Read Online Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) by Sophie Moss - Free Book Online Page A

he started the engine and rolled down the window. Inside the bar, Carrie Underwood was belting out a song about revenge and some of the women were starting to dance. It would be so easy to get one of them to come home with him tonight.
    Part of him was tempted, and if this was San Diego, he would. But this wasn’t San Diego. This was Heron Island. And he knew those women. He’d grown up with them. He’d gone fishing with their dads and uncles. He’d played sports with their brothers.
    He wasn’t going to use one of them to help him get his head straight.
    He switched on the headlights and backed out of the spot. In the past, taking a woman home had always been the fastest route to get past the nightmares and the insomnia. But he’d had a flashback in a bar tonight, in a public place.
    He’d never had a flashback in public before. They usually only happened at night, when he was alone. The tires crunched over gravel as he drove out of the lot. They were getting worse.
    What the hell was he going to do if he couldn’t find a way to control them?
    He drove down the road in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio. When he got to the stop sign, his headlights shone over the two-story house with the purple shutters. He could see Annie through the downstairs windows, unpacking boxes.
    Pulling over to the side of the road, he cut the engine and climbed out. He owed her an apology. Crickets chirped in the tall grasses as he crossed the street and walked up the steps to her porch.
    She glanced up when he got to the doorway, and met his gaze through the glass. Sending him a look that said, you have got to be kidding me, she walked to the door and opened it. “I don’t have anything for you to eat.”
    “I know. I wasn’t…” He trailed off, gazing down at her. She’d taken a shower recently and her long red hair hung like fire-colored ropes over her shoulders. Her eyes, the color of wet leaves, looked haunted and tired. She was wearing a black wrap shirt over black yoga pants and no makeup.
    He wanted to pull her into his arms and not let go for the rest of the night. “I thought you might need a hand.”
    “With what?”
    He nodded toward the row of boxes against the wall.
    Annie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to go out with you because you offered to unload a few boxes.”
    His lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. “I’m hurt that you’d think I have an ulterior motive.”
    Annie rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, turning and pointing to a box on the floor. “You can unload those dishes onto the racks behind the counter.”
    Will walked over to the box and picked it up. What was he doing? He should apologize and get the hell out of here. Annie didn’t need any more baggage to add to the load she was already carrying. He should leave her alone and let her be.
    But when he passed her on the way to the counter, she smelled like vanilla and apple pie. And the only place he wanted to be was right here, helping her unpack.
    He set the box on the counter and started pulling out an assortment of mismatched plates and bowls. “Seems like a lot of dishes for two people.”
    “They’re from garage sales,” she explained, unwrapping a set of hand-painted wine glasses covered in newspaper. “My daughter and I collect them. It’s sort of a hobby.”
    He set the plates on the rack. “Are you going to use them in the restaurant?”
    Annie nodded.
    Will glanced down at the chipped pottery. “In the fine dining restaurant?”
    She looked up at him and he wished he could tell her he’d changed his mind. He wished he could tell her he’d decided to sell the inn to the resort company and she didn’t have to worry about the bank pulling the plug on her loan. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn his grandparents’ inn over to a developer. And a small part of him liked knowing they had that connection, that he had something she wanted, even if he was never going to give it to her.
    When