The blush of dawn spread across the sky, reflected in the lake. Sweat sluiced down Boone’s back as he finished his run, his lungs heaving from the distance. But even five miles couldn’t tame the beast inside him.
He hadn’t slept well, his brain still spinning on the message his father had left the day before. He’d missed the call while at rehearsal and had been met with the excitement in his dad’s voice when he played back the voicemail.
I hear you’re at the top of the list for the chief job. I’m so proud of you, son.
Son.
Was he really ready to throw away the dream he’d been chasing for a woman? A woman who had trouble following her around? Walking into the CRT building, the last thing he’d expected to see was Vivien, dangling from the two-story-plus platform like she was playing the stunt woman in a new movie. Volunteering?
Maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing in Deep Haven. He was going to get hurt. And everyone knew PJ had driven him to his last nerve…
He just needed to cure the turmoil that simmered inside him.
Embrace the life you have, not…the one others expect you to have.
PJ had once told him she liked who she was becoming. She liked the version of herself she could see in her tomorrows. And, so what if she was picking a lock when she said it? If he was honest now, it suited her to chase after…herself.
He blew out a breath. Maybe he was finally beginning to understand what she’d meant.
Yeah. No wonder she’d rebelled against him. Because now, he could see all those expectations he’d piled on PJ.
He turned toward his cabin. He liked who he was becoming too.
And he didn’t want to make the same mistake with Vivien. No matter how much it terrified him.
He jogged around the corner and dodged a thin, dark-haired man on the sidewalk.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
The man ducked away before Boone could respond, disappearing. All the PJ memories had him hearing Russian accents now. He shook it off as he reached his cabin.
A Chevy Silverado sat in his driveway, a layer of dust on the blue paint. Who—?
A tall, lean figure stood from the deck chair, the morning light bright against the gray hair.
Oh. Perfect. Chief Landry.
“Good. I was hoping you’d be back in time to cook me some breakfast.”
“What are you doing here?” Boone slipped off his shoe and dumped the rock that had been grinding into him for the last quarter mile.
“Well, I would have called, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“So you drove all the way up here? You could have contacted Rachelle. I’m sure she would have filled you in.”
“Actually, we spent the night camping near Evergreen Lake. Got the family together for a trip before the fall weather hits.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a lot to be said for getting out of the city.”
Boone couldn’t disagree. He hadn’t missed the crimes. The cases. The exhausting pursuit of justice. He smiled. “I see. While you’ve left them to camp grub, you decided to pop over here for, what? Eggs and bacon?”
“Oh, if you’re offering.” He laughed, a deep rumble. “But, no, they are all in town having breakfast at the Loon Cafe and then doing some window shopping. At least, I hope it’s window shopping. We have enough stuff to take back home. Those grandkids don’t travel light.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his green tactical pants. “Thought it was a good time to catch up with you.” He looked Boone up and down, as if he was in formation, standing for inspection. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” Boone grabbed his gym towel from the rail and wiped his face. “Let me rinse off. Then we’ll talk.”
By the time the coffee was ready, Boone had plated pancakes and eggs for them and they sat down at the small table.
“How’s the fishing been?” Steve took a drink of coffee.
Boone paused. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
Steve set down his fork, leaned forward against clasped hands. “You haven’t gone fishing yet?”
“I’ve been kayaking. And I’ve been helping coach football. I’ve even been helping with construction on the Crisis Response headquarters building. In fact, I’ll be heading over there after breakfast.” Boone added another helping of eggs to his plate. Let his voice drop. “And I have the lead in the local play.”
Steve’s eyebrow raised. “Interesting.” He took a drink of coffee. “That’s good, I guess. Surprising, actually. How about the reading?” He picked the book up off the table. Flipped it open to the bookmark Rachelle had given him. On the first page of chapter two. He lifted his eyes back to Boone, waved the book in the air. “Do you want to explain this?”
“A few days ago, I helped save a teenager who nearly drowned.”
He took another drink, the corners of his lips curved in a smile. “You can’t avoid it, can you?”
“What?”
“The action. Diving in. You can’t actually relax.”
Boone set his fork down. “I’ve tried. I’ve really tried. But sitting still isn’t my MO. And, you know, I can’t really be blamed for some third party ending up needing to be hauled to shore. CPR. Being taken out by helicopter.”
“I suppose you’re right there.” Steve looked out the window at the lake before turning back to Boone. “I’m not criticizing you. It probably feels that way.”
