Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
W ard knew they shouldn’t go anywhere near the Wires Crossing Apple Festival. It was security Swiss cheese. The town swarmed with strangers, the streets clogged with everything from buses to bicycles, and darkness turned every corner into a potential hazard.
When Dad asked them to run the Sevens Cider booth for a few hours, he should have put his foot down. They’d triggered Della’s stalker. There was no way of knowing exactly how that would play out, and Sevens was the most popular part of the festival other than the pie tent and, of course, the talent show.
Della wouldn’t just be exposed. She’d be the center of attention. Hell, he might as well put her up on the damn stage with a neon sign.
The smart move would have been to close ranks. He’d intended to do just that, but Della had been excited to help run the booth. She’d jumped at the chance, then looked at him for approval.
Whatever she saw on his face had killed the happiness in her eyes.
It made his chest ache.
“Yeah, sure” had come out of his mouth before he could stop it. He didn’t want to be the one who killed that light in her eyes, and didn’t that just kick him right in the gut.
Now here they were, manning the damn booth, while a steady stream of faces he knew, and even more he didn’t, spent way too much time with his protectee.
Sevens Cider was always placed on the main path from the street to the courthouse that sat in the middle of the square. The courthouse was bordered by lawns on three sides, and a parking lot along the front. One-way streets, bordered by shops and small restaurants and bars, turned the square into the gathering spot. It still had old-world charm despite modern upgrades. The old bell on top of the watchtower was digital now, but it still chimed on the hour all day long.
Dad’s cider booth had been the subject of several magazine articles and news stories. It was the first booth erected, and the last one removed. The line was constant, and visibility was high.
Della greeted every new arrival like a long-lost friend. She wielded that you-are-the-best-thing-I’ve-seen-all-day excitement like a weapon, and it disarmed everyone in her orbit, including him.
“What’ll it be, boys? Hot or iced?” Della beamed at the three teenagers at the front of the line.
One of them, the youngest of the Havens family if he remembered right, wiggled his eyebrows. “Hot. Definitely.”
Ward snorted in amusement. “She’s out of your league, Marty.”
“Not for long,” Marty said, flexing his muscles. “I’m eighteen this month.”
Ward held out a cup. “Move along.”
Della winked as she took their money. “Ignore him.”
He saw Rachel coming with a determined look on her face and readied himself for yet another sales pitch. She looked like a queen with her perfectly curled blonde hair, white coat, and tall white boots, but the days she could get what she wanted from him just by flaunting her ability to fill out a sweater were long gone.
He wasn’t shocked that his repeated rejections bounced off her. She’d always been the girl who got what she wanted through sheer determination and persistence. He was just damn tired of her game.
He shook his head as she approached, hoping she’d take the hint.
Rachel bypassed the line like it didn’t apply to her and headed straight for him.
“No,” Ward said as soon as she was close enough to hear him over the festival noise.
She blinked at him in pretend confusion. “No?”
“That’s right, no.” He sat a cup of iced cider down a little harder than he’d intended. Sticky liquid sloshed over the sides and onto the table. “No, I don’t want to hear you out. No to whatever you’ve come to wheedle, whine, or offer. No to anything that isn’t a cup of goddamn cider, and if you want that, the end of the line’s back that way.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bounce house.
“Donovan, you know I don’t do lines.” Rachel held out a ten-dollar bill to the next person in line, a twenty-something woman with a big-eyed little girl. “It’s on me if I can take your spot for just a minute.”
“Sure.” The woman scooped up the money and took a step back to let her in.
Della eyed her new customer. “Rachel. How interesting to see you. Hot or iced?”
“Lucy.” Rachel acknowledged her with a slight dip of her chin. “I just need to borrow Donovan for a second.”
“I wasn’t aware I had the power to lend him out.” Della turned to him. “You really should tell me these things. I could make a ton of money.”
He ground his teeth. Rachel was perfectly capable of hanging around all night to get what she wanted. Della was perfectly capable of standing her ground. The two together could get complicated in a way that would land both of them in a viral video.
Rachel’s polite smile fractured a little. “Donovan. Please. Can I have a quick word?”
He drained the last of the hot cider out of the container into a waiting cup. “This one’s empty, Lucy. I’ll ping Dad for a fresh one if you can hold the line for a few?”
“Oh, I can handle a line.” Della’s expression turned coy. “Can you handle the snow bunny?”
He flicked a glance of irritation at Rachel. “I got this.”
Della gave Rachel a wink. “Just remember to give him back in the same condition you found him.”
“Right.” Rachel’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that made the icy anger in her eyes stand out. “I like your outfit too, by the way. Disheveled barmaid isn’t a look I can pull off, but you make it look natural.”
