by Cate Masters
Sierra winced. Is that what passed for clever on reality television?
Barbara made a show of checking out the shop, her gaze lingering on Oren. “What a dump.”
Heat bloomed on her cheeks, and she moved protectively in front of him. “If you can’t act civilized, you’re not welcome.”
The woman’s chuckle had a bitter edge. “Nothing I haven’t heard before, sweet cheeks.”
She could only imagine. “You’re going to have to buy something, or else leave.”
Oren leaned around her and smiled at Barbara. “It’s only a dump since you arrived.”
Go, Oren! She wanted to high-five him, but didn’t when she imagined the images plastered all over the Web, and the accompanying captions.
Barbara’s lips quirked in amusement. “Make me an espresso.”
“Four seventy-five.” Sierra held out her palm, unashamed at padding the price. She’d give the extra to Jack’s fund.
With a snap, one of the crew hurried over with the exact amount. She went to the front, made the drink, and carried it back to the crewman. Still crouching, he handed it to Barbara, who sipped. “Meh. Passable.”
Three women entered the shop and waited behind the cameramen.
She waved them on. “Move your equipment out of the way. You’re creating a safety hazard for my customers. You don’t want a lawsuit, do you?”
Still filming, the crew cleared a path. Ah, the magic words.
“Come in, Dottie. It’s all right, Sarah, come on. Please, Alice.”
Apologizing, they tiptoed past. Alice reached the counter first. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting. They are.” Sierra glared in their direction. “Ignore them, they’re unimportant. Now what can I get you?”
No sooner had she prepared three pumpkin lattes than Carter burst into the shop.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She had been until he charged in like Superman, except the superhero never looked so good in a black sweater and jeans. She gripped the handle of the coffee pot to keep herself from reaching over to smooth the hair from his forehead.
“She’s ten times worse than Tammy Sorensen,” she whispered.
Barbara whirled toward him, jutted her chin, and set her hands on her hips. “What about me? Don’t you care if I’m all right?”
He scowled. “It’s been years since you were all right.”
The women at the counter snickered behind their cups.
Barbara glared. “You son of a—”
“Whoa,” Carter said. “Not here. Save it for the TV slums, Barbara.”
Crossing her arms, she fixed him with a witchy glare. “You think you’re so wonderful. What if I don’t sign the divorce papers?”
He gaped. “You’ve been begging me for a year-and-a-half. Why didn’t Steve send them, anyway? They should have been here two days ago.”
“I changed my mind.” She studied her nails, sounding like the pouty little girl she resembled.
Anger flashed across his face, pinching it tight. “You will sign them, Barbara. Or I’ll make sure you get zero assets.”
A slow smile appeared, and Barbara shifted, long fingernails playing a beat on her hips. “Oh, darling. You’re such a dreamer. Anyway, I’m going to hang you out to dry.”
“You already have, too many times. Now I want you out of my life, once and for all.”
“All of a sudden, you want a divorce? This little mouse isn’t as boring as she looks, I guess.” Her lilting tone didn’t match the invisible darts shooting from her narrowed eyes. Barbara raked her gaze over Sierra. “And here I was thinkin’ she didn’t look your type.”
What type of female did Carter prefer now—illiterate? High maintenance? She wasn’t the sort to let another female provoke her, but all the melodrama soured her stomach.
“You said you had business here. I should’ve known it wore a skirt.” Barbara glanced over. “Well, jeans and a polo top.”
When she leaned closer, the stench of stale tobacco hit Sierra. “Try a push-up bra, honey. It’ll work wonders.” Barbara spoke behind her hand, but her voice stayed loud enough for all to hear. “You might keep him a little longer than I managed to.”
Obviously testing her, Barbara tried to discern her weak spots, but Sierra couldn’t contain her despair from escaping as a squeaky sigh.
Barbara’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t think you’re the first bitch to try and steal him from me, or the last.”
