Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (5 page)

“She does help run the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund,” Nate responded. “And there was the Christmas market last December. I'm surprised she finds time for a social life.”

“She's always found time for that,” Grandma said. “And I've known her longer than almost anyone.”

“And how long is that?” Will asked, truly curious.

“We both lived here and went to school together, and that is an amount of years best left unsaid.”

Women and their reluctance to discuss their ages. Like everyone couldn't subtract . . .

“But were you never friends?” Emily asked poignantly, now the granddaughter to both women.

“We were childhood friends for a time,” Grandma admitted. “But high school . . .” She trailed off briefly. “Back then, we still had our own high school here in Valentine Valley. It's the middle school now, but then . . .”

Will thought of a certain middle school teacher, whom he'd been trying not to think too much about since their run-­in in the park. But to his surprise, the thought of her kept popping back up when he least expected it.

“But then?” Joe urged his mom on.

Her smile twisted a bit. “Then they were the Purple Poodles, not ‘The Widows,' ” she said, emphasizing their unofficial title, “and they were the outcasts of the school.”

 

Chapter 4

F
riday night at Tony's Tavern—­Lyndsay rarely ever missed it. She liked the silly animal heads mounted on the wall, because someone always managed to decorate one rather inappropriately. Tonight there were colorful beads draped across an elk's antlers like it was Mardi Gras. But there were also a lot of flat-­screen TVs showing sports—­that brought the guys—­and, of course, a pool table in the back room. The open secret was the food. Chef Baranski looked like a biker and cooked like a five-­star chef. Most of Lyndsay's friends came to party, and between the laughter and the dancing, the pool and darts—­and oh, the food—­she always managed to unwind from a tough week at work, which was a great segue into a day of writing on Saturday. And work had been particularly tough.

“Lynds!”

She turned at the sound of her name to find her friend Jessica Fitzjames striding toward her. Jessica drew stares, with her long, wavy blond hair bouncing around her shoulders, but during the day, she often wore it up, the better to be taken seriously as a journalist at the
Valentine Gazette
.

“Jess!” Lyndsay called back, and the two women grinned at each other.

Jessica pulled up a chair. “I saw Kate behind the bar. Is she working here again?”

Lyndsay laughed. “Nope. Now that they're engaged, she and my brother see enough of each other.”

Last Thanksgiving, Kate had returned to Valentine on a two-­month sabbatical from her big law firm over a disagreement about a client. When she'd been bored out of her mind, Tony had challenged her to work as a server again, something she'd done as a teenager in her family's restaurant, Carmina's Cucina. But that hadn't been enough for Kate, who'd ended up coordinating a band festival in Tony's parking lot after Christmas.

Kate arrived next and flounced into a seat with a big sigh. “Long day. I had to file some papers at the Basalt Municipal Court House. And I ended up stuck there because—­oh, never mind.” She took a sip from her beer bottle and smacked her lips. “Ah, that's better. Did I tell you Ethan is taking riding lessons at Brooke's riding school?”

Lyndsay listened to Kate's motherly excitement over Ethan, but her mind briefly drifted as she saw Will enter the tavern. He knew everyone, of course, kissed the cheeks of several women even as he made them laugh and flutter, stopped to talk to guys at various tables, then ended up at the bar, head bent to say something to Tony. “Sparkle” could honestly be said about Will's eyes, making the cliché true. He always looked so happy and contented, and she found she envied him. Must be nice to have exactly the life you wanted.

Maybe some of that would rub off on her when she started dating him—­
if
she started dating him. It was only fair to ask him out first.

“What's that expression for?” Jessica asked.

Lyndsay surfaced out of her thoughts. “What expression?”

“Yearning,” Kate said to Jessica.

Jessica nodded solemnly. “About sums it up.”

“Pfft,” Lyndsay said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing her friends. Should she tell them her plan?

“You were staring at Will,” Kate said suspiciously.

“Of course I was. What woman isn't staring at him at some time or another? He likes to be the center of attention when he walks into the tavern. I think he's the Captain Kirk of Valentine Valley.”

Jessica's eyes went wide as she stared past Lyndsay, and too late, Lyndsay glanced over her shoulder.

Will stood there, thumbs in the belt loops of his low jeans, t-­shirt taut across his stomach muscles, inches from Lyndsay's face.

“Talkin' about me, ladies?”

