Charming the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 3) (The Meadowview Series Book 7)

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Charming the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 3) (The Meadowview Series Book 7) Page 4

by Rochelle French


  At the corner of Market and Main Streets, a teenaged boy stood behind the counter at Delilah’s Diner, busily pouring coffee grounds into the coffeemaker, partially hidden by the CLOSED sign. The cobblestoned streets were silent—no cars just yet.

  Like a cat, Meadowview woke up languidly.

  Peter glanced up and noticed Jack Gibson standing outside, opening the door to the fire station. His co-worker—er, former co-worker—noticed him too and gave him a quick wave, then held the door open, waiting for Peter before entering. That man had actually punched Peter’s lights out the night Peter came close to letting the woman Jack loved get killed in a fire. Peter still shuddered every time he thought about the night Lia Sawyer—Lia Gibson, now, he reminded himself—almost lost her life.

  Peter knew he’d never forgive himself for what had happened to Lia, but at least he and Jack had come to terms with their past a while back. Fighting fires together meant they had to trust one another. That trust had been hard to build back and had taken time, but it existed.

  Jack greeted Peter and the two entered the building. In an instant, the familiar scent of the station house wafted over him, bringing with it the realization that this was no longer his place of work. An odd, unsettled sensation lodged deep in his chest.

  “I’m glad that fire’s over and done with.” Jack flicked on the lights, breaking Peter out of his zoned-out state.

  “Agreed. Lia happy to see you back home?”

  A soft smile crossed Jack’s face. “She’s pretty much done with me being a volunteer firefighter. In fact, last night she asked me to retire from the fire department. Wants me to focus solely on my construction company. Seems my beautiful wife has issues with the inherent danger of working with fire.”

  “Gotta say, she’s right about the dangers of the job,” Peter said quietly. Over a year before, a fire had broken out at the Goldpan Pub. He’d been there on a date with Lia (who’d been in love with Jack even then) when a fire broke out. She’d been the first person he’d ordered to leave when he realized the place was on fire, but she’d been knocked unconscious before she could reach the door. Busy directing the panicky crowd to safety, he hadn’t realized she was still inside. Guilt racked him at the memory. He winced, then realized Jack had noticed.

  “She’s fine, you know,” Jack said quietly. “And she never blamed you for what happened.”

  Peter shook his head. “I was an ass. I knew she was crazy about you, but I bugged her into going out with me, anyway. If I hadn’t, she never would have been in the Goldpan Pub to begin with.” He swallowed hard, unable to continue. His father’s words echoed in his mind: “You? A firefighter? You’re a wimp. You don’t have what it takes. You’ll get someone killed.”

  He almost had.

  “What does it matter, anyway?” Jack said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts. “To Lia, she sees that night an an awakening of sorts. She discovered the strength she had in her all along, and—”

  “If you’re giving me the sometimes bad things happen for a good reason lecture, I’m not going for it.” He’d heard that lecture too many times before. Neva had spent three years repeating the line but he never saw what good had come of the bad things that had happened in her life. His dad would say that about his mom dying when he was too young to form memories of her. He’d tried to convince himself after his best friend up and abandoned him, hoping for a silver lining to the hole she’d left inside him.

  Bullshit.

  Nothing ever happened for a reason. Things just happened. That was it.

  “Let’s hope the rains come back,” he said tightly. “Yesterday evening’s downpour was nice, but not enough to do any good. Not sure the forest can handle another fire this season. That one was intense.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here this early. Figured you’d still be in bed, catching up on all the sleep you missed during the big push.”

  Peter shrugged. “I conked out for a good five hours. Figured I’d come here and make sure I got all my stuff. Maybe clean up a bit. The volunteers are great about bringing food and supplies, but not so great at tidying up after themselves.”

  “I’m grateful the volunteers show up at all.”

  “Right. Me, too, of course.” He scratched his head. Had he sounded ungrateful? That wasn’t what he’d meant. But then again, he always seemed to say the wrong thing. His life’s curse. When he was a kid, his dad would take a belt to his backside whenever something odd popped out of his mouth. His stomach clenched at the memories. Damn that man.

