by Abby Knox
“Ryan.”
“What?”
She smiled up at him. He smiled back. He liked the way she said his name—“Carolina-style”—with one syllable. It was incredibly sexy and was giving him impure thoughts. He had to force himself not to imagine her shouting his name as he tasted her. Her voice was so smooth and tempting, he just knew that when he got between her thighs, she’d taste sweeter than pecan pie.
She finally said, “I like you, too. But…”
“No buts. I hate buts.”
“You do?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean, I like big butts and I cannot lie.”
Misty laughed. “Well then you should be pleased with mine. Not that you’ve been staring. Oh god, what am I saying?”
“Stop it. Of course I’ve been staring at your ass. And salivating.”
He was making her blush and bite her lip, and he liked it. No, he loved it.
She said, “Let’s just get through the fall festival and if you still like me after that, then we’ll see.”
He grumbled. “That’s not what I wanted to hear, but OK.”
Ryan arrived at Hawk’s Diner early on the following Saturday morning to beat the breakfast crowd.
Hawk helped him push tables together for the meeting with Misty and Elly. They had to make room for a big group. Remy had texted Ryan early that morning to tell him that she and Troy had invited their friends, Jackson and Maggie Clay, to join the meeting. The Clays owned Morning Glory Farm, and always seemed to be at the center of all the local causes. Over the years, the Clays had nearly tripled the size of Maggie’s childhood farm and turned it into an event center, art studio and bed and breakfast. The raised horses, goats, chickens, alpaca, donkeys, and who knows what else. Ryan could hardly keep up with everything the Clays did in the community.
“What’s that?” Hawk asked, eyeing the vase of bright purple asters that Ryan had set down in front of one of the chairs.
“No offense to your server’s, decorating, Hawk,” Ryan said to his friend, gesturing to the basic glass vases containing single white mums on every table.
“You mean Ever? She won’t mind. Heck, she won’t even be here the rest of the week. She and Logan and their little girl are off hiking somewhere out West again,” Hawk said. “So what’s up with the flowers?”
Ryan shrugged. “My friend Misty is new in town and I want to do something special. She didn’t get off on the right foot with the booster club, so I wanted to fix it.”
Hawk eyed Ryan suspiciously. “That’s very neighborly. Why don’t you tell me the real reason?”
Ryan immediately replied, “’Cause she’s cute as hell.”
He couldn’t elaborate any further because Elly and Misty arrived just then, at the same time.
Hawk took their drink orders and they sat down to work.
Ryan waited for Misty to notice the flowers, but she was busy gaping at the parade of people walking through the door.
Ryan made introductions, and he could see that Misty was starting to feel overwhelmed. Jackson and Maggie and Troy all shook her hand, while Remy greeted her with a hug that she was clearly not expecting.
Hawk, being Elly’s’ husband, delivered three mixed berry coffee cakes, pumpkin muffins and coffee to the tables. It was then she noticed the bright purple flowers in front of hers and nobody else’s place.
Ryan watched her smile shyly at him, and all the group chatter faded into the background for a few moments.
This time, she didn’t look away from him.
When all the chatter and small talk finally died down, Ryan deferred to Misty to lead the meeting.
“Well,” Misty said, “Ryan, why don’t you take care of securing the permits to close off downtown for the night of the festival? I’ve already pissed off too many people in the city planning department with a side project of mine. Seems they don’t like people nosing around and asking about old documents.”
“No problem,” Ryan said, making a mental note to ask her what that meant later.
“Elly and Hawk are going to recruit food trucks—most importantly funnel cakes. I’ll be in charge of decorations, if I can get some guidance with where to buy those,” Misty continued.
Remy and Troy agreed to help work behind the scenes and get the baseball team to do grunt work like setting up booths and taking tickets.
Maggie, who was nursing a fresh new baby at her breast and holding a sleeping toddler over the opposite shoulder, suddenly piped up. “You know what? Forget the permits.” She turned to her husband. “Jack, why don’t we just host the whole festival at the farm? We have venue space and plenty of parking in the west field. It would save the boosters a ton of money on top of that.”
Jackson thought about this as he handed plates of pie over to yet more of their children who sat at a nearby table, coloring. “Sure. Morning Glory would be happy to host the event. On top of that, we could set up a petting zoo for the festival on site and we wouldn’t have to haul the animals across the county. What would you all think of that?”
Elly seemed overjoyed. “Are you kidding me? That would be incredible. What would you charge us to do all this at your farm?”
Jackson and Maggie shrugged and said in unison, “Nothing.”
Ryan was keeping a close eye on Misty, who was watching wide-eyed at this conversation. He was trying to decipher what was going through her head, but her face gave nothing away.
He half listened as the rest of them talked logistics. Maggie would do face painting if Misty would oversee a pumpkin carving station.
Ryan caught himself glancing at a curly-headed little girl who crawled up into Jackson’s lap. Watching the man put his arms around his daughter tenderly while effortlessly carrying on with the meeting, it made Ryan’s chest feel tight.
