Sweet Winter

by Reina M. Williams

  “Long enough to travel to Idaho?”

  “A weekend.”

  “Could work, then. I’m in Coeur d’ Alene. We’ll need to get our stories aligned.”

  She glanced at a thin gold watch. “I have about half an hour I can spare.”

  “My time is yours. Sure you’re okay with this fake relationship thing? You’re the one who’ll have to stay here and deal with the fallout.” He watched her as she scanned the room, that far-away look washing her with sadness, or was it doubt?

  Her cheeks plumped as a shadow of a grin passed over her. “Might be a change.”

  He’d read her as pretty cautious, and here she was, ready to shake things up. His core buzzed, an engine revving to life. “I ought to tell you some things.” Nothing too personal, but basic facts would be a start. “Grew up here. One sibling, my older sister, Kim.”

  “Paris?”

  He nodded. She’d been listening. “Dad died in my twenties, and Mom moved to New York and passed a few years ago.” Irene’s gentle gaze and curious crinkle in her brow somehow made him spill more details than he usually would with a stranger. She felt like someone he’d known a lot longer than half an hour.

  “My parents both passed some time ago,” she shared. “Minnie, my niece, is my remaining family, though I feel like many of the people here are my family too.”

  That was something he missed about Loving: the support, people knowing you. It had been built-in, something he’d taken for granted. Apparently, Irene had that admirable quality of being able to find, or join that, unlike himself. He had friends, but nothing like the sense of community that he’d grown up with.

  “Sorry about your parents.”

  “It was a long time ago. What’s your life like at home?”

  He didn’t even think of it as home. Loving was his home, despite his not being here in so long. He hadn’t thought about it in his stubborn refusal to forgive Aunt Betty. “Busy. I own an outdoor goods store.”

  She leaned toward him. “Do you like the outdoors?”

  “Like’s putting it mildly. You?”

  “Love it. That’s what I was doing the other weekend. Out camping. I have a trailer.”

  Another surprise. For some reason, he’d assumed she was a homebody, tied to her shop and town. He really had to check those assumptions. After all, he was also in a similar position, owning his own shop, and he did the same with his time. “Same. Where’d you go?”

  “A spot up in the Flathead National Forest.”

  “Great choice.” He wanted to fall into a natural chat with her, but he understood the press on her time, and they had a lot to cover. “I live in a condo downtown, so I can walk to work or the lake. I also kayak.”

  “I’ve been wanting to get back to that.”

  “You kayak?”

  “I used to live on the Oregon coast. Lots of kayaking opportunities there. It’s beautiful.” There was that wistful, almost sad look.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Sometimes. I visit when I can.” She shook her head slightly. “Ever been married?”

  “Nope. Engaged once.”

  “Twice for me.”

  He nodded. Might be another assumption, but he formulated that they were two independent people. “Guess I should explain why I’ve been estranged from Aunt Betty.”

  “If you feel it’s important to share.” She sipped her coffee, seeming ready to listen.

  He believed she would hear him, and would be discreet. “I started dating this woman, and I was pretty blinded, you know, infatuated. You’d think I’d have known better, at twenty-nine.” He shrugged off the tension of self-incrimination. “Then, after we were engaged, I found out she had hired my Aunt Betty to find her a husband. When I realized I was more hurt by Aunt Betty’s falsehoods than I was my fiancé’s, I knew it had been infatuation, not love. I suppose, in retrospect, the situation did me a favor.”

  She sat forward, eyes widening. “Hired?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it was unexpected, to say the least.”

  “I knew Mrs. D and Mrs. G were secretly matchmaking, but not for money, that it was a business. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it seems...”

  “Sneaky?”

  “Exactly.”

  His shoulders eased. Had there been something in him that had thought maybe Irene was in on a similar plan? He supposed maybe. Now he knew it wasn’t true. She was genuinely surprised, as he had been.

  “I broke off the engagement, had it out with Aunt Betty, and that was that. She wouldn’t admit any fault, said she’d had my best interests in mind.”

