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

by A. J. Wynter

  “Actually, I’ve heard that the beer is top-notch,” he said.

  Thomas wasn’t an idiot and caught on. “I can’t wait to try some then,” he said.

  “I’ll drop you off at the front,” Al said. The crowd was growing thicker.

  “Is everyone in town here?” Baxter asked, gazing at the sea of people ahead of him, colorful parkas bustling about in the parking lot adjacent to the skating rink.

  “Pretty much,” Al chuckled.

  Baxter took a deep breath. He had been playing the scenario in his head over and over on the drive into town. He had figured out how he was going to play it if she was there. Cool. That’s it. Miss Bunkman was a business acquaintance and that’s all. If he saw one of his rival executives at a lounge, he would say hi, or at least acknowledge their existence, and that’s what he was going to do with Lauren - if she was even there. But his quickened heartbeat and sweaty palms told him that he knew the answer. Of course, she was going to be there.

  “Alright, the entrance is over there.” Al put the car in park and pointed in the direction of the colorful crowd. “Do you have your medallions?”

  “We’ve got ‘em,” Baxter said. “Come on, guys. Put on your badges.” They groaned and complied. The medallions had been strung on varying shades of yarn and looked out of place against the cashmere and wool coats of his team. Odd like ketchup on caviar.

  They hopped out of the car, with Baxter was the only one in sensible footwear. His boots aggressively crunched in the freshly fallen snow while the rest of his group slipped and slid their way to the festival. As much as he hated to admit it, Baxter found himself constantly scanning the crowd, his heart jumping every time someone with long chestnut hair came into view.

  “Well, where should we start?” Baxter asked.

  Nicole grabbed a paper itinerary and had it unfolded in front of her face. “Ooh, how about the chainsaw carving?”

  “What are they carving?” Barry asked.

  “Doesn’t say,” she replied.

  “Let’s start there,” Baxter said. “Lead the way, Nicole.” Nicole smiled and teetered on her heels ahead of the men in her group. As they wound their way through the Skittle-colored crowd, Baxter whispered to Barry, “I didn’t know that this many people could fit in this town.”

  “I know,” Barry whispered back. “But this is probably the only interesting thing they get to do all year.”

  Baxter saw a few of the people around him raise their eyebrows. He leaned into Barry, “Careful, everyone listens here.”

  “Got it,” Barry nodded. “What is that delicious smell?” he asked.

  Baxter pointed to the bright red food truck parked ahead, “I think it’s coming from there.”

  “Hey, Nicole,” Barry shouted and pointed to the source of the sweet fried smell. “Pit stop.”

  “We’ll see you at the carving contest,” Nicole pointed ahead, and Barry gave her the thumbs up.

  “I hope those two behave themselves,” Baxter shook his head. “They don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just how they are.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Barry said. “I hope.”

  Baxter smiled and shook his head. The two of them stepped into the line up at one of the food trucks.

  “Looks like a flat donut.” Barry was on his toes trying to see what was being handed down to the people in front of him.

  “They are.” A lady in front of them turned and smiled. She had a baby in a sling wrapped around her body. “You can choose your toppings,” she pointed to the whiteboard in the window.

  “What do you recommend?” Baxter asked.

  The woman was bouncing up and down, her hand resting on the back of her baby. “They’re all good, but I go for the traditional, cinnamon and sugar. Sometimes I add a little lemon.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Barry smiled. “How old is your baby?” he asked.

  “He’s almost a year.”

  “I loved that age.” Barry’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at the woman. “Although my wife was the one with the serious sleep deprivation.”

  Baxter knew very well that Barry and his wife Carol had employed at least two nannies. He watched his lead barrister in action, pretending to be interested in this woman’s baby. Baxter couldn’t imagine his executive actually wanting to know about this small human’s sleeping patterns, but Barry was putting on a convincing show.

  When they reached the window, the woman, who had introduced herself as Megan, smiled and received her plate of fried dough. “It was nice chatting with you,” she said.

  “You too,” Barry replied.