Della’s sunny expression didn’t even twitch. “No, I can see Prissy Ice Princess is much more your style.” Della leaned around Rachel. “Next!”
Someone nearby laughed.
Rachel’s flush deepened.
Ward picked up the empty container and carried it to the waiting cart at the back of the booth. It was wrong how much he'd enjoyed that. “Make it quick.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “Of course. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to stop by to give you this.” She opened her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I realized I’ve never made you an actual offer, so you don’t know what you’re saying no to. I think this will give you a much clearer picture of how serious I am.”
She handed him the note card. It looked like an invitation to a garden party on fancy paper embossed with roses and vines. He flipped it open.
The number she’d written on it certainly got his attention. He eyed it, then her. Confidence flowed off her. She was so dead sure that a line of zeros was all it would take. Hell, she probably had a contract in that bag, along with pens and a notary stamp. “That much?”
“Yes.” Rachel stepped closer, her eyes big. “That much. Think what you could do with that money. You have a new business. Businesses need cashflow. I can give you that.”
Those eyes had power to move men and mountains back in the day. They didn’t do a damn thing to him now. He knew what made her tick: agendas and empty promises. “Are you under the impression that I’m broke? Or do you just think I’m an easy mark?”
Her hand came up as if to touch his arm, but whatever she saw on his face stopped her. “My offer is more than fair. That’s how much that house…and our shared history…means to me.”
He shifted another empty container to the stack. “Funny, I got the impression neither one meant anything to you at all when I left. You couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone.”
“That’s not true. You know it’s not true. I was…”
“It didn’t take you long to move on, though, did it? What was it, six months? Eight? Happened so quick, I figured he was the backup plan in case I wound up with a life you didn’t think you wanted. I guess that was a good call on your part. I doubt you ever pictured yourself a military wife.”
“I know things didn’t…I know I was…” She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. When her gaze settled on him again, she looked more sincere, less sales. It was still an act, he realized. Maybe it always had been. “About what happened…what I did, or didn’t do, I should say…I’m sorry. I should have said that a long time ago. I should have called. I should have…well, I should have done a lot of things.”
She made a little noise that might have been a sigh, or a laugh, with a sexy little jiggle of her shoulders.
Was she actually hitting on him? With his girlfriend standing right there?
No.
It was a sales tactic. Nothing more.
He leaned against the cart. “You know, I think you did exactly the right thing. I admit at the time I was pissed, but I’m over it.”
“That’s not fair, Donovan.” Now there was the snappy, imperious tone he remembered. “I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what to do. You know my family. You know the pressure I was under to live up to their expectations. You know how hard it was. How…impossible.” She stepped closer. “I loved you, and your mother. Your house was more of a home to me than my own. You know that.”
“Yeah, Mom was good at that.” He looked back down at the card.
Rachel turned her head, her gaze fixed on Della as she worked the line. “Did you know you’ve been here a month? The whole town’s talking about how it’s the longest you’ve ever stayed. They all think you’re settling in for the long haul with that pretty California girl you brought home, but I don’t. I’ve seen how you look at her.”
“How’s that?”
“Like she’s a project or a chore.” Rachel shifted to put herself in between him and Della and looked up at him with calculating eyes. “Those big city lights are calling to her, and you’re trying to make her stay.”
The notecard crumpled in his hand when he gripped it too hard.
Her eyes sparked. “I’ve seen her type. It won’t be long before she’s bored out of her mind and running back to the life she actually wants. Are you going to chase after her, or are you going to dive back into that business you say you’re building? What was it…protection? Watching someone else live their life instead of living your own? Either way, I think your mother’s house deserves better than being the place you bury bad memories.”
She'd hit the truth so hard it threw him for a second. Not the why of it, but the what.
Wires Crossing was just a pit stop in Della Bellamy’s life.
It was why nothing should or could happen between them. None of this was real. It pissed him off that Rachel, of all people, could sense that.
He wasn’t keeping his fantasy girlfriend. Della wasn’t keeping her pretend boyfriend. And Rachel sure as hell wasn’t getting his house.
At least life sucked all the way around.
Ward tossed the crumpled-up card into the trash. “No means no, Rachel.”
“Are you sure?” The crafty look on her face made him wonder how he’d ever loved her. He blamed it on teenage hormones and small-town boredom. “I’m willing to negotiate. That offer can go higher.”
Ward leaned toward her and kept his voice low. “Let me make this very, very clear. I’m keeping my mother’s house. It’s my home. Mine. It doesn’t matter how much money you have or what you offer. When I’m dead and buried six feet under you still won’t be able to buy it. Get that? I’m never selling my home to you. Not now. Not ever. The only thing you can buy from me is cider. If you want that, step to the back of the line. Otherwise, we’re done.”
