Vivien Calhoun needed a man within the next five minutes.
Her gaze swept across the Deep Haven Coast Guard station parking lot. Unfortunately, the Sunday Fish Pic crowd brimmed with either the townees who knew her or tourists who’d come with their families in tow.
But she’d do anything to avoid a mortifying face-to-face with her evil half sister. Sabrina Calhoun stood on the sidewalk, her blonde hair loose, in a teal mini and white tank. She might look innocent enough to the casual observer, but Vivien knew the truth.
Sabrina knew how to draw blood and the fact that she was here in Deep Haven, on the North Shore of Lake Superior, couldn’t bode well for Vivie. What on earth was she—the ruthless mean girl—doing in Vivien’s hometown?
Vivie didn’t care—she just knew that she couldn’t be seen as the loser in the unspoken war between them. She glanced at her reflection in the side mirror of the 1954 Chevy Bel-Air next to her. Excellent. The August heat hadn’t unseated her false lashes. She tossed her long sable locks over her shoulder and promptly whittled down her extensive eligible-bachelor criteria to three stellar qualities in a man.
Single, attractive, and present.
She scanned the crowd of the Fish Pic car show again, hoping Sabrina hadn’t yet spotted her. Maybe she could buy a few more minutes to execute her plan.
There, standing near a red Mustang. Tall, blond, and wow. Definitely not a local. Pale blue eyes took in the festival-like atmosphere and a brush of whiskers darkened his jawline. Short-cropped hair. His tan said he spent a lot of time outdoors and he had muscles to boot. Oh, she’d cast him as a hero any day.
The newcomer couldn’t possibly be single—she jockeyed into position to view his left hand. No ring. No indentation. Not even the faintest hint of a telltale pale line.
No. Way. Today might be her lucky day.
Mr. Hottie was her man.
She pressed her lips together, ensuring full coverage of her hour-old lipstick, smoothed her vintage sundress over her hips, and wove through the crowd, keeping her eyes on the stranger. He wore a faded green T-shirt over his tan cargo shorts. Definitely ready for an adventure. His blue eyes landed on her with the kind of arresting gaze that caused a woman to surrender.
“Vivie!” Her roommate snagged her arm, drawing her attention away from the target. “Did you already announce the Labor Day weekend play?”
“No, Ree, and you have terrible timing.” She pulled Ree Zimmerman behind a green 1970 Chevelle parked on the scruffy grass at the edge of the lot. “Get down,” she hissed.
“Have you lost your mind?” Ree squatted beside her and tucked a wave of her long blonde bob behind her ear. “Why are we hiding?” She adjusted the cuff of her denim shorts and straightened her Mad Moose Motel T-shirt.
“Because for some reason, Sabrina is here.” Ree was one of the few people who knew the truth about Sabrina. Vivien flicked grass blades from her sundress before pulling Ree’s back away from the sleek car. “Hey—be careful. Don’t scratch the paint.”
“Sorry.” Ree scooched away from the car. “Why would she be here?”
“I don’t know.” Because, really, seeing Sabrina was more than enough reminder of everything that had gone wrong in Vivien’s life.
Ree popped her head over the Chevelle. “I think I see her. If she’s the blonde in the teal skirt that seems to be missing a few inches of fabric at the hem, she just went around the corner toward the music stage.” She slid back down next to Vivien. “I wonder what she’s doing here.”
Vivien blew out a breath. “No doubt trying to make my life even more miserable than it already is.”
“Well, I’m still trying to finish up the news story on the community theater event. I need a few quotes from you to polish it up.”
“Right now? I’m a little busy.” She gestured toward the car they hid behind.
“Now’s a perfect time. I tried to do it last night, but you came in too late and I have to get the article to press this afternoon.” Ree shuffled through her purse and withdrew a piece of note paper and pen. “Okay, sorry, reading through my notes here—so, you’re opening up the community theater. How will that support your return to Broadway?”
Vivien’s stomach turned. “I don’t—um, I think I’m done with that.” She smiled and declared, “For a while.”
“What? That’s always been your dream. Why aren’t you going back?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t ever going back.” Vivien shook off the waves of nausea and straightened her back. “You know what? I just want to focus on being behind the scenes this summer. Give myself time to decide what I want to do.”
“Are you kidding me? You were born for the stage.”
Maybe born for it, but a stalker, a two-timer, and an on-stage disaster had pretty much destroyed those plans. “I’m ready to be a director.” She gave Ree another assuring smile. “For now. I mean, I’ll go back, of course.” Someday. Maybe.
Ree’s jaw dropped open. “Of course? Please. I have been your best friend since second grade. I know your tells. What’s the deal?”
