Now was the time to avoid the topic of Remy Toussaint, because if Juliet brought up the man, Coraleen wasn’t sure she could hide the fact that something had gone on the night before between the two of them. And she really wasn’t up to talking to her friend about kissing Remy and how she felt and what she was going to do and golly gee, didn’t she want the man?
She loved Juliet, but the woman was a dreamer. Coraleen existed in reality, sucky as it may be.
“Tell me all about last night and staying with Remy Toussaint,” Juliet said, a gigantic smile on her face and sparkles in her eyes.
Oh jeez, way to start off the conversation. Not. “First off, I can’t believe you flat-out lied to a sheriff,” Coraleen exclaimed.
“He bought my story, though. And you ended up spending the night with him, so what?”
“So you lied!”
Juliet scoffed. “Right, and like you never have?”
True. Point conceded. But Coraleen still didn’t want to talk about her sleepover, and she especially didn’t want to talk to Juliet about the kiss, because the woman would go bananas and start doing Lord knows what to push Coraleen and Remy together. Time for avoidance tactics.
“Have you heard anything about Visada?” she asked.
Juliet’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, Coraleen. I heard from both Elaine Jerlowski—she’s waitressing now over at Cuppa Joe—and from Mark over at Dillard’s Grocery that some local ended up with him, but they didn’t know who. Just that they heard someone saw Visada in a pasture somewhere in Meadowview, after the auction.”
Coraleen frowned. Same information she’d had before she came to Meadowview. Not much else to go on. This quest to find her horse had turned into a bit of a wild goose chase.
“But if I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Do you have a phone yet?”
She shook her head. “I was trying to save my money to buy back Visada. Now, though, I need to pay for repairs to the Impala.”
“You know I’ll loan you—”
Coraleen flipped a hand up in the air, cutting off Juliet’s words. “I’ll figure it out myself. If the Impala’s ready tomorrow, I’m taking off as soon as I get the keys from Dave. Heading out to Placer County.”
Juliet pulled a face. “Why on earth did you decide to move in with Janice? I mean, she was super nice when I met her in prison—for a cyber criminal, she was a lot less geeky than I thought she’d be—but seriously, Coraleen, move all the way to Placer County? You don’t belong anywhere but Meadowview.”
A sharp laugh came out of Coraleen’s mouth. “Yeah, right. Some people here still like me, sure, but no way can I live with the constant censure.” She flicked a glace over at Reinhardt’s table. Reinhardt glared at her. A sickening sensation hit her stomach and bile rose in her throat.
“But to move sixty miles away? And to go work as a barista and a shovel salesperson?” Juliet continued, unaware of the glare war between Coraleen and the former judge. “I mean, you earned a degree. Two degrees, actually. Not sure I understand how philosophy and business administration compliment each other, but hey, you should use one of those degrees of yours. Serving coffee and selling shovels and hammers is not a good use of your education. Hey!” Juliet leaned forward in her seat and grabbed Coraleen’s arms. “I have a fabulous idea!”
Coraleen laughed, glad for the distraction her friend’s excitement made. “If you don’t say so yourself.”
Juliet blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and grinned. “Yes, yes I do. And it’s brilliant. You should talk to Chessie Gibson about being her new business manager.”
“For Sweet Meadow Scents? I mean…I knew she was looking for someone, but—” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not applying.”
“Because why? Because some people in Meadowview are still total butts and give you the cold shoulder? Ignore them.”
She shook her head.
“Because you don’t want to be this close to your bestest friend in the whole wide world?”
A smile started to creep across her face.
“If I guess this last one correctly, you have to name your firstborn child after me,” Juliet stated, then quickly said, “It’s because you’re still in love with Remy Toussaint and you won’t give the two of you a chance and you can’t bear living in the same town as him and watching him fall head over heels for some other woman. I hear that good-for-nothing Nectar Peardale is interested in having his babies.”
