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Authors: Rachael Anderson

Tags: #A Romantic Comedy

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BOOK: The Reluctant Bachelorette
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“One and the same.”

“Why?” Jessa’s perfectly tweezed arched eyebrows drew
together. “Unless . . . wait. Don’t tell me he’s actually dating someone.”        

A laugh escaped Taycee’s mouth. Jessa sounded so shocked, as
if no one in their right mind would ever go out with poor Mr. Benion. “You
didn’t hear it from me, but when he ordered the arrangement, he asked if I knew
what Maris’s favorite flowers are.”

Jessa’s jaw dropped, as well as her voice. “Shut up. Are you
serious? Mr. Benion and Maris?”

Taycee shrugged. “Who knows? I just do as my customers ask.”

“You never do as
I
ask.”

“I meant my paying customers.”

Jessa let out an exaggerated sigh. “And you call yourself a
friend.”

“Your
best
friend, and don’t you forget it,” Taycee
said as she pushed in the plastic card holder and slid the white envelope into
place.

“Um, yeah . . .” Jessa hedged. “Funny you should mention
that.”

“Why?” Taycee said, wary. It had been awhile since Jessa had
played the “best friend” card, and it wasn’t a good thing when she did. Her
favors were never small.

“I’m actually here to call in a little favor.” Jessa bit down
on her lower lip, moving it back and forth between her teeth.

“What’s up?”

Jessa hopped down from the counter and focused her light brown
eyes on Taycee. “Remember in high school when you snuck out past curfew to meet
David at the movies?”

“Uh . . . yeah.” Oh no, not this. Not the favor of all favors.
Taycee had secretly hoped it had joined the archives of forgotten memories. If
only she could be that lucky.

Jessa stepped closer. “And remember how your parents called my
house, and I lied for you and told them you were studying with me?”

“Maybe.”

“And remember how you promised me you’d do anything to pay me
back?”

“That part’s a little hazy.” Why oh why had she ever made such
a promise? Especially knowing full well Jessa would never forget and it would
come back to haunt her one day. Today, as it turned out.

Jessa picked up a discarded sunflower and plucked the petals
one by one. “Hazy or not, I’m calling in that promise, best friend of mine.”

Taycee grabbed the sunflower from Jessa, saving the remaining
petals. “Sorry, but I think there’s a clause somewhere that states all promises
are null and void after seven years.”

“Not a chance.” Jessa smirked. “Those kinds of promises never
expire. Besides, it’s too late anyway.”

Oh no. What did Jessa do now? “Too late for what?”

“To say no.” Jessa shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You’re
already committed.”

“Committed to what? Jessa! You can’t commit me to anything
without asking first. Even you should know that.” Not that it really came as a
shock. Jessa always did whatever she wanted, because if Jessa thought something
was a good idea, then of course it was.          

With a sweep of her hand, Jessa brushed her layered bangs to
the side. “So how did your date go with Pat last night?”

“Not so fast. I want to know what this favor is first.”

“And I want to know about your date with Pat.”

Taycee’s fingers itched to strangle her friend, but Jessa was
nothing if not resilient. Going up against her took Taycee back to her sixth
grade spelling bee, when she’d made it to the final round where she’d faced off
against Daphne—the school know-it-all. Taycee had been determined to win, but
after going back and forth and back and forth for over four hours—yes,
four—Taycee finally misspelled a word on purpose just to put an end to it. Pure
torture. That’s what it had been.

Just like trying to win an argument with Jessa.

“So . . . how did it go?” Jessa repeated.

Taycee sighed. “It didn’t. We broke up.” She left it at that.
If Jessa ever found out that Pat had actually proposed—especially how he’d done
it—the poor guy would become the subject of one too many jokes. He was too nice
for that.

Jessa examined her nails. “And another one bites the dust.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” Pat hadn’t tried to call or
stop by, and probably never would again. Which was fine. But Taycee didn’t like
the way things had ended—so unfinished. As if she’d broken something, and then
left without repairing it.

