All They Ever Wanted (11 page)

“Come on.” Greer linked her arm through his, rousting him out of his thoughts—thoughts that could only lead to no good. “Let's go line up some endorsements from Julianne and Will's famous friends before I have to head back to Raleigh.”

*   *   *

Lori's legs were numb but she didn't dare move. Tessa had finally fallen asleep on her lap and she didn't want to wake her. The dog clearly wasn't a fan of loud noises, which struck Lori
as kind of funny given that Tessa had lived as a stray on the streets of New York prior to taking up residence in North Carolina.

The fireworks had ended nearly a half hour ago and guests were wandering noisily back into the B and B. Lori had left a few platters of desserts in the library, which meant she'd need to clean up later. For now, though, she stroked her fingers through Tessa's satiny fur and thought about Independence Day in another small town. Were folks there enjoying the pyrotechnic display over the bay? Had they churned homemade ice cream on the porch? Or waved little American flags as they marched down Main Street behind the fire truck?

Lori's chest ached as she remembered that happy, simpler time in her life.
And
how she always wanted more.
She'd wasted all those precious days dreaming of the glitzy, glamorous life her father lived—wanting him to want his daughter to be a part of it.

One of the guests was playing “New York, New York” on the music room's piano, and Lori recalled her first Fourth of July gala on her father's rooftop in Manhattan. The Empire State Building was lit up in red, white, and blue against the night sky as fireworks exploded behind the Statue of Liberty. Lori had been dressed in the uniform of the Hamptons, a chic Lilly Pulitzer dress, while drinking a Cosmopolitan from actual stemware—no red Solo cups at this celebration. The food was served by waiters dressed in white tuxedos, and even the ice cream was some designer flavor made especially for the occasion. Lori had never felt as sophisticated as when her father was escorting her around the rooftop and introducing her to his powerful and wealthy guests. Her sophistication had been a sham, though. She'd been pretending to enjoy herself because that evening on her father's arm was all she'd ever wanted.

Sitting on the dark back porch of the B and B and looking back on that night now, she acknowledged that she'd felt like a fish out of water then. But Lori hadn't been pretending as much as her father had been. His entire life had been a sham.

Tessa jerked back to alertness at the sound of hurried footsteps on the wooden steps.

“Oh my gosh, Lori, I almost tripped over you.” Cassidy halted at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

Hiding.
Lori didn't say it out loud. She was so tired of hiding, though. If only she could erase the last years and go back home. Never again would she pine for a different life; that was for sure. But home was out of the question now. Maybe forever. Still, she needed to find a place where she could have a life again. Just not here. As much as Chances Inlet reminded her of home, disappearing in a small town was next to impossible. Diesel had sent word that he had something lined up for Lori in Nashville. As soon as Patricia was healthy again, she'd move on.

Which meant she needed to find her grandmother's ring, pronto.

“I'm just enjoying the night air. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Cassidy sat down beside her and Tessa nuzzled the girl's arm. “I just need to get something in my room. I'm meeting some friends down at the pier.”

“Showing off your new look?”

A demure smile spread over Cassidy's face. “Isn't it awesome? Thanks for arranging it for me.” The hairdresser had spent part of the morning coloring and cutting Cassidy's hair, giving her a softer, more carefree look. Given that much of the teenager's life hadn't ever been carefree, the change suited Cassidy.

Lori reached over and brushed a stray hair off the teenager's face. “You deserve it. Consider it a graduation gift. A new look for college life.”

“Hard to believe I'll be blowing this popsicle stand next month. I've been dreaming of getting out of here for so long. But now . . .” She shrugged.

Swallowing down the heartache that had been clogging her throat for the last hour, Lori gently squeezed the girl's leg. “You may be leaving physically, but this place will be with you wherever you go. Small towns are like that. This place will always be your home.”

“You could unpack your bags and make it your home, too.”

With a shake of her head, Lori tried to lighten the mood.
“Once you've gone, this place will lose a lot of its charm. There's no point in me sticking around.”

