by Lara Swann
“Just lie to everyone?” I repeat, and I know I look a little incredulous.
I was just starting to settle into Ashton - I don’t exactly want to start ruffling people’s feathers now.
“Tell them the lie with a smile that acknowledges you both know you’re lying, and people here will lap it up.” She says, as if she can read my concern. “It’s a lie of self-preservation, everyone can get behind that - believe me, if anything, people will love you for it more - especially if you layer on some of that charm you’re so good at. It’s a game everyone’s played.”
“Hm…I can see that.” The way she talks about it, it almost sounds like a bit of fun. “Is that what you’ve done, today?”
“Yep.” She says, with an easy laugh that makes me feel better about not kissing her again. If she was already writing it off as nothing…yeah, this way is for the best. “All day. I got as many comments as you probably did - admittedly from a smaller selection of people.”
My lips twist into a wry smile. “Yeah…sorry about that.”
“Don’t be - it was worth it.” She says, grinning again, and the way my heart jumps makes me want to think she’s talking about the kiss, and not just the escape from her ex. “It’s not my first time going through this rodeo - at least this time the topic is a bit of fun to play with.”
I smile, enjoying the way her eyes shine at me as she talks and jokes about it.
“Okay, got it.” I finally say, nodding, even though I’d rather stick around for a while longer - which is exactly why it would be a bad idea to. “Play the game. Denial with a smile.”
She laughs, grinning. “Exactly. Hey, I might have to coin that phrase. ‘Denial with a smile’.”
“It was my phrase.”
“I inspired it.”
“Pfff…” I make a dismissive noise, before grinning. “Thanks for the advice, anyway.”
“No problem.” She nods. “Good luck.”
The way she says that makes me feel a little like someone being thrown to the wolves - but then, maybe that’s just the way today at the cupcake store left me feeling.
“See you around.” I say with a smile.
My gaze lingers for a brief moment before I prop myself back up and unfold my arms, raising my hand as I step back and turn to walk back down the steps of her porch. The urge to do far more than that small wave is almost overwhelming, but I manage to suppress it. We just agreed a plan to deal with the first scandal - it’s definitely not the time to be starting another one.
Even if it is a nice idea.
I hear the door close behind me - and just as I’m on the small walkway between our two properties, I see Mark’s truck pull up.
Okay, good choice. Thank god you didn’t linger.
“Daaaadddyyy!”
A moment later Maya is jumping out of the truck and running toward me with an excited yell, barely sparing a wave behind her for Katy and Lily. I’m not sure I can remember seeing her so willing to leave them, before, as I catch her in my arms and swing her around.
“Hey, princess.” I say, as she wraps all her limbs around me, and it makes me wonder if something might have happened - but she doesn’t seem upset. I glance behind her to Mark’s head sticking out of the truck window. “Thanks, Mark.”
I raise a hand to him, watching as his gaze travels up and down me with an assessing look. I’m not surprised - I’m sure he’s caught more than one rumor about me kissing his younger sister and I didn’t exactly think that would boost our growing friendship - but he doesn’t say anything.
Yet another reason why that kiss was a bad idea.
After a few moments, he gives me a nod and I return it, before Katy waves out of the window to Maya and they drive off.
“Did you have a good time?” I ask, returning my attention to Maya as I turn to carry her inside, shaking off that considering glance Mark gave me.
Easier not to think about it. I might have gotten myself into a stupid situation, but all I can do now is see how it plays out. He doesn’t seem to want to lynch me so far, at least. Then again, Maya and I do provide a good distraction for Katy and Lily - I know from my own experience, that would be a hard thing to give up.
She nods, wriggling around in my arms until I put her down again and we walk into the kitchen.
“Yeah. It was fun.” She says, though her voice is distracted and she’s giving me a strange look as I heat the pasta.
Since Kelsey got her started with painting, she’s been really interested in it - so when Mark mentioned that an older woman called Mary-Jane runs a casual painting classes that Katy and Lily have been to a few times, I jumped at the idea. Now the three girls have started going together every week it’s on, with Mark and I alternating taking them home, and I feel a whole lot better that Maya gets to do more with her summer than spend the whole time at the cupcake store with me.
There’s no doubt she loves it there, but I still want her to have the chance to have fun and play games with her new friends. Not to mention, I’ve been a little worried that if she’s there too often, she might lose enthusiasm for it - and we’ve only just opened the place.
“Daaaaddyyy…” She starts, and I glance over at her, to see her looking intently at me. “Did you and Kelsey kiss?”
I drop the ladle I’m holding and it lands in the pasta sauce, little droplets splashing out of the pan.
Oh. Oh shit.
That’s what she’s been thinking about.
I blink for a moment, a dozen thoughts rushing through my mind of what I could possibly say, how I could possibly explain—
Then I stop.
Taking a breath, I look at Maya and put Kelsey’s advice into practice. As a general rule, I don’t lie to Maya, about anything. It’s important to me that she understands what’s going on - and that maybe I don’t want to talk about things sometimes, but that she can trust me.
