“He’s lived here for a year, and you’ve never seen him? I’ve lived here for forty-eight hours and half the town has seen me. I mean, the guy has to buy groceries and stuff, right?”
Katie started walking again toward the river. “What can I say? He’s a recluse. It’s not like he’s the only one Vermont is harboring. Well, I guess J.D. Salinger is dead now. Anyway, he’s certainly rich enough to do as he pleases.”
Willow trailed along behind Katie, her curiosity causing her to keep glancing over her shoulder. Maybe Mr. Mace Leland had pets!
At the river’s edge, they sprawled on some rocks, soaking up the sun like turtles as they sipped at their beers. The gentle gurgling of the water, the sound of crickets, and a breeze that occasionally stirred the balmy air made the whole endeavor feel deliciously sensual and just a little bit wicked. Willow felt drowsy and shut her eyes to the bright blue of the sky.
“Do you mind if I take a ten-minute cat nap? I think moving has taken more out of me than I realized.” Her voice was sleepy.
“Nah, go ahead,” Katie responded, “I was kind of thinking the same thing.”
Willow saluted with two fingers. “I think ten minutes will be just the ticket.”
When Willow woke up, she realized that she had been asleep a lot longer than ten minutes. The sun was low in the sky, and she shivered as the temperature had also dropped.
She looked around, but Katie was nowhere to be seen. Katie’s shoes were there, as was the cooler bag, so Willow didn’t panic. Her new friend had probably wandered off to go pee, something she realized that she needed to do. Sliding off the rock, Willow looked around for a nice private spot and wandered toward a thicket of trees. Undoing her jeans, she pulled them down and squatted, and then she heard two voices speaking in hushed but urgent tones. She froze, feeling the acute discomfort of being an involuntary eavesdropper in a rather compromised position.
Willow couldn’t quite make out the subject of the conversation, but she was sure that one of the voices was Katie, and the other was clearly that of a man—and the more she listened, the more the two of them seemed to be arguing. Quietly, she stood, pulling her pants up, just as Katie and Guy Beaugrand emerged from the trees. Quickly, she finished zipping up.
“Hi—uh, sorry, I really had to go.” Willow knew she looked sheepish, but Katie and Guy looked guilty. Of what, Willow couldn’t say.
Katie composed herself, trying to not look surprised. “I went for a walk while you were napping and ran into Guy who was scouting a few fishing holes.”
Guy shifted his weight and hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans, clearly uncomfortable at running into Willow. She assumed he was embarrassed by the fact she’d been taking a leak. “I’m a guide…for hunters and fisherman,” he said by way of explanation. He pressed his lips together in a taciturn line, as if he had clearly said too much.
“That must be interesting,” Willow offered, trying to be polite. It was a shame someone so good looking wasn’t friendlier. Maybe he was shy, or maybe he really was one of those sullen brooders. Then another thought popped into Willow’s mind. Maybe Katie and Guy were a thing, or had been a thing, or one of them wanted them to be a thing. Something about their body language gave the impression of a couple at odds with one another.
Katie tried to be casual as she pointed at the sun glowing orange over the hills. “Wow, look how late it’s gotten. We better get going before this outing turns into a night hike. I’ll be right back—I just need to grab my shoes and the rest of the beer. Nice to see you, Guy.”
Guy started to turn and head back toward the river, but paused as Katie sped away, leaving Willow standing there, uncomfortably aware of the fact that her stomach was doing flip-flops again.
For a brief moment, Guy’s face softened, and Willow caught a glimpse of what might lie beneath the stony surface. “I hope you like it here in the Kingdom, Willow. It’s a special place and the people who live here…we just want it to stay that way.”
Before Willow could respond, Guy had melted into the trees, quickly disappearing on silent feet.
As they hiked back to the car, Katie chattered about new items for her menu, wondering what Willow thought about her introducing East Lindenbury to panini and humus, and she deftly deflected Willow’s subtle efforts to bring up the subject of Guy Beaugrand.
