by Cindi Madsen
One of Ford’s dark eyebrows arched.
“Get it? Because he’s a firefighter dog and you’re a firefighter?”
“But I train German shepherds.”
“Well if you’re so picky, McGuire,” she said, addressing the stuffed puppy instead of the guy at her side, “I’ll have to get you a German shepherd to play with someday.”
Ford shook his head, but that sexy indent popped in his cheek.
They thanked Misaki and told her goodbye, and once they were a few steps away, Violet curled in close for a kiss. As she moved her lips against Ford’s, she took a second to inhale his cologne and soak in the way he towed her closer and nipped at her lower lip.
If she got any happier, she might float right up to the ceiling next to the helium-filled balloon some kid was probably regretting letting go of.
“What next?” Ford asked.
“I need to thank Lottie before I forget.” She took a step, but Ford went full statue, his feet cemented to the floor.
“Sweetheart, I would do most anything you asked. But that woman and I have a long history, and I’d only be a detriment.”
“Oh, come on.” A tug, and he reluctantly began to move again. “She’s not that scary.”
“Hell yes she is. You haven’t seen her after a puppy’s dug up her flowerbed—not one of mine, for the record. Tucker’s old dog, Casper, got into her yard one day while we were…doing kid stuff, and she came charging after us. Regardless of not knowing why, we were all terrified.”
“Describe this kid stuff,” Violet said.
“We might’ve been changing the marquee at the school from ‘Due to the championship football game, no class on Friday’ to ‘no ass on Friday.’”
Violet giggled. She could totally see him and his friends doing that back in the day.
“Then there was the time we moved the soda machine into the school elevator. It was Addie’s idea, and she was the smallest, so she pulled while we pushed. Then—since there was hardly an inch of room to spare, save the top—she climbed up and over to sneak back out.
“Lottie was at the school that day for some reason. I think she was picking up her daughter.” Ford secured Violet to his side as they skirted past the ring toss booth. “A few of the teachers thought it was funny, but not Lottie. She pointed at me, Shep, Addie, and Tucker and said, ‘I guarantee those are your culprits right there.’”
“In her defense, she wasn’t wrong.”
His sigh held mock disappointment. “You must’ve been one of those goody-goody kids.”
Violet gasped, even though he wasn’t exactly wrong. “Well, in my defense, the school I went to wouldn’t have found it funny or even referred to it as a prank. I would’ve been suspended at the least, and I was all too aware that I needed perfect grades and a spotless record in order to get a scholarship if I wanted to go to college.”
Ford dodged a family of five with a double stroller. “I reckon I would’ve ended up in juvie if I’d grown up in a city instead of this small town.” He jerked his chin toward the table just down the way.
Lottie sat behind a row of clipboards, chatting with Nellie Mae, who’d approached her in the Old Firehouse a couple weekends ago and outed her presence to Dad. The tablecloth had a sign over the front, identifying them as the “Craft Cats,” a ball of yarn speared through with knitting needles on one side and a cat on the other.
“Is this where we deliver the catnip?” Violet asked, and the two women furrowed their brows as the guy at her side snorted a laugh.
Tough crowd. Violet cleared her throat and tried again. “Lottie, I just wanted to thank you for switching up the layout for Maisy. I super appreciate it, and she does, too. Everyone’s loving decorating the cupcakes themselves.”
Lottie crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I hope you’re not spreading that news around. If I make an exception for you, people will be clamoring for me to do the same for them.”
“Um, okay. Anyway, thanks again.”
Lottie’s gaze lifted to Ford. “Mr. McGuire. Good to see you out supporting our community. Although I seem to remember you tellin’ me that you’d be too busy tonight to be our auctioneer.”
“My, uh, schedule freed up. A bit. Not enough to be here for the whole auction, but enough to—”
“Accompany Miss Abrams. Yes, I see that. Shame, though. You’re so good at running your mouth.”
Shock left Violet blinking at the older woman. Residual nervousness rose up, as in she now realized how scared she should’ve been to ask for the switch-up.
That was some brutal honesty, which Violet had always considered someone justifying being rude before running their mouth. Despite what those type claimed, there was a way to be honest without the brutality.
Angry heat flared, setting fire to every other emotion. “As the biggest busybody in town, you could surely give him a run for his money.” Violet hooked her hand in the crook of Ford’s elbow. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my escort and I need to go find a corner to make out in.”
Seriously, if she hadn’t had the positive interactions with Misaki and so many of the other townsfolk earlier, Violet would be tempted to storm all the way out of the building.
As soon as they’d stepped away, Ford said, “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle it.”
“Well, I can’t. I swear half this town is blind.” It seemed to be the wealthier, older half, too. Or maybe that was her biases rising up.
“It’s the yin and yang of small towns. Sometimes you can’t outgrow your reputation. Or your father’s or grandfather’s. Particularly with the older generation.” Ford shrugged. “Several have come around, though. And when it comes to Lottie, it’s personal. One of her daughters married and then divorced my brother, and her other daughter just got divorced as well, so I think she’s bitter at men in general.”
