1-800-CUPID
A Sweet Contemporary Romance
Josie Riviera
Copyright © 2017 by Josie Riviera
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is dedicated to all my wonderful readers who have supported me every inch of the way.
THANK YOU!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
A Note From The Author
Recipe for Rob’s Surprise Muffins
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Josie Riviera
I Love You More Chapter One
Chapter One
Twenty thousand dollars.
Click.
Candee Contando licked her dry lips. She’d done it. She’d placed an online bid on a home-auction website for the Victorian mansion on Thompson Lane. Her dream home, her dollhouse. Her dilapidated project.
Two years of savings. Gone.
No matter. Under her guidance, she’d transform the mansion to its former majestic state, painted a mustard-yellow offset by ornamental burnt-sienna “gingerbread” trim. The sounds of children’s giggling and music and barking beagles—yes, beagles—would echo across all five acres of the property.
She surveyed her offer and beamed, savoring the moment.
Now if she only could ensure that no one else bid on the property and drove up the price.
She studied the ticking clock on the website. Stay optimistic, she told herself. Deteriorated by age and wear, the Victorian would scare off any prospective buyer.
She pushed away from her desk and surveyed her real estate office. Although only one room, she prided herself on the cheery décor. One wall featured photos of North Carolina—the majestic peaks of the Blue Ridge parkway and scenic waterfalls. Below the photos hung a map of the area with local real estate listings highlighted by pushpins.
She peered out the window into the street below. Since noon, a bright sun had been at odds with January’s wind—a wind crazy in its intent to blow the streetlights off their wires.
For the umpteenth time, she checked her nonringing cell phone for messages. Surely the real estate market in Roses, North Carolina, would improve. Didn’t prospective home buyers begin looking in January? And wouldn’t these buyers call her rather than her competitors? Candee prided herself on her professionalism and up-to-date listings.
Then why hadn’t she made a single sale since August?
On the heel of that depressing assessment came a cheerful one. In two hours, she and her older sister, Desiree, planned to enjoy dinner at Desiree’s country club.
Candee stepped back to her desk and switched off the computer.
Two single women in their late twenties, she mused, spending Friday night alone and dateless, four weeks before Valentine’s Day.
Her cell phone rang, most likely Desiree firming up dinner plans and reminding Candee not to be late. Regardless of what time Candee met her older sister anywhere, Desiree always arrived before her.
Candee clicked on her phone. “1-800-Cupid,” she said with a laugh.
“Contando Realty?” a man asked.
“Yes, yes …” So much for professionalism. Candee felt her cheeks color. She hurried to her desk, dropping into the chair and switching her phone to speaker. “Are you looking to buy a home today, sir?”
“I am.” The man hesitated. “Is this the correct number?”
She powered on her computer. “Absolutely.”
“I’m new to the area and checked into the Roses Hotel last night,” he said.
Envisioning the rundown hotel, Candy raised her eyebrows. Although in all fairness, the hotel was the only lodging open in the winter. Roses, North Carolina, was a summer tourist town known for bubbling hot springs and cool mountain temperatures.
Her fingers poised on the keyboard. “I’m more than happy to assist. Your name?”
“Teddy. Teddy Winchester.” He had a deep voice, a slight southern drawl.
“What type of home are you searching for, Mr. Winchester?”
“The worst home in the best neighborhood.”
Yup. It figured. No significant sales commission to pay the mortgage this month. Fortunately, her part-time job at the local hardware store was stable, although the pay was meager.
She scrolled through the listings. “For yourself, sir?”
“I’m an investor.”
“How many bedrooms and baths?”
“Three bedrooms, two baths. Single family and one level.”
“Budget?”
“Anything below $50,000.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. Who did he think she was, a miracle worker?
“Mr. Winchester, the nicer neighborhoods in Roses are priced well above $100,000.”
“Nope. Too high.”
Certainly a man of few words.
“Perhaps—”
“I’ll take another look on the Internet.” He seemed to ignore her completely. “Thanks anyway.”
She wouldn’t lose a potential sale.
“Wait.” She feigned checking a non-existent schedule. “I may have an opening this afternoon. I know the area well and I’ll find properties to show you. Will three o’clock work?”
“In a half hour? Fine. I admire a realtor who works fast. Should I meet you at your office? The address is listed on the Internet.”
Candee verified the street number and ended the phone call with a cheery, “See you at three.”
She clicked off and checked her watch. Thirty minutes wasn’t enough time to drive to her apartment and change. Her worn jeans and blue flannel shirt would have to suffice.
Immediately, she phoned Desiree. “I may be late for dinner.”
“I’m so glad it’s you,” Desiree said. “Scott, a new lawyer at the firm, asked me out tonight. Barring the fact the invitation was last minute, I said yes. Desperation, right?” She paused. “Can we plan for dinner together tomorrow night instead?”
