Deadly Ride Read online

  Taking a small bite of the delicious lemon cake, she nodded. “I am. More than okay.”

  He reached out and stroked a hand down her hair. “Agreed. I need to shower and get to work. We on for later tonight?”

  “Yup. Unless you get busy with stuff. But I can help if you need anything.” She liked planning their day together.

  Sam’s smile chased away any residual chill from the morning. He stepped into her and kissed her again, before pulling her tight and burying his nose in her neck. When he pulled back, he kissed the tip of her nose.

  “You should probably be careful, Molly Owens,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “Why’s that?” She had to crane her neck to look up at him.

  “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you? A guy could get pretty addicted to that.”

  Her heart nearly danced right out of her chest. See? You’re not alone in how you feel. And since he was so free with his affection and feelings, she could be as well.

  Going up on tiptoe, she kissed him, just a gentle brush of her lips across his. “I think I’m okay with that.”

  When he grinned, gave Tigger an extra rub, and then went to shower, Molly finished her lemon loaf with a grin on her face.

  So much to look forward to. After a shaky end to the summer, Britton Bay was settling down again, and Molly was settling right along with it. The car show would be driving into town tomorrow, and she was excited to share in the town’s enthusiasm—and, mostly, in Sam’s. This was a big event for him. A big deal for his business. Molly couldn’t wait to stand by his side as he pulled off one of his dreams.

  Chapter Two

  When Molly pulled her Jeep into her parking space behind the squat brick building that housed the Britton Bay Bulletin, the weather hadn’t warmed any. She grabbed her purse and laptop and got out of her vehicle just as Clay East whipped his car into his spot.

  She returned the wave he gave through the windshield and headed for the door. Clay wasn’t her favorite person. He’s not anyone’s favorite person. Technically, he was their social media director and part-time photographer, but actually, he spent most of his time slacking off and making people uncomfortable. The small staff at the Bulletin—including her boss, Alan Benedict—put up with it because they all still felt bad for the loss of his father in June. Vernon East had been the lead reporter at the Bulletin for longer than his son, Clay, had been alive.

  “Hey, Molly,” Clay said, catching up to her. The heavy scent of his cologne didn’t mix well with the ocean air. She unlocked the door but wasn’t surprised when he scooted in ahead of her instead of offering to hold it open.

  “Hi. How are you?” Molly was the one to find Vernon’s body, and some nights the memory of that kept her awake, though not as much since Sam had been sleeping beside her. But between the memory of that event and the guilt of mistakenly suspecting Clay as the killer, Molly tried hard to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  “Pretty good, according to the woman whose bed I just left,” he said with a laugh.

  And he made it so difficult. Letting the door close behind them, she didn’t hide her eye roll.

  “Charming.”

  “Aw, come on. I was just teasing.”

  Molly nodded, hoping he’d head straight to his desk and she could avoid him for the rest of the day. She took her time hanging up her jacket and was pleased that Clay was no longer in the small back room. Making her way to the kitchen that sat between the back room and the front office area, she was surprised to see coffee percolating. Elizabeth, their senior reporter, usually kept them all caffeinated, but she was in Vancouver, Canada, visiting relatives for another week.

  Grateful she didn’t have to make it, Molly grabbed a cup just as Alan came into the kitchen.

  “Morning, Molly,” he said.

  She turned with a hello and a smile. His kind, tired eyes smiled back. With dark hair, peppered by gray at the edges, and his clean-cut suit, he was a handsome man, who was probably about her father’s age. He loved his wife, his family, and this newspaper above all other things. Alan Benedict was an easy man to respect.

  “Paper looks good. I checked the online edition. The sponsorship page Jill designed looks fantastic in print,” Molly said. She turned back to the carafe and poured a mug of coffee, then moved so Alan could top his up.

