by Jody Holford
“You’re not wrong. She’s lovely. She wants to try out a paint night with a small group, see what we think and get some feedback. You want to join?”
“Absolutely,” Calli said. The bell from the overpass rang, signaling that another order was ready. “Text me and remind me, though.”
When she left, Molly picked up a fry and grinned at Sam. “What are you laughing at?”
“Calli cracks me up. She knows everyone and everything.” He took a sip of his soda. “It’s nice that you’re supporting Sarah. I think Chris is pretty gone over her.”
They’d hung out as couples a few times, and Molly loved the way Sarah, who was quiet and sweet, pulled out the softer side of Sam’s friend, Chris. As a cop, he was naturally suspicious and often overly cautious. He and Molly had butted heads more than once—unintentionally on her part. But she really liked him and was happy he’d found someone he obviously cared about.
“Do you two talk about how crazy you are about your girlfriends when you play poker or go for beers or whatever you two do on guys’ night?” Molly popped a delicious, crispy fry in her mouth.
“Sorry. That’s top secret. Can’t have you disclosing the mystery behind guys’ night to your readers.”
Laughing, she picked up the ketchup bottle and shook it. “I’m not sure they want to know.”
“We’d better eat up and head out to the RV park,” he said, looking at his watch.
“The RV park. Another mystery. I haven’t been there yet.”
“Jet and Stoley have done web posts on their rides. They’re decked out. You’re going to love it.”
She felt his excitement, and it fueled her own. She couldn’t wait to meet the two men who’d created something that mattered so much to the man who was quickly claiming ownership of her heart.
Chapter Three
If Britton Bay had four corners, Molly had been to only three of them. She didn’t realize, until Sam passed Main Street and the pier, that she’d never explored the entire eastern part of the town.
“I haven’t gone past the pier. That’s so weird. I felt like I was learning every little nook and cranny of this place, and I’m only now realizing I’ve left out a whole part of it.”
Sam reached for her hand across the console that separated them in his truck.
“You haven’t done any camping since you got here. You don’t have an RV or a dirt bike, so it’s not all that surprising. There are a few trailer and RV parks, and a skate park that used to keep the deputies busy and still occasionally does. Other than that, there isn’t much to it.”
She watched the ocean whip by out her window and thought about how hot the summer had been—hot enough to make the water a welcome reprieve. Bet it’s icy right now. Though the weather was somewhat warmer than it had been earlier in the day.
Sam slowed to a stop at a sign that actually read “top.” The “s” had been worn away, and Molly tilted her head, wondering how such a thing had happened. Weathering? Vandalism? It was interesting nonetheless. Sam took a right, but not before she saw one of the trailer parks he’d mentioned. Along the stretch of road they traveled, there were a few more trailer parks and some scattered, dilapidated houses.
Sam turned left onto a gravel road, and Molly smiled when she saw the bright, happy sign reading britton bay rv park: your home away from home. Excitement swirled in her stomach. Maybe it was an extension of the energy she could feel vibrating off Sam.
“You want me to let you be a fanboy before I get into the questions?”
His laughter filled the cab. “Funny girl.”
With another quick squeeze, he let go of her hand and stopped at the gate. A teen wearing a Portland Trail Blazers cap looked up lazily from his phone. He took his time standing and opening the window.
“Visiting?” he drawled.
“Lot thirty-eight,” Sam answered, lifting up to pull his wallet from his back pocket.
“Ten bucks.”
Sam handed the money over, and the teen sat back down, closing the slider window.
Molly laughed when they drove through. “He has about as much enthusiasm for his job as Clay does for his.”
Sam glanced her way for a quick second. “Did I hear right? He started using his dad’s last name?”
“He did. Seems weird since he still swears his father meant nothing to him.” When Molly had started at the Bulletin, she hadn’t known Vernon and Clay were even related.
The sun was setting in a darkening sky as they drove to the end of the gravel road they’d started on. In the corner, overlooking the water, were two RVs that were so big, other RVs could fit inside of them. Or nearly. One was significantly larger, but both were impressive.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“I know. I was reading their blog, and those are both new. They house their cars in the back of their RVs.”
“Seriously?” Her mouth was hanging open.
“Yup. Bet you’d camp in one of those,” he teased, cutting the engine.
“I think I’d consider living in one of those.”
They got out of the truck and met at the front. Sam took her hand, and though she didn’t think it presented the most professional picture, she liked the feel of it too much—and how naturally it came to him—to pull away.
Wondering which of the RVs they’d knock on first, Molly was brought up short by the sight of a man reclining in a lawn chair, eyes closed, the brim of his ball cap pulled low, sunglasses shading his face. His feet rested on the metal firepit, which was full of debris and wood pieces. It took her a second for her to realize he must be sleeping because he didn’t react to their arrival.
Before they could announce their presence, the door of the RV to their right swung open so hard it bounced off the side. A tall, angry-looking man filled the doorway. His full head of gray hair and thick gray beard hinted at his age, but it was more the road map of lines marring his face that made him seem older. That and the hard set of his jaw. As his eyes swung their way, his face transformed from tough-looking to gentle in a split second.
