by Terri Osburn
The older woman showered Molly’s forehead with kisses before straightening and addressing her granddaughter. “Why are you here?”
Lorelei stuttered. “I . . . It’s my shower.”
“Your shower doesn’t start for another hour, young lady. How are these girls supposed to surprise you with their decorating talents if you’re here the whole time they work?”
Seeing Lorelei speechless was such a rare occurrence that Carrie couldn’t help but watch with amusement.
“I’m here now,” the bride pointed out. “What am I supposed to do? Sit with my eyes closed for an hour?”
“Spencer is waiting for you outside with explicit instructions not to bring you back until exactly one o’clock.”
“Granny, he’s supposed to be helping Caleb build a deck.”
Rosie planted her hands on her sizable hips. “I don’t care what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s outside waiting for you, so scoot.”
Carrie doubted Spencer had put up much of a fight when Rosie changed his plans. Between swinging a hammer in the afternoon sun or getting an extra hour with his fiancée, the choice had likely been an easy one. They’d planned the wedding in a mere six months, and the last several weeks had been a whirlwind of meetings and last-minute preparations that had monopolized much of Lorelei’s time.
Following her grandmother’s orders, the future Mrs. Boyd ambled to the exit with no further argument. Another rare occurrence.
Molly giggled and rolled over Carrie’s toe as Rosie turned on the younger women. “Let’s get a move on, ladies. We have decorations to hang.”
The two party planners hopped into action while their supervisor navigated the baby away from the dessert display.
“Well?” Snow said, keeping her voice low as she handed a roll of paper to Carrie. “What’s up with you and Noah?”
Seeing no reason to continue her evasion, she said, “We’re having dinner tonight. At his place. He’s making steaks on the grill.”
Snow shoved a dark curl out of her eyes. “What happened to that swearing off men stuff?”
“I might have been a little hasty with that declaration,” Carrie admitted. She never really wanted to stay single forever. Not that sharing a meal with Noah necessarily changed her relationship status. They were neighbors grilling out. Virtual strangers getting to know each other. And with a nine-month-old as chaperone, how romantic could things get? “It’s only dinner.”
“Dinner is how it always starts,” Snow said, taping down one end of blue crepe paper and twisting it around the stair rail. “And you’re eating alone. That’s very intimate.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Molly will be with us.”
“I have no doubt Rosie would be happy to change that.”
Carrie contemplated the possibilities. If Rosie kept Molly for the night, would Noah think she saw this as a date? Would he get the impression she expected more than dinner and conversation? Did she want more than that?
“You’re psyching yourself out,” Snow said. “Don’t overthink this, Carrie. Let the man make you dinner, see how he is with Molly, and then, if things go well, that’s when you can start overanalyzing.”
Twining the silver paper with the blue, she second-guessed the dinner. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what?” Snow moved from the stairs to the newly restored concession stand with Carrie on her heels. “You’re eating steaks with a cute guy. Wait, he is cute, isn’t he?”
Describing Noah as cute was like describing childbirth as mildly uncomfortable.
“Though he’d growl at the idea, I’d call him beautiful,” she said. “Thick brown hair to his collar. Beard, but the tolerable kind. Not the off-the-grid type. Whiskey-colored eyes surrounded by long lashes that most women would kill for. Solid muscle and at least three tattoos that I’ve seen. But the best part is his smile. His face changes when he smiles. It softens. Most of the time he looks like a bear with a splinter in his paw, but when his lip curls in that crooked way he has, I can’t help but smile back.”
Ripping the paper, Carrie taped down the end and looked up to find Snow staring at her.
“What?”
“Oh, honey,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re in deep.”
“No,” Carrie tried to argue. “I was just . . .” But it was no use. She’d been a goner the moment he’d mentioned dinner. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Snow admitted. “But by all that is holy, don’t repeat that description to Lorelei, or she’ll have you living happily ever after by the end of the year.”
