Amazingly enough, Chuck sat, grinning up at Rob and wagging his stump of a tail.
“Good dog.” He didn’t really mean it. Chuck still had a maniacal glint in his eye.
Belle was redder than ever. “Oh! I’m so sorry! We haven’t had much company here, and he’s not used to men.”
“I’m not transitioning for him,” Rob said, realizing he’d made a joke.
“Uh, um, he’s never bitten anyone. That I know of. He’s a rescue dog. I got him after—um. After.” She trailed off.
“After?” Rob brushed some brown hairs off his shirt.
“My divorce. I was married.”
“You usually have to be to get a divorce.” Jeez, that was his second joke, but Belle hadn’t smiled at either of them.
Divorced…that might explain why she’d been so fired up yesterday. She wasn’t used to men either. Or was too used to them. Rob knew a lot of assholes.
“Well, anyway, come in. I’ll put Chuck in the bedroom.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to. I’m sure we’ll all get along.”
Belle gave him a dubious look, picked up Chuck and deposited him on a red-checked sofa. He promptly hopped off and followed them to the kitchen area. Through the large window over the sink, Rob saw the sun hovering over the bay. He’d be outta here before it dipped beneath the waves.
Belle had set the breakfast bar with thick blue spatterware plates and mugs and real napkins. A jug of daisies sat in the center of the granite, a chocolate cake rested on a white cakestand, and the smell of coffee permeated the room. She’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and Rob felt a twinge of guilt. He’d come empty-handed, because this was not a date, damn it.
He looked around. “Wow. This is nice. I’ve never been in one of these cottages before.”
“I can’t take credit for the decorating. Or the baking. I got the cake at the Trellis Bakery. You aren’t gluten-intolerant, are you?”
“Not that I’m aware of. And that’s okay about the cake. I probably wouldn’t know the difference between home-cooked or store bought.” He hadn’t eaten cake in ages. For his birthday, his mom had baked him a cherry pie and stuck a couple of candles in it.
“I—I meant to make one from scratch. But something came up.”
“I’m sure you’re very busy. Deadlines. All those books.” Maybe if he had a deadline, something would get done. But he wasn’t going to say a word about his literary ambitions. Everyone thought they could write, and he didn’t want her to roll those blue eyes at him.
He pulled out a white-painted barstool and sat while she poured creamer into a small glass pitcher. He almost told her he could take it straight from the carton, but sensed she wanted things to be “right.”
The cottage was bright and spotless, and Belle looked nice too, in a pair of jeans and an untucked white button-down shirt. She’d clipped up her curly hair, but loose tendrils had made their escape and were framing her flushed face.
Hm. Loose tendrils. Not the sort of thing he’d ordinarily notice or words he’d ever used before. Just being in her presence was bringing out his literary vision. But he couldn’t seem to talk.
“Did you have a nice day at work?” she asked, after a lengthy silence between them.
Topic number one! Maybe she had a list on an index card around here somewhere too. “It was okay. No bloodshed. The system got up and running finally.” And he hadn’t killed Hailey.
“That must have been inconvenient. Everything is computerized now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Just like stores. Have you notice no one knows how to make change anymore?” Jeez, he sounded like an old fogy. Next he’d be complaining about hip hop and saggy pants.
Gah.
“Math and science have never been my strong suits.” She poured them both a cup of coffee and pushed the sugar bowl and creamer toward him from the other side of the breakfast bar. “Cake?”
“Sure. What was your major?” God, he was being lame. At least he didn’t ask what her Zodiac sign was.
She shrugged. “English, of course.” She sliced him a piece, then licked some frosting off her finger. Rob felt a moment of discomfort seeing how pink and plump her tongue was. She put the knife down, walked around the counter and joined him on another stool.
“Aren’t you having any?”
“Just coffee. I’m still a little full from dinner,” she said, blushing. She was pretty pink everywhere. Pretty in Pink. He’d had a crush on Molly Ringwald when he was a kid, identifying with Ducky. His older sisters must have made him watch that movie a hundred times. He shoved a mouthful of cake in and chewed.
