Always The Hero. Anna Stewart J.
town and not your personal agendas first.”
“Understood.” Matt started to follow, then came up short as a flash of blue caught his attention coming down the hill. Lori.
His entire body felt lighter just seeing her. He tugged at the hem of his jacket, flexed his hands as he watched her approach. She’d lightened her hair, added subtle red highlights that caught in the late setting sun. He loved that rich, doe brown that curled subtly down and around her shoulders and framed her round face. She tended to wear the same type of dress, long and flowing around the ankles, almost covering the flat shoes she wore. He caught a quick glimmer of surprise shining in her bottle-glass green eyes when she spotted him. She glanced away long enough to tie a substantial knot in his belly.
Even if he didn’t need her help with Kyle, he’d been anxious to see her again, to explain why he’d disappeared on her. Funny. He hadn’t had any problems facing down insurgents with grenade launchers, but the idea of facing Lori after all these weeks of silence left him almost petrified.
“Hey.” He tried to sound as casual as possible even as his heart pounded hard in his chest. “Ozzy said you’d be here. Long time no see.”
“I know.” When she stepped up beside him, she could almost look him directly in the eyes. It had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her—one of the first things he’d liked. She didn’t turn simpering smiles or bat overactive lashes to get what she wanted. She didn’t look to him to rescue or placate her. She was straightforward, honest and, most importantly, fun to be around.
He’d missed her.
“I suppose I owe you an apology.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He supposed?
The corners of Lori’s eyes twitched. “For what?”
She was going to make him say it. “For not returning your calls or your texts. I’ve had, well...” Oh boy. He’d rehearsed this and yet none of the words seemed to be waiting for him. “I had a lot of thinking I needed to do. Some decisions I had to make and—”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Matt.” She shrugged as if they were discussing something no more important than the weather forecast. “We’re friends. Well, acquaintances really. Nothing to worry yourself over. We’re good.”
“Okay.” Except it wasn’t okay. He could feel all his plans, everything he wanted to say to her fall through his fingers like water. “But I would like to talk to you. Maybe tonight, after the meeting—”
“I have a lot of work to do when I get home. Maybe some other time.” She reached for the door handle at the same time he did. His fingers brushed the back of hers. She snatched her hand away as if she’d been burned.
He moved in, lowered his voice and inadvertently brushed his lips over her ear. “I should have called. Or at least told you what—” She jerked away, her face flashing with anger before she eased her expression. Matt almost gulped. As big a heel as he felt before, he felt like an even bigger one now.
“Stop making this out to be something it wasn’t, Matt.” Was that irritation in her voice? “You have your life, I have mine. It’s not surprising there’s not a lot of overlap. So while there’s nothing to apologize for, I’ll just accept it so we can move on. Sound okay?”
“Move on as friends.” Definitely not the direction he needed to go.
She glanced away and nodded, but not before he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes. A flash that gave him the thinnest thread of hope to cling to. “I think we’d better get inside, don’t you? Sounds like there’s a lot on the agenda and I need to take notes for Abby in case anything’s been changed.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” This time when he pulled open the door, she gave him another smile and stepped in ahead of him, only to skid to a halt. “What’s wrong?”
So much for thinking a lot of residents were avoiding the meeting. Matt hadn’t seen a turnout of Butterfly Harbor folks this large since the food festival last spring. He saw plenty of familiar faces—most of the members of the Cocoon Club, an expanding group of the more senior members of town—but also people he couldn’t put names to. He recognized homes and buildings more than he did people.
Empty chairs were few and a number of attendees milled about the long counter along the west side of the room. Others grabbed coffee, water or a soft drink from the other side of the bar, grabbed cookies from the plastic silver trays someone had brought.
“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but notice Lori seemed caught between paralyzing nerves and shock.
“I’m fine.” Lori tugged at the sides of the short sweater she wore, pulling it tighter across her chest. “Just more people than I expected.”
Matt spotted two chairs in the front. “How about up there?”
She shook her head, her gaze skittering around the room until she let out an audible sigh of relief. “There’s Calliope. Over there by the window. I’ll just join her.”
“Sure. Yeah.” Frustration crashed through him. He’d really blown it. He should have been honest with her from the start, but he hadn’t been able to find the right words to say he needed to slow things down so he could decide what to do about his divorce papers. Telling her, not telling her—neither was honorable, but he’d chosen to keep quiet to protect her. Instead, he’d hurt her. Far more than the truth ever would have.
* * *
“HEY, CALLIOPE.” Lori slipped onto the metal folding chair beside the closest person Butterfly Harbor had to a spiritual guru. Thankfully the row of chairs against the wall was far enough away from the main throng she could melt into the scenery.
“Lori.” Calliope turned a friendly smile on her. The light dusting of freckles across her nose reminded Lori of a doll she had as a child. The beads and tiny bells laced through Calliope’s waist-length red hair tinkled above the din of the crowd and managed to soothe Lori’s frazzled nerves. “How are those hollyhock seedlings I gave you working out?”
“Beautifully.” Lori rested her notebook on her legs and locked her ankles together. “I don’t know what you do to plants, Calliope, but I’m grateful for your touch. I should have fully grown plants back to you in a few weeks.”
“Lovely. Just in time for the fall harvest.” Calliope tapped a long finger against Lori’s arm. “It’s been a relief to have someone willing to take over the less edible offerings my customers enjoy. And I think it’s you who has the magic touch. Something tells me those flowers will be splayed across Butterfly Harbor sooner than later.”
Lori smiled. While she loved her job at the inn—most days—her real love was horticulture, especially when it came to nurturing seedlings into fruition. Plants didn’t judge, they didn’t speak, they either grew or they didn’t. Now that Duskywing Farm had become quite the tourist attraction, partly because Chef Jason Corwin had talked up the organic farm in a number of his interviews, Calliope had to expand both her crops and her business plans. The weekend farmers’ market and open field policy—it wasn’t every town that had its own “pick your own food” option—was something everyone agreed to promote. That Calliope had asked Lori to oversee the plants and flowers she sold felt like an honor.
“How are you set for poinsettias?” Lori asked.
Calliope’s eyebrows shot up. “What a coincidence. I completely overordered last year and they’re outgrowing their space. Care to come take some cuttings?”
Lori didn’t believe for a second the excessive order was coincidence. Calliope had always possessed a special “sense” when it came to the needs of Butterfly Harbor residents. “I can’t say why, but yes. We’re going to be needing quite a few this holiday season. For the inn,” she added, for fear of ruining Abby and Jason’s surprise.
Calliope turned her attention back to the town council moving toward the makeshift