Once in a Blue Moon (53 page)

Better, but the big
cushion was a little soft and she sank down into the seat.

“Third time’s a charm.”
She moved to the last and smallest chair and settled in.

It was just right.

She pulled the
comforter off the back of the chair, it stuck a little, so she gave
a tug to free it, then spread it over her knees, and settled back
to relax.

A creaking sound
accompanied a wrenching, jarring movement, and the chair broke
apart, throwing Honey to the floor where she banged her hip. Horror
and disbelief rushed through her as, flat on her back, she stared
up at the log beam in the ceiling. She couldn’t believe what had
just happened.

Panting a little, she struggled out of the mess and stood.
Both hands flew to her mouth and her face burned as she frantically
eyed the mess. “
This is unbelievable. How
could this happen
?”

The log and cushion
chair lay broken into pieces, a few clamps gripping wood in
strategic places, and one wood clamp on the floor amid the
mess.

Someone had been fixing
the chair.

The throw-quilt over
the back had hidden the clamps and she must have pulled one loose
when she’d tugged on the blanket and her weight had done the
rest.

“This is so awful,” she
whispered.

Reaching down, she pulled at one piece of wood and it came
completely free of the others. She closed her eyes for a moment,
then glanced around. “
What do I
do
?”

She felt like grabbing
her stuff, running out, and leaving forever. She actually stared at
the door for a long moment before remembering the glue on the
mantle.

Maybe she could fix the
chair? Re-glue and re-clamp it? Maybe the Baron family wouldn’t be
home for a while longer?

She thought about
calling Nick for advice, but quickly threw out the notion. Her boss
had sent her to charm them, not to destroy their property.

Her dad? He didn’t know
a lot about fix-it stuff, but probably more than she did. Or
Christian might be able to help, but again, she knew he wouldn’t
answer the phone. She blew out a breath and looked at the mess.
This didn’t look like something that could be explained over the
phone, anyway.

So what should she do?
Leave it and try and explain the cringe-worthy mess to her
hosts?

She shook her head once
more. She had glue, she had clamps, she had to at least try.

* * *

Forty minutes later,
she was done. The chair was upside down, but back together, and she
didn’t dare try to turn it over again. She wasn’t out to hide what
she’d done, anyway. She’d glued and clamped the three pieces, and
it looked okay. She was going to bed. Explanations could wait until
morning.

She stood, and from the
higher perspective, the chair looked kind of...off.

Tears filled her eyes.
She’d just pay for the darn thing. She’d buy them a new one. Even
if it was custom-made and ended up costing her two weeks’
wages.

Feeling tired, cranky
and frustrated, Honey grabbed her suitcase, and went upstairs to
look for a bed. There were four doors, and the first opened into a
bedroom overlooking the front yard. She flipped on the light and
peeked inside.

A queen-sized bed, a
nightstand with a picture of a group of kids, an alarm clock, and a
book. A rocking chair sat in the corner. There were no personal
effects, but the gorgeous cream-colored quilt on the bed was
obviously handmade and sported ducks, coyotes and pine trees. It
definitely looked like a guest room.

She walked in, dropped
her purse and suitcase, sat on the bed and bounced on the mattress.
There wasn’t much give. In fact, it was hard.

She sighed. This night
just kept getting better and better. She turned her head to the
open closet door, and shot back off the bed. Clothes hung in the
closet, and boots and shoes neatly lined the floor. She quickly
gathered her things and left the room.

The second door led to
a big bathroom with a tile floor, a vanity with matching basins and
silver-framed mirrors, and both a shower and a jetted tub. Nice.
Very nice. She could picture herself taking a bubble bath, but not
tonight. Not when her hosts could come home at any moment.

Going to the third
door, she went inside, flipped on the light and looked around. A
huge, foam cushion chair dominated the floor. Playstation paddles
led back to a box on top of a television, and a shelf with DVDs was
attached to the wall. It was conceivable that it could be a guest
room. Children would certainly enjoy sleeping on the giant,
oversized cushion.

