by Fiona West
Must Be a Mistake: A Small Town Romance
Timber Falls, Volume 2
Fiona West
Published by Tempest and Kite, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
MUST BE A MISTAKE: A SMALL TOWN ROMANCE
First edition. June 9, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Fiona West.
Written by Fiona West.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
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Acknowledgments
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PROLOGUE
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
It was unseasonably warm for June . . . The heat didn’t usually descend until the Fourth of July, but Ainsley was using the cheap fans her new sister-in-law had gotten for the bridesmaids in earnest. The summer insects sang and the birds chirped and hopped in the stand of trees that separated them from the main road. The shade was all taken, but with her fair skin, she needed to get out of the sun or she’d burn. She never had figured out a way to tan in her sixteen years—she went from paper white to lobster red within minutes. She looked around and spotted Kyle Durand alone under an ancient maple tree at the edge of the church property. He drove her and Daniel, her best friend, home from school most days, after they got out of orchestra rehearsals.
She strolled over to him, cake in hand, trying to be casual. Kyle was leaving for college in a few days; he’d be gone a long time. Even on summer break, she already missed seeing him every day. She was fairly sure he never thought about her. Of course, she’d probably see him on breaks, but he’d want to see his family, too. He’d become such a fixture in her life, and she didn’t know when that had happened. He was just a guy—a handsome, older guy—who took her home from school sometimes. But now he was leaving. All the way to California.
“Trade you,” she said, picking her way through the grass carefully, since she’d already kicked off her pinching, shiny high-heeled shoes.
“What?”
“I’ll trade you a spot in the shade for my piece of cake. It’s the last chocolate one . . .”
“I like vanilla cake,” he replied with a straight face. “Didn’t you put on sunscreen?”
“No, Kyle Durand, I didn’t. I didn’t put on sunscreen before I was part of an indoor wedding . . .” Kyle Ridiculous Durand.
“An indoor wedding with an outdoor component,” he pointed out, as he unbuttoned his dress shirt sleeves and proceeded to roll up them up.
How did he get arms like that when all she ever saw him do was run? He must do push-ups, too, probably shirtless.
“Here,” he said, scooting over, half out of the dappled shade. “We can share.”
She sat down gratefully; a breeze had kicked up, but it wasn’t cooling her enough. “I only brought one fork . . . you take it.”
“I’ll go get my own fork in a minute. Just eat your half first.”
“So you’re just going to watch me eat? That’s not weird or anything . . .”
“Who says I’m looking at you?” Kyle said, glancing at the crowd of their family and friends. “At least the wedding wasn’t too long.”
That’s an odd thing to say.
“I’ve always thought the true test of a wedding shouldn’t be how long it was, but how happy the people are afterward. I mean, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it? How we pour all this time and energy and money into the first day of a marriage, when really, what matters is the day-to-day for the rest of their lives.” She took a big stab at the cake and shoved it into her mouth to keep herself from talking; she was probably embarrassing herself with her brain dump, philosophizing about marriage with Kyle Amazing Durand . . . Her mouth and her brain both skipped like a scratched record when Kyle’s thumb gently swiped the corner of her mouth.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You had a . . . you had frosting on your face.”
“Oh. Okay.” She watched wide-eyed as he stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked off the frosting. The frosting that had been near her mouth was now in Kyle’s mouth. That was far too much mouth-thinking for two people who were just friends. It was also the hottest thing she’d ever seen. She sat frozen, her face beet red, sweating through her loaner lavender bridesmaid dress.
She passed the cake to him clumsily. “Here, you can have the rest. I should . . . I should go see if . . . I think someone said something about group pictures—”
“Ainsley?”
“Yes?” She was already up off the grass, dusting off her backside. She probably shouldn’t have sat down in the first place . . .
Kyle was watching her like he was waiting for her to answer a question he hadn’t asked. Then suddenly, his expression shuttered. “Nothing. I was just . . . never mind. If I don’t see you before I go, have a good fall.”
“Yes, you too. We’ll see you at Thanksgiving, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, planning on it.”
“Okay then.” Her mother was indeed calling her over for pictures; a lucky coincidence, since she’d been lying earlier. When she turned to look over her shoulder, he was staring after her, the cake untouched.
CHAPTER ONE
AINSLEY SIGHED AS HER first graders lined up for library; Cooper Durand was still in the Naughty Chair. She didn’t refer to it that way in front of her students, of course. She called it the Think It Over Chair. A place for them to take a deep breath, regain their self-control in a safe area. But that didn’t change its stripes: it was a Naughty Chair. And Cooper certainly belonged there: she’d caught him peeing on a tree at recess instead of getting the pass to go inside. She’d happened to see him out her window today as she was eating lunch alone in her room, and she nearly choked on her chicken salad sandwich. She’d asked Mrs. Talbot, the recess lady, to watch out for him, but recess was a pretty hectic place as it was, and Mrs. Talbot’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. This was the only instance she knew about, but there could’ve been more. A lot more. The kids got a morning and afternoon recess . . . She sighed again and reached a hand toward him.
