Jesus, Ben thought. Girls really were aliens. “Kites,” Ben said. “Make your kites.”

Neither backed down until Ben gave them each a nudge.

Three minutes later the fight was back on.

“Okay,” Ben said. “That’s it. You have two seconds to tell me what’s going on, or we’re done here.” He looked down at the insistent tugging on the hem of his shirt and found Kendra staring up at him, her eyes filled with anxiety.

“You aren’t going to quit, right?” she asked in a small voice.

Ah, shit. Guilt swamped him, and he crouched down to look into the eyes of the little girl who hadn’t spoken once in all this time—until now. Apparently her abandonment issues trumped her social anxieties. “I’m not going anywhere,” Ben promised. “We’re all going.” He took Kendra’s hand in his and rose to his full height, staring at the entire class. “Get your hammers.”

Ben had asked Sam for advice on what to do with the kids. Sam built boats by hand and knew his way around tools. On his suggestion, Ben had ordered and bought thirty-five small hammers from the hardware store, along with work aprons and some other tools for the kids. He figured they’d go out to the railroad ties surrounding the yard and hit the shit out of the wood until aggressions were released. It’d always worked for him. “Field trip,” he said.

They got halfway down the hall before Ms. Uptight Teacher stuck her head out of the office. “Where are you going?”

“Field trip,” the kids yelled excitedly.

The teacher shook her head. “No permission slips.”

“We’re not leaving the yard,” Ben said.

The kids all sighed in disappointment.

The teacher didn’t look relieved. “Why are they all carrying hammers?”

“Anger management,” Ben said.

Ms. Uptight Teacher was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “No.”

He wondered if she practiced saying no to everything, or if it just came to her as naturally as her pinched expression did.

“If you all need a time-out,” she said, “there’s a basket of kick balls in the yard.”

Fine. Ben took the kids to the yard, marching them to the far end. “Okay,” he said, lining them up. “New lesson. Anger management.”

“What’s that?” several kids asked.

“It’s when you expel your pent-up negative energy through physical exertion,” he said.

They all blinked in collective confusion.

“You know how sometimes you just want to hit someone?” he asked them.

“You mean like when someone tells a lie about you?” Pink asked, glaring at Dani.

“Or when they steal your string for your kite?” Dani asked, glaring back at Pink.

“Yes,” Ben said, stepping between them. “Just like that. But we’re not going to hit anyone. Instead we’re going to hit something. Something that won’t get you in trouble. In this case, the fence.” He set a kick ball in front of each kid, separating them widely enough so that no one could level anyone else, accidentally or otherwise. There he stepped to an empty spot with his own ball. “Go,” he said.

Everyone kicked their balls at the fence, which made a very satisfactory sound as it was hit. The balls went flying, and the kids raced after them. They lined up again.

And again.

Ten minutes later each and every one of them was panting in exertion and…smiling.

Except for Ben. He drove Pink and Kendra home and finally found something that did make him smile.

Dan was sitting on the front steps of the house, waiting for his kids.

Chapter 26

Aubrey hadn’t had very many shitty days lately, not since Ben had come into her life. But the past few days had been real doozies. It was horrifying, demoralizing, devastating to realize how badly she’d messed up. Earlier she’d opened the bookstore determined to hold her head up high. What was done was done. She’d had the best of intentions when she’d confessed her misdeed to Ben, and though she still had to somehow make him understand that, she also had to go on.

She had a lot to look forward to, she reminded herself. For one thing, her store was doing okay. And for another, her grand-opening party was only four days away. She’d do even better after that, or so she hoped.

The bell over the door jangled, and her first customers of the day walked in. Lucille and—oh, crap—Mrs. Cappernackle, the retired librarian.

Mrs. Cappernackle gave Aubrey an indecipherable look down her long nose. “Lucille informs me you came by my place some time ago.”

“Yes,” Aubrey said. “I did.” She paused. “You don’t remember?”

“I’ve had some health problems,” she said, still snooty. “Affects my short-term memory.”

Behind her, Lucille swirled her finger by her right ear, making the sign for “crazy.”

Mrs. Cappernackle didn’t catch this, thankfully. “My long-term memory, however,” she went on, eyes eagle sharp and on Aubrey, “remains perfectly intact.”

Terrific. Not daring to meet Lucille’s gaze, Aubrey bent down to the cabinet beneath the cash register and pulled out the book she’d been saving to give back to the retired librarian.

Mrs. Cappernackle’s eyes narrowed. “So you did have it.”

Aubrey didn’t bother to sigh as she handed it over. “It’s not the exact same copy. I bought you a new one.”

Mrs. Cappernackle opened the book and stared down at a check stuck in the first page. “What’s this?”

“Overdue library fees,” Aubrey said, hoping it was enough.

Lucille glanced over Mrs. Cappernackle’s shoulder, looked at the check, and smiled. “Aw, how sweet. Isn’t that sweet, Martha?” she asked Mrs. Cappernackle.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Cappernackle said. “I do like it when a person owns up to her mistakes.” She narrowed her gaze on Aubrey. “But I still want you to stay out of my library.”

Behind her, Lucille made the “crazy” sign again and then nodded, motioning that Aubrey should just agree.

“Done,” Aubrey promised.

Mrs. Cappernackle nodded. “I’ll wait in the car, Lucille. I’m tired now.”

“I’ll be right there,” Lucille assured her with a gentle pat, and when the door had shut behind Mrs. Cappernackle, she met Aubrey’s gaze. “Thanks.”

“I have the feeling I should be thanking you,” Aubrey said.

“Think nothing of it.” She leaned in, eyes unusually solemn. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?” Aubrey asked. “I’m fine.” She had no idea what exactly Lucille might be referring to, but best to be “fine” no matter what. Besides, there was no way the world could know about her and Ben yet, or at least she hoped not. “Uh…why do you ask?”

