The Bachelor's Brighton Valley Bride (Return to Brighton Valley)

by Judy Duarte - The Bachelor's Brighton Valley Bride (Return to Brighton Valley)

  “Lunchtime,” Megan said. “Want me to pick up something at the diner for you?”

  “Actually, I’m starving. But I promised Cindy I’d go home and make her some lunch. I think I’ll whip up my cheesy broccoli soup. She hasn’t been able to keep much down after her chemo rounds, and that ought to sit well. But go ahead and pick up something for Mr. Johnson. The two of you can eat while you mind the shop for me.”

  Knowing about Cindy’s lactose intolerance, Megan doubted Don’s wife would want his soup, but her boss was out the door before she could comment about the sick woman’s dietary issues.

  It was just as well, though. Don was so distracted that having him away from the office would be one less stress for her to worry about today.

  Megan turned back to Peyton and pasted on her best cheerleader smile, feeling a bit too much like a beauty-pageant contestant professing her wish for world peace. She’d have to watch that, though. She’d been trying so hard to put on a happy face ever since his arrival that she feared her jaws would lock.

  His presence had also brought on a chronically spiked heart rate, especially when he looked at her, as he was now....

  What was he looking at? Not her eyes.

  She followed his gaze down to her chest, where her blouse had come unbuttoned and now gaped open.

  Oh, for goodness’ sake. She turned her back, quickly righting her wardrobe malfunction and putting herself back together.

  She crossed her arms before facing him, making sure the buttons hadn’t popped open again. As she turned, she snuck a glance at him and caught him grinning. She frowned, and he averted his gaze to the keyboard.

  Good. Now they were both uneasy. And he surely was because each time she’d stolen a peek at him earlier, he’d been typing away without the need to look at the keys. And now he was concentrating on each letter as though every little tap of his fingers were a life-or-death matter.

  And maybe it was, for she feared Peyton Johnson would be the death of her—or at least of the Brighton Valley store. Earlier this morning, she’d come across a report Don had meant to send into the corporate office and, apparently, had neglected to. She wasn’t an accountant, but it was clear to her that the store was struggling to stay afloat—something Peyton would figure out on his own, if he hadn’t done so already.

  She felt as though she was sitting on some kind of powder keg. How was she ever going to get through the next few hours, let alone the next couple of days, without all heck breaking loose?

  As Peyton typed, she grabbed her purse and took her leave, glad to put some space between them, if only for a few minutes. The break would also provide her some time to check on Tyler. She couldn’t very well drive out to the farm, especially with Don gone, and she didn’t want to call him while Peyton could hear her doing so.

  But first she’d get her breathing a little more under control. Maybe she ought to walk around the block several times and cool down before she headed into the diner.

  Sally was a smart woman and the last thing Megan needed was for the well-meaning waitress to think that there was a potential romance brewing. There was no telling what Sally would do or say if she thought Megan was getting all sorts of flustered over some hunky visitor from the city.

  And if truth be told, she was getting flustered. The man was too darn handsome for his own good. And if they were forced to work alone together the rest of the afternoon, and the button on her blouse popped open again, ripe peaches could start falling all over the shop.

  * * *

  After a brisk walk, during which she’d called home, Megan slipped her cell phone into her pants pocket. It had been a long time since she’d found herself attracted to a man, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it—especially since Peyton Johnson was the last man in the world she needed to find attractive.

  He wasn’t from Brighton Valley, which was where she’d set down permanent roots. And he would be moving on soon, which she really ought to be thankful for since he could cause both her and Don to lose their jobs.

  Trouble was, on top of the problems at work, she had enough to juggle these days, what with keeping up the family homestead for her mom and stepdad while they were traveling and running her side business venture of making and selling jams and preserves.

  Then there were the ongoing single-mom worries of trying to raise a daughter with learning disabilities and a son who was not only being bullied at school but who’d reached adolescence and was no longer as happy and as forthcoming as he’d once been.

  But now that she’d gotten outdoors and away from the hunky accountant, she was thinking a bit more clearly and feeling more in control.

  The phone call to Tyler had certainly helped. He’d assured her that he’d picked at least two crates of plums from the tree—and that he hadn’t fallen off the ladder while doing so. He’d also promised her that he’d stayed off the computer and that he’d completed his long list of chores. He should be okay by himself until she got home after picking up Lisa from school.

  So now all she had to do was finish her shift at the store, which required working with Peyton for another couple of hours.

  She just hoped that bringing in lunch would be enough of a distraction to get them through the next hour or two before Don returned to the shop, which meant she had to be alone with the hunky corporate accountant for only another two hours—tops.

  “I’ll take two tuna salads and two unsweetened iced teas, to go,” she told Sally.

  “Oh, honey. Don doesn’t ever order our tuna salad. Says we don’t use enough mayo.” Sally had a pencil tucked behind her ear, but she never seemed to need it when writing down an order for the locals. She’d been working for Caroline for so long that she knew everyone’s preferences by heart. “I swear that man could be a poster child for the risks of high cholesterol. He has the worst diet. And with poor Cindy going through all that chemo business, Don’s little heart must be working overtime with all the stress and what not. Maybe you should just get him the grilled chicken breast.”

