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

by Rochelle French

  Neva thought better of asking about the goat. “Thank you. The pie smells delicious.”

  “I’ve been dying to meet you in person. I wanted to let you know the town is having a big party to welcome you and a few other newcomers to Meadowview.”

  Socializing? With an entire town? “I don’t—”

  “It’s tonight, at Meadowview’s Community Center.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I’m not sure I—”

  “The party starts at seven. It’s a casual potluck, but since we’re welcoming you, don’t bring anything. The whole town will be there. People can’t wait to meet you. You’re not married, right?”

  “No. No, I’m—”

  “Feel free to bring a date, then.”

  “I, uh, don’t believe I signed up for any kind of welcome party or anything like that.” Of course she hadn’t. She wouldn’t.

  Trudy waved a hand in the air. “This is just something Meadowview does. We’re a rather close-knit community. It can take some getting used to, but it won’t be long before you’ll feel like you’ve lived here forever. Who have you met already? Well, besides me. Oh, and Garston Stanley, of course. I’m not including your Realtor.”

  “Um,” Neva said, working to appear at least slightly sociable. “I met a nice young man at a diner I stopped at my first day in town, who talked my ear off about racehorses,” she said, not repeating that he couldn’t stop looking at her boobs.

  “That would be Jacob. He’s a cute kid, but once he hit puberty, he turned into a horn-dog. Not to worry, he won’t hit on you—he’s totally loyal to his girlfriend. Can’t yet help it that his gonads respond to the female form and his eyes bug out at the sight of boobs. He’ll grow out of it soon enough. Anyone else?”

  “One of the clerks at Camden’s Grocery was really nice to me. She had a sweet smile and had a great laugh.”

  “Sandie Maddox. She’s an institution around here—if you need to know anything about anyone, ask Sandie. On the same token, don’t tell her anything you don’t want the next person in line at the checkout stand to know. Who else?”

  Neva cleared her throat. “Well, there’s Peter Leary.”

  “Ah. You’ve met Peter.” Trudy beamed. “He’s your next-door neighbor, off to the west of your farm.”

  “So I discovered yesterday.”

  “He can sometimes come across like a jerk, but don’t let that fool you. Turns out, he’s quite nice, although he doesn’t know what to say at times. I think he used to be a geek or something, so he overcompensates.”

  How sweet. Trudy was defending Peter’s integrity. If only kids in high school had seen Peter that way, his youth wouldn’t have been so miserable.

  “We actually knew each other back in high school. We were friends.”

  “Were friends?” Trudy cocked her head. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Neva didn’t realize she’d emphasized the past tense. She’d kept the reason for the disintegration of her and Peter’s friendship to herself for years—she wasn’t about to share with someone she barely knew (no matter that the woman had brought her pie) just how her best friend had betrayed her.

  “We lost touch, that’s all.”

  For almost four years, though, she and Peter thought they’d be friends forever.

  The first day of her freshman year had been hell until a new kid in town, Peter Leary, showed up and plopped down in the seat next to her, all lanky and long-limbed and teenage-boy clumsy. He’d spent a moment examining her, taking in her close-cropped hair, thick glasses, in-your-face braces.

  Then he smiled.

  He said something, but she couldn’t hear. Her circa 1980 Sony Walkman (totally retro) was plugged into a pair of circa 1975 Koss Pro4AA headphones (even more retro), and the music of The Ramones (oh yeah, she was so into retro) was pounding into her ears. Then his attention was drawn away by Jason Keller, another kid in the class and a total jerk who’d pointed at her and laughed. She pulled her headphones off in time to hear Peter—a boy she’d never even met—defend her honor (and The Ramones) to Jason.

  Peter became her best friend by the end of that week. Four years later, they stopped speaking because of one idiotic kiss and her own heart’s ache.

  “Was he as much of a ladies man back in high school as he is now?” Trudy asked, her voice interrupting Neva’s shift into the past.

