“I told her about it yesterday. No personalities mentioned.” Christi stood too.

“Yes. It’s for the festival.” He emptied the remains of his coffee over the side of the railing.

“How come you have to go?”

“Christi thinks people may want to hear me talk about the books I write.”

“Why?”

Excellent question.

“Your dad is kind of famous in the book world, Hannah.” Christi stepped in. “People all over the country have bought his novel.”

Actually, all over the world. But that didn’t mean anything in terms of attracting a crowd to the Hope Harbor festival.

“I thought you were a policeman.” Hannah regarded him.

“I am. That’s my main job. I write my books before or after my shift.”

“Is that what you do late at night?”

“Yes. How did you know about that?”

She fingered the edge of her sweater. “Sometimes I wake up. I heard tapping one night, so I looked in your room and saw you at the computer.”

“That won’t happen from now on. Christi’s going to pick you up after lunch and I’ll write before I go to work instead of at night.”

Hannah considered him. “How come you write books, anyway?”

Because he’d been graced with the gift of words. Because he liked using that talent to entertain and uplift people. Because he enjoyed writing tales where the good guys won and justice prevailed. Because the stories inside him clamored to get out.

But he said none of that.

“I like to tell stories.”

“Hmph.” She seemed unimpressed. “Will the meeting last long?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Christi smiled and laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “No one wants to spend their Sunday afternoon in a conference room. Now let’s go collect your cake and then you two can be off.”

Jack insisted she keep a couple of generous pieces for herself, and after a half-hearted protest, she capitulated.

Juggling the remains of the cake in his hand, he followed her to the front door, Hannah trailing behind.

“Thanks for the treat tonight—and for agreeing to do a masterclass.” She twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

“You made it hard to say no.”

“I wish my persuasive powers had been as effective with a few of my creditors in the past two years.” Her mouth contorted into a wry twist. “Drive safe going home. Good night, Hannah.” She pulled the girl into a warm hug.

Nice send-off.

Too bad he wasn’t next in line.

But if she got that close to him, the chocolate on the cake he was holding would probably melt. Because a hug with Christi wouldn’t just be warm. It would sizzle.

And it was too soon for that.

Way too soon.