Lyndsay opened her mouth, but nothing came out. God, she was an idiot.

Kate motioned to a chair. “Of course we were. Have a seat, Will.”

He took the one right next to Lyndsay. She could feel his interested stare like a laser beam, and she told herself that was a good sign. Jessica's green eyes were wide and shiny as she tried to hold back her laughter, and Kate just exuded eagerness, like this was her much-­anticipated evening's entertainment.

Will leaned a forearm on the table, which seemed to create his own little shared space with Lyndsay. “So . . . the Captain Kirk of Valentine Valley? Where do I begin?”

Lyndsay arched an eyebrow at him. “It was a joke.”

“Well, I know that, darlin', but I still need some explanation.”

“I'm not your ‘darlin',' Will.”

“Sorry, it just comes naturally.”

He grinned, obviously not sorry at all.

“
Flirting
comes naturally to you,” Lyndsay explained with slow patience, “one of the reasons I called you Captain Kirk.”

“From
Star Trek
.”

“The original series—­or the new movies—­and yes, I know all about it. I grew up watching reruns with my dad.”

“Guess I can't be surprised—­you are a math teacher, after all.”

“And that makes me a geek?” she asked sweetly. Okay, she
was
a geek, but still . . .

“No,” he began, using the same slow and patient tone she'd used on him, “you like math and science, so I assumed you like science fiction.”

“Oh. Well . . . yes.” He might still be calling her a geek, but she let it go.

“And I'm Captain Kirk.”

Her face heated. “It was a joke. You like to flirt, and you certainly don't have long-­term relationships with women. Captain Kirk often has a new woman every episode.”

“What a stud.” He arched his own eyebrow, let his voice deepen into a playful growl. “So I'm a stud.”

“I didn't say that,” she said. “
You
did. Not sure what that says about you.”

Will glanced at Kate and Jessica, who were sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching with the rapt attention one used at a movie theater.

“I think I'm more of the Han Solo type,” Will said, leaning back in his chair and straightening out his long legs.

When he crossed his arms over his chest, Lyndsay could see his biceps and forearms emphasized, and thought there might be some good perks to dating Will Sweet.

“Does that make my brother Chewbacca?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Although he has the right hair color, he's not that hairy. Or that tall.”

Kate chuckled.

“Definitely Han Solo,” Will said with conviction. “Wisecracking outer space adventurer—­”

“Who does things for money.” Lyndsay hiccupped a laugh and quickly sipped her beer. “You are a little . . . out there.”

Will smiled, emphasizing the cleft in his chin.

“So you think of yourself as roguish and devil-­may-­care. I guess you forgot about the mercenary part.” She leaned closer to him and let her gaze drift briefly down his chest. “Unless that means you only do women for money.”

“Well, we know
that's
not true.”

“Do we?” Lyndsay countered.

“Han Solo is not a gigolo.”

“Then you better pick another representative, one more down to earth. And don't tell me you think you're some kind of Prince Charming.” She felt another unexpected flash of yearning and hoped no one could read it on her face this time.

He cocked his head. “I'm thinking James Bond.”

“You're so conceited. Or did you forget Bond leaves a lot of women behind, just like Captain Kirk? We can't say we ever saw Han Solo do that. He was all about the money.”

“The new James Bond doesn't love 'em and leave 'em like the old Bond did,” Will insisted.

“But he's still wrong for you. He used a lot of women to get what he wanted, you know, for whatever furthered the external plot. And I'm using the word ‘used' in a literal sense. Does that make sense?”

Kate and Jessica groaned, but the sound barely reached Lyndsay. She was focused on Will as they leaned toward each other competitively.

“External plot?” he repeated, eyeing her with interest.

Lyndsay took another casual sip of her beer and forced herself to keep her gaze meshed with his. He'd pounce on any sign of weakness. “Didn't you ever take English?”

“I know what an external plot is,” he said patiently. “And I took English in the same class with you. I even read books. Still. To this day.”

“No!” Lyndsay countered with mock surprise. “When do you have time, since you're off saving the galaxy one woman at a time?”

“Someone has to save the day. But I don't
use
women, you said.” Will nodded. “That's heartening to know about myself. So I'm not James Bond.”

“And you needed someone to tell you that?” Tony asked as he approached, a towel tossed over his shoulder.