Going inside the room,
she set her things down and gingerly sank down on the foam-filled
suede. It was very soft. She lay back and wiggled. Perhaps it was
too soft. She really couldn’t see herself sleeping there the entire
night. There was no blanket and she felt as though she might sink
right inside and suffocate. Getting up, she hoped for better luck
with the last door.

Pushing it open, she went inside and breathed a sigh of
relief. A king-sized bed dominated the room and a few hunting
trophies graced the top of the dresser, but no family pictures or
anything like that. A gray quilt spread over the bed. Nice, but
spartan. Out of the three,
this
had to be the guest room.

Dropping her purse and bag, she sat on the bed. The mattress
was
much nicer
.
Kicking off her shoes, she sank full length on the bed, pressed her
face into one of the pillows and sighed. It was better than nice.
Not too hard, not too soft, it was just right.

Rolling off the bed,
she retrieved pajamas and toiletries and headed for the bathroom.
At this point, she didn’t even have a desire to meet up with the
owners until morning. If she’d blown the deal when she’d broken the
furniture, tomorrow would be soon enough to find out about it.

She brushed her teeth,
pulled her thick hair back into a ponytail, washed off her makeup,
and accidentally drenched the front of her hair in the process. She
dried her face with a towel, and quickly patted her hair but it was
too late. It started to curl. The tiniest hint of moisture and she
frizzed out. It had taken her forever to straighten it that
morning. Tears pricked her eyes again. Frizzy hair was the final
straw.

Wasn’t it enough that
she’d worked a full day, had a fight with Christian, driven three
hours, and then all the problems she’d encountered here at the
client’s house? Not to mention she was starting her brokerage class
in the morning, and was completely stressed out about that? And now
curls?

She needed to get hold
of herself. She knew that. She dried her eyes, blew her nose,
gathered up her things, went back to the guest room, and shut the
door. She put her stuff down and climbed into the bed.

She’d unpack in the
morning after she had an inkling about how long she’d be staying
before moving to a hotel. Right now all she wanted to do was to
escape into dreamland.

* * *

Trevor Baron turned
onto his driveway. It was almost midnight and all he wanted to do
was eat the turkey dinner his mom had promised to leave, and then
fall into bed.

Another day or two and
he’d be finished with the backbreaking schedule he was on.

There was a car parked
on one side of the driveway, in his spot. It took him a moment to
realize the vehicle must be his sister’s new car. He’d heard her
jerk-off husband had bought one as a bribery gift. Since Elizabeth
was at Trevor’s house, he’d guess it hadn’t worked. No surprise
there. His sister wasn’t the kind of woman to forgive infidelity,
or to forget.

He went for the mail
and on the way back to the house, reached into the bed of his
truck, grabbed three fishing poles--minus hooks--and propped them
by the side of the cabin.

He knew the three boys
he’d taken them from would eventually work up the courage to steal
them back, and knew the lack of hooks, and the fact that the boys
had been caught fishing illegally, wouldn’t stop them from doing it
again. It hadn’t stopped him at that age, either.

Smiling, he continued
to the back gate, opened it, and let himself in. “Hey, Charlie boy.
Come here.”

A dark form moved
toward Trevor and a big head bumped against his hand.

“You eat all that food
I left out?”

Trevor checked the dog
dishes, one empty and one still half-full of water. “Good boy.”

Trevor went down on one
knee and rubbed the dog’s thick fur coat while Charlie, ecstatic,
wiggled like a puppy. With one last pat, Trevor opened the back
door–-no need to lock it with Charlie in the back yard-–and they
both went inside.

Charlie immediately
bounded up the stairs, probably looking for Elizabeth, and Trevor
headed for his office.

He was tired. He’d
worked the entire day, putting in a full eight hours, most of it
rounding up a deer wandering the city and returning it to the
forest. He’d then talked to reporters about the incident.

