Here Comes Trouble (5 page)

"What if it's someone I don't like?"

Her mother frowned. "Well, you don't have to
agree, if that's the case. But you have to be sure
you don't like him."

"What if I think I'll be miserable if I go to the
reunion with whomever this anonymous man is
who asks me?"

"I don't want you miserable, Stella. I only want
you to go to the reunion with a date."

Her mother meant well. Stella grinned, then
gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. "I promise I'll
keep it in mind when or if anyone asks me, Mom.
But don't go around asking men to ask me. Got
it?"

"I'd never do anything so heavy-handed, especially not without your permission."

"Good." Stella eyed her mother and wondered
if her response had been too pat. "I think we understand each other."

"It's a mother's job to understand her daughter."
Her mother smiled. "Now, I have to run and get
your father's dinner before he goes to the town
council meeting. I'll let myself out."

As her mother left the kitchen, Stella said, "Talk
with you tomorrow."

"Don't forget to eat a good dinner with plenty of vegetables," her mother called back as she left.
Stella heard the door click closed, then reopen. "A
man needs encouragement to ask a woman out.
Don't forget to flirt a little."

The door closed again. Stella buried her face in
her hands. Just what she needed right now: a nagging mother.

After first placing a tea bag in a mug, she
quickly changed into an old baggy sweatshirt,
jeans, and sneakers. If her mother saw her dressed
like this, she'd do more than nag. She'd demand
they do the shopping she'd threatened earlier.

Stella finished making her iced tea, grabbed her
satchel filled with papers to grade, then headed out
the back door. She loved her backyard filled with
trees and shrubs, and now that spring had arrived,
flowering bulbs. In another month or so, the wildflower seeds she'd sown would sprout. But this
time was exactly her favorite, when the garden
was filled with potential and richness and tender
shoots.

She slowly meandered through her yard, then
made her way to the huge old oak tree situated in
the middle of it. And to the tree house snuggled
within its huge branches. She and Quin had built
it over several summers when they were children.
Her father had supervised, but they'd done the majority of the building themselves, including collecting materials for use.

Dangling from one of the branches was a homemade platform with pulley and rope attached, used
for lifting items up into the tree. She placed her
tea and satchel on it, then raised the platform.

After quickly climbing the rope ladder hanging
from the middle of the tree house, she popped
open the trapdoor in the floor and pulled herself
inside. The tree house was about twelve feet
square, but it had a snug wooden roof which she'd
only had to patch once to keep the rain out,
screened windows on all four sides, and the best
view of Littlemouth in town.

Stella loved it up here, with the tree's leaves
just starting to form. As long as weather permitted,
she graded all her students' school papers in the
tree house. It was also where she did all her major
thinking. It felt safe, tucked up above the world.

After her broken engagement, she'd spent more
and more time here, reinforcing the tree house supports, and making repairs. Besides her small desk
and an old wooden rocking chair, she'd added a
wicker divan, a bookshelf containing some of her
favorite books, and a throw rug. She'd even done
some decorating.

Stella loved sewing and had added a few
touches to make the place feel homey. Working
on the tree house had given her time to work out
the complex emotions confusing her after breaking
up with James.

It seemed all her friends had either married or
moved away or both. James was reliable and responsible and had claimed to want all the things
she wanted. She'd been lonely and when he'd
asked her to marry him, she'd readily agreed,
thinking it was wise to get moving on with her
life. Thinking she'd finally get what she'd longed
for.

What she wanted most in the world was exactly
what her mother had, and what she'd enjoyed as
a child. Stella wanted a family. A home and children of her own. And most of all, she wanted a
husband to love and be loved by.

She'd attended college in Chicago. It was too
large, too noisy, too busy. Upon graduation, she'd
been happy to come home to a teaching job in
Littlemouth, knowing she wanted a future in a
cozy and warm small town.

