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

by Rochelle French

  Two sisters, living in harmony.

  So different from the Tipton twins.

  She bit the inside of her lip. When Carla got back from town, they needed to discuss getting her back on her feet. And getting her out of Meadowview.

  Neva didn’t much like this plan Peter had put together—asking her to act as his Cyrano de Bergerac and tell him what to say and do to win her sister—but maybe the idea had come at the right time.

  She needed Peter out of her head. And how better to do that but to watch with her own eyes as he tripped head over heels in pursuit of her sister? Sure had worked before. But an uneasiness settled in her heart, and she had to hope that unlike the last time she’d seen Peter and Carla together, this time she wouldn’t get hurt.

  At three forty-five, Peter found a booth in the Goldpan Pub and waited for Neva to arrive. He pulled out his phone and checked messages—nothing yet from Maude. Was she still in Brazil?

  He thumbed through his emails, not finding much besides travel promotions boasting about exotic destinations. For years, he’d researched places to go, sights to see, experiences to be had. He’d created his travel plans back in high school, a dream brought about by a desperate desire to run from a home life that had only pain. Even though the funds had been released to him two years before, he hadn’t touched the account. Because Maude had called, needing him, and he’d put his plans on hold.

  Maude was returning, and he was free. He frowned. He still hadn’t picked a destination, though. He thumbed to the Internet on his phone and popped up a global map, narrowing the image until the entirety of the planet showed on the screen. He stared at the world, wondering if the right country for his first stop would reach out and grab him. None did.

  Instead, a text popped up on his screen. His father’s name showed as the sender. Peter hit Delete without reading it.

  “Scoot your ass over,” a man’s voice said.

  An out-of-uniform Remy Toussaint, one of his friends and Deloro County’s Sheriff, stood next to his booth, beer in hand. Jack Gibson walked up, holding two beers, and slid into the booth next to Peter.

  “You can’t sit with me,” Peter blurted.

  “It’s an empty seat. And we brought beer.” Jack slid the beer to him.

  Remy sat on the bench seat on the other side and took a sip from his own beer before saying, “We get it. You’re expecting someone. We’ll get out of your hair soon. But I need to ask you something first.”

  Peter glanced at the door but saw no sign of Neva. “The minute Neva Tipton arrives, you two are out of here.”

  “Neva, right?” Remy said. “She’s your new neighbor, the one whose Lexus ran out of gas. My deputy gave her a ride to her place last night.” He cocked his head. “Why did her car registration have a different name, though? And why would she get a Lexus if she’s taking over the Hendrickson’s farm? That gravel road won’t treat a Lexus kindly.”

  “The person Bill drove was actually Neva’s twin sister, Carla,” Peter explained.

  Remy raised his brows. “Interesting. Fraternal or identical?”

  “Identical,” Jack interjected. “Although, according to Peter, they don’t look all that alike.”

  Peter frowned. “They’ve both changed since I last saw them. Now they’re almost identical. But Neva’s more—” More beautiful, was what he’d been about to say, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Carla. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

  “Is this a date that has you wanting to get rid of us so fast, then?” Remy asked.

  “Something like that.” A spasm of guilt spiked through Peter. Guilt that Neva thought she was training him on how to woo her sister. Maybe he shouldn’t have thought up this plan. All he’d wanted was to spend time with her, but Neva’s stubborn streak left him no other choice.

  Earlier, he’d driven Carla over to where she had stashed her car the night before. Before she got out of the truck, he had confessed his plan—and as he shared his idea with Carla, she just about split her side from laughing.

  Even though she thought he was crazy for setting up this convoluted plan, and even though she thought he should simply talk to Neva and explain how he felt, she also understood he’d already tried getting her to go out with him but Neva wouldn’t believe he liked her. Such a stubborn woman, but so goddamned gorgeous. And vivacious. And vulnerable. And strong.

  “You’re right about Neva and how she digs in her feet,” Carla had said. “You need to prove to her by your actions that you really don’t want me, and she’ll figure it out. Besides, aren’t you the one who just lectured me on a person’s actions?”

  Together, they finessed the plan. At the fundraiser, he’d come on to Carla using all the tips Neva gave him. But instead of accepting his date, Carla would act like a total bitch, making sure everyone around her heard how poorly she thought of Peter.

  At that point, Peter would call her out on her behavior—make a big show about how he’d once thought she was everything and with a cherry on top but now he found her shallow and vain and didn’t want anything to do with her and that she couldn’t hold a candle to her fabulous sister.

  He’d storm off…and hopefully Neva would follow.

  Then finally, Neva would be convinced he wasn’t interested in her twin sister and would give him a chance—a real chance.

