He didn’t get it. “She’s my responsibility.”
“No. She came here a mess and we helped her. She’s not your responsibility. She’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions. The same way Jenna made her decision about Tad.” He rocked his chair back on two legs and propped his feet up on the shelf beneath the counter. “You’ve got to get over this sudden urge to save all the twentysomethings from what you see as mistakes. You can’t go back and undo your past by interfering in theirs.”
They’d had arguments before but for the first time in the twenty-five years she’d known Bull Swenson, she was furious with him. Anger rolled through her like a firestorm.
She rounded on him. “Am I just supposed to stand by while they make these mistakes?” His relaxed posture when she was so upset further annoyed the hell out of her.
“Yes, you are.”
“But….”
“Merrilee, honey, as much as you want to take care of everyone and protect everyone, you can’t. You have to allow people to follow their own paths.”
“And what if you know they’re making a big mistake?”
“That’s life and the freedom to live it. Baby, you’ve made big mistakes and it wasn’t as long ago as twenty-five years.”
Ouch. She guessed he’d been waiting for that. Apparently Bull wasn’t as perfect as she’d thought and didn’t quite fight fair when backed in a corner.
Merrilee raised her chin. “Yes, I have made some mistakes. I should’ve told you I wasn’t divorced from the beginning and I didn’t. To your point, I can’t undo the past, so when are you going to forgive me for that?”
“I’ve forgiven you, Merrilee.” He put the chair down on all four legs and stood, suddenly looking as weary as she felt. “I just can’t seem to forget.”
She’d hurt him and that was the last thing she’d ever wanted to do to this man, but she couldn’t change the past. If she could, she would—in a heartbeat. “Well, maybe it’s not so much a matter of forgetting as it is letting go.”
“I’m trying. It’s as if we lived a lie for twenty-five years.” He rubbed at his shoulder and she knew his old war wounds were giving him a fit. But it didn’t change the fact he was wrong.
“No. We didn’t live a lie for twenty-five years. What was…is…between us is real. That’s always been real—there’s no lie there.” She raised her chin a notch and stared into his sherry-brown eyes. “I’ve been in love with you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, Bull Swenson.”
“Then dammit, woman, when are you going to make an honest man of me?” Bull didn’t get upset often, but he was upset now. She could tell by the stiff set of his shoulders and the impatient edge in his voice.
For all his gruff manner, Marine tattoos, and the long gray hair he kept pulled back in a ponytail, Bull was surprisingly conventional. He’d been asking her to marry him on a regular basis since she’d first met him. Then when he’d found out she and Tad were still married, Bull had told her he wouldn’t be asking her to marry him again. Next time, he’d implied the asking would be up to her. He was handing her the opportunity now. And she simply couldn’t.
For all her traditional Southern upbringing, she wasn’t nearly as conventional as Bull. Plus, she’d spent thirty-seven years legally tied to a man she didn’t want to be legally tied to. Albeit the last twenty-five years she and Tad had been apart, but she’d been legally bound to him nonetheless. Why in the world would she want to step back into that mess all over again? From her perspective it was way too easy to get married and far too hard to get unmarried.
“I guess I don’t see the point, Bull. Does a piece of paper mean I love you more? No. It’s not as if we have children together.”
His eyes seemed to bore straight through to her soul. “It means commitment.”
Had she missed something? Apparently she had. “I don’t know how either one of us can be any more committed than we have been. I haven’t looked at another man and I know you haven’t looked at another woman. We’ve taken care of one another when we were sick, we’ve seen each other through lean times. We’ve lived those vows you take in a church, so what difference does it make?”
“It means I get to call you my wife.”
Merrilee had no answer for that.
6
NICK CAME DOWNSTAIRS and headed for the restaurant, nodding a greeting to the two old-timers over at the chess table. Merrilee wasn’t at her desk and he was just as happy to escape her sharp-eyed censorship this morning.
