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“It’s fine, but I might buy an air mattress in town today,” I say.
She chuckles, knowing how old and lumpy that couch is. Circa 1995, if I had to guess.
An oldie but a goodie is what she would say.
I take another sip of coffee as I see Nora come around the corner from the living room into the kitchen. I look at the clock, and it’s still about fifteen minutes before I planned to go up and check on her.
“What are you doing up so early? I was going to come up and help you,” I say, a little put out that I don’t get to hear her grumble about carrying her downstairs. I pout at the missed opportunity.
She laughs. “Don’t look so disappointed, big guy. I woke up early and thought I could come down and help with breakfast.”
Looks like we both had the same idea. I gesture to the kitchen. “Come on in and join the party then.”
We spend the next thirty minutes making dough for biscuits, whisking eggs, and frying bacon. By the end, we have a pretty impressive spread for breakfast just in time for Dad and Sam to come downstairs. My little sister forwent sleeping in for mom’s homemade biscuits, I see.
We quickly make some plates and eat quickly. We need to leave for the hardware store in the next ten minutes. I shove another biscuit into my mouth before going off to hunt for my shoes.
“Camilla, this is the best breakfast I’ve had in years. Thank you,” Nora says.
“Thank you, but you helped. It wasn’t all me,” Mom replies.
“Well, thanks to whoever made it because it’s delicious and a girl could get used to this!” Sam calls back as she runs back upstairs. Right as she hits the top landing, she calls out again. “Have a great day everyone!” Then her door slams, and we all laugh at her abruptness.
“Time to go, kiddos,” Dad says from the door.
I look back to make sure Nora isn’t watching me as I sneak up behind her. I grab her behind the knees and around her back as I lift her off her feet and into my arms.
“SJ! Put me down!” she commands with a giggle. She leans into me and wraps those delicate hands of hers around my neck like she always does.
“Let me have my fun, cupcake,” I say as I walk out the door and down the stairs swiftly, my parents trailing behind us while giggling to themselves.
“Just this time, big guy,” she sasses as she snuggles in closer.
“We’ll see about that.” I smirk as I lower her to the ground in front of the car, ready and willing to stand my ground because I’m quickly finding out just how much I like it when she sasses back.
Chapter 24
Nora
Johnson’s Hardware Store can be found at the far end of town. It’s everything you’d expect from a small-town family-run hardware store. What I didn’t expect to find was how much I enjoy interacting with the locals and how darn nice everyone is.
I’m a city girl, always have been. I wasn’t sure how I would like it here or what it would be like. I’m pleasantly surprised, though. Everyone has greeted each other with kindness, more times than not, running into someone else they know in the store. They ask about their kids or how somebody’s grandma or parents are doing.
It’s a little crazy to think about, but I love it. I sit behind the counter with SJ. My foot is propped up on a stool, and I’m going through yesterday’s receipts to add them all up for Camilla.
I told her when we got here that I was here to help, so she should put me to work. None of them blinked an eye at my demand. Camilla simply nodded her head and said, “I’m sure we can come up with something.” Then she walked to the back, leaving me with SJ to open the store.
I’ve been up front with him most of the day. Camilla has brought me things here and there to do, and I’m grateful. It’s made the day go faster. Not that I don’t enjoy SJ’s company. The store just has busy times, then it’s quiet.
When it’s too quiet, my mind wanders to other things. Most of those things having to do with the stalker. That isn’t something I want to linger on right now, especially after our conversation last night.
I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t want to leave, and I especially don’t want another bodyguard, but what if I stay and something happens?
A loud gasp somehow slices through the air only a heartbeat before screeching starts. “SJ! Oh my goodness! Is that really you?!” That high-pitched voice comes from the other side of the counter.
I look up to receive an eyeful of very large, very exposed cleavage.
Said cleavage is attached to a bleach blonde, well-manicured woman I estimate to be in her thirties.
