Vivien watched Boone smooth the flyer onto the bulletin board inside the library entrance, punching the staples in. He’d shaved since yesterday and smelled like soap and aftershave, and she had to keep herself from leaning into it. He wore a dark blue T-shirt with his jeans and looked much more like a man in charge than a man on vacation.
She hadn’t meant to rope him into helping her. No, she’d set out that morning to hang her flyers and go about business as usual. Forget the black roses. Forget Sabrina. Ensure everyone in town knew about her next play and the auditions slated for Wednesday. To let the memory of Mr. Hottie settle in her mind and not think about how much fun she’d actually had fleeing from her half sister with Boone as her partner in crime.
And then she saw Boone sitting in the coffee shop, a solitary figure in an island of conversation, and she just had to stop. She might have left him alone if it weren’t for that book, however. That awful, snore of a book—no, she just couldn’t leave the man like that. He needed her help maybe even more than she needed his.
So, yeah, putting him to task with the flyers seemed the right prescription for both of them. And, quite frankly, he’d been exactly the kind of help she needed. Calm to her frenzied rush. Structure to her free-for-all.
He turned, stapler in hand. “What?”
Oh, busted staring at him. Fine. “When I first met you, I thought maybe you were some sort of serial killer,” she whispered.
“What?”
A few heads popped up from the reading chairs.
“Shh.” She held a finger to her lips. “Why else would someone as handsome as you be single?”
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not sure if I’m flattered or offended. And can I just point out that you’re single too? How do I know you’re safe?” He stooped down to pick up a flyer that had floated to the floor.
“Touché.” She gave him a sly smile. “Do I scare you?”
He smiled something cute and slightly crooked. “A little. There was that little duck-and-cover routine you pulled at the car show like you were some sort of undercover operative.”
“A little Charlie’s Angels.” She chopped the air with her best karate impression.
“Whoa, there.” He stilled her hands with his own. “Don’t hurt anyone with those.”
And with his touch, her entire body seemed to light up. Oh yes, this man was definitely dangerous.
“I assure you, I’m not trouble at all.” She set her chin into her hand and looked at him, batted her lashes in her best Marilyn impression.
He frowned. “I hope not.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d said that caused a cloud to pass over him. He scooped up the flyers from the nearby table and stalked out of the library.
She followed him, hot on his heels. “Boone, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She grabbed his arm to stop him, turn him around. “Liar-liar-pants-on-fire.” She pulled the flyers out of his hands. “It’s my turn to help you, so…” She held out her hand with the go-ahead signal, ignoring the mid-morning traffic leaving Licks and Stuff across the street.
“It’s nothing.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.
“It’s something.” She let the silence hang between them, waiting him out.
He finally blew out a breath and his eyes flicked from the lake to Vivien. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
She’d known eventually either she’d get to him or the Deep Haven air would.
“My chief called me this morning. He’s retiring.” He looked away, stared off into the shimmering waters of Superior where gulls begged the tourists for a meal and the breeze lifted the sails of the boats out on the water.
She narrowed her look at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good. Bad.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“He’s a good man. He really is. And I want to put in for the job, but he’s adamant that I have to prove I’m ready for it.”
“Prove it how?”
“If I want a chance at that promotion, I need to do everything he’s asked me to do. This is my opportunity for the job I’ve been working toward my entire career.”
She knew the look that passed across his face. That sense of conflict. Wanting something just out of reach. It rubbed raw the ache in her chest.
“Did you guys need anything else? More copies?” Vivien knew that tiny, mouse-like voice. She turned to see Beth Strauss pulling a cart to the book drop box, her light brown hair pulled back in a band and a tentative smile on her face.
Beth had posed the question to both of them, but her green eyes were locked on Boone, just as they had been inside the library. Interesting. Well, Vivien didn’t blame her—after all, the man was gorgeous. His T-shirt fitted against his body just right. The sleeve cuffs snugged around his biceps in a slightly distracting manner and, oh, those eyes. Those eyes were lethal. The palest blue with a dark ring encircling them.
Vivien blew out a breath. “I think we’re good. Thanks for letting us post this.”
“Sure. I’m looking forward to auditions.” Beth gave them a demure nod and turned her attention to pulling the books from the bin and dropping them into the cart. Except, Vivien noticed Beth’s oh-so-interested glances back toward Boone.
“Can we stop by the football field?” Boone asked, oblivious to the eyes on him. “I told Caleb I would.”
“Sure. It’s near the auditorium. That’s my last stop. So, how do you know Caleb?”
“We were in the Army together.”
She followed him to the parking lot and let him hold the car door for her. This one was a gentleman to boot.
Boone backed the car out of the library’s lot and Vivien pointed to the right for him to turn.
Vivien knew the coach had lost part of his leg in an IED explosion. The thought of Boone being in the middle of all that sent a shiver up her spine.
“When did you serve?”
His jaw tensed and he stared at the road. She pointed out the next turn and thought he might not answer at all.
“I enlisted about a year after I finished high school.”
“Did you serve overseas?” She pulled open her bag and fished out her lipstick. She flipped down the visor mirror.
