Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  He did, only to find Lurch, Josie, and a couple of current Buchanan employees sitting around the dining room table.

  Each sat in front of a large pad of drawing paper, and a mass of colored pencils lay in the middle.

  Was this some sort of art happy hour? It wouldn’t be the first time.

  There were two empty places—one had obviously been Aunt Dottie’s seat given the intricate drawings on the page, and the other had apparently been left open for him.

  “Oh, good, you’re here, River,” Lurch said. “My idea is to mix five different kinds of beer together—some of them limited release—and have a competition to see who can name all five. If they win, they get to drink it. What do you think?” He grinned as if expecting approval.

  “Um, do you think anyone would want to win?” he asked.

  Lurch twisted his mouth to the side and then shrugged. “To each their own.”

  “There’s food in the kitchen,” Aunt Dottie said brightly. “Grab a plate! We’ve got a lot left to do.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?” he suggested. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He nodded to Josie, and the employees who were still, well, employees, and led the way.

  The kitchen table was crowded with platters of food, arranged in front of a little chalkboard sign reading Inspiration Eats!

  He sighed, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing a plate and helping himself. He hadn’t eaten since that muffin with Maisie, which he’d counted as a late lunch, and Aunt Dottie was a great cook when she wasn’t trying to make all the food black or brown. “Are you planning the employee party behind Georgie’s back?”

  He settled into the far chair, next to an empty patch of table, and set down his plate. Aunt Dottie took the chair opposite him.

  “I would never do that,” she said as if mortally offended. “I’m just helping her so she doesn’t need to worry about all of the nitpicky details. I want Georgie to be able to spend her time on more important things.”

  He nearly choked on a bite of mac and cheese.

  “I think she very much wants to spend her time approving those details. In case you’ve forgotten, you nearly burned down her house.”

  Aunt Dottie waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I think we’re well beyond that.”

  “It happened a week and a half ago.”

  “Nearly two weeks, dear. And although I love our Georgie girl, I think she needs to let herself have more fun.” She paused, tilting her head a little as if he were a work of art she were studying. “Something happened to you today.”

  “It’s almost like you’re psychic,” he said, the corner of his mouth ticking up.

  Another hand wave. “You know what I mean. Something earth-shattering happened to you.”

  He set down his fork with a clatter, feeling a quake inside of him. “I guess I came here to talk to you about that. I’m not sure I would have come if I’d known you had company—”

  “How about a balloon-popping contest?” someone asked loudly, to which Josie replied, “How about bubbles? I’ve gotten pretty good with those.”

  He was going to have to tell Georgie about this, wasn’t he? It was what a friend would do.

  A friend. Those words had poured salt into his wounds, especially after that hug. Not that he would have dreamed of turning her away.

  Aunt Dottie got up and closed the door, then rummaged through one of the cabinets for something before joining him at the table.

  “I can tell it’s time to give this to you,” she said, handing him a black, leatherbound case across the table.

  He flipped it open and sucked in a breath. It was Beau’s watch, gleaming brightly back at him.

  “I didn’t know you had it,” he said. “I was going to grab it at Beau’s house a couple of weeks ago, but I guess I got distracted.”

  “I guess you did,” she said, staring at him in that way of hers, making him feel as transparent as plastic wrap. It could be slightly infuriating, being known by someone. Being seen by them. “I told Georgie I wanted to be the one to give it to you.”

  He perked up a little at that. They’d arranged this?

  “You know,” she said slowly, “Beau would have given you his house if I weren’t already giving you mine.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  Think about you dying. Because it sent a sort of panic through him, even as he felt a comforting glow at the notion that Beau had thought enough of him to consider it. He was glad Georgie had the house instead—and maybe a little annoyed that her brothers and sister were on the title too—because as difficult as all of this was, he still wanted her here. Still wanted her close.

  She smiled softly at him. “Beau gave you this watch for a reason, River. Not many people know this, but he wasn’t the biological son of Prescott Senior. His mother was pregnant with him when they met, and they married quickly. But Beau never treated him as any less of a son for it. The split between Beau and his son was painful for him, but when you came to live with me, he felt like he had another chance to be the kind of man his father had been.”

  River’s hand tightened around the box, his throat feeling clogged with emotion. He hadn’t known any of that. And he had a feeling the Buchanans didn’t know either. Prescott would probably have an existential crisis if he found out. Part of him wished Beau had sat him down to talk about this, but the most Beau thing of all was to arrange for Aunt Dottie to convey the message instead. Well, he’d come here for some sort of grounding, and he’d gotten it. It would have to do.

  “Thank you, Aunt Dottie. It’s big of you to say so.” He pushed his plate back, no longer feeling so hungry.

  “What happened today?” she asked.

  And here he’d thought he might be able to get away without talking about it.

  “I went to see Beau”—he could see her practically glowing as he said it, thinking about things like kismet, him going to the grave, her knowing to give him the watch, but he kept on talking—“and Georgie showed up while I was there.”

  “Beau sent her,” Aunt Dottie said, repeating his errant thought as if it were an absolute, ironclad fact.

