Famous in a Small Town

by Kristina Knight

  “He does volunteer to go to a lot of out-of-town conferences.”

  “So he probably has a different girl in every town,” Savannah said, weaving a story about James’s clandestine affairs in her mind. She laughed. “No, him sneaking around a strange city with a Jessica-Rabbit-type isn’t his style.”

  Jenny inspected the man in question for a long moment. “I don’t know. I hear still waters run deep.”

  A few minutes later Collin and the rest of the guys returned to the seating area with charcoaled marshmallows on plates. While they began layering marshmallow, chocolate and graham crackers, the first fireworks rocketed into the sky with a loud boom.

  Sparks of purple, red and green lit the night sky, making it seem like a fairyland. Collin sat beside Savannah and took her hand as the next rockets went up.

  “At least the firebugs didn’t take a run at the actual display,” James said, his tone dry.

  “Those jerks couldn’t figure out how to rig a firework if I wrote them a manual,” Amanda said from her spot near the fire pit. The younger children were gathered around her, eager for more sweets.

  Collin squeezed Savannah’s hand. She finished the dessert and licked the remnants of a scorched marshmallow from her fingertips. A sudden burst of rockets lit the sky, washing it with a combination of sizzling white, orange, blue and purple displays. When the last of the fireworks sank toward the lake, Jenny yawned.

  Savannah settled against the back of her chair, content to watch the fire and feel the warmth of Collin next to her. Before she knew it, he was shaking her shoulder.

  “Come on, milkmaid, time to go home,” he said.

  Savannah shook her head. “The fireworks just ended.”

  “An hour ago. You fell asleep.” He helped her to her feet and put an arm around her shoulder. Savannah felt off center, as if she’d lost her balance during her nap.

  The backyard was mostly empty. James and Levi had gone, so had her parents, and Collin’s sister and grandmother. Adam and Jenny were gathering the empty chairs and their two kids were sleeping soundly on chaise lounges near the deck.

  “We should help them clean up,” she said.

  Adam waved a hand. “We’re leaving the big work until tomorrow, just putting the chairs in the shed. Go,” he said.

  At his truck, Collin opened her door, and Savannah climbed into the truck. It seemed like it only took a couple of minutes to reach the orchard. He cut the engine and was around the truck before Savannah could climb down. Collin lifted her in his arms and carried her inside and up the stairs to the apartment.

  He’d left a light on in the window, and it gleamed against the honeyed hardwood floors and leather furnishings in the living area. Collin pressed a kiss to her forehead and pushed the light sweater she’d put on at sunset off her shoulders.

  His lips tasted like heaven when he pressed them to hers, and Savannah wound her arms around his neck. He pressed little kisses to her jaw and down her neck, and when he found the madly beating pulse in her neck a wave of heat rushed to her core. Collin reached one arm under her knees and supported her back with the other. His lips were hot on her own until she felt the soft comforter of his bed against her back.

  Like the rest of the apartment, the space was all Collin, from the navy-striped comforter to the antique dresser and bed frame. Because the loft was mostly an open space, he’d put a clothing wardrobe along one wall. He toed off his shoes, kicking them in the general vicinity of the oversize wardrobe. Savannah kicked off her sandals and they clattered to the floor.

  His hands were sure against her body, his mouth knowing exactly where to kiss, where to nip. When to take time and when to skim over. Savannah measured time through the loss of her clothing, and it wasn’t taking long enough. She didn’t want fast or hard, she wanted him and she wanted the night. All of it.

  He unzipped her dress and helped her wriggle from it, leaving her clad in only a pair of lacy boy briefs.

  She pulled his shirt from his body, dropping it to the floor before pushing her hands past the waistband of his shorts to take him in her hands. Collin shoved his cargos and boxers off and reached into the nightstand drawer. The foil packet rustled in the darkness. Savannah took it from him, so that she could roll it over his length. Collin groaned.

  Then he was inside her, filling all of her empty spaces, until she felt as if she might combust from his nearness. They reached orgasm nearly in tandem, and Collin collapsed on top of her, holding most of his weight off her by resting on his elbows. His forehead met hers and she offered her lips for another long kiss.

  God, she loved him.

  Savannah froze.

  Collin moved to the side, wrapping his arms around her from behind and burying his face in her neck. The same thing he’d done countless times over the past couple of weeks.

  She loved him.

  His breathing regulated, his arms loosened around her, and Savannah weighed the words in her mind. Before finally talking through some of her childhood issues with Mama Hazel, she’d never admitted to loving anything. Now she realized she could love in more than one way.

  A deep, certain love for the family that had chosen her.

  And a hot, scary, uncertain love for the man she had targeted that first night at the bar.

  A man who liked her well enough to sleep with her, who took the nagging of his friends when he skipped out on darts night in stride, and who had never said a single thing about love.

  Or even strong like.

  They’d never truly discussed what was happening between them other than to agree that they both wanted it to continue. The “it” could be anything from more sex to more berry planting, Savannah had no idea.

