Page 31 of Home Town

But knowing Josie, she wouldn’t share that opinion. She was a loose cannon. He should probably give up trying to predict what she’d do or how she’d act—in particular toward him.

“All right. I’ll head over now.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“No problem, Mom.”

“There’s this one cupcake that came out a little lopsided and too small. Want me to save that one for you?” she offered.

He sniffed out a laugh. “Yes, please. And I won’t even be offended you’re only offering me your reject baked goods.”

“Pfft! All cupcakes are good. Lopsided or not.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t around here for longer. He might have trouble making weight when he got back.

The drive to the library in the next town wasn’t incredibly long, but long enough it gave him time to consider what he might expect from Josie when he arrived.

He was just placing bets with himself regarding which Josie he’d face—the smart-ass joker or the downright mean and bitchy one—when he opened the archive room’s door and came face-to-face with Josie’s butt.

She teetered up on top of an ancient-looking wooden desk chair while reaching for something on a shelf high above her.

He bit back a cuss.

“Why are all the women in my life destined to risk breaking their necks in front of me?” he said as he tossed the keys on the worktable nearby and rushed toward where Josie balanced.

He hesitated to put his hands on her. Instead choosing to stand close, arms up, spotting her just in case. He figured actually touching her would get him a slap on the hand, if not across the face. She’d be unhappy enough just seeing him there.

“It’s not here,” she said.

The fact she didn’t yell at him, didn’t grill him, didn’t accuse him of stalking her, was one indication something wasn’t right. So was the panicked tone in her voice.

“What’s not here?” he asked, not moving from his position as she twisted to look briefly at him before reaching again to sweep her hand along a shelf over her head.

“The founder’s compass. It was here yesterday. I left it on one of the lower shelves. But it’s gone.”

“So maybe someone moved it.”

“That’s why I’m looking up here. But I can’t see. These shelves are too high.” She continued to blindly run her hand along the shelf above her head, heading for a glass bottle he could see but she couldn’t.

“Stop! You’re going to break what is up there.”

“I have to find it,” she said, while thankfully stopping her blind search.

“Okay. I know. And we will. Just get down.” This time he did put his hands around her waist when he discovered the horrifying fact that the chair was on wheels.

It was only two wheels on the back legs and none on the front but still. It was a hazard and standing on it was precarious at best. Not to mention stupid.

“Jesus, woman. Stand still,” he said when she tried to climb down on her own.

Before she could protest, he lifted her easily enough with his two hands on her waist. He set her on her feet on the floor and braced himself for her wrath.

Again, it didn’t come. Weird.

She looked at him for a second, dumbstruck silent, which wasn’t a bad thing, then she shook her head.

There was the shine of tears in her eyes as she said, “They trusted me. I left it right there. Safe. Now it’s gone.”

“Someone else had to have moved it. We just have to ask the historical society if someone came in?—”

---