Meeting Mr. Right (11 page)

“Where to start? His writing flows like music. Like a symphony of words. Mushy as all get-out and sweet as a daisy in the springtime. I’m afraid I got a little too caught up in that.”

“What girl wouldn’t?”

“In some ways I feel like I know BJ very well, but in other ways I really don’t know anything about him. I’ve never even seen what he looks like.”

“You have got to be kidding me. You’re getting all twitterpated over a man when you’ve never even seen his face? Girl, you
are
a mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Vee agreed with a miserable groan. “But I’m not
twitterpated,
as you put it. Actually, I’m trying to figure out a way to back out gracefully without hurting his feelings.”

“But why? Maybe you’ll meet him face-to-face and fall instantly and madly in love.” She sighed dramatically. So much for not being a drama queen.

Vee met her friend’s gaze and lifted her eyebrows. “Can you not see why I have a problem, here? This whole relationship is a sham.”

Olivia’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose. When you put it that way. So what are you going to tell him?”

“I have no idea. That would be the reason behind the expression you saw on my face when you walked up.” Vee wiggled the computer mouse to light up the screen.

She pulled up her email. There was a note from BJ.

Dear Veronica Jayne,

We’ve been corresponding for months now, and I feel like I know you pretty well. I hope you feel the same about me. We aren’t strangers anymore, are we?

What do you think about exchanging pictures? I’d like to see what my flower girl really looks like.

Sincerely,

BJ

“Veronica Jayne?
Flower girl?
” Olivia was definitely getting her jollies at Vee’s expense. She was enjoying this
way
too much.

“Veronica Jayne is my online handle. It also happens to be my given name, thank you very much. It says so right on my birth certificate. He calls me his flower girl because that’s what I told him I do for a living—I work with flowers. Which is also true.”

“Kinda. Not firefighting?”

“Me in my firefighter’s garb. Now
there’s
an attractive image. No, thank you.”

“Hey! I’m here to tell you that you rock that uniform. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you being a female firefighter.”

“No, I know that. I was going for something a little different, you know? Everyone here in Serendipity sees the no-nonsense firefighter who’s just one of the guys, which is not particularly good for my love life. I guess I wanted to present a different side of myself, something a little more soft and feminine.”

“Oh, I get it,” Olivia responded. “You think that since you’ve only shown him the ‘girlie’ parts of you that he won’t like the rest. Is that why you want out?”

“That’s part of it, I suppose. But it goes the other way, too. He might not like the parts of me I haven’t shown him—and I might not like the parts of him he hasn’t put on display. Who knows what he’s really like in person?”

“I think you should wait and find out. See how things go when you guys meet face-to-face.”

“No, I need to do this now.”

“Before you’ve seen what he looks like, even?”

Before she lost her nerve, more like.

“He’s offering to send you a picture of himself. Are you seriously trying to tell me you aren’t the least bit curious if he’s handsome or not?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then let him send you a photograph. He was the one who offered, right? You get to see what he looks like, and then you can tell him you just want to be friends or whatever. What’s the harm in that?”

“I don’t know. I get all jittery when I think about it. What if he’s nothing like the man I pictured in my head?”

“So what if he isn’t? You said yourself it didn’t matter what he looked like.”

“But what if he
is,
Olivia? What if he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen? What am I going to do then?”

Olivia glanced across the room at Ben and flicked her chin in his direction. “I highly doubt that your BJ guy is going to be the best-looking guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. I saw the way your gaze lit up when Ben stopped by our table.”

“No you did not,” Vee responded adamantly. She wanted to crawl underneath the table and hide there. Maybe dig a hole to China and forget learning Spanish. Not only was she struggling with an attraction to a man who no doubt looked at her as nothing more than an annoying coworker at best, but her very best friend Olivia, ex-girlfriend of said attractive man, was picking up on it.

This was bad. Really bad.

“Ben looked at you the same way,” Olivia stated as matter-of-factly as if she were reciting the weather forecast. “I wouldn’t mind, you know—if you and Ben got together. You’d make an adorable couple.”

Vee was embarrassed—humiliated—that her emotions were running so close to the surface. This wasn’t like her, and it made her more uncomfortable than she could say.