Not wanting to come across as a prying busybody, Willow let it go, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she and Guy would soon cross paths again—and maybe in a much more intimate way.
***
When Willow arrived at work the next morning, Samuel was preparing the surgery.
“Good morning! It’s spay and neuter day at the Wetherwell Veterinary Clinic! Hand me that betadine, would you?” Samuel was his usual focused self, bustling around and lining things up. “One day a month I do half-price fixes to encourage people to be responsible pet owners. It’s very popular.”
Willow smiled. “That’s a nice service, I’m sure folks appreciate it.”
“You wouldn’t believe how squeamish some folks are about it, though. The idea of nipping Fluffy’s testicles makes them turn positively green.” Samuel chuckled. “You’d think I was trying to neuter them!”
“Anything particular you need me to work on, or should I just field the phone and catch the walk-in traffic?”
“George can do that. I need you to go make a house call.”
“Large animal?”
“Frankly, I’m not really sure. The personal assistant of our local literary icon called and said they’d pay whatever was necessary to get us to make a house call.”
“Mace Leland?” Willow scratched at her nose. What were the chances after having her curiosity about the author piqued on her hike with Katie?
“Uh huh.” Samuel was taking instruments out of the sterilizer. “You like his stuff? I tried to read one of his books, but I guess I’m not cut out for all that paranormal garbaldy gook. Grace sure likes ’em though.”
Willow pursed her mouth, trying not to laugh. Leland’s books certainly offered lots to entertain any red-blooded woman! “Yeah, I’ve read his books. You know, they’re fun, good escapist entertainment.” And sexy as hell, Willow mentally noted.
“Well, Mr. Bestseller is expecting you in thirty minutes. You know where he lives?”
“Oddly enough, I went hiking near his place yesterday with Katie LeClerk from Greens Diner.”
Samuel nodded as he lined up instruments on a sterile tray. “Making friends already, that’s great. Well, you better get your kit together and skedaddle.”
As Willow turned off the main road onto the long gravel drive leading to Leland’s home, she wondered what she might find there. Maybe Leland was a toad, not a prince. Maybe his books let him live out fantasies that he could never experience in real life…or maybe...he was a super sexy shapeshifter! She giggled a little at the thought of a werelion ripping her bodice. Glancing down, she frowned a little at her not very enticing clothes. Well, a werelion ripping her lab coat then! She giggled some more at the silly thought. At any rate, Willow decided, meeting the reclusive author was bound to be very interesting.
An older man opened the door when she rang the bell, and at first she thought perhaps he was Leland, but he introduced himself as Leland’s assistant as he guided her past a beautiful, but austere room furnished completely with Shaker antiques. The next room was cozier, an old-fashioned study with floor to ceiling bookshelves, a library-style ladder, overstuffed leather furniture in oxblood red, and a surprisingly modest, antique standing desk. Leland had his back to her as she entered the room, running his finger along the spines of a row of books, clearly looking for a particular volume.
“Please have a seat, Dr. Wetherwell. I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Leland, I’m Dr. Ryersen. Dr. Wetherwell is in surgery today.”
At the sound of her voice, Leland spun around, clearly displeased. His brow knit in concern as he looked over Willow and blurt
ed out, “You don’t look old enough to be a vet.”
Great, Willow thought as she looked over Mace Leland. What a prig! But he was every bit as sexy looking as one of his characters, lean and rangy with angular cheekbones, sensuous lips, and piercing green eyes so deep she could have gone swimming in them. He pushed his straight, sandy-colored hair back with one hand in a gesture of barely contained exasperation and let out a sigh.
“I assure you I graduated from Tufts. I have the student loans to prove it.” Willow did her best to keep her voice even.
Leland stumbled a little, trying to cover himself for acting boorishly. “I mean, I was under the impression that the local veterinarian was an older gentleman and you’re…you’re…”
“A girl?” Willow finished the thought for him, feeling less and less impressed by Mr. Bestseller, no matter how good looking he was. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Now Leland was flustered. “I mean, I’m sorry, I…you…surprised me.”
