This Just In... (Harlequin Superromance) (10 page)

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
MORNING
OF
THE
festival dawned bright and hot. Sabrina slipped her red cowboy boots on and then twirled in front of the mirror. The pretty white eyelet dress wasn’t Alaïa and the shoes weren’t Manolo Blahnik, but she was happy. The realization surprised her. She hadn’t expected to be happy. Not here. Not in Wheaton.

But her reporting job was going well. Trish had been wholeheartedly in favor of her article ideas over the past few weeks, which ranged from a feature on porch gardening, showcasing her very own porch, to a piece on a homegrown artist who was gaining recognition across the country. And that was her humming along to the music playing from her iPod speakers and smiling as she put on lipstick. How long had it been since she’d felt this way? Since she was fired? No, longer than that. She just hadn’t realized it. What else had she not realized?

But Sabrina didn’t like thinking about that, so she pushed the thought away.

She had plenty of other things to fill her mind today. Not the least of which was spending more time with Noah. She spritzed on her favorite lavender scent, rubbing her wrists together.

Although she and Noah had been seeing each other a few times a week, she was still looking forward to today. Rather than using her leftover information from the original interview session, she and Trish had decided a behind-the-scenes feature on Noah at the festival was likely to interest more readers. And Noah had agreed.

Sabrina wondered if the town knew just how much he did for them. Probably not and she wasn’t certain that following him at the festival would get the point across. This was a special event and of course he would be busy. But it was a start.

As well, she’d be busy covering other festival highlights and taking photos. A standard report on the whos, whats and wheres. People were interested in learning who took home the blue ribbon for the best pie and who was going to represent the town as their pageant princess, and Sabrina liked knowing that she’d be able to preserve their moments of glory for them.

Supporting each other and celebrating accomplishments was part of the glue that held small communities together. She’d forgotten about that. Though she was reminded every week when people made a point of complimenting her articles in the paper’s latest edition.

The circulation might be a fraction of that in the city and she might not be interviewing any bold-faced names, but there was something satisfying about knowing that her work was being read, being recognized.

Sabrina had always loved the Northern Lights festival. In her mind, it was the true kick-off to summer, always happening on the first weekend in July. Even the year she’d been uncrowned for underage drinking behind the tents while still wearing her tiara and sash hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm. She grabbed her purse and jacket and was waiting by the front door when Noah knocked.

“Oh, my God.” She looked at him, lounging in her door frame like a cowboy from one of those hot romances she liked to read in the bath. She clapped her hands, unable to contain her delight. “You’re wearing a hat.” A white Stetson. Like a real cowboy.

He touched the brim uncertainly. “The crowd likes it.”

“I do, too.” She rose onto her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. She couldn’t resist. His hesitation and sheer hotness was a potent blend. “It’s perfect.”

“No.” But a shy smile crossed his lips. She kissed them, too. “You look amazing.”

She noted the flick of his eyes to the boots. Which was exactly why she’d worn them. Underneath his calm and proper exterior, Noah had a thing for her bright cowboy boots. Oh, he’d never say so, but she could tell.

She locked the door behind her and they headed outside. Noah’s fingers caught hers and held. The birds were busy tweeting and singing to the world. Everyone looked forward to the town’s annual festival, even those of the avian persuasion. Noah led her past his dark sedan and down to the detached garage, which fit only one car.

The doors made a loud rumble when he raised them. It was the first time she’d see what was inside. Sabrina blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dark interior. A dark green truck sat inside, all glossy paint and shiny chrome. An old truck. One that had clearly been lovingly restored. She looked at Noah. “Special event?”

He nodded and ran a hand along the edge of the flatbed, then patted it lovingly. “I don’t take her out too often.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Sabrina trailed a finger along the bumper. Captain Midnight would have loved it. And named it.

Noah’s eyes lit up and he started talking about original paint colors and a V-8 engine and something about a flathead. The information was beyond her limited car knowledge, but the excitement in his face made her smile.

He caught himself and stopped. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? Sorry. I know most people don’t get this excited about cars.”

