“The same meeting as the one about the variance?” How convenient.

  “It happens to be the same, yes. But the sooner I can show Shirley that I’m not like RGI Corp., that I’m good for my word, the better.” He yanks his pants up, tucking my new toy into his waistband.

  I pout. Though I still have the top half of him to appreciate.

  “I don’t like it when people question my integrity.”

  I’m not sure who that warning is directed at. I’ve not only questioned Garrett’s integrity but I’ve pissed all over the idea of it. “Then you should give them reasons to take you at your word.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” He pauses. “Any advice, as far as Shirley goes?”

  “Are you asking me for insider intel on the granny gang?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” He lingers at the end of my bed, waiting.

  I falter. Am I betraying her confidence by helping Garrett?

  God, I can’t think straight with him in nothing but track pants, fucked-all-night hair, and swollen lips.

  Staring at me.

  I sigh with reluctance. “Shirley doesn’t like people thinking they’re smarter or know more than she does. So … think about running those park plans by her. Make her feel like she’s a valuable part of it.” Sometimes I wonder if all the fuss Shirley kicks up comes down to needing to feel useful.

  He smooths a hand through his hair, though it does little to tame the wild. My fists did a number last night. “I can pay a visit to Bonny Acres again one Friday night. Would she be agreeable to that?”

  “She’ll give you grief. That’s just the way Shirley is.” I hesitate. “Sneak her in something from the bakery. Nothing vegan or healthy. She loves pistachio.”

  “Pistachio,” he echoes.

  “But there can only be one pistachio thing in a selection, or she’ll know I tipped you off.”

  He laughs, as if this is amusing. “Got it.”

  “And this”—I wave a finger between him and me—“stays out of it. She can’t know about this.” She’d call me an idiot, a fool. It would bother me to disappoint Shirley like that, and I’m not used to caring about what other people think.

  He smirks. “And what exactly is this?”

  The best sex I’ve ever had. “I am taking advantage of your finer assets, while you are trying to get in my good graces in hopes that I don’t create any more obstacles for your project.” Do I believe that anymore?

  “Right. Of course. That’s what this is.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of something else behind it. “I’m heading to Philly after my meeting, and I’ll probably stay there because, well …” He waves a hand between us.

  “Yes, this deadly snare of mine.”

  “Exactly.” His gaze drags over the blankets I’ve burrowed under. “Should I expect more nudes while I’m gone?”

  Is that his way of asking me to text? “Never know.” I slide my foot out from beneath the covers, flexing my toes in the air. “Any idea when you’ll be around again, so I can plan my next attack on your career?”

  “Not sure. I’ve got a lot of meetings over the next few days.”

  “What about all those Polson Falls babies you still need to kiss?”

  Rounding the bed, he leans down and lays a soft kiss against my lips. “There. Done.”

  I smooth my palm over his stubbled jaw, remembering the delicious burn of it scraping across my inner thigh. I don’t want him to leave.

  “Really gotta go, Justine.”

  “Fine. Just let me see my toy one more time …” I tug at his waistband, stretching it out to get a good look down his pants—and groan—before letting it snap back in place.

  His abdominal muscles clench in response. “Message me later. If you want.”

  “We’ll see. I may be too busy cleaning.” There are used condoms strewn all over the floor. “You left your DNA all over this place. I could frame you for murder.”

  He frowns. “With my semen?”

  “A crime of passion. You sick bastard.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be able to enjoy my finer assets.”

  “Conjugal visits could be fun. Imagine all that pent-up frustration.”

  “Conjugal.” His eyebrows arch. “We’re back to talk of marriage, are we?”

  “We’ve come …” I draw a circle in the air to finish my sentence.

  He laughs as he heads for my bedroom door.

  “Hey, don’t you want to know how I got your phone number?”

  “Either Sara or the fridge receipt. Knowing you? The latter.” He smirks as he opens my door.

  Scarlet is on the other side of it, in the kitchen, dressed for a day in the classroom, sipping on her coffee as Garrett strolls out, shirtless.

  “Good morning,” he offers before veering down the hall to where the rest of his clothes wait on the floor.

  “Morning,” she murmurs, her eyes trailing after him with interest before shifting back to peer at me lying in my bed.

  Moments later, the front door opens and shuts.

  “Good night?”

  I yank a pillow over my face and scream into it.

  twenty-seven

  Ned surveys the porcelain bunnies and bouquets of tulips that adorn the Bonny Acres’ reception area. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before.”

  “I can’t believe it’s taken me four months to convince you to come with me.”

  “I don’t know if convince is the right word.”

  “Convince, harass—we’re splitting hairs. The important thing is that you’re here.”

  “And Vicki knows I’m coming?”

  “I mentioned the possibility to her, yeah. And she was excited.”

  He reaches up to touch the half Windsor knot with his free hand, his other gripping a small pot of pansies. “How is my tie? Is it straight? Trudy always used to fix them for me.”

  I smile. I’ve only ever seen Ned in sweater vests and beige trousers, but it’s clear he’s chosen something nicer for tonight. “It’s perfect. You look dashing, young man. Stop fussing.” I offer him my arm, which he gingerly takes.