  The woman waved and disappeared into the crowd. The two-piece band, featuring an upright bass and acoustic guitar started playing and the familiar intro to Brown Eyed Girl rang out through the crowd. Most people around them started to sway to the music and Baxter found himself joining in.

  “Want to check out the chainsaws?” Baxter asked. Barry was blowing out hot steam into the air and fanning his mouth. “Are they hot?” Baxter laughed.

  Barry elbowed him as he continued to fan his mouth, and with their steaming cinnamon sugar treats balanced in hand, the two of them headed to find the chainsaw carving.

  “Where do you think it is?” Barry asked.

  “Oh, we’ll hear it,” Baxter smiled. His tree planting days were long behind him, but he still remembered just how ear-piercing a chainsaw could be. “We should probably find some earplugs—”

  “Hi, Brock.” Baxter stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t been called Brock in years. The sound of the band slipped away as he turned, but it wasn’t Lauren who had shouted his name, it was the realtor’s little girl. He racked his brain to remember her name but was coming up with a blank. The only name that was coming to his mind was Garfield.

  “Hi... you,” he said. The little girl was wearing a bright purple hat and holding one of the pastries on a plate in front of her. “Are these good?” He held up his own.

  “They’re a gastronomic delight,” she shouted.

  “Well then, I can’t wait to try it.” He took a bite and she did the same. “Mmm. A gastronomic delight,” he said after swallowing.

  “Glad you liked it. Bye.” She waved and then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Bye,” Baxter waved with his pastry.

  “A gastronomic delight,” Barry chuckled. “Someone’s got an advanced vocabulary for her age.”

  “How would you know that?” Baxter asked.

  Barry turned to him. “I have kids,” he said.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you were, I don’t know, that kind of involved with them.”

  The smile disappeared from Barry’s face and Baxter was instantly filled with regret. “I mean, shit, I didn’t mean...” he trailed off.

  “It’s okay.” Barry took another bite of his pastry and huffed out more hot air. “I can see how you would think that. I’m dedicated to my job, but I’m a family man too.”

  Baxter raised his eyebrows, “So, you weren’t acting just then, with that woman Megan?”

  “No,” Barry chuckled. “That was a cute baby.”

  “What?” Baxter said. The chainsaws had drowned out every sound around them.

  “Let’s check it out,” Baxter yelled and took a sip from his coffee cup.

  THEIR EARS WERE RINGING as they walked away from the chainsaw carving competition. “My wife’s gonna kill me,” Barry said. He had just purchased a thousand-dollar chainsaw carving of a bear.

  “What are you talking about?” Baxter laughed. “That will fit right in beside the gates at the end of your driveway.” Baxter had not been looking forward to the Winter Carnival, he had actually been dreading it all week, but was pleasantly surprised to discover he was having a good time. Despite everyone in town knowing that they were the evil developers, people had been kind to them.

  “What’s next on the menu, boss?” Barry asked eyeing up the line of food trucks.

  The two of them had demolished those cinnamon past
ry things and had also polished off two elk burgers. “I’m stuffed.” Baxter looked up at the bulletin board ahead of them, “How about we enter one of the contests?”

  “Ax-throwing?” Barry raised his eyebrow. “Against this crowd? No thanks.”

  Baxter took the pencil on the string and printed his name on the sign-up sheet. “Suit yourself,” he said. His outdoorsman days were long behind him, but he assumed ax-throwing was like riding a bike. No sooner had he written his name, a carnival volunteer came and took the sheet from the clipboard. “Looks like I’m up,” he grinned at Barry. The two of them followed the volunteer through the crowd to an opening where a massive tree round was mounted to a fence, shiny axes lined up ready for chucking.

  The volunteer spoke into a bullhorn, “First up, the ladies!”

  Barry and Baxter clapped along with the crowd around them. Baxter started to get nervous when every single Rapidian woman who entered the contest easily hit the wooden round.

  “Looks easy.” Barry leaned in and shouted as the crowd went crazy.