“Cooper, come lead the line with me, please.” The boy bounded up and trotted over to the head of the group. She held his hand as the class meandered down the hall, looking less like a line and more like a dodecahedron. “What did you do that you shouldn’t have done?”
“Pee on the tree when you were looking.”
“So close,” she said, schooling her face into a stern but kind look. �
��Try again.”
“Pee on the tree.”
“Better. And what did you not do that you should’ve done?”
“Get the pass from Mrs. Talbot.” He looked up at her, genuinely frustrated. “But Kacie and Fran always get it first and they take too long! Recess is over by the time they come back.”
“Well, they’re not supposed to go together anyway, so I’ll talk to Mrs. Talbot, okay?” She squeezed his hand, and he gave her a semi-toothless grin.
“Thanks, Miss Buchanan.” He paused. “Don’t worry, I peed on a different one every day, so one wouldn’t grow taller. Uncle Kyle says urine is a good fertilizer.”
“Yes, well . . . that’s a relief. Also, maybe don’t listen to everything Uncle Kyle says.”
“Why not?” He was whispering because they’d reached the closed library doors.
“Because little boys don’t need to know the agricultural applications for urine,” she whispered back, turning to smile at the librarian, CJ. “See you later, Buchanan’s Bunch.” She had sixty-two math manipulatives calling her that weren’t going to cut out and laminate themselves. She’d have a talk with Uncle Kyle later . . . if she could get him to talk to her at all. Whatever. Lots of other fish in the sea. Less grunty, broody fish. Well, some other fish in the sea. More like a lake, really. And at that moment, it was feeling downright puddle-ish. She’d been on four dates with Todd Glazer . . . all of which were boring. When he’d called for a fifth, she’d let him down gently.
Ainsley blitzed through the afternoon math lesson and ended up with time to spare—everything this time of year was just a review of kindergarten—so they read Lily’s Big Day by Kevin Henkes again. Her students never got tired of hearing a story about a child (well, a mouse child) who wanted desperately to be her teacher’s flower girl, who wanted to be special to the people she loved. It was so delightfully relatable to them.
Posey raised her hand. “Are you going to get married, Miss Buchanan?”
“Yes, I think so. Someday.” She smiled at the kids, who were beaming at her. “Do you think I’d pick one of you to be my flower person?”
“No,” the kids chorused, giggling. Oh good; they actually listened to the story.
When she walked her gaggle of skipping, yawning, babbling students out to the buses, Kyle Durand was there to pick up Cooper, who broke ranks to run to him. Kyle Hot Stuff Durand, with his tousled brown hair, so dark it was almost black. His stormy brown eyes, the physique that showcased the benefits of daily exercise. He greeted his nephew too quietly for her to hear over the melee of students. The boy nodded, then shook his head, apparently reconsidering his first answer to whatever question he’d asked. Kyle looked up and caught her gaze. “He had a rough day?”
There was a momentary stand-off: he stared at her as though he were waiting for her to come to him or shout her answer across the hoards still pairing student with caregiver or mode of transportation. She crossed her arms and stared right back. With half a grin, he sauntered over to her slowly as if she didn’t have another ten kids waiting for her to put them on the bus. What the heck is so funny?
“In the future, I’d appreciate it if you encouraged Cooper to keep his tree-watering activities confined to your own yard.”
His eyes snapped to the boy in horror. “You didn’t.”
“I had a good reason!” Cooper shouted.
Dr. Durand ran a hand down his face. “It won’t happen again. Sorry.”
“Well, I’m satisfied with the time he’s served in the Think It Over Chair, but I wanted to make someone at home aware of the . . . issue.”
“Sure, yes. I will pass the message on to Philip. Sorry about that; I just figured it’s the kind of thing the boy should know, in case of a zombie apocalypse.”
Ainsley smiled in spite of herself. “A what?”
“Zombie apocalypse,” Kyle said, his brown eyes somber despite his ridiculous statement. How he kept a straight face, she’d never know. “We’ve gotta prepare the kids for what’s coming. As an educator, you play a key role, I’m surprised you don’t know all about it.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Durand,” Ainsley said, still smiling, walking backward, leading the line toward the rest of the buses. “See you Monday.”
“Only if the zombies don’t attack first,” he called back, and several teachers around them stopped to stare. Ainsley didn’t let herself laugh until she turned to put Damon, Denver, and Heaven on bus number 6.
