Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2)

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  Well, that was unsettling. Did Pete gossip about her? Or was it an innocent conversation about the concert?

  “And . . .” Nick went on. “I saw you there last night, actually.”

  “Why didn’t you come say hello?”

  “You looked busy.”

  Her mortification ramped up a hundred-fold. Becca felt her face turn red and she bit at her lips as she tramped across the wide expanse of lawns. Tire tread flattened the grass everywhere. Orange pup tents stuck in the ground randomly. Out of place and annoying. Becca felt a strange anger rise up in her chest at how they fire-fighters had taken over Starry Skies B&B.

  “Let’s just get this straight, buddy,” she said, stopping on the lawn and staring at Nick. “I’m never too busy for a friend. Got it?”

  For a moment he stared over her shoulder at the house, then he nodded. “Got it.”

  “Stop sulking. Or whatever it is you’re doing!”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

  “You haven’t offended me at all. You’re just acting weird. I feel like there’s something going on here that I don’t have a clue about. I’m in the dark. Do you have something to tell me, Nick?” Becca figured if she came straight out and asked him, maybe he’d tell her about a girlfriend, or fiancée. You can tell me, you know.”

  He raised his hands into the air for a second, and then dropped his arms. “Yeah, I know, Bec. There’s nothing to tell you. Just call me weird, okay?”

  “But I don’t want to call you weird,” she muttered as Nick started walking again. “Didn’t you need to leave? Go home or something? I got that impression back at the fairgrounds.”

  “I’ll be out of your way soon, but I got a text message from Rayna. She said the Kingston’s are done with the horses. I need to load them up.”

  Nick’s voice was abrupt, almost curt. He didn’t glance at her again as he spotted Aunt Rayna standing at the back of the property at the fence line talking with Lily and Sam. The horses, a chestnut mare and a black gelding with white spots, were tied to a hitching post. Becca remembered them well. She’d ridden Honey, the mare, since she was fourteen.

  She noticed Lily was windblown. The young bride’s cheeks red and chapped from the sun, her blonde hair falling about her face and shoulders. Lily was beautiful, happy. And Sam Kingston couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Becca wanted that. Someday she really wanted that, too. Despite her brains for chemistry and math and school and good grades, she still wanted to be loved by a man. A good man. Someone who understood her and would not only be her best friend and partner for life, but would love her quirks and insecurities. Her indecision about her future, and what she wanted out of life.

  Was it too much to ask for a guy who worshipped her—and a guy she could return the favor to?

  She was almost twenty-three. It was time to start figuring it out.

  Chapter 10

  “Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.”

  —Jane Austen

  A week passed.

  Becca spent it fixing Starry Skies gob smacking, stomach-breaking breakfast every day at six o’clock in the morning.

  She also created the menu for Aunt Rayna’s surprise 40th birthday party—with all the foods she and Wade had talked about. She still found the Captain breathtakingly gorgeous. She’d break out in a nervous sweat every time he whispered an idea in her ear as she passed the platter of crispy hash-browns or pitcher of orange juice.

  Or passed her little notes: I’ll pick up the balloons and streamers. Purple, right?

  “No, better make them orange,” she’d tease. Pete gazed at her curiously when she made out-of-the-blue comments like that to Captain Wade. As if they were communicating with a cryptic language—or Chinese. Then he’d frown and Becca squirmed with guilt. Any attraction she’d had for Pete was quickly fading.

  When Becca finally found a quiet afternoon to make a huge grocery shopping run, she took the frozen party foods to Nick’s mother’s garage freezer. Disappointingly, Nick was never around. She didn’t know whether it was just coincidental, or he was purposely avoiding her after their odd little “argument”.

  Their last conversation had begun so sweet and familiar and pleasant—and had turned so strange. Becca still couldn’t figure out what had happened.

  And then there was Pete Rodriguez.