  Irene’s brown hair brushed her pinkish cheeks in her movement. “That sounds hard.”

  He nodded. “I let the separation go on too long. Guess we were both too proud and stubborn to make up.” That ever-present lump of regret in his gut tightened.

  Her lips quirked. “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way... Glad you’re here, and I believe Mrs. D will be too. She’s talked about your dad, her brother, to me. She misses him a lot. I think it’s one of the reasons she went back to her maiden name after her husband passed. She said as much, said she wanted other Davises to be able to find her.” She sipped her coffee then her brows raised. “Oh! I bet she wanted that connection to you, too.”

  “Maybe.” That knot in his stomach that had been with him for years loosened.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  This woman was honest, without artifice, and that pushed attraction into admiration. “Same.” He sipped his coffee, trying to refocus on the task at hand. Seeing her open expression, hearing her authenticity, her fresh, just-washed scent twining with the spicy and savory aromas in the room, fogged his concentration.

  She gripped her mug. “Let’s see, about me... I had one sibling, an older brother, Minnie’s dad. Cancer took him several years ago. We had a disrupted family: our parents had divorced, and I went to live with Mom and he stayed on the ranch with Dad. That’s how I ended up in Oregon, and went to college there, UO.”

  “UM for me. Dad owned a similar shop to mine in Missoula where I worked too. When he died, he left it to me—Kim got the house—and I sold it. That was the seed money for my store, and it’s done well.” So well, he’d been thinking of selling. He’d gotten some offers, as the town was expanding rapidly. But he loved his work.

  Her brows raised in an expression of approval. “That’s not an easy task. We’re making it here, not with huge profits, which aren’t my motivator in any case.”

  “What motivates you?”

  She shifted, turning her body toward him, her knee almost touching his. That engine roared and his knee seemed to edge forward, as if he’d lost control of the brake.

  “Interesting question.” She touched her chin, a pointed, almost elfin detail on her soft features. “Love of my family, friends, and myself, the land, the outdoors, the community. Being able to support myself and local craftspeople. I downsized pretty heavily when I moved here, let go of some things, a lifestyle, that used to seem important. Losing my brother, and my parents, contributed to my realizing what was really important.”

  He nodded. They had a constellation of similarities, and it lit him up. Her clarity was refreshing, too, like breathing in the night air as he slept under the dark canopy of the sky.

  “What about you?”

  “My place is pretty spartan.” He rubbed his jaw. He’d asked a question, about what motivated her, he didn’t have a real answer for. Or, he did, but it sounded pretty selfish to him now. He glanced at her. Her serene interest and honesty made him want to tell her his truths. “Last year, I would’ve told you it was being successful so that I could be independent. Then I had what I thought was a heart attack, and now... I guess I’m in transition.”

  “But you’re okay?” She brushed her fingertips across his hand, leaving a trail of warm dots, as if she’d caressed her lips there.

  He rubbed his thigh and set down his cool coffee. “Yeah. It was a
panic attack. Just needed to find new ways to cope with stress.”

  She nodded in understanding. He let out a breath of relief. He didn’t share that information with most people, only his sister, whose responses were as empathetic as Irene’s, while being as spirited as Aunt Betty. Irene’s approach gave him a warmer, chest-expanding feeling, as if there were a reward for being completely himself with her. That was something special.

  “I admire you for tackling that.” She smiled softly, in that wistful way she had. “My parents couldn’t seem to manage those kinds of shifts, and it’s been sad to see the consequences of that, for them, and everyone.”

  Being close to this woman suddenly struck him as a vital part of his present. “So, when’s the wedding?” Fortunately, he’d brought a suit with him, as he had a business meeting in Missoula on his way back to Coeur d’Alene next week.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll need to be on-call, as we’re handling some of the catering. But Minnie is taking the lead this time. She’s planning the internet site for the shop, but she wants to also expand the catering out toward Manning Ranch. She’s marrying Adam Manning next month.”

