Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2)

by Lucy McConnell

  Tyrell jerked his hands up, ready to swing.

  “I was just leaving.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Kirke stared as they shut behind him, sealing his fate and doom with one ironically happy little ding.

  JENNIFER, AND MOST OF Echo Ridge, was hit hard when the microburst came through town on Monday. Businesses up and down Main Street had broken windows. The sign over Pop’s Shipping had been dislodged and hung precariously over the sidewalk. Pop was out front standing guard. Andrea’s car had a cracked windshield and a new dent in the side. They still didn’t know what caused the dent. Whatever it was had been carried away in the winds.

  The local radio station gave updates on the repairs happening throughout town. That’s how Jennifer heard that the library had been hit. Few things in the world meant as much to Jennifer as the library. It was a haven, a small piece of celestial glory here on earth, where things were in order. She’d craved that order ever since she was a little girl. With her life crumbling around her, there was no place she’d rather be than curled up in the reading loft, knowing Marian would maintain the quiet and Britta would return books to their shelves and the numbers would line up and the floors would be free of clutter and Jennifer could breathe.

  Which was why, when she saw the gutter hanging precariously off the roof and the missing shingles, she took it personally. Not one to weep and wail, the tears poured silently down her cheeks like a gentle, cleansing rain. She’d read once that tears cried in sadness were tainted with the chemicals in the body that created the feelings of depression and woe. Therefore, when one cried, they were literally washing away the pain. Perhaps that’s why her tears drained her. And perhaps that’s why her mind cleared of all the hopes she’d placed within the hallowed library walls.

  Kirke pulled up on his bike, breathing as if he’d sprinted. “I got a text from Britta and came right away.”

  Jennifer glared. He was a part of the destruction in her heart. Maybe he wasn’t the actual broken gutter, but he had figuratively delivered a blow to the library and to Echo Ridge. “I’m surprised you came at all since Echo Ridge is just a bump in your road to success.” She quoted the article.

  Kirke’s face turned red, and he checked to see who had heard her.

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. The Kirke she knew and loved was selfless and thoughtful and everything she thought she wanted in a man. She wasn’t sure where that guy had gone, but she wasn’t about to spend her days pining after him.

  “I didn’t say those things,” he whispered urgently.

  “Pfft.” Jennifer brushed him off with a wave of her hand. She was so angry. “What’s going on with you? You’re an— ” She looked for a synonym for a curse word and finally said, “Acting different.”

  “Things are changing, and I’m just trying to keep up. I just need to hang on and all this will be worth it.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” She waited a beat. “Because I’m not buying it.”

  “My career is about to take off. Bay …” Kirke trailed off and stared at the ground.

  At the mention of Hollywood’s supposed good girl, Jennifer tugged her jacket close as if she could ward off the chill Bay’s name sent through her. “No, your career is about to take over. Good luck with that. You’ve always been in love with writing; I hope it’s enough for you.” Before he could answer, Jennifer flipped the hood of her jacket up and walked away, her hands shaking. She’d never stood up for herself like that before; never respected herself enough to expect more than to have to beg for something. It felt good— and awful— and awfully good.

  KIRKE WATCHED JENNIFER walk away. Each step she took added a brick to his wall. What was it with women this week? Bay goes all predator on him, as if he’d compromise himself just to be with her, and Jennifer roars at him for wanting more out of life than a small house and a small career. Couldn’t she see what an opportunity he was handed? Yes, the article was absolutely over the line, but he’d learned a valuable lesson the hard way. He’d have to be more careful with his words and attitudes around Bay; the woman was a live wire. But Jennifer wasn’t like that. Normally she was kind and funny and saw the good in everyone. She hated confrontation.

  Any second now his phone would ring, and Jennifer would want to make up. They weren’t the type of friends who stayed mad at one another. He couldn’t remember them ever fighting before. They disagreed about politics, but those were deep conversations, not arguments.

