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

by Rochelle French

  The breeze shifted and the gauze curtains billowed out, and a new scent wafted through the air. Perfume. Someone was in her house. Neva froze, and sniffed the air.

  Oh, god no. Not that scent. She’d recognize Shalimar anywhere.

  For a moment, she hoped—prayed, really—that her nose was mistaken. But then the soft click-click of high heels sounded against the oak floorboards. The front door complained with a high-pitched squeal as someone opened the door and stepped out onto the porch behind Neva.

  The way Peter’s expression switched from soft and slightly dewy-eyed to full-on surprised as he took in the person who stood behind her confirmed her suspicions. She dropped her hands from Peter’s hips and whirled around to glare at her guest.

  “Oh, wow,” Peter said.

  “Oh, hell,” Neva growled.

  Six years of not speaking, and her twin decided to show up now?

  “Carla!” Peter was shocked to see the woman who stood in front of him. Time had been kind to Carla—like Neva, her curves had filled and rounded, and like Neva, her hair hung soft and flowing around her shoulders, no longer teased and sprayed into a helmet of perfection the way it was back in her beauty queen days. Her makeup wasn’t as extreme as it had been in high school; just a light coating of red lipstick and enough foundation to hide the freckles he knew had to be there. She looked the same, albeit a bit different. On the outside, at any rate.

  “Well, if it isn’t Peter Leary,” Carla drawled, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, looking him up and down. She gave him a grin and waggled her eyebrows. “You weren’t making out with my sister now, were you?”

  He glanced back at Neva, who wore a scowl, heavy and dark, on her face. He’d hoped to see Carla, but not at this particular point in time. Clearly, the moment he and Neva shared was over. And the chance for sex had disappeared into the ether.

  Damn.

  “Peter was…uh…about to borrow a cup of sugar,” Neva said, her face turning red. “Turns out he’s one of my neighbors.”

  So that’s how she was going to play it? He was only there to borrow sugar? Was Neva embarrassed to be there with him? Why wouldn’t she want her sister to know about their plans for the night?

  Peter didn’t argue, but instead followed Neva inside. She stormed off into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room with Carla, who used the toe of one of her high-heeled shoes to push the door closed behind them.

  Carla sauntered over to a leather loveseat and sat, patting the other seat in an invitation. When he shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and shook his head, she gave a light shrug. “Suit yourself,” she said.

  “What are you doing in Meadowview? Your sister inferred you were dumping your latest ‘boyfriend.’ If that’s the case, why on earth are you dating men, when we both—”

  “Same old Peter, always saying exactly what’s on his mind.” Carla glanced toward the kitchen where Neva was mumbling and banging cupboard doors. The sugar must be hiding from her, and she didn’t sound pleased about it.

  “Your sister said you just dumped a guy in favor of someone richer.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Sugar daddies. Why, Carla?”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “It matters. I was there for you when you decided to tell the truth about—”

  “Stop. I mean it, Peter.” Carla squeezed her eyes shut. She pinched her lips together tight, and the little lines around her mouth and her closed eyes belied the pain she clearly felt.

  “I’m sorry for bringing up what has to be a difficult subject,” he said quietly, realization dawning. “You never did tell anyone, did you?”

  “No, and we’re not discussing it now.” Carla opened her eyes and picked at a crack in the leather. “I thought you and my sister stopped speaking years ago. Now she just happened to buy the farm next door to you? And you just happen to be borrowing sugar at ten p.m.?”

  “Something like that.”

  She flicked her gaze up part way, staring at him through her lashes, laying on her best seductive look.

  For three years and eight months, his knees had grown weak at that glance. But one day he’d looked—finally looked—at Neva, and had seen someone worthy of all his attention. He’d stopped his juvenile crush on Carla and had never looked back. Neva was his everything.

  Then came the day when he’d stumbled across Carla at the local park, sitting on the swing and crying her eyes out, having discovered her father had just been killed in a car accident. After years of jeering at him in public, she opened up to him when he sat in the sand next to her and told her he’d listen. She’d bared her soul and shared with him her secret, begging him never to tell.

