have anything else to say.
Grace pulled out her phone and opened a game. She probably shouldn’t waste the battery, but she had to occupy herself somehow.
She was fifteen minutes into Angry Birds when she heard Wyatt shift. His attention had zeroed in on something behind her.
Grace turned as the guy in the ball cap appeared in their circle of firelight. He offered her a smile and a small paper plate. “I know you brought your own food, but I thought you might enjoy a couple brownies.”
She took the offering. “Thank you.”
“I’m Evan by the way.”
“Grace. And this is Wyatt.”
Evan gave Wyatt a nod.
The two guys remaining at the campsite were sniggering, making Grace feel like she was in the middle of a sixth-grade camp dare.
“Luke actually makes a pretty good brownie. I was just giving him a hard time earlier.”
Grace took a bite of the brownie. “It is good. Tell him thank you.”
She offered the other to Wyatt, but he shook his head and went back to whittling.
“Where you from?” Evan asked.
The laughter down the way was louder. The beer had been flowing awhile.
“Bluebell. How ’bout you?”
“Me and my buddies are from Tennessee, but we’re staying with a friend in Hollis for a while.”
“If you’re hoping to make it back tonight, you’ve got a bit of a drive.” Grace hoped Evan was the designated driver because it sounded like the other two were already hammered.
“Yeah, we do. I’ll let you get back to your . . .” He glanced at Wyatt. “Evening.”
“Thanks again for the brownies.”
Evan’s friends got louder as he returned to the site, some of their conversation carrying over. Enough to know they were talking about her. One of them made a vulgar reference to what he’d like to do to Grace.
Her face heated.
Wyatt’s hands froze as he stared at the guys, a muscle flinching in his jaw.
Maybe they noticed because Evan shushed them and their chatter grew quieter.
“You shouldn’t eat food from people you don’t know,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah? You ate my food.”
“That’s different.”
She picked up the second brownie and took a big bite, enjoying the rich chocolaty flavor as much as she enjoyed the way Wyatt scowled at her.
“Have you always been defiant?”
She smiled around the brownie. “Little bit.”
“Well, better hope they’re not ‘special brownies.’”
“Special . . .” Midchew, she looked down at the remaining piece, her appetite suddenly gone. She assessed her mental faculties. Was she feeling a little funny? She didn’t think so, but maybe it was too soon to feel the effects. She forced herself to swallow the bite.
Wyatt’s low chuckle carried across the site. His smile—the first she’d seen from him—was a little crooked, and surprisingly, a dimple flashed on the left side. If she’d thought him attractive before . . .
“It’s not funny,” she said, even though the throaty sound of his laughter sent tingles down her spine.
“It’s a little funny.” He chuckled again and went back to whittling. “The look on your face.”
It took everything in her to keep from smiling in return. He looked so different when he laughed. He should do it more often. Then again, maybe it was better if he didn’t. She didn’t need to be attracted to some out-of-towner who carried a gun, sported a gunshot wound, and had a mysterious job in “security.”
She glanced at the time and checked her phone again for a signal. No bars, even when she got up and held the phone in the air.
“There’s a signal up by the creek,” Wyatt said. “Not much of one, but something.”
“I should try to call Molly.” Wouldn’t hurt for him to know someone knew and cared where she was. She fished a flashlight from her bag to save the phone battery. “Be back in a minute.”
He jerked his chin in a nod.
She slipped past him and headed down the trail. She hoped she could reach her sister. If Molly knew exactly where Grace was, it would ease both their minds. It took a little longer to reach the creek in the dark. She checked her phone and found only one bar. Maybe enough.
She placed the call, the sound of the rippling creek mingling with other night sounds—the high-pitched chirp of crickets, the intermittent call of katydids, and the lonely hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance.
“It’s about time,” Molly said by way of greeting. “I was just telling Adam I hadn’t heard from you all day. I was getting worried.”
“You know how reception is out here.”
“Is everything all right? Is Wyatt behaving