Like California. Grace felt a pang of homesickness, but it was muted by her growing anxiety.
“It’s almost October, so people are starting to head south before the first snowstorm hits. According to Theo, this place is like a ghost town during the winter. A lot of the businesses shut down, too.”
The words jolted Grace out of her building panic attack. “Um…it snows in October? From what I remember, snow is supposed to be more of a December thing.” What kind of frozen hell had she fallen into?
Jules laughed. “This’ll be my first winter here, too, so I’m the wrong one to ask. Theo could tell you, though.”
Grace held back a grimace, and she rubbed her arm where the bruises from Martin and Officer Jovanovic still ached. As much as Jules trusted Theo, Grace just couldn’t do it. She was going to do her best to keep conversation between her and members of law enforcement as minimal as possible. Making a noncommittal sound, Grace forced herself to climb out of the SUV.
“I figured we’d go to the thrift store first,” Jules said, and Grace marveled that the woman could sound so cheery. Growing up, all of Grace’s clothes had come from thrift stores and garage sales. She’d been twenty-four before she bought something new for the first time. Now—well, before the dinner party from hell—Grace had donated to thrift stores, but she didn’t shop at them anymore. Owning clothes that had never been worn before was a wonderful luxury that she indulged in now that she could afford it…at least she had. In just a matter of days, her life had skidded off course, and she was right back to where she’d started.
Jules and the kids piled into the store. Reminding herself that she had to do what needed to be done to survive, Grace squared her shoulders and prepared to enter after them.
“Hey, there,” a deep, too-appealing voice said from behind her. “Grace…right?”
Her body jerked at the unexpected greeting, and her heart took off at a gallop. Because of her initial fright, it took several seconds for the words—and tone—to register. The heavy sarcasm made Grace frown as she turned to face Hugh.
Cocking her head to the side, she put on her best confused face. “I’m sorry, but have we met?”
His grin grew a predatory edge. “How could you not remember? It was only yesterday that our eyes locked and our souls recognized each other from hundreds of lives before.”
Keeping her expression as bland and uninterested as possible, she studied him for another few seconds before lifting her hands in a shrug. “Maybe your soul confused mine for someone else’s? Because I can’t imagine having to put up with you for one life, much less hundreds.”
He grabbed his chest as if she’d stabbed him. “Ouch! Not-Grace can be vicious. If I really were your soulmate, I’d be running off to write extremely bad, angsty poetry right now.”
“Why did you call me that?” she snapped, even as she warned herself to stay calm, to laugh it off and not make a big deal out of it.
That wolf-eyeing-his-prey look was back in his eyes. “Not-Grace? I guess you just don’t seem like a Grace to me.”
She stared at him, frozen. Could he know? The image of Logan Jovanovic rose in her mind, reminding her that Martin had at least one cop under his control.
“No comeback?” He leaned closer, watching her closely. “Trying to think of some new lies?”
He’s fishing, she told herself firmly. If he were on Martin’s payroll, he wouldn’t be trying to provoke a reaction. Instead, he’d have arrested her or had her shipped back to California or at least given the Jovanovics a call after he’d met her yesterday. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she lifted her chin and tried very hard to keep her voice from shaking. “What? No, I just zoned out for a minute. What were you babbling about?”
Instead of looking offended, he gave a surprised-sounding laugh. It was incredibly infectious. The corners of her mouth started to lift, and she realized how close she was to smiling. She dug her fingernails into her palms until she was able to control her expression again.
“Nothing interesting, apparently.” Although he’d stopped laughing, his eyes remained crinkled at the corners, and there was a stupidly attractive dent in one cheek that flirted with being a dimple. “What are you all up to?”
“Shopping.” The word was out before Grace could remind herself that she couldn’t stand him, and that she didn’t need to answer his nosy questions. Apparently, Cheery-Hugh was a little too appealing for her safety.
He lifted his eyebrows while crossing his arms, making his biceps bulge. Grace clenched her fists even tighter, relying on the grounding pinch of her nails to keep her gaze on his, no matter how much it wanted to check out his muscles. “Good luck with that, unless you’re looking for groceries or nails. Not many places are still open.”