  Graduation came a week after that night, and the last he’d seen of the Tipton twins had been at the ceremony held on the Meadowview High football field. In their caps and gowns, diplomas in their hands, both twins looked shaky and uncertain about the future.

  In that moment he’d wanted to go up to Carla and promised her that she’d be okay—that what she was hiding might be a big deal to her family but she still should tell them. If they didn’t want her after that, it would be on them, not her. And he desperately wanted to go up to Neva and beg to be friends again, to tell her that whatever it was he said that had hurt her so much had to have been a misunderstanding. He never would have hurt her on purpose.

  But his own heart ached at the fact Neva wouldn’t speak with him and ached even more at the fact that his father hadn’t even bothered to show up for the graduation ceremony. So instead, he’d acted like the kid he still was. He turned his back and headed out, the uneven grass in the football field causing him to stumble as he walked away from the Tipton twins…and from his former life. He’d never looked back.

  That is, until Neva Tipton got herself stuck in the local irrigation canal.

  Neva came back into the living room, a small paper lunch sack in her hands. She held it out to him. “Here’s your sugar. Good luck baking your…um…baked goods.”

  He reached out and grabbed the bag. “Thanks?”

  “It’s no problem. That’s what neighbors do, correct?”

  “That, and other things,” he muttered under his breath. When Neva frowned at him, he gave her a quick smile and added, “I guess I should head out.”

  “I guess you should.” Neva’s voice was flat, her eyes dull and no longer shimmery.

  He missed the shimmer.

  Instead of pressing Neva further, Peter turned his attention back to her twin. “It was great seeing you again, Carla. I live right across the fence. Come by tomorrow, okay? We can catch up.”

  Neva snorted. Not one of her cute I-think-you’re-kinda-ridiculous snorts, but one of those nasty sounds that carried the weight of anger. What had he said now?

  Peter knew he often said the wrong thing, but he didn’t usually misinterpret much. The way Neva was glaring at him though, was as if he’d said something completely asinine.

  Carla was silent, too.

  Peter glanced from sister to sister. Neither met each other’s eyes. Wearing a frown, Neva stared at the floor just in front of the tips of Carla’s pointy high-heeled shoes, looking as if she could burn a hole in the worn wooden flooring with the glare coming out of her eyes. Carla, on the other hand, flicked her gaze about the room, as if unable to settle her attention on any one thing.

  Exactly how long had it been since the Tipton twins had seen one another?

  The awkwardness that filled the room felt as thick as the clay mud at the bottom of his pond. He was obviously in the middle of something he didn’t understand.

  Identical twin women, both with an ax to grind. Scary stuff.

  He backed out of the house, holding the bag of sugar, disappointed that he and Neva hadn’t made it to her bed. As he walked away, the sensation of her in his arms washed over him… Oh, yeah, he’d be taking a very cold shower tonight.

  Carla had never had more rotten timing…or maybe it was excellent timing, Neva thou
ght. Her sister showing up at this particular moment may have ruined her chance to sleep with Peter, but maybe that was a good thing. She had not been thinking clearly when she’d agreed to sleep with him. His scorching hot kisses had blown her mind, sending common sense flying into a million pieces in the stratosphere. But now Peter had exited and Carla now stood center stage. Time to deal with her sister and put her libido on hold.

  “It’s been six years since we’ve seen each other or spoken, and you decide to casually drop in on me?” Neva stated, arching a brow.

  Carla shrugged.

  “How did you get here, anyway? There’s no car in the drive.” She glanced down at Carla’s perfect designer shoes. “And I’m taking a wild guess you did not walk the five miles from town in those heels.”

  “A nice deputy found me at the bus stop in your quaint little town and offered to drive me here. His name is Bill, I think. He’s sweet.”

  Neva rolled her eyes. “But of course.”

  “What did that mean?”

