The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor

“When Jake and I discussed his retirement, I asked for names. Yours was the only one on the list.” Gil dumped three packets of sweetener into his coffee. He caught Luke’s arched brow and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. If this job doesn’t kill me the chemicals will.”

“Your life.” Luke shrugged. “Up to you what you do with it.” A lesson Luke had learned thanks to Jake Gordon, the only man who had ever given a damn about him. He owed Holly’s father more than he could ever repay, and now his debt to the man had increased. Dealing with twelve years of built-up small-town hostility and resentment seemed a small price to pay if he could set things right with Jake once and for all. Besides, it was only for a year. “What else is going on, Gil?”

Gil shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Luke glanced over his shoulder toward the Cocoon Club and lowered his voice. “Here’s what I know. I know the election was rough on you, and Jake Gordon was one of the reasons why since he backed your opponent. Letting Jake have a say in who replaces him was your way of mending fences. But you still have to prove you aren’t your father’s son, that you’re more than a walking bank account. Now you need to show you care about this town more than how many buildings have your name on the title.”

“You never were one to mince words.” Some of the friendliness disappeared behind Gil’s hawk-like green eyes. “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

Luke sat back. “I know your dad left you in a heap of trouble when he died last year and you’re still digging out from under. And there’s the baggage that comes with having a real SOB for a father. You figure I can relate. But you’re wrong if you think I won’t give you grief over plans for the town that I believe are out of line as you try to make amends.”

“You might be right.” Gil looked out the window onto the side street as if scanning the empty streets and abandoned businesses. Boarded-up windows. Peeling paint. Crooked signs and broken panes of glass.

Luke had seen it the second he hit town; he’d felt it, heard it, as if the town was crying out in silent agony.

Butterfly Harbor was dying.

“I want to get one thing straight before I pin that badge on. I’m nobody’s tool, Gil. You and the town council hired me to oversee the town’s transition and make sure law enforcement is up to the challenge of taking Butterfly Harbor in a new direction. While I’m grateful for the opportunity, it doesn’t mean I’m going to automatically agree with everything you say.”

“You mean you won’t be shy about telling me when I’m wrong?”

“I mean I’m my own man. Same as you’re trying to be. And don’t act as if we were buddies back in the day. We both know you and I lived in different worlds.”

“Yeah.” Gil let out a sharp laugh. “I guess you would think that. When I tracked you down I asked what you thought about my ideas and you agreed they sounded like positive change. You still think that?”

“I’ve always thought Butterfly Harbor could be more than it is. It’s special.” Yet another reason he’d come back. “It should be shared. Especially if it’s going to survive and thrive.”

“Ah.” Gil nodded, his blond hair brushing against the collar of his red polo shirt. “You did do your homework.”

“I’d have been stupid not to,” Luke said. “So yes, I know the town is hanging on by a fiscal thread. That the previous mayor, one of your father’s best friends, incidentally, overextended its credit and sent property values plummeting. Half the businesses in town can’t afford their mortgage payments because the bank your father owned is about to go under. Crime is on the rise, probably a result of the unemployment rate. The only way to stop Butterfly Harbor from turning into a ghost town is to bring new people and new investors in and entice those who are still here to stay. Yeah.” Luke lifted his water in a mock toast. “I did my homework. And while I might not agree with everything you have planned, I accepted the job for one reason. To help save this town.”

Because when all was said and done, Butterfly Harbor was the only home Luke had ever known.

CHAPTER THREE

“HOLY HAMBURGERS.” ABBY MANNING breezed into the kitchen like a dandelion on the wind as Holly dumped a load of sizzling fries from the fryer into a cardboard to-go container. “Is that who I think it is chatting up Mayor Gil ‘the Thrill’ Hamilton?”

As blond as Holly was brunette, as short as Holly was tall, Abby’s slack-jawed disbelief didn’t come close to registering on Holly’s shock-o-meter.

“If you mean Luke Saxon, you aren’t seeing things.” Holly slopped a ladle full of steaming chili on the pile of fries before topping it with a handful of shredded cheese...and imagined dumping the entire batch in Sheriff Saxon’s lap. “Please tell me you didn’t know he was coming and decided not to warn me.”

