Entranced

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“Nope. Haven’t seen her.” The plump saleswoman behind the counter smiled and gestured to a rack of handmade scarves next to her. “But I knitted these myself. You find your friend and come back, and I’ll give you a discount. And see Gustav down the street. You need to eat more, young man, or the wind will knock you right over.” She laughed.

Jack had no trouble understanding her southern German dialect. Born Jonathan Keiser, he’d been raised by second-generation German immigrants and had spoken German as a first language. His accent impeccable, he thanked her and left, tugging his jacket around him.

The wind whipped and brought tears to his eyes. He put a hand into his pocket, retrieved a photo, and stared at it. Again. For two weeks now, he’d been searching for Heather Fucking Stallbridge. Owen’s sister had become as big a pain in Jack’s ass as her domineering older brother. Jack couldn’t stop staring at her damn picture, and he’d tried. He had to hold it, keep it close. He’d found himself memorizing her features, wondering what she thought, how she’d look when she smiled, if she tasted half as good as he imagined…

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