Stealing His Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 4)

by Jen Peters

  And despite a few hot guys, including Brandt Walker with the gleam in his eye, she was not going to ease her loneliness with men.

  Then she remembered Chelsea’s invitation to stop by. If she recalled correctly, Chelsea was definitely not an early-to-bed person. And while she wasn’t Raine’s favorite person, she was at least someone she could reconnect with.

  But was she? If Chelsea hadn’t changed her ways, then she wasn’t someone Raine wanted to hang out with.

  Raine rubbed her tired feet and picked up the romance novel she’d started the night before, but it only reminded her of what she was missing. She started sketching Midnight, but found herself staring out the window. When you wanted someone to talk to, there wasn’t much else to take its place.

  And really, was she judging Chelsea unfairly? She hadn’t seen her enough lately to know what kind of a person she was now.

  Raine took a deep breath, crossed her fingers that she wasn’t making yet another mistake, and picked up her phone.

  YOU STILL UP? WANT SOME COMPANY? She texted.

  COME ON OVER! Came the reply.

  Chelsea met her at the door, a glass of wine in her hand. “Come on in, girl! You definitely need to take a load off your feet! I’ll get a glass for you.”

  Raine eyed the deep red liquid, her mouth watering, the longing rising up in her. Then she shook herself. She wasn’t going to break her resolutions now. “No, thank you, water’s fine.” If McCormick’s Creek was going to be the place where she could succeed in changing her life, she needed to start off right.

  Chelsea shrugged. “You an alcoholic or something?”

  Raine followed her into the living room. “Or something. So you never left town?” Changing the subject was always good.

  “Didn’t need to. I’m still one of the queen bees here, caught me a quarterback to marry—you remember Josh Harrison? ‘Course I had to dump him a couple years ago, found out he didn’t have the ambition to go with the good looks. But that’s okay—I’ve got my eye on someone else now. Brandt Walker.”

  “The guy with the bike shop?” It shouldn’t have meant anything, but Raine’s pulse raced and she tamped down a rising possessiveness. She’d only met him once, after all. If she didn’t count almost getting run down by him.

  “Yeah, pretty hot, isn’t he?”

  Raine forced the thoughts out of her head and took a cleansing breath to shift mental gears. She caught a glimpse of a child’s picture. “You’ve got a son?”

  Chelsea glowed. “My pride and joy. Oliver. He’s four years old now. And asleep in bed, thank goodness. I love him, but he wears me out. Now you sit down, and I’ll get my polish.”

  They talked while they gave each other manicures, and it felt like high school all over again. Chelsea still had the latest gossip about everyone in town, as well as a steady hand with the blood red polish.

  “You know,” she said, giving Raine a long look, “I only let you in to our group back then so I could mess with Miss Goody Two Shoes. You fit right in, though—shoulda pulled you in sooner.”

  Raine schooled her face, not letting her dismay show. What had happened to Robin was high on her list of bad decisions, and Chelsea hadn’t changed one iota. “My cousin says she never got over it.”

  “Hah!” Chelsea tossed her hair. “We sure had her melted into a puddle that year, didn’t we? But it was only high school. She’s caught herself a cute rancher called Cliff Jackson that I didn’t even know lived close, plus she’s starting an animal shelter. Had to do a lot of fundraising and talking to people for that, too, so I guess she got over it.” She looked up, pinning Raine with a stare. “Besides, what do you care? You’re not her friend anymore.”

  Raine wanted a hole to appear and swallow her up. She kept a pleasant face on, the same face she used for dealing with difficult clients, but if she could have a few do-overs in her life, what she’d done to Robin would be first.

  She kept her eye on her new manicure while Chelsea poured more wine. Between the snide remarks that made her cringe and the scent of the wine that fired up her cravings, Raine suddenly couldn’t take any more. “I’m sorry,” she said, standing. “I’ve got to go. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  “Sure, whatever. And hey, we’re having a cookout in a couple of weeks, under the porch if it’s raining. You should come along and meet the new people—we’ll have a lot of fun.”