“Hey.” Abby’s frown sparked a flame of hurt anger on her face. “Best friends don’t keep secrets like that from each other.” Abby’s long blond curls whipped around pixie-like features as she peered through the open door into the diner.

“Apparently my father does.” How could he not have warned her?

“Your dad probably didn’t want to upset you,” Abby said. “These days anyone brings up what’s going on in town and you heat up like someone’s tossed water on a grease fire. And don’t pretend otherwise. You’ve been a walking hair trigger ever since the mayor and town council proposed their development plans.”

“They aren’t looking at the bigger picture. There’s more to saving Butterfly Harbor than expansion and construction.” The crime rate was exploding, vandalism and break-ins were on the rise and there wasn’t anything for the young people in town to do except wander the streets, bored, and get into trouble, especially now the last arcade in town had closed. She should know. One of the culprits lived in her house. “And FYI, expanding business for those of us who are still here isn’t a permanent or an instant solution.”

“It’s a start,” Abby said. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to have to consider. More hours, hiring new staff, adjusting your meticulous schedule.” Abby jerked her thumb in the direction of Holly’s work calendar and daily to-do list.

“There’s more to it.” Holly shook her head. “All those strangers coming to town? People who have no idea how idyllic this town is—”

“How idyllic it used to be,” Ursula chimed in as she chopped onions without shedding a tear. “Now it’s small. And getting smaller. Three more houses went up for sale this week alone. We need fresh blood in Butterfly Harbor. It’s either expand or die.”

“Which is why Gil’s ideas might be for the better.” Abby waved an approving hand in Ursula’s direction. “Granted, I didn’t think Gil’s plans would bring Luke Saxon back to town.” She waggled her eyebrows to take the edge off her contrary opinion. “He turned out pretty nice, though.” Abby leaned back and aimed a wide-eyed gaze in Luke’s direction. “Looks as if those rough edges got all smooth and shiny.”

Holly didn’t want to think about how “shiny” Luke Saxon had turned out. It had only been an hour since Luke had walked into the diner—an hour she’d spent scrubbing every pot and pan in the kitchen. Anything to distract herself and put her anger to some use. As if anyone could stay angry for long with Abby around.

Her best friend’s ebullient personality made a fairy-tale princess look depressed, which made Abby the ideal manager of the iconic Flutterby Inn, Butterfly Harbor’s oldest hotel-size bed-and-breakfast. With the exception of their notorious blowup over whether Big Bird or Elmo was the lynchpin of Sesame Street—Holly had sided with the bird—she and Abby had been inseparable since kindergarten.

“If you’re ogling Luke Saxon, you need to get out more.” Holly shoved the takeout container into a paper bag and carried it up to the register before she started a mocha shake. “You want lunch?”

“No, thanks.” Abby sidled up next to her. “Matilda made apple pancakes for our one guest this morning so I snacked on the leftovers. And I take it you don’t want to discuss you-know-who—” The rest of Abby’s observation was halted by Simon, aka you-know-who, as he raced around the counter and wrapped his arms around Abby’s waist.

“Aunt Abby.”

“Hey, squirt.” Abby enveloped Simon’s small frame and squeezed, aiming a look at Holly that ensured a long session of girl talk in the near future. And a very large bottle of chardonnay. “You still grounded?”

“Umm.” Simon blinked up at his mother. “Maybe?”

“Well, I hope not because I’m in desperate need of a movie marathon and a pizza from Zane’s.” Holly was all too familiar with Abby’s modus operandi when it came to giving mom and son a break from one another. “You game, kid?”

Simon’s face scrunched. “Which movies?”

“Your choice,” Abby said. “If your mom says it’s okay.” Abby blinked in Holly’s direction, her lashes fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings.

“Is it, Mom?”

“Why do you two always gang up on me?” Holly caught Myra’s signal that indicated the Cocoon Club members were ready for their checks.

“Because it works,” Abby called as she and Simon huddled in front of the cash register. “Come on, Holly.” Abby caught her arm on the way back. “Hasn’t the kid suffered enough?”

“Yeah, haven’t I?” Simon pleaded.

“Don’t push it,” Holly told her son as she rang up the bills. “Dinner and a movie. But that’s it. No side trips to the comic-book store.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“Take it or leave it, bucko.” Forbidding Simon from visiting his favorite store on the planet might be the only weapon she had left in her arsenal when it came to controlling his behavior.

