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

by Lucy McConnell

  “Do? I don’t think there’s anything to do. Who knows how he really feels.”

  “Oh, I think I’m getting just a smidge of how he feels. What’s your gut telling you?”

  Lindy paused then closed her eyes. “That it’s too soon, and thoroughly ridiculous— he’s an international bestselling author and will travel all over at least this country for a tour in what, the next two weeks? And that I’m a city girl and belong downtown. And that he’s foreign, and I’m from L.A.— ”

  “Also a foreign land in itself, so there’s that— ”

  She opened her eyes, shaking her head. “When I look at things logically, it’s a no-brainer— absolutely not! My mind screams it. But when I sit still, like this, and just be…I don’t know, Shennedy. This feeling thing sort of drapes over me like a soft throw. It’s so comfortable. And I honestly don’t know what to do. Part of me says, grow up and move forward, you can’t stay here. And another part of me says, Take the side road. Explore a little. But then what?”

  Shennedy paused at the open door and smiled widely. “Go explore a little.”

  FRIDAY NIGHT LINDY SAT nervously by herself in the car at the Fairfield Drive-in. With a 35-foot tall screen and the old-fashioned speakers hanging from the parking stall stands, this small-town nostalgic heirloom was open only during the summer months, and as long as fall would let it. Even though the night was sweater cool for October— a fresh breeze rolled through the open window— this would be the last drive-in movie for the season. She had forgotten that would be the case and how many people would show up. Thankfully, they had arrived early enough to catch the last of the kids’ movie now showing.

  She chuckled to herself. At first, it had seemed like a good idea to bring Armand here. After talking with Shennedy, Lindy had texted him to see if he might like a slice of Americana tonight with burger, fries, and a drive-in movie. As personal assistant, it fell to her to keep him entertained this evening. But the butterflies right below her ribs made it clear this was more than an assignment.

  Sitting on the passenger side of her Volvo— Armand had insisted it would be more comfortable without the steering wheel to bother her— she turned her head to look for him to return from getting snacks. He’d been excited to go out tonight, that much was clear. Meeting him at This & That, he was already pacing in the front entry, then rushed to open the door as his eyes brightened to see her. In dark jeans with a designer shirt, a camel jacket and that heady expensive cologne, she knew he had taken extra care in getting ready. And the appreciative look he gave her, with an added, “Mon cher ami, vous regardez belle.” She had raised an eyebrow? “You look lovely. Beautiful.”

  That had helped set the mood just a little too.

  She looked over at the Snack Stop, at least the view from her vantage point, but no sign of him. Turning back around, she wondered if he had been mobbed by adoring middle-aged women.

  A car pulled in slowly to the right. Lindy turned her head and did a sharp intake.

  Bitty Betty Harmon?

  With windows down, Betty gave one of her Oooh-I-smell-some-gossip smiles. “Well, hello there, Lindy Marchant.” Her head moved quickly searching the driver’s seat. “Out for a movie night are we?” With emphasis on the “we.” Her friend and comrade in bitty talk, Frieda Maynor, leaned forward and waved, her graying curls tight to her head.

  “Oh, yes, just taking in a movie. You know…”

  Her driver’s door opened. “I tried to remember, pardonne-moi, if it was two popcorn and one soda— iz that right, soda?— or one popcorn and two sodas. Ah, bonsoir, mes demoiselles.”

  Betty and Frieda stared, soundless, smiling and nodding. Betty touched her hair. “Oh, are you both on a date tonight?”

  Lindy glanced at him with a knowing look then back to the women. “Oh, no, just giving French Armand here one of our American small-town treats, that kind of thing…Okay, then, good to see you. Have a wonderful night.” She turned so her back blocked more of the open window. To Armand, she continued, “It will be all over the city by opening credits. Sorry.”

  A small smile stole to his lips. “I am not sorry.” He handed her a soda and held the popcorn with his right hand to share. Even still, his large frame already put him touching her seat.

