Harlequin Superromance September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: This Good Man\Promises Under the Peach Tree\Husband by Choice (42 page)

“Still, you should think about Nashville. You'd have a bigger market there. And it's not just brides who order cupcakes.” He heard himself trying to convince her and wasn't quite sure why.

Was it really for her sake? Or was he just trying to bring her closer to him? He had to be careful about that in case she got the idea that he was angling for a future.

“I don't know, Mack. I'm looking at Heartache with new eyes lately. But even if I hated this town, I would still move back here because Gram needs me and she wants to stay in her own home. I owe her as much help as she's willing to take.” She spoke with a fierceness that didn't surprise him. Nina's love was a formidable thing. “But I've realized since coming home that I
don't
hate it. If anything, I've remembered there's a lot to love about a small town.”

“Like that everyone knows your business? And makes no pretense of asking about it?” He couldn't believe she'd consider life in Tennessee again after how fast she'd ditched it before.

“Some people view that as being part of a caring community,” she pointed out.

“Do you?” He found it tough to believe she'd changed her mind. She hadn't been back here that long.

“I guess I do. I've seen that there are a lot of caring people in this town and I wouldn't mind being a part of that.” She stared up at the sky again, her eyes tracking the blinking light of a low-flying airplane. “Although when Kaleb Riggs asked me to come to work for the craft-beer place his family runs, I'm pretty sure he was hitting on me more than caring about my professional well-being.”

“You'll get a lot of that.” His buddy Vince hadn't been the only guy in town who'd been crazy about Nina. She had a natural warmth that made people gravitate to her.

“I doubt that. And anyhow, I'm not interested.”

Mack tried to take that as a cue to leave, even reaching for the stick shift to back up the car. He'd met her tonight out at the football field because she'd asked him to. They'd cleared the air about Jenny and put another piece of the past to rest. He should consider that progress. But with the liquid fire of attraction still simmering in his veins after that kiss they'd shared, he couldn't just leave it on that note.

“Meaning you're not interested in Kaleb,” he clarified. “And as for you and me, we only agreed on no kissing, at least for tonight.”

He might not be able to offer Nina a long-term relationship. He knew how she felt about family. Kids. But they were here together now and he wasn't the only one experiencing this attraction.

“Um, belatedly. But yes, I suppose I eventually came to my senses and made the safer choice.” She hugged her arms around herself and watched him with wide eyes.

If he had his say, neither of them would be thinking about safer choices the next time they sat alone in a car parked under the stars. He wanted to share a blanket with Nina Spencer again and remind her how good they could be together—for however long they had left.

“Do me a favor, though, and keep the dinner invitation in mind. You can even consider it rationally, if you prefer.” He checked his rearview mirror and forced himself to be disciplined where she was concerned. “Just please...think about it.”

* * *

“Y
OU
'
RE
GOING
TO
WIN
, Ally.” Ethan whispered the words in Ally's ear as they sat together in the grandstand at the Heartache Fairgrounds, surrounded by the rest of their classmates. They were waiting for the Harvest Festival Committee to choose one of the students' designs for a straw maze they'd submitted as part of a math-class competition.

“No, I'm not,” she whispered back, still surprised that Ethan Brady wanted to hang out with her a week after their first “sort of” date. He'd taken her to the local corn maze for inspiration for their math project. He hadn't kissed her, but he had definitely been looking at her differently since then.

If not for The Incident at the salon the day before that, her life would finally be looking up even in spite of her new weekly appointments with a psychiatrist. But as it stood, she felt suspended between happy and worried, afraid every minute that her secret would get out and that Ethan would discover she was seeing a shrink. Or worse, that he'd find out
why.
Her healing cuts started to itch as she thought about them and she squeezed the gray cuffs of her hoodie to reassure herself the marks were hidden.

“Are you kidding me?” Ethan leaned away from her to study her face. “Your maze design is by far the best. I have no idea how we ended up in the same class because you're, like, a million times better at algorithms than me.”

Ally's face heated despite the chill in the air. She'd never told Ethan about the fact that she'd only let her grades slip to get her parents' attention. She was starting to realize having a relationship with him—if he really did like her that way—might not be easy when she'd hidden so much from him.

“Not really. I was just inspired when we took that trip to the corn maze. That was a good idea.” She hoped reminding him of a fun day would distract him from the math thing. “But I don't think the committee will pick my design because it's got too many nooks and walls. It'd probably take way too many hay bales to make it.”

