by Carrie Elks
This was where the road bent to the left. On one side the corn fields continued – green now, but in a month or two they’d begin to turn golden. On the other was a field, full of overgrown grass and a huge wooden screen whose white paint had long since peeled away. The box office was still there – a wooden cabin where she’d sat as a teenager and sold tickets to cars as they lined up for whatever movie the drive-in was showing that week. That job had been her ticket out of town.
Or so she’d thought at the time.
The Chaplin Drive-In Movie Theater had closed eight years ago, right after her mom and Craig got married. It had felt like the end of an era, even though Van wasn’t working there any more. Her heart clenched to see it so neglected.
For years it had been a huge part of Hartson’s Creek life. It had never shown the latest and best movies – in fact the owner, Mr. Chaplin, had a preference for showing movies that were at least ten years old. They kept costs down that way, and nobody really seemed to mind. Back in those days, before Netflix and other services were king and everybody could stream, it was somewhere to go and watch an old favorite.
One of her best memories were the meetings they’d have where they would talk through the showings for the next few weeks. He’d let the kids who worked there make suggestions. The whackier the better.
They were good times. There had been a lot of those, growing up. A lot of them in this very field.
Leaning on the old sign that used to proclaim the show times, she gulped in a breath, ignoring the burning of her calf muscles. To her right, she sensed some movement. Another runner? It was a strange enough occurance to make her turn her head to look.
It only took a moment for her to recognize that gait. She’d seen it enough growing up. First when they played games here and there all over town. Then when he’d been part of the football team at school, throwing his body into winning games the way he always threw himself into everything.
She froze for a moment. If she recognized him, there was every chance he recognized her, too. There was no opportunity to leave and outrun him, either. Tanner Hartson could always catch her. It had been the source of much irritation when they were younger.
There was nothing to it but to get it over with. He was right. This was a small town and the likelihood was that she’d see him a lot more the longer she stayed in Hartson’s Creek.
“Hey.” He slowed down, his breath barely labored. “I didn’t know you ran.”
She shrugged. “I took it up a few years ago. When the chocolate started to make itself known on my hips.”
His gaze automatically dropped to her legs. She felt her cheeks warm at his scrutiny.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, his jaw twitching as he resolutely pulled his eyes up to hers. “You could eat any guy under the table when we were kids, and never put on a damn ounce.”
The corner of her lip curled. “I guess things have changed since then.”
“I guess so.” He inclined his head toward town. “You going back?”
“As soon as I catch my breath.”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’ll wait for you.”
Anxiety shot through her. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he told her, his eyes still holding hers.
Okay then. So this was how it was going to be. Maybe it was time to take control of the situation.
She pushed herself off the peeling sign, and took a deep breath. “Race you back!” Launching herself forward, she felt the air rush past her as her gait sped up. She heard a chuckle, then the pounding of feet against the dusty country road as he easily caught her.
“So you still play dirty.” Unlike Van, he wasn’t breathless at all as he slowed his speed to run beside her.
“Gotta use whatever advantage I have.”
It was only when he was this close that she could see the difference in him. Sense it, too. His body was stronger than ever, his running shirt tight across his chest, revealing muscles that rippled a little too much for her liking. His legs were tan and defined as they moved in a laid back rhythm.
She’d never noticed the height difference between them so starkly before. Not even during junior year when he’d shot up almost a foot over the summer and all his jeans had ended above his ankles.
It was so strange running next to him. Familiar, yet completely alien, too. Ten years ago being together would have been their normal, but now there was so much history that it hurt like a knife.
He hadn’t said a word for the last five minutes, and neither had she. The air was silent, save for their soft breathing and the chirp of the birds in the fields. She found herself glancing at his legs again, then quickly pulling her gaze up. He was looking right at her. Had he noticed her scrutiny? Thank god her face was hot already and he couldn’t notice her blush.
When they reached the town square, she expected him to turn off and take the direct road home, but instead he ran next to her, taking the parallel street that led to her house. She gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. His thick, dark hair was ruffled by the breeze, lifting it from his chiseled face.
When they reached her street, Van slowed down to a walk, her breath shallow as it tried to catch up with the oxygen her body needed. Tanner slowed, too, and she turned her head to look up at him.
“You can carry on running,” she said between pants. “You’ve barely broken a sweat.” From the look of him he could probably handle at least another ten miles.
Van, on the other hand, was beat.
He shrugged. “I’ll walk you to your house.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
How many times had he walked her home in their lifetimes? First from grade school, then as she grew older and her mom was more neglectful, from his house after dinner, when his Aunt Gina insisted on feeding her. And after she started working at the drive-in, he’d arrive every evening when her shift ended and insisted on making sure she got home safely.
But that was then. When they were kids. Best friends.
More.
Something they hadn’t been for the longest of times.
They reached the edge of her mom’s front yard, and the messy, overgrown lawn made her feel exposed. Another thing to add to her list of things to do. Did her mom even have a lawn mower that worked?
