Then Came You

by Susan May Warren

  And with that word, a tear splashed down her cheek.

  Oh man. He resisted the urge to wipe the drop from her cheek. “You mean in a show?”

  She whisked the wetness away. Looked out at the water. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something.” He studied her. The bow over her full lips. The curve of her cheeks now glistening with tears.

  “Really—it’s nothing.” She played with the lid of her coffee cup. “Just those family dynamics.”

  “Is this about that incredibly nice half sister of yours? Have you always been so…close?”

  She let out a breath and watched as a sailboat sliced across the lake.

  “When I was eight, our church had a big VBS—Vacation Bible School—production. It was silly and fun and we’d been working on it all week.” She paused. Took a breath. “I had a singing part—a solo. And we didn’t regularly attend church, so being part of it was an even bigger deal to me.” She gave a wry smile. “I got to dress up as a cowgirl. Boots, hat, scarf.” She scrunched up her nose. “I was so proud of that part. I practiced all week long.” She fiddled with an edge of nail polish, picking at the loose chip. “When I was done with my part, I knew I’d done well—and I felt like I belonged on that stage. Everyone loved it.”

  Another tear fell. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. And he wasn’t quite sure how to comfort his…friend.

  “At the end, we were all lined up and had to go find our parents. My mom was waiting for me. And then…then I saw my dad.” She paused. “I hadn’t seen him for a while—he was always on business trips—I thought. I remember seeing him standing there. He was wearing a suit, and I thought maybe he’d come back just to see me perform. I was so excited to see him.” She crumpled her empty coffee cup in her hands. “Only, he wasn’t looking for me at all. He was with another little girl, a little younger than me. I didn’t know who she was. I just froze and watched as he gave her flowers and scooped her up into his arms. The little girl was laughing and he kissed her on the cheek, and the world just dropped out from under me. Right about then, he saw me. It was terrible. He put her down and plastered on a fake smile. Told me he had no idea I would be there. That I’d done a good job with my ‘little song.’” She shook her head.

  Oh no.

  “That was the night I found out my father had been living a double life. And I found out I had a half sister, two years younger than me. Two years. For most of my life, he’d been a fraud. Then he abandoned us. I don’t even get birthday cards from him.”

  Sabrina. The woman she’d fled from at Fish Pic. He blew out a breath. He knew a few things about messy families. “I’m so sorry.”

  She nodded. Swallowed. “That night, he finally owned up to it and told my mom he wanted a divorce. They had an ugly fight. I clung to him. Begged him not to go.” She closed her eyes. “I was just a little girl and he pried me off himself and told me to quit being so dramatic.”

  “Oh, Vivien.”

  “Yeah. He and his new-and-improved family moved to Saint Paul. Sabrina’s living the life that was supposed to be mine. She’s always hated me.” She turned and looked over at him. “I’ve never done anything to her and yet, she despises me.”

  “You know it wasn’t about you.”

  “How many hundreds of times have I heard that? I kept telling myself if I was cuter, or smarter, or sang better—anything but being me. I mean, he just left me—left us.”

  “I like who you are. You have nothing to prove.”

  “Thanks.” She wiped her face. “Sorry. Here I am going on about my inner demons.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He stepped toward her. “But you do need to know, your father’s failings don’t make you a failure.”

  “Right.”

  She sounded less than convinced. “I mean it. Everything about you—the real you, goofy and sexy and flirty and fun, all of it—I like who you are.” And he liked who he was when he was with her. “Does your mom still live here?”

  “No. She packed up for Arizona when I left for New York City the first time. Wanted a fresh start and year-round sunshine.”

  “What brought you back here instead of moving to Arizona? Winter in Arizona might be tempting.”

  “Ree, Amelia—she’s not living here right now, but she’s one of my other best friends. Even though we each had big dreams, it’s like Deep Haven was always at the heart of it all. I’m a north woods girl.” She raised her hand, dropped it. “I’m really sorry about the kayaking.”

  “I feel kind of badly for leaving Beth like that.”

  “Oh, she’s used to dealing with children.”

  “Funny.” He laughed and she did too. Sweet and soft and sincere and… joyful.

  “You should have seen yourself go bootle over bumtrinket!” She set down her crumpled coffee cup and walked to the water’s edge.

  “Bootle what?” He followed her, unable to stop himself.

  She covered her lips with her hand, her body shaking with laughter. “Bootle over bumtrinket.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “The Bootle Bum Trinket is the name of a boat in a hilarious book. But somehow you, so completely ungracefully going under in your kayak…well, it just screamed bootle over bumtrinket.” She hadn’t stopped laughing.

  “I think that was at least a nine-point-five for presentation and athleticism.” Her infectious laughter unraveled the knots inside.

  Oh, he so enjoyed this woman.

  She shook her head, giggling, now wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Six-point-zero. Tops.” She pivoted toward him, inches away. The sun had turned the lake to fire and his heart hadn’t felt so light in…forever.

  He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. Taking her hand. Drawing her closer. She smelled like her usual jasmine and the wind off the lake. Equal parts sweet and exhilarating. And when she looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes, she made him a little crazy.

