Chloe whispered, “Are you sure? That guy looks dangerous.”
I smiled. “He is.”
MacKintyre Sullivan was a former Navy SEAL turned award-winning, bestselling thriller author. He had moved here about a year ago and had bought the famous lighthouse mansion on the beach just north of town. We met when I lost control of my bike out on Old Lighthouse Road, rode into a cow pasture, and flew over the handlebars. Mac witnessed the crash and carried me and my sad, mangled bike back home in his SUV. It wasn’t a cute first meeting but it was memorable for sure.
As we walked closer, Mac stepped out from the shadows and smiled. “Hello there.”
“Whoa,” Chloe murmured.
“Hi, Mac,” I said, chuckling at Chloe’s reaction. I could relate. Mac was tall, dark, and gorgeous and had an air of danger simmering just beneath the surface. Like a modern-day pirate or something. I almost giggled, knowing he would love that description.
“Hey, Shannon,” he said, pulling me in close for a kiss.
It took me a few seconds to come back to the moment, but then I turned to Chloe. “Chloe, this is Mac Sullivan. Mac, this is my sister, Chloe.”
Mac beamed at her. “Hi, Chloe.”
She mumbled a greeting and they shook hands.
“She’s usually more expressive,” I explained, “but she’s had a long day.” And she doesn’t often meet gorgeous ex–Navy SEAL guys on the sidewalk, I thought, chuckling.
“Then let’s go eat,” Mac said jovially. He walked to the door and held it open for us.
I started to walk forward and Chloe yanked me back to hiss in my ear, “Why didn’t you warn me? He doesn’t look anything like his book cover.”
“It wouldn’t have done any good,” I said. “He has to be seen to be believed.”
It was true. His book cover photos showed a handsome, serious man, but in person Mac was much more striking and intriguing and, well, gorgeous. His hair was dark and short-cropped and his blue eyes could pierce right through you in the best possible way—unless you were a bad guy. He was muscular, tanned, funny, and smart. And when he smiled at you, the world lit up like a sunrise over the redwood forest.
At least, that was how it had always been for me. Best of all, Mac seemed to think I was pretty special, too, and that realization never got old.
We were shown to our table and within seconds the waitress brought us a basket of bread and a cruet of rich olive oil for dipping. We ordered a bottle of Uncle Pete’s estate-bottled Pinot Noir and the busboy brought us glasses of water.
When the waitress walked away, Mac asked about Chloe’s flight and the drive into town from Mendocino. We continued the small talk for another minute until the waitress brought the wine, opened it, and poured us each a glass. Then she took our meal orders, collected our menus, and promised to return with an order of fresh garlic toast. Because who didn’t need more bread in their diet?
“So you start filming tomorrow?” Mac asked.
“We won’t start filming the actual show,” Chloe said. “But our second unit will start filming establishing shots around town. You know, for editing purposes and also to give an idea of where we are. They don’t need me for that, so I’m going to spend part of the day checking out all the locations Bree lined up.” Chloe looked at me. “You’ll come with me, right? I’d like to grab a cameraman and you and I can record some stuff.”
“Sure.” Although I had a sudden neurotic moment wondering what I would wear. I figured Chloe would help me out with all those details later.
“Good,” Chloe said. “It’ll be fun. Oh, I know. We can start out by sitting on your front porch. I’ll introduce you and we’ll talk about Dad and how we grew up on construction sites, and then the camera can widen out and show your house. We can walk around and I can point out some of the highlights of the work you’ve done over the past few years.”
“That sounds neat,” I said. “Have you seen any of the houses you’ll be working on? Bree kept it a mystery so I have no idea which ones she chose.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Bree likes to jack up the suspense and keep at least two homeowners guessing.”
“So you don’t even know what the work will entail?”
“Nope. She likes to wait until the owners are actually on camera and Blake announces which house we’re going to rehab.”
“Really?” I felt like I’d missed something. “I’ve never seen you do that on the show.”
She grimaced. “They only play that segment of the show on the website. It’s because the network hates it, too. They think it looks too much like a bad game show. And it rarely turns out happily.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “It sounds mean-spirited.”
Chloe nodded. “It is, but that’s Bree in a nutshell. The homeowners have no idea that they’re in competition with each other. But Bree loves the drama and Blake’s willing to play along because he loves Bree.”
“If you’ve promised a home makeover to two different owners and only one of them gets it?” Mac shook his head. “It sounds like it could get ugly.”
“I stay out of it. Like, way out of it.” Chloe took a quick sip of wine. “Blake handles that part of the show. The cameras record the owners’ reactions and there’s usually some tears and some choice words. And then one of the PAs takes the loser away and we reset cameras and I’m there to start the real show. I introduce the house and take a little tour around, and then we move right into the demolition work.”
“That’s the fun part,” I said.
“I agree,” Chloe said. “So you can come with me tomorrow?”
“I’m all yours.”
She gave me a thumbs-up. “Great. Mac, would you like to come to the set this week?”
“Me?” He was clearly taken aback, which didn’t happen often. But he quickly recovered and grinned. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll give your name to Bree’s assistant. She’ll get you a badge and you’ll be all official.”
