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Authors: Shannon Stacey

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BOOK: All He Ever Needed
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Breakfast had been a total bust. His brother had responded to everything he said with a grunt or one or two words, and Mitch didn’t think the diner was the place to shake the crap out of him and demand to know what the hell his problem was. There was time enough for that.

After finding a parking space, Mitch grimaced as he walked through the front door of the Whitford Police Department. Not necessarily because it brought back some of the less fun memories of his youth, but because the first desk he saw was occupied by Officer Robert Durgin.

Bob was older than dirt and blessed with a perfect memory when it came to the population’s youthful indiscretions, especially anything involving the Kowalskis. Ryan had busted his window (accidentally), Liz had broken his grandson’s heart (in as nice a way possible) and Mitch had caused Bob to wreck the department’s shiny new cruiser he’d been so proud of (though it wasn’t Mitch’s fault he was a better driver). Josh and Sean had had their share of run-ins with Bob, too, and the fact they’d all been teenagers at the time didn’t seem to count for much.

Mitch forced himself to smile and nod as he walked by, but Bob just kept staring at him as though he was expecting Mitch to grab the petty-cash box and make a run for it. The old cop was just one of the many reasons that, no matter how glad he was to see Josh and Rosie and a few others, being in Whitford started to chafe after a few days.

People always seemed to think a place where everybody knew your name was a good thing. Maybe it was. But they also knew every damn thing you’d ever done wrong, even stuff you couldn’t remember yourself, thanks to moms sitting around talking about their babies and toddlers. Hell, the first thing the teacher said to him on his first day of school was, “I hope your aim’s gotten better or the janitor’s going to lock you out of the bathroom.”

Everything from potty-training mishaps to late-night teenage joyrides were fair game in a town like Whitford, and that’s why, no matter how happy he was to be back in his hometown, he was always happier when it was time to leave. In this town, Mitch Kowalski wasn’t the man behind one of the most successful controlled-demolition firms in the country. Hell, maybe even in the world. Here he was just one of those damn Kowalski kids.

Through the big window in his office, Police Chief Drew Miller saw him coming and waved him in. Mitch grinned as he closed the door behind him, meeting his best friend halfway for a handshake that become a quick man-hug.

“It’s damn good to see you,” Drew said as he sank back into his fancy leather chair.

Mitch tried to make himself comfortable on the hard, wooden chair on the other side of the desk. “Chief, huh? What the hell were they thinking?”

“They were thinking you’d come back eventually, so they’d better have somebody in charge who can keep your sorry ass in line.”

Mitch snorted. “You know what pisses me off? Old Bob’s out there glaring at me like I’m a pillager come to plunder his doughnut box, but they made you chief of police. You were in the car that night, too.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t driving. I told him I was a helpless passenger who was too afraid to jump out, but kept screaming at you to stop the car.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Maybe, but Whitford trusts me with their doughnuts, my friend.”

Mitch shook his head. When he’d opened the email from Drew a few months back with the subject line “You won’t believe this shit,” he’d had to agree. It was hard to believe his old friend, who’d been riding shotgun on more than a few Kowalski capers, had been promoted to chief of the Whitford Police Department.

Hell, the night old Bob had wrecked the new cruiser, it had been Drew who goaded him into running rather than stopping when the lights started flashing in the rearview mirror of his old Camaro. Mitch was used to flying down the maze of dirt roads surrounding the town and Bob wasn’t, so when Mitch turned off his lights and trusted the moon and his instincts to guide him, he’d easily given the officer the slip. Bob Durgin, however, was determined to catch Mitch in the act that time and ended up sliding into a ditch and rolling the cruiser onto its roof.

Luckily, Officer Durgin was too honest for his own good and, when questioned by the chief, he’d admitted he’d never gotten close enough to read the license plate. Since there were two other Camaros in town close enough to Mitch’s to be easily mistaken for it in the dark, no charges had been pressed. Bob had never forgiven him, though, and he’d dogged Mitch’s footsteps until the day he’d gone off to college. And Mitch had no doubt the man was just waiting for him to screw up now.

“How’s Josh?” Drew asked, dragging Mitch out of the past.

“His leg’s not bad, but his attitude about it sucks. His attitude about everything sucks right now, actually, and I can’t figure out why. And he’s not taking care of the lodge worth a damn.”

“How long you staying?”

“The six weeks he’s supposed to have his cast on. Rosie told me things have been getting pretty tight, so hopefully that’ll be long enough to not only get my brother back on his feet, but have a look at the books, too.”

Drew leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. “You think he’s skimming?”

