Always The Hero

“Stop making this out to be something it wasn’t, Matt.” Was that irritation in her voice? “You have your life, I have mine. It’s not surprising there’s not a lot of overlap. So while there’s nothing to apologize for, I’ll just accept it so we can move on. Sound okay?”

“Move on as friends.” Definitely not the direction he needed to go.

She glanced away and nodded, but not before he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes. A flash that gave him the thinnest thread of hope to cling to. “I think we’d better get inside, don’t you? Sounds like there’s a lot on the agenda and I need to take notes for Abby in case anything’s been changed.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” This time when he pulled open the door, she gave him another smile and stepped in ahead of him, only to skid to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

So much for thinking a lot of residents were avoiding the meeting. Matt hadn’t seen a turnout of Butterfly Harbor folks this large since the food festival last spring. He saw plenty of familiar faces—most of the members of the Cocoon Club, an expanding group of the more senior members of town—but also people he couldn’t put names to. He recognized homes and buildings more than he did people.

Empty chairs were few and a number of attendees milled about the long counter along the west side of the room. Others grabbed coffee, water or a soft drink from the other side of the bar, grabbed cookies from the plastic silver trays someone had brought.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but notice Lori seemed caught between paralyzing nerves and shock.

“I’m fine.” Lori tugged at the sides of the short sweater she wore, pulling it tighter across her chest. “Just more people than I expected.”

Matt spotted two chairs in the front. “How about up there?”

She shook her head, her gaze skittering around the room until she let out an audible sigh of relief. “There’s Calliope. Over there by the window. I’ll just join her.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Frustration crashed through him. He’d really blown it. He should have been honest with her from the start, but he hadn’t been able to find the right words to say he needed to slow things down so he could decide what to do about his divorce papers. Telling her, not telling her—neither was honorable, but he’d chosen to keep quiet to protect her. Instead, he’d hurt her. Far more than the truth ever would have.

* * *

“HEY, CALLIOPE.” Lori slipped onto the metal folding chair beside the closest person Butterfly Harbor had to a spiritual guru. Thankfully the row of chairs against the wall was far enough away from the main throng she could melt into the scenery.

“Lori.” Calliope turned a friendly smile on her. The light dusting of freckles across her nose reminded Lori of a doll she had as a child. The beads and tiny bells laced through Calliope’s waist-length red hair tinkled above the din of the crowd and managed to soothe Lori’s frazzled nerves. “How are those hollyhock seedlings I gave you working out?”

“Beautifully.” Lori rested her notebook on her legs and locked her ankles together. “I don’t know what you do to plants, Calliope, but I’m grateful for your touch. I should have fully grown plants back to you in a few weeks.”

“Lovely. Just in time for the fall harvest.” Calliope tapped a long finger against Lori’s arm. “It’s been a relief to have someone willing to take over the less edible offerings my customers enjoy. And I think it’s you who has the magic touch. Something tells me those flowers will be splayed across Butterfly Harbor sooner than later.”

Lori smiled. While she loved her job at the inn—most days—her real love was horticulture, especially when it came to nurturing seedlings into fruition. Plants didn’t judge, they didn’t speak, they either grew or they didn’t. Now that Duskywing Farm had become quite the tourist attraction, partly because Chef Jason Corwin had talked up the organic farm in a number of his interviews, Calliope had to expand both her crops and her business plans. The weekend farmers’ market and open field policy—it wasn’t every town that had its own “pick your own food” option—was something everyone agreed to promote. That Calliope had asked Lori to oversee the plants and flowers she sold felt like an honor.

“How are you set for poinsettias?” Lori asked.

Calliope’s eyebrows shot up. “What a coincidence. I completely overordered last year and they’re outgrowing their space. Care to come take some cuttings?”

Lori didn’t believe for a second the excessive order was coincidence. Calliope had always possessed a special “sense” when it came to the needs of Butterfly Harbor residents. “I can’t say why, but yes. We’re going to be needing quite a few this holiday season. For the inn,” she added, for fear of ruining Abby and Jason’s surprise.

Calliope turned her attention back to the town council moving toward the makeshift stage. “I look forward to Abby and Jason’s official announcement.”

Lori’s chuckle was cut off by Matt taking a seat beside her. “Don’t mean to interrupt.” His Louisiana accent drifted over her like warm honey out of Calliope’s hives. He shifted and straightened his jacket as Lori crossed her arms over her chest. “Not a lot of seating choices.”

Obviously. What Lori wouldn’t do to be able to control the flush of heat to her cheeks. She avoided Calliope’s knowing glance as she tried to focus on the board members moving onto the stage at the front of the room. She’d felt accomplished when she’d managed to hold a somewhat normal conversation with Matt outside. It wasn’t easy talking to a man who had gone out of his way to avoid her for the last few weeks.

Hopefully, whatever come-hither vibes she’d been transmitting a few weeks ago had gone dormant. She certainly didn’t want to push herself on someone who clearly wasn’t interested, or worse, thought her pathetic and only talked to her out of pity. Nor did she want Matt thinking she’d locked herself away and was pining over him when it was clear he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.

