A Secret Chance: A Small Town Love Story (Chance Rapids Book 4)

by A. J. Wynter

“Of course,” Charlotte whispered. “I’ll grab some cash for you.”

  Charlotte was the kind of person who always had a stash of cash hidden somewhere in her house. “What was the sudden expense?”

  “That stupid sweater,” Lauren replied, her face burning.

  “You spent four hundred dollars on a sweater? That’s not like you,” she whispered.

  They met Logan and Tabitha in the kitchen. Logan had pulled some plates out of the cupboard and had already doled out slices of the thin crust Margherita pizza. Charlotte had a huge formal dining room, but like most nights, they pulled out the barstools and sat around the kitchen island laughing and eating their pizza.

  “Lauren,” Logan smiled. “I hear you took a little spill today.”

  All three of them turned to look at her. “Where did you hear that?” She had fallen down on Main Street in a small town. The gossip train was alive and well in Chance Rapids.

  Lauren wasn’t planning to tell the story about how she first met the Caldwell executives, but it seemed like that was no longer an option. She launched into the story about the girl grabbing her arm and the coffee flying. She didn’t know why, but she decided to leave out the impromptu shopping spree.

  “Are you alright?” Logan asked. “They need to put some more gravel down on those sidewalks if you ask me.”

  “Or people need to stop wearing their heels.” Charlotte grinned; her lips stained purple with wine.

  “It wasn’t too long ago that you were the one stomping around town in your Jimmy Choo’s,” Logan laughed. Lauren caught the glance between her sister and boyfriend; Logan had picked Charlotte up from the middle of the street after her own baby deer on ice heels moment.

  Lauren helped Charlotte rinse off the dishes. “Would you like another glass?” Charlotte raised the bottle. Lauren could’ve easily drunk another full bottle, but she shook her head no. “It’s a school day tomorrow.” She checked her watch. “We should actually get going.” She yelled to Tabitha, “Honey, gather up your things.”

  Logan had disappeared to watch hockey and while Tabitha packed her backpack, Charlotte charged upstairs and returned with an envelope in her hand. “Here you go,” she whispered.

  “Thanks.” Lauren tucked the envelope into her purse and pulled on her mittens. “I’ll get it back to you soon.”

  Tabitha headed out the front door and Lauren followed. When they were halfway down the pathway, Charlotte peeked her head out of the door. “Lala?” she whispered.

  Lauren stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

  “He bought you that sweater, didn’t he?”

  Lauren didn’t have to say anything, the itching and burning from earlier returned and she could feel her face blushing two shades darker than her sister’s lipstick.

  Charlotte laughed. “Scandalous. I love it,” she grinned and then winked before shutting the door.

  Lauren shook her head. She hated that her sister could read her like a book. She hopped into the car and started it up.

  “You’ve got a message.” Tabitha held up the phone.

  “Shoot, I guess I forgot my phone in the car.”

  She pulled off her glove and blew on her fingertips, the phone a cold brick in her hand. She swiped to read the message; it was the city area code from a number she didn’t recognize.

  It just said:

  “Dinner tomorrow?”

  The message was sent at 6:10, and another message had followed at 6:14, “Business dinner.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. With the fingertip of her glove between her teeth, she typed back, “Who is this?” She dropped the phone back into the cup holder and tried not to smirk.

  “What was that all about?” Tabitha asked, her eyebrows raised at her mom.

  “Business,” Lauren said and put the car in gear.

  Chapter 9

  THE LIGHT FROM THE phone screen blasted him in the face: 5:10 a.m. Baxter sat up in bed and stretched. His body had become programmed to wake up before the sun, a habit that he had started years earlier and was convinced was the secret to his success. He dressed in his workout clothes and headed to the home gym on the first floor. He hadn’t slept well, he kept replaying the meetings in his mind, wishing that he had reined Thomas in a little better. His executive’s big city bulldozer attitude wasn’t going to fly in this small town.

