by Joanne Rock
“Lucas?” Her fingers trembled a little as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sarah!” a man’s voice shouted nearby.
“Ohmigod, it’s my dad,” she said, scrambling to straighten her sweater and skirt. Pull herself together. “Go,” she urged Lucas.
“In a sec,” he muttered, taking deep breaths.
She brushed off her skirt and slid out from under the slide. It didn’t matter that she was eighteen and technically an adult. She’d die if her dad caught her fooling around in the dirt under a piece of playground equipment. If he knew half the stuff she’d done...
Her throat went dry just thinking about it.
“I’m here!” She waved to call his attention since he was on the other side of the playground near the monkey bars. She stumbled a little from the lingering effects of the beer, but mostly from the kiss.
He walked with Erin Finley, the lady from Last Chance Vintage with the killer clothes and funky hair. What was up with that? Sarah’s father did not hang out with other women. Ever. They might flirt with him and bat their lashes, but he brushed them aside. It was weird to see him with Erin at night—not in a work situation.
“Sarah.” He picked up the pace as he caught sight of her. “Did your phone battery die?” He held up his for emphasis. “I’ve been texting you.”
“Sorry.” She pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket and hoped the dark would hide the fact that Lucas was sneaking out from under the slide to skulk away. “We were just playing a game of laser tag and we all turned off our phones so they wouldn’t give away our positions, you know? A ringtone sort of defeats the purpose of sneaking around the woods with your trusty M4 by your side.”
She waved her pink weapon to prove her innocence and hoped Lucas had made it to the parking lot without anyone seeing. She thought she’d noticed Erin looking in that direction.
Had she seen something? Could she smell beer on Sarah’s clothes? Sarah hadn’t been the only one to bring a six-pack to the Friday night outdoor dance.
“You ready to head back to the B and B?” her dad asked, focused only on her.
And for the moment, she had to appreciate how oblivious he could be even if it meant he didn’t always pay much attention to her.
“Sure, Daddy.” That was half the reason she’d come to this little town, after all. Lucas had been a fun side benefit. It wasn’t all about running away from Brandon’s letters. She wanted to hang out with her dad. “I’ve got my car parked over there.”
She pointed behind the playground to the spots along the street.
“I’m this way.” He gestured in the opposite direction. “You’re leaving now, though, right?”
“Yes,” she lied, hoping she’d have time for a real good night with Lucas first. She wanted to go to sleep with a fantastic memory in her head. Or maybe she would ask him if he could sneak out later in case she had trouble sleeping.
“I’m parked where Sarah is, too,” Erin chimed in, stepping away from her father. “I’ll walk with you.”
Sarah hoped her disappointment didn’t show. It took her a second to think how to respond. “Sure!” she finally replied way too brightly. She sounded like a giant doofus. “That’d be great. See you, Dad!”
Turning, she headed for her car. She wished she hadn’t been so hasty, though, because she heard their low voices behind her, and realized Erin was saying something to her father for his ears only. And it looked really...private. Something squeezed in Sarah’s chest. She’d been bitching at him to move on with life, right?
Why the hell did it hurt to see the way he looked at a consignment shop owner they’d never see again after the Tennessee episodes were filmed? Folding her arms, she stared at Erin as the woman walked toward her. She’d had Goth hair just a few days ago. How old did that make her? Young.
“Are you okay, Sarah?” Erin reached her and looked her up and down. Even in the dark, her pale eyes seemed to see everything. “You’ve got wood chips in your hair.” She pulled out a few and paused as she pushed Sarah’s hair behind her shoulder. “And a love bite on your neck.”
“What?” Sarah’s hand went to the spot, recalling how good it had felt when Lucas had kissed her there. “What are you talking about?”
Her face burned. But she hadn’t done a damn thing wrong!
Erin’s eyes narrowed. “I think I’m talking about the boy who I saw sneaking out from under the slide a minute after you came out of there.”