“And now that he’s had some time to grow up a little bit, he’s probably less clueless about women. He’s certainly gotten smarter about dating every woman in town,” Olivia continued. Same song, different verse. “Ben isn’t the same fresh boy that he was when he came back to town from the military. He’s matured. And you’ve got to admit he
is
pretty sweet-looking. You two would look so cute together. I really wouldn’t mind.”

Vee shook her head furiously. “
I’d
mind. Can we please not talk about this anymore?”

“Okay,” agreed Olivia easily. “Then let’s get back to your cyber-guy. Picture or no picture?”

Vee stared at BJ’s email for a moment before pressing reply. She typed in a single word in response.

Okay.

Chapter Ten

Okay.

B
en stared at the one-word email. Veronica Jayne wanted to exchange pictures with him. His heart raced so hard that it roared in his ears.

What did his flower girl really look like? Was she blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short?

More to the point, would it matter? It was time for him to discover if he had any depth of character whatsoever or, as he feared, if he was just as shallow as the next guy, not able to look past a pretty face into something more substantial and meaningful.

Veronica Jayne hadn’t attached a photograph of herself, so he assumed she wanted him to go first. He used his mouse to click the folder containing his digital pictures and scrolled through them, searching for a photo of himself that put him at best advantage and that he imagined Veronica Jayne might like.

There was one of him and Zach panning goofy for the camera, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, but he quickly nixed that one. He didn’t want to confuse Veronica Jayne by sending her a picture of two guys, he reflected with a startled chuckle. What if she thought Zach was the better-looking of the two of them?

Ben wasn’t willing to take
that
chance. Zach Bowden had turned more than a few women’s heads in the years before he’d married and settled down. What kind of comparison was there between the two men? Ben didn’t even want to know.

He finally settled on a picture his mother had snapped of him on a Sunday afternoon over the dinner table. It was a close-up of his face, and he was smiling his natural smile. It would have to do.

He hit Reply and attached the photograph to the email, then poised his fingers over the keys to write her a short note.

Dear Veronica Jayne,

Well, here it is. Or rather, here I am. I have to admit I’m a little nervous about what you’ll think of me. Don’t judge too harshly. I’m looking forward to receiving a photograph of you so I can finally put a face to your lovely name. Veronica Jayne. My flower girl.

BJ

“Hey, Uncle Ben,” Felix called as Ben’s two nephews scampered into the room. “What are you doing? Mom said you’re supposed to take us to the church carnival.”

Ben closed his laptop with a snap and laughed as he rounded up his nephews and tickled their ribs. “I was just finishing up some work here. You guys are anxious to go to the carnival, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boys answered in unison.

“Impatient little rugrats.” He ruffled their hair. “Are you ready to throw rings at pop bottles and win the cakewalk?”

“What’s a cakewalk?” Nigel asked, screwing his face into an adorably bemused expression, his dark brows lowered over expressive eyes. “Do we really get to walk on cakes?”

Ben barked out a laugh. “No, little man. You don’t walk
on
cakes. You win one if you’re the last person standing. Or sitting, technically. In a chair.” The two boys shared confused looks and he shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. You’ll just have to learn to play it when you get there.”

Ben bundled the boys in their jackets and they headed out.

It was only a couple of blocks to the church from his parents’ house, so he and the boys walked, enjoying the temperate spring air. Felix and Nigel were both squirrelly from being cooped up in the house all day, and Ben thought it would be good for them to run off some of that energy before entering the carnival, which would be a crush of people in a relatively small area.

He was in excellent physical shape, but it was all he could do to keep up with the little guys, and he gained a new appreciation for mothers who had to herd their kids around day in and day out.

Located on the northeast corner of town on Main Street, the parking lot of the little white chapel was already full to overflowing with vehicles. Festive music streamed from the open doors of the fellowship hall, and he could already hear the joyous sound of children’s laughter, which made him smile. Nigel and Felix picked up their pace, dashing into the building ahead of Ben.

“Come one, come all,” greeted Jo exuberantly as Ben entered through the double doors. “Come eager to spend your money for a good cause—new choir robes for our trusty sanctuary choir! Hey there, Ben. Are you and the boys ready to win some prizes?”

Jo sounded like an old-time carnival barker, adding to the already festive ambiance. Ben suspected that in Jo’s mind, at least, the
good cause
in question might have been more to do with the kiddos having fun than having anything to do with the state of the choir’s worn-out robes.

