Where You Least Expect It (2 page)

She cleared her throat, thinking that she really needed to get a grip.

Aidan felt all the tension seep from his muscles. He enjoyed Penelope Moon’s laugh. There was something genuine about the musical sound. Something that reached out and grabbed him unaware, reminding him of what was light and happy rather than dark and sad.

There was also an innocence about her that made him feel good. When he was around her, he forgot the reason he’d first come to this small town in the middle of nowhere and allowed himself to be, well, basically himself. She didn’t ask questions of him. Didn’t pressure him for details he was loath to give. She merely accepted him for the man that stood in front of her.

She was also a sight for jaded eyes.

Oh, he knew what the rest of the townspeople said about her. The nicest thing they said was that she was a bit odd. The worst, that she was a practicing witch—one you didn’t want to cross lest
she cast a spell on you. The latter had come from Mrs. Mollenkopf herself the other day. He’d overheard her in the post office when he’d gone to buy a book of stamps.

He supposed Penelope Moon did look the part, what with her long, silky black hair and big black eyes and pale skin. But rather than see her as odd, he preferred to think of her as real. As real as anyone he’d met since his late wife.

“Leo.”

Aidan blinked, realizing Penelope had said something. “Pardon me?”

“Your sun sign. You’re a Leo, right?”

He cracked a grin. He should have known what she’d meant straight off. She’d been asking him to give her his birth date since the first day they met. When he’d refused, she’d taken to trying to guess his sign.

Just as he always did, he shook his head. “Not a Leo.”

Her soft mouth turned down into a frown that merely enhanced her natural beauty. She didn’t have on even a touch of lipstick, but her lips were still the deep, ripe color of strawberries in season. He’d bet she didn’t wear mascara, either, even though her lashes were thick and sweeping, and vividly outlined her dark, dark eyes.

She cocked her head as she looked at him looking at her. “If I got your sun sign right, would you admit it?”

He slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Taurus.”

He chuckled. “No.”

He didn’t want to think about the truth behind his hesitancy. The fact was, he couldn’t give her his real birth date for fear of what might happen in the future. And he didn’t want to lie to her either.

Better to keep things light between them.

He watched her touch a leather band holding a charm—one he couldn’t make out—around her slim wrist.

“So, you said there was a reason you came in here?” she said quietly. Too quietly.

Aidan blinked and looked up into her fathomless eyes. “Um, yes. I wondered why I didn’t see you at the Fourth of July planning committee meeting last night.”

She broke the connection of their gazes as she looked down. “Hmm…I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not a member of the planning committee?”

She moved toward the mess of jars all over the floor and bent to continue picking them up.

She was slender. Almost too slender. Easily as tall as he was at five foot eleven, her limbs were long and willowy, almost model-like. Or they would be if she wore more flattering clothes. Instead she leaned toward muted earth-tone dresses that he guessed to be a size or two too big. It was at moments like these, however, when she was bent, forcing the fabric to mold to her body, that he noticed how very curvy she was.

And was reminded of how long it had been since he was with a woman.

“I see,” he said, crouching to help her. “So the meeting conflicted with another committee meeting, maybe?”

She looked at him shyly. “No.”

“Ah. So the reason has to be a man, then.”

Her flush was so complete, so unexpected, that his stomach knotted.

“Um, the answer to that would have to be no, as well.”

Aidan’s chest tightened. Over the past twelve months he’d come to see that this woman had so very much to give…if only she could be encouraged to do so. Her opinions were fresh and unbiased. Her appearance uplifting. Her very presence like a spring breeze.

He hated to watch her go back and forth from her grandmother’s house to her shop, never stopping to talk to anyone, never veering from the well-tread course, never batting an eye when on occasion the town kids would call her the witch that so many of them believed her to be.

He’d thought if he could get her to come out of her shop, upset her normal pattern, force the town to see her for who she really was, he would be doing her—and them—a favor.

And if a small fringe benefit was that he would have an excuse to spend more time around her, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with her. Or anyone else for that matter. Not until he could take care of some very important issues on his personal agenda.

She whispered something.

“Pardon me?” he asked.

