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

by Rochelle French

  She held her hand up and examined her fingernails. “I have nothing to say.”

  “That’s not true.” He glanced at her sideways, then squeezed the wheel. “You need someone to talk to, and I’m probably the only friend you have right now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t look so tense. And don’t pretend like your manicure is all that important to you—it isn’t.”

  “Since when were you, Peter Leary, King of the Nerds, friends with Carla Tipton, Homecoming Queen, Miss Sacramento Valley, Miss Northern California, Miss Western United States, Miss—”

  “I get the point. We were never friends. And to clarify, I was a geek, not a nerd.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Only in the minds of geeks.”

  She let out a sigh. “Sorry, Peter. I was cruel to you for all those years. I should have been openly accepting of who you were. I blew it. So why are you being nice to me now?”

  “Maybe I want to be your friend.” He blew out a breath, wishing the Tipton girls would make things easy on him. “You let me in the day your father died. Showed me who you really are. You trusted me.” He cast a glance over at her and noticed her sag against the truck door. “I’ve always kept that promise you made of me, you know.”

  She sighed. “You were a better friend to me in that one hour than all my high school friends combined in all the years of high school.”

  “That’s kind of sad, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” She barked out a laugh, then sobered. “And I know you never told anyone, including Neva, my secret,” she said, closing her eyes. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I don’t know what made me tell you that when I hadn’t told anyone.”

  “You knew you could trust me. I made you a promise. And you know I’ll always keep it.”

  Carla picked at a seam on the seat between them. “You’re a good guy, Peter. Sometimes the weirdest things come out of your mouth, but your heart is pure gold.”

  He chuckled, recalling the dirty thoughts he’d had the night before about her twin. “I don’t know about that.”

  “How’d you get to be so nice? So honorable? I remember your dad.” She shuddered. “He was awful.”

  True. But now wasn’t the time to discuss his fucked up family life. He’d had Maude, the best aunt anyone could ever have. Maude and Neva had made life worth it. Until Neva walked away and crushed him. He shook his head to clear it. This plan of his, idiotic as it was, had already been put into effect. He desperately needed Carla on board.

  “You were right, you know,” he said.

  “I’m always right,” Carla drawled. Then she sobered. “Right about what? That your dad was awful?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Last night, when you opened Neva’s door to see us on her front porch, you asked if we were about to sleep together.”

  “Oh my god! You were! I knew it!” Carla squealed, sitting up in her seat, clearly delighted. “No one comes over at ten o’clock at night to borrow sugar. But why did Neva lie?”

  Good question.

  “Did she ever share with you why we stopped being friends?” His voice had risen, surprising him. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to know the reason why Neva had dumped their friendship. Keeping the past in the past had been his motto. But now, some sort of Pandora’s box had been opened—and stayed open no matter how hard he tried pushing down the lid.

  “No. I asked, but she wouldn’t talk about it. I figured you two had a big fight.”

  They hadn’t. He’d kissed her and she’d run. The next day her dad had died. For months after—years, really—he’d searched his memory, trying to recall if he’d said something wrong—because he always said something wrong. What could he have said to make her flee? But he hadn’t said anything, which confirmed his greatest fear: by kissing her, he’d ruined their friendship.

  “Something like that,” he finally said when Carla gave him an inquisitive look.

  “But you’re now neighbors. You were about to boink. Surely you’ve asked her what happened, right?”

  “Nope.”

  She let out a sharp burst of laughter. “Why on earth not? You can’t tell me it doesn’t matter to you. Does that mean you’ve avoided the question because you’re chicken?”

  “The past should stay in the past. Besides, I’m leaving Meadowview soon. Made sense to sleep with each other, but not to get invested. Or figure out problems from before.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  A smile tickled the corner of his mouth. “You’re right. I’m being an idiot. But what about you? Why haven’t you told her the truth about why you came to see her?”

  “Who says I haven’t?”

  “Carla.”

  She shifted in the seat, fiddling with the door handle, and for a fraction of a second he thought Carla was about to jump out of a moving vehicle. When she dropped her hand back into her lap, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m not sure telling her the truth will do any good,” Carla said softly. “She hates me, and for a lot of reasons. And I’m scared.” She heaved a breath, then rolled her eyes. “Mostly I’m scared.”

  “You don’t need to be.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Peter, but you weren’t raised the way we were. My family’s belief system was…my parents were… Never mind,” she murmured, flicking her gaze back out the window.

  He knew what she was going to say. Her parents wouldn’t have been accepting of who their daughter really was. And Carla was worried Neva would feel the same way. It wasn’t up to him to convince her otherwise, he reminded himself. Healing couldn’t happen if it was forced. The Tipton twins needed to repair the rift between them on their own. He could help by bringing them together, but the rest was up to Neva and Carla.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to try,” he said, mildly. “You never know.”

  “You never know,” Carla repeated in a whisper Peter knew was meant for herself, not him.

