After a two-hour flight that had started off smooth but soon became turbulent, Greer and Hunter landed at the Lake Tahoe Airport and caught a taxi to Avis Car Rental where Hunter handled all of the paperwork.
As they lugged their suitcases out to a silver Toyota sedan that would be theirs for the next five days, he pressed the key fob, unlocking the vehicle, then popped the trunk and flung her suitcase inside followed by his own. All the while Greer stared up at the dark sky, its stars in timeless constellation.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a single star in all the years I’ve lived in New York,” she said, vaguely aware of Hunter closing the trunk and nearing her.
He glanced up as well, speaking softly in her ear, “We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.” Urging her to the passenger’s side door, he added, “The stars will still be there when we get to Hope Falls.”
She shot him a teasing smile, as he opened the car door for her, and then slipped into the passenger’s seat.
As she watched him round the hood of the sedan, climb in behind the steering wheel, and fit the key into the ignition, she lazily drew her seatbelt across her chest and thought about the lesson plan she had outlined for the kids.
It would only be five days but she could still leave those young students with a lasting impression, a love of art, and the motivation to continue their artistic pursuits even after she left, she told herself, as Hunter turned the engine and eased his foot on the accelerator.
As they drove east, tires whirring over asphalt and cool air breezing through the vents, she found Hunter’s hand and laced their fingers together then drifted off to sleep.
An hour and a half later, she woke to the sound of Hunter’s smooth and deep voice saying, “This is adorable,” as the sedan crept along Main Street.
When she opened her eyes and glanced around, she saw small, storefront businesses all lit up on either side of the road—a gym, a firehouse, a little shop called Brewed Awakenings, a bookstore called Read Between the Lines. She read sign after sign—Two Scoops Ice Cream, Lone Pine Lanes, a little cinema with the town's name on its marquee. Residents were strolling along the wooden sidewalks. Couples held hands. Parents wrangled their children. Teenagers joshed around, leaping after one another as they turned the corner down Bluebird Road. The small-town feel of the place—quaint and heartwarming—gave her the impression that in five days time she might not want to leave.
Hunter glanced at the rearview before easing on the brakes and scanning the storefront windows. “We’re looking for Sue Ann’s Cafe,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “That’s where Amy Maguire said she’d meet us.”
Greer began checking the remaining signs, which was a challenge since her gaze kept wandering towards the lush, green pine trees in the distance, though they were cloaked in shadows. “Oh! Right up there,” she blurted out. “On the left.”
“Got it,” he said, stepping on the gas.
As they neared the cafe, Hunter did some fast maneuvering and pulled a U-turn, aligning the sedan along the curb where a woman with brown hair cropped to her shoulders was standing next to a Great Dane that in Greer’s estimation was practically a horse.
“Is that Amy?” she asked, studying the woman, who was now in her side view mirror.
When the woman smiled, giving them a little wave, which excited the massive dog beside her, Greer knew her guess had been right.
After killing the engine and flipping off the headlights, Hunter hopped out and Greer followed suit, stepping onto the sidewalk.
Amy approached, at times speaking to the Great Dane in a deep and assertive tone perhaps to subdue her thrilled and slobbering sidekick. Though she smiled, she seemed reserved and when she spoke, her tone was soft and low. “Welcome. I’m so glad you made the trip.”
Greer was the first to shake her hand. She bubbled up with nerves, saying, “Thank you so much for inviting us. This is my boyfriend, Hunter Black.”
“Yes, Hunter,” said Amy, giving his hand a hearty shake and eyeing him as though honored to be in his presence. “I know all about your work. We’re happy to have you and I’m sure the kids will appreciate having both of you, Tasha Buckley and Jennifer Okimoto as well.”
The Great Dane let out a gruff bark so as not to be overlooked.
“This is Scooby Doo,” said Amy, making a bit of a performance out of introducing her dog.
Hunter wasted no time ruffling the dog’s head and gave him a series of strokes and pats.
“I’d like to get you both settled at the Meadow View Bed & Breakfast,” she went on. “And I can give you a little tour of town if you’re up for it.”
Greer brushed her hair off her shoulder and said, “I’m definitely up for it. I’d really love to swing by the Youth Rec Center just to make sure our materials are in order since camp starts bright and early tomorrow.”
“Certainly,” said Amy, shifting her gaze to Hunter who seemed enthralled with her dog. He was petting the smooth, gray fur on Scooby Doo’s head, falling in love with the regal animal. “Michael James Gowan is also eager to meet you both, though his schedule has been impossible. I believe he has a few engagements this evening.”
“I’d definitely like to shake his hand,” said Hunter, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “For a Senator to dedicate so much of his time and resources to serving the kids in the community with art programs and after school programs is commendable. You don’t find that too often in New York.”
She smiled in response then proposed, “It might be simpler to drive together unless you’d like to follow me.”
Hunter deferred to Greer, who said, “Would you like to come with us? Does that work?”
“The real question is do you mind Scooby Do in the backseat?”
Hunter let out a breathy laugh and said, “Not if I can sit by him.”