The problem with dear friends is they didn’t always know when to let something go. “The best directors have been on the stage, Ree. I think it’s great to do both. Diversify. I mean, look at Robert Redford. Angelina Jolie. Jodie Foster. So many.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing the discussion.
“Viv—”
She patted Ree’s shoulder. “I’ll show you I’ve still got it. See Mr. Hottie by the red Mustang?”
Ree took a look. “I take it you don’t mean Nathan Decker.”
“Obviously not. No, Mr. Hottie, the guy talking to Nathan.” Vivien leaned forward and took a quick peek to make sure Sabrina hadn’t come back through. “He’s going to be my plus-one for a little while so I can rob Sabrina of her smug, self-serving victory.” She winked. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Ree’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide. “I thought you said you were done with relationships. I’m pretty sure you used the word indefinitely.”
“I am. I simply need a plus-one for today. A stand-in.”
Ree tugged on her arm. “Viv, you can’t do that. You don’t even know that guy.”
“Oh, watch me.” She fluffed her dark waves. “It’s not like I’m preying on a defenseless man, stealing his fortune. I just need him for the next few minutes and it really doesn’t look like he has anything else going on.” Besides, it was just another role for her to play in life.
“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then I should warn you Sabrina’s still on the prowl.” Ree pointed with her pen toward the judges’ booth where the prima donna was engaging locals in conversation, her laughter less than genuine.
“Then, take notes, my dear. This is how it’s done.”
Vivien stood and made her way around the Chevelle to the red Mustang as Nathan departed. The man turned, his eyes meeting hers across the hood of the car. He stilled. Stared.
“Nice ride.” Vivien smiled, looked down, and ran her hand across the pale interior of the convertible. “Is this the 225 or the 271 V-8?” She raised her eyes back to his.
He tilted his head, smiled. “You know your cars. The V-8.”
Oh, yeah, she knew the beautiful car had the V-8 under the hood. “This must be your first time in the car show. I’d definitely remember this car.” And its driver, who managed to look even better close up. She stepped closer and a faint hint of cologne, a blend of citrus and sandalwood, reached her. A woodsy, masculine scent that made her want to lean into it.
“Thanks. It’s actually not in the car show. She’s just my baby.”
Definitely not married.
“Oh?” She held out a hand to him. “Vivien Calhoun. And you’re…?”
“Late.” He said it with a twinkle in his eyes and pulled his car keys from his pocket.
She laughed. “Okay, Late. Hey—I need your help with a little something, and you look like the kind of guy who’d help out a girl in trouble.”
He frowned. “What kind of trouble?”
Sabrina had started wandering through the cars.
Vivien placed a hand on his arm, gave it a little squeeze. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at her, a little blaze in his eyes. “Here’s the deal. All I need is for you to take a walk with me—you know, like we’re…together…so Ms. Venom-for-Blood leaves me alone.” She tilted her head toward the blonde interloper who’d started toward them.
He gave Sabrina a casual glance and turned back to Vivien. “Ouch.” He smiled, something slow and teasing. “What if I told you she’s my date?”
“Oh, hon, if she’s your date, then you really do need me to save you.”
A rich, warm laugh broke free. The kind that thrummed through her like a favorite show tune. “I thought I was saving you.”
“We can save each other.”
He laughed again. “I’m sure she can’t be that bad.”
“Trust me. If you consider the totality of her transgressions, she is exactly that kind of terrible, no-good, very-bad person.”
Several drivers started up their engines, the rumble so deep she could feel it in her chest.
“I’m really sorry, but I need to get going.” He stepped away.
“Ten minutes into town and of course, I run into you.” Sabrina sauntered over, ensuring she was loud enough to draw stares. Sabrina was beautiful, with her long legs, perfect white teeth, and deep blue eyes.
But Vivien had acting chops. She wouldn’t have landed the role of Belle in Beauty and the Beast in New York if she didn’t. Vivien turned. Flashed her megawatt smile. “Oh, Sabrina. What a…surprise.” She seriously doubted it was the fishing contest or smoked walleye that had brought Sabrina to the remote location.
“What are you doing here?” Sabrina waved her hand in the air. “Oh, that’s right. All those things that happened in New York City caused you to turn tail and practically run out of—” She covered her mouth, her snotty smirk still visible. “Oh, there I go. Sorry. Well, I know that was probably so humiliating. I can’t even imagine how mortified you must have been.”
And a little piece of Vivien broke away. Because Sabrina was right. Flames of embarrassment heated Vivie’s face, burning hotter than the summer sun. And, just like in New York City, she stood alone. All eyes on her.
