by V. Vaughn
My bags rustle as the glass doors magically swish open for me. My phone rings while I walk to my car, and I stop to free a hand to reach for it in my purse. When I glance at the screen, I notice the call is from my sister, Sophie. “Hello.”
“Caro, have I got a surprise for you. Please tell me you don’t have a big deadline next weekend, because I’m on my way to your house Friday.”
I shake my head at the way my sister launches into conversations without so much as a hello. I say, “My deadline is tomorrow. That gives me a day to shower and clean my place before it’s officially the weekend.”
“Perfect. Guess who’s decided to spice up your life this summer.”
“The most annoying woman I know?” I ask as my car door clicks open.
“Exactly! And just wait until you hear what I did.”
I groan loud enough for her to hear. “Does it require bail money?”
“Very funny. I’ve rented a place on Silver Lake starting June first.”
Paul lives on Silver Lake, like most of the wolves in his pack. I say, “Fun.” The leather of my car seat is smooth under my bottom as I slide behind the wheel.
“More than fun. By the end of the summer, you’re going to wonder how you’ve managed all these years without me.”
“Ah, you seem to forget it wasn’t that long ago you left.” Sophie takes her free spirit label seriously and has crashed at my house more than once between career changes since her divorce a few years ago. But I smile, because my sister is definitely fun.
She says, “It’s got two bedrooms, looks over the water, and even has a dock. You must come live there with me.”
I notice Paul walk to his car. He’s in a suit and looks every bit the alpha as his powerful body moves with grace. Sophie says, “I promise to let you write, cook for you, and I might even throw in laundry if you promise to be my sidekick.”
“Sidekick?”
“Sidekick. We’re going to get ourselves some men.”
I chuckle and say, “You say that as if all we have to do is go get them.”
“What? It’s not that easy?”
“Nope,” I say. Sophie is charismatic and never had trouble finding a new man before she got married. But since her divorce, I think she’s been afraid to try. I add, “At least it’s not easy for me.”
“It will be once we give it an effort. Trixie is gone now, and it’s time to stop waiting. You’re free to date anyone that strikes your fancy without worrying how it will affect her.”
Sophie’s right. When Trixie was a baby, I did try dating, but I refused to have a revolving door of men in my life the way my mother did. Once my daughter was old enough to talk, I put my love life on hold.
Sophie continues on the path of why I should date now, but I tune her out as I watch Paul open the door of a gorgeous black Jaguar. Nice car. It fits him. I imagine how the engine must purr, and the thrill of the car speeding down the highway as it hugs the curves of the road. The memory of Paul’s voice sounds in my head. “Did you forget to wear underwear?” Heat rises to my cheeks as my insides tingle with desire.
“Caro?” asks Sophie. “Can you hear me?”
I crash back to reality. “I’m here. What time should I expect you on Friday?”
“Late afternoon. We’re going to have a fantastic summer.”
On Silver Lake, where I might run into Paul? “Yes. I think we will.”
16
I glance around my double-wide trailer. The cleaning lady I hired a few months ago was here earlier today, and the faint scent of lemon is in the air. Over the years, I’ve made good money writing, but I’ve always tried to be vague about my job for Trixie’s sake. When people hear you write erotic romance, they get ideas, and most of the time it’s not good ones. So I have a pen name and keep a low profile by living in a trailer park and telling people I’m a freelance writer. But I’m not slumming it, by any means. In fact, I probably overcompensate with top-of-the-line appliances and fixtures I don’t need.
I suppose now that Trixie is gone I don’t have to hide what I do, and I could move to a more traditional home. I plop down on my leather couch and let it hug me like an old friend. I think of the dozens of books I’ve written curled up on this sofa as the sound of my neighbor, Carl’s, motorcycle roars by when he goes out for a ride, or when Barbara next door calls her cat before she settles in for the night.
While my neighbors’ habits are comforting, the trailer park residents are only acquaintances. I’ve never put myself out there, and everyone knows I keep to myself. Even when Trixie lived here, we found entertainment in each other instead of other people.
Light rapping at my door makes me stand and go to it. I open up to Sophie. She’s wearing her auburn curls in their natural state, along with a brightly colored scarf that fits her personality.
I step aside as I say, “Welcome.”
Sophie walks in, and a chilled bottle of wine is moist on my palm when she hands it to me. She glances around as she lets out a big sigh and says, “I love how this place looks like the results of a pimp-my-trailer reality show.”
I chuckle as I make my way to the kitchen. “Wine?”
“Yes,” says Sophie as she removes her coat. “Please.”
“I set you up in Trixie’s room. No more trundle bed for you, missy.”
“We’re living large.” My sister sits on the couch, and the zipper on her tall boot hums as she lowers it. “Just think, we can bring men home now.”
“Sophie!” The cork on the bottle pops.
“Relax. I wouldn’t do that to you here. But in the lake house?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re here on a mission?” Sophie hasn’t talked about men in years. When she caught her husband cheating on her, she left her marriage a broken woman. I take her new outlook as a sign she’s ready to move on.
Wine splashes into goblets when I pour, and I ask, “Did Trixie put you up to this?”
