by Regina Hart
“OK.” Audra popped off the bench and collected her laptop. “I’d better say good night.”
Jack gaped. “That’s OK with you?”
“I’m excited.” Audra flashed him a bright grin over her shoulder before bending to unplug her computer from the patio outlet.
Jack dragged his eyes from the firm curves of her derriere. “Five o’clock isn’t too early for you? We’re three hours ahead of the West Coast.”
Audra straightened. “I can do the math. I’ve been getting up early to jog, but I can always exercise later in the day.”
“You’ve been jogging in the mornings?”
She held her laptop close to her chest. “I’ve seen you coming back from your run.”
Why hadn’t he seen her? It bothered him that someone had watched while he’d exercised his demons.
“What time will we be done fishing?” Audra’s question redirected his train of thought.
“We can stay as long as you like.” He felt a curious combination of fear and anticipation.
It had been years since he’d gone fishing with someone. He didn’t mind his own company, but could he handle Audra’s? She was changing him. The fact he was here proved that. He’d avoided human contact for the past sixteen months, but Audra had the power to pull him from his self-imposed exile after his daughter’s death. Should he fight it? Could he? Did he want to?
Audra almost vibrated with excitement. “Should I bring anything? What should I wear?”
Jack fought to resist her and his longings. “I’ll pack our lunch.” He nodded toward her. “What you’re wearing now is fine.”
More than fine. Maybe he should ask her to wear sweats.
“Great.” She glanced at the serviceable black watch on her wrist. “Good night.”
“Night.”
What had he gotten himself into? Jack watched his guest enter the cabin, then close and lock the patio door between them. A light green curtain he’d never seen before swung in its large, rectangular window. She was even changing his cabins.
Jack walked back to his cabin. His heart was pounding. Was it anxiety or excitement? Audra Lane’s presence was having an almost magical effect on him. How much longer could he resist her? Did he even want to?
CHAPTER 5
Jack had been serious when he said he’d come for her at five o’clock, Monday morning. Audra opened her door to find him on her porch. He wore black cargo shorts and black hiking boots. Today’s T-shirt was gunmetal gray.
“Is this T-shirt number four or five in your collection?” Audra let him in, nodding at his sculpted torso.
“It’s Monday. This is T-shirt number one.” He stopped close enough for her to feel a hint of his body’s warmth. In his left hand, he held two fishing rods.
Audra gestured toward the cooler in his right. “Is that our lunch?”
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” He set the cooler on the floor near his feet.
“Grape jelly?” She noticed the navy blue pack strapped to his back.
“Is there any other kind?”
“You have hidden depths, Mr. Sansbury.” Audra strained to see the man beyond his unkempt hair and overgrown beard. Most of his features were hidden, but his onyx eyes twinkled at her. Her heart tripped at this all-too-rare glimpse of emotion.
Audra settled onto the dark plaid fabric sofa. She shoved her feet into ankle-high coffee-colored hiking boots.
Jack offered her a fishing rod. “Do you know how to use this?”
“I’ve never even seen one in real life.”
“You’re kidding.” Jack lowered the rod.
A thought occurred to Audra. She gave Jack a sharp look. “Am I going to have to put a worm on this?”
“I have artificial lures.”
Relieved, Audra took the rod to examine it. It was longer than she’d imagined, about five feet, and supple. She shook it a few times. “I had no idea fishing rods were so flexible.”
“You’ve really never been fishing?”
“Never.” The cork grip was comfortable in her hand. What kind of metal was the handle made of? Graphite?
“You’ve led a sheltered life.”
“Perhaps.” Audra examined the aluminum reel and nylon line. “Don’t people go fishing to relax? How hard could it be?”
“Right.” He collected the cooler, walked to the door, and held it open for her. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.” She led him outside. The fishing rod felt light in her fist.
Jack watched her check the locks on her front door. “Afraid the bears will steal your guitar?”
“If they’re like you, they’ll just lurk around in the bushes waiting to scare me half to death.” She walked past him and down the porch steps.
Moonlight eased the velvet darkness. Their footsteps, crunching over the graveled path, battled back the thick silence. Trinity Falls was foreign from her life in Los Angeles. L.A. was full of traffic noises, crowds, and artificial lights. But after four days, Audra was used to the quiet here. Perhaps Benita was right, as much as she hated to admit it. This alien environment may be what she needed—and not just to bring back her creative muse. She felt reinvigorated by the silence that blanketed her at night, crickets that sang her to sleep, and the fresh forest scents that filled her lungs.
“Where are we going?” Why am I whispering?
“To the lake.”
Audra jumped when Jack responded in a normal voice. “Why did we have to come out so early?”
“Why didn’t you ask me that last night?” There was humor in his voice.
“I was afraid if I asked too many questions, you’d change your mind.”
“I still might.”
Audra allowed the silence to resettle. Any further comments might be considered questions. She couldn’t risk Jack canceling their outing. Each step that brought her closer to the lake ratcheted her excitement.
Finally the lake came into view. Jack stopped a distance from the whimsical bridge and shrugged off his backpack. He opened it to withdraw a wide, faded blanket, which he spread near a large maple tree that must have guarded the lake since the dawn of time.