“Hey, Viv—you ready to go?” The voice, rich and deep and solid, reached right through the chaos of emotions, grabbed her, and held on.
She blinked, felt a solid hand slip around hers, and turned to see her hero nod toward his car. “The parade is about to start.”
Sabrina’s eyes painted Mr. Hottie in slow motion, up and down, landing on his hand joined to Vivien’s.
Yeah. Hottie for the win.
Vivien swallowed, nodded, tossed her goodbye to Sabrina. “See you around.” Or not. Handsome held open the passenger side door and she slid in. The daggers in her back from Sabrina didn’t even hurt as they pulled away.
“That. Was. Awesome.” Vivien turned, blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Did you see her face?”
Her rescuer nodded, his face tight.
Oh. “Hey—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you even later.”
“It’s okay.” He tilted his head toward Sabrina’s indignant figure behind them. “I have little use for people like that.”
“Well, thank you.”
He nodded. “Clearly a friend of yours.” He looked over at her and winked.
And that made her smile. “Right. You can drop me off at the end of the parking lot and I’ll catch a ride with my roommate.” She could find some other way to avoid Sabrina the rest of the afternoon.
He stopped the car. “Oh no.”
“What?” Vivien followed his gaze. “Oh no,” she echoed. Cars had pulled out in front of the Mustang and behind. The car show entrants. “Um, looks like you’re going to be in the parade after all.”
“I was kidding.”
She started singing. “You’ve got to… Live a little… Laugh a little…”
“I don’t think you understand. I—” He made a face. “This is bad.”
“So, what’s your name? I mean, if you’re going to be my plus-one for the parade, I should at least know your name.”
“Plus-one?” He shook his head. “Boone Buckam. And I can’t believe you got me into this.”
“Well, Boone Buckam, you’re about to find out exactly how much fun Fish Pic can actually be. Think of it like it’s a happy accident.”
He gave her a look and she shrugged her shoulders, kicked off her heels, and began waving to the crowd that lined the streets—their hands filled with everything from cotton candy to fish burgers, the spoils of a day spent at the community celebration.
“What are you doing?”
“Have you never been in a parade before? You’ve got to wave to your adoring fans. Like this.” Vivien took off her seatbelt and stood, letting the breeze lift her hair. “See—those are the Christiansens.” She pointed to John and Ingrid, who stood with their son Darek, his wife Ivy, and their own children, Joy and Tiger. Ingrid stood with her husband’s arm around her, her short bob haircut still stylish as ever. “Well, that’s some of them. They own a resort on Evergreen Lake. John’s the family patriarch.” She looked to see if he was paying attention. “Big family.”
“I see.” He put on his sunglasses. They made him look very James Dean, thank you, Classic Movies channel. “For someone trying to make a great escape, you seem pretty comfortable in front of a crowd.”
She turned back to Boone. “I’m an actress. Well, I was. I’m focusing on directing next. A community theater summer program.”
“I see.”
“Oh—and that’s Cole Barrett and his wife, Megan. He’s part of some new Crisis Response thing they’ve started up here. Also a deputy sheriff.”
She cast a look at Ree on the sidewalk, whose wide-eyed laughter was drowned out by the raucous cheers of the crowd on either side of her.
Well, Ree knew better than anyone how easily Vivien could put on a show. How much easier it was for her to be someone else.
And her newfound chauffeur-slash-fake boyfriend certainly wasn’t slowing her down. He drove through the parade, his mouth in a tight half smile, as if he might be enjoying himself.
The parade wound its way back to the Coast Guard station’s lot, the crowd gathering for the judges’ awards. They parked in the lot, watching the rest of the cars pull in and letting the breeze lift the heat of the day off them. The station stood at the end of the peninsula, the harbor on one side and the open waters of Lake Superior on the other. The two-story white building stood like a sentinel over the ever-changing waters.
She scanned the crowd. No sign of Sabrina.
“Are you sore?” Boone leaned in.
There it was again. Faint cologne mixed with heat, a little earthy and intoxicating.
“From what?”
“All that waving.” He lifted his hand, gave her a perfect royal wave, his hand rotating side to side on his wrist.
“You know, you’re actually pretty funny for such a serious guy.”
The microphone let out a squeal before the emcee, Ed Draper, began the drone of naming award winners from the stage at the end of the lot. Funny, the dog sled guy was manning the car show. Ed had always reminded Vivien of a younger Paul Newman. His graying hair had never diminished the classic handsome features and his clear, bright blue eyes. Edith must have exercised epic powers of persuasion to convince her son to participate in Fish Pic this year.
One by one, various participants made their way to the stage to collect their trophies.
