Straightening, she wiped her eyes. At least, she’d held firm on not spending evenings or nights with him, and she’d been clear about why—that she’d be leaving, and they didn’t have a relationship. She refused to have a relationship. He kept telling her he understood, then kissing her, touching her, until all her worries disappeared.

Shaking her head, she slid out of her car. Fat raindrops splattered her face and hair, and she yanked her hood up. One tiny beam of sunlight escaped through a thin gap in the dark clouds. The sun wasn’t anywhere close to setting.

Hurrying into the municipal building, Frankie saw that the reception desk in the center of the lobby was empty. The police station doors to the left and the health clinic to the right had CLOSED signs. Police station and health clinic. Bull’s brothers had both sides covered, didn’t they?

She shook her head. Honestly, it was a good thing that their “Sarge” had managed to instill so much…honor…into them, or this town would be in trouble.

Gabe was an amazing police chief. She should still find out if his officers were PZ members like Kit thought, just in case. She wouldn’t call them in, even if they were all good guys since the last thing she wanted was a siege situation, but if something bad happened during the rescue, it might be good to have some sort of…secondary plans.

Upstairs, the library was tiny and cozy with gray-blue walls and off-white trim. There were bookshelves, areas for children, computers, and magazines. In one corner, a group of people in comfortable armchairs were in a circle. Some had travel cups with them as well as their books. She should have brought coffee, too.

Next time, she’d be more prepared.

“Frankie, I’m glad you could make it.” Audrey rose and waved her forward. “Everyone, this is Frankie from the roadhouse.”

“Welcome, Frankie. It’s good to see you again.” Silver-haired Lillian rose and held out both hands. “Do sit beside me.”

As Frankie took a seat, people introduced themselves.

“I’m Guzman.” The gray-bearded man laughed, showing silver fillings. “Welcome to the best of the book clubs.”

“Glenda Johannsen. I own the arts and crafts store.” The stout middle-aged brunette smiled. “It’s nice to get another reader.”

EmmaJean was in her thirties, slender and bouncy. “Hi, Frankie!” Frankie knew EmmaJean and her husband ran one of the B&Bs.

“I’m Cecil. It’s good to see another city girl settling in.” White hair, white beard, weathered ancient face. He tapped his black cane on the floor for emphasis.

Frankie liked him immediately.