by Stacy Finz
“Right.” He’d known that from the get-go, so why was he suddenly surprised? “You don’t have a house there anymore?”
“I’ve listed mine, which I got in the divorce. I don’t need all that house and I’ll need capital to run my new company. I’ll probably get a condo in Santa Monica or Venice.”
“You like the ocean, huh?”
“And the mountains too.” She gazed around the house. “This place was Robert’s idea, but I’ve come to love it—and the town.”
“Yep, Glory Junction’s something.” Lisa had called it quaint, which he’d found insulting. Quaint wasn’t the way you described home. And for him this was home—everything he loved. Family, friends, and the people he’d known his entire life, who had shaped him into the man he was today.
“What if you don’t have a collection?” He wasn’t quite sure what defined a collection, but he knew she hadn’t been able to design anything of substance lately.
She thought about it. “I’ll go to Los Angeles and try to design there. Maybe the change in scenery will spark something. I came here to lie low while Robert and I hashed out the details of our divorce. I guess you could call it running away.”
Colt watched her for a moment. “What were you afraid of ?”
“Failure mostly. I was the talent, but Robert was the business. Without his urging, I’d probably still be working for another designer and never would have had the confidence to go out on my own.”
“So what really happened between you two?” he asked.
The question seemed to startle her. “Like I said, we grew apart.”
“Call it a cop’s intuition, but I’d say there’s more to it.”
“You don’t believe people can grow apart?”
“Sure. But from what I’ve seen there’s usually something that happens, like an affair or a life-changing situation, to make two people realize that they don’t belong together.” For Chip and Hannah, it had been Chip’s newfound sobriety.
She was quiet for a long time, then finally said, “Yes, but it’s too personal to talk about.”
“Okay. Should we change the subject?”
She took a few sips of her wine. “I think we should delve into your personal life.”
“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”
She snorted. “You’re closed tighter than a vault.”
“No, I’m not. To prove it, you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
“What?”
“That despite all the reasons it would be a colossally bad idea, I want to sleep with you.”
She leaned toward him. “And why would it be a colossally bad idea?”
“Never a good idea to sleep with your neighbor, for one.”
“And two?” Her eyes sparkled with laughter.
“You already know two. I don’t mess with local women, not unless it’s serious.”
“How can you know if it’s serious if you don’t get involved in the first place?”
“Because you’re leaving to go back to Los Angeles. Therefore, it definitely won’t be serious.” He drained the rest of his beer.
“Most guys would like that. Sex with no commitment requirements.” She raised her brows in challenge.
“I’m not most guys.”
His phone buzzed and he fetched it out of his shorts’ pocket. “Shit, I’ve got to get this.” It was the office.
Colt got up, walked to the other side of the deck, and took the call. Lately, it had been one emergency after another. No rest for the weary, he told himself.
After he signed off with Jack, who was technically on call tonight, he took his glass into the kitchen. Delaney followed him in.
“What’s going on?”
“A little boy got separated from his family during an evening hike. They’ve been searching for him for the last couple of hours and finally decided to call in the authorities.”
“It’ll be dark in another twenty minutes,” she said.
“Yep. They should’ve called as soon as they noticed him missing but figured he couldn’t have gone far. It was a mistake.” Hopefully not a critical one. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Not at this point. We’ve got the volunteer search and rescue team coming in and a few dogs. We should be okay, but thanks for the offer.”
He wanted to kiss her but left, showing a great deal of restraint.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Delaney got out of bed, padded across the hallway to her studio, and checked the window for Colt’s cruiser. It wasn’t there. The poor man never caught a break.
She planned to check the online version of the paper to see if they’d found the little boy. But the shade installers were coming and she didn’t want them to catch her in her nightgown.
She quickly got ready, went downstairs, and put on a pot of coffee. While waiting for it to brew, she fired up her laptop and searched for the story. According to the news, they’d found the boy at five a.m., huddled under a tree about three miles from where his parents had lost him. He appeared to be fine but was transported to a local hospital to be evaluated. Thank goodness it was summer. In winter, he would’ve frozen to death.
It had certainly been a long night for Colt. She thought about what he’d said, how he wanted to sleep with her. Never before had she been as physically attracted to a man as she was to Colt. But they were both tender from their last relationships. Not a good time to get involved, especially because she’d be leaving soon.
The doorbell rang, pulling Delaney from her thoughts. The shade installers. While the men worked upstairs she ate her breakfast and kept one ear open for Colt’s car. At around ten Hannah called.
“You want to meet the gang for lunch at Old Glory?”
Delaney wasn’t exactly sure who the gang was. Probably Deb and Foster. She agreed immediately, hoping that the installers would be done by noon. She changed into a long, flowy skirt, a ruched crossover top, and a pair of sandals, then accessorized with an assortment of sterling silver bangles on one arm. What the hell, she thought, and even put on a full face of makeup. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she looked like the woman she’d been in LA, before everything went to hell with Robert.
Happy and confident.
