Missy was so humiliated, so embarrassed, she’d never told a soul about it. Lesson learned once again—this time for keeps—no man was trustworthy. She had her sister, her friends, and that was more than enough.
She looked up at Ben, defenses firmly in place. He pushed her hair back over her ear, gazing down at her with heat in his blue eyes. She felt herself flush. Normally she wouldn’t be opposed to acting on fantastic chemistry for a hookup, but Ben was one of the guys who’d grown up close to the Campbell family. And the Campbell clan, with all their biological and honorary brothers, were frequently at the bar where Missy and her friends from book club hung out. Some of the guys had recently become engaged or married to some of her friends, and the crossover between the two groups had reached epic proportions. She was sure to run into Ben more and more frequently. The fact that she’d only seen him a handful of times before this was not enough to sway her. She liked to keep her casual hookups separate from her real life.
She stood, embarrassingly overheated from their kiss. “Thanks for your help.”
He jerked his chin. “Who was it?”
She worked for a casual tone. “Just a guy who’s not my type. He asked me out before, and I thought he might again. I just wanted to let him down easy, letting him think I had a boyfriend.”
He studied her, his eyes boring into hers. For a moment she worried he could see through the lie, but then he gave her an easy smile, his dimples popping up adorably in those rough stubbled cheeks. “I must be your type. That kiss—”
“Never happened.”
He narrowed his eyes.
She glanced at the adjacent table, where several people were waiting to pay for their purchases with Cheryl. Apparently, the Missy and Ben make-out session had been quietly stepped around. She’d be more embarrassed except she’d do it again in a heartbeat. It had worked phenomenally well in getting Louis to back off. And, she could admit it, she’d enjoyed their kiss immensely, enough to be sorely tempted by Ben. She hadn’t been with anyone since Matt, five months now, and the chemistry she had with Ben was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And that was just from a kiss! Her stomach dipped imagining skin on skin, the hot rush of—
The problem with Ben, she reminded herself firmly, was they’d end up thrown together a lot with all their mutual friends. If they hooked up, they’d have to see each other afterwards. He’d probably be like, “hey, ex-lover, don’t mind me flirting with this other woman.” Who would no doubt be one of her friends. Nope.
“Let me take care of your purchase,” she told him. “Then I need to help Cheryl.”
He said something under his breath and then walked to the other side of the table.
She ignored his grumbling, neatly folding the dark gray sweater he preferred, and then wrapping it in tissue paper and tucking it into a white box. After she told him the price, she pointed out his next stop. “There’s a gift-wrapping station over by the beach paintings if you want to take care of that too.”
He pulled a wad of twenty-dollar bills from his wallet. “Here.”
She counted them out, way too much. She tried to give some back, but he crossed his arms, tucking his hands away. “This is too much, nearly double.”
“Keep it. A donation to the church.”
Her throat constricted. He had no idea how much good this money would do this Christmas. “Ben…” She couldn’t get the words past the lump in her throat.
“What?” His tone was brusque.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you. It’ll be put to good use.”
“Good.” Another one-word terse reply.
“Are you mad I made you kiss me?”
His lips twitched. “I’m not mad.”
“You seem…not happy?”
He leaned close to her ear, his words hot against her skin. “When a gorgeous sexy woman lays a kiss on you like that, twice, and then gives you the cold shoulder, you might be a little not happy too.”
She warmed at the compliment. She’d never been called gorgeous before, and coming from his gorgeous self—wow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the cold shoulder.”
He straightened. “Okay. So now what?”
“I really do need to get back to work. I’m sure I’ll run into you again. Fate, right?”
He leveled her with a look of pure aggravation. “Right.” He snagged his sweater and stalked off.
“Wait!”
He stopped, slowly turned, and looked at her expectantly.
“You forgot your jam!” She held it out to him.
He marched back to her, irritation written all over his face. “Thank you,” he bit out, taking the jam.
“Bye and thanks again.”
He stalked off, jam in one hand, sweater box tucked under his arm. She let out a soft sigh, watching him go before remembering herself and jumping in to help.