After some routine
paperwork, he’d taken time to catch the kids doing their spot of
illegal fishing, then back to work for the rest of the evening
repairing some commercial property for the family company.

All the painting he’d
done had made his back sore. But only a few more nights and the
building would be ready to lease again and he could relax.

Opening his safe, he
locked his gun away, set his belt on the desk and went back to the
kitchen to get his dinner.

He opened the
fridge.

No dinner.

Had
his mom forgotten him? A note on the countertop caught his eye and
he kicked the fridge shut and snagged it.
I’ve left a plate of food for you in the fridge. Love,
M.

He checked again. The
milk, ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise weren’t hiding a plate of
food. He checked the freezer. Nothing.

Thinking about
Elizabeth’s car in the driveway, he opened the cupboard under the
sink and pulled out the garbage. Sure enough. A used sheath of tin
foil lay on top and had very likely covered his plate of food.

Well, that was
nice.

He rubbed a hand over
his full beard, blew out a breath, then got out fixings for peanut
butter and honey sandwiches. He slathered four slices of bread, and
poured himself a large glass of milk.

He took his plate and
glass out to the living room, set them on an end table, grabbed the
remote control, sat and turned on ESPN.

It was on the wrong
channel and--

His
chair
! Jumping up, he quickly scanned the
poorly repaired chair, then glared at the stairs and considered
waking Elizabeth to have a talk. But she had at least
tried
to fix it and that
surprised him, so, disgusted, he changed the channel to ESPN,
quickly ate, and, with Charlie now back and watching his every
move, spent the next thirty minutes re-glueing the chair
correctly,
and
placing the clamps where they’d actually do their
job.

He finally turned the
chair around carefully set it in the corner so Elizabeth wouldn’t
forget and sit in it again.

It was time for bed. In
the morning, he was going to have a talk with his sister because
this was getting out of hand. She needed to work out her marriage
problems on her own time. Or at least in her own house. Or at their
parents’ place if she had to go somewhere.

With Charlie following,
Trevor climbed the stairs, walked down the hall, opened the door,
and absolutely couldn’t believe it.

She was in his bed!

Talk about selfish!

He wouldn’t lose his
temper. They could discuss this like the two grown adults they
were. How much could a man be expected to take from his big sister?
She could stay in his house, she could even eat his food and break
his furniture. But danged if she was sleeping in his bed! She could
take the spare room. There was a reason that mattress was
uncomfortable. He didn’t like guests!

He flipped on the light
and his sister sat up, looked to where he stood in the doorway, and
sucked in a loud breath.

The only problem was,
it wasn’t his sister.

If you’d like to read
more, go to
www.DianeDarcy.com

Excerpt
from
Old Money
by
Heather Horrocks

Time travel doesn’t
really happen. Does it? Jennie’s beginning to wonder when she and
her ex-fiancé seem to be pulled into an Old West painting--right in
the middle of a guns-blazing bank robbery. She doesn’t know how it
happened to begin with, or how they’ll get back, neither Jesse
James nor the marshal seem inclined to give them a chance to find
out, and, worst of all, Jennie’s falling for the one man she swore
she’d never trust again.

Friday, June 4th

Not
Abilene. This couldn’t be happening.
Please tell me I am anywhere but Abilene
.

Exhausted and
incredulous, Jennie Ryan stepped from the plane which should have
carried her from medical school in Boston back home to Idaho for a
two week vacation before her internship began. Instead, a freak
storm had forced the plane down here. Of all places in the country.
Abilene, Kansas.

It’s all right, she
tried to reassure herself. She didn’t have to see Bryce. Abilene
was a big town. This was not fate or anything like it--just a
random forced landing. And she wouldn’t give it any more meaning
than that.

It didn’t matter that
Bryce was getting married tomorrow, a fact she knew only because
some busybody friends at school insisted on keeping her informed of
Bryce’s doings--whether she wanted to hear or not. The marriage
didn’t matter, only that she wasn’t still at the airport when the
happy couple left for their honeymoon. She’d be out of here way
before then.