I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. “Help me, Gram,” I whispered. “I’m lost. I need you. Give me a sign. Tell me what to do. Please.” The tears I’d been holding at bay for so long burned behind my lids, threatening to fall.
I sighed as I opened my eyes, movement in the passenger side mirror immediately catching my attention. As I turned my head, I spotted a tall, well-built man in that same heather-gray suit I’d seen inside the bank…Grayson Hawthorn. My breath faltered. He was standing against the building next to my car, to the right of my bumper, the perfect location for me to see him clearly in my mirror without moving. I slunk down in my seat just a bit, leaned back, and turned my head to watch him.
He had his head leaned back against the building behind him, and his eyes were closed, his expression pained. And my God, he was…breathtaking. He had the beautifully carved features of a knight in shining armor, with almost-black hair a tad too long, making it curl over his collar. It was his lips that were truly devastating though—full and sensual in a way that made my eyes want to wander to them again and again. I squinted, trying to take in every detail of his face, before my gaze traveled down his tall form. His body matched his beautifully dark masculinity—muscular and graceful, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow.
Oh, Kira. You hardly have time to be ogling beautiful felons on the sidewalk. Your concerns are slightly more pressing. You’re homeless and well, frankly, desperate. If you want to focus on something, focus on that. Okay, except…I was unable to drag my eyes away. What had his crime been, anyway? I tried to look away, but something about him pulled at me. And it wasn’t just his striking good looks that made my eyes linger on him. Something about the expression on his face felt familiar, speaking to what I was feeling right that very minute.
If you were worth more…
“Are you desperate too, Grayson Hawthorn?” I murmured.
As I watched him, he brought his head straight and massaged his temple, looking around. A woman walked by and turned as she passed him, her head moving up and down to take in his body. He didn’t seem to notice her, and fortunately for her, she turned, looking ahead just in time to narrowly miss colliding with a light pole. I breathed out a laugh. Grayson stood staring off into the distance again. As I watched him, an obviously homeless man moved toward where he stood, holding his hat out to people walking by. They all moved quickly past him, looking away uncomfortably.
When the man began to approach Grayson, I pressed my lips together. Sorry, old man. It seems to me the person you’re asking for help is in pretty dire straits himself. But to my surprise, Grayson reached into his pocket, hesitated only briefly, and then grabbed the bills inside. I couldn’t be sure from where I sat, but when the dark interior of his wallet flashed my way, it looked like he’d emptied it for the old man. He nodded his head once at the man in rags, who was thanking him profusely, and then stood for a moment watching the homeless man walk away. Then Grayson strode in the other direction, turning the corner out of sight.
Watch what people do when they think no one’s watching, love. That’s how you’ll know who they really are.
Gram’s words floated through my mind as if she had spoken from somewhere just outside my car. The shrill ringing of my phone startled me, and I let out a small gasp, grabbing my purse from the passenger seat to rifle inside for my phone.
Kimberly.
“Hey,” I whispered.
A beat of silence. “Kira? Why are you whispering?” She was whispering too.
I cleared my throat and leaned back. “Sorry, the phone just startled me. I’m sitting in my car in Napa.”
“Were you able to close the account?”
“Yeah. It had a couple thousand dollars in it.”
“Hey, well, that’s great. That’s something at least, right?”
I sighed. “Yeah. It’ll help me get by for a little bit.”
I heard Kimberly’s boys laughing in the background, and she shushed them, holding her hand over the phone and speaking to them in Spanish before coming back to me and saying, “My couch is always yours if you want it.”
“I know. Thank you, Kimmy.” I couldn’t do that to my best friend though. She and her husband, Andy, were squeezed into a tiny apartment in San Francisco with their four-year-old sons. Kimberly had gotten pregnant when she was eighteen and then learned the shocking news she was carrying twins. She and Andy had beaten the odds so far, but they hadn’t had an easy time of it. The last thing they needed was their down-and-out friend sleeping on their couch and putting a strain on their family. Down-and-out? Homeless. You’re homeless.
I took a deep breath. “I’m going to come up with a plan though,” I said, a feeling of determination replacing the hopelessness I’d felt all morning. Grayson Hawthorn’s face flashed quickly in my mind’s eye. “Kimmy, do you ever feel like…a path is laid out in front of you? Like, clear as day?”
Kimberly paused for a beat. “Oh no. No. I know that tone in your voice. It means you’re scheming something I’m going to try—probably unsuccessfully—to talk you out of. You’re not considering that plan to advertise for a husband online are you because—”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “Not exactly anyway.”
Kimberly groaned. “You’ve gotten another one of your spur-of-the-moment Very Bad Ideas, haven’t you? Something completely ludicrous and most likely dangerous.”
I smiled despite myself. “Oh, stop. Those ideas you always call ‘Very Bad’ are rarely ludicrous and seldom dangerous.”
“The time you were going to market your own all-natural face mask from the herbs in your garden?”
I smiled, knowing her game. “Oh, that? My formula was almost there. Right within reach, actually. If my test subject hadn’t been—”
“You turned my face green. It didn’t go away for a week. Picture day week.”
I laughed softly. “Okay, so fine, that one didn’t work out very well, but we were ten.”
“Sneaking out to Carter Scott’s party when we were sixteen—”
“Totally would have worked if—”
“The fire department had to come get me off your roof.”
“You always were such a wuss,” I said, grinning.
“The time you were home from college on summer break and hosted that Japanese-themed dinner party where we all had to wear kimonos, and then you almost killed everyone there.”
“An ingredient error. How was I to know you needed to be licensed to cook that particular fish? Anyway, that was forever ago.”
“That was two years ago.” She tried to deadpan, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
I was laughing now. “Okay, you’ve made your point, smartass. And despite all that, you love me anyway.”
“I do.” She sighed. “I can’t help it. You’re completely lovable.”
“Well, that’s debatable, I guess.”
“No,” she said firmly, “it’s not. Your father’s an ass, but you already know how I feel on that subject. And, honey, you need to talk about what happened. It’s been a year. I know you just got back, but you need—”