  Especially when she curled her fingers into his T-shirt and stepped closer. It shocked him for a second, but really it was the only encouragement he needed. Clearly she was feeling it too…

  “Viv.” The whisper of her name left his lips and he leaned down and kissed her.

  He supposed he should be sweet, exploring, gentle, but none of that emerged in his kiss. Not tentative. Not delicate. No, he kissed her like the starved man that he was, hungry for her smile, her touch.

  And she was kissing him back.

  She tasted like coffee and peppermint and he lost himself, just for a moment, in her response. In the soft moan that escaped her lips.

  Vivien released his shirt but palmed his chest.

  His chest, where she must be able to feel exactly what she was doing to his heart rate. His sad, broken, murmured heart. The one he’d come to Deep Haven to heal. So that he could go home. To Kellogg. In approximately four weeks…

  What was he thinking?

  He pulled away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He cleared his throat, setting his gaze on her tote and stepping away. “Don’t you have a play to cast? We should get that done.” Then, with all the strength of the cop he was, he packed away his emotions, walked past her, swiped up their discarded cups, and headed toward the cabin.

  Without a doubt, Vivien was the absolute worst matchmaker on the planet. She still had the lingering heat from Boone’s kiss to prove it. Not to mention the sweaty palms and pounding heart every time she thought about it.

  Now, if she could just focus on the cast list instead of Mr. Hottie. Because the kiss had set her mind ablaze. That kiss had rocked her world. Oh, yes. The kiss that made her feel like the life of Vivien Elizabeth Calhoun might actually be the best role ever. Instead of center stage, for a second, for a very long delicious second, he made her feel like she was the center of his world and she’d wanted to hold on to it. Hold on to him.

  A girl could get used to that.

  Like she could let down her guard. Take off her mask. Be her
self.

  Thrilling and terrifying. Maybe in a good way. Like a roller coaster.

  Or sky diving.

  And then—what?—he’d apologized. Abruptly grabbed their coffee cups and practically ran for his cabin to work on the cast list.

  She tried not to be offended and instead let it warm her heart a little—that the kiss had maybe surprised and shaken him as much as it had her. That underneath all the command and control might dwell a passionate soul.

  Except, he was leaving. And maybe that’s exactly what made the kiss safe.

  Nothing like a good dose of reality to keep everything in check. Besides, she wasn’t the kind of girl Boone needed. He needed someone soft and calm and steady. Not flighty and uncertain and…she wouldn’t say dramatic. Eccentric, maybe.

  “Come on in.” He held the cabin door for her.

  Maybe she should have run away when she’d seen him on the shore. Because moisture had still darkened his blond hair and he’d smelled all soapy and clean. He wore faded Levi’s and a steel-blue T-shirt that turned his eyes the color of twilight. But it was the depth of longing—the need she’d seen in those eyes—that had taken her breath away even before he’d kissed her. The way he saw her. Not her façade.

  Now, she realized she really had nothing to worry about because Boone had taken complete control of himself since his apology. He was all business when he gestured to the couch. “Have a seat.”

  She kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up underneath herself. She tried not to let the sting of I’m sorry distract her. She’d kissed lots of men in the course of plays. Months of rehearsals. So this was no big deal.

  At least, not until she let their argument outside Wild Harbor roll over her like heavy surf.

  I thought it would help if I could find you a nice girl.

  I thought I already had.

  “How about a World’s Best skizzle?”

  Vivien snapped her head back to Boone. “Thanks, sure.”

  “You can’t lecture me about how bad they are for me, though.” He went to the tiny kitchen, returning with two skizzles on a small plate, and sat down next to her. He set the plate onto the small coffee table and leaned over the note pages she’d laid out.

  Close.

  She cleared her throat. “Okay, we have five roles.” She tore off a piece of fried dough and popped it into her mouth, letting the sugar melt on her tongue. “I’ve been able to cast some of them.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Jason Decker is the clear choice for Dylan. I mean, he wants to be a professional actor and is trained, so, hard to find anyone who would beat that.” She scribbled a note on her paper pad. “We’re really lucky to have him.”

  Boone looked at her list. “Female characters. You’ve got Ashleigh, Hannah, and Samantha.”

  “Right. Ashleigh is the true heroine of the story—the one he finally falls in love with. Hannah’s her friend. And Samantha is the no-good-old-flame.” She tapped her pen against her lips. “My top picks are Beth, Ella, Courtney, and Rebecca.”

  “From my incompetent, unqualified judgment, I thought Ella did really well as Hannah.”

  “I agree.”

  And Beth. She probably owed Beth the lead part after the lake incident.

  “Beth surprised me.” Boone sat back, poised to take a bite of his skizzle.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she’s got that tiny little voice under all normal circumstances—including potentially life-saving kayak instructions.” He took a bite.

  “You weren’t going to die.”

  He cut her a look. “Do you know how cold that water is? I couldn’t hear a word she was saying—like that little important direction to point my kayak into the wave before it hit so it didn’t roll me sideways.”

  “But she actually can project really well on stage,” Vivien agreed.

  “Surprising. Shocking, even.” He raised his brows. “So, you’re going to cast her as the lead?”