In retrospect, she hadn't been in love with
James, but she'd definitely loved her dream. When
she'd found him in her bedroom closet, trying on
her nicest pair of high-heeled shoes, she'd been
shocked. When he'd asked her to let him try on
her other shoes, she'd been devastated.

Now, months later, she could find the humor in
the situation, but at the time ...

She hadn't told anyone what had happened. Just
told her mother and friends what she'd told James,
that she was certain it couldn't work out. Her mother had tried to worm the story out of her, but
Stella felt James's eccentricities were his private
business. She'd been relieved when he left town.

The oak tree and its tree house had been her
haven and her sanity. She'd had time, and the
needed privacy, to sort through her feelings and
realize she wouldn't fool herself again. She
couldn't marry for anything less than real love.

Life had a way of going on and soon the rumor
mill had run out of gossip about James and her.
Now Littlemouth was buzzing with a new topic.

The bad boy had come home.

He'd looked every bit the bad boy when he'd
strolled past her house. Later, when she'd seen
Quin up close, she hadn't known quite what to
think.

Her initial reaction had been how handsome and
devil-may-care he looked, despite all evidence to
the contrary. She'd wanted to hug him. She'd
wanted to tell him to never leave again. She'd
wanted him to hold her.

She was ridiculous.

It was pitifully obvious she lacked judgment
when it came to the male of the species. So, she'd
said the first thing springing to mind. She'd reminded him of their childhood argument about
him ignoring her to hang out with the wrong
crowd.

And he'd laughed at her.

She had to admit that she'd been pretty ridiculous, but his not having stopped at her house made
her feel-abandoned. So she'd helped with the injured animal and gotten as far away from his devastating smile as possible.

Despite how everyone in town believed Quin
had returned home as the bad boy made good, she
couldn't quite believe he'd changed that much.
He'd always been up to mischief. She couldn't
help but wonder if he'd deliberately lured her into
the dumpster simply to stain her clothing. She
wouldn't put it past him.

Quin studied the baskets of ferns hanging on
Stella's front porch while he waited for her to answer the door.

If Stella was too shy to ask him to the reunion,
then he'd make it easy on her. Ten years before,
she refused to attend the senior prom with him,
and had then gone without a date, making it clear
she preferred to go alone rather than in his company. Now he'd get a chance to show her his damaged ego didn't hold any grudges, that he'd grown
up since then. Besides, going with her would be
fun.

He rapped on the door again. Where was she?
He paced back and forth on the slatted wood decking.

When she still didn't answer his knock, he de cided to go around back. Even if she wasn't home,
he wanted to see their old tree house.

Stella had done a lot of work on the yard. A
small area was fenced off and staked out for a
vegetable garden. Lots of seedlings had been
planted. She'd always had an affinity for anything
green. Too bad he hadn't been filled with chlorophyll instead of teenage hormones.

He looked up at the oak tree and couldn't believe his eyes. Not only was their tree house still
there, it looked to be in even better shape than
when they'd first built it. Walking beneath the
structure, he noticed repairs had been made to it
over the years. Amazing.

The trap door was open and he took it as an
invitation to visit. He scaled the ladder and raised
his head through the opening, wondering if there'd
be cobwebs.

The first things he saw were flowery drapes over
the window tops, then he spied a love seat with
matching cushions and pillows with lace and frilly
stuff. Glancing in the other direction, his gaze
locked with Stella's.

He grinned.

" `Welcome to my cobweb,' said the spider to
the fly," she said.

"Thanks." He pulled himself the rest of the way
into the tree house, then had to duck to avoid hit ting his head on the roof. "This place has shrunk
in my absence."

"I think you've grown, Quin," Stella said in an
amused voice. "Quite a bit, in fact."

Still ducking his head, he wiggled his brows at
her, then held out his arms and pivoted slowly.
"You like?"

"I'm relieved you grew into those huge feet."

Quin looked down. "They're not so huge now."

"Oh, I don't know. They take up an awful lot
of floor space." Stella smiled. "You look great."

