Smooth. She’d heard that much about Dalton. Divorced. Two kids. Competitive. Kind of a player. No matter how exceptional he thought he might be, those were pretty average stats in the adult dating world.
She was counting on those stats to be accurate. Dalton wasn’t looking for anything lasting.
“Hey, Gainer, looks like you found your date.”
One of Mark’s friends from the bakery hailed them from the perimeter of a large bonfire built in a giant tractor wheel rim turned on its side.
“I did. Nate, this is Riley Madigan. Riley, Nate Crandall, our host.”
Nate smiled. “I saw you at the bakery this morning.”
“Teachers love their donuts,” she said.
“We keep Lette Mae in business,” Dalton said, raising his drink.
Nate raised his back. “Pretty sure Lette Mae’s bollens keep her in business.”
“To Lette Mae’s bollens,” Dalton said. “May they always be light and creamy, and never fall flat.”
Riley rolled her eyes, and Nate caught it.
“How many of those have you had, Gainer?”
Dalton chuckled. “My apologies. My feelings for Lette Mae and her confections are pure, I assure you. And, for the record, this is my first.”
Nate raised his brows at Riley. “A word of warning—he’s like this sober.”
She smiled, deciding she liked Nate. “So, you’re a friend of Mark’s?” she asked, despite her silent vow not to think about him for the rest of the evening.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids.” He narrowed his gaze. “How did you meet him? He’s been pretty antisocial.”
“We met after the play on Saturday.” Kind of.
“Oh, right. His niece was one of the Lost Boys.”
That’s where she’d seen the little girl in the bakery before. “It’s too bad he left the party early.”
Nate frowned at her. “He was here?”
“I just talked to him down at the driveway.”
Nate looked behind her as if expecting to see Mark in one of the groups of guests. He took out his phone and started texting. “Excuse me,” he said, glancing up. He nodded to them and walked toward the front of the house.
Dalton chuckled, shaking his head. “Babysitters.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just Nate and a few other people like to mother our local hero as if he were a stray puppy. I bet you Nate’s calling around to get a location on Rivers to make sure he gets home safe, or you know, doesn’t drive his truck off a cliff.”
Riley gasped quietly.
Dalton shook his head. “I don’t mean to sound cold. Geez. That kid’s been through things beyond imagining. But I saw who he was before, what he’s made of. He’s tough as nails. He tackles a challenge. Thrives on loose reins. Just get him going in the right direction and bam. He’ll knock down whatever wall is in front of him. He’s one of those guys who can carry the world on his shoulders and make it look good. At least he was. All this mothering and quiet corralling and Big Brother watching him—” He took a drink. “It’s gonna undo him sooner than anything.”
Riley considered the turn his words had taken. “It sounds like people care a lot about him.”
He nodded. “Can’t help that, I guess.”
They watched the fire for a time. Riley shrugged off Dalton’s leather jacket.
“Getting warm?” he asked, taking it from her.
She nodded. Too warm. Anger and unease knotted inside her, and though she appreciated Dalton’s take, his callousness unsettled her. He was probably right in some ways. If what he said about Mark’s tenacity was true, then no wonder people corralled him, even if he didn’t want to be. But she didn’t like Dalton’s glib remark about driving off a cliff.
She watched the fire as it snapped and hissed. Tiny explosions popped here and there, and red-hot ashes whirled up into the sky. Heat warmed her skin even from six feet away. “I don’t blame him for not coming up here.”
Dalton took another swallow of his drink. “Neither do I.”
Another guest hailed Dalton and came over. They started up a conversation about retirement plans—401Ks versus the DRS—so Riley excused herself to the house to freshen up. But as she walked, she scanned the crowd. She roamed the open areas of the house and headed out the front door, finding herself on the front lawn again.
A couple of people caught her eye, and she drew closer. Nate was in deep conversation with Mark’s other friend from the bakery.
Nate lifted his head at her approach, and she slowed, not sure she’d be welcome.
“Hey, Riley, right?” He motioned her over. When she joined them, Nate clapped his friend on the shoulder. “This is Gus Pratt. Another friend of Mark’s.”
“Hey,” Gus said. “I saw you at the bakery.”
She raised a brow and looked at Nate. “And here I thought I’d done my best to blend in.”
Gus shook his head. “Mark Rivers spoke to you. He smiled at you. These days that stands out anywhere.”
“I didn’t know it was a big deal.”
He held his hands out wide. “Huge,” he said.
“Why is that? A big deal, I mean?”
“You’re new,” Nate said. “Mark’s barely coming out of his shell after the fires and all the surgeries. He’s been a ghost for years.”
She looked from him to Gus, who nodded in agreement. Yvette had said the same, but Riley had dismissed it as exaggeration.
“That’s why I was surprised when you said he was here. I had to see if I could catch him or convince him to come back.”
She glanced toward the cars. “No luck?”
He shook his head. “It seems you’re the only one he talked to.”
“You mean I’m the one who scared him off.”
Gus huffed a laugh. “Doubt it.”
