Red Hot: A Friends to Lovers Small Town Rom Com

by Cat Johnson

  My life had gone on pretty much unchanged for months. Years really. No excitement. No dates. And now, something happened pretty much daily. Things lost and then found. Break-ins. Carson. Cows. Cashel. Dates. Dinners. Sex.

  And now, this.

  “Frank. This is crazy.” Crazy I hadn’t talked to this man in close to a year. Not since the last resellers conference I’d attended. Even more crazy that I was actually considering his offer.

  “It is. Which is why I thought of you.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Do you have a valid passport or not?”

  “I do.” Only because I’d gotten it for my sister’s thirtieth birthday trip to Cancun two years ago.

  “So . . .” he prompted.

  I repeated what he’d told me again, still not believing it. “Paris. Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” he said.

  “How can I justify going to Paris for Haute Couture Week? I run a resale shop in Mudville, New York.”

  “I do believe I remember you bragging about your stock of Chanel shoes last I saw you. And wasn’t there a Louis Vuitton purse or two on your shop’s Instagram just last week?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “But the flight leaves tomorrow?” I’d been known to do things spur of the moment, but even I thought that was insanely close.

  “Tomorrow night, which gives you all day today and tomorrow to get ready.”

  “But how can you change the airline reservation?” I was pretty sure the airlines were not keen on swapping names on tickets for security reasons since what had happened on September eleventh.

  “Didn’t I tell you? We ended up getting a private jet for the group.”

  “No!” I exclaimed.

  I was beginning to remember why I’d deleted the email about this trip a year ago when they’d been in the planning stages. The group was going all out and I knew it was going to be expensive.

  “Yes!” he repeated with the same amount of enthusiasm I’d used. “Split thirty ways it wasn’t all that much more than all of us booking flights individually. All you have to do, Miss Red, is get your pretty little self down to Kennedy Airport by tomorrow night at seven. Can you do that?”

  I could. JFK wasn’t close, but it was definitely drivable from upstate.

  “But I have to pay you—”

  “I told you. The trip is all paid for. Claudine dropped out, knowing it was non-refundable. Her share of the plane. Her hotel room. Her tickets to the fashion shows. The dinner under the Eiffel Tower. Even her shopping bus excursion and the tour and tasting at Veuve Clicquot—all paid for.”

  Claudine ran a very fancy resale shop in New Orleans. All high-end name brands. I might get in the occasional Chanel or Louis, but I could pretty much guarantee she never had chain saws or camo hunting gear come into her place the way I did.

  Still, she’d paid a lot for a trip she wasn’t even going on.

  “Then I should pay her . . .”

  “Stop! I’m sure she’s already written the cost off on last year’s taxes. All you’ll have to come up with for the week is the money for incidentals. A few meals here and there. Drinks. Souvenirs.”

  That wasn’t all I’d have to come up with. I’d have to come up with staff for my shop to cover my shifts while I was gone too. Otherwise I’d have to close. That would lose me money and incur the wrath of shoppers who seemed to take it as a personal affront when I closed the shop for bad weather or a holiday.

  But wait. I think the high school went on mid-winter recess this week. Gretchen would be off from school, though whether she’d want to spend her vacation working for me was another story.

  Still, she was saving money to buy a car. She might want the extra hours. This trip might actually be possible.

  “Does this silence mean you’re thinking about it?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, darn you.”

  He laughed. “Good to hear I can still persuade a pretty lady.”

  I sighed. Frank and I flirted, but that was all it was. All it had ever been for the five years I’d known him. Frank was a friend. A friend I did not have benefits with—unlike the situation with Cash.

  Given how badly that whole thing with Cash made me feel, I don’t think I’d be keen to try the friends with benefits thing again with anyone else real soon. If ever. But Paris with Frank and a group of twenty-eight other resale professionals? That I could do.

  My heart raced with the thought of it, even as my mind spun with all the details I’d have to manage if I made this decision.

  “What would I even pack to wear for a fashion show in Paris?” I asked.

  “First of all, you do own a store full of outfits. But besides that, you be you. Everyone loves your quirky self. You know that.”

  Quirky. I couldn’t deny that. And I had been called worse—very recently in fact.

  I drew in a loud breath and let it out. “How long can I take to decide and let you know?”

  “I guess if you let me know by lunchtime today that’d be good. If you say no, I’ll invite Angelica. I really would rather not, though, so please, just say yes.”

  It was after nine now.

  I had to call Gretchen and find out if she could cover the shop or not. And of course, I had to open today for customers at ten, while trying to choose outfits and pack a suitcase and find my passport.

  It was a lot. Even so, a part of me really wanted to do it.

  “Okay. I’ll call you back.”

  “All right. I have faith in you, Red. You’ll make this work. And we’re gonna have a great time. Talk to you soon.”

  “All right. Bye.” I disconnected and sat for a second with the cell in my hand. Still shocked.

  I wanted to believe him that I could make this work, even as my head spun with To-Do lists, the thought of which spurred me into action.

  Was I crazy? I needed to run this by an impartial judge or two. I hit Harper’s number in my contacts list.

