With You: A Queensbay Small Town Romance (The Queensbay Series Book 5)

by Drea Stein

  “Mom, I’m twenty-six, not sixteen. I think I’m above choosing my dates based on what kind of car they drive,” Tory said. Though she had agreed to go out with Stevie because he looked good in a polo shirt and he reminded her of what she thought high school should have been like.

  “Oh, Linda,” Joan admonished her friend as only she could, “leave Tory alone. She deserves to live a little. Goodness gracious, Queensbay isn’t the big city, and if she can find an eligible guy … well, then, more power to her.”

  Tory looked at her mother, who gave her a thin smile. Her mom wasn’t going to create a scene, thank goodness, but it was all too evident to Tory how she felt about the situation. Tory said nothing, just smiled politely at Joan and nodded at her mother.

  “I’ll see you next week for dinner,” she called out, passing into the hallway and out the door into the cool, damp air. It might officially be spring on the calendar, but it was cold and rain threatened. Tory shrugged into her jacket and sighed.

  Chapter 27

  Saturday morning found Tory pacing the sidewalk, nervously waiting, when a black SUV pulled up and a tinted window rolled down. With a cheesy leer on his face, Colby drawled, “Hey there, pretty lady, can I give you a lift somewhere?”

  “Didn’t you promise me coffee?” Tory said, opening the door before Colby even had to think about getting out of the car.

  “And here it is.” He waved at two to-go cups sitting in the twin cup holders in the center console.

  She picked one up and wrapped her hands around it, savoring the warmth. She took a sip. He had made it the way she really liked it, cream and two sugars, and it was delicious.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked as it became clear that they weren’t heading anyplace local.

  “North.”

  “I can see that. Are you going to take the highway?”

  “Just for a bit, then there’s a shortcut I know, a little more scenic. Ever been up this way?”

  “I head to Vermont with friends for skiing. You?”

  “Skiing?” He laughed. “Sort of. Except, where I’m from, we do it in the summer, from a boat and on the water.”

  Tory took a moment to imagine just how Colby might look in a bathing suit, piloting a boat, but then she shook the image out of her head. Better to concentrate on the coffee.

  “So, we’re not going skiing?” Tory asked, trying to tease their destination out of him.

  “Nope, though if your ski pants are anywhere near as form-fitting as those jeans, I might be persuaded.”

  “Hey, did you just…?” she said as she reached out her arm and slapped him. The car swerved gently, and he laughed.

  “Tell you I think you have a great body? Yup, I did. Don’t get me wrong, I like your mind just fine, but your body is something else entirely.”

  All of a sudden, the car felt hot, very hot, and Tory pulled her eyes away, trying to calm herself by taking in the wooded scenery flashing by. There was nothing less sexy than a tree, she told herself. Unless someone wanted to back you up against it and kiss you.

  There was a silence, and then he said, “Why don’t you turn on the radio, find something good to listen to?”

  She did, fiddling with the stations and taking a good look around the car. She saw that it was roomy in back, even roomier because all of the seats were down flat, leaving a good amount of cargo space.

  “How many cars do you have?” she asked. She’d never seen the SUV before.

  He shrugged. “A few.”

  “What’s a few? Two, three?” There was silence.

  “Don’t tell me. Five, six?”

  “No, it can’t be that many.” He said it slowly as if he truly had to think it through. “There’s the Cadillac, which I use for business, this truck, which I use when I have to haul things. The Mustang I lent you. Then there’s my Dodge Charger. First car I ever restored. Barely runs, but it looks good. That’s only three, since the Charger is temperamental. Technically, my company owns the rest. And, well, I always seem to be buying and selling things, so it’s sort of hard to keep track.”

  “I take it that we’re going to be hauling things today, then?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Are you hungry? I know a great little place for breakfast just up the road from here.”

  They had turned off the highway and were heading north along a winding, woodsy road that climbed up and down hills.