Ethan flipped a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Like there's a lack of hay in this town?”

She knew he still resented the nonstop chores of farming and living the lifestyle his family had imposed when they'd started their organic food co-op and market.

In front of them, two guys who were friends with Ethan turned around. “Dude, they'll pick her design either way because she's a Finley,” one of them said as he lifted up his sunglasses to look at Ethan. Then, his eyes cut to Ally. “No offense or anything, Ally, but isn't your father practically running the Harvest Fest?”

“Not this year, he isn't.” Embarrassed, Ally wished she could slink down between the grandstand seats while they waited for the committee's decision. The conversations around them grew louder as the class grew restless.

“But it's still your family that's organizing it, right?” the other boy chimed in, glancing up from his phone.

“I guess.” Regretting ever entering the contest, she hoped now she didn't win since her class would think the committee chose her because she was a Finley. “I know they're helping out with some stuff.”

The two boys exchanged a look.

“Hey. It doesn't matter.” Ethan slid an arm around her shoulders while their math teacher, Mr. Cummings, headed to the grandstand stage. “We all know Ally's design was the coolest. It's got turrets.”

He smiled at her, somehow making everything right with the world in spite of his friends and in spite of the fact that Rachel Wagoner sat three rows down in all her beautiful blond glory. She hadn't so much as given Ally a funny look since that day in the salon, but it was hard not to worry about her when she could spill Ally's secret at any time. For now though, Ally could only focus on the feeling of Ethan's fingers splayed along her back. Her heart beat faster.

“You know where I got the idea for the turrets?” She wished she had Ethan all to herself again for a few hours. Hanging out with him last weekend had been perfect, but the other parts of her life always seemed to interfere.

She was more certain every day that she wanted to leave town with him, even though her counselor kept talking about her “plans” after school. She felt a little guilty when she thought about how much time she'd spent on early college applications. But she could always go to college later.

“Um...video games?” Ethan guessed.

Just then Mr. Cummings finished up his conversation with a woman near the stage. Their teacher strode back toward the class.

A ripple of excitement went through the fifty kids on the old wooden bleachers as kids shouted out things like “Who won?” and “Just tell us!”

“No, not video games.” Ally's stomach knotted just knowing that Mr. Cummings was about to say the winner's name. “I thought of the turrets after we saw those apple-picking contraptions on the farm with the corn maze. It's too bad you don't have those apple pickers around the peach trees. It'd be a lot faster to get all the branches picked.”

The farmers had designed a picker with elaborate wooden stairs and platforms on big rolling carts so that whole families could climb up to high trees and pick their own apples. The pickers had been stained and varnished, with little round roofs over the highest levels.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “So I can be the next Tennessee farmer filling bushel baskets for fun on the weekends.”

His hand slid down her back and off, but she wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't appreciated the comment about picking peaches or if it was simply because Mr. Cummings had reached the foot of the bleachers where the students were clamoring for news.

“Attention please!” the math teacher shouted, holding a hand up in the air and waiting for the class to quiet. “I've got an update for you on the first-ever Straw Maze Math Challenge.”

The teacher had devised the competition two weeks ago for an extra-credit project, but he'd had so many entries he'd opened it up to multiple sections that he taught. Today's mini field trip included students from four different math sections. Mr. Cummings had submitted their designs electronically to the committee a few days ago and the students had spent the day at the fairgrounds walking around the site where the winning maze would be built and painting the outline of the exterior walls, which were the only real design constant.

“Good luck,” Ethan whispered in her ear, making her hopeful he wasn't mad at her after all.

“The committee has chosen an unorthodox winning entry,” Mr. Cummings explained, waving an envelope back and forth. “I think you'll all agree with the choice.”

Someone whistled. Mr. Cummings grinned.

“And the winner is...” He opened the envelope and withdrew a paper while a few kids imitated drum rolls. “Rachel Wagoner...”

He stared at the paper while cheers erupted and Rachel hugged the girl sitting next to her, her perfect sheet of golden blond hair spilling down her back in a shiny layer.

Relief swept through Ally even as Ethan's hand went to the small of her back.

“I can't believe it,” Ethan grumbled. “There's no way hers is better than yours.”

“And,” Mr. Cummings continued, holding up his arm again in the universal kindergarten teacher signal for quiet. “In an unusual request, there is a second winner. Ally Finley.”

Ally's heart stilled. The whole grandstand seemed to go quiet. Her gaze went to Rachel, whose face fell as she looked up at Ally. Her stomach knotted.

