Secondhand secrets, p.1
Secondhand Secrets, page 1
One
Ally Egan gawped at the wayward baseball shooting across the field toward her head, her eyes instinctively—and perhaps, nonsensically—clenching shut against the eminent impact.
“Whoa, Ally!”
A hand yanked her off-balance, and she re-opened her eyes just in time to land on Emilia Bonacci; Emilia’s fiancé, Blaine, catching both women before they hit the ground.
The moment of collision passed, and Ally turned to Fred Harding in the bleacher behind, the sixty-year-old doing a little jig while waving his wrinkled-leather mitt in the air, the ball inside.
“You okay?” Emilia’s voice cut through again, and Ally set about straightening and brushing stray locks of cropped blonde hair from her eyes.
How embarrassing. Still, she couldn’t exactly complain about being spared an excruciating meeting with a hard, white orb, so she twisted around to Emilia—her friend of just a few months—and offered an appreciative smile. “Yeah, thanks for the save.”
The fuss over the stray ball settled, and she tugged at the crooked hem of her baby pink cardigan, the bitter scent of beer wafting around her. Next, she steeled her focus back to the pitch where an early summer game played out between the home team, The Harlow Braves, and neighboring rivals, The Marston Giants.
The next batter stepped to the plate, some new guy she’d never seen in Harlow before, much less play for Harlow… How odd. She cupped her hand over her brow and squinted for a better look, struggling to figure how this person had joined the team so fast, much less without her notice or any mention in this gossipy town.
I guess this is what I get for avoiding Maynard’s Tavern or, more precisely, the owner, Sarah Overton…
With Harlow being a middle-of-nowhere Minnesotan town, everyone knew everyone else, and word of fresh blood travelled fast. She sized this new guy up against the others that she did know on the pitch and guessed him to be about six foot, his shoulders wide, his build lean, but strong. Though she couldn’t see his face all that well, he had the air of someone around her age of twenty-three.
Yep, definitely new blood.
Then again, I made a vow to stop looking, remember?
The pitcher threw the ball, and she loosened her posture, resigned to indifference. The new guy swung and, in all his admitted beauty, left a hefty metallic thunk reverberating around the two-hundred-strong crowd.
Unexplainable tension gripped low in her tummy. She followed the ball’s trajectory far across the park, which allowed time for him to take all bases home.
Cheers roared around her. Almost everyone stood. Not her, though. Her mouth slipped open, while she peered up at all the people bouncing about and clapping hands, her ears stinging from all the hollering voices until her legs worked of their own volition and lifted her to join them.
Talk about the bandwagon effect! She twisted back to the stranger strolling casually across the bases, his body angled away and his blue baseball cap obscuring any distinct features. All she could really discern was the patch of dark blond hair protruding from under his cap.
Why am I still looking?!
Her heart fluttered, and her hand rose to the base of her throat, those actions providing her answer. How familiar. As was her problem here. A problem too many young women in these parts suffered. The complexities of living in a small town. Especially when confronted with a man the slightest bit handsome and physically capable.
His feet met the home plate, and the cheers around her peaked. She pressed her hands over her ears, but not so much that she didn’t catch Emilia’s next raised words. “Maybe I’m still too new in town, but I’m sure I’ve never seen that guy around.”
A quick break in play was called, and Ally waited for the noise to fade before lowering her hands to reply, even though she didn’t want to look at any hot young men, much less discuss them…
“That’s because he isn’t from Harlow. And I’m just as clueless as you.”
“Now, that’s different.” Emilia’s dark brown eyes glittered, and she settled back down on the bench, her hand quick to wrap around Blaine’s. “Ally Egan is usually the first to know about these things. In fact, she’s usually the first to knock on a newbie’s door and invite herself in with her classic opener… a personally delivered breakfast.”
Usually. Yes. But not anymore. Not since her fallout with Sarah two months ago. Though tightness pulled at her chest, she pinched her lips together and sent Emilia a benevolent scowl. Taking the hint to drop the subject, Emilia let out a sigh and turned to speak with Blaine.
