Trinity Falls (5 page)

Doreen shook her head. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Her friend was right. Megan's gaze slid to Simon Knight. She didn't agree with Ramona's latest plans for Trinity Falls, but things could be worse.

CHAPTER 6

Tuesday evening, Megan glanced at her red Timex wristwatch again. Only eight minutes had passed since her last time check during this interminable town council meeting. Megan shifted in her third-row seat, which probably was older than she was. She crossed her legs, folded her arms and swallowed an impatient sigh.

The metal folding chairs were arranged in the town hall's largest conference room to accommodate residents. In fact, the council's business served as a backdrop for what was more of a community social.

Ramona adjusted the microphone on the desk in front of her. “Before the council entertains presentations and new matters from the public, I would like to take a moment to update everyone on the status of the park lamps.” Her pause added drama to a matter-of-fact statement. “Three months ago, the lamps were installed along the walking path in Freedom Park. The lamps are operating properly and have added a sense of increased security to residents.”

A tepid round of applause limped around the room. Megan wanted to sink into her chair. Why did Ramona always have to draw attention to herself ? She'd contracted to have the lamps installed in the park. But everyone in town knew the lamps had been Doreen Fever's idea.

CeCe Roben, the town council president, cleared her throat. Her auburn hair was a sleek bob framing her alabaster face. “Thank you, Mayor. I've noticed a big difference with the new lamps and feel much safer in the park at night now.”

From his seat on Megan's left, Darius lowered his pen and leaned closer. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “How much of that is sincere, and how much of it is CeCe's attempt to score points with Ramona?”

Megan nodded. “I wondered the same thing.”

Quincy sat forward in his chair on Megan's right. He kept his voice to the same hushed tone. “I thought you didn't believe Ramona had a good side.”

The reporter shrugged. “I don't believe Publishers Clearing House is real, either, but I'll open my door if they knock.”

Quincy chuckled. “I jog through the park most nights. I don't think I've ever seen CeCe there.”

CeCe called for new matters, which were very few: Roads were still waiting for repair after heavy storms from the previous spring. The malicious prankster responsible for stealing road signs had struck again, leaving Guilford Lane unidentified. And the search for a new city treasurer was still under way before the current treasurer retired because of “family reasons” sparked by an affair with his brother's wife.

CeCe tapped the gavel to bring the meeting back to order. “At this time, we'd like to invite to the microphone those in attendance who would like to address the council.”

Megan scanned the room. Apparently, no one felt a pressing need to air his or her concerns. Megan inclined her head at the other members of the Trinity Falls Town Center Business Owners Association. From her seat, she contemplated the microphone waiting at the front of the room. Public speaking was not her forte. Megan's heart pounded a steady rhythm against her chest. She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before making her way to the podium. She felt Ramona's eyes on her every step of the way.

Megan gripped the edges of the podium and locked her knees. “Good evening, council members and Mayor.”

A murmur of “good evenings” responded.

“I'm here as a representative of the Trinity Falls Town Center Business Owners Association.” Was the wobble in her voice noticeable? “What additional information can you provide regarding plans to sell the center to a high-end broker to revitalize the property?”

Ramona pulled her microphone closer to her mouth. “Like what?”

Ramona's intimidation tactics were familiar—flat stare, bored tone—and they usually worked. Megan glanced over her shoulder. The members of her group, including Quincy and Darius, nodded encouragement.

Megan squared her shoulders and faced her cousin. “What types of businesses were you planning to attract? Where would you locate these new businesses?”

“We don't have answers to those questions yet.” Ramona's dismissive tone slapped her down.

Megan wanted to end this exchange and return to her seat, but her group was depending on her. “You're trying to draw new businesses, but you don't know what type or where you'd put them? Then why do you want them?”

Ramona lowered her brows. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Ramo . . . Mayor McCloud, new businesses will impact Trinity Falls's existing retailers. The result will be increased competition for discretionary, as well as essential, spending. Businesses have to prepare for these changes—”

CeCe interrupted her. “I can understand your concern, Megan.”

“I can't,” Ramona muttered.

CeCe continued. “As soon as the council has the information that you're requesting, we'll share it with you and the rest of the town's business owners.”

“Thank you, Councilwoman Roben.” Megan nodded toward the council before leaving the podium. Her legs were like Jell-O. She was out of breath.

Again she felt Ramona's eyes burning into her. Why would the council announce its intent to attract new businesses to Trinity Falls if it didn't know the types of businesses it wanted to attract, or even where they would be located? What was really going on?

