Starlee's Heart (The Wayward Sons 1)

“What—” I start then stop. Thankfully he finishes my sentence for me.

“What are you doing up here?”

“Uh,” I swallow. “Looking for Charlie? About my computer.”

“You just walked in?”

“Sierra said it was okay the other day. I figured it would be fine now.” I’m lying. So badly. So much lying. The letter is on his desk and as soon as he finds it he’ll know.

“He’s not here.”

“I see that.”

“They went on a hike.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Sierra got slammed just before lunch. She needed some help. You want me to tell him you came by?” His eyes are the clearest shade of gray, like steel. His facial hair is grown out, thicker than most boys should have at that age—or at least, that’s what I assume. I should be intimidated by him. I am in a way, his presence is forceful, but I’m not scared. Not of him physically, but more about what he thinks of me and why I care so much.

“Uh, no. I mean, you can if you want. I’ll catch him later.”

I step to the side but it’s not enough to get by. We stare at one another for a beat longer and I think about thanking him now, saying all the things in my letter to his face, but the words won’t come. Finally, he shifts to the side, allowing me to pass, and I race down the stairs, across the yard, and back to the office.

When I walk in Leelee looks up and asks, “Where’s your muffin?”

I slink behind the counter to catch my breath.

“They were out.”

“Already? Must have been a busy day, Dexter will have to make a fresh batch.”

Dexter. The fighter. The baker. The guy who probably has already found my letter and knows I’m a ridiculous liar. I sit at the tiny desk in the back, where I work on the tasks my grandmother gives me. Maybe my mother was right after all—maybe it was better if I stayed inside and didn’t engage people.

Look what happens when I do.

“I know this is the first time I’m leaving you here alone, so let me know if you want me to stay.” Leelee noticed I was bothered after coming back from the Wayward Sun earlier. She assumes this is because I’m worried about her going to June Lake for a few hours, not because I’d been busted up in Dexter’s room.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

“The busy season is picking up. Starting Saturday, we’re booked solid for the next month. The Lee Vines Fourth of July Festival is in a week and we have recurring visitors each year.”

“Leelee, you’re stalling.”

She sighs and tugs on her sweater. Phyllis runs the bookstore three doors down. They rotate towns and this month the club is being held in June Lake. “I just don’t want it to be too much. Do you want me to call one of the boys to come over? Charlie? He’s helpful. George will break something.”

“No. Really. I’m fine.”

She moves to the door. Phyllis’ car is out front. “Oh, don’t forget that group of six renting the big cottage is coming in a little late tonight. They called—they missed their flight so they got behind schedule. It’ll probably be around six thirty or seven o’clock.”

“Got it.”

She goes down the steps, moving a little slower than I’d like. She gives me one last look. “Call Sierra if you need anything. Or one of the boys. Tom should be around too, but only call him in an emergency. He’s busy at the café.”

I force a smile and say nothing. Truth is, I realize as she finally drives off, that I’m hurt. And a little angry. Does she really think I’m incapable of doing this on my own? I’ve done everything she’d asked me to. Am I really so incompetent that I can’t handle the front desk for a few hours?

I’m at the counter reading a book when our late arrival comes in the office door. He’s young—but not high school young. Maybe college or older. Athletic—dressed for outdoor activities.

“Hi,” he says, approaching the counter. “I’ve got a reservation. Jordan McNair.”