Читать книгу The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor - Anna Stewart J. - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“HOLY HAMBURGERS.” ABBY MANNING breezed into the kitchen like a dandelion on the wind as Holly dumped a load of sizzling fries from the fryer into a cardboard to-go container. “Is that who I think it is chatting up Mayor Gil ‘the Thrill’ Hamilton?”

As blond as Holly was brunette, as short as Holly was tall, Abby’s slack-jawed disbelief didn’t come close to registering on Holly’s shock-o-meter.

“If you mean Luke Saxon, you aren’t seeing things.” Holly slopped a ladle full of steaming chili on the pile of fries before topping it with a handful of shredded cheese...and imagined dumping the entire batch in Sheriff Saxon’s lap. “Please tell me you didn’t know he was coming and decided not to warn me.”

“Hey.” Abby’s frown sparked a flame of hurt anger on her face. “Best friends don’t keep secrets like that from each other.” Abby’s long blond curls whipped around pixie-like features as she peered through the open door into the diner.

“Apparently my father does.” How could he not have warned her?

“Your dad probably didn’t want to upset you,” Abby said. “These days anyone brings up what’s going on in town and you heat up like someone’s tossed water on a grease fire. And don’t pretend otherwise. You’ve been a walking hair trigger ever since the mayor and town council proposed their development plans.”

“They aren’t looking at the bigger picture. There’s more to saving Butterfly Harbor than expansion and construction.” The crime rate was exploding, vandalism and break-ins were on the rise and there wasn’t anything for the young people in town to do except wander the streets, bored, and get into trouble, especially now the last arcade in town had closed. She should know. One of the culprits lived in her house. “And FYI, expanding business for those of us who are still here isn’t a permanent or an instant solution.”

“It’s a start,” Abby said. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to have to consider. More hours, hiring new staff, adjusting your meticulous schedule.” Abby jerked her thumb in the direction of Holly’s work calendar and daily to-do list.

“There’s more to it.” Holly shook her head. “All those strangers coming to town? People who have no idea how idyllic this town is—”

“How idyllic it used to be,” Ursula chimed in as she chopped onions without shedding a tear. “Now it’s small. And getting smaller. Three more houses went up for sale this week alone. We need fresh blood in Butterfly Harbor. It’s either expand or die.”

“Which is why Gil’s ideas might be for the better.” Abby waved an approving hand in Ursula’s direction. “Granted, I didn’t think Gil’s plans would bring Luke Saxon back to town.” She waggled her eyebrows to take the edge off her contrary opinion. “He turned out pretty nice, though.” Abby leaned back and aimed a wide-eyed gaze in Luke’s direction. “Looks as if those rough edges got all smooth and shiny.”

Holly didn’t want to think about how “shiny” Luke Saxon had turned out. It had only been an hour since Luke had walked into the diner—an hour she’d spent scrubbing every pot and pan in the kitchen. Anything to distract herself and put her anger to some use. As if anyone could stay angry for long with Abby around.

Her best friend’s ebullient personality made a fairy-tale princess look depressed, which made Abby the ideal manager of the iconic Flutterby Inn, Butterfly Harbor’s oldest hotel-size bed-and-breakfast. With the exception of their notorious blowup over whether Big Bird or Elmo was the lynchpin of Sesame Street—Holly had sided with the bird—she and Abby had been inseparable since kindergarten.

“If you’re ogling Luke Saxon, you need to get out more.” Holly shoved the takeout container into a paper bag and carried it up to the register before she started a mocha shake. “You want lunch?”

“No, thanks.” Abby sidled up next to her. “Matilda made apple pancakes for our one guest this morning so I snacked on the leftovers. And I take it you don’t want to discuss you-know-who—” The rest of Abby’s observation was halted by Simon, aka you-know-who, as he raced around the counter and wrapped his arms around Abby’s waist.

“Aunt Abby.”

“Hey, squirt.” Abby enveloped Simon’s small frame and squeezed, aiming a look at Holly that ensured a long session of girl talk in the near future. And a very large bottle of chardonnay. “You still grounded?”

“Umm.” Simon blinked up at his mother. “Maybe?”

“Well, I hope not because I’m in desperate need of a movie marathon and a pizza from Zane’s.” Holly was all too familiar with Abby’s modus operandi when it came to giving mom and son a break from one another. “You game, kid?”

Simon’s face scrunched. “Which movies?”

“Your choice,” Abby said. “If your mom says it’s okay.” Abby blinked in Holly’s direction, her lashes fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings.

“Is it, Mom?”

“Why do you two always gang up on me?” Holly caught Myra’s signal that indicated the Cocoon Club members were ready for their checks.

“Because it works,” Abby called as she and Simon huddled in front of the cash register. “Come on, Holly.” Abby caught her arm on the way back. “Hasn’t the kid suffered enough?”