“Well, hello there. You must be Molly and Sam. Wake up, Stoley. Sorry folks. He naps more than he did when we were younger.”
It didn’t take much thought to realize that the man coming down the three metal steps, hand stretched out for them to shake, was none other than Jethro Harkaw.
“Jet Harkaw. You’re the reporter lady? Would of dressed up had I known you were such a looker.”
Behind him, Stoley—or Brian Stoleman—pushed off the lawn chair and gave a low grunt.
“Give her five seconds to get used to you before you hit on her, Jet.”
Molly turned her attention back to the man still holding her hand.
“Molly Owens. Nice to meet you.”
Jethro was smiling at her in a way that was far too familiar for someone she’d just met. A shiver traveled through her body, but she fought not to react. Now that he was closer and not shaded by the doorway of his RV, she saw the hint of bruising around his right eye. It could be a trick of the light, or lack of it, but the purplish tinge suggested otherwise.
Sam offered his hand, and Molly wondered if it was because he was eager to meet the man or he sensed her discomfort.
“Sam Alderich. Nice to meet you, sir.”
Molly was happy when Brian shook her hand in a far more professional way. He and Sam exchanged hellos before Jet clapped Sam on the shoulder.
“Don’t call us sir. Makes us feel old. You’ll understand one day.” His eyes wandered over Molly as he spoke to Sam.
Brian seemed all too aware of the inappropriate way his partner was greeting the woman who planned on writing about them in the local paper, and he stepped between Jethro and Molly.
“Thanks for coming out to us. Been on the road most of the day, and as much as we love cars, I didn’t really want to take Ma
bel out before I need to.”
Molly smiled as she and Sam followed Brian to what she assumed was Jethro’s RV. Brian gestured for her to go up the stairs, but she stopped beside him. “Mabel?”
He grinned. While he wore his age in the lines on his face as well, they were much gentler and kinder. Less…lecherous. “My car. Your boyfriend didn’t tell you all men name their cars?”
Sam laughed behind her and touched his hand to the small of her back. Warmth replaced the chill she’d felt.
“Only when they drive something worth naming,” Sam said.
She moved far enough into the RV that the others could follow and close the door behind them. She couldn’t stop her mouth from dropping open as she looked around. This was the kind of luxury travel she’d only ever read about. While she had no desire to commune with nature or sleep outside, she could definitely see the appeal of touring around in this mini-mansion.
They’d stepped into the living area, which was a combination of a sitting area and kitchen. Plush white couches lined a wall under covered windows. The dark-paneled flooring made the white furniture seem even more grand. A stainless-steel fridge, stove, and dishwasher worked to make an L shape that defined the kitchen area, and there was a small bar-style countertop, complete with black leather swivel stools underneath.
“This is just breathtaking,” Molly said.
“I’ve been inside a few, but none like this,” Sam added. He stuck close to her back while Brian took a seat and Jet went to the fridge.
“It’s something, all right. After you travel in one of these, you never want to go back,” Jet said. He pulled a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge and held them up to Sam and Molly.
Molly shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’m good, too.” Sam’s fingers brushed hers.
Jet shrugged and handed one to Brian, who accepted. “Bought this baby from the place where Dolly Parton bought hers. They cut me quite the deal when I said I’d be advertising them across the country.”
Molly looked at Brian, who’d crossed one leg over his knee and leaned back, clearly less focused on the need to impress. “Yours must be just as beautiful.”
He nodded and hooked a thumb toward Jet. “It is. Paid less than this guy, too, because I don’t need bragging rights.”
Jet’s loud laughter filled the space. “Come sit down, darlin’. You’re going to ask us a bunch of questions, you need to be cozy.”
He sat, leaving room between him and his partner, then actually patted the seat beside him. Molly moved toward the kitchen countertop, and Sam followed.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll sit here. The hard surface makes it easier to work,” Molly said.
Sam leaned against the counter beside her, and she leaned in to speak quietly. “Do you want to sit here?”
“I’m good. You do your thing.” His jaw was tight, and his expressive eyes were dark, not the usual expression for him.
Molly pulled her notepad and phone from her bag and swiveled the chair so she was looking at the two men, who physically were similar but gave off very different vibes. Both had gray hair, but Brian’s was cropped close, which suited the hint of stubble on his wide jaw. Jethro’s hair was wilder and complmented the thick beard he sported. From a glance, they could be mistaken for brothers.
“Let’s start with you telling me a bit about yourselves and your love for cars,” Molly said. She didn’t think she’d record most of the conversation, but she kept her phone out in case she changed her mind.
Brian sat forward, took a long swallow of his beer, then rested his forearms on his jean-clad knees. “Hard to talk about one without mentioning the other. My daddy sat me down at my first engine when I was three years old. Loved everything about cars ever since.”
Jet also took a long drink of his beer but didn’t look reflective or sentimental when he spoke. “Couple of things make a woman turn her head. Cars, motorcycles, and money. I’ve got all three.” He grinned like he’d just told her he’d won a Pulitzer.
