He let his eyes travel over her body. “I have a feeling you don’t eat much.” He rose from the couch. “Is there anything else you need? Any other crimes I can accuse you of? Any more insults I can toss your way before I leave?”
She rolled to her feet and walked to the front door to open it. Shivering when the cold wind whipped inside, she said, “I think I’ve been sufficiently humbled for the day. Thank you.”
“Perfect. Glad I could help.” He stepped outside and rubbed his arms. The T-shirt was poor protection from the biting cold.
“Oh my God, I almost stole your coat. I can’t imagine the sheriff wanting to make another trip for a petty crime.” She rushed to the couch where his coat lay and picked it up. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. “You smell nice.”
He didn’t think he’d ever been told that before. Some said he was handsome. He was strong. He was an ass. Good in bed. A great hugger. Compassionate. He never had a woman tell him he smelled nice. He liked it.
“Thanks.” He pulled on his jacket. “I’ll set some wood by the door.”
“I appreciate that.” She slowly closed it behind him.
He walked away smiling and turned his head to smell his collar. It didn’t smell like anything to him. Scratch that. It smelled like her. Sweet and fruity and all woman. Something told him his status quo had changed.
Chapter Five
Samantha stretched her arms over her head. One by one, her vertebrae popped into place. At twenty-nine, she felt more like sixty. Years of pushing her body to the limit were taking their toll.
Last night she was strung too tight to sleep, so she unloaded her car and organized what little she had. Thankfully, Deanna thought about essentials like bedding and towels and toilet paper and hangers. She’d bought soap and shampoo and even put a six-pack of diet soda in the refrigerator. But a can of carbonated liquid wasn’t going to stop the growling in her stomach. She needed food, and right away.
After a quick cold shower, she pulled on a pair of yoga pants, a plain pink T-shirt and the hoodie she acquired at last night’s concert.
A jog into town would get her blood pumping and warm her up. She knew she had a small window of time to remain unnoticed. Someone was sure to recognize her, and then her peaceful retreat would turn into a paparazzi paradise. She had to take advantage of her anonymity while she had it.
After a quick peek out the door to make sure she hadn’t already been discovered, she tucked the strands of her hair into the hoodie and took off at a slow pace.
The altitude and lack of oxygen made her breathe deeply. The cold air burned her lungs. Her tennis shoes crunched the pine needles underfoot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. There was no one here to control her choices. Today, she was the ruler of her world.
One foot in front of the other, she listened to the thump of her shoes hitting the hard ground. The air smelled like Christmas, with a hint of pine mixed with campfire.
First stop would be the beauty shop. She had folded a handful of twenties and tucked them inside her pocket in case they had an opening. Would it be the same owner, Kathy, who had fixed her hair years ago? She thought back to that day.
In hopes of saving her mom a few bucks, Samantha decided to cut her own bangs. How hard could it be, she thought? She lifted them up and took the scissors to them. Too bad she had a crooked eye. When she let them loose, one side hovered above her eyebrow and the other skimmed her cheek. She knew she shouldn’t have another go of it or she’d be bald when she finished. She walked to the shop and told the owner she’d work for a trim. After cleaning up the hair from the floor, Kathy not only fixed her bangs, but she washed, conditioned and styled it. For Samantha, it was her first spa-like experience.
A strand of blue hair slipped from the hoodie. She tucked it back inside as she neared the town. Yep, getting back to her natural color was a priority. She’d have a better chance of remaining hidden if her hair wasn’t so bold.
As she approached the shop, her heart sank. It no longer had the images of scissors and a comb on the window. No lights were on. The glass was whitewashed to hide the vacant interior. Kathy’s was no longer in business. Now what?
Her stomach gurgled, then growled to remind her that a hamburger and fries from yesterday couldn’t hold her forever. She lifted her nose in the air and breathed in the sweet aroma of baked goods. Figuring the smell came from the diner, she moved down the street and found it was also closed.
