Second Chance Romance (Harlot’s Bay #2)

Prologue

Twenty-two years ago

“I mean, look at him.” Molly tipped her head toward the other side of Principal Evers’s office, where Karl Dean was mutter-shouting

an obscenity-filled rant to his tired-looking father. “He’s not slick enough to try cheating. He can’t even whisper at a normal

volume.”

Her dad pressed his lips together, a telltale sign of his amusement, while her mother kicked Molly under the table.

An hour earlier, Karl, Molly, and a whiny blond kid named Ned had been handed referrals by their chemistry teacher and sent

to the principal’s office. Ned, for cribbing answers from Karl’s test. Karl, for theoretically cooperating with said cribbing.

Her, for insubordination.

She’d seen no evidence that Karl had noticed Ned’s cheating efforts, much less encouraged them. When she’d informed their

teacher of that fact, then protested the unfairness of Karl’s referral, she’d promptly received her own.

By all rights, the four letters spelling out Mr. Miller’s genetic code shouldn’t be A, C, G, and T. They should be D-I-C-K.

He didn’t like anyone, but he especially detested Karl.

Maybe because the teacher prized neatness, precision, and absolute obedience above all else in the classroom, and Karl’s very being—his refusal to participate, his inattention to homework, and his oversized personality and physical presence—offended Mr. Miller.

Or maybe he was just pissed that Karl could answer every single question correctly in class, no matter how hard the teacher tried to catch his student off guard.

Either way, when he’d noticed Ned cheating off of Karl’s test, he hadn’t been inclined to give Karl the benefit of the doubt.

Even after Molly’s ill-fated intervention.

Since Principal Evers had asked the three students for their side of the story instead of simply echoing Mr. Miller’s accusations,

she was hoping he’d prove more impartial. Ned had already offered his unconvincing tale of innocence and woe. Now it was Molly’s

turn.

The principal—impeccably suited, as always—raised a single brow at her. “Go on.”

She met his eyes. “You’ve talked to Karl before. You know him.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Karl had been sent to the office at least four separate times before today. She’d counted.

It wasn’t that she truly cared about him or his disciplinary woes. She’d moved to Maryland and enrolled in Harlot’s Bay High

School only a week before the start of the school year, so she didn’t much care about anyone here. She probably never would, since her mom and dad would transfer to new defense contractor jobs and another new town

soon enough.

Still, she enjoyed studying him.

Because he was a sophomore too and they’d been assigned essentially the same classes, they sat next to each other anytime

the teacher seated students in alphabetical order. But even if they’d freely chosen their seats, she couldn’t have missed

him.

His scruff sprang thick and lush from a pugnacious jaw and was the color of a penny, several shades brighter than the reddish brown of his hair.

With that beard and his sturdy frame, he kind of looked like he could be everyone else’s uncle, especially when he scowled.

Which he did continually, at least when he wasn’t glowering or glaring or frowning in a vaguely homicidal manner.

So he stood out that way. Also, she’d never met another human being so laughably bad at whispering or so attached to the word

fuck in all its useful forms.

Molly had already spent a significant amount of time memorizing his mannerisms and intonations and the jut of his chin, then

practicing them in private and learning to mimic them, as she did whenever she encountered someone especially expressive or

memorable. In all her scrutiny, she hadn’t yet caught Karl out in a lie. He didn’t seem to be an actual dick either. Just

cranky and fond of obscenities. So she’d stood up for him in class that day, even though Karl had immediately told her to

sit down, keep her mouth shut, and stay out of trouble.

She hadn’t listened.

“Stubborn as a mule,” her mom called her. “Committed,” her dad always countered.

Molly continued, “As far as I can tell, Karl has one real friend.”

“Matthew Vine.” The principal sounded sure of that.

“Exactly.” She raised a finger in emphasis. “Why would Karl risk punishment for Ned, who isn’t even his friend? And why would

Ned choose to ally himself with someone entirely incapable of subtlety and discretion?”

As if to punctuate her statement, Karl chose that moment to fling his substantial arms in the air and mutter-shout to his

father in outrage, “I didn’t do anything! Why should I fucking apologize?”

Everyone else in the room swiveled to face him, and Principal Evers raised both brows and waited. Karl’s flush reappeared, creeping over his cheeks and up to his ear tips.

“Sorry.” The apology was brusque, but it sounded sincere. “I’ll . . . sorry.”

