Unexpectedly in Love Read online

  I rolled my eyes. “Public enemy number one, so put your eyeballs back in your head and get in here.”

  Cassandra laughed. “Yeah, sure he is. He’s making you want things, isn’t he?” She waved her cowboy hat at Steve when he looked over, as though sensing he was being talked about. “Mmm. He’s yummy.”

  I yanked her inside before she could cause trouble. Her four-year-old son, Dusty, followed her, saying, “The Joker is Batman’s public enemy number one. He’s the villain in Gotham City.”

  Max came running up, carrying a Batmobile toy in each hand and passing one to Dusty. The two boys raced off to play, Max loving the feeling of being like a big brother to the younger Dusty.

  “Thanks for letting us stop by,” Cassandra said, hanging her thick farm coat at the door. “Dusty’s been going stir-crazy. Sometimes I wonder why we live way out on the ranch. Although I’m sure Alexa will remind me of all the reasons why when she arrives for Christmas. However, Texas doesn’t have winter the way we do, which automatically makes it easier.”

  “Your sister is coming?”

  “Yup, and her hubby, Cash.”

  “They’re both coming?” I’d heard how difficult it was to slip away for a holiday when you had a ranch to take care of.

  “Yup! Her new hired hand, Nick Wylder, and his girlfriend, Polly, have been great. Alexa actually booked a full week away. I’m hoping she’ll want a working vacation, though.” She flashed a smile. “I could use her expertise.”

  Cassandra had grown up on the ranch she now lived on, having gone to school one town over from Christmas Mountain. Cassandra, from what I’d pieced together, had left the ranch years ago for the East Coast, where she’d gotten married and had Dusty. Her sister had come for a visit to help Cassandra through her difficult pregnancy, but had stayed on when Cass’s marriage to Dusty’s father dissolved in a hot mess. Alexa had found work as an executive assistant during that time, and on a quick trip to Indigo Bay with her boss, had fallen in love with him. The rest was history, with the two of them ending up on a Texas ranch, and Cassandra back on the family ranch in Montana. I had the feeling that Cass missed her sister more than she let on.

  “Do you think you’ll ever return to the East Coast?” I asked, leading her through the living room and past the partial wall that sectioned off the kitchen. I turned on the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter.

  “Montana’s still home,” she said with a sigh. “But sometimes I wonder what I’m doing as a single woman on Blueberry Springs Ranch. I’ll never find a man out in the boondocks, and there’s no way I’m dating the help.”

  “Men just complicate things,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with you and Calvin?” my friend asked, her expression turning to one of concern.

  “Nothing.”

  “Or did you find a new man?” She perked up. I shook my head and she shifted back to the topic of Calvin. “Is he still talking about Paris?”

  “They leave in two days,” I said, careful to keep my voice steady as I fiddled with the sugar bowl. Max was tagging along to check out France with Calvin. They were making an official vacation of it, with a planned stop at Disneyland Paris, as well. The two were going to bond even more deeply, which had always been a secret wish of mine. And yet, I had reservations, too, like I feared being replaced in Max’s heart.

  “I still can’t believe you guys might move,” Cassandra said.

  If Calvin liked what he saw in France, and thought he could contribute to some big project, he was moving, and we would follow.

  “You don’t want to go, do you?” my friend asked gently.

  “Oh,” I said, waving my hand. “You know me. I’m happy in Christmas Mountain, but family comes first. I’m sure France would be an incredible experience for Max.”

  “So, tell me about your new neighbor.” Cassandra leaned forward with a grin. She’d had a nasty divorce when Dusty was still a toddler, but she didn’t seem to be turned off by the idea of finding someone new—or someone new for me, either.

  I brought the empty cups and sugar to the table and sat across from her, pushing her favorite mug her way. It had a sunset ocean scene from the time I went to California for a long weekend with Calvin.

  For a moment I allowed myself to imagine finding love again. I adore Hallmark movies, where the characters always get swept up in a sweet love, and the complications in their lives just sort of resolve themselves and fall away. Was real love like that? Kind of like what Calvin and I started out with, but with some staying power and a lot more of a kick?

