Thrill Me

by Susan Mallery

  “Morning,” he said as he stopped in front of her. “You ratted me out to my mother.”

  The words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that she had trouble understanding their meaning. When the mental smoke cleared, she was able to breathe again.

  “You mean I told her you were in town?”

  “Yeah. You could have given me fifteen minutes to get in touch with her.”

  She smiled. “You never said it was a secret. I stopped by to see a friend and told her you were back. She was surprised.”

  “That’s one way to put it. She gave me an earful.”

  The barista handed Maya her latte. Maya took it and started for the door. “If you’re expecting me to feel guilty about that, it’s so not happening. How could you not bother telling your mother you were coming home? I’m not the bad guy here.”

  Del fell into step with her. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

  He held open the door of Brew-haha. When they got to the sidewalk, he pointed to the left and she walked along with him. Because, well—why not?

  “You’re saying I should have let her know I was home for the rest of the summer?”

  “Speaking as your mom’s friend, yes, you should have told her you were coming. Or that you’d arrived. And if you didn’t want me to tell her, you should have said something. If she scolded you, it’s your own fault. I accept absolutely no guilt or blame on the topic.”

  He surprised her by laughing. “You always did have attitude.”

  Back then it had been bravado. She liked to think she now had a little experience or even substance to back it up.

  They reached the lake. Del turned toward the path that led to the rental cabins on the far side. Maya went with him. The day was sunny and promised to be plenty warm. August was often the hottest part of summer in Fool’s Gold. Up in the mountains fall came early, but not in the town itself.

  Along the shores of Lake Ciara, just south of the Golden Bear Inn, was a cluster of summer cabins. They ranged from small studios to large three-bedroom structures. Each cabin had a big porch with plenty of room for sitting out and watching the lake. There was a play area for the kids, a communal fire pit and easy walking access to Fool’s Gold.

  Del led the way to one of the smaller cabins. There was plenty of seating on a surprisingly large porch.

  “Not a suite at Ronan’s Lodge?” she asked, taking the chair he offered.

  He settled next to her. “I spend enough time in hotels when I travel. This is better.”

  “But there’s no room service.”

  He glanced at her, one brow raised. “You think I can’t cook?”

  It had been ten years, she thought. “I guess I don’t know that much about you.” Anymore. She didn’t say the last word, but she thought it. Because there had been a time when she’d known everything about Del. Not just his hopes and dreams, but how he laughed and kissed and tasted.

  First love was usually intense. For her it had been that and more. With Del, for the first time in her life she’d allowed herself to hope she might not have to go it alone. That maybe, just maybe she could believe that someone else would be there for her. To look out for her. To give a damn.

  “To start with, I can cook,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “There was a last-minute cancellation so I got the cabin.”

  A couple of little boys played down by the water. Their mother watched from a blanket on the grass. Their shrieks and laughter carried over to them.

  “It’s going to be noisy,” she said.

  “That’s okay. I like being around kids. They don’t know who I am, and if they do, they don’t care.”

  Some people would care, she thought, wondering how difficult his version of fame had become.

  He’d made a name for himself on the extreme sports circuit. Crazy downhill snowboarding stunts had morphed into skysurfing. He’d become the face of a growing sport with the press clamoring to know why anyone would jump out of a plane with a board attached to their feet and deliberately spin and turn the whole way down.

  After a few years of being a media darling, he’d made yet another change, designing a better board, and then starting the company that built them. That move had made him more mainstream—at least for the business crowd—and he’d become a popular guest on business shows. When he’d sold the company—walking away with cash and not announcing what he would do—he’d become the stuff of legends. A daredevil willing to take life on his own terms.

  She’d wanted that once. Not the danger, but the being famous part. It would have been one of the perks of being in front of the camera instead of behind it. For her it hadn’t been about money or getting a reservation at a popular restaurant. It had been about belonging. That if others cared about her, she must have value. Be worthy, in some small way.

  Time and maturity had helped her see the fallacy of that argument, but the hollowness of needing it had never completely gone away. With that dream over, she would have to find another way to make peace with her past.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m getting way too philosophical for this early in the morning.” She sipped her coffee. “So you’re back for the rest of summer and you’re going to be helping me with the promo videos. I appreciate that.”

  He gave her a look that implied he wasn’t buying that.

  “I do,” she repeated. “You’ll be a great host.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  He studied her. “I’m back because my dad’s turning sixty and I haven’t seen my family in a while. What are you doing here?”

  A direct question. She decided on a direct answer. “I was tired of what I was doing. I’d made my third and what will be my final attempt at a network job.” She drew in a breath. “The truth is I don’t translate well on camera. On paper, I should be exactly right. I’m attractive enough and intelligent enough and warm enough, and yet it simply doesn’t work. Going back to producing hard news was an option, but I couldn’t get excited about it. I was visiting my stepbrothers and while I was here, Mayor Marsha approached me about the job. I said yes.”