  “You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”

  “If you really want me to … but, come on, how often are you totally surprised? Today you don’t have to think farther ahead than eggs or pancakes, darling.” He smiled, and she settled back more firmly in her seat. He was right. She wanted to be surprised, had the feeling that Colby could be infinitely surprising. He already had, she thought. Sure, it was clear he had a past, but so did she. You couldn’t look back, she thought, just needed to keep looking ahead. She glanced at him and he shot her a wicked grin back. Yes, this was going to be interesting, she thought.

  Chapter 28

  She ended up getting both—or, rather, Colby did, ordering an enormous breakfast platter from the small country restaurant they stopped at. The waitress, middle-aged and friendly, greeted Colby with a smile, which led Tory to believe he’d been here several times before.

  She went for the egg white omelet, whole wheat bread, and when the waitress mentioned her amazing blueberry muffins, she asked for one of those, too.

  “Don’t know what you’re missing,” Colby said, after she had ordered.

  “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll share some of your bacon with me,” she said, taking a sip of coffee from the solid china mug the waitress had filled. The restaurant was pure country charm, from the white-and-red checkered café curtains, to the old farm implements and wooden signs that covered the wall as décor.

  “Ahh, you’re one of those,” he said with knowing look.

  “One of what?” she asked.

  “You’re a food thief. You want to eat the bacon, but you won’t actually order the bacon, just steal it from the smart guy across the table who ordered it.”

  “Perhaps I’m just waiting to see if it’s any good,” she said. “Then maybe I’ll order my own plate.”

  The blueberry muffin came, split open, oven toasted, with a drizzle of melted butter. She broke off a bite and put it in her mouth.

  “Good?”

  Tory chewed and swallowed. “Yes, almost as good as the Golden Pear’s, but don’t let anyone else know that.”

  “Wait until you try their bacon,” Colby promised.

  He shared both his bacon and his pancakes with her, and she agreed that they were pretty good, too. She let him pick up the check and, feeling comfortably full, they got back into the truck and headed north. The sky to the east of them was lightening with the rising sun, spreading its warmth out along the forests that bordered the road. It promised to be a beautiful day.

  She had worried about what they would talk about since, to be honest, they hadn’t done much talking, but Colby was surprisingly easy to listen to. He told her about how he had grown up, running wild in the countryside. His stories were improbable, and she found herself smiling first and then breaking out in laughter.

  “Does every story of your childhood end with you jumping off a tire swing into a creek?”

  “Pretty much. It was a small town, not much else to do, except drive along an open road with a pretty girl beside me. Just like today. What more could I ask for?”

  Tory was almost going to say a family, but she didn’t. Colby wanted to keep it light, she could tell, and she didn’t need to push.

  “What about you? I don’t know much about you except you grew up in Queensbay and have pretty much the entire town looking after you.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I mean, my mom and my dad … well, I’m their only kid. I guess they don’t have much else to worry about, and Queensbay is a small town. They don’t really have everyone looking out for me; it j
ust seems that way.”

  “It’s not all bad, having someone look out for you,” he said quietly, and she was reminded that Colby was alone in the world.

  “I know. It’s just that they’re a bit much. We’re lucky that my mom didn’t put an APB out on me with Officer Hank.”

  Colby laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Because, darling, they were right. I never intended to drink sweet tea and swing on the front porch with you.”

  She was saved from having to answer as he turned the truck down a narrow dirt road.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  Tory sucked in her breath. Again the car seemed very hot, very close and Colby’s presence made her remember their kiss, the way her body fit so perfectly with his.

  Fast, things were moving too fast with him. She knew it, could feel it and it wasn’t ready for the out of control feeling it was giving it. But he seemed fine with it, more than fine, as if this was exactly what he wanted and needed from her.

  Chapter 29

  “We’re pretty far out in the sticks,” Tory observed, happy to be back to commenting on their surroundings.