  I sighed. Calvin and I had never seemed to quite find that spark I saw in the movies. Maybe because we’d been so young. Maybe because I wasn’t adventurous, but rather a happy wallflower. Or maybe because movies were fictional feel-good dreams and not reality.

  Either way, I had the feeling that men liked women who were more lively and spontaneous than me. Someone they wouldn’t lose interest in over the long haul.

  “What’s that scowl for?” Cassandra asked.

  I smoothed my features. “What scowl?”

  “You could find someone, you know.”

  “I have Max.” I wished the coffee was ready so I could pour it while smoothly changing the subject.

  “He’s going to grow up and leave one day. Then what?”

  The idea caused a pang in my gut. Max was only seven, but I already dreaded the day he’d move out. When he’d first started spending time at Calvin’s last winter during our separation, I’d nearly died of loneliness. Hence the dog.

  “He’s going to Paris for a week with his father,” Cassandra pointed out. Another pang, this one bigger. “What if they move there?” These pangs were starting to cause an ache.

  “I already told you I’ll go, too.”

  Cassandra sat back, watching me with serious eyes that had seen more than her fair share of hardship.

  “How about you?” I pressed. “Are you ready to climb back on the dating horse?”

  “Nope.” She got up and retrieved the insulated carafe even though the coffee was still mid-brew. “Not yet.”

  “Two divorcées,” I teased, trying to hide my smug smile. “Sad and alone.”

  She pointed a finger at me. “I will not be alone forever. I am going to get back out there. I’ll find a man, and when I do, I’m going to make him mine.”

  “Why am I picturing bondage against his will?” I said, feigning concern. “How much rope do you have on that ranch of yours anyway, cowgirl?”

  Cassandra snorted before letting out a laugh that rang loud and true.

  The front door opened and a woman called out, “I hope you guys didn’t start without me.”

  “I’m just nagging Joy to speak up for what she wants,” Cassandra yelled back, sloshing dark liquid into the red-and-white cup that Max had painted for me last Mother’s Day—a thoughtful gift arranged by his teacher. “Perfect timing, Carol!”

  “Joy, listen to Cassandra,” Carol Bennett ordered, followed by the resounding thunk of snow boots hitting the mat at the door. “Who is that hottie next door? Is he the reason for this conversation about speaking up for what you want?”

  I choked on a fake laugh.

  Carol and I went back as far as elementary school and Melody King’s choir group. We’d both left Christmas Mountain after high school and hadn’t kept in touch. But once Ms. King fell ill last year we’d found our way home again, along with the other gals, and had since all reconnected as though no time had been lost.

  “Because I can see why you’d want him,” Carol said, entering the room while unwinding a long, rose-colored scarf that brought out the cheerful highlights in her hair. “So if you’re trying to summon the courage to request some adult time with him, I totally back up Cass.”

  “It’s about Paris. She doesn’t want to go,” Cassandra said. “But I agree about the man, too.”

  “I said I’ll go to France.”

  “And isn’t the neighbor lovely?” Cassandra continued, i
gnoring me. “He’s that perfect blend of big but not bulky, you know?”

  “You don’t want to go to Paris? I thought you were gung-ho to experience a different culture with Max?” Carol asked, handing me a book from her store, Rudolph’s Reads. Pretty much every business in town had a Christmas-themed name, and hers was no exception. “You’ll like this one. It’s an autobiography about a woman who changes her entire life after divorce, and basically goes out and kicks butt.”

  “Inspiration for us, perhaps?” Cassandra asked, snagging the book from me to read the dust jacket. “Did she move to Paris to follow her ex?”

  “I’m not following him. It’ll be an enriching experience for all of us—if he takes the job.” For Carol’s benefit I added, “And that’s Steve Jorgensen living next door.”

  Carol recoiled. “No.” She stared at me like I was making stuff up.

  “Yes,” I said reluctantly.