Cassidy's phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. “That's Kyle. I've got to bolt.”

“There's a lot going on downtown tonight, Cassidy. Make smart choices.”

The teenager stared at her openmouthed.

Lori cringed. “I sounded like a mother there, sorry.”

Before she realized it, Cassidy had thrown her arms around Lori, wrapping her in a bear hug. Knowing the teenager's history, she'd likely never had anyone care about her whereabouts or the choices she made. Stunned into silence, she peered over Cassidy's shoulder, where she spied Miles in the shadows of the veranda, leaning against the railing.

“Make sure you're home by eleven, Cassidy,” he said.

“Eleven?” Cassidy squeaked as she pulled away from Lori and assumed her normal, belligerent posture.

Miles' pose remained relaxed in the face of a blustering teenage girl. “If that's too late for you, we can make it ten thirty.”

“No!” Cassidy huffed out a breath. “I'll be home by eleven. I didn't realize I was living in a prison.”

She stomped down the front steps, whatever she needed from her room apparently forgotten in her haste to meet up with her friends.

“Oh, by the way,” she called over her shoulder. “Mr. Maxwell, the guest in the Glasgow Suite, can't find his pen. It's one of those fancy silver ones. A Montblanc. He's pretty stressed about misplacing it.” She shrugged. “I offered him one from the inn, but he didn't seem to want that one. He wanted to talk to management. He's all yours, Miles.” With a jaunty salute, she vanished into the dark evening.

Miles swore softly before stepping away from the railing. Bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, his handsome face looked both frustrated and tired. Lori figured after the grueling weekend of nonstop campaigning, he should get an award for still being upright. With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the step beside her. Tessa placed her head in Lori's lap and eyed him warily.

“So what does that bring our total of missing items up to?” he asked. “A bracelet, a watch, and a pen have somehow been ‘misplaced' inside the B and B.”

“And a ring.” Lori hadn't meant to ever mention her missing ring, but the words slipped out anyway. She blamed it on the hot guy sitting next to her. Clearly, her ovaries had overtaken her common sense.

Miles slowly turned his head to look at her. “A ring?”

Lori nodded.

“Whose?” he asked in a tone that clearly indicated he'd already guessed the answer.

“Mine.”

He snorted out a breath. “That's convenient.”

She tried not to let his statement wound her, but it did. “Because you still want me to be the thief?”

Miles was silent for a long moment as he rested his head in his hands, seemingly contemplating a worm hole in the wooden decking. “I told you before, it would make things a hell of a lot easier,” he finally said.

“You mean it would make me less desirable,” she whispered.

His head shot around again. “Yes.” He forced the word out. Anguish and longing flashed in his eyes before Lori quickly looked away. She knew her own eyes would give her away by reflecting similar emotions. Emotions that she had no business feeling for Miles McAlister.

Miles placed his hands on the wood, the fingertips of his right hand a fraction of an inch away from her own. Arching his back, he shifted his head from side to side. “So if it's not you, then who is it?”

“Well, things started to go missing a couple of weeks ago. Right about the time you moved in.”

He stilled, once again slowly turning his face toward hers. Lori raised an eyebrow, letting her accusation hang in the humid night air.

“Two can play at the same game,” she said softly.

Miles' long-suffering sigh mingled with the sounds of tree frogs and cicadas before he glanced at the infinitesimal space
separating their hands. “So you're saying you have the same desires?”

“I've never denied that I did.” Lori slid her hand back an inch. “But that doesn't mean we should act on them.”

“Yeah.” He shoved his hands through his already mussed-up hair.

Lori wasn't sure how long they sat in companionable silence listening to the sounds of the B and B quieting down around them. But Miles startled both her and the dog when he finally spoke. “I'll check with Lamar in the morning to see if this kind of stuff is going on elsewhere in town. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if my mom didn't find out about the missing items. It would only worry her. I don't suppose the ring you're missing was costume jewelry?”

Lori shook her head. “It's a gold wedding band.”

