by Bonnie Dee
Nick’s father, Peter Rossi, for instance, hadn’t been as discreet about his betrayal of the Espositos, and they found out soon after he dropped the “i”, became Peter Ross, and tried to retire. Nick had learned his lesson watching what the Espositos had done to his father when he tried to break ties with his criminal family.
“Um, Sam? Are you okay? You look kind of grim,” Ames said.
Nick/Sam smiled. “Just tired. That’s why I’m here after all. Retreat.”
She wrinkled her nose. “This place is a lot of work for someone who’s tired. And look at that, you’re covered with dirt. Have you been digging for treasure in the basement?”
He gave a startled laugh. “What? Is that something you and your brother used to do?”
Her answering grin flashed the dimple in her right cheek. He’d never known he had a thing for dimples.
“Not us. We had acres and acres around our house if we wanted to play pirate. The pond could be our ocean.”
Terrific. He might have to dig under the beady eyes of Arnesdale after all.
She stood and brushed her hands over her rear. Maybe she wanted some help getting the dust off her jeans back there.
She tapped the side of the chicken container. “This is one of those cheap ones, so don’t bother returning it. I should stop bothering you now.”
Ames was obviously about to say good-bye, and he didn’t want her to go. And he really didn’t want to think about his ulterior motives for wanting her to stay. “You sure you don’t want to take a walk? Show me some of the highlights of the house and land?”
“You didn’t see the highlights before you bought it?”
Bought it? Would anyone really want to buy this wreck? Other than Ames Jensen, that is.
“I haven’t had much time to explore the place. You’ve had years,” he said.
“I guess I could show you the best spot in the woods.”
“Oh? Is that where you and your brother and your friends drank beer and smoked dope?”
She rolled her eyes. “Elliot smoked and drank. I studied. I wasn’t a complete Goody Two-shoes, but I wasn’t in his league. Plus he’s three years older than me, so we wouldn’t hang out anyway. Come on, let me show you one of the nicest features about this place.”
After the moldering stuffiness of the house, the outside smelled great. Nick didn’t think much of the country, but it was too bad the air couldn’t be bottled and sold in New York. An upscale store that sold not scents but the actual breath of a breeze—a place like that would flourish on hot summer days when much of the city stank like a postparty urinal along with a soupçon of baked garbage.
Ames made her way through the tall grass of the field out front, never tripping on hidden ruts. Nick missed sidewalks and pavement any time he tried to walk anywhere. He didn’t exactly stumble but came close a couple of times, particularly when he focused on her butt instead of his feet.
They hiked through the field and went into the woods at the other side. The temperature dropped ten degrees in the shade. No more fighting through the thigh-high plant life—they walked on a spongy surface composed of pine needles. The only sound came from the skittering claws of a squirrel bounding up a tree.
He let his breath out slowly—and it sounded loud in the strange hush. Only a bit of sun filtered through the tall trees.
Elliot’s sister spread her hands and smiled as if presenting a really great prize on a game show. “Welcome to the Hundred Acre Wood.”
“I thought it was twenty-five.” Wasn’t that what the contract said?
“That’s what I called it when we were kids. Those are the woods in Winnie the Pooh.”
He shook his head. Cutesy, yech. The woods, though… She was right about them. This place held something special. He glanced around the ground to see if someone—Elliot—might have dug through the thick bed of needles. No signs of any disturbance.
“We used to pretend we were the first people to ever discover this place.” She spoke in a low voice, as if the trees listened.
“Yeah, I get it. Sort of primordial here but protected. Like time’s stopped.” He pressed his lips tight. Now who was getting whimsical?
She nodded vigorously enough to make her curls shake. “Even Elliot said he felt safe here.”
Ah-ha. Nick suppressed a smile. He knew right where to dig next.
Chapter Four
Ames watched his appreciation grow. He was so obviously a city boy, but he looked around the woods as if he could see how special they were.
“Look, there’s this thing in town tonight. I don’t know if you’d be interested. It’s pretty lame. But I suppose you don’t have cable or Internet hooked up yet, so maybe it’d be better than nothing. But maybe you prefer reading. And you did say you wanted to be left alone, so you probably wouldn’t want to go where a bunch of people would be gawking at you and want to meet you.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the babbling. She’d been much easier with him back in the house, but when he came near her, the flow of hey-look-a-hot-man hormones and words started up.
Sam touched her wrist. “What is it? This thing in town? Why don’t you tell me, and then I’ll know if I want to go?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. It’s Movies in the Park night. It’s something the Chamber of Commerce came up with to try to foster community and drum up more business downtown. Everybody drives to Madison for restaurants or movies. So, all summer long, they’re showing old movies on a big screen in the park to get people to come and hang out together, like at an old-time social. A lot of people bring picnics from home, but the movie nights have increased traffic to the restaurants in town and the shops that stay open late.”
Ames paused to draw breath and ask herself how she’d managed to move from hating this interloper who’d taken over her house to practically asking him on a date.
Sam didn’t answer. He was too busy looking around the clearing, and, wow, did he have a striking profile, all sharp features and powerful bone structure. She melted a little bit more inside.