With this, though? And the can of worms I could open that might confuse and hurt her?
Yeah, I’m taking the easy way out. General rules always have exceptions, right?
“Nope.” I say, watching as she frowns at me.
“But Katy said you did.”
“Ahhh…” I say, exaggerating it. “I think Katy might have heard wrong, princess - I only pretended to kiss Kelsey.”
That even makes it not entirely a lie. Or at least, the same thing I told Kelsey. And myself.
I’m still not sure what started the kiss, but by the time it ended…that was what it was. Even if the last thing it felt like was fake.
“You pretended?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Whyyy?” Her tone is decidedly suspicious, and I don’t blame her.
Good fucking question.
I shrug. “I thought it would be fun. Like a joke.”
She squints at me, folding her arms as if trying to decide whether I’m serious. I turn back to the pasta and try to pretend this is a perfectly normal conversation and nothing alarming is going on at all.
“Oh.” She finally says, apparently concluding that I pass whatever lie detection skills she has, and I’m not sure whether the disappointed tone there is just something I’m imagining.
God. What if she wanted me to have kissed—no, don’t think about it. Can of worms. Doesn’t matter. There’s no kissing Kelsey going on here, remember? We’re denying it.
I glance back at her to see some of the suspicion has fallen away, and she stands there looking at me for a long minute before finally shaking her head and sighing.
“You’re so silly, Daddy.”
The despairing way she says it makes me smile, but I’m not about to deny she’s probably right about that.
“Yeah, I know.” I offer, cocking my head at her and pointing to the drawers. “Daddy is always silly. Now, do you think you can help me get the forks and spoons out for dinner?”
She nods, still watching me out of the corner of one eye as she moves to do as I’ve asked.
I get the feeling I’m going to be dealing with
a lot of those looks over the next week or so - but hopefully this one will disappear a little quicker than the others.
And I’ll resolve to stop being quite so silly again.
Chapter Thirteen
Kelsey
Both Liam and I spend the next couple of weeks trying to avoid rumors and end the many questions.
I don’t see as much of him which - given all that - isn’t very surprising, but I don’t think it’s entirely because we’re trying to prevent more rumors from spreading.
At least on my side, part of it is because of that kiss. The one that I still can’t get out of my head.
At the time, I was able to shrug it off easily enough - partly from the shock, I’m sure - but since then…well, I’ve had more than one night thinking about it in great detail. That, and my jaw-droppingly handsome next door neighbor.
Yeah. That’s going to help, I know. But it’s not exactly like I can control exactly where my mind goes, can I?
When he came around to talk to me about it the next day, I almost thought he was going to continue where we left off…and I had no idea how I felt about that. I mean, apart from the hot, aching parts of my body that want to cry out ohh, yes.
If he had, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him, I know that much - but that doesn’t make it a good idea, either. When he moved in, the one resolution I had was that I absolutely was not getting involved with my hot new neighbor…that was for a reason.
Sure, maybe he hasn’t revealed himself to be the player I very well thought he could be with all that charm - no, he’s just a gorgeous, adorable single dad with one of the sweetest relationships with his daughter I’ve seen…ahem, no, bad Kelsey. That still doesn’t change that I know basically nothing about him and he’s definitely hiding some things.
Not exactly the kind of man I’d want to risk getting involved with. If I even want to get involved with a man. Which I decided I didn’t, and so far that seems to be working out well for me.
So…yes, maybe not seeing so much of him has been a little deliberate on my part - and I can’t help wondering whether it is with him, too. Maybe we both realized that a bit of space and time was needed - and then after a while, we can slip back into that easy friendship like nothing happened. Probably. I really hope that friendship isn’t screwed.
I still spend time with Maya, of course, and exchange the usual over-the-fence greetings with Liam, but although I know he hangs out with Mark a few times - yes, my brother always seems to casually mention it, all the while watching closely for my reaction - he doesn’t come over to mine when Maya does.
It also makes me doubly grateful for my side investigation giving me something else to pour my time and attention into. It means that I’m not thinking about the firm touch of Liam’s mouth, the slight roughness of his stubble on my lips, the burning heat in his gaze…yes, all of that. Or not thinking about it quite so much, anyway.
I collect together all the information I’ve been subtly trying to piece together - all the ‘town projects’ that Ashton has funded through temporary increases in property rates, and as much information as I can get on each project. The older ones are the hardest, but even with the newer ones…it’s patchy. There are a couple of reports that detail the problem, and then an eventual confirmation of the resolution too, but when I’ve looked into exactly what they say it’s just so generic.
I’m not an expert on sewage, or irrigation, or bridge repair, or school roofs, or telephone poles…but it’s a little concerning that I don’t even need to be to understand these reports. They seem to be written in layman’s terms, with no further detail about the exact structural problems or exactly what needs to be done to fix it. Maybe that’s just the nature of the records I can get hold of, or because they’re written for the Mayor and he’s not an expert either, but it definitely doesn’t make me feel more comfortable about the whole thing.