By the time the craft bazaar ended at five o’clock, Missy was proud to say it had been a huge success. Her goal to raise two thousand dollars had been met and then some. Twenty-three hundred dollars, all of it going to the Harper family—Rena with her three kids, ages six, eight, and ten. She was one of the women Missy helped through the women’s hotline. Rena was starting over in an apartment in Clover Park after escaping her abusive husband. The church community had come together to make sure the Harper family had furniture and the basics, but Missy wanted to do something more. She wanted the kids’ first Christmas in their new hometown to be special. They’d each escaped with only one suitcase of personal belongings, not wanting to alert the abuser that they were leaving for good. The kids needed continuity—a tree with decorations, presents, a special Christmas dinner—to keep their childhood intact. They needed to know everything they loved about Christmas would still be there for them even if some things had changed. Missy knew from personal experience how important it was for a kid to have something they could depend on when their world turned upside down.
She tucked the money she’d collected from each vendor into the metal cash box, locked it, and stored it under the table. All the vendors were packing up, and she jumped in to help. There was still a pile of men’s sweaters, probably their worst-selling item. She pulled a large plastic container from under the table and piled them in there. She found herself smiling, looking at the bluebird of happiness sweater. She briefly considered getting it for Ben as a joke gift, but then decided he might take it the wrong way. Like she wanted to continue with more flirty stuff, bantering back and forth…kissing. She flashed hot at the memory. Onetime thing. She tossed a few more sweaters on top, covering up the birdy goodness.
She finished packing the remaining knits and checked if anyone else needed help, but half of the volunteers had already left, and the rest were fine on their own. She went upstairs to the storage closet, grabbed a broom and dustpan, headed back downstairs, and got to work. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, a date she’d planned purposely so she could hit all the Black Friday sales for the Harpers. She wanted those kids to wake to the excitement of a pile of presents on Christmas morning, to believe that Santa was there for them more than ever, to know they were good kids on the nice list no matter what their dad had done.
“Bye,” Cheryl called, her hands full with a container of knits.
Missy set the broom against the wall. “You want help getting that to your car?” The woman maintained a teased blond hairstyle, but she had to be at least seventy.
“No, thanks, Harry’s here. He’ll be down in a minute to haul the rest.”
“Okay, thanks so much for your help today.”
“You’re welcome. Your boyfriend was cute. Mr. Leather Jacket.”
Missy fought back a blush, sure Cheryl had seen them making out. “Oh, ha-ha, he’s not my boyfriend.”
Cheryl raised her brows up past her fluffy bangs. “Whatever you call it these days.”
Missy waved that away, grabbed the broom, and went back to sweeping. She couldn’t dwell on Ben. She had bigger problems. Louis might s
how up at her apartment again, trying to get her alone. She’d better not hang onto the cash long. She’d deposit it as soon as the bank opened Monday morning. Then on Black Friday, she’d pay for everything with her debit card. She never carried debt on a credit card and kept a month’s worth of rent saved at all times just in case. She’d hung onto that just-in-case money, her safety net, for years. Her former teen runaway self needed it to feel secure.
By the time she finished sweeping, everyone had cleared out. She stopped for a moment, sweating, and pulled her sweater away from her body, fanning it a bit. She was thirsty too, but she wanted to finish the job first. She bent to grab the dustpan when she heard a noise behind her. She whirled, her heart thundering.
Louis was standing by her table, cash box in hand.
“No!” she shouted, racing toward him.
He met her halfway, shoving her sideways, the metal cash box slamming into her shoulder. She hit the floor and he took off for the stairs. She scrambled to her feet, chasing him and hollering the whole time. “Stop him! Somebody stop him!”
He had a head start and was fast. She ran up the stairs, her eyes glued to that cash box.
Father Munson appeared in the entryway. “What’s the problem?”
He was too old to chase Louis down. She kept running, shoving open the heavy front door Louis had just slammed back at her. By the time she got to the parking lot, he was driving away.
