Chapter 2
He heard the first strains of music because Tripp Lyntacky had put a speaker on a pole near his cafe.
“Aw, come on,” he muttered.
“If you have no positions available?—”
“No, it’s not that. Hear that music, Libby Gulliver?”
“Yes, it’s coming from somewhere outside.”
“Have you ever square-danced?” he asked her.
She shook her head.
“Well, you’re about to learn.” Ryder stomped around the counter. “Got gloves?” She nodded. “Put them on. If you spend any time in this town, Libby, you’ll become familiar with that music. Long story short, it’s in the town rules you have to dance when you hear it.”
“Ah, are you okay?” She started backing away from him.
“Believe me, sweetheart, I’m not the crazy in this town. Now let’s go.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll just move on and find a place?—”
“You try and make a run for it, and they’ll lock you up. Our mayor, Tripp Lyntacky, had an aunt who loved square dancing. You may have seen Shelly’s statue on the way in?” Ryder looked down at the woman he was nudging toward the door, and she shook her head. “Well, you’re going to know everything about her before you leave.”
He opened the door and urged her out into the cold morning air.
“I really don’t want to dance,” Libby said.
“Anyone unlucky enough to be within Lyntacky’s borders at this moment has to dance the grapevine twist or be locked up. You see, Shelly used to practice for the national square dance championships in the streets here, and when she died, her relatives decided to honor her memory by tormenting us.”
“I have no idea what to say to that, and your little town is not my town, so I don’t have to do anything.”
Ryder was often annoyed about his town, but no way in hell did he tolerate anyone looking down their nose at it. There had been a definite sneer in Libby Gulliver’s words when she’d said the words “little town.”
“Well, you go on, then, and take a walk up the street and see how far that gets you,” he muttered.
People were stomping out of warm buildings, puffs of white coming from their mouths as they cursed under their breaths.
“I’ll put something on Tripp’s next pizza that makes him sorry he dragged us out here in these temperatures,” Enzo Barone, the pizza shop owner next to Ryder, said as he towed his wife, Aria, toward the small group forming.
“Good morning, everyone. A little exercise will start your day the right way.”
“LouJean, no offense or anything, but not everyone is a morning person,” Ryder said. “This is not the way I want to start the day.”
The woman tsked but added nothing further. Her eyes then moved to Libby Gulliver, and Ryder saw the wheels turning in her head.
“This is Libby. Her car broke down, so I made her coffee. She’s thinking of walking and not dancing,” he said, stomping out any gossip before it started that she was his girl and setting LouJean on her.
“Libby, hello, dear. How unfortunate that your car broke down,” LouJean said. “But you can’t walk away when the music starts. Everyone has to dance to honor Shelly.”
Shock was the only word he could label Libby’s expression with. Her eyes went to him, then around the people milling before them. Some were stomping their feet; others blowing into their hands to warm their noses.
“I hope Bob can fix your car for you, dear.”
“Thank you.”
At least she had manners under that makeup and tan.
“Right. Just follow me, and don’t trip,” Ryder said brusquely.
“I could just watch, then, and not walk away.”
“You think I was joking about being arrested?” She nodded. “My uncle is the chief of police, and my brother a deputy. Trust me, it will happen.”
“You’re not serious?” Her eyes locked on his, and he noted one had a patch of hazel to the right of the pupil.
“Deadly. Small towns, sweetheart, there’s a whole lot of crazy that goes with the good.”
“Amen.”
These words came from Luca Barone, eldest son of Aria and Enzo. He was bundled into a thick jacket and had his eyes on Libby.
“We’ve had this conversation, Luca. No women until you finish your studies. Your mom’s orders, remember?” Ryder told him.
The kid muttered, his mother cuffed him, and they danced.
“No one would believe me if I recounted this,” Libby said, gripping his fingers tight.
He wasn’t sure why the words annoyed him, as they mirrored his thoughts, but something about this woman did exactly that, and again, he wasn’t sure why.
“Have you been doing this all your life?” she asked.
Ryder had seen tourists who were clueless when it came to dance or rhythm. Libby was not one of those. She moved instinctively and had the dance down within seconds of starting.
“Yup. Picture this. In the back seat of my car with?—”
“I don’t think you need to tell me this story,” she said in a frosty voice, which made him want to continue.
“And just reaching third base?—”
“In the main street? That’s a bit reckless. Surely anyone could see you,” Libby cut him off.
“We were around the back of the shops. Are you a rule follower, Libby Gulliver?”
“That’s none of your business,” she muttered to his back. He was sure she’d added, “Not that it’s done me any good.”
“I pulled up my zipper too fast, and….”
She gasped so loud that Phil the electrician said, “Spill, Duke. We could all use a laugh, seeing as it’s freezing and some fool is making us dance.” He wore overalls, two sweaters, and a balaclava.
“Tripp is no fool!” LouJean said.
“Let the arguing begin,” Ryder said.
There were four people in the next group who had no clue how to do the dance, and all were wearing matching T-shirts over their winter clothes with the words “Never trust an old person with a broom.” Then underneath it was “Curling is life.”
“I can’t believe you said that,” Libby whispered.
“What?” He shot her a look that suggested he knew exactly what he’d said.
Her lips clamped into a disapproving line, confirming his thoughts that Libby Gulliver could be a good girl who was easily shocked.
“The zipper thing. I don’t even know you,” she said as quietly as she could but so he still heard. “It’s like I’ve stepped into some kind of different universe.”
“You don’t talk to total strangers about zipping your?—”
“Stop!”
“Stop what?” Jett Hyland said. He held Libby’s other hand and had a look in his eyes that Ryder didn’t like very much. He gave him one back that had the plumber smiling.