“Harsh, but true,” Jessa said. “How many guys have you been
through this year? Three so far, right? And it’s not even May yet.”

Taycee frowned as she fiddled with the sunflowers in the
finished bouquet. Jessa was right, but that part of her life was over now.
She’d always wanted to get more into the wedding business with her flower shop,
and it was time to focus on that instead.

“Hey, you heard Luke Carney’s back in town, right?”

A sunflower stem broke between Taycee’s fingers, and the
flower landed with a small thud on the countertop at the same time her heart
thudded to the floor. She stared at the fallen flower, feeling a creepy-crawly
sensation move over her body. Like a million tiny somethings had landed on her
and were now picking away at her skin. She wanted to shake the feeling off.
Start jumping up and down and bat it all away.

Luke? Back? Impossible.

“You know, Caleb’s old friend?” Jessa said. “The guy you used
to be secretly in love with?”

Taycee turned to Jessa as if she’d said the most outrageous
thing. Something that couldn’t possibly be true even though it was. “I was
never in love with him.”

“Please,” Jessa said. “If I had a nickel for every story you
told me about him, I’d be rich enough to save Shelter. I feel like I know the
guy, and I’ve never even met him.”

Taycee swallowed, fighting back that creepy-crawly feeling
again. Ten years and the mere mention of his name brought on a panic attack.
Pathetic. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In. Out.

“Is he here to visit?” Taycee managed. Please let it only be a
temporary thing.

“Nope. For good,” Jessa said. “Or so the rumor mill says.
According to the mayor, Luke bought the old McCann place and is planning to set
up a veterinary practice here.”

It were as if the room suddenly drained of oxygen. Taycee
couldn’t breathe. For good? Why? Why Shelter? Why now? His parents had moved
away years ago, so why come back here? Why not find some other small town to
post his sign and open for business?

No. He couldn’t come back. He’d already done enough damage,
and besides, Shelter Springs was already taken.

By her.

“Earth to Taycee,” Jessa cooed.

Taycee’s hand shook as she reached for another sunflower to
replace the broken one. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing important.” Jessa pushed away from the counter and
stole an Andes mint from the candy jar. “But about that favor . . . you’re good
for it?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Who cared about some stupid favor?
Taycee had bigger things to worry about.

“Ta ta.” Seconds later, the bells rang again, and the door
fell closed behind Jessa.

Taycee slumped against the counter, needing the support it
offered. A reoccurring nightmare had just become reality. Luke was back. In
town. For good.

Heaven help her.

 

 

T
aycee breezed into the diner
,
and then bit back a groan. Fabulous. Liza was working today. Liza Woolrich,
president of the Taycee Emerson Not-a-Fan Club. It had all started back in high
school, when Liza’s boyfriend dumped her and asked Taycee to the prom. Taycee
had been paying for it ever since. Even more so now that Liza worked at Maris’s
Diner—the
only
diner in town, and therefore Taycee’s only option on days
like today when she didn’t have the time or the inclination to drive home for
lunch.

Not that coming here would be any faster now.

Taycee glanced at a clock. Only thirty minutes until she
needed to be back at her shop. Was it enough? The diner was practically empty,
so there was at least a chance. Stupid high school grudges. Why couldn’t Liza
get over it already? A deep breath, and Taycee stepped up to the counter.

“Well, if it isn’t Taycee Emerson.” Liza’s smile was as fake
as her hot pink nails and current peroxide-blonde hair color.

“Hey, Liza, how’s it going?”

“Just peachy. What can I get ya?”

Did she really have to ask? It was the same every time. “I’ll
have a chicken salad on wheat with some curly fries on the side. Just like
always.” Taycee’s fingers drummed on the marble counter as she eyed the clock
once more. “I actually have to leave in about twenty minutes. Do you think it
will be ready by then?”

