Sweet Haven

by Shirlee McCoy

  He smiled, and her cheeks flamed. She felt the heat just kind of creeping up her face, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

  No way was she going to let Janelle get any ideas.

  “Hello again, Adeline,” Sinclair said.

  “Again?” Janelle raised one of her perfectly groomed brows.

  “He stopped in the shop earlier. To ask about the lights in Byron’s apartment,” Adeline hurried to reply, because Janelle had a look in her eyes that might have been speculation, and Adeline did not want to go there.

  “His apartment,” Janelle chided. “He’s paying for it.” She turned her attention to Sinclair, offering one of the smarmy smiles she used when she was trying to convince someone of something. “What do you think, Sinclair? She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  For one heart-stopping moment, Addie thought Janelle was talking about her.

  Then her mother touched the wall, looked up at the ceiling. “Buildings like this are hard to find in towns like Benevolence.”

  The building. She was talking about the building.

  Thank God!

  “Hard to find on the market,” he agreed, his gaze focused on Addie. “And you’re right, she’s very beautiful.”

  Maybe it was the way his gaze shifted, drifting from Adeline’s eyes to her lips and making the journey back up again. Or maybe it was the smile that just touched the corners of his mouth.

  Or the gleam in his eyes.

  Whatever the case, her face got even hotter, and she thought that if he said one more word, gave her one more look like the one he just had, she might just spontaneously combust.

  “Beautiful and a good investment,” Janelle continued, completely oblivious to the undercurrent that seemed to pulse through the air. “If you restored it, you could rent it out. There are plenty of people in town who aren’t in a position to buy but would love to rent the storefront.”

  He nodded, but his gaze never wavered, his focus so intense, Addie looked away.

  “I saw the sheriff come in,” she said, her voice squeaking just a little. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Is something wrong?”

  “Jax is concerned that we’ve had a squatter here. The back door was unlocked and it looks like someone had access to your grandfather’s apartment,” Janelle responded.

  “Don’t you think someone would have noticed if a squatter was wandering in and out of the building?” She eyed the cavernous space, tried to imagine someone using it as a crash pad for a night or two or more. It was a little cold, but probably a lot better than sleeping outside.

  Or in a car.

  A Corvette?

  The thought chilled her, a bunch of puzzle pieces suddenly slipping into place.

  “Not if the person used the back door and came and went after you left for the night,” Janelle responded. “That back parking lot faces the green, and no one is there after dark.”

  She didn’t sound all that concerned, but Addie?

  She was worried.

  Not about the squatter but about who that person might be. Chase had his Corvette and no money. No food, either. From the way he’d been eating the snacks she kept in the shop, she’d say it had been a while since he’d had a good meal.

  “No worries, though,” Janelle continued. “Whoever it was isn’t here now, and we’re going to padlock that back door and place a NO TRESPASSING sign on it. I think that should keep the hooligan out.”

  “Hooligan?” Addie repeated, barely managing to hold back laughter. “Does anyone use that word anymore?”

  Janelle huffed. “I do. And it is completely appropriate to the situation.”

  Sinclair’s lips twitched.

  His really nice lips that she had almost kissed and that she would kiss if given another opportunity.

  Which was precisely the reason why she needed to stay away from the guy.

  Despite what May thought, despite what Janelle thought, despite what every person she knew seemed to think, Addie did not need a man in her life.

  “What else would you call someone who lives in a property that isn’t his?” Janelle continued.

  “Desperate?” Sinclair said, all his amusement gone.

  “Well,” Janelle replied, “we do have charitable organizations willing to help those who are struggling. Breaking into an empty building and using it for shelter . . . that’s just wrong.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get home. We’re all having dinner together at six, Adeline. I’m sure you’ll have time to stop in for a while. You’re invited too, Sinclair. I’m sure Willow would love to reconnect with you.”

  “I’m not sure when I’ll finish work for the day,” he said, and she nodded.

  “Stop in any time. If you can’t make it for dinner, you can join us for dessert. I bought a beautiful cream pie from the bakery and a lovely coffee to go with it. Seven would be a perfect time for that. We can discuss the property a little more then, after you’ve had some time to think about it.”

  She headed outside, her pace brisk. No doubt she assumed that Sinclair would show up for dessert and the discussion. People usually did what Janelle wanted.

  “Your mother,” Sinclair said once Janelle disappeared, “is a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” she sighed.

  “Were you making chocolate?” he asked, rubbing at a spot on her cheekbone. “Or bathing in it?”

  She laughed, her skin tingling where he’d touched it, her stomach twisting with the kind of longing she had never ever wanted to feel again. “The fudge didn’t set. I guess it splattered when I tossed it in the trash.”

  “Chocolate is a good look on you,” he murmured, leaning forward and running his finger along her neck.

  “More chocolate?” she asked, her voice thick.

  “No,” he said simply. No excuse. No explanation, and his finger just kind of stayed right where it was, resting lightly at the hollow of her throat.

  She could have moved away.

  She should have, but she just stood there like a ninny, looking into his eyes.

