Chapter 1

 

Thud! The airplane’s tires hit the tarmac, jolting Ella’s neighbor awake. The woman had fallen asleep almost as soon as the airplane took off from London and hadn’t made a peep since. Ella wished she’d been able to do the same. Sleep had eluded her despite her best efforts. She’d even brought along an eye mask and earplugs. They’d helped her sleep months ago when she made the trip from Boston to London and on to Paris. Today nothing helped. Since she’d managed to arrive home safely despite almost missing her plane because her flight out of Paris had been delayed, and the crazy turbulence they’d experienced somewhere over the Atlantic making her fear she’d die in plane crash, she wouldn’t complain.

“Welcome to Boston. Please remain seated until the captain turns off the fasten seat belt light.” The flight attendant’s voice filled the cabin as Ella watched the scene outside the plane window.

Despite the instructions, Ella released her belt and reached under the seat for her purse and carry-on bag. The way she saw it, the plane was on the ground, so she no longer needed the seat belt. The woman next to her did the same.

“This is my first time to Boston,” the woman said with a British accent. “My daughter is studying at university here.”

“Boston’s a great city. You’ll enjoy it.” Ella searched through her purse until she found her smartphone. She switched off airplane mode and sent her parents a message, letting them know she’d landed safely.

“Then Boston is home for you?”

“More or less. I live about forty minutes outside the city.”

No point in telling her she lived in North Salem. Few people outside the United States knew the town existed. Although more people knew about the small town now, thanks to the media attention it’d received over the past few years, it still lacked the name recognition its more famous neighbors received. The town’s citizens preferred it that way.

“Is there anything you think I must do or see while I’m in the city?”

Ella considered all the city offered, and unfortunately memories from her last trip into Boston, a month before she left for France, popped up. She’d surprised Striker for his birthday and got them tickets to see his favorite band, as well as two nights at a downtown hotel. Despite having a great weekend, he’d broken up with her not long afterward. “I’d take a duck boat tour before you leave. It drives you all around the city before going into the Charles River.”

“It sounds unique.”

“If you enjoy art, visit the Museum of Fine Arts. It’s a favorite of mine in Boston.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep both in mind.”

Ella forced her memories back into their little corner and joined the other passengers filing off the plane.

After adding her last suitcase to the already-packed baggage cart, she maneuvered her way through baggage claim and outside. It took only a quick visual inspection of the vehicles before she spotted Jessie Quinn’s compact car. She’d hated asking Jessie for a ride today. The woman’s wedding was in two days. Ella imagined she had a hundred things still to do. Her options had been limited. Mom hated driving anywhere near Boston and Dad didn’t return from his business trip until Friday. She’d considered asking her older sister, but that meant Claire would have to make arrangements for someone to watch her daughter or drag Kerry along. That only left her friends. Cat would’ve been the more logical choice, but every time she saw Cat she thought of Cat’s brother, Striker. She didn’t need or want memories of him bombarding her before she even made it to town. As it was, once she got home there’d be no escaping the memories or the man. North Salem consisted of only so much space. No matter what, she’d eventually bump into him. Today she hoped to put the inevitable off at least until the weekend. Mack Ellsbury’s best friend and his best man, Striker would be at Jessie and Mack’s wedding on Saturday, along with more than half the town.

Jessie came around the car and hugged her, knocking the top suitcase off the cart in the process. “Welcome back. I grabbed you an iced coffee on my way here. It’s in the car.”

Leave it to Jessie to think of having an iced coffee waiting for her.

“You’re a life saver. Haven’t had a decent one since I left in May.”

“Hmm, four months in Paris or iced coffee. Think I’d make the sacrifice,” she said, her strong Boston accent making Ella realize how much she’d missed the sound of it and home. French sounded beautiful, but the Boston accent was one of a kind. Jessie opened the trunk and dropped in the suitcase she’d knocked off.

Somehow, they squeezed all but two of Ella’s suitcases into the trunk. Exactly how, she’d never know. After Ella tossed the stragglers and her carry-on into the back seat, Jessie joined the other vehicles exiting the terminal while Ella savored the best iced coffee she’d had in what seemed a lifetime.