“Iraq.”
She paused, her tube of Red Carpet mid-swipe, and recapped it. “Wow. Were you a medic too?”
He shook his head. “MP—military police.”
“Are you from a military family?” She pressed her lips together and slid her lipstick tube back into her tote.
“No, I was the first. I got hurt during pre-season football practice right before my first college season. Lost my scholarship.”
She saw it again—the passing gloom—as if he, too, had a past that sometimes felt like it could reach out and drag him under.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It all worked out. Any more sightings of your friend from yesterday?”
Vivien rolled her shoulders to cover the involuntary shudder the question caused. “Nope. I’m hoping she crawled back to her cave in Minneapolis.” She straightened the flyers in her hand.
He glanced over at her, raised a brow, as if he might press further. Instead, he looked back to the road. “So, what was with the flowers on your porch yesterday?”
“Flowers?” She tilted her head, certain she captured the right pose. The one that conveyed she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, even though she did. “Oh, the roses. Just a prank.” She waved off the question with a dismissive sweep of her hand and a laugh.
He glanced over at her and opened his mouth as if to ask another question. Closed it.
“Turn here.” She steered the conversation away from the roses, and they spent the next hour making stops through town, posting the theater announcement in nearly every shop and on every bulletin board before she pointed the way to the lot adjacent to the football field.
“I
think that’s about all of them.” Vivien folded the last flyer. “I can’t think of anywhere else to put one.”
Boone parked and they walked toward the field. Vivien could see a woman with curly brown hair sitting on the field in front of the stands, her camp chair angled toward the fifty-yard line and her bare toes in the shaded grass. Issy Knight, Caleb’s wife. She turned as their footsteps approached.
“Hi, Viv.” Issy smiled and focused on Boone. “Good to finally see you again, Boone. I keep telling Caleb we need to take another trip.” She extended a hand to him. “He’s happy you’re going to help coach.”
Boone took her offered hand. “I don’t know how helpful I’ll be, but I love the game.”
Issy laughed and nodded toward the field. “Looks like you’ve been spotted.”
Caleb raised his hand in greeting and waved for Boone to join him on the field.
“Do we have time?” Boone posed the question to Vivien.
“Sure.”
“Want a seat in the shade with me?” Issy asked. She gestured to the extra camp chair next to her.
“Thanks.” Vivien sat down, her eyes on Boone as he walked out onto the field.
“It looked like you and Boone had a good time at the car show. How long have you known him?”
“Oh, no, we just met.”
Issy raised a brow.
Oh, yeah. Vivien could see the wheels turning. Issy. Former host of the My Foolish Heart radio show for romantic problems. “Actually, it sounds like you know him much better than I do—I mean, you know a lot more about him.”
“He and Caleb were in the Army together,” Issy said. “I’ve only met him a couple times, but he and Caleb touch base every now and again.”
“That’s one of the few things I know about him. Do you know why he’s here? He’s been a little cryptic and, I don’t know… I guess I’m a little worried about him. He said he’s on vacation, but he doesn’t seem very thrilled about being on vacation.”
Boone threw a nice spiral to Caleb.
“Yeah. He’s got some health issues. He’s been a detective for a long time.” Issy paused. “You know, sometimes things can stay with you for a while.”
Vivien knew Issy was talking about her own life. She reached out and squeezed Issy’s hand.
Issy gave her a warm smile. “But God heals, doesn’t he?”
Oh, Vivien longed to believe that every time she heard it. Every Sunday morning, she sat in the same pew, singing the same hymns, wondering if she could ever trust God enough to let down her guard.
She watched Boone catch a pass from Caleb. Great form, and he laughed as he dodged a tackle.
Health issues. Issy’s words sparked every impulsive bone in Vivie’s body.
Maybe she could help him not only keep his job, but also get that promotion back in Kellogg. She was the queen of makeovers, and he might not know it yet, but he was in for the full-life makeover treatment.
Boone walked over with Caleb. A tiny bead of sweat rimmed his hairline and he played with the football in his hands.
“So, you’ll do it?” Caleb asked, dropping a gear bag on the ground next to Issy’s chair.
Boone palmed his grip on the ball. “Sure. I can spend some time with your quarterbacks and receivers.”
“Outstanding. That will give Seb and me more time to work with rest of the team.” Caleb looked at his watch. “Right now, we have strength training in the weight room between eight and nine each weekday morning and we’re on the field from one to four.”
“Okay.” Boone handed the ball back to Caleb. “I’ll come tomorrow to both. I could use some time in the weight room myself.” He laughed.
A few players had arrived at the field early, helmets in hand. Vivien recognized Johnny Dahlquist and Tiger Christiansen.
“And on some days, we have the special teams come in early.” Caleb waved to the players who’d started doing warm-ups.
Boone turned to Vivien. “We’d better get out of here before Caleb makes me run speed drills.”
Caleb laughed. “You’re welcome to it.”
“Oh, no thanks.” He smiled at Issy. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Have a great day!” Issy waved to them and they walked back to the parking lot.