  “Oh, it’s not for Don. He went home to make Cindy’s lunch.”

  “Not the cheesy broccoli soup again, I hope?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Sally tsked. “I’ve told Don a hundred times that he’d do better to open up a bag of chips and try to pass off that greasy stuff as dip at his Rice University tailgating party. Poor Cindy’s sensitive tummy can’t handle something that heavy and spicy. I’ll have Armando run her over a cup of the chicken-and-rice soup we made fresh today.”

  Megan looked at the busboy Sally was nodding at and was reminded of why she loved small-town life. All the neighbors looked after each other. They might know everyone’s business and gossip from time to time, but they pulled together to take care of their own.

  “So who’s the other tuna salad for? That eye candy those bigwigs at Zorba’s sent over to help y’all out?”

  “You mean Mr. Johnson?” If Megan were going to concede that Peyton was any type of candy—for the eyes or otherwise—he’d be those deceptive little chocolate truffles. They might look pretty and chocolaty on the outside, but when you bit into them, gooey cherry cordial gel shot out all over the place.

  No, those kinds of candies, sweet and yummy as they might look, could make a real mess of things.

  “Of course I mean Mr. Johnson,” Sally said. “You don’t have any other handsome hunks working over there, do you?”

  “No, it’s just that I see him in a more professional light since I’m his coworker.” Maybe if Megan could convince Sally that she hadn’t noticed Peyton’s physical attributes, she could convince herself, as well.

  “Oh, honey, you got to open your horizons a bit more. You’ve been divorced a long time, and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with sampling a taste of the different types of sugar out there.”

  Uh-oh.
Was that another candy reference? Megan wanted to tell Sally that she didn’t have the time or the inclination to end up with a cavity, thank you very much, but luckily, Mayor Mendez came in.

  He greeted Megan. “I was just going to stop by the shop on my way back to city hall after lunch. I dropped off my wife’s computer last week, and I was wondering if it was repaired yet.”

  Probably not. And if he came in, she’d offer him a cookie to appease him. But that probably wouldn’t work nearly as well as the sale that was going on, the one Peyton had told Riley about.

  “I’ll check on your wife’s computer as soon as I return to the shop,” Megan said. “But if it’s not ready, Zorba’s is running an awesome special. Peyton Johnson, one of the corporate reps, is there now, and he can tell you all about it. Apparently you can get a new Geekon Blast for a hundred dollars.”

  “No kidding? That’s hard to believe.”

  “I felt the same way, but I spoke to a woman named Zoe at the Houston office, and she verified that price. I’m not sure how long the sale will last, but it certainly can’t be very long.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Caroline said. “A hundred dollars for a brand-new laptop, especially a Geekon, is a steal. I’m going to have to buy a couple for the office and one for home. And I’ll make sure to get them today.”

  At that, Sally piped in. “I’ve been meaning to buy myself a computer, too. I’ve been learning how to email on an old one my friend loaned me last year. I’ll stop by the shop as soon as I get off work.”

  Maybe if word spread in town and the store sold enough computers at the sale price, the corporate office would see them in a better light. Megan certainly hoped so. These days, Don needed all the luck and good press help he could get.

  “How is Catherine feeling?” Sally asked the mayor. “That morning sickness can really be a drag.”

  The mayor’s wife had been a city girl who’d fallen in love with him and settled in Brighton Valley. She’d given up the bright lights for small-town life, although with a husband like Ray Mendez, Megan could hardly blame her. Just about every single woman in town had set her sights on the tall, dark and handsome rancher/politician until Catherine Loza won his heart. And now his wife ran a dance school in Wexler and was expecting their second child.

  “Oh, goodness,” Sally said. “Here I am, dawdling and spending my tip money on a new computer and forgetting to place your order for those tuna salads.”

  Actually, Megan didn’t mind the excuse to stay away from the shop for a while. Or to have the opportunity to promote those much-needed sales of the Geekon Blast.

  “I know you’re probably eager to get back to the store,” Sally said, “but a young stud like Peyton Johnson needs something heartier than some boring old greens and a scoop of our famous tuna. Why don’t I fix him up with the tamale pie that’s on special today? That boy sure has an appetite. He put away a juicy burger and a large order of fries yesterday.”

  Sally was probably right, although Megan wasn’t sure how he kept his body in such good shape if he didn’t follow a healthy diet.

  And what a shape his body was in. His athletic legs filled out his slacks to perfection and his arms looked as if they could lift her into any position he wanted her in.

  There she went again. She had to stop thinking about him that way. Maybe the tamale pie was a good idea. If he put on some weight, she might not find him nearly as attractive.

  “Good idea,” Megan told Sally. “You better make that a sweetened iced tea with a side order of fries. Oh, and a piece of the three-layer chocolate cake.”

  But the extra calories she was adding to his lunch wouldn’t do anything about her short-term problem.

  How was she going to keep her distance from him for the next couple of hours? She needed to make him less appealing now.