Coraleen pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
“Hah!” Juliet gloated and pumped a fist in the air. “I totally got that right! You’d better hope to have a girl first, because Juliet would sound stupid on a boy.” She frowned, then added, “I guess you could change it to Jules, or Julian, or maybe even Jude, though. Yeah, Jude’s a nice enough name. Not as snappy as Juliet, but it’ll do.”
“I am not naming my son Jude.”
“Fine. But for god’s sake, tell me about you and Remy last night. Now.”
Her heart caught in her throat. She couldn’t talk about Remy or the night before and most certainly couldn’t talk about the Kiss That Could Never Happen Again.
Coraleen looked around the room, desperate for anything to use to switch the topic of conversation. Her attention was caught when the front door to the pub opened and a young man entered.
Whew! Saved by a wayward teen.
“Jacob!” Coraleen hollered. The boy jolted, but when he saw who was yelling at him from across the pub, a warm smile spread across his face.
Coraleen placed a hand on Juliet’s forearm. “I see someone I want you to meet.” She waved at Jacob to come over.
He glanced about the room, gave a quick wave hello to Judge Reinhardt, then came over to Coraleen’s table, shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets, and stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.
“Hey, Coraleen. Wassup?”
“You sleep okay?” she asked.
“A warm jail cell definitely beats a cold grave.”
Next to her, Juliet started. Coraleen turned to her friend and explained how she and Jacob had come to meet the night before, briefly filling her in on the escapades of the night before (including the trip to the sheriff’s station but minus the kiss, of course), focusing on the conversation she had with Jacob, including how the boy loved horses.
Juliet gave her a pointed look and murmured under her breath, “We are so going to talk about the whole sheriff’s station visit in a towel escapade.” She turned to the teen and flashed him a wide smile. “So you like ride, Jacob?” she asked.
The smile flashing across his face spoke volumes. “Yeah, every chance I get, which isn’t all that often. I used to take lessons when I was a kid, but not anymore. Can’t afford it.”
Juliet tipped her head to the side. “I just rescued a filly yesterday. She’s now at a new training facility a few miles outside town. I’m headed over there later this afternoon. Want to tag along?”
This, Coraleen thought when the boy’s smile went wider than she thought the kid’s face could stretch and his eyes glinted and gleamed even in the low overhead light of the Goldpan Pub. Her her chest swelled so full it ached. This is why she loved Meadowview. Folks around here stuck together. Trusted one another.
Mostly.
Because the majority of Meadowview didn’t trust her. And for good reason. Once she’d been one of them. An orphaned kid who’d moved there when she was twelve to live with her grandfather, in need of the occasional free ticket to a play sneaked to her by the Courant family. A preteen who eagerly accepted the dog-eared copy of the first Harry Potter book given to her by Mrs. Gregson, the librarian, who’d told her it was an extra copy and she could have it herself. A teenager who would ride her horse through the back country and wave to her neighbors and get a sunny, cheerful hello and a wave back.
But the day she claimed to be the embezzler, people looked at her differently—as if she’d suddenly turned purple or grown hoove
s for feet or devil’s horns had sprouted over her ears.
They no longer trusted her, because she’d made them think she’d stolen three hundred thousand dollars.
A sudden and sharp pain hit her midsection so hard she had to put her hands on the tabletop in front of her to keep from bending over. She couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t keep getting hurt. There’d been too much of that before.
Losing her parents…Pop…Visada.
Losing a shot with Remy.
Losing her freedom, losing her home, losing Meadowview.
Maybe it was time to let go. To move on, harden her heart. To face reality. Because the truth was simple: She’d never see Pop again. She’d never be with Remy. She’d never find Visada. It was time to admit defeat.
Sucking in a deep breath, Coraleen steadied herself from the outside in, slowly becoming aware again of the chatter and laughter and clanging of dishes. Of the clip-clop sounds of high heels on the wooden floor of the Goldpan. Of Juliet and Jacob’s excited chatter. She could do this. She’d be strong. If she couldn’t find Visada, so be it. She’d keep those cement walls over her heart forever. There’d be no more heartbreak. Not over her horse, not over leaving Meadowview for good, not over Remy.
