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William glanced across the lot.
A pretty brunette climbed from a yellow Ford sedan and slammed the door. Her long red skirt caught when it closed. Tethered, she engaged in a mesmerizing “Flight of the Bumblebee” dance until she wrestled the fabric free.
William grinned, disappointed the cloth had surrendered. He wouldn’t have given in so easily.
She sauntered past him while pulling her long hair up into a clip, exposing the soft white skin of her neck. This woman wasn’t department store pretty, plastered with product and buffed to a shine. No, she didn’t need any help. She was naturally beautiful. Her full lips tipped into an utterly kissable pout, and the way her hips swayed when she moved—gorgeous. He followed her with his gaze until she disappeared inside the convenience store.
A golf-ball-sized rock whizzed past him to ding off his truck bed.
He glanced to the boy and raised a questioning brow.
The boy shrugged before he turned to toss rocks toward the creek.
William thumbed through his contacts on his cell phone. Surely, he knew someone with connections for an apartment, a house…even floor space for a sleeping bag. He glanced up again when the brunette came out of the convenience store. She held a massive fountain drink in one hand while she fumbled with her keys at her car door.
A loud bang echoed across the lot. Glass fell from the car window, the small pieces falling in chunks to the pavement. A scream ripped from her lungs, and she flung herself to the ground.
His heart stuttered. He ran to her side and crouched, heaving a hard, fast exhale. “You okay?”
Blood seeped from a gash where her bare knee had collided with the asphalt. Sticky orange soda and little pieces of gravel littered her clothes. She pushed herself up. The woman was naturally pale, but at the moment, her skin had gone white.
She gripped his offered hand to help her sit. Her pulse raced under his thumb.
She leaned against him as he helped her to her feet.
“What was that?” She scanned the parking lot.
He jerked his chin at the boy. “Kid over there is shooting rocks with a slingshot.”
The young kid stood with his mouth gaping. His dog’s tail thumped the grass.
“A kid? You’re kidding.” The woman blinked hard and pushed hair from her eyes. A scent of orange soda mixed with coconut drifted from her. The women he usually dated preferred designer perfume from pricey department stores, not a siren song of the tropics. Her vulnerable chestnut-colored eyes moved to him, and right then he decided his favorite color was brown.
“What’s your name?”
“Lu-Lucy—” She stopped and bit at her lower lip. “Just Lucy.”
A flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes. Being identified as a TV personality was part of the on-air gig for William, but as a new journalist in Confluence, this was the first time he caught that flash of awareness here.
He introduced himself as they walked to a picnic table on the grass.
She slumped to the bench.
The kid moped to where Lucy sat.
William knew what it was like to be a kid who messed up, so he kept his words as kind as possible. “Did you have something you wanted to say to her?”
“I—I—” the boy began. “I didn’t mean to break your window. It was just a rock.”
William nodded and glanced around. “Where are your parents?”
The boy lifted a shoulder. “Don’t got a mom. Dad’s in the store.”
William blew out a long breath.
As if on cue, a brawny police officer emerged from inside the gas station. He stalked toward them with the authority of a sheriff in an old-time western movie. The dog let out a deep wrrrooof.
“Dad,” the boy whispered, his eyes wide.