“She shouldn’t take that out on you.” Hypocritical, perhaps, since she’d sworn off men herself. Not that she’d lasted long.
“I’d rather her aim it at me than someone else. Like I said, I can handle it.” Ford banded his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “But I appreciate that you worry about me.”
Would he appreciate that she more-than-worried?
Evidently her give-a-damn was broken tonight, so she ran with it. “I get that reputations can be hard to overcome, but to blame you for something your father or your brother did…?”
Thanks to her past, she was extra passionate about the subject. It just took seeing people judging Ford for her to get pissed enough to say something about it.
“That sucks, and people should get over it. Seriously, if you weren’t around, who would put out the town’s fires? Who’d show up for medical emergencies and find their lost loved ones in the wilds of Alabama?”
Ford hung his head, his skin reddening slightly. “You’re making me sound much cooler and more important than I am.”
“Is that…?” Violet reached up as if to wipe something off his face. “You got a little humility right—” She smudged her thumb across the corner of his mouth. “There. I think I got it all.”
His eyes locked onto hers, amusement twinkling in the green depths. “Oh, good. I’d hate for anyone else to see that. It’d be so embarrassing.”
“Does that mean you kinda sorta care what they think once in a while?” Violet leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
He lowered his head so that his forehead touched hers. “I care about what one person in here thinks.” He used his thumbs to tip up her chin and close the scant distance between their mouths.
While it was one of the more chaste kisses they’d shared and lasted only a second or so, it felt more intimate. Like wrapping yourself in a fleece blanket and sinking onto the couch at the end of the day next to someone you loved.
It was
the type of desire she’d tried to snuff out six months ago. One that had her picturing a picket fence and a couple of kids running around the grassy yard as she and her husband sat on a porch swing, watching on and sipping their lemonade.
Because of this particular guy, Pyro and Trouble jumped into the mix as well. Even though, like with the man, she wasn’t supposed to go getting attached.
Uneasiness bobbed its head, even as Violet assured herself it wasn’t a big deal. As long as she kept the longing off her face. The last thing she wanted was to scare Ford off.
Then again, maybe she should find out now if he’d run from commitment.
She wasn’t asking for forever. Just that one day he might be open to more than…whatever they were.
“What would you say if I told you I was considering staying in Uncertainty for good?” The question burst out of her, and Violet held her breath, scrutinizing his features as she awaited his answer.
“If you want to stay, you should. Even as biased as Lottie is, I guarantee if you or I or anyone else in town needed help, she’d show up. And while it was hard growing up with the McGuire reputation looming over me, plenty of others have shown me kindness and made me who I am today.
“I worked a summer at Martin’s Trading Post, and when it came time to pay for college, my boss gave me a loan, no interest. One he refused to let me pay back after I graduated.”
That was it. No more, no less. Not particularly what she’d hoped for, yet if he told her she should move here, she might balk at that, too.
Still, was he trying to talk her into it? Or out of it?
“Hello, Violet.” The voice made her freeze in place—not because it’d been cold. No, Cheryl Hurst had the kind of voice that’d persuade you to thank her for driving an ice pick into your eye.
Chapter Seventeen
While Violet had loved feeling like a teenager at the fishing booth, she wasn’t so much for it right now.
Slowly, she pivoted and summoned up a smile. “Cheryl. Hello.”
“I was wondering when I’d run into you.”
Me, too. Except replace it with wondering how to avoid running into you. “Here I am.”
Cheryl’s glacial blue eyes homed in on how close Violet and Ford were standing. As usual, her auburn hair was styled in a less-poofy version of the news anchor bob. Pearl earrings and a matching necklace accented her dress suit, and every inch of her dripped style and class.
In other words, the opposite of Violet.
Awkwardness crowded the air, and then Cheryl aimed a tight smile at Ford. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
Obviously not an actual request, but instead of immediately agreeing with Cheryl Hurst like most people did, Ford looked at Violet.
“It’s okay,” she said, hesitantly loosening her grip on him. “I’ll find you afterward.”
“Pro tip: check the food area.”
A simple tilt of the head implied Cheryl wanted to take their conversation to one of the empty, darker corners of the community center.
It took Violet back even further, to her elementary years, when she dragged her feet as her mom forced her into the car before school.
Steeling herself for their interaction, Violet lifted her chin and followed. Cheryl nodded to people as they passed, radiating amiability, and Violet wanted to believe she’d get the same treatment. During those few weeks she’d spent in Uncertainty every summer, evasion had been both of their coping mechanisms, for the most part.
Once they were away from prying eyes and ears, Cheryl said, “I hear you’ve run into a rough spot with your career.”
Violet attempted to swallow. “I’m getting back on my feet.”
“Happy to hear it.” Cheryl lifted her purse and withdrew a checkbook and a pen. “How much would it take to finish the job?”
Offense socked Violet in the gut as she gaped at the woman. Surely she’d misunderstood. Getting financial support from the Hursts had always been a struggle. Dad claimed it started too many fights with Cheryl, and the only time Mom had swallowed her pride and demanded help was for college tuition.