“Cool. Thanks.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
Chloe laughed. “And if you need any . . .” Her voice faded and she stopped talking.
“Need any what?” Mac asked.
But she was staring over my shoulder, apparently distracted by something happening near the front door of the restaurant. Her eyes were wide and her face had gone pale.
“What’s going on?” I said, turning in my chair to see what had frightened her. I got a quick glimpse of a man talking to the hostess.
She grabbed my arm. “Don’t turn around.”
“Don’t be silly. Why not?” I sneaked another look at the guy. He wore a pale blue polo shirt, had sandy blond hair, and wasn’t very tall. I couldn’t see his face, but there was something familiar about him. When I turned back to my sister I recoiled. “Chloe, you’re white as a sheet.”
“It’s just . . .” She huddled down in her chair, hiding from whomever she’d seen. “I can’t believe he’s here.”
“Who is he?”
Mac glanced over his shoulder, but then turned and leaned closer to Chloe. “Can I go after him for you?”
“No,” she whispered. “I mean, thanks, Mac, but I can handle it.”
“Handle what?” I demanded. “How can you handle anything when you’re scared to death? Who’s got you freaking out like this?”
She glanced past me and after a moment, she exhaled in relief. “I think he’s gone.”
“Who?”
“It’s not important. Sorry. Got caught by surprise.”
“Not important? Really?” I grabbed my wine and slugged it back. “Okay, drama queen, let’s just forget that you looked ready to pass out. And never mind that you almost gave us a heart attack.”
“I’m not a drama queen,” she said, sounding wounded.
“No, you’re a nutball.” But I felt bad for raisin
g my voice. Chloe’s color was better but her eyes were still wide enough to have me concerned. I reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “But you’re my nutball, so I forgive you.” I peeked back at the doorway. “Seriously, who was that? I couldn’t see his face.”
“He’s . . . nobody. Really, it’s nothing.” She took her own big gulp of wine and grabbed a piece of bread. Her breathing finally calmed down. “Sorry I made a scene.”
I leaned in. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. But don’t sit there and lie to me. Something’s going on. We all know it.” I scowled at her. “Besides, you scared Mac.”
Mac flashed her a crooked grin. “And I don’t scare easily.”
She studied him for a long moment. “No, I don’t guess you do.” She took another deep breath and let it out. “Okay, I just saw a guy I never thought I’d see again. Especially after the last time.”
“Who?” I demanded.
“What happened last time?” Mac asked.
She pressed her lips together in frustration. “He tried to blackmail me. I promised if I ever saw him again I would kill him.”
Chapter Three
“What?” I might’ve shrieked the word.
Chloe slapped her hand over her mouth. “You did not just hear me say that.”
“Yes, I did,” I countered brusquely. And I wanted to hear a lot more. “What did he do to you? And who is he? Why was he trying to blackmail you? Why is he here? Tell me right now. What happened?”
“Okay, okay, calm down.”
I think my eyeballs actually bulged right out of my head at that ridiculous statement. Someone tries to blackmail my sister, she threatens to kill him, and I’m supposed to keep calm? Impossible. “Calm down? You’re driving me crazy. I can’t—”
“Stop!” She hissed the word, then smiled cheerily at the waitress who walked up just then.
Mac put one hand on my arm and I felt that steady pressure as a sign of solidarity. I appreciated it. A lot.
“How are we doing?” The woman took her time, checking on the bread, pouring each of us more wine, letting us know our dinners were almost ready. Meanwhile, I was about to go bonkers. Maybe it was a good thing she was taking forever to leave.
When the waitress finally walked off, I disregarded Mac’s steadying hand and jumped on Chloe. “Tell me everything before we’re interrupted again.”
“All right, all right. But first I need some fortification.” She swirled the wine and then slowly sipped it.
“Seriously?” I leaned in closer. “I’m going to kill you.”
Mac was no help. He’d given up trying to hold me down and instead, he now held up his napkin thinking he could hide the fact that he was laughing as I went bat-crap crazy.
Chloe swallowed carefully, then finally spoke. “Will you dial it down if I start talking?”
“No promises. But I can promise to go completely whackadoodle if you don’t.”
“Fine.” It took her another moment. “Okay, do you remember Richard Stoddard?”
I blinked. “Sure. He’s Whitney’s cousin. How could I forget?” I turned to Mac. “We used to call him Richie Rich because he thought he was too good for all of us.”
Mac nodded. “Similar to Whitney.”
“Exactly.” See? This was why I was crazy about Mac.
Chloe grabbed her head in agony. “I forgot he and Whitney are related. That just figures. They’re equally horrible people.”
“The difference is, Whitney is horrible, but she’s smart. Richie is just plain slimy. And horrible.”
“I think you’ve nailed it,” she said.
“I don’t remember meeting anyone named Richie,” Mac said.
“He goes by Richard, and you would remember this guy,” I said. “He’s a pompous prig who looks down on everyone he considers beneath him. Which is almost the entire town.”
“Why does he stay?” he wondered.
“My guess is,” I said, “no other place will take him.”