He was a hundred percent sure she’d heard his comings and goings last night. He also was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t approve. He got a vibe from her and he didn’t know if it was fear, wariness, distrust, or general dislike. Hell, it might even be a combination thereof—he wasn’t on her favorite person list and he’d be damned if he knew why. Most people liked him.
His gut told him it had something to do with Gus. Merrilee hadn’t wanted to leave him alone with Gus in the restaurant last night. There was her whole general protectiveness, but his instincts told him there was more to it. He was certain it had something to do with the mystery of Gus’s true identity and her exodus from New York.
He’d lain awake last night, well, technically this morning, turning everything over in his head. He couldn’t remember when he’d had as good a time as he had last night—all parts of the evening from working in the restaurant to his date with Gus, although his date with Gus definitely ranked highest, and that kiss…
The woman did something to him. He’d always been very discriminating about his lovers. Not only was it prudent, but it was just the way he was made. But last night he would’ve climbed right into bed with her, something he’d never done on a first date, if she’d just given him the word.
In turning things over in his head, something kept niggling at the back of his brain, but it wouldn’t fall into place. He shrugged. What he needed would come to him if he was just patient. He could practically hear his mother reassuring him as she had so many times in the past when he was impatient with life, in good time, Nicky, in good time.
He walked through the connecting door, the aroma of eggs, bacon and fresh coffee beckoning. Clint and Dalton sat at the bar, nursing cups of java. Nick glanced around, looking for Gus, but didn’t spot her.
“Hey, Nick. Hunting some breakfast?” Clint said.
Dalton looked at Clint and grinned. “Nah, he’s hunting for Gus.” Dalton looked back at Nick. “She hasn’t come down yet this morning. Apparently she had a pretty late evening last night.”
Well, so much for being subtle in looking around for Gus. While there were obviously some secrets floating around in Good Riddance, for the most part it seemed everyone’s business was public. It was eight-fifteen in the a.m. and already their late night was common knowledge. Nick had a new appreciation for Gus’s explanation of why dating in Good Riddance could be very awkward.
He simply smiled and slid into the empty stool next to Clint. “Breakfast sounds good.”
“By the way,” Clint said, “I told my cousin you’d volunteered to help decorate for the pageant. She said around twelve-thirty.”
“I’ll be there,” Nick said. And so would Gus, but he didn’t volunteer that information. He bit back a grin. There was no need given the way news traveled here. Luckily, he found it part of the town’s charm.
Mavis, a tall raw-boned woman, who covered the breakfast and lunch shift, poured Nick a cup of coffee and took their orders. The front door opened and a short, squat woman, her black hair plaited in a single braid down her back, entered. “Hey, Clint, Dalton,” she said by way of greeting.
“Speak of the devil,” Clint said. He introduced the woman as his and Nelson’s cousin, Luellen Sisnuket. “Nice to meet you,” she said. She had the same melodic cadence as Clint and Nelson.
Mavis wandered over. “What’s up, Luellen?”
The shorter woman looked positively mournful. “Trouble in paradise. That’s what.”
“What do
you mean?”
“They’re dropping like flies. Nelson called me a few minutes ago. Curl has the flu.”
It occurred to Nick that were they anywhere else, it would be a huge breach of patient confidentiality for one of the medical staff, namely Nelson in this case, to call up someone other than the patient and discuss a diagnosis, but Good Riddance seemed to rock along to a rhythm all its own.
He didn’t have to turn his head to know Gus had entered the room and walked over. He recognized her scent and it was as if he possessed a sixth sense when it came to her. He looked to his left. Sure enough, she was approaching the counter looking pulled together in a black sweater over black pants, silver earrings and her signature red lipstick. For a second their eyes met and it was as if something special passed between them. A radiant smile lit her face and he grinned back like a fool.
When he turned back to the group, Dalton tugged at the collar of his shirt. “It sure got hot in here all of sudden,” he said with a teasing smirk. “Do you think it’s hot, Clint?”
Clint nodded, a gleam in his eyes. “Definitely.”
