Hope Falls_Sweet Serendipity

by Jamie Farrell

  Because he was embarrassed that she was better than he was?

  Or because he was lying?

  “Play the puck,” she ordered.

  He pulled it out of the pocket and dropped it on the table. After holding her gaze for a long, intense, emotionally-charged moment that left her chest tight and warmth pooling deep in her belly, he moved his mallet and struck the puck.

  It flew across the board.

  Skye returned it reflexively.

  It came right back, and soon the board was a blur, the clack clack clack of mallet hitting puck the only noise interrupting the air in the table and the sound of Skye’s breathing in her own ears.

  She danced her mallet across the table, her attention laser-focused on that puck flying back and forth. It bounced off the side of the table, off Wyatt’s mallet, off her own mallet, in the corner, out of the corner.

  She bent closer to the table. She blew her hair out of her eyes. She needed to let him get a goal. To score. To see how he reacted. She set him up for a perfect shot, puck flying straight at him, ready to fake a lunge so her goal would be unguarded.

  But at the last millisecond, Wyatt moved his mallet and let the puck fly straight into his goal.

  Her head whipped up.

  He lifted his shirt and wiped his forehead. She caught another peek of hard washboard abs and a treasure trail disappearing under his jeans. Her breath was already coming quickly from the game, but now her mouth went dry.

  Craziness.

  This was Wyatt.

  And he was intentionally throwing this game so she’d leave.

  He wanted her to leave.

  “Drop the puck,” she said.

  His eyes widened, but he quickly returned his gaze to the table and did as she said.

  She didn’t even try to block his shot.

  Not that she needed to.

  It bounced out of the corner and back to his side of the board.

  She pursed her lips together.

  Another pink hue tinged his cheeks. “I’m rusty,” he said.

  She dropped her mallet. “Forget it. Game over.”

  “Skye—”

  Apparently he understood sign language well enough, because he didn’t keep talking.

  Nor did he try to stop her when she strode out of the game room.

  She was done with playing.

  It was time for her to figure out what she wanted for her life.

  * * *

  No matter what Wyatt did, he was never right.

  Not where Skye was concerned.

  He plucked his darts out of the board and went back to toss them again.

  The bedroom door beside the game room had shut, and he hadn’t heard it re-open, so he assumed she was staying tonight.

  How early she’d leave in the morning, he had no idea.

  He simply wished he didn’t want her to stay. While she’d always been someone he admired from afar, being close to her wasn’t good for his ego. Or his blood pressure. Or his heart.

  She never laughed that full, rich laugh of hers for him. She didn’t smile at him. Hell, she barely talked to him.

  So why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

  He flung a dart at the board.

  Bull’s eye.

  But he didn’t feel like celebrating a good throw.

  He felt like he’d lost in a game he was never supposed to win, but couldn’t quit playing.

  Chapter Three

  Sue Ann’s Café was exactly what Skye needed for perspective—and for a break from work.

  Her phone still wasn’t working quite right, so she’d left it in the bowl of rice and instead pulled out her computer to send Beck an email. But she’d gotten distracted by messages from the Sacramento office. After realizing she’d spent an hour and a half on work problems that could be solved by people actually in the office, she left the house and drove down to Hope Falls for a run into Sue Ann’s. The local café with its checkered tablecloths, life-giving coffee, and sweet as sweet tea proprietor was cozy and welcoming, and while she’d come in for a quick bite to eat, she’d instead stayed the rest of the morning.

  She’d been here two or three times with Beck since he bought the house a few years ago, and Sue Ann had recognized her as soon as she walked in the door. Usually, Skye suspected she was remembered purely by virtue of coming in with Beck, but Sue Ann seemed to truly remember Skye herself. She asked about the wedding, then squeezed her in a hug and whispered, “Then he didn’t deserve you, and you can do better,” when Skye told her that Steven had called it off.

  So many people back home and at the office had said the same, but coming from this grandmotherly lady who should’ve been a stranger but felt like family, Skye almost believed the sentiment herself.

