Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) (35 page)

She welcomed the extra time away from the library to look out for Kettle Knob’s interests at Town Hall. Her duties there required at least fifteen hours a week. That didn’t include the weekend civics lessons with two supportive town council members and Chief Scotty to get her up to speed on the nuts and bolts of running a small community like theirs.

As librarian, she was excited about the new online campaign she and the Friends of the Library had created to raise funds for building repairs and new reading material. It was slow going, but other people around the nation believed in keeping old libraries active, too. It helped that
Morning Coffee
had raised the profile of Kettle Knob—the town website was getting tons of hits, and she made sure the link to the library fundraiser was prominent there.

“Look at this place,” Mrs. Donovan said to Cissie one weekday morning at the library.

Cissie glanced at the chandelier in the main room, its bulbs flickering on and off. “It’s not so bad. It gives us atmosphere, right?”

“Wrong.” Mrs. Donovan put her books on the desk for checking out. “The roof leaks, too. And the foundation’s cracks are bigger than ever. I still think Boone had the right idea.”

Cissie smiled patiently. “We’re working on raising money. I wish you’d join the Friends of the Library—we could use you.”

Mrs. Donovan glowered. “I’m too busy helping Laurie with those boys to be of any use to you or anyone else.”

“How is she?” Cissie was worried about her. “Last time I was over there, she was on the phone with Perry. He was getting lawyered up. Since then she’s been hard to get a hold of.”

Mrs. Donovan’s mouth thinned. “He’s trying to get partial custody, which makes no sense since he’s moving to Wilmington and travels all year. She’s scrambling, trying to cover her bases with this new lawyer of hers.” She pointed at Cissie’s chest. “Be glad you’re single, honey. Love hurts.
Bad
.”

She stalked out.

No duh
, Cissie wanted to call after her.
I know all about it.
She stamped cards, filed papers, repaired some bindings, and thought about the man who held her heart hostage.

She was back in her house, which had been made over, much the same way she had been. The porch had doubled in size, and the new windows facing the view were huge. And she was coming out of her shell.

Even so, she still walked around every day with a huge shard of pain in her heart over Boone. She was brooding on the fact that she’d somehow managed not to lay eyes on him for an entire month when the front door opened. She looked up—always hoping.

It wasn’t Boone, but she almost fell out of her chair anyway. It was her parents, and they’d brought a stranger with them, a man in his early thirties, she’d guess—a man who looked something like Jude Law, in a stylish European-cut suit and tie.

He stood politely to the side while Cissie and her mother and father had a sweet, teary, and louder-than-was-appropriate-for-a-library reunion.

Some things were more important than library rules, she was willing to admit these days.

The stranger turned out to be Dr. Maxwell Plimpton—
the
Maxwell Plimpton—renowned British poet, at least among scholarly circles, whom her parents had met at Cambridge.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” he told Cissie, and shook her hand warmly.

Wow. A cute guy—from Mr. Darcy territory, no less! And he was interviewing for a two-year position at Appalachian State to become a visiting poet.

Romantic possibilities loomed if he were single—

And he was.

Luckily, the library closed at one o’clock that day. At home over an impromptu afternoon tea that she and Nana prepared, Cissie enjoyed Maxwell’s company. He regarded her steadily, rushed swiftly to pull out her chair, and asked her many questions about herself. He even laughed at her jokes.

But her heart was never moved.

She was done for.

Boone was her love.

When the tea things had been put away, Maxwell and Nana went downtown to the theater. A friend of Nana’s picked them up because Nana wasn’t feeling up to driving, and Maxwell couldn’t drive on the right side of the road.

“I want you three to have time together,” Nana said to Cissie and her parents.

She was always looking out for Cissie.

“Do you like Max?” her mother said in the kitchen after they’d gone. “He’s looking for love. I know it’s much too early for anything substantial to develop, but he’s already told me he’s very charmed by you.”

“I like him,” Cissie said, wiping down the kitchen counters. “But I’m not interested in him, Mother. He’s brilliant, of course.” Something she’d always had on her wish list when it came to identifying potential partners.