  That was the plan, at any rate.

  Excitement churned in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to start on phase one of his plan. But first, he had to get rid of the two men at his table.

  “There’s an open table over there.” He helpfully pointed to a table in the corner, and then not so surreptitiously checked the door again to see if Neva had arrived. Not yet, thank goodness.

  “Let’s get down to it, Peter.” Remy set his bottle down and leveled Peter with a stare. “Jack says your contract with the Meadowview Fire Department is up and you won’t sign a new contract. Why in the world wouldn’t you stay on?”

  “I never planned to stay in Meadowview forever,” he rationalized, more to himself than to Jack and Remy. “I explained to the Chief when he hired me that I would take off once Maude returned from her volunteer position. My job here was always temporary.”

  “You’re leaving Meadowview vulnerable.” The sheriff leaned across the table, his gaze dark and intent. “There aren’t many seasoned firefighters willing to move somewhere so rural. We need help. We need you.”

  Guilt flushed through him at the thought of abandoning his team, but there had to be another solution. Then it hit him. “Hunter Thorne came aboard last year, and he’ll stick around now that he married Liz Pritchard. Amber DeCosta is part-time, too, as is Malcolm. One of them could take the full-time position when I leave.”

  “Hunter’s already signed a full-time contract,” Remy pointed out. “And Amber and Malcolm don’t have the experience we need. No, the department is in need of someone who’s reliable. Fearless. A good leader. An excellent firefighter.”

  Acid suddenly burned in Peter’s stomach. He cast a sidelong glance at Jack. “If you’re after excellence, don’t look my way.”

  “He’s talking about the fire Lia got caught in,” Jack explained soberly to Remy.

  The sheriff jolted. “She made it out alive. And because of you, countless numbers of lives were saved that night. You single-handedly got all those people out, and safely. No one has ever thought you did wrong that night.”

  Except himself. “Other people’s opinion doesn’t matter. It matters what I think. And I know I was to blame. That night of the fire, I told the chief that when my contract was up, I was done with firefighting for good.”

  His father’s cruel voice echoed loudly in his mind, sneering at Peter’s lack of strength, his lack of ability…his lack of balls, as Hugh had said. For years, Peter ignored his father’s voice in his mind, replacing the nastiness in his head with the with positive words of Maude.

  Until the night of the fire in the Goldpan. His father’s voice was loud in his mind that night. And had rem
ained ever since. And after that, Maude’s voice was gone.

  He glanced around, taking in the newly renovated pub. The owner, Jeff Brewer, had done well in hiring Jack’s construction company to complete the renovations to the place after the fire had all but gutted the interior. Nothing was left to remind him of that fateful night. Except that image of Lia, staggering out of the doorway and diving through a wall of flames, would be forever seared in his mind.

  “Is this why you’re leaving Meadowview?” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “And why you are leaving your entire career? Because you think you messed up?”

  “It was my fault. End of story.” Peter thumbed the condensation on his beer and didn’t look up. Thoughts and words swirled around in his mind, messy and cluttered, unformed. If he said anymore, he would most likely say the wrong thing.

  The door open, letting in the pink and orange streaks of late afternoon…and letting in Neva Tipton.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  Some people might confuse which twin was which, but he never had. How could he?

  “Wish we could convince you to stay in Meadowview, Peter.” Jack turned in his seat to see what Peter was staring at. He shifted back and nodded at Remy. “But that gorgeous blonde in the doorway is our cue to leave, Toussaint.”

  Both Jack and Remy edged out of the booth, taking their beers with them.

  “If you change your mind about the job…” Remy offered.

  “I won’t.” Peter appreciated their support, but he knew the town was better off without him. He focused on Neva. Warmth rushed over him, infusing him to the core, like the sensation of getting into a hot tub. Only better. Way better.

  Remy chuckled. “Good luck with the twin. Sure you know which one that is?”

  Of course he did. Sometimes in high school, Carla and Neva would switch identities. Usually it was when Carla had a big test she hadn’t studied for because she had been off on one of her beauty pageants. Carla and Neva would meet in the bathroom, switch clothes, Neva would take the test, then the sisters would switch clothes back at the next break.

  The only complication with the twin swap was the hair—Carla’s was long and Neva’s short. The sisters would wear hats, or Neva would put on one of Carla’s pageant wigs.

  Teachers were fooled. The principal was fooled. Carla’s friends were even fooled. But Peter knew the difference. Always.

  When Neva smiled, her mouth quirked up to the left. Carla’s didn’t. Neva would gnaw on her lower lip when she was uncertain. Carla never did. Neva would sway to music, even if the sound was faint in the background. Carla never seemed to notice. But mostly, Neva’s gaze held an expressive openness that Carla never showed.

