Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  “Mom, if I’m not living in Epperly … if none of your children are living in Epperly … then what are we supposed to do? Move here to mow your lawn?”

  “I don’t know, Linc. Maybe move me closer to you so you can help me out.”

  “So we … draw straws to see who gets to take care of Mom?”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  He said that. And I know he didn’t mean it to sound so harsh, like such an inconceivable burden … like the opposite of winning the lottery. But it did. It sounded pretty awful.

  “No. I would never want to burden any of you. I will happily retire to a ten-by-ten room, shit myself all day, stare out a window and contemplate where the heck I went wrong in raising my kids.”

  “Not cool, Mom.” Linc shook his head. “And you’re forty-two. Why are you even talking about something that won’t be an issue for many years? And how do you know you won’t find someone and decide to remarry?”

  “I don’t want to remarry.”

  “You’re just saying that because Dad hasn’t been gone that long. You can’t predict the future. Unexpected things happen.”

  I had so much to say about that, but it wasn’t something I wanted to share with my young adult child who had his whole life ahead of him.

  Views changed.

  Needs changed.

  Happiness shifted into new directions.

  I wasn’t afraid of growing old and being lonely. I was afraid of following an expected protocol, making decisions based on societal expectations.

  Crap …

  I was making Kael’s case.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what the future holds.”

  “Promise me you’ll talk to Mel and Jeremy. Maybe they’d be willing to move Grandma and Papa closer to them.”

  I knew Craig’s siblings wouldn’t be on board with that. Mel just made partner at a law firm in Miami. And Jeremy’s marriage was on the rocks because he cheated on his wife a few months after Craig’s death. He was kind enough to actually blame it on Craig—the stress of it. In a roundabout way, I was to blame for Jeremy’s infidelity.

  “Okay,” I said through a fake smile. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “Thank you.” He sighed. “I’m taking off. I think you can handle the holiday rush on your own.”

  “Yeah … shit!” I grimaced. “Shoot … you know what I mean.” I scrambled past him. “Stay here. I have to run a quick errand.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I ran out the door, no jacket, no regard for Bella calling my name as well.

  “Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” I zigzagged my way through the Black Friday crowd congesting the square while shooting off a text to Amie: Abort!

  Grabby hands kept me from getting there in a timely manner, like Pam from my grief group, stopping me by snagging my sleeve.

  “Hey. I thought of you and our group the other night when my son woke me up at three in the morning by turning on the light in my bedroom.”

  “Um … okay. Can’t wait to hear all about it at group.” I pulled out of her grip.

  “Ben used to do that. When he turned the bedroom light on at five in the morning, an hour before I had to wake up. I felt like he was silently asking for a divorce. It was a ‘lightbulb’ moment for me. And now his son does it and will someday drive his wife crazy. I hope he can at least put away his clean clothes. I would wash Ben’s clothes and put them on his side of the bed. He’d move them to the floor, where they’d stay for weeks until the dog made a nest of them, and they had to be washed again.” She laughed.

  I kept my forward motion but shot her a smile over my shoulder. “I’m sure you miss that now.” Yay for me! I said the right thing. I reminded her to focus on the important things in life. Her inconsiderate bastard of a husband was dead. No need to keep dwelling on the past even if it had become the theme of our group.

  “Ho. Ho. Ho … young lady.” Santa grabbed my arm as I budged in line, fighting my way to the entrance of What Did You Expect? Why did everyone feel the need to grab me?

  Whipping my head back in his direction, I jerked my arm away. “I need to …” My eyes narrowed. “Dan?”

  Kael’s father in the Santa suit winked at me. “Shh … it’s Santa.”

  After a few seconds of hesitation, I nodded slowly. “I uh … need to get inside.”

  “Kael wants me to spend the afternoon at your store. So I’ll see you in a few hours. Get ready for the crowd to shift to your place.”

  Why? Why did that anger me even more? Since when did kindness irritate me so much? Oh yeah … since Kael Hendricks tipped my world on its side.

  “Amie …” I whispered, turning and bulldozing anyone who tried to block me from getting into the store. But just as I reached the door, customers poured out of it like opened flood gates.

  “Yuck.”

  “Eww …”

  “Gross.”

  The herd of customers exiting the store forced me to step aside.

  “Poor, Amie.”

  “I know.”

  “You think it’s really botulism?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what she mumbled while she was doubled over.”

  The passing chatter and incessant whispers filled the space as everyone scattered, even the lineup of children waiting to see Santa, dispersed in all directions. As soon as I found a tiny gap, I slipped into the store. And there she was, on her knees, close to the checkout counter.

  Rachel wiped Amie’s sweaty forehead with a damp towel then handed her a glass of water while Kael and one of his other employees cleaned the vomit-covered floor.

  “I sh-should … have shopped at Smith’s …” Amie’s shaky voice sent out a final declaration to the handful of remaining customers gathered around the crime scene.

  Abandoned baskets of products littered the aisles like carnage.