She supposed some of it was due to Colt’s attraction to her and, bizarrely, also due to the cargo pants. It felt marvelous to finally complete a project from beginning to end and to actually be proud of the results, even if they weren’t the couture designs that had made her famous.
She went to check on the progress of the workers and found that they had finished and were cleaning up. One of the installers demonstrated how to open and close the shades with the remote control. Nice and easy, and now she’d be able to work into the night with her drafting light on.
She waited for them to leave and walked into town, enjoying the last days of summer. The temperature hovered in the midseventies, and even from a few blocks away Delaney could see the edges of Lake Paiute, the wide expanse of the Sierra Nevada range, as well as the chairlifts going up and down the mountainsides. That’s how clear it was.
She’d miss this in Los Angeles, where the air felt thick and dirty and hung over the city like a dark film. When she arrived at Old Glory, Hannah, Deb, and Foster had already gotten a table and a large plate of pub fries.
“Hey,” Hannah greeted her. “Check it out.” She stood up and modeled a black and white color-block dress that had been part of Delaney’s Every-Day summer collection from last year. Delaney could objectively say the dress was stunning, and on Hannah, amazing.
“Wow,” Delaney said. “You could’ve been my runway model. The dress is fantastic on you.” And here she was getting excited over a pair of silly cargo pants.
“Thanks. I bought it last year when I first got it in the store, and thank goodness I did, because I’m dropping the line now that you’re no longer the designer.”
“I appreciate the
loyalty, but you should still carry Delaney Scott if it sells well.” Even if they’d be Olivia’s designs.
“What’s this I hear about you making kick-ass cargo pants?” Deb asked. “I want a pair.”
“You do?” With Deb’s gorgeous figure she could make a gunnysack look good. Just the same, Delaney couldn’t understand why she’d want to wear something as shapeless as cargo pants. “Come over and let me take your measurements.” Perhaps she could make a pair that would accentuate a woman’s curves as opposed to hiding them.
“Seriously? I was being presumptuous, but I do really want a pair.”
“Then come over and you’ll get a pair.”
Deb clapped her hands together like it was Christmas.
“Win alert at twelve o’ clock,” Foster said. Deb tried to act uninterested, but Delaney caught her sneaking a peek.
“He’s seeing a blackjack dealer in Tahoe,” she said. “Whatever. I’m so over him.”
Delaney didn’t think so, not the way Deb followed him with hungry eyes. He’d come in with a few men Delaney had never seen before. Guys about Win’s age, late twenties, early thirties, some wearing Glory Junction Search and Rescue T-shirts.
“Did you hear about the little boy who got lost?” Hannah asked.
“Colt was at my house when he got the call about it.”
Three pairs of eyes examined her as if she’d been holding out on them.
“What’s going on with you two?” Hannah asked. “Colt seems to be hanging out with you a lot.”
“We’re neighbors. Occasionally, we’ll have a drink together on one of our decks. No big deal.”
“Yeah, it sort of is. Except for hanging out with his brothers, Jack, and Boden—because they both like craft beer—Colt’s a lone wolf.” Hannah reached for a fry. “And other than Carrie Jo, who’s like his sister, he doesn’t get involved with the women of Glory Junction. Not that the single women around here don’t throw themselves at him. Rachel Johnson has been after him for a year and the woman’s a major catch.”
“The owner of Tart Me Up?” They all nodded. Delaney hadn’t known that Rachel was interested in Colt, but of course she would be. Look at him. “I don’t know what to tell you.” She gazed over at Win to keep from having to look Hannah in the eye.
Boden came to take their orders and Delaney noticed that he paid special attention to Deb, even taking the chair next to hers so he could tell her about the specials. Deb was too busy watching Win to notice. They resumed their conversation about the missing boy and Boden added what he’d heard.
“The dogs lost his scent at the river and searchers feared he’d drowned. But Colt was able to track him into the forest. He found him curled up in a ball, crying. The mayor’s holding a big press conference in time for the six o’clock news. Bet you didn’t see that coming,” he mocked.
“How’d you hear all this?” Deb asked, impressed. “It wasn’t in the paper this morning.”
“I saw Gray over at Tart Me Up. He’s on Search and Rescue and told me what happened. Colt’s been at the hospital with the kid’s parents.”
“The boy’s okay, isn’t he?” Delaney asked.
“That’s what I heard, thank God.” Boden got up. “I’ll get this stuff out to you as soon as I can.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Foster told Deb, “Boden’s hot. You ought to focus on him, instead of Win.”
So, Delaney hadn’t been the only one to notice Boden’s interest.
“Win’s dead to me.” Deb dipped a fry in the catsup, sucked on the tip, and followed Boden with her eyes as he called out their order to the kitchen. “He is kind of hot, isn’t he?”
“This just in?” Hannah also turned to take a second look. “Haven’t you noticed the female clientele shoving their boobs in his face?”
“It’s nice to know that the Garner brothers have some competition,” Deb said. “I for one am sick of them.... Well, not Colt. Colt’s the good brother.”
“Hey, Josh is a good brother,” Hannah insisted.