She blinked at him, seeming horrified. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could have sworn…” She looked utterly aghast, and he realized that whatever she’d said hadn’t been meant to be heard. He smiled. “Never mind.” He leaned back on his heels and handed her the jars one by one, while she reached up to place them on the counter. “Anyway, the holiday is only a week away and the committee is no closer to agreeing on a theme than they were three months ago. I could really use an ally.” He offered up a grin. “Someone whose vote I could count on. Besides, acting like a member of the community might be a good idea.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she continued taking the jars from him. “I’ve been a member of this community my entire life.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He refused to release his grip on the last jar. She held on to it even as he did. He swore he felt a strange warmth climb up his arm and down into his stomach.

“I know,” she said finally.

Aidan moved his fingers until they were covering hers. Her skin was so soft, so warm and inviting under his. He’d forgotten what it was like to touch a woman in that simple yet intimate way. Forgotten how alive it made him feel.

The bells above the door jingled, shattering the moment. He released the jar. Penelope’s flush deepened as she put it on the counter, then she rose.

“Good morning, Sheriff Parker.”

A jolt of fear shot through Aidan as he got to his feet.

He reminded himself that he had nothing to fear from Sheriff Cole Parker.

At least, not yet…

I
f Penelope had felt restless before, Aidan’s brief touch upgraded the emotion to chaos. A heart-stopping awareness that toyed with her body temperature and cut the bottom out of her stomach, made her feel like a stranger to herself.

Oh, she’d always thought Aidan attractive. Very attractive. But she had never before linked herself to him in the same sentence, as in “Aidan and I.” She hadn’t dared.

Now her mind was going a million miles a minute doing just that.

He smiled at her as if he knew what she was thinking, and her pulse leaped.

“I just came by for some more of that tea you made for me the other day, Penelope,” Sheriff Parker was saying as he took off his hat. “I usually don’t go in for that kind of stuff, but, well, I liked it.”

It seemed to take a great deal of effort to tug her gaze away from Aidan’s face. “Sure. I’ll just put some water on to boil.”

“Sheriff.” She heard Aidan greet the other man as she plugged in her electric teapot, then eyed the tins of herbal teas on the shelf behind her. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what tea she had fixed for Cole.

“Aidan,” Cole said back.

“How’s everything across the Circle this morning? Any new crimes to report?”

A simple question. But when an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming, Penelope looked over her shoulder to find Cole running his fingers through his hair, obviously troubled.

“Funny you should ask that. Something strange did happen last night.”

Penelope settled on green tea with a hint of ginseng and measured a few spoonfuls into a small teapot. She turned to put some prepackaged raspberry biscuits onto a plate, tuning in to an odd kind of tension emanating from Cole. He seemed to be eyeing Aidan in a curious way.

Cole finally sighed. “Old Man Smythe’s filling station was hit last night. He was robbed at gunpoint.”

Aidan was in the act of accepting a biscuit when—Penelope could have sworn—his hand hesitated. “Nobody was hurt, I hope?”

“No, no one was hurt. But Smythe did give an interesting description of the assailant. He said he looked exactly like you—” The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck, then lapsed into silence as the kettle began to whistle.

Penelope turned to pour hot water into the pot. “Actually, his exact words were ‘that schoolteacher Kendall robbed me.’“

Penelope nearly knocked over the teapot. She turned to watch the two men stare at each other.

Then, finally, Cole chuckled.

“Yeah, I figured the old man was overdue for a visit with the optometrist.”

She handed Cole his tea and offered a cup to Aidan, as well.

“Thanks, Penelope.” Cole blew on the liquid, then took a sip. “Ah, heaven.” He smiled at her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a package of this stuff I could buy, would you?”

“No, that’s my own personal stash,” she said, then laughed. “Of course I do. How much would you like?”

The next ten minutes or so were filled with light talk of what else was going on in town and wrapping up Cole’s purchases. Finally, Cole put his hat back on, accepted another cup of tea in a disposable cup and bid them a good day.

The tinkling of the bells seemed to echo through the shop for a long time after he left.

“Imagine, Mr. Smythe thinking you were the one who robbed him,” she said, wiping the counter.

Aidan didn’t appear to hear her. His expression was somber and thoughtful as his gaze fixed on the sheriff’s office across Lucas Circle.

“How much do I owe you for the tea?” he asked absently.

Penelope blinked. “It’s on the house, Aidan.”

He peeled off a couple of dollars and put them on the counter. “I’ll see you later.”

