True to You in Good Hope: A Good Hope Novel Book 15

by Cindy Kirk

  Once she was steady, the man immediately released his hold. But she’d been close in his arms long enough to catch the enticing aroma of his cologne. The woodsy, masculine scent of sandalwood and cedar fit this man to perfection.

  At five foot ten, Stella considered herself tall, especially with three-inch heels. This guy topped her by a good two inches. Like her, he looked to be closing in on thirty. He wore a well-cut wool coat and had eyes the color of Venezuelan chocolate.

  She realized she must have been staring when his gaze turned puzzled.

  “Are you okay?” His voice held a hint of the New England accent she’d been prepared to hear.

  “I am now, thanks to you.” Stella extended her hand. “Stella Carpenter.”

  “Sam Johnson.” He gave her hand a perfunctory shake.

  This time it was his turn to stare, but not at her. His gaze dropped to the small patch of ice on the otherwise-clear sidewalk. Dark brows pulled together in a frown.

  A man striding down the sidewalk stopped when Sam held up a hand and motioned him over.

  “Something wrong, Sam?”

  Stella noticed the man’s name—Nathan—was stitched on his coat, just below the City of Holly Pointe logo.

  Sam gestured with his head toward Stella then pointed to the ice. “Nate, this woman slipped and nearly fell. Can you please make sure this is taken care of right away?”

  “I’ll do it myself,” Nate assured him.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Sam’s gaze returned to her, and Stella waited for him to continue the conversation. Perhaps ask where she was from and what she was doing in Holly Pointe.

  Before he could say a word, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and read the message.

  “You’re okay?” he asked again.

  “I am.”

  He smiled. “Have a good day.”

  Puzzled, she watched him leave. He hadn’t flirted, not one little bit. She hadn’t noticed a wedding ring on his hand, not that the absence of the symbol guaranteed that the guy wasn’t married. Stella thought of her ex-boyfriend Tony and others of his ilk who frequented the South Beach clubs.

  She’d learned early on the necessity of “trust but verify.”

  Nate was now crouched low, scraping the last bit of ice from the concrete with what looked to be a putty knife. He, too, had obviously dismissed her.

  After scanning the crowded sidewalk ahead for any other hidden dangers, Stella resumed her trek. On her way to the coffee shop, she passed Dough See Dough, a bakery that emitted the most amazing scents, and Memory Lane, an antique store that boasted a display of vintage Christmas toys for children. Across the street sat Rosie’s Diner, and since it was lunchtime, the place was packed.

  Stella reached the Busy Bean just as a group of college-age men and women spilled out onto the sidewalk, laughing and talking. The last of the herd, a gangly boy in his early twenties, held the door open for her.

  Smiling her thanks, Stella stepped into the beehive, savoring the warmth and the smell of cinnamon and coffee.

  The place was already decorated for Christmas, with everything from coffee-bean wreaths and ornaments hanging from ribbons wrapped around a candy-cane rod in the window to a cookies-and-coffee-for-Santa display.

  Stella spotted the man who’d saved her from a fall sitting with a gorgeous woman with a sleek mane of blonde hair. His total focus was on the blonde and their conversation.

  At least, she thought, he could smile. She hadn’t seen a hint of it when he’d been with her. Shoving Sam Johnson from her thoughts, Stella studied the board behind the counter.

  When she reached the front of the line, she added a scone to her coffee order. Several minutes later, she carried the mug and the scone to an empty table in the middle of the dining area.

  Her plan was to eat and drink slowly and listen to the conversations of those seated at nearby tables. To make it appear as if she weren’t eavesdropping, Stella pretended to scroll through her email.

  “I asked Dakota to come home with me for Thanksgiving.” The young woman—she couldn’t have been more than twenty—heaved a heavy sigh. “She turned me down.”

  “Her loss.” The friend with the pierced eyebrow lifted her cup. “More men for us.”

  Or, “more boys,” Stella thought with a smile. While she’d keep one ear open in case they started talking about something interesting, the girls appeared too young to give her the type of information she sought.

  Instead, Stella tuned her ears to a nearby four-top where three women who appeared close to her own age chatted.

  “It is a problem.” The redhead sighed. “It’s not like you can just pull a social media photographer out of thin air.”

