by Kirk, Cindy
Was that a warning glance her father shot in her direction? Sure as heck looked like one. Ami felt herself stiffen.
“Don’t go, Honey Bear. Stay here with me.”
Honey Bear?
Ami covered her snort with a cough.
When her father’s eyes narrowed, she coughed again just for effect.
“That cold air must have gotten to my lungs more than I realized,” she added.
The tight set of her father’s jaw told her he wasn’t convinced.
“I have an idea,” Anita began, then waved a dismissive hand, the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist catching the fireplace’s glow. “No, it would be asking too much. Forget I said anything.”
Anita lowered her gaze, looking all innocent and contrite, but not before Ami saw the calculating look in her eyes.
Like a piranha, Ami thought. Lurk, then dash out and strike.
“Tell me,” Steve urged his Cookie. “I’m sure whatever you have in mind isn’t too much to ask.” Her father shifted his attention to Ami. “Anita always thinks of others first.”
Ami had no doubt that was true. Like now, Anita was thinking of how best to hook and reel in Steve Bloom.
“Tell me,” Steve repeated when Anita milked the moment by remaining silent.
“Okay, but only because you insist.” The apologetic look on the woman’s face might not have fooled Ami, but her father’s face softened.
“Ami is a whiz in the kitchen. I thought, well, if she doesn’t mind, perhaps she could clean up?” Once again the apologetic look made an appearance. “It wouldn’t take her long. Since her bakery was closed today, she had a day of leisure.”
When Ami didn’t immediately respond, Anita demurred. “Forget I said anything.”
Ami remained silent, waiting for her father to inform Anita he couldn’t possibly ask his daughter to clean up the mess from their dinner.
Those words didn’t come. Instead, her father leveled a look at her. “What do you say, Ami?”
After a restless night, Ami woke before dawn. The scene with her father and Anita had made sleep impossible. She still believed she’d been right in politely refusing the request. Her father had been furious. It wasn’t like him to get so angry.
Yet, when she’d seen Anita’s smug smile, she’d wondered if she’d won the battle but lost the war.
No. Her father was a sensible man. He’d get over his anger. Except she had no doubt that Anita would be tossing kerosene on the smoldering embers to keep the fire burning.
But for now, Ami had other matters demanding her attention. The sun had barely begun to rise when Ami placed a call to Beck.
He answered on the fifth ring. “Ami. This is a pleasant surprise.”
The sound of Beck’s soft southern drawl steadied her.
She switched the phone to her other hand. If Beck didn’t agree, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. She was running out of options and out of time.
“Is something wrong?” His voice sharpened.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Her now-dry hand fluttered in the air. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
His chuckle was as warm and smooth as a glass of her father’s Kentucky bourbon. “I’ve been up for a while now. I was getting ready to step into the shower.”
The image that flashed before her—of Beck naked with little rivulets of water streaming down his muscular body—fogged her brain. “You—you can call me back.”
“It’s okay. Tell me what I can do for you.”
Come with me today. Give me the job. Open your house to the tour. Oh, and let me see you naked.
“Ami? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” She told herself Beck wouldn’t disappoint her. Until she recalled her father’s actions last night and realized you could never predict how someone might respond. “I need a favor.”
“The answer is yes, if you toss in a kouign amann.” A hint of amusement colored his words.
“You don’t even know the question.”
“I’ve tasted the pastry and know I’ll come out ahead regardless of what you ask.”
“I’ll make you a dozen if you agree.”
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
Ami decided she must not have done a good job of keeping the desperation from her voice. The playfulness had disappeared from his, as if he sensed the tension beneath the lighthearted banter.
“I have to deliver a food basket this morning to a needy family. The man in the household can be somewhat . . . intimidating. I’d like you to go with me. It shouldn’t take long.” The words tumbled out. “If we leave soon, we could be back for coffee and pastries at the usual time.”
“Intimidating how?” An edge of steel ran through the words.
Ami hesitated, hoping she wasn’t overreacting. As far as she knew, Clint had never forced himself on any woman. Still, Beck’s words the other night about trusting her gut rang in her ears. “I don’t like how he looks at me.”
There was a long pause.
“What time do you want to leave?”
The acquiescence came so fast, Ami wasn’t prepared. She thought quickly. “I can stop by your house at seven. Unless that’s too early—”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Great. Thanks.” Embarrassed by the relief she felt, Ami suddenly wanted nothing more than to get off the phone.
“I want you to promise if you’re ever faced with a similar situation, you’ll tell me.”
“This kind of thing doesn’t happen all that—”
“Ami.” His voice held a warning.
“I promise.” Ami clicked off the call and realized something wondrous. She wasn’t scared anymore.
Chapter Six
Beck found himself surprisingly eager to accompany Ami to the house of the intimidating man. He’d defended his share of clients with anger management issues. He knew how unpredictable they could be, especially around holiday times when emotions and stress tended to be on rapidly rising elevators.
The thought that Ami had even considered walking alone into such a situation made his temper soar.
No one would hurt Ami. Not on his watch.