  “You always could twist a man around your finger. All you do is bat your lashes and ask for help and presto—men falling all over themselves to help the goddess Carla.”

  “I didn’t come here to argue.”

  “Why are you here?” Neva demanded. She knew she was being a horrible hostess, but this was her twin. Carla was up to something.

  “Um…I missed you?”

  “Right.” Neva snorted, shaking her head. “You ran out of money.”

  “Gee, sis, you know me so well,” Carla said, but her eyes narrowed and glittered in the dim light.

  “People don’t change.”

  Carla glanced over Neva, letting her gaze linger on Neva’s hair, her face. She hitched a breath before quietly saying, “You have. You look…different. Good different.”

  “I haven’t, though. It’s just the hair. I grew it out after—” After my engagement died, she thought, but kept the words to herself. The painful memory of that night popped up in her mind and she begged it to go away.

  “You really do look good,” Carla said softly.

  “Why? Because I look like you? Now that I have long hair?” she scoffed.

  Carla looked surprised. “No. Because you look like you. Finally.”

  For some reason the response touched Neva, softened the tightness squeezing her chest. But being vulnerable around her twin was something she couldn’t allow. Carla had done awful things to her while they were growing up, but the last thing her twin had done shattered her life. She had to stay strong. Firm. In command.

  “How did you find me? I moved to Meadowview not even a week ago and haven’t even sent my change-of-address info in to the post office. And I’m sure my old college friends wouldn’t have given you my contact info.” Candice and Anne hated Carla as much as Neva did.

  “The way anybody finds anything out these days.”

  “You searched me online?” Neva was shocked, but not sure why.

  “What else was I supposed to do? For six years, you’ve avoided me. You won’t answer my e-mails, take my phone calls, respond to my texts, or accept my requests to connect on social media.” Carla’s voice had taken on a level of emotion unfamiliar to Neva. “I found your address, and, well, here I am.”

  “Broke and homeless, I assume. Most likely looking for a free place to stay.”

  Carla’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so.”

  Neva snorted. “Dad always told you and Mom that you shouldn’t rely on your beauty, but neither of you listened. And now here you are, on my doorstep and obviously about to beg for help.”

  “Just like Dad figured.” Carla’s words came out harsh.

  “Dad was a wise man. How long did you think you would stay?”

  “Depends on when you plan to kick me out this time, I guess.”

  Neva’s heart slapped out a hard rhythm. “You deserved it last time.”

  “I’m sure you believed that.”

  Acid crept up her throat. Funny, Neva thought, how old wounds could seem completely healed, but one mention of the past ripped them wide open again.

  “Walking in on my twin sister about to have sex with my fiancé was one of the worst experiences of my life,” she snapped out. “Of course I’d throw you out of my apartment.”

  Carla raised her chin. “I told you Joel wasn’t good enough for you. You didn’t believe me. You should thank me for the help.”

  “You seduced him!”

  Silence met Neva’s violent statement. All the color drained from Carla’s face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but snapped it shut. Her eyes shot to the corner of the room and her chin jutted out. She was angry, but at what, though? Not at Neva. At Joel?

  “Didn’t it help that you found out he was a cheater before you married him?” Carla asked, her words so low Neva almost missed them.

  “You can justify your actions all you want. I never wanted your ‘help.’ The fact is, you went after my fiancé, and I’ll never forgive you for that betrayal.”

  Carla’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “I will be forever sorry you were hurt.”

  Exhaustion hit Neva. She closed her eyes and sagged against the bookshelf. “I can’t do this anymore tonight. I’m too tired. It’s been six years since we’ve talked. I think we can wait another night to hash things out.” She tipped her chin in the direction of the hallway. “I have a guest room, and you can stay for the night.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can thank me tomorrow when you leave.”

  “I need two weeks.”

  “One night.”

  “I’m begging you. Two weeks, and then you never need to see me again.”

  “Promise?”

  Carla swallowed, but nodded.

