Forever...Again

“It is if I say it is.”

He smiled in spite of his efforts not to. “The de-stuffifying process sounds painful.”

“It won’t hurt a bit.”

Ron wasn’t too sure of that. He had a feeling that spending too much time with Lily could potentially be very painful. She made him think too much. Feel too much. Dream too much.

And for a man who’d been emotionally asleep for ten long years, waking up was not only painful…it was dangerous.

Over the weekend, Lily had had every intention of washing her car and then planting new flowers in the pots outside her front door. Well, the car was still dirty, but there were a few empty nursery pots scattered at her feet.

She sighed, tipped her head back and stretched the kinks out of her back while staring up at the cloud-covered sky. Looked as though a storm might be coming in and she found herself hoping it would happen. Not only did she enjoy the fabulous light show of electrical storms, but rain might take the edge off the humidity.

Smiling to herself, she bent down, blew her hair back out of her face and grabbed the sides of the huge, terra-cotta pot and gave it a pull.

It didn’t budge.

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” She stood up, frowned at the damn thing, then bent over to give it another yank. Still nothing. Although she was pretty sure she’d felt something in her back yell “uncle.”

“Maybe I should have put the pot on the steps first.” She shook her head, disgusted at her own lack of foresight. “Brilliant, Lily. Really brilliant.”

Purple, red and white petunias billowed over the edges of the pot and tumbled along the sides in wild profusion. They looked cheerful—and for the moment—healthy. Of course, they wouldn’t look that way for long.

Lily had a black thumb.

Every plant she’d ever bought had died a horrible death. She either underwatered or overwatered—didn’t seem to matter. She swore that when she walked through the local nursery choosing plants, you could almost hear the flowers shrieking, Not me, don’t take me!

She loved having flowers in her yard. Loved coming home to their color and scent. She simply had no talent for it. But that had never stopped her from trying.

“Until now,” she muttered, kicking the side of the heavy pot. Her white tennis shoe didn’t protect her toe, which only served her right, she thought as she hopped indelicately and bit down on her lip to keep from cursing.

It was a terrible habit, and she’d tried to put a lid on her foul language, especially since she’d moved into this neighborhood that was absolutely crawling with children. On that thought, she forgot about the stubborn pot and turned around to look out at the tree-shaded street. The Johnson twins, age seven, were popping caps with a hammer on their curb. Lily shook her head. Any moment now, one or both of them would be crying and sucking on a smashed finger. The Danville girl, at nine, was concentrating on a fierce game of hop-scotch—who knew kids still played that?—with her best friend. A couple of doors down, thirteen-year-old Kevin Hanks was busily mowing lawns for spending money.

Lily glanced at her own grass. Time to hire Kevin again before the neighbors started complaining. Honestly, moving to a house had been such a change from her loft apartment that sometimes she was just overwhelmed by it all. But bottom line—it was worth it. She loved having her own home. A place she could decorate or not. A place where she could practice her scandalously bad gardening skills. A place where she could sit on the front porch and listen to the sounds of children’s laughter.

A tiny ache pierced her heart, and she lifted one hand to her chest as if she could somehow smooth it away. Lily sighed a little as old dreams drifted through her mind and then dissolved again. She’d always wanted a family. Children of her own. But when she’d found out that wouldn’t be happening, she’d tried to make peace with it.

At first she’d thought of adoption. Then when her husband had left her, she’d let go of that thought as well. It hadn’t been common at that time for single women to adopt, and after the disaster of her marriage, getting married again wasn’t even a consideration. So Lily’d forgotten about her old dreams and had tried to build new ones.

Generally speaking, she’d done a hell of a job. Top of her game in the PR business, she’d had everything that most people worked their whole lives for. And she’d tossed it aside without a second thought the moment she’d had a chance to come here.

“It was a good choice,” she said, speaking aloud to make sure her subconscious heard her. “No matter what, it was a good thing, moving here.”

With that she turned around to face her enemy again. The overflowing pot of petunias that would, most likely, remain on the sidewalk for all eternity…or until the latest flowers died and she could empty the dirt and start over. “There’s just no way I’m gonna be able to move you.”

“Need some help?”

Surprise had her spinning around, and her heart had already done a weird little twist and roll before she realized the man talking to her wasn’t Ron Bingham. That in itself was a surprise. Every time she turned around lately, that man was there. As if he were keeping a wary eye on her.

But today, she had the police strolling up her front walk. Or at least, the sheriff. Bryce Collins gave her a quiet smile, and she forced herself to return it. He seemed a nice enough man. Tall and broad-shouldered, his gray eyes were always calm and steady, as if he could reassure people with a simple glance. And maybe that worked on most people.

However, it wouldn’t be working on Lily. Bryce Collins was going after Mari. Making it seem to the people of Binghamton that she was actually guilty. And from what she’d heard, he should have known better. Mari and Bryce had been as good as engaged several years ago—until Mari had gone off to medical school.

And maybe Bryce was just nursing a grudge, but whatever his reason, it seemed ridiculous to Lily that he could suspect a woman he’d once loved.

“Was driving by. Saw you kick that pot,” he was saying in a soft, amused tone. “Figured you might want a little help moving it.”

Lily stared at him for a long minute. Across the street, the Johnson boys were still snapping caps, the sharp, staccato bursts of sound like an overgrown clock ticking off seconds. Kevin’s lawnmower hummed in the background, and at the end of the block a car engine revved. A perfectly ordinary summer day.

Except for the fact that she had the town Sheriff offering to play landscaper.

“Shouldn’t you be out arresting Mari or something?” she snapped and instantly regretted it. Antagonizing the man was not the way to win him over to the truth.

Bryce’s gray eyes narrowed, full lips thinned into a grim slash across his face. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said quickly, lifting one dirt smudged hand to smooth her hair back from her face. “I tend to say whatever I’m thinking and, believe me, that’s gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.”

His expression didn’t soften. “Can’t imagine why.” Sarcasm dripped off every word, and Lily winced.

“Right. Look.” She took a step forward, ignoring the ache in her toe. “You seem like a nice, intelligent, reasonable man…”

“But?”

“But—” Lily threw both hands high and let them slap down to her thighs “—I do not understand how a reasonable man could possibly suspect Mari of anything criminal.”

“Ms. Cunningham, I’m—”

“Lily.”

He caught himself, nodded and said, “Lily. I’m not going to discuss an ongoing investigation with you. That’s police business.”

“Investigation.” She snorted the word. “That you should be investigating Mari at all is criminal.”

He tensed and that muscle in his jaw twitched again.

“Fine,” she said, “we won’t talk about it. But you should be doing some serious thinking, Sheriff.”

Finally, a flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Is that so?”

“Yes. You should be thinking about who would want to make Mari look guilty.”

Amusement fled, and once again his gray eyes were steady and cool. He met her gaze for a long, silent moment before he said, “Trust me, ma’am. I’m doing a lot of thinking.”

Lily watched him closely. There was more here than met the eye. Despite how it might look to the rest of the town, Lily now had the distinct impression that a large part of Bryce Collins knew damn well that Mari wasn’t involved in the drug ring. His problem was, she guessed, that being sheriff, he was forced to run down every possibility.

Whether he believed it or not.

Lily nodded slowly, took a deep breath and then let it out again. “Okay, Sheriff,” she said softly, “I will trust you.”