Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) Read online

  But he didn’t.

  Two TV trucks from two different stations drove by, coming from Ella’s direction. Cissie pulled her hat brim down lower. Maybe she was walking right into a media circus.

  It was a chance she was willing to take.

  When she got there, Ella’s house looked deserted. Curtains were drawn. No car sat in the driveway. Still, Cissie knocked.

  And hoped.

  Maybe Ella would know what was wrong with Boone.

  But no one came.

  She knocked again, but when she was met with silence, she turned to walk away. And as she did, she caught a glimpse of a face behind a curtain. She froze, ran back up to the small porch, and pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there! Please answer! It’s Cissie, not a reporter. Please, Ella!”

  There was another long silence, but then she heard footsteps and her heart lifted. The next second, she grew wary, reminding herself to prepare for utter heartbreak.

  The door finally opened. Ella stood there, her mouth thin, her gaze clearly distraught. “What do you want, Cissie? This has been a horrible morning for me, okay? I don’t want those nosy reporters coming back.”

  “I get it.” Cissie’s throat was tight. “But Ella, I need to ask you something. Is it true that you and Boone are—are having an affair?”

  Ella’s expression gave nothing away. “I don’t want to talk about it. To anyone. I’m sorry.”

  She started to shut the door, but Cissie held it open. “Please,” she said, “for my own peace of mind, I need to know. I won’t be angry with you. I promise.”

  Ella’s jaw tightened. “Did he say we were together?”

  “In so many words. But not directly. He just refused to deny it.”

  Ella sighed. “You’re asking too much.”

  “Please,” Cissie whispered.

  Ella shook her head once, soberly. “I have no right to talk about Boone’s private life. And my private life is my business. I’m sorry.”

  Cissie felt the prick of tears at her eyes. “That’s the answer you give reporters. I know we’re not close friends, but please, woman to woman, tell me the truth.” A crow overhead cawed, such a lonely sound. “Even if it hurts, I want to know.”

  Ella stared at her a long time. “All right,” she said finally. “It’s true.”

  Pain like she’d never known coursed through Cissie’s body. “You two”—she could barely get the words out—“are having an affair?”

  Ella nodded. Her expression showed no sympathy. It showed nothing—like Boone’s.

  But maybe that was what two people in love did when there was a third, unwanted party in the mix. They turned cold. Like statues. To protect themselves.

  Cissie swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was the intruder in this scenario, the one who didn’t belong.

  She knew she should thank Ella for talking to her. She should. She’d practically forced the woman to confess. But Cissie’s manners fled, and she didn’t care.

  No doubt Ella didn’t, either.

  “I have to go,” Ella said quietly.

  This time, when she shut the door, Cissie kept both hands in her coat pockets. With bowed head, she turned and walked slowly back to the street.

  She had no recollection of getting back to the library.

  But when she found herself there, she ignored Sally’s concern.

  “Is anyone here?” she asked faintly.

  “No,” said Sally. “Just me and Hank Davis.”

  “Can you lock the door?”

  “Sure.”

  “And … and do you mind if I stay here alone a little while?”

  Sally bit her lower lip and shook her head. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Cissie whispered.

  Hank Davis came up and laid his palm on her ear and cheek.

  She tried to smile at him, then said to Sally, “I’ll be at Starla’s at six for the election results, I promise.”

  If by some crazy chance she became mayor of Kettle Knob that night, it wouldn’t be because the townsfolk were expressing confidence in her and her platform.

  If she won tonight, it would be because they were voting against Boone.

  Big difference.

  “See you then,” said Sally, her tone somber.

  Cissie pulled Hank Davis’s hand off her face and kissed it. “Thank you, honey.”

  Sally called Hank Davis over to the door. “It’s okay to be upset about what happened today,” she told Cissie. “Just remember, we love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Cissie eked out over a lump in her throat.

  Her two dear friends left, shutting the library door quietly behind them.

  As soon as she heard the lock turn, Cissie went straight to her desk, sat behind it, laid her head in the circle of her arms—

  And cried all over her stack of manila cards with blue lines.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  When Boone lost the election in a real squeaker—Cissie beat him by just enough votes to preclude a runoff—he wasn’t surprised. Of course, it meant that all the hard work he’d put in on the town’s behalf wasn’t rewarded with yet another term in office.

  But he hadn’t done those things to win an election. He could be proud of what he’d accomplished while he’d held the reins at Town Hall. And he could be happy for Cissie.

  But she would have none of it.

  She didn’t even sound happy for herself.

  When she delivered her acceptance speech, it wasn’t the one she’d shared with him. It was stilted. Short. Everyone attributed that to her shock that she’d defeated a Braddock, so they gave her a break.

  During Boone’s concession speech, so many people shook their heads from either regret that he lost or disapproval of his supposed shenanigans that he wanted to laugh about it later with Cissie.

  But he couldn’t.

  When they shook hands in front of the crowd and the cameras, it was the worst moment of his life. Grasping her palm, looking into her eyes, and having to hide his true feelings for her was bad enough. But now, her gaze lacked its usual warmth.

