The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(4)
“Sorry I’m late.” Butterfly Harbor’s new mayor, Gil Hamilton, pushed through the door and swept his long sandy-blond hair out of his eyes. “Hey, Holl. Must be a blast from the past, huh? Having Luke back?”
“Not to stay?” Holly blurted.
“For a while,” Luke said.
“A year, at least.” Gil slapped a hand on Luke’s leather-clad back as Luke winced and stepped to the side, the color draining out of his windblown face. “That’s how long his term will be. This time around anyway.”
“His term?” Holly asked as her stomach churned. “What term?”
“Oh, sorry.” Gil blinked and cringed as if he’d betrayed a confidence. “I thought for sure your father would have told you by now. Luke’s serving out the rest of Jake’s tenure as sheriff.”
“Sheriff.” Holly didn’t recognize her own voice, not hidden under the layers of hostility and anger. “You’re not serious.” When Gil’s only acknowledgment was to grab the menus and head toward a booth at the far end of the diner, Holly swung on Luke. “He’s not serious?”
“Holly—”
“What? It wasn’t enough you almost killed my father all those years ago? You figured you’d come back and finish him off by stealing his job?”
Luke’s steely blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that.”
“From where I’m standing it’s exactly like that.” She moved in, keeping her voice low so her customers—so her son—wouldn’t hear. “Go back to wherever you’ve been for the past decade, Luke. We don’t have any use for cowards in Butterfly Harbor.”
CHAPTER TWO
“NOT THE BEST way for her to find out about you returning,” Gil said as Luke slid into the booth across from his new boss. “I guess the past isn’t as forgotten as I’d hoped.”
“You sound surprised.” Watching the eternal Cocoon Club texting away on their phones like overactive teenagers proved the rumor mill in Butterfly Harbor was as reliable as ever. By the end of the day he’d either be welcomed by a cavalcade of casseroles, or run out of town with pitchforks and torches.
He rolled his shoulders, but instead of easing the tension, the action stretched the burn scars on his back so tight he feared his skin might split open. He sucked in a breath, waited the few moments it took for the pain to subside. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe he’d weaned himself off his pain meds too soon.
The past twelve years meant nothing when faced with the past he couldn’t change. He might have hoped for a more congenial welcome home, but he hadn’t expected it, especially when it came to Holly Campbell.
How could he have expected her to forgive him when he hadn’t been able to forgive himself?
Unwrapping the bundle of flatware on the table, Luke tore bits off his napkin. He’d spent extended time in war zones. He’d put his military training to use with the Chicago Police Department in their bomb squad. He’d been the department’s go-to when it came to potentially explosive domestic disturbances and had overseen rookie training for the explosive disposal unit. He could manage a year in Butterfly Harbor.
Or so he’d told himself on the cross-country drive.
Apparently Holly Campbell hadn’t gotten the memo.
Luke glanced over as she swept out of sight into the kitchen, her shoulder-length brown hair tumbling in waves. She’d been pretty as a girl, but as a woman she was stunning. Like a throwback to the glory days of vaudeville, with her big doll eyes and a small, pert mouth. Her curved, rounded figure set a man to thinking about late-night bonfires and moonlit swims in the ocean.
Luke caught the gaze of the boy sitting at the counter, questioning hostility shining in eyes so familiar he had to be Holly’s son.
“Jake should have told her,” Gil said. “Hiring you was his idea in the first place.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Luke was a big boy. He could take whatever punishment Holly and anyone else in town saw fit to dole out. And if there was one thing Holly Gordon—no, Holly Campbell—excelled at, it was getting her point across. Luke pretended to skim the menu Gil set in front of him.
“To be honest,” Gil said, “I’m surprised you took the job.”
The pencil-thin, raven-haired waitress set a mug and two glasses on the table. “Here’s your coffee, black, and water, no ice. And for you?” She batted mascara-thick eyelashes at Luke as she pulled out her notepad.
“Water’s fine, thanks.” He’d already drunk enough coffee this morning to keep him awake for a week. “I’ll have the BLT, hold the B, no mayo, sweet potato fries if you have them.”