Always My Hero (5 page)

“Say, what kept you on the West Coast? You coaching football at some fancy private school out there?”

“Nope. Just crunching numbers.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m an accountant.”

His former teacher laughed outright at this.

“No offense, fella. It’s just that your math skills were somewhat lacking when last I knew you.”

“I guess I have a lot to thank Bree Adams for then. Remember, she helped me pass your class?”

“Good gracious, yes. If it weren’t for her, you’d have been kicked off the team.” Ryan’s old teacher paid for his rock salt and ice scraper and waved jauntily on his way out.

Didn’t look like he’d be keeping a low profile in town. These people didn’t have enough to keep them busy so they rehashed bygones. And if he didn’t want to join in, too bad. He was a part of Scallop Shores’ history and if there was anything this town loved to celebrate, it was its history.

Get in, get out
. They didn’t need some poser sticking around and playing the role of town hero when he was really just a washed up has-been. Ryan greeted customers, reacquainted himself with his father’s ancient cash register and tried not to flinch every time someone patted him on the back and reminisced about his high school accomplishments.

This wasn’t supposed to be his lot in life. When Ryan had left town on a football scholarship, it was with the understanding that he was going places. He wasn’t going to be like his dad, running the family hardware store just like his grandfather before him. He was going to be a star.

Walking in the door today had been like stepping back in time. Bo Pettridge had liked things just so, which meant every aisle held exactly the same tools, gadgets and doo-dads that they’d sold back when Ryan was in high school. He remembered what it had felt like to be so full of hope. That sharp thrill of excitement that came with not knowing quite what to expect from his new school or his new teammates. How long had it been since he’d looked forward to the future with such eager enthusiasm?

He didn’t deserve their admiration. Why couldn’t they understand that? He hadn’t gone on to a dream job in the NFL, like everyone in town expected. Like he’d expected. He wasn’t even coaching as a backup career. He was just an accountant. He had failed. And if they still hadn’t figured that out, then maybe he could sell the hardware store and get out of town before they did.

Two blocks. It was a two-block walk to the library from the duplex. Bree was a big girl. She had boots. She could trudge with the best of them. But Ryan had insisted on giving her a ride to work. And Wesley had sounded so eager to have her join them.

Of course it stood to reason that in the thirty seconds it took to scramble down from the cab of the pickup truck, she’d been spotted by no less than three coworkers. Wonderful. Fresh fodder for the gossip mill.

Frowning, she wondered what Foster would think when he heard she’d been seen driving around town with Ryan Pettridge. She’d deal with that later. She and Foster needed to talk. Or not. Did their “non-sparking” date warrant a phone call? Should she just leave it up to him? But she’d been the one to ask him out in the first place. Oh, good grief! This is why she didn’t date. Etiquette she should know but didn’t and entirely too much drama.

Bree stuffed her purse and insulated lunch bag into the bottom drawer of her desk. She sat down and removed her snow boots, trading them for a pair of slip-ons she kept at work. If she had a coat rack with a sweater to change into, she could be Mr. Rogers. She shuddered at the image.

“Bree, do you have a minute? We’d love you to sit in on the board meeting downstairs,” Martha Bruce, the head librarian, called from the top of the stairs.

“Certainly. Can I make a pot of coffee or anything?”

Staff meetings she was used to. Board meetings were another thing. Bree wasn’t involved in the budgetary concerns of running the library. She wasn’t sure if she should be worried or excited. They could be offering her more responsibilities, a way of advancing her career. Or they could be calling her in to explain that, due to budgetary concerns, they were letting her go. Surely she wouldn’t need to go before the
whole
board for that?

“It’s already done, dear. Help yourself to a Danish while they are still there. Harold has already eaten three.”

Wait. She always made the coffee for the staff meetings. Something was up. Bree wiped her palms on her skirt and hummed the
Jeopardy
theme song, her favorite relaxing tune, to herself. She gathered herself together to face the library board members.

