Russ Colton wasn’t what she expected on a Sunday morning at Moss Hill.
Any morning at Moss Hill.
As she rounded a curve, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and remembered she hadn’t called her sister back. She stopped next to the guardrail and checked her messages. A text, but not from Lila.
It’s Ruby. Join us for lunch at Smith’s at 12:30.
Kylie blinked at the text. Lunch? In the ten months she’d lived in Knights Bridge, no one in town had ever invited her to lunch, nor had she invited anyone to lunch. She hadn’t even realized Ruby had her phone number.
Something was up.
Thanks but...
Kylie hesitated, then deleted the but.
Thanks I’d love to join you.
Great.
And that was that. She was joining Ruby O’Dunn for lunch.
Five
Russ got his bag out of the back of his rented car. He’d watched Kylie Shaw until she disappeared around a bend on the winding country road in cute little Nowhere, Massachusetts. She was blonde, pretty and quick. He hadn’t expected her to get the jump on him outside the meeting room.
And she was cagey.
“Now, why is that, I wonder?”
An interesting development, his Moss Hill neighbor.
He took the covered breezeway to the residential entrance. Ruby O’Dunn had left keys to the two buildings in a flowerpot. First place Russ would look without instructions. Basic security at the renovated hat factory—his home for the next few days—was rudimentary but could easily be improved should the need or desire arise.
He’d had no trouble finding Knights Bridge or Moss Hill, even without GPS. When he’d pulled into the mill’s parking lot, he’d noticed the mud-encrusted bike, unlocked, leaning crookedly on a stand. Now it was occupied by his neighbor.
She obviously wasn’t thrilled to have him bunking across the hall, but she’d been expecting Julius Hartley. Probably would take a while to sort that one out in her mind. Russ had that effect sometimes. Maybe it was his scary eyes.
He could always unzip his jacket and show more of the palm-tree shirt Marty had given him.
Russ located his apartment and went inside, dropping his bag on the floor by the front door. He liked the industrial loft feel and modern furnishings of the place. Late morning sunlight streamed through the huge arched windows overlooking the dam and river. The design allowed residents privacy and solitude while also not being too isolated, at least by Knights Bridge standards.
Nice.
It’d do for his short stay. He’d done worse in his day. Much worse.
Did Kylie Shaw like being isolated? Was that what he was sensing with her caginess—it had more to do with his intrusion into her space? Moss Hill had only been open a matter of weeks. Where had she lived before here?
Lots of questions, likely none of which had anything to do with Daphne’s upcoming visit.
He checked the kitchen. As promised, Ruby O’Dunn had stocked the pantry and refrigerator with essentials. The place was mopped, vacuumed and dusted, and there were clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom.
“All good,” Russ said, fetching his duffel bag. He set it on the queen-size bed. He hadn’t expected to feel at home the first second he walked into the place, but he did.
He returned to the main room and stood at the windows. It was a good drop to the river. He could see two ducks cruising in the reeds on the riverbank. He wondered if there’d be ducklings soon. Across the river, fields, turning green with the arrival of spring, rose up to a white farmhouse with a dark-wood barn.
Russ fought a yawn. This was a beautiful spot—better than he’d expected—but he was here to do a job, not to admire the view. Julius and Daphne—and to a degree, Loretta—had supplied him with the basics about Knights Bridge, but he didn’t need to know anything that didn’t involve his reasons for being here. He did not need to know town gossip. Who was sleeping with whom, who was looking for work, who was in rehab. Not his concern.
Was finding out more about his neighbor across the hall part of his job or a diversion?
Could be both. Kylie Shaw was on the premises where Daphne would be speaking in a few days, and she had pretty blue eyes. Not scary at all.
A quick shower, a change of clothes and more coffee, and he was back out the door. He decided to check out the riverside—where Kylie had run when she’d spotted him—and descended the stairs to the ground-level garage, then headed outside. He followed a walk to an overlook a few feet above the dam.
He leaned over the black-metal rail and watched the water rush over the solid, old dam, creating a misting spray as it tumbled onto the giant boulders. He got a bit wet but didn’t mind. The temperature probably felt warm to the locals after the long New England winter, but to him it was refreshingly cool, not cold but not warm, either.
He was in no hurry as he returned to his apartment. He had nothing planned for the day. He’d figured he’d see what was what when he got here and go from there. He could have taken a later flight or spent the day in Boston, but this was fine.
As he started to unpack his duffel bag, Ruby O’Dunn texted him. He’d emailed her his number before he’d boarded his flight but hadn’t followed up when he’d landed in Boston, given the early hour. He glanced at her text. Welcome! Settled at Moss Hill?
He typed his answer. All set.
A bunch of us are getting together for lunch. Join us?
Where?
Smith’s off the common in 30 minutes.
Will do.
I’ve invited Kylie Shaw across the hall from you. She’ll know the way.
Ruby typed faster than he did. Ok.
See you soon.
Russ slid his phone back in his jacket pocket. Were Ruby and Kylie friends? Had to be. Otherwise why invite her to lunch?