  Wait—what had Trudy said? Peter? A ladies man?

  “Are we talking about the same Peter Leary?”

  Trudy chuckled. “I take it he wasn’t Homecoming King. Or class president.”

  Neva snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Funny, how little we know about what someone’s hiding under their exterior.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve found people are pretty much who they appear to be.”

  When Trudy stared at her blankly, Neva gulped. She hoped her statement hadn’t come off as snotty. She hadn’t meant any offense. Maybe Peter’s lack of filter was rubbing off on her. She hoped not.

  A chime went off and Trudy dug around in her dress pocket and pulled out a phone. “Sorry,” she said, making a rueful face. “I’d love to stay and chat, but work beckons. Don’t forget, the party starts at seven.”

  “Wait, but—”

  “See you tonight! We’ll have an absolute blast.”

  Neva blinked, and then gave a woeful smile as Trudy bounded off the porch and headed down the pea-gravel path, waving a cheerful goodbye.

  She sighed. So much for solitude in the bucolic countryside. Apparently, she had a party to attend.

  And not simply a party, but a party with the entire town. In her honor. Well, hers and a few other people, but the fact she’d be one of the key participants sent acid up into her chest.

  An introvert’s nightmare.

  The evening air hung warm and clear, a breeze wafting through open windows in the brick Community Center, which sparkled with twinkling lights and reverberated with laughter and happy chatter. Fresh flowers in tall vases added a heady scent. Neva shrank even closer to the back wall and clutched her drink as she swept her gaze around the room, taking in her new community.

  For the first time since she’d arrived tonight, she found herself alone. Taking advantage of the sudden lack of attention, she drew back into an alcove and continued to watch the town happily socialize. Over the last hour, she’d spoken to so many townsfolk that her throat felt rough and ragged and her mind was utterly overwhelmed. There was Trudy, the woman who’d stopped by earlier to inform Neva of the party, her friend Chessie and Chessie’s fiancé Theo, his sister Sadie and her husband Ethan, who held their baby girl in his arms, his sister Lia and her husband Jack (and if Neva remembered correctly, Jack was Chessie’s older brother).

  Ye gads. How would she ever keep the connections in this community straight in her head?

  Next she’d met the sheriff, Remy, and his new wife, Coraleen (apparently the young woman had been a former convict—Neva figured that was a story she’d hear about soon enough), who’d been so sweet and funny Neva liked her immediately. Peter still hadn’t shown up, and Neva had to wonder why. After all, Peter had gone on and on about “being neighborly.” But now he was skipping this big party?

  Didn’t matter, she reminded herself.

  At the bar along the far side of the back wall, a man Neva had learned was the fire chief mixed drinks for cheerful partygoers. Along another wall, foldout tables groaned under the weight of platters of food—all donated by the good citizens of Meadowview to welcome Neva and the other newcomers. “The others” meaning Mike and Ginger Compton, who were currently engaged in an energetic rendition of the Chicken Dance in the middle of the dance floor, and Eleanor Fleeter and Camie Bable, a couple who were engaged in a lively debate with an elderly couple over at the bar.

  A lively mix of Celtic and country music came from a small band in the corner and a number of couples were out on the dance floor. Children ran and skipped between the dancing cou
ples, giggling as they chased one another.

  All this because a few people had moved into town?

  Neva had a headache. And nausea. So overwhelming.

  Sure was pretty, though. Trudy and the others had pulled together one heck of a party. Neva should be grateful—and she was, really. This was a wonderful opportunity for her to make connections with the town’s business people. It just overwhelmed her to do so all at once.

  Neva knew she should see if she could find more a few of the people her Realtor told her she should meet: Ned Peardale, who owned Ned’s Signage and Copy, where she could get her letterhead and business cards printed…Jeff Brewer, who owned The Goldpan Pub and had sometimes put in an order for seasonal fruits and vegetables with the former owners of Neva’s farm….the photographer Mac Johns, who she’d heard could take photographs of the farm and produce for Neva’s promotional material… The list went on.

