by Lauren Layne
“Well, we had to do something to bring Billy to his senses, didn’t we?” Olive said.
“My ears are burning,” a man said, coming out of the back office even as he shoved a cell phone into his pocket.
“Just remembering the dark days before you made an honest woman out of Mona,” Olive said, patting the man fondly on the back.
Not just a makeover artist then, Carter thought. Olive was also a matchmaker. He was rapidly gathering that they were likely just a couple of the many hats this woman wore in Haven.
“Dark days indeed,” Billy said, gazing adoringly at Mona before shifting his attention back to Olive and Carter. “Sorry about the delay. I was on the phone with the big fancy bank I just joined, and it took me nearly twenty minutes of shouting at a machine just to get to a damn person. Now what can I—”
He broke off when he seemed to finally register Carter’s presence. Not that it was surprising. Carter may be a head taller than everyone in the room, and famous, but it was hard to compete with the likes of Olive Dunn and Mona Pullen.
“Well, hot damn,” Billy said, striding over to Carter with a grin. “Carter Ramsey, good to see you, son!”
Carter extended his hand for a hearty shake, smiling at the man, whose voice and overall persona were every bit as booming now as they had been when he’d taken Carter and Caitlyn on a generous number of test drives twelve years ago.
Billy had definite shades of the cliché used-car salesman, but Carter remembered his first car purchase fondly. Any pushiness on Billy’s part had seemed to come from a conviction that he’d found the perfect car for his customers and couldn’t, in good conscience, let them leave without it. And when Billy leaned heavily into a sales pitch, it was with genuine enthusiasm for his cars, evident by the fact that he called them his babies and had named most of them.
Which was why Carter was here. He could have snapped his fingers and had a car delivered from just about anywhere in the world, whenever he wanted. But coming to Billy’s had seemed right—almost as though Carter had a long-dormant loyalty to Haven that had come alive the second he’d crossed the town’s borders.
“Was sorry to hear about this.” Billy made a sympathetic noise as he gestured at Carter’s injured arm. “Got yourself a broken wing, huh? Any word on whether or not you’ll get that golden arm back, or is it dunzo? I guess we all have to get old sometime.”
Ooph. Carter knew the other man didn’t mean it as a jab, but it felt like one all the same. The reminder that he was aging—and replaceable—seemed to hit Carter right in the solar plexus.
“Say, Billy, I saw the cutest red truck out front,” Olive interjected, coming toward the two of them and gesturing toward the parking lot. “Puh-lease tell me it hasn’t been spoken for.”
“Oh, you’re talking about Jody!” Billy said, turning back toward Olive, a smile beaming over his face. “That little cutie’s a real doll. Been waiting for just the right home for her. Come on out, let me show you what she can do . . .”
Carter opened his mouth to remind Olive that they were here for his car needs, not hers, but he shut it, because though Olive didn’t so much as glance his way, he somehow suspected she’d deliberately—and smoothly—directed Billy’s attention away from Carter’s injury.
Olive followed Billy outside into the sweltering heat, nodding enthusiastically as he rattled off horsepower and gas-mileage stats. Carter started to follow, but a more spry than she looked Mona quickly stepped in front of him, her brown eyes brimming with good-natured curiosity.
She touched his arm, and he looked down at her.
“Okay, I confess I’m not the sports fan Billy is,” Mona said, lowering her voice, though her husband was already outside. “But I love Us Weekly, and I never miss a Citizen magazine update! So, I have to ask . . . Is it true you dated Eden Liu, or was that tabloid gossip?”
Carter barely withheld the flinch at the mention of Citizen magazine—he still hadn’t quite come to grips with the fact that his face would be plastered all over newsstands as Man of the Year in a few short weeks, and the story of his injury, which had finally faded out of the mainstream media, would be broadcast all over again.
“A little bit true,” he said with a smile. “We went on a few dates, and she’s great, but between our schedules, we figured the best we’d ever do was see each other every couple months, and parted ways as friends.”
