I snagged up the mug too and carried them both over to the register.
"New in town?" The same man who greeted me, stepped behind the counter to ring up my purchases.
"That's right," I said, half waiting for him to make some comment about city girls.
"Welcome then." He smiled warmly. "If you ever need anything, don't be shy to ask. Name's Henry Crane." He stuck out his hand.
"You're Riley's father," I said. I could see the resemblance now. Same blue eyes and dark hair. Henry seemed friendlier than Riley and a lot less inclined to suggest I'd look better on my knees. Given the wedding ring on his left hand, that was just as well.
"Guilty." He chuckled. "I hope that young hellion isn't giving you too much trouble. Sometimes I think he has too much time on his hands." He was clearly fond of his son, while at the same time not blind to the fact he was a handful. No doubt the greyhairs around his temple were because of Riley. Although, the same could be said about the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.
What could I say? He wasn't wrong. The girls had said as much as well. The guys were restless at this time of year.
"Nothing I can't handle," I said, hoping my smile looked sincere.
"I'm sure, I'm sure." Henry nodded. "You seem like the sort of girl to have her head on straight. Maybe you could teach him a thing or two."
I didn't doubt that either. Vice versa, more likely. Whether or not we wanted to learn from each other was another thing. He told me I'd want him, and Connor said the same thing, but fucking and having an actual relationship were two different things. Seeing a different side of Connor made me curious what else there was to him. If he was a nice guy under the asshole exterior, maybe Riley was too.
Did I want to find out? Saying I had nothing to lose was easy, but the truth was, there was always something to lose. If they were playing with me, it could be my dignity. If they weren't…
That was a thought for later.
Henry found a box for my cup and placed it inside, before putting that and the chair into a large, canvas bag before I could say anything.
"I don't mind carrying them," I said. After all, the chair came in a bag with its own handle.
"It'll make it easier." He handed the bag over the counter. "But when you're done with the bag, if you want to bring it back, that'd be appreciated. Around here, we reuse and recycle everything we can. Getting things up the mountain takes time and is expensive." He grimaced.
"I'm sure it is." Shipping was horrendous at the best of times, much less to somewhere as remote as this. Thinking back, I onlyremembered seeing a couple of delivery trucks in town since I arrived. Aurora Hollow wasn't on any major highway or route across the country. I only stumbled on the place after taking the turnoff on a whim. Tourists came here deliberately because it was so quiet and isolated.
I grabbed the bag's handle and lowered it to my side, careful not to let it hit my leg. Both were still tender after my flare-up.
"I'll drop the bag back later, thank you."
"Any time. Don't forget to stock up on gloves, scarves and hats for winter. You're gonna need them in a few weeks." He gave me a smile and a nod before heading back to rearranging stock on the shelves.
He was right about stocking up on warmer clothes. I'd have to do that another time, what I brought with me wasn't going to be enough.
Careful not to knock anything over, I stepped out of the camping store, back into the morning sunshine.
The moment I did, I sensed something was off. Whatever it was, it put me on edge, on guard. At the same time, I knew it wasn't dangerous. Not exactly. Not like it might have been in the city. I was safe here, but something made my skin tingle.
I stopped and let my gaze wander up the street and back down.
Walking past the café, walking stick firmly in hand, was the man from the market. What was his name? Gavin Clarke. The man whose daughter died. He was heading away from me, his steps slow and faltering, like he wasn't sure which way to head.
In the corner of my eye, I caught more movement. Tearing my gaze from Gavin, I saw the guy from the other night at the Frosty Brew, the one Connor and Riley said should leave. Dash. His dark eyes were on Gavin, watching him, his mouth pressed in a flat, tight line.
He would have been right at home in the shadows in the middle of the night. His black jeans were fitted like they were painted on. His black T-shirt was moulded around his broad chest and huge biceps. His boots, although scuffed, were also black. His hair was only a shade lighter than his clothes. Same with the stubble on his chin.
He must have realised I was staring, because he turned his face and his lip curled.
"What do you want, city girl?"
You to tell me to get on my knees.
Okay, where did that thought come from? Sure, he was hot as hell, but he was wound tighter than a coiled spring, ready to explode and take out half the block.
