Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (4 page)

“We’ll have to decide if we want to decorate the glass jar or the metal top. I’m thinking the edge of the mason jar top. Honestly beeswax burns pretty hot. In the small jar, I’d be kind of afraid the glue wouldn’t hold. We don’t want them to fall apart. At least on the lid they should stay looking nice.”

“Agreed.” Katy picked up a pair of scissors. “I can cut ribbons to the right length, and we can kind of do an assembly line.”

“Works for me.” Flynn pulled the box of beads and charms in front of her.

Megan slid boxes of permanent glue dots toward each of the two girls like a drink in an old western bar scene, then pulled one in front of herself. “These glue dots were the next best invention since sticky notes.” She picked up a jar and placed the brand label on the bottom.

Katy took a lid from the box and pulled a ribbon around the top. “Think we need a little extra to make room for the charms?”

“Yes,” Megan said. “And probably overlapping just a little will give us a smoother look.”

Katy clipped two identical lengths, then handed one to Flynn to assemble as a prototype.

Flynn quickly threaded the beads and charms in the center of the ribbon, then placed glue dots along each end. Three on each side of the charms. She carefully wrapped it around the edge of the lid. “It’s cute.”

“It is.” Megan reached for the lid and placed it on top of the jar she’d already labeled. “What do y’all think?”

“Really nice guest gift. I think it’s great,” Katy said.

“Me too.”

“All right. We should be able to knock these out pretty quickly.”

It didn’t take more than the first ten for them to find a perfect rhythm that kept the production rolling with no wasted time. That was Katy’s specialty. She could organize anyone and anything. That’s why she’d been the perfect candidate to fill that festival and tourism coordinator job for the town. Boot Creek was going to be sorry they’d made it a one-year contract, because Katy would be stepping down in just one more month and they’d have to find someone to fill her shoes. That was not going to be easy. This year’s Blackberry Festival had exceeded any other year prior, and she’d even launched two successful watershed projects.

“I’m totally stealing this idea if I ever get married again.” Katy tightened the soft yellow ribbon around the spool and used a glue dot to secure the end.

“Think you’ll ever do that?”

“Get married again?” She twisted the cardboard spool between her fingers. “At first I thought no way, but I love Derek, and just because my ex was a jerk, doesn’t mean that Derek will ever be. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Just wondered.”

“I loved being married most of the time. Being able to be yourself. Being with someone who can make you laugh when things get tough, because you’re never going through any of it alone. There’s always someone in your corner.”

“Until they’re not,” Megan said.

“True. And even good marriages turn bad. But even as bad as mine ended, I had some amazing years. I’m going to continue to honor those good times, and the bad ones . . . well, they led me to Derek. Can’t really complain about that.”

“Sure can’t. He adores you. And none of us ever thought we’d see Derek happy again, much less serious. You gave him his life back,” Megan said.

“He kind of gave me mine back too. It’s really good.” Katy shivered. “Sorry, I just got a chill. Is it chilly in here or is it just me?”

“It’s all that talk about men cheating and bad relationships,” Flynn said. “It’s bad mojo to talk ill of true love.”

Katy and Megan both threw pads of glue dots at Flynn, who ducked in just the nick of time.

“That is not why,” Megan defended herself. “Keeping the building temperature steady is nonnegotiable in my line of work. My candles are sensitive to heat and humidity changes. I could either waste hours and hours adjusting pouring temperatures and drying times and reheating jars to compensate, or just keep the building consistent year round so I don’t risk ruining product. And I hate waste. The problem is this stupid air-conditioning system is about on its last leg.”

“I know a guy. Want me to connect you with him?” Flynn asked.

“No. I’m trying to get one last summer out of it. If sales this Christmas are as strong as they were last year, I’ll be able to finally afford to replace it. Just a couple more weeks and hopefully fall will be here.”

“I think we are done,” Flynn said. “One hundred candles in adorable little shot glass mason jars decorated with tops screwed in place. Ready to go.”

“That was fast. They look beautiful,” Katy said.

“I think Angie will be happy with them. I’ll bring them over to Lonesome Pines tomorrow if you have room to store them, Katy.”

“
Sure
, that’ll be fine. I’ve got one whole room of stuff for Saturday.”

“How are we going to transport all of these little suckers?” Flynn asked.

“I’ve got the boxes the jars came in. I don’t know why I didn’t think to have us put them back in the box as we finished them. I’ll do that tomorrow. They’ll be easier to take over to the inn that way.”

“I don’t mind sticking around and helping you pack them up,” Katy said. “I can take them with me.”

“No. That’s fine. I can do it in the morning. Besides, that way I can double-check that the glue dots have held overnight. I’ll drive them over tomorrow, Katy. No sense messing with them tonight.”

