Page 26 of Finding Home

“We went for a walk, and he showed me his project. After that, I’ve just been running errands.”

“Hmm, you looked pretty cozy when I walked by this morning. Were you testing the strength of the tables? Is that why you were perched on one?” My face instantly flames. That little snoop!

Wren oohhs, making Bree laugh.

“Does this mean he took you up on your oh so smooth request from the other day?” I’m gonna kill Bree! Wren sits up straight, scenting juicy gossip.

“Harper, have you been holding out on me? What offer did you make?”

“Shut up, Bree!” I try to sound angry, but it loses all its umph when I dissolve into giggles. “That was the most embarrassing thing I have ever experienced.”

“Someone needs to share with the class, what happened?” Wren's voice has gone up two octaves, and she’s now standing like she’s going to vibrate right out of her skin.

Bree launches into a retelling of the event. By the end, we are all laughing hysterically. I’m wiping tears from my face when the bell over the door chimes. Wren’s next client is here. Bree waves, heading out the door herself as the phone rings. I gasp for air, trying to get control of myself before answering the phone. “Driftwood Spa, this is Harper, how can I help you?”

Wren leads her client back into the massage room, and I turn, knowing if I make eye contact, I will lose control. A sob comes from the other end, and the hair on my arms stands up as a sense of foreboding envelops me.

“Harper, it’s Lizzie.” And just like that, my world is turned on its axis, and the air is sucked from my lungs.

Chapter 19

Jace

After Harper left, I dashed out the back, waiting out my boner like some teenager after a make out session—it’s bloody embarrassing. I’m a grown ass man, and Harper isn’t my first, but someone needs to tell that to my dick. I can hear Blake briefing the crew about today's schedule. Stepping into the room, I wait for him to finish before going over some change orders and discussing delivery timelines. My eyes snag on The Toasted Bean bag on the far table, and Harper’s baseball cap on the floor. Smiling, I grab both and call out, “Hey, Blake, I’ll be right back. Harper forgot her hat and breakfast here, just going to run them over to her.”

“And what was she doing here so early?” Blake asks with dramatic innocence.

“I was showing her the counter and furniture I built.”

“So, which tables need to be cleaned after you ‘showed her’ your woodwork?” He uses air quotes to be obnoxious. I smack the back of his head as I pass, heading out the door.

“Just get to work, punk!”

I make it to the door before a loud crash comes from behind me, followed by a string of cuss words that make even me blush. With a sigh, I tuck Harper's hat into my back pocket and go back inside.

The rest of the day was one catastrophe after the next. The custom glass display front had shattered, slicing one of the crew's hand open, requiring stitches. To top off that little incident, we found out that Garth, another crew member, can't handle the sight of blood. He vomited on the floor, then passed out, hitting his head. I ran both to urgent care and made calls for our workers’ comp claims, while Blake tackled cleanup and re-ordering the glass front. By the time we made it back from urgent care, there was a message from Jose. The company truck had a flat tire, and he was stranded with our lumber delivery. Now, it’s almost three, and the pastries are long gone. Not sure if it was Blake or one of the crew that polished them off, but I was too busy to care.

I’m finally pulling into The Driftwood Spa parking lot, after what feels like a week, instead of hours. Closing the door to my pickup, I glance down at my phone. Fuck, three texts and two missed calls. I’ll check them in a few. The thought of seeing my girl is giving me back some of the energy that this day has sucked out of me. I’m pocketing my phone as I bound up the stairs just as the front door flies open, and a body collides into me. On instinct, I reach out, grabbing whoever slammed into me, while pivoting from the stairs to avoid us both tumbling down them. I’m momentarily blinded by chestnut hair in my face as the smell of jasmine and citrus fills my senses, and just like that, I know who I’m holding.

Righting us both, I look down and take in Harper, shaking like a leaf in my hands, tears streaming down her face, her breathing erratic and harsh.

“Harper.” Pulling her into me, wrapping my arms around her, I scan the door, alert for danger, or whatever has upset her like this. She softens for a second, leaning into me, before going stiff and stumbling from my arms.

Fear like I have never known spreads through me. She’s beyond distraught as she stumbles down the steps. Hurtling myself off the porch, I block her way.

“Harper, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Lizzie is missing. She—I can’t, Jace, I can’t fucking breathe.” Time stands still as her words register. I thought I knew what fear felt like, but now, I know I didn’t. The fear I feel at her words is a punch in the gut. My head is swimming as I try to process.

“What do you mean she’s missing?”

“Her daycare was on a field trip to Palmers Orchard. Her teacher just called, they can’t find her.” Her legs wobble, but she continues toward her car. Realizing she plans to drive to the orchard, I snatch her keys from her hands and follow her to where her car is parked by my truck.

“I’m driving, Harper. You are in no state to be behind the wheel.” Depositing her in the passenger seat of her car, I sprint to the driver’s side, firing up the engine and shifting into drive before buckling my seatbelt or adjusting her seat to accommodate the height difference.

“Do you have the teacher's number?” She nods, her face pale, eyes wide in terror. “Call her back, Harper, and keep her on the line until we get there so we know the second someone sees her.”

She pulls up her contacts, hands shaking so hard she drops the phone, and hits the wrong contact twice before getting who she intended.