“Down, cop. No, I think business has been going to shit and he didn’t want to tell anybody he’s hanging on by his fingernails.”

“Everybody’s taking a hit financially. We’ve seen an increase in thefts, for sure. People stealing small shit they can sell easily. And metals. Catalytic converters. Copper piping. You name it, people are stealing it.”

“That sucks. So, tell me about Paige Sullivan.”

Drew didn’t even blink at the abrupt subject change. Just smiled and leaned back in his chair again. “She’s a tough nut. Not sure even you can crack that one.”

“What’s her story?”

“Was driving through town and her car broke down. Ended up staying and buying the old diner.”

Mitch snorted. “I know that much. What I don’t know is why she doesn’t date.”

“Interrogating the women in town about their sex lives is beyond the scope of my job description. Maybe she was a nun before she moved here.”

“If a woman was a nun and then stopped being a nun, wouldn’t she want to do some catching up, so to speak?”

Drew shook his head. “I’m not going to risk burning in hell to answer that.”

“I’m not talking about a nun having sex, moron. A post-nun.”

“I’m pretty sure Paige was never a nun, so let’s move on just in case.”

“I’m going to be in town six weeks. Might be nice to have some company.”

Drew shrugged. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding a woman. Hell, you can walk into any place in town and half the women in the room will swoon, for chrissake.”

“I don’t want swooning women.”

“Good luck with that, man. Half the women in this town have had you and want you again, and the other half want to know what the fuss is about.”

“Not getting a swooning vibe from Paige.”

“Good for her. Be good for you to be told no. Builds character.”

Mitch grinned. “She’ll say yes. And, speaking of women, how’s Mallory?”

Drew’s mouth flattened out at the mention of his wife. “You’d have to ask her, since she’s currently not speaking to me.”

“Cold in the doghouse?” Mitch smiled. “It’s good to fight once in a while. Can’t have makeup sex if you’ve got nothing to make up for.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be makeup sex. I think there are going to be lawyers and a For Sale sign on the front lawn.”

Mitch dropped the smile and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Drew. Are you sure? Have you tried…something…counseling or anything?”

“We’ve talked it through so many times we’ve run out of words. I don’t think counseling will help.” Drew walked over to his personal single-cup coffee brewer, which was probably a perk of the office, and brewed them each a mug.

Mitch waited while his friend made the coffee, thinking he was probably deciding what he did and didn’t want to say, and how to say it. Drew and Mal had been high school sweethearts, but they’d gone their separate ways when it came time for college. They’d both ended up back in Whitford, though, and they’d just had their ten-year anniversary.

“Mal doesn’t want kids,” Drew finally said, after he’d set their mugs on the desk and sat back down.

“Right now?”

“Ever.”

“Wow.” Mitch didn’t know what else to say. Drew and Mallory had always talked about having kids…someday.

“It was always not yet and not right now and someday. I told her someday had come, and she said the only someday that had come was the someday she was going to tell me she didn’t want to have kids.”

“You guys were together all through high school and you’ve been married ten years. How can you not have had this conversation before? I mean, it doesn’t even make sense. I remember you guys talking about kids. She wanted a daughter named…something. Hell. It was a flower.”

“Daisy.” Drew snorted. “She was afraid I wouldn’t marry her if I knew, so she said what she thought I wanted to hear and then just kept on saying it. Now I’m heading toward forty and I’ve got no kids and I may not even have a wife anymore.”

“I’m sorry, man. Why did she decide to tell you the truth now?”

“Because I told her it was time. Neither of us are getting any younger, her pregnancies would be higher risk and I didn’t want to need a walker to get to my seat at the kid’s graduation. Over the years I brought it up more and more often, but I finally told her I didn’t want to put it off anymore. I want a baby. She doesn’t want a baby. We haven’t talked since.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five weeks.”

“Jesus, you and Mal haven’t spoken to each other in five weeks? I thought you said you guys had talked about it so much you ran out of words.”

“That was in the months—hell,
years
—leading up to five weeks ago.”

“Are you still living together?”

Drew nodded. “She got pissed off and went to sleep in the guest room. Since we haven’t spoken, she hasn’t come back.”

Mitch couldn’t even wrap his head around it. “You mean you haven’t talked about kids.”

“No, we haven’t spoken at all. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable, but now…it’s just our new normal, I guess.”

“That’s messed up.” Maybe Mitch had never been married, but he knew enough about healthy relationships to recognize an unhealthy one. “Maybe you should rethink the therapy.”