  “Sinclair!” Jax called from somewhere above. “Get your ass up here. We found something.”

  That was it. The spell broke. The heat disappeared.

  Sinclair jogged up the stairs, and Addie followed, her heart racing.

  She could fall for this guy.

  She could fall harder than she’d ever fallen with Adam, because she was an adult, mature enough to know what she wanted and what she didn’t. Mature enough to be looking for something more than what she’d had before.

  “This way,” Jax said, leading them through the hallway and to a door. It opened into a stairwell.

  Funny that Adeline had never been on the third floor of the building. She’d worked for May when she was in high school, restocking shelves and ringing up customers, but she’d been too caught up in teenage things to think much about the building that the fabric store was housed in.

  Now she was curious.

  Old wallpaper decorated the walls—muted flowers that had probably once been vibrant and lovely. At the top of the stairs, a landing opened into three rooms. Kane Rainier stood on the threshold of one, a camera in hand. A transplant from Seattle, he’d been working in law enforcement there before applying for a position as a deputy in Benevolence. That had been six years ago. He’d moved up the ranks quickly because he was a great guy, fair and hardworking. It hadn’t surprised anyone when he’d been named sheriff. Sometimes, though, Addie wondered why he’d chosen to leave everything he had, everything he knew in Seattle, to settle in a town he’d never even visited.

  She’d asked him once, and he’d just smiled and told her it was the chocolate that had convinced him.

  “Looks like someone has been here for a while,” he said, stepping aside so that Sinclair could look inside.

  Addie pressed in close, peering around his arm and eying the interior of the room.

  A bed of blankets lay on the floor. No pillow, but there was a small s
uitcase sitting in one corner. Beside it, several empty cracker packages had been abandoned.

  She knew the brand of crackers.

  They were her grandfather’s favorite.

  As a matter of fact, he usually kept his pantry stocked with them.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she eased under Sinclair’s arm, trying to see if there was anything else in the room that might have been Byron’s. One of the blankets could have been his. The boxes of cereal that sat under the window? They were Byron’s favorite too.

  “Whoever it is,” she said, her stomach hollow with anxiety because she knew . . . knew . . . it was Chase, “may have gotten some of the food from Byron’s place.”

  And, maybe, a blanket.

  She glanced around the room.

  And a towel or two.

  “I think we all know who it is,” Jax growled. “That kid has definitely outstayed his welcome.”

  “You don’t know that Chase was involved,” she argued, even though they both did know.

  “How about we go ask?” Kane said calmly.

  That was what she’d noticed first about him—how calm he always was. Nothing seemed to faze him. Ornery drunks, petty thieves, drug addicts, wife beaters, Kane handled them all with remarkable aplomb. He knew how to be tough and compassionate, and that was a necessary thing in a town the size of Benevolence.

  “How about we do.” Jax headed for the stairs, but Kane pulled him up short.

  “It’s your day off, and your aunt is expecting you. I’ll handle this.” It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either.

  Jax’s jaw tightened but he nodded. “Let me know what he says.”

  He stalked away. Obviously not happy, but too respectful to argue with his boss.

  “Okay,” Kane said. “Here’s how we’re going to play this. No accusations. I’m just going to take Chase into Byron’s office and ask him where he’s been staying. We’ll see if he admits to squatting on the property. If he does, I think we can call this a kid’s mistake. If he lies . . .” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s not as nice a kid as people keep telling me.”

  “He is a nice kid,” Addie insisted, but Kane was already heading downstairs.

  Sinclair touched her back, urging her to follow.

  “It’s going to be fine,” he said.

  She hoped he was right.

  She really did.

  * * *

  The kid was smart.

  He admitted everything. His car had broken down near the campsite sometime around midnight. No one was around, but he could see lights from town, so he’d walked there.

  By the time he’d hit Main Street, he was freezing. He saw the FOR SALE sign on May’s shop and tried the front and back doors. The back had been unlocked, so he’d walked in to get warm.

  The rest, as Chase told Byron over the phone, was history.

  Sinclair wasn’t sure he should be listening to Chase confess his crimes, but after the sheriff talked to the kid, he’d insisted that Chase call Byron and May.

  There was only one landline in the shop. It was in the kitchen, where they were all congregated, the sheriff staring Chase down as he spoke to Byron, Addie pretending to be busy making fudge, only she’d scooped so many cups of sugar in the bowl, he thought it was going to be more like rock candy than chocolate.

  Sinclair didn’t pretend anything.

  He was there.

  He was listening.

  And he was impressed by the way Chase presented the facts. There were no excuses. He explained how he’d gone into Byron’s apartment and gotten some crackers. Later he’d taken cereal. He’d intended to leave money to repay him, but—and this was the hard part, the part where Chase’s voice broke and Addie let out a little sob—Byron had seen Chase in the hall one night, run outside, and fallen.

  The kid obviously felt guilty.

  He promised all kinds of things over the phone, and Sinclair didn’t think it was because he wanted to keep from going to jail. He’d work for free, he’d paint the shop, he’d clean Byron’s apartment every day for the rest of his life. He’d even take care of the elderly man when he got out of the hospital.