  Lindy cleared her throat. “Speaking of Betty, for tomorrow I think she is actually on entertainment watch.”

  Armand tipped his hand. “Je suis désolé, can you please pardon for me? I have my first book signing in New York City and return Sunday night.”

  “You do? You are?” How had she missed this?

  “Yes, I leave very early in the morning. They provide a car to use for the book signing, it iz good. And it iz only a few hours’ drive, and I will return Sunday night.”

  “Oh.” An undeniable disappointment filled her. He wouldn’t be at the shop tomorrow. But then, had she expected him to be? The pattern of working together, sharing ideas, learning from his stories and books he’d read, and his interest in her sales input and suggestions, she now looked forward to it.

  With a forced bright smile, she added, “That sounds terrific. Mobs of adoring fans, all that jazz?”

  He nodded slowly. “Perhaps, but just a signing so it iz good. I will be back soon.”

  What did that mean, just a signing? Was it routine to him? Or did he mean something else. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about his earlier cancellation with the library.

  “The shop iz looking very well. It will be ready for opening day, est-ce pas?”

  Lindy nodded, shelving the question for later. It was Friday night, after all. “I sure hope so. A few areas remain to be organized, as you can see, and the endless tagging and pricing according to Shennedy’s somewhat complex instructions. Plus the advertising items, they should be done in time, though.”

  “And the window display— have you figured this out yet?”

  “Nooo. But I’m sure some magical thought will come. Maybe I’ll put that painting back in the window where it likely belongs.”

  They shared a small smile, remembering back to the argument in the middle of the shop floor over where it should go.

  “And how is your sister, Shennedy?”

  “Oh, she’s not my sister. Well, not by blood. But even though we’re cousins, she’s been like a sister to me. She’s the reason I’m here.”

  Lindy stopped short. It was merely family line-up, nothing too personal. But for the strangest reason, his easy manner made her want to divulge all sorts of feelings. What was up with that?

  “So what is showing tonight, you didn’t say.” Armand offered her some popcorn.

  “They’re finishing a kids’ movie, maybe ten more minutes, and then they’ll start ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ which is…well, it’s a Jane Austen movie. Shennedy was assigned the book to donate to the library, and thankfully, found a beautiful hard cover through the Ladies League connections. So we’ve been celebrating with a fair amount of Austen.”

  “I know of Jane Austen. Very talented writer. Good stories.”

  “You’ve read her?”

  “Yes. Iz that a surprise? I am a writer, no?”

  “But you’re…a man. I mean…” Lindy sat back, trying to verbalize her thoughts. “You’re a different person than I had originally thought. On that sales tour, where you canceled the appearance, you were…I’m not sure how to say it.”

  His hand stopped in the popcorn, a pained expression on his face. “Arrogant? Insecure? Yes, I was those. And more. It was a very difficult time for me. More than I can say.”

  Betty leaned forward, sipping her soda, with eyebrows arched.

  Lindy gave a questioning glance to Armand.

  He said quietly, “Quickly, rub your arms.” Using the button, he put up the window, with a courteous nod to Betty. “A little cold tonight, no? Enjoy the movie, mademoiselle.” A momentary distressful look crossed her face, but she recovered in time to give a winning smile, raising her chin as Lindy’s window rose higher.

&
nbsp; They shared a smile.

  “Please to continue.”

  “It’s just, now there’s this other side to you, and I’m trying to figure out— is it two Armand’s or do you change in mixed company? Forgive me, one minute you are charming and wealthy and celebrity-like. But the next, you’re in house slippers and helping me move furniture. I don’t know what to make of you.” She turned to face him more fully. “You seem to have led a charmed life. And yet, you are a regular person.”

  He laughed short. “A charmed life. So it would seem, but no. When we were little, my sister and I, our family, it was very poor. We had to do many things in order to eat, or go anywhere. I had a bicycle— big, heavy, not a nice one, with a heavy wooden cart, how you say— hook on at the back? And it would break down, all the time. We had cows, our neighbors too, and I would pick up the glass milk bottles very early in the morning. Then, I would deliver them, up and down the hills. And the bike, it would break down. Sometimes a kind person stopped and help me to fix it. Other times, I pushed the bicycle to every stop and missed school.” He shrugged. “I learned many things from that.”