  As they approached town, Peter downshifted and applied the brakes, letting the truck roll to a halt at the stop sign at the corner of Market and Main Streets. In front of them, Delilah’s Diner was full of customers. Inside, next to the new bay window, sat Remy Toussaint, the sheriff, and his new wife, Coraleen. Close to a year ago, Coraleen had taken out the front half of the diner when her car lost its brakes. Remy had been inside. Coraleen ended up with a concussion and the diner had been shut for months. Bad news.

  A thought crossed Peter’s mind. Had Coraleen not ended up with a massive concussion, she might not have ended up staying at Remy’s. Maybe they never would have married, had Coraleen not (literally) plowed into town.

  Huh. That was a case where bad things happen for a reason. A good reason. Without that car crash, the two of them would probably not have connected. But Remy and Coraleen’s situation was an anomaly. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, bad things just happened. Caused problems. Destruction. Like Carla showing up right as he was about to get it on with Neva. Worst timing ever.

  But although Carla coming to see her sister had been bad for him, it could be good for her, and her twin. Time for the Tipton sisters to mend the fence. And he could help make that happen.

  And hopefully, get Neva into his bed at the same time.

  Even though he’d lectured himself about forcing the issue, he added, “Talk to her, Carla. Just give her a chance. Let her know the real you.”

  “It won’t do any good. Neva only sees in me what she wants to see.”

  “Christ,” Peter snapped out. He worked his jaw, reining in his frustration. “How could she ever see your true self when you consistently show her what you aren’t, not what you are? Can you fault her?”

  “But I was that person she hates. I was vain. Manipulative. A liar. I relied on my beauty to get me…everything.”

  “You were young and playing the role your parents expected you to play. Same with Neva. Now you’re grown up. No more excuses.”

  She fro
wned. “What do you mean? We didn’t have roles.”

  He blew out a breath. Now was not the time to share with Carla what he’d observed. How Senator and Mrs. Bartholomew Tipton manipulated their children to get back at one another. The elder Tiptons had one sick and fucked up relationship, but their girls seemed oblivious to the marital and parental dysfunction.

  “Never mind,” he said quietly. “What matters is what happens next. Why are you really here?”

  She glanced at him, suspicion in her narrowed eyes. “Didn’t Neva tell you? I got dumped by my latest sugar daddy. As Neva said, I’m broke and homeless.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Why wouldn’t you think I’m telling the truth?” she said archly.

  “Three reasons: First, because you always put on that seductive act when you’re trying to get someone to buy into your sweet-smelling bull crap. Reason number two? You don’t date men, Carla,” he added, softly.

  She huffed, and although she didn’t respond, she did slouch down on the truck seat, folding her arms over her chest, sticking her hands in her armpits, and crossing her feet at the ankles. Her actions were more than a little awkward and definitely not seductive.

  But very real.

  He was getting through now.

  “And reason number three is that I know you have money,” he added. “You dropped an ATM receipt in the driveway. The current balance in your personal account is seventy-five thousand dollars. And that’s just your checking account. I looked you up on the Internet. I know about your business.”

  “You’re spying on me? That’s a little creepy.”

  “So is pretending to your own sister that you’re broke and couch-surfing.”

  He ignored her when she huffed loudly, adding “And I know you have a car—my friend Remy is the sheriff and he called me this morning. He found a 2016 newly-released Lexus parked behind the high school. He ran the plates and it turns out the car belongs to you.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Yeah, right. You own a business worth several million dollars. You have thirty employees and pull in eighty thousand a month take-home. So why lie? Why are you really here?”

  Carla tipped her head back against the seat. Tension ebbed out of her face and a warm smile grew wide across her face. “I’ve found someone,” she said softly, her eyes lighting up. “Her name is Glynis. I came here, initially, to tell Neva the truth about me.”

  “About time,” was all he said.

  “But…” The warmth on Carla’s face disappeared as a shadow crossed over. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. “I’m so scared.”

  “I know.”

  “What if…?”

  “She won’t.”

  Carla seemed to know what he meant. “Are you sure?”

  “I know a few things about your sister. The first is that no matter how you two were raised, no matter what values were true in your hearts or held by your family, she loves you. And she always will. She will accept who you are. And who you love.”

  Carla turned her head and gazed at him, a blend of worry and hope in her eyes. “Promise?”

  “Yes,” he said, and meant it.

  Heading out to the garden for a hard day’s work, Neva slung a hoe over her shoulder and plugged in her headphones. She cranked up The Boomtown Rats—not quite punk, but she indulged in 1980s New Wave from time to time. She was intent on working hard—and extremely intent on forgetting about Peter and the fact she’d almost slept with him (and still wanted to, damn her hormones) and Peter’s crazy, crazy plan to go out with her twin. Her emotions were more topsy-turvy than they’d ever been.

  Was she nuts, agreeing to help the man she lusted after date her sister?

  “Not nuts,” she said aloud.

  No, supporting Peter in his plan to woo Carla was the way things were supposed to go, the way things had always been. Besides, had to be the only reason she wanted to sleep with Peter was because she was horny and alone. The deep friendship they’d shared in high school had long been over. They’d moved on, which she’d needed so she wouldn’t end up carrying some sort of torch for him. Their heated make-out session on the roof and their hastily thought-out plan for sex had been an anomaly, brought about by two people who wanted a quick roll in the hay and nothing more. Carla was who Peter wanted. For him, she’d always be “one that got away.”