Smart-asses. Mavis, the true meaning of the exchange going straight over her head, peered at both Dalton and Clint in concern. “I sure hope you two aren’t getting sick, ’cause it don’t feel any different in here to me.”
“We’ll be alright,” Dalton said.
“Morning,” Gus said by way of general greeting. “So, Curl has the flu now?” Apparently she’d caught the last part of Luellen’s announcement and being the wise woman she was chose to ignore Dalton and Clint’s sly ribbing.
Luellen nodded. “Yeah, so now we’re short a judge for the Ms. Chrismoose pageant tomorrow night.”
Mavis glanced from Dalton to Clint, a speculative gleam in her eye. “Since both of you are feeling okay….”
“Nope,” Clint said.
Dalton shook his head and threw up a hand. “No way.”
Both men looked at Nick. It was Dalton who offered the explanation. “It’s hell to live in a town and be a pageant judge. Three contestants wouldn’t speak to me for nearly six months afterwards the one year I was dumb enough to get rooked into it.”
Mavis was looking at Nick. “Would you—”
What the hell? He didn’t live here, nor did he plan to. It’d be fun. “I could—” Nick spoke at the same time.
“Would you, really?” Mavis beamed.
“I think it’d be cool,” Nick said. “I’ve never been a pageant judge before.”
Dalton snorted and gave him a pitying look. “That’s what I thought, too, man.” He grinned. “Of course, you don’t have to live here afterwards either so it’ll probably work out okay for you.”
Luellen nodded, a faint smile curving her mouth. “That’s a big relief.”
“Luellen and I head up the pageant committee,” Mavis explained to Nick. “You just took a big headache off our plate. Thank you.”
It was a totally mixed metaphor but he knew what she meant.
At his elbow, Gus laughed. “You’re quite the volunteer. Better watch out or when it’s time for you to leave, the town might not let you go.”
Luellen gave another one of her solemn nods. “Good Riddance has a way of doing that. We captivate people and then they don’t want to leave.”
Dalton nodded. “Skye warned you the other night. Sometimes this place just gets in your blood.”
Nick laughed but he wanted to make sure Gus was clear on who and what he was. “As charming as I find your town, I’m the traveling man. My job takes me all over the world and then back to New York.”
Gus seemed to be suddenly busy with something over by the register and didn’t look up. But he had no doubt she’d heard him.
Luellen sagely intoned, “We’ll see.”
“Mavis, these eggs are getting cold,” Lucky yelled from the kitchen.
Tapping on the counter, Mavis said, “Hold on boys, let me snag your eats.”
Gus finished up whatever she’d been doing over by the register and poured a cup of coffee. She hefted the pot in their direction. “Anybody need a refill or topping off?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Clint said while Dalton shook his head no.
“I’ll take a little more,” Nick said. What he’d take was another kiss given half an opportunity but it certainly wouldn’t be here and now.
“Gus is our reigning Ms. Chrismoose,” Mavis said, returning with their plates. “She’ll have to give up her crown tomorrow night.”
Well, damn. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as a contestant. Pageants always included a swimsuit competition, didn’t they?
A faint blush crawled up her face. Nick couldn’t help but tease her. “I didn’t know I was dealing with a crowned queen.”
“You’re kidding,” Dalton said with a smirk. “She’s had us all bowing and scraping for the past year.”
“You need to bow and scrape right now, Saunders,” Gus said, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance.
Dalton grinned while Nick and Clint laughed. Nick could see how a person could get easily get caught up in this little town. But that was neither here nor there for him. He was out of here in a couple of days and on to the next assignment.
GUS LIKED THE WAY NICK HELD the door for her as they left the restaurant that afternoon to go to the community center. But then again, she was hard-pressed to find something she didn’t like about this man. Even though the streets were bustling with the influx of adults, kids and animals for Chrismoose, now that they weren’t part of a group Gus suddenly felt self-conscious with Nick.