Lyndsay smiled at her big brother, who put a gentle hand on Kate's shoulder. Lyndsay and Tony both had the same brown hair—­she'd lightened hers a bit—­and brown eyes, though she was always wanting to cut his longish hair. They'd never had any major disagreements, had always been close, except for the short period after his divorce. Maybe that's what happened when a mom died young and left her kids to form an even closer family with just their dad.

“Hey, enough joking from you,” Will said to Tony. “Your own sister called you Chewbacca to my Han Solo.”

Lyndsay rolled her eyes. “No, you implied Tony was Chewbacca when you called yourself Han.”

Tony frowned at his friend. “James Bond, Han Solo? What's going on with you guys?”

Will aimed a thumb at Lyndsay. “It started with your sister calling me Captain Kirk.”

Lyndsay gave an exaggerated sigh. “Let's change the subject. Kate, did you guys finally decide on your reception?”

Will got abruptly to his feet. “If we're talking weddings, I'm out of here. I get enough of that at home.”

“Just like Captain Kirk,” Lyndsay teased. “Commitment-­phobe.”

“No, I'm just tired of Valentine's proclivity for weddings.”

“Ooh, a big word,” she said.

He leaned both big hands on the table and loomed over her, making her heartbeat go a little wild.

“My brother Chris is engaged, remember, and that's all he can talk about. I work with him all day. A guy can only take so much about flowers and favors and themes.”

He straightened up, and Lyndsay was surprised to feel like she could breathe again.

“Tony, is there a game of pool in back?” he asked.

“Should be.”

And the two of them left. Lyndsay let out a big sigh and sank back in her chair.

Kate arched a brow. “That was an interesting reaction.”

“It's been a long day, and he can be exhausting. But seriously—­the reception?”

It was Kate's turn to let out a sigh, and Jessica eyed her with interest before saying, “Trouble in paradise?'

“No, not at all,” Kate scoffed. “The wedding is on schedule to be at the Rose Garden, where we first got married. But the reception is going to be at Carmina's.”

“Your parents must be thrilled.”

“They are, but . . . I feel like Tony is settling. We're having the rehearsal dinner here, but he would have loved to host the whole thing.”

“That's sweet of him,” Jessica said dreamily.

Another single girl in Valentine thinking about true love, Lyndsay thought. Jessica was a few years younger, and Lyndsay almost teased, “Wait your turn.”

Lyndsay leaned toward Kate with sympathy. “Tony knows logically that there isn't room here. He'll get over it.”

“I know, but . . . I'm sort of flattered he's upset he can't do this for us.”

“Now it's getting a little overly sappy around here,” Lyndsay said.

Kate laughed. “I know, I know. It's not like it's a major problem, I just . . . worry.”

“And it's sweet,” Lyndsay insisted. “I shouldn't tease you. You know how utterly thrilled I am that you two are back together again.” She glanced at Jessica. “It was a long nine years, let me tell you.”

Smiling, Kate said, “It
was
long. And pointless. I wish I'd done so many things differently.” She suddenly focused on Lyndsay with that penetrating lawyer stare. “Don't you sometimes wish you'd done that?”

“Don't we all have occasional regrets? I'm sure you don't regret having me as your maid of honor—­again. Not sure what else you're saying.” Lyndsay thought about her book, and how weird it was going to be to break the news now. She wished she'd done
that
differently. But she had to talk about it with her whole family together.

And then there was her teaching career. She'd always wanted to teach, and though she loved her kids, it was still shocking and sad that she wasn't content. But what would she have changed?

“Who
else
would be my maid of honor but my once-­and-­future sister-­in-­law?”

The wording was getting to be a joke between them.

Lyndsay looked around her with exaggerated care, then leaned forward so secretively that both Kate and Jessica did the same. “There is one particular thing I'd like to do that I've never done before.”

When she paused dramatically, Kate said, “Don't keep us in suspense!”

“I'm going to ask Will out on a date.”

Lyndsay spoke just as Kate took a sip of her beer, and Kate coughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Lyndsay chuckled and offered a napkin.

Jessica eyed Lyndsay with interest. “You've never dated him? I thought almost everyone in his dating age range had.”

“I know
you
dated him,” Lyndsay said, then almost wished she hadn't mentioned it. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the details of what had happened between Will and her friend.

Jessica waved a hand. “Only for a ­couple weeks. We never even—­” She broke off, wearing a lame smile.