  Unless he actually got Carla, which seemed like a long stretch, at best.

  Best thing Neva could do to get the desire for the man out of her system was facilitate Peter’s chance at his dream woman. She doubted, however, that he’d succeed, even with her help.

  “This plan’s going to be an absolute disaster,” she said aloud, startling a passing chicken. Blast. She needed to focus on her work, not agonize over Peter’s lame plan to woo her twin. Work was more important than Peter Leary’s lovelorn love live—she had a major contract to fill with this season’s harvest. Next year she’d branch out, diversify, but for now, her success was dependent on Morris Brannan's restaurant order. She wasn’t going to let thoughts about a man get in the way.

  Even if that man was Peter Leary.

  Especially if that man was Peter Leary.

  The hours passed quickly, until Neva’s back screamed it was done with watering plants, pruning plants, transplanting plants, picking fruit, picking berries, picking veggies, picking the underwear out of her—

  She stood up straight.

  Carla would never give herself a wedgie.

  No, her twin dressed with perfection, pairing the correct panties with her outfit each and every time. Warmth spread throughout Neva’s chest as she recalled the hours she’d spend watching Carla get ready to go out. Even though they were identical, somehow everything looked better on her sister. Neva used to love seeing her twin, dressed to the nines, make-up applied perfectly and the right accessories placed in the right location. Carla always took her breath away.

  Neva fought back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to spill. God, she’d missed her sister.

  Six years. They’d gone six years without speaking. But how could Neva ever move past what Carla had done? Her twin had broken her trust, so what kind of relationship could they really have now?

  When Joel had proposed their last year in college, Neva had been ecstatic. They’d only been dating for six months, but she felt she’d found “the one.” Joel liked her short hair and her thick glasses. He’d even wanted them to get matching tattoos. Told her repeatedly how much he loved her and how wonderful their lives would be together. She’d own an organic farm and he’d sell his art—paintings on dried gourds. Life would be full of bliss.

  Then Carla called, saying she was coming for a visit. Neva was excited and nervous for her fiancé to meet her twin. Carla had stolen a man from her before—well, a boy, really. Not like anyone could call an almost eighteen-year-old Peter a man. In the back of her mind, she worried that maybe, like Peter, Joel would opt for the better twin.

  The first day of Carla’s visit, her twin confided she didn’t think Joel was right for Neva. Neva chalked that one up to her sister being overly protective.

  The second day, Carla was more blunt. Neva could do better—lots better. Something uncomfortable sat on Neva’s chest after that exchange, a dark thought niggling the back of her mind, a whispered message that maybe Carla wanted Joel for herself.

  Neva tried to push her worry away.

  But her fears weren’t unfounded. Three days after Carla arrived, Neva came home early from class. She could still recall how she’d felt when she walked in to her bedroom and saw them together. There, a naked Carla stood, her back up against the wall, arms spread wide. A fully dressed Joel was pressed up against her, holding her hands and kissing the hell out of her.

  Neva almost puked.

  Joel finally figured out something was up and let go of Carla. He turned to Neva, regret heavy in his face. “Babe. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Y
es, it is,” she choked out. “And also hers.” She pointed at her twin.

  Carla at least had the decency to pick up her clothes. “Whatever you say, sis.”

  “Don’t come back here, ever again. I never want to see your face.”

  For a moment, Carla paused, staring at Neva with intensity. Something odd was in her eyes—a feral, pained expression—then it disappeared. Replaced with the hard glitter Neva knew too well.

  “Good luck with that, sis,” Carla ground out. “Because every time you look in the mirror, you’ll see my face. And I’ll see yours. I’ll never leave you. And you’ll never leave me.”

  Carla dressed hastily in the living room and exited the apartment, slamming the door, hard, without so much as a backward glance at Joel. Neva sat on her bed and sobbed.

  Joel begged her forgiveness, saying that Carla had seduced him. Neva had tried to give him a second chance, but the damage had been done. After a month of walking on eggshells around one another, she and Joel finally parted ways, with Neva giving back the engagement ring.

  She’d lost her fiancé and her sister in one fell swoop.

  Just like how she’d lost her dad and her best friend in one wretched day.

  The day’s work over, she headed back to the barn and set the hoe against the rough-hewn exterior wall. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back, letting the sun caress her face as a gentle breeze wafted over her sweaty body, cooling her off. Slowly, her mind let go of the past and the anger and pain ebbed away.

  A black and white speckled chicken came around the side of the barn. Noticing Neva, it froze, one leg pulled up under its belly. The hen cocked her head to stare, inquisitive.

  “Hey, girl.”

  Another speckled hen followed, a mirror image of the first. The one staring at Neva apparently figured the human lady wasn’t a threat and focused her attention on the newcomer. Together, the two hens moved off, clucking in unison, scratching the earth and pecking at the dirt, their heads together.