Vivien turned back to her driver. “Thank you. I owe you one.”
Boone slid his sunglasses back on his head and held her in his dangerous blue eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry I made you super late for whatever your thing was.”
“It’s okay.” He lifted a book from the center console, shoved it under his seat before she could read the title. “I’d planned to lay low. Relax.”
“Hey—that’s you.” Ree had appeared next to the Mustang.
“What’s who?” Vivien asked.
“You guys won.” Ree was pointing toward the stage.
The crowd had turned, applauding, eyes on the 1965 Mustang.
Ed held a trophy, staring at the paper in front of him, his voice booming over the mic. “I don’t see an entry number or name here.” He looked up, pointed to the Mustang again. “Vivien, would you and your…uh…friend come claim your award?” The crowd began to clap again.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Boone shook his head.
“You shouldn’t be so surprised that your baby won.”
“We’re not even entered.”
“Go, you guys, go.” Ree waved her hands to usher them out of the car. Boone stood, rooted to the ground.
“Oh, come on,” Vivien slipped on her shoes and grabbed Boone by the hand. They made their way to the stage to stand next to Ed.
Ed tried to hand the trophy to Boone, who didn’t take it.
Oh, please. They’d won an award for Pete’s sake. Who turned down an award?
Vivien took a bow to the applause and accepted the heavy glass award, hoisting it over her head, bringing it down to cradle in her arms.
“Can I have the mic?” Vivien held out her hand to Ed.
“Um, sure.” He gave it to her and stepped back.
“Hi, everyone. I’d like to thank you for coming out to the Fish Pic car show today. Let’s give a shout-out to Ed Draper, who helped organize the event with the local booster club. I’m super glad I could share this afternoon with my dear friend Boone.”
Friend might be a stretch, but, oh, well. If Sabrina was still stalking the grounds, Vivien wasn’t going to give up on the charade. “And, wow—the People’s Choice award? Thank you. I’d like to announce we’ll be holding auditions for a summer community theater event on Wednesday evening at the Arrowood Auditorium in the high school. While the last show had a youth cast, this time all you adults get to give it a go. I’ll have a short synopsis and character list at the library community events table. We’ll be performing Then Came You, and I can’t wait to see you all Wednesday at the playhouse.” Murmurs rippled across the crowd.
“Thank you again.” Vivie held up the trophy. She imagined for a moment that she held an Oscar and smiled for her adoring audience. Well, a girl could dream, right? The crowd cheered one more time.
She stepped away from the mic and followed Boone off stage while Ed announced the end to the car show portion of the activities. The crowd dispersed and Vivien found herself facing Boone across the open convertible.
“People’s Choice. Not a bad way to end the ride.” And, shoot, she wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t really want it to be over. She swished the skirt of her sundress side to side. “What about my ice cream?”
“What ice cream?”
“Oh, come on. Every convertible ride ends with ice cream.”
He rubbed his hand across his face, a curve at the corner of his lips.
“Is that a smile?” She squinted at him.
He shook his head. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
“Ice cream first?”
“Fine.”
She pointed the way while he drove three blocks to the Licks and Stuff ice cream shop. They stood in line among the rest of the Sunday afternoon crowd, and Boone leaned in, his voice low. “What do you recommend?”
The close tenor of his voice did annoying things to her pulse. Like, sent it into the staccato of a marching drum. Clearly, she hadn’t been around any eligible men recently. And he was hardly anything less than cover-model material, so she could let her heart beat a little. It did a girl good.
“You have to try the Moose Mocha Madness in the homemade waffle cone.” In answer to the question on his face, she added, “Espresso ice cream, chocolate chunks. A little hunk of paradise in a confectionary masterpiece.”
“When you put it that way…” He turned to the server, a cheery high school girl with a nose piercing and several purple streaks in her dark hair. “We’ll have two of the Moose Mocha Mad—”
“Just one—” Vivien interrupted.
“What?” He raised his brows.
Vivien looked over the ice cream display. “One double-scoop Moose Mocha Madness in a waffle cone and one…” She perused the colorful vats. “One Ravishing Rainbow sherbet in a sugar cone.”
“I hope the Moose Mocha Madness is for me, because I think I’d lose my man card if I ate the Ravishing Rainbow sherbet,” Boone said as he paid for the cones.
She laughed. Um, no worry there.
He handed the sherbet cone to her and held the door for her on their way out. He slid under the window awning into the shade.
“We’re not eating these in the car.”
She pressed her hand against her chest. “I would never.”