  Now, as lunchtime approached, she sat at a table with Karina Black, a pop star who had grown up here in Hope Falls and who had snuck into town after a big show in San Francisco over the weekend. Karina was an old friend of Beck’s from his days in the music industry and had introduced him to Hope Falls in the first place.

  They were all laughing with Karina over a story about Beck embarrassing himself at the Grammys one year when she heard a voice she recognized. “Isn’t that Miss Skye?”

  Karina lifted a dark eyebrow. “You have a fan club,” she murmured.

  Skye’s neck and ears went warm, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before her face was too.

  Because she’d spent too much time picturing Wyatt’s chest last night, and too little time being offended that he’d cheated at air hockey so she’d leave.

  “Miss Skye is busy.” Wyatt’s voice carried through the café, sending goose bumps down her arms. “We shouldn’t interrupt her lunch.”

  “But she doesn’t have any food, Uncle Wyatt.”

  “Friends?” Karina asked with a sly smile. “Or is Uncle Wyatt something more?”

  “He’s Beck’s friend,” Skye said quickly. “Since childhood.” She turned and waved at Nicholas.

  The boy’s face was on the pale side, and even from across the café she could tell his glasses had dirt on them.

  Must’ve been driving Wyatt crazy. Back when they were growing up, he’d been the one who insisted everything be put away right in the tree house and that the balls and gloves and bikes all be returned to their proper storage places at the end of every night.

  What teenage boy did that?

  Nicholas smiled wide and made a beeline for her, but he stopped short three steps away when his gaze landed on Karina.

  Wyatt touched his shoulder. “C’mon, Nicholas. Let’s go find a table.”

  “Oh, no, there’s plenty of room here.” Karina angled one of the empty chairs out. “Nicholas, is it? Hi. I’m Karina. Nice to meet you.”

  Nicholas’s dark eyes were wide as the lenses in his glasses. “Hi,” he whispered.

  “We don’t need to interrupt you,” Wyatt said to the table.

  Karina smiled widely at him. “Any friend of Beck Ryder is a friend of mine.”

  “I don’t generally claim him in public,” Wyatt said, once again showing that glimmer of a sense of humor.

  Karina burst out laughing. “Oh, then you have to sit.”

  He turned his piercing blue eyes on Skye.

  She swallowed.

  She could do this.

  She could sit at a table and be polite. Given that he’d been happy to correct her form in a game of darts, she assumed he hadn’t been rusty at air hockey.

  That he’d wanted her to leave.

  And that hurt.

  But for his nephew’s sake, she could be civil.

  She started to nod to him, but he’d already moved to claim the last seat at the table at Karina’s insistence.

  Nicholas perched on the edge of his chair and scooted closer to Skye, bumping her arm. “Is that really Karina Black?” he whispered.

  “It really is,” Skye whispered back.

  “She’s pretty.”

  “And she’s very nice. You
can talk to her.”

  Karina leaned toward him. “What grade are you in, Nicholas?”

  “You’re pretty,” he said.

  Skye felt Wyatt’s gaze on her.

  She picked up her mug and sipped at her coffee.

  He might’ve developed muscles and an unexpected sense of humor, but she still didn’t like him.

  Nicholas stuttered his way through answering Karina’s questions while the pop star smiled her beautiful smile and turned on the charm. With her gorgeous Native American features and outgoing personality, it was no wonder she’d gone far in the pop world.

  Wyatt settled his forearms on the table and leaned into her space. “You packed up.”

  “I won.”

  “You quit.”

  “You weren’t actually playing.” She raised the cup to her lips again. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and something flickered in his eyes.

  Something that implied he wanted her to stay.

  That he liked her.

  That he more than liked her.

  She choked on the coffee.

  Either the mountain air was getting to her, or she needed more sleep. Because Wyatt Owens did not like her.

  Any more than she liked him.

