More Than Anything

by Kimberly Lang

  “Here?” Jamie nearly snorted. “Trust fund babies don’t vacation in Magnolia Beach.”

  “Well, it’s not really our business, is it?” Shelby said. “His rental check cleared, and he’s not causing any problems at the marina, so I say ‘Live and let live.’” She wasn’t sure why she was defending Declan, but Jamie was acting no better than Kirby and that lot—minus the late-night raid, of course.

  “Just yards from where you live?” Adam asked.

  Shelby shot him a warning look. “Let it go.”

  “I’m going to have to back Shelby on this one, too,” Helena said reasonably, and from the looks on the boys’ faces, they were surprised to hear her chime in. “She’s an adult with a good head on her shoulders and you have no real cause to suspect this guy is up to something shady. If it were one of you guys living at the marina instead of Shelby, you wouldn’t be having this conversation, so not only is it insulting, it’s extremely sexist, too.”

  Silence descended on the table. Shelby’s own surprise at Helena’s defense of her left her gaping like a goldfish for a minute, but she finally cleared her throat and said, “Thank you, Helena.”

  Helena gave her a small smile in return.

  There were small huffs and mutters as the boys turned their interest to their plates, but it was safe to assume the topic had been shut down—at least for today. And while Shelby was happy for that, it was annoying as hell, too. Why was Helena so easily able to cow them? Shut them down like her word was the final say on it, when they’d have sassed back if she’d said the exact same thing? Ugh.

  But she’d take the win, unsatisfactory as it was, for now, so that she could finish her lunch in peace.

  * * *

  Declan had to admit that he’d never seen a more miserable-looking bunch of teenagers before in his life. Or a line of angrier-looking parents behind them, either, which probably had a lot to do with the miserable looks on those young faces. And, good Lord, they were young; when had he gotten so old that high school seniors looked like babies?

  He’d been awakened this morning by the heart-attack-inducing method of having a man stand on the dock beside the boat and shout his name. Crawling out to find a uniformed police officer doing that shouting had nearly finished him off. Uncaffeinated, it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t the one in trouble, and as Shelby had promised, the police were merely following up on Friday night’s episode and needed him to come down to the station, which Declan promptly did.

  He’d never been inside a police station before, and it looked nothing like what he’d seen on TV, but that was offset by the fact he was now in the ridiculous position of trying to look adultish and stern as a girl with a tear-streaked face turned huge puppy-dog eyes on him and swore on an imaginary stack of Bibles she’d never, ever do anything like that again.

  The boy next to her took her hand in solidarity. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean for it to be a problem. We didn’t know you didn’t know how to drive the boat or anything.”

  The earnestness in his voice did a better job of shaming Declan for his lack of knowledge than a direct assault would have.

  The police officer, who’d introduced himself as Rusty Jeffers, cleared his throat. “Miss Shelby has agreed not to press charges against y’all for trespassing on the property provided you understand you’re not to be there in the future unless it’s daylight, you’re sober, you have an adult with you, and you have actual business with the marina bringing you there. Understood?”

  Six heads nodded.

  “Mr. Hyde, what about you?”

  “Um, er . . .” What was he supposed to say? The kids looked scared half to death already, and from the look of their parents, they had good reason to. He cleared his throat and looked over at Rusty. “What are my options?”

  “You could choose to press charges—reckless endangerment, malicious mischief, disturbing the peace—”

  The kids were flinching with each word, and the girl looked on the verge of tears again.

  “Or we could handle this informally, with them doing some community service while they prove to us they’re serious about staying out of trouble.”

  Oh, thank God. He pretended to be thinking about it, then tried to look stern and serious as he finally nodded. “I could be satisfied with that.”

  The kids looked like Christmas had come early. There were mumbled, but heartfelt, “Thanks, Mr. Hyde,” and the kids were ushered out by their parents and with an ominous-sounding promise from Rusty that he’d be in touch about the community service.

  Declan felt himself deflate a little once it was just him and Rusty in the small conference room, which seemed much bigger now that everyone else had gone. He leaned against the table and sighed. “Could you really have charged them with all that?”

  Rusty shrugged. He had average good ol’ boy looks, burly and red cheeked—pretty much exactly what a small-town police officer should look like. “Hell, I can arrest them for anything I want, maybe even get them charged, but any decent attorney would get those charges dropped pretty quickly.”

  “Then why even offer me—”

  “It scared the living hell out of them, didn’t it?” he said with a laugh. “That was my intention.”

  It would have been helpful to be in on that plan. “What would you have done if I’d actually wanted to press charges?”

  Rusty shrugged again. “Talked you out of it. They’re basically good kids. Between whatever punishments their parents hand out and the shame of having to do community service, I doubt they’ll pull a stunt like that again.”

  Declan felt like he’d been playing a really warped game of chicken. “And if you hadn’t been able to talk me out of it?”

  Rusty hooked his thumbs into his belt and raised an eyebrow at him. “You do know you can’t actually force me to arrest people, right?”

  “Guess not. But you didn’t know I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Shelby said you were a decent guy. I wasn’t worried.”