He stiffened beside her. She almost let him believe what he was so obviously thinking. But something deep inside her wanted him to know at least this one small truth about her. She'd ruined her chances at a future and a happily ever after with a guy like Miles, but that didn't mean she didn't want him to respect her just a bit. Her pride was all she had left.

“Not mine. It was my grandmother's. She died when I was eighteen. It was the one thing she left for me.” Lori shrugged. “She said it would bring me luck.” Of course, that luck had run out a few months ago. But that didn't mean Lori didn't want it back anyway.

He reached across her lap and stroked Tessa on the head. “Write down a description of it for me and where you last saw it and I'll have Lamar check the pawn shops. Let's just hope that nothing else goes missing.”

“Hey, you two.” Mr. Osterhaus stuck his head out the screen door. “The missus and I were just wondering if you had any more of those delicious strawberry brownies. She hates to take her bedtime medicine on an empty stomach, you know.”

As Lori scrambled to her feet, she immediately thought of Mrs. Osterhaus' ostentatious diamond earrings and hoped that Miles was right and nothing else went missing. “Of course, let me get you a couple.”

“W
hat do you mean, things have gone missing from the inn?” If Lamar had been surprised to see Miles crossing the threshold of the sheriff's office that morning, he hadn't shown it. The guy was as stoic as the Terminator. But he was definitely showing some emotion now. “Does your mother know about this?”

“No.” Miles leaned back in the leather chair across from the sheriff's metal desk. A glass wall separated his office from the meager squad room, where two deputies and Valerie Jamison, the receptionist, sat. Valerie liked to remind everyone that she'd asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance sophomore year, where she was the recipient of his first kiss. As if having the sheriff engaged to his mother wasn't enough to keep Miles away from the jailhouse, Valerie's detailed, glowing description of their encounter that had appeared in the local paper after he'd announced his candidacy certainly didn't help. Miles was ashamed to admit he couldn't remember the kiss much less it being all that special.

“Good,” Lamar was saying. “Your mother needs to focus
on healing right now. She'd be too distracted if she thought someone was stealing from her guests.”

He couldn't help bristling at the sheriff's words. “I think I know my mother well enough to predict how she would react. That's why I haven't said anything to her yet.”

Lamar squeezed at his brow with his long fingers. “Is this how it's going to be from now on, Miles? You acting like a petulant five-year-old every time your mother comes up in conversation? I'm not some bully who's stealing your lunch money. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm just a guy who happens to think your mother is something special. Considering that you feel she's special, too, I'd think that would give us something to agree on once in a while.”

Damn it.
Miles hadn't come here to be chastised by the man who had replaced his father in his mother's bed. He stared out the one window in the office, watching as a little boy—four or five perhaps—tried to climb on the old Civil War cannon that stood near the town square.
How many times did I do the same thing while my dad looked on?
The boy sat astride the monstrous weapon, his legs too short to hang over the sides, laughing as his father took his picture. Miles' chest squeezed. His father wasn't coming back. Ever. He needed to embrace that fact and move on.

Lamar was right that he was behaving poorly. He really had nothing against the sheriff. Miles had called in favors and done some digging, and by all accounts the man was a stand-up guy. Except for the part about him having sex with Miles' mother. He suppressed a shudder at the thought. For the sake of his mom, though, he'd overlook that part and stop busting the guy's balls every time he got the opportunity.

“Why don't we start by working together to figure out what's going on at the inn?” As peace offerings went, it was the best Miles could come up with right now. “Nothing major has gone missing, that I know of.” He was relieved to check Mr. and Mrs. Osterhaus out this morning with all of her jewelry accounted for. “A charm bracelet, a watch, a silver pen, and a gold wedding band. All of them could have been misplaced somewhere, but
I know Greer had the watch on the night she stayed here. I saw it on her wrist.”

“Crimes of opportunity perhaps,” Lamar said as he typed on his tablet. “Someone walking by an open room and seeing the item in view.”

“Except that doesn't explain the wedding band. Lori said she had it zipped up in her duffel bag.”