He realized that it was all true. Staying with Della in his childhood home had taken the sting out of the memories that had kept him away for so long.
It didn’t hurt to walk through the front door anymore.
He had a feeling his mother would really like that.
A flush crept up Rachel’s cheeks. “You don’t have to be so mean. I’m just trying…”
“You need to make your own home, Rachel, and stop trying to take mine.” He stepped around her. “This is the last time we have this conversation. Have a nice life."
“Hey, Donny honey, the line’s getting backed up.” Della nudged Ward aside and held out a cup of hot cider to Rachel with a smile that said, “Go away” much louder than words ever could have. “On the house.”
“Keep it.” Rachel turned on her heel and stalked off.
She made her way through a crowd that parted for her like Moses, head held high, back stiff.
“Oooo,” someone in line said.
Laughter and comments rippled down the line.
“Rude,” Della said with a sad shake of her head. “This stuff’s worth more than gold, am I right?”
“Hell yeah!” a man in line shouted.
“I’ll take it if she doesn’t want it,” a little boy said.
Della laughed. “Here you go, sweetie. It’s yours.”
“Thanks! Mama, look!” The boy held the cup like it was the biggest prize at the fair as his mother led him away.
A golf cart beeped to clear people out of the way as Dad and Elyse pulled up carrying two more vats of hot cider.
Dad glanced at Rachel’s retreating back, then eyed Ward with a knowing look as they hauled the full containers to the table.
“Okay?” Ralph asked quietly.
“Fine,” Ward said.
“You know, that girl’s been after me to sell the house for a while now,” Ralph said. “Told her it wasn’t mine to sell."
“Yeah, I told her I’m not selling. Ever.” Ward shoved the full vat of cider into place. “Pretty sure I made it stick.”
“Good.” Ralph rolled his shoulders. “Good. It’s your place, and it’s your call, but…I’m glad, son. Real glad.”
“Me too,” Ward said.
“Me three.” Elyse flashed Ward a look of compassion and understanding, then gave Della a kiss on the cheek. “Lucy, have you managed to see any of the festival, or have you been trapped here the whole time?”
Dad gestured toward the row of booths that lined the street. “Why don’t you take the empties back, then show her around? We’ll cover here.”
Della’s eyes lit up. “You sure you don’t need help?”
Dad winked at her. “I’ve been covering the festival since before Sevens was a glimmer in anyone’s eye. Pretty sure a few hours playing bartender won’t kill me.”
“Thanks, Ralph. I’ve really been looking forward to this.” Her eyes danced as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll come back to help close.”
Ward’s shoulders tightened at the idea of wandering through crowds with Della, but he didn’t say no.
“You two run along.” Elyse shooed them away, then turned to the line. “Who’s next?”
“Think we can get seats close to the stage?” Della hugged his arm as they walked to the waiting cart. “I want to be front row when Mason goes on.”
Ward moved the cart into position and hooked it to the trailer holding the empty containers. “We can do better than that.”
He sent a quick text to Brick.
Ward — Need the VIP section for the show.
A few seconds later, he got the reply.
Brick — On it .
They parked in the alley behind Sevens so Ken could unload, then he led Della into the crowd.
Artist tents, food vendors, and carnival games filled the streets surrounding the square. The mouthwatering scent of barbecue, roasted hot dogs, and popcorn filled the air, along with the sweet, ever-present aroma of apples.
“Hungry?” Ward asked.
“Starving.” Della’s eyes danced as she took in the scene. “Think they have cotton candy?”
“Always. My aunt has the best. They featured her in Food & Wine magazine two years back.” Ward led her to Aunt Martha’s Sweetness, a red and white striped booth with a line that stretched almost to the corner. He ignored it and stepped into the back of the tent instead. It was filled with shelves and cases of apple products, from jam to butter to pastries. People entered on one side with a basket and exited the other with a bag and a lot less money.
“Oh…” Della stared around, stepping to the side to let someone pass. “This is… What is this?”
“It’s Aunt Martha’s retirement bonus. She makes enough this weekend to pay for her vacations every year.”
Della picked up a jar. “Butter? Apple butter? That’s a thing?”
“Donovan, my dear boy,” Aunt Martha called out. She swept toward them, shifting people aside as she went. “It’s about time you showed up. And Lucy. I see you’ve already found the star of the show.” Aunt Martha turned to pick up a tray of crackers spread with a thick layer of apple butter. “Taste this. It’s my best yet.”
“It smells fantastic.” Della took a bite, her eyes widening with delight. “This is so good. Can we buy a case?”