  How could Shelby possibly know he was a “decent guy” off just two conversations? The alternative, though, was that she could have judged him to be an asshole after just two conversations, so maybe he should just leave that question alone and consider himself lucky. “Is there anything else I need to do or is this matter closed now?”

  “I think we’ll consider it closed. Hell of a welcome to Magnolia Beach, though. Definitely out of the ordinary. We try to be friendlier to our visitors.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Four bottles of water sat in the center of the table—far fewer than they would have needed earlier, but too many now—and Rusty tossed one his way before opening another for himself. Then he sat, leaned back, and stretched his legs out. “Since we know you’re not here for the redfish and pompano season, what does bring you to Magnolia Beach?”

  So more nosiness camouflaged as small talk, then. It seemed like he should just get used to it. “Just some R and R.”

  “This is a good place for exactly that. It’s a quiet place—usually”—he nodded toward the door the kids had just walked out of—“and off the beaten path. A good place to go to ground if you need to.”

  The word choice threw Declan for a second, but then he caught on. Oh. This wasn’t just small talk or simple curiosity. “No one’s looking for me, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just killing time, not on the run.”

  “Now what would make you think I thought otherwise?”

  Declan bit back a smile. “No reason. Just wanted you to know that. I’ve obviously attracted a bit of curiosity,” he said, echoing Rusty’s earlier movement and inclining his head toward the door and the teenagers who’d just left, “but I assure you, there’s nothing interesting about me to uncover. I’m just an architect from Chicago enjoying your temperate weather for a couple of months.”

  “There are other snowbirds in town
and more are on their way.” Seemingly realizing that Declan wasn’t dumb enough not to know what he was doing, Rusty dropped the overly casual tone and said plainly, “Shelby says you’re paid up through the first of the year.”

  “I’ll start my new job in Miami shortly after that.”

  “Well, if you need some work in the meantime to make ends meet . . .”

  Declan shook his head. “My finances are in good shape. I’m not rich, but I can afford the break. No need to worry about me.”

  Rusty seemed satisfied with his answers and Declan wondered if it was really going to be that easy. Then he realized that Officer Rusty had had plenty of time to run a background check on him and was probably just testing his story. “Well, that’s good,” Rusty said, pushing to his feet. “And a belated ‘Welcome’ to Magnolia Beach. I’m sorry we had to meet this way, and may the rest of your stay be uneventful.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  As they walked through the small police station, Rusty turned conversational again, which after the last “conversation” had Declan on alert. “You know, you should come into town more.”

  “I’ve been to the library, visited a couple of stores.”

  “But I mean really get out. It’s not healthy for a man to spend that much time alone. Things are kinda slow this time of year, but there’s usually something going on.”

  He wasn’t really one for church bingo. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, just ask Shelby for suggestions. She’ll know where to send you.”

  “She can fix boats and play tour guide?” He laughed. “That’s a broad skill set.”

  “And nobody knows the waters around here better than our Shelby. If you decide you’d like to try some fishing while you’re here, she can hook you up.”

  Shelby seemed awfully young to be the local expert. “That’s a lot of water to know. I’m impressed.”

  “Well, everyone has their strengths.”

  That was a very odd statement. “So you know Shelby pretty well?”

  “Of course. I’ve known her entire family my whole life. She’s a sweet girl.”

  Now there was something a little patronizing in his tone that just seemed wrong. “Well, I certainly owe her one.”

  “I heard you sent her flowers. I’m sure she figures you’re even—even if it was part of her job to come get you.”

  There was a note of censure in Rusty’s voice. Declan wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him or Shelby, but . . . Well, Shelby had warned him about the gossip the flowers could cause.

  “But,” Rusty continued, “can I offer you a piece of advice?” The new edge to Rusty’s voice told Declan he didn’t really have the option of saying no. “Since you haven’t been in town much, you may not have heard much about the Tanner family.”

  This is just getting ominous now. “I can’t say that I have, no.”

  “They’re good people. But you should know that Shelby’s the only girl, and the boys are a little protective of her.”

  And there’s the thinly veiled threat. “And how many Tanner boys are there?” he had to ask.

  “Eight.” Rusty smirked. “And none of them are what you’d call small.”

  Jeez. That thin veil had just been jerked away. There was no doubt he was being told to stay away from Shelby. Since he hadn’t had any thoughts in that direction, he felt unfairly vilified. Carefully and casually he said, “I doubt they’ll have any reason to be concerned about me.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Rusty patted him on the back as he opened the glass doors and ushered him outside into the parking lot.

  The sunshine and fresh air were a nice change after the fluorescent lights and recirculated air of the police station, and it made the last half hour seem surreal. He’d unwittingly participated in a small-town version of Scared Straight, been quizzed on the reasons for his residency, and watched a six-foot fence be erected around one of the few people he knew in Magnolia Beach.

  Then he’d walked outside into a picture-perfect, small-town Sunday afternoon of clean, quiet streets and sunny skies.

  This was a weird little town.