“When I brought it up, she said suggesting therapy was like saying there was something wrong with her for not wanting to be a mother. It went downhill from there.”

“How long are you going to keep on not talking to each other?”

“I don’t know. There are only two possible outcomes—divorce or I tell her it’s all right if we never have kids. And I’m not okay with either one.” Drew gulped down some of his coffee. “Jesus, listen to me. You didn’t stop in to hear me whine about my problems. Sounds like you’ve enough of your own to deal with.”

“Trying to get into Paige’s pants is nothing like you maybe losing Mallory.”

“I meant the lodge and Josh, actually, but a hundred bucks says you won’t have any better luck with Paige than I am with Mal.”

Mitch laughed. “If I was an asshole, I’d take you up on that. Wouldn’t mind your hundred in my pocket. But I never bet on a lady. They
always
find out, sooner or later.”

“Like you’re ever still around for the later.”

“One of these days, I’m going to surprise everybody and stick with one woman forever.”

Drew smiled, but Mitch could see the sadness around his eyes. “Just make sure you both want the same thing in life, because it hurts like hell when you find out years into it that you don’t.”

While he hadn’t been as many years into the relationship as Drew had, Mitch had already learned that lesson the hard, messy way. A man and a woman wanting two different things ended up in two different places, as a rule, which could only lead to misery.

He was a lot better off when he and a woman wanted the same thing—orgasms not of the do-it-yourself variety. Maybe only one or maybe quite a few, but then they went their separate ways with no hard feelings. With the exception of that one doomed relationship, it was a plan that had served him well and he hadn’t yet found a second woman worth detouring for.

Chapter Three

By two o’clock the following day, when Ava showed up to take over until closing time, Paige was exhausted. She even thought about going home and taking a nap, which was something she rarely did, but that would only make it harder to sleep at bedtime, and that four-thirty alarm wasn’t very forgiving.

Instead, she stopped by her trailer and grabbed her library tote bag, since she’d finished the last book three days before and, tired or not, she was getting itchy for more books. The weather was nice—not too hot and no humidity—so she walked to the library, exchanging waves with others as she went.

She still found it exhilarating, the way the town’s people made her feel as if she was one of their own. They called to her by name and asked her how business was going, and she’d ask after their kids or an aging parent. It was what she’d been looking for her entire life—that sense of belonging—and she’d finally found it in Whitford.

Dragged around from place to place growing up, Paige had always been the new kid in school. There had always been a new man of the house, some who became stepfathers and more who didn’t. And she’d done it a few times herself. More than once, she’d given up who she wanted to be in order to be what a man wanted her to be.

Her car breaking down in Whitford had changed that. Changed
her
. It was an opportunity to start a life in a town that had welcomed a stranded stranger with open arms and, to make sure she kept that life on track, she was abstaining from men. When she was sure she was who she wanted to be and had her life the way she wanted it, she’d think about letting a man share it. For now, she wasn’t going to risk falling back into behavioral patterns she’d learned from her mother. No men.

The library was quiet when Paige stepped inside, but she knew she didn’t have long before school let out and kids started showing up, looking for a safe place to kill some time, doing homework or reading before their parents got home from work.

Hailey Genest, of gouged-leather-seats fame, was behind the circulation desk, where she always was, from ten in the morning until five o’clock Monday through Thursday, until eight o’clock on Fridays, and three hours every other Saturday afternoon. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with her blond hair in a ponytail, looking like anything but a librarian.

Fran Benoit, with her thick gray hair pulled back in a braid, was checking out a stack of books, and she grinned when she saw Paige. “You’re too late. I grabbed all the ones with the good sex in them.”

“Guess I’ll have to settle for the ones with the good murders.” Paige wasn’t sure she could handle having Mitch Kowalski
and
sexy books in her life at the same time.

“Not having the first could lead to the second, you know,” Hailey said, giving Paige a pointed look. “Gotta release the tension or it builds up and then—
wham
—somebody’s calling nine-one-one.”

All three of them laughed while Paige unloaded her tote, lining the books up on the counter to be checked in. Hailey didn’t tend to be very subtle in her worry about Paige’s lack of a sex life. Or maybe not so much worry, as a determination to fix what she perceived as broken.

“Speaking of sex,” Fran said, “how did Mitch like your meatloaf?”

Paige shook her head. “How does speaking of sex lead to meatloaf?”

Fran snorted. “Speaking of sex leads to Mitch Kowalski.”

“That it does,” Hailey agreed, smiling that silly, nostalgic smile that was practically a universal female reaction to the man’s name being said out loud.