Meanwhile, Ally stared ahead, where she unfortunately caught a glimpse of the new guy running up the stadium steps. Maybe he had people here watching him. A distant cousin or something. With any luck, his presence in this sleepy town would be limited to a super brief visit before he disappeared back to wherever he’d come from.
Really, after months of upheaval, all she wanted to do was enjoy her first fun day out. She didn’t want any reminders of her more flirtatious past. A past based on nothing more than words and very little action. At twenty-three years old, she was as single as she’d ever been, and perhaps, her singledom was for the best.
Maybe all I’ll ever be is a small-town girl, but there’s got to be more to life than trying to fall in love. Art. Dreams of travel. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll finally find it in me to leave this place…
So long as she stuck to her new plan—look but don’t touch or even speak—she’d be fine. Just fine.
The man she meant to avoid side-stepped his way through a nearby row. The first feature to draw her focus was his strong and clean shaven jawline, then the habitual-seeming smile lighting his face. Perhaps a man light on worries.
Still some rows away, his eyes seemed not quite brown, but not as light as her own pale blue. Hazel, maybe? Though as far as total strangers went, he was a tall glass of cool water on a hot day. Even if this summer had just begun, and the weather still remained kind of mild.
“Ooo, look!” Emilia nudged Ally’s arm. “He’s talking to Sarah.”
Of course he was.
Ally did her best to maintain her new vow of maturity and not roll her eyes, especially as Sarah Overton jumped from her seat and hugged the new guy—a peculiar gesture given the woman’s general stoicism.
What was her connection to the dreamy newcomer? Definitely not romantic. Not since Dean Holloway stood beside her, a man who’d flatly rejected Ally not all that long ago.
Think positive. The connection with Sarah only puts Mr. Dreamy even more off my radar.
Though she averted her gaze, Mr. Dreamy’s warm laugh sailed the distance to her ears, and an unwanted heat flooded her body, her heart giving a taut pang as a hush washed over the crowd.
“I think Dean’s proposing.” Emilia’s voice barely filtered through. Ally’s senses disrupted as her heart kicked again, all eyes turned to Sarah.
Or more so, Sarah and Dean.
Dean knelt on one knee.
“But they’ve only known each other three months”—the hard lump in her throat turned her voice into an incredulous rasp, and her head did a slow and unintended shake—“and he spent half that time lying about his sketchy past.”
Which he’d spent time in jail for, after the truth came out…
Emilia’s reply wasn’t forthcoming, so Ally turned to her friend, the woman’s sidelong glare fixed on her—narrowed eyes and tight lipped. Oh, that’s right!
Emilia had been with Blaine just a month when he’d proposed.
“Oh, you and Blaine don’t count.” Ally swatted a hand and refocused on Sarah’s gape-mouthed expression. “You two had history long before you got back together.”
Emilia gave a reluctant growl, prodding at Ally’s guilt. “Yeah, well. Just like the rest of us, Dean didn’t have much say on his past. So, maybe it’s time to cut him a little slack?”
Ally didn’t reply, the tension in her throat drawing tighter. Emilia’s comment pointed at the fact that Ally had lived a sheltered life and had only just come to learn she had a problem with relating to others.
Yet another reason to stay chained to this little town.
That said, she wasn’t low enough to outright discount a man like Dean—raised in a dysfunctional home, then abandoned to foster care—a life of crime and misfortune unfolding thereafter.
Heck, she didn’t even care so much that he’d picked Sarah, either. Those two made more sense together. What she didn’t love was that Sarah had been her best friend. A best friend who’d hidden her relationship with Dean while allowing Ally to make a fool of herself.
Silly girl, too bright-eyed and immature for the truth…
As if Sarah—and everyone else, for that matter—figured they knew what went through her head.