Willow shrugged. “Believe it or not, that wasn’t my plan.”
Leland seemed to freeze, unsure what to say next.
A plaintive meow broke the awkward moment, and Willow looked down to see a red point Siamese looking up at her. He was a strong-looking, muscular boy, entirely white except for the red on his tail, feet and ears. She bent down and picked him up. He butted her with his head, and then began purring, nestling against her neck as Willow scratched him along his jaw line. “My, aren’t you a handsome boy!”
Leland gestured toward the chairs. “Please, Dr. Ryersen, sit down. Clearly Earl is much better than I am when it comes to properly greeting a lady. Perhaps I have become too solitary.”
Willow sat down, and Earl purred loudly while she continued to scratch him. Trying to normalize the conversation, Willow switched to putting the human at ease since she had clearly won over the feline.
“So how did Earl get his name?”
Leland laughed a little. “His full name is Earl of Sandwich, because it’s impossible to make something to eat without him sticking his paws into it.”
Willow smiled. “Well, Earl looks like a big healthy guy—I’m guessing he’s not the reason you called for a vet.”
Leland sighed. “No. I have a half-dozen housecats—all perfectly healthy. I actually called for some advice on another issue. Do you have any experience with exotic animals–big cats in particular?”
Willow did her best to look and sound both stern and professional. “Mr. Leland, if you’re looking for someone to tell you that getting an exotic pet is a good idea, that’s not going to be me. Wild animals—especially carnivores—are meant to be just that—wild. Big cats rarely do well in captivity, even in properly credentialed zoos. They become neurotic—and ultimately dangerous—when they can’t engage in normal behaviors. Surely you must know about what happened to Ray Horn in Las Vegas—and that was someone with forty years of experience working with lions and tigers.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not making myself clear. I don’t want to get a big cat for a pet. I’m—I’m doing research for a new book.”
Willow was puzzled. “With your resources, I’m sure you could get in touch with much more qualified people than me.”
“Yes, and then it will be leaked to the press, and spoil the surprise of the book. People in East Lindenbury…seem to understand and respect privacy, even if they aren’t particularly happy when outsiders move in.” Leland cleared his throat. “But if you can’t help, I’ll just have to find another way.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t help. I have some contacts through the university in Boston. If you like, I could make a few calls if you let me know specifically what you’re interested in learning more about. I always thought your books seemed…rather accurate when it came to the details about the animals in question.”
A hint of a smile curled one side of Leland’s mouth. “So you’ve read them?”
“I’m…a fan,” Willow admitted.
Leland’s smile crept a little further, and she could see that he had found his footing in the safe territory of his novels; his posture exuded confidence, and his voice relaxed. “That’s nice to know.” He tilted his head a little, really studying Willow for the first time. “I think I might like the chance to become a fan of yours.”
Willow’s cheeks colored, and she bit her lip before she said something stupid.
“You know,” Leland continued, “you’re even prettier when you blush.”
Her face felt like it was on fire, and her knees were wobbly. Finally Willow stammered, “Mr. Leland…should—should I call your assistant when I have something to report?”
“That’s not necessary. Come for dinner Saturday night, eight o’clock. And please, call me Mace.” He reached over and caught her hand. “And do you have a first name, or must I keep calling you Dr. Ryersen?”
“Willow. My first name is Willow.” And at that, Willow thought she was going to swoon. Was she really invited to have dinner on Saturday night? It was like a scene straight out of one of his novels. Willow floated toward the front door of the house behind Mace’s assistant. At the threshold, it suddenly occurred to her that Mace had never told her what it was that he wanted her to help research.
Then his assistant handed her a manila folder. “You’ll find everything you need in there, Dr. Ryersen. We’ll look forward to seeing you on Saturday night.”
