Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) (9 page)

She sounded brittle again.

So be it.

Light from the rear windows of the library made it look cozy inside. She strode toward the back door feeling Boone’s eyes on her. Had he been able to feel her worn, rubbery bra strap through her blouse? Had he seen the desperation in her eyes?

“Hey!” Boone called after her.

She turned. “What?”

“The library needs to move.” He shrugged. But his expression was friendly.

She almost smiled at him but caught herself just in time. “No, it doesn’t.”

God, he was dangerous.

Inside, she started picking up some of the chairs by the card tables and putting them back where they belonged, beneath the low wooden reading tables.

“So.” A sharp voice hailed her from the door just as she’d finished tucking her last chair under a table. “You’re upset about the mayor’s news.”

Edwina wore a beautiful saffron sweater over black tights and boots. Her eyes were sharp and assessing. She’d always been that way. In high school, she’d roamed the halls like a shark, looking for gossip, anything she could report on in her underground newspaper.

She’d been insatiable.

“Hello.” Cissie wouldn’t thank her for coming. This was news she was making, although to all appearances, it seemed to be a party.

Mrs. Hattlebury cackled with glee about something a teenager said in the adult fiction section around the corner. Near the magazines, several other students chattered loudly with Mrs. Donovan about the football game next week.

Outside, music pounded.

Edwina took a peek into the dirt parking lot and turned back around. “This was a cute attempt at a protest, and I’ll write it up. But the library’s going to move, sweetie.”

“Don’t patronize me, Edwina. We’re not sixteen anymore.” Cissie was surprised she said that. It came out so easily, too.

“Whoa.” Edwina shut her notebook, tilted her head, and stared at Cissie as if she were a stranger.

“This was more than a cute protest,” Cissie went on doggedly. “It’s a real one. And if
cute
’s all you can come up with, please don’t bother writing an article.”

A new song blared from Nana’s pickup truck. Another hip-hop one. Two girls raced out of the fiction section and headed out the back door, laughing.

“Hmm.” Edwina tapped her foot. “You might have yourself a backbone, Cissie. I never knew. Or maybe this is a fluke.”

Cissie had no answer for that. Maybe it was.

“There’s only one way you can keep the library here,” Edwina said. “Become mayor. Convince your town council not to cooperate with Buncombe County and Campbell. Even if the council still wants to go through with it, you’re more than a figurehead. You get final say. You know about the weak-mayor, strong-mayor systems of town government?”

“No. Can we save that particular civics lesson for later? I’m applying a different one right now. It’s called a sit-in.”

“We’ve got the strong-mayor type,” Edwina went on with efficient ease. She really ought to be working in a bigger market where that kind of brass was valued. “It’s unusual in a small town, but it’s good when you want to control a situation. Do you know what it takes to run for mayor?”

“No. And I don’t—”

“It’s all laid out in the town charter,” Edwina said, “and that’s online. Let me give you a hint: you’ll need to collect signatures. If you come up with the right amount, you can actually get on the ballot. You have seven days left to get your shit together.”

Cissie threw up her arms. “I can’t run for mayor, even if I wanted to—which I don’t. I’m a librarian. I like my job.”

“The mayor’s seat is a part-time position, and you already keep shorter hours than you did five years ago. You could do it. Quite frankly, what else do you have to do?”

Ouch
. “You haven’t changed, Edwina.”

“Neither have you.”

Double ouch
.

They exchanged wary glances.

Cissie wanted to be a tad different from the girl she was in high school. She really did. And from the oh-so-tiny spark of regret she saw in Edwina’s eyes, Cissie suspected that she might, too.

Was it impossible to change when you stayed in your hometown? Where expectations were already set in stone?

Cissie heaved a big sigh. “Look, I’m just really confused. You practically worship Boone. You
want
him to be mayor. So why would you tell me to run against him?”

Edwina’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Because you Rogerses and Braddocks have a long history of ignoring each other. It would make a great story, quite frankly, and I love a great story even more than I love Boone Braddock, which I freely admit I do. What straight woman or gay man in this town doesn’t?”

Cissie sighed. “I’m not interested in becoming your pawn so you can sell papers.”

