Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Sydney Somers Page 0,39

stairs, stopping at the bottom to put on her shoes.

Perched on a stool at the covered island, Jackson glanced her way when she walked into the kitchen.

“Still here?”

“Wanted to see which superhero T-shirt was on the agenda for today.”

She glanced down at the plain red one she wore. “The disappointment must be crushing.”

He laughed and stood, but she skirted the end of the island in case he had plans to corner her again. Too easily she recalled every tantalizing moment of how things had played out last night, and while she could admit part of her wanted to pick things up right where they left off, she knew better.

Knew that even pretending to date Jackson for another day would come back to bite her in the butt. Look at where that complication had landed her yesterday. As incredible as that kiss had been, she didn’t have time to deal with more Jackson chaos, and she really didn’t want any more pictures of them circulating.

Plus work, renovations and Gramps were enough to worry about without contemplating the fallout of a fake relationship. Jackson would leave town and she’d be stuck dealing with the questions and speculations. Not to mention what impact it would have on her job. Crush or not, getting any more involved with Jackson just wasn’t worth it. Right?

“Would you mind if I grabbed my old stick out of the shed before I take off?”

“Now you’re asking?”

All he offered was a lazy smile that succeeded in warming her insides more than the tub had.

“Check the den. Gramps kept the important stuff close.” She turned to go, then paused. “He’s really proud of you, you know.”

He nodded, his face somber. She thought he was going to say something, but he fiddled with the cans of paint on the island instead.

“You can leave the key on the counter when you let yourself out,” she added. She could do without any more surprise visits.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Whatever you say, Detective.”

Sophie Brewster’s beautifully landscaped home was as no-nonsense and straightforward as the woman herself. Hayley couldn’t remember how long ago her husband had died, but her friendship with Allie’s mom had brought Josh and Allie’s families together from the start.

It was Allie’s father, Owen, who let Hayley into the Brewster home and motioned for her to follow him.

Keeping her voice lowered so as not to upset Josh’s mom, she asked if he’d heard from Allie. When he shook his head, Hayley promised herself that if she didn’t hear from Gavin today, she’d be calling the police station closest to his home in Alaska. She’d beg them to check Gavin’s place if she had to.

Sophie Brewster stood at the window in the large front room. Worried blue eyes met Hayley’s as she walked into the room—eyes that had once excelled at silencing an entire classroom in under two-point-two seconds. Mrs. Brewster hadn’t taken crap from anyone, and every student at Promise Harbor High had known it.

Allie’s father, Mr. Ralston, on the other hand, had been the most likable teacher at school, even when he’d pushed students to run more laps, jump higher or yell louder than the visiting team at a game.

He and Mrs. Brewster had always been friends as far as Hayley knew, but had grown much closer when Allie’s mom had died. Losing her best friend had stolen some of the fire from Mrs. Brewster’s eyes.

The marriage between Josh and Allie had undoubtedly started to fill some of the holes left by the death of their loved one, and Hayley could only imagine that the disaster yesterday had hurt both of them.

Keeping her chin up when all three of them knew Gavin’s appearance at the wedding had changed everything was much harder than she expected.

Mrs. Brewster gestured for her to take a seat and filled her in Greta’s disappearance with. She made a few notes, waiting until Mrs. Brewster finished before asking any questions.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. Greta drove off after the wedding.” She paused, half expecting one of them to blame Gavin for bursting into the church. “She sent you a text that said, ‘I’m all right, don’t worry.’ And you haven’t heard from her since. Is that the gist of it?” She glanced from Mrs. Brewster to Mr. Ralston.

“Yes,” he answered.

Unfortunately it wasn’t much. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything here I can act on. There’s really no evidence of foul play. Is there any particular reason you’re concerned aside from