More than a pretty face.
Even twenty-four hours later, the adrenaline still thrummed through her as she stepped into the climbing harness at the Crisis Response Team headquarters, the memories fresh. How one moment, she’d been sitting in Boone’s arms after hours tooling around the lake. Laughing. Setting up lunch and letting the dappled sunshine warm them beneath the canopy of birch trees.
What if I could stay longer?
Then the cry for help had shattered the moment and Boone had jumped into action. And when she saw him go under, struggle to free the teen, there was no question. It was her role to play.
“You’ve never done this before?” Cole worked his hands through the harness, making sure it was tight enough before connecting the carabiner on the line that looped up through a ceiling anchor.
“Nope. Never.” Vivien looked down over the two-story drop. They’d added in boulder holds and footholds on the wall. Peter Dahlquist stood there, his dark hair pulled back and the bulk of his form holding the belay line. “Peter—if you drop me, I’m going to cast you as the lead in my next musical.”
“Don’t even think about it. It’s probably Wicked.”
“Are there any male leads in Wicked?” Cole asked, looking down at Peter.
He shot a look at Vivie, his deep voice reverberating in the open bay. “No. That’s exactly my point.”
Vivien laughed. “I love having you as a cousin. To torture all the livelong day.”
“Just remember who’s holding your belay, Viv.” He gave a robust laugh.
“Okay, time to get serious,” Cole said. “Ready?”
This might actually be the craziest thing Vivien had ever done in her life. She nodded and Cole put a thumbs-up out over the platform. “Call down ‘On belay’ to Peter when you’re ready.”
She nodded, cleared her throat. “On belay?”
“Belay on!” Peter called, all the tease gone from his voice.
Cole turned her so her back was to the drop and faced her. “Okay, this is the hardest part. You’re going to anchor your feet here”—he pointed at the ledge just behind her—“like you saw me do earlier, call down to Peter ‘On rappel,’ and then you’re going to lean backward and let your body go parallel to the floor. I’ll coach you down, but keep your knees soft and your body relaxed.”
She took a long breath. Maybe joining the team as a volunteer wasn’t the best idea she’d had.
“Peter’s got you. He’s going to let out the line, little by little to allow you to move into the horizontal position with your feet against the wall. Remember, keep your body soft, relaxed.” Cole was trying to help her focus. Reassure her.
“Be brave, Vivie. You’ve got this,” Peter’s voice hollered up to her.
Yeah. She could do this. She’d helped save Tasha—who was now recovering at the hospital in Minneapolis because of her and Boone.
“Once you’re out, it’s easy as pie. You’re just going to walk backward down the wall, keeping your core tight, arms and legs relaxed, and Peter’s going to ease your line as you go.”
Right. Okay. She could totally do this. Like Charlie’s Angels kind of do this.
Except, her feet stayed in place.
“Viv?” Peter called. “I’ve got you.”
Cole stood in front of her. “Take a few deep breaths. It’s like jumping into the deep end of the pool for the first time. You’ll be okay.”
She nodded. Inhaled. Exhaled. Looked behind herself and stepped to the edge. “On rappel.” Then she leaned back, trusted. And the flood of adrenaline swept through her body like she was stepping out onto stage.
Exhilarating.
“Keep at it, Viv—you’re doing great,” Cole called down from above.
“About ten more feet, Viv,” Peter’s voice advised from behind.
She gently pushed off the wall and then she could see the floor coming up slowly beneath her.
“Grab hold of the rope so you can rotate yourself upright while you walk your feet down the wall.”
Her feet touched the floor and she threw her hands over her head. “That was awesome!”
She turned to hug Peter.
“What are you doing?” Boone stood near the doorway in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, his face drained of all color.
“I rappelled,” Vivien announced while Peter stepped forward to disconnect her line.
Boone opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he turned and walked straight back out the door.
She disconnected the line from her harness and ran out the door. “Boone?”
He stopped and turned, scrubbing his hands over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I came to discuss the investigation—to keep you safe—and I walk in and instead of painting a wall, you’re rappelling down a two-and-a-half story wall!”
“Yeah? And? We can still talk about the investigation. And paint.”
“Vivien.”
His voice edged—almost scolding. And maybe that was what set her hackles up.
Boone held his jaw tight and looked away. Oh—he wasn’t angry. He was scared.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I got here early and Peter and Cole and I got to talking about the team volunteers and, well, that interests me. So they decided to teach me how to rappel.”
He turned back to her, the lines on his face softening. He reached out to a lock of hair the wind had lifted and tucked it behind her ear. “I just don’t like to see you hanging off a cliff. Especially without me holding onto you.”
Oh. But before she could say anything else, Cole stuck his head out the door. “The painting party has begun. Are you guys joining us?”
She looked up at Boone, watched the storm pass over his face.
“Sure,” he answered. “We can discuss a few things with the investigation.”
“Okay. We’re set up in the conference room.” Cole disappeared.
“I was completely safe.” She looked up at him, reached for his hand, and wove her fingers into it.
