“Oh!” blurted Jen Connors, from Ben & Jen’s Bicycles. Her husband was also with her. “We didn’t know anyone was in here.”
As Scout glanced over his shoulder, he told her, “Ciara was just showing me the new sets.”
“In the dark—oh!” Jen’s eyes widened as she caught on. It was no great mystery that Scout and Ciara were an item when they were in town.
Scout’s mother was in tow as well. Didn’t that just figure? She appeared to tamp down a knowing smile. Played along. “It’s nice to get the moonlit visual, with the glittery rays cast over the ocean scenes. Right, sweetheart?”
Scout nodded, though he really just wanted them all to go away. To his mother, he said, “Everything looks fantastic. And maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the storage facility caught fire. Those last props were about twenty years old. These sets have a fresh look to them.”
“Holiday magic works in mysterious ways.” His mother grinned impishly. Then said, “We should all get back. Dinner’s about to start.”
Scout let the others vacate, and then turned back to Ciara, whose cheeks flamed. He chuckled. “Come on. That didn’t embarrass you.”
“That was your mother,” she simply said.
“And she’s known from the first time I laid eyes on you that I was crazy about you. Common knowledge around town, too. In case you didn’t know.” He kissed her.
Ciara’s fingers curled around the material of his shirt at his chest as she returned his kiss with the kind of fervor that always sent his pulse into the stratosphere. Got the adrenaline pumping.
Ciara St. James was the ultimate rush.
Unfortunately, she pulled away a bit too fast. He groaned in protest.
She laughed softly and said, “Marilyn gave me the responsibility of announcing dinner. Let’s get to it before thirty ravenous guests come crashing through these doors.”
“They can’t possibly be ravenous. I saw the mass quantities of appetizers offered.”
“Yes, well there’s also a bottomless bottle of champagne to keep their glasses full and plenty of other cocktails Waylon supplied. Best to keep everyone fed in order to sop up the hooch.”
“You really are a natural at this,” he said with admiration. “I took a good look around. You went to a hell of a lot of trouble. It’s incredible, babe. Tilda would be damn proud of you.”
Ciara gazed up at him, her eyes watering. “I hope so. She did so much for me when I was growing up. I could tell her a million times over how much I appreciated her, and always be on my best behavior when I was under her roof—”
“Babe,” he said and flashed her a wicked grin. “You weren’t always on your best behavior.”
“Scout!” She gave him a playful shove. “You behave, or I’ll break out that triple name you hate.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He draped his jacket over her shoulders once more and guided her out, hitting the lights and closing the doors.
“Still,” she mused as they made their way along the path with a fresh dusting of powder. “This year’s reenactment and everything related to the society is important not just so that people see a seamless transition, but also because it’s what Tilda would want. I owe this to her. The Pilgrim Society meant so much to her and I want to keep everyone buzzing about the festivities—I don’t care how many times they’ve seen that damn ship land. Whether there’s a rock o
r not. It all has to be spectacular. Every single time. For Tilda.”
Scout’s arm was around Ciara’s waist and he squeezed her tight. “Best granddaughter ever,” he assured her.
“Thank you.”
They entered the back of the house. Ciara went off in the direction of the cocktail reception while Scout ducked into a bathroom to wash up. On his way to the dining room, he ran into his mother again. She smiled prettily, looking as though she might have had more than a glass or two of champagne.
Scout teasingly inquired, “Are you stalking me? Really, if you want my autograph that bad, all you have to do is ask.”
She laughed. “I have the entire collection of DVDs with your career highlights. Maybe you could sign those for me.”
“So you can turn around and put them on eBay? Not a chance.”
Another sweet laugh. “They’d fetch a nice price. But those are my prized possessions, along with JT’s books. Now, if Hamilton will just stick to one thing…”
“And how about you? Everything good with your show?”