He tossed Greer the car keys and she jogged to the driver’s side door. Hunter took the Great Dane’s leash from Amy and led her to the rental car.
After he settled the dog in the backseat and climbed in, Amy hopped in the passenger’s seat and pulled her safety belt across her chest, as Greer fired up the engine and adjusted the mirrors.
She kept her gaze sharp and her ears open, as Amy began giving her directions that involved making a series of left hand turns so she wouldn't have to pull a U-ie in the middle of Main Street. Soon they connected with the center of town, this time heading in the right direction, and drove five miles east to the B&B where Amy had made reservations for them as well as Tasha and Jennifer, who would be arriving the following morning to teach photography and painting at the summer art camp.
“Here we are,” said Amy, as they came upon a quaint two-story inn that was painted blue and tucked behind a bar-restaurant—JT's Roadhouse.
As Greer eased off Main Street, angling down a dirt road, she spied residents laughing and shooting pool inside the bar, and made a mental note to check the place out with Hunter one of these nights.
From the backseat, Scooby Doo barked happily, his canine eyes locked on a man who was nearing their vehicle as it rolled to a stop.
“That’s Levi Dorsey,” said Amy, as she popped the passenger’s side door open. “He owns JT’s Roadhouse and fixed this place up into a nice little bed and breakfast for people like yourself.”
As Greer climbed out of the car, she snuck a peek at Levi and thought they sure do make ‘em tall in Hope Falls.
Just shy of 36, Levi had to be at least 6’4” and his commanding gait and easy smile made Greer wonder about all the lucky ladies who might have set their sights on him and had the night of their lives.
Perhaps sensing her curiosity, Hunter stepped up beside Greer and wrapped his arm around her so that there would be no misunderstandings should the tall and handsome stranger take an interest in her.
When Greer saw a ring on the man’s finger, she jabbed her elbow into Hunter's ribs.
After Amy made brief introductions, Levi mentioned they could go on inside to check in, which they did, hoisting their suitcases out of the trunk and starting for the inn, leaving Amy and Levi to chat quietly near the car.
The receptionist—a soft spoken young woman with a wild mess of blond curls framing her face, which she kept huffing and puffing off her forehead—was ready with their room keys and wasted no time walking them up to their room on the second floor. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," she said before starting down the hallway.
Greer pushed the door open and discovered a homey, yet sizable room. “I love it,” she said, glancing around at the pink curtains, rosy wallpaper, white wicker furniture, and queen-sized bed, the comforter of which was equally feminine.
Hunter dragged their suitcases in front of the dresser and set them down with a grunt then flopped on the bed. Reaching for her, he said, “Come here.”
There was something about the room, or maybe Hope Falls in general, that brought out the bubbly side of Greer—someone she hadn’t been since leaving New Hampshire as a young woman, not yet bitter and beaten down by life. She bounded over to the bed and plopped beside him, squealing out, “I really like it here.”
He laughed and pulled her in for a hug, which they both savored, lying on their sides facing one another and curled up like two vines entwined.
She let out a long sigh and said, “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t check on the clay.”
Groaning, he released her and after locking up their room and padding down the stairs, they joined Amy outside.
“Levi ran off?” asked Hunter.
“He had to get back to the bar,” she said with a smile. “Ready?”
As they drove back into town—Hunter behind the steering wheel, Amy directing him from the passenger’s seat and pointing out historical landmarks, giving them the tour she'd promised— Greer gazed out the rear window and wondered what her life might have been like had she grown up in a place like this?
Possibly the same, she thought. People who grew up in small towns often gravitated towards big cities and vice versa. She promised herself she would use the next five days to take advantage of all that Hope Falls had to offer, and at the same time she felt grateful that she lived in New York. It was the center of the art world after all. Maybe one day she would settle down in a town like this, but for now, she was happy where she was.
Soon they were driving over a bridge that arched over a winding river and a few moments later the road wove through a dense forest. Before long they arrived at a brick building—the Youth Rec Center.
“I have a set of keys for you,” said Amy, as they climbed out of the sedan. After ushering Scooby Doo out of the backseat, she flipped through her key ring then plucked one of the keys free and handed it to Greer. “This way you can come and go as you please, as early as you like. If you happen to stay late some nights working on your own pieces,” she added, “we’d love to display them along with the kids artwork at the end of the week.”
Greer glanced at Hunter, shooting him a nervous look to convey she wasn’t sure how she’d hunker down and work on her own sculpture with all this natural beauty around her.
Headlights flared across the Youth Rec Center, as a pickup truck turned off the street.
“That’s my ride,” said Amy, glancing over her shoulder at the man seated behind the steering wheel. “There are no alarms and there’s nothing fancy about locking up,” she assured them, starting off towards the pickup. “You know you’re way back?”
“We’ll be fine,” said Hunter, waving her off and smiling. “Have a great night.”
“Thanks again!” Greer chimed in.
Amy urged Scooby Doo into the truck bed then hopped into the passenger’s seat of the pickup truck.
