“I wish I could, but I have to get home.” Such as it was.

“I understand. We all have schedules to keep. Safe travels.”

Christi thanked the chief, slid the phone back in her purse, and appraised the classic small-town Main Street. Hope Harbor did have a warm, friendly vibe—and under other circumstances, it would be pleasant to linger. Let the soothing ambiance infiltrate her soul and dispel the tension that had become her permanent companion.

But she had to get back to Dallas. Find another waitress job to pay the bills while she continued her search for a position that offered a decent salary and more career potential—no small challenge with her limited résumé and impractical art history degree.

Christi scrubbed her forehead. What had she been thinking, to choose such an unmarketable major?

That your daddy was going to take care of you all your life and you’d never have to worry about finding a real job.

She winced at the hard truth and leaned back against the storefront behind her. How shallow she’d been back in those days. The world had revolved around her, fun had been her main goal, and her sole ambition had been to squeeze as many social activities as possible into her schedule.

Pathetic—and empty.

But you grew up fast when life imploded.

Either that, or you caved.

A chilly breeze swept past, and she zipped her jacket higher.

If nothing else positive had come out of all her recent disasters, at least she’d learned she wasn’t a quitter. Without those hardships, she might never have discovered her inner core of strength, nor taken a hard look at herself and realigned her priorities.

A patrol car turned the corner, and she straightened up, heart lurching into a gallop. But that was foolish. Jack wasn’t in that car. He’d be off duty by now.

Nevertheless, as the vehicle rolled down the street, her fingers began to tingle. Same as in the old days, when the handsome, buff young man from the landscaping company had smiled at her across the manicured lawn, tempting her to spice up her summer with someone from outside her well-heeled circle.

And what a summer it had been, filled with flirting and stolen kisses and clandestine rendezvous.

Yet despite her superficiality and party girl mentality, Jack’s quiet strength had resonated with her. Life may have dealt him a succession of hard blows, but he’d carried on, searching for his path, taking responsibility for his future instead of adopting a victim mentality.

An example she’d followed during her own trials.

One more debt she owed the young man who’d wooed her and won her that long-ago summer.

The patrol car neared, and Christi gripped her purse tighter—but the officer behind the wheel who lifted a hand in greeting had a couple of decades on Jack.