Good Girls Do (6 page)

“I never said he was.” An insomniac Rollerblader? That must drive the mayor nuts. Luke’s opinion of Tyler rose even higher. “Maybe he could help out here.”

“The place could use a new coat of paint. I’ve been saying so for years. But we can’t do anything to the exterior without the town council’s permission.”

“Since when?” Maguire’s wasn’t old enough to be designated a historic site.

“Since Walt has been trying to get us on the list of the Best Small Towns in America. He’s really been clamping down on folks,” Adele added.

“Let him clamp all he wants,” Luke retorted. “No one is telling me what to do.”

 

 

Angel watched the koi gliding around Serenity Falls municipal pond and wondered where she’d gone so wrong as a mother. What had driven Julia to come to a place so controlled and restrictive?

The signs were all over. No swimming. No fishing. No jaywalking. No standing. No trespassing.

Angel kicked off her hemp sandals and dug her toes in the grass. It was chilly, but she really felt the need to touch base with nature. So she sat down on the grass and studied her surroundings. The trees still had some of their brilliant leaves, but it appeared that someone had gathered all the ones that had already fallen. There were no piles of leaves to jump into. That was a shame.

This was her first trip this far east, and she’d been looking forward to a colorful fall display. She hadn’t expected to see her daughter in a Bo Peep costume. That had cheered her up. The town hadn’t.

Sure, it looked like something out of a Currier and Ives print, but Angel preferred Picasso herself. She’d never been one to color between the lines. Julia had.

Angel had not been surprised when Julia had become a librarian, because her first-born had always loved hanging out in libraries wherever they went. Julia had home-schooled both her girls for much of their school years. And she’d always thought she’d done a pretty good job of it, instilling in them the basic values of treating others with respect, honoring the environment, and exploring all the world’s many possibilities.

So where had she gone wrong with Julia that she’d come to Anal City?

There wasn’t a blade of grass out of place here. Not even a single autumnal leaf to crunch beneath her feet. The place was immaculate. It wasn’t natural.

Angel didn’t realize she’d actually spoken the words aloud until she got a response from someone standing behind her.

“It isn’t natural,” a male voice said. “It’s a man-made pond.”

She turned to look at him. Now this was someone Angel felt more comfortable with. His long gray hair was held back in a braid that went down his back past the collar of his flannel shirt. He looked to be around her age, in his late forties or early fifties. He had sad eyes. Brown but sorrowful.

“So the town is named for a man-made pond?”

The man shook his head. “Serenity Falls are natural. They’re just south of town. The area is protected for now, but there’s some talk of bottling the spring water and selling it.”

“Big business trying to ruin yet another natural site.” That issue was something Angel could sink her teeth into with all the force of her granddaughter Toni.

“You don’t like the idea?”

“It’s horrible!”

“You’re not from around here.”

“No. I just arrived in town last night. I’m Angel. Julia Wright is my daughter.”

He just nodded as if he already knew that before suddenly turning around as if to walk away.

“Wait! You haven’t told me your name. Who are you?”

“Nobody you need to know.” And then he was gone.

 

 

“Julia, dear, I hate to bother you, but did you know that there are wild animals in your backyard?”

“They’re not wild. They’re llamas. And yes, Mrs. Selznick. I know they’re there. But thanks for checking on me.”

“I was going to call the police, but thought I should call you first.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“I’m not sure we’re allowed to keep llamas in our back-yards here in Serenity Falls,” Mrs. Selznick hesitantly pointed out.

“I’m looking into making alternative arrangements for them.”

“Mr. Perkins runs a dairy farm outside of town. Maybe he could help you out. He’s a second cousin of mine. Would you like me to give him a call?”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.” She prayed that Mrs. Selznick hadn’t seen Luke carrying her home last night, half-naked.

Ten minutes later, the mayor showed up on her doorstep. “I hear you’ve got llamas. Are you thinking of using them as prognosticators instead of a ground hog or woolly worms?”

“Possibly.” Any excuse was welcome at this point.

Walt frowned. “They’re not really indigenous to these parts.”

“True.”

“Well, keep me posted on the situation.” Walt was studying the clipboard he often carried with him, his thoughts clearly already on the next item on his agenda.

“I’ll do that,” Julia promised.

“And find another home for them,” he added. “I’m sure there’s an ordinance against keeping livestock in a residential area.”

“I’m working on it.”

 

 

Luke was walking down Cherry Lane to Julia’s house to retrieve his leather jacket and steal more kisses when he spotted Walt with a ruler in his hand. The middle-aged mayor had some kind of Mr. Rogers thing going on today, complete with baggy cardigan and khakis. He was even humming “Welcome to the Neighborhood” under his breath while he . . . it looked as if Walt was measuring the height of the grass in someone’s front yard.

“Do you have a permit to carry that ruler?” Luke demanded in a mocking voice.

Walt frowned at him, clearly not appreciating his attempt at humor. “There is no regulation requiring me to have a permit.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Official business.”

“Since when does the mayor go around measuring peoples’ lawns?”

“Since we passed an ordinance limiting the height of the grass.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about something this serious.”

“Of course not. What about the number of leaves on the ground? Do you have an ordinance on that, too?”

“Not that lists specific numbers, no. I tried to pass one, but the other members of the town council preferred more general language.”

“Well, Walt, don’t let me keep you from your official totalitarian duties.”

Walt frowned at him. “Are you calling me a Communist?”

“No, I’m calling you an idiot.”