Pulling in what she hoped was a subtle breath, Molly did her best to respond as an unflappable reporter. “It’s not uncommon for teenage boys to try to impress women. Would you say, since your fascination with vehicles started so long ago, that this would have been one of the reasons behind your interest?”
Jethro chuckled and extended his arm along the back of the couch cushions. “Absolutely. Didn’t hurt that I was good with my hands. Never cared much for school and knew early that I wouldn’t be going to college. Working with cars brought in decent money. Working with old cars—classics—brought money and satisfaction.”
Jotting down notes, very aware of the tension evident in Sam’s body beside her, she smiled up at Brian. “Even with all of the new fancy gadgets and sleek styles, classics are still your preference as well?”
Brian’s smile was nothing short of grandfatherly. “Absolutely. I’ll take a classic over new any day of the week. When I love something, it’s forever. Won’t see me changing my mind. I’m a Chevy man, and I like speed and convenience, but I’ll take a classic Mustang over a new one every time.”
Sam murmured an agreement. “Can’t make them like they used to.”
“You got it, son,” Brian said.
They chatted a bit longer about cars, favorites, their blog, and the show before Molly slipped into more personal questions. Human nature would have readers wanting to know who the men behind the cars were.
“Being on the road so often must make having a family life tricky. How do you navigate that?”
Jet finished his beer and got up for another. “Never let your women run into each other. That’s the trickiest part,” he said. He laughed loudly as he opened the fridge and pulled out a second bottle.
Brian groaned. “You better finish up your interview, dear. He’s this obnoxious after one; you don’t want to see him after a few.”
His smile was tight, but he spoke without rancor toward his partner.
Molly tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure Jet was joking, and she had more questions. “Are either of you married?”
“I’m on my second,” Jet replied, taking his seat. “Likely my last. Was married close to thirty years to my first wife. And while I like the classics, let me just say, that works better with cars than with women.”
Though Molly was able to bite her tongue, Sam’s growl of irritation did not go unnoticed. Jet laughed and leaned back again. Brian shifted in his seat but kept his eyes down, focused on peeling the label off his bottle.
“Don’t get all upset, son. I’m just joking with your girl. I love my wife. First one, well, I loved her, too. Just not enough to stay married to her.”
“I’ve never married. Didn’t seem fair since, as you said, we spend so much time traveling. And as you can tell, having this one here as a partner, it’s like having a full-grown toddler around to watch over. No time for the commitment marriage takes.”
Molly smiled at the attempt to lighten the mood, but she was finished. Oddly enough, as much as she hadn’t enjoyed the interview, she was glad Jill had been too sick to do it. If she hadn’t been, Sam’s cousin would have ventured out here alone tonight, and though she had no doubt Brian was a good man, she couldn’t say the same for Jet.
Molly closed her notebook and tucked it into her bag, along with her phone and pen. When she stood, Sam’s hand went immediately to the small of her back again, like that’s where it belonged.
“Thank you for your time, gentlemen. We should let you rest up for tomorrow. Should be a fun weekend.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she believed her own words. They left the RV, and as Jet and Brian walked them to Sam’s truck, she stopped and turned, then looked at Jet.
“One more question. How’d you get that black eye?”
Brian’s eyes widened marginally. Sam, who was opening the passe
nger door for Molly, stopped as well. In the overhead lighting of the RV park, she saw Jet’s quick glance at Brian before he met her gaze.
“I’m old and clumsy. What can I say? Walked right into my closet door. Those RVs are roomy, but they aren’t a house, you know?”
Molly nodded like she believed him. Back in the truck, on their way into town, Sam pulled over on a quiet stretch of the road.
“You okay?” She turned in her seat to see him.
He put the truck in park and undid his seat belt. Taking her hand, he kissed her palm, sending shivers up her arm and chasing away the last vestiges of an unpleasant experience.
“I need you to know that for all of the years I spent admiring those two, all of the time I’ve wanted to bring this show to Britton Bay, I had no idea that Jethro Harkaw was such a chauvinistic pig.”
Molly smiled her first real smile in over an hour. She undid her seat belt as well and leaned across the console, putting her free hand to his slightly scratchy jaw.
“That is not something you needed to say for me to know it. The kind of man you are shines through every single day, Sam. I’m sorry that one of the two men you looked up to seems unworthy of your admiration.”
He pressed his cheek into her palm, closed his eyes, and inhaled like she did sometimes. Like he was trying to breathe her in.
When he opened his eyes, he stared at her with the kind of intensity that made her stomach twist up in knots at the thought of not being with him. He’d really done a number on her resolve to stay single and unattached. And he was completely worth it.
“I would never knowingly admire a man who talks that way about women, and to be honest, I’m a little appalled that I have to spend a good portion of the weekend in his presence.”
“Brian didn’t seem so bad.”
His smile was only a smidge of its usual brightness. “Silver lining.”
He leaned forward and kissed her long enough to make her forget what they were talking about. When he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, he asked, “Your place or mine?”
She sighed. “Doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together.”