  Lindy nodded. That explained his work ethic and comfortableness in that realm. “But I thought Britta said you came into…some wealth.”

  “That came later.” He fingered his soda cup. “My father fell into some connections, he was very respected. And one thing to another, he became a sort of embassy worker. We moved into a big house and suddenly, life became very different. But my parents, they tried to keep some of the old ways, very much a part of them. They keep working hard, not showing the money. They even had me attend a regular school instead of the embassy school.” A painful look crossed his face. “You would think that was a good thing. Some things yes, but others, no. My parents are good people. They knew hard work. But not a lot of emotional, how you say, connect?”

  Yes, Lindy could understand that. She thought of her own mother in California, a good woman who helped in the community but struggled to stay deeply connected. The model had always been get busy, do good, produce. It was that kind of generation.

  The movie credits began. Oh yes, the movie. She looked around her. They were in a public place, but inside the car had become very close. The dark of the night, the close quarters, his muscular shoulders now touching hers, all of it created a surprising place apart.

  Lindy swallowed. “Should we put on the radio station? We can do that instead of the speakers, to keep the windows up.”

  Armand turned slightly toward her. “In a moment. What about you? What is more of your, as you say, story? Living in L.A., the high life as you call it?”

  It was Lindy’s turn to laugh. “You could say that, but not really. My family is upper middle class, good people. I have a brother who struggles with addiction, but is making a life for himself now. For me, out of Cal-Berkley I was lucky to land that job with Damon’s company. And I loved it. Something about that pace, the unknown coming at you daily, and solving it, working it, seeing it through to a successful completion. I was hooked.”

  She sipped her soda for a moment. He waited. “And this Damon, he is the president of the company? Or, if you permit me, something more?”

  Lindy openly took him in. Shennedy had been the only one to know the full story. His earnest expression and relaxed manner moved her forward.

  “Damon was my boss, but as things went along, more like a business partner. We worked well together. And though I was younger, we have complementary skill sets— he’s very driven and likes to do the deal. I talk with people, nurture them, follow the deal through to a good finish and send the gift basket. That kind of thing. I like working with people. And then things got, dicey.”

  Her voice quietened with an embarrassing quiver. “You know, I really haven’t shared this with anyone else, except Shennedy.”

  Instinctively, he reached his hand to cover hers. She squeezed it back. “A year or more into it, we could both feel things were getting closer, much closer, between us. The intensity suited us. I knew he had been married, and now separated for over a year until the paperwork came through. She had left him for a billionaire, literally— the enormous yacht and everything. But for me, nothing could happen until it was a done deal. That’s who I am. But he actively pursued me, and that bothered me some, and I had to keep setting boundaries. Then his divorce came through.”

  She blew out a breath. “But on the day of our first official date, the IRS showed up at the office with a warrant for his arrest. Apparently, there was tax fraud involved. As I searched the files for things he needed for his lawyer, I discovered that he wasn’t officially divorced after all. That was two strikes in one day. But the hardest part was his arrogance.” Tears threatened behind her eyes. “This side of him that went into blame and denial. And I thought, ‘Who are you?’” She paused to temper her emotions. “I’m a big believer in loyalty, but over the weeks, his attitude and demeanor got worse. He never owned that he had lied to the government, or to me. He blamed it on a technicality, even though I had a letter of verified proof in my hand from his not-so-ex-wife.”

  Armand had continued to hold her hand, occasionally stroking her fingers with his thumb. Lindy broke the moment and reached for a napkin to dab at her eyes.

  “Sorry, I’m not usually teary like this, I’m not a pretty crier.”

  “I would disagree.” He said it softly, so that she almost missed it.