  Chapter 4

  Shelby was more than a little fed up with this town and everyone in it. She could handle—and understand—the fact she’d probably never outlive the “sweet, but not too bright” label she’d earned as a kid, but jeez, she was dyslexic, not stupid. She might not be the second coming of Albert Einstein, but there were certified idiots running around Magnolia Beach, and no one interfered with their business or assumed they couldn’t do their jobs.

  People just seemed to conveniently forget that the marina was a business, too, and that it was her job to run it. And while Pee Wee Jamison had run a charter boat out of the Bay Breeze Marina for the last twenty years, he had no actual stake in the marina and didn’t get to tell her when or if she could adjust the agreement. His lease was up for renewal, and she couldn’t let him ignore the new terms when no one else could. She’d even gone to his house to sit down one-on-one and explain the changes, but he’d spent most of the time explaining how she was wrong before sending her off with an “I’ll call your daddy and talk to him.”

  That was just unnecessarily sexist and patronizing and had nearly caused her head to explode. But hell, she could barely get her own family to take her seriously, so how could she expect anyone else to?

  Thirty minutes of arguing with Pee Wee—and the nickname had more to do with his intellect than his size, because God knew, his reading skills weren’t exactly up to grade level, either—had her needing a drink. But drinking before noon would definitely cause talk and there was no way that talk would not get back to her parents.

  She decided to self-medicate with sugar instead, so she swung in and parked in front of Latte Dah. Wrenching open the door, she was hit with the scent of fresh coffee, which always perked her up, and she headed straight to the pastry display, which looked a little bit like what she thought heaven would. Calories be damned.

  Molly, the sweet and unbelievably perky owner of the coffee shop, popped up from behind the counter with a smile.

  “Hey, Shelby. How are . . .” The question faded out as Molly caught sight of Shelby’s face. “Someone needs chocolate.” She pulled a cake pop out of the display and handed it over.

  “Bless you.” The cake pops were Shelby’s current addiction, and Molly was really good about remembering things like that about her customers. The chocolate candy shell gave way with a satisfying snap and yummy sugary goodness melted onto her tongue. Shelby let the simple pleasure spread through her before saying, “I’m going to need about a dozen of these to go.”

  “That’s a sugar high I really don’t want to witness and something I really don’t think I want to be responsible for, either. Everything okay?”

  “Just people. Annoying people.” She took another bite of the cake pop and eyeballed a pink one with sugar sprinkles that might be strawberry.

  “Who on earth would intentionally annoy you?”

  “Pee Wee Jamison.”

  “Ah, well, I think he annoys everyone,” Molly said tactfully. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “Anything I can do?” From anyone else, Shelby might have doubted the offer was genuine, but Molly was just so sweet, it had to be sincere.

  “Ever been told not to worry your pretty little head over something because the menfolk would work it all out?”

  “Oh, good Lord.” Molly’s sigh was one of solidarity. “Here, have another. It sounds like you’ve earned it.” Molly put the pink cake pop on a small plate and slid it toward her. “Coffee?”

  Shelby slid onto one of the counter’s stools. “Please.”

  Latte Dah wasn’t very busy; the morning rush was over with, and only a few people were ensconced in Molly’s comfy chairs or working at
her tables. It was a place designed for relaxing—cool blue walls, carefully mismatched furniture, and a homey feel. Latte Dah provided caffeine, sugar, and ambiance, and if she thought Molly would let her, Shelby would move right in and live there.

  Molly put a steaming cup in front of her, pushed the milk pitcher her way, and then sat down beside her at the counter. “I heard you had some excitement Friday night.”

  Molly wasn’t a gossip and there was nothing in her voice to indicate she was looking for dirt of any sort. She didn’t have to—due to the nature of the coffee shop business, Molly seemed to know pretty much everything that went on in Magnolia Beach anyway. If Molly hadn’t heard about it by now, then the small-town grapevine would have to have been irreparably broken.

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “Helena told me about it first, but Mary Beth Carson’s mother was in this morning, too.”

  Shelby sipped the coffee, which was somehow better than what she made at home, even though she bought the beans from Molly directly. “I feel a little bad for Mary Beth. She’s a sweet girl—I doubt it was her idea.”

  “That’s what Patty was telling me. Mary Beth is all torn up over it, by both what they did and what could have happened. And she’s embarrassed as well.”

  “Isn’t that kind of the point of community service? The public humiliation?”

  Molly’s lips thinned into a line. “Probably. How truly Puritan of us.” Then she shrugged. “Well, I think it’s safe to say Mary Beth has learned her lesson—and will probably be breaking up with Kirby because of it.”

  “Her idea or her parents’?”

  “I’m not even going to guess. But Patty wanted me to know because Mary Beth applied for a job here, and she’s afraid I’d hold that against her once I heard.”

  “Will you?”

  “Nah. Teenage stupidity happens, and I’m not that much of a hypocrite.”

  It was hard to picture sweet little Molly stirring up trouble of any sort, but she’d had some dirty laundry aired earlier this year that showed she wasn’t above bad teenage choices, either. So she was probably a good role model for Mary Beth—showing you could be a teenage screwup and still become a productive member of society as an adult.