Chapter Six
Ellie
I had been living in Diamond Creek for a few weeks. Getting to know the people in town was fun. I stopped in at the bookstore a few times, wanting to check on the girls. I bought nothing, though. I avoided the register, not wanting Ryder to recognize me.
Today was Saturday, and I planned on spending the whole day in town. I had holed myself up in my trailer, working on the next book, and Jessie would be here in another week or so. That would limit my time to wander through town and observe without being noticed.
Needing fuel for the day, I stopped in The Bake Shoppe and had breakfast with Trudy, catching up on any town gossip.
That was strictly research, of course.
Then, I walked over to The Boutique, wanting to browse the inventory. Esmée had an expert eye for fashion, and I wondered how she wasn’t living in New York or Paris.
“Morning, Ellie,” she greeted.
“Morning, Esmée. Any new shipments since I was in last time?”
Pointing to the far wall, she smiled. “I got the softest sweaters in for fall. You should definitely try one on.”
“I will check them out.”
Making my way over there, I heard the door open, then a little girl squeal. Turning around, I saw an older woman walking in, holding the hands of Chrissy and Tabby.
Tabby spotted me and pulled away from the woman, running directly over to me, lifting her arms up.
I didn’t think. I just reached down and hoisted her to my hip.
“Hello, beautiful girl. A little bird told me your name is Tabby. Is that right?” I asked her.
Tabby’s little head shook up and down, and a big smile spread across her face.
“Hi.”
Looking down, I grinned at Chrissy, her smile matching her sister’s.
“Hi, Chrissy.”
“Girls, maybe you could introduce Nana to your friend?” the woman said, walking over to where I stood with the girls.
She was a stunning woman. Her stature was more regal than any of the women my mother aspired to be back home. It didn’t take me long to surmise that she was Ryder’s mom. They had the same charcoal eyes.
Holding out my hand, I said, “Hello, I’m Ellie.”
“Abby Thomas,” she confirmed.
Taking a good look at her granddaughters, then me, she asked, “How do you know the girls?”
“We met her in the bookstore, Nana. Tabby loves her,” Chrissy piped up as Tabby had laid her head on my shoulder.
I didn’t know why this little girl had attached herself to me, but I wasn’t mad about it. She was a darling little girl.
“Does Daddy know about your new friend?” Abby asked Chrissy.
“No, Nana, it’s a secret,” Chrissy whispered, with her finger laid across her lips.
Abby looked up at me, and I saw the concern bordering on anger flit across her features as she reached over to take Tabby from me.
“I didn’t ask them to keep a secret,” I blurted as Tabby wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs latched on to my waist.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Abby said, narrowing her eyes at me as she tried to pull the girl from me, adding, “Tabby, you need to come with Nana.”
I didn’t hinder her efforts. But I didn’t help her either.
“No, Nana. Tabby needs her,” Chrissy said, pulling on Abby’s arms.
“Chrissy, what is going on?” Abby demanded.
I wrapped my arms around Tabby, holding her to me. I was just as confused as Abby was as Chrissy tugged on her grandmother and the older woman kneeled down in front of the little girl. Chrissy leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. Abby pulled back and looked at Chrissy.
“What? Chrissy…”
“It’s true, Nana. Tabby told me,” she insisted.
“Chrissy, Tabby doesn’t talk.”
“She talks to me,” Chrissy replied firmly.
Abby looked up at me. Then back at Chrissy.
“We need to tell your daddy.”
“No, Nana,” Chrissy said, shaking her head wildly from side to side. “He isn’t ready.”
Abby stood up and focused on me.
“How old are you?” the woman demanded.
“I’m twenty-four, ma’am.”
She nodded, looking me over from head to toe.
“Ellie, would you have lunch with us? I think I would like to get to know you better,” she asked, a small smile playing across her lips.
“Um.” I looked down at Chrissy, who smiled like the Cheshire cat. Then, I looked at Tabby. Her eyes were begging me to say yes.
“Sure,” I replied, knowing I was powerless against these girls, and I was pretty sure they knew it.
Abby chose a small café outside of town. I assumed she didn’t want to be interrupted during the interrogation I knew was coming. Only problem was, I didn’t have the answers she was looking for.
Tabby sat squished up next to me, like she was afraid I would disappear if she wasn’t touching me. Chrissy sat across from us, next to Abby.
“So, Ellie. Tell me about yourself,” Ryder’s mother began.
“Um, well. I grew up in New York, went to college in Massachusetts.”
“What did you study?”
“I double majored in finance and literature.”
“Those are very different curriculums,” Abby noted.
“They are,” I agreed. “My parents insisted on a degree in finance to release my trust fund. Literature was my choice.”
“What are you doing now? I assume you chose not to have a career in finance,” she said, peering at me over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a sip.
“That is true,” I admitted. “My parents neglected to stipulate I had to have a career in finance. Only that I had to get a degree. I guess they assumed if I took the time to get the degree that I wouldn’t waste it. They were wrong.”
Abby simply hitched an eyebrow at me.