 

 

The sound of leaves crunching behind her pulled Megan from her solitary thoughts early Wednesday morning. The fellow jogger was gaining ground on her fast. Perhaps too fast. From the weight of the footfalls, the runner was probably male. Without breaking stride, Megan loped to the edge of Freedom Park's nearly deserted dirt path, signaling the newcomer that he was free to pass.

“It's not safe to run alone in the dark.” Ean's rich baritone almost sent her into cardiac arrest.

It never occurred to her she would come into contact with him during her morning exercise. But here he was, with his olive green eyes focused on her.

Megan blinked. Her heart thumped once. Twice. “It's after six o'clock in the morning.”

“It's still dark.”

Megan puzzled over his statement as they jogged through the pools of light spilling from the lamps stationed every couple of feet. “This is Trinity Falls, not New York City.”

“Unfortunately, women are accosted in small towns, too.”

“That's one of the reasons these lamps were installed.” Megan watched a drop of sweat trail down Ean's broad forehead, drip off his aquiline nose and land on the gunmetal gray T-shirt stretched across his broad chest.

She shifted her attention away and drew in the chill October air to cool her suddenly overheated body. Ean seemed to have adjusted his pace to match hers. Was his concern for her safety the reason he didn't just jog past her? Megan was trapped.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the fall colors on the trees and bushes bordering the hard dirt path. Some of the vibrant leaves were strewn along the ground and grass.

She loved this time of day; the still silence of the early morning, when it felt as though she was the only person on the planet. The scent of fall was heavy in the air. She glanced at Ean in her peripheral vision. Did he sense the magic of the early morning, too? A ghost of a smile touched his full, sexy lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Her question startled her. Why had she asked him that?

“The past. The path hasn't changed much, except for these lamps.” He gestured toward a tree root. “I twisted my ankle on that once, before I learned to hop over it.”

“The town hasn't changed much.” Megan returned her attention to the trail. “People come and eventually go. They rarely return.”

“Is that a not-so-subtle reference to my homecoming?”

“Maybe.” Megan's fingers trembled to smooth his thick, arched brow and wipe the sweat from his forehead. She fisted her hands.

“The bookstore's changed. A lot.”

“It needed to be modernized and expanded to survive.”

“Ramona's changed, too. Business and politics had never held much interest for her.”

Megan struggled again with contradictory feelings for Ramona as mayor: pride that her cousin had accepted the responsibility when no one else would; relief that the town was better off now than it had been three years ago; frustration that Ramona was bullying the town into changes only she seemed to want.

Megan used the back of her wrist to wipe sweat from her upper lip. “And yet she's launched her interior-design company and is running the town.”

Ean's long strides picked up. Megan maintained her pace. Maybe his increased speed would carry him away from her.

Ean wiped the sweat from his chin. “I remember you following your grandparents around the bookstore. It was as though you were grooming yourself to take over for them. Did you major in business?”

Megan bit back a groan as Ean again adjusted his stride to hers. “I had a double major in business and accounting from the University of Illinois.”

Ean's brows knitted. “Illinois is a good school. Ramona hadn't mentioned that you'd gone to college out of state. I assumed you'd gone to Trinity Falls University, just as she had.”

“I got a scholarship.” With a wealth of relief, Megan nodded toward an old, curved tree several yards ahead on their left. “This is where I turn back. Enjoy the rest of your run.”

“I'll join you.” Ean's response was swift.

“That's not necessary.” Megan declined his offer just as quickly.

“It's still dark. I can't leave you to jog home alone. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.”

His words weakened her resistance. She fought hard not to give in. “Don't cut your run short on my account. I'll be fine.”

“I can come back to the park after I take you home.” And then he flashed his wicked grin. Deep dimples creased his cheeks. Hypnotic lights danced in his olive eyes.

Megan blushed at the direction her thoughts took. “All right. Thank you.”

They arrived at the tree with Megan just a half step behind Ean. In silence, they circled it, then jogged back the way they'd come.

Megan glanced at Ean's strong, chiseled profile. Sweat molded the gray T-shirt to his pectorals. Her brain cells leaked from her ears. She kicked up her speed, anxious to end this torture.

Ean's voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “What hobbies do you have besides jogging?”

“Why are you asking so many personal questions?” She tossed him a cheeky grin. “Are you going to ask my sign next? My favorite color?”

Ean laughed. “I only want to get to know you better.”

Her stomach seemed to drop. “What are your hobbies?”

