by Sarah Hegger
“Vertigo,” announced Mr. Powell as he led the charge. “Irrational fear of heights.”
That was acrophobia, but Bella was too busy having it to argue the point.
“Isn’t that a movie?” Mrs. Powell tucked her hands into her pockets.
“Hitchcock.” Liz scrunched her shoulders up around her ears. “Man, it’s cold. How you doing, Bella? Hang in there.”
Yes, dear.” Mrs. Powell’s face crinkled with concern as she gazed up at Bella. “I’m sure help is on the way.”
“Did you call Sheriff Evans?” Mr. Powell stared up at her.
“Sheriff Evans?” Giggling, Mrs. Powell smirked at her. “Are you sure you’re scared of heights, Bella?”
“Oh, she’s scared all right.” Bless Liz for coming to her rescue.
Mr. Powell took hold of the ladder and gave it a shake. “Just hop on the ladder, Bella. Seems sturdy enough.”
“Mike.” Mrs. Powell stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.
Bella dug her fingers into the roof. She didn’t need to be clairvoyant to guess what was being said. Would Ghost Falls, for the love of everything, just let this go? She was not wasting away for Nate.
“Oh.” Mr. Powell scrutinized her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, young lady?”
Maybe she should end it now and throw herself off the roof. Then again, they’d only whisper over her coffin how she’d killed herself for unrequited love.
“Sometimes a girl has to take matters into her own hands.” Mrs. Powell tossed her a conspiratorial wink. “It’s not like you have all the time in the world, dear. You can’t keep waiting for that man forever.”
“I’m not—”
“It’s a dreadful waste of taxpayers’ money.” Puffing out his chest, Mr. Powell stalked to the ladder and gave it another good rattle. “Now, buck up, Bella. You can’t call the sheriff out unless it’s a genuine emergency.”
“Really?” Liz examined her fingernails. “It’s one of the perks of living in this town.”
“Disgraceful.” Mr. Powell flushed. “The man is the representative of law and order in this town, not . . .” He sputtered and huffed for a bit.
“Man candy?” Liz looked smug.
Turning his back on Liz, Mr. Powell harrumphed and put his foot on the ladder. “I’m coming up.”
Dear God, save her that.
“Oh no, Mike, your back.” Mrs. Powell fluttered over to her husband. Small and compact, the top of her head barely reached his armpit.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Mr. Powell made a manful show of regret. “I would hate to risk her by dropping her.”
Mrs. Powell patted her husband on the chest. “That’s so like you, Mike, always thinking of someone else first.”
Liz looked up at her and rolled her eyes.
Bella stifled a giggle and then choked on it as blue and red flashing lights turned into her street.
Oh boy. Nate couldn’t be subtle about this, now could he? He’d delighted in tormenting her since first grade, when he’d dipped her waist-length braid in purple paint.
Chapter Two
Bella had a perfect view of the siren song to the ovaries that was Nate Evans as he climbed out of his SUV and sauntered across her front lawn. Her little audience parted like the Red Sea for him.
Liz swooned, Mrs. Powell looked wobbly at the knees, and Mr. Powell preened.
She might have gotten over her Nate thing faster if he didn’t look so fine. All. The. Time. Couldn’t he have developed a paunch, or maybe a tiny bald spot? She didn’t ask for much; maybe the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled could have made him look saggy instead of grab-bable.
Nate reached the ladder and looked up at her. Lion eyes, so deep a girl could drown in them. “Hey, Bella.”
“Hi, Nate.” Her only excuse for the squeak that had taken over her vocal chords was the whole clinging-to-the-roof thing.
“You seem to be in a bit of trouble.” He flashed his rogue grin at her.
Nate owned an arsenal of smiles, smirks, mouth tweaks, and grins. This one got her in the knees every time. So sure of himself, but with a hint of little boy to soften the arrogance.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Really?” Up went one eyebrow, a dark slash across his tanned face that matched the deep sable of his hair. Who looked tan in the middle of winter? Nate Evans, that’s who.