Sarah prepped her defense—wounded innocence was a good one—except Erin was no longer there to see her expression of shocked disbelief. She was already heading for the row of cars where they’d both parked. Hurrying to catch up, Sarah waved goodbye to a few new friends from earlier that evening. She couldn’t remember their names.
“We were just fooling around. Nothing major,” Sarah explained when she reached Erin’s side, matching her stride for stride. Now that they stood so close, she realized she was actually a little taller than Erin. Which was funny because Erin seemed bigger. “But that doesn’t mean I want to throw it in my dad’s face that I’m making out with some dude I only just met.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Erin reached the street and turned to face her as they stood under a big iron lamppost. “But I thought I’d heard something about that kid not having the best reputation. Have you been drinking?”
Resentment flared. Where did she get off asking her that?
“No,” Sarah lied, hoping she didn’t sound as pissed off as she felt. “We were kissing, not drinking.”
Erin nodded slowly. “Fine. Just making sure you’re okay to drive.”
She wasn’t sure if she was grateful to be let off the hook or disappointed that she’d fooled yet another grown-up into thinking she was fine. Capable. Strong.
“Perfectly.” She pulled her car key out of her skirt pocket. “And I’ll be careful around Lucas. People can change, you know. Maybe he’s grown out of his bad stage.”
Erin’s smile lifted one side of her mouth and not the other. “Some guys never do. But for his sake and yours, I hope you’re right about him.”
The kind words touched her and some of the resentment she’d felt earlier melted away as they stood in the rapidly cooling spring night.
“Me, too. Let me know if you need any more help with the clothing drive.” She didn’t know why she offered. Hanging out with Erin was bound to be a bad idea. Except that she’d at least be able to monitor the developing situation between this woman and her father. “My dad isn’t putting me to work as much I would have liked.”
Or maybe she just wanted to stay on Erin’s good side. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, and all that. Though she wasn’t sure what category to put Erin in yet.
“Are you free next Wednesday?” Erin reached down to her boot and unzipped a side compartment in the leather. She pulled out a key. “I’m doing a drive in The Strand salon just down the street from my store. Customers get a free basic manicure if they donate three items.”
Sarah turned on her phone. “Did you put it on Instagram?”
“You sound just like my sister,” Erin muttered. “No, it’s not on Instagram. I printed flyers.”
Sarah laughed, quickly scrolling through Ally Finley’s social media followers to search for Heartache locals. “I can hang flyers, but I’ll do this first. What are the hours?”
Once she got the details and set up a simple event page online, Sarah promised to be at The Strand on Wednesday if she could convince her father to stay in town that long. She said good-night to Erin and hopped in her car. Before putting the key in the ignition, she finished up some tasks on her phone. She was in the middle of approving a new follower on Twitter—thinking it was someone from Heartache—when she recognized the name of her mom’s hometown in Louisiana. Belle Chasse.
Coincidence?
That creepy sensation she’d experienced earlier crawled over her skin again. Looking closer, Sarah saw the woman’s name was Becky
, but her actual Twitter handle was “lockeduplove47,” which seemed icky. Feeling a bad vibe, Sarah deleted the request and clicked out of the app.
Tossing the cell phone on her passenger seat, she had all the more reason to work at the salon for a little while this week. She needed to see Ally Finley again and quiz her about Lucas—the girlfriend, the reputation, all of it. Sarah was edgy, restless and ready to come out of her skin. And she’d run for miles earlier today! Sure, she could buy more alcohol and drink herself into happy oblivion, but it seemed more fun to give her body over to Lucas until she couldn’t think, could only feel.
Who better to help her than the boy with the worst reputation in town?
CHAPTER SEVEN
ERIN WISHED SHE had her sledgehammer.
It was morning. She was at home hand painting a new sign for Last Chance Vintage in her backyard. It should be relaxing, but she was impatient with the careful detail work. What she really wanted to do was take a sledgehammer to something. She was frustrated with everything—herself most of all.