A quizzical look appeared on Lamar's face at the mention of Lori.
Had he suspected her as well?

“The wedding band is Lori's?” Lamar sounded as surprised with the notion that Lori was married as Miles had been the previous evening.

“Her grandmother's.”

The sheriff's face relaxed. “That makes more sense,” he said quietly, almost as though he was talking to himself.

Miles went on alert. Lamar knew something about Lori's past; he was sure of it. Gavin had mentioned months ago that the sheriff secretly checked out all of the inn's employees, just to make sure their mother was safe. For the first time, Miles could see a benefit to having the man sleeping beside his mom. It was only a small benefit in his opinion, though.

“It does seem a little coincidental that she's missing something, too.” He tossed the remark out there just to see if the sheriff would bite.

“Coincidence doesn't make someone guilty, Miles. I'm sure they covered that in law school at some point.”

“We don't know a thing about her. Who says she isn't a petty thief?”

Lamar glared at Miles over the readers he'd propped on his nose. “Is this a fishing expedition now? Are you trying to find out about Lori's past, Miles?”

Yes!
“No. I came here this morning to make you aware of what's been happening at the inn and to see if anyone else in town has reported anything similar that was missing.” He stared the sheriff down. “But you do know something about her, don't you?”

The sheriff leaned back against the high back of his leather chair. “I know enough about her to realize that she doesn't need to stoop to misdemeanor theft.”

“Maybe she gets a thrill from it.” Miles was angry at the sheriff again. He hated that this man knew Lori's secret and he didn't.

“If she did, why start now? She's been in town nearly five months and nothing has been reported missing at the B and B until recently.”

“I take it that means nothing similar has been reported missing in town?”

The sheriff scanned his tablet. “Two stolen bikes, a garden gnome, a couple of kites from the outdoor display box in front of the hardware store, and a box of hair dye from the hair salon.”

“Jesus, your job must be boring,” Miles said without thinking about how degrading it sounded.

“It beats the hell out of being shot at by Afghan kids in the desert.”

Miles tucked his chin to his chest and tried to think. “Maybe you're right and these were just crimes of opportunity. We've had nearly seventy guests in the B and B these past few weeks. Any one of them could be a klepto.”

“Just in case, why don't you give me the descriptions of the missing items and I'll have Deputy Lovell check the pawn shops in the area. I can't have him sitting around bored on taxpayer's money, after all.”

Miles accepted the dig with grace. “You'll let me know if you find anything?” he asked as he slid a piece of paper across the desk.

Lamar nodded. “That goes both ways. If anything else goes missing, give me a call right away.”

“Still nothing on the hit-and-run driver?”

It was Lamar's turn to stare out the window. His jaw was clenched so tightly Miles was surprised the sheriff could get the words past his lips. “No. But I won't stop looking.”

The fierceness of his answer touched a nerve in Miles. Clearly this man loved Miles' mother deeply if he wanted justice for the accident that vehemently.

“It's not your fault, you know,” Miles said with a begrudging respect. “It was an accident and there was nothing any of us could have done to prevent it.”

A look of raw anguish shadowed the older man's face before he shuttered it.

“Mom's going to be okay and life will go on whether you find the driver or not. She's happier than I've seen her in a long time and you're the cause of that. Don't let the pursuit of the driver consume you so much that you sacrifice what you've already got.”

There was gratitude in Lamar's eyes when he reached out to shake Miles' hand. They likely reflected what was in his own eyes.

Valerie called out a merry good-bye as Miles made his way back out onto Main Street. The little boy was no longer using the cannon as a jungle gym, but the square was crowded with tourists enjoying the early cool before the afternoon heat settled over the town like a heavy blanket.

*   *   *

“The latest polling data isn't good,” Coy said without preamble when Miles made his way into his campaign headquarters.

Miles slipped into his father's chair and the feel of the familiar, worn leather relaxed him immediately. “How so?” he asked.

