Page 3 of Hot Lovin'

“Here comes Lottie Granger, child protector extraordinaire,” I whisper to no one in particular. But somewhere deep down, I hope Aiden feels a spark of hope because help is on the way.

I give Jan a quick rundown on my plan of action before letting her know I’ll be out of the office for several hours.

“Thanks, Lottie. I know you’ll fight for Aiden the way he needs you to. Probably worth asking the sheriff if he can lend any assistance while I’m gone, as he removed Aiden from his parents last night. That poor kid deserves all the help we can give him,” she says, her eyes blazing with passion.

I frown. I haven’t met the sheriff yet. Somehow, our paths haven’t crossed since I moved here, although that could be because Jan has always dealt with his office. But with my boss taking off for a much-needed vacation, I guess that responsibility now falls on me.

“Will do. I won’t let Aiden down,” I promise as I turn to leave, keys in hand.

I have a heavy caseload most days, but Aiden is my priority as he’s currently the most at risk. That means I need to focus and ensure I get to the bottom of exactly how Aiden ended up with untreated broken bones.

My heart clenches in my chest. That poor kid. So much misery and he’s barely even begun his life. I’ll do my damnedest to protect him now. I speedwalk back to my house. I wasn’t expecting to need my car today, but the elementary school where Aiden attends pre-kindergarten and where I intend to start my investigation isn’t within walking distance.

I want to drive straight to the foster home where Aiden has been temporarily placed, but it’s better if I don’t. Too many new faces might give the boy an anxiety attack. Right now, he needs time to heal and settle into his new, temporary home. Tomorrow, I’ll go and visit him. Or later this evening if I can’t contain my need to reassure myself that he’s safe.

As I drive toward the school, I put on my happy playlist, one I put together for days like this when my smile falters a little. Okay, my smile barely wants to emerge today, but I have to put that smile on, even if it’s fake. The world needs more sunshine to make it a better place.

I’m not sure when I made it my job to bring a little happiness to the people I meet, but it’s a part of who I am now. I know I won’t change the world, but I can help one person at a time until I can’t do it anymore. Even if everything in me wants to simply hold Aiden in my arms and cry with him, I’ll smile. I will.

I sing along to one of my favorite songs about wanting to dance with someone, and by the time I arrive at the school, I’m truly smiling again. That playlist always works its magic on me, even on days like today.

“Good morning, Stacy,” I say as I arrive at the main office of the elementary school. My county Department of Social Services badge is in place on the right corner of my shirt collar. “I need to speak with this student’s pre-K teacher, please.”

“Of course, Lottie. Let me send Allison down to take over her class while she’s gone,” Stacy says, always helpful.

It’s not my first trip to the elementary school, unfortunately, and I’ve come to know most of the staff.

I sit in the inner office, waiting for the teacher to arrive. What will I learn from Aiden’s her? Will it be helpful to me, or will it lead nowhere at all? I want to help Aiden, need to help that poor child.

I take a deep breath. This is step one, I remind myself. You’ll get there. One step at a time.

Chapter 2

Quinn

The morning sunlight pierces through the blinds of my office, casting stripes across the scuffed wooden floor that’s seen better days. I push away from my desk, which resembles a fortress of paperwork and cold coffee cups. I rise to my feet with all the enthusiasm of a man who’s read one too many heartbreaking case files before noon. Which is to say, not much enthusiasm at all.

I check my phone. Almost 11 AM. “Time for the daily pilgrimage,” I mutter to myself, grabbing my sheriff’s hat from the rack. The leather strap feels cool against my palm, a familiar weight as it settles onto my head.

Sunrise Bay isn’t large by any measure, but as its elected sheriff, I’ve made it my mission to keep it safe. It’s a quiet town, usually. The kind of place where everyone knows your business before you do. It suits me, or at least it used to.

With each step along Main Street, my steel-toed boots thud in rhythm on the sidewalk, a sound as regular here as the church bells on Sunday. Folks give me nods and “good mornings,” which I return out of habit more than genuine cheer.

“Morning, Sheriff Jordan,” calls old Mrs. Henderson from her porch swing, floral dress fluttering in the breeze.

“Ma’am,” I reply, tipping my hat. Politeness is part of the job, even when cynicism has stained my view like coffee on a white shirt.

I push open the door to the Beachside Café, the local go-to place for breakfast that serves up the best damn java this side of the state line. The bell above the door jingles, announcing my presence, and I inhale deeply. The rich scent of ground beans is the closest thing to heaven I find these days.

“Usual, Quinn?” Sally, the owner, asks.

Like most people in this town, her smile never seems to falter. Must be something in the sea air that works its magic on them, and I’m the exception.

“Please.” I lean against the counter, arms crossed, glancing at the ocean view out the back of the cafe, which opens onto the boardwalk.

Something about the normality of this routine steadies me, even if it’s only for the time it takes to drink a cup of coffee. Today, I’m picking up breakfast for the morning crew, another routine as ingrained as the sand that gets into everything around here.

Sally hands me a cup of coffee before she busies herself with preparing the order that’s never called in anymore because it doesn’t need to be—it’s always the same. I take a sip of the coffee made just the way I like it.

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