  And yet all she could to do was hide.

  She glanced around the room, frowning when she realized she was subconsciously looking for Peter. It’s not as if she really wanted him there, she reminded herself. At some level, though, she’d hoped he’d be in attendance, if only to be that one familiar person in the crowd. Not because she wanted to sleep with him, she mentally grumbled.

  She’d have to break out of her shell sooner or later—she shouldn’t be relying on Peter to help her along the way, like how she did in high school. Parties back then were tolerable because of Peter.

  Her mother’s words came out of the far recesses of her mind.

  “If only you’d be more outgoing like your sister,” she’d said.

  “Look at all of the friends Carla’s made,” she’d said.

  “You don’t want to always be a loner, do you?” she’d said.

  Yes, yes Neva did. She pulled a face. In truth, she was just shy. Easily overwhelmed by crowds, and never knowing the right thing to say. Interestingly…that was Peter’s problem, too. Only with Neva, she usually kept her mouth shut so as not to say the wrong thing. Peter, though? He blurted out whatever was on his mind.

  “What did I get myself into by moving to a small town?” she whispered. Thankfully, no one heard. Some people thrived in this kind of environment, but not her. There was a reason she’d gone into farming. Plants didn’t expect conversation, and if you talked to them, they never, ever talked back. So lovely to have no pressure on her.

  She liked people, she really did, but in such quantity?

  She was on stimulus overload and in desperate need of a break. Feeling behind her, she located the doorknob and gave it a twist. The door creaked open. She slid through and eased the door shut. The door led to a narrow staircase, which lead to a top floor used primarily as storage: full of broken furniture, boxes crammed with who knew what, and decorations for all events and seasons. A plastic Christmas tree, fully decorated, sat in the corner. And beyond the tree…a large window.

  Embracing the silence, Neva crossed the attic and tried the latch on the window. A few cranks were all it took for her to get it open. She leaned out, gulping in deep breaths of fresh air to calm herself down. She was at the back of the building, facing a dimly lit alleyway. On the other side of the community center stood a row of brick buildings, the backs of businesses that lined Main Street. The roof pitched, but just slightly.

  Neva recognized freedom when she saw it.

  She crawled through the window and clambered onto the rooftop. Carefully, she walked up the gentle slope of the roof until she reached the peak. There, she sat, plopped her purse down next to her, stretched her legs out on the asphalt shingles, leaned back on her hands, and happily sighed.

  Yeah, sure, the cheerful partygoers below were her new community, and yeah, she needed to get to know them, but for now she could be free to enjoy the calmness of the night air, the bright curtain of stars hanging thick in the black night, and the soft beam of gas lamps lighting the streets below, all by her lonely self.

  A soft scrabble sent her jerking upright and casting a quick glance over her shoulder. A man’s silhouette was framed by the alleyway light. Someone else was climbing up onto the roof. A mugger? Or worse? Adrenaline pumped through her veins and her breath shallowed. Still, she steadied herself enough to call out, “I have a gun!”

  The man stopped moving. “Of course you don’t, Neva. But I have beer,” a husky male voice sounded through the night air.

  She put a hand over her wildly pounding heart. “Peter?”

  “I’ll even share with you,” Peter added.

  Relief filled her as the tension receded, promptly followed by butterflies in her belly. What an annoying reaction her body had to this man. “Why did you follow me up here?” she demanded. “I was trying to find somewhere to be alone, in case you hadn’t figured that out.”

  “No, you wanted to calm down from the stress of being around so many people.” Peter clambered to the roof pitch. Clad in faded jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and a plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his sinewy and tanned forearms, he took her breath away. He sat heavily beside her, then opened up a paper bag and handed her a bottle beer. “But I’ve never stressed you out, so I’ll stay. Nice dress,” he added. “You know what polka dots do to me.”

