After lunch Eden headed to the Roadhouse with Micah and Beau to watch the Patriots game. Aunt Trudy stayed home, claiming to need peace and quiet. It was a good thing because the game was close, and the crowd was rowdy.
Eden always liked the Roadhouse’s atmosphere, but it was even better during a football game. The place was packed, the TVs blared, and every play was met with unanimous support for the Pats. She loved watching her son during the games. He’d become an ardent fan, cheering at all the right times, receiving high fives from Beau and Zac.
She couldn’t help but notice the way the Callahan brothers turned heads as they mingled with their friends, but neither of them seemed to notice the feminine appreciation. Paige had been right about their being the town’s most eligible bachelors.
At half time Zac asked Beau to run out for ground ginger. The Shop ’n’ Save was closed, but the Kitchen Crate in town carried spices. He invited Eden to come along. Micah didn’t want to leave, and Zac told her to go on. She acquiesced, knowing Zac would take good care of him.
“I thought everything was closed on Sundays,” she said as they walked out to the parking lot.
“Not with Christmas in less than a week.”
As they approached his truck, Beau tossed her the keys.
She caught them in her cold hands. “What?”
“You drive. Aunt Trudy said you need practice driving on the snow.”
She gave him a scowl as she slid into the driver’s seat. Beau’s truck rumbled as she started it. She pulled slowly from the lot and onto the street. The pavement was covered with packed snow, but it wasn’t very slippery.
“Turn left on Main,” he said when they reached town. “The store’s on the right, just past the coffee shop.”
The street was lined with cars, parallel parked against knee-high snowbanks. People strolled the shoveled sidewalks in their buttoned-up parkas and winter boots, carrying handled bags. The red, white, and blue Open flags hanging outside the stores waved in the wind. Christmas lights twinkled in storefront windows even though the sun hadn’t set yet.
“There’s a spot.” He pointed to a space in front of the yarn shop.
She pulled alongside an old black GMC and put the truck in reverse, looking behind her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d parallel parked. But it was like riding a bike, right?
Holding her breath, she turned into the curb and waited for the right time to cut the wheel back. But she waited too long, and the truck’s tires bumped the curb.
She let out her breath and started forward again, turning the wheel. Let’s try this again. Back, back . . . The truck plowed into the snowbank with a scraping sound.
Her shoulders tensed as her gaze flickered off his eyes. “Sorry.”
“You’re kind of bad at this.” She heard the smile in his voice and looked to see his eyes twinkling.
She exhaled softly, relieved he wasn’t upset about the truck. “I’m just out of practice.”
“That snowbank begs to differ.” One side of his lips turned up in the kind of smile that should be illegal in all fifty states. Maybe worldwide. It would be a service to women everywhere.
“I just need to line it up.”
She pulled forward, but there wasn’t much room. Inches. She reversed and bumped the curb again. Forward again. Backward. Forward. Back. She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. She tensed, waiting for him to snap.
“I was wrong.” There was laughter in his voice. “You’re really bad at this.”
Her spirits lifted at his playful tone, and all the tension drained away. Her shoulders fell, her arms relaxed, her fingers loosened on the wheel. “Shhh. I need to focus.”
“You need a hybrid and a parking space the size of a runway.”
A laugh slipped out as her gaze flickered over him. “That is not nice.”
“Did you just snort?”
“No.” She bit her lip, backing up again. Slowly this time, cutting the wheel.
“Yes, you did. You totally snorted.”
“I do not snort.” She hit the curb. A laugh escaped, finishing with a snort.
“Oh my gosh. You’re drawing a crowd.”
“I am not!” She laughed, looking around, hoping it wasn’t true. It wasn’t except for a teenaged kid who stood outside the coffee shop with a steaming cup and his phone, probably tweeting about bad women drivers.
“The Harbor Tides is going to show up any minute.”
“Stop it.”
“Man dies of old age while waiting for woman to parallel park.”
“Stop it!”
It had been forever since she’d bantered with a man. It felt good. Like a big, warm hug at the end of a long week.
