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interview Jesse Dufour, the ice sculptor at Helms Ice. So, do I have the job, then?”
    Casey’s car lurched out of control and she dropped her cell to grip the wheel.
    What in the world?
    The VW was nearly impossible to control. A car honked as it passed her on Shoreline Road.
    Casey slowed the car, though steering was difficult, and managed to prod it onto the shoulder, though not completely.
    She hopped out to investigate the damage. About a quarter of the car was still on the road. Too bad. With the crags hedging the beach next to the road and her inability to perfectly control the car, she didn’t feel comfortable trying to move it completely off the road.
    But on this side, she saw nothing wrong.
    She stomped around to the other side.
    A blowout.
    Of all the…
    Hands on her hips, she turned her gaze from the tire and her precarious position on the road and scanned the shoreline, watching the waves as they lapped the beach. The day had started wrong, all wrong.
    Opening the passenger door, Casey scrounged around the small car looking for her cell that she’d dropped mid-conversation with Danny.
    She found it and held it to her ear. “You still there?”
    Silence. Casey called him again, but the line was busy. Next, she called Jesse’s number, thankful he’d thought to give it to her, and that she’d stored it in her phone.
    That he’d been that protective and concerned for her seemed a little strange at first. But with the likes of Tannin after her, Casey could use a dose of protective behavior from a man, so she had welcomed it. Last night, he’d single-handedly doused her suspicious first impression of him.
    She was happy to nix any further thoughts on the matter, considering she had enough trouble already.
    â€œCasey, where are you?” Jesse said, skipping right over the normal greeting.
    Casey heard a note of alarm in his voice and wanted to dispel his concern. “I’ve got a flat tire. Hope that doesn’t inconvenience you. Can you wait for me?”
    She left out that she was already running late when she woke up this morning.
    â€œI’ll do better than that. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come change your tire.”
    Was he serious? Though in all honesty, she’d hoped for a little help. “Just up the…”
    Casey paused mid-sentence and watched as a silver SUV took the curve in the road much too fast. What’s more, even with her car in full view, it began picking up speed.
    Really? Could they not see that her flower-girl green VW was parked partially on the road?
    â€œShoreline, not too…”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” he asked. “Casey?”
    â€œThere’s a car driving a little too fast.” To avoid hitting her car they’d have to veer, and it looked like it was going to be one of those last-minute swerves, if it happened at all.
    A prickle of alarm snaked up her spine.
    To Casey’s shock, the driver gunned the engine and veered right toward her car—and her.

FIVE
    C asey’s ear-splitting scream sliced through Jesse’s mind.
    He’d already jumped in his Jeep to drive over and change her tire, and now he peeled from the parking lot, through a red light, ignoring the honks and a near-collision with a mini-van, and onto Shoreline Road.
    â€œCasey, can you hear me? Are you there?” The connection was lost. He slung the phone into the seat next to him.
    â€œGod, if you can hear me, please, protect her.” Please, let her be okay.
    Guilt wrangled through him—why did it take a crisis situation for him to cry out to God, to actually ask for help?
    He already knew the answer to that—he still wasn’t sure God was listening. Jesse carried a lot of baggage, all due to his career. That’s why it was more than critical for him to get it right this time.
    A red Toyota Camry—someone out for a joy ride—drove like a rickshaw in front of him. Jesse