7. Lark
LARK
For the second time in three days, I was spying on Wyatt Sullivan. This time, instead of it happening behind some rocks while we were both butt naked, it was from the comfort of my own rented kitchen. And he was fully clothed, unfortunately.
I cracked open the gauzy, white kitchen curtains and looked out over the large lawn toward the old house. Wyatt stared up at the empty house with his arms crossed and his signature scowl across his face.
What is he doing? Why is he here?
As if he could sense me staring, his head swiveled in my direction.
I stifled a yelp and ducked down below the countertop.
I didn’t understand that man. I’d googled him, of course.
Every picture of him was either on the field looking like a god or grinning at the camera, and holy shit, did I wish I had watched more football.
Where the hell was that guy, and why do I get Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud instead?
The Wyatt I met was grumpy and short tempered. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in the NFL anymore, though, based on the articles I had scoured well past midnight, it seemed like he left while he was still at the top of his game.
Some articles hinted that the change in career paths had to do with his daughter, but he was famously tight lipped about his little girl.
For the most part, reporters seemed to respect his protectiveness for her and focused more on his stats and the fact he was ridiculously wealthy than on his family situation.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder.
He didn’t wear a ring, and so far no one had mentioned a wife. Was he a widower with some super-tragic sob story? Maybe that was why he had a stick up his ass. Though Penny seemed pretty content, at least outwardly, for not having her mom around.
After a few minutes, I heard the sound of tires receding down the long driveway. I slowly stood and peeked out the window again.
Wyatt was gone.
It was for the best. I didn’t have time to fantasize about former NFL players who shot me heated looks one minute only to scowl at me the next. If anything, men like Wyatt meant one thing.
Heartache.
It didn’t matter that the way his brow furrowed or eyes turned a deeper shade of caramel when he was annoyed turned me on. I had a date tonight.
A date with Wyatt’s own aunt Tootie, sure, but it was a date nonetheless.
I walked to the small bathroom to check myself out and fluff my hair before flipping off the light and carefully navigating the rickety steps on the outside of the barn.
They were steep and a little treacherous, but it was better than having to go inside the barn to get to the apartment.
It was dark and creepy, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
I started my car, rolled all the windows down, and cranked the radio to full blast. In my travels, I had discovered that cruising down long stretches of country roads with music up and the wind in my hair was good for my soul.
I was invigorated by the time I rolled into downtown Outtatowner.
It was a busy Thursday night. I smiled at a family headed away from the beach.
Their cheeks were red from the sun, and the two little boys’ eyelids were already heavy from a day on the water.
I checked my text messages again to be sure I had the right address when I pulled up to Bluebird Books, Outtatowner’s local bookstore.
After she handed me the keys to the apartment, Tootie had invited me to her weekly book club.
I loved reading, though I doubted my secret love for faerie Why Choose romance was up her alley.
It didn’t matter. I had zero plans, and she was too sweet to decline her offer.
Tootie assured me it didn’t matter that I hadn’t read the book, and I figured I could suffer through a few hours of polite book talk and maybe meet a friend or two.
Beats a lonely night in the apartment, wondering about the noises coming up from the creepy old barn.
When I walked up to Bluebird Books, a wooden sign read Closed for the Bluebirds .
I peered through the window to see a few women milling around, so instead of going in, I knocked.
Their heads turned in my direction, and when Tootie saw me, her face lit up.
She motioned enthusiastically with her hands and mouthed, Come in, come in . I smiled and pushed through the door.
To my surprise, the Bluebird Club was a hell of a lot more fun than I had imagined.
It was in the back of the quaint bookstore, and the women who gathered all had drinks in their hands.
In a cozy corner were mismatched chairs, a comfy love seat, and large tufted ottoman seats spread haphazardly.
Candles were lit and soft music played in the background.
It was like walking into a chic, secret club.
A large side table had an array of drinks—both alcoholic and not—and it seemed everyone had brought some kind of appetizer to share. Everyone but me.
I leaned into Tootie. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t bring anything.”
She smiled and patted my hand. “Nonsense! You’re my guest. Now let’s meet the ladies.”
Tootie shuffled me past each woman, carefully introducing me. It seemed the age range of the women spanned from Tootie’s early sixties to a few in their mid twenties. The age gap didn’t seem to faze anyone as they milled around and laughed with each other.
“And of course,” Tootie said with a smile, “you know Bug.”
“It’s nice to see you again.” I smiled and tried to ignore the wary glance Bug whipped in Tootie’s direction.
She caught it too. “Oh stop, you old sourpuss. She’s one of us now.”
Bug looked down her long, straight nose at me. “ Us as in a Sullivan or a King?”
Slowly the chatter around me died down as the book club’s attention was squarely on me and the two women in a strangely possessive standoff beside me.
Tootie’s happy laugh broke through the uncomfortable silence. “You know as well as I do there’s no place for that at book club.” With a wave of her hand, she guided me around Bug’s assessing eyes and toward the small table with drinks.
“Don’t mind her,” she whispered. “There’s a good heart under all that bluster. But don’t you dare tell her I said that.”
With her low hum, I felt like I was being let in on some very important town secret—a society of women who, despite the decades-old feud in town, had come together for their love of books.
Only... besides the books on the shelves, there were no actual books present at book club.
After only a few minutes, it became apparent that the Bluebird Book Club was a facade for the women of Outtatowner to come together in secret to gossip, solve problems, and maybe even just be themselves.
I immediately fell in love.
The bell on the door jingled, and our attention was brought to a young woman juggling a tray of something that looked like brownies and a canvas bag hanging from the crook of her elbow.