Carter guided Sierra away. “Don’t listen, she’s lying.”
An ache split her skull. She broke away from him, sloshing coffee onto the floor. “You two will have to settle this somewhere else.”
Barbara widened her stance like a bullfighter, red lips in a wide O.
Enough melodrama. Sierra said, “I have a business here. You’re ruining it. Take your troubles to Jerry Springer.” She set the pot down and stomped to the door. Its bell rang out in alarm. “Out. Now.”
“She’s right,” Carter said. “Pack up your gear and leave before I call Steve to change the settlement terms.”
After a furious glare, Barbara hissed, “You haven’t heard the last from me.”
Carter winced. “Unfortunately.”
His wife tossed her head and strode out, hair blowing back as if fighting the wind.
How did she manage to make the simple act of leaving appear so fraught with drama?
Relief showed in Carter’s smile.
She held the door firmly. “You, too.”
His gaze sharpened. “Seriously?”
“This is my parents’ livelihood, Carter. I won’t let you make a scene.”
“I’m not giving up, Sierra.”
“I can’t do this,” she said in a hushed tone. “Not right now.”
His dark eyes searched hers, their intensity boring into her. “Then when?”
“I don’t know.” She squared her shoulders. No one would pressure her into something she wasn’t ready for. Not even Carter.
“Then I’ll wait. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” The strong set of his jaw and steadiness in his gaze conveyed his determination.
Sierra’s resolve melted as he left.
Oren scratched his chin. “Bliss sure is an interesting town.”
If by interesting, he meant surreal, she agreed. “How about a refill? On the house.” She carried the coffee carafe to Oren’s table and poured. “Sorry for the confusion.”
His light brown eyes exuded sympathy. “I’m not confused. But you sure look like you are.”
“I am.” No point pretending, especially to a stranger.
“My Gram used to tell me all the time, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’”
“Carter’s not like that.” The strength of her words surprised her.
“I’m glad to hear it.” he said, sounding unconvinced.
“He’s a really good guy. Unfortunately, he made a few wrong choices.” The same as she had. She couldn’t very well fault him for Barbara’s lack of social skills.
“I guess we all do. Luckily, we get second chances sometimes.” He gazed up at her with steadfast surety. The way he declared it unnerved her. “I’d better get back to work.”
With a single nod and a wink, Oren raised his cup. “Thank you kindly for the coffee.”
“Enjoy.” She needed a strong one herself.
And she’d worried the morning after Thanksgiving would be boring. Ha. If only.
Black Friday earned its name today.
***
Customers entered and left The Sweet Spot in a steady stream. Carter sat across the street in his car, debating whether to go inside. Whether to risk rejection again. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, weren’t people supposed to be out shopping or something? How was he supposed to ever talk to Sierra alone?
Go in. Wait for the chance, no matter how long it takes. He grabbed his laptop and strode inside.
In his usual spot, the homeless man ga
ve Carter an indecipherable look. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck, but rather than avoid him, Carter sat in the booth closest to him. After a nod of greeting, he opened his laptop.
“You working today?” Oren asked.
“Trying,” he said. “Hard to catch up to people over the holidays.”
“Mmm, I guess.”
Doubtful he could relate, but the guy had problems of another sort. “So, when’s your dog having surgery?”
“Soon as I can raise the money. I’d hoped we’d be on the road again by now, but….” He shrugged.
“Where are you headed?”
“Someplace warmer. Jack doesn’t much like the cold.” He wrapped his hands around the mug.
Definitely not the place for them here, then. “What brought you to Bliss?”
“Who knows, maybe fate. We just go where life leads us, don’t we?”
Carter could hardly argue. He’d never intended to stay in Bliss so long, either. His gaze found Sierra at the other side of the shop, chatting with a customer, her furtive glances finding him, too.
“She’s a very pretty girl.” Oren’s soft drawl somehow grated.
Had this guy fallen for her? “You think?” Heat surged through Carter.