  It lacked hope.

  She moved out of his house that very same night.

  While she was upstairs packing, Laurie—who wasn’t the least bit friendly—filled him in on what was happening. Cissie and Nana were going to stay with the Hattleburys for the next two weeks. Laurie was taking Dexter, who meowed plaintively from a cardboard box on his way out.

  Cissie’s arms were full of clothes. “Bye,” she said, not really meeting his eyes. “Thank you very much for letting us stay here.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said formally.

  She returned the flowers he sent her the day after the election.

  He was about to dump them in the trash when he noticed that she hadn’t even opened up the small envelope containing his message of congratulations tucked into the blossoms. He picked up the sturdy white rectangle, turned it over, and read on the back: “I’m mayor because they’re punishing you, not because they like me.—CR.”

  That pissed him off. She’d won fair and square. Sure, there was some truth to her statement, but it wasn’t the whole truth: Kettle Knob had responded to her fresh approach, her optimism, her devotion to preserving their history and celebrating their town’s unique vibe.

  But he couldn’t tell her that.

  She was out of his life—by his choice and hers.

  As the days went by and he adjusted to his new reality, he realized that not being mayor was one thing but shrugging off his new less-than-stellar reputation was quite another.

  He wasn’t going to outright lie to anyone about why he’d been at Ella’s. But the speech he gave to the football players … Well, it went over like a load of bricks.

  “Ella’s a hardworking single mom,” he told them, “and we’ve been friends forever. Friends support each other. I kissed Miss Rogers because I like her, and I had no reason not to. And that’s all I’m going to say about my private life. You need to
respect my boundaries, and I hope you’ll trust me.”

  But the boys were looking at the guy who’d gotten in a fight at The Log Cabin, who’d been filmed kissing one woman and sneaking into the house of another. They walked away with wary looks in their eyes. Coach might not be playing by his own rules when it came to women and being a gentleman.

  Coach might even be a hypocrite.

  Boone hated their uncertainty and hurt. But just like the situation with Cissie, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do, either, about the principal, staff, and faculty members of Kettle Knob Academy—and how they weren’t talking to him much. They used to come to him for advice about a lot of things.

  That stopped abruptly after the TV show aired.

  In the school office, Laurie could barely look at him. He knew about Perry leaving her, so he understood her distance. She was in pain already, and she thought he’d messed with her best friend’s heart.

  And maybe he had.

  He didn’t know anymore.

  He let it slide.

  He let it all slide.

  “You can’t just sit around home,” his mother told him one afternoon a month after the election.

  She and Dad had come over and brought lunch. Too bad for them. They didn’t know it was Boone’s day—his bad day, his one truly bad day of the year.

  “I like sitting around home.” He poured himself another drink. “I’m not mayor. Why go schmooze with the beautiful people? I don’t need their influence anymore to get things done.”

  Long ago, he’d let his dreams die because he’d thought it was useless to pursue them. There was no way he could keep his secret and succeed at college. So why even try?

  “It’s the Christmas season,” his father said. “You look like hell.”

  His dad had looked like hell on signing day, when Boone hadn’t shown up in the school library to sign the scholarship papers and smile for the cameras.

  “You should have a party to show everyone you’re fine.” His mother’s eyes were dry now, but on signing day, she’d cried at the dinner table. “You can ask Janelle to help you.”

  Boone took a swig of bourbon. “That’s a great idea. And I’ll be sure not to invite any of the Rogers clan.”

  “You’re wise,” said his mother. “I’ll tell Janelle to give you a call.”

  “I was being sarcastic, Mom. I don’t want a party, and I talk to Nana almost every day.” That was a slight exaggeration. He called her a couple times a week to see how she was doing, but they never discussed Cissie. Nana said they were two adults who had to work out their own problems, and if they couldn’t, it wasn’t meant to be.

  Which sucked.

  He poured himself another bourbon.

  “Be nice to your mother,” his father said. “And you’ve had too much to drink. What are you doing drinking this early in the day anyway?”

  Boone had been walking to English class at Kettle Knob Academy on a Tuesday morning when he’d decided not to go to college. Signing day had been three weeks away, but he’d been too afraid to tell anyone about his choice, especially his parents.

  He’d let it slide.

  The same way he was letting everything slide now.

  His parents stayed another half hour, insistent on pretending that nothing was wrong—as usual. But luckily, they had a holiday barbecue to attend at their newest resort, and then a cocktail party that night.

  The doorbell rang at five.

  It was Ella, and she’d brought him a blackberry pie. “Hey, Boone. I made an extra for you.” When she smiled, she looked like sunshine.

  He might have said that out loud because she laughed.

  “Come on in,” he said. “Don’t mind me.” He still had his glass of bourbon in hand.

  She bent her head shyly and walked under his arm.

  Ella was a wonderful woman. She understood him. And she would make an excellent hostess at a holiday party at his house. Hell, she even knew blackberry pie was his favorite.

  In the kitchen, he threw his bourbon-holding arm around her and didn’t spill a drop. “I might have a party. Wanna help me throw it?”

