Violet's Valentine: A Clean Friends to Lovers Romance (Love in Holiday Junction Book 1)

by Tami Franklin

  It was absurd for him to be jealous of Liam. Sure, he might become Vi's boyfriend—again—but Kade was her closest friend. He always had been, and always would be.

  That was all he needed. Right?

  “Do you know this guy?” Vi asked.

  “No, he's new,” Kade replied. “I guess the regular guy was already booked or something.”

  Vi hummed in acknowledgement and shoved the door open. “I think that's him.”

  A middle-aged man in a trench coat approached, carrying a briefcase.

  “That's him?” Kade mused.

  The man spotted them and waved, quickening his steps. Under the coat he wore a pinstriped suit with a pristine white shirt and a red tie. His dark hair was neatly combed, gray at the temples, and a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

  He looked more like a politician or an accountant than a D.J.

  “Hello, I'm David,” he said, shaking their hands. “You must be Kade and Violet, yes?” He had a slight European accent, although Kade couldn't quite place it beyond that.

  “Yes,” Vi replied. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course, of course.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You need me to come. I come.”

  They led him down the hall to the choir room and sat around her desk. David put his briefcase on his lap and flipped it open, withdrawing a file folder, a hot pink MP3 player, and a matching portable speaker. He set it all on the desk, pushing aside her stapler and phone to make room.

  Over his head, Kade widened his eyes at Vi, who pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.

  “So,” she said. “We were discussing possible themes—”

  “Oh, I know the perfect theme,” David said, spreading his fingers in jazz hands. “Disco Retro Glam Funk.”

  Kade stifled a snort. “Disco Retro . . .”

  “—Glam Funk,” David finished with a firm nod.

  “Umm . . .” Vi shot a confused look at Kade. “I'm sorry, but what exactly is that?”

  He looked at her like she could very well have been an idiot. “DRGF is all the rage,” he said. “All the best parties are doing it.” David picked up the MP3 player, pressed a button, and an electronic beat pounded out of the speakers. He began to shift his neck from side to side in time with the beat, pointing his finger up to accentuate the high-pitched melody weaving into the bass.

  “You see?” he said over the music. “It's catchy, yes?” The music stopped abruptly, and he froze, then it kicked in again, and he resumed the neck-shifting and finger-pointing, adding a shoulder roll every now and then.

  Kade couldn't believe what he was seeing. What he was hearing. He tried to catch Vi's eye, but she was staring at the D.J., mesmerized.

  “It's very nice,” Vi began, but David had his eyes closed, lost in the music, and didn't hear her.

  “It's very nice!” she said, louder, and David startled, his eyes flying open.

  “Would you mind turning it off?” she asked. When he did, she smiled.

  “I'm sure Retro Disco—”

  “Disco Retro,” he corrected.

  “Right.” Her smile grew a little stiff, and Kade really, really had to try not to laugh.

  “It's . . . it's great,” she said, feigning enthusiasm. “But I think we were hoping for something a little more . . .” She looked toward Kade, obviously asking for help.

  “Traditional?” he offered. “Classics, maybe?”

  “Yes!” Vi said, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. “That's it. Classics. Frank Sinatra. Etta James.”

  “But more modern stuff, too,” Kade added.

  “Right,” Vi said. “The key is romance. That's the theme. It's Valentine's Day, after all.” She gave David a hopeful smile, but he looked at her blankly.

  “Classics,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Romance.” He sniffed.

  “Yes.”

  “Sinatra.” He got a sour look on his face.

  “Well, not only Sinatra,” Kade said. “Sam Cooke, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin . . . Adele?”

  David considered them both, distaste still evident on his features. “Yes, well. I suppose that's another way to go. If you wish.”

  Violet smiled, and Kade knew she was trying to be charming. “We wish, I think?” She glanced at Kade. “Yes, we definitely wish.”

  “Very well,” David replied, with another sniff. “You are the boss, after all.”

  He flipped through the file folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He perused it briefly, then handed it to Violet. “Romance classics,” he said.

  Violet took the paper and laid it on the desk so Kade could see it, too. It was a list of songs, and as Kade reviewed it, he realized it was exactly what they were looking for.

  “This is perfect,” he said.

  “Of course it is,” David replied, packing up his MP3 player. “It's relatively easy to be common.”

  Vi mouthed common? at Kade when David wasn't looking. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  David snapped his briefcase shut. “Very well, now that we have established the playlist, there's the matter of the deposit.” He arched a brow expectantly.

  “Oh, of course.” Vi pulled a check out of her purse and handed it to him. He scrutinized it, then folded it neatly in half and slid it into his jacket pocket.

  “Do you need anything else from us?” she asked.

  “No,” David stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Unless you'd like to alter the song list at all?” He gave her a hopeful look, and Violet squirmed.

  She was tempted to say yes. Kade could tell. She wanted to tell David to go ahead and throw in some Retro Disco tunes for the fun of it.

  He decided to save her. “I think the playlist is great, as is.”

  “You're certain?” David asked. “You don't find it a bit . . . dull?” He scrunched up his nose in distaste.