After the vehicle had driven off, it got so quiet that Greer heard crickets. She glanced up at Hunter, who was standing close enough to give her racy ideas. She wished they were back at the Meadow View B&B already.
He grazed his hands up and down her arm, anticipating the chill in the air would get to her, and his eyes turned hungry. Tilting his head, his lips nearing hers, he said, “Look at you.” He stroked her hair back and held her face. “You’re a living work of art.”
“So are you,” she breathed, the possibility of wrestling him to the ground to have her way with him crossing her mind.
When he pressed his lips against hers, her eyes drifted shut and she was swept away in an instant. She found his hips and held him tightly, feeling the length of his body pressing against hers.
Their kiss deepened, ebbing and flowing, as they explored the silken curves of each other’s lips. A rush of arousal fluttered through her and in its wake, a soft moan escaped.
Easing off, he delivered gentle pecks between each word as he said, “Game plan. Check the clay. Check the water basins. Make sure the tools are in order. Then-”
“Back to the inn,” she supplied.
“Into bed,” he added, their lips touching between every syllable. “We can do it in under five if we really want it.”
She laughed, saying, “Oh, I want it.”
And just like that, they started for the entrance door, padding up the walkway then the stone steps.
Greer keyed in and as they edged into the dark entryway, Hunter found the light switch.
For all intents and purposes the Youth Rec Center was a gymnasium, but Amy and the other art camp coordinators had done a fine job of protecting the floors with rubber mats. At the back of the room was the stack of supplies that Greer had requested via email and at first blush everything seemed in order.
The clay was still sealed in plastic, the bricks stacked against the wall. Nearby was an industrial shelving unit. She began opening the drawers and noting the sculptor's tools. Once she reached the bottom drawer, having checked the others, she was satisfied all of the supplies were there and she would be able to start the first day of camp tomorrow with no unpleasant surprises.
“Hey,” said Hunter, as he reached for one of the bricks of clay. “Check it out.”
She neared him, glancing up at the brick she had overlooked. He pulled it down from the top of the stack and she saw that its plastic wrapper had been partially peeled off, a chunk of its corner missing. As she examined it, she discovered what looked like fingernail marks. It was as though someone had scraped off a hunk.
Suddenly a clatter came from the hallway.
It had sounded like a metal shelving unit crashing to the ground.
Hunter widened his eyes at Greer and then started off through the dim hallway, following the sounds into a dark room. As she hurried after him, he said, “Hey, Buddy.”
Standing sheepishly amidst a slew of milk crates that had fallen from a stack in the corner of the room was a young boy, who in Greer’s estimation looked about twelve years old. He was frail and short for his age, with a mop of oily, brown hair. His face appeared a bit stained as well and the shirt he wore—long sleeved and dingy—seemed to swallow his bony frame.
“What’s your name?” asked Hunter, hunching over to meet the boy’s small stature.
Though the kid seemed reluctant to make eye contact, he fiddled with the loose hems of his shirt, hiding his hands, and said, “Jamie. Jaime Sand.”
“Hi Jamie,” he said. “I’m Hunter and this is Greer.”
As though fearing punishment, Jamie worked his long sleeves up his wrists and offered Hunter the ball of clay he’d stolen.
“You can keep that,” said Hunter in a gentle voice, as Greer found the light switch.
When the room brightened, the boy squinted like a nocturnal creature not used to man made lights. But soon his eyes adjusted and he glanced up at her. Pale blue eyes, she thought, yet something so sad about them.
Hunter must have sensed it too—the child’s sadness—because he offered the kid a big smile to compensate and said, “Are you coming to art camp tomorrow?” When Jamie nodded bashfully, he added, “Well, Greer and I are going to teach you so you can hang onto that clay. We’re not going to fault you for being enthusiastic, that’s for sure.”
He reached for the boy’s hand, but Jamie recoiled, slinking away.
Greer immediately locked eyes with Hunter.
Something was off with this kid.
“Why don’t we go out into the main room,” she suggested, “and I’ll show you a thing or two about molding clay.”
After angling his pale blue eyes skeptically at Hunter, Jamie edged towards Greer and took her hand.
She smiled confusedly at Hunter, as she led the kid out into the rec center.
“First, you should roll up those sleeves,” she said, as she selected a sculpting tool from the top drawer of the shelving unit. But when she glanced over her shoulder at him to make sure he’d done just that, she found him hunched with his arms folded in refusal.
Again, Hunter looked at her and a silent conversation ensued, which resulted in her kneeling in front of the boy and asking, “Sweetheart, how did you get all the way up here by yourself?”
“Walked,” he said without further explanation.
“In the dark?” she asked, worried for him.
Jamie twisted his mouth to the side and without warning embraced her so roughly that she nearly lost her balance. In a heartbeat, Hunter advanced on the kid, having misunderstood the desperate gesture. But before he could pry the kid off of her waist, Jamie bolted through the rec center, slammed his palms against the door, and spilled down the stone steps into the dark night before either of them could make sense of it.
One thing was clear, however—this quaint town wasn't as perfect as it seemed and Greer was itching to find out why.