The usuals who sat at the end of the bar tore their attention away from the televisions on the wall above the shelves of liquor and began teasing me like a bunch of schoolgirls about having a new boyfriend. I ignored their sing-song taunts I knew meant no harm and walked behind the bar to pour myself a drink.
“See what you started?” I joked with my father as I walked away to sit at a nearby table.
He followed me and sat down in the seat opposite me. “You know I always like seeing you when I don’t have to ask you to fill in for one of my bartenders, don’t you?”
I took a sip of my beer and smiled. “I know, Dad. This isn’t a big deal, so don’t make it something it isn’t. I’m just hanging out on a Saturday night.”
He gave me one of his charming Irish grins and put his hands up in surrender. “No problem. Whatever brings you in you know I’m happy to see you. Are you meeting Alex here to talk about the case? Any breaks yet?”
Shaking my head, I admitted the truth of the situation. “No, and Alex has Derek on his back day and night to get it solved before some national media outlet gets their hands on the story and the police department looks like a group of Keystone cops who can’t solve a crossword puzzle, much less a murder case.”
“It has only been a couple of days. Maybe someone needs to remind Derek of that.”
“He’s the chief now, Dad,” I said, reminding him of Derek’s new important status in town. “That means he has to answer to the mayor and the town council. I get that. He’s got a lot more pressure now that he’s the big guy in charge. It’s just that his worries are becoming Alex’s worries and it’s affecting him too.”
My father gave my hand a sympathetic pat. “He’s a strong guy. He can handle it. I wouldn’t worry about him.”
“I guess, but I think Derek’s pressuring him to solve the case quickly is making him have trouble sleeping. He said something about it yesterday, and he’s been particularly miserable for the second day in a row.”
“That doesn’t sound like him,” my father said, knitting his brows like he did whenever he was concerned about something. “He’s usually a pretty easygoing guy.”
I thought back to how he’d reacted to my father’s call about the flowers and nodded. “I know. I’ve gotten used to that guy with such an even-keeled personality, but a couple times yesterday and today he’s actually snapped at me and his face seems to be in a permanent grimace lately.”
My father’s look of worry deepened into a frown. “Well, you’re his partner. Do you think it’s a lack of sleep that’s getting to him?”
Mentally, I walked through everything we’d gone through since finding Lee Reynolds’ body in the woods Thursday night and nothing stood out except for his complaining about Derek hovering over him to get the case solved and off to the DA as soon as possible.
“I can’t think of anything else that would explain his crankiness about so many different things. For both our sakes, we need to solve this case so we can get back to being the partners we’re supposed to be.”
Leaning forward, he said eagerly, “So let’s talk about those flowers.”
With a wink, I said, “Mind your own business.”
“You know I’m all for the idea of you getting out more, Poppy, but isn’t it a little maudlin to start a romance because he’s back in town for his brother’s funeral?”
“I love you, Dad, even though you intrude on my life, like you are now. We’re just two people who happen to be interested in one another. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay?”
My father simply smiled and patted my hand again. “I’m going back up to the bar, but let me know if you need anything.”
“No need, Dad. I know my way around the bar as well as you do, so if I need anything, I’ll just grab it myself.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So independent and so like your mother.”
As he walked away, I yelled to him, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Turning back to look at me, he gave me a wink. “You should. It was one of the most attractive things about your mother.”
Alone again, I thought about what he said about her and remembered the time when I was a little girl and wanted so badly to be a part of the popular girl clique at elementary school. Every day, I would come home crying because I’d been left out again at recess. I was only eight years old and nothing was more important to me than fitting in with that group of girls who all looked so perfect with their long hair in pretty barrettes and ribbons and adorable dresses they wore every day.
So much the opposite of me with my long hair that never seemed to obey a brush and my tomboy ways that made me hate dresses. I would have worn one of them, though, if it meant those popular girls would have accepted me into their group.
One night as she was tucking me into bed, I told my mother I wanted her to buy me new clothes different from what I’d always worn and put my hair in a pretty ponytail. She sat down with me on my twin bed and asked me why I wanted to change how I looked. I told her the truth—that I wanted them to like me and that’s how I’d get them to play with me. The look on her face wasn’t disappointment or sadness but strength. She cradled my face in her hands and smiled as she said, “We can get you new clothes but not for that reason. People have to accept you for who you are, Poppy. There’s no other way to live life. You can change the outside all you want, but I suspect that what makes you different from them isn’t how you look but how you think and feel.”
Then she placed her hand on my heart and said softly, “Don’t ever change for others. Change because you want to for you, not for anyone else. Nobody is worth that.”
I’d never forgotten how her telling that made me feel. As I lay there looking up at her smiling down at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world, I wanted to be just like her. She never needed dresses or ponytails to make her the person my father adored and everyone in town loved. I didn’t get those new clothes or wear my hair in pretty barrettes. Instead, I got a new ten-speed bike I ended up riding until the wheels practically fell off. And those girls never asked me to play with them at recess.