Maybe his instincts were off, and Kylie Shaw wasn’t trying to keep to herself.
Might as well check with her. He walked across the hall and knocked on her door.
She looked thunderstruck when she opened up. She only cracked the door, as if she didn’t want him to see the place was a mess. “I’m...um... You’re here about lunch.” She gave a vague wave with a slender hand. “Ruby texted me.”
“I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
“We’re not. I mean...” Kylie bit her lower lip. “I don’t know anyone in town that well.”
“But you’re going to lunch?” Russ tried to make it sound like a genuine question and not an order. But he wanted her to go to lunch. Her behavior was borderline unusual. “I was on a plane all night. It’d be great to have someone else drive.”
“You don’t look jet-lagged.”
“Trust me. I am.” True, maybe, but he’d be fine to drive. “Yours is the Mini, I gather. Clever private eye that I am, I figure it has to be since it’s the only other car in the parking lot.”
Kylie nodded without enthusiasm. No smile at his humor. “I’ll meet you downstairs. Give me five minutes.”
To what? Gulp? Do yoga breaths? Russ shrugged. “Okay.”
“Five minutes.”
She shut the door.
Russ went back to his apartment and got his car key in case Kylie changed her mind, and he had to drive into town. But he would bet she wouldn’t change her mind. Something about lunch both intrigued and rattled her.
It was early but not too early in California. He texted Julius: I’m about to have lunch at Smith’s.
Order the turkey club. Don’t go near the salads.
No update?
Quiet here. Why?
Later.
* * *
Russ headed downstairs and out to the Mini, a cream color underneath the dried mud and dust. Of course it wa
s unlocked. He opened the door to let in some spring air while he waited.
Kylie joined him. She was in the same outfit she’d had on earlier, but she’d changed out of her orange-laced shoes into black ankle boots. It wasn’t the sort of thing he normally noticed, but the laces had been tough to miss. She gave him a tight smile. “All set.”
She might have been going on a secret mission behind enemy lines.
“I noticed your car is as muddy as your bike.”
“There’s a thing here called mud season. It just ended. I haven’t had a chance to clean my bike and car since then.” She pushed a palm through her pale hair, then gave him a forced smile.
Russ slid into the passenger seat while she went around the hood to the driver’s side. It was a little car. His left thigh almost touched her right thigh. He thought she noticed. It wasn’t an obvious giveaway, just a slight shift toward her door as she started the engine. “I’m not used to having anyone in the car with me,” she said. “Last one in the passenger seat was a dog.”
“A big dog?”
“Not as big as you.”
“That would be a hell of a big dog.”
“It was a chocolate Lab that had run off from the Sloan farmhouse about a mile away. I found him rolling in the mud on the riverbank.”
“Mud seems to be a theme in your life. I’m glad I don’t scare you anymore.”
“You wouldn’t have scared me to begin with if I’d seen the palm trees on your shirt.”
“You noticed them? The observant artist. My palm trees aren’t intimidating?”
She smiled. “Not by themselves.”
“Need the rest of me, huh?” He thought he saw color in her face, but the light shifted as they continued down the road. “The shirt’s new. A gift from my brother.”
“To remind you that you’re an outsider here?”
“Trust me, I don’t need reminding.” He pointed out his window. “Was that Moss Hill back there, across from the mill? Are there hiking trails?”
“Yes, and yes. I was on one of the trails this morning.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No dog?”
“No dog.”
“If I lived way the hell out here all by myself, I’d have a dog. In fact, I’d have two dogs. Maybe a couple of goldfish, too, although they aren’t much good in a fight.”
“Do you have a dog in Beverly Hills?”
He shook his head. “No dog, and I don’t live in Beverly Hills,” he said, leaving it at that. “How long have you lived at Moss Hill?”
“Since mid-March.”
“Before that?”
“I rented a house up the road.”
“But you’re not from Knights Bridge.”
“I moved to town last summer.” There was a slight testiness to her voice, as if she’d told him only because she knew he’d ask. “Are you from Beverly Hills?”
“Nope. Army brat. I joined the navy. I’ve been out two years.”
“Thank you for your service,” Kylie said quietly.
Russ hadn’t expected that from her. He didn’t know why. “It’s a privilege to serve,” he said. “Where did you live before Knights Bridge?”
“All over.”
Vague answer. He watched her drive, one hand on the wheel, the other on the shifter. She wasn’t tentative so much as tense. Not used to men? Not used to lunch? Didn’t like Ruby O’Dunn? He wanted answers, but he didn’t want to pepper her with too many questions. He was at her mercy. Imagine if she dumped him on the side of the road.
“Are there bears here?” he asked.
“Black bears.”
He settled back in his seat. “I’m not big on bears.”
She glanced at him as if she were trying to figure out if he was serious. But she turned, eyes on the road. “Do you know who all will be at lunch?”
“You, me, Ruby. I don’t know who else, if anyone. Why? Do you have enemies in town?”
“Just curious,” she said, and pointed to more ducks in the river.