  Raine drove home, not sure if she wanted to meet Chelsea’s new friends or not. She would like to see some of the old ones, though. It would depend on how she felt. The little voice in her head had returned tonight, telling her it was time to go. She’d listened to it and followed through, for the first time in a long time, so maybe it would show up again.

  And with confirmation that Justin’s handsome friend was not Robin’s guy, maybe the little voice in her head would tell her something about that, too.

  Chapter 8

  Brandt looked out through Trailhead Bike’s showroom Monday morning, willing a customer to come in. But no matter how much he stared at the front door, it remained closed. He didn’t have any superpowers after all.

  The quiet time of year didn’t mean he had to spend all of his time fighting the website. He could make that call to Josie Miller, a mountain biker who had experience with events. He pulled out a notebook and a pen in his office, wishing he could type fast enough to take decent notes on the computer.

  “Hey, Josie. It’s Brandt Walker down in McCormick’s Creek. Can I pick your brain for a few minutes?”

  Half an hour later there were still no customers, but his brain was full of problems to solve: arranging a campsite when you don’t know how many are coming, getting sponsors and insurance and outhouses—all the things you don’t think of when you’re just riding.

  That was all on top of the stuff already on his list—food vendors, sign-in tables, a shuttle van to the top of the downhill runs, first aid at various places and an ambulance on call, and enough volunteers to make sure it all ran smoothly.

  He ran his hand through his hair. There was no way he could pull this off and be able to ride it himself.

  But Josie had given him the names of places to advertise, and it wouldn’t cost much for the various club newsletters. She’d also suggested some companies who might be interested in sponsoring it.

  It was a lot of legwork, much of which didn’t have to be done now. But Brandt needed a framework to describe it to the committee, and he needed a date and an ad. Perhaps Robin Cooper would help with the ad design and publicity. Or Raine DiMarco?

  Raine had given up an event-planning career to come back to McCormick’s Creek. He wondered if she specialized in parties or real events.

  He enjoyed a little daydreaming—working on the ads together, heads close, her perfume…he didn’t know what perfume she wore. No matter, he could imagine something light and breath-taking. He’d inhale, lean a little closer, she’d look up at him. And from there…

  No! Knowing her type of person, her involvement would probably cost him more than he could afford. He needed a girlfriend who was down-to-earth and low-maintenance. He’d had enough of the other kind.

  An hour later, Brandt had just begun rearranging the gloves and helmets—he’d keep less stock through the winter, so it needed to be more compact to look good—when the entrance bell chimed.

  “Hello, welcome to Trailhead Bikes,” he called.

  It was Raine DiMarco, who, judging from her flirty skirt and her deep red fingernails, was not there to buy a mountain bike. “Can I help you find anything?” he asked anyway.

  “No, just looking around,” she answered honestly. “I dated a guy once who rode mountain bikes, but I’m not sure I’d still think it sounds fun.”

  “There’s a little adventurer in all of us,” Brandt said. He forced himself to stay professional. “The thing is, there aren’t any beginner trails around here. Yet.”

  “I didn’t even think about different levels.”

  “Just like s
kiing. Beginner up to double black diamond.”

  She looked up at him, green eyes flashing. “And I bet you ride the black diamond ones.”

  Okay, so he could have a little fun, right? “All the time. I love challenges of any sort.”

  “On and off the trail?” The corner of her mouth tilted up.

  “Definitely both. I’m an adrenaline junkie, and I like dangerous sports.”

  She studied him, blinking occasionally. “So where are these trails?”

  “Sharptail goes along a couple of ridge crests, and Devil’s Hill is a fast downhill.”

  “Devil’s Hill?”