“Accomplished, too,” her father chimed in. He’d come in to sneak another of Nana’s delicious homemade scones from the platter Cissie had already wrapped with foil.

“And handsome,” her mother added, exchanging an amused glance with her father.

“That’s very important,” he said with mock smugness.

England had done wonders for bringing out their playful sides.

“Yes,” said Cissie, “but I don’t feel anything like a … a spark.”

“Sometimes it takes a while,” said Daddy. “You just met him today. But note where you met him. He came in over the library threshold. And he’s from out of town.”

Cissie chuckled. “You arranged that, I’m sure.”

“No,” said Mother. “Max insisted on going there straight from the airport. He told us he wanted to meet you in your natural habitat.”

“That’s very cool, but the truth is, the legend’s a moot point.” She paused, wondering how stupid she was to own her feelings. “I’ve already given my heart away.”

There. She’d said it. It was true. For her, there was only Boone, a fact she reluctantly admitted to her parents.

“Well, well,” said her father, “falling in love with a Braddock. Who’d ever have seen that coming?”

“You and your Southern drama,” Mother said to Daddy. She picked up a dish towel and started to dry. “Cissie, I’m happy for you if you’re happy. You know what’s best for you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Is something wrong between you two?” her mother asked.

“Apparently, he doesn’t love me.” Cissie’s voice cracked, which was enough for her parents to circle the wagons and hug her.

She told them the long and short of it. “It’s been really hard with y’all away. I know I’m thirty-two, but a girl still needs her parents.”

“Thank goodness for Nana,” her mother said. “She’s been such a wonderful grandmother.”

“That’s Mama for you,” Daddy said.

“Let’s be honest.” Cissie looked back and forth between them. “She’s been like my mother and father, too. I love you both”—an awkward second passed—“but … you weren’t there a lot for me growing up.”

Another silence, punctuated only by the sound of the opera music coming from the speakers in the den.

“We know,” said her father eventually. “We were so wrapped up in our research. Yet you were the most special project of all.”

“If that’s true, then why?” Cissie gulped. “Why did you still leave almost everything up to Nana?”

“Academic hubris,” said her mother. “We were fools, my dear, and I’m sorry. I really am. We missed so much.”

“And then you grew up,” her father said. “You went away to college. By the time you came back, we didn’t think you needed us anymore.”

“You were smart. And dedicated to the library,” Mother added. “I was afraid to ask for your time, after the poor job we’d done.”

“So we went away again,” Daddy said.

“You should have talked to me first.” Cissie wiped away another tear. “I did need you. And someday, you’ll need me. We should start working toward one another, shouldn’t we?”

“That’s true,” her dad said, but he didn’t sound nearly as concerned about it as Cissie wished he did. He sounded almost … happy.

Mother laughed. “Your father is bursting to tell you something. He and I are on the same page as you are. We miss you and Nana. We’re home for good to lecture at Appalachian State until we retire and write books here in our own home, the way Rogerses have always done. We wanted to tell you in person, not on the phone.”

Cissie alternated between wiping her eyes and laughing softly while her parents filled her in on the details.

When Nana and Max came back, Cissie’s father shared the wonderful news with her, too, after which Cissie promptly fall into her grandmother’s arms and held her close. They clung for a good minute, each one with a wet face from all the happy tears.

“I can’t believe we’re the cause of all this,” Cissie’s mother said with a chuckle.

“Dexter’s pretending to be unmoved by the spectacle.” Max picked the feline up from his comfy perch on a chair.

Everyone left the kitchen but Cissie and Nana.

Nana smoothed Cissie’s hair back. “It’ll be good to have them home again, won’t it?”

Cissie nodded. “Not that they could ever replace you.”

“Rule number thirty-one: no one can replace old Nana.” The family matriarch smiled. “But it’ll be a fine thing to have all of us together. Although someone’s missing, I think, to make this happy picture complete.” She arched a brow.

“Surely not Max,” Cissie whispered. “He’s great, but he’s not my type.”

