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marriage was sending her father down a path she never thought she’d see him travel. One she couldn’t bear to watch. She had to find a way to get her parents back together. They loved each other—always had. Faith was absolutely sure of it. She needed to help her mom see what she was doing to this man and get her to come to her senses.
    Later.
    Now Faith needed to get her dad out of the bar before someone recognized the falling-over-drunk guy as San Amaro Island’s fire chief.
    “How much does he owe you?” she asked the bartender, pulling her wallet out of her purse. She looked around for Derek, relieved to see he’d apparently taken off, as well.
    “He’s clear,” the bartender said. “You going to be able to…?” He motioned toward the parking lot with his head.
    Faith nodded, biting her tongue. She knew most people didn’t realize she was stronger than she looked. And her dad was big. But she didn’t do the female-in-need-of-rescuing well. Never had.
    “Come on, Dad. Time to take you home.”
    He slowly turned and narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to place where he knew her from. Faith hopped down from her stool, acting much more optimistic than she felt, and offered him her hand.
    “You shou’ go home, Faith. Gettin’ late.”
    She hid a sad smile, thinking how much easier it would be to have to look after only herself at this moment, instead of her sixty-year-old father.
    “Let’s go,” she said gently. “You have to work in the morning.”
    Realization brightened his face for an instant and he turned to the bartender. “I’m the fire ch—”
    “He knows,” Faith said loudly, to cover his words, darting a look around behind them to see if anyone else had heard. “Come on, Dad. We need to go now .” She tugged at his arm. “Stand up.”
    His movements were in slow motion, but he finally turned to the side and put his feet on the floor. He was so unsteady he slid right back to the stool, and Faith had to use her strength to keep him upright.
    Okay, so this was going to be an undertaking.
    “I’ll help you, but you have to walk to the car,” she told him.
    She didn’t give him a choice, just yanked at him, and he did his best to get to his feet. Unfortunately, his “best” wasn’t quite enough. The bartender looked over in alarm as Faith braced herself with all her might against her father’s weight.
    “We’re fine, ” she insisted through clenched teeth as her dad finally managed to establish some semblance of balance.
    Coaching his every step, she supported him to the exit, thankful there was no actual door to open. She could feel stares at their backs, but wasn’t about to acknowledge them.
    “I’m parked on the street,” she told him. “Just a little farther.” She was starting to breathe hard from the effort of keeping him upright.
    Before they could even clear the side of the building, her dad shifted his weight from her to the wall and leaned hard against it. “Princess, need to rest. I’ll jus’ sit here for a bit.”
    She fought to keep him on his feet, but there was no way. He slid down the rough wall and landed on his backside on the wide sidewalk.
    Tears of frustration burned Faith’s eyes as he stretched out and rested his head on the pavement.
    Stronger than she looked, sure, but able to lift three hundred pounds? No way. Sitting down next to him and banging her head on the wall was the most appealing option right now.
    “You really have a problem allowing someone to help you, don’t you?” Joe said from the darkness.





CHAPTER EIGHT
    F AITH CLOSED HER EYES and leaned against the Shell Shack’s exterior wall, looking defeated. Only Faith Peligni would take it personally when she failed to carry an unconscious man three times her size. And that stirred something deep inside Joe. Something that had nothing to do with sympathy.
    “I thought you left,” she said, annoyed with him, but fighting not to let it show. He could tell by the set of her