  It was as sincere an apology as Sinclair had ever heard.

  When Chase finally ran out of words, he listened for a minute, nodded. “Okay. Sure, Mr. Lamont. I really appreciate it. Okay.”

  He handed the phone to Addie, and then ran into the restroom and slammed the door.

  Sinclair had a feeling he was crying, but at eighteen, he was too proud to let anyone see it.

  Sinclair? He’d learned to cry in public right around the time he’d knelt by the side of one of his comrades and held his hand while he was dying.

  “I agree,” Adeline spoke into the silence. “Yes. Of course. Monday? That’s . . . a little sooner than I expected. No. Of course I’m not backing out. I said you could stay with me, and you can.” She listened for a minute, frowned. “Granddad, relax. I’ll take care of it. Right. See you tonight.”

  She held the phone out to the sheriff. “He wants to speak with you.”

  She walked out of the room without another word. Sinclair followed because he’d heard what he wanted to, and because he had to get back to work, but first . . .

  Adeline.

  Yeah. She’d been on his mind a little too much.

  He could try to avoid her, or he could go with his gut, spend a little more time getting to know the person she really was.

  The way he saw things, that would either make him want more or it would clear his head, make him see the truth so that he could go back to Seattle and move on. No regrets. No doubts.

  She was at the register when he walked into the service area, back to him, her red braid falling to the middle of her shoulders.

  She heard him coming. He knew it, but she didn’t turn.

  “What did your grandfather say?” he asked, and she finally turned, her eyes a little red. No tears, but he thought they were there just waiting to fall.

  “He completely forgives Chase. Of course. He said mistakes happen, and the fact that he owned up to what he did really impressed Byron. He could have lied and said he had nothing to do with Granddad’s fall. No one was there, and there would have been no way to prove what had happened. We’re going to float Chase a loan so he can get his car repaired and a place to stay.”

  “He could skip town with the money.” But Sinclair didn’t think he would. He thought Chase was the kind of kid who’d stick around and pay off his debts.

  “Granddad says any kid who has the courage to confess to what Chase did, will stick around long enough to repay a loan.”

  “I think your grandfather is right.”

  She nodded, but all the good humor that was usually in her face and in her eyes was missing. She looked sad and tired and a little too overwhelmed for Sinclair’s liking.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking her hand and tugging her closer. They were just inches apart, and he could see the blond tips to her red lashes, the beginning of fine lines near the corners of her eyes.

  “I just . . .” She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Feel bad for everyone. Chase. My grandfather.” She paused, laughed. “Me.”

  “Is running the shop that difficult?”

  “Filling my grandfather’s shoes is,” she responded, reaching up to brush something from his shoulder. “Dust,” she said. “May’s place is a mess.”

  “It’s a diamond in the rough.”

  “You’re not really planning to buy it?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Why?” she asked, and he could think of a dozen reasons. Most of them about profit and margin, but the thing that mattered most had nothing to do with any of those things.

  “Because it deserves to be restored. It deserves to look like what it did when Lily Wilson lived in it.”

  “Mom told you about her, huh?” She smiled, a little of the sadness lifting.

  “There’s a portrai
t of her in one of the rooms.”

  “One of the only ones the hippies didn’t get to. There are about a dozen others painted over in bright colors. The town historian is hoping to have them restored one day. She says they belong in the Wilson house. Lily’s husband adored her. Probably because she was so much younger than he was.”

  “Her husband was old?”

  “Mom didn’t tell you the whole story. It was quite the scandal. Lily was the other woman before she was the wife.” She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. “People say that he never divorced his first wife. Just sent her off to live in Seattle so that he could live with gorgeous Lily.”

  “Lily the lady who funded the library?”

  “One and the same.” She backed up, and he was sorry she’d moved away, sorry that her warm breath wasn’t still whispering against his skin. “People in Benevolence aren’t sure whether to love her or hate her. She did a lot for the community though, so I choose to believe she really loved her husband and that she really believed he was divorced when she married him.”

  “You like to think the best about everyone, don’t you?” he asked, and she sighed.

  “It’s gotten me into some trouble, but yes. I guess I do.”

  “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

  “Only when the people you believe the best about aren’t worthy of it.”

  “There’s a story there,” he said, cupping her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Why?” she asked, her cheeks pink but her gaze direct.

  “Because I want to get to know you better,” he admitted. He’d never been one to beat around the bush. Not in business and not in relationships.

  “Again, I’m going to ask why. You’ll be here for a couple of weeks, and then you’ll leave, and I’ll still be here doing the same thing I’ve been doing for my entire adult life.”

  “If you’re not happy—”

  “I’m very happy,” she said, cutting him off. “That’s the problem. I like life in this little town. I don’t want anything different. Someone like you . . .” She shook her head. “You’d always want more, and you’d never find it here. Not in any piece of property or person or family.”

  “You’re assuming a lot, Adeline.” He let his hands drift to her nape, let his fingers slide along soft warm flesh, and he thought that maybe, even in a town like Benevolence, home could be made or found or discovered.