Chapter 6
Noah reminded himself that he’d faced down tougher challenges in his life. Basic training. Night patrols in Mosul. A pissed-off general who didn’t like his daughter slumming in the lower ranks. So why was the simple task of grabbing groceries so freaking daunting?
He knew the answer, of course. Too many people. Too many sounds. Too many blind corners and unwanted opportunities to meet a familiar face. The latter would lead to small talk—something Noah hated—and questions about where he’d been and what he’d seen. As if he wanted to take that trip down memory lane. But until Harvey Brubaker’s grocery store started a delivery service, this was the only way to stock the pantry. And at least his payoff for enduring this mission would be a pretty girl smiling at him over the best steak of her life.
Who’d have thought he’d ever be having dinner with Carrie Farmer? Noah remembered the night Patch had introduced him to his new girl. Petite but not without curves, the shy brunette had tucked herself tight against Patch’s side and rested a hand on his chest. That’s when Noah had spotted the ring, and the compliment balancing on the tip of his tongue melted away. Young, brash, and still eyeball deep in his own bitterness, he’d brushed off her friendly greeting and told his friend he could do better than dipping his wick in another man’s piece.
What a self-righteous asshole he’d been. Patch hadn’t talked to him for two weeks, breaking his silence the day before Noah shipped out. They both knew why he’d made the effort. Knew where Noah was headed, and that he might not come back. Or if he did, perhaps not in one piece.
“Is that Noah Winchester under there?” a feminine voice asked, approaching him near the meat counter. “I heard you were home, but I didn’t know you’d gone lumberjack on us.”
“It’s me,” he said. “How are you, Kyra?”
Patch’s baby sister was no longer a baby. Dark curls teetered atop her head in a loose pile while green eyes assessed his body with enough raw female interest to make him more than a little uncomfortable. No matter her age, she’d always be the little girl who’d nagged Noah into pushing her on the swings or to give her a ride on his bike. That ride would feel very different with her pressed against him now.
“I’m good,” she said. “All grown up, as you can see.” Prancing around, she showed off the skirt that barely covered her bottom. “How long have you been home?”
“Not long,” he replied. The butcher handed over his steaks, and Noah said, “Thanks, man.”
“That’s a lot of meat for one person,” she pointed out. “But I’m sure it takes a lot of protein to get a body like that.” The perusal slid down his frame once more, lingering in areas that didn’t care whose baby sister she was.
“I hear you’re married,” Noah said.
Her smile faltered. “For a couple years now. Lenny is good to me.” With a wink, she added, “Lets me do what I want.”
He’d heard that as well. “How’s your mom? I’m sorry I couldn’t get home for the funeral. I didn’t know until it was over.”
Kyra shrugged. “You know Mama and how she doted on Patch. She’s still moaning about how the Lord took her boy too soon. Like he died in some accident, when we all know what really happened. She’d be better if my brother’s bitch of a widow would let her see her grandbaby, but Carrie can hardly be bothered to send so much as a picture.”
Regardless of how he’d treate
d his wife, Patch’s family deserved to know his daughter. “You guys don’t get to see Molly?”
Green eyes went wide. “How do you know the kid’s name?”
“Carrie and the baby live next door to me out on Granny’s farm.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Kyra tapped a blood-red nail on the handle of her cart. “She used the money from the life insurance to set up her little trailer. Mama should have gotten a piece of that pie, but, of course, the weeping widow kept it all for herself.”
Knowing what she’d endured, and that she’d been pregnant when Patch died, Noah didn’t blame Carrie for using the insurance money to make a home for her and her daughter. But there was no excuse for depriving a woman of her grandchild.
“When was the last time Althea saw the baby?” he asked.
Rolling her eyes in thought, she said, “Probably back in the summer. I think Mama ran into Carrie at the street festival they have downtown. If she’s seen her since, I don’t know about it.”
Unless they’d changed it while he’d been gone, the Main Street Festival coincided with the Fourth of July holiday. Which meant Althea hadn’t seen her granddaughter in nearly three months. Too long in Noah’s estimation.