  “The captain says you turned in your notice?”

  “Yep. Maude’s back in a couple of days. She’ll want her house back.”

  “You could always rent. Or buy a house.”

  “Nope. Time for me to leave both Meadowview and firefighting behind.”

  Jack jerked back. “Hold on. You’re no longer going to be a firefighter?”

  “Nope. I’m headed out into the great beyond, looking for adventure, going wherever the wind may take me.”

  “Why?” Jack sounded shocked.

  “I became a firefighter to pay my way through college. I stuck with it when Maude wanted to do her volunteer stint because it was easy to get the job here in Meadowview. Now that she no longer needs me here to manage her farm, I’m gonna follow the plans I made when I was younger—travel.”

  “You could always change your mind.”

  “Won’t happen.”

  “Just a thought,” Jack said mildly. “By the way, I heard you have a new neighbor. Have you met her?”

  Something stirred inside him—a little rev up of his pulse, a hitch in his breath. There went his plan to stop thinking of Neva. “Yep.”

  “One of the other firefighters met her at Camden’s Grocery yesterday. Can’t remember who it was…”

  “Her name’s Neva Tipton. We were friends back in high school.”

  “Malcolm.” Jack snapped his fingers. “That’s who was telling me about her. He seems interested. Said she was hot.”

  The rev in his pulse increased and pressure filled his head. He blew out a breath to calm his racing heart. Malcolm wasn’t a bad guy, but Peter had the sudden urge to punch him. “Only proves he has eyes.”

  “Did the two of you date?”

  He shook his head and let out a quick laugh. “No. I spent most of our friendship drooling after her twin sister, to tell you the truth.”

  “Twins?”

  “Identical. At least, according to nature.”

  Jack gave him a quizzical look. “Not quite sure what that means.”

  In high school, Carla had done everything in her power (and everything her politician father’s credit card could afford) to look spectacular. Long, wavy bleached hair, bleached teeth, contacts, makeup on at all times, clothes that showed off her body to its fullest advantage…

  And Neva? She’d gone the opposite route: ultra-short straight hair, no makeup, thick glasses, expensive but baggy clothes that didn’t emphasize any part of her body. For three and a half years, Peter had been like the other boys in his class—crazy over Carla. One day, though, came to his senses and saw the beautiful and amazing girl in front of him. Neva. After that, Peter had thought the other boys crazy. Didn’t they see who Neva was? How funny and snarky and compassionate and adorable and a total turn-on she could be?

  Now, hearing other men found her attractive triggered an unfamiliar sense of possession. What was this sudden desire to go all caveman and smack Malcolm upside the head with a club? Damn. He’d come to the station to stop thinking of Neva and her sister, right? He wasn’t going to think of the Tipton sisters, right?

  Wrong.

  He should know better. Even after high school, no matter what he did to put them out of his mind, one or both of them would worm their way out of his memory banks and into his present.

  “The twins were poles apart,” he said finally. “Walked to the beat of different drummers.”

  Jack seemed satisfied with the answer and busied himsel
f by organizing posters and public service announcements on the bulletin board. “What are you bringing to the party tonight?” he asked.

  “Party? What party? Whose party?”

  “The girls are hosting a welcome party, down at the Community Center, for a few people who’ve recently moved to Meadowview. Your friend Neva will be one of the honored guests. Trudy’s headed to her place this morning to let her know about the invitation.”

  “The girls” meaning Jack’s wife Lia, Chessie Gibson, Sadie Sawyer, Liz Thorne, Trudy Prendergast, and Coraleen Toussaint. A couple of years before, all the women had been single. Now? All either happily married or engaged and all apparently serving as Meadowview’s unofficial welcome committee.

  “Sounds nice,” Peter said, wisely not adding the fact that Neva would do anything to avoid going to a public party, much less be the center of attention. She’d been a willing wallflower to her twin’s spotlight-stealing presence.

  “You’ll be there, right?”

