Tempted Again (20 page)

Connor nodded his agreement.

“I should have held my ground. A poetry jam was a stupid idea. But I didn’t protest. I could have. I’m also president of the Rhubarb Festival planning committee as well as the library board. I should have said no. But I went along with it. And now we’ve got a problem,” Chester said.

“What problem?”

“Those delinquents in the library booth. It’s totally inappropriate to have them there.”

“And why’s that?” Connor’s voice was laid-back but his expression was anything but.

“Because the one with the tattoo entered the poetry
jam.”

“You mean Jose?”

Chester shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to their names.”

“You should.”

“You’re right. I should pay attention so I can tell you all the things he’s done wrong. And not just him. They’re in it together. They are all a pack of trouble.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Can’t you see?” Chester’s face was becoming increasingly flushed with anger. “They deliberately came up with this plan to discredit the entire festival.”

“What plan?”

“To enter the poetry jam.”

“There’s no law against that.”

“That kid with the tattoos…Jose. He won.” Chester’s voice reflected his outrage.

“There’s no law against that either.”

“There should be. You should have heard him.”

“I wish I had,” Connor said.

“I wish you had, too. Then you’d know why I’m so upset.”

“You could just get to the point and tell me why you’re so upset.”

“His poem didn’t even rhyme. Not only did he take the Lord’s name in vain, but he was also disrespectful about the American flag and our country. Plus, he actually compared a rhubarb’s stem to a part of the male anatomy.”

“I’m not the poetry police,” Connor said.

“But you are involved with this teen program. By having him in the library booth, you’re sending the wrong kind of message to our community.”

“And what message would that be?”

“That bad behavior is rewarded,” Chester said.

“They haven’t done anything bad.”

“They have in my book. Maybe not yours. Not yet. But they will, you just wait and see.” Chester made the dire prediction with utter certainty and then marched away.

Connor returned to the library booth to find Jose looking ready to do battle, as he often was. The arms-crossed-feet-planted-apart-tough-guy look was familiar to Connor, who’d used the same body language himself as had dozens of kids he’d dealt with back in Chicago.

“I guess the old guy wasn’t happy about me winning that poetry jam instead of his granddaughter,” the teen said.

“Jose deserved to win,” Red Fred said.

“And you deserved to come in second and not third,” Jose told his friend.

“That’s right.” Nadine turned her smartphone for them to see the screen. “I just tweeted that you were robbed.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Flo, who grabbed Connor’s arm. “I just heard there was a robbery at the festival. I saw it on Twitter.” She looked around nervously. “You don’t think it was the Rhubarb Flasher, do you? You’re sure he hasn’t broken out of prison?”

“Why would a flasher want to steal an award?” Red Fred said.

“An
award
was stolen?” The news didn’t calm Flo down too much. “Was it for biggest rhubarb leaf? Longest stem? Fattest stem?”

Before Connor could answer, Connor’s landlady, Sally, joined Flo. “Did you hear about the kid who used the
p
word in the poetry jam?” She paused the moment she saw Jose. “Oh. You’re the one.”

Jose nodded.

“The
p
word?” Flo was confused. “You mean pie?”

“She means penis,” Jose said proudly.

“Wait.” Flo was confused. “We don’t have a penis contest at this festival.”

“He compared a rhubarb’s stem to uh…” Sally tilted her head.

“Well, he’s hardly the first one to do that,” Flo said.

“Maybe not, but he’s the first one to do it onstage.”

“Do what onstage? You didn’t drop your pants, did you?” Flo fixed Jose with the same icy glare of disapproval that Connor had seen her give anyone at the post office who tried to jump the line of waiting customers.

“No way,” Jose said.

“I know your grandma,” Flo reminded him.

He looked down. “I know,” he muttered.

“His grandma will be proud,” Nadine said. “Jose won first prize in the poetry jam.”

“And then someone stole your award?” Clearly outraged, Flo turned to Connor. “Sheriff, what are you going to do about this?”

Connor didn’t have a clue. He wished Marissa would show up so she could take over this circus and he could walk away. He knew she’d say he was good at walking away, and that might be true.

“Jose’s award wasn’t stolen,” Connor said.

Flo frowned. “But I saw it on Twitter.”

“Not everything you see on the Internet is true,” Connor said,

“I know that. But Twitter is different.”

“I’m the one who posted the tweet,” Nadine said. “And I was referring to the fact that Red Fred should have won second place in the poetry jam instead of third.”

“That’s okay,” Red Fred said. “Before he took off, my dad used to tell me that second place is another word for loser.”

“No offense, but your daddy was full of horse manure,” Flo said, her Appalachian heritage evident for the first time in her accent.

They all fell silent for a moment, as if collectively agreeing to her comment. The momentary lull was interrupted by Marissa’s return.

“Did I miss anything?” Marissa said.

“Nah,” Jose said. “It’s all good.”

But Connor wasn’t sure his powerful attraction to Marissa was a good thing. Not a good thing at all. It had him feeling all messed up and out of control which raised
a major red flag because as a cop he prided himself on being in control.

He’d lost it once back in Chicago and he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself here in Hopeful even if this was a different scenario. So Connor did what he did best in emotional situations like this. He simply walked away.

Chapter Thirteen

“I
want to thank you all for coming to our support group meeting tonight,” Flo said.

Marissa couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that Flo was directing that comment directly at her. Had she somehow guessed that Marissa had been tempted to walk into the “Cooking for One” meeting in the neighboring room instead of coming tonight?