Not over anything.
She plastered a smile on her face and rejoined the conversation between Jacob and Juliet. She was genuinely glad to hear Jacob’s father had made plans that morning to enter rehab (spurred on by a rather intense conversation with Remy) and that the boy would be staying with Joe Schraeder, the owner of Cuppa Joe (his mom’s second cousin—everyone was related in Meadowview), and would therefore be able to keep his job as a groom out at Reinhardt’s stable (a sucky job but it paid well and he got to sneak an occasional horse ride), but when a good-looking girl entered the pub and smiled at Jacob, he took off to go hang with her, leaving Coraleen alone with Juliet.
“Now you tell me,” Juliet demanded.
Coraleen bit her lip and wouldn’t meet her friend’s eyes. “Tell you what?”
“About last night! You are most definitely hiding something!”
Her face heated.
Juliet squealed and shoved herself back. “Oh my gosh, something happened. I knew it! Oh my god, don’t tell me you hooked up with him last night! I mean, I would totally get it. You’ve been in jail for the last five years. I would absolutely jump the first hottie that came along if I were you. Besides, Remy is so incredibly sexy and most women in this town would jump him and dream about it on a near-daily basis even though he won’t ever date anyone from town. Plus, no matter what you say, you’re crazy about him. Just tell me—was he good? Fabulous? Is he as incredible in bed as everyone thinks he is? All that and a box of crackers? All that and a Costco-sized box of crackers?”
Coraleen couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. “No! I did not do him last night! Although yeah, he’d probably be amazing.” She sobered. “But I’m not saying another word.”
Juliet started to argue, but the door to the pub swung open again, and suddenly there Remy stood in the doorway. Coraleen gulped and gestured as surreptitiously as she could to the man. Thank god Juliet caught sight of Remy right away and snapped her mouth shut, or there would have been trouble. But when Juliet plastered a big smile on her face and waved him over, Coraleen wanted to slink down in the seat and hide. Too late. Remy had taken notice and headed over to their table.
“Hey, Juliet. Coraleen.” Remy’s voice rippled smooth and soft as he slid into the booth next to Coraleen.
She swallowed, surprised he was sitting by her in public. What about his reputation? He had an election to consider. Heat radiated off his body and caressed her skin. She kept her gaze down, but when he put his forearms on the table and crossed his hands, she couldn’t help but to notice the fine layer of blond hair that lightly covered his arms. How long and strong his fingers were and the way a vein on the top of his arm pulsed gently, almost as if in time to the music drifting through the loudspeakers.
The song changed—no longer were lyrics about second chances floating through the air; instead, a young woman’s voice lilted and hummed about how much love hurt.
Yeah, understatement of the year.
Motion caught Coraleen’s attention, as did the sound of a man clearing his throat. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Allan Reinhardt, Ned Peardale, and Albert Bentsen in the aisle, headed to the front door. As the men passed her table, Reinhardt paused and nodded his head at Remy.
“Good to see you again, Toussaint,” Reinhardt said. Without looking at Coraleen, he tipped his head in her direction. “Making sure this one stays on the right side of the law this time?”
Coraleen could swear she could feel Remy’s entire body go tense.
“Can’t say we’re all that happy to see you back in town, Miss Pettigrew,” Ned said, glaring at Coraleen, but he stayed a bit behind Reinhardt, as if hiding behind the man. Albert huddled even further away, his mouth pursed up tight and his gaze fixed firmly to his feet.
“I, for one,” Remy said firmly, “am glad she’s here. I’m only sorry Macer wasn’t here to greet his granddaughter home. I’m sure he’d wish all of you felt the same.”
Underneath the table, his leg jerked up and down: nervous tension, or anger? Coraleen wasn’t sure, but had Remy just stuck up for her? In public?
When Ned flushed, Coraleen knew Remy’s message had hit home: Don’t be a jerk.
“Might want to think about the company you keep,” Reinhardt added. “That election is just around the corner, and Lydell is gunning for your position. Think about your father. Don’t want to give your detractors any ammo.” He looked pointedly at Coraleen.
