Cinders Read Free Page A

them stepped out into the hot sun on Main Street.
    “That was interesting,” Mike said dryly.
    “That’s one word for it.” Brennen’s hands tightened on the box as he tried to smooth his annoyance down—he hated that sad, frightened look Gina got, a strange desire to protect her always rising up when he saw it.
    Mike went for his car parked around the corner. “I’m taking a new job next week and there’s a meeting about it today, so I’m off.”
    Some kind of protective detail—Brennen vaguely recalled mention of it when they met for lunch earlier. “Good luck.”
    “And to you.” He cast a wry look at Brennen—a knowing look, like he knew full well his insistence on heading to the bakery had nothing to do with the food.
    Luck. If he was ever going to get to know Gina better, he’d clearly need it.

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
    As evening darkened the sky and Midsummer’s downtown core, the bakery remained bright and blindingly white under the fluorescent lights.
    The closed sign hung over the front door, as it did at nearly all shops in town except for the bar and grill a few buildings down—things closed down early in Midsummer, and most shop workers were already home having dinner.
    Gina had ducked out an hour earlier to put dinner on the table for Maureen and her daughters at their house two blocks over, as she did every day. Later she’d go over and clean up their dishes, but first she had the bakery to have polished to a spit-shine. Maureen didn’t check every day that it was spotless, but if it wasn’t on the occasion she looked, well...
    The sudden flare of memory when a palm connected with her flesh stung Gina’s cheek and reminded her it was best to just follow Maureen’s rules. And a slap was getting off easy for showing her face at the store’s cash register when she was supposed to stick to the back—far worse was her stepmother’s heel crunching down on her left foot for daring to walk around barefoot. Her simple slip-on shoes pinched uncomfortably but she wouldn’t dare take them off now.
    The counters were clean, dishes washed, floors swept, and the front of the shop was dark as she’d already washed the tile in there. She dragged the mop over the last of the floor in the back room, wrung it out in the pail, and stood straight. Her entire body ached—she’d been on her feet since quarter to five in the morning—and she couldn’t wait to sleep.
    After I clean up the dinner dishes . Her own stomach rumbled but she ignored it. She had just a few precious hours to herself at night when the house was dark and the others were asleep—she’d get a bite to eat then, before she finally drifted off for the night in her creaky dark attic room.
    Gina scooped up the heavy pail of water and shuffled the few remaining steps to the backdoor. It creaked open on hinges that never lost their squeak no matter how many times she oiled them and suppressed a yawn as she stepped outside.
    Then she yelped and fell back against the doorframe at the sight of a dark figure standing to the side of the porch steps.
    “Sorry.” Brennen stepped forward, the light catching his raised splayed fingers. “I didn’t meant to scare you.”
    “You’re lurking.” The pail weighed heavily in her hands but she hadn’t moved far enough to dump the water, still staring at him warily.
    “Waiting,” he corrected with a grin that melted her nervousness.
    “Also known as lurking.”
    He held her gaze and took another step forward. “Much more innocent.”
    “Lurking in the dark .”
    “I was sitting on my car.” He gestured over his shoulder where the vintage navy Mustang waited, parked in the small empty lot behind this cluster of shops. “Stepped forward when I saw you. Hadn’t realized it would be dark and scary. Really.”
    She peeled her body from the doorframe at last, the screen door creaking shut behind her, and shuffled with the heavy pail to the nearby railing. “Marginally less scary, then,