Hands fisted on her hips, she looked around the town. It wasn’t the bustling place she remembered. There were no kids running on the sidewalk. The stores weren’t open selling their goods. It was like the town had dried up and disappeared. Her day moved from bad to worse.
Against her better judgment, she looked at her phone this morning. The first ten messages were from her manager, demanding to know where she was. She sent a quick text, informing him she was taking a break. After the next five messages arrived filled with expletives and threats, she powered down her phone and went about her day. What she didn’t see couldn’t hurt her, or so she told herself. She banished thoughts of work from her brain and went in search of sustenance.
Wanting something sweeter and more satisfying than bad news, she followed the yummy aroma filling the air. Bea, the nice woman who owned the bakery at the end of the block came to mind. On the way down the sidewalk, Samantha reminisced about her short stay in Aspen Cove.
Two days a week, she had walked into town. Mondays she picked up milk from the Corner Store, and Thursdays she bought a loaf of bread. She supposed she could have done it all on the same day, but that would mean one less cookie and one less hug from Bea. She could use a hug about now.
Her heart leaped with joy when she looked across the street at the end of the block to see the bakery open. Would Bea remember her?
Feeling buoyed by fond memories, she skipped across the road and picked up her pace. The closer she got, the sweeter the air smelled. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. If she was right, it was banana nut muffin day.
One thing Samantha could count on was consistency when it came to Bea. Every day of the week had a specific muffin. You could schedule your life by the muffin of the day. Today was Sunday.
The bell above the door rang when she entered. A voice from the back called out, “I’ll be right with you.” It was too young to be Bea, but maybe her daughter. She remembered the girl who worked side-by-side with her mom. A friendly girl with a heart of gold, brown hair, and eyes the color of maple syrup.
One look around told her things had changed everywhere. The pinstriped wallpaper was gone, as were the needlepoint pictures Bea stitched while waiting for her next customer.
The coat of yellow paint made it fresh and bright, but it still felt warm and welcoming. The iron tables with their torn plastic cushions were the same, along with the glass display case and turn of the century cash register. Those little pieces of history made it feel right.
Next to the window sat a woman with her head hung low. She hovered over a sticky note and scribbled while she nibbled on a muffin.
“Hey, sorry about that.” A blonde came out of the back wiping her hands on her apron. “I can’t figure out how to have the dishes wash themselves.”
“That would be awesome.” In Samantha’s case, it was magical. One minute they were there, the next they were gone. It was like a dish fairy waved a magical wand, but that kind of magic came with a high price.
The blonde stared and gave her a knowing smile. “You’re—”
“Starving,” she said. Samantha gave her a pleading look and nodded toward the woman at the table. “Banana nut muffin day, right?” Samantha looked at the case that was chock full of treats. There were cookies and brownies and mini loaf cakes. She’d entered the forbidden temple and wasn’t leaving until she’d tasted something she wasn’t normally allowed.
“Yes. How do you know? You’re not—”
“From here?” She picked up a sample from the tray and popped i
t into her mouth. The banana flavor rushed over her taste buds. She swore she’d tasted heaven. “I lived here for a brief time when I was a kid.”
The blonde’s eyes lit up. “No way. I can’t believe it. Aspen Cove has its own …” she leaned in and whispered, “superstar.”
Samantha gave her an aw-shucks look. “It’s not as glamorous as one would think. Besides, there are quite of few memorable people here in Aspen Cove.” She thought about Dalton Black and how he looked with muscles rippling and bulging in front of her while he tended the fire. Ink she wanted to explore peeked from under his cotton T-shirt. Dalton started more than the blaze in the fireplace. He’d stirred a spark inside her she thought had died long ago. “Is Bea around?”
The blonde’s face fell. “You want a muffin and a coffee?”
Samantha nodded. “Yes, that sounds good.” It wasn’t often she got to be around strangers and enjoy being anonymous.