“Right, sure. The reason I called is because I have a client who’s interested in seeing some properties.”
“You have a real live client?” Desiree cut immediately to the question.
Candee envisioned her sister, thick blonde hair piled high, sitting behind a mahogany desk in her law firm. Proper, well-dressed, every inch the high-powered attorney. Desiree had proven that, with the right help, a disadvantaged childhood could lead to a successful adulthood. She worked late hours at her law firm advocating justice for low-income families and their children.
“He’s an investor,” Candee said.
“Maybe he’s tall, dark, and handsome?” Desiree said with deceptive casualness. “And rich?”
“Investors are usually short bald men.” Candee adjusted her shirt’s wrinkled collar, then surveyed the frayed hem of her jeans. She let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through her unruly auburn waves.
“You’ll need a rich man if you plan to go through with your insane idea to purchase that Victorian,” Desiree said. “The place will eat up all the money you hope to earn in a lifetime.”
“I’ll handle most of the work myself. Remember, when we lived in foster care, I learned carpentry from the fa
mily who took us in.”
“How will you offer a quality after-school environment to disadvantaged kids if you’re busy driving nails into crumbling walls?”
“Watch me.” Briefly, Candee squeezed her eyes shut. It was her turn to pay it forward.
“Well, don’t discount short men. They prefer tall, willowy red-heads with green eyes,” Desiree said. “Who knows? He might be struck by Cupid’s golden arrow when he meets you. This guy might be the one.”
Candee drew in a breath. “The one what, exactly?”
“Your partner, your love, your support system. The one who can help pay off the mountainous amount of debt you’ll incur if you actually buy the biggest dilapidated disaster in the state.”
“Someone supportive? For me? After what happened?”
Desiree’s voice grew quieter. “Not every guy pretends to be something he’s not.
A lump lodged in Candee’s throat. No man was worth having her heart broken again, although she didn’t vocalize her feelings. Desiree was an eternal romantic.
With a promise to meet her sister on Saturday evening, Candee clicked off and bent to pick up a broken pencil lying on the floor. Not once since the ill-fated night two years ago when her long-time boyfriend had walked out had she broken the vow to herself and wept. Life went on, although a sadness she couldn’t shake remained precariously close to the surface.
Some lessons were more difficult than others. Her ex had taught her the hardest—she wasn’t interesting enough, pretty enough or vivacious enough.
Tears welled and she brushed them away. Standing, she tossed the pencil into a garbage can by the door. While she confirmed two house showings for Mr. Winchester, she cast a critical assessment of her reflection in the mirror by the office door. She pinched her pale cheeks and added a touch of rose lip balm to her lips. Then she gathered her hair into a ponytail, securing the thick curls with an elastic band. With a final glance in the mirror, she pulled on her cream-colored woolen jacket and wound an emerald-green paisley scarf around her neck.
Her suede purse under her arm, she pushed open the exit doors and stepped outside. The sun had buried itself under a formless cloud, and a swirl of wind blew her paisley scarf across her face. She tucked it securely beneath the collar of her jacket. The day was typical January weather for Roses, undecided if it was warm or cold.
Chapter Two
Teddy Winchester pondered for the umpteenth time how he’d ended up in Roses, North Carolina. Certainly the town was charming, tucked along a backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He’d taken a ride around the region before he’d checked into the hotel. The shopping seemed adequate and the town center exuded storybook appeal, retaining a New England quaintness, complete with a bandstand.
Rob, his not-so-silent business partner in Florida, had assured Teddy the North Carolina weather was always cooperative, even pleasant for mid-January. And the area teemed with real estate bargains because Roses, population five thousand, had never fully recovered from the recession.
Rob was wrong on both counts. Relentless gusts battering under the drafty hotel’s windows had sent a chill through Teddy all morning while he’d sat in his room, and the inventory of low-priced homes on real-estate websites proved nonexistent.
Roses wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He needed a quick turnaround investment to help pay for his nephew Joseph’s physical therapy. A horrific car accident and the loss of his nephew’s father had left Joseph traumatized and weak, and the extensive physical therapy included strength building and stretching.
Teddy took a deep breath, still reeling from his older brother’s death. Christian, we promised to never desert each other. And now you’re gone.
In an effort to keep busy, Teddy perused his email, then texted an abridged list of instructions to his secretary on how to proceed with the sale of his late brother’s farm. He assumed Christian retained life insurance, which would help pay for the mountain of medical bills steadily piling up, as well as lawyers’ fees. The papers declaring Teddy Joseph’s legal guard weren’t finalized yet. The courts took their time, although the will guided the court’s decision.
With a sigh, he tapped in Rob’s business number.
Rob’s gruff voice answered on the fifth ring. “Rob’s Marvelous Muffins.”
“Hi Rob. Is Joseph around?” Teddy asked.
“He’s up to his elbows in Valentine muffin ingredients. A four-year-old’s favorite activity is making a mess with a cupful of flour, right?” Rob chuckled. “I’ll put him on speaker.”
