by Lisa Plumley
I say I’m screwed, he’d told her when Rachel had announced she might stay in Kismet awhile. It all made sense now.
Except for one inescapable thing.
The most important thing of all.
“That would make a great story,” Rachel said, “if Reno loved me. Since he doesn’t, I’d say we’re done here.”
Judy boggled, her straw halfway to her lips. “What?”
“I win.” Rachel ripped up her Greyhound ticket. When she’d accepted Judy’s bet, she’d put the stakes on the table. Now she intended to claim them. “So you’re driving me to the airport. I’m going to go make a phone call and freshen up—”
“You cheated!”
“I didn’t cheat. I listened.” After Reno had accused her of cheating during their first bet at the airport, Rachel had learned to play it straight. “That’s all I had to do to win.”
Looking panicky, Judy darted a glance at her cell phone. The incoming text light flashed. “Our food isn’t even here yet!”
“We can stay long enough to eat. I don’t expect you to drive me all the way to Grand Rapids without sustenance.” In the meantime, Rachel intended to call Mimi, beg her for an ordinary job on Sweetwater or another network show, and start over. The right way this time—without snobbery, a quest for fame, or an attitude of entitlement. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Steeling herself, Rachel gazed around the diner. For an instant, she thought she heard the growling sound of Reno’s pickup truck passing by on the street behind her, but she closed her ears to the rumble. She wouldn’t be fooled again.
Locating the ladies’ room, Rachel grabbed her purse.
“Wait!” Judy said. “Reno does love you! He does!”
Rachel shook her head. “The only one who can tell me that is Reno,” she said. “And he’s not here, is he?”
Judy bit her lip, glancing at her cell phone again. Sadly, Rachel stood. Thanks to Judy’s explanation, at least she understood things better now. At least she knew she hadn’t been entirely gullible. The situation with Reno had been complicated.
She turned…and almost collided with their waitress.
“Whoa!” The woman veered, giving Rachel an accusatory look.
She carried Judy’s patty melt and fries. The delicious aromas wafting from the plate nearly made Rachel’s knees buckle. She’d picked a heck of a time to abandon real food again.
“Watch out there, your highness,” their waitress snapped. “Some of us peons have to make a living, you know.”
Oblivious to Rachel’s incredulous expression, she slid the plate of food in front of Judy. She inquired sweetly about the necessity for ketchup, more napkins, or a milkshake refill, pointedly ignoring Rachel while almost hip-checking her.
Annoyed, Rachel grabbed her suitcase. Her non-security-blanket cardigan was in there, and she wanted to change into it before embarking on the trip home. She yanked her bag from the seat—and almost dropped it on their waitress’s toes.
“Sorry,” Rachel mumbled, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
For the first time, their waitress actually seemed human. She glanced at Rachel’s hat-head hair, her droopy cardigan, and her luggage. “Hmmm. What are you doing, princess? Running away?”
Mutinously, Rachel glanced down at her telltale suitcase. It was dappled with wet snowmelt. The handle was squeaky. The whole thing leaned crookedly because of the wheel she’d broken while lugging it over a frozen pothole on the way to Judy’s car. But it was still a quality piece of luggage. It didn’t deserve such a disparaging look from that horrid, know-it-all waitress.
Running away. Ha. As if.
Then it hit her. That’s exactly what she was doing.
All over again. Just like she’d always done.
“No,” Rachel decided in that moment, her eyes opened for the first time ever. Standing straighter in her favorite kickass boots, she fixed the waitress—and a hopeful-seeming Judy—with a determined look. “This time I’m not running away. This time, I’m staying to fight.”
But first…she was putting on some lip gloss.
Chapter Forty
The minutes Reno spent driving the slippery two miles between The Wright Stuff and the Kismet Greyhound station were the longest in his life. He gripped the steering wheel in ungloved hands, scanning the streets and sidewalks for any sign of a woman with wild dark hair, a sassy strut to her walk…and a pair of sunglasses that (he now knew) concealed a hurt she’d been trying to hide from everyone.