“Yeah, haven’t I?” Simon pleaded.

“Don’t push it,” Holly told her son as she rang up the bills. “Dinner and a movie. But that’s it. No side trips to the comic-book store.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“Take it or leave it, bucko.” Forbidding Simon from visiting his favorite store on the planet might be the only weapon she had left in her arsenal when it came to controlling his behavior.

“Fine.” Simon’s dramatic sigh could have won him an award for most put-upon child of the century.

“I’ll pick you up later, okay?” Abby gave Simon another squeeze as he bolted to his seat and flipped open the spiral notebook that never left his sight. “Thanks, Holl. I need a reminder not all members of the male species are cretins.”

Even if Holly had the notion to date again—who had the time or patience?—observing her best friend plumb the depths of the very shallow dating pool would have erased that thought like an out-of-control Etch A Sketch. Thirty might be around the corner, but it was a corner Holly was fine turning on her own. Besides, she had enough emotional baggage on her carousel. She didn’t need to add another 747’s worth. Didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy living vicariously through Abby. “Online date didn’t go so well last night?”

“He was geeky cute. His profile said ‘electronic specialist.’” Abby pouted as she took a seat at the counter while Holly finished up the shake by adding a shot of espresso. “Turns out he’s the maintenance guy for a two-lane bowling alley on the other side of the bay.” She shuddered. “And he wore rented shoes. Ick.” Abby glanced at Simon. “You two doing okay?”

“Oh, peachy.” Holly shoved the ice-cream-and-coffee-filled cup onto the shake machine. While it ran, she knocked heads with Abby. “Having your neighbors threaten to call the FBI on your eight-year-old is every mother’s dream. Who thinks to do something like that? Hacking into their Wi-Fi? Renaming their files after supervillains? Changing their passwords?” Having to explain the situation to Simon’s potential new principal had been as enjoyable as a root canal. How could her son be on a warning before he’d even started classes? “Do not let him out of your sight tonight, Abs. One more infraction and the school’s going to boot him. And no computer. I don’t care what he says.”

“You’ve got to let up on the little guy, Holl. He’s precocious. He’s smart. And he misses his dad. He’s acting out because he doesn’t know how to grieve.”

Holly hesitated. She missed Simon’s father, too. She missed having a partner when it came to raising their boy and making decisions about his future. Not that Gray had been the most reliable when it came to Simon—or anything else. That resentment, along with admitting by the time Gray died there had been little between them other than Simon, added another layer of sadness over the grief. “Grief doesn’t excuse him for committing a felony.”

“You could team up and commit one together,” Abby joked. “Talk about a bonding experience.”

“Not funny.” Holly grabbed a lid for the cup. Fear hovered like a dark cloud overhead. She couldn’t help but think she was screwing up her kid. How could she not, given the less-than-stellar example of absentee motherhood she’d been blessed with? All the more reason she’d do everything she could for Simon. She’d hold together what was left of her family no matter what and she’d never, ever leave him behind. If that meant having to watch him 24/7, so be it. Anyway, she should have known by now not to lose focus. Keeping her eye on the ball was the only way to make sure things ran smoothly. Look away...and disaster struck. “To you, Simon’s your perfect can-do-no-wrong godson. To me, he’s bail waiting to happen.”

“Speaking of bail...” Abby practically hummed. “Hello, Luke Saxon.” She spun around on her stool as Gil and Luke approached the register.

“Abigail Manning. You haven’t changed one bit.”

Holly’s resentment banked at the friendliness in Luke’s tone. Of course he remembered Abby. Everyone remembered Abby. Now that Holly stepped away from the past, she was able to see those smooth edges her best friend mentioned. While she could still see the angry, abused teenage Luke lurking behind those blue eyes, the man standing in front of her seemed weathered and in control of what had weighed him down for so long. Both the easy smile he gave Abby and the guarded but polite glance he aimed in Holly’s direction had her regretting the vehemence of her earlier anger.

“So when do we start calling you Sheriff Saxon?” Abby asked as Gil slid an apologetic look in Holly’s direction, then added the hint of a smile to calm the waters.

“I start next week,” Luke said with a pointed look at Holly. “And even then it’s temporary. I’ll be serving the remainder of Jake’s appointed term.”

“Well, in any case,” Abby said, “welcome home.”

“I appreciate that.” Luke deposited his change in the tip jar on the counter.

“Thanks,” Holly said, finishing up with Gil’s bill. As the two men turned to leave, she picked up the shake and the bag and followed them. “Here.” She held out the paper sack and foam cup to Luke. “Chili-cheese fries, chocolate mocha shake. For later.”

Luke blinked.