Ean was silent for a moment. “I don't think I have any others. In New York, all I did was work and run.”

She was angry for him. That wasn't a life. “Reading. I like to read.”

His chuckle strummed the muscles in her lower abdomen. “Your face was always buried in a book.”

“And you, Darius and Quincy were always arguing over comic books.” Her blush was becoming a permanent condition.

“We weren't arguing. We were debating.” His eyes warmed as they shared the memory.

Megan exhaled in relief as her grandparents' house—now her home—came into view at the end of the block. “I'll race you.”

She issued the challenge to mask her desperate need to escape him. Ean laughed as he pulled away from her. A latent competitive streak stirred to life inside Megan. She dug deeper, raising her knees and pumping her arms, straining to keep up with him, hoping to pass him.

Her gaze dropped to the fine, firm muscles of his derriere. A thread of an idea sewed into her mind. Megan reached forward and grabbed the waistband of his black gym pants. Ean came up short. The surprise stamped on his copper features was comical. Megan laughed as she sprinted past him.

She tapped the sycamore tree in front of her home and threw her arms above her head. “I won!”

Ean slowed to a stop beside her. “You cheated.”

Megan was breathless from exertion and giddy with victory. “That wasn't cheating. It was strategy.”

Ean's eyes dipped to her mouth. “It was cheating.”

His voice was a low, wicked rumble. Megan sobered. Ean's head drew closer. His scent—sweat and musk—clouded her thoughts. The burgeoning heat in his eyes rendered her motionless. This moment was her young girl's fantasy, but his nearness stirred every inch of her woman's body. All she knew was his heat, his touch, his eyes. And all she wanted was his taste.

CHAPTER 7

Ean leaned closer. Too close. His movement wrenched Megan from her trance.

She staggered backward—away from the sycamore tree, away from Ean. Away from temptation. “Excuse me.”

She stumbled up her walkway, tripped up the five redbrick front steps and fumbled into her home. With shaking hands, she relocked her door before collapsing against it. Her legs felt like water balloons. Her heart galloped like a startled horse. What had just happened?

Gripping the doorknob, Megan leaned toward the smoked side window on her right and spied on Ean. Her breath caught in her throat. He was still beside the tree. His long, lean body stood in profile as he stared at the sidewalk. Unobserved, she could allow her gaze to touch every inch of his hard, muscled form. Loose-fitting black running pants covered long, strong legs and lovingly cupped his tight glutes. His sweat-stained gray jersey molded his flat abs and chiseled pecs. Her fist clenched the doorknob. She wanted the courage to go back down her walkway and ease the ache building inside. She needed the sense to keep this locked door between them and protect her heart. What should she do, give in to desire or hold on to common sense? Before she could decide, Ean turned and jogged back toward the park.

Megan leaned against her front door. What had she been thinking? Ean Fever wasn't for her. Her roots were planted deep within Trinity Falls, Ohio. Almost from birth, Ean had been searching for other soil. She was too old to be weaving fantasies about the town's most popular boy falling in love with her and living happily ever after. Fairy tales were for books.

She pushed away from the door and plodded to her upstairs bathroom. Even if Ean had returned to Trinity Falls to stay, he'd come back for Ramona. She'd been rejected in favor of her cousin before. She wouldn't allow history to repeat itself.

 

 

Ean stood in Quincy's office doorway hours later, watching the former running back review papers. His childhood friend had become a university professor. Very cool.

He knocked twice on Quincy's open door. “How does it feel to be the one giving the grades instead of getting them?”

Too late, Quincy masked his surprise. “‘It is better to give than to receive.'”

“Good one.” Ean grinned at the glimpse of the old Quincy. “You have a minute?”

“I have to teach a class.” That quickly, the window into their shared past closed.

Ignoring Quincy's attempt at a brush-off, Ean pulled the door closed behind him and settled into one of the two cushioned chairs in front of the pale modular desk. “We have plenty of time. It's nine o'clock. Darius said you only have afternoon classes on Wednesdays.”

Quincy scowled. “I have to prepare for those classes.”

Ean leaned into the chair and propped his right ankle onto his left knee. “I only need ten minutes.”

Quincy's air of resignation was even more puzzling. “What can I do for you, Ean?”

So formal. “You can start by telling me why you're pissed off that I've come home.”

“Why would I be upset?”

“That's what I'm asking.”

Quincy's eyes hardened. “I'm sorry if I'm not showing you the right amount of deference, but I don't have to play follow the leader—follow
you
—anymore. I walk my own path now.”

