Sparked (2 page)

Cora wandered over to the ring toss, but couldn’t justify spending the penny it cost to play. There were more important things she was saving her money for.

She felt a tug on the back of her dress and whirled around. A group of young boys stood there, snickering. 

“Dirty Murphy, smelly Murphy, never heard of soap,” they chanted in unison. 

It was an old rhyme. Everyone in town had heard it a million times. Nevertheless, heads began to turn.

“If you trust a rotten Murphy, you’ll end up a dope.”

The kids laughed and Cora noticed a snicker or two from the adults in the crowd as well. But she wouldn’t make a scene. She wouldn’t give them that. She might be half Murphy, but she was half Hollis too. Her brother or her father might be prone to losing their temper and railing at children, but she was better than that.

She held her head high and tried to walk away.

But the kids followed, laughing and pointing. 

People were really staring now. The place was packed. The whole town had come out for the festival and Cora couldn’t even see a clear path through them—through all those eyes, smirking and scowling in hateful mirth.

She had to get out of here. Why had she let Bethany convince her to come?

Just as she was about to bolt, she felt a warm hand on her arm, felt someone crook his elbow into hers. 

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” he said, a little too loud. Cora looked up to see none other than Clayton Briggs—second son of the most powerful family in town, the very family that had long hated her own. He was probably the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on: broad-shouldered and muscular, though not as bulky as some of the boys who went out for the wrestling team. They had been in high school together. He was class of 1950 and she was class of 1953—a senior when she was a freshman.

But a Briggs. He was a
Briggs
. What on earth was he doing standing so close?

At the sight of him next to her, the laughter stopped. The little boys grew quiet. 

Clayton eyed them darkly. “Scram,” he said to the kids. 

They scattered into the crowd.

It had gone quiet all around them. People were still staring, but their looks were less mocking, more shocked.

She looked up at him. He had sandy brown hair and tawny skin from being out in the sunshine. She couldn’t decide which burned brighter: his luminous smile or his warm, golden eyes.

“Walk with me?” he asked softly.

CHAPTER TWO

Clayton

Clayton Briggs cut through the dark waters of Lake Perseverance in his new speedboat, his older brother Will at his side. His family owned other boats, but the
Bella Vita
was his prized possession. They were taking her out on her maiden voyage and he meant to prove to Will she was worth every penny.

“Wait until you see how fast she can go,” Clayton said.

“Was it really worth getting Dad all frosted over it?”

Clayton bristled. “It was my money.”

It was true. The boat was the first thing he had purchased with his own money—money earned from a very lucrative short term investment he’d made with a manufacturing company last fall. His friends at the University of Chicago had called him the Golden Boy after that one. If only he could get his father to see things that way. But all he ever saw were Clayton’s failures.

“I guess I just thought you were turning over a new leaf,” Will said.

Clayton stewed. Never mind that he’d spent his last three years at college working his ass off to catch up. Never mind that he’d gotten all A’s since sophomore year and been on the dean’s list by graduation. Never mind that he’d paid his father back for every penny of his tuition. All they could see was that one year. A single year of excess—too many parties and too many women and so much freedom he’d almost drowned in it. Sure, his dad had come to his rescue once he’d figured out what Clayton was up to. But it had come at a price: his trust, the whole family’s trust. Every single decision he’d made had been under scrutiny ever since.

“Look, I know things have been better for you lately,” Will said. “All I’m saying is, don’t throw it away now.”

“I’m not throwing it away. It’s just a boat.” 

“Not to Dad. To Dad it’s a sign that you’re being irresponsible. You’re so close to your trust fund kicking in. Two months until your birthday, right? So why push him to change his mind?”

Maybe Will was right. At the time, buying the boat had felt like a promise to himself that he’d gotten through it—that he had control over his destiny again, was making a fresh start. But maybe he was just doomed to keep making terrible decisions forever.

“Just promise me you’ll take it easy around him for a while, okay? Be more careful?”