Chloe shrugged. “I thought most of his family lived here, but I really have no idea anymore.”
I frowned. “I can’t imagine they like him much, either.”
The waitress rushed over with our salads, then offered ground pepper to each of us. She was an excellent waitress, but she was getting on my last nerve.
“So tell us what happened,” I said when she finally walked away.
“Okay,” Chloe said with a heavy sigh. “But it’s a really long story.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Mac said sensibly. “I mean, we just got our salads.”
I smiled. “Mac is really good at solving problems. After all, he’s a world-class plotter and he deals with serious issues in his books. Really, whatever happened to you, he can help. And so can I.”
She grabbed a bite of salad slathered in blue cheese dressing, chewed and swallowed, then began. “I don’t know if you remember, but the summer after high school, I was working with Dad on my friend Peggy’s house. Her parents wanted to make some of the bedrooms bigger.”
“Oh, sure, the Connolly house. Aren’t we scheduled to expand one of her closets for your show?”
“Yes. And that’s part of the long story.”
I speared a lettuce leaf. “I remember that summer. You were partying a lot.”
“I lacked direction,” she said stiffly.
I chuckled. “One way to put it. I recall Dad trying to curtail your use of power tools.”
“I was just kind of miserable.” She sighed in memory. “It was time to move out.”
I patted her hand. “I know.” Chloe’s restless spirit had really fought against all of Dad’s attempts to rein her in. As much as they loved each other, they just couldn’t communicate then. And I was no help at the time.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“So going way back to the fifties, Peggy’s great-grandfather Joe owned the movie theater in town. He loved old movies and I guess he used to bring home his favorite film reels for safekeeping. He kept them hidden in an old closet upstairs.” Chloe paused for another big sip of her wine and then pushed her salad around the plate. “And then he died. And apparently he didn’t tell anyone in the family about these films, so they stayed hidden for like, sixty or seventy years or more.”
“Wow,” Mac mused. “They must be worth a lot by now.”
“Wait for it.” She took another quick sip of wine. “Now we detour back to Richie Rich. That same summer after high school, Richie decided he liked me. I don’t know why, since he’d spent three years taunting me for being a townie. I guess maybe he was slumming.”
“You were the prettiest girl in school,” I said defensively. “Of course he was interested in you.”
She smiled. “Yeah. Whatever. Anyway, he kept hanging around the Connolly house, begging Dad to give him a job so he could get close to me.”
“Creepy.”
“I know, right?” She gulped down a bite of salad. “Dad wouldn’t hire him because he didn’t like the guy, either. So one day Dad asked me to sweep out old Joe’s closet because Peggy’s parents wanted us to knock down a wall and expand the master bedroom. So I was sweeping and Richie was hanging around, not actually working because he’s really just a lazy-ass jerk. Did I mention that before?”
Mac grinned. “Words to that effect.”
Chloe smiled back and I was relieved to see it. Mac had that effect on people.
“It’s true,” she said. “So while I was cleaning out the closet, my broom accidentally snagged part of the old paneling and a strip of wood came loose. And that’s when I found a false panel in the wall. And behind the panel were all these old movie reels. There were sixteen reels and they were amazing. Old films from the twenties and thirties and forties. Classic movies you’ve actually hea
rd of. So Richie sees them and says, ‘Let’s take them and sell them.’”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.” She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe I’d even suggested it. Heck, I couldn’t believe it, either.
“They didn’t belong to me,” Chloe said tightly. “I might’ve been a little flaky back then but I wasn’t a thief.”
The busboy arrived and cleared our salad plates. As soon as they were gone, the waitress showed up with our dinners. I took a moment to savor the amazing aromas. After we got all the extra parmesan cheese we wanted, plus more wine, the waitress said, “Enjoy your meal,” and left us to chow down.
And we did. I swirled my pasta around my fork, dredged it through the Bolognese sauce, and took a bite. “This is heaven.”
“Okay,” I added, waving my fork at Chloe. “A small break to eat this amazing dinner, then it’s right back to the story. Agreed?”
She nodded, since she was too busy chewing to talk.
“Good idea.” Mac grinned. “And I’ll need a bite of that.”
I gave him a generous portion and Chloe and I traded bites, too. Mac fed me some of his rich, tangy Braciole.
“Oh, that’s delicious.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“This is so good,” Chloe said, twirling the capellini Pomodoro that she’d ordered with a side of meatballs. “I can’t wait to see Uncle Pete and ask where he found his chef.”
“You can ask him when he and Dad get home.” I swirled my wineglass. “I thought we could grill steaks when they come for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Or salmon,” Chloe said. “You know they’ll bring back tons of fresh fish.”
“True.” I glanced at Mac. “Either way, you’re invited.”
“Thanks, Irish.” He smiled as he squeezed my hand. “I’d love to join you.”
“Good.” He looked at me with so much intensity that I forgot where I was for a moment. Finally he grinned at me and I remembered I was still on planet earth. Oh, boy. With a self-conscious laugh, I turned to Chloe. “Okay, so Richie wanted to take the film rolls, but you said no. So what happened then?”
A Wrench in the Works Page 4