“No, I’m happy to listen.” It was clear why he’d decided to go into the business he had. His love of automobiles was evident. She placed a hand on his sleeve, and the cool material of his blazer felt lovely beneath her fingers. “I can’t swear I’ll understand everything, but I’m happy to listen.”

For a second, he just stared at her. Then he hugged her. Hard. “Thank you.” She wondered how often other people let him share his true loves.

They got premium parking. One of the perks of being the town’s leader. Of course, that also meant they were accosted before they even climbed out of the truck. Still, Noah came around to close the door behind her, politely listening as a crowd of people called for his attention.

But they weren’t all calling for Noah. A few people stopped to tell Sabrina that they’d enjoyed her latest article in the paper. She’d decided to use some of the information gathered during her interview with Noah to write an article about Cedar Oaks, which had run in this morning’s edition. She thanked them, pleased they’d taken the time to search her out.

So different than Vancouver. She shrugged off the thought. Different city, different residents, different experience. One wasn’t better than the other, just different. Okay, twenty-four-hour coffee places were better...so long as she didn’t have to work in them.

And the possibility of her return to Vancouver was looking up. Although nothing had changed on the paper front, she’d finally realized she needed to take a two-pronged approach to the matter. If she couldn’t convince the paper to ignore Big Daddy’s demands, then maybe she could convince Big Daddy to rescind them.

On Thursday, she’d received an email from the man himself. Granted, it was a terse note stating that he hadn’t changed his mind, but it opened the possibility to further communication. Something she intended to take full advantage of. If he could be convinced to remove his ban on her employment, she saw no reason why the paper wouldn’t take her back. She’d already sent back a friendly missive asking if they could get together via phone or in person for a chat.

Couldn’t hurt.

Sabrina stayed with Noah while he made his way to the grand stage for the official opening speech. The festival had launched Friday night, but everyone knew that the real event didn’t begin until Saturday. She snapped a few behind-the-scenes photos from the sidelines, knowing it was the kind of insight Trish and the readers would enjoy.

The smell of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, the squeals of kids on the rides and the laughter of everyone enjoying themselves. She’d missed this. Not just the festival. All of it.

Well, she wouldn’t stay away so long next time. She’d come back, even if she could only make it once or twice a year. She looked at Noah who finished his speech to loud applause and saw the light in his eyes when he caught sight of her. And she would come back to see him.

They didn’t separate until later that afternoon. He had to award another ribbon in the baking category and she needed to get some photos that didn’t include Noah. Maybe some kids on the rides, with sunny smiles and that glee in their eyes that indicated either bliss or trouble. Sometimes both.

Sabrina staked out a spot by the kiddie carousel and pulled her camera out. There was a little blonde girl screaming with laughter, her head thrown back as she went around and around. Sabrina snapped a couple of shots then looked for the parents.

She caught a glimpse of a hand waving to the girl and a flash of blond hair. Blond hair that looked familiar. She looked back at the little girl. And a smile that she recognized, too.

Crap. Marissa. She didn’t need the crowd to clear and show her face to know it was her.

Sabrina rubbed her suddenly chilled hands together. She wasn’t afraid to talk to Marissa. Not exactly. But it had been a long time. She’d been in town for two months and they hadn’t even crossed paths.

Obviously, that had been intentional on Marissa’s part, but Sabrina realized she needed to take some responsibility for their continued separation, too. She could have approached Marissa, called, dropped by her house. But she’d allowed it to slide because that was easier. Easier to just go along rather than face what would likely be a difficult reunion.

But she didn’t want to be timid anymore. She was taking charge of her professional life, contacting Big Daddy and doing what she could to make things better. It was time she did the same in her personal life.

She gathered up her courage, pasted on a smile and moved toward the person who’d once been her best friend in the entire world.

“Marissa.”

Marissa turned, a cheerful smile on her lips. It disappeared when she spotted Sabrina, replaced by a wary gaze. “Sabrina.”

Well, at least she hadn’t spun away on one heel or shouted at her. So that was a win. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Marissa’s tone was cautious and careful. She studied Sabrina, but said nothing more.