“Okay, fill me in. What’ve I missed?” A minivan in the right lane cut them off, no directional light in sight, and Jessie slammed on the brakes. Massachusetts drivers. It’s good to be back.

“Ella, it’s North Salem, not Paris… what do ya think you missed?”

Perhaps the town didn’t have the same excitement as Paris, but things happened. Celebrities even visited from time to time. One even now called North Salem home and in a few weeks would be marrying one of its own. “The town hasn’t been sleeping since I left. Stuff has happened. Give me something.”

Silence answered.

“Jessie, c’mon.”

“I’m thinking.” She changed lanes before speaking again. “Gramps took Gran on a cruise this summer. They went down to Bermuda. First vacation in twenty years. They had a blast. Gran is already talking about going on another one soon. Gramps isn’t as enthusiastic. But I think they’ll go again.”

Not exactly the type of news she’d hoped for, but still good. “That’s awesome.”

“And Dakota Smith, an FBI agent Mack works with, bought the foreclosed house on Union Street.”

She didn’t know the guy, but she hoped Mack’s friend knew how to use power tools. For the past five years, the house had remained empty, and at least on the outside it needed a lot of work. Rumor had it local teens had used it for parties and trashed the inside, too. “Good luck to him. You’d have to give me the place for free to take on that project.”

“You and me both. Mack’s been over there helping him. Sean and Tony have stopped over a few times, too. They’ve managed to make it at least livable. But Dakota’s got a lot of work left.”

“Livable? Yikes. Do I even want to know?”

“Yeah, not really. But let’s just say none of the guys will ever bid on a house they can’t see the inside of first.”

“Guessing Dakota never watched any of those house hunting shows on television.”

Jessie laughed and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“Anything else you can think of? How was your bachelorette party?” She’d wanted to go last month, but couldn’t justify flying home and then back to Paris just for a weekend.

“Great. The five of us did a paint night and then went to a comedy club.”

“Sorry I didn’t make it.” Like many of her friends, she’d known Jessie most of her life. They’d gone to school together and played on the same soccer team all the way through high school.

Jessie stopped as the highway became a parking lot of commuters on their way home. “No worries. It didn’t make sense for you to fly home for one night. But we need to go out soon. Last month I went to this indoor laser tag place. It was —”

“Laser tag? Seriously?”

“Mia’s bachelorette party. She wanted something different. Anyway, it was wicked awesome,” Jessie said, referring to Mia Troy, an A-list Hollywood actress who’d visited North Salem over a year ago and fallen in love with the co-owner of the town’s bed-and-breakfast. In less than three weeks, the two were getting married.

“Has the media already descended on town?” When Sean and Mia first announced their engagement, every media outlet had sent reporters and photographers to North Salem. While it’d been great for local business, it had driven many of the locals crazy.

The line of traffic inched forward, and Jessie looked over once it came to a standstill again. “Don’t tell anyone, but Sean and Mia got married two weeks ago.”

This type of news should’ve been shared long before now. “Nothing ever happens, huh? C’mon, out with all the details, and how do you know anyway? What about the wedding on the tenth?”

“We both know that day is going to be a media circus. So they arranged a private civil ceremony on Martha’s Vineyard. One of Mia’s good friends owns a place over there. They only invited Tony and Mia’s older sister. Sean asked me to watch Max while they were gone.”

“He left his dog out? No way. I don’t believe you. I expected Max to be a groomsman for sure.” Ella couldn’t help herself. Everyone knew how much Sean cared about his big Irish Wolfhound.

“Between you and me, I bet he considered it,” Jessie said, smiling. “Anyway, on the tenth the big church wedding and reception will happen. It’s what people expect.” The cars started moving, and she turned her attention to the road again. “Ask Cat about Sean and Mia’s ceremony. She went with Tony.”

Of course, Cat had gone. She and Tony were married, as hard as it was to believe sometimes. Even after Cat and her high school sweetheart broke up, Ella had assumed her friend would get back together with him. Never in a million years would she have predicted that Cat would instead fall for the town’s resident playboy, Tony Bates. But it happened. Although they’d hit a rocky patch early on, the two had been married for over eight months now.

“Uh, maybe. If I think of it.” Ella sipped her iced coffee and watched the traffic around them.