  And now she was in love with him.

  Panic pricked at her consciousness.

  Wait, this didn’t have to be a bad thing. Not talking about what this relationship was didn’t mean it wasn’t anything. They enjoyed one another, were compatible in bed, and laughed at a lot of the same things. She ran her hands lightly over the arms still locked around her middle.

  A man didn’t hold a woman the way Collin held her without feeling something. He didn’t have to know that she’d bypassed higher levels of like and gone straight to love. She could prove to him that she was worthy of a man like him, given the time.

  * * *

  GRAN WAVED AT Collin as she motored her scooter past the truck and onto the street leading toward the dock. She’d been coming to the farmers’ market for a month now, and although she continued to walk better every day, Collin made her promise to use the scooter.

  Slippery Rock was small town, but most of it showed up for the farmers’ market, and crowds could be dangerous for her.

  He spotted Savannah through the plate-glass window and couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. Today she wore a long striped skirt in shades of purple and lavender with a jewel-toned tank top and leather sandals. She’d pulled her hair back, but several coils had escaped and fell around her face in crazy patterns.

  “You’re going to make her fall in love with you, ya know,” Levi said, his voice quiet. Collin hadn’t heard him walk between their two booths.

  “It isn’t that serious,” he said, and caught the slight stiffening of Levi’s frame. Collin immediately regretted the lie. Or maybe it was the truth. He had no clue how Savannah felt, and he wasn’t ready to put words to what he felt for her. Mostly because he didn’t know what he felt for her.

  She made him laugh. She made him want her. She made him think about a future that included more than the orchard, more than Gran and Amanda and Mara. She made him feel as if he wasn’t alone, and he’d been alone in the sea of people he knew for a long time.

  None of those things meant she was in love with him, though, and none of them meant he was in love with her. What they meant, exa
ctly, he was still trying to figure out.

  She could tell him she didn’t want to be a singer and that she didn’t want Nashville until she was blue in the face, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d chosen the singing competition when she’d left town before. There had to be more to her sudden unwillingness to go back than stage fright and the overzealous paparazzi.

  That part didn’t make sense to Collin, anyway. From what he’d been able to glean, the media—both legitimate and gossip—had been nothing but excited about her performances on the reality show and the subsequent tour. Surely, if one of them was out for blood, there would be hints of it in the earlier pieces.

  What did he know, though? He was an orchardist from a small town on a Missouri lake. A man who had two more days to make a decision about the future of his business but who kept delaying the inevitable.

  His counter-presentation had fallen by the wayside over the past couple of weeks with Savannah. At this point, he would have to either accept their offer or turn it down. Collin didn’t want to do either.

  Before he could deal with that, though, he needed to deal with Levi.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said and shrugged in apology. “We haven’t talked about what this is between us.”

  “I love my sister, but she has a habit of not talking about the important things. Mama Hazel says it goes back to her being abandoned the way she was. Even if she’s not talking, I can guarantee you she’s feeling, so—”

  A flurry of activity near the entrance to the farmers’ market caught Levi’s attention and he stopped talking. Collin looked in that direction.

  He saw a small orange flag tilting wildly left and right, and the murmuring got louder. He couldn’t make out the words, but a few of the people nearer the tumult waved him over.

  Gran stood over a young boy who looked to be about Amanda’s age. Her scooter was precariously parked with its front wheel atop the curb and its back wheels on the street. She held on to the boy’s shirt with one hand and waved the orange scooter flag with the other.

  “Citizen’s arrest!” she yelled as the crowd parted to let Collin through. “I caught him. I caught the paint vandal. Citizen’s arrest,” she hollered again, and then released the flag. She reached into her backpack, and pulled out a brilliant yellow whistle and blew.

  The crowd put their hands over their ears at the shrill sound. Collin winced, but kept moving forward until he could reach Gran. He put his hand over hers, ceasing the whistle.

  “Gran, what are you doing?”

  Gran straightened and looped the whistle around her neck. She didn’t release the shirttail of the young man in question.

  “I didn’t do anything,” the kid said.

  Gran shook her head. She reached into her backpack again and pulled out a can of blue spray paint. “I found him with this—” she held the can up as if it were a prize “—in the alley behind the market. He’s the paint vandal.”

  A police cruiser chirped its sirens behind the crowd, but they only moved far enough for the officer to open his door. James exited the car, aviator sunglasses over his eyes. He wore the sheriff’s department uniform.

  “Hey, Mrs. Tyler. Bud called in about your arrest. What happened?”

  Gran recounted her story to James, who made notes in a small notepad he pulled from one of the tabs on his utility belt. He took the can of spray paint, careful to only touch the edges of the lid, inspecting it closely.

  “Book him,” Gran said, as if she were a character from some old television cop show.

  James grinned. “Nice line, but I can’t.”

  “I caught him red-handed.”

  “He may have been up to some mischief, and I’ll check out the alley before I release him. This—” he gently waved the can of paint “—isn’t the same kind of paint the street vandal used. It washes off with water. Harmless. This stuff doesn’t.”

