“He’s at the new field throwing balls,” Jessica says. “He spends a couple of hours a day out there, but shoot your ideas at all of us.”
“This is for the town with the camp as a press point, right? And maybe the bakery? We want adults and kids at the camp, correct? And I assume opportunities to donate to the charity benefiting from the camp?”
“Exactly,” Jessica says. “Exactly.” Her eyes light. “What if we could become like the Christmas festival in the state? Or even beyond the state. Like Santa’s Workshop has nothing on us. I know that’s a big order for this year, but a girl can dream, right?”
“We can make it pretty special,” I say. “We’ll get booths and snowblowers. We’ll decorate like crazy. The big thing is getting people here, which means using our assets.”
“My baked goods?” Martha asks. “I can donate.”
“Baked goods by the famous Grandma Martha is good,” I say. “But what if we hold a bachelor auction and recruit baseball players, and even firemen from local stations, even from Dallas, to be a part of it? Of course, we’ll make them all wear Santa hats.”
“We have to have Santa hats,” Jessica laughs.
“Yes,” I agree primly. “We do. And we also have to act fast to make this happen, but I believe this would bring in big money for the charity. And if the players don’t want to agree to go on dates, they could auction off a dance, a kiss, or lunch. They could pick some prize that is their choice. We could also ask them all to donate an item to the auction—a ball, a signed shirt, or whatever.” I don’t breathe. My mind is working fast and I keep going, changing topics only slightly. “I’m already thinking about agreements with nearby hotels.” I laugh. “I’m talking a million miles an hour. Feel free to hate the idea but—”
“I love it!” Martha says. “How about one winner gets to bake cookies with Jason and ask him questions?”
“They might rather do that with just you,” I say. “You’re becoming a star in your own right.”
“Agreed!” Jessica and Ruth chime in.
Roarke’s eyes warm on me. “Agreed.”
“Oh, you all,” Martha says. “I’m no star, though the Food Network did ask me to be a judge on Cupcake Wars. It’s very exciting!” She waves it off, though. “Enough about me. Getting back to Jason. We could let the person who wins try to hit a pitch Jason throws, or play ball with him, or just have coffee. We’ll have to get Jason in on it. Roarke,” she continues, looking at him, “no date for you, but you could introduce the winner to your horses or take a lady on a horseback ride.” She then glances at me, and I have a feeling a bombshell is coming, even before she says, “Of course, you could supervise, Hannah. That’s why I said he’s not up for auction for a date.” She glances between Roarke and me. “Because you two are a couple. We all know it, even if you two aren’t saying it yet.”
Chapter Twenty
Hannah…
Roarke arches a brow at me, challenging me to reply to Martha. I do so without hesitation. I pick up a cookie and stuff it in my mouth. The sweet taste hits my tongue, and I spontaneously moan, which really isn’t the best reply to a question about Roarke. I try to fix this. I point to the cookie. “That moan was for the cookie, not Roarke.”
Everyone laughs, including Roarke, which is one part good and one part bad, because I think I’ve made it seem like I might moan for Roarke. Which I did.
Just.
Last.
Night.
I try again. “Roarke and I aren’t a couple. I’m not even sure we’re really friends.”
“You look at him like you want to gobble him up, like the cookie,” Martha teases.
“I do not!”
“I think you do,” Roarke interjects.
“I do not.” I lean on the island to face off with him. “I do admit that you’re still hot, but that means nothing but trouble in my book. However, you’re really sweet to animals, you even save their lives, so we might, and that ‘might’ is a big one, get to the friend marker.” I pick up another cookie and look at Martha. “And these cookies are the best thing on planet earth.” I then look at Jessica. “How do I go about talking to the team about the auction, or would you prefer to do that? This part of the process will be urgent. We need to get the auction lined up to start advertising for it. And how do you think the guys would feel about posing in Santa hats for the marketing material?”
Everyone laughs again, and Jessica says, “Why don’t we spend tomorrow together, getting everything moving?”
“Roarke will do it,” Ruth says.
“Shirtless,” Martha adds.
Roarke holds up his hands. “Oh no. I keep my shirt on. The horses and I will do the hats. That’s where we draw the line.” He takes a bite of a cookie and eyes Martha. “And I agree. Your cookies are the best. Every new creation is better than the last.”
“Thank you,” Martha says. “I’m thinking I’ll launch a gingerbread cookie for the festival. It seems Christmas appropriate. What do you think, Hannah? We could have an area for kids to decorate them, too?”
“I love it,” I say. “Can you bake a batch so I can shoot some photos for the advertisements?”
“I have to come up with the cookie,” Martha says. “But I’ll start working on it this evening and get something baked, even if it’s not the final recipe.”
“Perfect,” I approve. “Now, let’s talk about rides, booths, events, as well as a scavenger hunt. Oh, and the town decorations. Is the mayor involved?”
Roarke’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket, eyeing the number and answering the call. “What’s up, Amanda?”
Amanda isn’t a name I know, and I hate the way my stomach knots at his familiar tone with her. I don’t even know who this person is. Why am I reacting this way?