“Oh, of course, she travels all over the world for her fashion shows!” Mona said with a reverence that told him she was far more awestruck by the supermodel ex-girlfriend’s accomplishments than his own, and that suited him just fine.
“What about Cameron Diaz? Have you met her?”
“Once or twice,” he said noncommittally.
“I just love her,” Mona said with a happy sigh. “I was disappointed at first when she retired from acting, but I’ve read her books!”
“Oh yeah?” Carter said, unable to keep from shifting slightly to see where Billy and Olive circled a red truck in the parking lot, Billy’s arms waving wildly, and Olive nodding with equal enthusiasm.
“So now, are you seeing anyone special?” Mona asked, rather unabashedly.
He reluctantly turned his attention back to her. “Not at the current moment, no.”
“Not at the current moment.” She pounced, though in a friendly, puppy-dog kind of way. “Does that mean you’ve got your eye on a girl?”
Felicity’s face flashed before his eyes. Or at least, Felicity’s face as it had looked ten years ago, when they’d eagerly held each other’s hands and made that stupid, stupid pact . . .
Or maybe not so stupid.
Their relationship was old news, sure, but to date, it was still his best relationship. It had been . . . sweet. Unmarred by the paparazzi, the struggles of long distance, or the vague sense that they were locked in a competition to be the most famous, as had been the case with some of his celebrity girlfriends in the past.
Who was to say they couldn’t pick up where they’d left off? He was single. She was single. They were both twenty-eight, and they had said that if they were both single in ten years . . .
“Nah,” he told Mona with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Nobody on the horizon.”
If he hadn’t even told his own mother or twin about his and Felicity’s “arrangement,” he wasn’t going to start with a woman who, while very sweet, seemed like the type to have her own celebrity gossip blog. Or, at the very least, to be at the top of Haven’s gossip phone tree.
Instead of badgering him further, she nodded in understanding, and patted the side of his nonbroken arm gently. “Well, don’t you worry. I’m sure you’ll find the absolute right girl when you’re not looking. But first things first, let’s see about getting you a car, shall we? I know Olive’s not looking for one. She just got her little used VW a year ago, and it’s just right for her.”
Interesting. So he’d been right, then, about Olive using her interest in the red truck to save Carter from Billy’s uncomfortable questions, rather than out of actual interest in it. He felt a rush of gratitude. It had been a long time since someone had extended such a simple kindness. Sure, Carter had people jumping through hoops to support him left and right, but that was to support the ballplayer. Any number of people would do whatever needed to be done to keep him on the team, to heal him—anything to get him back on the field.
Far fewer cared about his happiness off the field.
Billy and Olive came back into the lobby, chatting excitedly, and Billy gave Carter an enthusiastic thump on the back. “All right, son, all right. Let’s get that paperwork underway, huh? Hope your left hand’s not your signing hand!”
He chuckled as he headed into the back office, and the smile of gratitude that Carter had been about to flash Olive faded. “Um, what’s he talking about?”
Olive thumped him on the back, mimicking Billy’s action, the gesture nearly as forceful as the man’s had been. “Congrats, Baseball. You’ve got yourself a brand-n
ew truck!”
“Wait. What?”
“The red one!” she said with a grin, gesturing to the parking lot.
“But I don’t want a truck. Definitely not a red one.”
She waved her hand. “You only say that because you haven’t seen it yet.”
“Sort of my point. Shouldn’t I be the one to see and inspect and choose my car?”
“Shh,” she said, laying her forefinger along her lips and tapping repeatedly, the way a mother might to a toddler in church. She pointed. “Billy’s here with your paperwork.”
Carter ground his teeth. “But I don’t want—”
Three expectant faces blinked up at him, and Carter dragged his hand over his face. Ah, what the hell. He had the money. And the car was only for a few weeks.
“You got a pen?” he asked, sighing only slightly in resignation.
Mona already had one ready, and Olive was pulling out a desk chair across from Billy, gesturing for Carter to sit.