Ean's brows launched up his forehead. “‘Follow the leader'? What the hell are you talking about?”

Quincy remained silent.

Maybe this confrontation hadn't been a good idea. Ean was more confused today than he'd been Tuesday morning. He dragged both hands over his head as he rose to pace. Unfortunately, Quincy's office was comfortable but small.

The framed Professor of the Year Award hanging on the off-white wall to his left distracted him. The recognition wasn't surprising. Quincy was determined to be the best at whatever he chose to do.

A small coffeepot stood on a black metal cabinet in a corner behind Quincy's chair. Two wall-to-wall bookcases faced each other from opposite sides of the office and were stuffed with books on African and African-American history. On the shelf above his computer, writing references, a dictionary and a thesaurus shared space with framed photos of family and friends.

Ean spotted a photo of him, Quincy and Darius in their grass-and-dirt–stained high school football uniforms. He remembered mugging for that photo. Quincy's father had taken it shortly after their championship game. Ean had kept a copy of that same picture on his desk at the law firm. The school had nicknamed the friends “the Terrible Trio”: quarterback, running back and tight end. An unstoppable offense.

That picture hardened Ean's resolve to repair one of the most important relationships in his life. “When I was in New York, we e-mailed or called each other a couple of times a month. Everything seemed fine. Now that I'm back, you're acting as though I've stolen from you. What's changed?”

Quincy crossed his arms over his chest. “Things can't go back to the way they were.”

That was a familiar theme in Trinity Falls. “Why not?”

“We aren't the people we used to be. We've grown up. We've changed.”

Ean assessed his friend like any witness on the stand. Whatever was eating at him, Quincy wouldn't give up the information easily. “What are you afraid of going after?”

“What are you talking about?” Quincy's words snapped with impatience.

“At the bookstore Tuesday, Darius said
I'm
not afraid to go after what I want. What does he think you're afraid of?” Ean caught the shift in Quincy's gaze. A moment of uncertainty that revealed Ean was on the right track.

“I'm not afraid of anything.” Quincy's mouth tightened as though he didn't want to divulge more than he already may have.

“We're all afraid of something.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Ean clenched his teeth. Why had he opened this door? “Right now, I'm afraid I waited too long to come home.”

“Maybe New York is your home now.”

Those words coming from his friend hurt. “What do you want? Maybe I can help.”

Quincy's expression grew mulish. “I don't need your help.”

They were at an impasse. Ean stood. “Let me know if you change your mind. Your friendship means a lot to me, Q. It's one of the reasons I came home.”

Surprise relaxed Quincy's tight features. Ean turned to leave the office. But he wasn't calling the game. This was only a time-out. He'd come home to return to the people and the things that mattered most to him. But had he waited too long?

 

 

“Dracula is drunk.” Megan chewed the words like rocks in her mouth.

“Stan? Are you sure?” Ramona tapped Megan's shoulder with the wand she used as part of her witch costume. “Perhaps you should check again.”

“I'm. Positive.” Megan could barely breathe through her anger. She imagined breaking Ramona's wand into bits.

Ramona waved the wand dismissively. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Megan's eyes stretched wide. “You hired Stan Crockett—
the town drunk
—to read Halloween-themed children's books to our customers' kids.”

It was the third Saturday of October, the day Books & Bakery hosted its annual Halloween costume party and children's story time. Megan heard the virtual flushing of her afternoon event as it plunged down the figurative toilet. Ramona either couldn't hear it or didn't care.

“Nice costume party, Megan.” Quincy's comment was barely audible above the angry buzzing in Megan's ears and the laughter of children enjoying the Halloween games arranged around the store.

Megan turned to find Quincy standing in a semicircle with Darius and Ean. The Terrible Trio reunited and standing in her grandparents' bookstore. She'd stepped back in time. However, each man had donned the bare minimum to be considered in costume. Quincy had pulled on a football jersey and a pair of faded blue jeans. Darius wore a gray stitch fedora. The name tag on his teal sweater read: MEMBER OF THE PRESS.

Megan stared at Ean's blue jeans, black jersey and the white bandanna tied around his head. “What are you supposed to be? A pirate?”

Ean adjusted the bandanna. “Not
what, who.
Deion Sanders.”

Did he truly believe the bandanna alone pegged him as the Hall of Fame former football player? Megan feared her eyes would burst from her head. “Is this the best the three of you could do? Seriously?”