CHAPTER TWO
KYLE SLAMMED HIS TRUCK door. What had gotten into him? Her shirt, that’s what. She was wearing that blouse he liked, the dark-blue see-through one with the rainbow trout on it. How she managed to make rainbow trout look cute and hot at the same time, he hadn’t been able to figure out. And he had spent considerable time thinking about it—while doing his laundry, at family dinners, working at the hospital . . . He felt a bit bad about that last one. But when he wasn’t working, he didn’t feel bad thinking about Ainsley. He was a good multitasker. He’d been doing it for years anyway. If he hadn’t gone to that dumb wedding, he wouldn’t have this problem.
“Are we going home or what?” Cooper called from the back seat. Kyle slid on his sunglasses and muttered under his breath about brothers and their unreasonable expectations. He’d agreed to pick up his nephew right after Philip had his second baby, and now, it was somehow expected he’d do it every day. If he didn’t get to see Ainsley, he’d have pawned Coop off on his mom weeks ago.
“Of course we are.”
“Then why are we just sitting here? I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. It’s amazing your dad has any money at all.”
“I’m a growing boy. That’s what Mom says.” That did sound like Claire. Besides, the kid wasn’t overweight. No one could figure out where he put it all; his belly was like a black hole.
Kyle started the truck and turned onto the main road. The buses had already left. Ainsley had gone back inside. He’d realized something, engaged in a silent battle of wills over something as simple as a short conference. She was never going to come to him. Though he’d never said it out loud, that’s what he’d been waiting for, all this time. Waiting for her to see him, waiting for her to figure out why he tagged along with his brother as often as possible. But it wasn’t going to happen . . . so what were his other options? During that short walk across the concrete pickup area, he’d weighed them: 1.) Give up. But if his infatuation with her had lasted this long, he didn’t think it would die just because he wanted it to, just because he was scared. It was like a raccoon in a koi pond; it just kept coming back. He suspected that his autism was playing a role in his fascination with her, but he couldn’t be sure. 2.) Keep waiting. That hadn’t worked so far. 3.) Go after her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of it. He had, of course he had. But it wasn’t his style; he’d never needed to before. In high school and in college, he’d had plenty of women who’d made their interest clear, most of them with dollar signs over their eyes like cartoon characters. It was widely known that his family was fairly well-off; his trust from Grandpa Tank had allowed him to have a nice down payment for his house.
But that wasn’t Ainsley. Two years younger than him, she’d never been part of his circle of friends. And if she had liked him, she had too much self-respect to be overt about her feelings. So today, he’d flirted with her. At least he thought he had. She’d smiled. That was a good start. Phase One: Win Ainsley’s Attention. As mad as he was at himself for getting into this without a solid plan, at least he hadn’t completely screwed up.
Now I just need a Phase Two . . .
“SO, COOP,” PHILIP STARTED, passing the mashed potatoes down the table to Kyle, “how was your day?” Claire had expected Kyle to stay as usual; dinner was his payment for picking up Cooper. Since he started his shifts at 7 p.m., picking him up at 3:30 wasn’t bad, and he did get a free meal out of it.
“Miss Buchanan’s getting married.”
Kyle stopped chewing his st
eak. “What did you say?”
“That’s wonderful,” Claire cooed, tossing her straight red hair. “Who’s she marrying?”
Cooper shrugged, poking at the sautéed green beans on his plate.
Wonderful? thought Kyle. That’s the worst news I’ve ever heard. Also, is that little sneak trying to divert attention from Tree-Peeing Gate?
“She didn’t say?” Claire probed.
Cooper shook his head, and Kyle turned to his sister-in-law.
“You’re the queen of Timber Falls gossip, why haven’t I heard about this?”
“I hadn’t heard a thing, but most of my gossip channels are hospital-related.”
“Why the sudden interest?” His brother Philip smirked. “Is the most eligible bachelor in Timber Falls ready to settle down?”
Kyle flipped him off by rubbing his eye with his middle finger, and Philip returned the gesture.
“Quit it,” Claire warned, getting up to retrieve her infant daughter from her bedroom down the hall. “He’s six, not an idiot.”
“Can I go play the tablet?” Cooper asked, and Philip nodded.
“Still haven’t heard an answer,” he added, directing a pointed look at Kyle, who’d given up eating altogether.
“It’s not sudden, and you know it.”
“Seems like you missed your chance, bud.”
Kyle worried his lower lip between his fingers. “You think?”
Philip shrugged. “That’s what the six-year-old scuttlebutt would indicate.”
“Who could she even be dating? Wouldn’t we have heard something about it before now? Daniel hasn’t said anything. He keeps tabs on her.” Kyle got to his feet. Pacing would work, pacing would help. He could think better if he was moving. Better to panic while moving than to panic while sitting still.
“Friendship isn’t exactly the same as keeping tabs, but okay.” His brother pointed with his fork. “Internet. Could’ve met him on the internet, I hear that’s the thing now.”
