Page 29 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

Grayson’s mind remained on Savannah and what to do next to help her, as he headed his SUV back toward his office. He knew where he’d start once he sat down at his computer.

He was worried about her, unsure what she’d do without him hanging around and encouraging her to stay put while they worke

d out a plan. But even if no one paid attention to where he was going and he therefore didn’t endanger Savannah further, he couldn’t keep visiting there as much as he had without his company suffering.

But he didn’t want her to suffer, either.

Would she run before he showed up again? It wasn’t really his business, yet he felt like it was. He’d promised to help her get through this. And as long as he believed she was innocent, he intended to assist her.

But did he fully trust her? Maybe not, but until he found some reason not to, he’d act as if he did.

And help her. After all, that was his calling in life: helping people.

Plus, something about Savannah Oliver made him want to pull out all stops to clear her name. Her resigned yet hopeful attitude and this miserable situation were what did it, he told himself.

He could handle the unwanted attraction he felt for her. He had to.

Still, better that he do things quickly to try to clear her—like what he intended to do that evening and tomorrow.

He answered a few phone calls as he drove, mostly business-related but also concerning his family—darn it. Of course he was worried about his father, but at least Ainsley let him know that Payne was holding his own at the moment. And then there was the Ace situation. No matter what, the guy was their brother, even though not by blood.

He drove even more slowly once he reached downtown Mustang Valley. The earthquake damage wasn’t what kept his speed low, or not entirely. The cracked streets he traversed had already been at least temporarily fixed, or detours designated. The sidewalks around them had been improved a bit, too. The buildings not so much, at least not yet.

But what particularly kept Grayson from driving at a normal speed was amazement at how many tables along those sidewalks he now saw that had Affirmation Alliance Group signs on them—even more than before. He still liked the idea that they were out there trying to help people who’d suffered damages from the quake. But though he couldn’t quite put a finger on why, he still didn’t trust them.

His curiosity about them inflated even more after he reached his office building—and saw one of those tables on the sidewalk on the next block. The sign there was even larger than the rest—and it invited people to come and meet the group’s founder, Micheline Anderson.

Grayson had heard of Micheline—all pretty good stuff. Maybe his opinion of the group going overboard would change if he actually met her.

And so, after parking his SUV behind his office building, he walked around to the front and crossed the street.

The table here was larger than the others he’d seen. There were lots of flyers on it, and several people sat or stood behind it.

One had an identification card folded in front of her: Micheline Anderson.

The woman behind it appeared to be a really attractive senior. She had long blond hair, dangling earrings with pearls at the ends and a face that resembled a movie star’s. She wore a blue shirtwaist dress and stood behind the table.

Beside her ID card was a larger sign. It said Be Your Best You! Grayson had heard that before. It was her organization’s slogan.

He approached her. Several other people dressed nicely, yet less formally than Micheline, stood around her, and a couple were talking to others lined up across the table, apparently handing out flyers and discussing the group with them.

“Hello,” Grayson said to Micheline. She’d watched him as he approached, a large smile on her face. Did she recognize him? If so, how and why?

“Hello,” she said, drawing out the word as if she was happy to see him. “Welcome to the Affirmation Alliance Group. I’m Micheline Anderson.” As if he couldn’t tell, despite the others hanging around the long table with her. “And you are...?”

“I’m Grayson Colton.” He watched both her eyes and smile widen even more as he said his last name. Evidently, whether or not she thought she knew him, she was aware of the prominence of the Colton family—as who wasn’t around here? But not many people actually knew him...and his not-so-thrilled attitude toward most of his relations.

Although, on his way here, one of the calls he’d received was from his half brother, Callum. And after a bunch of arm-twisting, not easy over the phone, Grayson had agreed to join his relatives for dinner at the ranch house that night. The others intended to discuss some family matters and really wanted him there.

Which had also added to his concern about when he’d next be able to visit Savannah and help keep her motivated to stay where she was.

“How do you do, Grayson Colton?” Micheline held her hand out for a shake. “Thanks for coming to say hi. I assume you don’t need a place to stay after the quake, since, from what I’ve heard, the Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch survived just fine. That’s one of the reasons we’re out here, you know—to let everyone know we have a place people can stay, if they need it. But can I convince you to come visit us anyway and participate in one of our seminars? We give them often, on a variety of subjects to help people achieve our goal to ‘be your best you.’ There’s a charge, of course, since we use the money to help others.”

She smiled as if expecting him to compliment her for that, but he just smiled slightly in return.

“And you—” she continued, “I know you’re a first responder and like to help people too, right?”

Grayson realized it had been a mistake to come to this table, despite how curious he was. The woman might have good intentions—or not. But what she definitely had was an open hand in which she wanted money deposited, no matter what she intended to use it for.

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