Liza flashed another smile and flipped through her pad. “There
are several orders in front of yours so I can’t say for sure. I guess you’ll
just have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

Everyone else? Only two other people sat in the diner, both of
whom had their lunch already. The bell on the door jingled, and someone
shuffled in behind Taycee. “Are you talking about orders for pick-up?” Taycee
asked.

“What?” Liza blinked at her through mascara-caked eyelashes.

Taycee spoke slowly. “You said there are several orders ahead
of mine, and since Will and Kris already have their lunch, I’m wondering if the
others are call-ins.”

The pencil tapped against the pad. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“Whose?”

“Whose what?” Liza frowned.

Once again, Taycee slowed her speech. “Whose. Orders. Are
they?” No way was Liza getting away with this. Not today. Not after the
sleepless night Taycee had spent agonizing over seeing Luke again. Liza had
picked the wrong day to mess with her.

Liza’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, but that’s really none of
your business. It’s, uh . . . classified.”

Classified? That was the excuse she chose? Taycee almost
laughed out loud. “So relieved to know you keep everyone’s orders private.” She
leaned across the table and whispered loudly, “Because I’d
die
if anyone
found out I’d ordered a chicken salad sandwich with curly fries.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that then,” a deep voice spoke
from behind. “I’d hate to see you die before we have a chance to catch up.”

Taycee froze even as her heart pounded. No. Not now. Not here.
Not when she was wearing her oldest jeans and rattiest T-shirt and arguing with
none other than Liza Woolrich. It wasn’t right.

Slowly, Taycee twisted around, and then clenched her jaw to
keep it from dropping. It was like watching the Captain America movie where the
scrawny guy goes into the machine and comes out looking . . . well, everything
but scrawny. Not that Luke could have ever been called scrawny before. Skinny,
maybe, but that was about it. Now, he looked toned. Robust. Solid. And
drop-dead gorgeous. His dark, wavy hair was shorter now, but his eyes—those amazing,
beautiful eyes—were still that rich coffee color that used to melt her heart.

Used to.
Used to, Taycee! Get a grip. It’s been ten years
for Pete’s sake.

Luke flashed a disarming smile—the same smile pictured in
several of the photos she kept stashed in a scrapbook at the bottom of her pajama
drawer. “Wow, look at you, all grown up and everything,” he said.

For some reason the comment made Taycee feel like a little
girl playing dress-up with adult clothes. He only remembered her as the gangly
fourteen-year-old with braces and a rat’s nest for hair. Taycee forced a smile
that strained her cheeks. “Luke? Wow. What’s it been? Five years?”

“More like ten, but who’s counting?”

Who indeed. “So . . . what are you doing back in town?”

His arms folded, and he cocked his head toward the street outside.
“I’m leasing the McCann place just outside of town. Thinking of setting up a
veterinary practice here.”

Leasing—
not
buying. Jessa needed to get her facts
straight. Taycee gave him three months before he was gone again. “That’s . . .
uh . . . great. So . . .
so
great.”

The register slammed shut, and Taycee twisted back around,
grateful for Liza’s interruption. “I’ll let you know when your order’s ready,”
Liza said with a touch too much sweetness. “You’re welcome to wait at the bar.”

“Thanks.” Stomach rumbling, Taycee stepped away and slid onto
a barstool.

“Wow. Luke Carney, is that really you?” Liza’s squeal made
Taycee wince.

“In the flesh.” Luke planted his hands on the counter as he
studied the menu.

“I heard you were back in town. I hope this means we’ll see
you around the diner often.”

“Thanks, uh . . .” Luke eyed her nametag. “Liza. I’m sure I’ll
be here often enough, especially if the food tastes as good as it used to.”

“Oh, it does. You can trust me on that. What can I get you?”

Taycee forced her attention to some daytime talk show playing
on the TV. Fingers played in her lap as she fought the desire to peek at him
again. Why hadn’t she put on her cute jeans that morning? Dabbed on a little
more makeup? Actually styled her hair instead of pulling it back?

BOOK: The Reluctant Bachelorette
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