RaeAnne Thayne - Wild Iris Ridge

“How is that your fault?”

“Someone needed to take the hit, and after I got into a yelling match with the CEO and the product manager last week and called them both a few choice names, I was nominated.”

“Ouch.”

“As you can see, last night’s stupidity trying to burn down Iris House was just the latest in a string of brilliant decisions on my part.”

Before Brendan could come up with an answer to that, Pop came bustling out from the kitchen with two plates piled high with carbohydrates.

“Here you go. Two of the breakfast specials, French toast, just the way you both like it, with strawberries and almond butter.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that!” she exclaimed.

“You’ve only been coming in here for it since you were a wee girl.”

Brendan thought he was the only one on the planet who ate his French toast like that. How strange, to find that Lucy shared that particular affinity with him.

“I remember because I always thought it funny that you and my boy here liked it the same way, given that you don’t usually see eye to eye on many things.”

Not much slipped past his pop.

“Isn’t it?” she murmured.

She took a bite of her breakfast and closed her eyes in appreciation. “It’s every bit as fantastic as I remember. You’re a genius in the kitchen, my friend. Are you sure I can’t talk you into running off with me?”

Dermot laughed, his usually weathered features once again turning pink with delight.

“I do hope you plan to stay in town longer than a few days. You look like you could use a few more mornings of my French toast.”

She was too skinny, Brendan thought, as if she had been working too hard, though she did have a few nice curves he had no business noticing.

“You’re in luck. At this point, I’m here indefinitely,” she said with false cheerfulness.

Brendan’s gut tightened. Indefinitely. That certainly sounded like she would stick around longer than a few weeks.

“Oh, that’s lovely to hear,” Dermot exclaimed. “What will you do?”

“I’m thinking about opening Iris House as a bed and breakfast.”

“Are you, now?” Pop beamed at her.

“It seems like the right thing to do. Jess and Annabelle were always talking about it.” She was careful not to look at Brendan while she spoke.

“They were, at that. That doesn’t make it the right thing for you. I never would have figured you for an innkeeper.”

“I know I don’t have any experience at running a B&B. But I can certainly market the heck out of it.”

Dermot laughed. “Indeed.”

The door to the café suddenly opened and Pop looked up with a smile to greet the new customer.

“Oh. Katherine.” His smile slid away, replaced by an even deeper blush. “Good mornin’ to you.”

“Hello.” Katherine Thorne, a city council member and one of the town’s leading citizens, walked into the café looking as smart and put-together as always.

Dermot suddenly fumbled the coffeepot and splashed some over the side of Brendan’s cup. He glared at his son as if it were his fault, before reaching for a napkin to clean it up.

Pop had a long-term infatuation for Katherine Thorne. Brendan had no idea why his father had never done anything about it, especially when it was obvious to everyone in town that Katherine shared his infatuation and would certainly welcome something more than this awkward friendship.

Margaret Caine had been gone for more than a decade. His mother had died of cancer while he was still a running back for Colorado State, before his short-lived time in the NFL.

As for Katherine, she had been alone even longer, as her husband died years ago.

Brendan could see no reason why the two of them seemed locked in this dance where neither wanted to be the first to lead off. He only knew that watching them together was like chewing on last year’s Halloween taffy, both sweet and painful.

“I’m meeting some friends for breakfast,” Katherine said. “There should be about six of us at last count. If it’s not too much of a bother, could we take one of the back tables, out of the way?”

“Of course. Of course. No problem at all. I’ll just go make it ready for you and your friends.”

Anything for his sweetheart, Brendan thought in amusement. Except actually making her his sweetheart.

Katherine watched after him for just a moment then turned back to greet Brendan. Her eyes widened when she spotted his companion at the counter.

“Lucy! Hello. How are you, my dear?”

Lucy gave Katherine a smile far more genuine than anything she ever bestowed on Brendan. “I’m fine. It’s great to see you. You look wonderful. How’s the bead business treating you these days?”

“Oh, I sold that ages ago. I loved it but the details of running a small business—taxes, inventory, personnel headaches—was sucking all the fun out of it for me. Now I’m just a beader. It’s a much better fit.”

“That’s too bad. I planned to stop in while I was in town.”

Brendan never would have pegged Lucy as a crafter. He might have thought she was only being polite if not for the sincere regret in her blue eyes.

Katherine smiled. “You still can, never fear. Make sure you do, in fact. You won’t be disappointed. String Fever is as busy as ever. I sold it several years ago to Claire McKnight and she’s done wonders with the place. You know Claire, of course.”

“I don’t think so. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You might have known her by her maiden name. Claire Tatum.”

“Oh, right. Ruth Tatum’s daughter. I thought she married Jeff Bradford.”

“She did. They were divorced shortly before I sold her the store. A few years ago, she married Riley McKnight. Do you know him?”

“Is that Alex McKnight’s brother?”

“The very same, except she’s now Alex Delgado. You must stop by her restaurant while you’re here. Brazen. It’s at the top of Main Street in the old fire station and is absolutely fantastic.”

Lucy looked a little overwhelmed at the barrage of information. “Thank you for the recommendation. I’ll try to do that. I guess Hope’s Crossing has changed a bit since I lived here.”

“Not that much. You’ll find the same good friends and kind neighbors.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she murmured, though he hadn’t missed the way her mouth tightened a little.

He had never had the impression that Lucy liked Hope’s Crossing very much. Oh, she loved Annabelle and Jess and Iris House. She would visit on the occasional holiday and special occasion, like the children’s christenings and Annabelle’s past few birthdays.

He couldn’t really blame her. From what Jessie had told him, Lucy had come to town an angry, rebellious teenager, forced to live with a great-aunt she barely knew. She had spent her last few years of high school at Iris House with Annabelle before heading off to college, but that didn’t necessarily mean the town felt like home to her.

If she were looking for a place to lick her wounds, he wanted to tell her, she could do much, much worse than Hope’s Crossing.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN LUCY GREW UP, she wanted to be just like Katherine Thorne.

The woman was the very epitome of class and elegance. Lucy had always thought so.

When Lucy had first been dumped on Aunt Annabelle, Katherine used to visit Iris House for the monthly library board meetings. Even when Lucy had been clad all in black with her piercings and her purple-dyed hair, Katherine had treated her with respect and kindness.

Few others had been able to see past all the attitude to the frightened, sad girl inside. Most treated her with suspicion and sometimes outright disdain, but Katherine had at least tried.