Rachel. Just thinking of her made his heart race faster as Reno rounded the corner off Main Street and searched for a parking space in front of The Coffee Cup Diner. The place looked worn but cheery, snug in a Midwestern way and fully outfitted with a set of holiday lights and Christmas window decals.
He hoped he wasn’t already too late. As he wrenched his truck to a stop, Reno peered through the diner’s big plate glass window. He thought he caught a glimpse of Rachel. An instant later, she was gone. He was probably hallucinating. Given the trauma he’d been through when he’d thought he’d lost her, it was no wonder. From here on out, he’d probably imagine he saw audacious women wearing miniskirts and tights and boots everywhere he went—and every instance would be torture if he didn’t track down Rachel and somehow convince her to stay.
With that thought in mind, Reno jammed his parking brake into position, then yanked out his keys. He thought of what Jimmy might have done to his hair, then hastily fixed it in the rearview. Okay. Better. Damn, he was going to hyperventilate.
In. Out. In. Out. Breathing deeply, Reno jumped out of his truck and slammed the door. People on the sidewalk sent him curious glances, but he didn’t care. His mind was all for Rachel—for Rachel and for making her stay in Kismet forever.
How the hell to do that though?
Skating across the icy path between his parking space and the diner’s entrance, Reno racked his brain. He’d already shown Rachel the best of Kismet—the people, the parade, the town square with its holiday lights and decorations. They’d been to the surrounding wooded areas, to The Big Foot, to Kayla’s Christmas pageant, and the Glenrosen neighborhood. There was nothing special enough in Kismet to hold her here.
Nothing except him. Damn it.
With no plan at all, Reno wrenched open the diner’s door. Warm air rushed at him, coming from the central heating system and the busy grill alike. Heads swiveled in his direction. A few diner customers leaned together and whispered. Ignoring them, Reno squared his shoulders and looked for Rachel.
She would be easy to spot. She had a glow about her—a special way of existing that drew everyone to her. He’d probably find Rachel in the midst of another adoring crowd, Reno told himself with the faintest beginnings of a smile. He’d probably have to fight his way to her, desperate to get closer.
He squinted harder, scoured the diner’s occupied tables again…and then caught sight of his mother, waving him over.
Waving him over to a table where she sat alone.
Rachel had already gone, Reno realized. He was too late.
Feeling flattened, he slumped where he stood. Then he inhaled deeply and headed toward his mom. She would want an explanation. Or maybe some company. Right now…
Right now a weird tingling was starting at the back of Reno’s neck. Transfixed by the sensation, he stopped.
Slowly, he glanced to the side, past the long counter with its swiveling stools full of customers, past the cash register with its poinsettia, past the pay phone…all the way to Rachel.
Rachel. At the sight of her, Reno knew he’d done the right thing. There was no one like Rachel, no one who could make him feel whole again, no one who could make him smile with quite the same width and dazzle and happiness he felt right now.
She was still here. He wasn’t too late.
Rachel stood riveted in place, her whole mind filled with the realization that Reno was here. He was here, right now, standing there with that smile she loved and those eyes she wanted to gaz
e into forever and those arms she wanted to hold her for a very long time (also possibly forever), and it was all she could do to let go of her suitcase handle and raise her hand to the back of her neck. Just a second ago, she’d felt the most peculiar tingling there. A little tickle, telling her to look.
Then she’d glanced up…and she’d understood why.
“I’m sorry,” she said. It was the first thing that came to mind. Without so much as an order from her, Rachel’s feet carried her to him, away from her forgotten suitcase and into the rest of her life. “I’m so sorry, Reno. I didn’t know. About you and Nate. I didn’t know, and I should have listened—”
“I’m sorry, too!” Reno said. His feet copied hers, totally in sync, and an instant later he was right there in front of her, overwhelming her with his presence and his handsomeness and his utter earnestness. “I didn’t know what to do,” he insisted. “I wasn’t thinking. All I wanted was to be with you—”
“I wanted to be with you!”
“—and then it was so complicated. You didn’t like trucks or Christmas or Kismet, so I didn’t think it would matter—”
“I do like Kismet! And Christmas!”
