“You don’t have anything to say to that?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Nope.”
“No speculation as to why people are hanging around you like flies on a cow pat?” Her lip quirked when he remained silent. “Nothing like, say, you bear a striking resemblance to one hunky action star and now all of Forever Falls is following your pied piper ass around.”
Pied piper ass? To his surprise, the biggest, heartiest laugh Ethan had experienced in well over a year bubbled up from inside him. “You have a way with words, Ms. Monroe for Marilyn.”
“Hmm.” She cocked her head, studying him. “I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would come here in slush season. Let alone someone from a country with decent weather year-round. So that begs the question, why are you here?”
“Contrary to popular belief, Australia isn’t hot year-round. At least not the part where I live,” Ethan replied. “Well, lived.”
He would have to go back and pick up the pieces eventually. But right now there was no future. Only the present. And normally he would have gotten as far away from any kind of questions about himself as possible, but something in his gut told him Monroe might be the key to him getting the information he was searching for.
Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face, disappointment crawling through his system like poison. His visit to the funeral home yesterday had been less than helpful. The young kid—who was clearly the son of the owners—had been unsure what information he could and couldn’t give out, which meant he’d been tight lipped. All he’d confirmed was what Ethan already knew from the obituary—that a Matthew Brewer, aged 57, had passed away three years ago and his funeral had been held there.
That was it.
Nothing about any relatives, or which cemetery he’d been buried in—there were two in town, and one just outside Forever Falls. And that was if he’d even been buried at all. Who knew? Maybe the guy had been reduced to ashes and was now decorating someone’s fireplace mantel.
The past twelve months had been much of the same—asking questions and only winding up with more questions.
“And which part of Australia is that?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious. They probably didn’t get too many international travelers around these parts.
“Melbourne. Although I’m originally from a little seaside town called Patterson’s Bluff.”
“Small-town boy, huh?” Monroe nodded. “I could see that.”
“You saying I don’t look like the Hollywood type?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and laughing.
“I’m saying that people in this town will latch onto anything if it provides some interest, and a mysterious stranger with an accent and a celebrity doppelgänger is about as interesting as things are going to get around here for a while. Do they really believe you’re Thor? No.” Monroe made a snorting noise. “But when the average man in his thirties here is either already married or an ex-boyfriend, you’re going to draw attention.”
Which was so not what Ethan wanted right now.
“At least now I know who’s responsible for filling my diner,” she said.
“You’re welcome?” He had to phrase it as a question, because Monroe didn’t sound pleased.
“I’ll thank you when they’re paying customers and not gawkers.”
“I can’t control what others do.”
Lord knew that was the biggest lesson of the last year and a half. Because if Ethan had any control over other people whatsoever, then he sure as hell wouldn’t be traipsing from town to town, chasing ghosts.
Monroe’s lips twitched in amusement. “Can’t help being good-looking, huh? What a hard life.”
Okay now that was a prickle under his skin. Monroe didn’t know anything about him, like he didn’t know anything about her. She was mysterious, this woman, and for some bloody reason it made him want to peel back every one of her layers to find out what was underneath.
Bad move. You did not come here to get involved with anyone, let alone a woman who looks like she’s made of snark and shell.
Maybe it said something about Ethan, but he tended to like women like that. Women with a firecracker energy about them. Women with strong personalities and spark and high walls, because watching all those things melt under his touch was the most satisfying thing ever.
Monroe was definitely his type. But that fell square into the bucket of distractions he really didn’t need right now.
The latest obituary was folded up in his pocket. That’s what he needed to focus on.
Matthew Brewer passed away on February 16th in his home. He was a longtime resident of Forever Falls.
That was it. No names, no mention of a spouse or any kind of family. Not even a reference to anything he might have done in his lifetime. It was like looking for a ghost.
“You don’t want to challenge me,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Even though he’d only been in this woman’s presence for ten minutes, there was something magnetic between them. Something that sparked and glowed.
He hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.
“Maybe I do,” she said with a teasing smile. “Maybe this is the only bit of fun I’ve had in a very long time.”
Color him officially intrigued. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“A tale of woe, perhaps.” She shook her head. “So are you coming in for a meal? I need all the paying customers I can get.”
“I don’t suppose you have a secret table out the back where I could eat my meal in peace?”
She cocked her head. “You know, I may just be able to help you with that.”
…
Ethan followed Monroe’s directions through the restaurant, ignoring all the looks tossed his way. She’d told him to go into the kitchen and find Big Frank. The first person he saw when he pushed through the swing door was a tall, built man with a bushy brown beard, warm eyes, and a sleeve of intricate tattoos up one bulky arm.
“You Big Frank?”
“Who’s asking?” the man grunted. He looked like he could snap a human in half with his bare hands. Or a tree.
“Monroe sent me. I’m apparently causing a ruckus in your diner, but the eggs I had here yesterday were the best I’ve eaten in a long time. Not to mention, I’m hungry as hell.”
Big Frank chuckled. “That’s right, the movie star guy.”
“Movie star doppelgänger slash unsuspecting victim of a town’s worth of female attention.”