  He glanced over at Jack. “It’s not a surprise good-bye party for me, right?”

  Jack laughed. “Nah. Although, knowing the girls, I bet they’ll want to throw one for you before you leave. How much longer do you have?”

  “Thirteen days, and I could always sneak away.”

  “Good luck with that. Chessie will find you and drag you back to attend your own going-away party.” Jack sobered. “So you’re really leaving Meadowview? No chance you’ll change your mind?”

  “Once Maude gets back, I’ll make sure she’s settled. Then I take off.”

  “Do you know where you’re headed first?”

  “Somewhere,” he said flatly.

  “Are your bags already packed?”

  Funny, Peter realized, but he hadn’t even pulled his backpack and suitcase out of the attic. In fact, he hadn’t even bought his plane ticket yet. Didn’t even know where he was headed.

  Until two years ago, he’d thought of nothing but seeing the world. After moving to Meadowview, though, his dream seemed to have dried up. Instead of pouring over travel magazines and searching travel destinations on the Internet, he’d spent time hanging out with the other firefighters in the Goldpan Pub, or picking up out-of-town women during the Modern Playwrights Festival, or hiking and swimming at the Maidu River.

  Time for all that to change, though. Maude was coming home and he’d no longer be in charge of her farm. He was released from his duty to his aunt. In thirteen days, he’d be wiping the dust of Meadowview off his heels as he raced out of town…and to his destiny.

  Whatever that may be.

  Neva leaned back against the kitchen counter. She breathed in deep and closed her eyes, letting the scent of the just-out-of-the-oven blackberry cobbler fill her senses. Heaven. How lucky could she be to have bought this farm on the outskirts of Meadowview? This would be her home forever and ever and ever…

  If she made the farm viable, that is. Her eyes flashed open. When she moved to Meadowview, her friends, Anne and Candice, had been encouraging. According to them, if anyone could make a go of a small organic farm, she could. And with the purchase of the farm had come a solid contract with a Sacramento restaurateur, Morris Brannan. Fulfilling that contract would keep her from having to declare bankruptcy and lose everything.

  But to fulfill the contract, she needed to actually farm. There was work to be done. The time for indulging in the sweet scent of blackberries and sugar was over.

  The morning wasn’t even fully complete and already the day had been crammed with activity. Chores had started promptly at dawn, with Neva setting up an irrigation drip system for the fifteen-acre produce garden. By mid-morning, she’d moved on to replacing a few rickety posts in the berry. Repairs complete, she’d headed to the kitchen and got to baking.

  She’d made two cobblers, using the blackberries she’d collected from the vines at the back end of her property. She scrutinized the yumminess on her corner. Now what shat was she going to do with two cobblers? Maybe she should give one to a neighbor.

  Peter.

  At the mere whisper of his name in her mind, her tummy quivered.

  “You may not have the hots for Peter Leary,” she reminded her body.

  Another quiver and a tingle shooting up her spine confirmed her worst thoughts: she had the hots for the man.

  “Business only,” she admonished herself.

  Sure, he’d asked her out yesterday, but she figured that decision had been born out of delirium or sheer exhaustion on his part and not because he actually wanted to date her. Besides, turning him down had been a no-brainer: no way would she date someone who wanted her to be someone else.

  She bit the inside of her lip. Why had her heart gone all tippity-tappity in her chest when he’d asked her out, though? And why was it going all tippety-tappity again?

  Sex. She needed sex, that was all. And Peter had grown into quite the hunk. But she had no room for complications in her life—not when she was embarking on the biggest challenge of her life.

  Nope, she and Peter would be neighbors, and neighbors only. Maybe neighbors with benefits…?

  No! Definitely not neighbors with benefits. What was she even thinking?

  She’d simply have to buy more batteries.

  Although, she did still have too many baked goodies in her house. Maybe she could drop one of the cobblers off at Peter’s house while he was gone. Friendly people did that in small towns, right? She’d grown up in a college town in with a population of thirty thousand, a place some people considered small, but Meadowview?