  A pretty blond woman who looked slightly familiar to Baxter stepped up for her turn. The woman looked like a model and had the biggest cheering section.

  “Holy shit,” Barry whispered. “That’s Logan Brush,” he said pointing to the blonde’s fans. “I forgot that he moved here.”

  Baxter scanned the crowd and sure enough, the famous ex-pro hockey player was standing on the opposite side of the crowd. He looked back to the contest in time to see the ax fall to the ground with a thud. The blond woman was the first to completely miss the target.

  “Her laughing probably doesn’t help her aim.” Barry elbowed Baxter. The woman missed every single time but left the throwing area with a huge smile on her face.

  “Isn’t that the kid we saw?” Barry hadn’t taken his eyes off Logan Brush’s crew. Baxter scanned the crowd and sure enough the little girl, Tabitha—that was her name, not Garfield,—he shook his head and laughed at himself. He choked on the next sip of his coffee when he saw who was standing behind Tabitha. There was her mother, the real estate agent, and... Lauren.

  “Next up, the men’s competition.” The volunteer’s voice boomed through the loudspeaker.

  “You’re up, boss,” Barry said.

  Baxter had already been nervous, now his hands were full-on trembling. “Let’s go,” he whispered to Barry.

  “What?” Barry asked. He clapped as all of the contestant’s names were read.

  “Come on,” Baxter grabbed Barry’s elbow just as his name was shouted through the loudspeaker. Everyone in the crowd turned to face him.

  “Looks like you’re not getting out of this one.” Barry stepped out of his way.

  Baxter smiled at the volunteer and jogged over to the lineup of mountain men waiting to throw the axes. Unlike the hatchets the women were throwing, the men’s were double-headed, more suited to a Viking than a CEO.

  Even at six feet tall, the gigantic hockey player loomed in front of Baxter. The man effortlessly lobbed the giant ax into the bullseye three times in a row like it weighed nothing. The entire crowd was behind Logan Brush, but his friends were the loudest. He tried not to glance over at them, but every time they erupted in cheers his eyes involuntarily met Lauren’s. They averted their gazes every time. Baxter started to feel like he was getting a mild case of whiplash when it happened for a third time. When it was his turn to throw, he cast another quick glance over and it happened again, but this time Lauren was the one to whip her gaze away. He looked away from the beautiful woman and his eyes fell on Charlotte, who smiled at him. The hockey player waved at the screaming crowd and made his way to stand beside the realtor and pulled her in close to him.

  Next up, “Baxter Caldwell,” the bullhorn wielding volunteer shouted.

  Baxter gulped and stepped up to the line. The crowd clapped politely. He grabbed the handle with his leather gloves and stepped to the mark. The ax was heavier than the ones he had thrown at the planter’s camp, but once he had it in his hands, his muscle memory took over and he arced it over his head slowly and then contracted his entire body as he swung the ax over his head. As soon as his fingers released the handle, he knew that it was too early. The ax sailed completely over the target and clattered against the chain-link fence behind it.

  “Someone ate their Wheaties this morning,” the announcer’s voice boomed through the megaphone and the crowd tittered. He couldn’t even look over at Lauren. He knew that his face was two shades redder than it should be.

  He jogged to retrieve the ax, well aware of everyone’s eyes on the outsider. He stepped to the line and took a deep breath. The crowd dissolved around him, the only thing he could see was the wooden target. He reared back and threw the ax again, this time releasing it at the perfect time. It performed two slow loops in the air before sticking perfectly into the bullseye. The crowd clapped and when a woman’s voice whooped, adrenaline shot through his body and he stole a quick glance at Lauren, but she was mid-conversation. The voice cheered again, and he turned to see a woman in a pleather jacket clapping and cheering while she visibly chewed a piece of gum. He nailed his third shot and the entire crowd cheered this time. He may not have won, but he had redeemed himself from his first throw. He retrieved the ax and handed it to the next contestant, another mountain man wearing a plaid jacket.

