“Well, if we were, we aren’t now.” Lori hated the defensive tone in her voice, but this was yet another conversation she didn’t want to have. “I mean, yeah, we hung out for a while.” The idea was almost humiliating that at twenty-six she’d finally had her first—second if she was being honest with herself—date. But whatever she thought was going on with Matt, she’d clearly been wrong. Sometime in the last few weeks, he’d stopped returning her calls, didn’t answer her texts. If she hadn’t seen him walking or driving around town on patrol, she might have worried something had happened to him. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
Did friends miss each other the way she missed him? Obviously she’d come across as overeager, even desperate, and scared him off. Big surprise. She thought she’d done her best to keep her feelings and hopes to herself. “It doesn’t matter. Stop looking at me that way, Abby.”
“What way?”
“Oh, poor Lori. Friday Night Popcorn Queen. Scares off a man who carries a gun for a living.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I never took Matt Knight for an idiot, but I’ve been known to be wrong before. I’m sorry.”
Lori shrugged. “No big deal,” she lied. “I’m more a status quo kind of woman anyway.” If there was one thing Lori knew about it was how to be alone. Then again, she wasn’t alone. She had Winchester. Her cat.
“So we’ll make different arrangements for the wedding. Get you a different escort.”
“I don’t think—”
“You think too much.” Abby gave her hands a hard squeeze before she stood. “I know you’ll do a great job making my wedding beautiful. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed to not have you standing beside me when I get married.” She walked to the restaurant doors, stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Someday I hope you stop letting what other people might think matter so much. As far as I can tell, the only person judging you, the only person standing in your way, is you.”
CHAPTER THREE
BEFORE HE’D SIGNED on as a deputy in Butterfly Harbor, Matt could count on one hand the number of town council meetings he’d attended. Politics wasn’t his game; watching it play out in front of him like bad theater really wasn’t his game. There was, however, something to be said for small town personalities in a confined space that provided an unpredictable concoction of gossipworthy entertainment.
The makeshift City Hall—the original one had been shut down last year due to code violations—loomed over the edge of town like a ghost from the past. The old Checkerspot Pub now housed the mayor and a good portion of city staff, or so the brass plaque beside the double glass doors decreed. The weathered two-story building had always reminded Matt of an old-time saloon with its wraparound porch and second-story overhang. All that was missing were wooden swinging doors creaking in the evening breeze and the tinny sound of an untuned piano.
“Evening, Matt.” Harvey Mills, all belly and overly round eyes, headed from where he must have trekked from his hardware store on the opposite end of Monarch Lane. “Good turnout tonight?”
“Looking that way.” Matt gestured toward the door where the cacophony of voices continued to rise. He peeked inside the window. “Best grab a chair while you can.” Nerves prickled the back of his neck. He glanced at Harvey, who didn’t look any more eager than Matt to head in. “Everything okay?”
“I’m hearing rumblings our good mayor is about to pull the rug out from under us where this festival is concerned.”
Matt waited. Mrs. Ellison might have cornered the market on town gossip, but when it came to reliable information, Harvey was the go-to man. There was something about men gathering in a hardware store—which also housed the town’s post office annex—that turned the business into Butterfly Harbor’s version of a confessional. The fact Harvey had lived here his entire sixty-two years also added a layer of authenticity that kept Matt’s interest piqued. “Any rug in particular getting pulled?”
“Details, much like our mayor’s intentions, are scarce. Best be prepared for anything.”
“I usually am when it comes to Gil.” Matt took a long, deep breath. “Jasper get you that list of tools and supplies we’ll be needing to get those houses in shape?”
“Ordered and mostly received.” Harvey gave a firm nod. “Got you a good deal on some replacement windows. You’ll need to pick them up over in Durante, but they were a steal since they’ve been discontinued. Way too many empty houses around here have gone to rot. Your idea to get at least the exteriors fixed up, get those yards under control before the festival starts? It’s a no-brainer if you ask me. I’ve still got some feelers out on gardening supplies. Might have some donations coming your way.”
“Plus it makes for a nice tax write-off for you,” Matt joked.
Harvey grinned. “Not going to complain about that. Those volunteer lists you’ve got around town look to be filling up. ’Bout time we get more people involved. Make them feel more a part of things. Community center kids getting involved, too?”
“That’s the idea.” Matt would have given his right arm for a teen community center like the one Luke Saxon had opened soon after becoming sheriff. He’d wanted a place where kids could take classes, hang out, get tutoring and, most importantly, stay out of trouble. Having Luke’s predecessor—and current father-in-law—running the place made the idea something the mayor hadn’t been able to argue with. “Way things are going, the center will outgrow that building on the beach by the end of the year.” Faster if houses started selling again.
It was a problem Matt was anxious to have, which was why he was scoping out new locations for the community center every chance he got. “All that being said, it would be a great promotional push come festival time. Gil wants to get buyers in here, year-round and seasonal. If visitors see us as a tight community that takes care of our own, that can only be a positive.”
“Well said,” Harvey agreed. “I can see why Luke trusts you with this.”