“Good morning, Bree. Have a seat. Cheese Danish? I’m afraid the cherry ones are all gone.” Board president Harold Macon swiped at his bushy mustache with a napkin.

“I ate earlier. Thanks.”

Sitting in the empty chair across from Harold, she nodded a greeting to the other board members. There were six people seated around the oak conference table, not including herself. Martha busied herself at the back of the room, returning to place a cup of coffee on a saucer in front of Bree, before taking her own seat. Okay, now she knew something was going on.

“Thank you for joining us today. We know you have a lot to do. I’ll get straight to the point.” Harold placed his beefy palms against the surface of the table and faced the children’s librarian.

“As you are more than aware of, given that you work on the upper floor of the building, our poor library needs a new roof.”

Indeed, she had probably been the loudest complainer over that fact. Bree had been setting out buckets, every time it rained, for months. Try to keep a curious group of toddlers from playing in the water. Just try. Even now, after a good snowfall, once the sun came out and started melting it from the rooftops, she was scrambling to save her precious books from getting damaged.

“We’re getting a new roof? That’s fantastic!”

“No, Bree, we’re only agreeing that we need a new roof. However there isn’t enough money in the budget to afford one.” Harold shrugged one shoulder, as though in apology.

“But then why ... ?” They
had
called her here to fire her. She placed her palms on the conference table and swallowed hard.

“We could hold a fundraiser. When the town rallies together we can do anything. I could put together some other ideas. Maybe a dinner, a hundred dollars a seat? Foster Duncan’s restaurant could cater it.” Her mind filled quickly with different ways the board could raise money for the repairs. If she could just get them to see they had options, lots of options.

“What did I tell you? I knew we had the right person for the job.” Martha smiled proudly from her seat beside Harold. She reached across the table and patted Bree’s hand.

“We thank you for the ideas, Bree, but we’ve already come up with one that we hope will work well. It’s quite clever and ... very ‘with the times,’ I guess you could say. We invited you here to offer you the chance to spearhead this campaign.”

“I’d be honored. Truly. Thank you so much.” Breathless, she turned this way and that, making sure she’d thanked each board member personally, with a grateful smile and a nod.

“Now hold your horses. It’s going to mean taking some time away from your work. Naturally, we’d find someone to cover your hours.”

Bree nodded. Yes, yes. Planning took time and it was actually quite generous of the board to allow her to use work hours to complete it, instead of expecting her to fit it into her personal time. Though she had no problem with that, either. Whatever it took to raise money for a new library roof.

“And as you mentioned, you have the perfect contacts. Foster Duncan, Chase Eaton, perhaps. Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of others. We’d just need ... well, twelve, really. The only one we would insist on is Ryan Pettridge. We must have him on board.”

“On the planning committee? Ryan?” She started to realize there was a large piece of the puzzle that she hadn’t been given yet.

“What a great idea, Bree! I’m sure he’d be a huge help getting the other men to sign on.” Martha clapped her hands together.

Everyone was smiling and nodding as though everything had been decided on. Bree was beginning to feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland. She looked around wildly, waiting for someone to clue her in. When everyone began to chat amongst themselves, Bree held up her hands and waved them around.

“Um, excuse me! Not to be rude or anything, but you seem to be under the impression that I have been filled in on exactly what my role in all this is.”

Silence followed her outburst. Bree dropped her hands quickly into her lap, staring down at the table. This wasn’t like her at all and now they were probably regretting handing over so much responsibility to a person who couldn’t control her manners.

Martha’s tinkling laugh rang out. “Good gracious, you’re right! We never told you what you’d be doing. Harold?”

“Yes. Yes. The board came up with the idea to produce a calendar. It should be a hot seller. We could stock them in the chamber of commerce, in the beach businesses after Memorial Day, the police station, and the fire station, naturally.”

“Naturally?” She still wasn’t following. Or perhaps it was the crazy loud warning bells clanging inside her head that made it hard to focus on the details.

“You’re such good friends with Cady Eaton that we assume you’ll ask her brother to be one of the models.”