"You're a sight for homesick eyes, yourself."
Quin checked himself. "That was a lie."

"It was?"

"You're heart-stoppingly lovely, Stella. You
haven't aged at all."

"Flatterer." Stella directed her gaze out the window. If only she were the type who could accept
a temporary relationship. But she wasn't. She was
constitutionally unable to engage in shallow flirting-she was an all-or-nothing type of person.
Since Quin would be going on his way soon, it
would be better for her peace of mind if she didn't
start something he wouldn't be in town long
enough to finish.

After a moment, she turned back and asked,
"How are your ribs?"

"Not too bad." Quin began poking about the
room, picked up one of the throw pillows, then checked out the books on the shelf. "The complete
works of Jane Austen? You're still a romantic,
then."

"Always was." Stella laughed, wondering why
she didn't feel her space was invaded by Quin being in the tree house. No one had ever visited her
here. In fact she'd discouraged it. Perhaps it was
because she and Quin had shared so many childhood hours here, so many childish secrets. "But
then, I never tried to hide the things I'm most interested in."

"What are you most interested in these days?"

"Oh, my job. I enjoy teaching the kids. I love
gardening, sewing, cooking. And books, of
course."

He looked at her skeptically. "That's it?"

"That's a lot."

"Haven't you ever longed for excitement?"

"All I've ever wanted were the small things life
has to offer. A family, good friends, a rewarding
job, a home that feels like a home."

He shrugged. "I want the same things."

"Only if they come with a dash of excitement
and risk."

"Don't you get bored by the same routine day
after day? Isn't it a little dull here after all these
years?"

"I'll bet your routine isn't much different from
mine. Like me, you probably get up and shower in the morning. But instead of heading off to
browbeat kids into learning the rudiments of science, you knock heads with drug dealers or egomaniac monarchs in Third World countries, trying
to get them to give you information."

"You have a point." Quin seated himself
crossed-legged on the throw rug. "It's good to be
home."

"Have you seen many of your old friends since
being back?" she asked.

"Not really. I stopped by to see Brendan at the
sheriff's office. It was a little surprising."

"Yeah, he's gone from Littlemouth's chief hellion to revered deputy sheriff."

"Littlemouth doesn't seem to have changed
much."

"Only if you're looking at it from the outside, I
suppose. Believe me, we've had our troubles and
our highlights."

Quin got up and began pacing, at least as much
as he could while stooping to avoid the ceiling. He
lifted the brick they'd used to hide notes for each
other and looked inside. "No mail, I see."

"I'm sure you get plenty of mail at home."

He shrugged again and it occurred to her what
he reminded her of. A caged panther. He'd filled
out since leaving home, muscle and tendon bulking out a frame that had once been too slender. Each of his movements now was lithe, graceful in
a masculine yet catlike way.

Stella felt sorry for him a moment. He must find
Littlemouth confining.

He stilled. Tensed. "I've been doing a lot of
thinking since I arrived."

"Don't overtax that brain of yours."

He caught her gaze. "When did we stop being
best friends, Stell? I've missed our friendship. I've
missed you."

She didn't know what to say. It was such old
history, a childhood friendship that couldn't stand
the test of time. "It was inevitable, I suppose. We
grew up."

"You told me I was neglecting you for my other
friends. Kids who were fast, running with the
wrong crowd. Is that what did it?"

Stella shrugged. "I was jealous. I did feel neglected, left by the wayside. But we were kids,
Quin, going through the normal pangs of growing
up. I don't see how it could have been any different."

"You're right, of course. Have you had any dinner?"

Stella shook her head.

"Come out with me. I'm looking for an excuse
to avoid another home-cooked meal. My mother
is driving me nuts."

Stella laughed. "You intend to take up where we left off, don't you? You used to say the same
sort of thing as a kid."

"Some things never change. Now Mom thinks
I'm an invalid. She keeps trying to force-feed me
chicken soup. I swear, I'm beginning to sprout
feathers. Let's go grab a hamburger."