Penelope watched him leave, noticing that Spot followed him out with a brief glance in her direction. She felt more than a little disappointed. Had she imagined what had passed between them before Cole had come in? Dreamed that his fingers had lain on top of hers for a brief moment, making time stop?

She swallowed. Silly, really. Thinking a man like Aidan Kendall could be interested in her.

She opened the storage room door, then took Max’s leash in hand and set about her normal everyday chores, telling herself she would do well to remember the town was divided into two very distinct camps:

her…and everyone else.

And it seemed “everyone else” included Aidan Kendall.

He’d stayed in town too long.

Later that day, after seeing the summer school students off with just enough homework to make them groan, Aidan headed back to his room at Mrs. O’Malley’s.

What a difference one sentence could make in a man’s life. A few simple words said by someone with the power to make them damning.

He should never have come to Old Orchard at all. And he definitely should have left six months ago when the teacher he had temporarily replaced returned from maternity leave.

Aidan let himself into Mrs. O’Malley’s bed-and-breakfast, grateful she was in the kitchen preparing dinner and didn’t notice him come in. She usually wanted to know about his day, and he usually enjoyed watching her face light up as he shared student anecdotes, and reports on how they were all doing.

He hated to imagine what expression she would wear when she found out who he really was.

He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door to his room at the far end of the hall, then closed it behind him. Since he was a semipermanent boarder, he’d offered to look after his own things. At least, that had been his excuse. In reality, he didn’t think it was a good idea for Mrs. O’Malley to know what all was going on in here. He stood in the middle of the large room. To his left two computers were set up on the old antique desk, one running on a separate cable line and doing a continual search on news articles across the country. The other, an older system he used to compile the data he received. Next to the desk were stacks upon stacks of newspapers he subscribed to and picked up from a post office box he rented in a neighboring county.

In one year he’d come up with nothing.

In one day he’d come up with everything.

Davin had finally caught up with him…

Aidan sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands as if trying to hold everything in. An image of Penelope Moon’s pretty face flashed across his mind.

Penelope.

He’d been selfish. Selfish to think he’d be safe here. Selfish to make himself a part of a community that could be hurt merely by being associated with him. Selfish to want a woman who deserved so much better than what he had to offer her.

He slid open the drawer in the bedside table and took out a five-by-seven frame. The glass was dusty. He wiped it off and stared down into the faces of his wife and his three-year-old son. Two people lost to him forever. Two people who had also deserved better than him, because he’d been unable to protect them.

He slid the backing from the frame and took out the photo behind the one of his wife and son. It was a studio portrait taken some twenty-two years ago, when he was eight. A picture taken of him and his identical twin brother, Davin. A picture taken before his mother had suffered a beating that had nearly killed her and his father was sentenced to two years in prison for felonious assault. A picture taken before both his parents died in a house fire when he and Davin were fourteen.

Before everything in their lives that had already been bad had gotten even worse.

There was a brief knock at the door. “Aidan?”

He slid the photographs into place, then put the frame back and closed the drawer. Within moments, he stood looking at Mrs. O’Malley from the open doorway.

She smiled at him. “I thought I heard footsteps on the stairs. Why didn’t you come into the kitchen to say hello?”

In the corner the computer made a small
beep
indicating the search had found something. They both looked at it.

“Always working,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

At one time Edith O’Malley herself had been a ninth grade English teacher. She’d retired ten years ago following the death of her husband, then transformed their family home into a bed-and-breakfast long after her five children had left Old Orchard for busier concrete pastures. Once Mrs. O’Malley had learned that Aidan was certified as a schoolteacher, she had secured the job for him at St. Joseph’s with nary a background check. Mrs. O’Malley trusted him completely, based on instinct, as she didn’t understand computers and never invaded his privacy.

Mrs. O’Malley’s smile slowly faded as she looked into his face now.

“Is everything all right, Aidan? You don’t look well.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I am feeling a bit tired, Mrs. O’Malley. Sorry I didn’t say hello, but I had my hands full of class materials and wanted to bring them up here first.”

The smile made a return. “You’ll come down for dinner, though, won’t you? Tonight’s meat loaf night.”

He foraged around for a smile to offer in return. “I wouldn’t dream of missing meat loaf night.”

“Good,” she said, nodding, leaning on her cane to turn around in the hall. A cane she used only now and again when, as she said, her new hip went to war with her old one. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes, then.”