It didn’t matter, though. Years later, in high school after the days of recess on the playground were over and I’d grown out of most of my tomboy ways, I became friends with some of those same girls. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t life changing like I’d been so sure it would be when I was that eight year old girl so hungry for acceptance. My mother had been right all along.
I wore my independence proudly as she had hers, but the way people viewed me wasn’t the same as the way they saw her. My mother had been loved by everyone who met her. I tended to elicit a different response. I liked to tell myself that was because of their small minded ideas about how a woman in her early thirties should be living her life, but maybe it was something else.
Maybe my independence didn’t fit me as well as my mother’s had fit her.
Lost in thought as I remembered that strength even in her last days, I didn’t see the bar begin to fill up around me. When I finally focused on the present again, there stood Jack Reynolds just a few feet away from my table staring at me.
“You looked like you were a million miles away. I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said in that same silky voice I’d heard the first time we’d met in the bar.
“No, not at all,” I said as my eyes scanned his frame. His clothes hung from his body like they were clinging to all the right spots. I had a feeling that blue sweater and jeans he wore hid a toned and lean body.
And I had to admit I wanted to find out more about him and the body under his clothes.
He sat down across from me and confidently leaned back in his chair. “I’d hoped to find you here tonight. I didn’t know if you worked here or not, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
“I don’t exactly work here as much as do my father favors every so often. My day job is at The Sunset Eagle and with my partner solving cases.”
Jack looked a
t me with appreciation in his eyes. “I like a busy woman. You have some varied interests there. Tending bar, writing articles for a newspaper, and solving murders. I’m impressed.”
I basked in his compliment for a moment until a thought tore me out of the good feeling. How did he know I wrote for The Eagle? Quickly, my suspicions rose and I asked, “You seem to know a lot about me. I never said I was an article writer at the newspaper.”
Without missing a beat, he leaned forward until there was barely a few inches between our faces and said in a voice full of sex, “I like knowing about the women I’m interested in.”
Nearly breathless from the electricity between us, I didn’t know how to respond to that, but it didn’t matter because he leaned back in his chair and said with a smile, “Plus, I picked up the paper over at my sister-in-law’s house and saw your name on an article from one of last week’s editions.”
“Oh.”
“Excuse me for a minute so I can get a drink. I won’t be long and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”
As I watched him walk up to the bar, excitement coursed through me. Jack Reynolds had a way about him that screamed seduction, and while I rarely fell for that kind of guy because they usually seemed too slick, I liked how he made me feel. His confidence made me more confident.
But what Alex had said about it being improper for me to spend time with a potential future suspect echoed in my mind. He was right. I knew that. I also knew that in all the years since I’d returned to Sunset Ridge, no other man had made me want to take a chance like Jack. Maybe it was because I knew so little about him. Maybe it was because he obviously liked me.
Or maybe it was just the pure physical attraction that existed between the two of us. Whatever it was, I found it hard to obey the rules Alex had set forth for my interactions with Jack.
And perhaps he was just the person I saw and not a potential suspect in his brother’s death. I wasn’t planning a life with him or anything past the next few days, after all, so what harm could come from spending a little time getting to know him?
Jack returned to the table and smiled at me like he knew what I’d been thinking about in his absence. As much as I wouldn’t call myself aggressive, I wouldn’t have minded him knowing what I liked about him. He had a way of making me want to go after what interested me.
“So where were we? Oh yeah, you were telling me how busy you are yet I’m lucky enough to see you here all alone. Where’s the ever-present police officer who seems to be by your side all the time?”
I saw through his question to the real point he wanted to know about. “I don’t know where he is tonight. We only spend time together on the job, to be honest. Maybe he’s with his girlfriend.”
At hearing the word girlfriend, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he ran his tongue along his delicious looking bottom lip. “Good to know.”
The lull that came next didn’t make me want to fill the dead space with useless words, so I didn’t. Instead, I kept my focus on him, forcing myself to not look away when he felt too close and like he was seeing inside me to what I’d already decided I wanted from him.
“You’re an interesting woman, Poppy McGuire. To hear the people in this town talk, you’re the model for that woman on the Old Maid card deck, but as I sit here with you now, I see someone entirely different from her. I like what I’m seeing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m wondering how you got this entire Podunk town to see you as something entirely incorrect.”
His mention of the gossips of Sunset Ridge at first made me feel self-conscious, but as he continued to talk, I liked that he was able to discern a different part of me. “They think what they want to think and don’t let anything that contradicts their opinion to get in the way. It’s what keeps them happy in their little lives.”
That came out a little sharper than I’d intended, but he’d hit a nerve with his mention of my sad reputation in town. Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by my indictment of them, though, and just took a drink of his beer.
“I like you,” he said with a smile that could charm the birds out of the trees. “You’re smart.”