“—but then I spent some time with you, and you made me crazy with those tights and those boots, and somehow I couldn’t get enough.” Reno gulped in a breath, taking her hands. “By the time I knew I loved you, it was too damn late, and I—”
Rachel stared. “You love me?”
Reno’s whole face brightened. “You didn’t know? I thought it was all over me. Every time I saw you, I couldn’t quit smiling. Every time I got near you, I couldn’t quit touching you. Rachel, don’t you get it? You’re the only person who’s ever understood me! You’re the only one who’s ever looked past my football fortune and my fame and my store and wanted me. Just me. That’s why it kills me that I hurt you. I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her hands in his and brought them to his lips for a kiss. “If I could take it back I would, I swear. If you’ll let me make it up to you, I promise I will. I’ll—”
“You love me?” she asked again, feeling dumbfounded.
Reno’s eyes widened. With a delicious smile, he raised his hand to her cheek. He brought his gaze directly to bear on hers, bringing their faces together, forehead to forehead.
“I love you, Rachel. I love your smile and your sexy walk and your Care Bear fur sweaters. I love your sandy L.A. Christmas and your goofy Bing Crosby CDs. I love the way you look at me. The way you touch me. The way you wrap gifts and make your own winter coats”—he glanced at her handmade creation, her only truly warm garment—“and play with Kayla and bring people together like magic. I love that you don’t think I’m crazy for putting fifty thousand lights on my house for the holidays—”
“I’m pretty sure it’s forty-seven thousand,” Rachel said. “Officially.”
“—and I love”—Reno broke off, his throat working in the same way it had when he’d asked her to help hang those lights—“that you put my mom and dad back together again. I love that you care about people even though you hardly know them. But most of all, I love you. Just you. With all my heart.”
“Reno—” Sniffling back tears, Rachel felt her heart pound faster with every husky, genuine word he said, with every squeeze of Reno’s hand in hers. “I—”
“So please, please don’t leave Kismet. Not yet,” Reno urged. His gaze remained fixed on hers, honest and true. “Not until I have a chance to make things right between us. Not until I have a chance to really love you.”
“You mean this has only been the starter version?”
Reno’s mouth quirked at the corners in a downright devilish way. “Baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Oh.” Good grief, she believed him. Caught beneath Reno’s gaze, beneath his firm grasp and his sincerity and his intensity, Rachel felt herself quaver for possibly the first time in her life. “Then I don’t know what to tell you, Reno. Because all I have is…well, me. And I’m not really all that amazing or fabulous or tough. I’m just a girl.”
“You’re my girl.”
“I mean, I love you. God knows, I’ve been a fool over you!” She waved her hand, helpless to prevent a laugh. “I can’t get enough of you. When I see you coming toward me, my whole body feels like it lights up. When I see you smile, I can’t help but smile back. When you touch me, all bets are off. I love you like crazy, Reno. When you let me go the other night—”
“Never again,” he swore. “Never ever again.”
“—it was like leaving a piece of my heart behind with you. I felt as if I’d never be whole again. But now…now”—Rachel broke off, unable to keep from cradling his face in her hands, reveling in the sight of his familiar angled cheekbones, his beloved crooked nose, his intense, beautiful, merry green eyes—“now you’re here, and I have never felt luckier in my life. I love you, Reno. And if you don’t kiss me pretty soon—”
His mouth descended on hers instantly, cutting off her words with a kiss that made Rachel almost swoon in his arms. She clutched him and kissed him back with all the fervor, all the love her heart could muster, and it must have been a lot, because just as Reno came up for air, just as he gave her a softer kiss, then another and another, she felt his knees buckle a little, too, and they both had to hold on to each other.
“Wow.” Breathlessly, she stared at him. “That was—”
“Unforgettable.” Very softly, Reno kissed her again.
Rachel tugged his coat lapels. “More please.”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“I’d be more than happy to oblige, but you might regret that.” Grinning, Reno nodded to the side. “We have an audience.”