He started toward a bench along the sidewalk, weaving through the Fish Pic stragglers who smelled like sunscreen and smoked walleye, the din of children’s chatter competing with music from the stage. “I thought you said the Mad Moose Mocha was the best.” He looked from his oversized frozen treat to her bright sherbet.
“Moose Mocha Madness.” She licked the melting top off her scoop, the sweet-tart raspberry melding with the orange sherbet on the roof of her mouth. “And, it is, but I don’t know. Today felt like a rainbow sherbet kind of day for me.”
“I didn’t realize that was a thing.”
“Oh, yes. There are days for chocolate chunk, days for mocha madness, days for sherbet.” She considered her cone for a moment. “I suppose there are even days for vanilla.”
“You don’t strike me as the vanilla type.”
“Well, I haven’t had a vanilla day, but I’m leaving open the option that there could be a vanilla day.”
“Hmm. I see.” He took another bite of ice cream. “This is really good, by the way.”
“I told you so. I know my ice cream flavors.” The band had started playing in the park and the smells of cheese curds and smoked fish floated on the breeze. Families still crowded the downtown streets, squeezing the last hours out of Fish Pic.
They watched a metallic blue Impala drive by. “Oh, that’s a nice sixty-four,” she said.
“You seem to know a lot about classic cars.”
She turned from the car, her eyes settling on him. “I’ve always had an eye for fine things.” Oh, sometimes she wished she could filter what came out of her mouth better. But he was standing there, tall and strong and utterly adorable with his double-scoop waffle cone. “I’m actually car-less right now. I moved back here a few months ago from New York City.” She lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t need one there.”
“I see. But, you’re in the market for one?” He took another bite of ice cream.
Well, hmm. “Not yet. I’m not sure when I’ll be heading back to the City.” She took a bite, savoring the tang. “You’re not half-bad at this acting stuff. You’re not, like, some soap star from Hollywood, are you?”
He cut her a look over his cone and sat on one of the benches along the sidewalk. So, that was a hard no.
“What do you do then? What brings you to the village of Deep Haven?” She sat down next to him.
“Village?”
“Well, we are quaint. I think it sounds so much more picturesque than ‘town.’”
He looked like he was running an inventory of exactly what to say, finally settling on, “I’m a detective. Taking a vacation.”
Oh boy. “A detective? As in a police officer?” Vivien’s heart rate ratcheted up a few notches. “And I asked you to impersonate someone else? Good grief, why didn’t you say something?”
And there was that warm rumble of laughter again. “Well, technically, I didn’t impersonate anyone else. I just pretended to be something I’m not.”
Oh, like every day of her life. She shot him a smile. “Aha. So, we’ll consider it an undercover operation.”
He seemed to be considering her, as if she intrigued him. Maybe the detective in him. “Why don’t you tell me about this theater thing? You said you’re an actress?”
“I’m not currently acting. I’ll be directing the show I announced.”
“Well, Garbo.” He tossed his napkin into the trash and stood. “I’ll give you that ride home now, if you’d like.”
Garbo? This guy was trouble of the most scrumptious kind. “Just so we’re clear, I wouldn’t normally accept a ride home with a strange man. Which probably sounds funny since I rode in the parade with you, but that’s different. I may be—I may come across as—dramatic, but I’m really just a small-town girl.” She refrained from breaking out into “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
“A villager.”
And this time, she laughed. “Yeah. I’m just a villager with big dreams. Hoping to shine.” Vivien followed him back to the car. “But, if you’re really a cop—and maybe you need to show me some credentials—then, yes, I’ll let you drop me off.”
He pulled his wallet from his cargo pocket and flipped it open.
Oh, Handsome really was a cop. “Thank goodness.” She tugged off her heels and slid into the seat. “I did not want to have to walk home in these. They look super cute, but let me just say, they are painful.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He closed the door and slid into the driver’s seat. “You know, the solution would be to wear something more practical.”
“Practical?” Hardly. She wasn’t the kind of person who could get away with practical. “Oh, you can’t imagine. A girl’s got to keep up appearances. The world is a stage, after all.”
“Indeed.”
“Head up the hill, past the gas station,” she said, pointing the way. “After that cute yellow house—we call it the Butter House—go down the street past those big dogwood trees.”
He followed her directions. “Here?”
She urged him to keep driving. “Go past Edith’s house—it’s the one with the pink gnome in the front yard. Stop at the blue bungalow on the corner.”
“Oh, you mean the one with the giant walleye and salmon eyeballing the neighborhood?”
“It’s a walleye and a trout.” She grinned. The gentle breeze swung the two 4-foot-long papier-mâché fish from the porch rafters. “That’s the one. Well, mine and Ree’s. Until she gets married and moves into her fiancé’s gigantic log house. She’s my best friend and the town journalist.” Why was she babbling?