  And his chiseled muscles and the white-hot intensity of his blue gaze.

  The warmth building deep in her belly wasn’t a welcome feeling.

  “Are you okay, Miss Skye?” Nicholas asked.

  She forced a nod. “Yes,” she rasped out between coughs.

  Wyatt made a move as though he were going to pound her on the back, but she held a hand up.

  Sue Ann bustled over to make sure she was okay. Several other locals stopped as well.

  And Skye assured them all that yes, she was fine.

  Karina cast a curious glance her way, then at Wyatt, then back to Skye with a knowing smile.

  Skye shook her head. Absolutely not, she telegraphed to Karina.

  But every time she glanced at Wyatt, her pulse did funny things, she went warm in unexpected places, and she couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences.

  Skye was most definitely not okay.

  * * *

  Wyatt might’ve been on the weakling side as a kid, but with Nicholas, he was entirely out of his element.

  He guided his nephew up the steps to the house, walking slowly, watching the color slowly return to the boy’s face. “You gonna make it, bud?”

  Nicholas nodded over his bucket. “I’m sorry, Uncle Wyatt.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” Wyatt patted him on the shoulder, then winced. Probably shouldn’t jostle the kid. “I should’ve asked your mom if you had any height issues.”

  After Nicholas had had a panic attack at the Mountain Ridge Outdoor Adventure stables this morning and couldn’t make himself get on a horse, they’d taken a break for lunch—where Wyatt had nearly had a personal problem of his own sitting next to Skye, smelling her sweet shampoo and listening to her laugh with his nephew and Karina Black.

  He and Nicholas had been booked for zip lining at Mountain Ridge this afternoon, so they’d thankfully been able to leave the café for a legitimate reason.

  But he hadn’t expected Nicholas to toss his lunch halfway up the climb to the first zip line platform.

  The staff was exceptionally accommodating, and Wyatt had been able to reschedule them for a guided hike tomorrow afternoon instead of their kayak trip in the morning, assuming Nicholas didn’t have any more adventures in stomach issues.

  He’d seemed queasy in the car, but he didn’t have a fever. And now that they were home, his color was coming back.

  This might not bode well for the next five days. “You want to go take a nap or something?” Wyatt asked.

  Nicholas’s nose wrinkled. “Naps are for babies.” He sucked in a big breath. “I’m okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He didn’t look okay. Better, but not completely okay yet.

  But he still seemed so damn vulnerable. As though a stiff breeze could carry him away. Or as if a lunchroom bully could flatten him.

  Wyatt sucked a breath through his nose. Amelia knew what to watch for. She volunteered at Nicholas’s school all the time, and though Wyatt had never asked, she’d told him—more than once—that the school had a no-tolerance policy for bullies.

  And Vince was a good father.

  Not like Amelia and Wyatt’s had been.

  “You like fishing?” Wyatt asked.

  Nicholas shrugged.

  “Ever been fishing?”

  He shook his head.

  “Let’s take it easy tonight, and then if you’re feeling like it, I’ll teach you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “You hungry at all?” Wyatt asked.

  Nicholas shook his head again.

  Inside, Wyatt glanced at the TV, then at Nicholas.

  They were supposed to be hanging this week, not sitting around ignoring each other while they zoned out. They’d always gotten along well, but Wyatt didn’t see his nephew often enough to waste their time this week watching TV. Still, getting Nicholas riled up over pool or foosball didn’t seem like a good idea just yet.

  “Can I get out my tablet, Uncle Wyatt?” Nicholas said.

  “Don’t think video games are a good idea right now, bud.”

  “Mom put Phoebe Moon and the Secret Sister on it.”

  “Phoebe Moon…?”

  “And the Secret Sister. It’s a book about this really cool girl who saves the world. She has an iguana who thinks he’s a dragon, and they battle her evil mad scientist uncle. And I want to go see Phoebe Moon and the Sneeze Snatcher. They made a movie. Mom said she’d take me, but she was busy getting ready for Hawaii, and she hasn’t had time to read any Phoebe Moon yet.”