“I don't understand.” Ally shook her head, wishing everyone would stop staring at her. Rachel made a much better class representative than she did. Raising her voice, she shouted over a slowly growing hum of whispers, “How can we build two designs?”

“That's the thing.” Mr. Cummings cleared his throat and straightened a lopsided bow tie in the school colors. “You won't. The committee liked elements of both designs and have asked you to work together to bring some of each to the final maze.”

Seriously?

Ally knew better than to say anything aloud. But how had the competition turned into a group project? And with, of all people...Rachel? Her stomach twisted. Her fingers twitched with the need to scratch. And scratch.

“That's so cool,” Ethan started, until he saw her face. “Hey. You okay? Ally?”

His friends turned around, staring at her as if they knew she could turn crazy at any second. Which was silly since no one here knew her secret. Except for Rachel. Her new partner for the straw maze.

“I'm fine.” She forced a smile. “It sounds fun.”

“Didn't I say she'd win?” the boy playing a game on his phone groused. “It was totally fixed, man.”

“Oh, shut up, Barry.” Ethan gave the kid a light shove on the shoulder. “You're just jealous you didn't add a turret to that piece of crap you handed in.”

Barry laughed. “You know it, dude. Hey Ally, you think you can put in a good word for me with Rachel?”

Ally swallowed hard, twice, struggling to hold back a hysterical laugh.

“I'll see what I can do,” she mumbled, trying to smile but all the while thinking it was a damn good thing she was seeing that counselor this week.

Because the stress of working with the girl who knew her worst secret was going to punt her over the edge.

CHAPTER NINE

“N
INA
!”

Gram's voice carried up the stairs on the same shrill note Nina remembered from her childhood days. Back then, her grandmother had called her like that only when Nina had overslept and was going to miss the bus. Now, Nina worried she needed help or was trying to do too much on her own.

“Coming!” Still damp from a late-morning shower, Nina stuffed her arms into the sleeves of a heavy flannel robe that had magically appeared in her closet a few days ago after Gram said Nina had forgotten how to dress for the farm.

Nina had refrained from arguing the point, even though the “farm” hadn't been operational for a long time and maybe Nina didn't care to dress in jeans and flannel like a country girl cliché. Although, damn it, she had to admit the robe was incredibly comfortable and warm for a chilly morning.

Hurrying down the stairs, she found Gram leaning her elbows on her walker in the kitchen, talking through the screen door. She looked comfortable enough, smiling at Nina as she entered. Her color was good and she seemed to be moving well enough after her fall at the Owl's Roost. So why had she bellowed?

The mail carrier stood on the other side of the screen door, holding a few envelopes and what appeared to be a flyer from the local supermarket. The woman was the same carrier who had been delivering Gram's mail for the past two decades, but it took Nina a second to recognize Josephine with her gray hair dyed red now. She smiled at Nina and waved with the mail while chomping her gum with enthusiasm.

“Registered letter for you, sweet pea.” Her grandmother edged the walker away from the door. “You need to sign for it.”

That couldn't be good, could it? Nina shoved damp hair off her forehead and opened the door to reach for the pen the mail carrier held.

“Thank you.” Nina scrawled her signature where Josephine indicated. Distracted by the mail carrier's rhinestone manicure, Nina almost forgot to check to see who had sent the letter while she signed. “Rathmore Hotels?”

“Rathmore. Isn't that the last name of the man your partner ran off with?” Gram asked, pushing her walker so close Nina felt the bar in her hip.

“Bobby Rathmore is on the cover of one of the tabloids this week,” the mail carrier informed Gram. “He's got a little slip of a girl under his arm. A blonde.”

“Really?” Nina handed Josephine back the pen, nervous about what the registered letter might say. “It wasn't Olivia Delmonico, was it?”

The description sounded like Olivia. Bobby Rathmore's fiancée had been a curvy redhead.

The postal worker shrugged. “I don't know. Those jet-setters and Hollywood types change lovers every week. I see it on the covers all the time when I deliver the mail.” She handed Nina the envelope. “You ladies have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” Nina and her grandmother said at the same time while they turned to stare at each other.

“I don't want to nose into your business.” Gram nodded at the delivery, the silk daisy pinned to her gray sweatshirt bobbing as she moved. “But I am dying of curiosity right now.”

“Me, too.” Nina pointed toward the table. “Should we sit?”

“Heck, no! You should start shredding into that paper, sugar plum.”