He pulled up to the curb.
She glanced at him. “Thank you again. You nailed the role.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Will I—will I see you around?” Oh, shoot, and now she sounded needy. She shot him a smile, picked up her high heels, and stepped into the grass. “I mean, how long are you here for?” Lovely. That made it sound like a prison sentence. She shot him a smile, a little big, like she might be on the local tourist council.
“Five weeks.” He picked up his book and waved it. “I foresee a ridiculous amount of reading by the lake.” His tone held something of sadness. Or regret?
And she dearly wanted to ask, but before she could, her eyes fell on the foreign objects lying across her porch floorboards.
She stilled, her breath caught.
No. That wasn’t…no, this could not be happening again.
“What’s wrong?” Boone asked.
She turned back to the car, stepping over to block his view of the porch. “Oh, nothing.” She waved him off. “Just a neighborhood prank from the boys next door. I’ll see ya.”
He paused, as if he had something else to say, and she gave him another flash of smile until he pulled away.
She had the sinking sense that Sabrina wasn’t the only person who’d found her in Deep Haven. Those roses looked exactly like the last ones she’d received from her stalker.
So much for a relaxing start to his five-week decompression.
Boone sank into the deck chair of his rental cabin. All he’d wanted was to slip into Deep Haven with the tourists. Sit by the lake. Read the stupid book his boss had given him.
Be in a place where he could be a man without anything to prove, didn’t have his history dogging him every single day.
And maybe figure out how to get his life back.
Problem was…well, he wasn’t exactly sure Vivien was a problem.
But she might be. He had to admit that Vivien probably wasn’t the prescription for tranquility.
But he also had to admit he’d enjoyed his impromptu tour around Deep Haven very much.
The parade, the ice cream cone, even the song she’d sung.
If only he could get his mind to forget the look on her face when she’d seen the black roses on her doorstep.
Burned roses. Scattered across her porch beneath the garish walleye and trout.
No way did he buy her words when she said they were probably a prank by the boys next door. That it was no big deal.
Like he should just let it go.
Right.
The thing was, letting go wasn’t really in his blood.
Relax.
He leaned back on the deck chair and took a long drink of his iced tea. The sun had sunk low in the sky, painting the few clouds deep orange, pink, and purple. Lake Superior stretched out in front of him, the waters reflecting the brilliant hues, setting the world ablaze in color. Condensation dripped off his glass and he let the evening sunshine soak into him. At least he was finally settled into his home-away-from-home after his crazy morning at Deep Haven’s annual Fisherman’s Picnic.
It had been just his luck that the key was missing from the lockbox at the cabin, forcing him to drive into town earlier in the day to meet Nathan Decker, the man who managed the rental. Too bad he hadn’t thought better than to park his Mustang in the middle of the car show when he went looking for Nathan in the crowd, but, well, he loved a good car show. And he loved showing off his own classic car restoration.
He probably should have just asked Nathan to meet him by the main entrance, grabbed the key, and left. Instead, he’d lingered. Enjoyed a fish burger. Let the wind off Lake Superior carry the scents of tangy cheese curds and sweet kettle corn to him.
Then he’d spotted the dark-haired woman wearing her retro dress with yellow sunflowers on it. The halter-style top hugging her curves and slender waist made her hard to miss in the crowd of T-shirts and shorts. Like she’d just stepped out of 1950s’ Hollywood. False lashes, manicured nails, polished makeup.
You look like the kind of guy who’d help out a girl in trouble.
Yeah, well, he should have known she was trouble, especially when he saw her grab her friend and duck behind the Chevelle. Who did that?
But she’d impressed him with her car knowledge when she’d walked over. Promptly followed by the shock when she’d asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend. Yeah. Who did that?
Have you never been in a parade before? You’ve got to wave to your adoring fans. Like this.
In her panic, she still made him laugh though, and there was something entirely alluring about her. Not just her deep blue eyes and sable waves, nor the hint of jasmine that had embraced him when they’d sat down for ice cream. Like, maybe behind all the glitz and glamour, there was something…more.
He’d had no intention of going along with the farce until he’d seen the other woman approach in her fancy shoes and designer skirt. And then the woman had started to drag out the dirty laundry in front of everyone like her sole purpose was to cause pain.
He knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of public shaming.
So, what else could he do but step in? Extract his new “girlfriend” from the degrading fangs of Venom-for-Blood.
We can save each other.
He hadn’t held someone’s hand since…he didn’t even know when. A long time. Her skin had been soft in his, as she’d curled her fingers around his. And she’d looked up at him like he might actually be the good guy.
