I search for what feels like forever, weaving in and out of aisles until my throat catches on a squeal. There it is. The gift I wasn’t sure still existed, something so perfectly, uniquely Penn, I want to clutch it to my chest and never let go. I snatch it up, heart thudding.
And then I turn.
Straight into Dylan.
Again.
What the ever-loving hell?
“What are you doing here?” The words snap out before I can swallow them. My stomach plunges, instinct telling me this is no coincidence. Did he overhear me mention Rutledge to Belinda? Did he follow me?
He laughs, easy, casual. “I’m the mayor of this town. Had to check on something at the office.”
My gaze skims the store. “Where’s Sloane?”
“She’s back at the inn. Still not feeling well.” His eyes flicker to the box in my hands. “I popped in for some shopping, thought I spotted you. What’ve you got there?”
I tighten my grip. “Just last-minute things. I’m done now.” I step to move past him.
He shifts easily in beside me. “I’m headed out too.”
I keep my tone light, though unease prickles the back of my neck. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
His smile is thin, sharp. “Not yet. But there’s still time.”
I pay quickly, shoving my purchase into the bag. He lingers close enough that I feel the heat of his presence, and my skin crawls. When I push through the door into the sharp night air, he follows.
“Let me walk you to your car. It’s dark out.”
“I’m fine, Dylan.”
“I’m sure Penn would appreciate me making sure you got there safely.”
I pick up my pace. By the time I reach my car, I’m borderline jogging. I toss the bags into the trunk, slam it shut, and circle toward the driver’s seat. Dylan’s voice cuts me off.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
My heart stutters. I whirl. “What?”
He points at the ground. “Your tire. It’s flat.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Do you have a spare?”
“In the trunk.” I shove past him, pop the latch, but when I circle around, my stomach sinks.
“Oh no.”
“What now?”
I squat, pressing my palm to my other back tire. The rubber sags beneath my touch, limp and useless.
“This one’s flat too.”
Dylan squats beside me, phone already out, his flashlight beam cutting across the sagging rubber. “Damn,” he mutters, running the light along the gash. “Looks like they’ve been cut.”
A cold knot coils in my stomach. My first instinct is Penn. Call Penn. “How could this even happen?”