In the process of replaying her chat with Shirleen, Eastlyn wasn’t paying attention and bumped her shopping cart into someone else’s. The woman pushing the other basket was a sleek, longhaired beauty, who brought to mind Native American royalty. Her cart was filled to the brim with groceries and kids—a sleeping infant tucked into a carrier and a little boy demanding to be set free.
Eastlyn immediately began to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was a million miles away, thinking of something else.”
The woman sent her a disarming smile. “That’s okay. I’m often distracted myself. I’m River Cody, Brent’s wife.”
River scooped up the toddler before he got restless and set his feet down on the floor. The exotic eyes zeroed in on the child and she pointed a stern finger in the air. “No running off. You stay beside me or back in the cart you go.”
Eastlyn lifted a brow in surprise and introduced herself. “You’re the noted archaeologist? You look more like a model.”
River snorted with laughter. “Ah, words to inspire a woman who’s recently given birth and feels like a fat cow.”
“Not a thing wrong with the way you look. I met your husband early on.”
River slapped Eastlyn on the arm in a friendly gesture. “If it’s any consolation I tried my best to discourage Brent’s trip to Bakersfield and dissuade him from taking part in dragging you back here. But it’s difficult to derail the Scott power train whenever it gets going in one direction. Besides, we’re glad you’re in town now. And look at you, settling in, becoming a part of the community so fast.”
“Scott seems to have a hold on the people in this town,” Eastlyn grumbled. But peering at the baby softened her mood.”
“That’s Seth,” River explained.
“He’s beautiful.” Eastlyn noticed the little boy at River’s side growing bored with the conversation so she bent at the waist to the tot’s eye level. “And who are you?”
“Luke Cody. I’m four, and I go to school. My dad’s chief.”
River rubbed a hand over her son’s hair. “Luke goes to preschool three days a week at the Community Church to get him ready for kindergarten next year. Brent’s working today and I have grocery duty. We switch off chores to keep it fair. And I’m rambling. Another sign I’ve been caged up in the house too long without having another adult to talk to.”
Eastlyn stood up, grinned. “I’m not at home much but if you ever want to spend time away from the kids and Brent agrees to babysit…”
“I’d love to,” River said quickly. “Whatever it is, I’d love to do it. As long as we aren’t robbing a convenience store, I’m in. Now that I think about it, Jordan holds this ‘mother’s day out’ event once a month. The husbands are required to take the kids for an entire afternoon so we meet for lunch at Promise Cove. It’s four hours of no crying, no diaper changing or wiping snotty noses. We’d love for you to join us.”
“But I don’t have kids.”
“Doesn’t matter. Julianne McLachlan doesn’t have kids either. It’s girls only. You’ll fit in perfectly.”
“There’s Scott,” Luke announced, sticking one finger in his mouth and waving toward the dairy section. “Hi, Scott.”
“Where?” Eastlyn asked.
“Over there.” The little boy pointed to where the milk and cheese were kept. “Scott gave me a firetwuck for Cwistmas. It’s my favorite twuck.”
Eastlyn’s eyes roamed the store. Sure enough, Scott stood by the refrigerated section. “Your son actually sees Scott? Doesn’t that alarm you? Is everyone around here used to the Scott Phillips bandwagon?”
River turned to stick Seth’s pacifier back in his mouth. “Why would it alarm me? Scott isn’t malevolent or anything close, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s just that…reasonable people don’t see ghosts.”
“Are you saying my son isn’t reasonable?” River teased with a glint in her eye. “Who says any of us around here fit into the reasonable column?” The archaeologist leaned in and asked in a low voice, “So you aren’t a fan of living in a real life ghost story? Understandable.”
Eastlyn resisted the urge to take a step back. “But reasonable people should be able to think on their own.”
“If only we could find reasonable people most of the time, who always do the right thing,” River cracked. “That’s the problem.”
Eastlyn wasn’t exactly sure what River meant by that. But since Scott seemed to have everyone under his spell, she tried to change the subject. “I stopped by your museum last Sunday, spent several hours getting to know the history of the Chumash. As docent, you’ve done a tremendous job there.”
“Thanks. It’s been both a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. But now that tourists and school groups are streaming through the doors, all the hard work is behind us, for the most part anyway. You say you went through the entire gallery from top to bottom? Then you should know Native Americans are big on spirit guides. It’s evident in the museum. Since you’re caught up in Scott’s role here, maybe it’s best if you think of it this way. It isn’t voodoo or witchcraft or ghostly interference. The hold Scott has stems from how he feels about his hometown. He helps people through their life choices, helps them make the right decisions. Scott’s nothing to fear. You may accept him for what he is or not. No one will force you to do either one. Scott wouldn’t want it that way.”
“You talk as though he’s a real person.”
River tilted her head to make a point. “You were a pilot, right? Pilots depend on their instruments to land or an air traffic controller telling them the best flight path to take to avoid bad weather. You’ll fare better if you think of Scott as the one who’ll make sure you have a smooth flight.”
The tiny baby boy in the infant seat began to squirm. “Uh-oh. That’s my signal to wrap this up, Seth’s getting hungry. Come by and see me and we’ll finish this Scott thing. Better still, next Saturday plan to make it to Promise Cove for lunch.”