Aunt Martha puffed up with pride. “I knew I liked you.” She handed the tray to one of her student helpers. “You keep this girl, Donovan. She’s good people.”
He pointed at one of the machines sitting at the back of the booth. “Lucy loves cotton candy.”
“Of course she does. Who doesn’t?” Aunt Martha gestured for them to follow. “But I bet she’s never had something like this . It’s called Apple Delight. Nobody else makes it the way I do, with real apple bits and a bit of something extra.”
Aunt Martha handed Della a cone covered in the stuff. “Sample that while I put a bag together for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Della protested.
Aunt Martha snapped open a bag. “Don’t be silly, dear girl. It’s your first festival. You have to sample all of it until you’re almost sick. That’s a rule.”
“That sounds like a great rule to me.” Della’s eyes twinkled as she watched Aunt Martha fill the bag with apple jalape?o jelly, apple biscuits, apple tarts, apple bread, and two kinds of apple butter.
“I never knew apples could be turned into so many things,” Della said. “I’m in love.”
“I admit I do have quite the selection.” Aunt Martha gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then waved an admonishing finger at Ward. “I better see you both at the talent show. Mason’s been practicing his heart out.”
For some strange reason, she winked at Della.
Della’s eyes went wide before she buried her face in the cotton candy. “We’ll be there,” she said around a mouthful. “Can’t wait.”
“When’s the show?” Della said as they left Aunt Martha’s booth and continued down the street.
Ward checked the time. “We have about an hour.”
“Should we go save some seats?” She took in a deep breath. “What’s that smell? Barbecue?”
“Apple sausage.” He pointed to a nearby booth with a thankfully short line. This crowd made him itch. It was hard to keep everyone he thought could be a threat in view. Too many moving parts. He surreptitiously checked his phone and saw the text he’d been waiting for.
All set — Brick
“You seem tense. Is something wrong?” Della asked in his ear. “Should we go?”
He forced his shoulders to relax and tucked the phone away. “No. We’re good.”
A look of understanding crossed her face. “You don’t like crowds.”
“No.” He glanced around. Within about ten feet there were at least five men giving Della a side-eye of interest and two women who were not happy about it, along with a half dozen people oblivious to everything but their own circle of kids or pets. “Let’s take this buffet back to the square.”
“Okay.” She fell into step beside him. “I love crowds. Can’t you feel the energy? The excitement? Doesn’t it make you feel alive?”
Her face glowed as she said it, like she was a battery gathering charge.
“Not tonight.” He waved at Dad and Elyse as they passed by on their way to the stage area. “This is like keeping track of every piece of hay in a haystack and everybody has their own match.”
“Wow.” Her face dimmed. “Being with me is a lot of fun for you, isn’t it.”
Ward grimaced. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad. “It’s not you. It’s the job.”
“The job,” she repeated, sounding hollow. “Right.”
As they drew closer to the stage, Della’s face fell a little further. “All the seats are full. Maybe we can stand by that building? Oh, or we could try along the other side by that stone wall?”
Ward nudged her shoulder and pointed to the left. “We can do better than that.”
A look of curiosity erased some of the disappointment in her eyes. “How?”
With the thrill of a surprise well planned, Ward led her to one of the large oak trees that grew along the building’s west side. Behind the tree was a little used emergency exit.
He knocked three times, then waited.
“Are we supposed to go in there?” Della asked, eyeing him with suspicion. “The building looks closed.”
“It is.” He flicked a smile at her as the door opened and Brick peered out.
“Password?” Brick said.
“Bite me,” Ward said. He gestured for Della to go in first. “We brought snacks.”
“Magic words.” Brick opened the door wider to let Della through. “I’m starving.”
Ward handed chips and an apple-infused steak burrito to Brick. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem,” Brick said. “You kids have fun.”
“You’re not staying?” Della sounded sorry to see him go.
That rankled. It was almost as if she didn’t want to be alone with him. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been pushing her away all week.
“Nah. I got a backstage pass.” Brick shouldered the door open. “I’m the bouncer. I’ll catch up with you later. See ya.”
“Later.” Della stepped inside. “We’re trespassing, aren’t we.”
“No. He has a key. His lawn care company has the contract for all the city buildings.” Ward indicated the stairs to the right. “After you.”
They climbed to the second floor, then Ward led her down the hallway to a small, bare-bones waiting area with French doors that opened onto a small balcony.
“What is this place? I thought it was a museum or something.” Della looked around. “It’s so quiet in here, you can hardly hear the crowd.”
“It’s the county courthouse.” He’d been inside a few times, but only one time that mattered. He opened the door. “The mayor used to stand out here to give public announcements or campaign speeches back in the day. Now it’s mostly used by people wanting to sneak a cigarette. It’s also VIP seating for concerts.”