He waved her closer to him. “I’ll show you how to set your lure.”
More than fifteen minutes later, the sun had stretched into the sky. Birds had gathered for their morning meeting. The temperatures had risen. But Audra still hadn’t baited her fishing rod or cast her line. She glared first at the uncooperative worm substitute, then Jack.
He shrugged. “‘Don’t people go fishing to relax? How hard could it be?’”
Audra’s brows lifted to her hairline. He was giving her words back to her. “I miss the grumpy desk clerk.”
“He’s right here.”
Audra didn’t think so. The humor in Jack’s eyes so captivated her that she forgot more than half of his face was covered by hair.
She tugged away her gaze to check her watch. It was after five in the morning. “Why do people fish for relaxation? This isn’t relaxing.”
Several minutes later, she’d finally baited her line. Frustration roiled anew when it came to casting it.
“Come on. You’re almost there.” Jack’s warm, strong hands covered hers, guiding her through the motion.
Audra was ready to return to bed by the time their lines were cast. She settled beside Jack on the blanket, mimicking his pose: legs crossed, both hands on the pole. “If I had to fish to survive, I’d starve to death.”
Jack threw his head back and laughed. Audra gaped. He used his right index finger to lift her chin and close her mouth. “You’ll collect flies.”
“I’m sorry.” Audra’s skin was still warm from that single touch even after his hand had dropped away. “There was a time I didn’t think you ever laughed.”
In a blink, his smile disappeared as though it had never been there. “I haven’t had a reason to.”
“Maybe you should go fishing more often.”
“Maybe.” Jack looked away
.
Audra did the same. A companionable silence settled over them. Audra gained confidence as they recast their lines periodically—until she felt a tug on the rod.
“I’ve got something.” She struggled to hold on to her fishing rod while she rose to her feet.
Why was she nervous? Was it because she was afraid? Of what? Failing. The realization went through her like an electric charge. Was that the reason for her writer’s block? After her Grammy win, did other people’s expectations seem too high?
She felt Jack behind her. His hard arms pressed against her waist as he once again covered her hands with his to guide her. He was warm, strong, and steady at her back. His presence gave her confidence. Together, they reeled in her fish and put it in the bucket.
“Oh, my gosh! Did you see it? Isn’t this amazing?” Audra’s heart raced with excitement.
Jack smiled. “Yes, it is. That’s a white bass. Perfect size for eating.”
She didn’t care if he was humoring her. Suddenly she was having the time of her life. Audra managed to bait and cast her line by herself, then settled back onto the blanket—but not for long. Jack’s line came alive with his catch. She didn’t know whether her hovering around him was a help or a hindrance to his reeling in the fish. She just wanted to be a part of the action.
After they put Jack’s fish in the bucket, Audra returned to the blanket. Her gaze traced the deep green tree line nearby, the white trellis bridge arching over the lake, the silver blue water dancing in front of them. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“It is.” His voice was calm, confident. At peace.
“It’s more than beautiful. It’s enchanted.”
“Like a fairy tale?”
Was he laughing at her again?
Audra gave this more relaxed Jack a considering look. She liked what she saw—or rather what she could see between his beard and his braids. Thick black eyebrows slashed across his high forehead. Deep-set, almond-shaped onyx eyes communicated a sharp mind with a hint of pain. Sensuous lips were half masked by his black beard and moustache.
She arched a brow, challenging him. “Are you an expert on fairy tales?”
A jolt slammed through Jack as his mind jerked back to his past. He’d read Disney versions, Hans Christian Andersen, and Grimm’s Fairy Tales to Zoey every night before bed. His eight-year-old daughter had had an insatiable appetite for the stories.
“I’ve read my share.” Jack swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat.
“If this really were a fairy tale, which one would it be?” Audra shifted toward him. The movement distracted Jack from his thoughts. Thank goodness.
Jack stored away the bittersweet memories of his little girl and considered Audra’s question. He surveyed the proud old trees and playful lake. “Alice in Wonderland?”
“No way.” Audra gave in to laughter.
It amazed him how she could make him smile. “Which fairy tale would you choose?”
“With your gruff attitude and these isolated cabins, it would definitely be Beauty and the Beast.”
His gaze moved over her pixie features. “Would you be Beauty?”
Audra shook her head. “I never said that.”
He would. “I guess we each have our own fairy tales.”
Audra’s dark curls danced in the gentle breeze. Her champagne eyes searched his face. “You know, if you’d like, I can redo your braids.”
Jack fought the urge to smooth a hand over his hair. Audra’s expression held neither criticism nor disdain. Still, his cheeks burned with embarrassment. He hadn’t thought much about his appearance in months. Years? Not since Zoey had gotten sick. Without his daughter to prompt him, he’d thought about it even less after she died.
“No, thanks.”
A pretty pink blush rose in Audra’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re doing me a favor by teaching me how to fish. I wanted to repay you.”
Jack’s gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips drew him like a thirsty man to water. They were moist, slightly parted, and pink as candy. Suddenly he wanted a taste more than he wanted his next breath. Before he could change his mind again, Jack swooped in and claimed her lips.