Eastlyn stood there and watched River take off down the aisle feeling as though a Mack truck had whizzed by her doing ninety-five.
While finishing up her shopping, it occurred to Eastlyn that a scientist like River who dealt in facts could so easily believe and readily accept Scott’s existence. It made her wonder what was in the Pelican Pointe water.
Eastlyn’s idea of throwing a meal together meant making the best use of her go-to kitchen appliance—the ever-reliable Crock-Pot. For a girl who’d lost her mother at the age of nine, she’d perfected the art of cooking the four basic food groups all in one pot. Whether it was beans, a hearty winter soup with vegetables, or a simmering stew, if it couldn’t be dumped into a slow cooker, she didn’t bother fixing it.
She’d long ago come up with creative ways to spice up taco meat and make it tasty. She even found ways to fix eggs by tossing all sorts of breakfast ingredients in and serving them up like casseroles. Her Crock-Pot acted as her source for making just about any meal edible.
Her father used to say that when he turned the corner coming in from work, he could always smell Eastlyn’s special dishes from the end of the driveway. But he never knew what was in store for him until he walked through the door.
So tonight for a sit-down supper with Cooper, she’d taken extra care to tenderize brisket, slow-roasted it all day smothered in the homemade barbeque sauce she’d created at fourteen from scratch. The meal had been a family favorite, with her dad and brother always filling their plates with seconds. That’s one reason she trusted that the food would melt in Cooper’s mouth without complaint.
From her tiny kitchen, she heard footsteps on the porch. She moved toward the door where Coop greeted her holding a huge cluster of snowy gerbera daisies mixed with plum-colored lavender. The flowers were already in a stunning turquoise-colored vase.
Like most females, her nose went straight into the blossoms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“No problem. Shelby
told me you had a fondness for them. And the other day I saw that you’d spread out the same ones all across your stoop.”
She’d never known a man who noticed such things. “I love the color of the container. You had to know I probably wouldn’t have anything to put them in.”
“It crossed my mind. Something smells good.”
“What would you like to drink? I picked up an inexpensive bottle of red at Murphy’s. Or I have beer.”
“The red’s fine. I talked to Nick the other day. He thinks there’ll be no problem swinging the deal for the chopper.”
“Wow, that was quick. So how much are we talking about?”
Cooper tossed out an extremely low number.
“You’re kidding? This thing might really happen? I’d be the owner of my own bird.” She hooted with laughter and went over to set the flowers down in the center of the table. “Now that’s some major irony—me without my pilot’s license.”
“While making it air-worthy, you’ll deal with that little detail.”
“I should go back out there and examine it more carefully first before taking that giant step. It truly might be more of a headache than I can handle right now.”
Cooper looked puzzled. What had happened to turn her excitement into hesitation, or more like indecision? “You’re having second thoughts.”
“I’m cautious, there’s a difference.”
“No, it’s more than that.”
“Does it look like I’m rolling in dough? That I have cash to waste on what will likely be nothing more than a hobby?”
“So we’ll find a use for it. You could start a charter service, carry tourists out to sightseeing locations along the coast.”
“Doesn’t Bree Dayton already do that for Promise Cove?”
“A variation. She hauls guests back and forth to Treasure Island.”
Eastlyn began to fuss with dinner, setting the main dish out along with a huge bowl of salad. “I hope you like brisket.”
“I’m a carnivore. What’s not to like about barbeque?”
Eastlyn got down glasses, poured the wine. When she noticed he was still standing in her little living room, she said, “Go ahead and take a seat. I don’t bite.”
“That’s a shame. I bet I could sweet-talk you into changing your mind.”
She actually blushed and tried to maintain a measure of poise and control. “I don’t usually need much coaxing,” she fired back.
“That’s good to know,” he said with a grin, taking his first bite of tasty beef. “This is good.”
Feeling as though she’d regained the balance of power, she went on, “I bumped into River Cody at the market today. Believe it or not, her little boy actually spotted Scott hanging around the dairy section, which led us into an interesting conversation. River’s premise is that Scott acts as a spirit guide for the whole town, or at least those who believe in such things.”
“That’s not far from the truth. Throughout various cultures people have believed in protectors of sorts, like the gatekeeper whose role is to drive away evil spirits. Then there are the message bearers. Think of them in the same vein as the three wise men. Then you have the Native American shamans, who act as the spiritual backbone of the tribe. The monks of olden times were thought of in much the same way. The Irish believed in the fairies, the magical creatures that spread merriment and joy wherever they went. As you can see, Scott is a little bit of all of those things.”
“I’m guessing I haven’t experienced any of Scott’s merriment and joy yet,” Eastlyn quipped. “Considering his irritating habit of springing up during inappropriate times.”
“Or in the middle of the night. Those will cause a few gray hairs to pop up. I believe he’s in that category of spirits who’ve crossed over, yet choose to come back. No one knows why.”
“That’s fairly easy. He’s under the mistaken impression he’s helping people.
She leaned back in her chair, picked up her wine and studied Cooper’s face. “Has anyone ever told you that with all your theories you’d make a good teacher?”
