Where Their Hearts Collide: Wardham Book #2 (12 page)

He wasn’t perfect. But he was something
a little bit
special. Damn. She needed to work harder at pretending that wasn’t the case.

“Seriously, do I need to switch seats with you? Stop looking at him.”
Evie clapped her hands together twice.

“Shut up. It’s not that easy.”

“It totally is. I had a one-night stand when I was in Toronto and gave the guy a fake number. You should have done that instead.”

“You what???”
Of course, the mayor took that moment to raise his hand, and the room magically quieted as Karen’s voice rose, so even though she hadn’t been yelling, it certainly sounded like it. And everyone was watching them. Karen ducked her head, hand over her face, but at least her friend was laughing beside her. She leaned over and hissed her next words as quietly as she could. “We’re acting like teenagers, Evie. This is mortifying.”

“Meh.
It’s fun. I’ve spent thirty-four years being responsible and boring. Let’s live a little. Be bad, get wild.”

Karen opened her mouth to point out that it sounded like
Evie did more than live
a little
, but people on both sides moved to shush her and she settled for pulling her phone out and typing out a short message to her friend:
This isn’t over. You’ll drive me home?

From the handbag on the floor
, Evie’s phone dinged with the receipt of said message, and they both shook once again with silent laughter.

Between
wanting Paul, which lead to a profound realization that she missed him, and being seriously concerned about her friend’s new wild side, Karen barely absorbed any of the town meeting. Carrie spoke at one point, and made a lot of sense, and Dale also got up, but made almost none. She tuned him out and instead focused on the people around her. The vibe of the room was hard to read. Some people were nodding along to all the speakers, but were they just being polite? Others were definitely wary of the representatives from the chains, sitting together in the reserved seats for invited guests at the front. But there was also an undercurrent of annoyance—unless of course she was projecting her own feelings on the crowd, but she didn’t think that was the case.

Two rows back, she heard someone shift and cough, and then mutter under their breath, “Don’t be selfish, asshole. Jobs are jobs.”

Karen didn’t know about the proposals for the community centre, but the package she’d been presented that morning about the grocery store would actually mean that her current staff would get a small raise if they sold. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She filed that sentiment away in case it was needed in the future. The worry that had gripped her heart for some time eased, just a little.

Small town politics would take some getting used to, as would the fact that he was expected to attend town council meetings at all. He respected his detachment commander, though, and Inspector Clark had good reasons for them to share the responsibility of engaging with the community on a rotating basis.

As far as policing needs went, Wardham was a quiet town in a quiet municipality, and their detachment was staffed accordingly. Right now, he and Martinez were at this meeting instead of on traffic duty. Of course, given that the entire adult town population was in this room, they probably wouldn’t have any speeding to stop out there.

Whatever. Paul tucked his cynicism away. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? He’d just spent the last hour watching Karen without being a creep. At times during the presentation, she’d looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and twisting her hands together, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that she was worried about how the discussion of public dollars might drift to include her store.

He doubted anyone would care, but if they did, he’d have her back. She might not be speaking to him, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if she was upset.

From the periodic gales of laughter that seemed to spontaneously spill out of her and her friend, though, his concern might be premature. Something was bothering her, but it wasn’t all consuming. Not yet.

A man drifted toward Rick from the crowd with an extended hand, a booming voice and a slick smile.
He raised Paul’s hackles immediately.

“Constable Martinez, good to see you again, glad you could come out.” As Rick shook the stranger’s hand, Paul took in the comfortable leather loafers, quality dress pants and cream golf shirt that expertly disguised a slight paunch. Mr. Slick was about his age, maybe younger, and fancied himself a big fish in this li
ttle pond. Whatever his game, Paul wasn’t interested in playing.

“Dale, I’d like to introduce Paul Reynolds.”

Paul flipped through his mental rolodex. Dale. Ex-husband to Karen’s friend, the silly blond with two kids.
How had this guy scored…?
None of his business. “How d’ya do?”

“I’d be better without
all this ruckus, but it’s good to see something that the town can all band together about.” Dale put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels. “I tell ya, if we aren’t careful, Wardham will turn into another suburb of the city.”

Nothing wrong with the city
, Paul wanted to point out, but he understood where this man was coming from. His approach was all wrong—his public bluster earlier had lacked finesse, to say the least—but the sentiment of wanting to preserve the small town uniqueness probably started in the right place. “Good that so many people had a chance to say their piece tonight, then.”

Dale frowned, like he was parsing Paul’s words for hidden meaning. Finding none, he shrugged. “Well, it was nice to meet you. If you’re ever in need of a n
ew car, come see me at McCullough Ford. I like to give our boys in blue a good deal.”

Rick bit back a laugh at Paul’s barely concealed eye roll as the third man drifted away.
“Pretty much, man. He’s not a bad guy, just…”

“No worries, I get it.” Paul wouldn’t have given Dale another t
hought, except he was making a beeline toward Karen. Paul didn’t follow, but his muscles twitched, ready to shift into gear if needed. But the salesman pulled up short, and both of them silently observed the woman from the grocery store chain tap Karen on the shoulder and say something perfunctory but pleasant.

It took Paul three seconds to figure out that the women knew each other, and another few beats more to put two and two together. They’d met recently, and
in a professional capacity. So far, their discussions had been positive, and both looked forward to talking further. A lot of that was filled in from what he knew of Karen from their previous conversations and his endless capacity to absorb Karen-isms, but some of it would translate to an average observer. The practiced smiles, the handshake. The rep’s eagerness. Karen’s reluctance to say much of anything.

