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He slid out of his truck, put iron into his back and shoulders, and shut the door. Pausing, he checked his reflection in the window. Sandy-brown hair groomed, but not overly so—not like he wastryingtoo hard. Full beard trimmed, teeth cleaned, and breath minty fresh. And he’d used the cologne with spiced bergamot that Janie had liked. Good to go.
Crossing the dirt road, Hunter let his attention zone in on that green truck. Hazel hadn’t said anything about what the Game and Parks guy looked like—other than he was good looking. Good looking in what way? Bookish good looking? Burly good looking? Preppy good looking? He’d not asked, and even if he hadn’t been too dumbstruck to push for details, he didn’t think he could trust Hazel’s evaluation. Up until last fall, Hunter hadn’t known Hazel to know or care how a man looked. She’d been infinitely more interested in the gun he carried and if he could shoot straight.
How on earth had she ended up in love with Bennett Crofton, a man who didn’t evenlikeguns, let alone know how to shoot one?
The greatest mystery in Elk County.
But not what Hunter was stewing on.
He shifted his gaze just in time to stop himself from catching his boot on the boardwalk leading to Janie’s Café. That’d be impressive, stumbling into her establishment like a drunken fool. Man, he needed to pull it together. Tugging his camo jacket straight, Hunter drew in a breath of crisp air and forced his mind toward something useful. Like walking straight.
Maybe he could try praying?
Prayer is a conversation between you and God. You can tell Him, or ask Him, anything. Anytime, Hunt. Only remember, He is God and you are man.
John Brighton’s response to Hunter’s text about prayer the other night pressed in his mind and prompted Hunter to lift up his tangled thoughts, feeble as that felt, before he entered the battleground.
God, make her love me again. Not this other guy.
Was that . . . sufficient? Hunter pushed his fingers through his hair. He really needed a more detailed explanation. Maybe he’d better call John and get some clarification. Weren’t there scripted prayers he could memorize or something?
Speaking of clarification and questions, why did God have this other guy show up and turn Janie’s head in the first place? If He was going to have Hunter get sick and lose his place in the navy and come home, couldn’t He make it a little easier to win Janie back?
It would all make sense then. And be worth it.
He is God, and you are man. Anyway, you and Hazel have reconnected. That’s worth it.
So . . . God was God, and Hunter wasn’t. Did that make his request a disrespectful inquiry?
Ugh. Hunter’s mind was a knotted ball.
Footfalls on the boardwalk jolted Hunter out of the labyrinth of his thoughts. Chin jerking up, Hunter found a man in dark-green twill cargo pants and a gray button-down striding toward him. A glance at the patch on the man’s left shoulder confirmed what the roiling in Hunter’s stomach had already declared.
This was the man.
Hunter took him in with the sort of subtle detailed study he’d gained from backcountry living. Full federal uniform, including the green ball cap. Dark hair neatly trimmed, and clean shaven. As if feeling the comparison, Hunter ran his hand over the rough texture of his beard—something he’d indulged in since he’d been discharged from the navy.
Maybe Janie didn’t like it. In their years together, he’d always kept the hair off his face—mostly because back then he was little more than a kid. Did the beard make him look wild and unkept?
“Good morning.” Game and Parks guy dipped a courtesy nod and then reached for the café door. “Heading in?”
Hunter rolled his posture straighter. Not that he needed to. Thanks to the navy, he kept his shoulders square out of habit. “Can’t miss Janie’s cinnamon rolls.”
Holding the entry open, the man allowed a small grin. “That’s what I hear.”
Hunter scowled. “Where did you hear that?”
Game and Parks shrugged. “Another ranger had an assignment this way a couple years ago. We tend to share the good off-the-map spots in this line of work. Perks of the job.”
As he passed into the warm café, the aroma of cinnamon and freshly baked bread making his mouth water, Hunter did not like the way that last sentence landed. What otherperkswas this guy looking for? If Game and Parks thought he had an advantage wearing his uniform, he had another thing coming. Hunter knew from personal experience that Janie wasn’t a particular fan of a uniform. She didn’t want the life that came attached to it.
There. That should settle his tumultuous emotions. Janie flirting didn’t mean much when it came to this guy. Maybe even Hazel had misread the whole situation. Or exaggerated it. His sister was a bit dramatic about some things. And she was terrible when it came to reading people.
Hunter strode toward the counter and plopped onto one of the stools. Game and Parks followed suit, leaning his forearms against the counter all casual and like he belonged there.
“Look who came back.” Janie circled from the small dining space at the front of the café, her grin aimed at Game and Parks. Not at Hunter.
“Of course. Yesterday’s lemon cake was amazing. Wouldn’t take long for a man to become addicted.”
