by Dori Lavelle
"What the hell are you talking about?" Craig asked, but his voice cracked.
"Well, Craig—or should I say Tom Malone? It doesn't matter. Whoever you are, I will not marry you."
"No problem." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "We can postpone the wedding."
"You don't get it, do you? I will not marry you today, tomorrow, or ever." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she was crying. "I will not marry a man who's already married under a different name. I will not marry a stranger."
Kelsey felt, rather than saw, her father turn to the guests. In a firm, controlled voice he said, "ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have to end the day here. I apologize for the inconvenience caused, but we have some personal matters to discuss."
He had hardly finished speaking when the guests stood and started walking out of the church. The minister disappeared through a small door. Kelsey's eyes were still locked on Craig, but she heard the hurried movements, the whispers. She felt the wave of shock and disbelief, smelled the thick scent of scandal. They all couldn't wait to leave, to gossip about what had just happened.
When silence descended, a hand wrapped around her arm and her father whispered in her ear, "Kelsey, these accusations are ridiculous. What's gotten into you?"
Why was he whispering? Kelsey laughed and cried at the same time. "Not only did he sleep with another woman yesterday, in our suite at the Muriel, he's a conman. And I have proof."
Her father and Craig watched as she stepped to one of the chairs decorated with ribbons—the one reserved for Delia, who had left with the other guests—and removed a bag hanging from it. She pulled from it a thick white envelope and handed it to her father, who looked like a volcano about to erupt. "Everything you need to know about him is in there."
Craig's expression changed from confident to horrified. His face turned puce. "How dare you," he said between clenched teeth as he pointed a shaking finger at Kelsey. "How dare you—"
"Shut up. Just shut up." Kelsey's father leafed quickly through the pages and photos. A vein began throbbing in his neck, and the blood drained from his face. "Identity theft, money laundering, embezzlement..." He tossed the papers and photos on a nearby chair, and before Kelsey could register what was happening, he charged toward Craig and planted a fist in the center of his face, knocking Craig to the floor.
Kelsey's hands flew to her mouth.
Her father massaged his hand. "Call the police." It was an order.
Kelsey reached for her purse as Craig scrambled to his feet and stumbled down the aisle, a hand clamped over his bloody nose.
"Run," her father said, his voice like thunder. "You'll not get far. You'll pay for this. I'll personally make bloody sure of that."
Craig burst through the double doors and disappeared.
***
"What a total jerk." Maeve scowled. "I hope you made him pay for what he did."
"We did. He tried to leave the country, but the cops picked him up at the airport and arrested him for a string of crimes. His sentence was extended when we found out during an audit that he'd embezzled over a million euros from my father's company."
"Wow, that's some heavy stuff. That's why I don't trust men. They're all liars. I never date a man for longer than one month."
"A month? That's it?"
Maeve dipped a finger into her beer and sucked off the foam. "I don't trust any of them."
"They're not all the same, you know. There are some good men out there."
"Believe me. They're all alike. Look at that one." Maeve pointed to a middle-aged man sitting at one of the high tables beside the bar. He had one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey and was stroking a plump woman's cheek with the other. "That's his wife over there." She moved her gaze to a woman sitting at a table not far from them. The woman's eyes were fixed on her husband, and she looked close to tears. "I don't know how long she's going to keep up with his bed-hopping. He doesn't even make it a secret that he's seeing other women. They've only been married a year."
"Poor woman."
"Yes. See why I'll never get married or have children?"
"You never want to? Ever?" Despite what had happened with Craig, Kelsey still wanted to get married one day, and have kids—with the right man this time.
"What's the point? Most marriages I know end bitterly."
Kelsey bit into her brownie. "Have you ever been in love?"
"A long time ago. It didn't end well." Maeve feigned a shiver.
"What happened?"
"He was an ass. Take it from me: Men can't be trusted. One month is the limit for me."
"How's the guy you went to meet this afternoon?"
"Actually, it was a breakup date. We've been seeing each other for three weeks, and he was getting to the stage where he wanted to hold my hand in public. Can't have that."
Kelsey laughed and finished her tea.
Maeve waved a petite blond waitress over to their table. "I'll have another pint, Clara, and one for my friend."
"No, no." Kelsey shook her head. "I don't drink beer."
"There's a first time for everything. Tonight's the night to let your hair down."
It wasn't considered classy to drink beer where Kelsey came from—but she was in Dreara to get away from that lifestyle. She had come here to do what she wanted, without anyone peering over her shoulder. Maybe she should drink a beer and decide for herself whether she liked it.
Looking up at Clara, she shrugged. "What the hell. Yes, there is a first time for everything."
One beer was followed by another, and another, and then by something stronger Kelsey didn't remember ordering.
Before she knew it, she was nodding and tapping her foot to the music, and Maeve was out on the dance floor on shaky legs, swaying with a man she called her "catch of the night".
Kelsey remained in her seat, wondering how it must feel not to give a damn what anybody thought of her. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she turned around. Two tables away, there he was, watching her through a haze of smoke. Her stomach flipped.