Too distracted to gripe about this morning's dose of endearments, Nina did exactly what Gram suggested. She tore open the envelope, letting a few stray bits float to the floor. Inside a trifold piece of blank hotel stationery, there was a handwritten note on a smaller sheet of purple paper.

Nina smoothed out the lavender page, recognizing Olivia's handwriting immediately.

Dear Nina,

I am so embarrassed to have learned that my actions have caused Cupcake Romance to close. When I asked Bobby to leave town with me that night, I was caught up in the moment and did not consider how it would impact you. I am enclosing contact information for Bobby's lawyer, who has instructions for refunding your half of the money in our business account. I hope this will not affect our friendship! I've had so much fun working with you.

Love always,

Olivia

P.S. The Seychelles are breathtaking!! You must visit.

Gram whistled softly as her finger trailed down the lines on the page, stopping at the last one.

“Unbelievable.” Nina realized her hands were trembling as she held the paper, but she couldn't begin to pinpoint what emotion was responsible for the tremor.

Incredulity? Relief? Or the swell of anger that returned to her now along with a renewed sense of betrayal?

“You are a generous, warmhearted woman, Nina.” Gram lifted a hand from her walker to lay on Nina's back. “But even so, this bimbo has lost her marbles if she believes draining your bank account and running you out of business isn't going to affect your friendship.”

“I'm sure she thinks if I go to the Seychelles it will magically be all better.” She stood in the quiet kitchen, hair still dripping while a songbird trilled just outside the screen door. And something about the tone of the letter suddenly reminded her of other letters and other broken promises.

“What exactly are the Seychelles?” Gram asked. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

She pronounced it like “sea shells” and let the brunt of her Tennessee accent fully brutalize the word.

Nina couldn't help but smile. “It's an island chain in the Indian Ocean that most people only get to see on
National Geographic.
”

But then, Olivia had visited lots of places Nina had only dreamed about. Maybe that had been part of her appeal as a friend. Nina had often lived vicariously through Olivia's adventures. These days, though, she wondered why she'd cared. Living in New York had fulfilled some of her wanderlust. Besides, she wasn't the girl who'd been left behind anymore, always wishing she could jet off to wherever her parents might be.

Gram gave a dubious harrumph and pointed a weathered finger at the purple notepaper. “You know who she sounds like in this letter?”

Nina shook her head, too overwhelmed to say much.

“Your mom.” Gram edged her walker away from Nina toward the kitchen cabinets, the awkward movement rousing Nina from her reverie to help.

“Seriously?” Funny, she'd just been thinking about her parents. She kept an eye on Gram's feet to make sure each shuffling step landed securely.

“Well, sure.” Gram pointed to the cabinet where she kept the tea, so Nina opened it and then reached sideways to heat the kettle on the stove. “She's sorry for letting you down, but sends her love and wants forgiveness. She's off running around the world with no real worry about her responsibilities back home because all her life, someone else has cleaned up her messes.”

Nina let that sink in while Gram lifted one tea tin after another, searching for the flavor she wanted today.

“You're right,” she acknowledged finally, amazed to realize that Gram had seen through Olivia in five seconds flat. “I can't believe I went into business with a clone of my mother.” Maybe, in some weird way, she'd hoped Olivia wouldn't let her down all the times her mom had.

“I wouldn't go that far.” Gram unearthed a faded tin of Lemon Zinger from the back of the cabinet and brought it down to the counter.

“It makes total sense, though. I left here because I was restless and needed a change of scenery after Vince's death.” She hadn't been thinking about Mack or Jenny or Vince's family. She'd been focused on burying her own hurt. “And because I was trying to forget the past, I hung out with friends who were equally...self-involved.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Oh, honey, don't be so hard on yourself. You were a driving force behind the success of that business in spite of the fact you partnered with a flighty nut.” Gram's phone rang but she ignored it. “Don't mistake your natural vivacious personality for some kind of defect. You are enthusiastic and optimistic and we wouldn't want you any other way.”

She appreciated her grandmother letting her off the hook so easily, but Nina wasn't quite as sure.

“You want me to grab that?” Nina searched around the kitchen for Gram's phone while it chimed again.

“No. I'll call him back.”

“Him?”

“Just a hunch.” She winked. “How about you fix that tea while I take a seat and you can tell me all about your next move? If you really think Miss Olivia will return that money, are you going to try and save that business you worked so hard to build?”

A week ago she would have answered in a blink, ready to start whipping up some cupcakes. Not anymore. She wasn't sure what she would do professionally, but she was still certain she wanted to come home.