Flynn said, “If we could only build relationships as easily as putting those gifts together, then we’d be on to something.”

“If you think about it,” Megan said, “We kind of have all the parts of a relationship represented here in one of these little candles.”

Flynn looked confused.

“Sometimes relationships make you drink. The shot glass.” Megan picked one up and pretended to toss it back.

Katy jumped in. “Glue dots. Getting through sticky situations with someone you love is always easier.”

“And ribbon. Sometimes they tie up all of your time.” Megan smiled, and paused.

“I get it,” Flynn said. “Candles. Things can get heated up.”

“Totally!” Megan laughed. “That is the best part. And the charms, a man will charm you . . .” She picked up a jar from the table and unscrewed the top. “And want to screw you.” She screwed the top back on.

“Make love,” Katy corrected her. “Relationships aren’t as bad as you think, Megan Howard. One of these days you’re going to meet your match.”

“That’ll screw up all of my plans,” she said.

“Famous last words.” Katy got up. “You ready, Flynn? I’ll drop you back off at the B&B.”

“Yeah. Gran and my grandfather got into town this afternoon. I’m sure they’ll be sitting up waiting for me to get home. They still think I’m, like, twelve or something.”

“You do have a full house this week. I can’t wait to see them,” Megan said, walking the girls outside to where Katy had parked under the awning. “Thanks for y’all’s help tonight. Even if you are trying to jinx me with all that relationship talk.”

Chapter Four

Noah saw Jackson pull up in front of the Crane Creek B&B from the upstairs window. As he turned to put his wallet in his pocket, he heard the screen door downstairs slapping closed behind someone with an enthusiastic “Good Morning, Jax” behind it.

They’re a friendly bunch out here.

It was hard to imagine living in a small town like this as an adult. Everyone knowing each other and all of your business. Growing up in Tennessee, it was the neighbors that usually ratted you out. Everyone knew everything. That could be a real problem when it came to dating, especially since all of the women he’d seen so far had been attractive. Even by California standards.

Noah took the stairs two at a time, then turned at the landing. As he reached for the edge of the door that was wide open, he bumped smack-dab into a tall woman. She hiccupped a gulp of air and froze in his arms, her cheeks flushing.

“Sorry.” He’d grabbed her arm in the confusion. He released her and stepped out of her space.

“It’s okay,” she said, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “I should’ve been looking. Jackson’s here for y’
all.
” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Flynn.”

“Yeah. Hi. You’re in the wedding party too. Thanks for letting us stay here.”

“My gift to the bride and groom,” she said. “You’d better hurry or Jackson will start honking his horn and wake up the neighbors.”

“Right.” He headed for the door, then stopped and turned around. “Flynn? You said your name is Flynn, didn’t you?”

“Yep. I know. It’s kind of a weird name.”

“No. Actually, I was talking to an older couple yesterday. They had a granddaughter named Flynn. I helped them text her.”

She tilted her head slightly. “At the airport?”

“Yeah. They were on my flight.” Small world. Small town. Maybe the odds were better than they seemed.

“You’re the guy who helped my grandparents?”

He smiled at the recollection. “Nice folks. Reminded me of my grandparents, actually.”

“Yes. They own this place, though they’re living in a retirement community now. They’ll be at the wedding. That was so nice of you to stop and help them. They haven’t stopped talking about you.”

“How about that?”

“Small world.” Her eyes twinkled.

Too small, sometimes. “Well it’s a really nice place you’ve got here.”

She smiled as her blue eyes wandered the foyer. “Thanks. I like it too. Maybe tomorrow morning you’ll get up early enough to partake in the breakfast. I’m a terrific cook.”

“Something to look forward to,” he said. That girl’s biological clock was ticking; he could feel it from her first blush. Better steer clear of her. He had no need for that kind of drama. “We’re going to be pretty busy this week helping Jackson and Angie. Guess we’ll play it by ear.” Polite. Noncommittal.

Her smile waned a bit. “Right. Y’all have a good day.”

Jackson honked the horn as he stepped outside.

“You’re going to wake up the neighborhood,” Noah called out, to which Jackson responded with another blast of the horn.

Noah climbed into the front seat.

Jackson tapped the steering wheel. “Up for something fun today?”

“And that would be?”

“Fishing. I’ve got the best little honey of a hole over off the creek.”

“Works for me.” He hadn’t been fishing in years, and that was one thing he’d always enjoyed.

Jackson pulled out of the driveway and out onto the road. “Angie made us lunch.”

“Got beer?” Noah asked.

Jackson turned toward him and stared. “Seriously? Can’t fish without beer. Everyone knows that.”