Oren’s lips pressed tight. “You’re the one staring.”
“We go back a long way.” If only he could go back to the beginning, start over. He’d never let go.
His slow nod gave Oren the appearance of someone much older. “That’s nice.”
Watching the way her hips shifted while taking an order, he asked without really caring about the answer, “What?”
“To have that kind of history. She’s someone special to you, isn’t she?”
“Very.” Seeing Sierra and Barbara together, he wondered again how his life had veered so off course.
“You’re sorry she got away, I take it.”
“Yeah, well.” Talking to him only made it seem worse. Carter tapped his keyboard to appear busy.
“She seems sorry, too.”
He swung around to face Oren. “What do you mean? She didn’t talk to you about it?”
“No, but she looked so sad when you left yesterday.”
“She’s a caring person. Like her parents.” Still, his heart gave a tiny, tentative leap of hope.
“Yes, Jack and I would be lost without them. And Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. They’re putting us up in their spare room.”
“They are?” The stranger could be a serial killer, for all anyone knew. On the road all the time, no real address. No respectable person lived like that. Not even a workaholic in a suit?
Oren straightened. “I’m repaying them best I can. Odd jobs, handyman work, same as I do for others.”
Shaken by his last thought, Carter murmured, “Great. They’re good people.”
“Everyone in Bliss is. Jack and I will be sorry to go.”
“Have you thought of staying? With your experience, it would be easy to find a job here.” Or set up a new office. Yes, Bliss was nicely situated between Philly and Baltimore, a train ride or commuter flight away from New York. For anything farther, Carter could video conference, as he’d been doing.
With a wry smile, Oren shook his head. “Jack and I need the open road.”
“Freedom.” He couldn’t imagine traveling back roads, off the grid, until a vision of him and Sierra on a mountaintop under the stars changed his mind.
“The only way to live.” Oren drained his cup.
With the shop now empty except for them, she approached them. “What is?”
“Free,” Oren said.
“Oh.” She turned to Carter. “You’re leaving, then?”
“No.”
She scrutinized him. “But you plan to soon.”
A laugh burst out in a huff. “We were talking about Oren. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Right.” A brief frown twisted her lips. “So what can I get you?”
He’d upset her. Once she had the idea in her head, he’d have to work harder to convince her he’d stay.
“Carter, what do you want?”
“You,” he blurted.
Deep pink bloomed on her cheeks. “I’m not on the menu.” She stalked away.
He scrambled after her. “Wait. We need to talk.”
Hurrying behind the counter, she busied herself with nothing. “I’m working.”
“After work, then.”
“I haven’t seen you in ten years and you expect me to believe you when you say you have a sudden whim to be with me again?”
“It’s not a sudden whim.” He’d never stopped thinking about her. Wanting her. She’d never believe him, so he didn’t say it. Yet.
She glared up at him. “Oh, please. You’re married, or have you forgotten?”
“The divorce papers are on the way. I haven’t had a marriage in almost two years. She played me from the beginning.” Now he sounded pathetic, blaming Barbara. If he’d paid any attention, he’d have seen through his wife.
She bit her lip, her head shaking almost imperceptibly. “I can’t do this. It’s too soon.”
“I’m not giving up.”
She heaved a ragged breath. “I have work to do.”
He scanned the room. “There’s no one else here but Oren.”
“I’m helping my parents finalize plans for the Winter Festival.” Her tone held equal parts defiance and desperation. “It takes a lot of preparation.”
“Right. Winter Festival.” One of his favorite Bliss memories. “When is it?”
“The end of December, same as always.”
“At the lake?”
“Not unless we get a good, long freeze. It’s been warmer than usual, but none of us mind. Oren’s depending on warmer weather until Jack has his operation.”
To keep the conversation alive, he asked, “How’s the fundraising going?”
“Still eight hundred short.” She watched Oren, sounding worried.