  “Okay, yes. I think Beth will be perfect. That’s three of the five.”

  “Who’s playing Dylan’s ex?” Boone took a bite.

  “I’m stuck between Courtney and Rebecca.” She looked through her notes. “What do you think?”

  He held up his hands. “I’m no expert. I’m not even an amateur.”

  “No, but who pulled it off better?”

  “In my novice opinion, probably Courtney. She’s the strawberry blonde, right?”

  “Right.” Courtney would have been her own pick too. “Done.”

  “And that leaves the role of Austin—the wise best friend—to be played by either Nathan or Adam.”

  She set her jaw. “I think we need to go with Adam on this one.” She stared at the list. “Nathan is good, but he’s too old to play the part of a peer to the rest of the cast. The characters are all in their late twenties.” She tore off another piece of donut. “He’ll be easy to work with, too. Nothing seems to faze him.”

  Boone nodded, picked up the remaining list, and looked at the names that hadn’t been crossed off. “You’re leaving some players on the bench.”

  “I hate that part of it. Knowing how disappointed they’ll be.”

  “Unless they auditioned on a dare, in which case they’ll be relieved.”

  He smiled at her and everything seemed okay again. Back to friends. She could do friends.

  She laughed. “I can hope.”

  “What about music?”

  “I asked Ellie Matthews to play and she agreed. She probably won’t make it to all the rehearsals, but I have recorded music we can use, too.”

  “Sounds like everything is falling into place.”

  She stacked the papers back together and set her pen on top. “I’ll post this on my way home. Thank you for your help.”

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “You were a good sounding board.” Her eyes fell on his book. Imperturbability. “So, future Kellogg Police Chief, tell me—how is that book you’re reading?”

  “Awful.” He shifted his position. “I think it’s worse than getting shot.”

  She thought of the jagged scar on his left shoulder. “Is that what the scar on your shoulder is from? From a…from a…” She couldn’t force herself to say the word.

  “Gunshot?”

  She nodded.

  “It is.” He wiped some sugar from his fingertips onto a napkin.

  “When?”

  “About ten years ago.” He made a wry face. “When PJ came back to town.”

  Oh. PJ. Wait—what? “This PJ got you shot? She didn’t shoot you, did she?”

  He shook his head. Laughed softly. “No. She was in trouble.” He stopped, looked away. “And she was always getting into trouble—but this time, things were really bad. Someone was trying to kill her.”

  Vivien’s pen clattered to the floor. “What?”

  “We caught the guy. Me and Jeremy—her new boyfriend.” He ran his hand over his hair. “I’m kind of making a mess of the story. The short version is I got the bad guy and the bullet wound, but I didn’t get the girl—which was perfectly fine with her family because, like I told you, I’d never measured up, anyway.”

  The man had taken a bullet for her. A bullet. And she’d still rejected him. “I really don’t understand. Why would anyone say that?”

  As soon as she asked it, she regretted it. Wanted to take the words back out of the world. Erase them. Because the look on his face went from regret to something pained.

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  Silence filled the space until the howling in her ears was finally broken by a quiet confession.

  “My mom was an alcoholic and had a reputation around town.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And by reputation, I don’t mean the wholesome, church-going kind.”

  Oh. “Boone—that’s not your fault.”

  “Right.” His voice held the rasp of emotion. “She was pregnant with me before my parents married
. At my first-grade open house, I’d gone out to use the drinking fountain in the hallway and two women were standing there, their backs to me. Talking about what a fool Roger Buckam was and how that ‘poor little boy’ probably wasn’t even his.”

  Boone. Vivien closed her eyes. “People say awful things.”

  “I remember going back into the classroom and seeing my dad—the man I thought was my dad. Standing alone because my mom was home sick. Sick—that’s what he’d called it. She was passed out. And that’s when I decided that, no matter what, I’d make him proud to call himself my dad.”

  “I’m sure he is proud of you.”

  Boone lifted his shoulder. “I just kept thinking if I could reach the next bar—the next achievement—then I’d feel deserving.” He stared at the floor. “The truth is, no one knows if my dad is really my dad. Probably not even her.” He shook his head. “And my dad? Maybe he heard the talk, too, because he’s been there, pushing me to earn my way.”

  “You’ve never talked to them about it?”

  “No. But everyone always knew. They knew who I was—what I came from. PJ’s mom never approved.”

  “That’s a terrible way to grow up.”

  “In tenth grade, I actually beat up a kid who said she was the town tramp.”

  “Kids are cruel.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it. I’d just decided it was the last time.” He tore off another bite of skizzle. “She’s turned her life around, though.”

  “Is she still drinking?”

  “No. After I got shot, she sought treatment. She’s stayed sober. I think my dad has had a lot to do with it. He doesn’t give up.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  He looked away, stared out the window at the bright streaks of sunset that lit the sky and cast an orange glow across the world.

  Vivien understood. All his reasons for wanting the chief job became clear. A police chief deserved respect. Honor.

  People couldn’t say he was trash. “You’re hard on yourself.”

  He nodded. “I demand a lot of myself.”

  “Grace isn’t just for other people. Maybe you didn’t get that memo.”