  The common room is already half full of the usual Friday night social butterflies. Shirley is at her customary table, alone, playing a riveting game of solitaire. In a table by the far corner, Vicki huddles with a book. But she must have been watching the door because she looks up as soon as we walk in and waves at Ned.

  “Justine!” Harper calls from the opposite side of the room, beckoning me over with a chin jerk.

  I lift my finger to tell her “one minute,” but Ned pats my hand down.

  “I can make my way over there. I’m not shy.” He shuffles across the room, slowing to greet several residents on his way past. It seems he knows more people at Bonny Acres than he realized.

  Harper waits for me with an odd smile on her face.

  “What’s up? You need help with decorations?” I look around. Easter eggs and bunny streamers hang from the ceiling. Everything seems set already.

  “I do need help, but not with that. Nancy called me an hour ago to tell me she has a nasty bug, so tonight is your lucky night. The night you’ve been pestering me about for months.” She gestures toward the bingo ball, dragged out from the closet and waiting.

  “Seriously?” I throw my arms in the air in victory. “Yes! Finally!”

  Harper shakes her head. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

  “But you’re happy for me.” That’s what that little smile was.

  “I’m happy I won’t have fifty-four residents with diarrhea this weekend.”

  “Two things to celebrate, then.”

  She snorts. “Also, pure evil is back. Guess we’ll need plates and napkins again.” She juts her chin toward something behind me.

  I spin on my heels and watch as Garrett strolls across the room toward me, arms laden with a white bakery box. I can’t help the wide smile that erupts over my face. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you had something in the city tonight.” We’ve been texting daily. Casual, superficial messages. Mostly playful barbs at each other. A few feet pics for fun.

  “I moved things around.”

  “You should have warned me.”

  “I like surprising you.” His eyes drop to my red tunic and leggings. “You look really good tonight.”

  My pulse races, my fingers itching to reach out and touch him again. It’s been days, and my body instantly throbs at the sight of him.

  “And you can’t look at me like that here,” I warn, acutely aware of the attention on us.

  “Right.” He sets the pastry box down. Already, several residents are out of their seats and flocking toward us, all smiles for Garrett. They don’t care if he’s the harbinger of destruction for their beloved town. They want to know if he brought any of that lemon pound cake.

  “So …” He reaches for the folder tucked under his arm, stealing a covert gaze over my shoulder. “What’s my move here? Do I just walk up to her?”

  “Empty-handed? No.” I emphasize that with a headshake.

  “Good thing I brought this, then.” He holds up a small white paper bag with a grin.

  “Okay, follow me. And remember, this was not my idea and I have no part in it.” I lead Garrett to Shirley’s table.

  “Hello again,” he greets her cordially.

  She pauses in her game and examines him up and down, stalling on the folder under his arm and the small bag in his hand. “Are we playing or not tonight, Justine?” Irritation laces her voice. She hasn’t taken that tone with me since the first day we met.

  A rash of anxious butterflies stirs in my stomach. This does not bode well for me. “Sure. We can play.” I drag a chair out.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” Garrett asks.

  “Something tells me you’re going to, anyway,” she mutters.

  He sheds his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair, sending a faint waft of his cologne toward me. I inhale.

  And, I swear, Shirley’s sharp eyes zero in on my flaring nostrils.

  Garrett takes a seat and sets the bag beside her. “It won’t meet Harper’s guidelines.”

  She watches it a moment as if expecting lizards to crawl out, before cracking it open. “Pistachio. However did you guess?” The sharp glare she throws over her glasses is not aimed at him but at me.

  This common room suddenly feels too hot.

  “I’d love your opinion on something, if you don’t mind.” Garrett moves quickly, opening his folder and pushing it in front of her. “This is a preliminary design for the town park at the end of the block that we were talking about. I had my people address all the issues you’ve mentioned, as well as incorporate a few new features. I wanted to know what you thought, if you had suggestions.”

  She adjusts her glasses and peers down at the colorful schematic. “Water park.” She harrumphs.

  “They’re very popular for hot days. And the playground is twice the size.”

  “Too many children for my liking. All that noise.”

  He smothers a threatening smile. “Which is why we added this seating area on the other end.” He drags his finger across the page. “Way over here. Next to a garden that the town would maintain in their budget. We also thought it’d be great to incorporate a few of the more popular ideas from other parks, like community vegetable plots and a trash can art program where resident artists are tasked with creating art pieces. You might like that, seeing as you’re a supporter of the arts.”

  “Whitman Park,” she reads the name out loud.

  “After Polson Falls’ prized poet. He’s important to you, right?”

  “He was a drunk. He doesn’t deserve a school and a park.”

  Garrett falters. “Well … we could go with Justine’s suggestion and honor the Stavro brothers instead?”

  Shirley grimaces. “The booze smugglers?”

  “I did not suggest that. I didn’t suggest anything.” I kick his shin under the table.

  Silence drags on at the table, until finally, she taps the page with her manicured fingers. “What do you think about these plans, Justine?”