  “C’mere, I’ll show you.” He led her to the office and clicked a tab on his website to bring up the trail maps. He pointed with one finger. “This is where we met the first time on Sharptail, where you stopped in the middle of the trail and—”

  “And you almost ran me down.”

  “—And I couldn’t see you,” he corrected. He kept his eyes locked with hers.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m more careful now.”

  He nodded, finally pulling his gaze away. “That trail runs for about ten miles and is good if you’re at least an intermediate rider. And this one is Devil’s Hill, black diamond, shorter but a lot steeper.”

  “So how does someone learn if there are no beginner trails?” She looked up at him again.

  “Wait until next year. We’ll be building two more, hopefully three, and that third one will be smooth and flowy for beginners.”

  She drew those lovely eyebrows together. “You don’t just ride the trails that are already there?”

  “Deer trails can be great to start with, but we like to plan the curves and the steep parts and the obstacles.”

  She peered closer, and he clicked into another tab. “Here’s pictures of them, different spots on the trail.” Her hair was a breath away, smelling of strawberries.

  “You know what would be good? You should put small versions of some of these on the map page, so people get a better idea of it.”

  “Mm hmm. That would be good.” And it would be, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on that now. She turned her head, and her eyes took his breath away. Soft, luminous. He didn’t care anymore about who she reminded him of.

  He leaned closer. The air heated between them, and her face softened.

  The phone rang, shattering the moment.

  Raine jerked back first, a light breath escaping.

  Brandt sighed. “Trailhead Bikes, can I help you?” He answered a few questions about taking a street bike on a trail, and turned back to Raine.

  “What’s this?” She pointed to a tab labeled Events.

  He clicked on it. “Just a placeholder right now, but I’m hoping to have a rally up here next summer. That’s why we need more trails—it will draw more people in.”

  “An event?” She perked up for some reason.

  “Uh huh. Camping, biking, music, that sort of thing.”

  She nodded. “That’s a lot of work.”

  “Yeah, but I’m talking to people who have organized other rides, and there’s a town committee that might contribute some of the expense money.”

  Her eyebrows raised halfway to her hair. “Really? McCormick’s Creek has money to give away?” Her voice was businesslike and the flirting was definitely over.

  “I guess. I have a friend on the committee, and he told me to apply. It’s to help events that will bring people to town.” He thought he had a good shot at getting the seed money. Justin had said there was only one other applicant—a guy who wanted a skatepark, which wouldn’t qualify for a tourism grant. But maybe Raine could help. “Uh, in Seattle, were you party planning or doing corporate—”

  “Both.” She shifted her purse from hand to hand like she was anxious, but he couldn’t figure out why. She glanced around, rocked on the balls of her feet a couple of times, and then said, “I’ve got to go. It was nice to see your store.”

  Brandt stared after her, unsure what had just happened. But maybe she was just flighty, which was totally in keeping with his experience of her type of woman.

  He put her out of his mind. He had work to do.

  * * *

  “Tori!” Raine burst through the door, tossing her purse on the couch. “McCormick’s Creek has event money available!” She was still mortified at how quickly she’d fallen into shameless flirting and an almost-kiss with Brandt Walker, but the news trumped all of that.

  Tori came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What’s that?”

  “I just heard that there’s a committee providing money for events that will bring people to town.”

  “Really? Hmm, now that you say that, I think I heard something a while back. But I’m not really in that crowd, so I haven’t paid attention.”

  Raine refrained from rolling her eyes—not everyone was as into events as she was. “So who would I talk to about it? And how unbiased do you think they are? Brandt from the bike shop said he had a friend on the committee.”

  Tori leaned against the door. “Honey, in a town this size, everyone knows everybody. You know that.”

  She did. And unfortunately, people would also assume they knew her, or the person she used to be, and would probably judge her accordingly. But she had to start somewhere. “Do you know who’s on the committee?”

  “I’d just ask at the town offices tomorrow,” Tori said, turning away. “I’ve got to get dinner in the oven or we won’t eat until midnight.”