“I’m Katie. Katie Bishop. You might remember the Bishop boys, Cannon and Bowie. Bowie is my husband.” She put a few muffins on a plate and a pod in the coffeemaker before pressing start.
“I remember them. Big handsome boys.”
“Now big, handsome men.” Katie smiled. “We have so much to talk about.” She pointed to the table opposite the other woman.
A minute later, she came from behind the counter with two cups of coffee and a plate full of goodies.
“You asked about Bea?” There was a minute of silence as she seemed to weigh her words. “I’m afraid she’s no longer with us. She passed early last year.”
Samantha’s heart sank into her empty stomach. As hungry as she was, she wasn’t sure she could eat after hearing such sad news.
“That’s heartbreaking. She was kind to me.”
“Everyone has nice things to say about her.”
“Along with her cookies, she always had a smile, a hug, and something positive to say. What about her daughter? I can’t remember her name.”
Again, Katie frowned. Her hand went to her chest. “Brandy. She’s also gone, but she remains in my heart.”
“Oh lord. How?”
“Car accident.”
“So sad.”
“It is, but their memories live on.” Katie leaned forward and in a hushed voice said, “Since you’re trying to remain incognito, what do you want to be called? I can’t very well call you Indigo.”
Samantha reached under the hoodie to make sure none of her hair had fallen loose. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t. That’s not who I am, only who I pretend to be. My real name is Samantha.”
“Well, Samantha, since we’re going to be friends, eat up and tell me why you’re here.”
“I needed down time. I’m tired. Burned out, really.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I bought a small cabin on Lake Circle next door to Dalton Black. Do you know him?” Samantha imagined everyone knew everybody, but since she didn’t know Katie, there was a slim chance Katie didn’t know Dalton.
Katie plucked the top off one muffin. “Not only are we friends, we’re neighbors. I live on the other side of Dalton.” She took a bite and swallowed. “I’m sure glad I covered for Ben today, otherwise, I would have missed you. He normally works Sunday, but he’s taken the week off.”
“Ben? Cannon and Bowie’s dad? I remember him. Nice man. His wife taught at the school.”
Another frown. “She’s gone, too. Same car accident.”
Samantha sipped her coffee and leaned back. “So much has changed.”
“Change is the one thing you can always count on.”
“Speaking of change.” She reached inside the hood and drew a strand of hair free. “I can’t lie low with this.” She twisted the hair around her finger. “What happened to the beauty shop?”
Katie shrugged. “More change, I guess.” In a normal toned voice, she said, “There’s a place called Gracie’s in Copper Creek. I haven’t been there, but I pass it on my way to Target.”
The woman across the room rose. Her chair scraped against the linoleum floor. “Don’t go to Gracie’s.” She walked over to Samantha and Katie’s table. “You’ll pay too much, and she doesn’t do good work.” With one tug, she yanked down Sam’s hoodie and touched her hair. “I can do it for you. You need a touch up, or are you going for something different?”
Katie tilted her head and looked at the woman. “You do hair?”
She nodded. Samantha noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the fading green bruise on her cheekbone. Although Samantha had never been hit, she saw firsthand what it did to a person. Covering her mother’s marks was a superpower no eight-year-old girl should have to master.
“Have a seat,” Katie offered.
The woman shook her head. “I was leaving my wish. It costs nothing to wish, right? It’s like dreaming out loud.” She reached over Katie’s head and thumbtacked a folded note to the corkboard.
“Your wish?” Samantha asked. She looked above her to the sign on the corkboard that read ‘Wishing Wall’. “What’s the Wishing Wall?”
Katie laughed. “I started it as a way to get to know the people of Aspen Cove. It was a simple way for people to make reasonable wishes come true. If it’s a request for prayer, I pray. If it’s something easy, I figure out a way to grant it. All I can do is try. I can’t solve all the world’s problems, but I can fix a few.”