The crowd burst into cheers again, awakening her to her wandering thoughts and the inevitable fact that Sarah had said, “Yes.”
The Harlow High School Marching Band flooded the field—trumpets blaring, drums like thunder—followed by a small troupe of cheerleaders.
“Just perfect.” Ally pressed her fingertips to her eyes, giving them a short break from the Sarah and Dean show, only to then lower her hands and lock stares with Mr. Dreamy.
Of course. Of course that would happen. The lousy timing fit, just as his easy smile did, as well as the thrill of recognition shooting up her spine.
Why did he even smile at her? And why did he seem so suddenly familiar?
That’s not familiarity. It’s hot-blooded attraction.
J eez Louise, girl. Run. Just run.
Oh no, don’t start that again.
Art. Dreams. Travel. Financial freedom…
A man is not a plan. A man is NOT a plan!
Was it possible for her heart to clench so hard it might actually pop? Either way, maybe it was best to do as her psyche ordered and leave.
But she didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want a man to dictate what she did, ever again. And quick relief came at the stiffening of his smile, as though he read her doubts before pushing his attention from her to the on-field ode to Dean and Sarah.
Crisis averted. New breath refreshed her lungs, and she crossed her arms against any future man-attacks. Since she and Sarah had grown up together and, therefore, knew the same people, maybe this guy was connected to Dean in some way?
“Well, that’s a chilling thought.” Her quip was loud enough to gain a raised brow from Emilia, but Ally gave her a dismissive shrug.
“Right. Well, Blaine and I are leaving to get drinks. Want anything?”
Ally shook her head and went on pondering, her stare pinned to Emilia’s back as she left.
Hopefully this new man differed from Dean in that he had no connection to the Syndicate, a crime ring that kept finding new reasons to unleash terror on Harlow.
But she had to give Dean some credit. He was a bright man. Cautious, too. He wouldn’t allow an active Syndicate member into town. Besides, if stereotypes were in any way true, this new guy looked way too clean-cut for a career criminal. Come to think of it, he was also way too young to be one of Dean’s former army buddies.
“Ally?”
She jolted at the male voice calling her name, only to turn and find Mr. Dreamy squeezing past the people in her row and his undeniably brilliant gaze pinned her way.
Oh, no.
No. No. No!
“Ally Egan, is that you?”
Two
Ally’s heart sank before taking on a wild beat, Mr. Dreamy’s smile growing to reveal two predictably perfect rows of shiny, white teeth. And his eyes. They were hazel. And even more heartbreakingly beautiful up close.
Though her previous self would have literally fallen over at his attention, the hard pounding in her chest told a different story, one conceivably not too dissimilar to the time-halting seconds one experienced before their car hit a pole.
Still, she took a sharp breath and blocked out the crisp scent of cologne wafting from his general direction. “How do you know my name?”
More than the man before her, she wanted to dance at her new ability to maintain an even tone; but then, in a sign this battle wasn’t won yet, the golden flecks in his eyes flared like fanned embers in a low fire.
To add insult to injury, he shuffled past and claimed the empty seat beside her, her mouth drying at his sudden close proximity.
“You don’t recognize me”—the skin at his cheekbones crinkled above his grin, like he held some revolutionary secret—“do you?”
Her insides flipped. Nausea or anticipation? She couldn’t tell. But then, attraction wasn’t clear like that. Not for a quick-to-fall woman like her. A woman now at the center of this gorgeous man’s focus.
Think, girl. Think!
He’s with Sarah… He seems to know you… So, how do YOU know him?
Her heart lost its solid beat, seeming to plunge lower into her body right along with the rest of her insides.
“No.” She shook her head through her splintered and hollow whisper, the inside of her throat suddenly prickly. Maybe she did know him. “No way…”
His soft lines eased some more, a man both concerned and pleased with the outcome of his surprise or, in this case, her shock.
A brittle creak worked its way up her throat before she finally succeeded to speak his name. “Chip?”