“Come
on
.” Edwina tried to smile naturally, as if she were advising a friend, but she couldn’t carry it off. She was all about the job. “It’ll be cool. Everyone will talk about the person brave enough to take him on.”

“Nor do I succumb to peer pressure.” Cissie paused a beat. “Not that I ever did. Which is why I was a nerd in school, but hey, I’m glad I was. Sort of.”

“Good for you,” Edwina said dryly, and looked at her cell phone. “I have to go.” She strode briskly to the front door.

“Wait!” Cissie beat her there and blocked the entrance. “You got at least one picture, right?”

“No.” Edwina made an exasperated face. “Eff your little sit-in. I think I might have a real story to cover.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. This is news!”

“News, my ass.” Edwina pushed her way around Cissie and left.

Cissie followed her out onto the sidewalk and watched her get in her little orange sports car. In the distance, a siren wailed. Someone must be complaining about the noise in the back parking lot. She knocked on Edwina’s window. “I wouldn’t leave yet,” she yelled. “The police are coming.”

Edwina made a face and took off.

“Meanie!” Cissie called after her.

Now the siren sounded farther away instead of closer, which sadly meant that Chief Scotty was going elsewhere.

Cissie inhaled a deep breath of cold mountain air. Tonight hadn’t been a success. She was glad everyone was having fun, but it was all for naught. She wanted to go home. In fact, she needed to send everyone home right now.

She dragged herself back inside and was just about to shut the front door when Chief Scotty drove up after all, his sirens turned off. He got out of the town’s only decent police cruiser and walked purposefully up the sidewalk toward her.

Boone, emanating his own kind of authority, which had something to do with raw sex appeal, appeared right behind her.

Cissie found herself wedged between the law and the mayor. Literally.

“The chief and I need to talk,” Boone said. “But don’t leave. Stay right here.” He lifted his arm over her head and held the door wide open.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cissie said.

The music in the back parking lot had stopped.

“Go under.” Boone indicated his raised arm. “Please.”

Something serious in his voice made her comply. She ducked under his arm, which meant her breasts brushed against the side of his torso, like sideways limbo. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed, although she sure had.

“You got the message?” Scotty asked him.

“Yes.” Boone had his scary-mayor face on. Or maybe that was his scary-coach face. “I’ll get Nana.”

“Wait,” said Cissie. “
I’ll
get her.”

“Hurry, then,” Boone said. “She wandered back inside a few minutes ago. See if Mrs. Hattlebury and Mrs. Donovan can send home whoever’s left. I’ve already dismissed the parking lot crowd.”

“
Hey
.” How many times was Cissie going to have to assert herself? It was exhausting for an introvert like her. “I’m in charge of this sit-in. I’ll dismantle it when I’m ready, which happens to be now. But that has nothing to do with what you two want.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Scotty looked at Boone, his expression grave.

Cissie’s heart skipped a beat. That look wasn’t good.

“I was going to tell you and Nana both at the same time, Cissie.” Boone’s voice was soft. Worried. “A huge tree just fell on your house. It set off a security alarm. The porch and the kitchen—maybe more—are pretty much demolished.”

CHAPTER TEN

Boone’s protective instincts jumped into high gear at the distraught look on Cissie’s face. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak.

He squeezed her forearm gently through her cottony-prim blouse. “Is someone watching the house for you and Nana? It doesn’t appear anyone’s there. But we need to make sure.”

“No,” she whispered. “But there’s Dexter, our Siamese cat.” Her voice broke. “He’s really old. I hope—I hope he’s okay.” Her eyes flooded behind her glasses, but she quickly brushed the tears away with her sleeve.

“Let
me
get Nana,” said the chief, “and I’ll ask Mrs. Hattlebury and Mrs. Donovan to clear everyone out.” He strode off, his keys jingling from his belt, where a gun was firmly holstered.

Boone kept his hand wrapped around Cissie’s arm. “We’ll take you and your grandmother up there to see what’s going on.”

“I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “It had to have been our wonderful oak. It’s six hundred years old. Imagine all the winds it’s lived through.”

“I guess every tree has its life-span. It’s a terrible shame.”

