Chapter 3
Palmer
Istartled as the door opened before my knuckles made contact.
A large man stood in the doorway, filling it completely. He didn’t seem happy, and my breath caught as my arm dropped limply to my side. Something in his guarded, tired look told me I wasn’t welcome.
My spine straightened, thrown off-balance by the surprise of his presence. I scrambled to recover. I forced a smile that he did not return. What a grumpy man he was.
“I was wondering if you had any rooms available? I’m wanting to stay at the bed-and-breakfast.” I suppressed a wince at how unsure I sounded.
He simply stared at me.
Silence stretched between us, and I became painfully aware of how big he was—tall and broad and solid in a way that made me both intrigued and…
wary. He was handsome in a rugged, blue-collar kind of way.
Intimidating, even. I vaguely recognized him the more I studied him.
I was pretty certain that he was the fire chief, but I couldn’t remember his name.
I’d seen him lead fire safety demonstrations for kids at the library.
I’d never seen him up close, though. He could probably lift me with one arm if he wanted to.
“Are you media?”
His voice was so deep, it took me a few moments to comprehend his question.
My fingers toyed with the oversized buttons of my sweater; the way the smooth surface glided under the pads of my fingers grounded me.
I shook my head. “No, I just need a place to stay.”
I should’ve realized they’d be suspicious of people coming recently. Maybe that’s why they weren’t answering calls to take reservations. How many members of the media were trying to get a place to stay during the circus of the Shadow Stalker’s escape?
“Why aren’t you wearing a coat?” He glanced at my sweater.
I blinked, confused as my mind caught up to the shift in topic. I followed his gaze down to the thick sweater I’d knit myself. I’d never really liked winter coats. They were bulky and restrictive and not my style.
“It’s wool.”
His frown deepened. “What?”
I plucked at the hem of my cream-colored cardigan. “This. It’s wool. And very warm.”
He seemed doubtful. His eyes drifted down to my long, flowing skirt before lifting back to my face. My skin heated despite the freezing weather. Why would he care whether I wore a coat or not? He stood there in nothing but a white T-shirt I could practically see through.
I tried not to linger on the way the fabric clung to his sculpted muscles and instead focused on the obvious goose bumps rising on his skin. “You’re the one who looks cold,” I muttered.
The wind kicked up then, ruffling his dark hair.
“The bed-and-breakfast is temporarily closed.”
I deflated. That was exactly what I’d been afraid of.
“Really? Why?”
His hand tightened on the doorframe. “Personal family matters.”
His tone made me pause. Maybe something had happened with the media. As much as I wanted to stay here, there was clearly something going on—and it was probably more important than my desire to enjoy a historic home.
I stepped closer without realizing it. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
His brows drew together, eyes pinning me in place. “What are you sorry for?”
I didn’t know how I knew. I’d always…felt things. People gave off energy. Their bodies spoke louder than their words sometimes, and I’d learned to read that early on. Being sensitive to it had been valuable. I could tailor myself to what people needed before they ever asked.
His energy was sad, like he was grieving.
Whatever his personal family matter was, it wasn’t something good.
I shrugged, forcing myself to keep my voice light. “I’m sorry that you’re sad.”
“What makes you think I’m sad?”
“I just have a feeling.”
He tilted his head, something shifting in him. There was irritation there—but curiosity, too.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m sorry, too. I can’t help you.”
Before the words could fully settle, a small voice cut between us.
“Who are you?”
We both looked down at the same time.
A little girl stood at his side, squinting at me with drowsy green eyes. She wore fuzzy pink pajamas. Her dark curls were a frizzy, adorable mess.
My heart melted instantly.
I crouched down before her with a wide smile. “Hi! I’m Palmer. What’s your name?”
She studied me for a moment. Then her lips curled into a sweet grin that made my chest ache.
“I’m Hailey.”
“Hailey,” I repeated. “I love that name. It’s really pretty.”
She pressed closer into the man’s side, but her smile widened. “Thanks. Daddy said it was Mommy’s middle name.”
I blinked up at the fire chief. I hadn’t known he had a daughter.
“Wow,” I said to Hailey. “That must be really special, sharing a name with your mom.”
She nodded, and her father tensed.
“Yeah. It’s a good thing I have it because I don’t really remember her. This way, she’s always a part of me.”
She smiled brightly, but my chest tightened. I didn’t know what had happened to her mother—but I could guess.
“That’s a really lovely way of thinking about it,” I murmured.
A brief quiet settled around us, but Hailey didn’t seem like someone who tolerated awkward silences for long.
“Is she my new babysitter?” She peered up at her father.
His eyes flew wide, mouth dropping open.
That single word caught my attention.
“Babysitter?” I asked before he could respond.
Hailey nodded eagerly. “Yeah. My grandma and grandpa can’t watch me anymore while Daddy is at work. He’s been talking about getting me one.” She glanced between us. “You’re really nice. I thought maybe he found you for me.”
He cleared his throat and rested a hand on Hailey’s shoulder. “She just came to ask a question about the bed-and-breakfast, baby.”
Hailey’s face fell, disappointment flashing across her features.
I straightened, an idea sparking before I could stop it. I wasn’t certain it was a good idea, but I couldn’t help myself. Again, I thought how this day was somehow…serendipitous.
“I’ve actually worked as a live-in nanny for the last few years.” The words spilled out before I could rein them in. “But the family I was working for has moved on, so…I’m available if you need any help.”