Considering the scholarships Violet had earned, she’d covered everything besides books and housing. “Excuse me?”
“You and I have never had a heart to heart, so I’m sure you think I don’t like you. The truth is, I don’t dislike you.”
Okay, that was sort of like telling someone you were fine with them continuing to breathe, as long as they didn’t do it around you.
“There’s forgiving and there’s forgetting,” Cheryl continued, “and anytime you’re in Uncertainty, it makes it extra hard to forget. When it was for a week or two at a time, I dealt with it, but people are starting to talk about you more and more.
“It’s ‘have you seen what Violet’s done with the bakery?’ ‘Did you hear that Mayor Hurst’s daughter has been helping Addison Murphy with her wedding?’”
Cheryl uncapped the pen and swung it around. “And on and on it goes… As if that wasn’t difficult enough to ignore, now you’re cozying up with a McGuire.” Her nose wrinkled as she spat his surname.
Deep breaths, Violet told herself, struggling not to lose her temper for the second time tonight. “Ford’s a good man. I’m so sick of how many people in town don’t see that.”
“Given his family, he’s come a long way. But the McGuires don’t settle down—not for long, anyway.” Cheryl fiddled with the pearls around her neck. “Between Ford’s father and his brothers, they have four divorces and several children with various women. They’re always looking for the greener grass.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Unfortunately, I know all too well how that feels.”
For the first time ever, Violet saw a crack in Cheryl’s perfect facade. Hurt shone through, creasing a forehead she’d previously believed was uncreasable, thanks to Botox.
As hard as Violet attempted to bat away the doubts tickling her mind, they increased, breeding like bunnies that spread unease far and wide.
“Whatever you think you have, it won’t last.” Chery’s voice cracked, and she lifted her chin, much the same way Violet had done to prepare for this very conversation. “There will always be someone younger and prettier. Someone who doesn’t nag or expect anything of him.”
A lump took up residence in Violet’s throat, and her nose and eyes burned with the urge to cry. She wanted to insist Cheryl was wrong. That she had no idea what she was talking about. It’d be easier to write this off as her being severe and selfish—and dead wrong—if anguish didn’t hang so heavy in her features.
“As strained as our relationship has been,” Cheryl said, placing a hand on Violet’s shoulder, “I’d never want you to go through that. Especially after witnessing the fallout from your last relationship.”
You mean when you told me I was being overly dramatic and ruining Maisy’s wedding?
Cheryl hadn’t seemed very concerned at the time. More like the woman thought it karmic balance, as if Violet were somehow responsible for her father’s actions before she even existed.
Another memory possibly tainted by how very raw Violet’s emotions had been after discovering Benjamin with another woman.
“I also feel bad that we didn’t give you more support. Your father and I are gifting Maisy a new sign for the bakery, so look at it as us helping you with your business as well. It’s the least we can do.” Cheryl looked at her, as if she honestly thought Violet would give her the sum it’d take to make her go away.
Violet’s pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the noise from the bazaar. Then she heard a rip, followed by a rectangle of paper—a blank check—being placed in her hands.
Everything inside her wanted to insist Cheryl was wrong about Ford.
With memories of her past relationship flooding in and reminding her how very wrong she’d been before, though, words refused to form.
&n
bsp; …
Ford had just taken a giant bite of a hot dog when he spotted Violet. Something was off, the happy, easygoing woman he’d been with fifteen minutes ago gone.
He washed down his food with a swig of fresh-squeezed lemonade and crossed the steady stream of people to reach her. “What’s wrong?”
Violet rubbed a couple fingers across her forehead. “Every time I deal with Cheryl or my dad…” She shook her head as if she were attempting to dislodge the memory—maybe more than one. “You want to get out of here? Maybe go to your place for a while?”
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he wiped his hand on his jeans before digging it out and reading the text from Shep. “Uh, there’s a porcupine in the school, so my night is suddenly booked.”
She shuttered her eyes, despair flickering so quickly he’d barely caught it. “Seriously?” She crossed her arms. “You don’t have to make up some lame excuse. If you’re starting to feel crowded or like we’re spending too much time togeth—”
“Violet, it’s not that.”
The skeptical set of her lips remained.
“I’m not clever enough to come up with an excuse involvin’ a fake porcupine.”
Nope, still not getting through to her. How did one convince a city girl that there were plenty of times when his job or life or whatever you wanted to call it included tasks that sounded completely bananas?
Finally, he realized there was only one surefire way. In addition to proving he wasn’t lying, it’d be a handy way to see if she could handle these types of small-town situations and the fact that they were part of his job.
It took a bit of work to pry her hand free of its rigid position. “Come on, and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ford had just opened the passenger door for Violet and called for Pyro to jump out of the truck bed when Shep approached.
“A raccoon, bunnies, and now a fuckin’ porcupine.”
“Sounds like the start of a bad joke. Lemme guess, they all walk into the school.” The tailgate screeched as Ford lowered it and began snapping leashes on puppies. “What’s the punch line?”