“What are you supposed to be? An Egyptian princess?” Ean's warm gaze slid over her.

Megan laid her damp palms on the skirt of her white lamé dress. “The goddess Isis.”

She reached behind her to spread the gold theatrical cape or “wings.” The heavy black eyeliner had been a pain to apply, even harder than wielding the hot comb to straighten the curl from her hair.

“I like it.” The intensity in Ean's olive eyes made her stomach muscles quiver.

“Thanks.” Megan nervously checked the gold band wrapped around the top of her head. She felt the others staring between her and Ean, and fought the urge to fidget.

Quincy turned to Ramona. “Where's your costume?”

Ramona's eyes narrowed. “I wish this were a real wand. I'd turn you into a toad. Oh! Too late.”

“Ouch.” Darius chuckled.

“Afternoon, everyone.”

Megan turned at the newcomer's greeting. “Sheriff, is that your costume?” She clenched her teeth to keep from snarling.

Sheriff Alonzo Lopez glanced at his tan shirt, black tie and spruce green gabardine pants. His cocoa eyes looked confused. “It's my uniform. I'm on duty.”

Megan cut Darius a look for his inappropriate laughter. “I'm sorry, Sheriff.”

“No need to be.” His calm acceptance soothed Megan. “I took the afternoon shift so my deputies with families could take their children to your party. It's a fun event for the kids.”

“That was nice of you.” Ramona gave him a sweet smile.

The older man's shrug was uncomfortable. “Doreen looks very nice in her movie star outfit.”

“Doreen's spoken for.” Darius' smile teased the older man.

“Can't a man appreciate a pretty woman without having any designs on her.” Alonzo turned to Ean. “No disrespect intended.”

“None taken.” Ean's tense tone belied his words.

Alonzo nodded. “Well, I'd better get back to work.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Sheriff.” Megan laid her hand on his shoulder. “It's always good to see you.”

Alonzo nodded before strolling away.

Ean caught Megan's attention. “Dracula was singing inappropriate bar songs to your customers.”

Megan threw up her hands. “Oh, for Pete's sake.”

Ean caught her arm as she started past him. “My mother brought him into the kitchen. She's giving him coffee.”

The warmth of his touch through the sleeve of her costume made her shiver. Megan exhaled before addressing Ramona. “What were you thinking to hire Stan Crockett to read to a bunch of kids in our store?”

Quincy gaped at Ramona. “
You
hired him?”

Ramona's ebony eyes were innocent. “He needed money.”

“To buy alcohol.” Megan wanted to throw back her head and scream. Why wouldn't Ramona understand?

“It'll be OK, Megan.” Ean released his hold on Megan's arm.

She bit her lip to keep from protesting his withdrawal.

“Ean's right, Meggie.”

“Don't call me that.” Her cousin added insult to injury with that obnoxious nickname.

Ramona continued, unfazed. “Doreen's giving him coffee. He'll sober right up.”

“Have you seen him?” Megan's throat ached under the strain of keeping her voice level.

Darius snorted. “There isn't enough coffee in the store to sober up old Stan.”

Ramona frowned. “He promised me he wouldn't drink before the reading.”

“He lied.” Quincy stated the obvious.

Ramona's dark eyes snapped at him. “He said he needed work to rebuild his self-esteem and get off the alcohol.”

Megan took a deep breath. She counted to ten, then exhaled. “How are you going to fix this, Ramona?”

“Me?”
Ramona pressed her index finger against her chest. “Why do
I
have to fix it?”

“Because . . .” Megan pressed her lips together, hating herself for not being able to stand up to her older cousin.

Quincy crossed his arms. “You hired him. You should be the one to fire him, Mona.”

“Don't call me that.” Ramona gave the group a stubborn look. “Let's wait and see. Once Stan's sober, he'll read to the children. It'll boost his self-esteem, and your party'll be a howling success, just as it always is.”

Megan's skull started to ache. She was sympathetic to Stan. She really was. But Ramona had taken empathy to the edge of reason.

“The parents who brought their children here are on a schedule. So is the store.” Megan checked her red Timex. “The reading is supposed to start in seven minutes.”

“You and your schedules.” Ramona rolled her eyes. “What'll happen if story time starts late? Will the kids turn into pumpkins?”

Darius bent over, laughing.

Megan thought her head would explode. “How long will it take for Stan to get sober?”

Quincy scratched his chin. “I don't think I've ever seen him sober.”

Darius shrugged. “There was that one time we saw him walking into the bar off Vine Street.”