I winked and asked, “Podunk smart?”
Shaking his head, his eyes flashed a seriousness I hadn’t seen in him before. “Oh no. You’re way smarter than anyone gives you credit for. That’s for sure.”
As much as I liked talking to him, I couldn’t help but feel like he was studying me. That unnerved me, so I quickly moved to change the topic to him since I knew little more than his name and his relation to a dead man.
“So tell me about you, Jack Reynolds. What do you do when you aren’t here?”
He swiped his tongue over his lower lip and smiled again. “What do I do? I’m a freelance photojournalist. When I’m not here, I’m a million other places in the world. Shanghai, Tibet, the Cape of Good Hope, Moscow, Lisbon. You name it, I’ve been there.”
“Really?” I asked, enchanted by the idea of his traveling the world. I wanted to hear more about his life, which sounded more like an adventure than mere living.
“Yep. I’ve been everywhere and seen the world. Oh, the places we could go, Poppy. I see you in Madrid on a hot afternoon at a stadium watching bullfighting or in Paris on a spring day at an outdoor café eating something light and sweet.”
Just the brief description of me in those places sounded wonderful, and I found myself joining him in the daydream of the places we could see together. I’d always fantasized traveling to faraway places, and even though I’d returned to Sunset Ridge and stayed all this time, those dreams hadn’t faded away. If anything, they remained in my mind more often because the life I’d chosen wasn’t exactly the life I wanted.
Gazing into his exotic green eyes that seemed perfect for someone with such a fantastic life, I said, “I could listen to you talk all night, Jack. What you do sounds so interesting. So free.”
His face lit up from his broad smile that stretched ear to ear, and he pointed his finger at me. “That’s the secret to a great life, Poppy. Freedom.”
Freedom. That word resonated in my brain. Of all the things I had in life, freedom seemed so far down on the list that it barely made it. I lived on my own in my own house. I owned my own car. I ate what I wanted, where I wanted, and enjoyed what I loved whenever I felt like it. I chose where I went and with whom every day.
But rarely would I have considered my life one based on freedom.
“You’re very lucky to have a life like that, Jack. What made you want to be a photographer?” I asked, eager to steer the conversation away from more talk of freedom.
He raised his hands as if to frame my face inside them. “I loved seeing people. I mean really seeing them and who they are. The camera doesn’t lie. It purely and objectively shows what a person is. I wanted to be someone who gave that to the world.”
“How long did you go to school to learn how to do that?”
He brushed off my question with a sneer. “I went to college for art, but school isn’t where someone learns how to see the world. Life experience is what teaches you that.”
“So you’re a self-taught photographer? That’s impressive.”
Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest. “When you find something you love, it’s nothing to learn everything about it. I bought myself some equipment and set out to capture what I saw.”
“That sounds so great!” I said, loving how easy he made heading out into the world on his own sound. “What’s your favorite place you’ve visited and your favorite picture you’ve taken?”
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together before answering me. When he decided on his answers, he opened his eyes again and smiled. “My favorite place, hands down, has to be Fiji. The water is so perfectly turquoise and when you take a picture of it, it’s so pure looking you feel like you’re right there no matter where you are. And my favorite shot? That would have to be the one I took of the Cathedral of Vasily the Blessed in Moscow at night.”
Nodding, he whipped out his cell phone and swiped the screen to get to his pictures. “I took a picture with my phone too so I could quickly send it to my friend. It’s not the same as the one I took with my gear, but I think you’ll recognize the place.”
He held the phone in front of me and I instantly knew the famous building. “St. Basil’s. Oh. I didn’t recognize it by the name you used.”
“That’s the correct name of it in Russian.”
I’d seen pictures of St. Basil’s before and always found myself in awe at the design of the gorgeously colored domes that set the cathedral apart from every other church in the world. Never had I met anyone who’d seen such a fantastic sight in person, and there sat Jack right across from me talking about it among all the other wonderful places he’d seen in the world.
“So now I want to hear about you, Poppy McGuire. What incredible story is your life?”
I cringed at his description of what I was about to tell him. Very little of my story was incredible, unfortunately.
Quietly, I said, “I wish I could say I had a great tale to tell you, but I’m afraid I don’t. I grew up in Sunset Ridge, went away to college, and right before I graduated my mother passed away. So I came back here to be with my father after her death. I started working at The Sunset Eagle and I’ve been there and here ever since.”
How quickly that time had flown by and how many plans I’d had that had never come to pass. I couldn’t help but wish my story was more exciting.
I waited for a look of disgust or at least disappointment from him, but it never came. He simply smiled and leaned forward to stare into my eyes. “Life is for living, not regretting, so you should begin living. It’s never too late to go after everything you want in life, Poppy.”
His acceptance of who I was, even though I probably wasn’t like the people he usually spent time with, charmed me. I knew what I wanted, and at that moment, I wanted him.
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