Jamming the paintbrush back into the mason jar of red paint, she stretched her aching back, taking deep breaths to try to relax. She worked at an old picnic table she’d asked her brother to drag into the field beyond her lawn. She could spill all the paint she wanted without worry. With a million things to prepare before the filming started at the store, Erin had taken a few days off from working the register so she could focus.
Too bad her thoughts were stuck on a producer from out of town and the stark pain she’d seen in his eyes the night before. Remy Weldon was in far worse shape than she was emotionally. Which meant he wanted to avoid romantic entanglements, too, which was helpful. But she was incredibly attracted to him. And now that she’d glimpsed the personal hell he was going through, she didn’t know how she would stay away. She’d never been the nurturer type—that was more Heather’s thing—yet every latent feminine and gentle instinct inside her wanted to wrap Remy in her arms. Hold him.
And yes, sex him until he couldn’t see any woman but her. There had been moments last night when he’d touched her and the touch had turned so electric she was sure he must feel the same way. What if they’d been put in each other’s paths to help heal one another? Maybe the chemistry between them could burn away some of his old guilt. For that matter, she’d be glad to torch some of hers, too. Talking to Remy about Patrick—and seeing the weight of all Remy’s baggage—made her realize she needed to stop carrying around so much guilt about being with a cheating, no-good bastard.
Time to move on.
The idea wouldn’t let her go.
“Anyone home?” A shout from the other end of the yard yanked her attention from her anger at Patrick. And the mix of new feelings she seemed to be developing for Remy.
Bethany and their soon-to-be sister-in-law, Nina Spencer, stood on the back patio of Erin’s house, carrying a bright blue cooler between them. Bethany wore a straw sun hat as big as an umbrella. Nina carried a basket with a towel peeping out of the top, and Erin would bet her last nickel it contained some kind of amazing baked good. After working for years in a specialty cupcake shop in Manhattan, Nina had moved back to Heartache and reunited with her high school sweetheart, Erin’s brother Mack. Today she wore a T-shirt with the Finleys’ logo on it for the bar Mack owned in Nashville. They divided their time between his home there and a converted barn apartment on the Finley family property.
“You come bearing gifts?” Erin asked, drawn by the promise of food, help and the welcome camaraderie of sisterhood. After keeping a low profile in town for the past six months, she was ready to start enjoying herself again.
Forgiving herself. Maybe seeing how much Remy was beating himself up over something he’d had no control over had made her ease up on the guilt.
“We brought a little of everything,” Bethany announced, setting the cooler on the deck between the grill and the seating area. “Do you want to work first and eat later, or are you ready for a break?”
“So ready for a break.” Capping her paint jar, Erin took off her apron and left it on the picnic table.
Her sisters-in-law exchanged a look.
“What?” Erin joined them on the patio, kicking off her shoes as her feet hit the outdoor carpet.
“We made bets on how much hard labor we’d have to do before we got to try Nina’s cupcakes,” Bethany admitted. “Show her, Nina.”
“They’re lemon-berry.” Nina lifted the tea towel on the basket to show off neat rows of yellow-frosted dreaminess. “I frosted them a little too soon after they came out of the oven, but I was dying to try them.”
Erin inhaled the sweet-tangy scent. “Oh, wow. It seems only right that we eat these before we do anything else. Let me just run inside to wash up and I’ll bring us some drinks.”
“No need.” Bethany was already digging in the cooler. “Nina spent time in catering, so she thought of everything.”
Five minutes later, ensconced in a dark wicker patio chair with cream-colored cushions, Erin sipped her peach Bellini and took the smallest bites of her cupcake imaginable to make it last longer.
“This is so delicious. I can’t begin to tell you.”
“I think the frosting works with it,” Nina observed, swiping her finger over the top of the cupcake to take a frosting-only bite. “It doesn’t seem like overkill to me.”