“Good, good.” Sabrina swallowed. Such enchanting and delightful repartee. “You look great.”

Marissa did look great. Her hair was the same pale shade of blond it had been all through high school. And though she’d had four children, her slender figure was the same, too. Sabrina bet she could still fit into her prom dress. Sabrina could not. She knew because she’d tried when she’d found it in the back of her old bedroom closet. She could wiggle it over her hips, but the material was stretched tight and the zipper wouldn’t move anywhere past the middle of her back.

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

They eyed each other again. Awkward, uncertain. Sabrina glanced at the carousel, which was still moving in slow circles. The tiny blonde girl waved at them as she went by. “Is that your daughter?”

“Yes.” Marissa’s eyes softened when she looked at her daughter. “Daisy.”

“She looks like you.” In fact, now that she looked again, Sabrina wondered if she hadn’t subconsciously recognized her. She could have been a double for Marissa at the same age, a fact Sabrina knew very well.

“That’s what everyone says.”

Sabrina felt a pinch
in her heart. She should have been around more. She’d missed so much. Marissa’s marriage, her children. The knowledge made her sad. Maybe she should have done things differently. But she couldn’t go back, she could only move forward. “Do you think she’d want to be in the paper?”

“Daisy?” Marissa’s eyebrows shot up.

“The feature photo for my article.” She turned the view screen of her camera to Marissa to show her the shots she’d already snapped.

Marissa smiled as she flicked through the pictures. “She’d love that.” She handed the camera back. “But I don’t think so.”

Sabrina smiled through the sinking feeling in her stomach. “I understand.” She did. “Marissa, I’m really—”

“Stop.” Marissa held up a hand. “I’m not ready to hear this.”

“I just want to—”

“You’ve been gone a long time. A long time.” Marissa’s eyes were bright, too bright. “Just give me some space, okay?”

Sabrina felt her own eyes prickle, probably becoming dangerously bright themselves. “Of course. Whatever you need, Riss.” The old nickname slipped out.

Marissa nodded. “Thank you.” She blinked and then painted on a smile Sabrina knew very well as she bent to hug a blond-haired bullet that flew into her legs.

“Did you see me? I was flying!” Daisy chattered away explaining the joyous experience of riding the kiddie carousel. She wore a checked pink button-down shirt, an orange skirt and blue cowboy boots with lopsided pigtails to complete the look.

Sabrina grinned and felt the prickling slip away. How could she not in the face of Daisy’s exuberant retelling? She’d be perfect on the front page of the paper. Messy pigtails and all. But Sabrina wouldn’t go against Marissa’s wishes. Even if she didn’t need signed release forms, she wouldn’t have done it.

Daisy finished telling her story and took a breath. Then she noticed Sabrina. She turned. Her smile was wide and guileless. A child who was well loved and loved in return. “Hi. I’m Daisy.”

She held out her hand, gently shaking the little girl’s hand. “I’m Sabrina.”

Daisy nodded as though this information pleased her. “I like your boots.” She looked up at her mother. “Can I have red boots?”

“You have blue boots.”

Daisy looked down at the toes of her boots. “But they’re not red.”

“Blue boots are nice, too,” Sabrina said. “I was thinking of buying some.” She wasn’t, but the cheery smile from Daisy and grateful blink from Marissa told her it had been the right thing to say.

“Then we could be sisters,” Daisy said. “I don’t have sisters. Only brothers.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m five and three-quarters. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s old.”

“I know.” Sabrina nodded. “I’m practically a relic.”

“What’s a relic?”

“Someone or something that’s very old.”

Daisy nodded in sympathetic understanding. “My mom’s a relic, too.”

Sabrina snorted, her eyes catching Marissa’s. They shared a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

* * *

S
ABRINA
FOUND
N
OAH
twenty minutes later looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Oh, it wouldn’t be obvious to most people. He had that faux mayor look down to a fine art, all grand gestures and warm welcomes, but the pinched look in his eyes screamed for rescue. And who was she to refuse?