Always on My Mind (24 page)

T
here was one universal truth in Lucky Harbor, Washington—you could hide a pot of gold in broad daylight and no one would steal it, but you couldn’t hide a secret.

Throughout the twenty-eight years of her unarguably colorful life, Aubrey Wellington had had lots of secrets, and almost every single one of them had been uncovered and gleefully discussed ad nauseam.

And yet here she was, still in this small, Pacific, West Coast town she’d grown up in. She didn’t quite know what that said about her other than she was stubborn as hell. In any case, she was fairly used to bad days by the time she walked into Lucky Harbor’s only bar and grill, but today had probably taken the cake. Ted Marshall, ex–town clerk, ex-boss, and also, embarrassingly enough, her ex-boyfriend, had just self-published his own tell-all, thoughtfully informing the entire world that she was a money-hungry man-eater.

She’d give him the money-hungry part since she was sinking her savings into a used bookstore, a silly, sentimental attempt at bringing back the one happy childhood memory she had.

But man-eater? Just because she didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters, or even a happy-for-now, didn’t mean she was a man-eater. She simply didn’t see the need to invite a man all the way into her life when he wouldn’t be staying.

Because they never stayed.

She sighed. Okay, so maybe she was a bit of a man-eater. Shrugging that off, she walked through the Old West–style bar and grill. It was like taking a step back a hundred years, in a good way. The walls were a deep, sinful, bordello red and lined with old mining tools. The ceiling was all exposed beams, and lanterns hung over the scarred bench-style tables filled with the late-dinner crowd. The air hummed with busy chattering, loud laughter, and the music blaring out of the jukebox against the far wall.

Aubrey headed straight to the bar. “Something that will make my day go away,” she said to the bartender.

Ford Walker smiled and reached for a tumbler. He’d been five years ahead of Aubrey in school, and he was one of the nice ones. He’d gone off and had his fame and fortune racing sailboats around the world, and yet he’d chosen to come back to Lucky Harbor to settle down. He ran the Love Shack Bar and Grill.

She decided to take heart in that.

He slid her a vodka cranberry. “Satisfaction guaranteed,” he promised.

Aubrey wrapped her fingers around the glass, but before she could bring it to her lips, someone nudged her shoulder.

Ted.

“Excuse me,” her ex started, and then his handsome features went still as he realized it was her. He immediately started to move away, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I got your messages. All twenty-five of them.” Ted had been born with an innate charm that did a really good job of hiding the snake beneath. He kept his face schooled into an expression of easy amusement, exuding charisma like a movie star. With a wry smile for anyone watching, he leaned in close. “I didn’t know there were that many different words for asshole,” he murmured.

“And you still wouldn’t,” she hissed, “if you’d have called me back even once. What were you thinking? Why did you have to say those things about me in your book?”

Ted shrugged and leaned back. “I needed money. So I wrote a book. What’s the big deal? Everyone writes a book nowadays. And besides, it’s not like you’re known for being an angel.”

Aubrey knew exactly who she was. She even knew why. She didn’t need for him to tell her a damn thing about herself. “The big deal is that you’re the one who wronged people,” she said, keeping her voice down with effort. She wasn’t as good at charm and charisma as he. “You’re the one who two-timed me,” she said, “along with just about every woman in town, including the mayor’s wife. You even let her steal fifty grand of town funds that you were in charge of, and yet somehow you made
me
out to be the bad guy.”

“Hey,
you
were the town clerk’s admin,” he said. “If anyone should have known what had happened to that money, it was you, babe.”

How had she ever worked for this guy? How had she ever
slept
with him? Her fingers were gripping her tumbler so tightly that she was surprised it didn’t shatter. “You said things about me that had nothing to do with the money.”

He smiled and gave her another shrug. “The book needed a little titillation.”

Of all the humiliations Aubrey had suffered—and there had been many—having everyone know she’d dated this tool took the cake. It was the last straw on a no-good, very bad day, and as she’d been doing for most of her life, she acted without thinking. Almost before she knew it, her arm swung out, splashing her vodka cranberry at Ted’s smug, far-too-good-looking face.