Bitter tears stung her eyes. He could not win. Those kids would not suffer because of him.
Father Munson appeared at her side. “What happened? Who was that man?”
She shook her head. “No one. Everything’s okay.”
“Sure?”
She pasted on a smile. “Yes. I thought he’d forgotten his gifts, but I was mistaken.”
Father Munson patted her shoulder. “I left a man in the confessional. I’d better get back.”
She nodded and headed for her car, shame bringing bile to her throat. She’d brought the devil to their door. She should’ve just written Louis a check and got rid of him. Instead she’d stubbornly clung to her emergency savings for fear of becoming homeless again, like when she was a teen runaway living on the streets. Fear had controlled her once more. Dammit.
She swallowed down the bile. Her savings wasn’t enough to repay the money he’d just stolen.
Everyone had worked so hard to make this event a success. Most of them had donated their profits entirely to the cause Missy had championed. She had to find a way to repay that money in time for Christmas.
Her fault. Her problem. No one had to know she’d ever been involved with such an awful man. Her ex would remain her shameful secret.
Chapter Three
Four days later, Missy was riding in a limo with her friends in a dreamy haze. If you had told her back when she was on the streets, hungry and clawing her way through just to survive, that one day she’d be attending movie star Claire Jordan’s Fierce Loving wrap party at a palatial mansion in the Connecticut countryside, she wouldn’t have believed it. Claire was a Happy Endings Book Club member and star of the Fierce trilogy movies based on books written by former book club member Julia Marino. Everything good in Missy’s life could be traced back to her connection with the Happy Endings Book Club, a romance book club she never would’ve joined on her own. She didn’t even believe in a romantic happy ending. And that connection was all due to her younger sister, Lily Marino.
Three years ago, out of the blue, Missy got a call from a woman claiming to be her sister—both of them put up for adoption as babies from the same mother to different families. Missy had agreed to meet her, figuring at least someone would understand how much their biological mother sucked. They’d connected immediately, but it was only for a week. Missy had been living in Seattle at the time and thought she’d never see Lily again. But Lily kept in touch and, when Lily got engaged two months later, she asked Missy to be maid of honor, a huge step for their tentative relationship. Their bond strengthened during Missy’s visit for the wedding, resulting in Missy moving to Clover Park. Lily’s family by marriage, the Marinos, had welcomed Missy, giving her a job and leading her to the Happy Endings Book Club. The debt she owed the Marinos was immense. They made Clover Park feel like home.
She focused on her friends all dressed up for the special occasion. Lexi and Hailey sat across from her, Sabrina by her side. The rest of their friends from the Happy Endings Book Club had skipped the limo in favor of driving with their fiancés or husbands. Guess the limo crowd were the last of the single women in their group. Fine by Missy. Sisters before misters, forever and ever, amen.
Lexi’s shoulder-length dark brown hair was swept into a sophisticated twist, her makeup flawless, and she wore a scandalously slit red dress, exposed from ankle to waist. For sure she was commando under that thing. Lexi was a lot like Missy—no-nonsense and practical.
“Champagne?” Lexi asked, passing the bottle over to Missy. Claire kept the limo stocked for them.
Missy took a slug from the bottle, delicately wiping some from her chin. She smiled at Lexi. “Looks like your dress ripped.”
Lexi swished the bottom of her dress from side to side. “Eat your heart out, Blake Grenier!” He was the drop-dead gorgeous co-star of the Fierce trilogy movies.
“Or you,” Missy quipped.
Everyone laughed.
Missy passed the champagne bottle to Sabrina, who huffed. “Where are the glasses? I can’t show up to an A-list party in one of Claire’s designer dresses with champagne spilled all over my front.” Her full-length lavender dress was exquisite—frothy and light with lace and sheer panels. Her long dirty blond hair was smooth and glossy, her brown eyes accented by smoky eyeliner, even her round apple cheeks had more definition with makeup. Quite a transformation from girl-next-door to glam. Of course, she was still sweet as ever.