“Atta boy. Hope you’re still talking like that in a few months. Or a year,” Noah said.

“Nothing’s going to change just because I’m getting married,” Jackson said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Not unless I want it to. Angie’s great. I still can’t believe she agreed to marry me.”

“Can I get you to repeat that so I can record it?” Noah thrust his phone at him. “I’m going to need proof.”

“You gonna die on that bachelor sword? None of us is getting any younger.” Jackson leveled a gaze at Noah.

“What? Something wrong with that? You don’t see Ford running down the aisle either.”

“Well, that’s because he lives in freaking Alaska! I have a feeling there’s not much up there to choose from. So that might not be entirely by choice.”

Jackson gunned the accelerator of his truck. “For the record, my commitment-phobic friend, a guy doesn’t
need an assortment. Just one right one.”

“She play that on a recorder under your pillow?” Because the problem with the assortment analogy was that, in his experience, nuts had always been hiding under creamy, sweet caramel. And those weren’t always easy to avoid until it was too late. No, he’d just stick to the friend zone.

“Funny.” Jackson managed a choked laugh.

“Speaking of types. Ford
might like Flynn. She seems like his kind of girl—blonde and leggy. If he’s ready to settle down, that girl is too. She’s got that vibe going as loud as a tuba in a marching band.”

Jackson grinned. “Why do you think I have him escorting her down the aisle?
”

“And you found yours in Boot Creek. Hook Ford up with Flynn and you’ll have another buddy to hang around with. Guess there’s worse places to live.”

“Sure is, but Angie’s the perfect partner for me no matter where I live.”

“You think she’d ever leave this little town? I always thought you’d end up back in Tennessee.”

Jackson paused. “Well, I didn’t really ask, but I’m sure she would. She loves me. We’re a good team. We’d figure it out together.”

“Famous last words,” Noah muttered, but he was glad Jackson hadn’t heard him over the loud roar of the tires on his truck. Because it even sounded snarky in his own head.

About thirty minutes later, Jackson turned onto a gravel road and, after kicking up dust for about a mile, they finally pulled up in front of a small boat ramp and dock that had three small boats tied up along it.

“One of these boats yours?”

“Yep,” Jackson said.

“Hope it’s not that little metal johnboat. I’m not up for bailing water,” Noah teased.

Jackson hopped out of the truck and grabbed a bait bucket and tackle box from the back of the truck.

“I’ve got the cooler,” Noah said.

Jackson led the way. The dock looked a lot ricketier as they got closer to the first boat.

Noah pressed his lips together as Jackson stepped into the little, seen-better-days aluminum johnboat.

Noah wondered if the boat would even hold the weight of the cooler and the two of them. He’d never been one to really like the water.

Jackson got up and stepped back on the dock. “I’m joking. Come on.”

“Good. I swear I was getting a little seasick just then,” Noah said, following Jackson toward the blue sparkly boat at the end of the dock. “This is way more like it. Nice paint.”

“Thanks.” Jackson opened the live well and then put the cooler between the two back seats. He took out a plastic container from the top of it and put it in a separate storage hopper on the back of the boat. “This is our lunch. Angie is the best cook I’ve ever met. Girl can cook anything. She made all of my favorites for us. Fried chicken that’ll smack your lips for you, and her famous fried mac-n-cheese bites. Let me just remind you. She’s mine.”

“You won’t see me fighting for her, even if she’s the next Paula Deen.” Noah pulled one of the fishing poles out and started fixing the line. “Been a while since I’ve done this.”

Jackson grabbed one of the others. “Thought as busy as you are, this would be a good thing to do.”

“We eating what we catch or releasing?” Noah asked as he twisted a knot on the tackle.

“We’ve got the barbecue tonight, but we can filet them and fry them up tomorrow night.”

“Works for me.” Noah pulled the tackle box closer with his foot, and popped open the top. He pulled out a knife and some weights. “Any wagers on biggest fish?”

Jackson snickered. “Some things never change.”

“By that I guess you mean that I always win.” Noah grinned.

“That remains to be seen, but you have always wanted to bet on everything.”

Noah slapped Jackson on the back. “All in fun, my man. No money, whoever catches the biggest fish doesn’t have to do any of the filleting.”

“I’m in. Don’t be whining that I’ve got an advantage because it’s my boat. Fair’
s fair.
”

“You’re on.”

Jackson fired up the boat and sped through the murky water of the wide creek. Looked more like a river to Noah, but he didn’t know much about boats or water so he kept his mouth shut. Only reason he ever went fishing at all back in Tennessee was because it was a great way to sleep off a hangover.