  “She did a great job—with that and all of the other stories she’s covered. Unfortunately, I think doing her own stories and covering Elizabeth’s right now has worn her out. She called in sick this morning.” He filled his cup and then turned and leaned against the counter.

  Molly’s mind immediately started flipping through the list of things she’d need to switch around and organize to make up for Jill’s absence. “That’s lousy. I didn’t know, but I haven’t checked my phone. She probably texted me. I need to call her and ask her about the interviews with the Classic Car guys tonight.”

  “Do you want me to take the interview?” Alan oversaw everything, but mostly he dealt with the books and corporate sponsorships. He could and would step in for whatever they needed, but as editor in chief, Molly felt it was up to her to fill Jill’s shoes.

  “I can do it. I just have to juggle a few things,” Molly said. She dug in her purse for her phone.

  “What are we juggling?” Clay waltzed into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. He poked his head in and stared.

  Molly noticed the way Alan’s features tightened. He stiffened and pushed off the counter. She found her phone at the bottom of her bag, and sure enough, Jill had sent her three texts.

  “We’re trying to make sure Jill and Elizabeth’s stories are covered. It would be nice if you could keep up on the social media this weekend with the car show. If you can’t, I’ll hand it over to Hannah,” Alan said, referring to his niece.

  Clay pulled a day-old box of Bella’s treats out of the fridge and nudged the door closed with his hip.

  “If Hannah wants it, she can have it. I hate that stuff.”

  Molly stared, her mouth dropping open. “It’s what you’re paid to do.” Closing her mouth, she wondered if she’d overstepped.

  Alan looked at her and gave a slight nod. Looking back at Clay, he shook his head and took his coffee back to his office—a clear signal that Molly was free to deal with their subpar worker as she saw fit.

  Clay all but tossed the box on the counter, pulled out a muffin, and bit into it like a petulant child.

  Molly set her phone and her coffee down. “Clay, we’re all trying to give you the time you need. We know your father’s death was hard on you.”

  His eyes darkened. “Nothing to do with me.”

  She knew his angry shell was a cover, but, God, he made it difficult to offer sympathy or feel empathy. “Regardless, grieving takes time. However, you opted to come back to work. You’re letting a lot of your duties slip, and it’s no longer acceptable. I’ll have Hannah cover this week’s social media because I’d like you to be out taking photographs of the event. But I think you should consider whether or not you want to stay at the Bulletin. Whether it makes you happy.”

  He crumpled the muffin wrapper and shot it across the small space into the garbage can. “You firing me?”

  I wish. They were short-staffed as it was. Her preference would be for him to just improve his attitude. “No. Not yet. But there are expectations that come with your position. If you can’t fulfill them, we’ll have to discuss the outcome. For now, take photos for each of the days, and do what I said. Think about whether this is the place you want to be.”

  She’d had to consider that very question and was grateful that the answer was a resounding yes. This was her home.

  Clay didn’t look as certain. “Whatever. Guess I’m working the whole weekend.” He popped the rest of his muffin into his mouth and left the kitchen.

  Molly sighed. She hadn’t even made it to
her desk yet. Picking up her phone, she dialed Jill’s number. If she was doing the interview, Jill’s preliminary research would be helpful. Grabbing her mug and heading for her office, she hoped her coffee wouldn’t be cold by the time she got to drink it.

  * * * *

  The Come ’n Get It Eatery was the reason most of Britton Bay liked to eat out at least once a week. Between the retro-chic atmosphere, the adorable couple that ran it, and the delicious food, it was a popular hangout for residents and visitors of all ages.

  Molly waved to the few people she knew and smiled when she saw Calliope James, owner and waitress. With two plates of food in each hand—a feat Molly could not fathom pulling off—the vibrant redhead beamed in her direction.

  “Hey, sugar! It’s been too long. Grab a seat, and I’ll bring you a soda,” Calli called, heading toward the window, where bar-style seating allowed customers to gaze out through the front wall of windows.