He did, but he gave Olive a pointed we’ll talk about this later glare as he did so.
She grinned, then plopped into the chair beside him. “It’s a good thing you got a truck, because you’re going to want a grill while you’re here, and it wouldn’t have fit in a car.”
He gave her a distracted look. “A grill?”
“The rental house doesn’t have one. I checked. And lucky for you, Walmart has an amazing deal right now. We can drive over there next, take your new little cutie for a spin, then you can drop me back off here on the way home. That’s okay, right, Billy? If we leave Bingo parked here for a few?”
“Fine by me!”
“Who the hell is Bingo?” Carter asked, even as he scanned the pages of legalese in front of him.
“My car,” Olive said, as though this were obvious. “Billy named him, of course, but I kept the name, because, well, that’s his name.”
“Where am I?” Carter muttered. It was more under his breath than to anyone in the room, but all three answered anyway.
“You’re home!” they said in cheerful unison.
So he was. So he was.
Chapter Five
Saturday, August 8
Despite the fact that Haven’s trendiest restaurant had been open for years, Carter had never set foot inside the highly acclaimed Cedar & Salt before tonight.
It had opened after he’d left town, and as everyone seemed hell-bent on reminding him, he didn’t come back often. When he did, it was typically for holidays, and his mother made it a point to cook his favorites for every meal. Carter wasn’t one to turn down macaroni and cheese topped with bread crumbs and bacon, even if it wasn’t exactly the “gym fuel” his mother tried to pass it off as.
He had added an extra mile to his stationary bike ride at the gym this morning and still wasn’t sure he’d burned off the extra portion of beef stroganoff his mother had heaped onto his plate when he’d gone by his parents’ last night. He’d thought he’d miss running, and he did, but he didn’t hate the stationary bike as much as he’d thought he would—was even looking into getting one installed in the rental home as a way to stay in shape while he was here in Haven.
But his mother had book club tonight, his dad had poker night, and poor Caitlyn had been put on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. Carter had been assured it was just a precaution, but he’d stopped by his twin’s house on his way to dinner, armed with Walmart’s entire selection of romance novels, double-stuffed Oreos, and what he thought was a remarkable tolerance for hearing about his sister’s “incompetent uterus.”
He’d finally left her to her husband’s impressively patient care, and followed Caitlyn’s bossy insistence that Cedar & Salt was the only acceptable option for dinner.
Despite never having been to the restaurant, Carter felt immediately at home walking through the front door. It was cozy without having that tables on top of each other feeling of Manhattan restaurants and bustling without being loud, and its smells rivaled anything coming out of his mother’s kitchen, which he would tell her never.
Carter gave the starstruck hostess a quick smile, well aware that the din of the restaurant had lowered to a hum when he’d walked in and been recognized, only to return to its previous volume and then some as word got around that he was in fact the Carter Ramsey.
Carter didn’t mind. He’d gotten plenty used to it over the years as his popularity increased, though he was struck immediately by how different the feel was here in Haven. Instead of hushed, revered whispers as he passed, people made eye contact and greeted him by name—first name—as he walked by their tables on his way to the bar. The greetings were universally friendly and familiar, from both faces he recognized and ones he didn’t.
Carter shook hands, exchanged hugs with his parents’ friends, clamped shoulders of old classmates, and patiently listened to his piano teacher lecture him on his wasted musical talent. He enjoyed it all, but was also more than ready for a drink by the time he reached the welcoming wooden bar at the center of the restaurant.
He snagged one of the few remaining stools, then blinked in surprise when a fresh beer was pushed in front of him by the neighboring patron.
“Thought you could use this. Did I just hear Antoinette Bowens try to marry you off to her daughter?”
“You did indeed,” Carter said with a laugh as he turned toward the familiar voice.
Jacob “Jakey” Kutcher had played third base to Carter’s shortstop on the varsity baseball team. He’d been talented, but baseball had been more hobby than passion, and he’d stayed in Haven to work at his parents’ construction business rather than pursue athletics.