“She’s not fine.” Liz pranced up next to him. “She’s stuck up there.”
“Oh, now.” Mrs. Powell flanked him. “She must be frozen to death.”
On cue, Bing launched into “White Christmas.”
Nate climbed the ladder in about half the time it had taken her. His face appeared over the gutters. “Should I ask what you’re doing up here?”
“Hanging Christmas lights.”
He frowned, leaned back a bit and surveyed her work. “Why?”
“Because it’s Christmas.” It came out a bit growly. She always got this way when Nate appeared in her day. Some kind of leftover reflex from middle school aimed at convincing everyone, him included, she was so over her crush on him. It hadn’t worked yet.
“Why didn’t you ask your dad to help you?” He rested his forearms on the roof.
“My dad is in Florida.” Someday she’d have a conversation with Nate Evans that didn’t feel like nails on a chalkboard. One day when she and Nate could laugh about her and her alleged twentysomething-year crush.
He cocked his head. “They left you alone for Christmas?”
She would die, right here, before she let him feel sorry for her. “It’s fine. I have a plan for the holidays.”
He looked doubtful.
“I do.” She put a decisive nod into it. “It’s going to be fun.”
“All right, then.” He shrugged. “How about we get you off the roof so you can put that plan into action?”
Huh! Funny thing. She’d almost forgotten she sat perched way, way, way off the ground. “I don’t know why Liz called you,” she said. “I can get down on my own.”
“Need any help there, Sheriff ?” Mr. Powell stuck out his chest and strutted to the base of the ladder.
“I’m good, Mr. Powell.” Amusement flashed in Nate’s glance her way.
Mr. Powell tucked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked from heel to toe. “Right you are, then. Just holler if you need me.”
“Actually,” Nate glanced down, “you might want to take Mrs. Powell back to the house. We don’t want to spook Bella.”
“We’ll be very quiet,” Mrs. Powell whispered, not keen to give up her information-gathering opportunity.
“Still.” Nate gave her his reassuring smile, the one that promised to rescue people from burning vats of lava. “Witnesses often increase the victim’s anxiety.”
Great; the victim in this scenario being her.
“Right you are, Sheriff.” Mr. Powell strode over to his wife. “Let’s give the man space to do what he does best.”
“I knew I could rely on you, Mr. Powell. A good man in a crisis,” Nate said.
Nate’s flattery was obnoxiously obvious, but it got the Powells out of her front yard and back into their house.
“Don’t even think about it.” Liz crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Didn’t you say something about wine?” Bella planned to head straight for a bottle as soon as she got off this roof.
Liz hesitated, then nodded. “Wine is my specialty.”
“We’ll be right down,” Nate said.
Liz shut her front door behind her.
“Don’t see you around much.” Nate turned back to Bella.
He wanted to chat? Now? “I’m stuck on a roof.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He stroked the side of his cheek. “The thing is, I got a problem here, Bella,” he said in his deep, rumbly voice. “We have a couple of options and I’m not sure which to go with.”
“Options?” She tucked her frozen fingers into her armpits t
o warm them up.
“I could climb up there and do the fireman lift down.” He eyed the roof and then her. “But I really don’t know how much you weigh and we might fall.”
“I don’t weigh that much,” she said. She shivered as a cold wind stroked the back of her neck.
“No, I can see that.” He smirked. “But the roof could be slippery and I don’t like my chances of hoisting you over my shoulder. Given the terrain.”
Neither did she. “What’s option two?”
“I can call the fire department and ask them to bring a cherry picker and we can pluck you off the roof.”
Nate, cherry, and plucked: three words her teen heart would have died to hear in the same sentence. “That means more people. What else have you got?”
“You could slide over a couple of inches and take my hand.” His large palm stretched over the roof toward her. His face grew serious and his gaze remained steady on hers. “Just a couple of inches, Bella. Then you grab my hand and we climb down together.”