  “I’m very sorry, Amie,” Kael said as he shoved soiled paper towels into a trash bag before standing and clocking me with a look I knew I’d never forget. “Your friend is on her knees in misery. Why are you just standing there, Mrs. Smith?”

  I tore my gaze from him before he saw right through me. Then I rushed to Amie’s side. Rachel wrinkled her nose and bit her bottom lip. Apparently Kael was the only one who wasn’t truly sympathetic.

  “Let’s go.” I, too, wrinkled my nose from the sour vomit smell as I helped Amie to her feet.

  She hugged her midsection, blond hair matted to her sweaty face. “I’m so sorry, Elsie. I … I should have known better than to try something that wasn’t from your store. I deserve this. I’m such a traitor.”

  “Over-selling,” I gritted through my teeth next to her ear.

  Amie wanted to be an actress before she settled on her career as a chiropractor. And there was nothing I could have said or done to stop her from finishing the scene in her once-in-a-lifetime role. All I could do was cower under the eyes of everyone around us.

  “What did I expect?” she belted out.

  I wanted to die.

  “Not this! Save yourselves!” We hobbled arm-in-arm to the door.

  “Um … Amie?”

  We glanced around at Kael, holding up a phone. Amie’s phone. He studied the screen, lips twisted as he brought it to her. “Oh … wow. You must be pregnant, huh?”

  “What?” Amie said.

  Kael held up the phone so we could see her screen and my message. “My … my … Mrs. Smith. How ungodly of you to recommend your friend get an abortion.” He added his own dramatic flair. He had his own way of turning heads and starting a terrible rumor.

  She snatched it from his hand.

  He smirked. “I would never tell a woman what to do with her body, but you really should consider adoption.”

  Amie inspected the screen, and then she shifted her gaze to me, maintaining a firm wrinkle of confusion along her forehead. I gave her a dead stare, trying to hide any sort of tell. But Kael knew. Even if no one else understood, he didn’t miss the true meaning. Amid the new rou
nd of chatter bleeding out of his store into the square, the most viral gossip ever, we hung our heads in shame and wormed our way to my store and the long line of customers we’d just inherited because I was an asshole.

  Craig would have been friends with Kael. I had no doubt about that. He would have sat next to him at the sports bar, drinking beer and placing bets on sports and business. My husband was competitive to a fault. He would have fought dirty, but not that dirty. All in good fun and friendly competition. He would have exploited all our longtime customers who were in their eighties and nineties and given credit to Smith’s sausages and popcorn for their longevity.

  He wouldn’t have done what Amie and I did. Even my competitive husband had boundaries.

  If Jeremy could blame Craig’s death for his affair, I could blame Craig’s death for my temporary lapse in sanity and moral judgment.

  Right?

  Chapter 17

  He’d come into the house while I’d be in the middle of a TV show—stand directly between me and the TV— to tell me about a carburetor he was working on in the garage or why it took him so long to replace the brakes on the neighbor’s vehicle.

  Finn and Chase made sure Amie and her car got home safely since she was still feeling the effects of whatever herb she took to make her vomit. Bella, Linc, and I scurried around the shop the rest of the afternoon, dealing with the onslaught of customers. It ended up being one of our best Black Fridays (sales wise) ever.

  “Coming?” Bella asked as I shut off the lights and grabbed my purse. “You go ahead. I have a few errands to run.”

  “Checking in on Amie?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s terrible. And so bad for Kael. I mean … clearly I feel for Amie, but I kind of feel bad for him too. What if it wasn’t his fault? You know? What if it was the manufacturer’s fault? There could end up being a recall on whatever made her sick, but in the meantime, nobody will go back to Kael’s store. That’s sad.”

  “Yes. It is. I’m sure he’ll rebound. He’s young and charismatic. Everyone loves him.”

  “Except you.”

  As I opened the door and stuck my key in the outside lock, I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  She gave me a head tilt as if my question was ridiculous. “I see the way you look at him. And you’re so tense and standoffish around him. You don’t like him—either because he’s Smith’s competition or because you’re jealous of his store and the fact that everyone does love him. It’s not like you, but I see it. You can’t stand him. And I don’t really get it. You’re a lot like him. I mean … I’d think you’d like the products at his store. And you've always been someone to go out of your way to help other people.”

  “You’re right. It’s not like me. But you’re also wrong … I’m not jealous of him.”

  “Good. Because Amber is having a get-together at her house tonight, and he’ll be there. I’m going, and I just don’t want you to be pissed off if I don’t act all douchey toward him.” She stepped outside.

  I pulled the door shut and turned the lock. “You know for a fact that he’s going?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Turning toward her, I deposited my keys into my purse and hiked it up onto my shoulder. “Have fun. No need to be douchey on my account.”

  Bella smirked before leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Sorry. That was a little douchey of me to say that. Thanks. I will have fun. Tell Amie I hope she feels better soon.”

  “Will do.” I waited for her to disappear around the corner at the end of the square before I headed to What Did You Expect? It was closed, but I could see the light on by the register.