She’d avoided seeing Cat for the two weeks between when Striker broke up with her and when she left for France. She’d never admit it, but she suspected her friends had noticed. At the time, being around Cat reminded her too much of Striker, a man she’d thought might be the one. Being back for good, though, meant she needed to get over it. They’d known each other since preschool. You didn’t throw away such a strong friendship over a guy. Even if the guy was your close friend’s older brother.

“Cat’s picking up takeout from the Jade Orient and meeting us at your house. We figured you wouldn’t want to go food shopping tonight. Kelsey plans on stopping in, too, when she gets off.”

Ella appreciated the gesture, but she’d rather not confront her emotions on less than six hours sleep. “Great.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm, and Jessie picked right up on it.

“Cat’s still pissed at Striker for breaking up with you. She hasn’t invited him to her house all summer. I don’t think she talks to him much either, unless she has to.”

That made two of them. “She shouldn’t be. Relationships end. It happens. She wouldn’t be mad if he’d broken up with someone else. Just because we’re friends shouldn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t mean she has to like it. I don’t think it helped that he started dating again right after you left.”

Jessie’s words sent an arrow straight through her chest. She’d guessed he’d started dating again. Striker wasn’t the type to stay single long. Still, hearing it made it real.

“Not that any of them lasted.”

Again, not a huge surprise. He’d told her himself, their relationship had lasted longer than any of his other ones.

“Can’t remember the last time I saw him with someone. Mack says he’s always in a bad mood. Claims it’s because Striker hasn’t, well, you know, in a while.”

Striker’s sex life or lack of one wasn’t her concern. “We all have problems.”

“I think he misses you.” Jessie took the highway off-ramp toward North Salem. “Mack refuses to offer an opinion.”

Right now, she wished Jessie would follow her fiancé’s lead. “He’d have to care to miss me,” Ella said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “And he doesn’t. So how about we talk about something else? Please.”

“Sorry. I told myself not to mention him today, too. What about you? Did you meet any nice guys while in France?”

“One or two.” Okay, maybe more, but she’d never looked at any of them as more than colleagues or friends. “But if you’re asking if I dated, the answer is no. Didn’t really have the time.” More like desire. She’d taken many of her possessions when she left North Salem, but despite her best efforts, her heart hadn’t been one of them.

“Good. Well, not good because you didn’t meet someone, but good because you’re still single. I think you’ll get along well with Mack’s friend, Dakota. He’s a super nice guy.” Jessie stopped at a red light and glanced over at her. “At the reception, you’re both at the same table.”

She’d never known Jessie to play matchmaker.

“And don’t worry, I put Striker across the room with Tony and Cat.”

Too bad Jessie couldn’t put him across the state instead. “What’s Dakota like?” She’d heard his name but never met him. Honestly, she didn’t want to get into a relationship with anyone right now, no matter how nice he was. But it’d give Jessie something to talk about other than Striker.

“He’s been an FBI agent for six years, but only in the Boston office for two,” Jessie said. “Before coming here, he worked in the Albany office. And he grew up in Arizona.”

Ella listened and watched the landscape passing by. With each minute, they got closer to home and the very person she wasn’t ready to see again.

***

Striker checked his watch as he entered the high school locker room. Had her plane landed? His sister had slipped during a cookout at their parents’ house and mentioned that Ella was arriving home today. He’d asked for specifics, but Cat refused. And not because she’d been instructed not to share, or at least he doubted it. His and Cat’s relationship had been strained since the previous fall when he’d first found out about her involvement with Tony and gave her hell. Something he wasn’t proud of. After their wedding, things had gotten better between him and his sister—until he fucked up big-time. Since he’d broken up with Ella, his relationship with his sister remained in the toilet.

“Got someplace to be?” Tony Bates, the football team’s other assistant coach and his brother-in-law, asked, following Striker into the locker room.

More like somewhere he wanted to be but wouldn’t be welcome. “Negative. You?”

Tony leaned up against a row of lockers. “Cat’s going over to Ella’s after work. She came home today. Thought I’d stop in Masterson’s and grab dinner, maybe watch the Red Sox game. God knows how long Cat will be over there.”