The one others believed him to be up until three weeks ago.
She’d been on the verge of tears and then, just like that, she’d smiled and buried whatever pain Ms. Venom had drawn out.
He’d spent too many years as a detective in Kellogg to miss those details.
If only it hadn’t landed him in the middle of the small-town car parade where she’d transformed into a superstar before his eyes. Just kicked off her high heels and soaked in the limelight. She’d sung a few lines, her voice soft, sultry like the summer heat and quiet enough to make it seem like her words were only for him.
Live a little. Laugh a little. Right. So much for laying low. Well, even he knew the next line had something to do with letting your heart break—and he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Tires crunched on the gravel drive and Boone set down his tea and walked to the back corner of the wrap-around deck. A silver Dodge Ram parked outside the cabin and he caught the smile of the driver through the windshield. Caleb Knight, his one friend in town, and the man who had told him that Deep Haven was “the perfect place to hide.”
Apparently, Caleb hadn’t accounted for Miss Garbo.
Well, at least no one else knew him in town and, by tomorrow, he could go back to being just another summer tourist on the lakeshore. Invisible. Unknown.
He met Caleb on the driveway with a handshake before pulling him into a man-hug, sizing up the former medic. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long—you look good.”
The man wore a faded Huskies T-shirt with athletic pants, his prosthetic invisible. Even the thick burn scars on his neck, ears, and hands didn’t conceal the light in Caleb’s eyes. “I’m still staying in shape.” He patted his hip. “It got a lot easier once I came to terms with this.” He adjusted his ball cap on his head. “I couldn’t believe it when you said you were looking for a place up here. How’s the cabin?”
“Well, now that I’ve been able to get into it, pretty good.” He gestured for Caleb to follow him up to the deck. “Have a seat—I’ll grab you a drink. Tea or Coke?”
“Coke. Thanks.”
When Boone returned, Caleb leaned forward in his chair and made an adjustment to his prosthesis. “I just got refitted,” he said to Boone by way of explanation. “Takes a little getting used to.”
“Are you sore?”
Caleb gave a noncommittal shrug.
“So, that’s a yes.”
The corner of Caleb’s lips curved in a crooked smile. “I’ll be fine. Just all the walking at Fish Pic.”
Boone nodded. “It seems like our Army days were so long ago. I guess, in many ways, they were.”
“Yeah. We were just kids.” Caleb took a drink of his Coke.
“How’s Issy? It’s been ages since we met up in Minneapolis.” While Boone had only met his friend’s wife, Isadora, a few times, they’d spoken on the phone often. She’d always been eager to share Caleb’s latest football coaching stats when she’d been expecting him to walk in the door any minute.
“She’s doing really well. Thinking about writing a book about her experiences as a radio show host and the most memorable stories.” He grinned. “Ours, of course, being tops.”
“Of course.” Boone still couldn’t believe Caleb had fallen in love with, quite literally, the girl next door—who’d also been a radio love-talk-show host at the time.
“How are your parents doing?”
“Good. My mom’s still volunteering with several sobriety support groups. Attending Bible study weekly.”
“She’s really turned her life around.”
And, yeah, that caused a little bit of pride to swell in Boone’s chest. “She has. It hasn’t been easy for her. It took a long time for the fog in her brain to clear. She still has some memory issues.”
“And your dad’s doing well?”
Dad. Somehow, that still left a nebulous cloud of questions that he’d never figured out how to resolve. “Yeah.” Boone took a drink. “He’s good. Same old Roger Buckam.”
If Caleb had read between the lines, he didn’t ask. Let the stories Boone had shared about his dad sit idly in the past. If only Boone could.
“So, do you want to tell me how you got banished to the North Shore, five hours from home?”
“My boss says I have some anger issues.” Boone let out a humorless laugh. “I’m just here to check off the boxes so I can get back to work.”
“Oh, wow. You didn’t tell me that on the phone.”
“It isn’t something I’m proud of.” Boone rubbed his hands over his face and released a breath. He let his gaze rest on a sailboat in the distance, its sails aglow with the setting sun. He still couldn’t believe he’d been encouraged to leave his gun and badge at home.
“Something happened?”
Not ready to go there. “There was a case I was working and…things didn’t go well.” He stopped. Swallowed. Pressed down the frustration starting to boil inside him at the injustice of it all.
“You can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t. And then I got slapped with a brutality lawsuit.”
“Oh, sheesh.” Caleb shook his head. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. It was just an incident that got out of hand. The suit was dropped by the suspect, but Landry—my police chief—says I need to find someone to…” Boone looked out over the lake, not sure he could really talk about any of it because it still made him want to put his fist through something.