  I rapped my gloved hand on the door several times. Kael glanced up from the computer screen. He waited a few seconds with an unreadable expression before sliding off the stool and taking his sweet time to open the door.

  “We’re closed.” He blinked at me with eyes void of that usual sparkle of life.

  “I know. I thought we could talk before you go to Amber’s.”

  “Why does her name sound so sour coming off your tongue?” He didn’t open the door any wider or step aside as if he had any intention of inviting me in for that chitchat.

  “Sorry. She’s young enough to be my daughter, so the fact that we’ve been intimate makes it a little hard to swallow the idea of you and her together.”

  He shrugged and it was filled with an air of cockiness or lack of giving a shit about what I thought. “Well, she’s not young enough to be my daughter, and she’s a consenting adult so …”

  “Kael …” I deflated. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. Then he held the face of it to me. It showed a green light and a microphone icon. “Sorry for what, Mrs. Smith?”

  I remained silent, staring at the screen.

  “Are you sorry for sending your best friend over to fake food poisoning at my store?”

  I didn’t react.

  “Are you sorry for fucking me behind everyone’s back because you were too ashamed to have something for yourself?”

  I flinched.

  “Or are you sorry that I don’t need a church or even a God for that matter to be kind to other people? To do the right thing? Is that it? Are you feeling sorry that you’ve been preached to your whole life—WWJD—yet you failed miserably when things got tough? Or are you sorry that playing the grieving widow no longer gets you sympathy sales for your outdated shit?”

  Tears filled my eyes as I continued to focus only on his phone screen.

  “Go home, Elsie.” He returned his phone to his back pocket. “I’m willing to clear your driveway, repair a leaky faucet, change a flat tire, or fuck you to Sunday, but I’m not willing to help carry your emotional baggage.”

  I didn’t like to think about the twelve-year age gap between us when we were having sex. But I definitely didn’t like to think about it as he so expertly schooled me on being a good person and doing the right thing.

  Before I could formulate a response, a new plea … he shut and locked the door on me. And I deserved it.

  * * *

  “Hey, Elsie. Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” Myra, Amie’s mom, hugged me as soon as she opened Amie’s front door.

  “I did. Thank you.”

  “Amie’s in the living room. She was feeling a little under the weather, so I brought her some of my homemade broth.”

  Dragging my guilty self into the living room, I affixed the proper, regretful grimace onto my face. It wasn’t hard—I really did feel awful for Amie … and Kael … and my devil-lassoed-soul.

  “Don’t.” She forced a groggy smile from her recliner, blanket over her legs, cup of soup in her hands. “You’re not allowed to look so dang distraught.”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “She’s in the kitchen and a little hard of hearing. I didn’t tell her the truth.”

  “Amie …” I sat on the edge of her blue crushed velvet sofa. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Elsie—”

  “Let me finish.” I shook my head. “I know you’re going to say that you offered to do it for me. That it was even your idea originally. But that doesn’t matter. I mean …” I frowned. “It does matter. It just shows what an incredible friend you are to me. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d purposefully make myself vomit and embarrass myself publicly just to help you get a leg up on the competition.”

  She chuckled before taking a sip of her broth. “So in the Thelma and Louise scenario, you’d bail at the last second and let me go off the cliff by myself?”

  I nodded, pursing my lips to hide my grin.

  “Bitch.”

  “I know.” I shrugged.

  “But did you have a great afternoon of sales?”

  Another nod.

  “Then it was worth it.”

  “No. That’s just it. It wasn’t worth it. My evil spawns have just put me through the wringer the past two days. First there was Bella’s inviting Kael an
d his dad in for coffee yesterday morning two seconds after telling me that Kael and Amber are a thing. That got me all worked up. Then a milk run turned into sex in the back of my Tahoe by the creek. Finn’s epic Thanksgiving toast. Mice droppings on my candy canes. Sick Santa. Stolen Santa. Linc suggesting I close the store and move to Arizona. The vomiting fiasco. It’s all too much!” I threw my hands up in the air.

  With her mug of broth at her mouth, she paused, unblinking, lips parted. “Sex in the back of your Tahoe?”

  On a long exhale, my shameful gaze dropped to the floor as I nodded.

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  Nod.

  “While all of your kids were at home?”

  Nod.

  “You’re my idol.”

  “Nooo!” I covered my face. “It was so bad.”

  “Oh … did you not … did he not …”

  Flopping backward, I rested my head on the cushion and kept my face covered. “God … no. I mean we did … I did … he did. And it was just … Gah! So good. And unexpected. Raw. Primal. Hot. But wrong. I think. I don’t know.” I dropped my hands from my face but kept my gaze on her ceiling because there was no way I could look at her. “The windows were fogged up. The whole vehicle was bouncing. I was loud. He was unrelenting. He did things to me that … I just can’t even put into words how it made me feel.”

  Amie gulped so hard I could hear it. “W-well try. Please try to put it into words. I attempted suicide today for you. The least you could do is throw me a bone. Was it anal? Please say yes. My church-going BFF getting it up the backside in the back of her Tahoe on Thanksgiving gives me an odd sense of pride.”