Big Frank appraised him for a second, but then he must have decided that Ethan was all right. “Sit down, I’ll make you some eggs,” he said gruffly. “Can’t let a man go hungry.”
“Thanks, mate, I appreciate it.”
Ethan was pretty sure this was peak small-town behavior—he could be anybody and they’d just let him into the back of the kitchen. In fact, it reminded him a lot of his hometown, which stirred some unwelcome nostalgia.
He watched Big Frank work the kitchen, moving with more grace than a ballerina—plating every single dish with care, even though it was mostly muffins and the occasional bit of French toast. After he slid the plates onto a shelf and tapped a bell, Big Frank cracked two eggs into a fry pan and got to work on Ethan’s breakfast.
“Have you worked for Monroe long?” he asked.
Big Frank made a snorting sound. “I’ve been working here since that one was knee-high to a grasshopper. Started out as a dish pig when I dropped out of school and worked my way up.”
“You’ve found your calling. I’ve eaten a lot of diner food in the last year, and this is top-notch.”
The burly man seemed to puff his chest out a bit at the compliment. “No sense doing a job if you can’t take some pride in it, that’s what my gramps always used to say. It’s what I keep telling Monroe—she needs to find something to be excited about.”
Fr
ank shoved the mushrooms around a skillet with a spatula, scraping up the delicious little bits that stuck to the bottom.
“Being a diner manager isn’t her life goal?” Ethan leaned back against the wall.
“She was supposed to have a cake shop, one of those fancy places.” There was something sad about Big Frank’s tone. It was obvious he’d known Monroe a long time and that he cared about her like she was his own kid. He’d peg Big Frank to be around fifty, and a tough-but-fair kinda guy. “You know she was on television for it. Won some big baking competition a few years back.”
“Really?” Ethan’s brow shot up.
Now that was a surprise. Not that he didn’t assume Monroe had talent, but it was more that she seemed like the last person on earth to voluntarily go on a reality show. As much as he appreciated Monroe’s spark, he wasn’t sure that would translate well on television.
“Oh yeah, you should have seen her.” Big Frank beamed with pride as he fetched the two slices of toast for Ethan’s breakfast. Then he shoveled the mushrooms and home fries onto the side of the plate and slid the eggs over the top of the toast. “She was amazing. Every time she got herself into a jam she’d come up with the most creative way to come out of it. Her cakes were by far the best. Did Forever Falls proud.”
“What was the name of the show?”
Big Frank passed the plate to Ethan and motioned for him to sit on a small wooden stool. Ethan balanced the plate on his lap and tucked into the food, his taste buds singing out in happiness as the first forkful passed through his lips.
“I honestly can’t remember.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sugar something?”
“I’ll have to ask her.” Ethan chewed happily on his toast and eggs.
“I wouldn’t,” Big Frank warned. “She’d have my hide for even mentioning it.”
“Why? Surely that’s something to be proud of.”
“I would agree with you there, but Monroe is…” Big Frank laughed and shrugged. “Well, she’s a woman of her own mind. Smart as heck and a heart of solid gold, but she’s more stubborn than a mule and she’s got a tongue that could cut a person clean in half.”
Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, I got that impression.”
At that moment Monroe walked through the door, carrying a stack of dishes and coffee cups. Big Frank turned straight back to the grill, looking guiltier than a little kid who’d been caught stuffing his face with chocolate right before dinner. Ethan swallowed an amused smile—it was funny to see a guy who looked like he could intimidate the heck out of anyone clearly be worried about the wrath of a five-foot-nothing redhead.
Monroe looked from Big Frank to Ethan and then back again, as though suspicious of the sudden silence in the kitchen. But instead of saying anything, she simply left the dishes in the sink for the teenager working there and grabbed a fresh pot of coffee. Then she was gone.
“It was called Sugar Coated,” the teenager said as he got to work pre-cleaning the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “The show that Monroe won.”
Doing some homework on the oh-so-intriguing Monroe was exactly the kind of distraction he did not need right now. But something told him that wouldn’t stop him from getting on Google later that night and seeing what interesting things he could find out.
…
To say Monroe’s day had been frustrating was putting it mildly. The Sunshine Diner had been rammed from opening to closing and yet they’d barely made more money than usual. All those free coffee refills and people nibbling on a muffin for an hour had taken its toll on the day’s profit. Who wanted to do triple the work for no more reward?
To make matters even worse, her ex had emailed. Turned out the reason the error with their divorce had been discovered was because Brendan was getting married…to Amber. Apparently it was “true love” and he hoped she “wouldn’t stand in the way of what was meant to be.”
Gag.
Talk about making her see red. That slime ball had not only reached out to demand that she contact the lawyers and do her part in correcting the mistake as quickly as possible, but there hadn’t been an ounce of apology in his communication. Nothing which recognized the pain she’d been through, nothing which acknowledged the rift her family had suffered from his infidelity, nothing which showed he understood that her heart had been totally and irreparably shattered by his betrayal.
Because she’d loved him. Ever since she was a fifteen-year-old weirdo and he was the popular boy who’d unexpectedly welcomed her into his circle, she’d loved him.