  “That’s where all the good stuff is,” he said as he drove slowly over the rutted drive overrun by weeds.

  A house, which had once been a grand Victorian but had seen better days, came into view. The porch sagged, the paint peeled, and the trim work was broken or missing. The windows were either closed tightly shut or boarded up.

  “What is this place?”

  “The Hamilton estate. Of the New York Hamiltons.”

  “Should I know them?”

  “Only if you were a robber baron in the early twentieth century. This was one of their many country homes. Owned by a slightly less prominent branch of the family, but still had more money than a leprechaun at the end of the rainbow.”

  She laughed, “Ok, not sure I’ve heard that one before, but I get the picture. So, what are we doing here?”

  Colby smiled at her as he started to get out of the car. “There’s a rumor that there might just be gold in that garage back there.”

  “Gold. In there?”

  Colby was already out of the car, and Tory hopped out, too. Like most houses of the era, the garage was what originally had been the carriage house and was set back behind the house. It was even more saggy and sorry looking than house. Tory wondered, if there was any gold here, why the Hamiltons of the New York Hamiltons hadn’t used it to fix the place up.

  “Hello?” Colby called out, his hands cupped around his mouth. The sound echoed and reverberated. A bird, some kind of crow, flapped up into the sky.

  “Creepy,” was all Tory said.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  A woman wearing jeans, an old men’s shirt, rubber boots and with thick silver hair pulled back in a ponytail emerged from the back of the house. Chickens followed her, pecking at the grass, while a sleek gray cat kept pace with her.

  “Miz Hamilton, I’m Colby Reynolds. We spoke on the phone, exchanged emails.”

  “Colby Reynolds, where are you from?”

  “Queensbay,” he said as he shook the woman’s hand.

  “Not sounding like that, you’re not.”

  “By way of Nashville, Tennessee.”

  “Used to know the Calders out of Nashville. Fine family. You know them?”

  Colby thought for a moment. “I might have gone to school with some of the family.”

  “They all go to Nashville Prep. Good school.”

  “That it is, ma’am.” Colby said smoothly. Tory wanted to laugh. She was pretty sure that Colby hadn’t gone to Nashville Prep, not from the stories he had told, but the woman, Mrs. Hamilton, seemed quite pleased to have placed Colby on some level of the social strata.

  “Miz Hamilton, may I present my friend, Miss Tory Somers?” Colby said.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Tory felt like she should curtsey but settled for a nod of her head and a simple handshake.

  “Hmm. You from Queensbay, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Used to be a little town full of fishermen and women of ill repute when I was growing up. Before it got all gentrified.”

  Tory was about to rise to the town’s defense but Colby shot her an imploring look.

  “Queensbay does have a colorful history,” was the best she could come up with.

  The woman nodded and then said, “Guess you want to see the truck.”

  Mrs. Hamilton turned on her heel, and the whole procession—chickens, cat, Colby and Tory—followed her toward the barn. The sun was high overhead, and it was shaping up to be a fine, warm day, full of sun and cloudless blue sky.

  The barn doors stuck and Miss Hamilton struggled with them until Colby opened them for her, throwing them back with a tortured screech of wood against metal. Light streamed in from holes in the ceiling, dust motes dancing in the beams. The carriage house was cluttered, filled with stuff. Boxes, trunks, old tools, just about everything and anything Tory could imagine. She looked around, fascinated, wanting to point something out to Colby, but he had already been drawn deeper in to where she could just make out something gleaming. She followed him, watched as he pitched aside a few old-fashioned milk crates and just stood.

  “Isn’t she a beauty?” Mrs. Hamilton said, hands fisted on her hips. “My grand-daddy bought it new in the nineteen-fifties, used it around the farm for a while. We had an orchard, used to pick the apples and bring them down to sell them. Then we used to fill it with hay, take all the kids on a big picnic hayride.”

  “What is it?”

  “An REO Speedwagon,” Colby said in a hushed, awed voice.