  “Well, Holiday Junction is a rather traditional town,” Kade said, with what he hoped came across as sympathy. “People don't push a lot of boundaries.”

  David frowned. “Their loss,” he said shortly. Then he picked up his briefcase and walked out of the room.

  “Umm . . . thank you?” Violet hurried to the door, calling out after him.

  He raised a hand in acknowledgment. “I'll be at the venue at three p.m. on the fourteenth,” he said. He turned the corner and was gone.

  Vi turned back around, her eyes wide. “What in the world was that?”

  “I have no idea,” Kade replied. “I was kind of pulling for the Retro Disco Glam Funk.”

  Vi snorted. “Disco Retro.”

  “Right.” Kade started to shift his neck and point his finger like David. “I don't know. It was definitely catchy.” He made a boom-ch boom-ch sound, imitating the electronic beat and got up, shaking his hips.

  “You need to stop that right now,” Vi said, laughing. “You look ridiculous!”

  “Boom-ch boom-ch I don't know boom-ch what boom-ch you're talking about.” He danced around the room, swiveling his hips and shimmying his shoulders. “It's all the rage!”

  He shimmied over to Violet, still making the electronic music sound. “Come on, don't be common!”

  She laughed and started to dance with him, rolling her fists over each other, then pointing in a wide arc from one side of the room to the other before switching hands to go the other direction.

  “That's it,” Kade encouraged. “Now you're Glam Funky!” He grabbed her hand and lifted it to spin her under his arm, then pulled her close, shifting to walk across the room, tango-style.

  They laughed and pivoted to go back the other way, then he dipped her low over his arm and she shrieked.

  “Don't drop me!”

  “Who me?” He jerked his arms, just a little, and she screamed again, clinging to him.

  He pulled her back up and her arms settled over his shoulders as she laughed, trying to catch her breath. Her blue eyes sparkled, her cheeks fl
ushed pink. Kade could feel the warmth of her hands on the back of his neck and his own breath caught.

  She looked up at him, smiling, and he couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't look away.

  Violet blinked, her smile falling. “Kade? Are you okay?”

  “What?”

  Violet stepped back, and he jolted, letting her go abruptly. “Sorry,” he said, forcing a smile. “Got a cramp.”

  She grinned at him. “Must be tough to be so old.”

  “Hey! I'm only two months older than you!”

  Vi shook her head sadly. “But those two months make all the difference.”

  He pulled her into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles lightly into her hair, making her squawk.

  “Say it!”

  “No!” She squirmed and pushed but couldn't get away.

  He rubbed a little harder. “Say. It.”

  “Kade is the King and I am but his lowly servant!” She shoved at him and he finally released her.

  “Thank you,” he said smugly.

  Vi straightened her hair. “One of these days I'm going to make you say it.”

  He slipped on his jacket and threw an arm over her shoulders. “But that day is not today.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on. Let's go home.”

  And why did that sentence send a rush of heat through him?

  They headed out to the parking lot and got into the car. Kade chewed on his lip, eyeing her sideways.

  “So, are you excited about tonight?” he asked.

  “Tonight?” she asked, looking out the window, distracted.

  “Your date with Liam?” he prodded.

  “Oh!” She turned to face him. “Yeah, I am. It'll be nice to catch up.” She picked at a thread on her jeans, opening her mouth a couple of times, then snapping it shut.

  “What is it?” Kade asked on a huff.

  She inhaled deeply. “Last night, you . . .”

  “Yes?”

  She shook her head. “You said you thought Liam was definitely interested in me.”

  “Well, I think the fact that he asked you to dinner would show you that,” he replied.

  “Maybe.” She pulled at the thread again.

  And he hated that she seemed so uncertain. So uneasy.

  “He's definitely interested,” Kade said finally. “He's got stars in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

  She looked up at him, blushing. “You think?”

  “Yes!” He gave her an exasperated look. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

  She shrugged, but when she looked out the window, she was smiling. Obviously, he'd told her what she wanted to hear. Liam and Violet were great together. They always had been. He’d make her happy, and all Kade wanted was for Violet to be happy.

  As he turned the corner and headed home, he tried to convince himself that was true.

  He almost . . . almost succeeded.

  That evening, Vi stood in front of the bathroom mirror, frowning at her reflection. Lou watched from the doorway as she walked out and back into her own room to change into the yellow dress.

  Again.

  “You need to make up your mind. He'll be here any second,” Lou warned.

  Violet didn't know why she was so nervous. She knew Liam. Probably better than anybody.

  Or at least she used to.

  That thought stopped her in her tracks. What if he'd changed? What if he wasn't sweet and nice and smart anymore? What if he was—

  “Vi?” Lou's voice snapped her out of her rabbit hole of panic. “He just pulled into the driveway.”

  Violet let out an unladylike grunt and faltered for a moment, one dress half-pulled off, the other half-pulled on. In the end, she went with the yellow, flowered dress, even though it was kind of summery and it was February. Liam had always liked her in yellow.

  She tugged on a matching cardigan and slipped on her shoes, rushing to the bathroom as she heard her mom open the front door. Vi checked her lip gloss, then her teeth, smoothed her hair, and took a deep breath.

