HANK CALLED from somewhere in the distance. His footsteps registered overhead as he moved across the store toward the stairs. Amy tore away from Jace’s embrace, her breath frozen. She shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes to stare up at him. He looked as disoriented as she felt. “Damn.” Shaking her head, she moved up the stairs. Even though Hank’s footsteps were close, she paused and looked back at Jace. He’d turned away, his arms braced against the counter. She hustled on up before Hank got the bright idea to come down and see why she wasn’t answering. “I’m right here,” she called, hoping that would stop him. The old man stood at the top, leaning on his cane. His left eyebrow lifted questioningly. “Is something wrong?” “No.” She tried to calm her breathing. “Why?” “Well, you’re downstairs in the middle of the workday, and you’re out of breath.”