  He stepped on the treadmill and checked his text messages. When there was nothing from Lauren Bunkman, he clicked on his workout playlist and turned the treadmill up faster. Inviting her to dinner had been a mistake, and Baxter wished that he could go back in time and stop his foolish self from pressing the send button. He turned the treadmill up even faster and as he scrolled through his workout playlist his phone chimed with an incoming text message.

  I am free for a coffee meeting at either 9 a.m. or 1 p.m.

  Very curt and to the point, he thought to himself, slightly relieved that she had replied, but disappointed by the coldness of her response. His heart rate monitor beeped, notifying him that his beats per minute were higher than it should be, but he chalked it up to the altitude, not the fact that Lauren had agreed to meet with him. He resisted the urge to message her back immediately, instead he cranked up his favorite Metallica song and ran a mile in a personal best time.

  After he showered and dressed, he found his team exactly where he knew they’d be, at the coffee machine. “Good morning,” he said. He set his briefcase down on the kitchen island and pulled a mug down from the cupboard.

  “Morning, sir,” Nicole smiled as she filled his mug with coffee.

  “Did you see the snow?” Thomas asked.

  Baxter glanced out the window. In the darkness of the early morning, he hadn’t noticed the quarter-sized flakes slowly falling from the sky. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Ugh,” Barry said. “Can our next project be in the Caribbean? Or somewhere hot?”

  Baxter laughed. “I’ll see what I can do, but if this all goes through, you’re going to have to learn how to ski. We’re going to be here for a long time.”

  “About that,” Thomas said. “Do we need to talk about how we’re going to deal with the conservation authority and that lawyer?”

  “Yes.” Baxter sidled up the island and perched on one of the leather barstools. “I’m going to meet with her today actually.”

  “Good. That woman could singlehandedly derail this whole project,” Barry said.

  The fact wasn’t lost on Baxter. He knew the importance of getting somebody, anybody on their side. If they could get the Conservation Authority on board it could turn around the whole project.

  “I still think we can out lawyer them.” Thomas slurped his coffee. “Easily.”

  “That might be so,” Baxter said. “But, before we go in with guns a-blazing, let’s try to win them over.”

  “Fine,” Thomas shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Baxter knew that Thomas was right. This town wasn’t going to let them move forward without a fight.

  “Would you like me to attend the meeting and take notes?” Nicole asked. She was picking away at the top of a cranberry muffin.

  “Not today,” Baxter said quickly, then added. “I want to keep this casual, informal.” He pulled out his phone and responded to Lauren’s message. Nine a.m. works for me. Almost instantly his phone chimed back. See you at 9. Sugar Peaks Café.

  Was the woman a robot? No pleasantries at all. Baxter mirrored her tone. Affirmative.

  With the team ready and assembled for the day, Baxter paced across the living room. He had an hour until his meeting with Lauren and couldn’t focus on anything else. He pulled on his wool coat, a pair of rugged winter boots, and a wool hat. “I’m going for a walk,” he shouted into the dining room.

  “A walk?” Barry peeked his head out the door.

  “You guys take the SUV into town for the meeting with the townspeople. I need to get some air. I’ll walk.”

  Barry shook his head and laughed. “You crazy snow-loving bast
ard. You’re going to be a snowball by the time you get there.”

  Baxter laughed and waved Barry off with the back of his hand. “Report back this afternoon.”

  “Will do, boss.” Barry saluted and disappeared back into the room.

  The snow crunched under Baxter’s sturdy boots as he made his way past the other million-dollar homes. All of the roads had cutesy names, clearly selected by a developer’s marketing team. He chuckled as he passed Powder Puff Trail, and then Sugar Peaks Way. As he strode down the switchbacks of the mountain road, the snow continued to accumulate, and soon it was over the ankles of his boots. As the red covered bridge that separated the swanky subdivision from the main part of town appeared, he heard a car pull up behind him. He turned, expecting to see Barry’s crooked grin from behind the wheel, but the smile in the luxury vehicle belonged to the realtor that they had met with a few days earlier.