“I’ve been in a courthouse a couple of times.” She glanced around as if to make sure they were alone. “It didn’t look like this at all. It was all glass and marble and closed-off rooms, not pretty wood and windows. And it smelled like castor oil or something, not lemons. Oh, look how pretty this is.” Her expression filled with soft delight. “I love this wrought-iron railing.”
Ward shut the door behind them. “It’s not original. They had to rebuild this side about fifty years ago because of a fire.”
Brick had set up two folding chairs and a wrought-iron patio table. There was even a lit candle in the center. It was very Lady and the Tramp . His wingman was still trying to give him an assist. “Front-row seats.”
Della set the now empty cone down on the table and walked to the railing. “It doesn’t matter when it was built. This is perfect.”
“Here.” He handed her one of the sausage dogs. “It’s not fall until you’ve had one of these.”
“Oh-kay.” Della eyed the sandwich with suspicion. “You know, I’ve never had sausage with apples in it before. Doesn’t seem like it would go together.”
“Try it.” He took a big bite of his own. The savory-sweet treat was as good as he remembered.
Della sat, sniffed the sausage, then took a bite. She made appreciative noises as she chewed. “Now that’s good .”
“See?” He took another bite.
“Mmm.” She nodded as she chewed. “I love this. The smells. The chill in the air. The stars. The people. Especially the people. Thanks for bringing me.”
“Sure.” With the advantage of height, they could see all of the main stage, plus part of the curtained-off backstage area that was already filled with people getting ready for their turn. He could just make out the tall, dark-haired kid with the new guitar who’d be going on first. “There’s Mason.”
Della brushed up against Ward as she leaned over the rail. “He looks fantastic. Love the black shirt with the black jeans. Great callback. Plus, it goes with the black accents on the guitar.”
He found himself leaning into the warmth of her arm.
“Callback?” Ward stared at his not-so-little-anymore brother. He looked like someone who was comfortable onstage. When had that happened?
“To Johnny Cash. You know, The Man in Black? His voice is so similar, people will instantly relate.” Della surveyed the scene with a happy smile. “Me and my sisters got started at places just like this. Our first show was a small county fair. Some contest that Piper and Lizzie set up. I was eight. The whole place smelled like hot dogs and cotton candy and there was this carousel with these brightly colored horses that made me feel so important. Like everyone was smiling and waving just for me. I loved it. Made me feel all grown up.”
“I thought you were born in an arena.”
Her smile deepened. “Not quite. But I got there as fast as I could.”
A loud screech sounded, startling them both.
Della winced down at the stage. “The amp’s up too high.”
Ward pointed at the stagehands who had rushed over to adjust various knobs and dials. “They’ll get it fixed.”
“I hope before Mason gets up there.” She bit her lip.
“Are you nervous?” He hadn’t thought Della even knew the meaning of the word.
“Me? Nah.” Della grinned, confirming his suspicion. “But Lucy’s really nervous. She wants Mason to kick musical ass.”
“Well, Lucy doesn’t have to worry, because she gave Mason a really expensive guitar for his birthday.”
She bumped his arm with her shoulder. “His brother gave that to him. That’s what he’ll remember. Lucy was just along for the ride.”
Before he could tell her that his brother wasn’t an idiot and definitely knew why Ward had suddenly produced a gift instead of money, he was interrupted by another loud screech, followed by a booming, ingratiating, larger-than-life voice.
“Welcome!” The crowd noise died down as Aunt Martha sailed onto the stage. She’d changed into a sparkling black dress that he thought he recognized from last year’s holiday play. “Welcome, everyone, to the Wires Crossing Annual Talent Show. We’re so happy you made it out to cheer on all of our talented artists. They’ve been working hard all year to entertain and delight. Ballots should have been handed to you on the way in, but if you didn’t get one, you can now use our very own Wires Crossing app to cast your vote. Voting opens after the last act and closes at ten, sharp, when the big dance starts, so don’t forget. Ms. Jill, you especially.”
Aunt Martha turned a pretend glare on an elderly woman in the front row.
“Don’t you worry, Martha,” Ms. Jill said with a little wave. "My grandson already set up the app for me. I’ll get it done on time this year.”
The people who could hear her laughed.
“Now remember, the winner will be announced just before the fireworks finale tomorrow night so be sure to get your butts back in those seats for that. Now then, your host for tonight is my cochair and new owner of the Parry Water House Inn, Jed Parry. Let’s give him a warm Wires Crossing welcome!”
Aunt Martha handed the microphone to Jed and waved as she stepped delicately off the stage.