No need to erode Harvey’s faith in the department by stating he was only a stand-in. This project was Luke and Fletcher’s baby. “When I was in the army, word had it I could sell sand in the desert.” A pang of grief struck low and hard at the memory of his friends who were gone now. Only two of them had made it back and he hadn’t heard from Hack in at least a year. “My platoon leader called me Superstar.”
Harvey chuckled. “You shouldn’t be giving me information like that, Matt. You never know where or when I might use it.” Harvey patted Matt’s arm as he headed inside. “If the mayor starts slinging, you don’t back down, hear me? We need people like you and Luke who put this town and not your personal agendas first.”
“Understood.” Matt started to follow, then came up short as a flash of blue caught his attention coming down the hill. Lori.
His entire body felt lighter just seeing her. He tugged at the hem of his jacket, flexed his hands as he watched her approach. She’d lightened her hair, added subtle red highlights that caught in the late setting sun. He loved that rich, doe brown that curled subtly down and around her shoulders and framed her round face. She tended to wear the same type of dress, long and flowing around the ankles, almost covering the flat shoes she wore. He caught a quick glimmer of surprise shining in her bottle-glass green eyes when she spotted him. She glanced away long enough to tie a substantial knot in his belly.
Even if he didn’t need her help with Kyle, he’d been anxious to see her again, to explain why he’d disappeared on her. Funny. He hadn’t had any problems facing down insurgents with grenade launchers, but the idea of facing Lori after all these weeks of silence left him almost petrified.
“Hey.” He tried to sound as casual as possible even as his heart pounded hard in his chest. “Ozzy said you’d be here. Long time no see.”
“I know.” When she stepped up beside him, she could almost look him directly in the eyes. It had been one of the
first things he’d noticed about her—one of the first things he’d liked. She didn’t turn simpering smiles or bat overactive lashes to get what she wanted. She didn’t look to him to rescue or placate her. She was straightforward, honest and, most importantly, fun to be around.
He’d missed her.
“I suppose I owe you an apology.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He supposed?
The corners of Lori’s eyes twitched. “For what?”
She was going to make him say it. “For not returning your calls or your texts. I’ve had, well...” Oh boy. He’d rehearsed this and yet none of the words seemed to be waiting for him. “I had a lot of thinking I needed to do. Some decisions I had to make and—”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Matt.” She shrugged as if they were discussing something no more important than the weather forecast. “We’re friends. Well, acquaintances really. Nothing to worry yourself over. We’re good.”
“Okay.” Except it wasn’t okay. He could feel all his plans, everything he wanted to say to her fall through his fingers like water. “But I would like to talk to you. Maybe tonight, after the meeting—”
“I have a lot of work to do when I get home. Maybe some other time.” She reached for the door handle at the same time he did. His fingers brushed the back of hers. She snatched her hand away as if she’d been burned.
He moved in, lowered his voice and inadvertently brushed his lips over her ear. “I should have called. Or at least told you what—” She jerked away, her face flashing with anger before she eased her expression. Matt almost gulped. As big a heel as he felt before, he felt like an even bigger one now.
“Stop making this out to be something it wasn’t, Matt.” Was that irritation in her voice? “You have your life, I have mine. It’s not surprising there’s not a lot of overlap. So while there’s nothing to apologize for, I’ll just accept it so we can move on. Sound okay?”
“Move on as friends.” Definitely not the direction he needed to go.
She glanced away and nodded, but not before he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes. A flash that gave him the thinnest thread of hope to cling to. “I think we’d better get inside, don’t you? Sounds like there’s a lot on the agenda and I need to take notes for Abby in case anything’s been changed.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” This time when he pulled open the door, she gave him another smile and stepped in ahead of him, only to skid to a halt. “What’s wrong?”
So much for thinking a lot of residents were avoiding the meeting. Matt hadn’t seen a turnout of Butterfly Harbor folks this large since the food festival last spring. He saw plenty of familiar faces—most of the members of the Cocoon Club, an expanding group of the more senior members of town—but also people he couldn’t put names to. He recognized homes and buildings more than he did people.
Empty chairs were few and a number of attendees milled about the long counter along the west side of the room. Others grabbed coffee, water or a soft drink from the other side of the bar, grabbed cookies from the plastic silver trays someone had brought.
“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but notice Lori seemed caught between paralyzing nerves and shock.
“I’m fine.” Lori tugged at the sides of the short sweater she wore, pulling it tighter across her chest. “Just more people than I expected.”
Matt spotted two chairs in the front. “How about up there?”
She shook her head, her gaze skittering around the room until she let out an audible sigh of relief. “There’s Calliope. Over there by the window. I’ll just join her.”
“Sure. Yeah.” Frustration crashed through him. He’d really blown it. He should have been honest with her from the start, but he hadn’t been able to find the right words to say he needed to slow things down so he could decide what to do about his divorce papers. Telling her, not telling her—neither was honorable, but he’d chosen to keep quiet to protect her. Instead, he’d hurt her. Far more than the truth ever would have.
* * *
“HEY, CALLIOPE.” Lori slipped onto the metal folding chair beside the closest person Butterfly Harbor had to a spiritual guru. Thankfully the row of chairs against the wall was far enough away from the main throng she could melt into the scenery.