All she’d been able to think about this morning in the restaurant was the taste, the texture, the heat of his mouth against hers and how much she wanted to feel that again, and more, much more. And how it was damn near impossible to find a private moment when you lived in a teeny tiny town where your business was everyone else’s business.
She shot a sidelong glance at his mouth, the lines of his face etched into her brain. He was handsome in a way that stole her breath. It wasn’t simply the slant of his nose or the angle of his cheekbones or those piercing blue eyes that made him breathtaking. It was the man beneath who displayed wit and insight, who painted a picture with words that brought a place to life, a man who embraced each experience with enthusiasm, curiosity and appreciation. A man who had danced her across the floor of her closed restaurant and then kissed her into a new dimension. All told, she really didn’t think she could wait until tonight to kiss him again. But given the throngs of people, she might as well redirect her thoughts to more realistic matters.
“We’ll have to walk,” Gus said. “I don’t have a car.”
“No problem.” Nick grinned and turned up the collar of his coat. “Spoken like a true transplanted New Yorker. I don’t have a car either. Traffic is ridiculous and it’s too expensive to garage it.”
Gus knew exactly what he meant. “Yep. I either cabbed it, walked, or took the subway when I lived there. I just walk now.” There was a lot of traffic out this morning. Two trucks and a rusted out car had already passed them.
“Is there even a cab that runs here?” He didn’t sound critical, simply curious. That was yet another thing she liked about him—his curiosity, even though it could be her own downfall, except he couldn’t possibly discover her real name. She admired how interested he was in everything. Perhaps it was his appreciation for all the minutia of life that made his blog so interesting.
She grinned. “Not like a yellow checkered cab. There’s Perry, who prospects a couple of miles out of town. If someone needs a ride, he’s the go-to guy. That’s how he and Donna met, when she fixed his gear box.”
He glanced down at her. “Does everyone here have a story?”
Before she could reply, he reached between them and took her gloved hand in his. The two of them walking down the sidewalk holding hands would be all over town before they even reached the community center, but Gus didn’t care. She left her hand in his and answered his question.
“Pretty much.”
She could feel it pulsing between them, his curiosity as to her story. It was inevitable he’d ask prying questions. She jumped in with one of her own first. “What’d you think of the ice fishing?”
He’d hitched a ride after breakfast with Clint and Dalton out to where the tournament was being held.
“It was interesting. A couple of guys were still setting up so it was cool to watch them auger a hole through the ice and get settled. There were almost as many women out fishing as men, plus a handful of kids. I thought that was great. I’m certain I wouldn’t have the patience to just sit there on the ice all day, though.”
“You and me both.”
He grinned down at her and her heart seemed to somersault in her chest. “You’re not a fishing enthusiast?”
“Hardly.”
“I love the moose along the street,” Nick said, changing the subject.
“They’re fun, aren’t they? The kids all love them.”
The air was crisp without being biting cold, and snow drifted down as if it couldn’t quite decide whether to fall or not. For whatever reason the day seemed brighter than usual.
“How long did it take you to get used to the long hours of dark in the winter?” Nick asked. The sun had finally broken December’s seemingly interminable darkness, but it would be a brief appearance.
Gus shook her head. “Don’t tell anyone but I’m still not used to it.” She hated the long days of dark. She didn’t think she’d ever make the adjustment.
“Do you miss New York?”
She didn’t answer right away, weighing it, trying to be honest with herself. “There are things about it I miss,” she said slowly, a bit of a melancholy drifting over her. She’d tried to block it from her mind for the past several years since it was no longer an option, but the conversation with Nick forced her to acknowledge it. “Christmas in New York is incomparable. Rockefeller Center, the department store decorations, the crowds, the Santas working the corners, Central Park.”
“I know. There really isn’t anything like it anywhere else, is there?” He sent another of his casual glances her way which didn’t feel casual at all. It felt more as if he were peering into her very soul, regardless of whether she wanted him there or not. “Have you been back to the city since you moved here?”
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