“Let’s get the party started.” Jed, dressed in a suit that would have been at home in a circus, bounced up to the front of the stage with gameshow host flair. “First up is none other than Boltz quarterback, Mason Ward. Give it up!”
Della leaned forward, her grip on the rail tightening. “Deep breath, Mason. You got this.”
Her encouragement was just a whisper, but it nudged a smile onto Ward’s face. She and Mason clearly had been getting to know each other during all those nights at Sevens.
His entire family had embraced his “girlfriend” with enthusiasm. Guilt fought with a pinprick of pleasure at the idea.
When Mason started singing, Della slapped Ward’s arm with the back of her hand. “Listen to that. Doesn’t that deep tone just send tingles up your spine?”
“No.” Ward stared at the kid. When had his little brother turned into this confident, talented man? He’d been ten years old just a few weeks ago, it seemed like. “I don’t have a musical ear.”
“Sure you do. Everybody does. You just need to be taught what to listen for. Like…hear how he puts all his feelings into the words? You don’t have to be a musician to sense emotions.” She eyed him. “You’re not really a robot, are you? I was just kidding about that.”
He turned a deadpan look on her. “If I was, would I know?”
She laughed.
His brother sauntered while he sang to the side of the stage and stopped in front of a brown-haired girl. It took a second for Ward to recognize her. That was definitely Emily. She’d grown quite a bit, but she’d been a fixture at all of their family functions since Mason was in the second grade.
So little brother had a thing for his best friend. Clearly, the feeling was mutual as Emily stared back at Mason with a dreamy smile on her face.
“Awww,” Della breathed. “That has to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Looks like the guitar was a good call,” Ward said. “It doesn’t screech like the old one did.”
“Told you.” Della waved her hand like a conductor. “Lift…up, up, up.”
She pumped her fist as Mason nailed a high note. “Nice!”
Ward watched her with amusement. “How many times do you get to see a show from this side of the stage?”
“These days? Almost never.” The proud twinkle in her eyes faded. “If I go to someone else’s show, I tend to draw too much attention. It’s not fair to them.”
There was a faraway, almost sad note in her voice that didn’t sit well with him. He was used to her being aggressively cheerful.
“Nobody’s looking at you now.” He wasn’t sure what made him say it. No celebrity liked to hear that they weren’t the center of attention. They craved it like oxygen. But somehow he instinctively knew it was what Della needed in this moment.
An impish grin lifted the sadness off her face. “I know. That’s what’s so great about this. Lucy gets to go to concerts and bars and sunflower fields and apple festivals. She’s a lucky girl.” She looked down at the crowd. “I’m going to miss her.”
Ward felt an uncomfortable chill. He was going to miss this…her…too. He ripped his attention from her and put it back on the crowd where it belonged.
When the song ended, the crowd erupted like Mason had just scored the winning touchdown.
Della cupped her hands over her mouth and let out a whoop. “That new lift in the chorus was perfect. He nailed it.”
“ New lift?” There was something about the way she said it that caught Ward’s attention. “You’ve heard this song before?”
Della avoided his gaze. “I’m still hungry. Is there another sausage dog?”
“You heard this song.” Ward nudged her arm. “When?”
Della moved away from the rail and picked up the bag of apple treats in what he suspected was an effort to appear casual. “He played it for me a couple of times at work. Just a few minutes here and there. What’s this pointy thing with sugar?”
“He played and sang, and you didn’t?”
She pulled the tart out of the bag, took a bite, and groaned. “So good. I want to send some of these to Chef Carrie so she can duplicate them.”
He took the bag from her. “Answer the question.”
“I cheered him on, Warden. That’s all. He was so adorably nervous and he’s so good .”
“You cheered…how?”
“By listening .”
He could hear the implied Duh!
“And…”
“And?” She took another bite of the tart. “Your aunt is a genius.”
He leaned close to her. “Lucy.”
She put the half-eaten tart down on a napkin. “Relax. I clapped and nodded my head to the beat. I might have given him a word change or two, but he didn’t really need it.”
He stared at her while he waited for her to fill the silence.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. We gave him the guitar. If I’d refused to help it would have looked strange. Besides, that song’s all him, and it’s fantastic.”
He considered that. She had a minor point. Not that it mattered. A nagging detail still dangled out there, unanswered. “Did you sing?”
“I’m hurt, Warden.” She put a hand to her chest. “You told me no singing. Speaking of which, where does the no singing rule fall on your list? Number seven? Eight?”
“It doesn’t.” Instinct flared in his gut. It was probably nothing, but it could be something. Was it enough to relocate? Was her cover blown?
No. There’d been no alert from Spence. If she was trending online, he’d know about it.
Della pointed at the stage. “Look. It worked. He got the girl.”