  “Well, if he did, he enjoys messing with my head,” he snapped. “She pushed me away again. She’s not going to change her mind. It’s time for me to just accept that.”

  But his aunt was already shaking her head. “The Buchanans are nothing if not stubborn—you should know that from Beau—but I see the way that girl lights up every time you’re in the room, River. You just have to be patient. The pink crystal will work its magic.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, wanting to believe it but not so sure he did anymore. “She was upset about her sister, by the way. Sounds like Adalia isn’t coming this weekend.”

  Aunt Dottie frowned. “I was sure she would. I’m worried about that girl, River. She may need our help more than any of them.”

  Our help? Was that what this was about for Aunt Dottie? Helping Beau’s grandchildren? If so, she might have her work cut out for her with the other three. He somehow couldn’t imagine Junior allowing Aunt Dottie to read his tea leaves.

  “I don’t know any details,” he said. “Just that she was crying when Georgie called this morning. Georgie was really upset to find out she wasn’t coming this weekend.” And that had cracked something inside of him. Because the look on her face, the loss, the loneliness, the feeling of being left—he knew all of those things and didn’t want her to suffer them.

  “Thanks for this,” he said, shaking the watch container. “I should get back to the loft before Hops destroys everything.”

  “You don’t want to help with the after-party planning?” She looked a little crestfallen.

  “No, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he said. “Plausible deniability, and all that.”

  They left the kitchen together, River holding the watch box as if it were a lifeline.

  “What about a trampoline?” one of the employees said. “I know a place wh
ere we can rent one at a discount. There’s plenty of room for it out back.”

  And even though he’d said he wouldn’t get involved, River found himself channeling Georgie.

  “In the dark? When people are tipsy or drunk? Let’s table that one.”

  His aunt just patted him on the back and sent him on his way.

  By the time he got home, Hops had, indeed, escaped his kennel. But he hadn’t destroyed anything this time—he’d just dragged his favorite sandal to the front door and cuddled up on it, as if waiting for River to come home. It was almost like he’d sensed it had been a bad day, and that cleaning up detritus from the apartment would only make it worse.

  River spent the rest of the evening walking the dog, watching mindless TV, and steadfastly ignoring his phone. One look had been enough. In addition to his aunt’s message, there’d been a paragraph-long text from a woman who was certain Jezebel was poaching birds and leaving them on her porch as a threat.

  He fell asleep on the couch, and he dreamed of Beau. In the dream, River found himself in Beau’s house. He walked out onto the back porch and found Beau in his usual chair, Jezebel curled up next to him, showing rare contentment in a patch of sunlight.

  “Mighty fine watch you have there, son,” Beau said, grinning at him. And, indeed, River looked down to find he was wearing it.

  “A pretty okay old man gave it to me.”

  “Care to raise a glass with me?”

  He sat down beside him, and suddenly, in the way of dreams, they both had pint glasses of beer.

  “I miss you, Beau,” he said, because he did. “Things have gotten strange without you.”

  “Yes, I suppose they have. You’ve fallen in love with my granddaughter.”

  And although River was distantly aware of it being a dream, he glanced around to make sure no one else had heard them. Jezebel just looked at him as if to say she knew everything.

  “Yeah, I have,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure nothing’s going to happen on that front.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Beau paused, looking him in the eye. “You know, I had a feeling about you two, River. Maybe it was Dottie rubbing off on me after so many years together, but when I met her, I knew.”

  Shock rippled through him. Had Beau really thought he was good enough for his granddaughter? Or was his subconscious just messing with him too?

  It was then a knock on the door woke him up. He roused to a dark room, lit only by the TV screen saver. Hops jumped up from his position at River’s feet and scampered toward the door. River followed him, still feeling strange from the dream, and opened the door without bothering to ask who it was.

  Georgie Buchanan rushed into his arms.

  Chapter 31

  Georgie woke in her hotel room to her ringing phone, instantly alert when she read the time on the digital radio next to her bed—1:13.

  The number on her cell phone screen had a New York City area code, but she didn’t recognize it. She was apprehensive when she answered. “Hello?”

  “Georgie?” Adalia asked with a sob.

  Panic made Georgie light-headed, and she pressed the heel of her hand to her temple to ground herself. Her sister hadn’t talked to her in that tone—so unguarded, so scared—since their mother had died. “Adalia? What happened?”

  “Georgie, I really screwed up.”

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m not hurt, but I’m in trouble.”

  “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. What happened?”

  “I got arrested, Georgie. I’m calling you from NYPD’s fifth precinct.” She paused, then added, “I was arrested for vandalism.”

  Georgie couldn’t stop her gasp of surprise. “Okay. It’s okay. That’s not too serious.”

  “It’s a felony. It was nearly one hundred thousand dollars in art.”

  Georgie’s heart sank. It was serious, very serious, and she had more questions than she could count, but Adalia didn’t need a lecture, or at least she didn’t need one yet. She needed her big sister. “So this is your phone call?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice broke. “I’m supposed to be arraigned first thing in the morning. Then I’ll find out how much bail will be.”

  “What do you need, Addy? Money for bail? An attorney? Just tell me, and it’s yours.”