She pulled forward, turning the wheel, then backed up. And there was that snowbank again. Crunch. They jolted forward against their seat belts. She bit her lip.
“We’re going to miss the entire second half. Switch me seats.”
“This parking space is too small.”
“Sure it is. Switch me seats.”
“Fine, but it’s the space, not my parking skills.” She put the truck in park then unbuckled her belt. As she reached for the handle, he scooted next to her.
Okay, they’d do it his way.
She twisted to crawl over him, putting her left hand on the seat back beside his shoulder. But he was sitting on her other hand, and she lost her balance as she tugged it free. She put her left foot down, shifting her weight, almost falling on him.
Then realized her foot was grinding into his.
She looked at him, eye to eye, practically on top of him. “Sorry!”
Her foot felt for purchase and landed on her purse. She tipped.
He chuckled, his dark eyes glimmering. “You are a hot mess, girl.”
His deep laugh loosened something pleasant inside, stirring up things she hadn’t felt in far too long. And the look in his eyes wasn’t hurting either.
She hiked her second leg over him, laughing at her own clumsiness. Finally she twisted over, falling into the passenger seat.
Beau’s eyes connected with hers, the warmth in them making her heart roll over and beg for mercy.
“Lucky for you,” he said, “you have a great laugh.”
Beau knew he had to talk to Kate about her past. It was the whole reason he’d invited her on the errand. But seeing the pretty smile on her lips, the tinge of pink on her cheeks, he couldn’t bring himself to do it just now.
Man, she was beautiful. And that laugh of hers. Like a melody that said more than lyrics possibly could. It was the first time he’d heard her really laugh, he realized. It had only made him want to hear it again and again. She deserved to have a little laughter in her life, and he wanted to be the one making it happen.
Tearing his eyes from hers, he pulled the truck forward, and a couple of corrections later, the truck was parallel to the curb.
“Show-off,” she tossed over her shoulder as she exited the truck.
She was relaxed enough to tease him now after being a tense wreck only minutes ago, and it made him feel like Superman.
Eden. Just the sound of her real name made him think of lush gardens and natural beauty. He had to be careful not to say it, though—it would only scare her away. Maybe when he talked to her tonight she’d open up enough to tell him herself. He wanted all the barriers between them gone.
They found the ginger in the store, chatting and playing as they made the purchase. By the time they made it back to the Roadhouse, the second half was well under way.
Zac took the bag as they entered the noisy restaurant. “What took so long?”
“Kate had an interview with the Tides,” Beau said with a straight face.
An elbow landed in his gut. He grunted.
“Oo-kaay, then.” Zac headed toward the kitchen.
Beau made a big deal of rubbing his stomach. “Harsh, Kate. Really harsh.”
Between the Roadhouse noise and the tight game—with the Pats coming out on top—Beau didn’t have a chance to talk to her.
Later that night he wondered if he was ever going to. She’d gone upstairs to tuck in Jack ten minutes ago. Remembering the intimacy of the night before, he wondered if she’d even come back down.
Aunt Trudy was knitting away in her recliner, watching a reality show set on an island in the Caribbean somewhere.
Awhile later Kate’s footsteps sounded on the creaky steps. The tap kicked on in the kitchen, and she entered the living room a moment later, taking the opposite end of the sofa.
“Working on Riley’s sweater?” she asked Aunt Trudy.
“I’d hoped to finish it before he left. I don’t think he’s allowed to receive packages.”
“Well, shoot,” Beau said. “I thought that was for me. You know red’s my best color.”
“You’ll be lucky if I make you anything.” She frowned at Beau. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed Sheriff Colton’s coming by more often.”
He shot a look at Kate, but she was watching the contestant on the reality show attempt to make a shelter with palm fronds.
“What makes you think I had anything to do with that?” Beau asked.
“You can just tell the sheriff that he can keep his doughnuts and his pies to himself. I’m not interested.”
“Oh, no. I’m not getting in the middle of this.”
She pursed her lips, her needles clacking louder.
“I don’t see what’s so bad about him anyway. He’s a nice guy. Make some woman a fine husband, if you ask me.”