She noticed he was staring, too. Heat stung at her cheeks.
“I’m going to cut it later,” she told him. “Craig’s left and Mom’s not well.”
He frowned. “You need any help?”
“We’re good. She’ll be okay. Zoe and I have it covered.” She inclined her head at the tiny house. “I should go inside.”
“Sure. But if you need anything, I’m around.” The ghost of a smile passed over his lips. “Same place as always.”
“Okay then…” she trailed off, knowing she wouldn’t take him up on his offer. “I guess I’ll see you sometime.”
“I guess you will.” He sounded certain of it. And damn if that deep, warm voice didn’t send a shot of pleasure right through her. Stupid, betraying body. It was so easily pleased.
She walked along the cracked path to the dirty front steps of her house, ignoring the way her heart was clamoring against her ribcage. It was the exercise, that was all. A simple physiological reaction to a five mile run.
Nothing to do with the six-foot-three muscled guy who was watching her from the end of her front yard.
What the hell was he still doing there anyway?
“So, bye,” she said, lifting her hand up. She crouched down to find the key she’d stashed back in the dry plant pot, then stood and slid it into the lock.
When the door creaked open, she allowed herself one last glance over her shoulder.
Luckily for her heart, he’d gone.
Chapter Six
“These are all overdue,” Van said, passing the stack of bills to her mom. “They need paying or everything gets shut off.”
“They won’t shut us off,” Kim said, sounding certain of herself. “I’ll call and tell them Craig’s left. That should give us some time.”
Van blew out a mouthful of air, trying hard not to get frustrated. Her mom still didn’t have a clue how the real world worked. She never had. As long as Van could remember, she pushed responsibility onto other people.
Van. Craig. Maybe Zoe one day.
“Have you paid the rent this month at least?” Van asked, trying to keep her voice even.
Kim shrugged. “No. But it doesn’t matter. They don’t mind when I don’t pay.”
“Mr. Klein doesn’t mind?” Van still had the vivid memories of hiding behind the sofa with her mom when he’d come over and hammer on the door, demanding payment. Her mom would hold her palm over Van’s mouth as he walked around the house, peering through windows to see if they were there.
She could remember the times he’d come at night, too. Those were when her mom would let him in wearing only a shiny silk wrap and and shoo Van to her room, telling her to go to bed and not come out.
The memory sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
“Mr. Klein sold this place years ago. No idea who the landlord is now. I pay through Fairfax Realty.” She screwed her face up, and no wonder. Before Van was born, her mom worked for Johnny Fairfax as his assistant. According to the town gossip, she was fired under a black cloud, accused of stealing a large amount of money. Whether that was true or not, Van had no idea. Her mom refused to talk about it, and Van really didn’t want to know.
Didn’t stop Johnny and his wife, Nora from looking down on her when she was growing up, though. Or their daughter, Chrissie, treating Van like trash at school.
“They don’t mind when you pay the rent late?” Van asked, frowning.
“They don’t have a choice. I’ll pay when I can.” She shrugged and walked to the refrigerator, scowling when she pulled it open. “Ugh, Zoe must have finished the juice.”
“I’m going grocery shopping later. You’ll have to drink water until then.” Van took the bills and piled them up. The need to get out of this house pulled at her. “I think I’ll head into town for a while. Do some work at the diner.” She gave her mom a pointed look. “Tomorrow we need to make a budget. And talk about you getting a job.”
“Do we have to?” her mom’s voice sounded pained.
“Yes. Has Craig been in touch? Offered to send you any money?”
“Nope.” Kim’s lip wobbled. “Too busy in bed with his new woman, I’m guessing. The asshole.”
At least they could agree on one thing. Van placed the bills into her laptop bag and slid it over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know how much it hurts.”
Her mom gave her an interested look. “You’ve been hurt?”
“A long time ago,” Van said softly.
“But you don’t have anybody now, right? Not since that Damon guy a couple of years ago?”
“Nope.” Van smiled. “I’m single and happy about it. And maybe you can be, too.”
“Maybe.” Her mom didn’t sound too certain. To be honest, Van wasn’t certain either. Her mom had always based her self-worth on the way she was viewed by men. For as long as Van could remember, her mom had either been in a relationship or had some sort of arrangement with a man. These past two weeks since Craig had left was probably her driest spell in decades.
Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t leaving the house right now. Because where Van’s mom was concerned, men were almost always trouble.
The early afternoon sun was hazy as Van pushed the door to Murphy’s Diner open, the smell of bacon and coffee assaulting her senses as she grabbed a table next to the window, overlooking the town square.
She wasn’t going to try her favorite booth. Not after yesterday. Better to sit in the open and be able to see anybody who approached. That way she wouldn’t be blindsided.
“Savannah Butler? Is that you?”
Van looked up from the table, her eyeline filled with a swollen, pregnant stomach. She lifted her gaze to see its owner, a petite dark haired woman who she didn’t recognize at all.
Van immediately plastered a smile on her face. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, still trying to work out who this was. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Regan Laverty. Used to be Regan Nash. We went to high school together, you remember?”