“Fine,” Clayton said. 

He was sick of talking about it. He wanted to ride. The motor thrummed under him, like a bull waiting to be unleashed. They were practically the only ones on the lake right now, the long line of it stretching and twisting between the mountains with countless inlets and coves just begging to be explored. Everyone else was already at the Firelight Festival.

“You ready?” Clayton asked. 

“Do your worst.”

Without warning, Clayton gunned it—taking special pleasure in how hard Will had to grip the dashboard just to stay standing. 

 The
Bella Vita
cut through the pristine waters like they were clouds, and adrenaline pumped through Clayton’s veins. He tasted the mist of water floating on the wind and thought he’d never been happier in his life. Even Will seemed to be enjoying himself; a smile was plastered on his face that looked as big as Clayton’s felt.

The brothers howled together as they raced through the waters, their jovial voices echoing off the mountains above.

“Faster!” Will demanded, clearly convinced. Clayton was happy to oblige.

He whipped the boat around a cluster of rocks on the north side of the lake, cutting it closer than he should, but the boat could handle it. It was the same model the Prince of Monaco owned. The mahogany Tritone runabout was perhaps a little more than was necessary for the lake, but Clayton wasn’t sorry. This rush was like nothing else. 

“Damn she’s fast,” Will said, his usually strong voice barely audible above the chop of the waves.

Clayton slowed as they neared the swimming beach. “The model I tried in Italy last summer was fast too, but nothing like this. I take it you’re convinced?”

“Another round?” Will asked with a grin.

Clayton revved the engine and turned the boat. He took a detour, heading in the opposite direction. The festival was in full swing on the beach, and that meant the possibility of running straight into Lover’s Bridge. It was a festival tradition. Half the boats in town—nearly forty, mostly canoes—were set into a line by married couples, tied together bow to stern in a path that led to the nameless island in the middle of Lake Perseverance. It was supposed to be a test for the unwed. Those who made it were said to be destined for love while those who didn’t were doomed. It was an obstruction Clayton didn’t particularly appreciate at the moment. He wanted as much speed as he could muster.

He took it all the way to the other end of the lake—doing the whole three miles in under seven minutes—enjoying every bob and thrust of the water against its hull along the way. The weather was perfect tonight—warm but with enough breeze from the lake to keep cool. God, he had missed this place. Four years away from Independence Falls had been too much. He was glad to finally be graduated, finally be home.

“What do you say we head in?” Will suggested as they reached the opposite edge of the lake.

Clayton knew what he was asking. There was only one reason a man could be persuaded to get off this boat.

“Meg coming tonight?” Clayton asked with a grin. Meg was Will’s fiancée. They’d gotten engaged right after high school, but had to wait for Will to complete his law degree. Now that he’d graduated, they barely spent a moment apart.

“Should be there any minute,” Will said. “I told her I’d meet her by the dock. You got a girl coming tonight?”

“No romance for me,” Clayton said. It wasn’t that he was opposed to romance, exactly. It was that he couldn’t afford the distraction. No woman had seemed worth the risk of failing again. In his experience, those who didn’t throw themselves at him once they’d learned his last name were so cool and indifferent that he never knew what they really felt at all. The women in his social circle were all so alike—perfect speech, perfect deportment, perfect hair, never so much as a crack in their mannered façades. Sometimes he wondered if society ladies like his mother were churning them out of a factory somewhere, like little dolls.

“Careful. If you don’t pick someone yourself, Mom will do it for you.”

“I’m doing my best to convince her to give up on me once and for all.”

“Good luck, pal. Mom isn’t exactly the ‘giving up’ type.” 

Clayton chuckled. Will’s words were an understatement. 

From afar, Clayton spotted the blaze of the bonfire on the beach and realized Will was right. It was time to be heading back.

“Mark my words, she’ll be digging in even harder now that you’re back home,” Will said.

