Lighthouse Way (Huckleberry Bay 1)

“Ask away.”

“What are you going to do now that you can’t race?”

It’s a blow to the chest, just like every time I’m reminded that I can no longer do what I love.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive. It just occurred to me, that’s all.”

“I’m going to live my damn life.” I pace away and watch the sun shining through a window. “Try to work through the anger that doesn’t feel like it will ever go away. And I’m going to open a garage.”

“Car repair?”

“Yeah. But a little more than that. We’ll be restoring classics, too. High-end stuff. I’m trying to talk my best friend, Zeke, into moving to town and going into business with me.”

“That’s really cool, Wolfe.”

“If I can get it going, it’ll be awesome. I have to keep my hands in a car, and if this is the only way I can, then that’s fine by me.”

Maybe if I keep saying that out loud, I’ll start to believe it. Because, as of right now, it’s not fine. Nothing is fine about this goddamn situation.

“I have to take the business plan to the city board to get it approved. Huckleberry Bay is very particular about the businesses they allow to open up around here.”

“Don’t I know it. I can probably help you with the business plan,” she offers. “I had to write one for the bed and breakfast, so I have practice.”

“I would not turn down that offer.” This is the best news I’ve had in a while. “I’m afraid I’ll screw something up, and they’ll tell me to take a hike.”

Luna smiles softly. “We need a repair shop. I hate driving an hour away just to get my oil changed.”

“You don’t know how to change your own oil?” I demand.

“Why would I know something like that? There are experts who know how. And now, I’ll have one close by.”

“I’ll take a look at your car,” I say immediately. “I can change the damn oil and do anything else you need.”

By the smile on her face, you’d think I just proposed marriage.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Trust me. I have the time on my hands. It’ll give me something productive to do.”

“Okay, I won’t complain. Listen, I know it’s not under the best of circumstances, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you’re home for good, Wolfe. Huckleberry Bay just wasn’t the same without you.”

“Thanks. I have some mixed feelings if I’m being honest. I love the town, but—”

“But you lost a lot.”

“Yeah.” I blow out a breath and drag my hand down my face. “Let’s go find some supplies, and I’ll help you out in here. You shouldn’t be pulling up a hundred-year-old floor by yourself.”

“I have to buy gloves and stuff,” she says with a resigned shrug. “So, I probably won’t get to it until tomorrow. But you’re welcome to come back anytime. I can pay you in food and whatever you’d like to drink.”

Before I can take her up on that offer, someone calls out from outside the barn door.

“Where are you? I’ve been banging on the front door for ten minutes!”

We turn just as a pretty woman with a crop of shockingly red hair, currently stuffed under an old trucker hat, walks through the doors.

She stops short when she sees me.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Wolfe Conrad.”

“Juniper Snow,” I reply with a smile and take her in. I move my gaze from that cap and red hair down her gray coveralls to her steel-toed boots. “Now, you’re dressed correctly to demo a building.”

“Just June,” she says and pops a stick of gum into her mouth. “Only my mom calls me Juniper. I’m sorry for what happened, Wolfe.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“He’s living in his parents’ old place down the road,” Luna says to her best friend, and I realize that I’m looking at two of the three musketeers.

Luna, June, and Sarah. Thick as thieves.

“Where’s Sarah?” I ask out of the blue, and both women frown over at me. “Wherever there are two of you, the other isn’t usually far away.”

“You haven’t heard?” Luna asks.

“Heard what?” My heart stops. Jesus, she didn’t…?

“She’s in California,” June says, and I blow out a breath. “Married some rich asshole right out of high school and hasn’t been back since.”

I scowl and shake my head. “That doesn’t sound like her. Granted, I didn’t know you guys that well, but you were attached at the hip.”

“Until she married Mr. Moneybags,” June agrees. “I usually get a Christmas card from her, but that’s about it. I think Luna talks to her more often.”

“We try to talk every few months,” Luna confirms. “But I haven’t heard much since last Christmas either.”

Luna looks concerned, but before I can ask more questions, June points to a big tarp in a corner and asks, “What’s under there?”