*
That she felt disappointed by his use of her own words felt silly. But today and tonight had felt like more than friends. She couldn’t deny what was happening between them. Everything felt foolish and heart-poundingly exciting at once. And every step they took toward that inevitable heartbreak they would face at the end of all this only made her more certain that Somerhalder had been right when he told her she couldn’t trust her own judgment.
“If you’re worried about Holly and Trey,” Noah said, sensing her hesitation, “don’t be. You’d be my plus-one and they’re down with that. A couple of guests, out-of-towners, couldn’t come at the last minute so you’re not even technically an extra.”
“Are you sure?” Nothing worse than a pity invite to a wedding.
“It’ll be fun. I hear it’s at a cool venue, too.”
Cool or uncool, the venue played no part in her decision. She’d avoided weddings like the plague since her own debacle, but weren’t weddings the whole reason she’d come here? She’d packed exactly one dress and one pair of heels, strictly for wedding-lurking purposes. Now, she had a legitimate invitation to one.
“What time?”
“Four.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’d love to. And bonus? All that free research.”
“How’s your research coming by the way?” he asked. “For your book.”
“Great. I’m making progress. Finding out all kinds of interesting things about Marietta.”
“Is that right?”
“Did you know that the Graff Hotel where we’re staying has been here almost as long as the town itself? Then, in the late 1900s for a long time, maybe thirty years, it was abandoned. A hulk of its former self, it sat empty until the new owner bought and renovated it just a few years ago. Hard to believe now, because it’s so beautiful, but the mystique remains. Some people even claim it’s haunted.”
“Fortunately,” he said with a wink, “no close encounters.”
“Right. Thank goodness. But lots of history here in town. Did you know this whole area was settled by ranchers and copper barons in the 1800s? Some of those families—like the Brambles, the Carrigans, the Douglasses and the Greys—are still here. How’s that for beating the romance odds? And this place?” She gestured at the busy saloon. “This was the first original building in town. Apparently, it was quite popular with lonely miners for more than the booze. Upstairs. If you know what I mean.”
“A brothel?”
She nodded. “A colorful history, right?”
“I’d say. And copper barons?”
“Hence, Copper Mountain where we were today. Alas, they hit a poor copper vein somewhere up there that petered out pretty quickly. But you know, they do say there’s something in the water behind this romance boom. And…all that copper? It’s a theory.”
“You have been doing your research.”
She took a sip of beer. “Yeah. Well…I don’t sleep much.”
“Me either,” he said, his gaze deepening as he watched her. “See how much we have in common?”
She was beginning to. That was the problem. Looking around the bar, she noticed the crowd had thinned noticeably. “Oh, that’s right. I hear there are fireworks going on up at the fairgrounds tonight. Want to go?”
He blinked and tightened his hand on his beer. “You want to see the fireworks?”
Why did she think there was a ‘no’ underneath that question? “It is the Fourth of July. We could watch them from the river, if you don’t want the crowds.”
“Yeah.” Noah raised his hand at the waitress, and ordered the check. “Sure. We can do that.”
They found a spot near the river and sat on the bank where grass had formed a soft carpet. Their idea wasn’t an original one. There were a couple dozen families out there, waiting for the show that was scheduled to start any minute. But nothing like the fairgrounds, which were jammed with people.
They were a little distance from the show but at an excellent vantage point. The fairground stadium lights blinked off and they could hear applause in anticipation. The show started with a boom and a bang and a shower of fountain fireworks in red, white and blue. The people nearby applauded and settled down on their blankets to watch the night sky.
Gemma leaned her head on Noah’s shoulder as the cannons launched rocket after rocket loaded with colorful explosions. Most were so high up, the sound was dulled by the distance, but she noticed that he tensed with every pop and boom. Streamers of colors fell from the sky, but Noah wasn’t watching. Instead his eyes were closed as if he were somewhere else entirely.
“Hey,” she said finally, giving him a nudge. “You’re not enjoying this. We can go. We don’t have to stay.”
When his eyes met hers, she knew she was right. But he said, “No, it’s all right. Let’s stay.”
But almost before he’d gotten the words out, a series of rapid-fire explosions, sounding like gunfire, went off not twenty feet away. Shrieks of surprise went up from the people nearby and before Gemma could react, he’d flattened her to the ground and was covering her with his body.
If she cried out, the sound was drowned out by the gunfire sound of the firecrackers, which the teenage boys who were laughing and running away had set off.
Above her, Noah was shaking, and she could feel his heart pounding.
“They’re just firecrackers,” she told him against his ear. “It’s all right.”
But his face had lost all color and a sheen of sweat was already dampening his shirt against her skin.
He rolled off her and sat, bracing his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Did I… Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she told him, sitting up beside him. “That scared the hell out of me, too. Are you all right?” But he wasn’t. That much was clear.
“I’ve gotta get out of here. C’mon.” He stood and reached down for her and she let him help her up. The fireworks show exploded behind them in a display that rivaled the best ones she’d seen, but she was no longer interested in it. Her concern was Noah, who was looking pale and shaky.
