Mia Ross - Rocky Coast Romance

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Again she’d waded into deep water before thinking things through. “My research must be a little out of date.”

“Not your fault, but thanks.”

After a moment he added another, more personal smile. It was the kind of gesture that lit up his eyes and made her feel like he was honestly glad to see her. Lately she hadn’t gotten that kind of reaction from too many people, and it made her feel slightly more at ease.

Trying to make conversation, she said, “I’m not used to being met by the mayor when I’m on assignment somewhere. That was nice of you.”

“It only seemed right. I’m the one who asked Kaleidoscope to send someone to do a story here.”

His comment piqued her curiosity. “Really? The magazine is pretty new, and online besides. What made you think of it?”

“Your editor, Nick McHenry, grew up here, and we go way back. He thought we’d make a great addition to the Americana series he’s running this summer.” The driver set Bree’s two bags in front of her, and her host handed him five dollars. “Thanks, Ed. Are you and your wife gonna make it up here for the Fourth?”

The older man’s face broke into a delighted grin. “We wouldn’t miss it. We’ve got the grandkids right now, and they can’t wait.”

“If you’ve got time, stop by my place for some barbecue. After you eat, you can get ringside seats for the fireworks. Red Granger’s in charge of them again, and he promised they’d be even better than last year’s.”

Respect flooded Ed’s expression, and Bree figured he didn’t often get invitations to visit a town leader at his home. “We’ll do that. Thanks.”

“Great! We’ll see you then.”

They shook hands to seal the deal, and Ed closed the cargo doors before climbing aboard.

As the bus chugged away, Cooper eyed Bree’s scant luggage in disbelief. “Is this it?”

“Yeah.” She slung her beat-up messenger bag across her chest. “Reporters travel light.” She didn’t add that the pilot’s case and small duffel held the extent of her wardrobe.

“We keep traffic out of the center of town to leave room to walk for pedestrians, so I had to park down the street.” Without asking, he shouldered her duffel and lifted her suitcase. “I apologize for the hike.”

Bree almost told him she could manage her own bags, but something stopped her. It might come across as rude, and she didn’t want to insult him by refusing his hospitality. Her last termination notice flashed into her mind like a recurring nightmare.

Talented but headstrong. Impossible to work with.

Not this time, she vowed. This time she’d choke down her instincts and be a team player. Even if it killed her.

“No problem,” she said lightly. “It’ll give me a feel for the town.”

They started walking, and he asked, “Have you eaten, Miss Farrell?”

Knowing this could be her last chance at her dream career, she’d only managed to choke down half a ham and cheese sandwich while waiting for the bus. Unwilling to admit how nervous she was about this assignment, she replied, “I had lunch at the airport in Rockland while I was waiting for the bus, so I’m fine. And it’s Bree.”

“Then I’m Cooper. I’m sort of named after the founder of this place. He was from a long line of barrel makers.”

“Interesting.” That sounded lame, so she added what she hoped was a pleasant smile and started checking out her surroundings.

Main Street was lined with old buildings, some made of brick, others of the weathered clapboards Maine was famous for. The shops’ front doors and display windows were shaded by identical light blue awnings, and flowers of every color overflowed from window boxes and hanging pots. In the center of town was a gazebo surrounded by a small park where several kids were kicking a soccer ball around.

Everywhere she looked she saw American flags and bunting, obviously set out for Monday’s Fourth of July festivities. She could have thrown a rock the length of the business district, but it did occupy both sides of the street. It included a diner, a small café and something she’d assumed had all but gone extinct.

“A real bookstore,” she commented. “I can’t remember the last time I saw one of those.”

“They carry lots of things, even some antique books. My mother owns it, and she has a huge collection. If you want, I can set up a tour for you.”

“That would be awesome,” she blurted, then realized she sounded like a teenager with a crush. Acting unprofessionally had caused her more trouble than even her vivid imagination could have invented. Getting a firmer grip on her dignity, she amended, “If I have time.”

Across the street was a store called There’s No Place Like Gnome, which apparently sold nothing but garden statues so ugly they were cute. It was totally unexpected, and Bree made a quick note of it. Unique features like that would be great for her story. An award-winning reporter himself, Nick McHenry was notoriously tough to impress, and she was desperate to earn his confidence. To do that, she’d have to knock this article out of the park.

“I see six vacant storefronts.” She paused in the middle of the sidewalk for a better look. Their display windows were clean but dark, and while the For Rent signs were subtly posted in lower corners, you couldn’t miss them. “Is the economy especially bad here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Fish and seafood stocks are declining, taking the towns that rely on that industry right along with them. That’s why you’re here. We need to bring in more tourists, to help fill the gap.”

It sounded like a solid plan, but she knew better than anyone that things didn’t always work out the way you wanted them to. “And if they don’t come?”

Worry clouded his expression, and he grimaced. “There’s another option, but I don’t like to think about it.”

“But you have,” she pressed. “I can tell.”

“We all have,” he admitted with a sigh. “There’s a developer who wants to come in and build a golf community outside of town. We just can’t agree whether to say yes or no.”

This would be news to Nick, she was certain of it. If she did some digging and asked the right questions around town, maybe she could parlay the development issue into another article. Or even a series of them. Having scraped her savings account down to the bone, the influx of cash would be a refreshing change.

For now she put aside her own interests and went the sympathetic route. It wasn’t hard, since to even mention it to a stranger, the potential construction project must be weighing heavily on his mind. “That must make mayoring kind of hard, especially since you didn’t run for the office.”

Cooper eyed her with something she hadn’t seen much of the past year: respect. “Off the record?”

Bree held up her hands to show him she wasn’t recording or taking notes of any kind. “Of course.”

“You’re very perceptive, and you’re right. I didn’t want the job, and it’s turning out to be a lot tougher than I thought it’d be. But I love this place, and I’m doing my best to keep things on track until we elect someone else in the fall. My personal situation has nothing to do with why you’re here, so let’s just focus on the town. Okay?”

He was so upbeat, even in the face of what must be a huge problem, she couldn’t help smiling. Some people honestly believed that positive thinking led to positive outcomes, and she wasn’t going to be the one to burst this handsome optimist’s bubble. “Okay.”

His assessment couldn’t have been more wrong, but she opted to keep that opinion to herself. The state of Holiday Harbor’s town government had everything to do with its problems—and the potential solutions to them. If she’d learned anything during her varied assignments, it was that there were several facets to every story. Her job was to uncover as many of them as possible and give her readers all the angles.