“Normally I’d be working at the Back Porch, but I happen to have tonight off, so I thought I’d go to the movie. Casablanca tonight, I think.” She lowered her voice confidingly, even though there was no one but birds to overhear. “If I admit something to you, I hope you won’t think less of me for it.”
His brows shot up, and he turned his full attention on her. “I promise to withhold judgment.”
She shook her head. “Better wait till you hear it first. It’s pretty heinous. The truth is I’ve always thought Casablanca was way overrated and pretty boring. I think if they’re trying to get young people, especially teens, interested in coming to Movies at the Park night, they should show newer films. Especially comedies. Who doesn’t like comedies?”
“Ghostbusters has all the angst and drama I look for in a film.” Sam kept a deadpan expression, but his eyes sparkled. “And it’s old, so that makes it a classic film now.”
“Ah, a cinema snob.” Ames maintained a straight face. “In that case, I’m even more ashamed to admit that when I see black-and-white, I automatically turn the channel. Unless it’s a horror movie. Those are the only ones that can be better monochromatic. The original version of The Bad Seed is still chilling.”
“Never saw it. But Friday the 13th, Part VI: Jason Lives is a quality film.” A smile shimmered at the corners of his mouth, and the heat in the pit of Ames’s stomach grew hotter. She hoped the chicken hadn’t gone bad or something.
“Of course, Casablanca doesn’t compare to the classics on my list, but I’d go see it tonight just for something to do,” Nick said.
Ames dipped her head. “Cool. I’ll make sure to keep the hounds at bay. If we arrive after the movie starts, it’ll be easier to keep people from coming over and introducing themselves. That is, if you’re still planning on avoiding them.”
“Tell you what. I’ll meet you at your restaurant. We can grab something from there. Unless you’re sick of the food.”
“Fried chicken’s classic. Bet that’s always available.”
“Well, yeah, of course. The Back Porch without fried chicken would be like a comedy lineup without Ghostbusters.” Ames grinned, and Sam smiled back at her, fanning her heartburn. Man, she liked this guy. He was easy to talk to and shared her sense of humor. They bantered easily together—at least when she wasn’t nervously babbling.
Sam led the way out of the woods so Ames got a great view of his backside. The way his hips moved and his legs kind of glided along carrying his lanky frame sent a sharp stab of lust through her. The men she knew in or around Arnesdale did not walk like that, and it had been way too long since she’d been on any kind of date. The pickings were slim. But even if there’d been clusters of men hanging like ripe fruit from a tree, she still would’ve been drawn to this particular guy.
They reached the field, and she moved up so she was walking beside him, not staring at his butt. Sam stopped chatting and seemed distracted, preoccupied with whatever demons had driven him to move out to the middle of nowhere.
“What made you choose this place?” She nodded toward the dilapidated Old Place, which loomed before them like a haunted house. “Did you just stick a pin in a map and come up with Arnesdale, or do you know someone from here? It’s a pretty out-of-the-way place for a New Yorker to wind up.”
Sam frowned. “How’d you know I’m from New York anyway?”
“Everybody knows. Jenny, your Realtor, isn’t exactly known for keeping secrets. Plus your license plates.”
“A friend I used to know in college told me about the town. I figured it’d be a good quiet place to”—he paused, and Ames noted the tensing of his jaw—“get over a relationship that ended badly. I needed to leave the city for a while.”
She knew she shouldn’t press. It wasn’t her business, but… “Don’t you have a job? How could you pick up and leave?”
“I’m between jobs right now. I can afford to take some time off and think about what I want to do next.”
Must be nice to have such a luxury. What would she do if she could afford to quit her job at the diner and pursue any career she wanted? It’d be great if her web designing earned enough so she could stop waitressing. Maybe someday.
“It’s been really nice talking with you,” Sam said. “You’ve given me a much clearer picture of this town. I have a few things to get done around here this afternoon, so I’d better get at ’em. I’ll see you tonight.” He extended a hand.
Ames’s palm was enveloped in his grip. Skin sliding against skin shouldn’t be so sensuous. For heaven’s sake, it was only a handshake…with the most attractive man she’d seen in years.
She pulled away and reluctantly got into her car. She was putting the car into drive when Sam emerged from the door and waved to her. He trotted over, and as he leaned to hand her the Tupperware through the window, she caught his smell—clean and sweaty at the same time.
“I know you said I should keep it, but the fridge isn’t working. You take the rest. I’m saving my appetite. I’m looking forward to tonight.” His voice was low and held promise—or maybe that was her libido.
“Me too,” she murmured.
He backed away, and she revved the engine, rolled down the drive and nearly knocked into his mailbox, she was so distracted by his image in her rearview mirror.
Ames pulled onto the road and headed back toward town. Damn, she was in trouble. The stranger who’d taken over her house had taken up residence in her mind too. He was a squatter she couldn’t dislodge, and that was troubling. The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on some guy nursing a broken heart, especially this guy, because something deep in her gut told her he was a boatload of woe.