Big, capable, and slightly callused, his hand lay on the shingles.
Bella slid a couple of inches over.
“That’s it, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let you fall. I’m right here.”
Bella kept their eye-lock as she managed a few more inches.
He clasped her ankle. “I’ve got you now. A bit farther.”
Up her calf he slid his hand, then to her knee, and, finally, grabbed her hand and held.
His grip fastened about her hand, strong and sure. He kept talking in that soft purr that would have her stretching like a cat if she weren’t so terrified.
“A little closer,” he said.
She stopped in front of him, knees to her chest.
“Now comes the easy part.” Not forcing her to move, he squeezed her hand. “You reach your feet out and I put them on the ladder for you.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “I’m gonna be right here the whole way down to the ground.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He gave a tiny tug. “Come on, Bella. I’ve seen you take your lunch money back from Skyler Falks, and he was two feet taller than you. You’ve got this.”
“It wasn’t my lunch money.” Bella pushed one leg out.
He gripped her ankle and put her foot on the top rung.
Her ass slid down the roof and she froze.
“No?” He moved his hands to her hips. “Flip onto your belly. What was the money for?”
Bella flattened her chest to the roof. “For my cheerleading uniform.”
“You weren’t a cheerleader.” Guiding her down, his hands cradled her hips.
“I so was.” She glanced over her shoulder.
He guided her second foot onto the ladder. Her knees shook and she gripped the shingles. The ladder would never hold her.
“No, you weren’t.” His arms pressed into her sides, sandwiching her between them. “Step down with your right foot.”
“I was a cheerleader. You didn’t notice because you were too busy boning Blythe Barrows,” she said as her left foot joined her right.
“Boning?” He snorted right beside her ear. Warm breath tingled over her nape. “That’s a very rude word for you, sweetheart.”
“I know lots of rude words.” Okay, a few, but she didn’t like using them.
“You do?” Heat radiated from his chest at her back. “Let’s take the next step together. I’m right behind you.”
“Just because I don’t say those words doesn’t mean I don’t know them.” To spite him, she took two rungs.
He chuckled, a low, dirty, ovary-tingling sound that made her take another step. “Tell me another one.”
“Nate Evans.” They took another rung and then another together. “I’m not going to turn into a potty mouth so you can sweet-talk me off a roof.”
“It’s working, though,” he said. “We’re halfway there.”
“We are?”
“Don’t look down.” He pressed her sides with his arms. “I’ve never heard you swear; it might be fun.”
“Isn’t there a law against swearing at a sheriff ?”
“I hope not,” he murmured. “Or half the folks in this town are going to end up in jail.”
“Only the ones you stop for speeding.” Her right foot hit the ground and then her left. Bella’s head spun. “You did it.”
“Nah.” He turned her to face him. “You did it.”
It had been years since she’d been this close to Nate Evans.
Thankfully, he stepped back before she gave in to the insane urge to fling herself against his broad, manly chest and stay there. “Thank you,” she said.
“You are most welcome, sweetheart.” He smiled at her. A nice smile, without any hidden meaning. “And stay off that ladder.”
“What about my lights?” She couldn’t leave the job half-done. She had a Christmas plan on the go, followed by a big life change. Big. Life. Change.
“I’ll hang them after I get off work.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” She’d fueled the gossip engine enough for one day.
“You didn’t ask.” He turned and strode back to his SUV. “See ya, Bella.”
Wine bottle clutched to her chest, Liz trotted out of her house in time to intercept Nate before he climbed into his car. “Won’t you join us?”
It wasn’t fair. Liz hit on Nate all the time and Ghost Falls hadn’t turned that into their local soap opera.
Nate ducked around Liz. “Thanks, but I can’t.”
As Nate’s SUV cruised down the street, Liz stood next to her and sighed. “He’s so hot.” She hefted her wine bottle. “Let’s have a drink.”
Bella entered her house, Liz on her heels.