She squeezed her arms tighter against her body, wishing not for the first time that the action would make her shrink.

Matt Knight was the type of man who conjured images of late-night beach fires and hands entwined beneath the stars. She could almost smell the flame-kissed pyre, feel the crackling sparks. Not so long ago he’d worn his dark hair shaggy, a bit unkempt, which accentuated the beard he’d had since he’d first moved to town. The beard was gone now; his hair tamed. Gold-flecked espresso brown eyes that glinted in the light shouldn’t have any effect on her, but they did. As tempting as he was to lean into, to give in to, Lori stopped herself. She was doing just fine on her own. She didn’t need a relationship or a boyfriend to complete her. She didn’t need a man to make her life meaningful.

But that didn’t change how she felt about him. She liked him.

A lot.

As if feelings like that had ever led her anywhere good. Good heavens, what was the matter with her?

“Is it me, or does the council look as surprised at the turnout as we were?” Matt motioned to the group that included town veterinarian, Dr. Selina Collins; accountant, Kurt Murphy; and Cocoon Club members Oscar Bedemeyer and Delilah Scoda. Lori returned Delilah’s enthusiastic wave with a shy smile. The former hairdresser had “dated” Lori’s late grandfather years before and earned a place in Lori’s pantheon of friends.

Lori made an “uh-huh” response as she caught the lightning flash movement of BethAnn Bottomley taking a seat in the front row. Perched on the edge of her chair, BethAnn craned her neck and scanned the crowd. Her surprised gaze landed on Lori. She opened her red-painted mouth in silent question. She probably assumed Lori had chained herself in her house until she finished with those stupid invitations.

As if she’d even started them yet.

Gil Hamilton, only five years Lori’s senior, strode onto the stage, his khaki slacks and button-down white shirt looking more catalog chic than small town mayor. Thick, beachy-blond hair swept over sharp, hawk-like green eyes. He took his place behind the tabletop podium and banged the gavel every Butterfly Harbor mayor had wielded for the past half century.

In an almost-Pavlovian response, Lori reached into her purse for a pen and opened up her notebook as the room fell silent.

Matt’s arm brushed against hers as he shifted in his chair. He stretched out his leg with a wince. Lori bit the inside of her cheek. Matt was never one to complain, not even when it was obvious his leg was giving him problems.

“Did you call your doctor about that new prosthesis they want to fit you with yet?”

He looked startled at her question. Maybe he was shocked she’d remembered their conversation about his leg more than a month ago. “Not yet, no.” He turned a tense jaw toward her and focused on the mayor. “Haven’t had time.”

She should have kept her mouth shut. It always confused her how he seemed perfectly fine with the fact he’d lost his leg in the war; there wasn’t a self-conscious inch of him. But when it came to his treatment or discussing advancements in lost limbs, he shut down faster than... Lori smirked. He shut down faster than Lori did when she was asked to be a bridesmaid.

“Calling this meeting to order.” Gil banged his gavel again and reminded Lori of when he’d been senior class president. The Hamiltons were as close as Butterfly Harbor got to royalty. Fourth-generation ruling class, his great-great-great-grandfather—or was it only two greats, Lori could never remember—was one of their founding fathers, had been chosen to govern. How her grandfather had gone on about the Hamiltons and rarely in a good way. Something Lori was certain Gil was more than aware of.

The rules of order were recited, the board members called attendance, the minutes approved. Lori struggled against the pull of boredom and swirled her pen over the paper, letting her imagination take hold.

There were times over the years she’d felt sorry for Gil, like when his father died. But those times were easily overshadowed whenever Gil declared a bit too vociferously that he had the town’s best interests at heart. If ever there was a flashing red warning sign...

Then again, Gil couldn’t do any more harm to Butterfly Harbor than his own father had. The previous mayor had nearly bankrupted the town, certainly sent the family banking business into a tailspin, and as a result, a mass exodus had ensued. The decreased population had put everyone’s lives on hold as they hoped and prayed things would right themselves once more.

Which was why this year’s Monarch Festival was so important. With stability came pride and there was nothing her fellow townspeople liked more than showing off their beloved home. Especially before the start of the monarch migration season.

“I swear, if they verbally itemize the budget report...” Matt mumbled.

Lori refused to laugh, but inside, she grinned. She knew Matt well enough to know attending an event like this was tantamount to torture. “I thought Luke usually came to these things.”

“He’s on a field trip with Simon.” Matt’s response earned an irritated look from a flannel-clad Cyril Walters across the aisle. “He’s taken being a stepfather very seriously. You here for Abby?”

“She had a dinner meeting with Jason.” Before Cyril could glare at her, she threw the middle-aged crank a smile and ducked her head. “Sorry you got stuck.”

“I’m not.” Matt shook his head, his gaze falling to the notebook she scribbled in. “I got to see you.”

Lori’s pen froze in midstroke. She jumped when Gil banged the gavel again. “Someone needs to disarm him.”

“Overcompensation comes in many forms,” Calliope said. “He’s stressed. I can see it coming off of him in waves.” She shivered as if those waves crested over her head.