  “Uh …” I can’t get a read on her mood, but that feels like a trick question. “This is the first time I’m seeing this. I have no thoughts.”

  “No thoughts at all.” She sounds disappointed.

  I struggle not to squirm in my chair. “I think you should tell HG how to spend their money. You’ll get what you want, and it’s good for the community.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyes thin on me, and I’m not sure if that was the right answer.

  “Nancy has diarrhea,” I blurt.

  “That’s wonderful news,” she deadpans.

  “It is, because it means I’m calling bingo tonight. So I need to go and prepare.” I slide out of my chair.

  “Prepare?” Her face pinches. “For what?”

  “Prepare myself mentally.” I dart away, abandoning Garrett to her wrath.

  “Let’s procreate, seventy-eight!” I bellow, and the room erupts in chatter and laughter as several people dab their cards and others throw jabs at nearby friends.

  “Did she say eighty-eight?” Mimi calls out over the buzz, searching for someone to confirm the number. It’s far livelier in here tonight than usual.

  From their little corner table, Ned points out the number on Vicki’s card for her. They’ve been in that spot all night, talking and laughing nonstop.

  It makes me smile, seeing him this happy.

  That takes some of the edge off given Shirley is angry with me. She tolerated Garrett until bingo started, and then got up from the table and walked out. On which note—sour or slightly less so—they ended things, I can’t say, but she refused to so much as look at me on her way past.

  She feels like I’ve betrayed her, and that has left my insides twisted in a knot I’m doing my best to ignore.

  Garrett lingering against a wall in the corner helps. Every time my attention sweeps that way, it gets hooked on his smile, on his dimples, on him. I could stare at that face for hours.

  “What’s the next one?” Someone hollers.

  “Oh, right.” I reach into the cage and pull out another ball. “Did you score, twenty-four!”

  “We all know Saul did,” someone chirps, earning snorts.

  Saul is nowhere within earshot tonight. Neither is Gertie.

  I give them time to search out their numbers and for the chatter to die down before I reach into the cage again. “Oh, this one’s my favorite …” I pause for effect, until I have everyone’s attention. “Your place or mine, sixty-nine!”

  A roar of laughter erupts as everyone searches for the number.

  Garrett arches a curious brow, and I wink before dragging my eyes down the length of him. The mental image of his body beneath those clothes still burns bright in my mind, and that memory stirs other memories. Ones I shouldn’t be having right now.

  “That’s bingo!” Roger waves his card in the air, distracting my lustful thoughts.

  Garrett catches my gaze long enough to cast a lazy salute before ducking out.

  I frown. Where’s he going? Will I see him again tonight?

  “One more round?” someone calls out, stopping me from chasing after him.

  “Just one!” someone else yells, followed by, “Encore!”

  Nancy never gets an encore, I think with smug satisfaction. “Yeah, why not.” I drop the used balls back into the cage.

  twenty-eight

  The lamp in Ned’s front window casts a dim light in the modest brick bungalow when I pull my car into his driveway. “As promised, door-to-door service.”

  Ned lingers a moment, staring out at the house. “I still remember the day Trudy and I walked through that front door for the first time. It was the summer of ’67, and she was wearing a yellow dress, bright as a canary.”

  I smile. “I’ll bet you have a lot of memories here.”

  “Lots of memories,” he agrees. “Lots of laughs, lots of tears.” He pauses. “I talked about her a lot tonight, but Vicki didn’t seem to mind. She had a lot to say about Gus too. I think we both needed to talk to someone who understood.”

  “It’s a good thing you listened to me then, huh?” I nudge his arm with my elbow. “You should come with me again next week. You and Vicki can talk about Trudy and Gus some more. I’m sure they would be happy you two are doing that.” Finding some comfort in these lonely after-years.

  “You know, maybe I will.” His mouth curves in a frown. “What was Garrett Harrington doing there tonight?”

  “Trying to win over Shirley with a town park redesign that he’s willing to fund.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Doubt it.”

  He chuckles. “That is one tough bird. But good for him for trying.”

  “Yeah, well, now I think she’s mad at me for helping him. Or just talking to him.” Or because she sees the chemistry between us that I was stupid enough to think I could hide. That guilty feeling hasn’t gone away.

  “She’ll get over it.” He waves my worries away. “Todd told me HG is relooking at saving some of the original building. That might be a nice compromise.”

  “That won’t change her mind. Plus, who knows if it’ll happen. HG could just be saying that to appease people, like that developer who cut down the two-hundred-year-old elm tree.”

  “Oh, I remember that one. Boy, were people mad about that. But they moved on. It’s what we all have to do.” Ned leans in a touch. “Todd also told me what he walked in on in the basement the other day.”

  I groan, my cheeks flushing at the thought of that conversation. “Todd has a big mouth.” There’s no point denying it anymore, though.

  “He’d say the same thing about you.” He twists his lips. “You know, it’s okay to admit you were wrong about Garrett.”

  “Was I, though?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.” He reaches out to pat my wrist. “But that’s just my two cents. What do I know? Have a good night.” He eases out of the car and trudges up the steps to his front door.

  I wait until he’s safely inside before I dig out my phone to text Garrett.