“It’s like losing a friend. Our house has been there almost two centuries. And Dexter”—Cissie sucked in a breath—“I don’t want him afraid. Or suffering.” She looked up at Boone with such worry in her eyes. But the fierceness was still there, too, he was glad to see.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Misery settled deep in Boone’s gut, the old, familiar kind having to do with seeing hurt that he couldn’t fix. “Let’s stay hopeful until we see what’s going on.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was relieved to learn that the volunteer fire department had responded and found the cat. He was yowling fiercely but contained in a box when Cissie and Nana arrived. They both cried over him.

And then they cried over the house.

It wasn’t a total loss. About 25 percent of it was uninhabitable. But those were crucial parts. No roof, a crushed kitchen. Stairs that had buckled. Jutting beams at crazy angles. That giant tree, its branches like a gnarled hand holding the broken pieces together.

For the first time since Boone had known her, Nana looked old. He could tell Cissie saw it, too, by the way she hugged Nana’s shoulder and wouldn’t let go.

Edwina approached them carefully. “What a terrible irony, Cissie. I had no idea the news was at your house.”

“Don’t even come near us until tomorrow,” Cissie said.

“And we’re not going to tell you anything or let you take pictures unless you put the sit-in on the front page,” Nana added.

“All right.” Edwina wasn’t one to be meek, but she turned right back around, got into her orange sports car, and drove away.

“We’ll find out more about the extent of the damage in the morning,” Scotty said. “You’ll need to find another place to stay in the meantime, ladies. Let me know if I should get the Red Cross involved.”

“No, thank you.” Cissie’s tone was firm, for Nana’s sake, Boone was sure. “We’ll figure out something for tonight and come up with a bigger plan tomorrow.”

“I’ll leave you with the mayor, then,” Scotty said. “Any questions, call me. I’ll be in touch.” He took off, back to the circle of firemen preparing their truck to depart the scene.

“Dexter will have to come with us.” Nana’s voice was a little wobbly.

“Of course,” Cissie said. “I’ll call Laurie.”

“Oh, no.” Nana sighed. “She’s got her hands full already with those boys.”

She took the words right out of Boone’s mouth. They’d never get a moment’s peace at Laurie’s.

“And Ginger’s in a one-bedroom condo,” Nana went on. “Her living room’s always filled with Pampered Chef products. So she’s out, too. How about Olivia?”

“Colonel Hattlebury’s allergic to cats,” Cissie said quietly.

Nana put her fingers to her forehead. “I’ll call someone from the theater. But I don’t know who yet. I-I can’t think right now. Can you, Cissie? Who do we know? Can you look on your phone?”

“You’ll stay with me,” Boone said before Cissie could drag out her cell. “I’ve got plenty of room.”

*   *   *

He lived even farther up the mountain than they did. The night was dark and moonless, and the curved road took them right to the edge of the slope. When he pulled up on his circular drive, gratitude welled up in him for the sprawling old homestead.

Faber had skipped right over his own son Frank and left the house to Boone. Thanks to his grandfather’s largesse, he could offer these people hospitality.

The sit-in seemed long ago.

He held Dexter in his box, and they all climbed up the wide flagstone steps. Cissie took the cat while Boone unlocked the door. Then he took the box back and they walked through the vast entryway, straight to the kitchen in the rear of the house.

He put Dexter in his little shelter on the floor. They’d decided in the car not to let him loose until he was in Cissie’s room with the door shut. A fireman had given them some cat food, a litter box, and a bag of kitty litter they kept in the back of one of the station vehicles for emergencies like this, when a family was unexpectedly displaced.

“What can I get you?” Boone asked his guests. “Water? Tea? I can also make you a sandwich. I’ve got cookies and milk, too. You name it.”

“Water for me, please,” said Cissie.

Nana seemed understandably distracted. “Nothing, thank you.”

“You sure?” He tilted his head at the space on the other side of a half wall fronted by a counter and bar stools. “We can sit in front of the fire and unwind if you’d like with a little sherry. Or a cocktail. I make a mean Manhattan.”

Their forlorn faces broke his heart. He wanted to fix things real bad.

“You’re such a sweet fellow,” Nana said when he brought Cissie her water. “But no. No, thank you. I think I just want to lay my head down on a pillow and fall asleep.”