every ounce of energy, then cocooned me in his delicious scent, his strong, warm body spooning mine. My cheeks heat at the memory.
“I could easily see you guys doing something like that here in Sycamore Mountain,” I blurt, desperate to redirect my own thoughts. “The Oktoberfest thing.”
“You know, that’s a fantastic idea. I could probably find some great German recipes, and you could braid everyone’s hair.”
“Exactly!” I say too fast. “Braids, sausage, lederhosen… pure gold.”
She tilts her head, pretending to think.
“You know, that’s actually not half bad.
” She reaches for her water, looking more serious than I expected the conversation to turn.
“Quinn was just asking if Sycamore Mountain had any festivals to bring in more tourists. She’s Jason’s wife.
She’s always traveling on business because she owns her own PR firm and there hasn’t been much for her to work on in Sycamore Mountain.
But we were chatting the other night over drinks.
Okay, water.” She laughs. “Adding some fairs and events might bring in more tourism, boost business, and maybe even keep her home more often.”
I beam, crossing my arms smugly. “Wow. I’m really smart.”
Ellie snickers and pulls me in for another side hug. “Yes, yes you are.”
For a few blissful seconds, I let myself relax. The cozy restaurant feels warm, and the mountains outside framing the perimeter of Sycamore create a bit of a fortress. For the first time in months, I feel safe.
Until I don’t.
A flicker of movement outside catches my eye. It’s just a shadow. But it’s enough to make my heart trip over itself. I blink, look again. Nothing.
Probably just a deer. Or a customer.
“Everything okay?” Ellie asks, noticing my sudden stillness.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw something.”
She shrugs and goes back to working behind the bar.
It’s fine, I tell myself. You’re safe. You’re here. No one followed you. Still, my eyes stray to the window again.
Dave
I can’t help overhearing their conversation. Is she really planning to stay here without a definitive end date? I’m afraid to get too excited after the last time we were together. Hell, she practically dismissed me.
Dreading the answer almost before the question has left my lips, I decide to walk over to where she’s seated at the bar, and go all in. “How long are you here?”
“Don’t know.” Her voice is timid, jumpy. Not at all like the confident, carefree ball buster from the wedding. The one who had me forgetting my own damn name for a night.
“Sit, sit, you guys.” Ellie gestures toward the table, beaming. “Let’s celebrate my sweet friend surprising me with a nice dinner.”
“Uh, why doesn’t someone cook for you, babe?” Matt asks, rubbing lazy circles over her belly with his tattooed hand stretched wide before bending to kiss her baby bump.
Ellie grins. “Not sure if you caught it yet, but I’m the chef.”
“I’m just saying, you don’t need to make a habit of cooking for your own celebrations.” He presses, gentle but insistent. “We need to branch out. Maybe hire someone who can help. These babies aren’t going to take care of themselves.”
Ellie gives him a scornful glare. The kind that says you’re treading dangerous territory.
Matt’s arms fly up immediately. “Don’t give me that look.
I can’t wait to be a hands-on dad. But when I’m at the station, someone’s got to be here.
Bringing another chef on now who can give you more flexibility might not be a bad idea. ”
“I know you’re right.” Ellie taps her nail against her lip. “I mean, Char must’ve branched out,” she says finally. “Hired some managerial staff to run her salon so she could spend time here.”
My eyes dart to Char fast enough to catch the small flinch of her forehead. So, she hasn’t hired anyone. Did she just close down her business? For how long?
Not your monkeys, not your circus, Dave.
This girl’s made it clear you were a one-and-done. Just sit down, eat Ellie’s killer food, and move on with your life. Maybe try dating someone in the next town over. There has to be a woman under the age of sixty there.
Ellie brings out pork chops, homemade applesauce, green beans, and those biscuits that should be illegal.
“Babe, you got any meatloaf? Dave was craving some.” Matt’s pleading tone nearly cracks me up. Thank god for the distraction, because the real reason I was craving meatloaf had nothing to do with dinner.
“Don’t listen to him. These look amazing, Ellie,” I chide.
Char doesn’t say much. None of the spark she had before remains. Her smiles are forced, almost brittle. But she can’t be irritated I’m here. Hell, I live here.
Matt comes up behind her at one point, drops a friendly hand on her shoulder, and she startles. It’s not a casual flinch. Not a you scared me kind of reaction. Every muscle in her body locks tight, her face draining of color like someone pulled the plug.
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. All of a sudden, my skin prickles. The air shifts. This girl’s in trouble. I can feel it down to my bones.
Later, when I’m home, I call my friend, Max. We go way back… our families, college, the works. He’s a billionaire tech whiz who built an empire creating security software, but spends much of his time digging through the dark web, still searching for his sister, who sadly went missing as a teenager.
If anyone can find out what’s going on with Char, it’s him. I tell him what little I know: her first name, the salon she owns down in Florida, and her license plate.
“Give me a few hours,” he says.
Later, when Max calls back, there’s an edge in his voice I notice immediately. I don’t like it.
“Dave, something’s off. I can’t find anything on her before her seventeenth birthday. No school records, no address history, no medical data. It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.”
My stomach drops.
He exhales low. “I’ll send you what I’ve got, but my gut says she’s running from something.”
Or someone.