  He was mounting his bike when his phone did, in fact, ring. He answered it quickly, sure he and Jennifer would be splitting a fried chicken plate at Fay’s for lunch.

  “Kirke!” boomed Doug. “I gotta tell ya, man. I’m getting some mixed signals from you.”

  Kirke clenched his teeth. He’d missed two calls from Doug since the article ran Sunday morning. There were some not nice things printed about Doug, supposedly said by Kirke, and Kirke felt like a jerk even though he hadn’t said them.

  “Doug, I’m so sorry about the press. I didn’t say those things. I’m working on a retraction.” Which was an all-out lie. If he even thought about calling the article back, Bay would have a conniption fit. As long as the article stayed in Echo Ridge and didn’t get out to the national press, he’d let it die a natural death.

  “I didn’t think you did, really,” replied Doug.

  Kirke pressed his fingers into his eyes. “You’re the only one. Not even Jennifer believes me.”

  “Snap! No wonder you haven’t been answering your phone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she’s your muse, man. If things are off, you’ve got to be struggling.”

  “Jennifer’s my muse?” Kirke let his bike fall to the grass and sat next to it.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” Doug scoffed.

  “I didn’t. Don’t.”

  “You tell me the last time you wrote something good. Something you’d be proud to put your name on.”

  Kirke brushed his hands over the dried grass. “The day before …” Bay came to town.

  “Things went south with Jennifer?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You need to fix this.”

  “I can’t, she hates me.”

  “The line between love and hate is pretty thin.”

  “You think she loves me?”

  Doug let out an exasperated breath. “Apparently, you’ve already moved to the great state of denial.”

  Kirke hung his head. Did Jennifer love him? If she did, and he blew her off to be with Bay, he was a total jerk-faced ninnimungis. Tossing his helmet between his feet, he thought of all the rotten things he’d done to Jennifer since Bay came to town. No wonder he was off. He’d taken her for granted, pushed her aside, and ignored her feelings. “Doug, I’m an idiot.”

  “Yeah, but we’ll come back to that. Okay, big question time.”

  “Tell it like it is, why don’t ya?”

  “I don’t have time to mess around. Have you signed a contract with this new guy?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t. I’m still your agent, and until I receive a termination letter, I will look out for you. Before you sign anything, let me go over it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you actually written this screenplay people are buzzing about?”

  Kirke rubbed his gut. “I have something.”

  “Keep it under lock and key. No one sees it— got it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Now, if you can avoid selling your soul in the next few days, I will be there Friday to help you through this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Kirke.” There was a warning in Doug’s tone. “I’m going to need to see a draft of something.”

  “Right.” My draft. Kirke thought about his work in progress. The story line was solid, the characters fairly well developed. They could use some work. He could overhaul the lead and then send it to Doug, but without Jennifer’s keen eye and input, it wouldn’t be his bes
t.

  Doug said goodbye and hung up.

  Kirke scratched his chin. The conversation had been full of information, but the piece that left him puzzled was Doug’s claim that Jennifer was his muse. Jennifer couldn’t be his muse. Jennifer was just Jennifer. She was stable and even-keeled and, except for ten minutes ago, his best friend. Muses were supposed to be mysterious and exotic— like Bay.

  That’s what he needed to do: he needed to talk to Bay. She was a passionate person. He needed some passion in order to finish his play. His hands shaking, Kirke dialed her number and held his breath. Each ring was an eternity, and he had trouble getting a lungful of air.

  “Bay Barington’s phone,” answered her personal assistant. So her agent wasn’t the only one who’d come to Echo Ridge.

  “Hi, is Bay there?”

  “Ms. Barington cannot be disturbed at the moment.”

  Not now. I need her. “If you’ll just tell her it’s Kirke, I’m sure she’ll want to speak with me.” Kirke hoped he portrayed confidence that he didn’t feel.

  The woman pulled the phone away from her face and said, “Bay, Kirke’s calling.”

  Kirke could just make out Bay’s reply. “Take a message. I don’t want to be disturbed during my treatment.”