  “Especially not at the last minute,” the brunette with startling green eyes confirmed.

  “Have you told Lucy yet?” The quiet, thoughtful way the woman with the soft-brown hair spoke reminded Stella of Tasha. That was where the similarity to her BFF ended.

  Tasha was bold and vibrant, with a hint of the devil behind her impudent blue eyes. This woman wore glasses and very little makeup, and her hair lay coiled at her neck in an intricate braid.

  Oddly, the understated look made Stella take a second glance. Or maybe it was the confidence that told everyone, including Stella, that this woman was in charge.

  “I haven’t mentioned any of this to Lucy. When she walked in, I was on the phone with Kinsley. She was calling from the ER.” The brunette sighed. “How do you fall and break both elbows? I mean, one would be bad enough.”

  “I feel so sorry for her.” The redhead’s voice deepened with sympathy. “Not only because she’s hurting, but she was really looking forward to tackling this job.”

  “We’ll find someone else.” The one Stella had dubbed the leader spoke with more confidence than she likely felt.

  “Santa arrives tomorrow,” the redhead announced.

  “I know when he arrives, Melinda.” The leader’s tone held the merest hint of exasperation. “If I have to, I’ll take the pictures myself.”

  The other two women’s instant laughter was so contagious, Stella nearly laughed with them. She stuffed a piece of the lemon-ricotta scone into her mouth and fought the urge.

  “Faith, you are a wonderful person but a horrible photographer.” Melinda’s eyes danced.

  “I am n—”

  “Remember last summer when you took the pictures of the HPBO picnic? You cut off everyone’s heads.” The brunette tossed her thick mane of sable hair and lifted her head. “While it’s generous of you to volunteer, I’d vote for someone in the high school photography club before you.”

  Stella’s blood began to hum. Social media photographer. The perfect job had just fallen—well, almost fallen—into her lap. All she had to do was be bold.

  Not a problem for an investigative reporter.

  She studied the table where the three women continued their discussion and patiently waited for a break in the conversation. After several minutes, she shifted in her seat.

  They were finishing up their drinks but still chattering. She’d have to interrupt or risk losing the opportunity. And losing this opportunity could mean losing her chance at getting her old job back.

  “Pardon me.” Stella leaned forward, her body bridging the distance between her and the one called Melinda. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I heard you say something about being in the market for a social media photographer.”

  Three heads swiveled in her direction, and conversation at the table abruptly ceased.

  Keeping a bright smile on her lips, Stella continued. “Up until three months ago I was a staff reporter for the Miami Sun Times. I also filled in as a photographer and videographer when necessary.”

  The women exchanged glances. Finally, the brunette, whose name she still hadn’t heard, spoke. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town before. Are you here on vacation?”

  Stella gestured with one hand to the empty chair at their table. “Would yo
u mind if I join you?”

  “No.” The leader, Faith, spoke now. “Please do.”

  The scone was history, but there was still some coffee in her cup. Stella picked up the mug and changed tables. “Let me start with basics. My name is Stella Carpenter.”

  “I’m Faith Pierson.” The woman pointed to the brunette, then the redhead. “Kate Sullivan and Melinda Kelly.”

  When no one said anything more, Stella realized that the bases were loaded. She was up at bat and needed to hit this one out of the park.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the dark-haired man eyeing her with a decidedly puzzled expression.

  She ignored him. He didn’t matter.

  Stella was confident and primed to hit a home run.

  Take a break from the Christmas rush. Bring Holly Pointe & Mistletoe home for the holiday.

  Also by Cindy Kirk

  Good Hope Series

  The Good Hope series is a must-read for those who love stories that uplift and bring a smile to your face.

  Check out the entire Good Hope series here.

  Hazel Green Series

  Readers say "Much like the author's series of Good Hope books, the reader learns about a town, its people, places and stories that enrich the overall experience. It's a journey worth taking."

  Check out the entire Hazel Green series here

  Holly Pointe Series

  Readers say “If you are looking for a festive, romantic read this Christmas, these are the books for you.”

  Check out the entire Holly Pointe series here

  Jackson Hole Series

  Heartwarming and uplifting stories set in beautiful Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

  Check out the entire Jackson Hole series here