  She crept up beside him and rolled down the window. “Need a ride?” she smiled.

  “Thank you, but no, I’m enjoying the walk.” He smiled and kept walking.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s starting to snow pretty hard; I almost didn’t see you.”

  Baxter looked down and saw that his jacket was coated in snow.

  “The first thing you should add to your plan is a designated walking trail,” she shouted as she matched the SUV to his walking pace. “Hop in.” She stopped and Baxter realized she wasn’t going to let it go. He jogged around the front of the car and hopped in the passenger side. “Thanks,” he said. He brushed the snow off the arms of his jacket.

  “Look at your hat,” she laughed. He pulled off the green hat to find it crusted in an inch of snow. “If you’re trying to fit in with the locals, it’s not working. Nobody would walk into town in a blizzard like this.” She put the car in drive and flicked on the wipers.

  “You look like a snowman,” a voice said from the back.

  Baxter turned to see a young girl buckled into the back seat. She was wearing a hat with the biggest pompom he had ever seen and was holding a book in her hands.

  “That’s Tabitha,” Charlotte said. “And yes, you do look resemble a snowman.”

  “Hi, Tabitha.” He turned to smile at the young girl. “My name is Baxter.”

  “I’ve never met anyone named Baxter before, except a dog,” she said.

  Baxter laughed. He was always amazed at the honesty of children. “Well, if you must know, Baxter is my middle name, my first name is Brock.”

  Charlotte raised her eyebrow while she was driving. “Brock Baxter?” she said.

  “The second,” he laughed.

  “How come you go by your middle name?” Tabitha’s squeaky voice rang out from the back seat.

  “I was tired of everyone mixing me up with my dad,” he replied honestly.

  The tires of Charlotte’s car hummed on the wooden planks and the world went dark as they entered the covered bridge.

  “Will your son be number three?” Tabitha inquired.

  As the SUV emerged from the bridge back into the muted gray of the snowstorm, Baxter could feel the dampness seeping through his coat as the layer of snow started to melt. A drip from his hat landed on his cheek and startled him, but not as much as the young girl’s question.

  My son.

  There are guys who have always pictured throwing a ball for their son, teaching them how to ski or skate, passing on the family name, but that guy wasn’t Baxter.

  “I guess if I have a son, I might...” He hesitated. “You know what? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

  He caught Charlotte’s smirk as he shifted in his seat with the interrogation.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked.

  “I have a meeting at the Sugar Peaks Café,” he replied. He checked his watch. He would be a little early but could get situated with a coffee and catch up with the news while he waited.

  “Is it alright with you if I drop Tabitha off at school first?” she asked.

  “That’s fine with me,” Baxter replied.

  When Tabitha hopped out of the car in front of her busy school, she yelled, “Bye, Charlotte. Bye, Brock Baxter the Second.” Then she giggled and headed towards the school, her pink backpack bouncing as she ran.

  “Charlotte?”

  “I’m progressive,” Charlotte laughed. “She’s wise beyond her years, that one.” As she pulled the car onto the main street, the snow eased up and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. “How are your meetings going? Or is that confidential?”

  “They’re going great,” Baxter lied before he could stop himself.

  “Really?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Well, there might be a few hiccups, but nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Hiccups, right.” Her smile was wry, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, remember what I said. Get the Conservation Authority on your side, and then I can help you out.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Charlotte pulled up in front of the Sugar Peaks Café.

  “As a matter of fact, that’s what I’m doing right now.” He brushed the melted snow off of his briefcase and paused with his hand on the door handle, “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Are you going to need a lift home, or were you planning to snowshoe?”

  He chuckled in spite of himself. “My team will be in town. If not, I’ll call the Chance Rapids Limo Company.”

  “At your service,” Charlotte laughed and pretended to salute. “Good luck with your meeting.”

  “Thanks,” Baxter replied. “I’m going to need it.”

