Page 53 of Bears of Firefly Valley: The Reasons Collection (Bears of Firefly Valley Boxed Sets #1)

DID SOMEONE SAY FAbrIC?

“You look like you’re getting comfortable,” Dorothy said.

“Firefly is growing on me,” I admitted.

“What can I start you with? Coffee?”

“Do you have??—”

“I can assure you, we do not.”

“You don’t even know??—”

“You were going to ask for a fancy coffee. It has an accent, doesn’t it? Probably from a country I haven’t heard of.”

“How do??—”

“I’ll make sure it’s not the instant coffee.”

She led me to a table and dropped a menu in front of me. She had gotten over her blushing, and for the first time, I caught sight of the real woman behind the apron. Dorothy had been doing this long enough that she’d developed the ability to predict orders.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

She smiled. “That’s more like it. I’ll make sure there’s extra bacon.”

Bobby: Today is a roof, leaky water heater, and putting in flower beds.

Chris: You’re in high demand.

Bobby: Need me to check your pipes?

Chris: Well… now I do!

I snorted. We had been texting back and forth since visiting the site of his future cabin.

While the conversation continued to be laced with sexual innuendo, I found myself amazed at his ability to come up with solutions.

Every time he sent a selfie of himself standing victorious next to a repaired door or working dishwasher, Bobby’s pride in a job well done warmed my heart.

Every time our texts turned toward the future, I pivoted.

Thinking about the long term didn’t scare me…

not usually. Then again, I hadn’t met a guy I craved getting to know.

He asked me about my work or about my favorite roles, but he didn’t turn into a fan.

Was this how normal people got to know one another? Were we dating?

I snorted again. I was definitely dating my fake boyfriend.

“You!”

The ladies that were knitting in the corner and I all turned to the door. Unlike the knitters with their white hair, our newcomer had a flaming red mohawk with the sides of her head shaved. Did her shoulders slump in defeat because nobody reacted to her dramatic entrance?

“Me?” There was nobody else sitting in my corner. She worked her way through the bistro before sitting across from me. I recognized her as the artist from Jason’s comic shop, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall her name.

“We need to talk.”

“Am I in trouble? You’re giving off angry mom vibes.”

Her jaw dropped. “Ouch. You wound me.” She leaned back, her face scrunched up in disapproval. “How goes hiding from the paparazzi?”

It was my turn to frown. When she flashed a grin, I realized she was messing with me. “So far, so good. Though, I’m realizing reporters have nothing on Firefly’s rumor mill.”

“Oh, just wait till one of the hard-of-hearing guys gets a phone call. They’ll think 'actor' is 'tractor,' and suddenly we have famous farm equipment.”

I wanted to say she was bluffing, but after meeting Harvey and Walter, I could see it happening. I’d need to ask Bobby if he had ever ridden a tractor. Or was that one of those things they taught them in grade school?

“I wanted to have a chat with you.”

“Okay.” I tried to hide my suspicion.

“Your movie bombed.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“It shouldn’t have. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done.”

Okay, she had my attention. I heard some people liked it, and even though it had an intriguing idea, nobody complimented my performance. I wished I could get her on tape and send it to Gail Simmons.

“Thanks… I think.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the whole Centurion movie is great. You do an awesome job of portraying Valiant. Blah, blah, blah.” For the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name. Despite that, I appreciated her candid delivery. Where was she taking this?

“But you’re better than that.” She leaned forward, holding a hand to her mouth. “If you tell Jason I said that, I have places to hide your body.” I didn’t doubt her. “He’d double my rent.”

I could see why she and Jason got along. She dropped a book on the table and shoved it in front of me. It wasn’t the first time somebody put a script in front of me and suggested I take it to the studios. If only it was that simple.

I spotted her name on the cover. “Amanda!”

“Did you forget my name?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

“I’ll forgive you if you check it out.”

“You know I don’t have any sway with the studios. I could give it to??—”

She leaned across the table, her hand resting on the cover. When our eyes locked, I spotted that wild look all the people of Firefly had. She spun it around, putting it directly in front of me.

“I know everybody knows you as this big-shot Hollywood actor. You’ve been blown up in every vehicle imaginable. But… the guy in Soft Spoken, he was trying to do something different.”

“Look at how that turned out.” I wished more people thought like her. I knew the industry was turbulent, with ups and downs. At the same time, it upset me that headlines suggested I was a two-dimensional actor who should stay in his lane.

“If you want to remake that image and leave something important behind…” She looked down at the manuscript. “I think it’d be perfect for you.”