I put on my best, brightest smile, but it nearly faltered at the fire chief’s face. His expression had gone cold and hard. I suppressed a shiver.
“Really?” Hailey piped up, excitement vibrating through her. She turned to her dad, face full of hope. “Did you hear that? She’s a real nanny!”
But the fire chief kept staring at me like I was some kind of problem that needed to be dealt with. His grip on Hailey’s shoulder tightened.
“I heard her,” he said flatly. “But I don’t think we need a nanny.”
Hailey’s expression crumpled into confusion. “What do you mean? A nanny who lives here is way better than a babysitter.” Her vivid green eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight as she turned back to me. “Daddy works all the time. Sometimes really late at night. You’d be perf—”
“Hailey.”
The sharpness of his tone cut her off. She frowned up at him, a spark of defiance flashing across her face.
“That’s enough, honey.”
Hailey crossed her arms over her chest but stayed quiet.
The fire chief pinned me with his stare again. “I’m sorry we can’t host you at the bed-and-breakfast. Thank you for your offer, but I’ll have to decline.”
He stepped back from the doorway, pulling Hailey with him, and panic jolted through me.
“Wait!”
I fumbled blindly in my purse. He paused long enough for me to pull out my pocket notebook and pen. Hastily, I scrawled down my name, number, email, and a few references I could think of off the top of my head. I tore the page out and held it out to him.
“At least take this,” I said. “In case you change your mind.”
He glared at the paper without touching it. My stomach twisted with embarrassment, but then Hailey snatched it up.
“Thank you!” she said enthusiastically.
I smiled down at her. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She glanced down at the paper, then back up at her dad. She leaned toward me and gave a quick wink. “We’ll be in touch!”
Her dad pulled her back, gave me one last scathing glare, and then closed the door.
I stood on the porch a beat, taking in a few deep breaths. I hadn’t even asked for the fire chief’s name. My head fell back, and I let out a frustrated groan.
I wasn’t sure that the day could get any worse.
Before he decided to come back and yell at me, I forced myself to move. I turned back toward my car, reminding myself that doors had closed on me many times—and I’d always found another way forward.
Ishivered in the back seat of my car, buried under every blanket I owned—which was only two. They were thick and knitted with bulky wool yarn, but no matter how tightly I wrapped them around myself, the cold snuck its way in.
The windows were almost completely covered in snow, and I gritted my teeth, annoyed with myself for not paying closer attention to the weather.
After leaving the bed-and-breakfast and that surprising interaction at the door, I’d slunk off to the public library.
I hadn’t had anywhere else to go, and I’d spent the rest of the day researching job openings, hotel prices in the surrounding cities, and possible places I could live.
I was lucky to have an older laptop, but it was slow, and everything had taken longer than I’d expected.
When I’d finally decided it was time to leave and drive to the hotel I’d picked out, the snow was already a couple of inches deep, with no sign of stopping.
I hadn’t realized we were under a winter snow advisory.
I grumbled under my breath and wrapped my arms tighter around myself beneath the blankets.
I’d bought about a million little hand-warmer packets from the store, but I was still freezing and they didn’t last long.
I’d been turning the car on intermittently to warm things up, but I didn’t have much gas, and my car was… not in the best condition.
I’d needed new tires for a while now. They were bald enough that it wasn’t safe driving the thirty minutes out of town to the hotel in this weather. So I’d decided that sleeping in my car for one night wouldn’t kill me.
At least, I hadn’t thought it would. I was regretting that decision now.
I’d slept in my car before—but never during a snowstorm.
“I don’t think I’m going to freeze,” I muttered to myself as I rolled onto my back.
Through a small sliver of the window that wasn’t covered in white, I could make out the snow still falling. It had slowed a little, at least. I tensed as another snowplow drove by, the ground rumbling beneath me. I wasn’t sure that even if I managed to fall asleep, I’d be able to stay that way.
Parking on the side of the road probably hadn’t been the best idea.
But in a town like Ember Hollow, it was hard to find a good place to hunker down in your car for the night.
A random vehicle in an otherwise empty parking lot or near the park was noticeable—likely to get a cop’s attention.
I’d learned that firsthand. Parking along the side of the road where other vehicles already were was usually the safest bet.
I’d found what I thought was the perfect place a few houses down from the bed-and-breakfast. There was an empty lot between a couple of homes, which made extra space along the street. Another car was parked a few yards ahead of me, and one sat across the road. I should be safe here.
But I hadn’t realized quite how cold it would get.
Sighing, I tried to ignore the way my body shook beneath the blankets.
My thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning—to the fire chief and his little daughter.
Roman Ramsey.
I’d researched him while I was at the library.
I hadn’t realized how big the Ramsey family was—or how deeply involved they were in the town.
His brothers owned a security company, called Hearthstone, with nothing but glowing reviews online.
Roman himself had been a pillar of the community for years, first as a firefighter and then as chief.
And the bed-and-breakfast had been an attraction for the town since his mother started it years ago.
People seemed to speak very highly of them.
I froze when there was a sharp knock on my window.
Fear surged through me, my entire body locking up, but I forced myself to breathe. It was probably just a cop. Someone must have noticed my unfamiliar car.
When my heart rate finally slowed, I pushed myself upright.
My mouth fell open. It wasn’t a cop standing outside my window.
It was Roman Ramsey.