While he waited for her to arrive, Beck pulled out his cell phone. Hearing the pleasure in his mother’s voice made him glad he called. Displaying her usual wit, his mother caught him up on the latest family news. He updated her on the café. He’d barely ended the call when Ami arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule.
In a red, down-filled jacket with a picnic basket in her hand, she looked like the Eskimo version of Little Red Riding Hood.
Beck smiled as he reached for his keys. “I’ll warm up the car.”
“I thought we’d walk.” She glanced down and winced at the sight of the snow dripping from her black UGGs onto the gray Swedish rag rug. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Beck had retrieved the Gazette from the porch earlier, and beautiful wasn’t a word he’d use to describe the weather outside. To a southern boy, the air felt positively frigid. “Your nose looks like Rudolph’s.”
“Thanks for noticing.” She grinned, seeming not to take offense. “I admit it may be a bit nippy right now, but the sun is out so it should warm up quickly.”
“Are you certain you don’t want to drive?” Beck immediately corrected himself. “I mean, I’m happy to drive you.”
Within his first week in Good Hope he’d learned Amaryllis Bloom didn’t own a vehicle. She went everywhere by riding her bike or walking. Or, when the weather was particularly bad, she caught a ride with friends.
“I love to walk.” Ami gazed up at him with a hopeful expression. “C’mon, Beck. It really is a gorgeous day.”
“Okay. We’ll do it your way.” He took the basket from her, hefting the woven wicker up and down in a bicep curl. “I could get a workout with this baby. What’s in here?”
“Lots of goodies.” Ami smiled her thanks as he held open the door and they stepped onto the porch. “There’s a whole ham, cou
rtesy of the Good Hope Market. They also donated vegetables and a can of coffee. The general store tossed in trail mix, packages of crackers, and several varieties of soup-in-a-jar mix. I added several tins filled with cookies and bars. There’s also a loaf of fresh-baked bread.”
“You should have asked me for something,” he told her as they veered off Market Street. “I’d have donated.”
“Good to know.” Her bright smile told him he’d be contributing to the next food basket. That was okay with him. As far as Beck was concerned, no one should go hungry.
Ami was chattering about all of the services the rotary provided to the community when her foot slipped on an icy patch. She pitched forward.
Beck shot out a hand, wrapping his arm around her waist, steadying her. How good she smelled and how right it felt to hold her close.
The unexpected direction of his thoughts set off alarm bells. When she stepped back, he wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
“The same reason you’re staring at me.”
Ami blushed. “I’ve got my footing. You can let me go now.”
Reluctantly, he dropped his hands and they resumed walking. Beck continued to draw her out about her community service and wondered if there was any piece of the Good Hope pie this woman didn’t have her fingers in. “Is delivering food baskets another part of your Giving Tree duties?”
She laughed. Though the sun shone bright and the day promised warmth, Ami’s cheeks and nose were red with cold. “I’ve got my hands full overseeing the Christmas gifts.”
“Yet here you are, delivering a basket.”
“I couldn’t say no.” Her eyes turned soft. “Calvin Koontz is in charge of baskets. Cal is retired and loves making up the baskets and doing deliveries. But he slipped last week on the ice and injured his ankle.”
Beck wasn’t surprised that Ami had stepped up. “So you volunteered.”
“Not exactly.” A dimple made a rare appearance in her cheek before her expression sobered. “Cal was having difficulty finding someone to fill in. He’s very dedicated. He had a number of people turn him down. Cal was distraught by the time he reached me. I couldn’t say no.”
“Can you tell anyone no?”
Ami offered a halfhearted laugh. “I told my father no last night. That didn’t work out well at all.”
Before he could ask any questions, she gestured to the broad expanse of snow off to her right and changed the subject. “I bet you never saw sights like this where you used to live.”
This was as close as Ami had ever come to asking about his past. He appreciated her respect for his privacy, and he’d returned the favor by never asking why she didn’t drive or date. But lately he’d begun to wonder why all the secrecy. They were friends. While he didn’t want to delve too deeply into his past, he certainly could be more open.
“I don’t believe there’s a more beautiful place on earth than Good Hope,” Ami said with unexpected reverence.
Beck surveyed the area and had to agree. Last night’s snowfall had bestowed a fresh layer of white. Ice crystals glittered in the early morning light, making it look as if shards of diamonds had been scattered across the field.
Colored Christmas lights in the distance provided a startling contrast to the white snow and the bright blue sky. No, Beck could honestly say he’d never seen anything like this in the South. “Good Hope is its own world.”
If the flash of her smile was any indication, his comment pleased her.
“Do you ever regret moving here?”
Knowing she deserved honesty rather than platitudes, Beck considered the question. “When I first arrived, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.”
While Beck had been eager for a change, he hadn’t realized what living in a small town on a peninsula meant. Good Hope was an extremely tight-knit community.
“I imagine the welcome you received must have seemed overwhelming.” Ami chuckled. “You had instant friends, whether you wanted them or not.”
Though he’d told himself it was important to keep it all business between them, the notion that she might have simply been doing another service for the community when she’d stopped by Muddy Boots gnawed at him.
