An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)

Caleb slapped his hands on the bar, moving his bottle of Coke out of the way. “You’re right. I’ll head upstairs, tell Holly what we’re doing, and drop each of you off in the cruiser. That thing could drive through just about anything.”

Earl wheezed. “Cruiser, huh? Not been in the back of one of them since I was younger’n you.”

Grace turned back to Caleb. “If you’re sure.”

He nodded and disappeared up the back steps to Holly’s place. While he was gone, Grace cleaned up, thankful that the bar had been so quiet. She switched off all the electrics—save for the fridges—remembering her mother saying something about electrical sockets and storms not mixing, and stood with the other patrons at the door, waiting patiently for Caleb.

After locking the door and pushing the keys through the mailbox, Grace squealed and slid to the police cruiser, scrambling into the front seat before the rain could saturate every part of her. It was a losing battle. She pushed back hair that dripped down her nose, amazed that in mere moments the storm had left her looking like she’d been in the shower. “Ballet flats were not a great idea,” she giggled, wiggling her soaked toes.

Caleb’s lips tilted up at the corners. “Okay?” he asked before looking back at his posse of drowned rats. Despite the weather, a collection of whoops and hollers greeted him in reply.

Caleb drove carefully, dropping each person off, making sure they reached their front doors safely before he set off again. He was clearly a good driver, but from the clench of his jaw it was obvious the rain, and the water now rushing the roads, were setting him on edge.

He finally pulled up outside Grace’s house and turned off the cruiser. The rain thundered against the roof, hood, and windshield. He looked at her pulling an eek face. “On the count of three?”

“One. Two. Three!”

They both darted out of the car, ducking and weaving through the torrents, shouting until they reached the porch. Grace slid the key in the door and pushed, slipping on the laminate floor. Caleb caught her, his hands on her waist for a brief moment, before reaching for the light switch. It clicked but no light appeared.

“Oh no,” Grace grumbled, trying it herself, twice.

Caleb shut the door behind him. “Shit. This might have affected the whole town.” He frowned at the unresponsive spotlights as though they were somehow to blame. “Where’s your fuse box?” he asked, pulling his flashlight from his belt.

Grace laughed nervously. Other than Max and Kai, both of whom she trusted implicitly, she’d not been alone with a man in the house. She moved backward slowly, toward the couch. “Um, I have no idea.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes gently, watching her distance. He lifted a hand as though calming a startled animal. “Hey, I just want to make sure you’ve got power before I leave you, okay?” He unclipped his radio, holding it out to her. “Do you want to call someone to come over while I’m here?” His face was entirely indulgent, with no hint of a lie or ulterior motive.

Grace fisted her hands together at her stomach, as the storm battled overhead. “No,” she said finally. “Sorry.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just being— Forgive me; it’s the storm making me jumpy.”

Caleb smiled small. “No worries. I get it.” He reattached his radio and turned on his flashlight, as he cleared his throat. “Let’s find that fuse box, huh?”

After an hour’s search, Caleb managed to locate Grace’s fuse box and had the power back on before he left. Apparently, despite the extensive work that had taken place, her house’s electrics were still touchy about thunder and lightning. Caleb had left soon after and was, as always, polite and gracious. Grace couldn’t deny that she felt a tad silly for reacting the way she had with him, but, as Nina had explained, even though she was making positive steps with men in some ways, in others it would still take time.

By noon the following day, the rain had eased and the cracks of thunder had lessened to sporadic rumbles that rolled up and over the mountains. The storm had eased for the most part the horrendous humidity that had smothered the town for days, and Grace didn’t hesitate in throwing on her running gear and setting off toward the cottage, along the well-worn track she and Max took daily, and back into town to grab her latte and muffin. The forecast for the evening was much the same, so Grace wasn’t planning to dally about.

“Hey, Grace!” Ruby stood at her shop door waving and smiling. “Good to see you survived last night.”

Grace jogged over, sidestepping the huge puddles that had gathered. “Just. You?”

“Yeah, I’m just checking that my business is still here and hasn’t floated away.” She laughed.

Grace smiled. “Hey, did your power go out?” Ruby shook her head. “Mine did. Caleb had to fix it.”

“Lord. I’m glad he was there to help. Was Max not around?”

Grace frowned. “He’s in Philly.”