Page 24 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

Do I? “Thanks. We’d better get you to the airport.”

I appreciated that he had faith in me. I just hoped that over the next eleven hours, I could find some for myself.

By five o’clock, I’d done everything I could think of to distract myself through the day. I’d driven Nolan to Kalispell and dropped him at the airport. I’d stopped at a small café for breakfast, then done something I avoided at all costs.

I’d gone to a mall and shopped.

The last time I’d shopped for myself had been in law school. Once I’d graduated, I’d delegated all shopping to my assistant. Whenever I needed clothes, I sent him an email and they were waiting in my closet when I came home. If they didn’t fit, a tailor came over to do alterations.

But shopping today had been a necessity. Not only did I need more clothes, I also needed to stay busy. The last thing I’d wanted to do was to go back to Lark Cove and sit alone in my motel room. So I’d shopped for a week’s worth of casual clothes that, hopefully, would make me seem more approachable and dad-ish.

With a week’s wardrobe in the back of my black rental SUV, I’d finally driven back to Lark Cove. I’d found a parking lot that overlooked the lake, pulled out my briefcase, set up a hotspot, and dived right into the best kind of distraction.

Work.

From the driver’s seat of the car, I spent a few hours arranging for my unplanned vacation. My team at the firm had marching orders to start drafting contracts for an upcoming merger. Both of my assistants knew to call me with urgent matters. And my parents had received a note informing them that I’d be missing the dinner we’d planned for Thursday.

But as I hit send on my last email, I realized that I’d fucked up. I’d worked too fast. Efficiency, something that had served me so well, had become enemy number one.

I still had an hour to kill.

So instead of sitting in my car, worrying for the next hour, I went to the one place in Lark Cove I hadn’t planned on frequenting again.

The Lark Cove Bar.

“Hi.” I nodded to Jackson as I slid into a stool at the bar.

The smile he had for the two customers he’d been talking to disappeared as he looked my way. “Thea’s not here. She’s at home with Charlie.”

“That’s fine. I just came in for a beer.”

“A beer?”

“Yeah.” Why was that surprising? For a bartender, you’d think Jackson would be used to people asking for beer. “Whatever you have on draft.”

He scowled and picked up a pint glass. But instead of going to the row of taps along the bar, he filled the glass with ice water.

“That’s a little lighter than I normally drink.”

Jackson didn’t think that was funny. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he set down the water on the bar. “You’re meeting your kid for the first time tonight. Is walking into Thea’s house with alcohol on your breath really the first impression you want to make?”

Shit. I’d just wanted a beer to settle my nerves, but he had a good point. I didn’t want to smell like beer when I met my daughter.

“Jackson,” a raspy voice snapped from behind him. “Leave him alone.”

From the back hallway that disappeared behind the bar, an older woman emerged. Her hair hung past her shoulders in thick white and gray strands. Her skin was tanned and leathery. The wrinkles around her lips were more fissure than fine line. All of the things my mother despised about age, this woman wore with pride. She was beautiful, especially her hazel eyes, which were light and full of life.

“You work at the camp.” I’d seen her yesterday when Willa had toured us around the main lodge. She’d been working in the kitchen, but before Willa had been able to introduce us, she’d ducked out and disappeared.

“That’s right. I’m Hazel Rhodes.” She extended a hand over the bar and past Jackson, bumping him out of the way.

“Logan Kendrick.”

“You probably don’t remember, but I was in here yesterday with Charlie too. During the Great Frog Escape.”

“No, sorry. I was . . . distracted.”

“Understandable.” She grinned and patted Jackson on the arm. “This is Jackson Page. I’m guessing he hasn’t introduced himself.”