Resa kicked it out of the way. This trailer had been redecorated by her mother, without question. Puppies and lace and a dozen shades of of pink. It had Jeanne written all over it. “Sorry, Madere’s doesn’t open until nine and…” Damn. She recognized Chan Caillou immediately, but her memories were the “before” picture and the man at the foot of the trailer steps was definitely the “after.” If anyone had told her how he’d grown up and filled out she might have been more interested in Chandler Caillou’s return to Dogtown. Or not. She refused to get invested. Dogtown was like quicksand; unless one kept moving, getting stuck was inevitable, followed by sinking and suffocation. “Theresa Ann Madere. Heard you were back, but wasn’t sure I believed it.” He was taller than Resa remembered. The blond hair was longer and sun-streaked, curling over the collar of his flannel shirt. Way more muscled, in a good way. But the calm, moss-green eyes hadn’t changed, or his quiet way of speaking.