But though Ted was indeed
at least
twenty-five kinds of an asshole, he was also fast as a whip. He ducked, and her drink hit the man on the other side of him square in the face.

Straightening, Ted chortled in delight. “Nice.”

Aubrey got a look at the man she’d nailed and stopped breathing. Oh God. Had she really thought her day couldn’t get any worse? Why would she tempt fate by even thinking that? Because of course things could always get worse. They could
always
get worse.

Dripping her vodka drink, Ben McDaniel slowly stood up from his barstool, six feet plus of hard muscles and brute strength on a body that didn’t carry a single extra ounce of fat on him. For the past five years, he’d been in and out of a variety of third-world countries designing and building water systems with the Army Corps of Engineers. His last venture had been for the Department of Defense in Iraq, which Aubrey only knew because Lucky Harbor’s Facebook page was as good as gospel.

Ted was already gone, of course, out the door like a thief in the night, the weasel.

But not Ben. He swiped his face with his arm, deceptively chill and laid-back. In truth, he was about as badass as they came.

Aubrey should know; she’d seen him in action. But she managed to meet his gaze. Cool, casual even. One had to be with Ben; the man could spot a weakness a mile away. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Are you?”

She felt herself flush. He’d always seemed to see right through her. And he’d never liked her. He had good reason not to; he just didn’t know it. “I wasn’t aiming for you,” she said, her heart pounding so loudly she was surprised she could hear herself speak. “Are you okay?”

He ran his fingers through his sun-streaked brown hair. His eyes were the same color, milk chocolate streaked with gold caramel. It was hard to make such a warm-colored gaze seem hard, but Ben managed it with no effort at all. “Need to work on your aim,” he said.

“Yes.” She nodded like a stupid bobblehead. It was all she could do—she hadn’t taken a breath since she’d nailed him with the drink. “Again, I’m…sorry.” And with little spots of anxiety dancing in her vision, she backed away, heading straight for the door.

Outside, the night was blessedly cold, tendrils of the chilly air brushing her hot cheeks. Lucky Harbor was basically a tiny little bowl sitting on the rocky Washington State coast, walled in by majestic peaks and lush forest. It was all an inky shadow now, but February had hit hard. Aubrey stood still a moment, hand to her thundering heart, the one still threatening to burst out of her rib cage.

Behind her the door opened again. Panicked that it might be Ben and not nearly ready for another face-to-face, she hightailed it out of the parking lot. In her three-inch, high-heeled boots, she wasn’t exactly stealthy with the loud
click-click-click
, but she was fast. In two minutes, she’d rounded the block and finally slowed some, straining to hear.

Footsteps.

Dammit. He was following her. She quickened her pace again until she passed a church. The building, like nearly all of the buildings in Lucky Harbor, was a restored Victorian from the late 1800s. It was a pale pink with blue-and-white trim, and lit from the inside. The front door was wide open and inviting, at least compared to the rest of the night around her…

Aubrey wasn’t a churchgoer. Her rocket scientist father hadn’t believed in anything other than what could be found in his science books. Cold, hard facts. As a result, churches always held a sort of morbid fascination for her, one she’d never given into. But now, with her car back at the Love Shack and Ben possibly still on her trail, she hurried up the walk and stepped inside. Trying to catch her breath, she turned around to see if he’d followed and nearly plowed a man over.

“Good evening,” he said. He was in his thirties, average height and build, wearing jeans, a cable-knit sweater, and a smile that was as welcoming as the building itself.

But Aubrey didn’t trust welcoming much.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“No thanks.” Unable to resist, she peered out into the night.

No sign of Ben. That was a slight relief, but mostly she felt like the fly who’d lost track of the spider.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the man asked. “You seem…troubled.”

She had to grate her teeth. She was sure he was very nice, but what was it with the male race? Why was it so hard to believe she didn’t need a man’s help? “Listen,” she said, wanting to be clear. “Nothing personal, but I’m giving up men. Forever.”