  “Yeah,” Charlotte said. She put the car into gear. “I hear their lawyer is a real ball-buster.”

  Baxter puffed out an exhale, the cloud of steam hanging heavily in the air. “No kidding. Thanks again,” he said and closed the door.

  Charlotte waved as she drove away. Well, at least one person in this town doesn’t hate us, he thought to himself. He wondered how someone as business-oriented as Charlotte O’Hare could be so averse to bringing development into the town.

  As he made his way up the freshly shoveled walkway to the Sugar Peaks Café, he wondered how well she knew Lauren Bunkman.

  Chapter 10

  THE HAIR ON HER ARMS rose as she saw his icy blue eyes through the crowd in the coffee lineup. She took a breath and then waved as casually as she could. He smiled and nodded. Lauren stood as he approached the table, hoping that her palms weren’t as sweaty as she knew they were.

  “Miss Bunkman,” he greeted her as he extended his hand.

  “Lauren is fine,” she said, shaking his hand, noticing that her palms weren’t the only sweaty ones. She glanced around the coffee shop. The fire was blazing in the river rock hearth and the windows were steamy from all the people inside. They were warm, that’s all. Stop reading too much into the handshake, she told herself.

  “I ordered you a cappuccino,” she said. “It should be here momentarily.” She tapped the number for their order which was carved into a round piece of wood.

  “Thank you.” He held onto the back of the chair.

  They stood across the table from each other. “You’re welcome,” Lauren replied. “I took a guess about your coffee. For some reason, you don’t seem like the soymilk kind of guy.”

  He tilted his head at her and smiled quizzically. “How so?”

  Shit. What was she doing?

  “I mean, you, well...” she stammered. Come on Lauren, pull yourself together.

  “You put cream in your coffee yesterday,” she blurted out. Thankful that her brain had started chugging along again, allowing her to access her memory. What she really wanted to say was that he seemed far too masculine to be into alternative milk.

  “So, I did,” he smiled.

  They stood there, each resting their hands on the back of the wooden chairs. The pause in the conversation was growing more and more awkward with every second.

  “Shall we have a
seat?” He stepped around the table and pulled out Lauren’s chair for her.

  “Thank you,” she replied, surprised by the gentlemanlike gesture. As they settled into their places at the table, the barista appeared with two cappuccinos in large mugs, their foamy tops adorned with cinnamon sprinkles shaped like hearts.

  “Thank you,” she smiled.

  “You’re welcome, Lauren,” the young girl replied. As soon as she left Lauren picked up the tiny spoon and stirred away the heart.

  “Do you know everyone in this town?” Baxter asked.

  “I’m still new,” she laughed. “There’s still a good ten people I haven’t talked to yet.”

  Baxter chuckled. “It must be nice knowing everyone.”

  “Nice?” Lauren scoffed. “If you want everyone knowing your business.”

  He raised his eyebrows, and Lauren continued but softened her tone. “I mean, most people here are good and try to help each other out. This is a solid community.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Baxter asked.

  “I grew up here,” Lauren replied.

  “Oh, really?”

  Lauren took a sip of her coffee. “I left to go to university, and then law school. I just moved back last year.”

  “What brought you back?”

  For a businessman on the opposing side, he seemed genuinely interested in Lauren’s life. A little too interested. She shifted; the wooden seat had suddenly become a hot seat. “A few things,” she replied. “I would ask what brought you here, but I already know the answer to that,” she laughed, trying to steer the conversation away from herself and toward the actual reason for their meeting. “Where did you grow up?” she asked.

  “I went to a few different boarding schools, in Switzerland mostly.”

  Lauren nodded. They had come from two totally separate worlds. He grew up eating croissants and expensive cheese, she had lived on bologna on white bread; with a slice of processed cheese if she was lucky. “That sounds nice.” She couldn’t even think of a good question to ask him about his fancy boarding schools.

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Really?” All of sudden, Baxter seemed a lot more interesting. “Why?”