That’s what he wanted right there. To be at ease with a wife and little kids crawling into his lap after eating too much pie.
He and Remy were almost done raising Elliot. And Elliot had been an easy kid. But he and Remy had started so young, and he still felt like something was missing from his life.
The truth was, he was in awe of Jackson and Maggie.
Hell, half the town was in awe of those two and their crew of kids and their ever-expanding empire—animal farm, art studio, bed and breakfast, event venue, brewery, winery and farm store that sold their organic goat’s milk and cheese and soap all year round. Was there nothing those two couldn’t do?
It was a lot to be jealous of. And yet they were genuinely the nicest people in the county.
He shifted his gaze from Jackson to Misty.
Misty was eyeing Maggie, still nursing the tiny one. Something in her face unsettled him. There was a cloud hanging over her soul, and Ryan didn’t like it.
He wanted her to be happy and to be content. He felt she deserved all the beautiful things that life had to offer.
Misty was clearly feeling something else.
And he was right.
When she took her gaze off of Maggie and realized Ryan was staring at her with concern, she suddenly stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” Misty said.
Elly chimed in, “Are you OK? Did you forget something?”
“Yes, I did. Carry on without me, I forgot I have a thing. I have to go, I’m so sorry.”
They all watched her bolt out the door.
Ryan followed suit. “I’m going to go check on her. The rest of you let me know what you need me to do for the festival, but I think you got it handled. Right?”
“Yes, just go, Ryan!” Remy said with a glare.
Out on the street, Ryan found Misty by a park bench.
He sat down next to her. “Misty, what is going on? You have to tell me.”
Misty shrugged, but her voice cracked. “The way you were looking at that family, I can tell that’s what you want, but I’ve never been sure if that’s what I want. But then I was looking at Maggie and…” she trailed off.
Something inside Misty bubbled to the surface, and R
yan saw a tear falling down her cheek.
He immediately put an arm around Misty. “Whoa, what’s going on with you?”
Misty shook her head, seeming embarrassed by her tears. “All your friends are too perfect. There’s just no way I’m going to fit in here. I’m bringing nothing to the table. I’m overwhelmed by all these nice people. How do all these people have the time to just be so damn nice?”
“Hey. Listen. You are perfect the way you are,” Ryan said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here.”
She took one and wiped her eyes and her nose. “Wait a minute. What am I supposed to do with this? I’ve never understood the concept. So I’m supposed to get snot on your hankie and then give it back? Or do I take it home and wash it, and then return it? Hankies … so confusing!”
Ryan chuckled. “Keep it. And you’re deflecting. What’s going on with you?”
She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I’m just not used to people being so generous and kind. I keep waiting for bad things to happen.”
Ryan smiled. “Nothing bad is going to happen, do you know why? Because everything that has happened to me since you walked into that booster club meeting has been good.”
“Shut up,” she said, her voice continuing to crack.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I was really not looking forward to sitting through a meeting with Carla—or anybody named Phillips—but then you walked in. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And then, I got assigned to be on a committee with you. And then even better, you came to my house and drank my wine, and your adorable little butt sat in my chair. You speak kindly to everyone around you. You are whip smart and funny as hell. And fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the second I laid eyes on you.”
Ryan cupped his hand around her jawbone and lowered his lips toward hers. “As long as this is OK.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“But I’m not sure you’re prepared for what this means. I don't kiss people casually,” she said.
“Neither do I.”
“But Elly said—”
Ryan scoffed. “Elly only knows what she’s heard about me. I’m not a player. Maybe at one time I dated a lot of women, but it’s been years. And now I know what I want in my life, and that has everything to do with you.”
Her eyes closed and Ryan lowered his lips to hers. Her hard armor melted away, and her mouth yielded to him.
He leaned in closer and circled his arms protectively around her as they kissed there on the sidewalk bench in the middle of the busy town square. Surely all eyes were on them, but Ryan did not care.
He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss, teasing her mouth open. He didn’t have to do much urging.
She let out a tiny little moan and opened to him, letting him slip his tongue inside her mouth. He loved every little sensation about her. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin.
All he could think about was how much more skin there was to touch, and how he would take his time exploring every inch of it, and that it needed to be very soon.
13
Misty
The day after the kiss that set her thighs on fire, Misty got a call from Ryan.
“We’ve formed an executive subcommittee for the fall festival. Can we meet at your house tonight?”
She was so relieved to have heard from him that she didn’t even bother figuring out what he meant by “we” or “executive subcommittee.” She was still feeling a little bit freaked out after what had happened yesterday after she had come home from the meeting at Hawk’s Diner.
After Ryan walked her home to 666 Main Street —holding her hand and making her feel strangely warm and gooey, a feeling she was not used to—her guard had been down.
He had kissed her again on the front steps, passionately, with a hard-on she could feel pressing into her hip. She regretfully sent him away, and he grudgingly left when she told him she had work to do. She watched his nice ass walk away back toward the diner where his truck was parked, and it was all she could do to force herself to go inside her house.