  The offer had been unexpected, but she hadn’t taken long to accept. Getting out of LA had been appealing and being close to family had felt right. She’d never considered that Del would be coming back.

  She glanced at him from under her lashes. Would that have made a difference? She told herself it wouldn’t have. He was only home for a few weeks. She could manage to hold it together for that long. Besides, the tingling was probably a onetime thing. A knee-jerk reaction to an unexpected visit from her past.

  Del had been her first love. Of course there would be residual emotions. Knowing him, caring about him, had changed her forever.

  “About the videos,” she said.

  “You have lots of ideas.”

  “How did you know?”

  He looked at her, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You always did and you were forceful with your opinions.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “I agree. You told me what they were, then explained why I was an idiot if I didn’t listen to you.”

  She sipped her coffee. “I doubt I said idiot,” she murmured.

  “You were thinking it.”

  She laughed. “Maybe.”

  She had been forceful and determined. Instead of finding her annoying, Del had encouraged her to explain herself. He’d wanted to know what she was thinking.

  “You had some good ideas to improve the tours,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have good ideas about the videos. Of course, I have some experience with the medium myself.”

  He could have acted like
a bastard, she thought, remembering how things had ended. Of course, if he’d still been angry, he would have refused to work with her.

  “Challenging my authority?” she asked lightly.

  “We’ll see.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I need to get to work.” She suggested a day and time for their first official meeting, then stood and walked back toward town.

  Partway down the path, she had the urge to turn back. To see if Del was watching her. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw he wasn’t. He’d gone inside.

  Foolishness, she told herself. Just like the tingles. If she ignored it, it would go away. At least that was the plan.

  * * *

  DEL FINISHED HIS COFFEE, then accepted the inevitable and drove to his parents’ house. As he pulled into the long driveway, he braced himself for the inescapable drama. Because this was his family and nothing was ever easy.

  He parked and walked toward the front door. The huge rambler looked as it always had—sprawling with a large garden front and back. Beyond the rear yard was the workshop his father used. Two stories of windows in a steel frame, because of the light. Ceallach also had a studio on the far side of town for when he needed to get away.

  His father was a famous glass artist. World famous. When he was good, he was the best. But when he drank...

  Del tried to shake off the memories, but they were persistent. His father had been sober several years now. He no longer destroyed a year’s worth of work in a single afternoon’s drunken tantrum and left the family desperate and destitute. It was better now. But for Ceallach’s five sons, better had come too late.

  A happy bark drew him back to the present. A brown, black and white beagle raced around the side of the house and headed for him. Sophie bayed her pleasure as she rushed at him.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, scooping her up and standing. She wriggled in his arms, trying to get closer and give kisses at the same time.

  “You probably don’t remember me,” he told the dog. “You’d be this happy to greet a serial killer.”

  Sophie gave a doggie grin in agreement. He put her on the ground and followed her to the front door. His mother opened it before he could knock and shook her head.

  “You couldn’t shave?”

  He chuckled, then hugged her. “Hey, Mom.”

  She held on tight, then drew back and shook her head. “Seriously. Would it kill you to use a razor?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Most mothers want to talk grandchildren.”

  “That would work for me, too. Come on.” She held open the door.

  He stepped into the house and back into the past. Very little had changed. The living room had different sofas, but in the same spot. His father’s glasswork was everywhere, all carefully mounted or secured so Sophie or her wagging tail didn’t do any damage.

  Del turned his attention back to his mother. Elaine had met Ceallach Mitchell when she’d been twenty. According to her, it had been love at first sight. His father had never told his side of the story. They’d married four months later and Del had been born a year after that. Four more sons had followed, each about a year apart until the twins.

  His mom looked as she always had, with dark, shoulder-length hair and an easy smile. But as he studied her, he saw that there were a few differences. She was older, but it was more than that. She seemed tired, maybe.

  “You okay, Mom?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t sleep as well as I used to.” She shrugged. “The change.”

  He wasn’t sure exactly which change she was referring to, but he wasn’t going there. Rather than take a safe step back and escape, he moved to the sofa. Sophie jumped up next to him and immediately settled in for a nap.

  His mother sat across from him. “How long are you in town?”

  “The rest of the summer. You said to be home for Dad’s birthday. I came back early.”

  “Your father will be pleased.”

  Del was less sure about that. Ceallach might be brilliant, but he was also temperamental. In his mind what mattered was art. Everything else was a far second. A lesser kind of living. He had no patience for or interest in mere mortal lives or pursuits.