Boone set his hand on the windshield frame of the car. “Did you have one last stop to make?”
“Just a quick run into the playhouse. It’s around the corner.”
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
Maybe football was good for a man’s soul because Boone looked more relaxed after his time on the field than he had reading his book at the Java Cup when she’d found him. She pointed the way to the playhouse and hopped out of the car when they arrived.
The Arrowood Auditorium sat against the trees at the southeast end of the high school, its brick exterior still fresh and unweathered by the elements.
“I need to grab a notebook I left inside. I’ll be right back.”
Boone nodded, sitting back in the driver’s seat as if to soak in the sunshine.
“Maybe read that book while you wait.” She gestured toward the book and winked at him.
“Right. The book.” He lifted it from the center console and flipped it open.
She walked into the auditorium and flicked the light switch. Nothing. She toggled it again. Still nothing.
Someone must have tripped the breaker again.
Ever since the fire sprinkler incident caused by an errant football pass, the electrical system had been a little sensitive. She squinted into the darkness, getting her bearings as she headed toward the utility room at the back. She passed the curtain line and heard a scuffle and froze. Footsteps?
Probably her imagination.
She took another step. Another scuffle. Unmistakable. This time, the hairs on her neck stood up. She wasn’t alone in the darkness.
Like the times she’d left the theater in NYC late. Hearing the murmur of footsteps behind her. The ones that stopped every time she did. She swallowed.
“Hello?”
You’re in danger. Joslyn’s message replayed in her mind.
No answer, and her ears pounded with the elevated pulse, the whooshing making it even more difficult to listen. She held her breath, straining to hear any sound, trying to gauge her distance to the doorway. And then the footsteps started toward her, hard and fast.
She screamed and ran, jerking through the tangle of curtains and fleeing toward the thin shard of daylight that cut under the front door sill.
Before she reached it, the door flew open and the form of a man filled the space, the light hitting his short blond hair.
Boone.
He stepped into the darkness. “Viv! What’s the matter?”
“Someone is after me!” She knew she was screaming, but she couldn’t stop the rush of terror. Couldn’t stop the same trembling, hair-raising sensation she’d felt when she’d fled her dressing room in New York City the last time.
Talk about things sticking with people.
Boone grabbed her, put her behind him. “Anybody there?”
When no one answered, he grabbed her hand and guided her out of the playhouse, keeping himself between her and the building. She flinched when the door crashed closed.
Then he turned to her. “Are you okay?”
If she wasn’t before, she was now, the way he stared down at her, his blue eyes concerned. She had the crazy urge to throw her arms around him. She might have, if he had been her boyfriend. Instead, she let herself sink against the building, her legs Jell-O.
She nodded. “Someone was there—in the dark.”
“Stay here.” Before he could step back inside, the door swung open and Gordy Dahlquist came barreling out.
“What in the world is going on here?” Gordy’s scalp was red beneath his thinning brown hair and his paunchy form took up most of the doorway. “What’s all the screaming about?”
“Who are you?” Boone leveled a look at Gordy, still keeping himself b
etween Vivien and the stout man.
“I’m local school board member Gordy Dahlquist.”
“Were you trying to hurt her?” Boone took a step toward Gordy, his fists balled and eyes tight. He’d gone from vacationer to cop before her eyes.
“It’s okay.” Vivie tugged on Boone’s T-shirt to pull him back, but he stood cemented to the ground. “I know him.”
Gordy let out a huff. “Of course I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Sheesh. Who are you?” Gordy crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well, I’m not the guy stalking around in the dark!”
“I wasn’t stalking anyone!” He looked Boone up and down. “And I still don’t know who you are.”
“Boone Buckam.”
“The lights were out.” Vivien looked at Gordy. “I heard footsteps in the dark, coming closer.” She could see in Gordy’s eyes the disbelief. She could feel the judgment of her dramatic exit.
He threw his hand toward the door. “Yeah. I’d gone to reset the breaker because the lights weren’t working when I got here.”
“Why are you here?” Vivien asked. She rubbed away the residual gooseflesh on her arms.
He stared at Vivien. Sighed. Tightened his lips. Finally, “I came to tell you your auditorium use agreement has been rejected. You can’t practice here anymore.”
“What?” She stared at him, his words like a fist in her chest. “I just hung posters up all over town announcing auditions and practices here.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to do something about that.”
“You can’t do that—”
“Vivien, your youth soaked the place a few weeks ago. It cost me several thousand dollars to dry it out and repair the damage. I was—we were only letting you use it until the youth play was over. But now…no. The answer is no.”
She put her hands on her hips. “This isn’t really about that, is it? I think you’re still mad that Peter voted for my plans for the old Westerman place.” Not that it mattered anymore. The old Westerman Hotel had burned down just a couple weeks ago, along with her idea for a youth center. Still, grudges died hard in this small town.
Gordy looked from her to Boone and back. “It doesn’t matter what you think. The decision was made. I came by to let you know.” He turned and slid his key into the door, locking it, and walked away.
Then Came You Page 6