“We have to dress up for this thing tonight?” Noah asked. Leave it to women to plan a party—they always go all crazy on the unnecessary details. Just give him a cold beer and some good conversation and he’d call it a success.

Jackson slowed the boat to a stop near the shore where a fallen tree laid sprawled half in the water. “Nope. It’s casual. Should be a good time.”

Noah cast his line and dropped his hook right into what looked like a sweet spot near the deep end of the tree.

Jackson dropped his line on the other side of the tree, and darned if he didn’t get a nibble almost as soon as his bait hit the water. He played the fish for a few seconds, letting out the line and then reeling it in a little at a time until it got tugged beneath the surface. He whipped the line quickly to set the hook and reeled the fish in. “Grab the net, man.”

Noah moved to the edge of the boat with the net and scooped up the fish.

“Got the first one,” Jackson beamed.

Noah shrugged. “The bet’s for the biggest. Not the first.” He recast and tried again.

After four hours the sun was beginning to get too darn hot, and on full stomachs they’d had just about enough. “You ready to call it a day?” Jackson tugged on the bill of his hat.

Noah said. “How about we do fifteen more minutes. I’ll give you one last chance to beat me.”

“I have another spot on the way back. We’ll stop there for fifteen.” Jackson started the engine and puttered down the waterway.

Even after they’d stopped, and Noah hit a lucky run of four fish in a row, none of them were larger than the largemouth bass Jackson had landed.

Jackson slowed the motor as they got closer to the dock, and pulled it right up alongside. “Can you grab that line?”

Noah took the rope that they’d coiled off the front of the boat and tossed the top over the pylon. “Got it.” The high-pitched squeal of a wood duck made Noah nearly jump off the boat. “What the—”

“Ducks.” Jackson laughed. “They nest over there. I think they’re celebrating my victory.”

Noah stepped off the boat, reaching for the gear as Noah passed it over. “You nervous at all, Jackson?”

“I’m really not. I know I love her.” He put the fishing rods back down in the center storage unit. “The whole standing up in front of people and saying stuff kind of makes me anxious, but it’s important to her. I know you don’t really get it, Noah, but I swear I hope you find someone like Angie someday. It’s a different kind of happy. I can’t explain it.”

Noah hated to rain on Jackson’s parade, but that was the last thing he wanted anyone wishing for him.

“I see your face,” Jackson said. “I’m telling you. For real. Man to man. Friend to friend. I never knew what I was missing.”

“I’m happy for you. Glad you’re happy, even.”

“You are not,” Jackson said with a laugh.

“No. I am. Doesn’t mean I’m joining the ranks of the married. But I’
m glad for y
’
all, even if
weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Well, when you see what we’re riding off in, you might feel differently.”

Noah raised his hand. “If it’s a horse-drawn carriage, I’m not scooping poop. Just saying that right up front.”

“No. Angie’s maid of honor, Megan, you’ll meet her tonight, her dad has a pristine show piece of a ride. Well, Megan has it now. Her dad recently passed away, but he’d offered to let us use it for the wedding before he died.”

Finally. Something Noah was interested in talking about. “Really. What is it?”

“A 1958 DeSoto Adventurer.”

Noah spun around. Did he just hear that right? The words played back in his head almost as if he were translating a foreign language. “Did you say a ’58 DeSoto Adventurer? Why the heck didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I told you we were driving a classic car.”

“There’s classic and there’s collectible. And didn’t you remember that that was the kind of car my granddad had?”

“I guess I didn’t realize it was the same car. Just old. That thing is sweet, though. I think it’s got, like, a total of twenty-eight thousand original miles or something crazy like that. Convertible too. Incredible.”

He was sure a broad dorky-ass grin was spreading across his face. “Incredible is right. More than incredible. I’ve been on the hunt for one of those for the last ten years.” Could this seriously be happening?

“That DeSoto is a tank of a car. I thought you liked those sporty-looking hot rods. All ZZ Top–ish.” Jackson did the comical hand gesture from the old videos, which had been Noah’s favorite song for the chicks and the cars.

“That was a ’33 Ford Coupe and I do, but my granddad taught me all about cars with his Adventurer.”

“Can’t you have any kind of car you want now that you’re in that business?”

“I wish it was that simple. There were only a few of those Adventurers built in 1958. Even fewer that were convertibles.”

“So it’
s extra special.
”

“Exactly. Limited edition, and the ones you do find have been neglected or ruined by someone trying to turn it into something it was never meant to be.” Excitement built inside of him. It was the chase. Just like with women. The hunt was as much of the satisfaction, and if he’d actually finally stumbled upon the car of his dreams in this little town, Boot Creek may become a special little map dot to him too.