by Terri Osburn
“You’ll have to go with him up to Kill Devil Hills to get fitted. That’s the closest place I could find.”
Wait. What? “Why do I have to go with him? He’s a grown man. He can go by himself.”
Beth held out her hand. “Fine. Give me the planner back.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“The only way to make sure he gets the right vest in the right color and the right fit is to make sure a woman goes with him. I planned to go.” Beth pointed at the little tan book in Will’s hands. “Now you’re taking over, so you have to go.”
What a load of…
“Sid can go with him.”
Green eyes narrowed as Beth leaned forward. Will leaned back.
“I’ll go with him. Geez. You’re scary when you’re like this.”
Beth sat back and smiled. “Time to get my pie.”
As their friend moved to the counter, Sid whispered to Will, “Are all pregnant women that schizo?”
“Think of it this way,” Will said. “At least we’re not Joe.”
“Amen to that.”
By the time Randy had returned home Tuesday evening, his face hurt from smiling and his entire body felt as if it had been hooked to a live wire for the last nine hours. Playing tour guide was bad enough, but Rebecca King asked more questions than any woman he’d ever met. He understood that went with the territory, considering she was writing an article about the place, but the woman never took a breath.
One day had tested his endurance. He might have to cry uncle by the end of the week.
First on the itinerary for Wednesday was Lola’s Island Arts & Crafts, where at least there would be other people to answer the questions. Rebecca had been silent on the short drive as she reviewed the information Sam had provided for the businesses they would visit that day. Jude had alternated between sipping his coffee and napping.
“Here we are,” Randy said as he pulled into the gravel lot in front of the art store. “Stop one for the day.”
“Wow,” Rebecca said. “It really is that blue.”
Randy glanced toward the small building. The color was a bit bright. Maybe he’d seen it so often, the boldness didn’t register. “The color matches the owner’s personality. Lola is a force of nature.”
“I’ll take some pics out here and meet you two inside,” Jude said, removing the camera from his bag. “This place has great character.”
Randy took his enthusiasm as a good sign. The more they found to appreciate about the village, the better the article would be.
A bell jingled overhead as Randy pulled the door open for Rebecca to pass through. She stopped inches inside the entrance, making it difficult for him to step in and shut the door without being pressed up against her.
Randy opted to remain in the doorway.
“It’s like an optical illusion,” Rebecca said, her eyes taking in the wide expanse of space. “You’d never know any of this was possible from outside.”
“We get that a lot.” Lola LeBlanc joined them at the entrance with a genuine smile. Her colorful dress floated around her as the breeze from the open door caught the material. “You must be Ms. King.”
“I am,” Rebecca said, clutching her notebook under one arm and extending a hand. “And you must be Ms. LeBlanc.”
“Please, call me Lola.” With a conspiratorial wink, she added, “We don’t go for much formality around here.”
“And so far that’s one of my favorite aspects of Anchor.” Finally stepping farther into the store, the reporter lifted a shimmering silver vase from a display. “This is beautiful. I can see I won’t be leaving empty-handed today.”
Lola laid a finger beside her nose. “I’d be disappointed if you did. Let me show you the rest of the place.” The two women moved farther into the gallery of eclectic art and pottery. “We don’t have many visitors this early in the season, but then that’s why you’re here. Oh, before we go too far, I want to introduce you to the woman I could not live without.”
Randy lingered in the front display area, letting the women pull ahead. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a statue of a woman a few feet to his right. From a distance it looked like black marble, but moving closer he picked up the dark purple hues. She was slender and elongated, her arms holding up long swirling tendrils of hair that looked more like black fire.
The body twisted and leaned back slightly as if standing against a strong wind. Around her feet danced dark flames, and her face looked graceful but strong. The figure exuded confidence and sensuality, while the body language made it clear no man deserved her. This woman knew who she was and the power she held. One name came to Randy’s mind.
Willow.
She could have been the model for this sculpture, if the artist hadn’t conjured this figure strictly from imagination. Either way, whoever created this piece had a great understanding and respect for the female gender. Which led him to assume the artist was likely also a woman.
After checking the price, he made a note to come back for the large piece. He even had the perfect place to display it. Randy shuffled on to find the women he’d abandoned when the bells over the door sounded again. Jude stepped in and repeated Rebecca’s frozen amazement.
“Bloody hell. It’s a freaking magic trick.” Catching Randy’s eye, he asked, “Is this place run by Mary Poppins, by chance?”
“Not exactly. But the owner does have a similar way about her.”
“This I’ve got to see.” Jude ambled through the front of the store, glancing right and left as he went. Stepping into the main gallery, he lifted his camera without hesitation and took some shots. “Who’d ever expect to find all this here?”
Assuming the question was rhetorical, Randy remained silent and followed behind. They found the women in the jewelry section and stepped into an ongoing conversation.
“Beth teaches jewelry-making classes for the tourists and does some craft classes for us islanders during the off-season.” Lola stood behind Beth’s right shoulder, beaming. “She also runs the place most of the time, allowing me to enjoy time off with my sweetie.”