Monroe jogged up the steps to her sister’s house and jabbed the doorbell. The melodic chime echoed through the big house and a second later the door swung open. Loren looked as she always did—effortlessly glamorous in a colorful maxi dress with a big shawl wrapped around her shoulders, intricately beaded earrings shimmering against her long, blond hair.
“Hey, girl. Taylor is already here, the kids have been shipped off to Grandma’s, and Rudy is out with the boys.” Loren all but yanked Monroe into the house and enveloped her in a perfumed hug. “I’m so ready to open a bottle of wine.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
Monroe followed her sister into the house, ditching her boots by the door and hanging her coat in the hallway closet. They found their youngest sister, Taylor, sitting on one of the bar stools around the huge kitchen island. If Loren was the glamorous one and Monroe was the practical one, Taylor could be classified as the bold one. Her hair—which had been dyed a deep shade of crimson—was pinned up into a forties victory roll style. She wore black leather-look pants and a red top with a black cat embroidered at top right-hand side, the cropped sleeves of which showed off her tattoo sleeve perfectly.
“I always feel underdressed when I see you guys.” Monroe walked over and planted a kiss on her sister’s cheek. “I can’t remember the last time I wore anything but jeans and a sweater.”
“But it’s such a cute sweater.” Loren frowned. “Was it mine at some point?”
“Probably.”
Loren’s wardrobe was extensive, because she loved fashion and hated ever getting rid of things. Which led to both her sisters regularly “shopping” her closet.
“So,” Taylor said, filling and then passing out the wineglasses. “It sounded like you had something on your mind. What prompted the family chat?”
Monroe plonked herself down onto one of the stools. God. How did she even begin this story? While she might be wanting to keep the divorce fiasco under wraps from her dad, she’d made an agreement long ago with both sisters that they would never keep secrets.
Besides, she wanted some advice and they were her go-to source of female wisdom. Given that their mother had passed away when they were all in school, they’d grown up learning to rely on one another. Loren made a great mother hen, and Monroe and Taylor had grown up fast to pull their weight in the family. They were as tight-knit as could be.
Monroe reached for her wine and took a long, steady gulp. When she placed the glass back down on the countertop, two sets of eyes were trained on her, twin worried expressions making her heart feel heavy as a bag of rocks. She reached into her purse and pulled out the letter from the lawyer and, without saying a word, she unfolded it and placed it on the center of the island.
Loren was the first to read it, clamping a hand over her mouth, which caused Taylor to abandon her seat and peer over her big sister’s shoulder.
Taylor shook her head. “Is this for real?”
“Yeah.” Monroe swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Turns out I’m still legally married.”
“Holy mac-and-cheese balls.” Loren gaped at her. “Have you called the lawyer? I don’t understand how this could happen.”
“No, I haven’t called yet. All I know, after some Googling, is that the lawyer Brendan originally used is no longer in business. I thought at the time he seemed a bit off,
but I wasn’t about to argue. I just wanted it over.”
She still got nightmares about the day they’d all met in that big city office building. Monroe had barely eaten for a week before then and she’d almost fainted in the elevator. The whole time the meeting was going on, she hadn’t even been able to look her ex in the eye, the betrayal still so painful that she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t either burst into tears or attempt to strangle him.
“What about your lawyer?” Taylor asked.
“I need to talk to him, too.” Monroe scrubbed a hand over her face. “I was going to call him today, but then I got an email from Brendan and…”
Well, her mood had gone south faster than a stone plummeting off a cliff. Monroe then passed her phone around so they could all read the email. Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do, since neither of them had quite gotten over finding out their own cousin’s involvement with the demise of Monroe’s marriage.
“Fuck him,” Taylor said, her nostrils flaring.
“Potty mouth! Thank goodness the girls aren’t home,” Loren admonished.
“Sorry, Lor, I know you hate cursing, but I stand by it.” Her jaw ticked. “If he thinks you’ll just leap to attention because he wants to marry that disloyal rat, then he can—”
Loren held up her hand to cut her mouthy sister off. “We get it. Brendan is the lowest, most gutter-dwelling form of human and that email is…something else.”
“Just the tone of it.” Taylor pulled a face. “The entitled, demanding tone that he has no right to use. And the threat that if you don’t do your part he’ll come back to Forever Falls and make sure it’s done? Ugh!”
Brendan had always been a little entitled—he’d come from one of the wealthiest families in town, he’d always been good-looking and popular. But when he and Monroe had been together, he’d been more…grounded. Down to earth. It appeared that Amber and her unrelenting social climbing had brought out that spoiled rich kid side of him.
“If I have to see him again…” Monroe’s stomach rocked at the thought of it.
She wanted to tuck herself into a ball and hide. If Brendan came back to Forever Falls then he would see that he’d won. Monroe was living alone in a tiny apartment that smelled like cabbage from the rolls made at the Polish bakery beneath it. She was chronically single, had given up on her dreams of opening a cake decorating business, and had little more in her life than the remaining family members who’d stuck by her.
Forever Starts Now Page 4