“I’m sure he liked the meatloaf just fine or he wouldn’t have brought Josh in for breakfast yesterday morning.”

Hailey shook her head. “Nobody cares about the meatloaf, Paige. Mitch is in town for six weeks and you could do with a little less tension. Don’t want you killing anybody.”

“So what you’re saying is that I have to have sex with Mitch to save lives?”

“Absolutely.”

Fran nodded. “Yes.”

Paige couldn’t believe either woman kept a straight face. “Nice try. Not interested.”

And she said
that
with a straight face, which was even harder to believe. Of course she was interested in having sex with the man. Didn’t change the fact it wasn’t going to happen.

“Besides,” she said, “nothing says he’s interested in me, either.”

Fran scooped her books off the desk and gave her a look. “Honey, if you got an innie and not an outtie between your legs, he’s interested.”

They all laughed again, until a gruff, exaggerated throat-clearing sounded from the reference section, and Hailey shushed them. “You guys are going to get me fired.”

“They can’t fire you,” Fran said. “You’re the only person in town who knows the Dewey Decimal System.”

After Fran said goodbye and despite her gloating, Paige found a nice selection of sexy romances left on the shelves. She took a couple, along with a few cozy mysteries, a political thriller and a horror that looked like it would keep her up at night. Terror was probably a healthier reason to lie awake than thinking about sex with Mitch.

As she was checking out, a couple of patrons lined up behind her, so Hailey couldn’t say anything more embarrassing than have a nice day.

The three hardcovers made her tote a little heavier than usual, so Paige stopped to rest in the cute little park with the benches, lilacs and wild roses. And rather than think about whether or not Hailey’s comments about sexual tension were exaggerated but grounded in truth, she pulled a paperback out of the bag and settled in to read for a few minutes.

* * *

Mitch wedged the pickup into a parking space on Main Street and went around to help Josh out. His brother didn’t like having to accept a shoulder to lean on, but it was a long way to the ground for a guy with a bum leg.

Once Josh had his crutches tucked into his armpits, they walked thirty or so feet down the sidewalk and Mitch held open the door to the Whitford Barber Shop.

It wasn’t a fancy name, but it wasn’t a fancy place. There were a few salons in Whitford now—places you could get a haircut and your nails buffed and your body tanned if you so desired. Maybe get a little dermabrasion, which sounded to Mitch like taking a sandblaster to your skin. He avoided salons, as a rule.

This was a barbershop. A shave and a haircut and, if she was in the mood, you could talk to Katie Davis about almost anything under the sun. But she wasn’t touching anybody’s naked feet and if you asked her about tanning, she’d tell you to go lay out on the sidewalk and roll over every fifteen minutes.

“You really look like crap,” she said in greeting, and Mitch was glad she was talking to Josh.

“Can’t wash my hair in the bathtub. I wash it in the kitchen sink, but it’s awkward because I’m tall and can only put my weight on the one leg.” He took his hat off as he spoke, revealing the mess that had inspired Mitch to talk him into a trip into town.

“In the wash chair,” she said, snapping open a clean cape. After Josh settled into the chair, she handed Mitch the crutches, draped the cape over Josh and turned on the water. “Lean back.”

Mitch grabbed a tattered snowmobiling magazine from 2008 out of one of the chairs and sat down, but he glanced over at the wash chair as Katie worked up a thick lather of shampoo in his brother’s hair. Josh made a low moaning sound in his throat, and Mitch watched as heat in the form of a rosy blush crept up Katie’s neck. Interesting.

And not his business. He’d always thought of Katie as an almost-sister. Rose had started working at the Northern Star the year Katie was born because his mom didn’t mind if she brought the baby along in a sling. She’d practically grown up at the lodge with them.

But it didn’t look as though she thought of Josh as an almost-brother, that was for sure. And he didn’t want to know any more about it, so he stood and tossed the magazine back on the chair. “Looks like you’re going to be a while.”

Katie snorted. “I’m going to wash his hair twice, then give him a good trim. I’ll give him a nice hot towel shave, too, and maybe he’ll look human again.”

“I’m going to take a walk, then. If I’m not back when you’re done, text me.”

She nodded and Josh ignored him, so he stepped out into the sunshine and debated on a destination. He could walk down to the Whitford General Store & Service Station to say hi to Fran and Butch Benoit. Or he could walk to the bank and transfer some funds into the Northern Star Lodge’s account. Maybe take some of the weight off Josh’s shoulders.