  There was nothing wrong with Pete; he was just a guy. Nothing special. No butterflies in her stomach. Nothing much in common. When the firefighters returned to the B&B after a long day in the hills and dinner in downtown Snow Valley, all he wanted to do was sit with Becca in a corner of the living area and watch television. And make sure they were holding hands. As though her hand was some object he needed to carry around with him. As though her hand was more important than her personality, or her thoughts, or her brain.

  Television was the last thing Becca wanted to do when there was so much going on in town right now. There were horses to ride. Or hiking to do. Exploring. Baking. Games. Rodeos at the town arena. A pick-up game of softball or kickball on the lawn with the other firemen.

  Pete was just . . . booooring.

  So she began avoiding him. Then it got too uncomfortable to make excuses. She just made sure she was always busy when he came around.

  By the end of that week, the fire in the western hills was well under control and some of the firemen went back home to their various locales. Becca wished Pete had been one of them.

  Annalisa Drake, Cameron’s protégé, won the title of Miss Snow Valley, but fell apart on stage. Turns out the poor girl had been under tremendous pressure for so many years she had a melt-down right on stage and refused the crown, giving it to Monica Snow, the first runner-up who just about fainted.

  The entire B&B threw a party for Cameron after it was all over to celebrate her success, despite the final outcome.

  “If I ever need a beauty pageant coach, I’m hiring you, Cameron Elliott,” Aunt Rayna told the girl who blushed, and then beamed.

  Rayna had ordered a cake with a crown on it and lots of curlicue icing swirls in a rainbow of colors.

  Celebrating Cameron made for an interesting evening. The firefighters fell all over themselves fighting for the girl’s attention. Trying to outdo each other with jokes and antics. Showing off like they were teenage boys all over again.

  About halfway through the cake and ice cream, Nick Walton dropped by with some paperwork from the vet for the horses. Becca spotted him across the room. She’d been in a surreptitious huddle with Captain Wade talking surprise party details. Aunt Rayna was currently detained in the kitchen to listen to a play-by play of the beauty pageant from Cameron’s mother who liked to talk. A lot.

  Becca was sure by the end of the night her aunt would be an expert on pageants and rules and evening gown shopping and judging, and who knew what else.

  It was the perfect time to consult with Wade. His eyes were on her face as he lowered himself to his knees while Becca perched on the edge of one of the Victorian upholstered chairs. His aftershave intoxicated her nose. The line of his jaw smooth with a fresh, clean shave. Gollygeewhillikers but the man was beautiful.

  Wade lowered his voice. “So here’s the plan.”

  The room erupted into laughter. A rowdy game of Charades was going on all around them. A piece of popcorn launched over the sofa at one of the firefighters—Dave or Paul—Becca couldn’t tell from her position.

  “Easy on the furniture, guys,” Wade said, raising his voice a bit and then lowering it again. “So here’s the plan. That night I’ll call Rayna into town.”

  “On what pretense?” Becca asked, her eyes flicking up to Nick’s face across the room. The young man gazed back at her, his eyes bouncing between her and Captain Wade. Then Nick’s eyes narrowed and his face seemed to shut down. Becca knew he was interpreting the private party talk plans with Wade the wrong way.

  She could tell he was annoyed. Well, let him be, she wasn’
t doing anything wrong. Even if she was overcome with Wade’s rugged handsomeness.

  She put a hand on Wade’s arm, stopping him for a moment. “Nick,” she called. “If you’re looking for Aunt Rayna, she’s in the kitchen with the beauty queens.”

  His face was impassive. Had he heard her? Without taking his eyes from Becca’s face, Nick gave a single nod. His glance grazed her hand on Wade’s arm and Becca slowly withdrew it. The only reason she’d left it there was because Nick had frozen her into position with his peculiar expression. She couldn’t read him at all. What was going through his mind? Why was he so moody this summer?

  Becca let out her breath when Nick walked across the living room into the kitchen. She could hear the sound of his boots on the carpet and then the tile, and then back on the carpet before swinging through the doors without a backward glance.

  She wondered if he’d return. She should have invited him to have some cake. The refreshments were sitting out here in the main room on the antique sideboard, along with punch, iced lemon water, and a few hors d’oevres and chips and pretzels. Easy access. And Nick had always treated Aunt Rayna and the B&B like a second home so why did he look so ill at ease?