“No.” Nana chuckled. “You know who I mean.”

“Boone?” How it hurt to say his name out loud!

“Of course. I know we haven’t discussed him much. I’ve been trying hard not to pry. But I’m guessing you two need to talk.”

“I don’t see how we can. Both he and Ella said they were having an affair.”

“Really? Have you heard any more gossip about this so-called affair? I sure haven’t. And do you really believe Boone would have carried on with you both at the same time?”

“No.”

“Exactly. That fella was head over heels for you.”

Cissie shrugged. She was due to see him the very next night at the football game—for the first time since Election Day. She didn’t know what to feel. “He hasn’t come around.”

“And you haven’t gone to see
him
.”

“I know. But he doesn’t want me to—”

“Oh, really? You saw that in his eyes?”

“No. His eyes were … shuttered.”

“Which means he’s not telling you everything. Maybe you two needed time apart to do some growing up. But don’t forget: if you wait for someone to finish growing before you get together, you never will. Life’s like a river. You have to jump back in at some point.”

“How do you know when to jump back in?”

“Ah.” Nana chuckled. “I can’t tell you the answer to that. It’s different for every person. You have to read the signs all around you. Trust your gut. Then, like that sports ad says, just do it. Either that, or…” She hesitated.

“What?”

“Or get in the pickup truck that’s waiting outside for you right now. It’s a vintage blue one.” Nana’s eyes twinkled. “Close enough to river color for me.”

“Are—are you kidding?” Cissie’s heart thumped hard against her ribs.

“No, child. The driver’s waiting for you to jump in. And he’s awfully handsome.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Leaning on the passenger’s side of his pickup truck, Boone was nervous when he saw Cissie come out on her new front porch.

But even more, he was excited. He was where he needed to be. Where he wanted to be.

She didn’t say a word as she came down the steps, pretty and professional beneath her open coat in a slim navy blue skirt and dark green V-neck sweater, a starched white collar framing her face. He held the truck door open for her, and she slid in.

He wished he knew what she was thinking. “Thanks for coming out,” he told her.

“You’re—you’re welcome.” She wouldn’t look right at him.

He waited for her to tie her coat and buckle up, and then he took off, hanging a right out of their driveway to head up the mountain. “I wanted to talk with you before the game tomorrow night. Seeing as you’ll be speaking and all. We’ll be standing just a few feet away from each other. It was bound to happen.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I guess it’s a good idea that we … break the ice.”

They drove along in silence for a few seconds.

“I can’t wait to hear your speech,” he said.

“I hope you win the game,” she said at the same time.

Neither one of them chuckled. Instead, they lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence.

Boone forced himself to remember that time was slipping by and there was no easy way to get through this meet up, especially when he wanted it to be only the first of many they’d continue to have.

“Cissie, I’ve missed you terribly, and I want to kiss you. I want to do way more than that with you. I want you in my bed. And I want you there the next morning so I can make waffles and bacon for you.”

He might as well lay it all out.

She looked pointedly out the passenger’s side window. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

“But it’s true,” he said in an easy tone, determined to keep the lines of communication open.

“I don’t want to be hurt,” she returned quietly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It was the worst feeling he’d ever had, hurting her.

“Ella said you were having an affair.”

“It’s not true. But I’m not blaming Ella for saying so. I want to explain. Just give me another couple minutes.”

They were both silent all the way up the mountain, past his house, to the very top, where he jumped out, unlocked a padlock gate, got back in the car, and drove through.

“What’s this?” She was definitely craning her neck to see.

“Close your eyes.”

She did. Her mouth curved up a fraction, despite herself. A good sign.

“I’ll tell you when you can look.” Hell, yes, he was nervous inside. He wouldn’t show it, but everything—his happiness, his entire future—depended on the next few minutes.

At their destination, he led her out of the truck, onto a gravel driveway, and then up some flagstones to a simple wooden door.

“Wait,” she said. “I think—”

“Sssh,” he said back. “No peeking. Keep your eyes closed.” He opened the door, and the smell of old cedar came out in a rush.