“Not exactly,” says Sophie as she reaches for her glass and tucks her feet under her. “But we did talk about you. Your darling daughter says you aren’t very social, even though you told her you’d try to date now that she’s married.”
The couch whooshes when I land at the other end and sit cross-legged with my back against the arm to face my sister. “I know. I had such big plans but terrible follow-through.”
“Have you even gone out with a man yet?”
“Nope.” I sip my wine, and the tart flavor is delicious on my tongue. “I met a guy last summer at Trixie’s house, and I thought we hit it off, but even though he said he’d call, he never did.”
“It happens. You didn’t sit around waiting, did you?”
I did wait, and I’m too embarrassed to admit it.
Sophie scowls at me when I don’t answer. “Caro, please tell me you got over him and tried again.”
“I didn’t stalk him or anything, but no, I didn’t actually try again.”
“I think I have my work cut out for me.” Sophie lifts her glass to her mouth and says, “Tomorrow night, we’re going out.”
I roll my eyes, but I did prepare for this. I asked my neighbor Carl where people our age go. “There’s a place called Pete’s,” I say. “I hear they get decent bands in on the weekends.”
“Sounds good to me. Pete’s it is.”
I think about Paul and his Jag. I guess Pete’s is the last place he’d hang out, but that’s probably a good thing. I’m not sure I need a reminder of how the man I fantasize about isn’t into me.
I ask, “So what brings you here for the summer?”
“I’m the new wedding planner for the Winter Valley country club. Seems the current one decided to get pregnant, and she’s due next month.”
I raise my eyebrows, and she says, “I know. But I still believe in the fantasy, and this way I can live vicariously through other people who believe in true love.”
“Good for you,” I say. “I’m sure you’re going to be wonderf
ul.”
“Yeah, I should be. Lord knows I’ve planned enough parties in my day.”
I chuckle as I recall a high school bash we had one weekend my mother was out of town. Somehow we managed to get away with it, and it was due to my younger sister’s planning and bossy attitude. She had people taking the garbage with them when they left and even made the football star vacuum before she’d give him his car keys.
I ask, “When do you start?”
“Monday.”
“And let me guess, everything you own still fits in your car, right?” Sophie left her husband with a vehicle, a couple suitcases, and a big, fat check that lets her do anything she wants to supplement her income.
“Of course.” She sips her wine.
I shake my head as I grin at her. “You are a wonder, Sophie.”
“I’m something, all right. I still come with baggage, though.”
She frowns, and I say, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t have any more than the average person. Besides, you’re kind of preaching to the choir here. I write about great sex but haven’t been with a man in over a decade.”
Sophie says, “We’re quite the pair.”
My stomach growls, and I get up to retrieve the takeout menus. “We are. But you deserve love, so let’s go find it.” A drawer scrapes open, and items rattle as I begin to pull out restaurant brochures.
“You do too, you know,” says Sophie. “Let’s make this the summer of love.”
“Wait, I think that was a hippie free-love orgy. Although I could give you some pointers on gang sex if you’d like.”
Sophie chuckles and says, “I’ve read all your books. I’m ready.”
Paper rustles when I hold out the menus to my sister and ask, “What would you like for dinner?”
She doesn’t take them. “We’re going out. I want to get the lay of the land at the country club, so I arranged for us to have dinner there tonight.”
“Fancy.” I speak in a haughty accent. “Whatever shall I wear?”
“Something sexy.” Sophie stands up and moves toward my bedroom. “Let’s go see what you’ve got. You never know who you might run into.”
The vision of Paul Ryan strolling across the parking lot in his suit flashes in my head. She’s right. Maybe I’ll find another powerful man to replace Paul in my fantasies. I say, “I’m so glad you’re here for the summer, Sophie.” I follow her as she walks down the hall and say, “I think you might be just what I need.”
17
Sophie decked me out in a long skirt with boots, a tight cotton camisole, and a sheer blouse. While my hair doesn’t curl naturally the way my sister’s does, it is thick and receptive to styling, so I put it up in a loose topknot and curled the tendrils that fell out.
My feet thud softly on the carpet as I step out into the living room for Sophie’s approval. She says, “Lovely. You’ve got an artistic flair but appear poised enough to show your serious side.”
“I feel pretty. This is a nice change from the yoga pants I usually wear.” Or baggy sweats covered in coffee stains.
“Good. Step one accomplished. You need to be confident to land that man.”
“Confidence isn’t my problem.” I grin at her. “It’s leaving the house.” I take the coat Sophie holds out for me, and my keys jingle as I retrieve them from my purse.
“Let me know if I need to throw a blanket over your head so you don’t realize we’ve left your cave.” Sophie opens the door, and a cool breeze blows around us as we walk to my car.
The country club is on the edge of town near the vast acreage of farmland in our area. Spring is an awakening for the residents of Winter Valley after our long winter, and as I drive, I gaze out at the daffodils and hyacinth that adorn gardens. The sweet scent of lilacs filters in through the air vents.
I ask, “When does the club officially open?”
“The first week of May, but only the diehards come to play golf until it warms up in June.”