Back at the office, Willow could barely wait until lunchtime. She was about to burst with the anticipation of sharing her news with Katie. How had she managed to penetrate Mace Leland’s private sanctum? Then she realized, maybe the seductive act was part of his author shtick…just a persona he used to charm his fans and keep them buying books. Wasn’t it all about blurring the line between fantasy and reality? She needed to calm down, she told herself, not get carried away by every handsome face that came her way. Her reality was a tabby with ear mites, and a spaniel with ticks, not a werelion with his paws up her skirt.
***
Stopping at Greens for her morning coffee quickly became Willow’s routine. She couldn’t afford to have lunch there every day, but Katie introduced her to people, and Willow thought it was a good way to learn about the community. To her disappointment, Guy hadn’t been back in, and she wondered if it had something to do with his encounter with Katie down at the river. The week passed quickly, though, and soon, Friday rolled around.
“Hey, Willow,” Katie called, as Willow pushed through the door. And to Willow’s delight, a couple of mumbled greetings echoed behind. Ha, she thought triumphantly, her plan to insinuate herself into East Lindenbury was starting to work. These Yankees could say hello!
Sliding onto one of the stools, Willow fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, waiting for Katie to ring up a customer. After what seemed like an eternity, Katie joined her with a giant to-go cup and the coffee pot.
“So what can two women about town get up to on a Friday night in East Lindenbury?” Willow asked.
Katie twisted her mouth, thinking. “Well, we could drive forty minutes to go see a bad movie, or we could go to the spaghetti supper at the United Church.”
“What are our prospects like if we go to the spaghetti supper?”
“How much do you like men over fifty?”
“Eww. I definitely don’t have daddy issues. ” Willow stuck out her tongue to make her opinion clear.
Katie snapped the lid on Willow’s coffee. “There’s a little honkytonk place about fifteen miles down the road, but sometimes it gets overtaken by bikers—and I don’t mean orthodontists and chiropractors from Burlington playing Easy Rider for the weekend.”
Then it hit Willow that maybe Katie would like someone to host her after a week of taking care of other people. “You want to come over and watch a video then? We can stream something on my service, and I could fire up my little hibachi. I make a darn good chicken teriyaki.”
“That sounds like the best idea ever. Beer or wine?”
“Cheap and cheerful re
d?”
Katie nodded in assent. “I should be able to be there by seven after I drive the bank deposit to town.”
***
“That was great!” Katie burped a little as she pushed her empty plate away, which sent both she and Willow into giggles. They were sitting outside at a picnic table and had almost finished the bottle of wine that Katie had brought. “Where did you learn to make rice pilaf like that?”
“Truthfully? I had a boyfriend for a while who was in culinary school. He left, but I got custody of the recipe.”
“Boyfriend. Now there’s a concept.” Katie upended the wine bottle, trying to coax the last dribbles out. “I haven’t had a boyfriend since I left Burlington three years ago.”
“What about Guy?” Willow hiccupped as she drained her glass. “He looks pretty tasty with those big strong arms and washboard abs.”
“I am telling you, that boy is complicated with a capital ‘C.’ You do not want to stick your toe in those waters…. unless you want to get them bitten off.” Katie shook her head, to indicate what a terrible, terrible shame it was.
“Is it okay if I fantasize about him? Just a little?”
“Fantasize about Mace Leland shredding your bustier—it’s definitely safer. So what kind of look are you going for at this dinner tomorrow, anyway? Sixteenth-century strumpet? Revolutionary War barmaid? Or perhaps you could go as a prim and proper Victorian governess?”
“Oh geez, Katie, I hadn’t even thought about what to wear. I mean, it’s supposedly a professional discussion, so if I wear my little black dress, won’t he think I’m trying too hard to get his attention?”
“Well, he’s already seen you in a lab coat. You can only go up from there,” Katie teased. “He was the flirty one, right? So maybe not short, but something that shows off your boobs a little. Let him guess about the legs.”
“How about a knit maxi skirt and a fitted V-neck T-shirt?”
Willow Run: Boxed Set (Books 1-6) Page 2