“So, did you hear from him?” she asked Nate.
He nodded. “He said he thought he’d just drive by. Said it was good to see the house. Looks like you lucked out.”
She recalled her conversation with Mark and had to agree.
Nate folded his arms. “Can I ask you something?”
Riley shrugged. “Sure.”
“We’ve known Mark most of our lives. We tried to help when he got hurt, but then he closed himself off from everything that made him who he was. That’s been rough. But you—you didn’t know him before.”
“I barely know him now,” she said, wary of her part in this conversation.
“But you’ve met. A few times. You have nothing to compare to who he was before.”
“What’s your point?”
“What do you think of him?”
She paused, taken back by the question. “Why are you asking me this?”
“He seems to like you. Trust you at some level. I’m just wondering what it is that helps draw him out.”
As flattered as she was by Nate’s observation, she was reminded of Dalton’s opinion. “Why does he need to be drawn out? Surely there are citizens of Miracle Creek who live quiet, private lives?”
Gus looked doubtful.
She proceeded with caution. “Maybe if he didn’t feel like he was under everyone’s watch, he’d find his own way. Maybe if this town didn’t consistently remind him that he’s some kind of hero, he could focus on being himself. Whoever that is now.”
Gus elbowed Nate. “That’s what I said. The hero thing, I mean.”
“And maybe that’s it,” Riley continued. “Maybe he talks to me or whatever because I’m new. I have no preconceived notions about Mark Rivers. He was burned. He’s healing.” She stared out past the cars. “I heard he lost his best friend. That’s big.” She shivered and turned back. “Mark seems like a good guy. He’s trying. He has a great smile. That’s all I know about hi
m.”
The men studied her, Gus nodding his head.
Riley bit her lip. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. Last week I thought he was a stalker, and I threatened him with a baseball bat.”
“Whoa,” Gus said, his eyes wide.
Nate started laughing.
“So,” Riley said, “I’m probably not the best person to ask. This shouldn’t even be my business. It’s obvious he means a lot to you guys, and you know him way better than I do.”
Nate nodded slowly. “Maybe. Maybe not. But what you said, about people living quiet lives, keeping to themselves? That’s not the cloth Mark was cut from.”
“He does have a great smile though,” Gus said, winking at Riley in a way that made her regret being so forthcoming.
Nate’s gaze drifted over her shoulder, and she detected an annoyed sigh. “Gainer’s looking for you.”
She turned and saw Dalton standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips. She waved at him, and he headed their way.
“You’re with Dalton?” Gus asked a little too incredulously.
“He asked me here tonight, if that’s what you mean.”
“And you thought Mark was a creep?” Gus rolled his eyes. “Well, Dalton got the better part of this deal, I’ll tell you what.”
“Hey,” Dalton said when he reached them. He smiled at Riley. “You get lost?”
“What a good idea,” she heard Gus say from behind them. Riley managed to keep a straight face.
“No. Just mingling. I still don’t know many people.”
“Well, let’s fix that,” he said and steered her in the direction of the house.
Riley spent the following hour next to Dalton, meeting a number of people, some whose names she might even remember. She couldn’t help noticing questioning looks from several women; the kind of looks she’d get in LA because she wasn’t 5’8” and as svelte as a cat. But then she noted that they seemed to be more interested in Dalton than her. They simply wanted her out of the way. Still, not a feeling she welcomed.
The bonfire had been stoked, somebody had turned on music, and as Dalton put his arm around her under the guise of keeping her warm, she decided it was time to go.
“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” she said, stepping casually out of Dalton’s grip. “This was fun, though. Thanks for inviting me.”
He lifted his drink. “Thanks for coming. I’d try to convince you to stay, but I’m afraid I’d just sound pathetic. I’ll walk you down to your car. What’s the early morning project?”
“Home improvement. Drafty windows.”
“Ah. Well, I’d offer to help, but I’ve got game films to study. Need to make those playoffs.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. Entiat’s smaller than we are. Should be a cakewalk.”
They reached her car. “Is that what the bigger teams say about Mt. Stuart?”
He gave her a wry smile. “My school spirit says they wish.”
“Hang on to that school spirit.” She made two fists. “Go Beacons.” She unlocked her car and opened the door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yeah. We’ll have to do this again. Maybe something cozier next time.”
Riley smiled and ducked into the car. As she backed out, he stood for a moment before heading back to the party.
After spending almost an entire evening with Dalton, she still wasn’t sure what to think of him. She guessed he liked it that way. She also guessed that, given the number of women who had been looking at him, Dalton wouldn’t be alone at the party for too long.
The thought brought on bitter feelings she knew had nothing to do with Dalton. She hardly knew him; she wanted no claim on him. It was safer that way.
You know more about Mark Rivers after ten minutes than you ever will about Dalton Gainer.
She wrestled with that thought most of the drive home.
Saturday morning, Dad sent Mark to the hardware store. They were short a light fixture for the new building. They were about done with it, and just in time. Snow was in the forecast, and Mark’s hand didn’t work so great in the bitter cold. He grabbed his coat.