How much did Dale know about
Karen’s secret hopes and dreams? Paul tensed and took a step away from the wall and into the room. He’d run interference without a second thought.

She doesn’t want to be your problem
.

As he often told Megan…tough
noogie.

B
ut before he needed to publicly stake a claim on a woman who was pretending to want nothing to do with him, Dale slowly turned and headed for the side door. At least for now, confusion reigned.

“You’ve dodged me long enough.”

Evie laughed and moved to the back of the studio space to put away the exercise mats they’d just wiped down and rolled up. All of her Pilates gear lived in a beautiful wood armoire Evie had refinished herself.

“Seriously,
Evie, I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Still not talking to Paul?”

Karen shook her head. “It’s easier this way. Clean break and all that.”

“It’s never easy.
Just different variations on hard.” Evie took a deep breath and pulled herself up tall.

“What do you mean? Are you regretting hooking up with that guy?”

“Regret…would be too strong a word. Do you want a drink?” Her friend crossed to the front counter and pulled a pitcher of lemon and mint water from the bar fridge underneath. “It’s just…I don’t remember the whole night, for one thing, and how terribly irresponsible is that? I’m a mother, for goodness sake. And in order to have that night, I needed to take a train to a city four hours away. Plus, let’s not forget that I slept with someone still in college.”

Karen choked on her drink. She set the cup down on the counter and waved her hands in the air for a minute before squeaking out her shocked response. “I’m sorry? I’m certainly not going to forget that now, but you did not share that information before.”

Evie winced. “Right. I was going to keep that a secret. Stupid, rambling thoughts.”

“Was he…legal?”

“Karen Miller, seriously. I was slutty, not evil. He just finished a second degree, so he had to be twenty-three or twenty-four.”

“You didn’t ask?”

Evie blushed. “We didn’t do a ton of talking.”

Karen leaned forward. “That sounds lovely. Tell me more.”

They both laughed, but before Evie could launch into the naughty details, the door chime rang out. The first few participants for the next class were arriving, so Karen ducked to the back of the studio to grab her bag. Her cell rang as she reached her stuff, and she quickly ducked into the back room. Phones were off-limits, and she didn’t want to be banned by Evie.

After convincing her mother that yet another conversation about the pros and cons of selling the store versus hiring a new full-time manager could probably wait until after she’d showered, she
shoved her phone deep into her bag—first double checking to make sure it was on vibrate this time.

From the front of the store, a raised male voice drew her attention. The senior citizen brigade weren’t the only ones who had joined
Evie. Her ex-husband was leaning across the counter, earnestly talking about a sheaf of papers in his hand. Karen wanted nothing to do with Dale, so she hung back, but at the mention of the store, her ears perked up. At the words petition and stop, she was about to charge forward and truly get all "Hulk Smash" on Dale's whiny ass, but as she stepped back into the studio space, she saw her friend hustling Dale the Douche out the door. A quick scan of the counter reassured her that whatever petition Dale was circulating hadn't been left behind.

Evie
winced as Karen approached. "You heard?"

"Not everything. Dale's starting a petition about the store?"

"I'm sure it won't get anywhere. He's being an idiot."

"This is my fault for not being totally transparent about the negotiations." Karen felt her shoulders droop, and didn't bother to square them off. She could feel
a number of eyes on her, and just didn't care. It wasn't her store, or her problem. She just wanted to be a librarian. "I need a coffee. I need a break from this town, to be honest, but I guess a coffee will have to do."

She waved off
Evie's protests. She knew what her friend would say, and she wasn't in the mood to be placated. At this rate, she'd be open to finding a tenant for her house sooner than later and heading to the nearest city at the first opportunity.

The studio was down the street from Bun and her store.
Not
her store anymore. She needed to stop doing that. If no one cared about what was most important in her life, she needed to stop caring about the town and the store and everything else.

People care
.

Not enough. Her parents still weren’t back. If they cared, they’d come and take these damn negotiations off her plate.

Paul…damn him. Yeah, he cared, too much. And yet still, not enough to get over himself. Not enough to put her first. She had no idea how that could work, but surely it didn’t need to be this hard.

Her friends cared, but they had their own shit to deal with.
Evie just wasn’t political, and saying no to Dale was as much for herself as it was for Karen. Carrie…no way to tell how she’d fall. She certainly had never hesitated to tell Karen when she’d blundered in the past.

She slowed down as
Dale trundled out of the new craft store and head into Bun. Damn. Fine, she'd just make coffee at home. Never the same, but whatever.

As she passed the bakery, she couldn't help but glance inside, and instantly regretted the action because Carrie and Dale were standing in the front of the store, right in front of the window.

And Carrie was holding a couple of pieces of paper. Even worse, she was smiling and nodding.

Keep going,
Karen urged her feet, but even though her heart couldn't take whatever this was going to be, the rest of her body was curious. She slowed to a stop and watched as Carrie smoothed her hand down Dale's arm and moved to the espresso bar, setting the papers down. Definitely not kicking him out and telling him off.

Bile rose up Karen’s throat as she tried to process what she was seeing.
It’s something else, Carrie wouldn’t…

Or maybe she would. Karen’s feelings weren’t sacrosanct. Business, both Carrie’s and the
town’s, mattered.