He glanced down to see Mason pull his childhood sweetheart up on stage for a kiss. “Good for him.”
It felt a little bittersweet, watching his little brother get the girl, but it was shoved aside by a flicker of pride. “He is good, isn’t he.”
“That’s an understatement. If Renic were here tonight, Mason would have a contract before he left the stage.” She gripped the railing with both hands. “When this is all over, I’ll introduce them.”
He tried to picture his brother living Della’s life and couldn’t. “I think he should focus on graduating first.”
“Oh, me too.” Della waved away his words. “He should do all the high school things. Especially prom. I always wanted to go to prom, but we moved around too much for a permanent school. Hey, maybe we can go. When is prom?”
“Spring.” This conversation was headed in an uncomfortable direction. “We should be long gone by then.”
“Oh. Right.” Disappointment flitted across her face. “You know, I like this place a lot more than I ever thought I would. It’s like something out of a movie. I keep expecting fireworks.”
“That’s tomorrow night,” Ward said. “They shoot them off to close out the festival.”
She gestured with an open hand. “See? It just feels real , you know? Solid. Like…everything in my regular life is just pretending and this is how it’s supposed to be. Like this is the thing I didn’t know I was missing.”
The wistful longing in her tone pulsed a dangerous impulse through him to wrap his arms around her.
He looked away. “A lot of the people down there would rather have your life.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I get it. It’s a good life. I love being onstage. I love sharing music with the world. I wouldn’t trade that.” Della watched the next act assemble. “But why can’t I be Della and Lucy? Why can’t I have both?”
He could picture coming back here in the spring to show Della the wildflowers and take her to prom. He could almost feel her in his arms as they moved across the dance floor.
But was it Della he saw in that imaginary future, or was it Lucy?
Was there really as much of a difference as he liked to pretend there was?
How much of what he felt for her was because they’d played house too long?
He’d known coming to the festival was a security risk, but he hadn’t anticipated the real danger would come from the redhead standing next to him. Rule one was starting to feel like it shouldn’t apply to them. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in it, it was that he was starting not to care.
It was almost three in the morning when they returned home.
Ward’s back and shoulders felt used and abused, and Della was as wilted as he’d ever seen her.
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to run out of energy,” he commented as he locked the door.
“It’s not gone. It’s hibernating.” Della plodded up the stairs. “How early do we have to be there in the morning?”
“It’s already morning.” Watching her climb in those jeans was mesmerizing. The back-and-forth of her hips sparked all kinds of fires in the lower parts of his anatomy.
“It’s not morning”—Della interrupted herself with a yawn that ended in an adorable little squeak—“until the sun comes up.”
“Dawn’s in four hours. But we should be there by ten.” He followed her down the hallway to her bedroom, inspecting the rooms along the way to make sure they were empty. None of the security measures had been breached, but it didn’t hurt to double-check.
Della leaned against the wall by her door. “Go on, Rambo. Do your thing.”
He checked the closet, the windows, then the bathroom.
Towels were draped neatly on the towel rack, a short robe hung on a nearby hook, and the smell of citrus hung in the air.
He couldn’t help but picture her in the glass-enclosed shower. Naked. Steaming-hot water pouring between her breasts. Over her back. Down her thighs.
Ward swore and took a deep, deep breath. Held it. Let it out slow and steady while he glared at himself in the mirror.
It took seconds to verify that nothing was out of place. He had no business picturing his client in here. He had no right to imagine her naked. He was a thousand different kinds of fool for wanting anything with her.
Get a grip, asshole .
He came out of the bathroom to find Della rummaging in a drawer instead of out in the hall where she belonged. “You’re supposed to wait until I call clear.”
“You were taking too long.” She pulled out a slip of cloth that he supposed was underwear and the old flannel shirt she’d been sleeping in and tossed them on the bed.
Great. Now he was picturing her in nothing but flannel. It was more of a tease than imagining her naked. He ripped his gaze away before the traitorous half of his body made that obvious.
“It doesn’t take a minute for me to do a sweep.”
“If I stood there thirty more seconds, I was going to collapse in the hallway, and I don’t want to crawl into bed until I’ve had a shower. We both smell like apples, and not in a good way. I’m going to rinse the day off, then pass out.”
“Fine.” He strode past her, trying hard not to make eye contact. “Good night.”
“Night.”
He shut the door just as she started to pull off her shirt. He covered the ground back to his room like the building was on fire.
There weren’t enough closed doors between the two of them. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the water running.
Maybe he should sleep downstairs in the office. Or in the truck.
No, dammit. He could handle this. He could be in the same house with her and act like a professional. No problem.
