An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(90)
It didn’t matter in any case; they both knew she was right.
As forecast, the storm rolled in at seven o’clock Friday evening of the following week.
It arrived with a ferocious roar and streaks of lightning followed by rain, the likes of which Grace had never seen. The humidity that had built over the past few days had been so brutal, like breathing water through a sieve, that Grace had given up even attempting to run while it hung around. Instead, to pass the time when she wasn’t behind the bar, she cranked up the AC and worked on her photographs.
A flash of lightning illuminated Whiskey’s, setting the lights to flickering. Grace jumped from her spot by the fridge and looked toward the window. It had been in full flow for a good hour with no sign of letting up. It was going to be all sorts of fun getting home tonight.
For a Friday, Whiskey’s was all but empty except for Earl, Caleb, who’d just finished his shift, and a couple of regulars who spent so much time in Whiskey’s, Grace wasn’t sure they remembered where they lived anymore. Word had gotten around so quickly about the oncoming storm that even hot wings and liquor couldn’t entice the masses. Folks had the right idea. The only reason Grace was working was that Holly was unwell, seemingly a victim of the dreaded sickness bug that had made Grace’s life a misery more than a week ago.
Thunder shook the bar. Grace’s eyes widened and Caleb chuckled. “Ah, don’t you worry none. This is tame compared to our usual summer storms,” he offered. “You’ll be fine.”
Grace wasn’t so sure. She was just relieved that Max and the rest of the guys weren’t heading back to Preston County until Sunday, when the storm was forecast to be at its weakest. Roads would be treacherous and she’d do nothing but spend her time worrying about him getting back safely otherwise. She poured herself a soda.
Lord. She couldn’t wait to see him. It had seemed like the longest eight days of her life. They’d texted and even spoken on the phone a couple of times—even though Grace could sense Max’s awkwardness when they did—but it wasn’t the same.
An almighty crack of thunder that sounded as though it was directly above the bar snapped out the lights for a brief moment. A car alarm wailed somewhere outside as though crying out in surprise. Despite it nearing the end of July, the sky was black as rain barrelled down onto the ground below.
“Maybe I should close up?” Grace muttered, eyeing the wavering strip lights and glancing around at the faces sitting at the bar. Surprisingly, they all looked to be of the same opinion despite it being before 9 p.m. “We’d all be safer at home, right?”
Caleb slapped his hands on the bar, moving his bottle of Coke out of the way. “You’re right. I’ll head upstairs, tell Holly what we’re doing, and drop each of you off in the cruiser. That thing could drive through just about anything.”
Earl wheezed. “Cruiser, huh? Not been in the back of one of them since I was younger’n you.”
Grace turned back to Caleb. “If you’re sure.”
He nodded and disappeared up the back steps to Holly’s place. While he was gone, Grace cleaned up, thankful that the bar had been so quiet. She switched off all the electrics—save for the fridges—remembering her mother saying something about electrical sockets and storms not mixing, and stood with the other patrons at the door, waiting patiently for Caleb.
After locking the door and pushing the keys through the mailbox, Grace squealed and slid to the police cruiser, scrambling into the front seat before the rain could saturate every part of her. It was a losing battle. She pushed back hair that dripped down her nose, amazed that in mere moments the storm had left her looking like she’d been in the shower. “Ballet flats were not a great idea,” she giggled, wiggling her soaked toes.
Caleb’s lips tilted up at the corners. “Okay?” he asked before looking back at his posse of drowned rats. Despite the weather, a collection of whoops and hollers greeted him in reply.
Caleb drove carefully, dropping each person off, making sure they reached their front doors safely before he set off again. He was clearly a good driver, but from the clench of his jaw it was obvious the rain, and the water now rushing the roads, were setting him on edge.
He finally pulled up outside Grace’s house and turned off the cruiser. The rain thundered against the roof, hood, and windshield. He looked at her pulling an eek face. “On the count of three?”
“One. Two. Three!”
They both darted out of the car, ducking and weaving through the torrents, shouting until they reached the porch. Grace slid the key in the door and pushed, slipping on the laminate floor. Caleb caught her, his hands on her waist for a brief moment, before reaching for the light switch. It clicked but no light appeared.
“Oh no,” Grace grumbled, trying it herself, twice.
Caleb shut the door behind him. “Shit. This might have affected the whole town.” He frowned at the unresponsive spotlights as though they were somehow to blame. “Where’s your fuse box?” he asked, pulling his flashlight from his belt.
Grace laughed nervously. Other than Max and Kai, both of whom she trusted implicitly, she’d not been alone with a man in the house. She moved backward slowly, toward the couch. “Um, I have no idea.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes gently, watching her distance. He lifted a hand as though calming a startled animal. “Hey, I just want to make sure you’ve got power before I leave you, okay?” He unclipped his radio, holding it out to her. “Do you want to call someone to come over while I’m here?” His face was entirely indulgent, with no hint of a lie or ulterior motive.