  She began laughing. “I assumed my eyes were lying and that it couldn’t be him. I mean... next door? To you?” She laughed again. “How is he even still alive? If you need help hiding his body, I’ve been eavesdropping on the mystery novel book club that meets in my shop, and I might have a few suggestions.”

  “It’s not that bad having him as a neighbor,” I muttered into my cup. Maybe the spats that Steve and I had had were more legendary than I’d realized.

  Cassandra was grinning at me as if I’d revealed something juicy.

  “Have you told him today how awful he is?” Carol teased.

  “Of course I have.” I tucked my shoulder-length hair behind my ears. Technically, I hadn’t told him that. But since our meeting last night was less than twenty-four hours in the past, I figured that counted.

  For Cassandra’s benefit, Carol pointed at me and added, “This crazy woman used to pick on him every day in school.”

  “I did not,” I mumbled. “And he started it.”

  Carol took the bookworm mug I’d won in a raffle last year and filled it, putting the carafe back in the machine as she told Cassandra the full story. “Steve moved to our school in tenth grade and every single girl had a crush on him. He was hot. Smart. Intriguing. Adventurous. Total catch. But this girl—“ she waved her hand “—made him her enemy.” Carol turned back to me. “So? Is he single? Has he asked you out yet?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He’s always had this protective vibe around you, like he was some sort of Neanderthal who wanted to drag you back to his cave and kiss you.”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the shivers that zipped through my body at the thought of Steve kissing me. I’d bet his kisses were divine.

  Except for the whole it-being-Steve thing. I shook off the fantasy. “You need to get out more. And read fewer caveman romance novels.”

  “That’s not a genre,” Carol protested. “But it should be.”

  “I bet it is,” Cassandra said.

  “Remind me to look that up if I forget.”

  “The only thing that Steve has for me,” I said, “is picking apart my life and making me feel like I’m not living up to my potential. And that wanting a family is boring. He acts like his life goals are superior.” The heat of anger had returned. He’d really managed to get under my skin all those years ago, and had gotten me all riled up again yesterday, as though I’d never moved past it.

  Carol waved away my argument. “You’re single. And I heard from Jim Orson that Steve is, too.”

  “Plus, he has a point,” Cassandra said. “There is more to life than simply raising our sweet little hellions.”

  “And there are also several good reasons why Steve is still single,” I stated, locking my hands around my cup. His personality being the key one.

  “But he’s hot,” Carol said, sighing wistfully. Cassandra smiled and gave a low hum of agreement.

  “So?” I pressed.

  “And he’s smart.” Carol lifted a brow. “You like smart. Does he read? I’m a sucker for a reader.”

  “He’s bossy,” I countered. “He thinks he has the right to dictate what I do with my life.”

  “Just like Calvin,” Cassandra muttered, as Carol scrunched her nose.

  “We discuss things,” I argued. Calvin had a say in my life, but he didn’t run the entire show.

  “I never saw that side of Steve,” Carol said. “I only saw the two of you flirting—sorry, verbally attacking each other—in class.”

  “Has he really made you feel less than worthy again?” Cassandra asked, tipping her head to the side and sending her curls into a tangle.

  “Well...” I fumbled for something concrete to support my claims. “He...” He had been nothing short of awesome yesterday. But I knew what he was like, deep down. I knew what his judgment felt like, and that if I waited long enough it would pop up and blindside me.

  “Why should I like Steve?” I asked in a defensive tone, more than a little curious about what they’d heard about him.

  “He carried Mom inside when she fainted,” Max called from the hall outside his room, “and he fixed my nosebleed.”

  The little eavesdropper. Seriously. Heat was already creeping up my face as I tried to figure out how to explain the incident, while my friends gaped at me in surprise.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said numbly.

  “You were holding out on us?” Cassandra gave me an unimpressed look, her hands flat on the table, her shoulders hunched forward as if she was preparing to lunge at me.

  “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for,” Carol said knowingly. She had leaned back, legs crossed, her coffee mug secured between her elegant hands.

  “He didn’t carry me.”