“Did you always know you wanted to write?” he asked once he’d swallowed. See? Look at this. They were talking back and forth. It wasn’t so hard.
“Oh, no. I mean, I always liked to read romances, and I belonged to a book club with some friends from school—I was a teacher. Then I got into a real reading funk—nothing I read did it for me, so I decided to write a book I’d like to read. I entered some contests, and the agent who was judging one of them offered to represent me. Three years ago, I quit teaching to write full time. I couldn’t keep getting up at three A.M. to work before work.”
Maybe that was the key to success. Rob tried to write when he came home, and he was usually pretty beat. “You sound disciplined.”
She waved vaguely at the laptop that he’d noticed sat on the desk behind him. “Oh, sometimes. I don’t make a ton of money, but I’ve got enough to support myself and Chuck.”
The little dog looked up at his name and wagged his tail. He’d flopped between them on the floor, acting as a canine barrier in case Rob got ideas.
And Rob, he had to admit, was having ideas. There was something soft and vulnerable about Belle Standish and her rosy cheeks and curling hair. He took a sip of scalding coffee and tried to remember what topic of conversation was next on his list.
Chapter 4
“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” Miranda cried.
“Oh, but you will,” replied the Duke of Deverel, tracing a long finger on her tear-stained cheek.
—The First Sin is the Sweetest by Belle Standish
Belle couldn’t believe she had eaten the whole thing—three slices of banana cake last night, two for breakfast, one for lunch (along with a bunch of grapes which made it healthier, right?), and one for dinner, because it was just sitting there, the edges drying up.
She knew she overate when she was unhappy. Nervous. What about Rob Campion was sending her sideways? Sure, he was not hard to look at, and he smelled really good. Irish Spring, just like in an ad. But he wasn’t her type.
Or maybe he was—a bit Darcy-like, kind of snotty. Though he wasn’t being snotty now. He’d been complimentary ever since he walked in the door, and was eating the cake like a gentleman. He seemed genuinely interested in her writing, and had even tried to joke a little bit. Maybe he didn’t have such a huge stick up his butt after all.
“I know most writers have day jobs,” he said. “Good for you.”
She wasn’t going to reveal the paucity of her life savings and ruin the moment. Nobody liked a Debbie Downer.
“Every day is an adventure,” Belle said brightly, lying. “Did you always want to be a librarian?”
“Ha.” Rob chuckled. “Isn’t that the dream of every nerdy little boy? And by the way, it’s Library and Information Specialist now. No, I wanted to be a filmmaker.”
This surprised her as much as if he said he wanted to juggle flaming swords while spinning plates riding a horse backwards. “Really?”
“Yep. Turns out I just didn’t have the eye.” He took another sip of coffee. “What’s your favorite movie?”
Gosh, Belle hated questions like this. They were so artificial. Once she’d gone on a Caribbean cruise with Mike, and some guy they sat with every night at dinner asked what book she’d take with her to a desert island. Everyone at the table had said the Bible—even Mike, the hypocritical agnostic—but she told th
em any book by Loretta Chase would be worth several rereads before she got rescued.
Favorite movie? She just couldn’t admit to Adventures in Babysitting or Dirty Dancing, or even The Princess Bride, which was somewhat less shameful.
“Oh, I don’t know. Too many to choose from. What’s yours?”
“I expect I should say something like Kurosawa’s Rashomon, but to tell the truth, I like Casablanca better.”
“Why, that’s a romance! Only with an unhappy ending.”
“It’s a lot of things. Some people think it’s corny. But nobody does Bogart better than Bogart.”
“I don’t really know much about classic movies,” Belle said.
“I bet you’d love Bringing Up Baby.”
She was tempted to say “Nobody puts Baby in the corner” but thought the better of it. “That’s a black and white movie, right? With Katherine Hepburn as some madcap heiress?”
