People drove miles for her cake donuts. Brides in two counties hired her to make their wedding cakes.
“Oh, God. Oh, God…why now?”
She didn’t deserve this feeling—this need for more that emerged when she saw Mac again. All she’d ever done was play by the rules. She’d not allowed herself to think about him or wonder about him in years. Now he’d waltzed into her shop as if he’d never left town. His dark honey-colored hair and Paul Newman eyes demanded her attention. His easy smile had the ability to send a jolt of current right into her soul. And the way he savored each bite he took of her pie made her long to be out there at the counter feeding it to him, one nibbling bite at a time.
“You okay?”
Startled, she turned to find Antonio standing in the doorway. He’d been out in the dining room, helping out as he did a few times a week, serving more pie to a couple when Mac walked in. “Of course I’m okay.”
“Is that why there are tears in your eyes, little sister?”
She wiped at her eyes. “It just still smells like the onions I sliced this morning for the croissant sandwiches I made for the breakfast rush, big brother by seven minutes. That’s all.”
“Right. I saw him saunter in out of the blue, like he never left. I remember when Dad forbade you to see him. How you cried every night like you thought no one would know.”
“Yeah, well, I got over him a long time ago. I’ve grown up a little since then.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Considering the way you stared at him, and the way he looked at you, and the way you avoided Stan’s little kiss, I doubt that matters.”
She met his dark gaze, wondering for the umpteenth time why he was still in this dinky, one-horse town. He was the twin who got the dark, Italian eyes and perfect features. He was the one everyone noticed. He had straight As in school, acted superbly in drama club productions, showed true creative talent in metal and wood shop classes, and excelled in sports. All the teachers loved him. All the girls wanted him. He could have done anything. After one semester at Mizzou—the University of Missouri—he’d chosen to come home and attend the community college with her, and learn IT which was as easy for him as breathing. So these days he spent his time—when he wasn’t helping her—fixing and installing computers and security systems. He helped everyone within a fifty-mile radius to set up websites and blogs and pod casts. If it involved anything technical, her brother was on top of it.
“I’ll bet Stan doubts it, too,” Tony said. “I felt your coolness toward him from across the room.”
She let out a huff and covered her eyes for a moment. “Stan doesn’t deserve this, either. He’s been kind and patient.”
“I know. Everyone around who might be remotely watching can see you’ve done nothing but put him off.”
“He’s been looking at engagement rings. He showed me pictures of five different settings and asked if I liked any of them.”
Tony gave her a crooked grin. “And did you?”
“You aren’t helping.”
“Neither are you. If you aren’t really interested, you should let him off the hook to pursue someone else.”
She sighed again. “I can always depend on you to tell me exactly how things are.”
He drew closer. “Do you really want me to tell you how I think things are?”
She was surprised by the shift in the conversation. “Yes.”
“I think you’re cover for him.”
For a moment, Mac being in the next room eating pie and shifting her world upside down with his return was forgotten. “Cover? What kind of cover? What are you talking about?”
“I can’t quite put my finger on it. I think Stan is just a bit too patient and too kind and a lot when it comes to little details. He seems to like you fair enough, especially wants to kiss you if he thinks someone might be watching. But the world doesn’t seem to stop when he looks at you—like it just did a minute ago for you and Mac. And you’ve pretty much spent the past year simply sharing time with Stan—hem-hawing around. Anyone else would have moved on by now, like all the other guys in your life since Mac left.”
Sick of her brother’s cryptic musings, she snapped, “Is there a point here?”
“Mac says he’s here for the reunion and the picnic celebration, but hell, he didn’t even come home when his brother got married. So I don’t know if I believe that, either. Whatever his reasons for returning to Mossy Point, I’d be willing to bet you won’t have a lot of time for him.” He clamped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Take it from me, sis, you’d better set things straight while you got the chance.”
She shook his palm off. “I don’t have anything to set straight with him.”
“If you say so.” With his loaded explanation about Stan that left more questions than answers, Tony headed back to the dining area. Out the door, she saw him set more coffee to brew. Beyond him, Mac was staring at her, watching, studying.
There was hunger in his eyes that he didn’t begin to try and mask. He also didn’t try to hide the way he more than mentally undressed her. It was as if he had the ability to peel back all the layers she’d carefully applied and peer into her soul.
She didn’t need it. She didn’t need him.
****
Mac left as soon as he finished his pie. It took every ounce of control he had to appear casual as he made his way out the door. And he didn’t think about the catch in his leg until he lifted it to the running board to climb into his truck. He was certain if he stayed another second in the sweet-roll scented place, he was going to suffocate. Also, he needed to be alone with Lizzy. At the same time, he knew it was a bad idea. Either way, he was sure Tony wouldn’t leave if he was there. He’d have to get her alone somewhere else.
What the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t get her alone.