I had hoped she wouldn’t notice that I didn’t actually answer the question completely. However, the look she gave me told me straight away she caught it and had me opening up. It also had me wondering if Ryder had ever gotten away with anything as a child.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to be honest with her.
“I’m a published author,” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one heard me.
“Wait,” she said, setting her cup on the table. “Are you the author doing the book signing? Rayne Perry?”
“I am,” I confirmed. “Rayne is my pen name. I try to keep my identity quiet. But I am considering settling in Diamond Creek permanently. I have been traveling for two years since I graduated from college.”
“Does Ryder know?”
I shook my head.
“I’ve only spoken to Ryder once; the day I approached him about doing the book signing. If Sam hadn’t been there, I’m not sure he would have agreed to it. He isn’t very optimistic about it,” I told her, staring at my coffee.
Frowning, Abby whispered, “Ryder isn’t optimistic about much these days, I’m afraid.”
“I want you to know I didn’t approach the girls. I was in the store one day and Tabby just came up to me, and when I crouched down to say hi, she threw herself at me. Kind of like she did today,” I said, looking down at Tabby and smiling.
“I believe you. Chrissy explained everything.”
“Could you explain it to me?”
Abby opened her mouth to say something, and Chrissy piped up, “No, Nana. Ellie isn’t ready yet, either.”
Well, she tried to whisper.
Little kids didn’t exactly have control of their volume.
Abby lifted her hand to her mouth and motioned like she was locking her lips and throwing the key away over her shoulder. Then she looked at me and just smiled.
“Well, we need to get back. Pop has plans for this afternoon. And I think he is counting on a sleepover tonight,” she told the girls.
Tabby smiled, and Chrissy whooped, throwing her little fist in the air. We all stood, and Tabby grabbed my hand. Walking them to Abby’s car, I helped buckle the girls into their seats.
“Bye, girls,” I said, waving to them both.
Before she climbed in her car, Abby turned to me. “I want you to know your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you. After the book signing, people will know who I really am, but right now, it is easier to get to know the town and its people without the fuss.”
“I understand,” she said with a wink as she climbed into her car and drove off, the girls waving to me through the windows.
Back at my camper, I stared at my computer screen and groaned. I had been trying to write for a few hours, but nothing. Nada. Zilch! The next book in my series was about Samuel, a character I had written to be an asshole.
Which was fine. Assholes were easy to write.
They weren’t always easy to redeem but that’s what made them so deliciously irresistible.
What I needed was asshole inspiration. And in this small town, there was only one place to find assholes.
At a bar.
Changing into a pair of tight jeans and a sexy top, I slipped on my heels and climbed into my truck. From the scouting I had done, I knew there was a bar in town, and I would bet my trust fund I would find at least one asshole there.
However, I didn’t count on that asshole being the guy I had developed a crush on.
Walking into the bar, the first thing I noticed was the noise. I hadn’t frequented many bars since I turned twenty-one. And the ones I had visited were in New York and Massachusetts. They were more like wine bars, playing Sinatra or Miles Davis. This was a bona fide country western bar, currently playing Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”
The music was loud. There were booths lining three walls. Tables of different heights scattered around the room and a dance floor in the middle.
Being a Saturday night, it didn’t surprise me to see it full of people. Heading to the wooden bar that stretched along the fourth wall, I found an empty stool and sat down.
“What can I get ya?” the pretty blonde bartender asked.
“Manhattan?” I wasn’t sure, being in a rural town, if they would make many cocktails, but a Manhattan was pretty standard.
“You have a preference?”
“Woodford, please.”
She made my drink and set it down on a napkin in front of me.
“You aren’t from around here, are you? You don’t look familiar,” the bartender said.
Her eyes carefully watched me take a sip of my drink.
“No, only been here a short time. I’m traveling through the country, seeing what’s out there before I decide where to plant my roots.”
“I get that,” she said, nodding her head. “I’ve only lived here for about two years myself. I’m Grace.” She held out her hand.
“Ellie,” I replied, returning the handshake. “Do you like it?”
I found people who grew up in small towns often had a disconnect with the way their town really was. Usually, it was all they had ever known, so they couldn’t objectively describe what it was really like living there.
“I do. The people here are amazing, with a few exceptions.”
Following her gaze, she glared at the young man sitting a few stools over. He was typing on his phone. Texting someone, I assumed. He had a cut similar to the bikers I had seen the other day at the diner, so I reasoned he must be part of the same club.
I looked back at her and asked, “I saw a few bikers in the diner the other day. Are they something I should be concerned with?”
She looked back at me. “No. And Johnny isn’t either,” she said, nudging her head in the biker’s direction. “It’s the one he’s texting that pisses me off. You don’t have to worry about him either, unless you try to push drugs in town, or hurt his family.”
“So, why does the guy he’s texting piss you off?” I asked, curious about the story there.
“Ugh, that is a story too long to share between serving drinks.” She chuckled.
Someone at the other end of the bar tapped their glass, wanting her attention. She sighed heavily and moved toward him.
I turned to see who was causing her frustration, and my eyes landed on the man who had been consuming my thoughts since the first day I met him.