“Fine.” Simon’s dramatic sigh could have won him an award for most put-upon child of the century.

“I’ll pick you up later, okay?” Abby gave Simon another squeeze as he bolted to his seat and flipped open the spiral notebook that never left his sight. “Thanks, Holl. I need a reminder not all members of the male species are cretins.”

Even if Holly had the notion to date again—who had the time or patience?—observing her best friend plumb the depths of the very shallow dating pool would have erased that thought like an out-of-control Etch A Sketch. Thirty might be around the corner, but it was a corner Holly was fine turning on her own. Besides, she had enough emotional baggage on her carousel. She didn’t need to add another 747’s worth. Didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy living vicariously through Abby. “Online date didn’t go so well last night?”

“He was geeky cute. His profile said ‘electronic specialist.’” Abby pouted as she took a seat at the counter while Holly finished up the shake by adding a shot of espresso. “Turns out he’s the maintenance guy for a two-lane bowling alley on the other side of the bay.” She shuddered. “And he wore rented shoes. Ick.” Abby glanced at Simon. “You two doing okay?”

“Oh, peachy.” Holly shoved the ice-cream-and-coffee-filled cup onto the shake machine. While it ran, she knocked heads with Abby. “Having your neighbors threaten to call the FBI on your eight-year-old is every mother’s dream. Who thinks to do something like that? Hacking into their Wi-Fi? Renaming their files after supervillains? Changing their passwords?” Having to explain the situation to Simon’s potential new principal had been as enjoyable as a root canal. How could her son be on a warning before he’d even started classes? “Do not let him out of your sight tonight, Abs. One more infraction and the school’s going to boot him. And no computer. I don’t care what he says.”

“You’ve got to let up on the little guy, Holl. He’s precocious. He’s smart. And he misses his dad. He’s acting out because he doesn’t know how to grieve.”

Holly hesitated. She missed Simon’s father, too. She missed having a partner when it came to raising their boy and making decisions about his future. Not that Gray had been the most reliable when it came to Simon—or anything else. That resentment, along with admitting by the time Gray died there had been little between them other than Simon, added another layer of sadness over the grief. “Grief doesn’t excuse him for committing a felony.”

“You could team up and commit one together,” Abby joked. “Talk about a bonding experience.”

“Not funny.” Holly grabbed a lid for the cup. Fear hovered like a dark cloud overhead. She couldn’t help but think she was screwing up her kid. How could she not, given the less-than-stellar example of absentee motherhood she’d been blessed with? All the more reason she’d do everything she could for Simon. She’d hold together what was left of her family no matter what and she’d never, ever leave him behind. If that meant having to watch him 24/7, so be it. Anyway, she should have known by now not to lose focus. Keeping her eye on the ball was the only way to make sure things ran smoothly. Look away...and disaster struck. “To you, Simon’s your perfect can-do-no-wrong godson. To me, he’s bail waiting to happen.”

“Speaking of bail...” Abby practically hummed. “Hello, Luke Saxon.” She spun around on her stool as Gil and Luke approached the register.

“Abigail Manning. You haven’t changed one bit.”

Holly’s resentment banked at the friendliness in Luke’s tone. Of course he remembered Abby. Everyone remembered Abby. Now that Holly stepped away from the past, she was able to see those smooth edges her best friend mentioned. While she could still see the angry, abused teenage Luke lurking behind those blue eyes, the man standing in front of her seemed weathered and in control of what had weighed him down for so long. Both the easy smile he gave Abby and the guarded but polite glance he aimed in Holly’s direction had her regretting the vehemence of her earlier anger.

“So when do we start calling you Sheriff Saxon?” Abby asked as Gil slid an apologetic look in Holly’s direction, then added the hint of a smile to calm the waters.

“I start next week,” Luke said with a pointed look at Holly. “And even then it’s temporary. I’ll be serving the remainder of Jake’s appointed term.”

“Well, in any case,” Abby said, “welcome home.”

“I appreciate that.” Luke deposited his change in the tip jar on the counter.