She had then made some phone calls: to the sheriff’s department to try to get her hands on the incident reports from 30 years ago; to the first responders who had found her aunt Eliza’s lifeless body; to the 9-1-1 dispatchers to request the dispatch logs from October 31, 1983. The list went on, and her quest was going nowhere fast. Anyone who did answered the phone either pointed her to someone else, denied any knowledge of the incident, or claimed her paperwork requests would take months to produce.
So she’d taken a break to do some houseware shopping to brighten up the place.
Well, she must have been feeling so loopy from that kiss that she forgot to lock the front door, because when she returned home Saturday afternoon, it was not locked. In fact, it was ajar. The lock, however, had not been broken.
She went from room to room, her hand inside her bag, in contact with her Glock, just in case. She found nothing amiss until she got to the kitchen. The manila folder she kept full of photocopies of records and newspaper articles was lying open on the kitchen table. Her notepad was not in the same place she had left it.
She knew something was not right. But she told herself it had been that kiss. That kiss had made her get sloppy.
As she sometimes did, she slept that night with one hand on her Glock, not getting much sleep at all.
“Where is everyone else?” she asked as Ryan stood on her doorstep on Sunday night in the rain, arms loaded with grocery bags.
“Oh,” he said. “I forgot to mention that the executive subcommittee is me and you.”
“Ryan,” she chided him.
“Now take me on a tour of the murder house.”
She sighed and let him in.
“Any other man who lied to get an invite into my house, alone, would be getting a fireplace blow poke to the nuts right now,” she said, leading him into the kitchen.
“I’d hope so, and then I’d have a go at him as well,” Ryan said in total seriousness as he unpacked his groceries. She smiled as she noticed he had a bottle of wine, but also healthier choices than bagel bites. Today it was a veggie platter and some cut up pineapple and a cheese tray. Her stomach rumbled. She had been so wound up she’d forgotten to eat breakfast.
“Well, you’ve seen the living room and the kitchen,” she said, opening the back door. “Out here is the back porch. Through here is the bathroom and the laundry.” She continued giving him the brief tour. “And off the living room is my bedroom. Not much else to see. Small house. Oh, and there’s a dining room through the other side of the kitchen that was added on at some point. I never use it. I don’t know why, but it gives me the creeps, so I keep the pocket door closed to it.”
Ryan was following her from room to room, scribbling on a notepad.
“What are you writing? This isn’t the meeting,” she said.
“No, it’s not meeting notes. I’m making a list of everything you need done around here. And I am going to do it for you. You don’t have to live in the murder house the way it is,” Ryan said.
“That’s not necessary, Ryan.”
He looked up at her. “Remember what I told you about life in Middleburg? You have to be able to accept help.”
She smirked. “So you’re just being neighborly? You’re wasting your time, I’m not a nice enough person to return the favor.”
Ryan suddenly slapped his legal pad and paper on the kitchen table and took Misty by the shoulders.
“Stop it.”
His sudden intensity took her breath away. “Stop what?”
He squeezed her shoulders gently as his jaw clenched. “Stop running yourself down. I won’t have it. I’m here because I like you. Maybe more than like you. I’m very much into you. Even more so than yesterday. I don’t expect you to do me any favors in return. This is just me taking care of you. Just me … wooing you. And I have no plans to fail. I’m going to make you mine whether
you choose to keep being sarcastic or not.”
Misty noted the arousal in her body he was causing with this assertiveness on his part. “You’re pretty hot when you’re mad,” she said.
“And you’re pretty all the time,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Misty studied those full, kissable lips of his and his bedroom eyes. If there was any thought left in her that he had intended this to be a real planning meeting, it was erased in the next moment.
Ryan moved in and grasped her face in his hands. He angled down for a kiss. At the same time, there was a sudden crash of thunder outside. It was coupled by lightning and then everything went pitch black.
14
Ryan
“Well I guess we can’t have our planning meeting,” he said, his voice close to her ear in the darkness.
Misty sighed. “Let’s drop the charade that this was a meeting, OK?”
Shaking, she took both his arms in her hands and drew herself in closer.
He’d been fighting off the thoughts of all the filthy things he wanted to do to her curves since he’d gotten a look at her in the doorway: a loose, black peasant dress with a lace-up front that dared him to help the laces come undone.
He didn’t relish the idea of her being scared. Misty came across as a woman who could take care of herself and would never cower at thunder and lightning. But he did, however, get massively turned on by the idea that she was showing a little bit of vulnerability.
And he definitely allowed himself to savor the feeling of her body pressed close to his in the dark. The feel and sound of her short, ragged breath against his neck in the darkness twitched and stiffened his manhood even more.
“It’s OK. Just a power outage. They’ll have it back on in no time,” he said, stroking her hair. He breathed in the herbal scent of her luxurious mane. The animal inside him was thinking about burying his face at her deepest places and finding the source of her sweetest, truest scent.
“You’re probably right, but it makes me nervous,” she replied.