“That’s the one. It still holds up, in my opinion.”
“Gosh, when you major in films, you must have to watch a ton of them.”
Rob smiled. Gee, he had nice straight teeth. No Austin Powers dental deformity. “It wasn’t a hardship. I used to cut lawns when I was a kid so I’d have movie money. My parents thought I wouldn’t amount to anything. They pictured me sitting in the dark eating a tub of buttered popcorn for the rest of my life.”
“Clearly they were wrong.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think it was my dad’s dream to see his only son become a librarian, either. But he died before I became director here six years ago. My mom’s okay with it. She knows I let her skate on her overdue book fees.”
“She likes to read?”
“Oh, yeah. Anything she can get her hands on. The proverbial cereal boxes, etcetera.”
“I could sign a book for her if you want,” Belle said, feeling a little shy about the offer.
“I’m sure she’d love it. Mostly she reads mysteries and suspense. She’s surprisingly bloodthirsty for a senior citizen.”
“Are you an only child?” Belle was, and sometimes she’d been lonely.
“I have three older sisters. You can only imagine how they tortured me. They still torture me, only it doesn’t involve lipstick and hair rollers anymore.”
Belle had a vivid imagination, and burst out laughing. “You poor thing! I guess there is an upside to being an only child after all.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I love my sisters. But. They have their own husbands and kids to boss around and still find time to try to run my life. It gets a little tiring. I know they mean well, though.”
“That must be nice. Having family, I mean.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”
“Oh! I have my parents. But no siblings, as I said. No one to share the silly stuff with.”
“And there’s plenty of silly at the Campion house.”
Gosh. Belle wondered if he still lived with his mother. That would be kind of…creepy. Although supposedly a guy’s character could be judged on how he treated his mother. She decided not to ask.
“And before you ask,” Rob said, apparently reading her mind, “we all don’t live together. My mother’s in a 55-plus condo development—it used to be the old shoe factory. One of my sisters and her husband bought the family house, and the other two live just outside town. I have a bungalow on Seaview.”
“It’s nice that you’re all so close.” Her parents had retired to Florida, and she saw them at Christmas when she queued up with all the other pasty-faced northerners at Portland International Jetport.
“Sometimes.” He paused. “This cake is good.”
She wouldn’t know. The thought of eating more cake made her stomach flip. “You can’t go wrong with chocolate.”
“That sounds like it should be on a T-shirt.”
“It probably is somewhere. Or you could have it printed.” The conversation was adrift, about to run aground. For someone who supposedly had a way with words, Belle couldn’t think of anything amusing to say.
She hadn’t been out on a real date since the divorce. One whole year. Before that, she and Mike had been together on and off since college. So she hadn’t tried to impress a guy since she was a teenager! Her flirting bone was dead and buried. She added another spoonful of sugar to her coffee and clanked the spoon against the mug.
“Good coffee too,” Rob said, sounding a little desperate.
“Yeah. It’s not too strong.”
“Not too strong. Not too weak. Just right.”
Oh my God. They were now into Goldilocks territory. Belle cleared her throat. And at just that moment, Rob’s cell phone emitted a classical violin squeal.
He pulled it out of his pocket and squinted. “Sorry. I have to take this. It seems to be the police.”
“Rob Campion.”
She watched as he frowned. “Say again? You’re breaking up.” He rolled his eyes as he listened. “I wonder why the security company didn’t contact me. I think I know what the problem is. Don’t bother sending anyone over.” Rob raised his voice. “I said, don’t bother sending anyone over. I’ll get down there myself and shut it off.” There was a pause. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t expect anyone armed and dangerous. And if it’s kids, I’ll call their parents. I pretty much know everybody in town, even the summer families. Thanks for calling, Jimmy. I’ll get back to you if I need anything.”