“Thanks,” Holly said, finishing up with Gil’s bill. As the two men turned to leave, she picked up the shake and the bag and followed them. “Here.” She held out the paper sack and foam cup to Luke. “Chili-cheese fries, chocolate mocha shake. For later.”

Luke blinked.

“Your usual. From back in the day.” Not at all what she’d planned to say, but at the last second, she shifted her tactics and stopped herself from letting the accusations fly full force. “Just because my father was willing to forgive you doesn’t mean I’m going to. But Grandma wouldn’t have sent you off without dinner on your first night back. So, well, there you go.” When she turned to the counter she avoided Abby’s know-it-all grin by focusing on Simon. Except his stool was empty. Her stomach dropped. “Crap. Where’s that kid gotten to now?”

* * *

“MAYBE I SHOULD have listed Holly under the hazard-pay clause of your contract.” The lines around Gil’s eyes appeared as he squinted against the early-afternoon sun. “She was borderline rude.”

“Rude would have been dumping this in my lap,” Luke said, uncertain how he should feel about the gesture. “Holly’s defending her father, Gil.” Luke stopped beside the dinged-up red pickup he’d bought from a police impound-lot auction last year. “I’m not going to fault her for it.” All these years, he couldn’t comprehend defending his own.

The bag Holly had pushed on him continued to steam as his other hand froze around the milk shake he had yet to let go of.

How much teenage time had he spent in the diner gorging on chili-cheese fries and downing mocha shakes to avoid going home because doing so usually meant his father would be passed out by the time he walked through the door? Those last couple of years before he’d left he’d done just about anything he could think of to avoid his father and the rage. At least in Sheriff Gordon’s holding cell he’d been safe.

His mouth quirked. Holly never would have supplied him with dinner if she knew doing so reminded him of one of the few good memories from his childhood. “Bonus for me. I don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”

“Must take a lot to tick you off.” Gil gave him a quick salute. “Good thing, given your new job. Oh, hey, I had Emery do some upkeep for your folks’ house. Nothing major. Mowed the lawn, sheared the shrubs, boarded up a few windowpanes to keep the chill out. The place isn’t in great shape—”

“Thanks, Gil.” Luke’s stomach gripped his still-digesting lunch. And here he thought facing Holly or her father would be the hardest part of his return. Going back to the house he’d sworn never to step foot in again... “I’ll catch up with you next week to talk about the department budget.” By then he should have his bearings.

Luke opened the door and leaned in to stow the fries and shake in the cab, and when he stood, he found the boy from the diner right behind him, accusing eyes scrunched, arms crossed over the emblem of his Proton Patrol T-shirt.

Even if Luke hadn’t known the boy’s father growing up, there was no mistaking Grayson Campbell’s son. Gray and Holly had been tied at the hip from the time she was sixteen. She, the knockout golden child of the town sheriff, and Gray, the drama-club president and star pitcher of the baseball team. As far as Luke was concerned, he couldn’t relate.

“You’re the man taking my grandpa’s job.” The accusation cut Luke to the quick, but he had to give the kid credit for confronting him. Few adults would have the nerve to do the same.

“I suppose I am.” Luke braced his arm on the door, giving the boy a chance to purge his grievance.

“But it’s his job. Not yours.”

Luke resisted the urge to squirm. “Does your mom know you’re out here...?”

“Simon.” Simon’s chin went up, his fists tightened. “Simon Grayson Campbell. And you’re Luke Saxon. I’ve heard about you.”

“I’m sure you have.” Luke could only imagine what the little man had heard. “I went to school with your parents. Did you know that?”

“Maybe.” Simon’s eyes reflected surprise and suspicion before grief flashed like a struck match. “My dad died.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Were you friends?” Even with the hostile stare, Luke saw hope searching for a way out.

“Everyone liked your dad.” Because Gray had treated everyone equally. Even the son of the town drunk. But no, they hadn’t been friends. Luke hadn’t had friends. “He was a good guy.”

Some of Simon’s suspicion faded. “I don’t like my grandpa to be unhappy. Mom says losing his job’s made him unhappy.”

“I’m sorry for that.” But he’d given his word to Jake and Gil. The diner door banged open. “I think your mom is looking for you.”

“Simon!” Holly blasted out the door, making her son jump and Luke wince. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of that tone, but at least he didn’t have to worry about this boy’s safety. “Come inside right now.”