He looked at her, so much concern and care in his eyes, it poured over her.
“We should get inside.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She stepped out of the climbing harness and followed him inside, shoving the harness into Peter’s hands as they passed in the hallway.
Cole leaned against the wall of the conference room, pale splatters of paint on his jeans and blue T-shirt.
“Anything new on the case?” Boone asked.
“The package traced back to that prepaid card. As far as I know it was a dead end.”
“What about Sabrina?” Boone pulled out his notepad from his back pocket.
Vivien shook her head. “She’s ruthless, but I don’t think she’s quite that diabolical.” She grabbed a paint can and popped the lid off. “If she’s going to make me uncomfortable, she’d want a front-row seat for it.”
“Like Fish Pic?” Boone made a note next to her name.
“Exactly.”
Boone picked up a roller. “Ravil doesn’t have a motive—he wants you back in New York City, so terrorizing you with reminders of what happened wouldn’t make any sense.”
“You sound very reluctant to clear his name,” Vivien said.
Cole laughed at her observation and raised a brow at Boone. “She’s got a point. We don’t have any evidence or motive for him.”
“I know. I know.” Boone gave her a look. “He should have involved the police in your case. The fact that he didn’t—and then fired you—well, he isn’t going to win any man-of-the-year awards.”
She noticed he’d avoided the boyfriend label. She picked up a roller, loaded it with paint, and began sweeping it across the wall in large W shapes.
“Well, that leaves us with Joslyn,” Cole said. “She had the most to lose if you returned to the show.”
“I think I’m totally awesome at this.” She held up her roller. “Must be from all my years of set building.”
Boone turned from Cole
. “Except that’s the wrong color.”
“What?” Vivien looked from where Boone pointed at the creamy-white far wall back to the wall in front of her, where the dark edge of wet paint was most clearly gray. “Oh.”
Cole laughed. “Sorry. That’s my fault. I should have specified which can to grab.” He picked up the open lid and pressed it back down on the gray. “This is for the trim.”
Boone looked up from his notes. “Any more messages from Joslyn?”
Oops. “I blocked her number.”
Boone looked up at her. “Oh. That would have been good to know.”
“Well, no one told me not to.”
Cole held out his hand for the gray-covered roller. “I can get that cleaned up. We’ll need to let that paint dry before we can primer over it.” He pointed to her wall, where her oversized W’s looked more like an advertisement for Wonder Woman than anything else.
Vivien cringed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure you can find something more fun than painting to do.”
Boone tapped his notebook. “I’m going to follow up on a few things. Find out what Joslyn’s been up to.”
“Gordy’s coming by the theater on Monday. I’m going to make sure everything is ready to go for the big reveal.” She rubbed her hands together and peeled a splatter of latex paint from her fingers.
Cole set the roller down on a fold of newspaper. “Don’t forget to pick up that volunteer application, Viv.”
Boone’s hand stilled, his pen mid-word. He looked up from his notepad, a hundred questions in his eyes.
She blinked. Smiled.
Chapter 14
The blush of dawn spread across the sky, reflected in the lake. Sweat sluiced down Boone’s back as he finished his run, his lungs heaving from the distance. But even five miles couldn’t tame the beast inside him.
He hadn’t slept well, his brain still spinning on the message his father had left the day before. He’d missed the call while at rehearsal and had been met with the excitement in his dad’s voice when he played back the voicemail.
I hear you’re at the top of the list for the chief job. I’m so proud of you, son.
Son.
Was he really ready to throw away the dream he’d been chasing for a woman? A woman who had trouble following her around? Walking into the CRT building, the last thing he’d expected to see was Vivien, dangling from the two-story-plus platform like she was playing the stunt woman in a new movie. Volunteering?
Maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing in Deep Haven. He was going to get hurt. And everyone knew PJ had driven him to his last nerve…
He just needed to cure the turmoil that simmered inside him.
Embrace the life you have, not…the one others expect you to have.
PJ had once told him she liked who she was becoming. She liked the version of herself she could see in her tomorrows. And, so what if she was picking a lock when she said it? If he was honest now, it suited her to chase after…herself.
He blew out a breath. Maybe he was finally beginning to understand what she’d meant.
Yeah. No wonder she’d rebelled against him. Because now, he could see all those expectations he’d piled on PJ.
He turned toward his cabin. He liked who he was becoming too.
And he didn’t want to make the same mistake with Vivien. No matter how much it terrified him.
He jogged around the corner and dodged a thin, dark-haired man on the sidewalk.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
The man ducked away before Boone could respond, disappearing. All the PJ memories had him hearing Russian accents now. He shook it off as he reached his cabin.
A Chevy Silverado sat in his driveway, a layer of dust on the blue paint. Who—?
A tall, lean figure stood from the deck chair, the morning light bright against the gray hair.
Oh. Perfect. Chief Landry.
“Good. I was hoping you’d be back in time to cook me some breakfast.”
“What are you doing here?” Boone slipped off his shoe and dumped the rock that had been grinding into him for the last quarter mile.