He cracked a grin. “When I was younger Landon and Shelby encouraged me to pursue that as a career. But it meant being cooped up in a classroom all day. That’s not me.”
“No, it isn’t you. You’re at home in your store because it makes you happy being there. It’s a solitary environment.” When he sent her a curious look, she added, “There’s not a thing wrong with a solo workplace.”
“And you’re at home in the air,” Coop said matter-of-factly. “That could be construed as a solo endeavor.
“It could. It certainly applied to my dad.”
“Tell me about him.”
Cooper noticed the soft look that came into her eyes at the mention of her father.
“Dad didn’t settle down and get married until late in life. He was thirty-eight when he met my mom. Had my brother at forty, and me two years later at forty-two. There were times he wasn’t sure what to do with us. But after my mom got sick, it was up to him to see we got fed, had clean clothes, and went to bed at a decent hour. It was a difficult time for him. I’ve never seen a man more devastated at losing a mate. Even then, I knew how much he must’ve loved her.”
“Love like that doesn’t come along very often.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
To lighten the mood, he recited the latest gossip. “Drea tells me she’s getting serious about Zach Dennison, but she doesn’t think he feels the same way.”
“See, love is a tricky slope that causes heartache more often than not.”
When Cooper pushed back from the table indicating he was done with his meal, she couldn’t resist showing him that the newcomer had her own direct line to a measure of gossip. She told him about her conversation with Brent.
“What? I told you that stuff about the Edgecombes and their compound so you’d know more about the area and know which part of the county to stay out of, not so you’d go after the lowlifes still living there.”
She took a calming breath, prepared to butt heads with him.
“You need to realize that area for what it is—a dangerous place. Those people are merciless. They’ll do anything to keep their activities from becoming common knowledge. Anyone who cooks up crystal meth lives a ruthless life. Besides…”
She pushed her once-tasty barbeque around her plate, her appetite gone. “You’re overreacting. Offering to help doesn’t mean I’d go looking for trouble inside someone’s meth compound willy-nilly. I’m not stupid. There are other ways to do that effectively.”
He cut her a disbelieving glower. “Do you know what that bunch would do to you if they found you spying on them, on their own property? You just said you and Brent cooked up this scheme to go snooping around.”
“It wasn’t Brent’s idea. I’m the one who approached him about it.”
“I know you mean well, but not everyone who lives in that area has put out the welcome mat. They don’t appreciate unwanted visitors. You need to be aware that the Edgecombes’ place is less than two miles from that barn. You start working on that chopper and you might cross paths with them. That’s the reason I brought it up. If you’re planning to buy that thing, you’d obviously be hanging around the farm a lot.” Cooper ran a hand through his long hair. “I was trying to…”
“Protect me?” She laid a hand on his arm. “That’s sweet. I didn’t mean to snap at you. There’s no point in arguing about this or getting upset because Brent thought it was a stupid idea. He told me to drop it.”
Cooper’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. He linked his fingers with hers squeezing her hand. He tugged her closer. His voice grew quiet. “It might’ve been a good idea if you’d thought to lead with that little nugget first. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”
On impulse, Cooper nipped her up out of her chair, moved in to close his mouth over hers. He teased and coaxed a smile out of her lips. With a playful tongue he worked on getting more, until finally she began to loosen her h
old on the string of knots around her set jaw.
Her pulse quickened. Her belly quivered. Desire poked its way through the tangle of tension over the argument.
They slid into the kiss, as soft as velvet and satin, a slow meeting of lips laced with lust. When they finally broke apart, he took a measured breath. “Who knew this meal would be so special? It marks our first major disagreement.”
“Our first? Who knew a nerdy train store owner packed such a punch.”
“I’m just warming up. Besides, a geek has to start somewhere.”
After Cooper left for home she cleaned up the dishes and got ready for bed. While brushing her teeth, Eastlyn began to wonder what was truly bothering her about the discussion at supper. She’d felt edgy all evening. It was more than sexual tension. Now as bedtime approached, she faced another night of going to sleep without having her crutch to help her nod off. Vicodin had been her prop for two years.
Indecision warred with her insides. Did she really want to go on the hook for an old helicopter?
Why did Cooper feel she needed a protector? She could take care of herself. But she’d kept quiet on that score. Had she simply talked him down to keep the argument from escalating?
Edgy, she felt it building up, the jitters coming. Nights like these were tougher than others.
“You’re scared and doubting yourself, afraid of trying new things.”
Eastlyn recognized the voice and turned to see Scott sitting on the windowsill.
“You’re either in or out,” Eastlyn snarled. “Which is it?”
The ghost didn’t hang around.
“Damn. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?”
She tried to get off to sleep but each time she tried to close her eyes Scott’s words kept coming back to her.
Was she scared of trying new things? Was she in the habit of doubting herself? She’d had plenty of self-confidence in the army. You couldn’t become a pilot without a heavy chunk of swagger.
But having to leave her dream behind along with the military life she’d planned in exchange for civilian life hadn’t been easy. With a life-altering disability there had been adjustments to make. She and her father had butted heads about it.
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