Ward pulled off his shirt and sniffed. She was right, it smelled like fermented apples and smoke. He tossed the shirt into the laundry basket and headed for the shower, where he ruthlessly turned the dial to arctic and stepped in.
The frigid water did nothing to ease the tension.
A fantasy spun out in his head.
Della’s smile was knowing and flirty and all kinds of sinful as she welcomed him into the shower. Her arms snaked around his shoulders while his hands traced the contours of her back all the way down to the strong curves of her ass.
His hands roamed over every bare inch of her backside before he pulled her even closer. She was warm and soft and as eager to get to know him as he was her.
They didn’t speak.
In his daydream, he kissed her with all the pent-up need he’d been burying for the past month.
His lips traced a path down her throat to her breasts and when she moaned, he pushed her up against the wall of the shower. Her legs wrapped around him, leaving her open for exploration.
Pounding at the bedroom door jolted him out of the fantasy. He turned off the spray and listened. Had he imagined it?
Another knock, a little lighter this time. Tap-tap-tap .
On high alert, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel.
She never knocked on his door.
“Ward?” Della called through the door.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and thrust open the door. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Della squeaked. She took a step back, clearly startled. Her eyes widened. “I…oh.”
Her hair was damp, and the fresh scent of her shampoo beckoned to him. She wore that damn red flannel shirt. It reached the middle of her thigh and left a whole lot of bare leg on display, the same legs that had just been wrapped around him in his imagination.
Reality was even more tantalizing.
He put his hand on the edge of the door and gripped it. Hard. “What do you want, Lucy.”
For the first time since he’d met her, she seemed uncertain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower.”
“It’s fine.” If she kept standing there, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from doing something insanely stupid. “What is it?”
Her gaze drifted down, then snapped back up to his face. Her cheeks flushed. “I had a really great time today, or I guess yesterday now. I know it was a lot of extra work for you, but you did it anyway. I just wanted to say thank you. It meant a lot.”
“Not a problem.” He waited a beat. “Is that it?”
She nodded and half turned as if to go back to her room, then stopped and turned back. “Actually, no. I also wanted to thank you for bringing me here to Wires Crossing. I know hanging out with me wasn’t high on your list of things to do. I was a giant pain in the ass when we met. I resisted every step of the way, and I did some stupid things, and I made it all a lot harder for you.”
He should argue with her. It was only polite to tell the client they weren’t a pain in the ass, but before he could say anything she continued.
“But then you brought me here and you shared your family with me when I couldn’t have my own. You didn’t have to do that. You could have hidden me away in a cabin somewhere, but you didn’t.”
His lips twitched. “I considered it.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “I’d have deserved it. Anyway, I know I’m just a job to you, but you’ve really gone out of your way to make things easier for me.”
“You’re not just a job.” He shouldn’t have said that. But it didn’t seem fair to let her think the last few weeks had been all about work. It had stopped being just a job the minute he’d introduced her to his family as his girlfriend.
Hell, if he were being honest, his feelings had started shifting the day he saw her riding that asshole in the pool.
Her self-deprecating half smile told him she didn’t believe him. “Yes, I am. I’m a paycheck to most of the people in my life. I know what it feels like.”
“Lucy…”
“It’s okay. I get it. I’m used to it.” She looked down at her hands. “It seems ridiculous to say, considering the reason we’re here, but this experience has been…well, really special. For the first time in a long time, I feel grounded. Is that stupid?”
“No.” He tightened his grip on the doorframe. She looked so vulnerable that he itched to put his arms around her.
Della locked her gaze on his. It was like a punch in the chest. “I’ve only been here a month, but I love this town, and I loved getting to know your family and friends. I’ve even loved waiting tables, which is something I’m sure nobody expected me to say.”
The wood creaked under his hand. He forced himself to relax his grip. “Lucy…”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I spent all week thinking about this, and you were right about the kiss. We’re just two people who got stuck together, not two people who found each other. Life doesn’t work out like it does in books, no matter how my sisters might make it look. I get that. It’s okay. But for what it’s worth, I’m happy you brought me here, and I’m glad I got to hear Mason sing, but most of all, I’m really, really glad I got to spend time with you. Even if you’d rather not be here with me.”
Her sad ghost of a smile twisted his heart.
“So, anyway. That’s it. I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.” She turned to walk away.
Something he’d been trying desperately to control roared to life and pushed past all the rules, all the objections, and all the reasons why. None of it mattered.
He couldn’t let her walk away.
“Della.” Her name tore out of his throat. He reached her in two strides, and then she was in his arms. “You’re not just a job. Not to me.”
His lips crushed hers, and it was like finding water after a long, long time in the desert.
She let out a squeak of surprise, then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.