Aunt Trudy grabbed her basket, tossing her project inside. “Well, I didn’t ask you, did I?” She grabbed her crutches, stood, and hobbled from the room.
A few moments later her door clicked shut.
Eden turned to Beau after Miss Trudy left the room. “Poor Sheriff Colton. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“You never know. She might be stubborn, but he’s way more patient than I ever gave him credit for.”
She watched the woman on the reality show attempt to make a fire with two pieces of driftwood. “That’s never going to work. Where do they find these people?”
The TV light flickered in the darkness. Her mind wandered from the banal TV show to Beau, sitting at the other end of the couch. She couldn’t help but remember last night’s conversation. She couldn’t believe she’d opened up like that. Couldn’t believe she’d wept in his lap.
But then she remembered their errand today, and her soul relaxed. She enjoyed his company. He was so unlike Antonio. If things were different—very different—he might ask her on a date. She might say yes, and they’d tease and banter all night and end up at her front door where he might kiss her good night.
But her chances for that had ended before they’d even begun. And as much as she might like the idea of a romantic relationship, she’d taken off her rosy glasses a long time ago.
The TV program broke for a commercial.
“Kate . . . I need to talk to you about something.”
Beau was leaning back against the sofa, his ankle over his knee, hands resting on his thighs. His gaze flickered off her.
A worm of apprehension wiggled through her. “It’s too close to Christmas to fire me. That would just be mean.”
He didn’t even smile at her attempt at levity. “It’s about your husband, your past.”
She pulled the pillow into her lap. “About what I said last night?”
“Not exactly.” He looked at her and continued, his voice a low hum in the dim room. “Awhile back I checked the history on the computer and saw you’d done a search for a man named Lucca Fattore.”
Her heart sped and her fingers clutched at the pillow.
“I couldn’t find much on him, so I asked Sheriff Colton to look into it for me.”
Her whole body tensed. “What?”
“You wouldn’t answer my questions, Kate, and I needed—”
“You had no right!”
“You’re living in my house, with my—”
She jumped to her feet. “Then I’ll leave!”
He sprang to his feet and moved to block her way. “Kate . . . settle down.”
She was shaking, her pulse skittering haphazardly, her breath catching in her throat. If the law knew where she was, so did Fattore’s men. Maybe they were already on their way.
Her throat tightened, her eyes burned. She shoved the heel of her hand into Beau’s chest. “I trusted you.”
He grasped her arms. “I was worried, Kate, and rightly so. If what Colton told me is true, you’re in way over your head.”
“Now they’ll find us.” She tried to shake him off, but his grip was secure. “Let me go. We have to leave.”
“Don’t be crazy. You’re safer here than you are on your own.”
“Don’t you see? If Sheriff Colton’s been poking around, they’ll find out. They’ll trace him right here to Summer Harbor. They’ll hunt us down and kill us in our beds. All of us!”
“No. He was discreet. He only checked with a buddy of his. Someone he trusts. He didn’t bring you into it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea who these people are and how far their reach extends.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked away, catching her breath. Her eyes burned and her throat ached. She needed to calm down. Think. The TV light flickered blue across the room. The Christmas lights twinkled on the mantel. What was she going to do now?
“Tell me what you know,” she said when she could think past the panic.
“Fattore is wanted for dealings in the prescription drug market. Your husband worked for him. It’s speculated that he double-crossed Fattore in some way. Fattore killed him, and Jack was the only witness. Both of you were taken into protective custody, and sometime later the marshals overseeing your case turned up dead. You and Jack went missing, and the feds are searching for you. That’s all I know.”
A heavy breath escaped Eden. He loosened his grip on her as she forked her fingers through her short hair.
“There are dirty cops involved. That’s why I needed you to stay out of this. Why I can’t have Sheriff Colton bumbling around in—”
“He was discreet. I trust him.”
Her eyes cut to him. “Like I trusted you?”
“You can trust me, Kate. I only want to help.”
“There is no help for this, Beau. I just need to get to—away. Someplace safe. Fattore will be found guilty, and then it’ll all be over.” She and Jack would finally be free.