Conversation evolved into the End-of-Summer events and, of course, the kayak races. Delaney asked if any of them were going to Colt’s show. They all said yes, and she made plans to sit with them. She wanted to ask more about Lisa but didn’t want to be obvious about her interest in Colt’s past. They were already on to the fact that she and Colt spent time together; no need to stoke the gossip fires.
It was a nice lunch and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable with a group of people. In LA, most of her lunches had been to network and wheel and deal. The fashion industry was filled with ambitious phonies and cutthroats. She didn’t miss that part of the business. Here, people were more laid back and genuine.
After they finished eating, Deb made plans to come over that evening and get her measurements taken. Delaney started for home, first stopping at Tart Me Up to pick up bread and a few pastries to have on hand. At least that was the excuse she gave herself. In all the times visiting the bakery, she hadn’t paid much attention to its proprietor. Rachel Johnson seemed to spend most of her time in the back, baking, while her staff worked the counter.
Today, though, Rachel worked the cash register and graced Delaney with a big smile. She really was lovely. Blond, big brown eyes, and flawless skin. Delaney wanted to hate her but the baker exuded such warmth that she made it impossible.
“Hi, Delaney. What can I get you?”
Delaney didn’t think they’d said two words to each other, yet Rachel greeted her like she was a regular.
“How about the Dutch crunch and an assortment of turnovers.”
“Sure thing.” Rachel put the bread in a bag and grabbed a pink box for the Danish. “How’s it going?”
Delaney sighed. “I’ve been dabbling with designing adventure wear.”
“What a great idea. A Glory Junction line for the adventurer in all of us.” Rachel waved her hand in the air. “Don’t mind me. I’m taking a marketing class at the junior college. Back in the old days I used to wear some of your suits. Loved them.”
“The old days?”
“Yup. I was lead counsel for Del Monte in San Francisco.”
“The food company?” Delaney had no idea.
“Uh-huh. I traded it in for this.” Rachel waved her hand around the bakery. “Best move I ever made.”
“Impressive.” Delaney thought the baker certainly appeared happy. Even covered in flour and pastry cream, she seemed so positive, so comfortable in her own skin. Good for her.
Rachel rang Delaney up and handed her the pink box and bread. “Good luck with the adventure line. Can’t wait to see it in stores.”
Delaney didn’t bother telling her she was just playing until she got her mojo back. Taking a detour, she went to Sweet Stems and had Foster create an arrangement for her. The house could use some fresh flowers and it just so happened that his shop was next door to the police station. A coincidence, Delaney told herself.
“How you going to carry that all home?” Foster asked while Delaney explored the store, which had so many pretty things, she didn’t know where to look first.
“Good question. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He went to the back of the shop and returned with a market basket.
“Thank you, Foster. I’ll return it on my next trip into town.”
“No worries. I’ve got plenty.”
They both turned to stare out the storefront window when they heard engines outside and watched a few satellite news trucks jockey for position in front of Glory Junction PD.
“They must be here for the press conference,” Foster said.
She craned her neck, hoping to see Colt in the gathering crowd of reporters, but there was no sign of him. It was too early, she supposed.
Delaney rushed home so she could put everything away and get some work done in time to watch the conference on television. Instead of sketching, she wound up playing with her new shades, repeatedly making them go up and down.
At six, before Deb got there, she turned on a local station. The press conference was at the top of the newscast. In front of the police station Colt and a line of city officials stood behind the mayor. Pond told the cameras that the little boy was home safe with his parents and doing well. Then he launched into a gratuitous speech about “his” town and how it pulled together in times of crises.
“Could you be any more smarmy?” Delaney muttered at her flat screen.
He thanked the Glory Junction Volunteer Search and Rescue team, praising it to the moon, and glossed over the role Colt and the police department had played in finding the boy. According to Boden, it had been Colt who’d actually rescued the child. Delaney wanted him to get the credit.
She waited for Colt to speak, but the mayor never called him to the podium, hogging the spotlight until the press conference was over and the newscast moved on to footage of a wildfire on the Central Coast.
Delaney flipped through the channels, catching the tail end of the conference on other networks. Same thing: Pond’s smug face filled the screen. A knock came at the door and she got up to get it.
Deb carried two bottles of wine in. “Sustenance,” she said, and peered past the foyer into the great room. “Wow. Fabulous place.”
“Thanks. Let me turn off the TV.” She took the bottles from Deb, dropped them off in the kitchen, and proceeded to the entertainment center.
“The press conference?” Deb continued to take in the house, stopping in front of Delaney’s favorite painting—a Jared Javitz oil she’d paid a pretty penny for.
“Yeah. The mayor seems to have left out the part that Colt was the one who found and rescued the boy.”
“I’m not surprised. The man’s an egomaniac.” She turned and assessed Delaney. “You’re interested in Colt, aren’t you?”
“Me?” Delaney stuttered. “Why would you think that?”
“All signs point that way. I can’t blame you—something about those Garner men.” Her lips pulled up on one side but she still looked sad.