Well…
“I spoke with your dad at the club.” He stood and refilled his coffee cup then sat back down.
“He left me a message.”
Steve took a long drink of coffee. “He’s been like your campaign manager, putting your name out there for my position.” He let out a deep laugh.
“I’d expect nothing less of him.” Always raising the bar.
“He knows you’d be a great chief.” Steve ran his hand over his two-day-old scruff. “I do too. You’re sitting at the top of the pool right now, with the assumption that you’re getting everything under control here.” He tapped the book against the table.
“Thanks.” Boone had lost his appetite.
“I did hear from Rachelle that your blood pressure’s down. You keep up whatever it is you’re doing here and you’ll be able to return to civilization in no time.” He gestured to the small cabin.
Boone stilled. “Right.” He took a drink of his coffee. Because tomorrow he’d be walking into church with Vivien for the next-to-last time if he stuck to his schedule. Stuck to the expected.
Denied the man he was becoming.
“You have two weeks left on your leave.” Steve cleared his plate from the table and set it in the sink with his mug. “I think it’s safe to say you’ll be ready to come back.” He grabbed his truck keys on his way to the door. “You know, to accept your new position.”
Boone swallowed, unable to answer. Because all he saw was the future he’d planned, the one with the pride of his father and the respect of his town…now pitted against the dream of something…more.
Fresh-mowed lawn and sweet gardenias filled the summer afternoon air as Vivien stepped from Ree’s car and walked toward the Java Cup. Today, she’d opted for a practical wrap top and jeans paired with her leopard-print Converse low tops. Vivien was on the brink of success and all she needed was to keep everything on schedule today.
She and Boone enjoyed church together and play rehearsals. Some days, she’d find herself watching football practice. Okay, well, watching one of the coaches.
They’d fallen into a natural rhythm and when they’d walked into church the day before, it had felt like they’d been doing it for a lifetime. The comfort of his body against hers. The way they’d claimed their own spot in the sixth pew back, just off the center aisle.
They had a pew of their own. And he wasn’t leaving. He wanted to stay. She’d even overheard him talking to Cole about the team on Saturday when they were at the VFW for dinner. And he’d been talking about the football season—the entire season, like he planned to still be around at the final game in October.
So, there was that.
And then she’d done the local radio show. Heard the buzz around town. It looked like Then Came You was going to be the Labor Day weekend event. A sold-out house.
She opened the door of Java Cup, inhaling the enticing aroma of ground coffee beans and fresh pastries. She glanced at her watch and stepped up to the counter where Kathy waited. “I’ll take an iced Becky.”
“Absolutely. Did you see the front page of yesterday’s Herald?” Kathy laid the paper on the counter while she poured beans into the grinder.
Above the fold. She’d made it above the fold. Ree had told her about it, but she hadn’t seen it yet. The picture showed Boone, Beth, and Vivien at the playhouse. Vivien had to admit that Beth made a convincing Ashleigh. And, Boone. The shot had captured him looking extra hot as Dylan Turner.
Oh, yeah. She’d noticed he’d leaned out. He’d been pretty fit to start with, but his morning runs and workouts were chiseling him to perfection. Bona fide, superstar perfection.
She remembered the practice, only four days prior. She’d been surprised when Ree had shown up with an actual photographer. It wasn’t just a friend-writing-about-a-friend article. Nope. In fact, not only had the play sold out, they had a wait list. A wait list, for goodness’ sake.
Her play was about to be an even bigger success than she’d ever hoped for. The thought wove its way in, warmed her heart.
She was doing it. Proving herself as more than a failure. And she could see on the faces of the cast and their families how much the play meant to them too.
“Will you save it for me?” Vivien handed the paper back to Kathy.
“Absolutely. Do you want a donut to go with that?”
“Oh, tempting, but I’d better not today. I gotta run—heading over to take a peek at the sets that were finished last night. We’re getting down to the wire and Gordy said he needs to do a walk through with Peter to ensure the fire suppression system is properly charged after the summer mishap. And Emma and Kyle Hueston are going to help me set up the sound system and run through the lights.”
“Lots going on.” Kathy added syrup to the cup. “I heard you and that boyfriend of yours saved a girl last week.” She handed the drink to Vivien.
Boyfriend. The word did funny things to Vivien’s stomach. Because Boone was staying and, for the first time, Vivien could see a real future for herself. One that could include Deep Haven and theater and allowed her to discard her social facade.