He hadn’t built a successful business, though, by throwing good money after bad. If the lodge was really in trouble and it wasn’t going to be able to support itself in the long run, a monetary transfusion was a temporary fix. They needed a plan, and then they could work out how to pay for it.

Aimlessly walking down the sidewalk to avoid standing in one spot like an idiot, Mitch let his mind wander to the Northern Star. And to Josh. He’d changed since the last time Mitch had seen him, and not in a good way. And, while a broken leg wasn’t exactly fun, the change in his mood and general outlook on life went deeper than that. More important than helping out while Josh healed and figuring out the lodge’s finances was figuring out why his brother was turning bitter.

When he got to the town park—the small one tucked in next to the hardware store, not the big one with the playground equipment and bandstand—he spotted Paige Sullivan sitting on a bench, and he pushed Josh to the back of his mind temporarily.

She was sitting sideways, with her feet tucked under her and one arm hooked over the back of the bench. In the other hand was a paperback, and she didn’t look up until he sat down next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

When she almost dropped her book, he felt guilty for startling her, but then she smiled. After marking her page with her library card, she tucked the book into a canvas bag on the ground next to her. It had the Whitford Public Library logo on the front and appeared to be straining at the seams.

“I only meant to sit here a minute, but it’s so nice out and I pulled out a book.” She looked at her watch. “And there goes an hour.”

“There are worse ways to spend an hour. Did you leave any books for the rest of us?”

She laughed. “I don’t have cable, so I read while everybody else is watching TV.”

“I don’t read as much as I’d like to. There are a few thriller writers I like, so I download their books to my phone and sneak pages when I can.”

“My cell phone makes calls and that’s it. I have to have internet for the diner and, since I spend most of my life there, I don’t need to carry it around with me.”

He leaned back against the bench, turning his face up to the sun. He didn’t get to sit and do nothing very often. It felt good. “Tell me how you ended up in Whitford. It’s not exactly a hot destination.”

“I already told you. Was driving through and my car broke down and I never left.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“You didn’t already have a home and a job or any other reason to go back to where you were before the car died?”

“I had a crappy job and a crappy apartment. Obviously my car wasn’t all that hot, either.”

He turned his head to look at her, intrigued by her vague answers rather than put off by them. “Most people love to talk about themselves, you know.”

“Go for it.”

He grinned and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I want to hear
your
story. I already know mine.”

“We
all
know yours,” she said pointedly, making him snort. Wasn’t that the truth? “I was living in Vermont, but I was notified I’d been left some money in a will. They had the check but the man’s wife really wanted to meet me, so I drove to Portland.”

The man’s wife? “How did you know this guy?”

“Not
that
way. He was my stepfather for a while, when I was little. I barely remember him, but his wife said he talked about me a lot. I guess he tried to keep in touch with me, but my mother made it difficult and eventually he gave up and had a family of his own. She said he worried about me a lot, though, over the years.”

She looked sad, as though she was sorry to have missed out on somebody caring enough about her to worry. “So he left you some money?”

“Yeah. They had kids of their own, but he did some software thing and they were pretty well-off. So I was driving back, trying to imagine how my life would have been different if my mother hadn’t run off on Joel and what it would have been like to be his and raised in one place like his kids, when my car broke down.”

“And you used the money he left you to buy the diner?”

She nodded. “Katie happened to drive by right after I broke down. Total stranger, but she gave me a ride into town. Butch took care of my car. Fran called Rose, and then Josh drove down and picked me up. Said I could have a room at the Northern Star until my car was fixed. And then Mallory showed up the next day because she’d heard about me and didn’t want me stuck at the lodge with no way to do errands. Before my car was fixed I knew I wanted Whitford to be my home.”

He looked back up at the sky. “Funny, all that adds up to the main reason I stay away so much.”

“It’s a great town.”

“You wouldn’t think it was so great if everybody remembered and talked about everything you’d ever done wrong in your life.”

“At least you’ve always had a place to call home. It took me a while, but Whitford is that place for me now.”

He didn’t call anyplace home for long. Hometown, yes. But home, no, and he liked it that way. “Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’ve always lived in Vermont, but I can’t quite pin down your accent.”

“That’s because I don’t have
an
accent. I have a whole smashup of accents. I was born in Nevada, but we left there before I was a year old and we were never in one place long. My mother’s a bit nomadic, I guess.”

“You keep calling her ‘my mother.’ Never Mom or Ma.”

“I guess I call her Mom when I talk to her. Her name’s Donna, but I can’t quite bring myself to use it.”

“Not close?”

“We’re…not
not
close. But she’s always been more wrapped up in her own life, so I don’t hear from her a lot.”

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