The mysterious neighbor's eyes didn't leave hers as he raised what looked like a glass of water to his lips and drained it.
Kelsey licked her lips. His eyes took in every inch of her, as if he were drinking her as well. Should she smile, wave? Or just stare back at him?
Hell, she would stare. Maybe he'd feel embarrassed and break eye contact. But the longer she watched him, the clearer the image of him without his shirt on became inside her mind. Her heart started thumping. Those muscles. But the feeling she'd felt then couldn't be compared to this. She was suddenly dizzy, and the beer wasn't entirely to blame.
She wet her lips again. The way he was staring at her now would drive any woman crazy. He watched her like a lion watching its prey. She felt naked, exposed, vulnerable... and hot between the legs. He made her feel sexy and desirable—something she hadn't felt in a long time. The longer they gazed at each other, the hotter the room became. She couldn't bear it any longer. She had to look away. How could a man she didn't even know have such a strong effect on her?
She inhaled deeply, turned away, and picked up her beer. Her hands were shaking, but she didn't let it deter her. She took a huge gulp. She needed it.
There was no way she would get any sleep with him living next door.
Chapter Five
Shaun shivered as he rose to the surface of the water. With October approaching, the temperatures had dropped, but for him it was just right. Perfect punishment. In smooth strokes, he swam back to shore. Swimming always reminded him of college, when he'd worked part time as a lifeguard at a local swimming pool. He'd loved that job. Just as he'd loved being a firefighter. Saving people had been his life's purpose, until his life came crashing down.
No use dwelling on the past. The reason for his midnight swim was to help him forget.
He crossed the beach and headed for his cottage, still dripping wet. The cool wind would dry him a
s he jogged home.
A few minutes later, he burst into the cottage, then changed into some warm clothes, made himself a coffee, and wrote until the sun shone through the curtains. Yawning, he got up and had breakfast, a shower, and then sat back down to continue writing. He didn't stop again until it was almost noon.
After a sandwich, he was too exhausted to keep working, so he tossed himself onto the couch with the phone. There was someone he needed to talk to.
Since he'd arrived in Dreara, Shaun had avoided calling home. His mother was always emotional and begging him to move back, and three of his brothers always told him to stop being an ass and get over himself because what had happened, happened and couldn't be undone.
The only one of his brothers he talked to at least once a week was Garrett, and that was because he was Shaun's shrink. If it weren't for Garrett visiting him in prison and talking sense into him, Shaun would have committed suicide during his first year behind bars.
Shaun stretched out on the couch as the phone rang and rang. Finally, Garrett picked up.
"I called you several times last week, why the hell didn't you call back? I was just about to get on a plane to come and find you."
"I was busy. I'm here working, you know."
"We had a deal. You said you would call me at least once a week. I need to know you're okay. I need to know what to tell Mom, who you should call soon, by the way. She's still hoping you'll come home for Christmas. Do you have any idea what kind of position you're putting me in?"
Heat rose up Shaun's neck as he tried to control his anger. "You don't have to do this. I wanted to do this alone. This is where I have to be right now. You promised to have my back."
"I know that. But I think it's about time you came back home. You can't run forever." Garrett sighed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Never been better."
"Still being good? Staying away from too many women and alcohol?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I said I was."
Garrett laughed. "I still want to hear you say it."
"Would you believe me if I told you I didn't sleep with one single woman this month?"
"No, but I can hope. Remember not to get back to that place you were in before you left the States. Alcohol and casual sex are not a long-term solution. The pain only returns to hit you harder."
Shaun slammed a fist into the table. "You say it like it's easy. You have no fuckin' idea what it's like not to have a crutch to lean on, how much I miss waking up in the morning with no guilt, or going to bed at night without dreading the next day."
"Shaun," Garrett said in a controlled voice. "I know how hard all this is for you. I was there, remember? I saw your pain firsthand. So, yeah, I have a pretty damn good idea. But you can't turn back the clock. You have to move forward. You have to learn to live again."
"I'm trying. Tell Mom I will come back home. But I won't be there for Christmas."
"Home to Serendipity or home to the U.S.?"
"To the U.S. I've made up my mind. I can't move back to Serendipity. I can never live a normal life there knowing—"
"I understand. By the way, guess where I am."
"How the hell should I know?"
"I'm at Mel's Delights. I haven't been here in ages. A new client of mine is addicted to Mel's chocolate donuts. She brought me here so I could see her in action."
"Must be tough to be a shrink." Shaun chuckled. "The clients you work with sometimes."
"Hey, business is slow. As long as they can pay, my door is always open." There was a shuffle and a few whispers at Garrett's end. "Someone wants to talk to you."
"When are you getting your ass back home, Brannon?"
Shaun broke into a smile. For a moment there, he’d thought it would be his mother or one of his other brothers.
"Heat, what's up, man? Long time. You addicted to Mel's donuts too?"
"Do I have a choice? I'm married to their maker."
Married. Hearing that word still made it hard for Shaun to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to focus. "Yeah, I guess not," Shaun said.