Stopping inside the door, Liz looked around her. “This is nice.”
Bella was proud of her home. She’d put it all together herself. Painted the walls throughout in a warm biscuit color and carefully selected each piece of furniture. She liked earth tones around her, with bright splashes of reds and oranges to give it life. Here, at least, she didn’t have to consult Nana about what she chose.
“Thank you.” She led the way into her cheerful kitchen.
“I expected more pink,” Liz said as she took the bottle opener from Bella.
“Yeah.” Bella pulled a face. “The colors in my store are not my choice.”
She couldn’t remember seeing Liz in her clothing store more than once. Pity, because now that she really looked at Liz, she would love to add a touch of elegance to her.
Liz shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the table.
Yup, all that skintight could do with a little toning down. Liz’s jeans looked like she’d spray-painted them on this morning. Across her breasts, emblazoned in sparkles, scrolled “Flirt.”
“So.” Bella handed her the wineglasses, not sure what to say now that they stood in her kitchen. Hard to believe this was the first time they’d voluntarily spent time in the same room. “That was humiliating.”
Liz snorted and poured the wine. “Please, that was nothing. Although Mr. Powell could have done the entire thing on his own.”
Bella snorted a laugh. She risked letting her bitch show. “He’s a giver. Except for his bad back.”
“Except for that.” Liz seated herself at the kitchen table. “It’s funny how his back never stops him from standing on a ladder pretending to trim his hedges so he can look in my bathroom.”
“Eww.” With a shudder, Bella joined her at the table. “He does that?”
“All the time.” Liz sipped her wine. “It’s about the only action I get these days.”
That made two of them. Bella took the seat opposite Liz. “Maybe he didn’t mean to see into your bathroom.”
“Honey,” Liz rolled her eyes, “nobody’s hedges need trimming that much.”
All she’d really seen of Liz in the past was the mass of platinum hair and too much makeup. It tended to obscure the i
nherent sweetness of her face. In her youth, Liz must have been one of those girl-next-door types. “Well, so much for Christmas lights.”
“Why were you so determined to hang lights?”
Not wanting Liz getting all judgy with her, Bella hesitated over her answer. “It’s part of my Christmas plan.”
“You have a Christmas plan?” Liz chuckled.
“It’s not my plan.” It came out sounding very defensive. “It’s this thing I found on the internet about what to do if you’re alone at Christmas.”
“Really?” Liz looked genuinely interested, not wearing that what-the-hell expression.
“Yeah.” Bella went over to her fridge and took her list from under her If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door fridge magnet. She put the list in front of Liz. “See, it’s a list of ten things to do if you’re alone over Christmas. Number one is decorate. So, I was decorating.”
“You did the inside already.” Liz took a long, slow look around her. “It looks nice. Very festive.”
“Number two is volunteering.” Bella read over her shoulder. “I’m not sure where yet, but there have to be plenty of places that need volunteers.”
“Number three says to go out and do things you wouldn’t normally do.” Liz tapped her red and green nail on the article. “We could do that.”
“Together?” Bella wasn’t sure she and Liz liked the same things. Hanging lights and sharing a glass of wine in her kitchen seemed a long way from actually hitting the town together. “Like where?”
Liz shrugged. “I dunno, but I tell you what: You find somewhere for us to volunteer and I’ll take care of number three.”
Talk about bungeeing right outside your comfort zone. “Okay.”
Chapter Three
Two pints of chocolate ice cream, her download of Dr. Childers’s Guide to a More Authentic You, and her laptop, and Bella was ready for the next phase in her plan. Things had gotten off to a rocky start, what with the need for a rescue and all, but that didn’t mean she had to quit.
Patti from Nebraska poured her story out over the speakers on Bella’s laptop.
“I looked at my life, I looked at my three kids and my empty bank account, and I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” Bella agreed wholeheartedly. “Then I heard about Dr. Childers and at first I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. How could I own the pain caused by my cheating, lying dirtbag of a husband?”