  “I need you, Georgie.” She broke down into sobs.

  Georgie was already out of bed and dashing to the dresser. “I’m coming, Addy. What time’s the arraignment?”

  There was so much to do for the parties on Saturday, and she worried that Dottie would be like a runaway locomotive in her absence, but surely River would help supervise her.

  “It’s early. Eight o’clock,” Adalia said through her sniffles. “You’ll never make it in time.”

  “Then I’ll be there when you get home.”

  “Thank you,” Adalia said, breaking down again. “But when you go back to Asheville, can I come with you? I can’t stay here anymore. My life here is over.”

  “Of course,” Georgie said without hesitation. “And don’t worry about bail. I’ll get the first flight out of Asheville. I think there’s a direct flight that leaves around six, so I can be in the city by ten or so.”

  “Thank you, Georgie.”

  “Time’s up,” a woman said in the background, her tone harsh.

  “I have to go,” Adalia said. “But please don’t tell Lee or Dad. Please.”

  They were going to lose it when they found out. Because while Georgie and Adalia could keep it from them for a time, they would eventually find out. It was hard to keep a secret when it was a matter of public record. But Georgie planned to buy her sister as much time as she could. “Of course. It’s our secret.”

  “I love you, Georgie.”

  “I love you too.” Then there was a click on the line. Adalia was gone.

  She stood in place, her mind racing at the thought of everything she needed to do.

  “I need a ticket,” she muttered to herself. But a quick look online revealed it was too late to purchase one electronically. She’d have to go to the airport, but first she needed to talk to River. The easy thing to do would be to call him, but the thought made her throat clog. Maybe she’d stop by his loft on the way to the airport.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. It was now one twenty. She had hours to go before anything could happen. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, so she packed an overnight bag, her mind racing all the while. If she left later this morning, she could possibly still get back to Asheville in time for the events on Saturday evening, but she had no idea how long it would take to clear up Adalia’s mess.

  What if they didn’t let her out on bail?

  Of course they’d let her out. It wasn’t like she’d murdered anyone. No, she’d just murdered art.

  What in the world had Adalia been thinking? Her baby sister could be flighty, but other than smoking pot in high school and college, she’d never done anything illegal. Georgie couldn’t imagine what had driven her to destroy art. Adalia was a creator. She preserved art. Revered and respected it. Not destroyed it.

  Her stomach was in knots and her anxiety was through the roof. She felt lost and helpless, desperate for someone to help her, to hold her hand through this. No, not just someone. Him.

  She told herself it was wrong to disturb him in the middle of the night. Still, she didn’t want to be alone, and she and River had agreed to be friends. They’d even shaken on it. Wasn’t this what friends were for? Being there in good times and bad?

  She threw on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, then tossed her cosmetics bag and an extra business skirt and blouse into her already packed carry-on. Bag in hand, she headed out of the hotel room before she could change her mind.

  She nearly turned around multiple times during the drive. This was crazy. It was two a.m. She couldn’t just show up on River’s doorstep, but all the logic in the world couldn’t quell the overwhelming need she felt to be with him. She couldn’t stop think
ing about the way he’d held her at the cemetery—how his comfort and his strength had seeped into her. How she craved more of it.

  Did that make her weak? Or needy? But she told herself that if she were back in Boston, she’d call Meredith, albeit not until morning, but still…

  When she pulled up to his building, she drove around looking for a parking space. But just as she started contemplating whether the lack of a spot was a sign, one opened up a few feet ahead. The timing gave her chills, and Georgie wondered if she’d spent too much time with Dottie. Steeling her resolve, she parked and grabbed her bag out of the back seat so she could change before heading to the airport in a few hours. As she walked to his front door, she realized it was presumptuous to assume she could just stay there, but she knocked anyway. She heard yipping first, then the sound of the lock clicking over.

  Play this cool. Don’t fall apart.

  When he opened the door, bleary-eyed and with tousled hair, her resolve to not fall apart evaporated, and she threw herself at him.

  He instantly enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight. “Georgie. What’s wrong?”

  Tears stung her eyes. Relieved tears. It felt so right to be in his arms, like she’d been created to fit River Reeves’s body.

  “Georgie?”

  She heard the panic in his voice and felt foolish. She knew she should pull away from him, yet she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. “It’s Adalia.” Then she realized that he was probably assuming the worst. “She’s not hurt. But it’s pretty bad.”

  He loosened his hold and looked down at her, waiting for her to explain.

  “She was arrested for vandalizing a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of art. Because of the high value, it’s a felony.”

  Shock covered his face, and she briefly wondered what he thought of her and her family now. If word got out, it would tarnish the Buchanan family reputation.

  Oh God. Would it hurt the brewery too?

  He looked past her and saw her bag. Releasing her, he fetched it, then brought it inside and shut the door, engaging the deadbolt.

  For some reason, knowing she was locked inside with River made her feel more comforted, as though nothing could happen to her here. It was a ridiculous, fanciful thought—Georgie didn’t do fanciful, yet there it was anyway, and since she was letting herself be a stereotypical clingy woman, she might as well go for broke.