With no warning at all, the whole diner erupted in cheers and applause and foot-stomping. Feeling herself blush, Rachel turned to see everyone in the place unabashedly watching them, from her revelation-causing waitress to Judy Wright. Some people crowded closer to Rachel’s and Reno’s position near the cash register to hear, some craned their necks to see, and a few sat on the tops of their bench seats to catch the entire show.
Only a few feet away stood a particularly conspicuous group of onlookers, all looking as though they’d just burst into the diner at the last moment. In the middle of them, Angela wiped away a joyful tear. Nate hugged her, his eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. Kayla sat on the floor with a white puppy in her lap, oblivious to the adults’ goings-on. Tom Wright, Jimmy Gurche, and a broadly grinning man Rachel didn’t know cheered them on. Even Mrs. Kowalczyk was there, offering a winking thumbs-up.
The older woman caught Reno looking at her. She struck a defiant pose. “What? You thought we’d miss this? No way, José!”
Reno laughed and hugged Rachel to him. Happily, she glanced up at him. “Is everyone always this nice in Kismet?”
“No,” Reno deadpanned. “After Christmas we become zombies.”
Grinning, Rachel smacked his chest. “Be serious.”
“Okay.” Tucking a hank of hair behind her ear, Reno eyed her very gravely. “The truth is, everyone really is this nice. Once a Kismet Muskrat, always a Kismet Muskrat. Nobody can stay away. Once you get sucked back in, we’ve got you forever.”
“I am not a muskrat!”
“…said the former KHS Muskrats goth cheerleader.”
“Oh yeah.” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got me there.”
“I’ve got you. Period.” Reno gazed into her eyes. He shook his head. “And I’m never letting you go.”
“Awwww,” the crowd gushed all around them.
But Rachel was too busy kissing Reno again to pay attention to the applause. She was too busy loving Reno, too busy holding him, and too busy realizing that if she never got another gift for Christmas for the rest of her life, she would feel perfectly content. Because all she really wanted was Reno.
Reno, her newly polished self-respect, and a chance at a brand-new future. Beginning right now, it looked as though all three of those things were within h
er grasp. Starting with Reno.
Feeling a devilish streak of her own, Rachel leaned into Reno, put her head on his shoulder…then made her move.
“Whoa!” Reno jerked, his surprised gaze meeting hers. “Did you just grab my butt?”
“With both hands, tough guy.” She grinned. “You might as well get used to it. When you live with Kismet’s number one rebel, there’ll be a lot of that going on.”
“I—” Grabbing his delectable backside, mouth open, Reno gawked at her. Then he grinned. “I can hardly wait. Come on.”
Chapter Forty-One
As Reno was surprised to learn, there was no place on earth more Christmassy than Christine and Gerry Porter’s Glenrosen home, just down the street from his, on Christmas morning.
Their decorated tree sparkled, resplendent with almost enough light wattage. Not a square inch of balsam fir had escaped being loaded with tinsel, homemade ornaments, old-fashioned bubble lights, garland, or all four of those things. Beneath the tree, the SantaLand Express chugged past a village of homey ceramic buildings. Mountains of wrapping paper and bows—remnants of the festive gift-opening party they’d just held—lay crumpled atop the tree’s homemade quilted skirt.
On the TV, a Yule log burned—crackling and snapping in full HD clarity—with Christmas carols playing as an accompaniment. Several pots of poinsettias and blooming amaryllis bordered the Porters’ living room, greeting cards overflowed from the foyer to the entertainment center, and on every horizontal surface stood candles, garland, animated Santas, and ceramic Rudolphs.
Truly, the whole thing would have been overkill…if not for the fact that it was finally Christmas, and if not for the unabashed joy the display had brought to Rachel’s face as she’d ushered Reno, hand in hand, into the family’s annual version of Christmas when he’d arrived for breakfast this morning.
He glanced at the fireplace, filled with a crafted wicker basket full of ornaments and garland. The Porters didn’t want to fuss with an actual smoking Yule log on their hearth, but they had gone to some trouble to make the area Christmassy, with tall candles ringed with mistletoe and four stockings, all in a row.