“I’ll be right there.” He disconnects. “I have an emergency that I need to attend to at the hospital.” He looks at me. “When you’re ready, call me. I’ll either come get you or send someone to pick you up.”
“I’m not bothering you during an emergency,” I say. “Go, Roarke. Save a life.”
“I’ll take her where she needs to go,” Jessica says. “No worries. Go. Go.”
Roarke’s eyes linger on me, and I feel his hesitation before he gives Jessica a nod and turns and heads for the door. I hate the torment I just felt in him, and the idea that he’s distracted by me, yet again, while caring for an animal, bothers me. “I’ll be right back,” I say, and without looking at the room, I hurry after him.
I step onto the porch as he’s reaching his truck. “Roarke.” He turns to face me, surprise etched on his handsome face.
“You coming?”
“Not now, but uh, saving animals is sexy. You know that, right?” It’s out before I can stop it, my gut driving me to say what it feels like he needs to hear, what lets him know I support him. And it’s not flirting. I’m just speaking the truth.
My reward is a rumble of his deep, masculine laughter, the tension I’d sensed in him fading away. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I’m going to come and sing to Snowflake when I’m done here. Okay?”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, giving me a wink, before he climbs in his truck and starts the engine, a man headed out to be a hero, like he is most days.
I watch him back out and drive away, wishing I was with him, which isn’t new. I’ve wished I was with that man for years. Maybe it’s time to be friends. Maybe that’s how I reconcile that need. We were, after all, best friends. I lost a future husband. I lost a friend. Having one of the two back would be pretty wonderful. It’s a growth thing. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing for us.
The door opens behind me and then shuts as Jessica steps to my side. “You still love him.”
I could deny the truth but why? “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“Nothi
ng is enough when you’re thousands of miles apart. I’ve gotten to know Roarke, and I wondered why he was alone. Now I know. He looks at you like you’re his beginning, middle, and end.”
But I’m not, I think, and not just because he cheated. He didn’t even fight for me. He didn’t come after me. I swallow hard and remind myself of Martha fighting to survive the loss of a child. My problems are nothing. This festival is important. It’s about helping those who need help, about a charity for kids. “Let’s go talk to the mayor,” she says. “In answer to your question, yes, he’s involved. He wanted us to stop by today. I think you know him. Luke Kilmore.”
I turn to look at her. “Luke’s the mayor?”
“Yes. He said you two were friends.”
“We’re more than friends,” I say. “Luke grew up here, too. He also became a rodeo star, and we crossed paths in Vegas a few years back.”
“Oh,” she says. “Is this a problem?”
“Nothing happened, but not by his choice. That was mine. He felt too close to Roarke. I just couldn’t do it.”
Her lips curve. “Because you love Roarke. I think that’s pretty special. Years and miles apart and you were loyal to him. Let’s grab a cookie for the road and go see the ex-rodeo star. Seems we should auction him off, too, don’t you think? Find him a nice hot mama who isn’t you.”
I laugh. “Yes, I do believe we need to auction him off.”
She opens the door and glances back at me. “We’ll save you for Roarke and Roarke for you.” With that, she goes inside the house, leaving me to think about that premise.
Roarke.
Me.
Us.
God.
I want him. I want to forget the past and just be with the man I love, wrap him up for the holidays and make him mine, but I know me. I will never let go of the betrayal, and yet, I can’t seem to let go of him. I should put a Santa hat on the man and auction him off, but I won’t because it’s not just the betrayal I can’t let go of. It’s him.
But I go back to where I was a few minutes ago. Maybe we need closure, the kind I was looking for on some level by sleeping with him last night. I missed the mark, though. The closure we need is about forgiveness. I don’t have to forget. I do have to forgive, and that’s what leads us back to friendship.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hannah…
I follow Jessica into the house, and just the scent of baking cookies has my stomach growling. I really do need food, real food, but for now, I hurry back to the kitchen and enter to make an announcement. “I have an urgent need for cookies. Can I get some for the road?”
Martha and Ruth laugh, and once I have a bag filled with cookies in my hand, the women sandwich me in a hug. “We’re so glad you’re back!” Martha explains.
Ruth turns me to face her, her hands on my arms. “You’re my granddaughter. Don’t forget it.” She kisses my temple and sets me away from her. “Now, go plan this festival and then sing to Snowflake. That’s an order.” She winks. “And feel free to kiss Roarke for me if you want to.”
My cheeks are, once again, heating. These women are so good at making me blush, but then they always were. It’s funny how those things you hated in your youth, you endure with fondness when you grow up.
A few minutes later, I’m in a sleek black BMW with Jessica, both of us stuffing our faces with cookies. “She’s really a brilliant baker,” Jessica says, starting the car. “I’m so lucky I have the opportunity to allow the world to taste her food.”
“It’s amazing the way you came in and turned her skills into a business.”
“From divorce attorney to entrepreneur,” she says, backing up. “I blame her cookies for inspiring me. Now you’re an entrepreneur, too. I love that this little town manages to become an opportunity for so many. I hope we can keep that going, use the festival to create more great things for more people.”
I know now why Jason loves her and Roarke approves of her place by his friend’s side. She’s really a generous, good soul.