“So are you going to eat those steaks by yourself?” Kyra asked.
Noah opted not to reveal the identity of his dinner guest. “Not all at one time,” he replied. “It was good to see you.”
“What’s your hurry?” Kyra cut off his exit and trailed a finger up his arm. “We should get together and . . . catch up. You know,” she said, voice low and sultry, “I always had the biggest crush on you. Of all Patch’s friends, you were the hottest.”
Cheap perfume attacked his senses as her body invaded his space. There was no easy way out of this.
“This isn’t going to happen, Kyra. Lenny might not care, but I do.”
Green eyes shifted from emerald heat to jade fire. “You’ll get lonely eventually, Noah. And when you do, I might not be around. Don’t make me wait too long.”
Lifting the front wheels of her cart, he made himself a new path. “You always were too spoiled for your own good, little one.” As she fumed, he added, “Tell your mom I said hello.”
Noah could feel the angry glare on the back of his neck as he walked away. The woman could wait around all she wanted, but he wouldn’t change his mind. No matter how lonely he got.
By the time Lorelei opened her presents, Carrie had reached ninja-level mastery of avoiding the bride-to-be. The conversation with Snow had opened a corner of her brain that had been sealed shut more than a year ago. After Patch’s death, Carrie had run through a gamut of emotions. Though she was not proud of the fact, relief had been the first. Followed closely by denial, fear, panic, and in the end, liberation.
In the throes of her toxic marriage, Carrie had imagined what freedom might feel like. Living with Patch had been akin to wearing a metal cage around her lungs that someone tightened a little bit more every day. There had been times she actually stopped breathing, unaware of the action until her chest burned for air. One wrong move was often the difference between peace and chaos. The wrong tone of voice. A split second of eye contact. A fork out of place. All infractions that could set off the storm.
But she didn’t live in that place anymore. For the first time in her adult life, Carrie knew total autonomy. She answered to no one except the round little bundle of joy on the other side of the room. Jessi Rogers, a young mother who’d moved to town in the spring, bounced her six-month-old daughter, Emma, on her knee while Molly attempted to steal the rattle from the younger child’s hand.
Carrie didn’t know all the details, but once the truth came out that Mayor Jebediah Winkle, a prominent member of the local Baptist church and longtime married man, was Jessi’s biological father, the less-than-popular politician had opted not to run for reelection. To everyone’s surprise, he became a doting grandfather seemingly unconcerned with his fall from grace. And even more surprising, Mrs. Winkle had taken the whole thing in stride, often seen buying baby clothes in area shops.
“She’s getting so big,” Haleigh Mitchner said, joining Carrie near the dessert table. Dr. Mitchner had delivered Molly, which meant she knew as well as Carrie did how much the baby had grown. “The way she swings that thing around, I bet she’ll be walking in no time.”
Carrie wasn’t ready for her daughter’s mobility. She could barely keep up with her now.
“I’m in no hurry for that.”
Lorelei dragged a sexy nightgown from the bag on her lap, eliciting laughter and bawdy comments from the gathered crowd.
“I’ll bet ten bucks that’s from her grandmother,” Haleigh mumbled.
“No way,” Carrie whispered. “My money is on Snow.” But then she remembered that Snow’s present had been wrapped in the pretty blue box.
Holding the small card in the air, Lorelei read aloud. “‘To ensure that I get great-grandbabies within a year.’ Not funny, Granny.”
The scolding didn’t faze Rosie in the least.
“Told you,” Haleigh muttered. “So who’s this new man I’ve heard about?”
Carrie nearly dropped her cupcake. “What man?”
“Snow said he sounds hot.” To her gaping stare, Haleigh added, “Don’t worry. She told me not to tell Lorelei.”
“She shouldn’t have told you.”
“Why can’t I know?” the doc asked. “I’m not the one trying to play Cupid with every single woman in town.”