“Faye Rich is up two more points. You guys are nearly neck and neck.” Coy shoved his tablet in front of Miles. Colorful flow charts and graphs were displayed on the screen but Miles honed in on a list of questions at the bottom.

“Wait, were these the questions the pollsters asked?”

Coy fiddled with his bowtie. “Yes, Miles. We had to address the issues that have come up. Your father being one of them.”

“Damn it, Coy, this campaign isn't about what my father did. It's about me and what I can do for the people of this district. Every time you ask a voter about my father, it just puts the whole damn thing back on the agenda. I want real issues on the agenda.”

“We both know the media sets the agenda,” Coy argued. “As long as they keep running with this story, we need to gauge how it's impacting your image as a viable candidate. And it
is
having an impact. Just look at the polling data.”

Miles squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't always put much faith in polling data. Past experience taught him that those who answered the pollster's questions were the ones who were the most radicalized about a candidate or a cause. Still, he was annoyed that the subject of his father was still hanging around. Blaming Coy wouldn't solve anything, though. The kid was just doing his job.

Opening his eyelids, he saw Bernice standing in the threshold of the office, wringing her hands. Never a good sign.

“Tell him the rest of it, Coy,” she said.

“There's a ‘rest of it'?” Miles glanced over at Coy just as two pink circles formed on the kid's cheeks.

“It's just a stupid idea she has.”

Bernice charged into the room. “It's not stupid. The pollsters put the family question out there. While single women like the idea of an unmarried representative, many voters would prefer Miles to be settled in his personal life. Faye Rich is a happily married grandmother of three. She practically radiates stability.”

Miles slid his finger over the tablet to reveal the rest of the questions. Sure enough, Bernice was right. He dropped his forehead to the desk. “How did this get about me and not the issues?”

Coy snorted. “It's almost never about the issues any longer.”

He heard the telltale jangle of Bernice's armload of bracelets as she approached the desk. “Don't worry, Miles. We can fix this. I have a plan.”

“No, you don't have a plan, Bernice,” Coy protested. “I can handle this. Greer and I will come up with a different media strategy to address this issue.”

It's not an issue
, Miles wanted to scream. At least not one that voters need to be worrying about.

“
Pfft
,” Bernice said. “My plan is the only one that will work. Trust me, I've been matchmaking for twice as long as you've been alive, sonny boy.”

“Enough!” Miles lifted his head off the desk. He wasn't sure which disturbed him more: having the issues of the campaign diluted or the threat of being the target of Bernice's overzealous matchmaking. It was bad enough the damn
woman was being allowed to pick out his clothes. “We're not making this campaign about my personal life.”

“Said every rookie candidate everywhere,” Greer said from the office doorway.

Miles sighed with relief at the sight of her. Neat, polished, elegant Greer. She looked as if she'd just stepped out of a Junior League meeting with her glossy hair in a sophisticated bun and a string of dainty pearls circling her neck. Her green eyes smiled along with her pretty, pink lips.

Gavin was right to question Miles' man card: Why wasn't he exploring what was beneath Greer's tailored, peach-colored, linen suit? She certainly wasn't hiding anything dark and sinister. He tried to imagine what
was
underneath her clothes. Her body was probably perfectly proportioned and elegant like the rest of her. Too bad even Squeaky Clean Miles wasn't getting turned on by the thought. He sighed. Greer was strictly a friend, but it was good to have her in his camp.

“Greer, thank God you're here. Please talk some sense into these two.”

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Actually, I don't think we can ignore the family issue.”

Bernice clapped her hands together. “Now all we have to do is find Miles a suitable girlfriend.”

Coy released a beleaguered sigh. “I don't think that's what she meant, Bernice.”

Miles pushed away from the desk.

“Where are you going?” Coy asked.

“It's Tuesday. I'm going to the senior center to play checkers with Mr. Cohen.”

“I'll get some media on this,” Coy said as he pulled out his phone.

“No.” Miles had had enough of the media dogging him the past few days. He needed time to think. “Not everything I do is a part of the campaign.”