“Forgot she came home today,” he said, unwilling to admit he’d known exactly what day it was. “But it makes sense. The semester starts soon. Who’s picking her up in Boston?”

“Jessie.”

“The three of them together. You won’t see Cat until tomorrow.”

Tony shrugged. “If you’ve got nothing planned, join me.”

He’d never say it, but he appreciated the offer. Despite Tony being a few years older, they’d been friends a long time. Like his relationship with Cat, their friendship had suffered the previous fall. Punching a guy in the face had a way of doing that. Over the past several months, things had returned to normal between them. “I’ll see you there.”

After a long convo with Pop, the team’s head coach and his dad, Striker left what was his home away from home this time of year.

Cars and trucks filled the parking lot when he pulled in ten minutes later. Located on Fender Drive, Masterson’s was the oldest restaurant in town. Opened in the 1950s by Lou Masterson, it started out as a small diner but had grown over the years. Now, the locals’ favorite could seat about two hundred people, and had an additional banquet hall as well as pub attached. Most days Lou could still be found lording over the restaurant, making sure everything ran the way he wanted it. Tonight, when Striker walked in, Lou’s granddaughter stood at the hostess station.

“Hi Striker,” Mara said when he approached. The benefit and the curse of spending your whole life in a small town was that everyone knew each other. “Table for one?”

Striker heard the question in her voice. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever shown up here alone.

“Meeting Bates. Have you seen him?”

Mara pointed over her shoulder. “He’s in the pub.”

“Great, thanks.”

Unlike the main dining room and the seasonal patio tables, customers could go in the pub and sit at any open table or at the bar. Tonight, Tony sat at the bar. Striker passed by the bar’s other occupant without a word. He’d never liked Brendan Michaels. The guy had a short temper and a big mouth, both of which got worse the more he drank. And Brendan liked to drink. Although only Tony and Brendan sat at the bar, most of the tables in the pub were full. Down the opposite end of the room a few guys played a game of pool. The two large flat-screen TVs in the room had baseball games on. All in all, it looked like any other Thursday night at the pub.

Tony’s beer and what looked like an order of buffalo chicken tenders were half gone. “Figured you changed your mind and went home,” he said when Striker sat down next to him.

“Pop needed to talk.”

“Help yourself. I’ve got a burger on the way, too.” Tony pushed the appetizer toward him as well as the stack of napkins the bartender had left behind.

Striker didn’t hesitate. He’d eaten an early lunch and nothing since. Now the acid in his stomach was burning a hole though it. The combination of extra-spicy hot chili powder and smoked paprika scorched his mouth. No one made hotter buffalo sauce. A lot of customers couldn’t handle it and instead ordered the mild version, but not Striker and his friends. Reaching for a napkin, he tore off another chunk with his teeth.

“Looks like it’s your lucky night. Cora’s on.” Tony nodded toward the far end of the bar and the bartender.

Striker’s eyes slid to the attractive blonde filling mugs with beer. They’d hooked up numerous times before he’d gotten together with Ella, and Tony knew it. Back then, though, she’d worked at O’Leary’s Pub in downtown Salem. In fact, Tony had gone out with Cora when she’d worked at the bar, but that had been long before he got involved with his wife. Although sweet, the woman liked her fun and regularly hooked up with different men both in town and in Danvers, where she lived. The last time he’d been with her was more than two months ago. He’d known when he left her apartment it’d been a mistake. And he hadn’t stepped inside the pub since. Preoccupied tonight, he hadn’t considered she might be working when he agreed to meet Tony.

“Howdy, stranger,” Cora said, sliding a menu toward him, not that he needed one. The pub offered a limited version of the restaurant menu, and he’d eaten there enough times to have it memorized. “Haven’t seen you since you left my apartment back in June. Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Just busy. How’ve ya been?”

“Good. I’m going to start taking classes at Salem State in September. They accepted the credits I earned at UConn. I was afraid they’d be too old or something.”

Cora appeared close to his own age, so her college experience couldn’t have been much more than ten or twelve years ago. “Good luck.”

“Dreading the foreign language requirement. Skipping it this semester, but in the winter I’ll either need to do Spanish or French. They offer German, too, but my sister told me the other two will be easier.”