  Becca had no idea how to mend things with Nick. He was pretending nothing had happened that day at the craft fair and bake sale at the park. But something had. And it was eating her up, more every day. She’d never had a fight with Nick in all the years she’d come to Snow Valley.

  Well, there was that time she’d smacked him across the arm when he stuck a baby frog down the back of her shirt when they were fourteen. But Nick had only laughed, and then Becca had held the frog in her palm, stroking its little green head while the throat sack belched in and out.

  “I’m going to cook you some frog’s legs one of these days,” he’d told her.

  And they had gone frogging at the pond outside of town. And eaten their catch that night when Mrs. Walton fried them up in the deep fryer slathered in batter with coleslaw and cornbread for side dishes.

  Of course, frog’s legs tasted just like chicken, only smaller bones.

  Becca was suddenly nostalgic for all the summers of the past when she and Nick explored and picnicked. Helped Rayna with chores and fences and painting. Nick was able to fix just about anything and, after awhile, Becca took his skills and knowledge for granted.

  Nick was working on the leaky roof these days. When the guests were gone for the day, she could hear him up there pounding away. When she was upstairs, she heard his boots sidestepping along the eaves overhead.

  “Becca,” Wade said suddenly, bringing her back to earth with a tap on her arm. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” She blinked and tried to recall the surreptitious plan with Aunt Rayna. “It’s too bad the Snow Valley 4th of July celebrations will be over. That would be the perfect ruse.”

  “Yeah, I just said that,” Wade said, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Right. I was just repeating what you just, um, said . . .”

  “We got time. We’ll work out the fine details later. Time, location, that sort of thing.”

  “Right. Now jump back into charades,” Becca said in a normal voice. The room had turned their attention toward them.

  Randy was begging for Wade’s return. “We’re losing here, man. You know all those old time movies.”

  “Yeah, since you’re so much older than us,” Tom added.

  Wade got to his feet and Becca was aware of his big hands, his massive torso and strength. The man was a bit overwhelming. Definitely a Clark Gable kind of guy who could pick up a swooning Scarlett and carry her up a dramatic set of stairs without a hitch in his breath.

  Over the week of the actual Fourth of July holiday, the orange tents in the yard began disappearing. Pulling up stakes. Becca didn’t have to make so much pancake batter.

  From the windows, she watched Nick fertilize the grass and mow the lawn. Stared while he washed the lawn furniture and chatted with Mrs. Cook when she sat outside with a book under the tree and a glass of lemonade.

  “Oh, Nick,” Becca said with a sigh when she crawled into bed one night. “What went wrong? We should be having a blast in town like we’ve done every summer—and here we are barely speaking to each other.”

  It was all so polite and infuriating. He’d ask her a question, like where the rake had gotten to; Becca would tell him it was next to the shelves in the garage, and then Nick walked away to continue on with his work. No conversation, no invitations to Snow Valley’s festivities, no inviting her to a meal at his home with his folks.

  Becca bunched up the pillows against the headboard and leaned back with her notebook and a pen to write.

  She was feeling a bit nostalgic and lonely. In the afternoon, Becca had picked up a basket of fresh vegetables from the farmer’s market, and then watched Wade and Pete and the other firefighters join the axe throwing competition. Of course, Wade won. But only because Nick didn’t participate, Becca was sure. He’d won a few years ago. That boy chopped all of Rayna’s winter firewood every single year.

  After wandering the street fair and eating brisket and corn on the cob for dinner, she and Aunt Rayna attended the rodeo. The fireworks had been spectacular. Last night they’d gone to the Snow Valley Talent Show. For the first time, Becca got to see Snow Valley’s premier ballet dancer, Jessica Mason dance. The girl was spectacular. Becca held her breath, mesmerized during the entire performance. She determined that she had to write a ballet dancer into her novel now.