“Did you see my nephews pass by?” he asked.

Jo waved a hand over her shoulder. “They just went by here, somewhere about the speed of light. Good luck finding them in that throng of people.”

It
was
crowded. And noisy. But Ben wasn’t worried for his nephews. Townspeople looked after their own, and a couple of extra boys running around was no cause for concern.

Ben had helped set up the booths for the carnival the evening before so he knew what to expect. The fellowship hall had been divided into a series of separate booths draped with colorful cloths and signs and flashing lights—mostly red and green, donations from town folks’ Christmas collections.

A rubbery bounce house and a hay maze had been set up in the field behind the church, with an oil-drum train circling the whole thing. Chief Jenkins engineered the train, and he whistled and tooted at frequent intervals just to keep things lively, as if there wasn’t already enough clamor in the neighborhood.

“What do you guys want to do first?” he asked as he caught up to his nephews, who were leaning over a booth to watch Riley Bowden, Zach’s eldest son, toss beanbags at a cardboard rendering of Noah’s Ark. There were several animals painted on the Ark, their mouths cut open for the kids to toss beanbags through. Eleven-year-old Riley was a good shot and two of his three beanbags sailed through the holes into the lion’s and hippo’s mouths.

Phoebe Hawkins, who was manning the beanbag toss, cheered for Riley as he picked out his prize—a straw cowboy hat, which he planted on his head with pride. Ben congratulated the boy on his good aim.

Ben fished a wad of dollar bills from the front pocket of his jeans, intending to spend every one of them. Each year the carnival had a different charitable goal in mind. After they’d collected enough money to buy the choir some decent robes, whatever was left over would go to the church’s food bank. Ben couldn’t think of a better way to contribute to the ministry of the church than to fork over a little cash to watch his nephews have a good time.

“Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben,” Nigel exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the booth across the way from the Noah’s Ark Beanbag Toss. “Look! Goldfish!”

Sure enough, there were the goldfish, swimming around in gallon-sized plastic bags full of water that were stacked enticingly along the back counter.

“Anyone want to win a goldfish?” Vee’s wry chuckle snapped Ben from his reverie. He looked up to find her grinning craftily at him.

He narrowed his gaze on her. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Vee shook her head and scoffed, but her smile remained. “Right. I ran out and bought three dozen goldfish because I knew it would entice your nephews and annoy you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he objected, but he smiled back at her nonetheless. “How do you win one of these fellows, anyway?”

Vee pointed to a plastic pool half-filled with water in which a couple dozen identical yellow rubber ducks floated. “Pick a winner. Small, medium or large prizes, depending on what’s written on the bottom of the ducky you select. You boys want to try?” she asked, addressing Felix and Nigel.

In hindsight, Ben realized he should have been more cognizant of what was going on in each of the booths so he could avoid instant goldfish ownership, but it was too late now, with both of his nephews clamoring to have a go at the duckies. It wasn’t like he could say no to them. It would ruin their day. Besides, Ben remembered being thrilled to win a goldfish when he was a kid. He wouldn’t deny his nephews the same happy memory.

“That will be two bucks,” Vee reminded him, holding out her hand palm up.

Ben peeled two fresh dollar bills from his wad of cash and passed them off to Vee. “I want you to know I am doing this under duress.”

“No you’re not,” she replied without hesitating. “You’re doing this because you are a good uncle and you want to give your nephews a day they’ll remember.”

“If they win goldfish, this is going to be a day
I’ll
remember,” he groused. “Thanks to you.”

“Oh, hush, you, and let the poor boys have their fun.” She turned to Felix and Nigel. “Okay, you guys, it’s time to play. You each get to pick up only one duck, so choose carefully, all right? Ready? Set? Go!”

Felix plucked his duck out of the water within seconds. Nigel was not quite so hasty with his choice, taking his time to select the perfect duck. Several times he started for one and then changed his mind and pulled his hand back.”

“You’ve got to pick one, Nigel,” Ben urged.

Nigel finally made his choice. The boys turned their ducks over at the same time.

“Large,” announced Vee in a voice Ben was certain was lined with laughter. “And large. Congratulations, boys, you’ve each won yourselves a goldfish.”

Felix and Nigel high-fived each other.