The last thing his career or his heart needed was to be alone with Lizzy Signorino. Just what did he need to say to her in order to close the door on that part of his life anyway? That he was sorry? That he wished they’d been given more time? That the night of the dance was a great little memory, but it was really swallowed by the nightmare that followed? For a moment, he couldn’t remember just what it was he’d thought about when he was shot and he wanted to make sure all the Ts were crossed and the Is were dotted when it came to his life. He only knew Lizzy was unfinished business. And now that he was back and she was mere yards away, he couldn’t think of a single word.
As a high school jock, he viewed her as a conquest. As a dance date, she’d been a girl he’d wanted. He’d spent the year after his graduation missing her and wanting her. When he let it sink in he would never have her, he let her go.
And yes, he was over her.
He’d trudged away and left that young girl behind.
What he saw in the bakery was a woman, grown and all business with curves in all the right places, and lips that he remembered could kiss well. They’d been reckless kids, but Lizzy hadn’t turned her cheek or avoided his kiss.
He couldn’t deny the attraction that tugged at him, and it had nothing to do with the past. It was a lot like what he’d experienced in his father’s orchard, like that sense of finding his way home and being in a place that felt right. He should ignore it, but he found himself not wanting to. Thanks to his career, he’d left behind everything that was home, and he’d forgotten how good it felt to be there. It was something he decided to consider later.
Right then, his thigh burned and Lizzy’s coffee felt like it spun in his stomach. He told himself she was with Stan. Good for them, he thought. Have a nice life. He had other things to think about. He had an unsolved murder to study and a leg that needed to heal.
Maybe he didn’t need to say anything at all to her. Maybe he just needed to close the imaginary Lizzy door and march away. That didn’t seem too hard, despite the pain in his leg. All he needed to do was wrap himself around the cold case of Kelly Mattis, just like he put himself into every other case he worked. Once the deci
sion was made, he let out a sigh of relief.
Coming back wasn’t a mistake.
He knew no one else would have the inside advantage and be able to do the job as he thought he could. And he thought solving this unsolved crime while he healed and decided the next course of his career seemed like a good idea.
He looked down the street to City Hall and his father’s previous office, wondered if his dad missed it at all. He started the truck and left the rich bakery aromas behind when he drove to the Village Park, sat on a bench, listening to birds and breathing fresh air while he read his father’s first notebook.
Maybe doing his job would get his mind off the woman he just left. Maybe thinking about the case at hand would help him forget the night near the tunnel. After reading notes, he learned that not only could he not forget the night, what he needed to do was return to it. The tunnel was exactly where he needed to go.
****
After a short drive, he stepped into the shade of the tunnel. Mac forced away the shiver sliding up his back at what felt like a twenty-degree temperature drop. The tunnel smelled of mold and moss and earth. As a kid, he’d been dared to step into Marston’s Tunnel. He never stepped past the sunlight. Until now.
Except for Kelly Mattis, obviously her murderer, and the authorities who investigated her murder, he didn’t know anyone who did.
Even now, he remembered the dank, moldy smell that had touched him as a young boy when he stood at the entrance, his friends calling him a scaredy cat, even though he knew none of them would go in either. Strangely enough, Mac thought the coppery scent of blood even burned his nose a little, as if that would still remain after almost a decade. Perhaps it had somehow absorbed into the walls. A morbid thought, he knew, but it touched him just the same, and he fought down another shiver.
He thought of the killer he now hunted. “Do you ever come here?” he whispered. “Do you ever come back to visit this place? Do you spend time here, knowing you’re safe because everyone else is too damned scared to step foot in this place? I’ll bet you do, you son of a bitch.”
The stains of Kelly Mattis’ blood still decorated some of the bricks like old brown sidewalk chalk that had been partially washed away by the rain.
He closed his eyes and allowed his memories to take him back to that night. He hated that he couldn’t forget that night. At the same time, he wished he could remember more—if he saw Kelly talking to anyone, if he noticed anyone watching her, if he had seen Antonio Signorino with her. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember Tony being at the dance at all. Then he didn’t remember much beyond Lizzy. She hadn’t been like the ugly duckling. It was more like she had been the invisible duckling that blossomed into an eye-catching—and heart-grabbing—swan. Her mom had taken pictures. Her dad had made him promise to keep her safe. Tony hadn’t been there. Where was he? Picking up his own date? Taking pictures at his date’s house? Finding out where he’d been was first on Mac’s mental list of things to check out.
He opened his eyes and sighed, thinking, knowing he might never find out who made the bracelet or how it came to be on Kelly’s wrist. He didn’t even know if it was put there before or after she was dead. He’d never given up on a case yet. “And I’m not giving up on you, either, Kelly.” His whispered promise was swallowed by the tunnel. It wasn’t that he felt he owed it to her. He didn’t owe that bitch a thing. She’d threatened to demand his class ring because he didn’t respond to her as they both thought he would, as he’d planned to. What a stupid jock he’d been. No, he owed it to his town. He was damned tired of the dark cloud of murder hanging over his hometown.
A noise—the snap of a snapping stick—from the mouth of the tunnel sent his hand to the butt of his Glock.
Chapter Four
Mac relaxed, seeing her small silhouette at the mouth of the tunnel against the sunset behind her. He studied her, mentally sent the picture of her to the saved part of his mind before he stepped toward her, not too fast so as not to appear eager.