“What does your sweetie do on the island?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, Marcus does as little as possible if he can help it. Says he’s retired and plans to enjoy his golden years.” The blush was barely visible on Lola’s ashen cheeks. “But he does handle the island newsletter and enjoys some amateur photography.”
“Then I definitely want to meet this man,” Jude said, making his presence known. “Jude Sykes. I’m the picture taker of this crew.”
“And a right pretty picture taker at that,” Lola said, drawing a blush from the woman in the chair beside her. “Lola LeBlanc, owner of this establishment, and Beth Chandler, my right-hand woman.”
“I like you right off.” Jude winked at Lola. “This place oozes charm, Ms. LeBlanc. We’ll definitely want to use it in the spread. The colors are phenomenal.”
“The place is a direct reflection of its owner,” Beth said, speaking for the first time since Randy and Jude had joined them. “When I came to the island last year, this is the first place I visited thanks to her colorful flyer.”
“You arrived on Anchor Island a year ago?” Rebecca asked, taking the chair Lola offered. The men remained standing, with Jude wandering off to snap more pictures.
“Yes, ma’am. It’ll be exactly a year in a few weeks.”
“What brought you down here? Do you have family on the island?”
Beth shifted in her chair. “Not exactly. I was coming down to meet my future in-laws.”
Rebecca drew out her notepad. “So you were engaged? I’m guessing you’re married now?”
More shifting. Randy wanted to rescue his friend’s fiancée, but they’d known explaining their story would be complicated.
“No, I decided not to marry that man.”
“But you’re still here.” Rebecca crossed her legs and balanced the notebook on her knee. “Why did you stay?”
Beth
chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced to Lola, who squeezed her hand. “I met a man while I was here, and we’re getting married next month.”
“That’s a great story.” Rebecca looked as if someone had set a delicious meal before her. “We have to include this. So you showed up on the island engaged to one man and ended up leaving him for another who you met here? That sounds like something out of the movies.”
“Right.” Beth gave a nervous laugh. “Just like the movies.”
“So who is the lucky man? I hope I get to talk with him, too.”
“You will,” Randy said, taking advantage of the opening. “We’ll be out on his boat tomorrow.”
Rebecca scanned her notes. “Dempsey Charters?”
“That’s right,” Randy said. “Joe Dempsey is the owner and operator of the fishing and charter boat service.”
“Great.” Rebecca looked back to Beth, who had started to sweat. “Whatever happened to the first fiancé? I guess he’s back wherever you left him?”
Beth proceeded to do a stellar impression of a dying fish.
“I can’t believe I haven’t brought out the tea,” Lola said, bursting from her chair. “I make a mean sweet tea. Let me get the pitcher from the back.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said with a smile. Then she went right back to what was feeling more and more like an interrogation. “So what happened to the fiancé? I’m dying to know.”
“He’s here,” Randy said, worried about the color dropping from Beth’s face. “Lucas Dempsey is the island lawyer, as of last fall. He doesn’t really cater to tourists, so he’s not on our list of villagers to meet.”
“Wait.” Rebecca looked down at her notes, then back to Beth, then back to her notes again. “Did you say Dempsey? Good Lord, this is better than I thought.”
“Randy, could you help me outside?” Beth grasped for his hand, her face pale and damp. “I need some fresh air.”
“Is something wrong?” Rebecca asked, all innocent curiosity.
“Beth hasn’t been feeling well lately.” Randy took her weight as she slowly rose from her chair. “You go ahead and finish with Lola. We’ll be right outside.”
As soon as they passed through the front door, Beth dropped to the top step and put her head between her knees. Randy filled the space next to her.
“Keep breathing, darling. You’re going to be alright.” He rubbed in a circular motion in the center of her back.
“That was horrible,” Beth mumbled through a face full of curls. “How am I going to survive having to tell that story for the rest of my life?”
And he thought Rebecca asked tough questions. “Forget about how you got here,” he said, watching three seagulls dive-bomb a trash can. “All that matters is that you and Joe are happy. You’re going to start a family and it’s all good.”
“But she made it sound like some tabloid story.” Beth flipped her head up, then locked her hand on Randy’s knee to steady herself. “Whoa. Shouldn’t have done that.”
“Beth,” Randy said, speaking as gently as he knew how. “Lucas and Sid are as happy as you and Joe are. If you hadn’t made the choices you did, you’d be four miserable people right now.”
Beth sighed. “That’s true.”
“It all worked out.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Everyone is with the person they were meant to be with. Focus on that.”
“You’re right.”
Randy was happy to see color returning to her cheeks. They sat in silence for several seconds, when Beth asked, “What about you?” He looked her way and met green eyes filled with concern. “You haven’t found the one you’re supposed to be with. Or have you, and I don’t know about it?”
Randy wanted a wife and family as much as the next guy. Probably more. But he’d never found the woman he’d be willing to risk his heart to be with.
The pain of losing someone you love, with no warning, and no ability to save them, wasn’t something Randy ever wanted to endure again. If no one had his heart, then no one could rip it in two. Then there was the chance he would be the one to leave loved ones much too soon, thanks to the history of men in his family dying at much too young an age.
No, his life was better this way.
“I’m happy the way things are, but it’s nice of you to think of me.”