They didn’t speak until they got back to the hotel. In truth, he was walking too fast for any chitchat. They made it inside and he braced a hand on the wall near the desk.
“Noah…are you okay?”
“I’ll be okay,” he said. “I could use a drink.”
“Let’s go sit in the bar,” she said and led him there to an open booth where he sunk down into the green leather seat beside her.
Gemma asked the bartender—a pretty, tall blonde named Shane—for something stronger than a beer. “And a Jameson please,” she told her. “On the rocks.”
“You got it,” Shane said.
Gemma covered Noah’s hand with hers and he allowed her touch, then threaded his fingers around hers. He said something under his breath that sounded like a curse.
“It scared all of us sitting there,” she told him. “Your reaction was natural. And heroic. I mean, if that had been gunfire, you would have saved me.”
“I should’ve known better than to go,” he said, looking miserable. “I don’t do fireworks anymore. Or car backfires, or freakin’ pans banging against one another in a quiet room. I’m not much good in a crowd and…this is what happens.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have realized.”
Shane delivered his drink, which he slammed back immediately. She glanced at Gemma with a bit of concern at the sight of Noah’s paleness.
“I brought you a water, too,” Shane said, before returning to the bar. “In case you wanted one.”
“Thank you. Kind of you.”
“Feeling any better?” Gemma asked.
He nodded, still shaken. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Why? You don’t have the right to be scared? To have a kneejerk reaction to the sound of gunfire? Or firecrackers? To tell you the truth, today, I feel like we’re all a little nervous in public places. And for you, that must be ten times worse.”
>
He picked up his cocktail napkin and dabbed the moisture on his forehead. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
“That’s good,” she said, trying to sound encouraging.
A sarcastic smile tipped his mouth. “The glass-half-full girl.”
“Maybe. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through over there. But don’t be embarrassed for my sake. What you did, what all of you survived over there, that makes all of us proud of you. So, you miss a few fireworks shows. I usually watch them on TV anyway.”
He exhaled a laugh and his fingers tightened around hers. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Gemma Wayne.”
The phony last name she’d given him that first night poked at her like a needle. Oh, the tangled web we weave… She cleared her throat. “That’s because you live in New York and I live in Seattle.”
“No,” he corrected. “It’s ’cause you’re unique.”
A unique liar. She raised a hand at Shane and ordered another round for herself. “Want another?” she asked him, but he said no.
She felt like confessing. Maybe she should. End this Shakespearean tragedy now before anyone got really hurt. Or maybe it was too late. Probably too late. With his fingers, warm around hers, she knew how he would take the truth. How he would look at her. So differently than he was looking at her now, as if she meant something to him.
“Sláinte mhòr,” Gemma clinked her glass with his empty one. She downed the drink in one gulp and gasped when she’d finished it. The whiskey burned all the way down to her toes.
“Gaelic?” he asked.
“On my mother’s side. You must have been to Scotland to know that one.”
“A few times,” he admitted, combing his hair back with four fingers. “I should’ve guessed with that pale skin of yours.”
“Hmm. I’ve never been. I just use that Jacobite toast to sound worldly.”
“Maybe,” he suggested, “I’ll take you there someday.”
“Don’t say that.” She tightened her fingers around her icy glass.
“Why not?”
“We both know that won’t happen.” And he didn’t deny it. How could he? She sent him an overly bright smile. “Hey, weren’t your friends going to roast marshmallows or something equally gooey tonight over at Trey’s house? They’re probably wondering how I’ve managed to expropriate all of your time. Maybe you should go.”
“Maybe you should come with me.”
“I’m—” she squinted back the growing headache creeping up her temples “—kind of tired. I think I’ll go to bed. You should go. They’re why you really came here. Not me.”
Leaning back in his chair, he studied her for a long minute before apparently deciding against arguing. “Walk you up?”
She shook her head. “I can find my way. It’s getting late. All the marshmallows will be gone.” A teasing smile was all she had for him.
He leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her cheek to catch it. “Good night, Noah.”
From his look, she knew it was definitely too late. “G’night.”
Chapter Seven
Noah saw the flickering campfire before he’d even reached Trey’s house along with the silhouettes of a half-dozen people sitting around the fire. He parked his rental in the driveway and walked over to join them.
The sweet smell of wood smoke took him back to days when his parents had sent him to summer sleepaway camp, and set off to travel the world, childless. Camp had set him on a path in his life that had led directly to the military years later, but the smell of wood smoke reminded him how much he’d loved those summers as a boy. Without his parents overseeing his every move. That had all been before his sister disappeared of course. Everything about his life had changed then.
Mick stood as he walked up to the fire. “Hey! There you are. Where the hell have you been all day?”
“Here and there. I was with Gemma.”
“That’s what we figured. Goin’ well?”
“That’s a good question,” he replied with a frown. “I’m having a hard time reading her.”
“Welcome to the club.” He shoved a long stick into Noah’s hand. “Roast some marshmallows, man. It’ll make you feel better.”