“Find someone to talk to?” Caleb knew the code phrase.
“Yes. His sister. She’s a therapist up here—Rachelle Newman.”
“Oh, I know Rachelle. She’s excellent. Issy saw her. She’ll be the first to tell you how good Rachelle is.”
“I’m not looking forward to it.” Boone took a drink. “It just burns me up. I try to save lives and I get put on leave. What am I supposed to do with myself up here? How am I supposed to relax?” He picked up his book. “He suggested I get into better shape. Find some hobbies. Read this book.”
“You still look pretty fit.”
Boone laughed. “He’s just worried about my health. My blood pressure’s too high and there are some other things my doctor’s looking into.” He set his drink down. “It should be a good thing that he cares, but it doesn’t feel like it.” Nope. Penance and punishment.
“Well, it could be worse.” Caleb gestured toward the blue expanse of Lake Superior. “I mean, you can’t beat a view like this.”
“Maybe. I’ll give you that.” He smiled at Caleb’s optimism. Such a coach.
“See? I knew you’d come around.” Caleb lifted his Coke and took a drink.
“I’d hardly call that coming around.” Boone shook his head. Stared out across the shimmering water as the orange hues darkened to magenta. “Seriously, though. I need to get back to Kellogg.” His gaze shifted to a squirrel scampering through the branches of a birch tree. “I need my job back, Caleb.” Boone turned, looked his friend in the eyes. “Being here—as nice as it is—I feel lost. I’ve got nothing to do. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be, you know?”
Caleb took a drink, set down his glass, and wiped the condensation off on his pants. “We can’t live by what’s ‘supposed’ to be.”
The words, spoken gently, still pummeled Boone. Bounced off the shielded places in his heart. “There are…oh, you know—expectations.”
Caleb stood and walked over to the rail to stand next to him. “I’ve learned you have to embrace the life you have, not the one you expected you’d have—or the one others expect you to have.” Caleb clapped him on the shoulder. “And that’s when I finally found where I belong.” He pointed to the book, abandoned on the table. “I’m sure you’ll find something to do here—besides reading.”
Boone gaped at Caleb. “Like what? Fishing? Do you know how much I hate sitting around, waiting for something to bite? Stakeouts are more exciting than that.”
Caleb laughed. “Okay, in between your reading sessions, you could help me coach football.”
Yes. Now he was getting somewhere. Except— “I have to stay calm. This whole fiasco could turn into something worse if I don’t jump through Landry’s hoops.”
“Nothing much happens here. I’m pretty sure you’ll find what you’re searching for.” Caleb looked out over the water.
“It might be good to be on the field again, even if not as a player.” Maybe help a new generation chase the dream a broken ankle had robbed him of. “I could probably swing by and watch a practice. See where I might be able to help if it’s going to be low-key.” He finished the last of his tea. “After everything that happened with PJ, the last thing I need is drama.”
Caleb nodded. “How is she?”
“You know, she’s good. She’s with a guy named Jeremy.” He and Caleb had spent enough time on deployments talking about PJ Sugar, the girl who’d gotten away. It’d been a way to pass time for Boone. That was back when he still thought there was some sort of future for them.
“So, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“No. Definitely not. She’s moved on. I’ve moved on.” The ache had subsided years ago, a few hard lessons learned. “It just feels like I’ve never been able to shake free of it all. It’s hard, you know, living in the same town you grew up in. Having your past chase you around.” Feeling like he was always missing the mark. Second best. “I don’t know. Maybe there’ll be some silver lining to five weeks in this town. Only knowing you.”
“Well, Vivien and me. I didn’t realize the two of you were friends.”
Oh. “I don’t know her, actually.” Boone shook his head and pressed his fingers against his brow, trying to press away the tension. “That just sort of happened.” He looked up at Caleb. “You saw that?”
“Everyone saw that.”
“Everyone?”
“Um, hello, parade through town in your convertible. The coveted People’s Choice award?” Caleb quirked a brow at him. “That did not look like you didn’t know her.”
“Seriously. We’d just met—she was in a bit of a jam.” Vivien had seemed to know the entire population of her little…village. He’d lost count of the names she’d called out as she’d waved like a red-carpet VIP.
“I’ll bet she was. Well, Vivien has a way of knowing everyone.” Caleb took another drink, looked out at the lake before glancing back at Boone, his eyebrows raised and a hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re supposed to stay calm, right?”
“Right.”
“Hmm.” Caleb gave him a look. “Interesting.”
The way Caleb said it gave Boone the feeling that he’d just invited a little bit of trouble into his life.
And he didn’t exactly hate it.