If he was fazed by her abruptness, it didn’t show. His eyes crinkled in good humor as he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m the pastor here. Pastor Mike,” he said.

Good going, Aubrey, being rude to a man of God for having the audacity to be nice to you. “I’m sorry.” It didn’t escape her notice that this was the second time tonight she’d said those two very foreign words. “My life’s in the toilet today…well, every day this week so far really.” She shook her head. “I seem to keep making the same mistakes over and over,” she murmured, and shook it off. “Forget this. I’m going home to have another stiff drink.”

“What’s your name?”

She considered lying but didn’t want to further tempt fate. Or God. Or whoever was in charge of such things. “Aubrey.”

“You don’t have to go be alone, Aubrey,” Pastor Mike said, managing to sound gentle and in charge at the same time. “You’re in a good place here.”

“Well—” But before she knew it, he’d ushered her into a meeting room where there were about ten people seated in a circle.

A woman was standing, wringing her hands. “My name is Kathy,” she said to the group, “and it’s been an hour since I last craved a drink.”

The entire group said in unison, “Hi, Kathy.”

An AA meeting, Aubrey realized, swallowing what would have been a half-hysterical laugh with great effort as Pastor Mike nudged her to a chair. He sat next to her and handed her a pamphlet. One glance told her it was a list of the twelve steps to recovery.

What was she doing here? And what could she possibly say?
Hi, my name is Aubrey, and I’m a bitchaholic…

Kathy had sat down. A guy was standing now. Ryan, he told them. Ryan was talking about how he’d been working on something called his fearless moral inventory, starting to make amends to the list of people he’d wronged.

Aubrey bit her lip. Her list would be long. Horrifyingly long.

The man continued to talk with heartbreaking earnestness, and somehow, in spite of herself, she couldn’t help but soak it all in, unbearably moved by his bravery.

She wanted to be that brave.

She didn’t realize that she was sitting there, utterly transfixed, until Mike gently patted her hand. “You see, it’s never too late,” he said quietly.

She stared at him, wondering if that could really be true. “You don’t know for sure.”

“I do,” he said with conviction.

Aubrey thought about that when the meeting ended, as she walked back to her car and drove home, which was little more than a room above the used bookstore she’d adopted. Her aunt Gwen had run the store up until her death last year, and her uncle hadn’t been able to bring himself to lease the space to anyone else.

Until last month, when Aubrey had left her job at Town Hall after the Ted fiasco. Restless, she’d signed a lease, both as an homage to Aunt Gwen—the only one who’d ever been nice to her on her dad’s side of the family—and because she was determined to bring the bookstore back to its former glory. She was working on that. And maybe she could be working on other things as well, such as her karma.

Her mind wandered back to tonight’s meeting, and the people there, and what they were trying to accomplish with their lives. Could it really be as easy as making a list? Checking it twice? Trying to find out if she could pass on naughty and move on to nice?

Once inside, Aubrey took her first real breath in the past few hours. Most of the postage-stamp-sized area was filled with her design drawings for the layout of the space below and boxes of things she’d been saving for the store. She hoped to open by the end of the month, especially now that the other two storefronts in the building held flourishing businesses, a florist and a bakery owned by Ali Winters and Leah Sullivan respectively. Recent acquaintances, and maybe even friends.

At the thought, she plopped a little dejectedly on the small loveseat. Yes, Ali and Leah were friends, new ones. Which meant that they didn’t know the same Aubrey that Ben did, the one who hadn’t always been the best person.

She glanced at the pamphlet she still held and then pulled her small notebook from her purse and began making a list.

People she’d wronged.

It took her a very long time, and when she was done, she eyeballed the length of it and hefted a sigh. Surely it’d have been easier to simply face Ben tonight rather than run into Pastor Mike. Blowing out a breath, she kicked off her boots and leaned back, staring at the last person on the list, the hardest of them all.

Ben.

And he wasn’t there because she’d tossed her drink in his face…