He skewered one onto his stick and shoved the contraption above the flickering orange-and-blue flame. “How about you?” he asked Mick. “Any headway on the woman you mentioned before? Emma, was it?”
He shook his head. “Not a glimpse. But she and her father are invited to the wedding. Maybe I’ll see them there.” Carefully, he assembled his own s’more with a square of chocolate and some graham crackers. “Is Gemma coming?”
Noah allowed a cautious grin.
Mick waggled his brows. “Like that, is it? You gonna see her after you get home? Long-distance romance?”
“We’ll see.” If he could work out how to come clean to her. Not likely.
“Why the hell not? We’re livin’ in the age of airplanes. Ever heard of ’em?” Mick scrubbed a hand through his too-long blond hair. “I hear they even serve alcohol.”
“Day-umm,” said Jase, appearing beside him at the fire. “Is the Viking giving you the third degree on the new girl?” He sent Mick a mock censuring glare. “Since we’ve all been wondering…”
Paul, Trey and Holly razzed him from across the fire with laughter. The warm kind of laughter he knew came from their affection for him. A big extended family kind of teasing he’d never known growing up. God, he was going to miss them.
What a coward he was. Choosing absence over honesty. For years he’d rehearsed his confessions while driving alone or shaving in the mirror. Somewhere along the line, he’d given up on confessing, knowing the truth sounded ridiculous. Damning. Not the truth, per se, but the cover-up he’d inflicted on them. That was his real sin.
Holly and Trey were sitting side by side, hands threaded together, looking permanent. He wondered if there was anything to Gemma’s claim that there was something in the water here, seeing Trey and Holly pair up. Mick, sniffing after some girl he couldn’t seem to forget. Cowboy, thinking about goat farming with a local girl, and himself, smitten with a girl who seemed just as scared of getting involved as he did.
He wondered if the spell Marietta cast on visitors dissipated at its borders like that old town in the movie, Brigadoon, or if the magic ensnared its guests forever. He could think of many fates worse than making this place home.
His marshmallow caught fire and instantly charred. He blew out the flame. Forgoing the chocolate and graham crackers, he ate his treat right off the stick. Cowboy passed him a bottle of Scotch from which they were taking swigs. He passed it, knowing he had to drive back home. In the direction of town, more fireworks lit up the sky here and there as people set off their own.
They all saw it, but no one said a word. Fireworks were just another thing that would never be the same for any of them. At least not for a long, long time.
Trey and Holly took him inside and showed off their house and they gave him something nonalcoholic to drink. Theirs was a big house, but about to get smaller with the addition of the baby. Holly showed him the room she and Trey had painted pink for the little girl. The nursery was classic and simple, done in pale pinks and white.
“Will you come meet her when she’s born?” Trey asked as they walked back out to the fire.
“I’ll do my best,” Noah lied. He wouldn’t, but he couldn’t tell any of them that. Another thing he would miss. Trey’s baby girl.
“You know how much I appreciate your coming here for this, right?” Trey said.
“Appreciate being invited.”
“But listen,” Trey went on, “don’t be such a stranger. We’ve got plenty of space here if you want to visit. Or just get away from whatever you do back there.”
“Sales,” he interjected, his standard retort.
“Right,” Trey said with a sidelong glance. “Just know you’re welcome here anytime. Really. Anytime. God knows, I’ll need help with the diapers.”
A laugh escaped him. “I got no experience there.”
“Might come in handy. You know?”
He couldn’t go there. “You and Holly, you’re right for each other. I can see that. Even Tommy would probably approve.”
“Tommy’s gone. He doesn’t get a vote,” Trey said, though there was no bitterness in his words. “He didn’t appreciate what he had.”
Trey was right about that. Everyone knew that Holly had been underappreciated by her late husband, though she’d been loyal to him to the end.
“If you find a woman who loves you and makes you want to wake up every morning,” Trey said, “that’s worth everything.” He clapped him on the back. “Never thought you’d hear those words from me, right?”
“Actually,” Noah said, “it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’m happy for you, man.”
“Thanks.”
The fragrant wood smoke drifted toward them in a cloud and they all sat on the folding lounge chairs around the fire for another hour before he said good night and headed back to the hotel.
*
“No, I’ve changed my mind,” Gemma said on the other end of the call. “And yes, it is that simple.”
Frannie could hear the emotion in Gemma’s voice and she shifted the phone on her shoulder, studying the latest on-air videos of the protesters outside of Pellmer’s Shipping on the evening news. She’d had a weird feeling this story would get complicated. As if things weren’t complicated enough with everything Gemma was already going through.
She swung around on her office chair and scrubbed her temples. Outside the darkness had nearly fallen. Here she was, on a holiday, still at work as the first of the fireworks lit up the Seattle skyline, trying to talk her best friend into betraying her heart. She was a terrible friend. But she was looking out for Gemma’s career.
“Listen to me,” she said, “I don’t know if you’re watching TV or not, but it’s all they’re talking about here on the evening news shows and Eamon Connelly’s disappearance is mucking the whole negotiation up. Some people are even speculating that he’s dead.”
Unexpected Hero Page 11