His eyes lit up, and he gave a quick nod, forcing her to hastily tuck her trembling bottom lip between her teeth as well as fight the sting behind her eyes.
“Chip?” Her voice pitched upward, the sound akin to a confused parrot. Though he gave a quick laugh, his swift confirmation of his name solidified his identity.
Her heart climbed to another gallop, the tension from earlier evaporated, even as she lunged forward, throwing her arms around him.
Chip—Sarah’s brother, and Ally’s boy-genius best friend from her childhood—was back.
She leaned away, a million questions rattling her brain as she looked him over anew, less conflicted about his presence now, more just plain excited.
His lips curled into another smile, small and boyish, bringing back decade-old memories. Of them sitting side by side, just like this. At school. On her front lawn. Down by the Mirabella River after a summer swim… and it was summer once again, wasn’t it?
“Jeez Louise, you look…” Though she failed to finish her sentence, her focus bounced all around him, remnants of the old—or more precisely, younger—Chip still there amongst his stark changes.
Gosh, that wiry kid now had broad shoulders. And his jawline. So defined. With the light shadow of bronze stubble. A slightly manic giggle escaped her.
Chip Overton has stubble now?
She searched for more semblances of the Chip she’d known. Something she could cling to. Something to dull the disorienting din inside her head. After all, he’d already stirred emotions she didn’t want to associate with anyone, much less her sweet and geeky childhood buddy.
“Last time I saw you, you were––”
His slow smile revealed those perfectly straight teeth again, his once-gappy grin completely gone. “Fourteen.”
“No.” Though, that too. She shook her head. “Skinny… and pale… really, really pale.”
His shoulders shook with an unrestrained laugh, and he reached out to her. The action from any other man would have resulted in her instantly reeling back, but all she had now was her own laughter taking over and her hand slipping into his long and nimble-looking fingers.
Relief drowned out her confused hormones, and a light sensation drifted over. Suddenly, the hand holding wasn’t enough, and she extended her arms, pulling him in for another embrace.
Shock had drowned her appreciation of that first hug, but this time, this time, she breathed him in, making up for an entire decade of absence.
Another laugh disappeared into the curve of his neck, and she held him long enough for his crisp scent to reveal deeper tones of amber and musk. When she finally did pull out of the embrace, she looked him over again, all while ignoring any tight, fluttery feelings within her body. “You grew up on me!”
“Like you can talk.” A slower, thoughtful expression swept his face. “What happened to the reedy, thirteen-year-old I left behind?”
She opened her mouth to offer an answer, but his reminder about “leaving” dried her reply. He had left. And suddenly, too. All the way to Boston in the wake of his parents’ divorce.
Now, shame snaked through her torso.
What had happened to her?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She’d stayed right here in Harlow while Chip—though not his fault—had been the first of many her age to either settle down and have kids or embark on adventures far, far away.
“Chip!”
The loud clap of Blaine’s voice had her startled and sucking in a sharp breath, the man wading down the row until he sidled up to Chip, her solo moment with her old friend gone.
“How you doing, buddy?” Blaine dropped into a neighboring seat, one hand balancing a newly bought beer, the other snapping out to give Chip a quick pat on the back. “Finally decided to visit the old stomping grounds, huh?”
Though Chip flicked his gaze back to her, it didn’t hold the same unabashed light as before. As though the new company had him hiding any overt signs of joy.
“Just taking a break from Boston.” He turned back to Blaine with a tight nod. “I brought work with me. With Sarah moved in with Dean, I figured I’d take over her house and get more done in Harlow.”
Blaine leaned over and latched his gaze to Ally at the same time. “Back when Sarah and I were a thing, we’d occasionally visit Chip over in Boston.” He tilted his head to Chip. “You’ve only just graduated, right?”
“Yep.” A muscle twitched along Chip’s jaw before he rose quickly, the twist of his body indicating he wanted to leave. “Looks like your lady’s here.”