  Neva shook her head. Too much had occurred tonight for her to think clearly, but she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—kick her sister out on the street if she truly had nowhere to go. “Fine.”

  “Neva…” Carla’s voice had turned soft.

  “What is it?”

  For a moment, Neva wasn’t sure Carla heard the question. Her sister sat in silence, staring with glazed eyes at something far away. The breeze billowed out the curtains, brushing through the room like the soft touch of a mother’s hand. In the distance, a coyote yipped, the sound sharp but muffled by distance. Finally, a hit of a smile softly torqued the corner of Carla’s mouth upward a fraction of an inch.

  “I really have missed you,” was all Carla said.

  Neva fought the urge to cry. Because in truth, she’d missed her sister, too.

  Eight o’clock in the morning and Carla was still sleeping. Neva shouldn’t have expected anything different, but she’d been hoping to get their difficult discussion out of the way. The sooner she could deal with whatever it was Carla wanted or needed, the sooner she could get back to focusing on her farm. And chores beckoned. At least she’d managed to figure out the water situation, thanks to Peter, and her crops were getting the water they desperately needed.

  “There you go, girls,” she said, scattering the rest of the chicken feed in the green grass, lit brightly by the morning sun. Numerous chickens of all shapes and sizes, some reddish brown, some specked in black and white, and a few teeny tiny ones with long flowy feathers all gathered around, cackling and scratching at the brown earth. Watching the hens eat felt calm, soothing. She loved this farm and knew she was where she finally belonged. If she could only get her unwanted guest out of the house and put her emotions at ease again.

  And get over her attraction to her former best friend living next door. She sighed.

  She hooked the metal bucket back on the rusty nail sticking out of the wooden fence post, brushed her hands against her cutoffs, and headed back to the house. She supposed she could whip up a batch of biscuits and gravy and hope the scent woke up Carla. When they were young, a plate of biscuits and gravy was the one thing that could cause Carla to break her perpetual diet.

  Two weeks seemed like too long to live with this t
ension and with the in-person reminder of Carla’s betrayal. Maybe she should feed her sister, give her some money, and then suggest she take the bus and head out of town. She didn’t owe her sister more than that.

  Who was she kidding? She’d let her twin stay with her for as long as Carla needed…but she didn’t have to like it. In truth, what she didn’t like wasn’t so much being with her sister as it was being with the past. Because that scent of Shalimar carried with it too many emotions—hurt, loss…anger, resentment…emotional exhaustion.

  Rounding the corner, she halted when she saw Peter and another woman standing on her porch. Company? Again?

  The woman was older, dressed in tie-dye and wearing…dreadlocks? Peter stood with his stance wide, arms folded across his chest, wearing a black T-shirt and faded jeans, the fabric pulled taught across muscular thighs and his…uh…package.

  Her heart tripped inside her chest and her breath caught in her throat. “Do not notice the package,” she murmured under her breath. But when Peter’s gaze landed on her belly, her hands automatically reached to tug down the pink and white checked button-down top she’d flung on earlier in the morning and tied at her waist. Great time to look like Daisy Duke, she mentally chided.

  Part of the appeal in buying this farm was the solitude, so this small-town neighborly stuff was feeling a bit much. And so was seeing Peter Leary. Her core quivered and her breath went shallow. So much for not getting turned on by Peter. Damn the man.

  He gave her a quick and easy grin, but his smile radiated heat, hinting at the passion they’d shared the night before. As she headed up the steps, he held her gaze. Her body went hot and wet in all the wrong places. Damn. Those feelings were supposed to go away, not intensify.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, then immediately regretted the brusque tone. Embarrassed, she bit her lip and glanced at the woman standing at Peter’s side, who was either oblivious to the tension radiating between her and Peter or was being polite and pretending not to notice.

  “I brought someone you need to meet. Delilah here”—Peter gestured to the woman by his side—“owns and runs Delilah’s Diner. She wants to ask about potentially putting in an order for produce.”