“No.” Bethany shook her head. “But I love lemon. Sometimes you need the sour with the sweet to make you appreciate the taste of each.” She gestured to the patio. “Like this little haven of Erin’s back here. Who would guess she would create such a romantic and glamorous spot based on the rest of her decorating, which is so modern and kind of edgy? But back here, it’s like a pasha’s palace.”
Erin had to smile at that. “Pasha’s palace? Someone’s been hitting the romance novels again.”
Although she could appreciate the comparison. She had hung pendant lamps under the shelter of a pergola with a canopy. She had fallen in love with the lamps’ amethyst glass shades, which had the curvy appeal of a genie’s lamp. Plus, they were purple.
“Honey, don’t knock it until you’ve been ravished in the desert and fed figs from the pasha’s hand.” Bethany pointed an accusing finger at both of them and Nina laughed so hard she snorted.
“I’m not knocking romance,” Erin defended herself. “I’m all for seeking a thrill somewhere since there aren’t any sexy Arabian princes in my life right now.”
“You never mentioned what happened with the guy you wanted to bring down here last year. Or is the ban on that topic still being enforced six months later?” Nina had a reputation for speaking before measuring her words, a habit none of the younger Finleys possessed. With a mother who was bipolar, they’d grown up under the shadow of tirades where she’d shared way more than was appropriate.
Nina’s tendency was a lot more charming.
“Turned out he was married. With kids.” Erin had admitted it to Remy, so she sure didn’t see the point in keeping it from her sisters.
They were both so still it was as if neither of them breathed for a minute.
“The dog,” Nina said finally. “Are you kidding me? And that’s rhetorical, so don’t answer that. Unbelievable.”
Bethany shook her head. “I have got to fix my marriage. I cannot go out into a dating world where men act like that.”
“Yes, well, me neither. That’s why I’ve been working with my head down for six months trying not to think about it. But I’m done feeling like the greatest of all sinners when he lied to me from start to finish.” She frowned and reached for a chunk of Manchego from a bamboo board displaying three kinds of cheeses, star fruit and grapes. Nina had labeled the cheeses with mini gardening tags on toothpicks. “And I know you’re going to fix the marriage, Bethany. Scott seems really committed to it.”
Erin had seen them together at the Harvest Dance last fall and Scott had promised their mom to fight for his wife. Erin had believed him. Scott was one of those gu
ys who did not fail. He was a conqueror.
Had Remy been like that before he lost his wife? The thought made her ache all the more for him.
Bethany shook her head. “He’s just going through the motions. Like if he clocks enough hours seated in a counselor’s chair we’ll be given some kind of certificate that says we’ve magically been healed. He doesn’t understand it’s not enough just to show up.”
“I did that for a long time,” Nina volunteered, cutting a few slices of apple before drizzling honey on them. “Remember when I left Heartache after high school? Right after Mack’s friend Vince died in a car crash because Vince and I had argued?”
“I didn’t know you went into counseling.” Although Erin recalled that time had been hell for both Mack and Nina. The hurt from that car crash had stolen eight years from them.
“I did. But it took a lot of sessions before I was ready to do more than just show up.” Nina sliced more apple and passed around the plates. “And it’s hard to spill your guts when you’re not even sure that talking about what’s wrong is going to change a thing.”
Bethany’s shoulders sagged. “So what turned things around for you? Do you remember what made you start working with the therapist?”
Setting her drink down, Erin waited for her answer, maybe as curious as Bethany. She’d never entered counseling even though Mack had taken her aside once and told her it had helped him resolve a lot of issues he’d had with their mother. Mack had thought all of his siblings should check in with a professional since bipolar disorder ran in families. But Erin never had. Maybe part of her was scared of what she could find out. And if she did learn that she had some of the same tendencies as her mother, what would she do about it? She had always feared that—since talking about their childhood wouldn’t change it—no amount of therapy would really fix the broken parts of her.