Vee laughed, and Ben wondered if she was laughing with him or at him.

He groaned, but it was more of an exasperated, dramatic gesture than a meaningful one.

“You’ve got this rigged, don’t you? I’ll bet every one of these ducks has an
L
on it.”

“Well, that would be very kind of me if that were true, don’t you think?” She plucked a random duck from the pool and turned it over, waving it under his nose so he’d be sure to see the
S
clearly marked on the bottom. “But in this case, it’s not true. I think you were meant to own goldfish, Ben Atwood.”

If it were anyone but Vee, he would have thought she was flirting with him. But it
was
Vee—and Vee didn’t flirt. With anyone.

Especially not with him.

So why did his gut tighten in response to her repartee, and why was his breath raspy in his throat? He needed to tread softly here.

“Maybe I’ll just feed the fish to Tinker,” he remarked mildly.

He’d clearly caught her off-guard with the statement. He hadn’t meant it, of course, but it was fun teasing her. “You wouldn’t,” she said, her voice hitched with hesitation and distress in her gaze.

He flashed her a toothy grin, stepping back and slapping a hand over his heart. “No, of course not. I’m wounded here. Seriously, Vee, do you think I’m capable of fish-ocide?”

“I think you’re capable of a lot of things,” she said under her breath, shaking her head.

What was that supposed to mean? The woman spoke in riddles. And unfortunately for him, he didn’t speak
woman.

He would have demanded an explanation in plain, understandable English except that several other children were congregating around her booth and she’d turned her attention to them.

That, and the fact that Jo Spencer was yanking at his sleeve.

“It’s nearly your turn, dear,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd. “Don’t you worry a bit about Felix and Nigel. I’ll watch them for you. And the goldfish. We can leave them with Vee for later.”

“My turn for what?” asked Ben, confused. He’d willingly offered to help set up and take down the booths for the carnival, but other than that he didn’t remember signing up for any other duties.

Jo chuckled in delight. “Didn’t anyone tell you? No, of course not. Why would they? It was supposed to be a secret.”

It sounded to Ben like she was having a running conversation with herself, but he kept an ear out for any vital information she might pass on. “More than one handsome man has been surprised today. Felix, Nigel, come along with your uncle and me. Vee, can you put the boys’ names on their goldfish so they can pick them up later?”

“Of course,” Vee agreed readily.

“This does not sound good,” he remarked as he let Jo lead him down to the end of one row of booths and up another.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Jo scolded. “Now, it’s just right outside here.”

Ben tensed automatically. Presumably he wasn’t going to like whatever
it
was that they were heading toward. Why else would the ladies’ church committee, the ones who’d spent so many months planning the carnival, be so hush-hush about it?

“We all wanted this to be a surprise,” Jo explained, answering his question as if she’d read his thoughts. “It’s going to be the highlight of the day for everyone.”

Jo pointed to a spot just beyond the bounce house where—oh, no, it couldn’t be.

Oh, yes, it was.

An old-fashioned dunk tank.

Currently, Zach was dangling his legs over the edge of a board hanging well over the tank. He was catcalling everyone within hearing distance, provoking them to take a swing at him. Or a throw, rather. The board was rigged to a twelve-inch-round bull’s-eye.

Charlie, one of the younger firefighters, was taking a turn trying to dunk Zach. Three balls later and Zach was still as dry as a bone as he crawled off the board with a triumphant grin on his face.

“See, now?” Jo told Ben. “You probably won’t even get wet. And remember, it’s—”

“For a good cause,” Ben finished for her. “Yeah, I know. I guess it looks okay. The target is obviously hard to hit.”

“Believe you me, the mechanism doesn’t spring very easily. My three balls didn’t make a dent in it. I had to go and press it with my own two hands to dunk Chance into the tank, cowboy hat and all. You should have heard him bellow.”

Ben raised a brow.

Jo shrugged nonchalantly. “We had to try it out to make sure it worked, right?”

“So it’s hard to spring the latch?” Ben asked again, not at all sure that Jo was being straight with him.

“It’s very difficult, yes. In any case, a little water can’t hurt a big, strong, hunky guy like you, can it?”

Probably not, but Ben didn’t like the idea of getting soaked just the same. He wasn’t even wearing swimming trunks. He wondered who’d put his name on the list and conveniently forgot to tell him about it.