“Well, I would have called, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“So you drove all the way up here? You could have contacted Rachelle. I’m sure she would have filled you in.”
“Actually, we spent the night camping near Evergreen Lake. Got the family together for a trip before the fall weather hits.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a lot to be said for getting out of the city.”
Boone couldn’t disagree. He hadn’t missed the crimes. The cases. The exhausting pursuit of justice. He smiled. “I see. While you’ve left them to camp grub, you decided to pop over here for, what? Eggs and bacon?”
“Oh, if you’re offering.” He laughed, a deep rumble. “But, no, they are all in town having breakfast at the Loon Cafe and then doing some window shopping. At least, I hope it’s window shopping. We have enough stuff to take back home. Those grandkids don’t travel light.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his green tactical pants. “Thought it was a good time to catch up with you.” He looked Boone up and down, as if he was in formation, standing for inspection. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” Boone grabbed his gym towel from the rail and wiped his face. “Let me rinse off. Then we’ll talk.”
By the time the coffee was ready, Boone had plated pancakes and eggs for them and they sat down at the small table.
“How’s the fishing been?” Steve took a drink of coffee.
Boone paused. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
Steve set down his fork, leaned forward against clasped hands. “You haven’t gone fishing yet?”
“I’ve been kayaking. And I’ve been helping coach football. I’ve even been helping with construction on the Crisis Response headquarters building. In fact, I’ll be heading over there after breakfast.” Boone added another helping of eggs to his plate. Let his voice drop. “And I have the lead in the local play.”
Steve’s eyebrow raised. “Interesting.” He took a drink of coffee. “That’s good, I guess. Surprising, actually. How about the reading?” He picked the book up off the table. Flipped it open to the bookmark Rachelle had given him. On the first page of chapter two. He lifted his eyes back to Boone, waved the book in the air. “Do you want to explain this?”
“A few days ago, I helped save a teenager who nearly drowned.”
He took another drink, the corners of his lips curved in a smile. “You can’t avoid it, can you?”
“What?”
“The action. Diving in. You can’t actually relax.”
Boone set his fork down. “I’ve tried. I’ve really tried. But sitting still isn’t my MO. And, you know, I can’t really be blamed for some third party ending up needing to be hauled to shore. CPR. Being taken out by helicopter.”
“I suppose you’re right there.” Steve looked out the window at the lake before turning back to Boone. “I’m not criticizing you. It probably feels that way.”
Well…
“I spoke with your dad at the club.” He stood and refilled his coffee cup then sat back down.
“He left me a message.”
Steve took a long drink of coffee. “He’s been like your campaign manager, putting your name out there for my position.” He let out a deep laugh.
“I’d expect nothing less of him.” Always raising the bar.
“He knows you’d be a great chief.” Steve ran his hand over his two-day-old scruff. “I do too. You’re sitting at the top of the pool right now, with the assumption that you’re getting everything under control here.” He tapped the book against the table.
“Thanks.” Boone had lost his appetite.
“I did hear from Rachelle that your blood pressure’s down. You keep up whatever it is you’re doing here and you’ll be able to return to civilization in no time.” He gestured to the small cabin.
Boone stilled. “Right.” He took a drink of his c
offee. Because tomorrow he’d be walking into church with Vivien for the next-to-last time if he stuck to his schedule. Stuck to the expected.
Denied the man he was becoming.
“You have two weeks left on your leave.” Steve cleared his plate from the table and set it in the sink with his mug. “I think it’s safe to say you’ll be ready to come back.” He grabbed his truck keys on his way to the door. “You know, to accept your new position.”
Boone swallowed, unable to answer. Because all he saw was the future he’d planned, the one with the pride of his father and the respect of his town…now pitted against the dream of something…more.
Fresh-mowed lawn and sweet gardenias filled the summer afternoon air as Vivien stepped from Ree’s car and walked toward the Java Cup. Today, she’d opted for a practical wrap top and jeans paired with her leopard-print Converse low tops. Vivien was on the brink of success and all she needed was to keep everything on schedule today.
She and Boone enjoyed church together and play rehearsals. Some days, she’d find herself watching football practice. Okay, well, watching one of the coaches.
They’d fallen into a natural rhythm and when they’d walked into church the day before, it had felt like they’d been doing it for a lifetime. The comfort of his body against hers. The way they’d claimed their own spot in the sixth pew back, just off the center aisle.
They had a pew of their own. And he wasn’t leaving. He wanted to stay. She’d even overheard him talking to Cole about the team on Saturday when they were at the VFW for dinner. And he’d been talking about the football season—the entire season, like he planned to still be around at the final game in October.
So, there was that.
And then she’d done the local radio show. Heard the buzz around town. It looked like Then Came You was going to be the Labor Day weekend event. A sold-out house.
She opened the door of Java Cup, inhaling the enticing aroma of ground coffee beans and fresh pastries. She glanced at her watch and stepped up to the counter where Kathy waited. “I’ll take an iced Becky.”
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