“I don’t doubt you’re happy.” Beth bumped his knee with her own. “But you could be happier.”
Randy chuckled. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
He had to give the woman points for optimism. “How about if I agree to never say never?”
Beth nodded. “I can live with that.”
CHAPTER 6
Everyone must have decided to stay in Wednesday night, because the dinner shift at Dempsey’s was nonexistent. Will relieved Tom at four-thirty and by six was bored out of her mind, so she took the opportunity to flip through Beth’s planner. She didn’t have to get past the first couple pages to see that the bride-to-be had a thing for Post-it notes.
Perched on a stool at the bar, she tried to decipher Beth’s planning process. There was a to-do section, which held the most Post-its. If she’d written on the pages there would have been no need for the sticky notes, but Will tried not to judge.
Then she found the receipts, and her accountant mind instantly flipped to divide-and-conquer mode. The receipt for the catering deposit was stuck to the one for the DJ, but by what Will wasn’t sure. It looked like a smudge left from a chocolate chip. As these were the top two receipts, she assumed they were the most recent ones. The dates proved her right.
Baby brain really was an evil thing. Beth was what one might call über-efficient. She’d done research for a law firm before quitting her job and moving to Anchor to live with Joe. Which happened after she’d been engaged to Lucas. Which made life a bit complicated for everyone for a while. But since Lucas eventually fell in love with Sid, who had been in love with him since they were in high school, the whole thing worked out in the end. Everyone found the person they were supposed to find.
“Hello there, darling. Can a chap buy the bartender a drink?”
Will looked up from the planner to see Jude had taken the stool next to her. He gave a wink, flashed the smile she was certain worked better than any pickup line he tossed around, and tucked a wayward lock of brown hair behind his ear. She was relieved not to see a camera anywhere in sight.
“Sorry, photo boy, but I’m on the clock.” She glanced at the mostly empty room behind her. “Though there isn’t much need for me to hover behind the bar tonight.”
“Ah,” he said, “but that’s why Becks and I are here, isn’t it?” He spun on his stool until his elbows rested on the bar. “I’ll have this place looking like heaven on Earth, and Becks will make sure it reads that way.”
Speaking of the overly curious blonde. “Where is Becks tonight?”
“She’s back at the hotel, presumably working on her notes. When I left, she was planted in front of the laptop, notebook at her side and pencil clasped in her teeth.”
“Do you two do many of these kinds of trips together?” Will asked, stepping around the bar and pulling a Samuel Smith from the lower cooler. “Kind of a travel reporting team?”
Jude faced the bar again and accepted the offered beer. “Thank you, my love. Not often, no. This is our…” He glanced up in thought. “…third assignment together. Becks is a little high maintenance. Best absorbed in short doses, with good long breaks in between.”
Will’s brows shot up. “You don’t like her?”
“Now, I didn’t say that.” He sipped his beer. “Rebecca is a bit…what’s the word?”
“If it starts with a b, I’ll have to switch into my we are women, hear us roar lecture, so choose your word wisely.”
“No worries,” Jude said, tapping the side of his nose. “Wasn’t going there. No, Rebecca King is driven. That’s what she is. Determined to be a real reporter, as she puts it.”
Will leaned a hip a
gainst the bar and crossed her arms. “What is she now? A fake reporter?”
“Right now she’s a travel reporter. A female Rick Steves of sorts. But she wants to be a Christiane Amanpour.”
“Oh, one of those reporters.” Now that she thought about it, Will could see the drive. Not that Rebecca hadn’t seemed happy enough to cover their island, but the way she asked questions, more like an interrogation than an interview, screamed hard-core news reporter. “And do you want to be one of those photographers?”
Jude waved a hand in the air. “I’m seeing the world on someone else’s dime, and not getting shot at for my efforts. I’m happy being this kind of photographer, thank you very much.”
Since they had a nice, easy chemistry going, Will took advantage of the moment to ask Jude for a favor. “You know that picture you snapped of me the day you arrived?”
His brow furrowed. “We took a picture? Oh, yes. I remember, sure. Beautiful woman behind bar. Those are always my favorites.”
The man could flirt with a turnip. Too bad he was on the small side for Will’s taste.
“If you say so,” she said, dismissing the compliment. “Could you make sure that doesn’t make it into the magazine?”
“Shy type, huh?” He shook his head, as if truly disappointed. “If you don’t sign a consent form, then we can’t use it no matter what. I’m guessing you’re unwilling to sign consent?”
“Quite unwilling.”
“Does that go for the rest of the night as well?” the Brit asked, turning the smolder up a notch.
“Does what go for the rest of the night?” Randy asked, smacking Jude between the shoulder blades hard enough to knock the wind out of him. As the flirting foreigner coughed and struggled to catch his breath, Randy smiled at Will. “What did I miss?”
If she didn’t know better, Will would think Randy didn’t miss a thing. His timing was impeccable, and his handling of Jude not the least bit subtle.
“Jude let me know they won’t be using my picture in the magazine article,” she said. Since she’d let Randy see how panicked she was over the photo, Will wanted him to see how calmly and rationally she’d handled the situation.