“Your usual. From back in the day.” Not at all what she’d planned to say, but at the last second, she shifted her tactics and stopped herself from letting the accusations fly full force. “Just because my father was willing to forgive you doesn’t mean I’m going to. But Grandma wouldn’t have sent you off without dinner on your first night back. So, well, there you go.” When she turned to the counter she avoided Abby’s know-it-all grin by focusing on Simon. Except his stool was empty. Her stomach dropped. “Crap. Where’s that kid gotten to now?”

* * *

“MAYBE I SHOULD have listed Holly under the hazard-pay clause of your contract.” The lines around Gil’s eyes appeared as he squinted against the early-afternoon sun. “She was borderline rude.”

“Rude would have been dumping this in my lap,” Luke said, uncertain how he should feel about the gesture. “Holly’s defending her father, Gil.” Luke stopped beside the dinged-up red pickup he’d bought from a police impound-lot auction last year. “I’m not going to fault her for it.” All these years, he couldn’t comprehend defending his own.

The bag Holly had pushed on him continued to steam as his other hand froze around the milk shake he had yet to let go of.

How much teenage time had he spent in the diner gorging on chili-cheese fries and downing mocha shakes to avoid going home because doing so usually meant his father would be passed out by the time he walked through the door? Those last couple of years before he’d left he’d done just about anything he could think of to avoid his father and the rage. At least in Sheriff Gordon’s holding cell he’d been safe.

His mouth quirked. Holly never would have supplied him with dinner if she knew doing so reminded him of one of the few good memories from his childhood. “Bonus for me. I don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”

“Must take a lot to tick you off.” Gil gave him a quick salute. “Good thing, given your new job. Oh, hey, I had Emery do some upkeep for your folks’ house. Nothing major. Mowed the lawn, sheared the shrubs, boarded up a few windowpanes to keep the chill out. The place isn’t in great shape—”

“Thanks, Gil.” Luke’s stomach gripped his still-digesting lunch. And here he thought facing Holly or her father would be the hardest part of his return. Going back to the house he’d sworn never to step foot in again... “I’ll catch up with you next week to talk about the department budget.” By then he should have his bearings.

Luke opened the door and leaned in to stow the fries and shake in the cab, and when he stood, he found the boy from the diner right behind him, accusing eyes scrunched, arms crossed over the emblem of his Proton Patrol T-shirt.

Even if Luke hadn’t known the boy’s father growing up, there was no mistaking Grayson Campbell’s son. Gray and Holly had been tied at the hip from the time she was sixteen. She, the knockout golden child of the town sheriff, and Gray, the drama-club president and star pitcher of the baseball team. As far as Luke was concerned, he couldn’t relate.

“You’re the man taking my grandpa’s job.” The accusation cut Luke to the quick, but he had to give the kid credit for confronting him. Few adults would have the nerve to do the same.

“I suppose I am.” Luke braced his arm on the door, giving the boy a chance to purge his grievance.

“But it’s his job. Not yours.”

Luke resisted the urge to squirm. “Does your mom know you’re out here...?”

“Simon.” Simon’s chin went up, his fists tightened. “Simon Grayson Campbell. And you’re Luke Saxon. I’ve heard about you.”

“I’m sure you have.” Luke could only imagine what the little man had heard. “I went to school with your parents. Did you know that?”

“Maybe.” Simon’s eyes reflected surprise and suspicion before grief flashed like a struck match. “My dad died.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Were you friends?” Even with the hostile stare, Luke saw hope searching for a way out.

“Everyone liked your dad.” Because Gray had treated everyone equally. Even the son of the town drunk. But no, they hadn’t been friends. Luke hadn’t had friends. “He was a good guy.”

Some of Simon’s suspicion faded. “I don’t like my grandpa to be unhappy. Mom says losing his job’s made him unhappy.”

“I’m sorry for that.” But he’d given his word to Jake and Gil. The diner door banged open. “I think your mom is looking for you.”

“Simon!” Holly blasted out the door, making her son jump and Luke wince. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of that tone, but at least he didn’t have to worry about this boy’s safety. “Come inside right now.”

“But he knew Dad.” Simon looked at his mom and then did as he was told.

“Hurry. Inside, now.” She pushed him in the door before she faced Luke. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him. From all of us.”

Chills of irritation pricked his spine as his jaw tightened. Did she think he was going to get in his car and run the kid down? “He followed me, Holly.”

“That might be, but next time—”

“Keep a better eye on your son and there won’t be a next time.” When she flinched, he let out a breath and counted to ten. Anger wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere—and he’d rather die than venture into the dark place anger would take him. “I apologize. That was uncalled-for. I was sorry to hear about Gray.”

“Thank you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and seemed to debate what to say next. She crossed her arms over her chest. When she spoke, he heard the resignation in her tight voice. “You’re really staying?”

“I really am. Better get used to it. Otherwise it’s going to be a very long year for all of us.”