“Oh. Hi.” Van took another look at her. Maybe she did look familiar. She stood and shook Regan’s hand. “And congratulations,” she said, glancing down at Regan’s stomach.
Regan laughed. “Thanks. This is our fourth so I don’t get a lot of that.” She lowered her voice. “It’s more commiserations than anything. Yesterday, my boss’s wife took me aside for a talk and asked if I needed her help with birth control.”
Van swallowed down a laugh. “Sounds like folks around here.”
“Mrs. Fairfax means well,” Regan said, shrugging. “But I like having babies. It’s kind of who I am.”
“You work for Johnny Fairfax?” Van asked.
“Yeah, next door at Fairfax Realty. I’m on my break right now.” Regan glanced at her watch. “I only have ten minutes until I have to get back to the office. Can I join you?”
“Sure.” Van watched as Regan wedged herself into the bench seat, her stomach pressed up against the table. “You want a coffee?”
“Better make it decaf. Otherwise people will talk.” She lowered her voice as though it was a secret.
Five minutes later, Van was all up to date with Hartson’s Creek gossip. She knew that Tanner’s brother, Gray, had built a huge mansion on the edge of town and somehow ended up living with his ex-girlfriend’s sister, which according to Regan had caused a hell of a hullabaloo in town. She also knew that Reverend Maitland had broken his leg, but was still running Sunday services on crutches, and that Della Thorsen’s dog had bitten her arm so bad it had bled for hours, yet she was still refusing to have him put to sleep.
Van took a sip of her coffee, amused at how fast Regan could talk. “Poor Mrs. Thorsen.”
“Ah, she had it coming. She’s awful. She made my mom cry at Chairs last week.”
Another mention of Chairs. Van was pretty sure her own mom had been the main topic of conversation these past two weeks at the weekly gathering.
“Have you worked at Fairfax Realty long?” Van asked her when she finally got a word in.
“Five years. I started working right before I got pregnant with my second.” Regan shrugged. “Mr. Fairfax nearly blew a gasket when I told him.”
Van bet he did. “So you must know who owns my mom’s house. One seven five Second Street?”
Regan pulled her lip between her teeth. “One seven five?” she mused. “The one with the oak in the front?”
“That’s the one. Used to be owned by Simon Klein.”
Regan’s face lit up. “Oh, Mr. Klein sold that four years ago. He’s moved to Florida. Last I heard he’d found a girlfriend who was twenty years older than him. I have no idea where they get the energy. As soon as I feed the kids all I want to do is climb into bed and sleep.”
“But do you know who he sold it to?” Van prompted.
“Oh yeah. Tanner Hartson owns it. I’d have thought you’d known that. Aren’t you two best friends?” Regan glanced at her watch. “Oh sugar, I have to go.” She shuffled her behind along the red bench seat, sliding her stomach along the rim of the table. “It was real good to see you, Van. Maybe I’ll see you at Chairs.”
Van nodded. “Sure. It was great to see you, too.”
Regan finally got to the edge of the seat. Feeling sorry for her, Van stood and helped her up, curling her fingers around the pregnant woman’s palm.
“Thank you,” Regan said, leaning forward to give her a hug. “You’re very kind.” She hobbled to the door, and Van found herself running past her to pull it open.
“There you go.”
Van watched her slowly walk toward Fairfax Real
ty, as her stomach dropped at the news Regan had let slip.
Tanner Hartson owned her mom’s house, and by the sound of it he had for a few years now. But why would he do that when they weren’t even talking to each other?
Blowing out a mouthful of air, Van watched as Regan waddled back into her office, the door closing quickly behind her. Van walked back to the table, the thought of Tanner, her mom’s bungalow, and Johnny Fairfax rushing through her mind.
A few days ago she’d thought she’d come back and not let this town affect her.
So much for that.
Tanner stretched his long legs out beneath the kitchen table the next morning, scrolling through the laptop he’d had couriered over yesterday. His work laptop had been surrendered as part of the company sale, along with his work phone and his sense of purpose. He raised an eyebrow, remembering how he used to be cash rich and time poor. All those things he’d said he’d do when he had the time to do them, and now he couldn’t remember any of them.
So instead he was spending way too much of his free time remembering how Van Butler’s ass looked in her tight shorts when she was running. Which really didn’t feel like a bad way to waste away the minutes.
He shifted in the chair, scanning the screen in front of him, shaking his head as he scrolled down again.
“What are you doing?” Becca asked, walking into the room. She leaned over the table to look at his laptop.
“I’m looking at houses.”
“In Hartson’s Creek?”
He scrolled down again. “Yep.”
“For an investment?” She poured some coffee into an insulated mug, then grabbed an apple and a candy bar from the cupboard. “What?” she asked, noticing Tanner’s amused stare. “I’m late for work. And I need the energy.”
“If there’s one thing you don’t need, it’s more energy,” Tanner said dryly. “And no, it’s not for an investment. It’s for me.”