“Ryan Pettridge can be any month you decide, but we insist he also be on the cover. He is our hometown hero, after all.” Martha rubbed her hands together, the look on her wizened face making Bree slightly sick to her stomach.

“This calendar of male models—are we talking something that plays up their roles in the community? A police officer in uniform. A fireman in turnout gear. Something ... tasteful ... right?” Belatedly, Bree remembered the feeling that Martha was trying to pull a fast one on her. Oh, crap!

She glanced at the closed door of the conference room, longing to be on the other side of it. Wishing she’d never been dragged into this meeting in the first place.

“We believe that wouldn’t sell quite as many copies, you understand. Mind you, there are limits. This will be a family friendly calendar, after all. Uniforms would be an excellent idea. Minus their shirts.” Harold coughed into his fist, his ears turning pink.

Good. Why should she be the only one uncomfortable about this idea?

“So I’m to round up twelve models, making certain they are all gorgeous and have a perfect set of abs?” She could barely get the words out, they were so embarrassing.

“That won’t be too hard, will it?” Harold arched a fuzzy eyebrow that perfectly matched his fuzzy mustache.

“Of course not. I would guess, though, that if Chase Eaton is to be asked, then being single is not necessarily a prerequisite for appearing in the calendar?”

“We aren’t asking you to start a dating service, Bree. Just make sure they’re hot stuff.” Martha winked.

Bree choked down her mortification. She may not want the job, but she sure as heck couldn’t pass up this chance to show the board what she was capable of.

“Good. Good. It’s settled then.” Harold paused, placing his palms on the conference table as he watched her carefully. “Because if this is too difficult, we’ll have to resort to other methods to obtain funds for the new roof.”

Ouch. Message received.

“You’ve got the right person for the job. You won’t be sorry. I’ll give you the sexiest calendar New England has ever seen.”

Bree reached for the last cheese Danish on the platter and stuffed it into her mouth before she could scream.

• • •

How would Bree convince Ryan to pose for this calendar when even
she
didn’t want him to do it? Living on the other side of the wall from the man was hard enough. Ever since she and Foster had come upon him moving in, her emotions had been in a constant state of flux. One minute, “
Hurray, he’s back!
”
then
“
Good God, no, he’s back!
” The less time she spent with him the better. Except that this had nothing to do with her and everything to do with a new library roof.

He’ll think it’s a lark. A hoot. It will give him a chance to preen and strut those peacock feathers. It’s not like he’d say no. Seriously. What guy would turn down the chance to pose for a calendar that will earn him recognition from Scallop Shores and possibly several of the surrounding towns in the area?

“You want me to what? Oh, hell no!” Ryan practically shrieked when she finally made her way to the other half of the rented duplex.

“Shh! You’re going to wake up Wes.” Her eyes darted toward the hallway and back again to the man towering over her.

“Yeah, right. It’s not like he’s asleep.” He gave her a disgusted look.

“But it’s almost nine p.m.”

“When you were his age, what did you do after lights out?” Ryan put his hands on his hips and waited.

“I don’t know. I was eight.” A smile touched her lips as a memory flickered to life like some old home movie. “I read under the covers with a flashlight.”

“Exactly.”

Except that he didn’t look like an indulgent father. Ryan looked sad, frustrated.

“If it upsets you, just say so. Put your foot down. You’re the father.”

“I don’t need parenting tips from you, thank you very much. And it doesn’t upset me. It’s not like he’s smoking weed and squirreling away porno rags. He’s reading. It’s his passion.”

Still stinging over the first part of that diatribe, Bree turned around so he couldn’t see how badly he’d hurt her. He was absolutely right. She had no business offering parenting advice when she didn’t even have any children of her own. She pressed her arms rigidly against her sides, worried that one slight jostle would shatter her entire body.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, calmer.

“For what?” Panic squeezed her muscles to the point of aching. What did he know?

“For going off on you. For taking out my issues on you. It’s been a long-ass day.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. We’ll discuss the calendar another time.” Bree reached for the shawl she’d slung across the back of the kitchen chair but Ryan touched her hand.