“You know,” she says, glancing over at me. “I’m pretty excited about the festival. It showcases my two favorite people in the world: Jason and Martha.”
Funny thing is that I would have said Roarke and Ruth were my two favorite people. They were family. Right now, they still feel like family.
“Do we need to talk about this thing with you and Luke any further before we get to the courthouse?”
“There’s nothing more to tell.”
“Did you date when you were in Sweetwater?” she asks, and I suddenly wonder if this is about Roarke or me. I do believe she’s protecting him, which could bristle my nerves, but it doesn’t. I like that she’s protective. I’m envious that he has that in his life. That he has this place in his life.
“We didn’t,” I say, and while there is more to add, it comes back to one place. “I was always all about Roarke.” I glance over at her. “And that story, the one of Roarke and me, is Roarke’s to tell, not mine.”
“It’s your story, too.”
“But this is his place and his people.”
She huffs at that. “Oh please. This place and these people are yours, too. That’s quite obvious to see.”
“Nevertheless,” I say, not about to argue this point, “Roarke and I were engaged. Now we’re not. The rest is his story.”
She glances over at me, presses her lips together in an obvious effort to stop herself from asking more questions. That must not be working because she grabs a cookie and shoves it in her mouth. I laugh and do the same.
The rest of the short drive is cookies and talking about the town decorations. We pull into the courthouse with a vision of candy canes and Christmas trees to present to Luke. We find the tall, blond, and quite good-looking ex-rodeo star in his office, scowling at the paperwork in front of him. “Why the heck are you the mayor of this town?” I demand.
His gaze jerks upward, and he stands. “Holy hell, I don’t know, and get your sweet ass over here and give me a hug.”
We meet at the end of the desk, and he looks like himself in faded jeans, a button-down rodeo-style shirt, and boots. The office says otherwise. “Come here, girl.” He hugs me, which was wholly brotherly in the past, but then he adds, “You need to sing to me and get me all worked up again.” I grimace and push away from him.
“I didn’t sing to you.” I poke his chest. “I sang to the bar.”
“But damn, baby, you got me hot under the collar.”
“Tequila got you hot under the collar. You were drunk.”
“Your point?” he challenges. “I knew what I was doing. Is that why you walked me to my room and tucked me in like I was a two-year-old who needed a blankie, not a man?”
“Oh good Lord, Luke,” I say. “Stop talking. What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, remember? You told me that enough times that night.”
In Vegas, where he was drinking his way past his girlfriend cheating. The cheating part is what almost won me over. I related to his pain. He pulls back to look at me. “Nothing happened to stay in Vegas, though it should have. You’re as pretty as sunshine on a rainy day, and that was a rainy day. As is today, because believe you me, me behind this desk is a damn thunderstorm.”
I twist around to motion Jessica forward. “Nothing happened between us. Don’t read into this.”
“I already said that,” Luke chimes in behind me. “I told her you tucked me in like I was a two-year-old. That doesn’t exactly say we were knocking boots, babe. You were too hung up on Roarke despite him breaking your damn heart just like Karen did mine.” He eyes Jessica. “Hi, Jessica.”
“Hi, Luke,” Jessica says. “Always interesting when we meet.”
“Seriously,” I say as he shakes Jessica’s hand. “Why are you here, in this town, and mayor of all things? What’s happening? Are you still drinking tequila?”
>
He doesn’t laugh. He scrubs his jaw and motions to the seats in front of his desk. “Let me tell you two pretty ladies a story. And for the record, I might need tequila before this job is done with me.”
We claim our seats, and he rests his arms on the desk that is a big ol’ wooden thing but looks small compared to him. He’s big, tall, and muscular from wrestling bulls. “I thought your parents moved to Dallas and you were a rodeo star? I’m living in the Twilight Zone.”
“My dad hated the big city. He came back here and took over as, you guessed it, mayor. He then proceeded to rupture a disc in his back. I was on a break, six months off until I go back to the circuit as a judge this time. He made me acting mayor, which yes, that can happen in Sweetwater. It did.” He rubs his hands together. “So, let me get to mayor duty for this town and doing what good I can while I’m here. We’re having a festival. Do I get to ride a damn bull for this festival or is it all just gingerbread men and candy canes?”
“You,” Jessica says, “get to be auctioned off for charity. You do not have to kiss your date, but you do have to smile real pretty at her.”
He groans. “Old Lady Misty will buy me. I’m screwed.”
We both laugh because Old Lady Misty is also the cat lady who has lived here for as long as I have walked this earth. She’s eccentric but sweet. “This is for the children’s hospital, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Jessica says. “A good cause.”
“A very good cause,” I say. “And if she wins you, you get to play with kittens.” His eyes light, and I point. “Don’t make a bad joke about another kind of kitten.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m innocent. Don’t make Jessica think I’m a dirty cowboy.”
“I went to school with you. You are a dirty cowboy.”
“Not anymore. And fine. Fine. I’ll do it because Lord only knows I’m still the single-est bastard in this town.” He eyes me. “Next to Roarke, but then you’re back. You back with him?”
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