He turned to the homeless man. “Hey, Oren, is Jack ready for his operation?”
Oren paled and sat straight. “What?”
She clutched his arm. “Don’t, you’ll get his hopes up. With Christmas only weeks away, people may not have the money.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Call Dr. Rainey. Tell her to schedule it.” To Oren, he said, “Jack’s getting his operation as soon as we can arrange it.”
Oren wobbled to a stand, his gaze ping-ponging between them. “But we’re still short of funds.”
Carter shrugged. “Not anymore.”
She loosened her grasp. “Carter, are you sure?”
“Never been more sure.”
Her hazel eyes softened and her lips parted. He tensed, ready to ease his head down to hers, taste her sweet mouth....
Oren slapped his shoulder. “You’ve made me the happiest guy on the planet.”
Wish he could say the same. Sierra broke her hold, and headed for the phone hanging on the wall. After dialing, she sent him a look of wonder then spoke into the receiver.
While Oren went on, Carter only half-heard his repeated thanks about how he’d start making plans to leave after right Jack’s recovery.
She hung up and joined them. “Good news. Rainey said she’ll do it first thing Monday. Eight o’clock.”
“Eight o’clock.” Oren’s wind seemed to have left him. “Okay. Wow. I’ll ask the Andersons to wake me in plenty of time so I can walk there.”
Carter whipped the Rolex off. “Here, take my watch. And I’ll give you a ride,” he added, wishing he hadn’t when she arched a brow.
“You will?” As if he’d won the lottery, Oren smacked his forehead. Then sobered.. “But doesn’t your fancy car have leather seats?”
“It’s only a car.” Barbara had insisted on buying matching Beemers. Later, she’d traded hers in for a more expensive model. It was time he got rid of his, too.
He pinned him with an incredulous look. “I can’t believe how wonderful everyone here is. I get su
ch a good feeling from the whole town.”
“Yeah, Bliss is like that.” The same warmth washed over Carter every day.
“I can’t thank you enough.” Oren ducked his head and headed for the door. “Pardon, I still have chores to finish. Better get to work.”
Suspicion seemed to root her in place. “You’re staying in town next week?”
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere.” Unlike Oren, he was tired of being homeless.
***
Sierra’s face hurt from holding a false smile, but she aimed another one at Denny Hogan…who kept his own coffeemaker going all day for his customers, but stopped at The Sweet Spot for a caramel latte. And gossip.
Denny, like most of the customers, couldn’t seem to stop talking about the one person she’d hoped to avoid talking about. Carter.
Carter’s so generous. What a great guy Carter is to help Oren that way. If she heard it one more time, she’d screech.
Denny nodded pointedly at the collection jug. “Still taking donations, eh?”
She squirted whipped cream into the cup. “Yes, we are.”
“Even though Carter Grove’s paying the balance?”
She drizzled caramel sauce atop the whipped cream. “Jack might need prescriptions to take along, or Oren might need money for other supplies. Who knows?” She slid the beverage toward him. “Three seventy-five, please.”
Denny whistled. “Three seventy-five?” He made a show of counting it out in quarters. “All right, little lady. I’d better get back to work, but I might sneak away later for some of your delicious cupcakes.” He winked and tipped his cup toward her before leaving.
Right behind him, Shotsie hurried up to the counter and leaned over it. “So it’s true?” Framed by long, frizzy blonde hair, her serious face had the appearance of a lion. A hungry one.
“Is what true?”
Hands rolling as if to coax it from her, she said, “Carter’s paying for Jack’s operation?”
“That’s what he said.” Was it a PR move? He’d never given to such causes before, not that she knew of anyway.
Shotsie chuckled. “Love makes us do screwy things.”
Sierra’s laugh came out like a bark. “No, he’s friends with Oren.”
“Exactly. Ten years ago, he’d never have given Oren a second glance. But then again, ten years ago, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.” Shotsie pointed at her.