  “I-I guess. Are you sure?”

  “You don’t sound too enthused,” he teased her.

  She shrugged and grinned. “It’s just that people have already been talking. We were on national news together, remember?”

  “So? We don’t listen to gossip.”

  “It cost you an election.”

  He raked his free hand through his hair. “Cissie won because she’s smart and upbeat. She has great ideas.”

  “She’s everything you say. But you’re smart and upbeat, too. You have great ideas.”

  “I’ve been faking it a long time. And people are figuring me out.”

  “You have not been faking it. You’re a hard worker. You’ve made a difference.” She shot him a dubious look. “But I think I’d better go. You’re drunk.”

  “Sorry.” He sighed. “It’s been a bad day.”

  “Why?”

  “It has to do with your mother. But I don’t wanna make you sad.”

  “Tell me.” She crossed her arms and looked intently at him.

  “Today’s the day I decided not to go to college fifteen years ago. She’d died the week before. I didn’t think I could do it without her.”

  “Boone.” Ella’s expression softened. “You could have found a tutor there.”

  “I know. But it would have meant giving a stranger a chance to judge me, find me lacking, and spread the word. A man can’t succeed on those terms.”

  “Success? What is that, really?” Ella took the bourbon out of his hands. “Can you be successful when you’re hiding a secret?”

  Boone frowned. “That’s too hard a question.”

  “Because you’re drunk.” She considered him for a few seconds. “This might be a terrible time to tell you my own secret.”

  “I’m not that drunk. I want to hear it.”

  She wrapped her arm around his waist and looked up at him. “You were always like a brother. Then that damned TV show put ideas in everyone’s heads. Eventually, it occurred to me, too—you’re one heckuva man.” She pulled back. “Boone, the truth is, I’ve developed a huge crush on you.”

  Boone’s heart sank. Ella knew him. She accepted him. She was pretty, sweet, creative, an all-around great person. He should have a crush on her.

  But …

  But there was Cissie. He’d never get over her.

  “Dang, Ella,” he croaked. “I wish—”

  “Never mind.” She backed away a step, her cheeks flushed. “I can tell you don’t see me that way. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry—”

  Her eyes were shiny.

  Damn. He’d messed with the heart of another good woman.

  “Ella—”

  She took off in the direction of the front door, and he followed.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m flattered. It’s not you. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”

  She shot him a wobbly smile. “But not you. I understand. Really. Although I thought I might have cause to hope. After all, you didn’t deny our affair to Cissie. She told me so.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. She walked to my house on Election Day and asked me.”

  “Wow.” Boone didn’t know what to say. Cissie hadn’t given up, even after he’d made it clear in that talk in his pickup truck that she should. He could see her now in that funny hat and coat, walking purposefully to Ella’s.

  “I think,” Ella said, “I shouldn’t have kept your secret for you. I should have told Cissie I was your reading tutor. Instead, I told her we were having an affair.” She shook her head. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  He hated imagining Cissie rapping on Ella’s door, asking if they were really involved romantically because she hadn’t believed him—

  Cissie and her hopes …

  “I can see it doesn’t sit at all well with
you,” Ella said. “What I told her.”

  He couldn’t deny it. Cissie had believed him. Had trusted him.

  Guilt assailed him. “I know you were trying to be a good friend to me,” he said softly. “I should never have let that happen, you protecting me like that. It was wrong.”

  “I agree.” Ella had never looked so serious. “You would have been better off letting Cissie love you. As you are now”—she gave him a sad, worried once-over—“you’re not doing so great, my friend.”

  “Maybe not,” he barely managed to say.

  Out of all fifteen bad days he’d had since high school, this one was the worst. Good thing that tomorrow it would be over.

  But then he remembered … he was having bad days all the time now.

  Ella opened the front door. “The truth is, if I can’t have you, Boone, I wish at least that Cissie had been able to. Though I’m not sure you deserve her,” she added quietly, and left before he could make it up to her.

  But how?

  How did a guy make up for being an insensitive clod who used an old friend as a crutch in more ways than one?

  And how was he ever going to win Cissie back?

  He leaned against the door and closed his eyes. He was drunk. But he needed another bourbon so he could stand the pain while he came up with a plan.

  His body didn’t cooperate, however. He slid down to the floor, and when he woke up at three in the morning with a splitting headache and the wind whistling in his ear from the crack at the bottom of the front door, he knew he had to come up with something else—

  Get himself back first.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Cissie-the-mayor and Cissie-the-librarian were still trying to work out their differences.

  As mayor, she’d managed to stave off the county: the Kettle Knob library would stay put but with shortened business hours and a total freeze on buying new materials for an unspecified period of time.

  But she didn’t feel guilty about it. At the strip mall, austerity measures—granted, to a slightly lesser extent—still would have been in place, and they would have had to share their limited resources with the town of Campbell. That wouldn’t have been so bad if Janelle didn’t tend to steamroll over Kettle Knob when it came to using county resources every chance she got. But she did. And Cissie wasn’t going to let her get away with it.