“Was I simply another project for you to cross off some list? Is that why you showed up with your pastries?”
The belligerence in his tone surprised him and startled her, if her widened eyes were any indication. Still, her gaze never wavered.
“Initially,” Ami admitted. “But I kept coming because I enjoy having coffee and conversation with you.”
Beck exhaled a harsh breath. He shouldn’t care this much. It felt like a betrayal to Lisette.
“I enjoy it, too.” Despite his reservations, he took a step closer, his gaze firmly fixed on her. “I wouldn’t let you in the door every morning if I didn’t.”
She laughed. “So if I come one morning and the door is locked, I can surmise I’m no longer welcome?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Beck said gruffly and took a step closer.
The air between them pulsed with so much energy, he was surprised sparks weren’t visible.
He’d have wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him if the honk from a car horn hadn’t caused them both to jump. Only then did Beck realize they were standing in the middle of the road.
Beck cupped Ami’s elbow in his hand and maneuvered them closer to the curb. The driver in the white Impala gave a friendly wave as he drove past.
Ami returned the wave, then pointed. “The Lohmeiers live down that street. Third house on the left.”
For the first time Beck noticed fields of snow on one side had given way to streets lined with ramshackle houses. Because none of the sidewalks had been cleared, they continued to walk in the street. This time they stuck near the curb. Though it was early, the lights were on in the Lohmeier house. Like most of the homes surrounding it, the residence was a white, single-story frame home with a stoop rather than a front porch. The garage, detached from the house, listed visibly to one side.
“What’s the situation here?” Though there was no one outside at this hour, Beck kept his voice low.
“Cassie Lohmeier lives here with her three kids. We went to school together. She was several years older than me. Her sister, Lindsay, was in my class.”
Something in her voice put Beck on alert. He suspected she had more history with this family than she was saying. “Are you and Cassie well acquainted?”
“I knew her more as a child, not so much as an adult. She got pregnant at fifteen, went on to have two more kids by another guy before they split. Clint Gourley is her latest live-in. He’s on disability for his back after a motorcycle crash in October.”
Beck filed away the information. “Does Cassie work?”
“She’s pregnant with her fourth and has been experiencing complications.” Ami’s voice betrayed no emotion or judgment. “A neighbor mentioned food was in short supply to Calvin, hence the basket.”
“Other than her sister, does she have any other family in the area?” From what he’d observed, most of the families in the area were tight-knit and supportive.
“Anita Fishback is her mother.”
Beck stilled as the name registered. “Your father’s girlfriend is related to Cassie?”
“Anita isn’t his girlfriend.” Ami spoke sharply, then immediately appeared to calm herself. “Sorry.”
Just when Beck thought he had everything figured out, someone tossed a curveball. “So Anita’s pregnant daughter needs a charity food basket.”
“The Giving Tree is not charity,” Ami reminded him.
“Neighbors helping neighbors, yeah, I remember. But why does she need help? Her mother is a successful business owner and—”
“Anita cut Cassie out of her life,” Ami told him. “As far as I know, the two haven’t spoken in years.”
Beck slowed his steps. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure.�
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“C’mon, Ami. You know everything that goes on in this community.”
From the look of hurt on her face, Beck realized it was the absolutely wrong thing to say.
“I’m not a busybody, Beck.” She snapped the words, her face flushed bright red.
“I never said you were.” Beck kept his voice matter-of-fact. “But you are well connected. And you’ve lived here your whole life.”
“That’s true.” Appearing somewhat mollified, Ami thought for a moment. “Cassie took her father’s death hard. Almost harder than Anita, though that’s not fair to say. Everyone grieves in their own way.”
Beck knew that to be true. He’d taken his share of hits for remaining dry-eyed at Lisette’s funeral.
“Anita jumped back into the dating game barely six months after the funeral,” Ami continued. “She appears to be one of those women who has to have a man.”
Beck shifted the heavy basket to his other hand. “What does all this have to do with her relationship with Cassie?”
“Cassie believed her mother moving on so quickly meant she hadn’t loved her dad. Cass began acting out.” Ami exhaled a sigh. “Cassie pushed her mother away. Anita finds Cassie an embarrassment. Both women are headstrong and surprisingly similar in personality.”
“Where does the sister fit in?”
“Lindsay is stuck in the middle. She’s her mother’s pride and joy.”
Beck realized they’d nearly reached the house. “What’s your history with the live-in guy? I assume he’s the intimidating man.”
“Clint is a jerk.”
The comment had Beck blinking. This was the first time he’d heard Ami speak badly about anyone. With the exception of Anita, of course.
“Clint hit on me hard last summer.”
If Beck hadn’t been focusing on her face, he might have missed the imperceptible tightening of her jaw.
Though Ami never said she’d rejected the guy’s overtures, that fact was obvious. “How’d he take the rejection?”
“He didn’t like hearing no.”
Beck had more questions. Many more. But by now they’d reached the stoop. Even before Ami pressed the doorbell, several dogs began barking inside.