  He knew the family, though Adam, the oldest brother, was still five years younger than him, so they hadn’t gone to school together, and the Mannings hadn’t come to town much back then. “Congrats to them. You gonna miss her?” He could see that complex look from her again, one that contained both happiness and sadness. Or maybe he was being affected by the magic Irene seemed to weave around her, as he wasn’t usually this focused on emotion.

  “Of course. We’re close. Yet I’m bursting with joy for her and Adam. They found a second chance together, and it’s so beautiful to see.”

  He nodded, not having any comment on her statements. “Is the wedding tomorrow a big event?”

  “All weddings are big events here. In size, though, not so much. I’m friends with the bride and groom, so I appreciate Minnie’s taking over so I can focus on the happy day. I think it’s only about thirty-five guests.”

  “Where?”

  “The old West ranch. It’s a bed and breakfast now. Kind of a hybrid experience. Farm to table, things like that. One of Autumn’s cousins—Mike Johnson—bought it from her.”

  “I heard about her father’s death last year. I haven’t seen Autumn, geez, since her baptism.”

  “She works at Gallagher’s, but I’m trying to poach her for the shop.” She grinned.

  This woman was adorable. Literally. His feet itched to move, to run from this flood of feelings. He glanced at his phone. Their half-hour was coming to a close. An idea popped into his mind. Yep, it checked out as a good plan. If they were going to pull this fake relationship off, he needed to introduce her to Aunt Betty as his girlfriend as soon as possible. “Looks like we better finish up. Would you want to come to dinner tonight? Gallagher’s, actually. Ken Taft is getting Aunt Betty there. He thought neutral ground would be best for the first meeting.”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your reunion.”

  “Are you busy?” He wasn’t quite ready to say how much he wanted her there. Her presence was bound to have a positive effect on the outcome, or at least on him.

  “No, I just...” She took their mugs and went to the sink, washing them.

  He strode to her, grabbing the nearby dishtowel, drying the mugs as she finished. “You’d round us out to four. Will you?”

  She glanced at him, searching his face, for what, he didn’t know. “All right, yes, thanks for the invite.”

  “Seems best, doesn’t it, if we’re supposed to be together?”

  “Yes, good point. What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “I may be a bit late. That’s when the shop closes.”

  “Let’s say seven-thirty, then. Pick you up at seven-twenty?”

  “I’ll be ready.” She patted his arm then pulled her hand away quickly. Had she also experienced the jolt of lightning that had electrified his limbs?

  He pulled out one of his cards and handed it to her. “Here’s my number, just in case. Call me if you have any breaks. I could bring you lunch, maybe, to go over more details?”

  She set his card in her pocket, walked out to the counter, and gave him her card. “That’d be smart. Say, one?”

  “I’ll be here. Any food dislikes or allergies?”

  “I can and will eat almost anything.” She smiled.

  “My kind of woman.” His voice was too edged with desire. He cleared his throat, as if he’d had something in it that would explain his low, rugged tone. But there was nothing more to it than being near Irene. She was his kind of woman. The question was, what was he going to do about it? And how was he going to pull off a fake relationship when she made him want something real?

  Chapter Three

  Irene quickly slicked on her favorite matte lip gloss with a mauve tint. She’d changed her clothes right after closing the shop, into a burgundy wrap dress with tights and low boots, the same ones she’d wear tomorrow for the wedding. This was no weather for heels.

  Her lunch with Wade had been brief and to the point: a fast exchange of other details, like favorite colors and songs, preferred foods and politics, as they’d eaten the empanadas and coffees he’d picked up at Las Tres Hermanas up the street. The way he’d watched her with hungry eyes as she devoured her beef and onion hand pie had caused a jitter in her stomach that she’d tried to wash away with coffee, and failed. She hoped their plan wouldn’t also fail. Though after noticing how well they matched up, and how she felt held and happy around him, she wanted more than a fake relationship.