He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood up. “Phone’s dying. I’m sorry, Belle, but I’ve got to get down to the library. It’s probably not an emergency, but the alarm’s going off and driving Mrs. Brewer insane. She’s the old lady who lives next to the building. She’s deaf, so if she’s hearing it and calling the cops, it’s loud. Oh, crap.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I walked here. I don’t suppose you could give me a lift?”
“Of course I could!” Belle would do practically anything to get rid of him. Saved by the alarm bell! “I’ll just put Chuck in the yard. He loves to go for car rides but he’d be a nuisance if he came along. And I can get my tote. I left it there.”
“It’s in my office. Thanks so much. The sooner I can get there, Mrs. Brewer can go back to watching Wheel of Fortune.” He grumbled something Belle didn’t quite catch.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I didn’t mean to say it out loud. This is all Hailey’s fault. I had her close up tonight. She’s obviously done something to screw up the alarm system. Seareach Security is supposed to call me, and they didn’t.”
“Maybe it was just a glitch,” Belle said, opening the kitchen door for Chuck to dart through. She liked Hailey and her cheerful enthusiasm. It was hard not to. Belle had, of course, been flattered, both on the phone and yesterday when she visited the library, even though she’d been a little mortified too. Mostly from her own finger-pointing behavior.
She filled and set out water and food bowls for Chuck on the back patio just in case he became suddenly parched and starved. Belle flicked off the coffee pot and put the cream back in the fridge, leaving the rest of the stuff on the counter to deal with when she got back. With Chuck outside, the cake was safe for the time being. If chocolate poisoned dogs, Chuck hadn’t heard of it yet.
“Everything with Hailey is a glitch. But I can’t fire her and keep my own job. Her family has contributed a lot to this town.”
“You don’t like her.”
Rob snorted. “It’s not a question of like. She’s not really a bad kid. But everything she touches turns to sh—um, not gold, let us say. It’s like she’s a walking magnetic field for chaos.”
Belle grabbed her purse. Where was her cell phone? Dying also and charging. Not that she’d need it. No one ever called her except for her mother, asking her if she’d met a new man yet. At least the next time she called, Belle could say truthfully she had, not that she was going to marry him. She wasn’t even going to finish her first date with him.
It was not a date anyway. She’d bail on next week’s talk, and
tell him once they got to the library. For a second, she wondered why Rob Campion had never married. It was none of her business, which only made it more intriguing. He wasn’t gay, and seemed to have a healthy relationship with his family.
If he’d been one of her romance heroes, he’d have a tragic secret past. Did his college girlfriend overdose? Had he been mysteriously injured, resulting in performance anxiety? Like Brad and Angie, had he taken a vow not to marry until everyone else could? The Supreme Court had settled that issue, and those two were busy getting tattooed with true love. For now.
Rob opened the front door for her and she locked up. Even though she wasn’t going to be gone longer than twenty minutes tops, old habits died hard. She knew her Serenity Harbor neighbors left their keys in the car and houses wide open, but as a single female in a city, Belle always took precautions. Though Chuck barked like a maniac, he would lick a burglar to death before he bit him. Probably even show him where her jewelry box was. The only thing of value she had was the small diamond in her engagement ring, which she was planning to convert into a necklace. It wasn’t the diamond’s fault that Mike was a cheating asshole.
Her old Jeep was parked out front. She and Rob got in, and she made a turn and headed out of Pine Point Road.
“I have a Jeep too,” Rob said.
“They’re pretty reliable in the snow, aren’t they?” God, could this conversation be more boring?
“We got one hundred and fifty inches of snow last winter, even being on the coast.”
Yes, it could.
“Some people in Portland didn’t see their parked cars until spring,” she added to the boredom.
“Oh, you live in Portland?”
“Not for much longer. I’m looking for a new place.”
“How come? Portland’s pretty neat, especially if you’re a foodie.”
Was he saying she was fat? Belle decided not to be offended. “I need a change.” And a much less expensive apartment.
“Where are you looking?”
“Well, here, I guess. I may try to stay in my cottage all winter.”
Welcome to Serenity Harbor Page 27
