Wild Iris Ridge

She was still uncomfortably aware of him. Big surprise there, since she had the same reaction every time she was in the same room with him. His wife had been her best friend so, yes, that ridiculous awareness had led to some very awkward interactions over the years.

One stupid kiss more than a decade ago—a mere fifteen minutes out of her life—and sometimes, despite her very best efforts, she couldn’t manage to think about anything else.

She let out a breath. She just had to try harder. If she was going to be staying in Hope’s Crossing for a while, she would inevitably have to see Brendan. He lived down the street, and his children were two of her favorite humans on the planet.

She had to put that kiss a decade ago—and the subsequent weeks of confusion and heartache—completely out of her mind.

A moment later, he set his napkin down beside his plate and climbed off the round stool. “I guess I’ll probably see you later. If I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep before Carter and Faith get home from school, I should probably take off.”

“I can’t wait to see them. I’ve got a few gifts for them, things I brought with me that I haven’t gotten around to mailing. Could I drop them off sometime today?”

A muscle flexed in that strong jaw. “You know you don’t have to shower them with gifts. They would love you, anyway, trinkets or not.”

He made no secret that it annoyed him when she sent little toys or books to the children—or delivered them in person when she came to town. She was honest enough with herself to admit that might have been part of the reason she went to the trouble. She genuinely enjoyed picking out things for the children, but she considered needling Brendan a bonus side effect.

Yes, she was a horrible person.

If he had never flirted with her that long-ago night, never kissed her, never inspired such silly dreams—and never fallen hard for her best friend just a few weeks later and ended up marrying Jessie—their relationship might have been a much more comfortable one.

“I know I don’t have to give them gifts, but I enjoy it. And who knows? Now that I’m unemployed, this might be the last time I can afford to bring them anything.”

That was as close to a joke about the catastrophe her life had become as she had yet been able to manage. That had to be progress, right?

He studied her a moment, an unreadable expression on his features. He looked tired, his eyes a little red-rimmed and his hair slightly mussed, probably from taking off that helmet he’d worn at Iris House during the fire. He had crinkles at the corners of his eyes she didn’t remember seeing before and a few little gray strands hidden in all that thick dark hair.

But he was still far too gorgeous for her peace of mind.

“The kids both have baseball practice this evening. We won’t be home until later and then they’ll have homework and their daily reading for school to do. Another day would be better.”

She didn’t need him to spell it out. He was clearly telling her that even though she was back in Hope’s Crossing and living just up the street, he wasn’t going to allow unfettered access to Faith and Carter.

The few bites of really delicious strawberry-and-almond sprinkled French toast she had managed to eat around her nerves seemed to congeal in her stomach. “Sure. I’ll try to connect with you another day, then. I’m anxious to see them but I can certainly wait.”

“I’ll let you know.”

He waved to his father, nodded to a couple other people in the diner then headed out without another word to her.

After he left, she spent a minute or two more picking at her breakfast, mainly because she didn’t want to hurt Dermot’s feelings by not savoring the meal he had prepared especially for her.

Why had she opened her big mouth and told Brendan about being fired? Of all the people in town, he was the one person whose reaction she had dreaded.

He had really been surprisingly decent about it. She had expected some kind of snide comment, but he actually had seemed sympathetic. Sometimes she didn’t know what went on in his head. She only knew their encounters were usually so awkward and tense, she couldn’t wait for them to be over.

How would she survive living in Hope’s Crossing, where she was bound to run into him often?

The bells on the door suddenly chimed. She glanced up at the big mirror above the counter as a couple of women about her age walked in, laughing at something with their heads close together. Her heart gave a sharp, familiar ache at their friendship. Jessie had been her best friend most of her life, and Lucy missed her every single day.

She didn’t have many other female friends, at least none that reached the level of closeness she had shared with Jess. Since she’d graduated from college and started working for NexGen, she had been so focused on her career, on climbing further and faster, she hadn’t put nearly enough effort into building healthy relationships in other aspects of her life.

If she had a better support network, maybe she wouldn’t have been left so shattered right now.

To her surprise, the women immediately walked over to her.

“Lucy! Katherine just texted us that you were here. How great to see you again!” A trim-looking woman with honey-gold hair and a sweet smile reached out and wrapped her in a hug.

It was a disorienting moment, as she had no clue who the woman was until she scrutinized her a little more closely. “Charlotte? Wow! You look fantastic!”

The last time she had seen Charlotte Caine, Brendan’s sister, had been at Jessie’s funeral, when the other woman had been about a hundred pounds heavier.

Charlotte smiled. “Thank you. It’s been a fun journey. What a surprise to see you here at Pop’s on a lovely Saturday morning! I didn’t think you ever left Seattle.”

Everyone in town would be wondering why she was back. How could she explain to them all that she had failed at the one thing she ever thought she was good at?

Maybe Brendan would tell everyone and then she wouldn’t have to. No. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t. He might dislike her intensely, but she instinctively trusted him to keep this information to himself.

She had lost her job. The weight of her failure seemed to clutch at her chest. Who was she if she wasn’t the go-getter marketing director at NexGen?

She made herself take a deep breath, forcing away those familiar snaking tendrils of panic.

“I decided it was finally time to figure out what I want to do with Iris House,” she finally answered in a calm tone that left her inordinately proud of herself.

The woman with Charlotte—blonde and slim and stylishly, if casually, dressed—lit up at her words. “Oh, you’re the one who owns that beautiful house?”

“Yes,” she answered. It was still a tough admission. She didn’t feel she had any rights to the place. Jessica should have inherited it, should have had the chance to turn it into the B&B of her dreams. She had adored every opulent inch of it.

Instead, Jess was gone, taken far too young during pregnancy by a heart condition no one suspected. Jess was gone, Annabelle was gone. Lucy was the only one of them left.

“I heard there was a fire there last night. Is it true?” Charlotte’s friend said.

That’s right. She had dozens of reasons to be embarrassed to show her face around town. “Yes. That was my fault. I arrived in the middle of the night and couldn’t get the furnace to start. I tried to light a fire in one of the rooms and ended up with a chimney blaze.”

“Is everything okay?” Charlotte exclaimed.

“Your brother seems to think so. He says I should be safe to return there this morning.”

“That’s a relief!” the other woman said. “I can’t recall if we’ve met. I’m Genevieve Beaumont.”

Ah. This was the mayor’s daughter, who could wrap him around her finger. She thought she vaguely recalled seeing her at Annabelle’s funeral, but she had been so grief-stricken, that time was a blur.

“Hello. I’m Lucy Drake. Annabelle Stanbridge was my great-aunt.”

“She was quite a character. I’ve hated seeing her house empty these last few months. Iris House is one of those places meant to be filled with life,” Genevieve said.

“I agree,” she answered.

“What are your plans for it?” Charlotte asked. “Are you looking to sell? I can think of several people who might be interested.”

“I haven’t decided,” she admitted. “I’m actually thinking about opening it up as a bed and breakfast, if the town isn’t already glutted with them.”