  Focus on the dinner tonight. A brief image of Wade and Mrs. D tearing up and hugging in a loving reunion made her place her hands on her heart. She wanted to be here to support them both in this meaningful evening.

  The downstairs back doorbell buzzed. He was here. A surge of excitement quickened her. She tugged on her coat, scarf, and gloves and tip-tapped down the narrow staircase.

  “Hi,” she said after locking the door, avoiding looking at him.

  “Evening. How was the rest of your day?”

  “Busy, thankfully. Last-minute holiday shoppers. This is one of the best Valentine’s sales I’ve had in years.” She glanced at him as they moved forward. Her limbs tingled just from looking at his profile.

  “Great.” He fished a box out of his pocket. “Got you this over at Careys’. Seems like at least Dianne George knows we’re an item, though she was discreet about it, even warned me Lucinda was telling tales. I told her this wasn’t a rumor.”

  “Good handling of that, though I don’t like lying to a friend like Dianne.” She held the box, her arm zipping with anticipation.

  “Me either, but that’s the price.”

  She nodded, holding back a sigh at both the necessity of the lie and at his nearness. “Should I open it?”

  “Yes.”

  She stopped on the side street. No one was in sight on the snowy sidewalk. The night grew darker, twinkle lights in pinks, whites, and reds creating a glow from Main and Riverwalk streets. The box contained a delicate gold heart on a thin necklace.

  She swallowed and touched her clavicle, as if she could already feel the warmth of his gift nestling on her skin. If only this were real. “It’s lovely. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

  “I know, but it seems more authentic.”

  “Will you help me put it on?” She fingered the elegant, almost ephemeral piece. How had he guessed her taste? She hadn’t been wearing any jewelry today. Maybe Dianne had helped. She and Dianne, both local business owners, had become closer over the years, especially when Dianne had entrusted her as one of the people she asked for support in getting through her wife’s breast cancer treatments a couple of years ago. Dianne was strong, but she knew when to ask for support, which was real strength. Irene was still learning that lesson.

  Wade took the necklace and slid it around her, his fingers grazing her bare skin where she held her hair out of the way, then d
id the clasp. His hands lingered for a moment, causing a cascade of heat down her spine.

  “You can exchange it if you don’t like it.” His voice, low and heated, caused an answering melting in her.

  “I like it very much.” She touched the gift before remembering that this was all pretend. Her breath left her in a cloud, as if her disappointment manifested physically, and she walked forward.

  “So I got it right?”

  “It’s perfect.” You’re wonderful. “Feeling ready for this?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  They approached the café. She spotted Mrs. D and Ken sitting at a table that looked out the front window. They could, if they were looking, probably see them.

  “There they are,” she said, a jitter popping through her limbs.

  “Ready for that hug we discussed?”

  Was she ever. Though whether hugging him would calm her or increase the jitterbug dancing in her she didn’t know. “Yes.”

  He turned to her, keeping them visible but angled in such a way that a viewer from inside wouldn’t know whether or not they were kissing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she his neck. They fit together, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of fresh snow, evergreens, and mint. She wanted to stay like this. Very much. That melt in her increased like the winter in her had met summer, and his name was Wade. Their cheeks brushed as they slowly broke apart.

  If her face showed how content and safe she felt, they would fool anyone. He touched his gloved hand to her cheek, his gaze making her wonder if he were this good of an actor, or if his eyes reflected his true feelings of attraction and care. She held herself rigid to avoid leaning into his palm.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she could pull this off. She wasn’t much of a liar, though she supposed her years of owning the shop and putting on a pleasant front even when she disliked someone’s actions, made her able to carry this ruse off. Besides, it would be worth it to avoid the meddling matchmaking of Mrs. D, professional or not. And, it wouldn’t really be a lie, exactly, since her feelings told the truth that she wanted to be with Wade, for real. Still, what they were telling everyone was a lie. She pushed the discomfort of that aside for now.