The number of incidents is concerning too, to the point I’m surprised no one else has thought about it before.
Has our town really been on the edge of collapse for the last twenty years?
It definitely never seemed that way, but then, none of these issues are particularly visible. A lot of the work done seems to have been preventative, too, which is an even more difficult thing to measure. I mean, sure, we haven’t had any infrastructure disasters since these projects have happened…but we didn’t have any particularly noticeable issues before, either.
As everything I find comes together, I start to reach the unsettling conclusion that - despite the discomfort and uneasy feelings I’m left with - I still have no actual proof one way or another.
Which means that the paper trail is only going to get me so far - particularly while trying to pull documents together without anyone noticing - and if I really want to progress this, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and do more than reading and internet research.
I’m going to have to ask some questions.
It takes me another couple of days to build up the nerve - and even then, I still don’t approach Margaret, the person I most want to speak to - but I’ve come to far with all this to drop it just because I’m worried about someone finding out what I’m doing.
Who knows, if someone finds out, maybe I’ll finally have someone to bounce ideas around with - maybe they’ll look at what I’ve collected and start getting suspicious too.
With that in mind, and telling myself firmly that I am a journalist and I’m working with Amanda on the sewage article she’s writing, so I have every right to ask questions about it, I finally approach the workmen that have erected a large construction site barrier on the outskirts of town.
I’ve walked past here a few times and I’ve always seen a couple of guys in yellow jackets loitering outside - yet another thing tugging at my inner suspicions - so this time, I take advantage.
This time, my tape recorder is on and recording in the pocket of my jacket. I’m more than a little aware that’s not entirely legal, but I don’t plan to show this to anyone - and especially not someone who might sue me. I just want it for my records, and maybe to convince a couple of people to look into this more. If I even get anything out of it, that is.
“Hey there.” I wave at them, smiling as I approach. “You guys are working on the sewage problem, right?”
They glance at each other, then one turns back to me, walking a little closer as he nods.
“That’s right, sweetheart. You probably don’t want to hang around this part of town for long. It’ll start stinking soon enough.”
I make the expected grimace, though now that he mentions it I’m surprised it doesn’t already stink. They’ve been here half a week already.
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I give a small laugh. “How’s it going so far?”
He shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at the companion now watching from closer to the barrier, looking at us both closely.
“Alright.” He says simply.
I cock my head slightly to one side, internally cursing that he couldn’t be a little more talkative.
“Can you tell me a little more about what you’re doing to fix it? I never could understand all of that technical discussion about it.”
He frowns slightly, squinting at me. “Why’d you want to know?”
I give him an easy smile, even as my heart rate increases. That’s stupid, of course, I’ve asked a lot more risky questions in my life than that - but what’s behind all this changes it, somehow. I tell myself there’s no way anyone would know what I’m trying to do here, and it helps a little.
“Heh, mostly curiosity. I like knowing what’s going on” I say, before shrugging. “I work at Behind the Times—”
“At what?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, forget not everyone is from around here. The local newspaper. My colleague Amanda has done a couple of articles about this project, but - between you and me - I still don’t really understand what’s going on. It’s getting a little awkward, so when I saw you guys over here, I
thought I might just ask you instead.”
I keep my smile plastered on my face, trying to make it look as natural as I can, but he still shifts uncertainly, glancing behind him again.
“Articles?” He repeats, and my heart does a little flip in my chest.
Why would he have asked about that specifically? Is he concerned about it?
Or are you reading too damn much into things, Kelsey?
I push all the self-talk aside, trying to focus on what I’m doing here.
“Yeah.” I say, easily enough. “The Mayor wanted us to publish a couple of things to inform people, you know? We covered his announcement of the problem - and then the solution. That latter one went down better, of course.”
I watch closely for any change in attitude as I mention the Mayor, but I don’t quite pick up on one. Damn it.
“Right.” He says slowly, then shrugs. “Well, I’m not sure I’m the right person to talk to—”
“Oh, I’m not looking for any of that.” I say. “This isn’t about publishing anything. I just want to understand a bit about what’s going on - what is it you guys are doing in there, anyway?”
“Just dealing with the drains. You know.” He shrugs again, and I feel suspicious all over again.
Dealing with the drains? From a supposed engineer? Really?
“What’s wrong with them?” I ask, trying to keep it innocent enough.
“Blockages, you know, that sort of thing. Unpleasant business, really - this is why people shouldn’t flush wet wipes. Maybe you could put that in your next article.”
“Oh believe me, we are. We’re working on a list of things to caution people about so that this doesn’t happen again. Is there anything else you’d advise against?”
“Ah—well—that’s the main one. Glad you’ve got that covered. Listen, I should—”
“Is it a fatberg, then?” I ask, before he can find a way to leave.
I, at least, have been doing some research about this. I could tell you a dozen other things to avoid flushing beyond just wet wipes, too.
“A—err—well yes, something like that—”
“Brendon?” The man who’s been watching us from further back interrupts, his brows drawn down as he approaches.