The scene in the park was right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Apparently there was still a slice of Americana in existence once you drove through the Holland Tunnel and into the rest of the U.S. Nick hadn’t left the greater New York area for years. This was like falling through a rip in the space-time continuum to land in Pleasantville. He wondered if the citizens knew what lay past Main Street.
Camp chairs and blankets dotted the open area of the park. Families and couples sat in clusters or intimate, smooching duos, while herds of kids and a few dogs wove around them and in between the trees. Shouts of “You’re it” and “No, I’m safe!” brought back vivid memories. A pang of melancholy shot through him as he thought of boyhood friends, baseball games and a time of innocence before he’d learned that the safety of his world was an illusion and his relatives weren’t the kind you wanted to be connected to.
There was a big screen hung against the brick wall of one of the storefronts facing the park. Actually, the movie screen looked like a number of white sheets sewn together, but the flickering images on it were clear enough—Bogey and Bacall, those iconic figures. Unfortunately, the sound system was crappy. It was loud enough to be broadcast through the night air, but the dialogue was garbled and indistinct.
Nick hurried along the edge of the park, aware that he was drawing more than a few curious glances. But no one stopped him as he made his way to the diner. How weird was it that he was excited about this date with Elliot’s sister? Answer: really weird.
For one thing, his focus should be completely on his mission in Arnesdale. He didn’t need any distractions from the danger on his heels. Plus, there was the fact that this nice, wholesome, cute, curly-headed woman was related to Elliot. Elliot! The reason Nick was involved in this mess to begin with. That sure as shit added a level of complexity to the situation—particularly since Ames was worried about her brother’s disappearance and Nick could tell her a thing or two about what had happened to him.
But the last reason he shouldn’t be excited about seeing Ames again was because she was completely wrong for him. They had no common ground. She was a hometown girl, and he was only here for a brief time. He’d move on to whatever life he made for himself, because it wasn’t likely he’d return to New York. Still, he was a city dweller to the core. Somebody like Ames was probably looking to hook up with a guy who’d stick around.
Jesus, wasn’t he arrogant, thinking he might hurt the poor small-town girl’s feelings when he drove away. Talk about putting the cart before the horse, fabricating a whole scenario of a relationship from beginning to end. This was only one date and a chance for him to check out the town. Anyway, it wasn’t as if he could’ve kept digging in the woods all night. For one thing, it was damned dark out there, and for another, his shoulders were killing him and his hands were blistered.
Maybe if he met a few of these Arnesdale folk, he’d learn some other clue about Elliot’s past that would lead Nick to the money he’d promised to recover for the goddamn Espositos.
The brightly lit windows of the Back Porch Diner glowed before him now. Waiting on the front porch—yes, there actually was a porch complete with rocking chairs—stood Ames. He recognized her petite body and wild mane silhouetted against the window.
She raised her hand in a cheery wave, then bounced down the stairs to meet him. She wore cutoff jeans and a T-shirt and carried a blanket over her arm and a large bag from which delicious smells wafted. Goddamn but she was pretty.
A second later, a thin woman with dark hair and bright red lips stepped out onto the porch. “You going to introduce me?” the woman asked in a husky voice. Eyeing him, she pulled a cigarette from her apron pocket and lit it. “I’m Marty. You must be Sam.”
“Nice to meet you. We have to get going, or we’ll be late,” he said to Marty, who squinted through the smoke at him. He didn’t want her grilling him, and she looked all set to do that.
“You already are late. Have fun, kids. Be back before midnight, or I’ll tell Gopher.” The woman gave him another obvious up-and-down examination. “Get some in
fo about this one, Ames. I’ll pay for the details.”
“Closing for a week and half your tips or no deal, Marty.”
Another reminder to keep his goddamn mouth shut and get out of this date as soon as possible. These people had no reason to keep secrets. He’d thought the dark would be enough to keep him and Ames safe from prying eyes. He should have known better than to suppose people would mind their own business.
Nick steered Ames to an empty spot, and she spread the blanket onto the grass far from the crowd or a decent view of the makeshift screen. This might be okay. He could talk to her here—except everyone who’d glanced at him as he’d crossed the park to the restaurant now strolled up to their blanket, demanding an introduction to him.
He had a red ball cap shoved into his back pocket just for this reason. He yanked it out and pulled it down as far as he could over his face. He smiled and nodded and agreed that the weather was fine. He twisted away a little and pretended to be watching the movie while the police chief strolled past, and when anyone’s questioning got too personal, he’d take another bite of the potato salad or apple pie Ames had provided.
The latest arrival, Mrs. Greely, or Greedy, beamed down at him, blocking the view of the screen. She did a great job blocking too. The woman had to be at least six feet tall with shoulders like a fullback. She was somewhere between forty and sixty, with gray hair, and planted her feet shoulder-width apart as she settled into interrogation mode. The fifth cross-examination since he and Ames had settled on the blanket.
“New York? So you’re a friend of Elliot’s?”
He’d swallowed the last bite of pie and had no excuse not to talk. “It’s a big place.”