  “Oh,” Gran said, and frowned.

  “I told you I didn’t do nothin’, lady,” the kid said.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” James said and handed the kid into the backseat of the police cruiser. He went into the alley behind the market.

  “Gran, what are you doing?” Collin put her gently back on her scooter and walked beside her to the truck. “You could have been hurt.”

  Gran harrumphed. “By a kid with a can of paint? Not hardly.”

  “How did this get started?”

  “A few of us were talking over at Bud’s over coffee. That paint vandal has been making all kinds of statements in their murals in town. Painting over the storm drains, writing on the sidewalks. Good use of color, by the way, although a very poor choice in placement. Vandalizing a street isn’t the same as painting an environmental warning on canvas for a museum. When I was coming back, I saw him—” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder “—in the alley with the same blue paint.”

  “It isn’t the same paint. You heard James.”

  “What kid carries around paint for no reason?”

  “School project?”

  “It’s summer break, try again,” Gran said.

  “Repainting yard furniture? Getting a soapbox car ready for the Fourth of July race?”

  “Well, sure, there are other reasons. Doesn’t mean any of them are true.”

  Collin sighed.

  James returned a few minutes later. “No sign of fresh paint in the alley or within the surrounding block.” He focused on Gran. “Thank you for your diligent pursuit of justice,” he said. Gran blushed.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Collin said.

  “I’m going to go release the suspect. See ya.” He cut through the crowd to the squad car.

  Collin turned to Gran. “You heard James. I’m a diligent pursuer of justice.”

  “What justice?” Amanda joined them, an empty cardboard box in her hands. “We sold out of berries just a couple of minutes ago. What do you mean, justice?”

  “Gran thought she was arresting the downtown paint vandal. Turns out she was just harassing one of your classmates.”

  Amanda’s expression was troubled.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure by the time school starts in the fall he’ll have forgotten all about Gran’s attempted citizen’s arrest.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t care about that, it’s just... I know who made those paintings.”

  Collin’s eyes widened. “You do? Why didn’t you tell James?”

  “Because it’s me.”

  Collin’s jaw dropped and his stomach turned. “You’re the paint vandal?”

  “No, I’m the sidewalk artist trying to get people to stop throwing trash into the streets.”

  Sweet Lord, not another crusade. In the span of a few weeks Amanda had gone from duct taping streets to vandalizing public property.

  “Amanda—”

  “I’m not wrong this time. I didn’t disrupt the city or the traffic. It’s a few paintings to remind people to put their trash in the proper receptacles so plastic straws and foam cups stop polluting the lake.”

  Collin sighed. “You hang up a flyer or write an editorial, then. You don’t deface sidewalks and storm sewers.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “I didn’t deface anything. The paint washes off with the next rain, and it isn’t harmful to the water, but in the meantime, it’s a reminder.”

  “A reminder of what?”

  “To be responsible.”

  Somehow, Collin didn’t think the mayor, the city council or the sheriff’s department would see Amanda’s sidewalk paintings as responsible.

  “See, she’s got the right idea. We all have to work together to be responsible citizens.” Gran chose that moment to rejoin the conversation.

  “Ten minutes ago, you were citizen’s-arresting the paint vanda
l.”

  “And now I see her side of the story. She’s showing her purpose,” Gran said. She hugged Amanda’s shoulder.

  “Exactly. Like Savannah told me. ‘You have to have a purpose.’ This is mine.”

  Collin turned toward the window into the storefront of the market. Savannah.

  Damn it.

  * * *

  COLLIN DIDN’T SPEAK to Savannah from the moment she got into his truck until he parked beneath the big maple tree at the side of the house. Amanda and his grandmother pulled in behind them.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to figure out what had happened to turn Collin from the funny man she’d driven into town with four hours earlier to the almost angry man she saw now. His shoulders were rigid, his mouth set in a firm line.

  “Just trying to find a purpose,” he said, jumping out of the truck and stomping onto the porch.

  Savannah stood beside the truck for a moment, watching him. Collin slammed through the front door and returned a moment later with a beer. He popped the top and drank.

  “Are you mad about something?” she asked when she reached the porch. Collin sat on the porch swing, sending it rocking crazily. Savannah stayed in the yard with her arms resting against the porch railing.

  “Me,” Amanda said from behind her. “Gran tried to arrest the paint vandal today, only she got the wrong person. The paint vandal is me.”

  Savannah was shocked. The town had been talking nonstop about the paint vandal since the first Keep Waterways Clear message had been painted on the sidewalk outside Bud’s on the dock.

  “Why?”

  “Because you told her to find a purpose,” Collin said, flinging his free arm out.

  “I already knew my purpose, I just found another way to make myself heard. My purpose is to save the environment. I don’t have a way to clean up the air or the atmosphere, but I can protect the water. People need to know that when they drop a cup in the drain it goes straight to the lake.”