Russ figured he had ten minutes, tops, to pull himself together before he got sucked into some small-town nonsense that had nothing to do with Daphne—or Noah Kendrick and Dylan McCaffrey. It was jet lag. Boredom. Curiosity.
His neighbor’s pretty blue eyes, her slender hands, the curve of her breasts under her purple sweater.
He hadn’t had a woman in his life in far too long.
The jet lag, boredom and curiosity made him vulnerable to doing something really stupid.
And he wasn’t paid to be stupid.
“Did I lose you?” he asked.
“Sorry. My mind wandered off.”
“You know you’re driving, right?”
“It didn’t wander off like that. I’m paying attention to the road.” She smiled at him. “No worries.”
He begged to differ, but he said nothing. If Kylie and Ruby weren’t friends, why lunch? Could be a simple question of politeness. He fought back a yawn, debating whether to watch the picturesque scenery or the attractive, intriguing driver. Finally he decided he could do both.
Six
Smith’s was located in a 1920s house that had been converted into a restaurant, around the corner from the country store. Kylie had dined there a number of times, alone, tucked in a booth with her sketch pad. At first, she hadn’t thought much about socializing with the people of her adopted town. She was here temporarily, as an artistic retreat—to work, not to hang out with the locals. She liked people. She liked being around people. But that wasn’t why she was in Knights Bridge. When she’d moved into Moss Hill and started to consider making the town home, she’d figured friends and socializing would come in due time—when she had more head space for them and allowed herself out of the retreat mind-set.
And there was Morwenna.
Would Russ Colton want to know about Morwenna Mills? Why would he care?
Because he’s the type who cares about every detail.
Morwenna was a big detail, if not one that had any bearing on Daphne Stewart’s master class on Saturday.
Russ followed Kylie into the restaurant. Ruby O’Dunn jumped up from a long table in the back of the eatery, greeting Russ as if they were old friends. She introduced him to Mark Flanagan and his wife, Jessica, who were also at the table, joining them for lunch.
Mark smiled at Kylie. He was a tall, lean man in his thirties, an architect who specialized in older buildings. He wore a black windbreaker, a dark gray flannel shirt and jeans, his usual outfit. “Glad you could make it,” he said.
She had the distinct impression he hadn’t expected her to accept Ruby’s invitation. There’d been something imperious about the text, and Kylie had suspected declining would cause her more problems than accepting. The faint feeling she’d done something wrong lingered, even with the warm greetings. Had Russ told Ruby about their meeting at Moss Hill—how Kylie had run from him? She gave herself a mental shake. She was overthinking.
She was hungry—maybe she just needed food. Regardless, she had to settle down.
Mark returned to his seat next to his wife. Dark-haired and green-eyed, Jessica was a Frost, one of the longtime families in town. She wore jeans and a flannel shirt but also a silver Celtic-knot necklace that Kylie suspected Mark had given her. Mark and Jess had known each other forever, but they were newlyweds, married last fall at her sister’s inn in town.
“Moss Hill is great,” Russ said, sitting next to Kylie and across from Ruby. “Thanks for putting me up there.”
“I keep thinking we need to come up with a name for the meeting space,” Jess said. “‘Meeting space’ is too bland. I’m looking forward to Daphne’s class. I know zip about costume design, so I won’t be one of the students and experts in attendanc
e.”
“We want to make sure we have at least fifty people,” Ruby said. “Ava thinks we’ll get closer to seventy.”
Mark shook his head. “It won’t be that many.”
He was a cut-to-the-chase type, Kylie knew from previous encounters with him. From what she’d seen of Russ Colton so far, she suspected the two of them would get along well. She’d always had the feeling that Mark and Jess looked out for her, alone up the road in her rented house and now at Moss Hill.
The waitress arrived at their table, and they put in their orders—turkey clubs for Mark and Russ, the tuna melt for Ruby and the house-made broccoli-cheddar soup for both Jess and Kylie. Kylie didn’t trust herself to dive into a club sandwich, given how self-conscious and keyed up she was. It wasn’t just having a private investigator at Moss Hill or the unusual lunch. It was being around this many people at all. She was out of practice.
“Ava will be here on Friday,” Ruby said. “She’s as excited as I am, but she couldn’t get away from school. A bunch of her theater friends are coming up from New York to see Daphne. Same with my friends in Boston.”
“Are they staying in the area?” Russ asked.
“Some. Not many options here in town, but plenty within an easy drive. But we timed the class so people could make it a day trip from New York or Boston. A longer one from New York, obviously, but doable.” Ruby seemed unable to sit still, a bundle of raw energy and nerves. “We are thrilled to have Daphne here. We loved getting to know her better over the winter. I’m dying to see Hollywood and where she lives. She says Ava and I have a standing invitation to visit, but I don’t know if she’s just being polite.”
“If she said it, she meant it,” Russ said, nothing casual about him as he watched Ruby fidget and squirm.
Ruby turned to Mark. “How’s everything at Moss Hill?”
“Fine. Why?”
But she swung around to Russ. “No problems with your apartment?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “None.”
“That’s good,” Ruby said half under her breath. “Good, good.”
The Spring at Moss Hill Page 5