While Shaun's life had been on hold, his friends had fallen in love, gotten married, and started their families. Garrett had shown Shaun photos of Heat's wife, a stunning redhead who was also a successful businesswoman.
Everyone else had moved on, which made it even harder for Shaun to stay in Serendipity. It reminded him of what he couldn't have.
"Such a shame you missed our wedding last year. But we have a big anniversary party planned for next year. We'd love it if you could make it. I'll let you know the details later."
"Sure," Shaun lied.
"Great. Brannon, it's so great talking to you. I was just telling Garrett the other day that I read your book. Best thriller I ever laid my hands on. I told the boys at the station and they all think you're a hero. And you are. You've been through a lot of shit, and look at you— you're still standing." Heat paused. "How are you... really?"
Shaun didn't respond for a while as he asked himself the same question. "You know, Dane, some days are better than others."
"You'll be fine. And when you return home, Darius says you're welcome to rejoin the team. He still talks about the fire you put out your first week on the job. It would be great to have you back. Unless, of course, you'd rather keep writing."
Shaun couldn't see himself doing the things he used to do back then, back when his life was normal. "Writing is my life now, Dane. I love the freedom it gives me." And the money he made wasn't bad, either.
"I can understand that. Well, maybe you'll volunteer now and then for old time's sake. Brannon, I have to run. I just got paged. Great talking to you. I'll ask Garrett for your number."
When Garrett got back on the phone, it was only to say goodbye. He, too, had to go. They all had their own lives to lead, while Shaun stood frozen in the past.
Chapter Six
In a desperate attempt to clutch on to the last threads of sleep, Kelsey turned her head away from the morning rays streaming through the window.
Something was wrong. The bedsprings didn't squeak. She opened her eyes a fraction at a time.
There was no dresser, no wardrobe, no trace of the permanent scent of fabric softener. It took a bleary moment for her to realize it wasn't her bed she was on, but the sofa.
As she sat up, pins and needles shot through her right arm to her fingertips. The rest of her body didn't feel much better—as if she'd spent the night on a bench at a railway station. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with wads of cotton wool, and a headache was creeping up on her. To make matters worse, her hair and clothes—she was still wearing last night's clothes—reeked of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.
Kelsey massaged her sensitive arm and inspected her surroundings. Half her handbag had crawled under the sofa and one of her black leather pumps was on the coffee table next to the house keys; the other rested on its side at the door.
She began to laugh. It started with a snicker and bubbled into a great big belly laugh, like a river flowing into the sea.
Last night was proof that she was ready to change, to live, to move on. Drinking beer—even if she hadn't enjoyed the taste—and getting drunk on it were not things the old Kelsey would have done. But she was stepping out of her comfort zone, flying free despite her inhibitions—and that was precisely what she wanted to do.
Maeve had been the right person to push Kelsey into the deep end. But she was also by far the craziest woman Kelsey had ever met. A likable kind of crazy. Maeve did what made her happy and didn't care what anybody thought. She didn't care that her skirt ended where her thighs began, or that men talked to her chest instead of her face.
She was everything Kelsey wasn't. Last night, Maeve had rubbed some of her freedom off on Kelsey, and it tasted so much better than Kelsey had expected. Now that she'd had a sample, she definitely had to have more.
After the laughter dissipated, Kelsey enjoyed a long, warm bath. Three rounds of strawberry-scented
shampoo made sure the stench of beer and cigarette smoke melted from her wet curls. With fresh hair and clothes—and no makeup—she went downstairs to the kitchen. Though the throbbing in her temples had matured into a full-blown headache, she didn't want to take a painkiller. Tea and a slice of peace and quiet might be enough to shake it off.
A few minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table with the heat from the ceramic mug seeping into the palms of her hand. Just as she soaked herself into the quiet, the rusty rattle of a lawnmower burst through the walls and turned the pain in her head up a notch. Teeth clenched, she dragged herself to the window and shoved it open.
The mysterious neighbor was mowing his lawn. At eight in the morning. What was he thinking? Had he no respect for his neighbors?
There was no point shouting for him to stop. Her voice could never compete with the machine. She shut the window again and left the kitchen.
A painkiller started to seem like a good idea after all, as did leaving the house earlier than planned.
***
The public library was at the corner of Smithson Road and Dale Street, a fifteen-minute walk from Kelsey's cottage.
Kelsey ascended the steps two at a time. At the counter under the information sign sat a woman with pigtails and a neon green suit jacket so bright it hurt Kelsey's eyes. The smell of cigarettes wafted from the librarian, bringing back memories of the pub from last night and reminding Kelsey of the ache still lingering in her head.
"Good morning. I'm looking for books on the history of Dreara, please."
"Please follow me." The librarian spoke as if her mouth was filled with marbles and Kelsey had to strain her ears to make out what she was saying. "Follow" sounded like "hollow."
They came to a section stocked with books, newspapers, pamphlets, handouts, and DVDs all about Dreara. "Here you are," the librarian mumbled, and promptly walked back to the front desk.
There were three other people in this section, and from the curious and concentrated expressions on their faces, Kelsey guessed they were tourists like she was.