The woman looked at her wish and hung her head. “I fear mine is unobtainable, unreasonable really, but I believe thoughts are important, and I’m trying to find inner peace and a positive outlook.” She looked at Samantha and Katie. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Nonsense.” Katie rose from her seat and rushed behind the counter for another cup of coffee. “Join us.” When she returned, she patted the chair next to her. “Please. Come sit down. What’s your name?”
‘Skittish’ was the only way to describe the dark-haired woman. She looked at them and then at the door as if calculating how many steps it would take her to get there. She took a seat and brought the fresh coffee to her lips.
“I’m Marina.”
They introduced themselves and went back to talking hair.
“I want to go back to my natural dark brown.”
Marina touched Sam’s hair again, moving it between her fingers. “It’s healthy despite the heavy processing. I can stop by your place Tuesday if you don’t mind me working from your kitchen.”
“You don’t work in a shop?”
Marina chewed on her inner cheek before she spoke. “Like you, I’m in transition.”
Samantha groaned. The more people who recognized her, the less time she’d have. “You women from Aspen Cove are too observant. I’m begging you to please not give me away.”
Katie covered both Samantha’s and Marina’s hands with hers. “Aspen Cove takes care of its own.”
Marina shook her head. “I’m not from here.”
“You’re an honorary resident. Besides, maybe someday you’ll move here. There’s an empty beauty shop across the street.” Katie touched her blonde hair. “We’re all in need of your services.”
For the first time since Samantha entered the bakery, she saw Marina smile. She had a strong urge to hug her but didn’t want to send her running.
“Tuesday sounds great.” She took a wad of twenties from her pocket and laid them on the table. “Here’s money to get what you need. I live at 7 Lake Circle. What time are we doing this?”
Marina glanced at the pile of cash on the table. “I can be there at eleven. You want a dark rich brown, right?”
Samantha flicked the hoodie back over her head. “I’ll settle for anything other than blue.”
After she finished her muffin and coffee, she paid her bill and made her way home. When she arrived at the cabin, she was greeted with a pleasant surprise. Maybe her day was turning around.
Pantry staples like bread, eggs, milk, and sugar sat tucked inside a cooler on her porch. Next to it was a vase of flowers and a n
ote.
Welcome to the neighborhood, Samantha. Thought you could use a few items for your empty cupboards. The flowers looked like a nice add, too. Wanted to say I’m sorry one more time for bulldozing you.
Dalton
She brought the mixed bouquet to her nose and inhaled. For a second, they didn’t smell like flowers at all. She imagined they smelled like him. Raw energy mixed with hot male and evergreen.
A lot had changed in Aspen Cove, but one thing remained the same. Just like when she was a kid, Samantha would be happy to spend hours looking at Dalton Black.
Chapter Six
“You realize I’m not really a killer, right?” Dalton leaned forward and placed his arms on the parole officer’s desk. She was a nice woman who insisted he call her Lucy. In his head, she’d always be Ms. Warwick. He’d never had a parole officer before her and didn’t know if they were all as kind and flexible, but he appreciated her meeting him on a Sunday afternoon.
“I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to make sure you toe the line. You behaving yourself, Dalton?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can’t get into too much trouble in Aspen Cove.”
She leaned back and kicked her boots up onto the table. “It’s been my experience that if you’re looking for trouble, you can find it anywhere.”
He shook his head. “I’m not looking for anything but an end to this nightmare.”
She pushed off the desk, sending her chair rolling back. Leaning forward, she opened his file. “It’s been a year without problems. I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing you as much next year.”
She pulled a black pen from the edge of her desk and marked up the page. “Have you done anything about that anger problem?”
“I had six years of incarceration. Do you think that helps anger issues?”
“You telling me you’re still angry?”
He shook his head. He was pissed, but it wasn’t something he’d share with her. “What I’m telling you is, I didn’t have anger problems going in, and I didn’t have them coming out.”
One Hundred Wishes Page 4