A pickup truck with oversized wheels pulled into a parking space outside the coffee shop. Grant shook his head and pushed off the wall. Boone always brought a taste of Texas with him.
His fellow SEAL climbed out, grinning. Boone’s boots hit the asphalt, and he adjusted the cowboy hat covering his brown hair. “Hey, Grant.”
The two men shook hands and clapped each other on the back. Grant waved toward the truck. “You’re gonna get some attention in town driving that thing around.”
“Good. You know I always love attention.” He wagged his brows. “Especially from the ladies.”
Grant laughed. “Not many cowgirls in these parts.”
“Never mind. They just have to like a cowboy.” Boone spun in a circle, taking in the sights of Main Street. “Nice little hometown you got here.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you think so since I’m moving back.”
His friend’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. You’re quitting the SEALs?”
“It’s time. I can’t keep hunting bad guys forever.” Grant flashed him a grin. “These old bones won’t take much more.”
“This decision wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain librarian that lives here, would it?”
“I won’t deny Sara’s a big part of it. But there’s more to it.” He pointed to the coffee shop. “Wanna grab some caffeine? We can catch up.”
“Sure do.”
They went inside, ordered, and snagged a table in the back. Boone’s gaze drifted around the room, settling on Harmony Phillips who was at the counter ordering. He whistled. “Who is that blonde-bombshell?”
“Trouble. High school prom queen, divorced, and extremely high-maintenance.”
“Divorced? So she’s single.”
“Did you not hear any of the other words I used to describe her?”
“Yep.” Boone smiled. “I heard prom queen.”
Cooper announced their coffee order was ready, and Boone went to retrieve it. He ambled to the counter and struck up a conversation with Harmony. Based on the number of times she flipped her hair, there was serious flirting going on. Grant chuckled to himself. Boone never failed to turn on the charm and rarely got shot down for a date.
Harmony bounced out of the coffee shop, and Boone returned to the table. “She’s lovely. Offered to be my tour guide around town.” He grinned. “We’re meeting for dinner later.”
“Of course, you are.” Grant rolled his eyes.
“Well, I gotta do something. Not like you’re going to take me to the bar for dancing tonight, especially with that long face you’re wearing. Tell me what’s going on.”
Grant spent the next hour filling Boone in on everything that had happened, from his mom to Sara. By the time he was done, Grant’s voice was hoarse, and he was exhausted.
Boone leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “So you told Sara you love her, and she ran from ya. That’s…not encouraging.”
“Nope. It sure isn’t.”
“What happens if Sara decides she isn’t in love with you? Are you still moving to Hidden Hollows?”
Grant nodded. “It’ll suck, and I hope Sara decides otherwise, but that doesn’t change what I want. The decision to get out of the navy has been a long time coming. It takes a toll, and I’m ready for a change. Coming home and everything that’s happened gave me the final push I needed.”
“I get that.” He took a swig of his coffee and set it back down on the table. “But did you bother to explain that to Sara?”
“I didn’t get the chance. Why? Do you think it makes a difference?”
“A big one. You’ve spent all this time telling Sara that living in Hidden Hollows isn’t for you. Then you make a complete one-eighty. Can’t blame the woman for having whiplash.”
Grant’s eyes widened. “Sara can’t trust the decision.”
“Nope. And, my friend, let me share something about being brokenhearted. It makes you gun-shy. Love is a dangerous proposition when you’ve had it fall apart before.”
He slanted a glance at Boone. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“This ain’t about me. It’s about you and Sara. Keep your focus.”
Whatever was in Boone’s past, he clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Grant would let it go. At least, for now. He had other problems to handle.
“I need to do something to show Sara that this move is permanent.” Grant stood and threw his cup in a nearby trash can. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The hardware store. I have an idea.”
17 Sara
Sara carried the pastries into the library conference room and set them on the table. It was Friday, and the last after-school program of the month was this afternoon. She pressed a hand to her eyes as fresh tears threatened to spill over. Again. Since running away from Grant last night, Sara hadn’t done much more than cry.
She took a shaky breath to steady her emotions, and then she squared her shoulders before leaving the conference room and heading into the children’s section of the library. The door to the break room swung open, and Rachel appeared, carrying a carafe.
Ben looked up from the book he was reading on a green beanbag chair. He ran to her. “Mommy, when is Coach Grant coming?”
She pressed her lips together. “He isn’t. Aunt Rachel is going to run the program this afternoon.”
“Why? I like Coach Grant. I want him to do it.”
“I know, honey, but…he couldn’t do it today.”
A half-truth. She’d texted Grant this morning and informed him that she’d made other arrangements for today. Sara hugged Ben before shooing him back to his chair and book.
Rachel shot her a look and jerked her head, indicating Sara should follow her into the conference room. She set the carafe on the table and shut the door. “Okay, I’ve given you a bit of time, and I’ve stayed quiet, but enough is enough. You’re miserable. Go and talk to Grant.”
“No. It’s better this way.”
“For whom?”
Sara wrapped her arms around herself and went to the window. It overlooked