  When she answered ,I asked, “Any way you can meet me at Bethany’s right now? I have sort of an emergency and I need both of your help.”

  “Of course. Give me two minutes to throw on clothes and I’ll see you there.”

  That’s what I loved about Harper. No questions. Just action.

  I slammed my foot down on the clutch, threw the truck in gear and hit the gas. Five minutes later, maybe six, I was armed with an extra tall cup of coffee, a sticky bun that I probably shouldn’t be eating, and my two friends.

  “So what do I do?” I asked.

  “Why are you even questioning it? If a guy invited me to Paris, I’d go,” Bethany said, coming around from behind the glass display case where she’d just finished waiting on a customer.

  Now that the older woman had left, it was just us in the shop. And I was glad of that after Bethany’s baseless insinuation about Frank.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a guy inviting me to go. It’s the event coordinator of the organization—who happens to be a man—inviting me, a member, to go. And if I don’t go, he’ll just invite someone else.”

  “Mmm, hmm. Sure.” Bethany nodded, sounding sarcastic. “Except that he’s hot.”

  “Is he?” Harper’s eyes lit up.

  I leveled a glare on Bethany. “How in the world do you know what he looks like?”

  “I saw pictures of you two looking cozy together at that convention last year.”

  “Oh, really?” Harper’s brows rose and she focused on me.

  I remembered the picture she was talking about.

  We’d all gotten a little drunk at a bar in Texas that last convention. The selfies were snapping that night, but nothing else happened.

  I had no intention of starting something—emotional or physical—with a man who lived on the other coast. Especially one I had a professional relationship with.

  I sighed. I didn’t have time for this. And I really didn’t have the energy for it. I was running on no sleep and the forecast for getting any in the near future looked slim to none.

  “Fran
k and I are just friends,” I said, for not the first time and I was sure not for the last. “But that’s not the point. It feels so . . . extravagant. I can’t actually go, can I?”

  “Yes, you can.” Harper’s tone left no doubt of her stance on the matter. Bethany’s enthusiastic nodding only reinforced Harper’s opinion.

  “It’s too short notice,” I said.

  “It’s all expenses paid,” Bethany countered.

  “The store—"

  “Will be covered,” Harper said, cutting off my next protest. “Whatever hours Gretchen can’t take, I will.”

  “You?” My eyes widened.

  I loved Harper but she was a bit of a hermit, going a full week without leaving the house sometimes. I couldn’t picture her up and out, dealing with customers. Especially some of my customers.

  “Hey. I wasn’t always an author. I worked retail for years. Food service too, in case you ever need me to cater a party or mix up some drinks.”

  “You are a jack of all trades, aren’t you?” Bethany laughed.

  “Ask her about her snobby museum job, one day,” I said.

  Harper leveled a glare on me. “You’re changing the subject. Go, Red. It’s once in a lifetime. When will you ever get the opportunity to do something this amazing again?”

  “I agree.” Bethany nodded. “Just do it. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”

  The worst part was I knew they were right. Not just about this amazing once in a lifetime trip. The timing really couldn’t be better for me to get away from Mudville, even for just a week.

  While I was gone, I’d escape the worst of the calf fall-out, not to mention the awkward post-sex period with Cash.

  “Okay. I will. I’m gonna go.”

  Bethany jumped up to hug me while Harper clapped her hands.

  “But this means I have to get moving. Like now. There are a hundred things to do.”

  “Text if you need anything. To borrow a suitcase. Me to watch the shop while you pack. Whatever,” Harper offered.

  “Okay, thank you.” But there was something else I had to do before I left, and no one could do it except for me.

  With my coffee cup shoved between my seat and the door, because vintage trucks don’t have cup holders, I took out my cell phone and hit to dial the sheriff’s department.

  “Mudville Sheriff’s Department, Deputy Bekker speaking.”

  “Carson, it’s Red.”

  “Red, well, lucky me gets to talk to you twice in one day. Actually, it’s good you called. We’ve got a court date for the kid. It’s Monday morning at nine. I figured you’d want to be there.”

  Wow. Things moved fast in our county’s legal system.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m uh going out of town unexpectedly for a week so I won’t be around for the court date. But is there any way I can leave a statement with you, or officially drop any charges against him?”

  “What? You sure you want to do that, Red? All evidence points to him being the one who broke in your store.”

  “I know. But, Carson, he’s just a kid. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want to press charges and if it will help, I’ll email over a letter asking the judge for leniency.”

  Carson sighed. “Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

  “It is.”

  “All right. I’ll text you the email address.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And Red. Be careful in Paris.”

  “What the—How do you know?” I’d only made the decision a minute ago. Even the Mudville gossip network couldn’t work that fast.

  “Mary Brimley.” He laughed.

  “No. Come on. Seriously? How did she find out?”

  “Well, near as I can tell, her friend was in the bakeshop while you were in there talking about your trip. She was on her way to pick up Mary to come here to drop off the donations for the coat drive.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to get rid of them so fast.”

  “Oh, I didn’t. They’re still here, bending the sheriff’s ear about anything and everything. In fact, thanks for calling. Answering the phone was a good excuse for me to bow out of that never-ending conversation.”