Nina watched her grandmother edge across the kitchen with the walker, angling the device through a narrow spot between an antique secretary and the corner of the table. It was a constant battle for Nina to restrain herself from helping too much, since that only riled Gram up and Nina understood her need for independence. Plus, Gram's new physical therapist had showed Nina the kinds of tasks that Gram should be able to manage on her own. But there was an increasingly long list of things she couldn't manage, and if she was going to keep any part of her independence, she needed Nina here.

“No.” She felt a new peace settle over her as she confided her plans to her grandmother. “I'm staying right here.”

“Really, honey?” Gram looked surprised for a second before she grinned. “I'm so glad to hear it. You deserve some closure with Mack. He's such a fine man.”

Mack? Nina's sense of peace evaporated. When had she said anything about Mack, let alone closure? Their wounds went too deep to slap a bandage on them and be done.

Too late, Nina realized that now that she was staying, she needed to find a way to keep a surface peace with Mack and protect her heart at the same time.

* * *

P
ULLING
INTO
A
parking spot outside the fairgrounds, Ally was grateful when her cell phone rang. A phone call meant she could delay her meeting with Rachel Wagoner for at least another minute or two. She'd been dreading seeing her ever since Mr. Cummings set up the time for the girls to merge their ideas for the straw maze.

Crossing her fingers that it was Rachel calling to cancel, Ally pawed through her backpack on the passenger seat to find her phone. She was shocked to see the number that came up on caller ID.

Pressing the button to connect the call as fast as possible, she hit the speaker button, too.

“Gram?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.

“Good morning, Alessandra.” Her grandmother's voice came through strong and clear on the other end.

Gram must be having a good day, even if she did think it was morning at two o'clock in the afternoon. Ally toyed with the mini pink flashlight attached to her key ring while she watched a flatbed truck pull into the parking lot with a load of hay bales.

“Hi, Gram. It's great to hear from you.” She wouldn't bother complaining about how much she'd missed staying overnight at her house or how much she wished Gram had picked up the phone that day she'd scratched herself into the hospital. If she kept things light and happy, Gram might be more likely to invite her for a sleepover again. Ally imagined them wrapped up together in a quilt at midnight while they watched an Audrey Hepburn marathon. Her grandmother always said she'd longed to be like those Hepburn heroines, ethereal and victorious all at once.

“I hear I missed a call from you the day you were taken to the hospital.” Gram cut to the chase and caught Ally totally off guard. She dropped the pink flashlight and stuffed the car keys in her bag.

“Did Dad tell you that?” She hated appearing weak to her grandmother, whom she admired. More than that, she hated to give Gram things to worry about. “It was no big deal.”

On the other end of the call, Ally could hear a soap opera playing on a blaring television, the violins really swelling.

“Honey, we say things like that to other people. Not to each other.”

Ally swallowed hard. How could Gram see right through her when they weren't even face-to-face?

“Um. I'm not sure what you mean.”

“I mean you can put on a happy face for the world, but don't hedge the truth with the people who love you.”

The stab of guilt worked for a minute. Until Ally realized that knife cut both ways.

“Are you sure about that?” She cracked the window on the car, the unseasonable heat already making the interior stuffy.

“They are words to live by, young lady.”

“Then why haven't you been answering your phone when I call lately? You didn't come to the door when Mom and I dropped by last week.” She hoped it was okay to say those things to Gram. Dad said she was fragile and they needed to be careful with what they said to her, but Ally saw a different side of her grandmother. The side that stayed up half the night watching chick movies. The side that decided 1:00 a.m. would be the perfect time to make a batch of divinity as light and airy as Audrey Hepburn.

“In my day, missy, we called that backtalk.” Gram's voice was stiff with disapproval.

Had her grandmother changed that much in the last few months? Worry gnawed at her. Had she waited this long to talk to Gram only to find out she wasn't Ally's friend anymore?

“I just meant that I want to know what's going on with you because I miss you.” Her voice didn't break, but the words came out high-pitched and uneven.

“I miss you, too, and I will hear your explanation for the hospital visit when you come stay with me for a few days.”

“Really?” Ally felt a surge of hopefulness that she hadn't alienated her grandmother. “You mean it?”

“I do not talk to hear myself speak.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Ally's spirits lifted. Gram was old-school. A “yes, ma'am” went a long way to appeasing her. Besides, how mad could she be if she wanted Ally to come hang out? “I can come over today after I finish up a project with a girl from my class.”