Casanova(47)

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “Exactly.”

“Ah. I see.” She checked her watch. “Well, he still has time to show up, but he wasn’t at home when I left. I have no idea where he is, actually.”

I frowned. That wasn’t good. “Do you think if I call he’ll answer?”

“I don’t know. He does this sometimes—just disappears. It’s usually pretty hard to get hold of him.”

Alarm bells dinged inside my head. “How often does he do it?”

“Two, three times a month?” Camille shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. Sorry, Lani. We stopped asking him like a year and a half ago.”

“A year and a half ago?” My voice came out a little squeaky. “That long?”

She nodded with a grimace.

What could he possibly be doing two or three times a month for that long? Was it because he was doing that ‘good stuff’ he refused to elaborate on?

Now I didn’t just have alarm bells dinging—I had church bells ringing out. The longer I spent back in Whiskey Key, the more and more mysterious Brett Walker became.

How could one person be so complex?

“Are you looking to interview people?” Camille broke through my thoughts. “For the paper?”

“Oh, right, yeah. I’m not really sure where to start.” I looked out at the crowd. There had to be at least three hundred people here. More, probably. I knew from spending a little too much time researching my home town last night that the color run was crazy here. Mostly because it signaled the start of the hard tourist season and was swiftly followed by the Whiskey Key Whiskey and Wine Festival. The crazy then started and didn’t let up for three months.

“Want some help? I know exactly who will be happy to get their faces and names in the paper and remind the little people just how generous the resident multi-millionaires are.” A wry smile crept onto her face.

Okay, now she was speaking my language. I was good at multi-millionaires.

“Lead the way.”

And she did. I smiled my way through two conversations with different people of whom I only had vague memories. The Lawrences were donating twenty-thousand dollars to the local authorities to renovate the park and add a skate park for the kids who couldn’t quite seem to make their own out of scrap wood, and the Peterboroughs were donating ten-thousand dollars to the local hospital for the maternity unit.

According to Carly, both families were worth more than ten million.

They were pushing the boat right out with their donations.

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d spin right out of my head.

It wasn’t until the third family that I actually remembered anybody, and it was only because I knew the guy standing in front of me from school.

“Lani Montana!” Xavier Ryan swept me into a huge hug before I could anything. In fact, he grabbed me so tightly that I dropped my camera. Only Camille’s lightning-fast reflexes stopped it from falling to the ground.

“Oh, hey,” I squeaked out, resting my hand on his back. “Geez, you’re strong.”

He laughed and stepped back, running a hand through his thick, black hair. “Sorry. It’s just good to see you.”

“You too.” And it was. He was no longer the lean, slim kid from high school. He was bigger and bulkier than I remembered, and he’d lost whatever baby face he had when we’d graduated. His once-oval face was now sharp and chiseled.

“Lani’s working for the paper,” Camille said, giving me back my camera. “Can she ask you a couple questions?”

“Really?” Xavier’s attention flicked from Camille to me. “You are?”

“Yeah. I’m staying until Connie has the baby and need to keep busy.” I smiled and held up the camera and recorder. “Do you mind?”

He held his hands out and, with a smile, said, “Not at all. Hit me with it.”

“Okay. Let me get your picture first. Just stand normally and smile.” I took a few steps back, and when Xavier shot a stunning grin at my camera, I snapped his picture. I hit the button a couple more times, just in case. “That was great, thanks. Now, can you tell me why you’re running today?” I held the recorder up between us.

“I’m running for the police department,” he answered, half-smiling at me. “They want to start a program for troubled teens, but their overall funding just got cut. My grandparents have donated ten thousand dollars to kick start it.”

“What a great idea.” I meant it too. I didn’t remember there being many troubled teens on the Key, but there was every chance that had changed. “Thanks, Xavier.”

“Hey, I can see Raven by the start line.” Camille tied her hair back on top of her head. “I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”

“I’m here all day.” I waved as she said goodbye to Xavier and disappeared into the throng of people.

“How long are you staying?” Xavier drew my attention back to him with his question.

That was rapidly becoming my least favorite question. “I’m really not sure. Maybe six months? I want to be here for Connie, but I don’t see myself staying here forever.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You sure? ‘Cause you look awfully comfortable here.”