LITMIR.BIZ

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easy day hikes to white-water rafting.

      “Looking good,” Aidan said as they approached. “You’re going to be opening soon.”

      “Three weeks max,” Nick said easily. “I’m already hiring servers.”

      Both men were tall, with dark hair and eyes. Aidan glared at his brother. “Seriously? Hiring servers.”

      Nick’s relaxed expression tightened. “Don’t start on me.”

      “You’re not worth the trouble.”

      There was both frustration and affection in Aidan’s tone. From what Kipling had been able to piece together, the family was close, but not without its troubles. The father was Ceallach Mitchell, the famous glass artist. He was known both for his brilliance and his temper. Nick had apparently inherited his ability but not his interest. From what Kipling could tell, Nick had been tending bar for years, rather than working with glass.

      Aidan was on his brother a lot—complaining that the younger Mitchell could do so much more than simply run a bar. As Kipling had a complicated relationship with his own sister, he did his best to stay out of these family dynamics.

      “You given any thought to what we talked about?” Kipling asked Aidan.

      The older brother raised one shoulder. “You know I don’t have time.”

      Kipling knew when to keep quiet. It was a trick he’d learned from his coach. Let ’em talk it out, and they’ll almost always come round to your way of thinking.

      “Yeah,” Aidan continued. “I know it’s a volunteer assignment, but we get busy in the summer.”

      “You’re busy all year round,” Nick said cheerfully. “What if it’s one of your customers who’s lost?”

      Aidan swore at his brother. “No one asked you.”

      “I’m a giver. I don’t need to be asked.”

      Kipling held in a chuckle.

      Aidan glared. “Don’t pressure me.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kipling told him. “Did I mention it was Mayor Marsha who suggested I ask you?”

      Aidan swore again. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll be one of your damned volunteers.”

      “Good to know. I’ll get you the paperwork within a day.”

      “There’s paperwork?” Aidan shook his head. “No good deed.”

      Nick slapped him on the back. “You know it.”

      “Don’t think you won’t be right there beside me,” Aidan told him.

      “Never planned for it to be otherwise.”

      Two for the price of one, Kipling thought with satisfaction. The search and rescue team, which he refused to think of as HERO, would be staffed mostly by volunteers. He would be in charge, and he was hiring a second-in-command, not to mention a couple of support staff. But everyone else would work on a volunteer basis. It was the easiest way to keep costs down.

      Given the willingness of the community to get involved, Kipling didn’t think he would have a problem getting everyone trained. He’d already spoken to both the police and fire chiefs, and they’d assured him he would have plenty of their folks showing up.

      Aidan was the one he wanted, though. With his business, he knew the area better than almost anyone. When someone was lost, Kipling wanted Aidan on the ground, looking.

      “When does training begin?” Nick asked.

      “Not for about a month. The facilitator from STORMS arrived a couple of days ago. She has to get the terrain mapped and the software up and running first.”

      Aidan nodded. “The tall redhead, right? I’ve seen her around town. What’s her name?”

      “Destiny Mills.”

      Kipling wanted to say more. Like the fact that her green eyes reminded him of spring leaves against the last snow of the season. Only he wasn’t a guy who talked like that. No one did. At least no one he knew.

      “You could use a woman,” Nick said, nudging his brother.

      “She’s not my type.”

      “How do you know? You haven’t met her.”

      Aidan’s expression tightened. “She isn’t. Let it go.” He turned and walked out.

      Nick waited until his brother was gone to shake his head. “He won’t date anyone longer than fifteen minutes. One day that lifestyle’s going to bite him in the ass. What about you? What are your thoughts on Ms. Destiny Mills?”

      Kipling wasn’t sharing them with anyone but the woman in question. “I’m working with her, not dating her. Why all the interest?”

      “I’m the bartender. I need to know things.”

      Kipling thought briefly about warning Nick off. He had his own plans for Destiny. Then he realized there was no point. If Destiny was interested in the same thing he was, he would know soon enough. If she wasn’t, then Nick was welcome. Kipling had never had much trouble getting or keeping women. His problem was more along the lines of never feeling he wanted more than a temporary arrangement. But until it was time to walk away, he was interested in wherever Destiny wanted to go.

      * * *

      DESTINY WOKE UP earlier than usual. By the time she’d showered and dressed it was still a few minutes before six. She grabbed her wallet and stuffed it in the front pocket of her jeans then walked quietly to the front door and let herself out.

      It was still cool, although the weather guy had promised a nice warm day. The sky was clear, and the neighborhood quiet. She zipped up her hoodie and turned toward town.

      One of the advantages of constantly moving around was discovering local businesses. So far her Fool’s Gold finds were a street truck that served incredible sandwiches by Pyrite Park and Ambrosia Bakery. The former solved her lunch problem and the latter was going to require her to add a little exercise to her routine.

      She crossed empty streets. As she got closer to the bakery, she saw a few people and a couple of cars. A jogger nodded as he passed her.

      Destiny liked discovering the rhythm of each town she worked in. They were all similar, with just enough differences to keep things interesting. In a way, like the rhythm of a song. Stanzas told a story, and the chorus was the exploration of a theme. The backbone that held it all together.

      She turned on Second Street and saw the bakery ahead on her left. The doors stood open, which meant it was now after six. She walked in and inhaled the sweet combination of sugar, cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Talk about heaven.

      A petite blonde stood behind the counter. She had blue eyes and a pretty face. There was something familiar about her, although Destiny knew they hadn’t met. Her name tag said Shelby.

      “Morning,” Shelby said with a smile. “You’re up early.”

      “Not as early as you.” Destiny motioned to the display case full of pastries. “Unless these were baked last night.”

      Shelby laughed. “No such luck. I was here at three.”

      Destiny winced. “Okay, I like to get up early, but that would challenge even me.”

      “I know. When I have a day off, I sleep late. Which means four-thirty. It’s an odd schedule, that’s for sure. What can I get you?”

      Destiny chose a half-dozen Danish. She would leave most of them for Starr and maybe take one to work.

      Shelby put the pastries in a silver-and-white-striped box. “Are you new in town or visiting?”

      “I’m new. Here for the summer to set up software for the search and rescue program.”

      Shelby

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