He felt Audra’s gasp against his lips before he sealed her mouth with his. Her touch, her scent, transported him to another place and time, down the rabbit hole. Jack pressed a little deeper for a better taste. His heart stuttered, then beat hard and fast after having felt nothing for so long. The darkness that had borne down on him for years eased. Her warmth was healing him. And for a moment, Audra had responded. He was sure she had. He’d brushed his tongue across the seam of her lips. They’d softened beneath his touch before she pushed away.
Jack blinked to focus on her face. Concern and remorse chilled him when he saw where his beard had chafed her chin and cheeks. He wanted to soothe the areas, but feared she wouldn’t want him to touch her again.
What was happening to him? Had hiding in these cabins so deteriorated his civility and self-control that he now resembled an untamed beast?
Audra frowned. “That’s not the way I repay my debts.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Then what was that?”
A hungry man seeking sustenance? A blind man reaching out to see? “I don’t know.”
Audra’s expression said, I don’t believe you. “I don’t do flings.”
“I’m sorry.” Jack scrubbed his left hand over his beard. “It sounds stupid, but I don’t know what came over me.”
Audra rose. “Thank you for the fishing lesson.”
She was leaving? Of course. He’d crossed the line and made her uncomfortable.
Jack stood with the bucket. “Would you like the fish?”
“I at least want the one I caught.” Audra’s half smile gave him hope that he could redeem himself.
“Fair enough.” Jack helped Audra collect their belongings before escorting her to her cabin.
He was beginning to believe he needed redemption. He’d been alone in the dark for so long. Could Audra, with her warmth and light, draw him from the cold darkness his life had become since Zoey’s death? Did he deserve saving?
“Good morning, Simon. What can I get for you?” Doreen masked her surprise at finding Simon Knight at Books & Bakery’s food counter at eight o’clock, Tuesday morning. The retired pharmacist had never appeared this early before.
Simon waved her off. “Nothing, thanks, Doreen. I’ve already eaten.”
The mystery deepened. “Then what can I do for you?”
“I want to tell you first, and in private, before I make a public announcement.” He bounced on the toes of his black loafers. “I’m running for mayor.”
Doreen stared at the older man for seconds that felt like minutes. “You’re running for mayor? It’s mid-July. The campaign filing deadline was December.”
“I’m starting a petition to join the race. I just need about five hundred signatures to get my name on the ballot.”
Was this some kind of joke? But Simon wasn’t known for his sense of humor. Rather, he was a thorn in the side of anyone who ever tried to get anything done for the benefit of the town’s nearly fifteen hundred residents.
Doreen crossed her arms. “Simon, you’ve lived in Trinity Falls all of your life. You’ve never been a member of any civic organization. You’ve never participated in any improvement campaigns. You’ve never even attended a town meeting. Why have you decided to run for mayor?”
Simon stood straighter, looking down his broad nose at Doreen. “The residents of Trinity Falls deserve to have a choice of mayoral candidates. We haven’t had a two-candidate competition for three election cycles.”
“Is that going to be your campaign platform, giving the town a choice for mayor?” Did she sound as incredulous as she felt?
Ramona McCloud, the current mayor, was not running for reelection. Instead, she’d made the life-changing decision to leave Trinity Falls next month with her boyfriend, Doc
tor Quincy Spates. That meant Doreen was the only registered candidate for the election. She’d been prepared to challenge Ramona for the office, though. She’d understood how their visions for Trinity Falls were different and why. In contrast, campaigning against Simon would be like kickboxing smoke.
Simon gave her a smug look. “My platform will be the sesquicentennial celebration.”
Doreen frowned. “I’m chairing the Trinity Falls Sesquicentennial Steering Committee. You’re not even a member.”
Yet another example of Simon’s lack of civic participation. Why did he want to be mayor?
Simon wagged his right index finger. “The sesquicentennial—in particular, the Founders Day Celebration next month—is our best chance to raise the town’s profile and boost tourism . . . if it’s done correctly.”
Doreen narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”
“I’m going to position the outcome of the mayoral election as a judgment on the sesquicentennial events. Will the steering committee you’re leading raise the town’s profile? Will it increase tourism or draw regional, if not national, attention?”
Doreen’s laugh was short and shocked. “So I do all the work, while you just sit back and judge the outcome? How convenient for you.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Doreen continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “The only flaw in your campaign strategy is that the celebration—in particular, Founders Day—is going to be a success.”
“How?” Simon bounced on his toes again. “You can’t even convince Jack Sansbury, the last member of our founding family, to attend the celebration.”
Doreen unclenched her teeth. “The sesquicentennial is going to be a success. But what about your lack of government experience?”
“I’m willing to learn. I’m up for the challenge.”
“Are you talking about on-the-job training?” Was he serious? “I already have experience working with town agencies through my volunteer positions on civic committees.”
A movement in Doreen’s peripheral vision drew her attention past Simon and corked her growing head of steam. Her regular morning customers were arriving. Her son, Ean, joined Quincy, Ramona, and Simon’s son, Darius.
