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“Usual drinks for the club,” Holly told her.
“Got it.” Spinning a tray out from under the counter, Twyla breezed off toward the coffee station.
Ursula’s “harrumph” brought a strained smile to Holly’s face as the bell above the door chimed. “Be with you in a sec.” Holly pushed the order through the window and tugged her hot pink T-shirt down over her jeans as she turned around to greet the next customer.
Holly’s entire body froze as if she’d locked herself in the walk-in freezer.
Then her knees wobbled, but she kept her spine stiff and her voice low as the anger she thought she’d buried over a decade ago rumbled up from her toes. “Luke Saxon.” She shoved her hands into her back pockets and tried not to notice how quiet the diner had become.
“Hello, Holly.” A tight, guarded smile softened dark, angular features. “Good to see you again.”
She pressed her lips together so hard they went numb.
Every town, even Butterfly Harbor, had its bad boy. That boy who wore a black leather jacket and snug jeans to the point of female distraction. The boy who exuded a mind-numbing combination of hostility and romanticized misunderstanding. The boy every girl wanted to date but none dared approach. The boy other boys wanted to emulate, but none thought to befriend. Yeah, there were bad boys.
And then there was Luke Saxon.
And he still wore a black leather jacket and carried himself with a self-assuredness that was both enviable and off-putting. His onetime too long ink-black hair had been shorn into shape, his pasty complexion replaced by what looked like years spent in the sun. The sad stone-blue eyes she remembered in the face of a sullen boy had turned to steel in the span of twelve years. She saw life painted on his handsome face.
He’d grown up. Holly straightened. They both had. While Luke stood before her as a man, she couldn’t help but see the troubled—and dangerous—youth she remembered. His reputation for skirting the thin edge of the law had become legend in Butterfly Harbor.
“I’ll understand if you’d rather I eat someplace else.” The low rumble of Luke’s voice sounded foreign to Holly’s ears and prickled her skin. In her mind Luke was still eighteen, smelling of beer, blood and guilt rather than the intoxicating combination of sea air and orange spice.
“You know what Grandma Ruby always said.” Holly forced the words from her tight throat. “Everyone’s welcome at the diner.” Even you.
“I heard she passed.” Luke pushed his hands deep into his jacket pockets, rocked on his heels as he kept his chin up, his gaze pinned to hers. “She was always very nice to me.”
Holly cleared her throat and wished her grandmother was here right now—she’d always known what to say. “Thanks. You eating alone?” She grabbed a menu out of the cubby at the end of the counter and tried not to notice how her hand trembled.
“No. I’m meeting—”
“Sorry I’m late.” Butterfly Harbor’s new mayor, Gil Hamilton, pushed through the door and swept his long sandy-blond hair out of his eyes. “Hey, Holl. Must be a blast from the past, huh? Having Luke back?”
“Not to stay?” Holly blurted.
“For a while,” Luke said.
“A year, at least.” Gil slapped a hand on Luke’s leather-clad back as Luke winced and stepped to the side, the color draining out of his windblown face. “That’s how long his term will be. This time around anyway.”
“His term?” Holly asked as her stomach churned. “What term?”
“Oh, sorry.” Gil blinked and cringed as if he’d betrayed a confidence. “I thought for sure your father would have told you by now. Luke’s serving out the rest of Jake’s tenure as sheriff.”
“Sheriff.” Holly didn’t recognize her own voice, not hidden under the layers of hostility and anger. “You’re not serious.” When Gil’s only acknowledgment was to grab the menus and head toward a booth at the far end of the diner, Holly swung on Luke. “He’s not serious?”
“Holly—”
“What? It wasn’t enough you almost killed my father all those years ago? You figured you’d come back and finish him off by stealing his job?”
Luke’s steely blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that.”
“From where I’m standing it’s exactly like that.” She moved in, keeping her voice low so her customers—so her son—wouldn’t hear. “Go back to wherever you’ve been for the past decade, Luke. We don’t have any use for cowards in Butterfly Harbor.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9a8e8e51-5339-5126-9a72-a49e70c0abd0)
“NOT THE BEST way for her to find out about you returning,” Gil said as Luke slid into the booth across from his new boss. “I guess the past isn’t as forgotten as I’d hoped.”
“You sound surprised.” Watching the eternal Cocoon Club texting away on their phones like overactive teenagers proved the rumor mill in Butterfly Harbor was as reliable as ever. By the end of the day he’d either be welcomed by a cavalcade of casseroles, or run out of town with pitchforks and torches.