Turning back to the festivities, Carrie said, “She shouldn’t have told you because there’s nothing to tell.”
“If that’s true, why are you so defensive?”
Until she’d met Lorelei, Carrie had forgotten what having close friends felt like. Now she longed to go back to her antisocial ways.
“Okay,” she admitted. “There might be something. Or there might not. The truth is, every sensible brain cell I have left is telling me to run the other way.”
Haleigh reached for a cookie. “And what are your non-sensible brain cells telling you?”
“They’re full of ideas. None that I’m willing to repeat aloud.”
“I know which sounds more fun to me.”
Carrie snorted. “You don’t have my history.”
“True,” she agreed. “But I had plenty of reasons not to trust my own judgment. I’m guessing that’s your hang-up as well.”
“I can’t make those same mistakes again,” Carrie confessed. “I won’t do that to me or to Molly.”
Turning her back to the crowd, Haleigh held Carrie’s gaze. “Not all men are the same. If Cooper has taught me anything, it’s that our pasts don’t have to dictate our futures. You know better so you do better. If this hot dude turns out to be a dud, then you walk away. But don’t miss out on something because you were afraid to give it a chance.”
With a sigh, Carrie toyed with the cupcake wrapper. “This is probably all for nothing. He didn’t even like me a few days ago.”
“How could anyone not like you? You’re the sweetest person I know.”
“He had a good reason.” An angry cry drew Carrie’s attention in time to see Molly smack Emma on the head. “Oh, Molly. No no no . . .” By the time she reached her daughter, Jessi had put more distance between the babies. “I’m so sorry,” Carrie said.
Jessi waved off the apology. “She didn’t hurt her.”
“I don’t know what got into her.”
“A fit of temper is all. Emma wouldn’t give up the toy, and Molly ran out of patience.”
Carrie knew firsthand what a temper could do, and she had a sudden flash of Molly following in her father’s footsteps.
Squatting down to her daughter’s level, she said, “You never hit. Ever. That is not okay.”
“I doubt she understands,” Jessi offered. “She’s just a baby.”
“I don’t care what she is, hitting is not acceptable.”
“Dude, you need to relax. Really. No one was hurt.”
> Teetering on the edge of something she didn’t recognize, Carrie said, “That isn’t the point.”
“Is everything okay?” Snow asked.
To Carrie’s surprise, the entire party’s focus turned to her as tears rolled down Molly’s cheeks. “We’re fine.” She pulled her daughter from the walker. “We’d better go. She’s tired, and I should put her down for a nap before dinner.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll get the diaper bag.” Snow rushed off to the table by the stairs. On her way, she said, “Back to the gifts. Lorelei, there are two more by your chair.”
Carrie hurried to the door, soothing Molly as she went.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Snow asked, handing over the bag. “Your face is really pale.”
“I’m fine,” Carrie protested. “Tell Lorelei I’m sorry I had to leave early.”
“She’ll understand. Call us if you need anything, okay?”
With a quick nod, Carrie shot through the exit. Once she had Molly buckled into her seat, she kissed the little girl’s forehead. “Mommy’s sorry, honey. Mommy’s so sorry.” Wiping away her own tears with the baby blanket, she took a deep breath. Crap. I forgot the walker. In no mood to return to the party, Carrie clicked off a quick text asking Snow to grab it. “Maybe we’ll both take a nap when we get home. What do you say, kiddo? I think Mommy needs sleep as much as you do.”
A fair assessment considering she’d barely averaged four hours a night for the last few months. Carrie checked the time on her phone. More than two hours before she’d agreed to be at Noah’s. A nap wouldn’t leave her much time to freshen up, but this wasn’t really a date anyway, so what did it matter how she looked? Better messy hair than a short temper and unprovoked tears.
Exhaustion swept over her as if the burst of emotion had been too much for her system. Carrie yawned three times before they’d passed through downtown. “A nap is definitely in my future,” she mumbled.
Chapter 7