Jakey’s waistline had expanded slightly since high school, but his wide grin and shaggy red hair were the same.
“Hey, man,” Carter said, hugging his old friend with a hearty thump on the back. “How the hell are you? How’s Becky? The baby?”
Jakey was one of the few high school friends Carter tried to keep up with. Mostly just a text here and there, but enough for Carter to know the basics of his life.
“Becky’s got a much-coveted invitation to your mom’s book club tonight, and Grandma demanded Hannah’s company, which means I have the rare free night to hear how the hell you’re doing,” Jakey said with an easy smile.
“Hey, Carter, you eating?” the pretty bartender said with a flirtatious smile, leaning over to showcase her impressive cleavage.
“Ah—” Carter floundered. The woman’s inviting smile and vaguely seductive tone were familiar territory, but he was pretty sure he’d never met her before.
“Damn, there I go, turning invisible again!” Jakey joked. “Two menus. Thanks, Erika.”
The bartender gave Jakey a good-natured eye roll, but she got the hint, straightening and handing over a couple of menus, then winked at Carter before sauntering over to the other side of the bar.
“Do we know her?” Carter asked under his breath.
“I do, you don’t. Name’s Erika. Mark Blakely hired her from out of town when he opened this place, and she’s been his right-hand woman ever since. She and Mark were actually a thing for a while, even though he was hung up on Kelly Byrne. Remember them?”
“Sure,” Carter replied. “Couple years ahead of us? He was quiet, she was not, but they were inseparable. Never saw one without the other.”
“Inseparable and platonic, until a couple years ago,” Jakey said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah?” Carter asked, taking a sip of beer and enjoying the unique sense of comfort that came from good-natured small-town gossip, where most everyone had everyone else’s best interests at heart.
Jakey nodded. “Yup. Married, happy, and just about everyone’s favorite couple. For now.”
“For now?” Carter echoed warily, catching the verbal wink in his friend’s tone.
“You broke your arm, not your brain, so the playing-dumb routine’s not flying,” Jakey said with a friendly smile. “Any chance you’ll fill old Jakey in on what everyone is
wondering?”
Carter changed his mind about small-town gossip. Nothing comforting about it. It was annoying. He stayed silent, but his friend charged ahead anyway.
“Rumor’s going around that Felicity’s coming back ‘to visit her cousin.’” Jakey’s air quotes let Carter know what he thought of Felicity’s supposed motivations.
Carter still didn’t respond, and once again, Jakey pressed on.
“Come on. You both steer clear of Haven for ten years, and you just happen to roll into town right around the same time?”
“Hi, have you met my sister? Do you think there’s any chance she’d have let me escape the high school reunion next month once she learned I was on the IL?”
“What about Felicity? She going to the reunion?”
“Beats me.” Carter took another drink of his beer.
“You haven’t talked to her recently?”
“Depends. Is summer after graduation recent?”
“Damn.” Jakey sounded disappointed at first, then perked up. “But you could call her.”
“Don’t have her phone number.” It was a straightforward—and truthful—response, but the reasons for that response were a little more complicated. He could have gotten her number if he’d wanted to, and yet he hadn’t.
There were some things best discussed in person.
Eager for a change of subject, Carter pointed the menu up to the TV in the corner of the bar, where the nightly news showed two talking heads. “What do you think the chances are they’ll change that to the game?”
“One hundred percent, but we’ve got a few minutes before the first pitch,” his friend said, checking the time on his phone. He looked back at Carter. “Okay, so if you’re not seeing Felicity, anyone else on your radar?”
“How is it that I haven’t seen you in years, yet in the two minutes I’ve been here, we’ve only talked about women?”
“Cool, cool. Dodging the question,” Jakey said, holding up his hands. “I get it. Prom king and queen broke up, ditched Haven the same week, have hardly come back—you barely, her not at all—until now. If I didn’t try to get some details, Becky would’ve made me sleep on the couch tonight. She keeps telling me you guys are like a Taylor Swift song.”