To draw the principal’s attention away from her hapless classmate, Molly drummed her fingernails on the wooden table. When

Evers turned her way, she made her final statement.

“Mr. Miller doesn’t like Karl. That’s been clear from the first day,” she said, and met Karl’s eyes. “Which is odd, considering

Dean’s famous charm and friendliness toward everyone he meets.”

Despite the narrow-eyed glare Karl sent her, his lips twitched faintly in the middle of that thick, coppery beard. “Doesn’t

like you much either now,” he told her.

“From him?” She flicked her wrist in dismissal. “That’s a compliment.”

“Please stay on topic, Ms. Dearborn,” Principal Evers advised, and she obliged.

“It’s true that I was insubordinate and Ned cheated. Probably because he could use a tutor, and the school should make sure

he gets the extra help he needs.” When Principal Evers frowned and scrawled Chem tutor => Daniels? on his notepad, she moved him further up her list of favorite administrators. “But Karl shouldn’t be disciplined, and he

should be allowed to retake the quiz. He did nothing wrong except sit beside Ned.”

Poor, confused Ned. Last week, he’d defined an electron as “one of those machines that reads Scantron tests.”

Ned’s mom turned to him, her expression softening. “Neddy, if you need a tutor, we’ll get you one. Why didn’t you tell me

you were having a hard time in class?”

“I . . .” His voice cracked, and he stopped and took a shuddering breath. Then he nodded, his eyes too bright, before dropping his chin to his chest and staring at the tile floor. “I’m sorry. I won’t cheat again.”

Looking thoughtful, Principal Evers tapped his pen against his notepad. “And Karl had nothing to do with it?”

They watched the top of Ned’s blond head shake a silent no.

In the end, the principal apologized to Karl for the false accusation of cheating, thanked Molly for telling the truth under

difficult circumstances, and shuffled both families out of the conference room so he could meet privately with Ned and his

mom before the final bell rang.

Outside Principal Evers’s office, Karl scratched at his beard and considered her.

“Shouldn’t’ve done that,” he finally said. “But thank you.”

“No biggie.” She shrugged. “Merely performing my civic duty.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nerd.”

“You know it,” she said cheerfully.

After that incident, she and Karl became friends of a sort. She sat with him and Matthew in the cafeteria. In the summer,

when she began working at Ice Queen—the local ice cream parlor—on the weekends, he often walked to the store, bought a kiddie

cone, and spent an hour or two reading his latest sci-fi paperback from the library at a table near the cash register, although

he didn’t say much.

That same summer, her parents decided they’d remain in Maryland until she graduated, which was fine by her. There would be

no new group dynamics to decipher. No unfamiliar warrens of hallways to navigate. No more goodbyes, at least for the next

two years. With that knowledge, she allowed a few fragile roots to grow and anchor her in place at Harlot’s Bay High.

Karl was the hardiest of those roots. Strange but true.

Junior year was more of the same, although they had fewer classes together.

College wasn’t in the cards for him. The Deans were struggling financially, and as soon as he graduated, he intended to contribute a full-time paycheck to the family coffers.

So he hadn’t bothered with—as he inimitably put it—“AP Whatever the Fuck or Honors Blah Blah Blah.” Especially since passing those classes without doing homework would be next to impossible.

But they still saw each other at lunch every day and at the ice cream parlor on Sundays.

They didn’t share secrets. Didn’t call each other. Didn’t talk about their feelings. But he was still the closest friend she’d

had in years. If she sometimes wanted more than that, no big deal. At umpteen different schools, she’d watched relationships

crash and burn over and over again. She wouldn’t risk whatever they had in pursuit of something that would only end in disaster.

And after so many years of studying everyone from a detached distance, she wasn’t even entirely certain how to pop the invisible

bubble that surrounded her. Only her dad and her grandparents seemed to step through the barrier without any trouble.

So nothing really changed between her and Karl until senior year, when he started dating.

Someone else. Not Molly.

Twenty years ago

At first, senior year fucking ruled.

Because of all his yard work clients and his part-time job washing dishes at the bakery, Karl was able to buy his Chevy Nova and the parts it needed to run.

And after three summers of watching him mow her parents’ lawn, Becky Waller unexpectedly asked him out.

Which was a goddamn miracle, because she was a thousand miles out of his league.

He might be better at tests, but she was better at life. Hardworking. Easygoing. Cute as hell. Soft and warm against him when he pulled her close. Like the quilt on his bed, the