Page 48 of Bidding on a Second Chance
“Look like one, too. You’re all …” He fluttered his wide fingers, his vocabulary apparently failing him. “Shiny,” he finally supplied.
That was probably the lip gloss, which she’d applied today to test how it looked before dinner with Graham.
“I need a pint ofMint Candyand one ofLolly Poppy.” Hard to believe these customer-favorite paint colors wouldn’t go on auction pieces—those were all ready to go with the final topcoat curing. Cody and Graham would haul everything to the high school tomorrow.
She’d meet them to oversee the arrangement of the pieces, and then all that would be left to do was attend the event and try not to hover over the silent bidding sheets to see how much the pieces brought in for the Rasinskis.
“You and Graham are quite the pair.”
“Excuse me?”
Charlie gave an easy smile, as though she was cute to pretend cluelessness. Apparently, the residents of Redemption Ridge knew she and Graham were well on their way back to being an item.
“Well, what with you and the truck incident, then his wrestling match with that crook.” Charlie spoke like this was common knowledge, and like he was simply jogging her memory. “You both get yourselves into the worst binds. What a good thing he was wearing a vest, huh?”
The balloon of her good mood popped. Had the incident at the gas station been the start of a string of robberies? Had something new happened, with Graham at the center of it this time? “What crook?”
“The guy.” Charlie lifted his hands as if he couldn’t imagine she didn’t know. “The one who tried to rob the Quick Stop. Coupla days ago?”
“Oh.” So not a new event. Lucy had texted her the article about the Quick Stop robbery. If Piper had better balance, she’d kick herself for not looking it up and reading it. She’d dismissed the event as harmless when Lucy said they arrested the man without incident as he left the gas station.
But if it’d gone without incident, why did anyone need to wear a bulletproof vest? And why had no one mentioned Graham’s direct involvement or a gun? Suddenly, Graham’s shock over her even-keel reaction made a lot more sense. She should’ve asked him more questions.
Her foot ached. The news of a threat had tensed her whole body, all the way down to her toes. She exhaled slow and even, willing the panic to subside. She’d seen Graham since the robbery. He was alive and well. And whatever happened, God was in control.
Charlie studied her, looking about ready to wave a hand in front of her face and ask if she was okay.
She forced a wobbly smile. “I’m glad it ended well.”
“Lucky thing the guy slipped on the ice, coming out of the store. I can’t imagine charging him and wrestling for the gun would’ve worked any other way. As it was, taking one to the vest must’ve smarted something awful. Did it leave a bruise?”
During the year they’d dated, Piper had once dropped by Graham’s house unannounced and found him working on a landscaping project shirtless. She probably wasn’t supposed to dwell on the memory, but the strong contours of his torso were burned in her mind. At Charlie’s question, a gruesome bruise spread black tendrils across his chest, deathly purple and red blooming over his heart.
“You okay?” Charlie asked. “Sorry. It’s probably hard to talk about him getting shot. That’d traumatize anyone. I wasn’t trying to …” The older man squinted, chewed his lip, and then his expression brightened. “Anyway, he’s a hero! I wouldn’t wanna do what he does, run toward the guy with the gun instead of away, right? Glad the good Lord made men like him.”
The world swayed. The sound of panting registered—from her own mouth. She pressed a hand to her chest, pleading for God to have mercy, for her life to return to the sense of safety and hope she’d had only moments before. But the ghastly image of Graham wouldn’t budge from her mind, far more real than the sense of safety she’d walked in with. She wandered from the paint counter.
Charlie called after her, but she couldn’t decipher his words through the ringing in her ears. She fled to her car and collapsed into tears.
ChapterThirty
Graham cracked open the oven. A dish of cheesy potatoes bubbled on the top rack, spots browning in the center. Below, the dinner rolls baked, also moments from golden perfection. He checked the time.
Piper ought to arrive in three minutes. If someone had told him two months ago he’d be getting back together with her in time for Christmas, he would’ve put them through a field sobriety check. Yet here he was.
He touched the foil covering the resting steak. Still warm. He took the green beans from the microwave and dumped them from the steamer bag into a bowl.
The doorbell rang, and Banjo rose with awoof.
Two minutes early. Graham wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt as he edged around the dog to get to the front entry. “Mind your manners, or I’ll build a doghouse just to put you in it.”
Undeterred, Banjo swayed closer, attention on the door.
Graham took what was supposed to be a calming breath and swung it open.
Piper stood on the step. Beneath her coat, she wore a green dress and cowboy boots, the kind that appeared more suited for fashion than a hard day’s work. A definite upgrade from the black monstrosity. He lifted his gaze to offer her a smile, but then found the one mismatched part of her appearance: her swollen, red eyes.
Concern whooshed through him like a wildfire. He drew her into a hug. Whatever the wrong, he’d right it. No matter how far he had to go or who he had to put in their place, he would come through for her. “What’s wrong?”