Striker held back a groan. “Go with Spanish.”

Yeah, he realized it was a long shot, but if Ella gave him another chance he didn’t want her to be his ex-lover’s professor. And he assumed Ella intended to return to the university. When she’d applied to the professor exchange program back in February, she said it’d only last one semester unless an applicant requested an extension. The semester was up.

“Cora, another beer,” Brendan called from down the bar, interrupting their conversation.

“Let me get his drink, and I’ll come back for your order.”

“No need. I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger with fries, and whatever’s on tap.”

Tony waited until she left before speaking. “Mack said you weren’t getting any. Guess he was wrong.”

Mack Ellsbury, his best friend, wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t gone out or had sex since leaving Cora’s apartment in June. Tonight, he’d let Tony believe what he wanted.

“Bringing the girlfriend of the week to the wedding?”

“Going solo on Saturday.”

His friend’s eyebrow went up, but the reappearance of Cora kept him from saying more.

“Here you go, Tony.” She placed his burger down before turning her attention to Striker again. “We have two beers on tap tonight. I remember you like Sam’s better.” She set his beer down and leaned closer. “I know you’ve got the wedding Saturday, but if you’ve got some free time between tonight and then I’d love to see you.”

Next to him Tony dug into his meal, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was listening. “Already have plans. Maybe some other time.”

Cora shrugged a shoulder. “Whenever. You have my number and address.” Several stools over, two more customers sat down. “I’ll bring your food out when it’s ready.”

Amazingly, Tony kept his trap shut until Cora got out of hearing. “Did you just say no to sex? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Not interested.”

Tony laughed, attracting a few glances their way. “Since when?”

“Women and sex are not the only two things in life.”

“Did someone finally fill the void in your head?”

“Shove it, Tony.”

Tony made a sound in the back of his throat as he drummed his fingertips on the bar. “Guess I might owe Mack an apology next time I see him.”

Closing his eyes, he questioned his sanity for even thinking about the next words, never mind saying them. “Gonna share?”

“He said you’re still hung up on Ella. That’s why no one has seen you around with a woman. I told him you’d probably been hooking up with someone outside of town. Looks like he was right.”

Still hung up, a nice mild way of putting it.

***

The fading rays of sunlight filled the sky when Striker left the restaurant and pulled onto Fender Drive. Although he knew at least four different ways to get home from Masterson’s, he went with the longest route and headed toward Union Street. When he passed Mack’s house, he looked over. Socks, Grace’s dog, stood in the front yard, so someone was home. Neither Mack nor Jessie ever left the dog outside when they went out. When he reached the intersection of Union and Church Streets, he took a left. Nearly three years ago, the Stonefield Dam had let go during a hurricane and flooded the entire area, destroying most of the homes. No evidence of it remained today. Now new homes and apartments lined the once-drowned streets.

Ella lived in one of the new Cape-style homes built on Church Street.

From the stop sign at the intersection, he could see Ella’s and Jessie’s cars in the driveway while Cat’s car remained parked at the curb. He didn’t need an audience when he confronted her. Not that he’d planned on stopping tonight anyway.

His foot eased up on the accelerator as he got closer. Light spilled out of the kitchen window. In his head he saw Ella and her friends sitting in the bright, sunny- yellow kitchen. The room he’d helped her paint twice because the first time she’d hated the color. They’d have food spread out on the table she’d found at a yard sale and spent hours sanding before painting it a bright white. When Cat and Jessie left, she’d go upstairs and….

Don’t go there. Striker pressed the accelerator. Picturing her undressing or taking one of those long, leisurely baths she loved equaled a fucking bad idea. As it was, he woke up with a hard-on every morning and went to bed with one almost every night. He didn’t need to go to bed with one tonight, too. Two and a half months of celibacy evidently had that effect on a guy, because it happened frequently.

Striker followed the street all the way to Lincoln, another road rebuilt after the hurricane, and to his condo complex. Pulling into his assigned spot, he killed the engine. Saturday he’d see her at Mack’s wedding and use the time to feel her out. See how upset with him she still was. Afterward he’d ask her for a second chance. Hell, he’d beg if he had to.