“He won’t be found guilty. Not without Jack’s testimony.”
“Yes, he will. They have DNA evidence.”
Beau’s eyes pierced hers for a long moment.
The look on his face made a knot tighten in her stomach. “What?”
He looked at the TV, then back to her, his eyes softening. “The evidence went missing.”
Her breath escaped. No. She shook her head. Now they had nothing. He’d never be found guilty.
“We can get you back safely. Jack can testify, Fattore will be put away, and all this will be over.”
“No. We tried that route. I watched a marshal—the one the feds sent to keep us safe—slit the throats of two good men. We were supposed to be next. I can’t trust any of them. I’m not taking my son back there! I’m not.”
“Okay, okay. Tell me what happened. Tell me everything. We’ll figure this out.”
Heaving a sigh, she told the story starting with Marshal Walter, whom they’d become so close with. She told him about Marshal Langley and the vicious murders and her terrifying escape. “I heard him tell Walter that their boss was in on it too. I can’t trust any of them.”
“Tell me how you ended up here. How you covered your trail.”
“There was money in the emergency bag Walter packed for us. Disguises too.” She explained how they changed hats and shirts and cabs and bought a car with cash in Jacksonville before making their way farther north. “I switched plates with another car in Jacksonville, a tourist from Georgia. And I cut and dyed my hair there too.”
He nodded slowly. “You did a good job, Kate.”
His approval felt good. She wished she didn’t care, but she couldn’t deny that she did. Even if he had broken her trust.
“I’ll do anything to keep my son safe. And right now, I think that means leaving.”
“Where are you going that they can’t find you? You’re safer here with me. With us. We’ll take extra precautions.”
In her mind she saw the line of blood on Walter’s neck. Marshal Brown’s blank-eyed stare. They’d do the same thing to her son without a second thought.
She closed her eyes against the image. “These people are ruthless, Beau.”
He palmed her face, and she opened her eyes. The steadiness in his dark eyes calmed her. Her scattered thoughts began settling into place, and her racing pulse slowed.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Kate.”
“You can’t be here 24/7.”
“The heck I can’t. I’ll get Zac to cover my hours. We’re only open four more days, then it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll have the sheriff keep an eye out. Nobody knows you’re here, right? You haven’t contacted anyone? Family? Friends?”
“No.” The calls she’d made to her dad didn’t count. “There’s only my dad, and I haven’t talked to him since before we were taken into protection.” She squirmed at the half-truth.
“Good. I think everything’s going to be okay.”
His thumb moved along her jaw, making every cell leap to life. It was only because she was scared. So scared.
“What will you tell Zac and Miss Trudy?”
“I’ll fill them in on the basics. They need to know there’s a possibility of danger.”
She thought of Miss Trudy, helpless on a pair of crutches, and big, lovable Zac. These people had come to mean a lot to her. She didn’t want to put them in harm’s way.
“I’ll keep you safe, Kate. Both of you. I promise.”
She balked at the words. She knew he meant to reassure her. And she needed to do whatever was in Micah’s best interest. But they were so familiar, like the ones her dad used to say to keep her home. “You can’t go. That’s not safe, honey. I don’t care if all the other kids are going.”
Safe. Safe. Safe. Was there really such a thing? It didn’t come in the arms of any man. That she knew.
But running off on her own with little money and no plan wasn’t the smart thing to do. She already kept a bag packed just in case. She was ready to leave at a moment’s notice. She’d do whatever was necessary to keep her son safe. And right now, that meant trusting Beau.
“Kate . . .” His thumb moved across her jaw, drawing her eyes to his. They were coal black in the shadows, glittering with something she was afraid to define.
“Tell me your name,” he said, his voice low and smoky. “Your real one.”
He already knew too much. More than she’d ever wanted him to. And now he was asking for more.
“Why don’t you just look it up?”
“I want you to tell me.”
The magnetic pull of his eyes, his voice, was a warning flare. Her name was such a small thing. Just a little piece of her. But she wasn’t giving it up. She’d already given up too many pieces of herself.
She stepped away, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Good night, Beau,” she said. And she turned toward the stairs.