  “Wait,” said Carol slowly. “Do you still have that thing about seeing blood?”

  “What thing?” Cassandra asked, looking at me.

  “I tend to get woozy when I see blood, even though everything’s totally fine.” I closed my eyes, trying not to picture Max’s mittens clutching his nose.

  “It’s why she didn’t become a doctor,” Carol said.

  My eyes flew open. “You know about that?”

  She shrugged. “I figured it out a few years ago. At first I thought dissecting the frog was an isolated incident. Because you were still totally fascinated and dived right back into the project the next day—as long as you didn’t have to dissect.” She turned to Cassandra. “Steve caught her when she fainted in class.”

  “No,” Cassandra breathed.

  “Yes. I thought she was finally going to see Steve’s attention for what it really was, and date him instead of Calvin.”

  “Wh-what?” I sputtered. “I don’t like Steve. I have never liked him.”

  “So he had to carry you yesterday?” Cassandra asked. “Like, to your room?” She had a funny expression on her face, and one hand tucked under her chin.

  “I just leaned on him, and then he put a wet cloth on the back of my neck and gave me a candy to bring my blood sugar back up.” I began talking faster, worried they would believe the whole situation had actually meant something. Which it hadn’t. But it felt like it could if I wasn’t careful. “He ran all of Max’s things through the wash after getting him cleaned up.”

  Realizing I was twisting a tendril of hair around my finger, I dropped my hands to the tabletop and locked them around my cup once again.

  Cassandra had a far-off expression that probably wasn’t too different from my own. Single moms have two kinds of fantasies. The first I call Hot Men Scenarios. They’re the standard sweep-you-up, real-life-doesn’t-exist ones. And then there are Thoughtful Hot Men Fantasies, where the guy runs loads of laundry while cleaning the entire house and making you dinner. Preferably something gourmet.

  Both are enough to send a woman off to la-la land for considerable amounts of time.

  “You have a crush!” Carol giggled.

  That broke the little fantasy playing out where Steve was wrangling with Max’s mattress, getting the fitted sheet on in such a way th
at a bouncing boy couldn’t pull it off simply by bounding into bed each night.

  “I do not.”

  “So totally do,” Cassandra said with a small smile. “And who can blame you?” She sat straighter and took a sip of her coffee. “Maybe I’ll have to develop a fainting condition, too.”

  I gave an exasperated, humored sigh just as someone knocked on the front door. It swung open and a male voice called out, “Knock, knock! Just returning your cookie container.”

  Steve made himself at home in my kitchen in no time, Cassandra cheerfully offering to pour him a cup of coffee while he protested that he could serve himself. I noticed he chose the largest cup in the cupboard—a big polka-dotted mug I’d been given by one of the daycare kids last week.

  Max shot in to give Steve a quick hi, and Steve gave him a fist bump while taking a gulp of his freshly poured coffee. I hated the way the little moment made my heart swell.

  “Carol!” My son turned to her next. “Do you have any new books about galaxies? I want to read about Tatooine! It’s where Luke Skywalker is from.”

  I’d recently done a little shopping in Carol’s store while she kept Max entertained with a book about outer space. He was eager to go back and fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

  “Tatooine is a fictional planet, Max,” I said. “It’s not real.”

  “I know,” he told me, his focus on Carol.

  She hummed thoughtfully, and I wondered if she was plotting how to sneak more books under our tree from Auntie Carol. “There are a lot of interesting books about Star Wars, and I have a new shipment coming this week. I’ll text your mom if there’s anything good in there, okay?”

  “Okay! Thanks!” He scooted off to go play again, hollering, “Dusty! I’m getting new Star Wars books!”

  I sighed and winced at Carol, who just laughed and told me not to worry about it. She turned her attention to Steve. “Long time no see.” She held out her hand. “Carol Bennett. We were in the same grade.”

  “Yeah, I remember. How’s it going?” Steve shook her hand and took the empty chair next to me.

  “Emma says hi, by the way,” I interrupted.

  “To me?” he asked.