  As Sally turned to place the order with the cook, Megan called out, “And extra onions on that tamale pie, as well as jalapeño peppers.”

  Maybe if she didn’t catch a whiff of his peppermint-fresh breath, she wouldn’t be inclined to daydream about getting up close and personal with the guy—or seeing if his kisses tasted as good as she thought they might.

  * * *

  Clay had the master computer up and running, but the internet connection was so sketchy he had to call the cable company and ask for a service tech to come by the store. As a result, he hadn’t made anywhere near as much headway this morning as he’d intended. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to find something else to focus on in the afternoon.

  By the time Megan returned to the store with lunch, he was ready for a break and that new focus. And damned if she didn’t give him one when she entered the shop, set down the box with the takeout order from Caroline’s Diner and faced him with that button on her blouse having busted loose once again.

  Should he tell her? Or should he just enjoy the sight of yellow lace and the hint of bare skin?

  He didn’t think the blouse she’d chosen to wear was too small. The problem seemed to be that her breasts were a bit too...

  Well, hell, there was no way he could possibly classify them as too large. They were actually just right. Perfect.

  Must be the buttonholes. Or the soft silky material that looked just slippery enough to...

  Oh, for cripes’ sake. He had no idea what had caused the problem, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. And she had nice taste in undergarments, too. Wholesome yet sexy.

  “The special was the hot tamale pie,” Megan said.

  Hot tamale, huh? Yet he wasn’t talking about the plate of food she was unwrapping.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  Seriously? He was growing hungrier by the minute. But as she placed the meal in front of him, he said, “Looks good. I’ve had a real craving for something hot and spicy.”

  “If you like hot and spicy as well as sweet,” she said, “then I might have just the thing for you.”

  He just bet she did. And something told him they didn’t come any sweeter or hotter than Megan Adams. But if she was suggesting more than lunch, if she thought that she could tempt him to turn his back on all the problems facing the Brighton Valley store, then he had even more reason to fire her.

  “I make a spicy chili preserve that Caroline can’t keep on the shelf,” Megan said. “I’ll have to bring some in for you to try tomorrow morning, along with one of my homemade biscuits.”

  She was talking about jam?

  He stole a glance at her, watched her placing the food out on their desks.

  So she wasn’t coming on to him? That was a relief.

  And yet a bit disappointing at the same time. And why was that? Sure, she had pretty hair and an alluring scent. But she was older than he was—she had to be unless she’d had her son when she was ten. She was also a single mother. So why did he find her so darn appealing?

  She wasn’t at all like the sophisticated and stylish women he normally dated. She looked more like the cute and perky cheerleaders in high school who only went for the Todd Redding types.

  Besides, nothing could become of a relationship between them. Clay was determined to leave small-town life as quickly as he could, while Megan clearly belonged in a place like Brighton Valley. And for a man who’d finally made it in the real world, he’d best remind his libido of that simple fact.

  * * *

  It was well after two o’clock by the time Don returned to Zorba’s. Clay knew Megan was getting antsy to go pick up her daughter from school and check on Tyler. The woman had been stealing more glances at the clock above the filing cabinets than at the blouse that kept coming undone.

  She’d jury-rigged the buttonhole with a bent paper clip, but even the paper clip was having difficulty staying in place.

  Luckily, Don’s arrival helped defuse the sexual tension that had been bu
ilding since this morning.

  “I’m back,” the manager declared as he entered through the back door of the shop. “Now we can get back to work.”

  Had Don thought that Clay—or rather, Peyton—and Megan had been sitting around the shop playing cards while he’d been gone?

  Clay’s frustration level with the store manager had reached an all-time high, and it didn’t help that his libido was twisted in knots or that he’d spent the past hour discreetly popping antacids, as well as breath mints, because his stomach was a mess, and he could still taste onions and chili and tamale pie.

  But something about the way Don looked was even more unsettling than that.

  Megan, who’d already reached for her purse a few seconds ago, must have noticed that something wasn’t quite right, because her movements stalled.

  Clay just about froze in his steps, too.

  Don’s face had paled dramatically, and beads of perspiration had gathered above his brow.

  Megan began to move in reverse. Then she dropped her purse and made her way to the older man’s side. “You’re looking a bit tired. Can I get you some water or something?”

  Her description was an understatement. Don was more than tired. He was about to collapse.

  “Sit down,” Megan told him.

  When Don complied, plopping down in the chair nearest him, she said, “Take some deep breaths.”

  As he did so, she reached over and rubbed his shoulder.

  “I’ll be fi...” Don slouched in his chair.

  Clay knew he ought to step in and take command of the situation, but Megan seemed to be holding her own.

  Hell, she was doing better than that. She appeared to be a natural when it came to handling a crisis. And while he’d had to learn how to do that at a very early age, thanks to dealing with a mom who’d had severe mood swings and other issues, he hadn’t had to look out for anyone but himself for so long, it was kind of nice to step back and take a back seat on this one.

  That is, until Don’s eyes rolled back.

  Had he just passed out?