She waited, watching his every step.
When he drew closer and saw her car parked next to his truck some yards away, he said, “You shouldn’t be up here alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Lizzy replied. “I’m with you. Are you limping?”
He gave her a narrowed look that said you know what I mean. “No.” At least he hoped he hadn’t been limping. “So what are you doing up here?”
“I followed you.”
And he hadn’t noticed he was being followed. The idea of that settled in his gut like a giant snowball. He needed to pay better attention and stop letting the safe, hometown feeling and trips down memory lane combined with his jock stupidity fog his brain. “Why?”
“Do you want my honest answer?”
He stepped out into the warm setting sun of fall. Now he could see her features better. And of course, he was closer to her. Her musky scent reminded him of the woods, cool and inviting. She was close enough he could touch her.
Mac took a deep breath and tried to cool his jets. It seemed where Lizzy Signorino was concerned, he didn’t have any control over his reaction. His soul, his heart, or his dick. He told himself he reacted to her this way because he hadn’t had any in a long time.
“I’d expect nothing but honesty from you, Lizzy. Ever.”
“I followed you up here to get some closure.”
“Closure?”
The single word question popped out before he could stop it. He knew what the hell closure was. Wasn’t that what he’d decided he’d needed after two bullets burned through him? What lay in wait all these years, a leftover from that wonderful, horrible night, resembled a huge wound that refused to heal no matter what he slapped over the top of it. He never knew that seeping wound existed until he thought he might die. This one was worse, infinitely more painful than his fucking leg.
He’d once kissed and held and touched her just a few yards from where they now stood. As a cop, he knew the rules, lived and played by them. Standing before her now with a soft breeze touching his face, he worked to keep Lizzy on the back burner. Maybe it was this place, but right then, he didn’t feel like closing any door. He wanted to kiss her. And it had nothing to do with his past. He was a grown man and knew what he wanted—the woman standing before him.
He’d want to kiss her, taste her even if he met her in a crowded room in New York City. He’d even tried to tell himself kissing her wouldn’t matter. He could kiss and fuck his way all the way to Cleveland. Or Timbuktu. He hadn’t. In fact, he had kissed very few women. He’d been too busy making the most of his job, and the empty feeling he’d been left with hadn’t been worth it.
“Yes, Mac. Closure. You never said a word to me after that night.”
“I kinda believed your dad when he said I’d better stay away and never try to talk to you again. I thought maybe he might put a hit out on me or something.”
Her beautiful eyes widened. “A hit?”
“He is Italian.”
Now she rolled her eyes at him.
“You might have at least answered one of my letters,” he said. “That might have given us both closure.” And we wouldn’t be here wondering where we stand.
“Letters?”
He didn’t think she could fake the dumbfounded expression on her face. And he knew instantly why she never answered a letter. The girl who had stared at him with longing in her expression as her dad took her from the police station that horrible night eleven years ago would never have not replied to his letter. Even if her father forbade her, she would have found a way.
“I never got any letters.”
Anger gnawed at his insides. He sucked in a breath and forced it to calm. After all this time, he didn’t have the room or the time to waste on anger.
“I never got anything from you,” she said. “Then I learned you only took me to the Homecoming dance because Kyle dared you. You used me. I guess you didn’t get everything you wanted from me up here at Marston’s Tunnel. So you
just sauntered on to the next piece of ass who was willing to share. For me, it wasn’t so easy to leave. Or forget.”
She looked like she wanted to leave right then as she took a few steps toward the tunnel, as if all the secrets of that night were held there. Maybe they were. Yet she faced the woods, avoiding looking at him as she spoke.
“Kelly Mattis was never my friend. She called me a geek and book worm. And little miss goody two shoes. She even once called me a fucking bore. Then she laughed and said, ‘Oh, wait, you’re just a bore because you aren’t fucking anybody. No one’s ever going to want to fuck you. You should just join a convent right now.’ ”
Mac digested this information as he glanced up at the sky, taking in the changing colors of the trees that surrounded the tunnel. He clenched his fists to keep from touching her as he met her gaze again. Damn it all to hell, he hadn’t known any of this. The cattiness of girls always amazed him. In his job in the past ten years, he’d learned women could be just as bad as men when it came to viciousness.
Before he could think of a reply, she continued. “I suppose I should thank her. Because that night up here with you, I would have let you. Hell, I wanted you to, just so I could dangle it in front of her nose and prove her wrong. Then she was dead, and I couldn’t dangle anything in front of her. Not long after that, I found out about the dare.”
She paused and took a breath. “Then I was expected—just expected—to take over the bakery. Don’t get me wrong, I live to bake just like my dad did. But that night has hung over my head like a bad dream that never goes away. And I thought if I could just come here to this place and tell you…”
His chest ached. All this time, he’d had his own pain, his own desire to get out of town. He’d known she kept to herself back in the day, that some thought of her as mousy and stuck up. He’d never really considered how other students might have treated her. “Tell me what?”
“That I—”
“You what?”
Small Town Secrets Page 4