  While the casserole cooked, Raine filled page after page with ideas and lists and questions to answer. The town money was undoubtedly for the next year, but she’d have to narrow down her ideas. The antique show? A wine fest or beer garden? A summer concert series? Even a period tea at the McCormick Inn. She wondered about Jane Austen fans and how picky they were about holding events only in 18th century English mansions.

  The next morning, Raine left the town offices with sagging shoulders. There was only $2,400 to award, and she knew that wouldn’t go very far. A few radio ads, some security and clean-up, maybe get a third-rate band for a concert.

  The small amount of money wasn’t the only problem. The grant committee consisted of five members, three of whom probably remembered her from high school. And one of them was Justin Cooper, Robin’s big brother and Brandt’s friend. He’d probably vote for Brandt’s project just because they were friends, but he’d be adamant that Raine not get any funds just because of who she was and how she’d hurt his sister.

  People here in McCormick’s Creek had long memories—she’d already found that out with the customers at the store. She could probably change their minds a little, but only with a lot of work and a very long time.

  And Brandt. She couldn’t deny how attracted she was to him, but she needed to avoid superficial relationships. She wanted more than that—she dreamed of long term, absolutely committed love. Love that would survive the storms of life, that would keep them both anchored to each other no matter how old they got or how sexy a new person appeared.

  Brandt wasn’t that person. Besides his too-easy flirting, even if she had fallen into it herself, they were going to be on opposite sides of a money issue that could only have one winner. And there was nothing like money to drive two people apart.

  She headed home to cuddle with Midnight and make phone calls. She still had face painting and a hot dog vendor to set up. But she had a feeling she was only at the beginning of a long, lonely road.

  Chapter 9

  Brandt had his own bike up on the rack, checking the gears. They had felt a little rough lately, and he suspected the hanger might need straightening. The shop was quiet and he had plenty of time, other than the constant nagging of his brain that he ought to be building up his online presence.

  But he loved the mechanical side of the sport almost as much as the exertion and rush of being on the trail. He liked the whir of a well-adjusted chain, the feel of a wrench in his hands, the smell of oil and g
rease that pervaded everything. And he loved the sense of accomplishment when he fixed a bike, whether it was his, a friend’s, or one to sell.

  He removed the rear derailleur and fit the alignment tool on, then checked the gauge against the wheel rim. The office phone rang, but customers knew to leave a message if he wasn’t available. It finally stopped, and then his back pocket started vibrating with his cell phone.

  He sighed. If they were calling both numbers, they really wanted him. He used the last clean spot on the shop rag to wipe his hands and pulled his phone out. His mother. And she wouldn’t be calling to offer a chicken dinner.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Brandt! You didn’t answer the store phone, and I thought you might be goofing off on a bike ride again.”

  He held back the sigh that wanted to escape. “No, Mom, I’m just in back, not in the actual office. What’s up?”

  “You can’t sell bikes if you aren’t in the store, can you?”

  “No, Mom, but there’s more to this business than selling bikes. I also do repairs, remember?” No need to mention that he was repairing his own bike.

  “But then you’re all greasy and smelly, and you can’t sell bikes that way, either.”

  Brandt grimaced. “I can, Mom. This isn’t real estate where you have to be dressed up and driving a spiffy car. If someone happens to come in and sees me ‘all greasy and smelly,’ that just shows them that I know what I’m doing.”

  “Happens to come in? Sweetheart, don’t you have enough customers?” His mother’s voice was getting higher.

  “Mom, I’m fine. The shop’s fine. It’s gorgeous weather here, and plenty of people come through. Now, how are you and Dad?”

  They chatted a bit about family stuff, her jewelry creations, the last apartment building his brother had sold. “Your father’s really proud of him,” his mother said.

  “That’s great, Mom,” Brandt finally said. “But I’ve got to get back to this repair. Give Dad my love.”