  “You’re here by yourself?” his mother asked.

  Del nodded. Last time he’d been home he’d brought Hyacinth. He’d been so sure they were going to make it. But they hadn’t. She’d been unable to promise herself to a single man and he’d been unable to accept the string of what she swore were insignificant lovers that moved in and out of her bed. While he’d loathed the cheating, the dishonesty had been just as bad.

  “Traveling light,” he told his mother.

  “Del, you need to settle down.”

  “I’ve never wanted to settle.”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t you want a family?”

  “Finally playing the grandkid card?”

  She smiled. “Yes. It’s time. Your father and I have been married thirty-five years and yet none of my boys has ever gotten married. Why is that?”

  He couldn’t speak for his brothers. He’d been in love twice in his life, first with Maya and then with Hyacinth. Both relationships had ended badly. And the common denominator? Him.

  His father strolled into the living room. Ceallach Mitchell was tall and broad-shouldered. Despite being weeks away from turning sixty, he was still strong, with the muscles required to wrestle large pieces of molten glass into submission. Del acknowledged his father’s genius—there was no denying brilliance. But he also knew it came at a price.

  “Del’s home,” Elaine said, motioning to the sofa.

  Ceallach stared at his son. For a second Del wondered if his father was trying to figure out which of his offspring he was.

  “He came back for your birthday,” his mother added.

  “Good to know. What are you doing these days? Surfing?”

  Del thought about the board he’d created, the company he’d started, how much he’d sold it for and the impressive amount sitting in his bank account.

  “Most days,” he said, dropping his hand to rub Sophie’s tummy. The beagle shifted onto her back and sighed.

  “You seen Nick?” his father asked. “He’s still working in that bar, wasting his talent. No one can get through to him. I’m done trying.”

  With that, Ceallach walked out of the room.

  Del stared after him. “Good to see you, too, Dad.”

  His mother pressed her lips together. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “You know how he gets. It’s just his way. He’s glad you’re back.”

  Del was less sure about that, but didn’t want to start a fight. Nothing had changed. Ceallach only cared about his art and other people with the potential to create art, and Elaine still stood between him and the world, acting as both buffer and defender.

  “What are you up to these days?” she asked. “I know you sold your company. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I’m still deciding what’s next. I’ve been offered some design work.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  “No. I came up with my board on my own. I’m not a designer. There are a couple of venture capitalists who want to fund my next big idea.” Which would be great if he had one. What he most wanted to do— Well, that wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.

  “You have time to decide what’s important.”

  The right words, but again he had the sense she was hiding something. Not that he was going to ask again. Secrets were an ongoing part of life in the Mitchell family. He’d learned early to wait until they were shared.

  “You could go to work for your brother,” she said.

  “Aidan?” Del laughed. “At the family business? No thanks. And I doubt he’d appreciate you offering my help.”

  “He’s
busy all the time. Especially in summer.”

  He couldn’t imagine what his brother would have to say about his advice. These days they barely kept in touch. Del remembered when they’d been close and wondered what had happened. Sure he’d been gone, but he emailed and texted.

  Another problem for another day, he told himself and rose.

  “Good to see you, Mom,” he said as he crossed to her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “You, too. I expect to see a lot of you while you’re in town.”

  “You will.”

  “And shave.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAYA’S OFFICE WAS in the same building as the Fool’s Gold cable access studio. The local news had its own location on the other side of town. Until this minute she’d enjoyed the separation. Having to see “real” reporters on a daily basis would have been depressing. It wasn’t that she wanted to be one anymore. It was just having to look into the eyes of her abandoned dream, as it were, could have been difficult. Although at this second, facing down a wild, hungry bear would have been preferable to what she was doing.

  “I don’t understand,” Eddie Carberry said stubbornly. “People like our show. Did one of the Gionni sisters say something to you? Because I know they’re pissed that we’re getting better ratings than they are. Who wants to watch a TV show about hair when there are naked butts to be seen? Plus, they each have a show because of their feud, so it’s twice as much of the same.”

  “The shows are about styling hair,” her friend Gladys pointed out. “Not that watching someone work a curling iron is all that interesting.”

  Eddie and Gladys had to be in their seventies. They were spry enough and certainly determined, Maya thought grimly. Had Mayor Marsha realized the impossibility of the task when she’d hired Maya? Because Maya had always thought she and the mayor were friends. Maybe she’d been imagining the connection.

  “Styling or talking, hair is hair. What we do is more interesting and Bella and Julia can’t stand that.” Eddie put her hands on her hips. As she was wearing a bright yellow velour tracksuit, she looked a bit more comical than intimidating, but there was a gleam in her eye that had Maya keeping a safe distance.