The customers signaled for help, and after a moment’s hesitation Beth leaned over and gave her a hug. “Safe travels. And take this.” She pulled a collapsible umbrella from under the counter. “Otherwise, you’ll be soaked in thirty seconds.”

“I can’t take your umbrella.”

“I have another one down there—and more at home. I live on the Oregon coast, after all.” She squeezed her arm and went to assist the couple.

Christi’s vision misted as she crossed to the door. If only she could linger here. This town fit her perfectly, like the designer gowns that had once filled her closet. Except Hope Harbor was tailored more to her heart and soul than to her body.

She paused at the exit and lifted a hand in farewell to Beth. Then she opened the door, put up the umbrella, and plunged into the cold April shower that the old adage promised would bring May flowers.

But barring divine intervention, she wouldn’t be here to see them.

5

The writing wasn’t going well.

No, scratch that.

The writing wasn’t going, period.

Jack glared at the blinking cursor on his computer screen, blew out a breath, and picked up his mug emblazoned with the words “I’m in the zone.”

If only.

He downed the lukewarm dregs of his third caffeine infusion of the morning and leaned back in his swivel chair.

May as well face it.

The writing session was a bust—thanks to Christi.

It would have been smarter to crash after his shift like he usually did instead of trying to channel his tension into writing.

He pushed back from the desk in the spare bedroom that served as his office and stood. With nothing to show after three hours planted in front of his laptop, he ought to throw in the towel and try to get a few hours of shut-eye. That would be a more productive use of his time—unless sleep was as elusive as words.

A distinct possibility.

Because the woman he’d once loved had dominated his thoughts from the moment her identity registered on the wharf—and seeing her again this morning had further ratcheted up his agitation.

Which was nuts. He was over her, for crying out loud. Had long ago recognized his so-called love for what it was—infatuation, pure and simple. The truth was, he’d been nothing more than another dazzled victim who’d fallen prey to her superficial charms. As a result, her unexpected reappearance in his life should have had zero impact. Created nothing more than a brief blip.

Instead, it had caused a tremor that registered in the danger zone on his Richter scale.

And the implications of that weren’t sitting well.