Across the table, Juliet jolted, but Remy quickly spoke, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “I’m sure this community will vote in the candidate who will best serve Meadowview and all the other towns in Deloro County.” Remy’s voice came out even but so low it almost vibrated—it was clear he wasn’t about to put up with any smack from any of the men. “And I serve all our citizens. That includes the down and out. The unlucky. The ones who have paid their dues. Even the judgmental ones.”
Both Reinhardt and Ned frowned and glanced at each other. Albert backed up a foot.
Ned straightened his shoulders, sucked in his paunch, and pointed a finger at Remy. “You know, Reinhardt says Lydell is making some awfully tempting promises. Think you can match the changes he’s proposing?”
For a moment, Coraleen thought she heard Remy growl.
“I’ve heard what he’s proposing,” he said, but he barely opened his jaw as he spoke.
“Law and order,” Reinhardt said firmly. “It’s what we need in Meadowview. He’ll push for harsher sentences for first-time offenders. He’ll throw the book at repeat offenders. And he’ll demand the deputies give citations immediately—no letting criminals off with a warning. Every rule followed to a T.”
“Which means, then,” Remy said dryly, nodding at Ned, “that day last month when I pulled you over for a broken taillight—”
“Hey!” Ned blustered. “My bull kicked that out in the field that day. I didn’t even know it was broken. I immediately went to Dave’s and had it repaired.”
“You told me about the bull and I believed you, because earlier in the day I saw you heading out to your back field and your taillight worked just fine. I pulled you over to let know the light was out. Didn’t cite you, because I knew you’d head right over to Dave’s. That decision was within my discretion. But with what I hear Lydell has been spouting off, you would have been ticketed. Fined. Is that what you want?”
“The law is the law, Toussaint,” Ned sputtered.
Remy slowly moved a hand to his hip, resting it there on the butt of his pistol. “And I always follow the law. There is, however, a level of discretion my deputies and I have. We implement the law, but the law isn’t as rigid as Lydell wants to make it for his sound bites. My deputies are allowed to show a little compassion. These people”—he w
aved his hand to indicate the patrons in the pub—“are the citizens we’ve sworn to protect. My deputies always keep that in mind.”
Ned glanced back over at Coraleen. Jutted his jaw in her direction. Raised his voice. “Seems like maybe somebody’s allowing the company they keep to let him get a little soft,” he said, so loud many in the pub could hear. “Might want to choose your houseguests a little more carefully in the future.”
Remy placed a solid, warm hand on Coraleen’s shoulder, surprising her yet again. And comforting her. Under the table, his knee pressed firmly against hers. She melted just a little.
“No one tells me who my friends are,” he ground out, a threat clearly carried on the low and rumbling timbre of his voice. “The people I choose to have in my life are my business, not the voters. Coraleen’s my guest for as long as she likes. And that’s not about to change because I might lose a vote or two.”
For a moment, hope fluttered in Coraleen’s heart—he was sticking up for her. Trying to protect her, defending her honor. And he wanted her to keep staying at his place! She’d pushed him away the night before, and he’d agreed with her that kissing had been a mistake. Was he somehow implying that maybe there could be a future between them?
“I believe you were headed out, isn’t that correct?” Remy said sharply. That was no question.
“You may just have lost our vote, Toussaint,” Albert snarled, then ducked behind his friend, except Ned had already turned around to walk off and the two men bumped face-first into each other, stumbled a bit, collected what was left of their pride, then, in the way of old friends, turned as one.
Reinhardt stared at Coraleen and tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Time you stopped this nonsense of looking for your horse and move on.”
Before she could find her voice, he’d left. As soon as he walked through the exit and the door slammed shut behind him, the only sound in the pub was the music overhead, this time with a man’s hipster-sounding voice whining about how the world was about to end.
Someone needed to change that blasted channel.
Always the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 2) (The Meadowview Series Book 6) (Meadowview Heat) Page 13