  The air left Kirke’s body as quickly as if someone had punctured holes through his chest. Maybe they had, he ached.

  And yet, Bay wasn’t done. “I’m scheduled for a cleanse, so tell him I’ll see him on Friday. We’ll do the local thing before leaving town.”

  “Ms. Barington— ”

  “I heard,” snapped Kirke. He hung up without saying goodbye. Bay said she was behind him, said she had his best interest at heart, and in his hour of need, she’d abandoned him. The shaking in his legs had nothing to do with his long bike ride or overused muscles. Dozens of people were counting on him to write, and he was scared of letting them all down.

  Jennifer would help. Normally she would, but he’d done a pretty good job of messing that up.

  He wanted to be with her. The desire to talk to her dragged his heart across the open fields of revelation. Gasping, he hugged his legs to his chest. Every moment since the first moment they’d met, his whole world had been about Jennifer. Upon waking, he checked the clock to see how long until they were together. Before writing, he’d call just to check in. Before bed, hers was the last face he pictured. And if he could work it out, he was beside her. Stretching his legs out, he relived the few moments when Jennifer had been in kissing range. Why didn’t he just go for it? Bay. Jennifer had been open with him about her dad’s cheating past, and Kirke had no desire to bring that into her life.

  I wish I’d never met Bay.

  And yet he’d pursued her like a bloodhound. Shallow and pathetic. He was nothing more than a doe-eyed fan who found himself caught up in Bay’s glamorous web. He’d committed to writing for her, or with her, or something … he wasn’t quite sure what the arrangement was anymore.

  If only Jennifer would give him a sign. Let him know that she really did love him. He would give up fame and fortune for her, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to gamble on an odd comment from Doug and a hope.

  What stunk was that the best thing he could think to do was give her some space and time. Which meant that Kirke, for the first time since he moved to Echo Ridge, was also alone.

  Alone stinks!

  JENNIFER FELT LIKE SHE HAD the easiest assignment at the Harvest Hurrah. The children’s day was popular, and the fishing booth was always a huge success. All she had to do was sit behind a curtain and clip prizes onto the clothespins attached to fishing lines the kids threw over. She didn’t have to smile and pretend that everything was okay when all she really wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch The Notebook a hundred times.

  One of the drawbacks to being behind the curtain was that she could hear every conversation that happened on the other side of the thin cotton. Most of the time, people talked about the Hurrah or told their kids not to spend all their tickets on one booth, but sometimes there was something she wished she hadn’t overheard. Mrs. Bitty Betty and her neighbor were one of those conversations.

  “I really thought he’d be here,” said Betty.

  “You don’t think he’d show his face, do you? After the things he said about Echo Ridge. Tsk tsk. If I were him, I’d be tucking my tail between my legs and running for the airport.”

  “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind before he goes. That’s all.”

  “You and me both.”

  The ladies moved on, and Jennifer dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to defend Kirke, to tell the women, and the rest of Echo Ridge, that Kirke would never use the words piddly little town. He just wouldn’t. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until several days after their run-in that she’d come to the conclusion that she believed him when he said he’d been misquoted. She’d read every one of his plays—was his first reader. She saw them long before Doug did, and the one thing missing in that article was his voice. She should have seen it right off the bat, but had been so hurt and angry that her common sense had hopped a train on an impromptu vacation.

  Her next thought was, if he didn’t inspire the article, who had? The answer came as quickly as the clothespin flying over the barrier: Bay Barington. TV’s good girl had gone rogue and was wreaking havoc on Kirke and Echo Ridge. Like a pillaging army, she targeted their strongholds, like the library and the sense of community and the small-town mentality where you watched out for your neighbor.

  Jennifer attached a prize to the clip and gave it a tug to let the child know they’d gotten a bite. Kaitlyn poked her head around the sheet. “Hey, I brought you some donuts.”

  Jennifer practically drooled over Martha Jean’s apple cider donuts. “Thank you so much!” she stage-whispered.