Missy felt a little plain next to Sabrina, wearing her usual little black dress, her brown hair not at all glossy or styled, just straight down to her shoulders. At least her push-up bra made it look like she had cleavage.
“So don’t spill,” Missy told Sabrina.
“I got it,” Hailey said, sliding open a storage cabinet and pulling out a stack of plastic cups. Hailey somehow moved with ease in a black strapless dress that fit her like a glove. Probably from all her years on the beauty pageant circuit. She was a former beauty queen with long strawberry blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a flawless complexion. Now she worked as a wedding planner and was the leader of the Happy Endings Book Club.
Sabrina leaned forward and took the offered cup. “Thanks, Hailey. I have to be so careful. I’m sure this dress cost a fortune.”
Hailey nodded. “It’s classier to drink from a cup.” Hailey was always classy.
Lexi showed off an exposed leg and purposely slurred her words. “What’re you saying, we’re not classy?”
Missy made a show of adjusting her strapless bra. “Yeah, we’re classy!”
“Classy with a K,” Sabrina said, which made Hailey laugh.
Hailey took them all in with a bright smile that meant she was shifting to hyper planner mode, her speech rapid-fire. “Anyone have time this weekend to help me get ready for the holiday stroll and tree decorating? There’s still a lot to be done decoration-wise, plus the favors I’m preparing for the kids, the raffle, the gift-wrapping for seniors—did I tell you about that event? I merged the gift-wrapping thing into the tree-decorating event. I’m also on the hunt for miniature stockings for—”
“Hold that thought,” Missy said. She turned to Sabrina. “Pass her the champagne.” Hailey had always been driven, but ever since she’d become single, ending a long-term friends-with-benefits situation, she’d catapulted past driven to hyper. The real issue, they all privately agreed, was Josh Campbell. The pair, previously involved in an escalating frenemy one-upmanship fueled by a palpable sexual chemistry, abruptly stopped all sparring when Josh got a girlfriend. Kind of a shame for the rest of them too because watching J
osh and Hailey at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill, where they all hung out, was an extremely entertaining and frequent event. Josh was manager and bartender there and took great pleasure in denying Hailey her favorite drink as retaliation for whatever devious thing she’d come up with. The rumor that Josh had a tiny banana was only one example of Hailey’s brilliant moves. Josh’s new girlfriend was the anti-Hailey—a laid-back, supersweet, bohemian yoga instructor.
Sabrina handed the bottle to Hailey. “Sweetie, promise me you’ll take a breather after the holidays.” Sabrina was a relationship counselor with a deeply compassionate nature.
Hailey poured herself a glass, her smile bright. “I’m fine. This is what I do.” She set the champagne bottle back in the ice bucket and lifted her cup. “To planning fantastic events!”
Missy and Sabrina exchanged a concerned look.
“I’m fine!” Hailey chirped. “Seriously, I’ve never been happier!”
“We totally believe you!” Lexi chirped back in a dead-on Hailey impersonation.
Hailey’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve been snippier lately. When was the last time you had a man in your life?”
“Don’t go there,” Lexi said with no real heat.
Hailey lifted one shoulder. “It’s what I do. I’m a happy-ending facilitator.”
“The Love Junkie,” Sabrina added with a straight face. “It says so on her card.”
Hailey smiled serenely, proud of her self-appointed title. “And, Sabrina, you’re getting quite a rep as a relationship healer.”
Sabrina blushed. “It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. Word spreads and then more people looking for healing come to me. They’re ready and willing to do the work.”
Hailey flicked her long strawberry blond hair over her shoulder. “We should put our heads together for some more coupling.”
Lexi snorted. “Coupling. That sounds dirty.”
They cracked up.
“What about you, Sabrina?” Hailey asked. “You’re an expert on relationships, does that mean you’d like one for yourself soon?”
Sabrina blushed, looking away. “Sometimes when you know as much as I do, it’s almost a curse.” She turned back to Hailey. “I can see warning signs of relationship incompatibility a mile away. It makes it hard to relax and just enjoy.”
Resisting Fate Page 2