  Here we go.

  She forced herself to walk slowly—casually—down the stairs, only to almost trip when she spotted Liam standing at the door, tall and handsome in a dark suit and yellow tie. He grinned at her, blue eyes twinkling.

  “Well, you two have fun,” Lou said, backing toward the kitchen. “Remember your curfew!”

  “Mom!” And she was seventeen once again.

  Lou laughed and Vi could hear her getting something out of the fridge. She turned back to Liam.

  “You look nice,” she said.

  He took her hand and spun her once. “You look amazing. Pretty as a picture.”

  “Thanks.” She blushed and touched his tie. “We match.”

  He smiled down at her, still holding her other hand, and her stomach flipped. “Guess we're in sync,” he said.

  “Or you're stalking me,” she said, arching a brow.

  Liam's eyes widened. “I would never!” Then he seemed to realize she was joking. He laughed. “Oh. Right . . . well, shall we?” He helped her on with her coat and opened the door for her, following her out to his car and opening that one, too.

  “I could get used to all this gentleman stuff,” she said, glancing toward Kade's house. She thought she saw the curtain twitch in the living room, but she was probably mistaken.

  “You deserve it,” Liam replied, before closing the passenger door and rounding the front of the car to get in his own seat. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  They drove to a new restaurant on the edge of town that used to be a dilapidated sawmill when Vi last saw it. The broken wood siding had been replaced, the weeds cleared out of the creek, and the water wheel turned slowly, dumping buckets full of water as it rotated.

  “I can't believe what they've done here,” she said, looking up at the building and the gold painted sign reading The Mill, hanging over the glass front doors. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “Wait until you see the inside,” he said, leading her forward with a hand on her lower back. The touch made her shiver . . . made her nervous, maybe . . . and she swallowed thickly.

  He held the door for her again, and she almost gasped out loud when she walked in. The old sawmill was definitely gone, replaced by a beautiful dining room with gleaming hardwood floors, thick beams overhead, and large black-framed windows looking out over the water wheel and the winding river heading to the south. A second-floor lofted area ran along three walls, with wrought iron railings allowing diners to look down onto the main floor. But the central feature was a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace in the middle of the room. Arched openings on three sides revealed the dancing flames, and there were comfortable-looking leather chairs and benches placed around the fireplace where some customers were enjoying drinks, Vi assumed, while waiting for a table.

  “Who did this?” she whispered half to herself.

  “Some chef out of L.A.,” Liam replied as they approached the hostess station. “Moved here about a year and a half ago and opened The Mill last fall.”

  “Well, they did an amazing job,” Vi said. “I wouldn't have even recognized it. Hey—” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice. “Remember when we used to sneak out here senior year?” she asked, flushing at the memory.

  He winked at her. “How could I forget?”

  The sawmill had been a premiere make-out spot back then. Young couples would pick their way through the building, which was supposed to be haunted, although Vi wondered if it was the teenage boys of Holiday Junction who started that rumor in the first place in an effort to get their girlfriends to hold their hands just a little tighter.

  Anyway, looking back, it was pretty dangerous—the mill was practically falling down, and they ignored the warning signs posted by the county. But in its own way, it was also romantic. And there were many evenings she and Liam spent in his car, overlooking the river, talking and kissing and being teenagers.

  Liam touched her back again and she w
as jolted out of the memory. She smiled at him as they followed the hostess to a table near the window by the water wheel. Vi watched it slowly spin as she took her seat and slipped out of her coat.

  “I can take that for you,” the hostess offered, and she hung them both on hooks along the far wall.

  “This is so much nicer than the place we used to go,” Vi teased.

  Liam smiled. “Well, attorney-at-law pays a little better than football player and part-time fast food server.”

  Vi laughed and opened her menu. She opted for a sea bass dish with grilled cherry tomatoes and Liam ordered a steak. He ordered a bottle of wine and they sipped it and chatted while they waited for their meal.

  “So, tell me everything,” he said, spreading butter on a piece of sourdough bread.

  “Everything?” She laughed. “I think you'll need to be a little more specific.”

  He took a bite of the bread and nodded, swallowing. “All right then, tell me about New York. Did you love it?”

  Of course, New York made her think of Ben, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Ben had no place here.

  “I did,” she replied, swirling her wine. “It's so big and noisy, but there are also these little communities that you don't really get to know unless you live there. The people in my building, the business owners on my block—There was this little old lady who ran a convenience store near my apartment. She always threw in a day old doughnut when I'd go in for coffee.”

  Liam made a face.

  “It was sweet!” she protested. “And it tasted pretty good if you dunked it.”

  “I'm sorry, but that's disgusting,” he said with a laugh.

  “Well, when you're broke, you'll eat pretty much anything,” she said, her smile falling slightly.

  Liam reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”

  “No, no, it's all right.” She pulled her hand back and waved it dismissively. “It's no big deal.” She took another sip of her wine. “Anyway, I worked so many odd jobs I lost count—waitressing, barista, all the typical side jobs for an actress. Went on a lot of auditions. Got a few parts. Lost a lot more. And I ended up here, right back where I started.”