  Neva glanced down and adjusted the full skirt of her cotton dress. Now why had she gone and worn this outfit on tonight, of all nights? Because yes, she did recall Peter liked polka dots. Was her subconscious subverting her consciousness?

  “Not everything I do is about you, Peter.”

  “I never said it was.” After pulling a beer opener out of his back pocket, he flipped the caps off two bottles, clinked the neck of his to hers. “Cheers. To good days long gone and better days soon to come. And, for the record, I didn’t follow you.”

  “Right. You just happened to come up here on the roof, right after I did. Am I supposed to believe this is a random occurrence?”

  “Do you like parties any more now than you did when we were young?”

  She shuddered. “No.”

  “Me, either. Aren’t you the one who says people don’t change?”

  “Right,” she agreed. “They don’t. Although, I hear you do great with the ladies these days. That’s different.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the mystique.”

  “The what?”

  “Firemen have an inscrutable charm. Women are drawn to us. It’s the concept of the hero, really. Those women don’t want the real man, just the image. That appeal has nothing to do with me.”

  Imagining women throwing themselves at Peter sent jealousy pouring through every inch of her. She huffed. “Please don’t tell me that’s why you became a firefighter. To get women.”

  Peter frowned. “If you think that, then you never really knew me.”

  Suddenly she felt small. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have said made such an assumption. I know it isn’t true.”

  He softened, slightly. “Apology accepted. I’m here because I still hate parties, too. You found my escape hatch. Every time I come to one of these events, I disappear up on this roof for a while, have a beer or two, and head back down after I’ve collected my wits. Glad to have you with me, this time.”

  A soft giggle escaped her mouth. “Like how we used to sneak up to the gym rooftop during school dances. Remember that?”

  “I remember.” His voice had gone quite and he looked off into the distance.

  For a moment, they sat in silence. Was Peter recalling their adventures? All those times they’d been there for each other? The fun they’d had, the support they’d provided?

  Neva’s chest clenched at the memories. Seemed like those years had happened so very long ago.

  “You’re really not going to go out with me?” Peter asked, breaking the silence. “We have thirteen more days before I take off…it could be fun. We could have fun.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “I already gave you my answer.” Her heart did that tippety-tap thing, but she did
her darnedest to ignore it.

  He didn’t respond. Just took a swig off his beer and stared out over the town, as if memorized by the twinkling lights that ran along the pitched rooflines.

  “Thanks for the beer,” Neva finally said.

  “Seems so weird, sitting here talking to you. I honestly thought I’d never see you again. How did you come to pick Meadowview? You could find any number of established farms down in the valley. Why buy here, in the foothills?”

  “The land was cheap and the farm already established as certified organic.”

  “Not much water.”

  “Nope. But enough.” She turned to him. “Garston, my Realtor, said I could lease your apple orchard, the same as the last owners, the Hendricksons. He drew up some papers for you to sign—just an extension of the lease you had with the previous owners.”

  “He had it delivered two days ago. I sent the contract back. Unsigned.”

  Shock hit her system. “Wait—why?”

  “Maude’s about to return. I’m not making any decisions on the farm for her at this point. It’s her choice regarding the lease.”

  “But my lawyer’s expecting the contract before the weekend. I’ll need those apples.”

  “Take them. You don’t need paperwork.”

  “But…but…” She sputtered, then came to a stop. “I can’t take your apples. We need a contract of some kind.”

  “No we don’t. If you want them, pick them. Maude won’t care.”

  “I can’t accept charity.”

  “There you go, always getting your feathers ruffled.”

  “I don’t have feathers, and that cliché is sexist.”

  “I didn’t realize that. I apologize for the turn of phrase.”

  “You should think before you speak.”

  “Gee, thanks for insinuating I wasn’t,” he said flatly.

  “I’m here to help.” Her response was filled with as much insouciance as she could muster.

  “That’s a good one, coming from you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He sighed. “Neva, you never allow anyone to help you. Why always try to do things for yourself?”