Lucille looked at her for a long moment. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not carrying Ted Marshall’s book in here anywhere.”

“No.” Hell, no.

Lucille nodded. “Wise choice. But you can’t keep it hidden forever, honey. Lots of people in town have e-readers now, you know. They’re downloading his book regardless.”

“My purpose wasn’t to keep people from reading it,” Aubrey said. “I just didn’t want to sell it here. I refuse to help him earn a single penny.”

Lucille nodded. “I understand that. So I hope you understand that my book club read it.” Aubrey winced. “We didn’t tell you, or order the book through your store, because we didn’t want to hurt your feelings. But just like with Fifty Shades, we were morbidly curious.”

“I do understand,” Aubrey said. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Well, I sort of do.” Lucille met her gaze. “It was my idea, you see, and I feel awful about that. Because everyone read the book, all twenty-two of us, and now they’re talking about it.” She paused as if waiting for a specific reaction from Aubrey.

But Aubrey had no idea what that reaction was supposed to be. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Lucille said. “You know Lucky Harbor. Those twenty-two people will tell twenty-two people, and so forth.” She shrugged. “People love a scandal. I didn’t put it on Facebook, though. I want you to know that.”

“Okay,” Aubrey said, even more confused now. “What am I missing, Lucille?”

Lucille paused, staring at her. “Honey, have you read it?”

“Just the first chapter.”

Lucille took this in while moving her lower dentures around some. “Oh, dear.”

“You’re starting to scare me, Lucille.”

Lucille sighed. “He outed you.”

“He…outed me,” Aubrey repeated. “What do you mean? I thought everyone already knew I was bitchy. That can’t be news to anyone.”

“It’s not just that. He published a picture of you—one of the less revealing pictures you’d posed for, in the grand scheme of things, but still. It’s pretty revealing.”

“A picture. Of me,” Aubrey repeated, aware that she was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“It’s the one where you were in the”—she hooked her fingers to signify quotation marks—“Sexy Kitty costume.”

Oh, God. Those pictures. She staggered back to one of the big, cozy chairs and fell into it, her mouth open, her heart racing. Crap. Shit. She’d thought things couldn’t get worse, but this was worse. A part of her past she’d hoped to never revisit was back, biting her on the ass.

She should’ve been used to it. After all, she’d just spent a month facing her past head-on, and it’d been the hardest thing she’d ever done.

But she’d been fixing her past while concentrating on her future, and that future had just come to a grinding halt. The pictures that Lucile referred to had been taken when she’d been nineteen, during her short “modeling” career. She’d used the money to pay her college tuition. It’d been that or quit school, and she’d never been a quitter. She wasn’t going to apologize for that.

But that didn’t mean she wanted the pictures from all those years ago to surface now.

Or ever. “I’m going to have to kill him,” she murmured.

“Or,” Lucille said, “you could hit him where it hurts.”

“Hitting him in the nuts might get me arrested,” Aubrey said. “And I’m trying to clean up my karma, not make it worse.”

Lucille smiled. “I meant his wallet, honey. Sue him.”

No—she couldn’t. The pictures were on the Internet if someone knew where to look, and since Aubrey hadn’t retained the copyright, she doubted she had a leg to stand on.

“Now, mind you,” Lucille went on, “the picture he used is nothing to be ashamed of. You have a lovely figure, Aubrey. But the link to the others…”

“He published the website address?” Why, oh, why hadn’t she read his entire book?

Because he was slime, that’s why.

“He did,” Lucille said. “And to be honest, some of those pictures…well, they’re not quite as…tasteful as the one in his book.”

Yeah. She didn’t remember a single one in the bunch being…tasteful.

Lucille took in Aubrey’s expression and frowned with concern. “You really didn’t know.”

She shook her head. “No.”

The older woman sighed. “I’m sorry. Honestly, those pictures, they don’t bother me none. I’m a modern woman, you see. But there’re some people in town who aren’t as liberated as I am. They might view this as…well…”

“Porn,” Aubrey said flatly.

“Well, only if they haven’t read Fifty Shades,” Lucille said helpfully.

Good God. This was bad. Very bad. While she sat there picturing her reputation’s demise, the bell on the store door tinkled. She looked up in time to see her father stride into the store in an elegant suit, his Bluetooth headset on his ear. Clearly he was in work mode.

Aubrey couldn’t imagine what had brought him here until his cold gaze met hers. And then she knew.

The pictures. From the frying pan into the fire… “If you’ll excuse me, Lucille,” she murmured.

“No problem, dear.”

“Aubrey,” her father said when she’d risen on shaky legs and walked over to him.

“Long time no see,” she said lightly. “You missed the last few family dinners.”

He didn’t buy into the small talk. “You posed nude on the Internet.”

She took a moment to try to draw in a deep breath for calm. Try being the operative word. “It was a long time ago,” she finally said.

“So you’re saying there’s a statute of limitations on stupid decisions?” he asked.

Ouch. “No,” she said carefully. “There’s not. Of course not. But at the time—”

“At the time you were in college. What kind of serious college student poses for immoral pictures—”

“It was a legit modeling job, Dad.”

“Legit? Please.” He stared her down. “I’m bitterly disappointed in you.”

“I paid my way through college with those pictures,” she said, vibrating with frustration, heartbreak, and now anger. And actually, the anger felt good—damn good. “You were a little busy at the time with the new family, but I paid my own way, without asking you for a cent. So I’m sorry if I didn’t turn out the way you wanted me to, but you know what, Dad? You didn’t turn out the way I wanted you to, either. So consider us even.”