“I’m telling them you compared them to animals,” Brad drawled.
“So what do you say?” Macy looked at Hope. “I’ll pay, and you can have the use of the cottage while you’re here.”
Seconds later, Hope left the store with the key in her pocket, having agreed to shoot Macy’s spring catalogue.
“What the hell?” she muttered. She’d forgotten that about this place. When you were a local, people just took it for granted that you wanted to do stuff for them, just as they did stuff for you.
She needed to get another job and out of there soon, before she was booked up doing weddings, birthdays, and anything else that needed a photographer!
CHAPTER NINE
Hopestopped to read the notices on the Roar’s board. They had a new event happening this year. The Howling Boat Race. All materials used had to be recycled.
“What the hell is it with you people,” Hope muttered. She’d never known a community that loved events quite like this place. They had the annual Winter Solstice Carnival, the Night Carnival, the Last Bake Out, and for the craziest among them, the Hot Foot Run. Now they were to have a Water Festival. Hope had no idea what that would encompass but hoped she was long gone before it happened. The date said three weeks, so she should be safe.
“It’s going to be quite an event.”
Hope turned at the Irish burr. She looked into the eyes of DJ O’Donnell, world-famous crime writer, and father to one Branna McBride, also a crime writer. Tall and lean, he had a friendly expression on his face and was still a handsome man.
“Not sure we’ve met, but you’ve got the look of your mother. I’m Declan.”
“Hello, I’m Hope Lawrence.”
“Branna told me you were back. You come into town for supplies?”
“My mother gave me a list.”
“I have a list too, after speaking to my daughter on the phone.” His smile was the kind that had you responding even if you didn’t want to. “She also said she’d make me lunch if I picked the stuff up for her, and as that includes a cuddle with my granddaughter, I’d say I’m onto a good thing.”
“Winning deal then,” Hope said. Project a pleasant facade, the Texan had said. Maybe she should give it a try while she was home, and people would leave her alone.
“You coming inside? Mac’s got pretty much everything a person could need. Of course, there’s always the grocery store too.”
Hope had the feeling she’d been failing him in some way if she went the way of the grocery store to get her things.
“Ah, sure.”
“Come on in then. With luck there’ll be some homemade lemonade ready.”
Hope refused to say “ah, sure” again, so she silently followed him, unsure how she could do anything else. The scent hit her. She’d loved this place as a kid. Candles, chocolate, soaps, the scents all mingled to tantalize you.
“How’s your mother?”
“What?” She spun to face Mac Drubber. He looked the same, although perhaps a bit more grizzled. “Oh hey, Mr. Drubber.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Just Mac to you now, girl.”
“Have I reached the age then?”
“I’m Mr. Drubber between ten and twenty.”
Hope surprised herself by laughing again. It sounded rusty and unfamiliar.
“Okay, thanks, Mac.”
“So your mom’s doing okay? Not driving you crazy yet?”
“Only been back four days, Mac. Give her time.”