  “Can I come back there?”

  “Sure” Jennifer scooted over on the bench to make room for Kaitlyn. They ate their donuts in silence for a moment, keeping the young fishermen— and women— happy between bites.

  “How did the paper turn out?” Jennifer asked.

  “I got an A minus.”

  “What? I thought you’d get an A for sure.”

  “I probably would have, but I forgot to add the thing about the witches being not only a symbol of sin and stuff but of the darkness that’s inside all of us.” She shook her head. “It’s all right. I will still get an A in the class.”

  “Good. You’re a hard worker and smart. That’s an unstoppable combination.”

  “Thanks. Justin got a B minus. He was totally stoked.”

  “Over a B minus?”

  “Yeah, it’s been his highest grade in English this year.”

  “If he ever needs help, let me know.” With Kirke leaving, I’ll have all sorts of time.

  “Hello, dears.” The wonderfully sweet woman with the strange hair popped in.

  “Hi, Mrs. Tumnus,” chirped Kaitlyn.

  Tumnus. Tumnus. Tumnus. Jennifer cemented it into her brain.

  “I’m taking drink orders. Would you like a soda, cider, or water?”

  “I’d better get back or my mom’s gonna kill me.” Kaitlyn folded her paper plate. “Thanks anyway, Mrs. Tumnus.”

  Mrs. Tumnus moved to the side so Kaitlyn could get out. Jennifer smiled. “I’d love a soda. Whatever you have will be fine.”

  Mrs. Tumnus tipped her head. “Every time I turn around, you’re helping out. What you did with those kids at the library the other day was something special.”

  A clip sailed over the wall, and Jennifer picked a random prize from the box. “It was fun. They’re good kids.”

  “Well, you talk to them like they’re valuable, and they respond to you.”

  “They are valuable.” Jennifer tugged on the line, and the baggie disappeared.

  Mrs. Tumnus nodded. “I heard you were taking college classes?” She peered over her bifocals.

  Jennifer smiled. “I’m chipping away at a degree.”

  �
��In what?”

  Her ears burned. She hadn’t told anyone, except Kirke. “Library science,” she whispered.

  “You don’t seem excited.”

  Jennifer stared at the grain in the wood floor. She didn’t like to talk about her childhood, but Mrs. Tumnus was so kind, and she felt like a kindred spirit. “It’s a lofty goal for a girl from the lower side of town.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

  “No one ever expected the dirty-faced Solomon girl to be anything.”

  “And you want to prove them all wrong.”

  “No.” Jennifer met the kind, pale eyes. “I want to prove to myself that they are wrong.”

  Mrs. Tumnus smiled. “You’re one in a million, my dear. Stalwart and true.”

  A clip smacked Jennifer in the head. “Ouch!” She laughed and rubbed the spot. “That was a one-in-a-million cast.”

  They chuckled together. “I’ll be back with your drink.” Mrs. Tumnus stood. “Make sure you have a little fun tonight.” She looked around. “Is your gentleman friend here?”

  Biting her lip, Jennifer shook her head.

  “Well, don’t leave without a caramel apple. They’re trying a new flavor this year— ” Her eyes sparkled. “Bacon!”

  Jennifer scrunched up her nose. “Is it any good?”

  “I’ve already had two.” She held up two fingers. “My doctor will have a fit, but at my age, it’s the simple things in life.”

  “At any age— I’ll be sure and try one of those bacon caramel apples.”

  Mrs. Tumnus left Jennifer alone with her box of prizes and a nagging conscience. Stalwart and true? Not so much.

  She loved Kirke; she’d come to terms with that in the last few days. Her feelings were strong and binding, the kind that didn’t evaporate in the heat of anger. Knowing that he might never return her feelings stung like the swift flick of a rubber band— times a thousand.

  She was holding true to her resolve and refused to call him or doll herself up in an effort to catch his eye. When Andrea offered to do her hair today, Jennifer declined, content to wear her big curls loose and just be herself.