This Just In.... Jennifer McKenzie
of that worry around her mouth.
He was deeply touched. “It’ll be fine. She’s not going to write anything horrible about me.” Her openness today had convinced him of that. She was telling the truth about what people in Wheaton wanted. A blistering exposé on him was not it.
“I know her better than you.” She turned her head and looked at her husband. “Better than both of you.”
“You knew her better before,” Kyle said. He ran a hand up and down Marissa’s arm. “Maybe she’s changed.”
Marissa sighed. “Maybe. But I’m going on record now that I am not in love with this idea.”
“I haven’t even said I’ll do it.” Noah told them. He would wait to see how Sabrina’s article on Pete turned out before making a final decision. “But even if I agree, it’s only one interview. I’ve handled reporters plenty of times. I know how to stay on message.”
If Sabrina asked him a question he didn’t want to answer, all he had to do was respond with a piece of information he did want to share. Simple.
And there wasn’t much that was off-limits. His life wasn’t exciting enough for that. Look how he was spending his Saturday night. Hanging out with his younger brother and family instead of drinking beer and eating pizza with his sexy new neighbor. He bashed the thought down.
Marissa frowned. “She’s not some small-town reporter who’s going to ask what your favorite pie is. She’s a professional, and she’s good.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sound almost complimentary.”
“Well, I don’t mean to.” But a ghost of a smile drifted across her face.
Noah smiled, too. “It’ll be fine.” Sabrina was welcome to ask about his childhood and how that had shaped him. How being the only kid in school who didn’t have a biological parent had impressed upon him the need for community spirit, how a person could forge family bonds with anyone they loved, blood-relation or not and how giving back fulfilled him.
He wouldn’t have to share that he still felt as if he was trying to achieve “local” status, how he often felt that he didn’t fit in, that if he stopped giving back, the residents might eventually lose interest in having him.
Those were his own private demons and not for public consumption.
EVEN BEFORE SHE met Pete Peters in person, Sabrina knew she wouldn’t like him. In their phone conversations, he’d called her darling twice and joked about women in the construction business as if women couldn’t swing hammers and saw wood with any hope of competency.
The interview did nothing to change her initial opinion. But as she’d told Noah, these articles weren’t about snarking on the candidates. So she wrote as polite an article as possible about Pete, leaving out his rampant chauvinism and highlighting his family instead.
She was proud of her work. Really, it had been difficult not to let her distaste of the subject creep through, but she’d done it. Since the article had run three days ago, she’d received multiple compliments on it.
In the city, Sabrina had often wondered if people read her work at all.
But she wasn’t in the city right now, she reminded herself. She looked at her newly bare walls, ignoring the pile of hideous Easter-egg-colored wallpaper piled in the corner. The walls were in decent shape, requiring only a bit of patching.
She hadn’t seen much of Noah since he’d helped her move a little over a week ago. She’d thought he might come knocking on her door this morning, or pop into the coffee shop to schedule that interview, but she hadn’t seen him at all.
Sabrina hoped he’d read the article. If not, she had an extra copy sitting on her coffee table that she could personally deliver.
She patched the nail holes and the intermittent dents in the walls. Once the putty dried, she could sand and paint. She stepped back and dusted her hands on the seat of her shorts. Might as well go get the paint now. Tuesday evening was bound to be quiet at the hardware store and she didn’t have anything better to do.
Sad, but true. In her old life she’d be on her way out for dinner and drinks on a patio, maybe heading to a club for some live music. Or having a barbecue on the beach with friends. Here? She was watching home-decorating shows and stripping wallpaper. Such a glamorous life she led.
Sabrina grabbed her purse from her bedroom and glanced at her footwear in the open closet. Her old red cowboy boots stared back at her, bright and cheerful and a memento of bygone days. She’d had some good times in those boots.
Being named Miss Northern Lights at the town’s annual festival for the second year in a row. Getting caught smoking and drinking behind one of the tents at same festival and being uncrowned. High school graduation day. Graduation night.
She remembered the day she bought them. She and Marissa had been shopping for Marissa’s sweet-sixteen party when she’d seen them sitting on top of a pedestal, practically glowing at her. Like fire. She’d snatched them up and held them to her chest, ready to do battle if necessary and looked over to find Marissa doing the same thing to a pair in cotton-candy-pink. They hadn’t stopped laughing until they’d left the store wearing the boots. They’d been the talk of the party. But then, they always were.
Sabrina still hadn’t seen Marissa. Since there were only a few thousand people who called the town home and Sabrina was confident she’d seen every one of them multiple times, she could only assume that it was a purposeful snub. She’d hoped they could say hello, maybe have a chat. A little ache worked its way into her heart. What was it her mother always said? New friends are silver but old friends are gold.
In her case, friends were nonexistent. Both new and old.
She slipped the boots on. Maybe she didn’t still have her friendships, but she still had her boots.
As expected, the hardware store was empty except for Ed, the owner, working behind the register, and her. He scowled when she brought up her paint. Probably still angry with her for that missing parking sign from a decade ago.
But what had he expected? He’d installed a special custom-made parking sign in front of his store, reserving the space for his newly restored ’Vette. He’d even gotten Marissa ticketed for parking there once, which was ridiculous and would never have happened had the sheriff not been his brother. So one night they’d crawled up the post, removed the personalized sign and hung it in Marissa’s room. Sabrina wondered if she still had it.
She paid without engaging Ed in a chat and carried her purchases out to her vehicle, cranking the radio as she drove back home and indulging in the cheerful twang of the country song spilling from the speakers. In Vancouver, she rarely listened to the songs of her youth, worried that they’d highlight her humble beginnings.
Maybe she should crank the tunes when she got home, too. Perhaps that would draw Noah out. She could casually point to the paper and ask if he’d had a chance to read her article, then book his interview on the spot. And if she were completely honest, she wouldn’t mind spending some time with him, either.
He might try to hide it behind his preppy haircut and collared shirts, but Mr. Mayor was a sexy beast. She remembered in high school all the girls, her included, thinking Kyle Barnes was the hottest guy in Wheaton and quite possibly the country. But after spending a bit of time with Noah? Kyle wasn’t even in the running.
And she was due for a little fun in her life. She turned into the driveway. A fling with the mayor sounded pretty fun indeed.
Sabrina was so busy singing and thinking about a potential fling that it took a moment to notice the mess on her formerly pristine front porch.
* * *
NOAH JUST WANTED to get home. The day had been longer and more eventful