  I laughed. “I bet. But I’m sorry to tell you I have to get off the phone and take care of business.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll just pretend we’re still talking.” He chuckled. “But I’m serious. Take care while you’re abroad. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on your place while you’re gone. And I’ll make sure Callahan knows to do some extra drive-bys.”

  “Thanks, but I think Mary and her network of spies has keeping an eye on things covered.”

  Carson laughed. “No kidding.”

  Still amazed by the twisted workings of Mudville society, I said goodbye to Carson, disconnected the call and let out a deep breath. I was already exhausted and now it was time to get to the shop and open the doors.

  Meanwhile, since I was really doing this—really going on this whirlwind trip to Paris, I had one task completed, but about ninety-nine more to go.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Cash

  I drove to the warehouse not knowing what to expect. I was prepared for the possibility that the kid had sent me on a wild goose chase but it was a chance I was willing to take. No dog deserved to be tied up alone for days.

  What I found inside would tell me a lot about the still nameless kid. I’d soon know if he was a lying smart ass or really an animal lover. I braced myself for any of the possibilities as I slowed to a stop in front of the warehouse.

  I evaluated how best to enter the abandoned building. The kid had been getting in and out, so I should be able to find a way in too.

  Pocketing my keys, I began my walk around the perimeter. I tried the door and found it locked. But around back, a ground floor window looked part-way open.

  I planted two hands on the sash and pushed. It wasn’t easy but it finally gave way and moved.

  Great. Now I’d get the pleasure of doing something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager—crawling through a window.

  I wasn’t as slim or as light as I used to be. Good thing there was no one around to hear my grunting and groaning at the effort it took to get myself through.

  Inside, I realized how dark a building with mostly boarded up windows could be, even in daytime.

  There was no way I was going back out through the window to the truck to grab a flashlight. My cell phone was all I had with me so the flashlight feature was going to have to do.

  I moved farther inside, looking for something, anything, to prove I hadn’t been sent on a fool’s errand.

  Then I heard the soft whine. Then a bark.

  Throat tight, I strode toward the noise, hoping I didn’t find the pup in a bad way.

  “Where are you, good boy?” I spoke as I walked, still not seeing the dog.

  I found him easily enough once he heard my voice and started to really bark. I got my first look at the puppy, bouncing up and down while tethered by a rope. He was in a corner, tied to a radiator.

  “Shh. Okay. Now you’d better be quiet before someone hears you and calls that mean Mudville Animal Control officer.”

  I moved closer and squatted down, right next to him so he would stop choking himself trying to get to me.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, running my hands over his tiny body.

  He felt cold but that was no surprise. It looked like the kid had set up a bed for them out of tarps, a blanket and some old clothes. The pup, tied and without any other choice, had peed on the pile. I could smell it and feel it soaking into the knee of my jeans where I kneeled.

  Shining the light around I saw a bowl of water that had frozen over and a couple of open cans of food that had been licked clean.

  I could see the kid had tried to care for the dog, but with him gone overnight, the pup was lucky I was here now.

  Moving the beam of the flashlight to the radiator, I saw how the knot was tied and decided to not waste time tryi
ng to undo it. Instead I took out my pocketknife and cut the rope, but kept the end in my hand so the puppy didn’t take off. I didn’t feel like a chase.

  I needn’t have worried. It seemed the dog had taken a liking to me. The way he was bouncing around my legs, it was impossible to even stand up without tripping on him. Never mind walk.

  Scooping him up, I cuddled him close to my chest. The mutt was maybe three months old. Small but with potential to be a big dog once he was an adult. Maybe a Labrador mix. Maybe a little Shepard in there.

  It didn’t matter what kind he was or how big he’d grow to be, it looked like he was mine now. Just like the calf.

  I seem to have acquired possession of two strays in two days. At this rate maybe I should open a sanctuary. Maybe try and get some tax breaks for all this animal rescuing I was doing.

  Meanwhile by the time I was halfway home the puppy had already stolen my heart by insisting on sitting in my lap while I tried to drive.

  No matter how many times I put him back in the passenger seat he crawled back over to me. I finally gave up and drove one handed. Good thing the truck was an automatic and the farm was close by.

  What I was going to do with him when I got home was another story.

  Unlike the calf, the puppy wasn’t on the lam from the stock auction. At least, not that I knew of. I didn’t have to hide him. But that also meant I’d have to tell my parents we now had a new dog.

  We’d had to say goodbye to our old herding dog last year after fourteen years of having him. I figured it was about time the Morgans let a new dog into our lives anyway.

  “What are we going to call you?” I asked the puppy as I slowed to pull into the drive. “Should we take a family vote? Or do I get naming privileges since I’m the one who had to carry you out the window? Huh?”

  He didn’t have any answers, but that was okay because he had plenty of tail wags and face licks for me instead.

  Inside, I was surprised to find I had the kitchen to myself. That was better, actually. At least I’d have time to tend to the pup before I had to deal with explaining him to the family.

  The first order of business was a bowl of water, which the puppy lapped up for a solid five minutes, in between glancing up to make sure I hadn’t left him alone. Abandonment issues for sure.