  Um, yeah, with a population of three thousand, Meadowview was tiny in comparison. Which was one of selling points of the property she’d just purchased—she wouldn’t have to socialize much in a small town. Carla was the People Person of the two; Neva avoided people as often as she could. Socializing scared the bejesus out of her. She’d rather be alone.

  She wasn’t completely friendless—she still had a few friends from college, like Candice and Anne—but making new friends in Meadowview was so far down on her list of things to do that it was nonexistent.

  “I need a pet,” she mumbled.

  Dog? Cat? Goldfish? The chickens out back were awfully cute, but she wasn’t sure a chicken could count as a pet. Maybe a guinea pig?

  Peter had rescued a guinea pig once. Found it in the park, squeaking its little head off. Someone had cruelly dumped their pet, probably tired of its constant chatter, and Peter immediately went and rescued the thing. A memory of Peter, cuddling Twilight, the little squeaker, swept over her. Another memory of Peter captured her mind, an image of him tenderly holding a baby squirrel he’d rescued after it fell out of a tree… Peter staying up all night to feed an infant robin captured by the neighbor’s cat… That time he’d come across an injured fawn and sat with it until someone from the local wildlife rescue showed up.

  She smiled.

  Then she frowned.

  She really did not need to be thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts about Peter Leary, or his guinea pig or his wildlife rescues. She’d give him his cobbler—just to be neighborly—and then she would ignore him until he took off for destinations unknown.

  Peter had collected his truck sometime early in the morning while Neva was still sleeping. She’d left the keys and his freshly laundered towel on the driver’s seat. In turn, she’d found her laundered jeans and socks folded and left on the Adirondack chair on her front porch. For being so exhausted, the man had been mightily busy. She hoped he’d been able to get the sleep he’d so clearly needed.

  Seeing him yesterday had knocked her for a loop. There she’d been, stuck in a canal, of all places, and he’d appeared like a superhero. Funny how much he looked the same, even though ten years had gone by. Same grey eyes with dark flecks. Same floppy, dark brown hair. Although he’d certainly filled out even more—become solid. Steady. She wondered if he still lifted weights every day. Probably, given the size of his biceps, twice the size of the little sticks he’d had in high school.
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  And she’d had a chance to check out his rear when he’d staggered down the hallway—tight and hard.

  Although, one thing had also remained the same—the man still had no tact. Peter Leary always, but always said the wrong thing.

  A knock sounded, and she was a little surprised when she opened the front door to see a young woman wearing a floral patterned sundress and a bright smile. A thick braid of deep red hair hung over her shoulder, and she held a pie in her hands. Wow. This was like something straight out of the movies. Did the people of Meadowview really welcome new neighbors with pie?

  She had to wonder if it was blackberry…

  “Hi, Neva! I’m super excited to meet you!” the young woman exclaimed, her sunny smile lighting up the morning. She appeared to be close to Neva’s age.

  Neva simply stared. Nerves bit at her stomach. She hadn’t expected company.

  The woman held out the pie and said, “Strawberry rhubarb,” as if that explained everything.

  “Um…hi?”

  “Oh, sorry. I got so excited I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Trudy. I’m one of your neighbors.”

  “So nice to meet you,” Neva said faintly. She took the proffered pie and set it on the end table next to the porch swing. Her home now held an inordinate amount of baked fruit desserts. Juicy goodness, all of it. Her thighs wouldn’t thank her later. She breathed in deep, embracing the sweet scent of strawberries and the tang of rhubarb. Delicious.

  Neva gave Trudy a quick smile. “Do you own the property along my southern fence?”

  “No. Actually, I live with my fiancé just over the ridge from you. Hop the fence on the far side of your field, follow the canal a quarter mile and you’ll find a wooden footbridge. Cross the canal there, and then follow the deer path for a half-mile. Go past the pond with the big oak tree. You can’t miss my place—it’s way up on a hill all by its lonely self.”

  “Sounds pretty. Are you and your fiancé farmers?”

  Trudy laughed. “No way. Although we do have a goat.”

 

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