We turn the corner, and the vivid green of the carefully maintained golf course comes into view. I gaze at the clubhouse in the distance and notice people milling around. I say, “It looks like there are more than a few eager golfers out today.” It doesn’t surprise me, since one has to be a hardy sort to live in this area.
“Wow,” says Sophie. “The restaurant might actually be busy.”
When we pull into the parking lot, I scan the cars for a certain Jaguar but don’t find it. Although there’s another place to park closer to the course, so my hope isn’t dead when I park next to a Lexus. The aroma of fresh mulch is pungent as we make our way to the clubhouse. When we enter, we walk by the stairs to the locker rooms and the pro shop before arriving at the restaurant.
The dining area is full of windows that must make the room brightly lit during summer days, but tonight, dusk lends a cozy atmosphere as candles flicker on the tables. I glance around, and when I spy the bar, I discover an attractive blond bartender that is my sister’s type. I tilt my head his way and say, “Let’s sit at the bar and have martinis before dinner. I think you’re going to like working here.”
Sophie chuckles as she begins to walk. “I most certainly am.”
We climb onto high chairs, and the brass bar rail is cold under my arms when I lean on it to reach for the drink menu. The bartender says, “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Chad. What can I get for you?”
Sophie says, “Hi, Chad. I’m Sophie, and starting next week I’ll be the new wedding planner.” She opens her palm toward me and says, “This is my sister, Caroline.”
“Nice to meet you both.” He leans on his forearms to speak quietly to Sophie. “I hope you’re prepared for crazy. Some of the weddings get a little wild here.”
The way he emphasizes wild makes me study Chad’s build and wonder if he might be a werewolf. I smile when I determine that his broad shoulders and narrow waist along with his large stature indicate he probably is. Ever since Trixie mated with a werewolf, I’ve begun to realize how prevalent they are in Winter Valley.
I say, “I’ll have a vodka martini with olives, please.”
Sophie says, “That sounds good. Me too.”
“You got it,” says Chad as he winks at us.
When he walks away, Sophie leans in to say, “He just winked at us. How adorable is that?”
“Very, but he might be a little young for us,” I whisper, even though I know that Chad’s werewolf ears mean he can hear what we’re saying if he wants to.
“No way,” says my sister. “My rule is ten years in either direction.”
“Well, that certainly opens up the dating pool.” I try to imagine being with a guy in his twenties, but the reality is, I don’t think I could handle the immaturity after having spent the last nineteen years raising a daughter. But ten years older? That’s Paul Ryan territory, and I could certainly work with that.
Martini glasses clink lightly on the bar when Chad sets them before us. He put three olives on the tiny plastic swords, and I lift it up to bite one off. Salty flavor explodes in my mouth when I chew, and I swallow the garnish down with a sip of my drink.
“Ah,” says Sophie. “Now that hits the spot.”
Holding my glass, I twist on my stool to take a better look at the restaurant behind me. The tables are covered with white linens, and the wood walls are golden in the dim light. “This place is pretty, Soph.” A few tables have diners, and when I lift my garnish to my mouth to take another bite, I spy Paul entering. I inhale sharply as I drop my gaze, and the olive in my teeth falls into my shirt.
I tug my camisole out and peer down into my bra. I reach in to retrieve it as Paul’s familiar voice carries over to me. “Caroline!”
I glance up to him approaching me as heat rises to my cheeks, and I yank my hand out of my shirt before I get the olive. “Hi, Paul.”
He’s dressed in a golf sweater and dark slacks. His teeth almost gleam in the candlelight, and his lips twitch as if he’s containing a laugh. “I always catch you a
t interesting moments.”
Sophie turns around, and even though this is the third time he’s caught me doing something one might consider sexual, I try to play it cool. “I suppose you do.”
She asks, “What? Caro, who is this gorgeous man?”
Oh no, she’s not stealing my guy, even if he doesn’t want me. I hold back my squirming as the olive rolls under my breast. “Sophie, this is Paul. We met at Trixie’s last summer.” I offer him my best attempt at a smile as salty juice drips down my stomach. “He’s mighty with a canoe paddle.”
My sister gets my clue, because she backs down and takes the lilt out of her voice as she says, “Hi, Paul. It’s nice to meet you.”
Paul tilts his head at me in question. “What brings you two out to the club? Are you a member, Caroline?” He’s turned to Sophie to speak, and I take the opportunity to grope myself again for the olive.
“Oh, no. My sister, Sophie, is the new wedding planner, and we thought we’d check things out before she starts next week.”
“Wonderful.” He asks Sophie, “Do you golf?”
Sophie shakes her head. “No. Caroline was the athlete in our family.”
I pull my hand out of my bra quickly as the attention turns to me. I still don’t have the damn garnish. Paul’s mouth is twitching again, and I guess he’s on to my elusive hunt for the olive. I quickly add, “That’s not saying a lot. What she really means is, sometimes I can catch what is thrown at me.”
“Really?” Paul reaches out and hooks his finger into my bra. I gasp as he tugs it away from my chest, and the olive falls out of the bottom of my shirt. He catches it and then pops it in his mouth.
He chews slowly, and I nearly melt in a puddle from his gaze as he asks, “Can I buy you two dinner?”
