Page 4 of Valentine On Palmar Island

Later, as he watched Charlotte's car disappear down the oak-lined drive, Milo's head hanging happily out the window, Grant realized he was already thinking about tomorrow. About which building she might photograph next, what stories he could share with her.

About how her face lit up when she talked about her work, and how he wanted to see that light again.

"Not good," he muttered to himself, turning back to his tools.

Chapter Three

Charlotte pushed open the door of Palmar Island Hardware and Feed, a brass bell jingling overhead. The warmth inside was a welcome relief from the January chill. The store smelled of fresh-cut lumber, rope, and that indefinable scent that all hardware stores seemed to share. Milo trotted in behind her, his nails clicking against the worn wooden floors.

Old-fashioned displays lined the aisles. There were galvanized buckets filled with nails, coils of rope hanging from hooks, and the shelves were stocked with everything from work gloves to water filters. The building itself was a testament to the island's history, with its exposed brick walls and pressed tin ceiling. Charlotte made a mental note to ask about photographing the interior for her book.

"Well, if it isn't our newest resident and her shadow." Kenny Brown looked up from where he was restocking shelves, his weathered face creasing into a smile. He set down a box of brass fittings and dusted off his hands. "What can I help you find today?"

"Some basic supplies." Charlotte pulled out her list, written on the back of one of Grant's business cards. Not that she'dadmit to anyone why she'd kept it. "And treats for this one. He's earned them."

"Has he now?" Kenny chuckled, coming around the counter. "That pup used to spend every morning following Grant Lawson around. Now look at him. He traded in sawdust for camera equipment. Smart upgrade, if you ask me."

"Does everyone on this island know everyone else's business?" Charlotte asked with a smile.

"That's half the fun of living here." Kenny winked. "Speaking of Grant, he's working on our exterior brick today. Building's original to 1875, you know. Might be worth a chapter in that fancy book of yours."

"I'd love to photograph it," Charlotte said, watching Milo nose his way along a shelf of garden tools. "This is exactly the kind of place I'm looking for. Somewhere with character." She reached down to scratch Milo's ears. "Milo here has been great company while I explore. Makes the island feel a little less unfamiliar." She ran her fingers along a display of old brass hardware. "Everything here feels like it has a story."

"That's because it does." Kenny pointed her toward the pet supplies. "Treats are down that aisle. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Charlotte was comparing different types of dog biscuits, trying to decide between chicken and beef flavors, when she realized Milo was no longer at her feet. She turned to find the store's front door slightly ajar, the bell still swaying.

"Oh no." She rushed outside, spotting Milo's tail disappearing around the corner. The cold air bit at her cheeks. "Milo! Get back here!"

The dog ignored her, trotting purposefully down the sidewalk. Charlotte hurried after him, her boots echoing against the brick buildings. Ahead, she could see scaffolding set up against the hardware store's exterior wall, and below it, afamiliar figure examining the brickwork. Grant was focused intently on his work, carefully removing old mortar with specialized tools she didn't know the names of.

Milo made a beeline for Grant, circling his legs with an enthusiastic bark.

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte called out, slightly out of breath. Her cheeks felt warm despite the cold. "He just took off?—"

Grant was already crouching down to scratch Milo's ears, a broad grin on his face. "Let me guess, he escaped the hardware store?" His toolbelt clinked as he moved, and Charlotte noticed how his hands, rough from work, were surprisingly gentle with the dog.

"He did." Charlotte stared at the two of them. “How’d you know?”

"He used to do it to me all the time. The door doesn’t always close properly and Milo's figured out how to nose it open when that happens." Grant's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "He's smarter than he looks."

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh. "So this is a regular thing for him? Should I be jealous he's still coming to find you?"

"Oh yeah. He's got some kind of radar." Grant stood, brushing brick dust from his jeans. The winter sun caught the auburn highlights in his hair. "When I first started seeing him around, he'd show up at whatever building I was working on. Didn't matter if it was clear across the island."

"How long has he been here?"

"Showed up last summer. Started following me around, then decided the whole island needed supervising." Grant leaned against the scaffolding. "Pretty soon he had half the town feeding him. Mary at the diner saves him bacon scraps. Miss Doris started keeping treats in her garden for him. Even old Mr. Peterson, who claims to hate dogs, sneaks him sausage links every now and then."

Charlotte watched as Milo settled contentedly at Grant's feet, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "And apparently he's appointed himself my photography assistant."

"Lucky you." Grant gestured at the brick wall behind him. "Speaking of photography, I'm uncovering some interesting details here. The original mason left his mark in some of these bricks. And there's this small island with a historic lighthouse. A small path heads to what's left of the original lighthouse keeper's cottage. Not many people know about it, but the view's incredible. Might be worth a shot for your book."

"Really?" Charlotte felt a flutter of excitement, both at the prospect of discovering a hidden gem and at the offer itself. She'd been hoping for exactly this kind of local insight. Raising her camera, she took a few shots, moving around to get the detail he he was pointing out.

"I could show you, if you want. I'm heading that way tomorrow afternoon to check on some structural issues with the cottage foundation. It's not stable enough for regular visitors, but I know which areas are safe."

"I'd like that." Charlotte tried to keep her voice casual, though her heart had picked up speed. "What time?"

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