Vivien lifted her drink. “Thanks for this. We’ll definitely have to catch up next time.”
“You bet. I’m looking forward to it.”
A few minutes later, Vivien parked the car at the playhouse and scooped up the box from the passenger seat. The box of playbills, fresh from the printer, smelled like success. She balanced the box on her hip while she unlocked the door then turned at the sound of an engine pulling up behind her.
She’d know that rumble anywhere. Boone pulled up, his window down, arm resting on the edge like James Dean.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
“Thought I’d see if we could get dinner after you’re done.”
She juggled the box in her hands. “Sure. Park and come on in. I’m going to go set these down.”
He gave her a nod and she heard him cut the engine as the door closed. She flipped the light switch and dropped the box onto the floor.
Set pieces were strewn across the stage. Broken two-by-fours jutted out at odd angles, their raw edges splintering the light.
She covered her mouth and sucked in a breath. Oh, no. No.
The curtains had been sliced, and she stepped over broken glass where lights had fallen to the floor.
Shattered. Everything.
She jumped at the sound of the door swinging shut. She turned to where Boone stood, his mouth open, hands on his hips, as if he too, couldn’t quite grasp the scene before them.
“What happened here?” He stepped up next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Who would do this?”
She started to speak, the sound coming out a hoarse crack. Her mind played through the scene, though, sobered by the realization that Gordy would be here any minute.
“We have to clean up before Gordy gets here.” She slipped from his grasp and began pulling at the set pieces. “Before he gets here. Come on.” She rubbed her temple. “What are we going to do?” She didn’t even know where to start.
“Vivien—stop. What are you doing? It’s a crime scene. Don’t touch any of it!”
She grabbed the trash can and tried to keep her voice on the near side of hysterical. “We have to clean this up.” She ran to him, grabbed him. “You have to help me. Come on! Boone, help me!”
He tried to hold her back. “Viv. You gotta let the police investigate this.”
She rounded on him. “You don’t understand. I can’t lose this theater.” Her heart pounded, her pulse filling her ears, drowning out everything else.
“Vivien—calm down.”
She tore out of his grip. “You don’t understand. I keep telling you—I’m going to get blamed for this. Gordy’s going to ruin me.”
“He’s not. He’ll understand—why would you ever damage the theater?”
“You weren’t here. Earlier this summer, my youth show was here. But there was an accident and they hit a sprinkler head and—”
She was hyperventilating. She leaned over, her hands on her knees.
Calm down.
She felt Boone’s hand on her back, as if he didn’t know what to do, and she could feel herself coming unglued but didn’t know how to stop it.
Her breaths rushed over each other.
And then—
Gordy walked in.
The moment his eyes settled on the playhouse, the lights, the curtains, a scarlet hue started at his collar and swept up to his runaway hairline.
“What have you done?”
“Hey!” Boone stepped toward Gordy.
“I didn’t do anything.” She straightened, scrabbling hard for her voice.
Gordy poked his finger at her. “I trusted you, Vivien. I vouched for you with the school board—even after everything that happened before.” He turned to Boone. “And you? I should have known not to trust an outsider.”
Boone held up a hand. “Whoa, there. I think you’re missing the mark here.”
“No, I don’t think I am. Everywhere Vivien goes, disaster is sure to follow. Isn’t that right, Vivie?”
“Leave her alone. This is a criminal case, not a social lynching.”
“You have no business telling me how anything should be in this town. You aren’t part of it.”
And that was probably the last thing Gordy should have said because Boone’s eyes narrowed, his fists balled. “You think you’re so high and mighty, Gordy. You think you run this town. Well, you may have the old money. You may have the clout. But we’re not the trash you treat us as.”
Vivien tried to get air. Tried to speak. Nothing came out, and the room started to spin.
“How dare you—”
“How dare I what, Gordy? How dare I call it like I see it? Because, you know—who am I? I’m just Boone Buckam. Just an outsider, right?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you what you are—”
Then—maybe Gordy stepped a little too close to Boone. Maybe Boone went into cop mode and forgot he was standing there as a civilian. But as Gordy’s arm extended, Boone snagged it, twisted it, and had Gordy up against the wall in a second flat.
Gordy shouted, in anger and probably pain. But Boone had a fighter’s grip on him.
And there went every chance she had of making peace with Gordy again and probably destroying any chance of a successful theater production.
Oh no, Boone! Vivien sucked in a sob. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the door opened again and Kyle, still in uniform, stepped into the chaos with his wife, Emma.