  Aunt Rayna had whispered, “See our new pastor, James Douglas? He and Jessica met during Christmas. Aren’t they perfect together? He can’t take his eyes off her.”

  “Neither can anyone else,” Becca said during the applause. Maybe her next story could be about a ballerina in Russia during the Cold War. And when she tried to escape and come to America she stowed away in the luggage hold, but was found and dragged off to prison . . . and then one of the guards falls in love with her . . . and helps her escape. They’re caught at the border and shot by the guards—no, that would end the story right there. The guard, the girl’s lover, gets shot while the ballerina flees into the woods and dies of a broken heart.

  A Romeo and Juliet tragedy. Why did she think up such depressing topics to write about?

  The theater lights came back up after Jessica Mason’s emotional Swan Lake solo. Just in time for the next number on the program, Snow Valley’s premier harmonica player. Followed by two sisters with their trick dog.

  On the way back to the car, Aunt Rayna said, “Remind me to get a wedding gift for Friday. Molly and Kevin are getting married by Pastor John that evening after the rodeo. “We have new guests coming in on Friday, the third, and staying through the long holiday weekend.”

  “A wedding,” Becca said thoughtfully. “Maybe my silly characters from my romance novel need to get married. Like now.”

  She flipped through the pages and saw that she hadn’t written a word in two weeks. Actually, not since the night she read out loud to Aunt Rayna in the parlor by the fire and charred her pages. Every night she’d gone to bed with her notebook intending to write, but never actually got words on the page. What was wrong with her? She must be having writer’s block.

  She needed a new plot point. Ally and Will from her story needed to get married so they could have those beautiful babies together. For a few moments Becca daydreamed about Ally and Will’s wedding. A scalloped lace veil floating down Ally’s ebony hair and ivory gown. Polite and polished wedding guests: gentry in the neighborhood. Her cousins, of course. Dainty cakes and punch. Maybe lemonade a hundred and fifty years ago.

  Will, her new husband, looking delicious enough to eat. Just like Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.

  Will had to be rich. Filthy rich. And they would live on an estate reminiscent of Mr. Darcy’s Pemberly.

  Speaking of children, Captain Wade would certainly make beautiful babies who’d be voted Most Popular in high school. Cheerleaders a
nd football stars with scholarships.

  Pete Rodriguez would make television zombie children.

  And Nick Walton—Nick would create fine, upstanding, hardworking citizens who saluted the flag during their bowl of oatmeal each morning. He’d chop firewood for all the widows in the county. Become mayor of Snow Valley one day.

  “Oh, Nick,” Becca sighed again. “Guess I need to make your favorite—gooey caramel and nut brownies—and go try to make amends.”

  There was almost two months still left of summer. They couldn’t keep avoiding each other. Or only talk when Rayna was in the room. Besides, she missed the fun they had. She wanted her summer buddy back.

  Hopefully grad school would bring new people into her life. New, potential men. But at the moment, grad school seemed very far away. A foreign world from quaint, Snow Valley.

  Snow Valley was its own Brigadoon. A place apart from the rest of the world.

  Becca’s eyes misted. Just thinking about leaving here to go back into the cold, cruel world of studies, projects and grades made her want to scream a little bit. She’d already been accepted into the program, but she wanted to rebel. What would everyone say if she didn’t show up on the first day of school?

  Her parents would have a fit. What would Aunt Rayna say? Would she take her parent’s side when it came to school, or would she be sympathetic?

  Maybe Becca needed to take a year off. She had to get a grip on her life. Figure out what she really wanted to do for the next fifty years. Well, that thought was overwhelming. Maybe she just needed to figure out what she was going to do for the next few weeks first?

  But if she stayed here for the next year, what she would actually do with herself during that year was anybody’s guess. Hang out in snowy Snow Valley and rot in front of the fire? Shovel the walks? Snowmobile into town to get milk?

  Becca flopped back onto her pillows, trying not to laugh at herself. While also trying not to cry at the pathetic state of her life. Outside her window, the full moon rose, gold like a Christmas tree ornament, its light flickering against the pale walls.