  Don’t look, don’t look, he whispered to himself as he joined Barry along the sideline then cursed himself as he stole another glance across the crowd, expecting to meet the emerald eyes one more time. She was like a car crash. He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t stop himself. But this time he did a double take. She was gone.

  Chapter 17

  LAUREN’S ARMS PUMPED by her sides, making a swishing sound against the body of her down jacket while she made her way through the crowd, trying not to bump into the other carnival-goers. She gasped as she felt a hand on her arm, stopping her forward momentum. She turned to see her sister.

  “Ow, let go,” she said. She flexed her arm and tried to pull it out of her sister’s newfound herculean grip. Charlotte squeezed her harder, but then released her grip. “That’s going to leave a bruise.” She rubbed at her arm.

  “Where are you going?” Charlotte asked.

  Lauren looked around, still rubbing her arm, “I have to get out of here.” Then she leaned in closer, “Did you see him looking at me?”

  “How could I have missed that?” Charlotte whispered. “Do you think he figured it out? Does he know who you are?”

  “I don’t know,” Lauren said. Her heart was hammering against her chest. It seemed like the harder she had tried to avoid meeting his eyes, the more it had happened.

  “Maybe he just thinks that you’re hot,” Charlotte said.

  “Maybe.” Lauren bit her lower lip, a habit she only did when she was deep in thought. “But I doubt it.” She pursed her lips together.

  “Me too,” Charlotte said. “He couldn’t stop looking at you. And he looked embarrassed – especially when he chucked that ax over the target.”

  Lauren looked at her sister. “Where’s Tabitha?”

  “She’s with Logan.”

  What do I do now?” Her voice wavered, the adrenaline coursing through her body affecting her hands as well as her vocal cords.

  “Come on.” Charlotte waved for Lauren to follow her. The two of them ducked inside the ice rink, and hidden amongst the crowd, engulfed in the smell of French fries and Zamboni exhaust, they discussed Lauren’s options. Charlotte favored a more confrontational approach, whereas Lauren wanted to continue with what she did best - avoidance.

  “Can’t I just pretend not to see him?” she asked. “Or,” her eyes opened widely, “we could just leave.”

  Charlotte folded her arms and leaned against the painted concrete wall. “Absolutely not. You never take time off, and this carnival happens once a year. Don’t let a man stop you from enjoying the day with your daughter.”

  “You’re right,” Lauren sighed and
leaned against the wall beside her sister. “I’m overreacting. If we are grown adults, why do I feel like I’m back in high school again?”

  “That’s not always a bad thing,” Charlotte said. “Did you see him hit the target? When he stepped up there in his wool coat and Burberry scarf, I didn’t think he was even going to be able to pick up the damn thing.”

  “I knew that he could do it. He was a tree planter when I, when I, um... knew him.” Lauren fought for her words.

  “A tree planter who can stay at a luxury heli-ski lodge?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Come on, Lauren.”

  But it was true. At the time, all Lauren had seen was a young idealist who had the same patch on his backpack that she did. “We spent all night talking about living off the grid and alternative energy. There wasn’t a trace of this evil developer in him back then.”

  “You obviously didn’t just talk alllll night.” Charlotte winked.

  Lauren’s face flushed and she stared at the black rubber flooring.

  “Are you blushing?” Charlotte teased.

  Lauren looked up, her cheeks burning, and smacked her sister on the arm.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink,” Charlotte said. “Bar’s open.”

  “I could use something stiff.” Lauren rarely drank, but she needed something to take the edge off. “And if I see him, I will say hi and that’s it.”

  “And if he tries to talk to you?”

  The two sisters mixed in with the crowd of spectators leaving the rink. “I’ll...” Lauren racked her brain. What would she do? “I’ll play it by ear.”

  “Sounds like a terrible plan,” Charlotte said. “There’s the beer garden.” She grabbed Lauren, this time by her hand, and the two of them wove their way to the fenced-in beer garden, managing to snag the last picnic table. Lauren brushed the snow off the bench seat and scanned the crowd while Charlotte went to get their drinks.