Autumn Skies (Bluebell Inn Romance #3) - Denise Hunter Page 0,32

and made the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, Molly. I haven’t heard from her yet.”

“I’m getting worried. She said she’d be back by dark.”

“I know, but they probably got held up from the rain or something. They’re probably driving back right now.”

She made eye contact with Adam, and he gave a little nod. “There’s something I didn’t tell you, Levi. I didn’t want you to worry, but now I think you should know. Wyatt has a gun with him.”

“What?” Levi snapped. “How’d you know that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Grace told me on the phone yesterday. He told her he has a carry permit and he’s said before he’s in security. Grace didn’t seem overly concerned about it, but I was. I offered to go pick her up last night, but she insisted everything was fine.”

“And you waited until now to tell me? We need to call the police.”

Molly’s fingers tightened around the phone. “You’re scaring me. I was telling myself I was overreacting—you’re always saying I do that.”

“We don’t even know this guy, Molly. I’m calling Chief Dalton. I’ll let you know what he says.”

At the quiet click Molly disconnected the call and looked at Adam. He patted the seat beside him, and she went to him and sank onto it.

“I really thought I was making too much of it. But if Levi wants to call the police, I know I have good reason to worry.”

“Or good reason to keep praying,” Adam said.

She leaned into the warmth of his embrace and did just that.

Chapter Seventeen

Her sister was going to kill her when she got home.

Grace and Wyatt had backtracked to an overlook that had a small picnic shelter. The stone fireplace was useless to them without dry tinder, and they wouldn’t be able to pitch their tents on the concrete floor, but the shelter would keep them out of the rain at least.

Grace ducked behind the privacy barrier she’d rigged with one of the tents and changed into dry clothing, still fretting about Molly. Not only had Grace been unable to reach her sister all day, but now she was staying out an extra night.

Molly had one of the biggest imaginations known to mankind. She probably had Grace dead and buried under a pile of decaying leaves by now.

At least Levi and Adam were sensible. They’d suspect a delay, maybe even get word of the flash flood and talk some sense into Molly. But Levi could be overprotective too, and he definitely had a tendency to overstep.

Grace hung her wet clothes over the barrier, then pulled out her damp ponytail and combed through her hair, leaving it loose to dry. Finally she slipped on her jacket, wishing for something heavier.

When she stepped around the barrier she found Wyatt already changed and nurturing a small fire in the fireplace.

“Feels good to be dry again,” she said. “Where’d you get the kindling?”

He took her in, and she wondered if he was noticing her hair down around her shoulders. She’d always thought it was her best feature, as it was long and thick and naturally blonde. Somehow the way he was looking at her made heat rise to her cheeks.

He turned away and blew on the fledgling flame. “Dug for pine needles, cut off some dry bark, found a dead tree under some heavy coverage. Not enough to last the night, but a few hours anyway.”

She’d be glad for the warmth, and the light would push back the shadows.

Wyatt nursed the flame while she set dinner on the lone picnic table. Within a few minutes the small branches had caught fire, brightening the space, and he joined her.

She’d set out two granola bars and the last bag of chips. “I figured we’d save the apples and peanuts for morning.”

“Good thinking. I’m collecting rainwater.” He nodded to just outside the shelter where a nylon tarp from the tent was tied up. He’d rigged it to a funnel made from a potato chip bag and into a water bottle.

“Clever.”

“Creek water’s pretty muddy.”

“Definitely not ideal.”

“When that bottle fills up we can switch it out.”

“At this rate, it shouldn’t take long.” She looked at him across the table. “Wyatt, I’m really sorry about this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should’ve prepared better or something.”

“No harm, no foul. We’re dry and safe. What’s one more night?”

“I guess.” She surveyed their supper. “Well, bon appétit. I’m sad to report that we’re out of coffee, and I’m going to go ahead and warn you about my morning disposition.”

“I’ll

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