He rolled his shoulders, but instead of easing the tension, the action stretched the burn scars on his back so tight he feared his skin might split open. He sucked in a breath, waited the few moments it took for the pain to subside. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe he’d weaned himself off his pain meds too soon.
The past twelve years meant nothing when faced with the past he couldn’t change. He might have hoped for a more congenial welcome home, but he hadn’t expected it, especially when it came to Holly Campbell.
How could he have expected her to forgive him when he hadn’t been able to forgive himself?
Unwrapping the bundle of flatware on the table, Luke tore bits off his napkin. He’d spent extended time in war zones. He’d put his military training to use with the Chicago Police Department in their bomb squad. He’d been the department’s go-to when it came to potentially explosive domestic disturbances and had overseen rookie training for the explosive disposal unit. He could manage a year in Butterfly Harbor.
Or so he’d told himself on the cross-country drive.
Apparently Holly Campbell hadn’t gotten the memo.
Luke glanced over as she swept out of sight into the kitchen, her shoulder-length brown hair tumbling in waves. She’d been pretty as a girl, but as a woman she was stunning. Like a throwback to the glory days of vaudeville, with her big doll eyes and a small, pert mouth. Her curved, rounded figure set a man to thinking about late-night bonfires and moonlit swims in the ocean.
Luke caught the gaze of the boy sitting at the counter, questioning hostility shining in eyes so familiar he had to be Holly’s son.
“Jake should have told her,” Gil said. “Hiring you was his idea in the first place.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Luke was a big boy. He could take whatever punishment Holly and anyone else in town saw fit to dole out. And if there was one thing Holly Gordon—no, Holly Campbell—excelled at, it was getting her point across. Luke pretended to skim the menu Gil set in front of him.
“To be honest,” Gil said, “I’m surprised you took the job.”
The pencil-thin, raven-haired waitress set a mug and two glasses on the table. “Here’s your coffee, black, and water, no ice. And for you?” She batted mascara-thick eyelashes at Luke as she pulled out her notepad.
“Water’s fine, thanks.” He’d already drunk enough coffee this morning to keep him awake for a week. “I’ll have the BLT, hold the B, no mayo, sweet potato fries if you have them.”
“We do.” She nodded. “Mr. Mayor?”
“Burger, medium and loaded, Twyla. Garlic fries.”
“You got it.” Twyla bounded off to greet a new influx of customers that raised the noise level in the diner.
Luke relaxed enough to take in the polished diner’s surroundings. The space was brighter than he remembered. More welcoming in a way. The stainless steel sparkled and the orange and black hues were a tribute to the diner’s location on Monarch Lane. Classic retro with a twist of home. He flipped over the menu and smiled when he saw the list of Holly’s homemade pies, something she’d dabbled in as a teen, had expanded. Combined with the late-morning aroma of frying bacon and the early-afternoon promise of onions and garlic, the diner felt, and smelled, familiar. “While I’m grateful, I’m not entirely sure why Jake recommended me for the position.”
“When Jake and I discussed his retirement, I asked for names. Yours was the only one on the list.” Gil dumped three packets of sweetener into his coffee. He caught Luke’s arched brow and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. If this job doesn’t kill me the chemicals will.”
“Your life.” Luke shrugged. “Up to you what you do with it.” A lesson Luke had learned thanks to Jake Gordon, the only man who had ever given a damn about him. He owed Holly’s father more than he could ever repay, and now his debt to the man had increased. Dealing with twelve years of built-up small-town hostility and resentment seemed a small price to pay if he could set things right with Jake once and for all. Besides, it was only for a year. “What else is going on, Gil?”
Gil shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Luke glanced over his shoulder toward the Cocoon Club and lowered his voice. “Here’s what I know. I know the election was rough on you, and Jake Gordon was one of the reasons why since he backed your opponent. Letting Jake have a say in who replaces him was your way of mending fences. But you still have to prove you aren’t your father’s son, that you’re more than a walking bank account. Now you need to show you care about this town more than how many buildings have your name on the title.”
“You never were one to mince words.” Some of the friendliness disappeared behind Gil’s hawk-like green eyes. “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”
Luke sat back. “I know your dad left you in a heap of trouble when he died last year and you’re still digging out from under. And there’s the baggage that comes with having a real SOB for a father. You figure I can relate. But you’re wrong if you think I won’t give you grief over plans for the town that I believe are out of line as you try to make amends.”
“You might be right.” Gil looked out the window onto the side street as if scanning the empty streets and abandoned businesses. Boarded-up windows. Peeling paint. Crooked signs and broken panes of glass.
Luke had seen it the second he hit town; he’d felt it, heard it, as if the town was crying out in silent agony.