“But he knew Dad.” Simon looked at his mom and then did as he was told.

“Hurry. Inside, now.” She pushed him in the door before she faced Luke. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him. From all of us.”

Chills of irritation pricked his spine as his jaw tightened. Did she think he was going to get in his car and run the kid down? “He followed me, Holly.”

“That might be, but next time—”

“Keep a better eye on your son and there won’t be a next time.” When she flinched, he let out a breath and counted to ten. Anger wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere—and he’d rather die than venture into the dark place anger would take him. “I apologize. That was uncalled-for. I was sorry to hear about Gray.”

“Thank you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and seemed to debate what to say next. She crossed her arms over her chest. When she spoke, he heard the resignation in her tight voice. “You’re really staying?”

“I really am. Better get used to it. Otherwise it’s going to be a very long year for all of us.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SHARP RAP on her back patio door Sunday morning sent flour flying as Holly noted the time on the kitchen clock. Nearly ten already? Where had the time gone? She’d better get a move on. She had to be at the diner by noon to take over for Ursula.

“It’s open, Dad.” The piecrust dough on the kitchen counter screamed for attention, which Holly gladly provided courtesy of her grandmother’s ancient rolling pin.

“Rough week?” Jake Gordon gave a cautionary glance around her yellow-and-blue country-chic kitchen that looked as if a bakery had exploded. Vanilla and hot sugar permeated the air in her storybook cottage house.

Being unable to sleep last night had had her up and working by four this morning. The restlessness seemed to be happening frequently, the more she thought about growing up in Butterfly Harbor and how everything was changing. Now five pies into her baking for the week meant a blackberry, a blueberry lemon and an apple crumb were cooling on the side counter, and two chocolate-mint creams were stashed in the fridge. She’d be lucky if the lemon meringue she was working on now made it past midnight, given her penchant for late-night stress snacking.

“The week was fine.” She pounded the pin against the handmade dough, bringing layers of butter and flour to the surface as Jake strode to the refrigerator. “Yesterday was a bit of a kicker.”

The hand-carved cane aiding her father’s uneven gait struck Holly as ironic, given the man responsible for Jake’s limp had waltzed his way into her diner a little over twenty-four hours ago.

Holly rolled the crust out from the center to the uneven edges of pastry, trying not to give in to the worry bearing down on her. How could he be taking his forced retirement so easily? Even his khaki uniform—the uniform he wore seven days a week because he was always on call—looked as if it was ready to slump into retirement more readily than her father. Thinking of the not-so-far-off day when he’d no longer be wearing his uniform hurt her heart.

“So Luke Saxon’s the new sheriff,” she said when her dad didn’t inquire further.

Had Holly not been watching, she might have missed her father’s split-second hesitation before he twisted off the lid of the orange-juice container and poured a glass. He recovered in true Jake Gordon style, with a shrug of his shoulders and a quirk of his lips, but Holly could see a trace of regret in her father’s assessing gaze.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you gnawing on something you couldn’t change. We both know you can worry something into the ground if you’re given enough notice. Add Luke Saxon to the equation, and I just didn’t have the energy.”

“You’re right.” Holly rolled the dough over the pin and transferred the unbaked crust into a pie tin before downing the last of her coffee. “Having him walk into the diner without any warning made it so much easier.”

Jake hid his wince behind a long drink of juice. “I didn’t think he was due in town yet. Luke always was a fan of the unexpected. Guess some things haven’t changed after all.”

“Huh.” Except Luke was older and more mature, both in stature and in attitude. And while there had been an aloofness about him, there was also a simmering something keeping him front and center in her thoughts. Resignation nibbled at the edge of Holly’s distrust. He said he’d changed, but people didn’t. Not when they said they would; not when she hoped they would. Not even when they promised to, time and time again. She’d dealt with more broken promises than she had broken eggs. Holly separated the half dozen yolks for the lemon-curd filling and dismissed the doubt. “As far as I could tell, nothing about Luke has changed.”

“His employment record states otherwise.” Jake lowered himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and helped himself to a banana from the blue mosaic fruit bowl she kept filled.

“You’ve seen his record?” She tossed empty shells into the compost bowl on the sink as she pursed her lips to keep the snark to a minimum.