“She’ll have to catch me first,” Clayton said, grinning roguishly before revving the engine again. The rush of wind made talking impossible, which was fine with him. He wished his mother would lay off. He didn’t want to find someone like that. If he was going to fall in love, he wanted it to be natural, spontaneous … not manufactured from good breeding and excellent connections. It had to start with a spark.

The moment they arrived, Will darted down the dock and kissed Meg full on the lips. Clayton chuckled to himself as the two disappeared into the crowd. Meg was sweet and they were good together. If he could find someone half as great as Meg, he’d consider himself a lucky man.

Clayton docked his baby and made his way into the festival crowd. It seemed like the entire town was wandering across the swim beach, carrying candles and eating caramel popcorn. The smell of cotton candy wafted through the air and brought back images of his childhood—of running through this place with Will and the other boys when they were kids, trying to do everything all at once. Independence Falls had been a wonderful place to grow up. He smiled, wondering if Mrs. McClure had made her famous lemonade this year.

It was then that he spotted her. 

She had hair as dark as chestnuts and lips as red as wild strawberries. She carried a candle like everyone else at the festival, but its glow seemed extra warm on her skin. His breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely the most stunning creature he’d ever seen.

Where was she from? He didn’t recognize her, and he was sure that if a woman as beautiful as that lived in town he would know her. Maybe she was visiting a relative or a friend, but she seemed to be alone. How was that possible? How did the exquisite beauty not already have a man on her arm? She must be new in town. The boys were sure to descend on her soon.

He walked toward her, trying to get a better look, but suddenly realized there was a group of kids who seemed to be following her. Could she have a child? She didn’t seem near old enough for that. 

Then he realized what was happening. The boys were throwing popcorn in her hair when she wasn’t looking—trying to make a game of it. He frowned. Boys were always so stupid around beautiful women, but their horsing around had gone far enough. 

He was so heated he almost failed to notice that the woman had changed direction. She was walking away, trying to disappear into the crowd. But the boys were following her, continuing their immature little game. Did she even see what they were doing?

The little brats.

And no one was stopping them. Not a single person. He looked at her again, registered her worn dress, her tired shoes. She must not have much money. People could be so cruel sometimes. Anger rose in his blood, hot and strong. No one deserved to be treated like that.

He marched right up to her and hooked his elbow into hers.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” he said, making sure his voice was loud enough for the whole crowd to hear him. They might not welcome a newcomer, but he was a Briggs, and that name meant something. Their eyes shifted from her to him, which was exactly what he’d hoped would happen. 

He turned to the little delinquents. “Scram,” he said. 

The boys’ eyes grew wide. They ran. If they knew what was good for them, they’d keep running.

Then the woman turned and looked up at him. His heart nearly stopped beating. Those eyes. Those incredible blue eyes. He hadn’t been able to see them from afar, but close up they were mesmerizing—clear and dark as sapphires with flecks of black as deep as the night sky. 

They were also staring at him in a mix of anger and hurt and confusion. Could she really be so wary of him? So shocked at such an easy kindness?

Somehow, he managed to get ahold of himself long enough to speak again. 

“Walk with me?” he asked.

Every muscle in her body seemed to tighten at his suggestion.

“No,” she said. She looked downright appalled. 

But, why? Certainly he was a better alternative than the staring crowd?

He leaned in and whispered. “Play along or they’ll eat you alive.”

“But you’re a Briggs,” she whispered violently.

“Who better to help teach them a lesson?”

That seemed to change something in her. She drew up her shoulders, lifted her chin.

“Fine,” she said.

It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but he’d take it.

Clayton led her along the shore. With each step they took away from the crowd, she seemed to get more and more agitated. It was one of the oddest things he’d ever seen. Women weren’t exactly shy about vying for his attention. But she seemed like she wanted to run as far away from him as soon as possible. He had to resist the urge to clutch her arm tighter to prevent it.

Finally, he found a dark spot where a tree trunk curled over the lake, its tangled roots making a natural seat above the lapping waters. They sat.