As Luke walked away, he wondered how he was going to survive the next six months stuck here in this obsessive smallville. Then he got some news that made him smile. Julia Bo Peep was minding a flock of wildlife.

He found Julia in her backyard. “Your neighbor told me you were out here with your llamas.”

“They’re not
my
llamas.”

“They’re in your backyard.”

“They belong to my mother. Meet Lucy and Ricky. Be careful. I read somewhere that llamas can spit if they get angry.”

“Sounds like some of the customers at Maguire’s.”

“Really? I’ve never seen any spitting there. The place has been very tidy, and they have an excellent cheese-burger. The décor is a little dark, however. And the menu could use sprucing up.”

“What? You want to turn the pub into one of those trendy tofu places?”

“Who said anything about tofu?”

“You keep llamas in your backyard. Don’t tell me you’re not some health-food addict.”

She was actually addicted to Pop-Tarts and had a stash of them hidden in the cabinet above the stove, but she wasn’t about to share that info with him. That reminded her that she needed to be sure her mother didn’t find them. She’d throw them out for sure.

“The fact that my mother has a pair of llamas does not indicate anything about me.”

A lie, but he brought that out in her. The need to deviate from the truth. And the need to just stare at him. Luke looked even better in daylight than he had the night before. He was wearing black jeans and a T-shirt again.

“What about the fact that you like yellow daisies on your underwear?” Luke inquired with a wickedly slow smile. “Does that
indicate
anything about you?”

“No, but the fact that you brought it up indicates that you are deliberately trying to embarrass me,” Julia retorted.

She met his stare head-on, refusing to look away from the blatant sexual heat he was aiming her way.

Sure, there was something going on here, but it took more than physical chemistry to impress her these days.

She narrowed her eyes in a female warning to back off.

Luke responded by slowly undressing her with his deep, Dylan Thomas eyes.

Their visual duel was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Toni, who proudly declared, “Girls have vaginas!”

And so it went . . . just another Sunday morning in Julia’s now totally-out-of-whack world.

Having
completed her emphatic vagina monologue, Toni the Biter marched back inside, leaving Luke and Julia alone with the llamas.

Julia restrained from rolling her eyes, or tearing her hair out, or any of the many things she was tempted to do—including giving in to that hottie-biker-thing Luke had going on.

No, she maintained her decorum, her control, her cool.

She did allow herself one tiny sigh of relief that her niece was back inside, but that quickly evaporated when Luke said, “Your sister thinks we had sex.”

Julia blinked. “You had sex with my sister?”

“No, she thinks
you
and
I
had sex.”

Julia looked around, wanting to be sure they weren’t overheard before replying. The llamas appeared to be eavesdropping, their ears inclined in her direction, but otherwise the coast seemed to be clear. She really didn’t want any witnesses to a discussion about sex with Luke.

Julia kept her voice low and calm. “How do you know she thinks . . . that?”

“She told me so.”

That sounded like something Skye would do. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Her voice rose. “Why didn’t you deny it?”

“I figured that was
your
job.”

“You could have told her that we only met yesterday.”

“That doesn’t mean we couldn’t have had sex.”

“Yes, it does. I don’t have sex with men I just met.”

“So how long do you have to know them then? Two days? A week? A month?”

“I am not answering that question.”

“Why not? Afraid the answer will ruin your reputation?”

“No.” Julia was infinitely more afraid her family’s wackiness would ruin her sterling reputation, one she’d worked so hard to create. “Look, I’m sorry my sister said anything to you. She won’t be bothering you again.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you be bothering me again?”

“I never bothered you in the first place. You’re the one who approached me.”

“I told you. I have a thing for women in Bo Peep costumes.”

“I am no longer wearing that costume.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He’d been trained to notice a lot of things, like the tension on Julia’s face at the mention of her sister. Definitely something going on there. Given his own family history, he could relate to having what the navel-gazers called “family issues.” Not that he dwelled on stuff like that.

“Did you come here for a reason?” Julia asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Care to tell me what that reason is?”

Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “How long have you lived here?”

“Three years,” she automatically replied and then wanted to kick herself for responding to his bossy tone of voice.

“That explains it then.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you still think this place is so great.”

Julia looked up at the back of her house. “I realize it needs new gutters, but . . .”

“I wasn’t talking about your house. I was talking about this town.”

“If you dislike it so much, why are you here?”

“I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. This is the rock.”

She didn’t want to know where the hard place was. Her mental image was naughty enough. She had no idea if he meant to trigger such a response from her or if it was entirely her own fault. Either way, she felt herself getting all hot and bothered inside.

He’d had that effect on her from the first instant. Physical chemistry. Nothing more than that.

“Why are
you
here?” he asked

“I live here.”

“I mean this town. What made you come here?”

“A job at the library. I fell in love with Serenity Falls the first time I saw it when I came for my interview.”

“So you’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“The rose-colored-glasses crowd. The ones who always see the best in people, who always think the glass is half-full.”

“And what are you?”

“A realist.”

“Who always sees the glass half-empty?”

“Who knows there’s nothing really in the glass.”

“That’s a pretty cynical way of looking at things.”

“There’s nothing cynical about the truth.”

“There’s a difference between your opinion and the truth.”

“No, there’s not. I see things as they are. You see them as you want them to be.”

“And you learned all this about me after spending just a few minutes in my company. Amazing.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Amazing and totally inaccurate. You’re the one who has the distorted view of things.”

“By
things
you mean this town?”