  She shook her head. “Anyway, Shennedy had followed the sad story and one day called and said, ‘Come to Echo Ridge. It’s a place of healing. And besides, I need help with my antique store and you need something new.’ I felt a click in my soul. And I knew that’s exactly what I needed to do. So I told Damon goodbye, packed up my Volvo with what I could stuff in it, left my apartment to my roommate to let, and drove out here.”

  “Those are many big decisions.” He hesitated for a moment. “And now? How do you feel about being here, away from…there?”

  She dabbed again. “It’s layered. Like excavating feelings— digging them up, looking at them, and tossing what doesn’t work, keeping what does. It’s an insecure process. But mostly now, I’m feeling the first stages of being renewed. And open. To what exactly, I don’t know, but that’s how it feels.”

  Looking at her hand in his, the feel of his warmth and sureness, Lindy fought to remember where they were and why. “I’m sorry, the movie…”

  He shook his head. “I am not sorry,” and leaned toward her. “You are a lovely woman, Lindy Marrshan. And I admire the depth of your spirit, your integrity, and your courage.” His accent drew out each word, cour-aj. “I’m glad to know you. Very glad.”

  With a soft movement, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with that trademark gentleness, lingering. “Forgive me, but in my country, this gesture is of affection. It does not offend you?”

  Lindy took in his bright blue eyes, the tenderness in his expression supported by that firm jawline. “No, it doesn’t offend me. At all.”

  “I would not usually. But it feels very…”

  “— natural.”

  A content smile stole across his lips. “Yes, zat iz the word. Natural.”

  After a few moments, almost on cue, they both turned toward the front, Lindy working the radio buttons to get the right station and then rested her head on his shoulder. He continued to hold her left hand. Both content to be where they were.

  AWAKING ON THE SATURDAY morning without an alarm, Lindy headed to the kitchen counter for a cup of herbal tea. She pulled out her phone to check messages and emails, especially since being with Armand last night, she hadn’t given it a thought.

  A laugh escaped her. Lindy Marchant, forgetting to check emails and messages. That was a first.

  Scrolling down, she saw an urgent email from Britta. Why would she be emailing her?

  Hi Lindy,

  I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten the message from the board ladies, but we have a new fundraising plan that involves Armand. I tried to reach him
tonight to get a final answer but didn’t get him, I think he’s anti-cell phone.☺ The final plan is that he do a book signing and reading the last night of the Harvest Hurrah, the 15th. It’ll be at the fair, 7:30 p.m., we’ll have everything set. If you could make sure he sees this, that would be great. And, hopefully, there won’t be any problem with it. There really shouldn’t be. He definitely owes us one☺☺.”

  Two emoticons in a row? Armand was in trouble.

  I’ll follow up with him if needed on Monday as he’s supposed to go to New York City this weekend. But please make sure he gets this ASAP. We want him on board (no pun intended). Thanks.

  Hmm. Another reading actually scheduled, how will Armand take to that? Lindy sipped her tea. What was his deal with it anyway? The Armand from last night didn’t seem to be flaky at all. Sure, confident, connected. Something was fishy.

  Shennedy shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Ah, the beauty awakes. And is dressed.” Lindy smiled.

  “If you call sweats and a T-shirt dressed. Although anything is an improvement over that ratty pink robe, I know.” Shennedy sat at the counter while Lindy poured her a cup of herbal tea and handed it to her. “I’m feeling better every day, though. Thinking I may even go to the potluck after church tomorrow.”

  “That would be because of Pastor Louis’ thought-provoking sermons. And not a certain gentleman named Tom Dryden who is doing remodeling work on the church and is likely to be there too?”

  “Since when did you pay attention to town gossip? Or well-hid details— at least, I thought they were.” She took a sip. “So, do I have to pull it out of you? How did it go? What’s he like? How was the movie? Come on, cough it up.”

  Lindy automatically smiled. How did she describe him? Thinking to the movie she said, “He’s like a mix of those Pride and Prejudice characters. He’s got the inner strength of a Mr. Darcy, but the swoony tenderness of a Mr. Bingley, of all things.”