“Lori.” Calliope turned a friendly smile on her. The light dusting of freckles across her nose reminded Lori of a doll she had as a child. The beads and tiny bells laced through Calliope’s waist-length red hair tinkled above the din of the crowd and managed to soothe Lori’s frazzled nerves. “How are those hollyhock seedlings I gave you working out?”
“Beautifully.” Lori rested her notebook on her legs and locked her ankles together. “I don’t know what you do to plants, Calliope, but I’m grateful for your touch. I should have fully grown plants back to you in a few weeks.”
“Lovely. Just in time for the fall harvest.” Calliope tapped a long finger against Lori’s arm. “It’s been a relief to have someone willing to take over the less edible offerings my customers enjoy. And I think it’s you who has the magic touch. Something tells me those flowers will be splayed across Butterfly Harbor sooner than later.”
Lori smiled. While she loved her job at the inn—most days—her real love was horticulture, especially when it came to nurturing seedlings into fruition. Plants didn’t judge, they didn’t speak, they either grew or they didn’t. Now that Duskywing Farm had become quite the tourist attraction, partly because Chef Jason Corwin had talked up the organic farm in a number of his interviews, Calliope had to expand both her crops and her business plans. The weekend farmers’ market and open field policy—it wasn’t every town that had its own “pick your own food” option—was something everyone agreed to promote. That Calliope had asked Lori to oversee the plants and flowers she sold felt like an honor.
“How are you set for poinsettias?” Lori asked.
Calliope’s eyebrows shot up. “What a coincidence. I completely overordered last year and they’re outgrowing their space. Care to come take some cuttings?”
Lori didn’t believe for a second the excessive order was coincidence. Calliope had always possessed a special “sense” when it came to the needs of Butterfly Harbor residents. “I can’t say why, but yes. We’re going to be needing quite a few this holiday season. For the inn,” she added, for fear of ruining Abby and Jason’s surprise.
Calliope turned her attention back to the town council moving toward the makeshift stage. “I look forward to Abby and Jason’s official announcement.”
Lori’s chuckle was cut off by Matt taking a seat beside her. “Don’t mean to interrupt.” His Louisiana accent drifted over her like warm honey out of Calliope’s hives. He shifted and straightened his jacket as Lori crossed her arms over her chest. “Not a lot of seating choices.”
Obviously. What Lori wouldn’t do to be able to control the flush of heat to her cheeks. She avoided Calliope’s knowing glance as she tried to focus on the board members moving onto the stage at the front of the room. She’d felt accomplished when she’d managed to hold a somewhat normal conversation with Matt outside. It wasn’t easy talking to a man who had gone out of his way to avoid her for the last few weeks.
Hopefully, whatever come-hither vibes she’d been transmitting a few weeks ago had gone dormant. She certainly didn’t want to push herself on someone who clearly wasn’t interested, or worse, thought her pathetic and only talked to her out of pity. Nor did she want Matt thinking she’d locked herself away and was pining over him when it was clear he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.
She squeezed her arms tighter against her body, wishing not for the first time that the action would make her shrink.
Matt Knight was the type of man who conjured images of late-night beach fires and hands entwined beneath the stars. She could almost smell the flame-kissed pyre, feel the crackling spa
rks. Not so long ago he’d worn his dark hair shaggy, a bit unkempt, which accentuated the beard he’d had since he’d first moved to town. The beard was gone now; his hair tamed. Gold-flecked espresso brown eyes that glinted in the light shouldn’t have any effect on her, but they did. As tempting as he was to lean into, to give in to, Lori stopped herself. She was doing just fine on her own. She didn’t need a relationship or a boyfriend to complete her. She didn’t need a man to make her life meaningful.
But that didn’t change how she felt about him. She liked him.
A lot.
As if feelings like that had ever led her anywhere good. Good heavens, what was the matter with her?
“Is it me, or does the council look as surprised at the turnout as we were?” Matt motioned to the group that included town veterinarian, Dr. Selina Collins; accountant, Kurt Murphy; and Cocoon Club members Oscar Bedemeyer and Delilah Scoda. Lori returned Delilah’s enthusiastic wave with a shy smile. The former hairdresser had “dated” Lori’s late grandfather years before and earned a place in Lori’s pantheon of friends.
Lori made an “uh-huh” response as she caught the lightning flash movement of BethAnn Bottomley taking a seat in the front row. Perched on the edge of her chair, BethAnn craned her neck and scanned the crowd. Her surprised gaze landed on Lori. She opened her red-painted mouth in silent question. She probably assumed Lori had chained herself in her house until she finished with those stupid invitations.
As if she’d even started them yet.
Gil Hamilton, only five years Lori’s senior, strode onto the stage, his khaki slacks and button-down white shirt looking more catalog chic than small town mayor. Thick, beachy-blond hair swept over sharp, hawk-like green eyes. He took his place behind the tabletop podium and banged the gavel every Butterfly Harbor mayor had wielded for the past half century.
In an almost-Pavlovian response, Lori reached into her purse for a pen and opened up her notebook as the room fell silent.
Always the Hero Page 3