  “A what? You mean…?”

  “It’s not just a band,” he said and turned to pull her to him so she could get a better view. She saw a truck with big wheels, a dark green cab and wooden bed and side rails.

  “REO Speedwagon was a company that built trucks, limited runs, but they were solid, workhorses.” His voice was hushed, reverent.

  “Let me guess, they’re rare, and it’s the kind of thing you never find in a barn.”

  He shot her a look. “You bet.”

  Colby turned to look at Mrs. Hamilton. “Does it run?”

  She laughed. “Haven’t a clue. Don’t even have a key.”

  A speculative look came over Colby’s face. “We probably don’t need one.”

  “You’re not going to hotwire her car,” Tory said.

  “Did I mention my misspent youth?”

  She laughed. “I think you might have.”

  “Well, then, watch this.”

  Colby opened the hood, gave a yelp and then cursed. “Mouse nest,” he explained, and Tory shuddered. Mrs. Hamilton offered to give her a tour of the barn, and the two of them poked around while Colby got out his tools and worked on the engine.

  “My great-grandfather brought that back from a trip out West. Thought he might try to make his fortune ranching.”

  “How’d it go?” Tory asked, holding the cowboy hat in her hand, looking it over. It reminded her of something she had seen in old Westerns, the kind shown in the dead of night on the classic movie channel.

  “Beginning of the end,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “Lost everything. Though,” she said shrewdly, looking over at Colby, who was bent over the engine of the truck, only his jean-clad backside in view, “your fella there might look good in it.”

  “My fellow?” Tory said, blushing as an image of Colby in a cowboy hat, boots and not much else flashed inside her head.

  “Well, you two are together. I mean, why else would he drag you up to an old lady’s house on a nice spring day?”

  “Well….”

  “Why don’t we get some lemonade? I brought some with me. We can sit on the porch. If we’re lucky, it won’t even fall apart on us.”

  Tory cast a look at Colby, knew he’d be awhile and nodded.

  Mrs. Hamilton led her out into the bright light and around to the back of the h
ouse, where a nice new Mercedes station wagon sat. She popped the trunk, revealing a cooler filled with some sodas and lemonade.

  Tory picked a can of lemonade, and they sat, not on the porch, but on its steps which seemed slightly sturdier.

  Tory looked up at the house. “You don’t live here?”

  “Goodness gracious, no. I live in Westchester. My husband’s a doctor, I’m a librarian. He’s playing golf; otherwise, he’d be here. This was my aunt’s summer house; she finally passed away. Hasn’t used it in years, of course. Bitch of a time going through stuff, seeing if there’s anything worth anything. Wouldn’t have thought the truck was worth a dime, but I saw an ad in a magazine about Colby’s business, thought I’d give it a shot.”

  Tory laughed. Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t what she’d expected, and she had a feeling that Colby was going to get more than he bargained for.

  There was a cough and the choke of an engine. There was a pause, and then the engine came on strong and steady. She heard Colby’s cry of “hot damn” over the distressed clucking of the chickens.

  Chapter 30

  “So you mean you didn’t actually have sex?” Lynn said, tearing a hunk of bread into pieces. Tory frowned into her coffee. She wasn’t hungry, and apparently neither was Lynn.

  Darby Callahan, the owner of the café, swung by with the rest of their order.

  “Here you go, Lynn, and is this one for Phoebe?” They nodded, and Darby put the sandwich and cookie down.

  “I’m paying this time,” Lynn said.

  “Oh no, you don’t. I still owe you.”

  Tory shook her head. Lynn had been there when Darby had unexpectedly gone into labor. She’d helped to deliver Darby’s little girl, and since Lynn had refused to have the baby named after her, Darby had promised her free food.

  “We’ll need a cut-off point.”

  “When she turns eighteen,” Darby said with a laugh.

  “What did I miss?” Phoebe said, arriving in a rush of expensive perfume and elegant chaos.