Libby clipped the back of Ryder’s boot, and he turned to steady her.
“Thank you.”
Looking down into those pretty green eyes, Ryder had a feeling Libby Gulliver could be trouble for someone in his town, not him , if she was sticking around. Thankfully, he doubted she would for long, because she was exactly the kind of woman his youngest brother, Dan, fell for. He wondered what had brought her to Lyntacky?
“That fool Larry Limpet came to cribbage last night and brought a box of oysters unshucked,” LouJean said. “I tell you, what was I supposed to do with those smelly things?”
“At a guess, eat them?” Ryder said.
“You watch your mouth, Ryder Duke.” She waggled a finger at him.
“Yes, ma’am, but you did ask the question.”
“He has a fair point,” Jett said.
“So, you ready for the Lynpicks, Ryder?” Enzo asked him. “I have money on you, Red, Tripp, and Phoebe to win, seeing as you’re the curling A team.”
Lyntacky loved baseball, and when there was snow on the ground, they played winter sports, like curling. Tripp and some others had created an event they were calling the Lynpicks this year, which would run over several days and was their own version of the Olympics. Really, though, it would be nothing like it. Other towns had entered, and people would fly or drive in to compete.
There would be a relay down the main street with curling, skittles, archery, and whatever else the town elders had thought up.
Jed Knox said he was competing in archery, which had everyone groaning, because last time he’d shot an arrow, he’d nearly put it through his wife, who’d been stupid enough to stand within ten feet of the man while he had a bow in his hand.
The Lynpicks was really just an excuse to eat and drink a lot, but the locals would enjoy it, as would any tourists in town.
“Yeah, we’ve been practicing, and we’re ready,” Ryder said.
“Well, I’m sure Tripp won’t mind if you can’t dance and need more practice,” Enzo added. “Winning is important, Ryder.”
“Got that, thanks, Enzo.”
Lyntacks, as the locals called themselves, liked to win at all costs.
“How are you feeling, Libby?” Meadow asked as she added a little flair to her moves by jumping and hopping a few steps.
“I’m well, thank you, Meadow.”
“Excellent, that amethyst must be working.”
Libby nodded, looking nervous and totally freaked out by what was playing out around her.
“She’s just being friendly.” His words came out hard.
She frowned. “I know that.”
“Like I said, you’re a big-city girl, right?”
“I’m not sure what that’s got to do with anything,” Libby snapped.
“It means you don’t know how small towns work. We like each other here,” Ryder added.
“That’s insulting to all big cities, but then I guess you don’t leave town often,” she hissed back.
“My mom took me on a road trip to the next town, does that count?” Ryder mocked her.
“Jett, you tell your mom to bring her crochet patterns to club tomorrow,” LouJean said. “I’ve a hankering to create something.”
“Will do,” Jett said, light on his feet considering he was wearing work boots.
“I should leave and find somewhere to stay,” Libby said as the music stopped.
“Not sure much will be open yet,” Ryder said, walking back to his cafe. She could stay or go—that was on her. “I can make you another coffee, but this time you pay.”
“Have I offended you in some way?”
Her phone rang as he was about to answer, so he kept moving.
“You going to answer that?” he said when she followed him through the door.
“No.”
Ryder hated it when people didn’t answer their phones, unless they had a good reason not to. But his real pet peeve was when he was texting someone and called them, and they didn’t pick up.
“Sure seems like whoever is calling is determined to speak to you,” he said on the sixth ring.
She moved away from him and shook her hands twice before taking the phone out of her pocket. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to have. It looked like a burner phone. Inexpensive and easily tossed in the trash. He’d pegged her to have the latest model. Maybe she was on the run or negotiating some big drug deal? No, she didn’t look like a criminal to him, but then he’d been fooled before.
Ryder headed for the coffee machine and watched Libby.
She said something he couldn’t hear, then looked up at his ceiling briefly before shaking her head.
Libby Gulliver had secrets, which most people did. He had at least two that his family had never found out, and that was because he’d never spoken them out loud to anyone. But Ryder was sure she was running from something, and it wasn’t his problem to find out what. She was pretty much everything he stayed clear of when it came to women: all about appearance and thought life stopped outside big cities.
“I’ll take a coffee to finish my walk, thanks, Ryder,” LouJean said, bustling in at full speed, like she did most things.
“First batch is ready!” Meadow said, carrying a tray to the cabinets. The smell wafted to Ryder, and he realized he hadn’t eaten yet. Shooting Libby a look, he wondered when she’d had her last meal, and then he wondered why he cared.
“What are those?” LouJean asked, moving to inspect them.
“Scones with orange and date.”
“Scones, not muffins?” The woman didn’t look convinced about his baked goods.
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Ryder said, putting the lid on her coffee.
“Well, all right, but I prefer the raspberry-chocolate muffins.”
“It’s not even opening time, LouJean, give me a break here. I haven’t got the cabinets loaded yet because our mayor made me dance on the icy street in frigid conditions,” Ryder said.
“You young’uns need more stamina,” LouJean said, taking the bag Meadow handed her. “I’ll try this and let you know what I think.”
“As you can imagine, your opinion means everything to me, LouJean,” Ryder said solemnly.
She moved to where he stood and then leaned over the counter to pat his cheek. “You’ve got a smart mouth, young man.”
He gave her a kiss on one ice-cold, paper-thin cheek.
LouJean left clutching a coffee in one hand and the bag holding a scone in the other.
Ryder’s eyes went back to Libby, who was now pacing between tables. Head lowered, she was speaking quietly into the phone again, and then suddenly she stopped, stabbed a finger at the keypad, and shoved it back into her pocket. She shot him a look, and he saw the tears. Libby then blinked, and they were gone.