I didn’t recognize her, but she smiled widely and slid the tray of dessert onto the table and flopped into an empty chair with a huff.
“Long day?” someone named Mabel asked.
“Long week,” she replied.
“And Red?” Tootie’s eyes were wistful.
The woman pressed her lips into a flat line and shook her head. “Not a great day.”
A hand went to Tootie’s back in comfort. The woman’s eyes slid to me, and she sat up. “Oh, hi.”
I smiled and stretched out my hand. “Hi. I’m Lark.”
“MJ.” She shook my hand and smoothed her hair back before sneaking a glance at Bug.
Bug tipped her head toward Tootie, who was lost in another conversation. “Lark’s a Sullivan.”
MJ’s lip twisted, and her shoulders slumped a bit, almost in... disappointment, maybe?
“To be fair, I’m neither a King nor a Sullivan. Just the new girl.” I offered another smile, and she returned it before relaxing into her chair.
MJ leaned closer, her smile warm and friendly. “If Tootie’s claimed you, it means you’re definitely a Sullivan.” She held out her hand. “Julep King, but most people call me MJ.”
I took her hand in mine. “MJ?”
Her eyes crinkled and she shrugged. “Mint Julep.”
Before I could protest, Tootie lifted a small bell and rang it. Side conversations died down as Bug also stepped forward.
“Ladies. As you can see, we have a new guest. Lark, meet everyone. Everyone, Lark.”
Murmured greetings floated through the group, and I smiled and awkwardly lifted my hand.
“Now that that’s settled”—Bug clapped her hands together—“let’s have a drink.”
A woman to my left leaned closer. “Is it true you and Bowlegs were having a secret affair?”
Another woman butted in before I could even laugh at the suggestion. “I heard you were his long-lost daughter.” Her eyes were wide and hopeful.
I looked around, and my mouth dropped open.
Do I lie?
Tootie swiftly came to my rescue. “Bug and I arranged for her to attend the services. Lord knows the men in this town cause enough drama, and we couldn’t stand the thought of no one being there to mourn him.
We hired Lark. She’s a friend of the family, and that’s the end of it.
” Her tone was sweet, but her words were final.
The two women sat back, but as I was stuck between them, they both eyed me. I’m sure secret lover and long-lost daughter were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the rumors swirling around town about me.
“I swear I’m not a spy!” I laughed uncomfortably as the group took me in with wide eyes. Conversation wilted around me, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
The pretty redhead next to me popped a bite of food in her mouth and looked as though she was about to burst out laughing. “I’m Annie. Technically a Sullivan. The whole spy thing is kind of a sore subject.”
I leaned closer. “Are you serious?”
She smiled and lifted a shoulder. “It’s one of the many legends of the Sullivan–King rivalry. Military spies on opposite sides. Lines drawn in the sand.” She rolled her eyes and swatted her hand in the air. “Small-town lore, really.”
It was utterly ridiculous but also a little fascinating and a whole lot charming. “And no one seems to think that’s a little silly to still be mad about?”
Annie laughed. “Not when the idiot men in this town keep it alive and well with their pranks and insecurities.”
MJ piped up, pointing a fruit kebab in Annie’s direction. “Speaking of, I have it on good authority that a little payback’s coming to Lee. They know it was him who helped let loose those pigs with the numbers one and three on them at the high school reunion.”
Annie lifted her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She winked, and they dissolved into a fit of laughter.
“They looked all night for pig number two.”
Laughing with the women was easy, natural. The tension between the Kings and Sullivans seemed to sit squarely on the men’s shoulders and had no place for the Bluebirds.
“Lee. The firefighter, right?” I affectionately remembered the youngest Sullivan brother who’d invited me to the fire station, though I was pretty sure it was just to get a rise out of Wyatt.
“He is now that he’s home. He was overseas with the military for a long time.
We’re all relieved he’s back.” There was something there, in Annie’s voice.
A sad history that hinted at something deeper, but she changed the subject before revealing any more.
“MJ here is a nurse up at Haven Pines, the assisted-living facility where Red stays in the memory care ward. Keeps an eye on him for us.”
MJ offered another shy smile. “Doesn’t matter if he’s a Sullivan or a King. No one should have to suffer through what he has.” Annie nodded and hummed in agreement, though I wondered if everyone felt the same way.
My brow furrowed. Red Sullivan didn’t seem all that old, especially for him to be living in an assisted-living facility. If he was staying in the memory-care ward, he likely suffered from dementia or another kind of brain injury. It explained the little lost looks I picked up on at the services.
Annie leaned across and placed her hand on MJ’s. “He’s lucky to have you. We all know it.”
MJ smiled but looked away, and my heart squeezed in my chest at the women’s soft and comforting exchange.
My lifestyle didn’t lend itself to forming lifelong bonds or close friendships.
While I had some girlfriends from high school, most of those had faded away with time and distance.
I loved meeting new people and exploring new places, but there was something to be said about being tied to a place.
Having a history and people who understood it with only a look.
“So you’re staying at the Highfield House? Kind of big for just one person.” MJ promptly changed the subject.
“Sort of. The barn apartment?” Both women nodded. “Though I did see Wyatt checking out the main house today.” I tried to keep my voice indifferent, but inside I was dying to know if they would share any other information about the broody middle Sullivan brother.
“That’s weird.” Annie took another bite of food and scrunched her face. “I saw him and Penny leaving town on my way in, and I assumed he was headed back to St. Fowler.”
Oddly, my heart sank, just a little.