Marissa nervously fingered her silver-and-moonstone dragonfly dangle earrings as she took a seat. There was no sign of Deb, who had promised she’d be attending tonight and who had convinced her that she should give the group another try.

“Tonight we’re going to be talking about dating after divorce,” Flo said.

Marissa gulped. Had Deb told them about their conversation? Marissa had trusted her.

“Breathe,” Deb whispered as she slipped into the chair next to her. “Don’t panic. I didn’t say a word.”

“I’m bringing this up because I got invited out on a date,” Flo said.

The other attendees all started murmuring.

Deb had filled her in regarding most of the members of the group, letting her know that the woman Marissa had labeled as someone who looked like they should be on that
Real Housewives of Atlanta
TV show was actually named Brenda.

“Who’s the lucky man?” Brenda asked.

“It’s Digger Diehl, the plumber,” Flo said.

“Maybe you’ll get a discount on any future repairs,” Brenda said.

“I rent an apartment,” Flo reminded her. “The landlord pays for the repairs.”

Brenda frowned in confusion. “Then why are you going out with a plumber?”

“Plumbers make good money,” Flo said.

“No one makes good money in this economy,” Brenda said.

“Wall Street brokers do.”

“Well, we don’t have any of those here in Hopeful so I’m going out with Digger. Besides, I like him.” Flo smiled at them all. “So I thought we could all share our dating experiences. How long did you wait after your divorce before you went out with someone else?”

“The instant the ink was dry on the divorce papers,” Brenda said. “I had guys lined up.”

“Let’s go around the room,” Flo suggested. “We’ll start with you, Marissa.”

“Me?” She looked around at their eager faces. “Why me?”

“Because you were seen being hand-fed by our sexy sheriff at the Rhubarb Festival the other day,” Flo said. “Are you two dating?”

“No.” She shook her head so vehemently she got a little dizzy. She was actually miffed that Connor had walked away from her yet again when she’d returned from her break to the library booth. He hadn’t said a word of greeting or farewell. He’d just taken off.

“You can tell us, you know,” Flo said. “We’re discreet. Nothing leaves this room.”

Deb came to her rescue. “I still haven’t dated anyone,” she said. “And it’s been almost two years since my divorce. I’ve done some group activities, meet-and-greet sorts of things. But not a date. I’m not ready. And I haven’t found anyone who makes me want to go out on a date.”

“You get out of practice,” another woman piped up to say. “I was married for fifteen years. I’d been off the dating market that long and my skills are rusty. Things have changed a lot.”

“Several of the local churches offer group settings like Parents without Partners meetings,” Brenda said. “I met some great guys there.”

Flo frowned. “I thought you didn’t have any kids.”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to date a guy who does have kids.”

“Whatever you do, don’t let things get too serious,” another woman said. “Enjoy the rebound relationship but don’t confuse it with love. Don’t jump right from one man to another. You need some time on your own to get your head straight. That’s my advice.”

Flo nodded her agreement. “Let’s face it, ladies, we all have baggage from our failed marriages.”

“And it’s hard to put yourself out there when you still feel like a failure,” Deb said.

Surprisingly it was Brenda who said, “You need to improve your self-esteem yourself and not depend on a man to do it for you. Believe me, I’ve done that and it doesn’t work. The man leaves and your self-esteem goes out the door with him. It totally tanks.”

As others joined the discussion, Marissa realized that they all had different stories to tell about when they’d started dating again or if they even had or would in the future. There was no right or wrong answer. Which was too bad, because she’d sort of been hoping they’d provide her with a clear consensus. Instead, they left her as confused as before. But at least she wasn’t alone in her confusion. They were all in the same boat.

*  *  *

Marissa planned to have coffee with Deb after the meeting but Deb said she was coming down with a cold and wanted to go home. So Marissa headed to her rusty lime VW in the parking lot before she realized that she was missing one of her dragonfly earrings. She remembered nervously tugging on it several times during the meeting and prayed it had fallen off in the meeting room.

She hurried back inside and raced up the stairs to the second floor. The room was empty but her earring was there. She was so relieved she almost cried. It was her all-time favorite piece of jewelry in her small collection.

She quickly put it back on, making sure the fastening was secure before heading out in the hallway.

Seeing Connor coming around the corner, she ducked into the elevator. She didn’t feel up to talking to him right now.

He stopped the closing doors with his hand. “Hold on.” He joined her in the elevator.

The doors slid shut and they were enclosed in the metal box.
No problem
, she told herself.
It will be on the first floor in a few seconds.

“Why did you run away?” he said.

Instead of answering, she said, “What are you doing here?” She noticed he was in civilian clothes. The man was made to wear jeans and a blue chambray shirt. His eyes seemed more blue-gray than usual in the elevator’s rather dim light.

A second later, the lights went out, leaving only an emergency bulb going as the elevator abruptly stopped. Marissa grabbed onto Connor to prevent herself from falling.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

“You stopped the elevator.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then what happened?”

“I suspect it’s a power outage,” he said.

She didn’t realize she was still hanging on to him until that moment. She really should let him go and free herself. She could stand on her own two feet. She didn’t need him—or any man—propping her up.

But damn, it felt good to have his hands resting on her waist. Her body sure wasn’t suffering from any power outage as sexual electricity surged through her.

The last time there’d been a power outage, she’d been almost naked while he kissed her. “I’m okay,” she said before he could ask.

“You feel better than just okay,” he murmured.

Maybe her wild memory of their kiss the other night
had been a result of her heightened emotions due to the storm? Yes, that had to be it. And her emotions were once again heightened by the elevator stopping.