Rarely did I ever open an unsolicited manuscript. Amanda had an intensity that piqued my interest. What else did I have going on? My days were spent wandering and texting Bobby. It’d at least give me some reading material while lying in bed.

I glanced at the illustration on the cover. “Perfect for me? It’s about a teenager.”

She got up, the smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. “Who said anything about you acting in it?”

Dorothy arrived, dropping an omelet with an unhealthy amount of bacon. When she set the coffee in front of me, I could tell by the acrid smell it was about as basic as they came.

“Think about what I said.” Amanda reached out, snatched a stick of bacon, and gave a slight wave as she skipped to the door.

“Is she always that intense?”

“Honey, you don’t know the beginning of it. Careful with her; she knows where to hide bodies.” When I stared up at Dorothy, she let out a little laugh. “We’re eccentric, not crazy. It’s a delicate balance.”

Dorothy wandered over to the knitters, leaving me to enjoy my omelet.

I stared at the image of the kid on the cover.

Wearing red flannel, similar to Bobby’s, comic books flew around him, opened to pages of heroes striking classic poses.

It appeared to be another superhero project, and I wondered why she thought this would differ from my usual role as an action hero.

My phone interrupted the thought, vibrating across the table.

Bobby: I am victorious!

He sent a photo of himself flexing in front of a water heater.

The rugged teddy bear always left me smiling.

I had to stop and gawk, studying his eyes.

Something about the way he enjoyed every moment of life made me reconsider Amanda’s suggestion.

Maybe I needed to shake things up if I wanted to grow beyond an action hero.

Chris: The only thing hotter than the water…

Bobby: I’ll show you just how hot.

Chris: Keep threatening me with a good time.

Bobby: Up for some more Maine fun?

Chris: Are we going potato picking?

Bobby: Wrong season, but almost as exciting!

Chris: I look forward to it.

And I’d spend the day wondering what adventures awaited me.

Laurel: Can you talk to her?

Chris: Me?

Laurel: Use some of that Hollywood charm.

Chris: You want me to seduce her?

Laurel: Ew. No. Wrong charm!

Laurel: Pleeeeeeease.

Chris: I’ll see what I can do.

Laurel: Good luck.

When I opened the door, the bell above it jingled, and the scent of aged paper and mothballs filled my nostrils.

Gladys wasn’t behind the counter, which meant she was hiding somewhere in Twice-Told Tales, ready to jump out and scare the crap out of me.

I inched my way inside, alert and ready for her.

“Gladys?”

She sprang up from behind the counter. I tried to hide the slight jump. Clad in another cardigan, she had a beaming smile stapled on her face, a complete turnaround from her demeanor the first time I walked in.

“Chris, I’m glad to see you!”

“I needed to??—”

“Flannel shirts? Knitted caps? What can I do for you?”

“Could you??—”

“Still chilly? We can find a thicker jacket.”

“I needed to ask you about costumes,” I blurted out before she could interrupt. Gladys had gone from standoffish to being a little too helpful.

“Costumes?”

“For the play.”

She leaned back, hand pressed against her cheek as she thought about it. Her eyes darted back and forth, and I imagined her rolling through the catalog of inventory. I bet Gladys knew the location of every item in the store without a second thought.

“For Peter Pan?” She hemmed and hawed. “I might have something that would work for Hook. But Lost Boys? I don’t think I have anything wild and woodsy.”

I wanted to scoff but thought it rude. Gladys didn’t seem to realize she had a treasure trove of wild items scattered about the shop. If we looked hard enough, I wouldn’t be shocked to find a pirate ship stashed away in one of those closets. Maybe if I took a look??—

“This is a job for the Sewing Guild.”

“Can you introduce me?”

Gladys leaned her head to the side, eyes looking past me. When I turned, a short white-haired woman in a patchwork shirt appeared as if by magic. While her top might be bold squares of neon colors, I focused on her enormous eyes, almost twice the normal size thanks to the oversized, thick glasses.

“Gloria.” Her hand shot out.

“Chris.” When I took her hand, she gave it a vigorous shake. She beamed energy, as if her body couldn’t contain it all. “I’m helping Laurel with the play and??—”

“You need better costumes? Did you see their Christmas play? The parents mean well, but those elves were positively dreadful. Little Mark’s tunic fell off halfway through the show. I give him props for not stopping.”

“Do you think??—”

“We could help? Honey, this sounds like a sewing emergency.”

“Anything would??—”