Weeks passed. Pond lunches became dinners in the café with Lucas. He showed increasing interest and commented on things he liked about her, especially her long, curling brown hair and love for reading. Lucas had dinner with Emily and her mom. Emily’s mother also liked him but shook her head about his teeth after he left.
He was so secretive about his background that Emily figured being a vet, he had some PTSD issues. Otherwise, he was so kind. Played with the little kids, helped them with football, brought a fishing rod and showed them how to catch fish — just an all-around good guy.
One night after dinner, they sat on a pond bench and watched the sunset, holding hands. She could feel his tiny squeezes, and she squeezed back. Chills still crept up her arm.
During a quiet moment, he turned, looked into her eyes, and moved closer. Emily wanted to kiss him — teeth didn’t matter. Just a peck at first, but his lips were soft and moist. The next was a more passionate embrace and deeper kiss with tips of tongues tickling. His cowboy hat fell off his bald head. Emily never felt like this with Bill. This felt like genuine love. If only he didn’t have those secrets that lurked in the shadows.
Emily walked into the bookstore one morning, followed by a man in a black three-piece suit. After a wave to Hazel, he followed when she headed for Lucas.
When they arrived together, Lucas looked surprised. Before Emily could speak, the man reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve a business card and, in doing so, exposed his shoulder holster gun to Emily.
“Look out, Lucas, he’s got a gun.”
Lucas turned to run, but the muscular man grabbed his arm and shouted. “Hold on, James. I’m here with good news. Your days of hiding are over. We got ‘em all, the entire gang dead, and a few middlemen in jail. You can come out.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open, and she stared incredulously at the two men. “Who’s James? What’s going on?”
“I’m FBI Special Agent Marks. We’ve been hiding James Overton here from a drug gang till we had enough evidence besides his accounting records. Now it’s completely over. James, you can return to Atlanta whenever you wish.” He turned and walked out the door.
Emily put her hands on her hips and slowly turned to look him square in the eyes.
“No more secrets, Mr. Overton.”
“Yes, I’m James, under FBI protection in disguise. Now I can let my hair grow back and eliminate these.” As he said the words, he grabbed the protruding teeth, wiggled, and gave a yank, and they came out in his hand, revealing the most perfect set of teeth she’d ever seen. “Boy, that feels good,” he said. All traces of accent gone.
“Emily, I love you, but couldn’t tell you everything until it was over. Now it is. No more pretend, but I do kinda like these cowboy clothes and Willow Creek. I’d like a permanent home here or Atlanta, or wherever.”
Just before they kissed, she whispered, “I like it here too.”