“Hi Uncle Teddy!” Joseph’s high-pitched voice vibrated through the phone. “Mr. Rob and I are putting a surprise in our muffins and writing something special on each one. Wanna know what’s inside?”
Teddy laughed. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, right?”
The boy hesitated. “Right.”
“Is there anything we can do about that?”
“I can save a muffin for you, Uncle Teddy.”
“Great idea, buddy. I’ll fly to Miami in a couple weeks, and we’ll eat muffins together at Mr. Rob’s bakery. Okay?”
Joseph giggled. “Okay.”
Teddy swallowed. It was the first time he’d heard the boy laugh since his father had died.
“I love you, Joseph,” he said softly.
“Love you, too, Uncle Teddy.”
Rob got back on the phone. “He’s a good kid. You should see how he’s mixing the butter and sugar together.”
“Maybe he’s a born baker like you, Rob.”
“Or a farmer like you.”
“I was never good at farming.” Which was true. It wasn’t until he’d met Rob and gone into real estate that he’d discovered his forte.
“Maybe you haven’t discovered the right crop. Try tomatoes. Those plants grow regardless of—Hang on a sec.” Rob turned away from the phone, but Teddy could still hear him directing one of his employees to be careful attaching the food grinder to the heavy-duty electric mixer he’d recently purchased. His voice returned to normal strength as he inquired how the house hunting was going.
“I’m meeting a local realtor this afternoon.”
“Shouldn’t take long. It’s a buyer’s market.” He barked another order to one of his employees, then goaded, “You miss slaving over a hot oven?”
Teddy could easily visualize the twinkle in Rob’s crystal-blue eyes. “I haven’t baked so much as a boxed cake in years,” he said, chuckling.
He and Rob had met years earlier at a cooking class for men. Teddy had soon discovered his speciality would never include burning another muffin, but Rob had gone on to build a successful chain of bakeries in the greater Miami area. Teddy could practically inhale the delectable, sugary aromas coming from Rob’s spotless commercial kitchen.
“And I’ll take Joseph to his equestrian session this weekend,” Rob was saying. “The kid has really formed a connection with horses.”
“Exactly the reason his therapist advised it,” Teddy replied. “She said horseback riding would reduce Joseph’s anxiety after the trauma of the accident.”
“She’s right,” Rob said. “And she’s such a pretty thing, isn’t she?”
“Rob, she’s Joseph’s therapist.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. And she’s a few years younger than me, anyway.” Rob gave an exaggerated whistle. “Remember to keep me in the real estate loop.”
“Do I have a choice?” Teddy grinned. He was impatient with lawyers and their endless legal jargon and talk of probate court. However, with the man and mentor he owed his real-estate start-up business to, Teddy’s patience was limitless.
“Hey, thanks for watching Joseph for me,” he added.
“What are oddball friends for? Your job is to snag the best buy in Roses.” The usually brash Rob tempered his tone. “And Joseph’s no bother, you know. When someone’s down and out they need help, right?”
“These past few months … Thank you. For everything.” Teddy clicked off and stared at the phone. Sometimes,
he didn’t know what he would’ve done if Rob hadn’t been there to pick up the pieces after Christian’s death.
He checked his watch, then pulled on a gray T-shirt. He was still half-wet from his shower and the T-shirt stuck to his body. He shook his damp hair, threw on a Florida State baseball cap, stuck his wallet in his jeans pocket, and zipped up an olive-green vest. Out in the parking lot, he fired up the engine of his red truck, and at exactly three o’clock arrived at Candee Contando Realty. He needed someone experienced to help him get just the right property, and from the Internet reviews he’d read, Mrs. Contando had been in business over thirty years.
He walked to the entrance of an older brick building housing various offices and stopped midstep, admiring the beautiful young woman waiting in the doorway. The collar of a cream-colored jacket framed her oval face, along with an absurdly colorful green scarf. A pair of tiny gold cross earrings dangled from her ears. Her features were all high cheekbones and generous lips.
He tipped his baseball hat. “Hello. I’m supposed to meet Mrs. Contando here.”
“I’m Miss Contando, although please call me Candee.” Her smile enhanced her fascinating emerald eyes.
His heartbeat slowed and he had to prompt himself to swallow. “This is your realty?”
“Actually, it was said to be my mother’s company for a while.” She pushed back a stray wisp of auburn hair, handed him a business card, and then extended her hand. “Are you Mr. Winchester?”
“Teddy.” Tight jeans emphasized her shapely legs and rounded hips. This woman’s stunning good looks could stop traffic.
“I expected someone older,” he managed to say.
She let go of his hand, swept her gaze up his six-foot frame, and grinned. “I expected someone shorter.”
He met her grin, debating where he should look next.
1-800-CUPID_A Sweet Contemporary Romance Novella Page 1