  Molly unzipped her jacket and hung it on the peg beside the booth before she slipped onto one of the padded, blue vinyl seats. Unsure if the two men she’d be interviewing would want dinner, she wondered if she should wait to order or grab something quick before they arrived. Sam would be joining her shortly, so she’d ask what he wanted to do.

  Through a storm of coughing and sneezing, Jill had explained that she planned to interview the two men at the diner and invite Sam as well since he’d pulled everything together. It was busier than usual for a Thursday night, and Molly wondered how hard it would be to conduct an interview here.

  Calli was at her table a quick minute later and slid into the booth; she sat across the table from Molly, making her laugh.

  “My feet are cursing me out,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.

  Molly glanced around. “You guys are jumping. I see you hired a new waitress.”

  The woman in question was laughing at something a man said to her as she took his order. As a new country song geared up, Calli sighed.

  “It’s a blessing and a curse. Thought we were done with the tourists, but this Car Crawl has a new bunch of them coming in. Where’s your man?”

  Molly’s cheeks warmed. She and Sam were definitely exclusive, and anyone who knew them knew they were. But it still felt odd, how everyone just sort of knew her business.

  “Look at you, blushing like a schoolgirl,” Calli teased. “Mind you, I’d blush too if I was getting to kiss Sam good night.”

  Before Molly could say anything, or turn any redder, Sam appeared beside the booth.

  “You’d blush, and I’d have a fist in my face. Pretty sure Dean doesn’t want to share you, Calli. And no offense, but I’m a one-woman man.”

  Great. Molly was going to be the color of ketchup if the two of them didn’t stop. The butterflies that her stomach set aside strictly for Sam danced at his arrival.

  “Calli, get your cute self back on the floor. We’ve got orders up, and Molly didn’t come to gossip with you,” Dean, her husband, called from where he was cooking behind the pass.

  The bubbly redhead slid out of the booth and patted Sam’s arm as she walked past him. It took effort on Molly’s part not to lay her head down on the table and hide from Sam’s gaze.

  Discarding his own jacket, he slid into the booth across from her and reached out to take both of her hands. “Aw, look at that. You’re blushing.”

  “You guys are horrible. A whole conversation like I’m not even sitting here,” she said. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t really even that embarrassed. She just didn’t know how to get used to everyone chiming in on her relationship. It was probably something she needed to do.

  Sam’s thumb swept back and forth over her hand and distracted her from her concerns.

  “Calli’s just teasing you. She wouldn’t do it if she thought it bugged you.” Sam’s eyes softened, and her pulse settled.

  “It doesn’t. It’s just weird, that’s all. Having everyone…”

  “All up in our business?” Sam gave her a goofy grin that made her giggle. Her embarrassment vanished, and she wished they were home, snuggled on her couch. Instead, he was meeting up with her before Jethro and Brian showed for their interview.

  “I don’t think you suit that phrase,” Molly said, still laughing.

  “As long as I suit you, I’m okay with that.” He let go of her hand when Calli came back, two sodas on a tray.

  “Sorry if I embarrassed you, doll. Can’t help it. You two are almost as perfect for each other as myself and Dean.”

  Molly and Sam laughed, accepting their drinks. “No worries, Calli.” He glanced at Molly. “We probably need a minute?”

  Molly nodded, and they waited for Calli to head to another table. Sam pulled his hand back and grabbed his soda.

  “Hope you’re okay with a slight change in plans,” he said, bringing the straw to his lips.

  She picked up her own, arching her eyebrows in question as she sipped.

  “Jethro and Brian just got into the RV park and wondered if we could come to them. Guess they had some trouble on the highway, and they want to settle in for the evening. Once we get started tomorrow, it’ll be nonstop, so I said that was fine. I hope it’s okay, but I mentioned we were together—that you were doing the interview—and I’d let you know about the switch.”

  Small-town grapevines were more efficient than any text or tweet. When she didn’t answer, Sam frowned and set his drink down.