Butterfly Harbor was dying.
“I want to get one thing straight before I pin that badge on. I’m nobody’s tool, Gil. You and the town council hired me to oversee the town’s transition and make sure law enforcement is up to the challenge of taking Butterfly Harbor in a new direction. While I’m grateful for the opportunity, it doesn’t mean I’m going to automatically agree with everything you say.”
“You mean you won’t be shy about telling me when I’m wrong?”
“I mean I’m my own man. Same as you’re trying to be. And don’t act as if we were buddies back in the day. We both know you and I lived in different worlds.”
“Yeah.” Gil let out a sharp laugh. “I guess you would think that. When I tracked you down I asked what you thought about my ideas and you agreed they sounded like positive change. You still think that?”
“I’ve always thought Butterfly Harbor could be more than it is. It’s special.” Yet another reason he’d come back. “It should be shared. Especially if it’s going to survive and thrive.”
“Ah.” Gil nodded, his blond hair brushing against the collar of his red polo shirt. “You did do your homework.”
“I’d have been stupid not to,” Luke said. “So yes, I know the town is hanging on by a fiscal thread. That the previous mayor, one of your father’s best friends, incidentally, overextended its credit and sent property values plummeting. Half the businesses in town can’t afford their mortgage payments because the bank your father owned is about to go under. Crime is on the rise, probably a result of the unemployment rate. The only way to stop Butterfly Harbor from turning into a ghost town is to bring new people and new investors in and entice those who are still here to stay. Yeah.” Luke lifted his water in a mock toast. “I did my homework. And while I might not agree with everything you have planned, I accepted the job for one reason. To help save this town.”
Because when all was said and done, Butterfly Harbor was the only home Luke had ever known.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_58680a35-9ef1-572c-a1ea-8f0bd1dadd16)
“HOLY HAMBURGERS.” ABBY MANNING breezed into the kitchen like a dandelion on the wind as Holly dumped a load of sizzling fries from the fryer into a cardboard to-go container. “Is that who I think it is chatting up Mayor Gil ‘the Thrill’ Hamilton?”
As blond as Holly was brunette, as short as Holly was tall, Abby’s slack-jawed disbelief didn’t come close to registering on Holly’s shock-o-meter.
“If you mean Luke Saxon, you aren’t seeing things.” Holly slopped a ladle full of steaming chili on the pile of fries before topping it with a handful of shredded cheese...and imagined dumping the entire batch in Sheriff Saxon’s lap. “Please tell me you didn’t know he was coming and decided not to warn me.”
“Hey.” Abby’s frown sparked a flame of hurt anger on her face. “Best friends don’t keep secrets like that from each other.” Abby’s long blond curls whipped around pixie-like features as she peered through the open door into the diner.
“Apparently my father does.” How could he not have warned her?
“Your dad probably didn’t want to upset you,” Abby said. “These days anyone brings up what’s going on in town and you heat up like someone’s tossed water on a grease fire. And don’t pretend otherwise. You’ve been a walking hair trigger ever since the mayor and town council proposed their development plans.”
“They aren’t looking at the bigger picture. There’s more to saving Butterfly Harbor than expansion and construction.” The crime rate was exploding, vandalism and break-ins were on the rise and there wasn’t anything for the young people in town to do except wander the streets, bored, and get into trouble, especially now the last arcade in town had closed. She should know. One of the culprits lived in her house. “And FYI, expanding business for those of us who are still here isn’t a permanent or an instant solution.”
“It’s a start,” Abby said. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to have to consider. More hours, hiring new staff, adjusting your meticulous schedule.” Abby jerked her thumb in the direction of Holly’s work calendar and daily to-do list.
“There’s more to it.” Holly shook her head. “All those strangers coming to town? People who have no idea how idyllic this town is—”
“How idyllic it used to be,” Ursula chimed in as she chopped onions without shedding a tear. “Now it’s small. And getting smaller. Three more houses went up for sale this week alone. We need fresh blood in Butterfly Harbor. It’s either expand or die.”
“Which is why Gil’s ideas might be for the better.” Abby waved an approving hand in Ursula’s direction. “Granted, I didn’t think Gil’s plans would bring Luke Saxon back to town.” She waggled her eyebrows to take the edge off her contrary opinion. “He turned out pretty nice, though.” Abby leaned back and aimed a wide-eyed gaze in Luke’s direction. “Looks as if those rough edges got all smooth and shiny.”