“Twenty minutes.”

He watched her carefully navigate the steps, thinking that if he knew what was good for them all, he would be long gone in ten.

Penelope closed the wood gate, its white paint worn off by time and weather, and released Maximus’s lead. Of course, the moment he was free, he plopped down at her feet, his tongue forever lolling as he gazed up at her.

She patted his head. “A Gemini. Definitely a Gemini.”

She heard pounding coming from inside the one-story house with the wide, slanting front porch and headed for the steps. She and her grandmother Mavis Moon had lived there alone since Penelope’s mother died when she was five. And seeing as neither one of them had much skill when it came to repairs, the house and surrounding yard needed a lot of them.

“Gram? I’m home,” she called out as the old screen door squeaked, then slapped shut behind her.

She heard mumbling coming from the dining room, then, “Of course you’re home. Where else would you be at this time of day? It’s five-thirty and you’re home. Shocker.”

Penelope put her bag of leftover raspberry biscuits in the kitchen and headed for the doorway to the dining room, puzzled by Mavis’s comments. “Did you say something?”

Her grandmother waved her away with the hammer she held. Slender, she looked almost too weak to wield such a heavy object. Especially given the flowing purple tunic that billowed around her petite frame like a circus tent.

Penelope slowly entered the room, her gaze riveted to the pictures of her mother Mavis had framed and positioned willy-nilly.

“What do you think?” Mavis asked, seeming to challenge her with her dark eyes.

“Um, it’s nice,” Penelope said though she was overwhelmed with images of her mother staring back at her from dozens of angles.

She stepped forward to straighten a crooked frame.

“Don’t touch that,” her grandmother said, seeming to threaten injury with the hammer if Penelope moved another inch. “Everything is exactly where I want it.”

“Okay,” Penelope said carefully. “I’ll, um, just go in and start dinner.”

Had the whole world gone nuts while she wasn’t looking? First Aidan had come into her shop looking at her like she was a desirable woman. Then Sheriff Parker had said Mr. Smythe had identified Aidan as the man who had robbed him. Then she’d returned home to find her normally tranquil grandmother pounding the heck out of the dining room wall, instead of relaxing in a yoga stance.

She looked around on the sparkling clean countertops of the kitchen, inside the empty oven, then in the refrigerator. Aside from a half-empty pitcher of lemonade, there wasn’t a crumb to be found.

Where was the ground turkey she had taken out of the freezer and put in the refrigerator to defrost this morning? The fresh salad fixings? Even her homemade yogurt was missing.

“I got rid of it all,” Mavis said, dropping the hammer onto the counter with a loud
thud.
“All of it. It was messing with my biorhythms.”

“What did you do with it?” Penelope asked.

“Threw it away, of course. All of it.”

Penelope caught herself absently rubbing her stomach where it growled. Biscuits aside, she hadn’t had a thing to eat all day and her body was letting her know about it.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched her grandmother approach the counter where she’d put the biscuits.

“Don’t you dare!” she said, taking the bag from the older woman. She rolled the top of the bag back up, put it on the table closer to her and propped her hand on her hip. “Did you stop taking your medication again?”

Her grandmother waved a bony hand. “Medication, shmedication. I threw it all out with the rest of it.”

Dread drifted through Penelope as she headed to check the rest of the house. As an afterthought, she returned to the table and snatched up the bag of biscuits, her dinner if she didn’t go out and pick anything else up.

Ten minutes later she’d verified her suspicions: Mavis had thrown away everything in the medicine cabinets, including her doctor-prescribed medications and toothpaste, as well as all the cleaners and detergents under the sink and in the broom closet.

Penelope stood dumbfounded, unable to make heads or tails out of the situation.

Well, at least she’d left the garden out back alone. The crooked rows of young vegetable plants were coming along nicely. In fact, it appeared Mavis had even weeded and watered them.

She made her way back into the dining room, where her grandmother was starting on the second wall.

“Have you eaten anything at all today?” she asked.

Mavis waved her hand. “Who needs food?”

“Last I checked? I don’t know. Maybe you?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Then, maybe I should call the hospital and ask them to hold a room for you, because that’s where you’ll be heading if you don’t eat something.” She glanced toward the living room. “Unless, of course, you’ve thrown the telephone out too?”