  Wyatt opened his mouth.

  Then closed it again.

  “Sure,” he finally said. “Reading sounds good. But if you start to feel sick—”

  “I won’t. I read all the time when I’m sick, but I’m feeling a lot better. I think the ladder made me puke. It was really wobbly.” The kid shoved his glasses up his nose.

  Wyatt grimaced at the grime all over the lenses. He squeezed Nicholas’s shoulder. “Okay. But go wash your glasses first.”

  The front door banged open, and Skye barreled in. “I’m not here.” She didn’t look at them, but gave a casual wave while she dashed to the basement stairs. “Just forgot something.”

  “I puked on the zip line, Miss Skye,” Nicholas said.

  She spun back. “Oh, no.”

  “On the way up to the zip line, really. I’m feeling better.”

  She strolled across the wood floor and put a hand to Nicholas’s forehead. “What happened?”

  “We think he had a bad reaction to the height or to the motion of the ladder,” Wyatt said.

  She gave him the hand to talk to.

  He pinched his lips together and tried to relax his bunched biceps.

  He’d gone out of his way to be polite at lunch, but she still didn’t want anything to do with him.

  Just like always.

  Obviously, he’d been imagining her reaction to his body last night. He should’ve known better than to even try.

  “Looking down made my stomach feel weird,” Nicholas told her. “Like my sandwich just didn’t want to be in there anymore. You know?”

  Skye nodded gravely. “I do know.” She squinted at him, then tapped the nose piece on his glasses. “Hey, how can you see out of those things?”

  Nicholas grinned at her. “My mom always says the same thing.”

  “Go wash them, goofy.”

  Nicholas scampered off down the hall with a grin. Skye turned back to the stairs again.

  “Hey,” Wyatt said.

  Her left shoulder hitched.

  “You sticking around?”

  “I’m a big girl, Wyatt. I can find a place to stay if I want to. Do it all the time.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his sho
rt hair. “You said it yourself—this place is plenty big.”

  “Is it?”

  “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. With her jade green eyes averted. “Something came up. So I’m getting out of your hair.”

  “You’re not—”

  “Right. Not much hair to be in.” She gave him a wry smile. “You boys enjoy your evening.”

  He grunted softly. “Lots of fun. Him reading, me shooting pool by myself.”

  Skye watched him for a long second. Her lips turned down, and her eyes telegraphed something new.

  Pity.

  His shoulders bunched.

  He didn’t want her pity.

  He didn’t need her pity. Not for a temporary derailment in his week with Nicholas.

  He wanted—

  He wanted something impossible. And he’d wasted enough time in his lifetime wishing for it. They were too different, and she’d never see him as anything other than a friend of her brother’s.

  Chapter Four

  Skye needed to leave.

  She reached across herself and rubbed her sore left shoulder while she crossed the basement bedroom to grab her pajama pants from the corner. Her phone was fully operational again, but she was missing a sandal—probably somewhere under the couches upstairs—and she’d discovered a half-bag of dirty laundry that she’d forgotten was buried in her suitcase.

  She’d take care of it in Tahoe City.

  Maybe by then, she’d have shaken off the odd sensations that had come from all of her interactions with Wyatt.

  She’d come to Hope Falls looking for something that could almost feel like home, and instead, she was in the Twilight Zone.

  Since the day Wyatt Owens had moved into their neighborhood, he had been a constant pain in her side.

  Most of the kids in the neighborhood had been boys Beck’s age who either had older sisters or younger brothers. They were already terrors, and Skye had loved tagging along. Whether they were sword-fighting with sticks, building blanket forts, or sports-ing, she tried to keep up.

  She’d found her own friends along the way too, but anytime there was a backyard baseball game, a pool tournament in the basement, or any number of cockamamie plans to hide crickets in flour jars or to use one of Mom’s bras as a slingshot, she’d been there.