“While you’re out, could you drop by Riley Madigan’s place and ask her if she could help me put a value on your mom’s things? I don’t know what I’m doing, and the insurance company is allowing us an expert’s appraisal for their approval. Maybe Miss Madigan is qualified for that.”
Mark’s stomach flopped. “Why don’t you just call her?”
His dad looked at him over his bifocals. “Because I think this is something that should be asked in person.”
“Then you ask her.”
“I’m not going out.” His dad licked his finger and turned the page of the ledger.
Mark turned around stiffly. “I’m getting my own place. Soon.”
“Good.” His dad chuckled behind him. “I could use some peace and quiet.”
Mark growled and shut the door.
After getting the light at the hardware store, Mark picked up some groceries at the IGA. He considered stopping at the auto shop as well, but finally caved, turned up Riley’s street, and parked in front of her house. She stood in her living room, framed by her front window, arms reaching up, tongue sticking out sideways, trying to do something to the top of the window.
If she was busy, he wouldn’t have to stay long. Just ask what he came to ask and get outta there.
He opened the truck door and shut it. She glanced his way at the sound. Her eyes grew wide, and she toppled over, out of the window frame.
He ran to the front door and knocked. She shouted something, and he busted the door open—which might have been unnecessary because he hadn’t checked if it was locked first—and with his momentum, stumbled inside, nearly falling over a stepladder collapsed on the floor.
Riley was already standing up, brushing herself off, staring at him. “What are you doing?”
He rubbed his arm. “You yelled. You said you needed assistance.”
“I shouted ‘Give me a second.’ Who shouts, ‘Give me assistance?’”
She had a point. He looked at the door swinging on its hinges, the knob he’d grabbed still in his hand, and the other half nowhere to be seen.
She covered her mouth with both hands, surveying the damage. “Oh no,” she moaned. She walked past him and picked up an old glass knob from behind a green velvet couch in the middle of the room.
“I’m really sorry. I thought you were hurt.” He brought his half over and held it next to hers. The brass rod that connected both pieces was bent and shorn off at the base of his end.
“I think it’s dead,” she said. Then she giggled.
He grimaced, and she laughed outright. “Give me assistance!” she repeated in quiet mockery.
“Knock it off.”
“You’ve already done that.”
He took the pieces from her and walked back to the door. He fit them through the hole and eyed the piecing, the cold air from outside pushing its way in. “These old glass knobs really aren’t ideal for a front door.”
“So you’ve proven.”
He glared at her, but her smile only grew bigger. He shook his head, still feeling the heat of embarrassment in his face. “I’ll replace it. With something meant for an entry.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. I won’t be gone long.”
“Wait,” she said. “Right now? You’re just going to pick something?”
He fingered the door, needing to leave. “That’s usually how it’s done.”
“It has to match the style of the house.”
“You mean ‘old’? That didn’t work so well before.”
She folded her arms and looked up at him with a frown.
“Craftsman, right?” he offered.
Her brow lifted in surprise. “Craftsman cottage.”
“That’s the one.” He paused long enough to look at her with her hair all piled up messy on top of her head, a big sweatshirt nearly slipping off her shoulder, and faded jeans hinting at her curves. Her feet were bare. But her eyes—pale green and steady—held him still.
He realized he was staring and looked past her to the window she’d been working on. He frowned. “What were you trying to do?”
“I wasn’t trying to do anything. I was doing perfectly well until you startled me.”
“I was coming to your door like you suggested, instead of lurking in my truck.”
She glanced out the window to his truck, sitting smack in front of her house in broad daylight. “Well, you still startled me.”
“I get that a lot.”
Now she glared at him, and he was the one to smile.
She dropped the broken doorknob on the couch and walked to the window. She picked up what looked like a roll of Scotch tape, except that several yards had been dispensed and she was trying to roll it back up.
“You’re putting plastic on the windows,” he observed.
“Yes,” she said, wrestling the double-sided tape. “When I fell, this came with me. Tore off half of what I’ve done.”
He picked up the stepladder and repositioned it for her, then watched her for a minute as she struggled. “Do you want some help?”
She sighed and then chucked the roll across the room. It didn’t go far as one end was still attached to the top corner of the window. “I’ll just start over.” She looked above her and yanked the remaining section of tape loose, which then stuck to her in various places.
He covered a laugh.
“Stop it,” she said, laughing too. “I was almost done.” She sheepishly pulled the last bit out of her hair.
He looked around at the other windows in view. Sure enough, they’d all been winterized, the plastic sheeting heated and pulled tight with the blow-dryer plugged into an extension cord next to her on the floor.
“Does that plug have a ground on it?” he asked, noting the yellow cord looked aged with years of use, sporting several different colors of paint and old duct tape marks.
She shook her head. “Most of the electrical outlets in this part of the house are the old two-prong kind. I found the extension cord in the garage.” At his look of concern, she added, “The outlets in the bathrooms and kitchen are grounded. The previous owners must have done that when they updated.”
Miracle Creek Christmas Page 6
