Free Sweet Laurel Falls by RaeAnne Thayne Page B

from under
Harry’s head and make his own escape from Dog-Eared Books & Brew, but common
decency—as well as a completely ridiculous desire not to look like a bigger ass
to her than he already did—compelled him to step forward and grab Harry’s other
arm.
    His father was still not quite seventy. Jack imagined without
the pallor he would still be fairly hale and hearty. Still, the old man felt
almost frail as he and Maura supported him toward a plump armchair in the nearby
travel section.
    “What’s going on?”
    At the new voice, he looked over and found Sage gazing at the
three of them in puzzled consternation.
    “Mr. Lange is feeling a little under the weather,” Maura
replied. “He passed out.”
    “I didn’t pass out,” Harry snapped. “I just lost my balance. If
you left a person with half a foot of aisle room in this place, I would have
been fine.”
    “See, that definitely sounds like you’re blaming me. Should I
be calling my lawyer?” Maura returned.
    “I’m not going to sue anybody.”
    Don’t believe him, he wanted to
tell Maura. If Harry saw any advantage to himself in a given situation, he
wouldn’t hesitate to lie, steal and betray to get his way.
    “O. M. G.!”
    Maura blinked at Sage’s sudden exclamation. “What?”
    “If Jack is my father, that means Mr. Lange is my
grandfather!”
    He bit back a four-letter word. Of all the moments for Sage to
blurt out that little bit of information!
    Harry’s eyes widened and he looked back and forth between the
two of them. Maura was the one who had turned pale now. She looked as if she
wanted to disappear behind a bookshelf, and Jack wanted to join her.
    Harry did not need this
information, something else he could figure out how to manipulate for his own
purposes.
    “What did she say?” Harry asked.
    “Nothing,” Maura muttered. “Now would be a really good time for
you to go back to sleep.”
    “Who are you?” Harry asked Sage, his thick eyebrows arched like
bristly caterpillars.
    “My daughter,” Maura said quickly.
    He narrowed his gaze. “Your daughter died in that car accident
up Silver Strike Reservoir this spring. I was there, wasn’t I? I saw the whole
thing.”
    That was news to Jack. What had been his father’s involvement
in the accident that killed Layla Parker?
    “This is my older daughter, Sage.”
    He should just keep his mouth zipped here. He knew damn well
telling him about Sage was a mistake—but he also knew Harry well enough to be
certain he would just keep pushing and pushing until somebody told him.
    “And mine, apparently,” Jack finally said.
    Maura sent him a quick, surprised look, as if she expected him
to deny the whole thing. Harry, on the other hand, just stared.
    “Have you taken a DNA test?” he asked.
    None of your damn business, he
wanted to say. He didn’t want his father mixed up in this complicated mess, but
he was coming to realize he didn’t have much control over things. Harry just
might have more contact with Sage than he would. He lived in Hope’s Crossing,
after all. While Jack would be back in San Francisco, Harry would be free to
pick up the phone whenever Sage was in town and meet her for lunch at the café
or the resort or any blasted place he wanted.
    “She’s my daughter. I’m convinced of it, and that’s all that
matters.”
    Harry opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, the door
to the bookstore burst open, and a pair of burly paramedics hurried inside with
emergency kits and dedicated focus.
    “Back here,” Maura called and waved. They shifted directions
and headed toward them.
    “I don’t need the damn paramedics,” Harry grumbled.
    “Well, you’ve got them,” Maura retorted. “Hey, Dougie.”
    One of the paramedics, a guy who looked like he could probably
bench-press half the bookstore, grinned at her. “Hey, Maur. What have we
got?”
    “Maybe nothing. I don’t know. I just thought it would be better
to call you to check things out.”
    “That’s