Holly didn’t want to think about how “shiny” Luke Saxon had turned out. It had only been an hour since Luke had walked into the diner—an hour she’d spent scrubbing every pot and pan in the kitchen. Anything to distract herself and put her anger to some use. As if anyone could stay angry for long with Abby around.
Her best friend’s ebullient personality made a fairy-tale princess look depressed, which made Abby the ideal manager of the iconic Flutterby Inn, Butterfly Harbor’s oldest hotel-size bed-and-breakfast. With the exception of their notorious blowup over whether Big Bird or Elmo was the lynchpin of Sesame Street—Holly had sided with the bird—she and Abby had been inseparable since kindergarten.
“If you’re ogling Luke Saxon, you need to get out more.” Holly shoved the takeout container into a paper bag and carried it up to the register before she started a mocha shake. “You want lunch?”
“No, thanks.” Abby sidled up next to her. “Matilda made apple pancakes for our one guest this morning so I snacked on the leftovers. And I take it you don’t want to discuss you-know-who—” The rest of Abby’s observation was halted by Simon, aka you-know-who, as he raced around the counter and wrapped his arms around Abby’s waist.
“Aunt Abby.”
“Hey, squirt.” Abby enveloped Simon’s small frame and squeezed, aiming a look at Holly that ensured a long session of girl talk in the near future. And a very large bottle of chardonnay. “You still grounded?”
“Umm.” Simon blinked up at his mother. “Maybe?”
“Well, I hope not because I’m in desperate need of a movie marathon and a pizza from Zane’s.” Holly was all too familiar with Abby’s modus operandi when it came to giving mom and son a break from one another. “You game, kid?”
Simon’s face scrunched. “Which movies?”
“Your choice,” Abby said. “If your mom says it’s okay.” Abby blinked in Holly’s direction, her lashes fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
“Is it, Mom?”
“Why do you two always gang up on me?” Holly caught Myra’s signal that indicated the Cocoon Club members were ready for their checks.
“Because it works,” Abby called as she and Simon huddled in front of the cash register. “Come on, Holly.” Abby caught her arm on the way back. “Hasn’t the kid suffered enough?”
“Yeah, haven’t I?” Simon pleaded.
“Don’t push it,” Holly told her son as she rang up the bills. “Dinner and a movie. But that’s it. No side trips to the comic-book store.”
“Aw, Mom.”
“Take it or leave it, bucko.” Forbidding Simon from visiting his favorite store on the planet might be the only weapon she had left in her arsenal when it came to controlling his behavior.
“Fine.” Simon’s dramatic sigh could have won him an award for most put-upon child of the century.
“I’ll pick you up later, okay?” Abby gave Simon another squeeze as he bolted to his seat and flipped open the spiral notebook that never left his sight. “Thanks, Holl. I need a reminder not all members of the male species are cretins.”
Even if Holly had the notion to date again—who had the time or patience?—observing her best friend plumb the depths of the very shallow dating pool would have erased that thought like an out-of-control Etch A Sketch. Thirty might be around the corner, but it was a corner Holly was fine turning on her own. Besides, she had enough emotional baggage on her carousel. She didn’t need to add another 747’s worth. Didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy living vicariously through Abby. “Online date didn’t go so well last night?”
“He was geeky cute. His profile said ‘electronic specialist.’” Abby pouted as she took a seat at the counter while Holly finished up the shake by adding a shot of espresso. “Turns out he’s the maintenance guy for a two-lane bowling alley on the other side of the bay.” She shuddered. “And he wore rented shoes. Ick.” Abby glanced at Simon. “You two doing okay?”
“Oh, peachy.” Holly shoved the ice-cream-and-coffee-filled cup onto the shake machine. While it ran, she knocked heads with Abby. “Having your neighbors threaten to call the FBI on your eight-year-old is every mother’s dream. Who thinks to do something like that? Hacking into their Wi-Fi? Renaming their files after supervillains? Changing their passwords?” Having to explain the situation to Simon’s potential new principal had been as enjoyable as a root canal. How could her son be on a warning before he’d even started classes? “Do not let him out of your sight tonight, Abs. One more infraction and the school’s going to boot him. And no computer. I don’t care what he says.”
“You’ve got to let up on the little guy, Holl. He’s precocious. He’s smart. And he misses his dad. He’s acting out because he doesn’t know how to grieve.”
Holly hesitated. She missed Simon’s father, too. She missed having a partner when it came to raising their boy and making decisions about his future. Not that Gray had been the most reliable when it came to Simon—or anything else. That resentment, along with admitting by the time Gray died there had been little between them other than Simon, added another layer of sadness over the grief. “Grief doesn’t excuse him for committing a felony.”