  “Did I overstep?”

  “No. Of course not. I’m fine with that plan. I just think it’s funny that I didn’t even have to speak to them to rearrange things. Small-town communication is something I both fear and admire.”

  Sam’s laugh warmed her insides. He had a great laugh. A great smile.

  Focus on your job. “Do you want to grab a quick bite and then we can head out?”

  His grin widened, and he picked up a menu, still looking at her. “Sounds perfect. Thanks for letting me tag along. I’ve never been behind the scenes on an interview.”

  Molly pulled her notebook out of her purse and grabbed her favorite black pen. Sam’s eyebrow arched.

  “Did I say something noteworthy?”

  God. His grin was going to forever be a distraction for her…forever? Molly smiled.

  “You’ve brought Jethro and Brian to Britton Bay. Jill wanted to interview you as well. Since she’s sick, that falls to me.”

  Calliope came back to their table, her own notepad flipped open, pen at the ready. “What are we having, cuties?”

  Molly didn’t need the menu to order her favorites—double-dipped, sea-salted fries and a basket of popcorn shrimp. Sam hummed and hawed for another minute, like he didn’t know the menu inside out. When he settled on a club sandwich, Calli promised it wouldn’t be long.

  Sam folded his arms on the table and stared at her expectantly. “No conflict of interest or anything?”

  She laughed. “No. I’m just going to ask you about the car show and your involvement. You ready?”

  “Shoot.”

  “From what I read, the Classic Car Crawl has been touring states for over twenty years, but there are other shows, other festivals. Why did you want this show to tour through Britton Bay?”

  His smile hinted at a touching memory, but she warned herself not to read into his gestures or expressions based on her status as his girlfriend.

  “My dad got me into cars. He loved everything about them, though mostly getting in one and driving. So part of it is nostalgic. My first show was a Classic Car Crawl. Now that I’m in a more stable place with my business, it seemed like a good time to bring the show here, to the place I love.”

  As she jotted down his words in shorthand, a smile touched both her lips and somewhere deep inside of her at the way he spoke.

  The music swelled louder, as did the laughter, and a couple more people—teen
s—came through the door of the restaurant. Molly focused on the man in front of her, certainly not a difficult task.

  “When I looked it up, I saw that the organizers tend to choose small-town venues. How does having an event like this benefit the community?”

  He sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, making her eyes wander. When they made it back up to his, he smirked and winked at her. “No conflict of interest, huh?”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “Answer the question.”

  His chuckle made her stomach dance, but he leaned forward again and got serious. “Doesn’t seem to matter what hits this town, we stick together. The people of Britton Bay knew my father. They adore my mother, and a few of them are even partial to me.”

  Molly snorted, then bit her lip.

  “They know this means something to me, so they’re stepping up. They’ll all put their best foot forward to make it a success. I think that Jet and Stoley—those are their nicknames—see the value and the heart in small towns and feed off of it. There’s something about that extended family feel that makes something more meaningful. Britton Bay has a lot of that.”

  When Calli showed up with their plates, setting them down and chatting about the new hire, Molly’s mind mulled over what Sam had said. The last few months had been a roller coaster for this small-town family. She had witnessed, firsthand, exactly what Sam mentioned. Good or bad, the folks of Britton Bay had each other’s backs.

  “Enjoy. You need anything else?” Calli looked at Molly, pulling her away from her thoughts.

  “We’re all good. Thank you. Oh, actually, are you busy Tuesday?”

  “With the new hire, my nights are going to free up after this festival. Why?”

  Sam was already digging into his fries. He slid the ketchup over to Molly.

  “Sarah Elwin? Chris’s girlfriend?”

  Calli nodded. “The artist, right? I haven’t seen her in here yet, but trust me, I’ve heard about her. Supposedly cute as a button and just as sweet.”

  Sam shook his head around a mouthful of his sandwich.