  “That’s the right twin,” he said firmly. The men moved off. Across the room, Neva caught sight of him. She gave him a quick wave.

  Last night she’d worn a dark navy blue and white polka-dotted sundress that buttoned in the front. Today, her dress was a riot of red polka dots on a white background. The dress wrapped around and tied at her waist. The thought of reaching out and untying the bow and pushing the dress off Neva’s shoulders to bare her luscious breasts jumped into his mind. His pulse intensified and he had to remind his gonads that he was in a public place. And that Neva thought he wanted her sister.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Remy and Jack make their way to an empty table on the far side of the room as Neva came closer. Good. Normally he would be happy to introduce her to his friends, but not right now.

  “You look beautiful,” he offered when she slipped into the booth across from him. “But then, you are beautiful.”

  Neva quirked an eyebrow but smiled. “If you’re rehearsing lines for Carla, you’re off to a good start.”

  The warmth that had flowed into his system on seeing her arrive faded, but not completely. He gave himself a mental shake. This was his plan, and he needed to make it work.

  “Thanks. I thought of it myself.”

  With a quick wave, Neva gesture to the waitress that she wanted what Peter was having. “Is my sister still in town?”

  “Yep. I dropped her off where she asked.”

  “She didn’t come back to the farm. Do you know where she is?”

  “Someone at the fire station said she was invited to see Mac John’s studio—he’s a local artist.”

  The light disappeared from Neva’s eyes. Her mouth tightened into a firm line. “But of course.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not true. Mac is happily engaged to a woman he’s insanely in love with. His fiancée is Trudy. You’ve met her. And she’s the one who invited Carla to come over and see the studio.”

  Neva pinched her lips together and had the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry. I like Trudy. I didn’t mean to insult your friend—”

  “Just your sister.”

  “You don’t know what she’s done, Peter. I do. I lived it. So if I make certain assumptions about my twin, it’s because I have the benefit of past experience on which to base my judgment.”

  He didn’t want to argue. “If you say so.”

  The waitress came up with the beer and Neva closed her eyes as she took a long drag. She wiped the foam off her top lip with a cloth napkin, then set the beer mug down and leaned forward to prop her chin on her elbows, giving him a grin, her features now soft and relaxed. She seemed tired, but in a good way. Content. Farming apparently was good for her.

  “How’re the crops?” he asked.

  She grew excited for a moment, then her smile disappeared and her brows came together. “I’m only here for one reason, Peter.”

  “Fine. In that case, I guess it’s time for your mentorship, oh sensei. Give me your wisdom.”

  She pointed to his beer. “Here’s lesson number one. Don’t drink beer around Carla.”

  “But I like beer.”

  “I do, too. But Carla is a champagne kind of girl. So order her a glass of bubbly, the higher-priced the better. Or maybe a Kier Royale, if you want something a little different.”

  “Do you like champagne?”

  Neva drew a smiley-face with her finger in the beer’s condensation, then quickly wiped it away. “Doesn’t matter what I like. I said I’d help you win Carla over, and all beauty queens like champagne. It’s a no-brainer.”

  “Seems rather presumptive of you, and quite clichéd.”

  She pinched her brows together. “Do you still want my help or not?”

  Nope. He just wanted her time. And he rather liked teasing her a bit. “I’m not much into champagne,” he said. “Please don’t tell me I’m supposed to drink the stuff. It tickles my nose.”

  “Fine…” Neva waggled her head back and forth. “Drink Scotch. Expensive Scotch. Don’t ask for top shelf; ask for what the bartender reserves for VIPs.”

  He very much doubted Jeff Brewer or any other bartender in Meadowview kept anything in reserve. In this town, all people were VIPs, everyone equally important.

  Something stabbed in his chest. Peter glanced around the pub, taking in the familiar sights—Jeff behind the bar, ringing up an order, Ned Peardale and Jim Bentsen arguing politics in the corner. In truth, he would miss Meadowview when he left. He’d come to love the small town and its quirky ways. Squabbles happened here, sure, and the place wasn’t exactly Mayberry—the downturn in the economy had affected Meadowview and Deloro County as equally as it did big cities, and crime had slowly crept into the town, but not much. Remy Toussaint had a compassionate hand but he ran a tight ship.

  Too bad Neva hadn’t bought the Hendrickson’s place two years earlier. What fun they could have had hopping in and out of each other’s beds, knowing no commitment would be needed, that he’d be taking off and she’d be staying behind...

  “Peter?” Neva said his name quietly. When he focused his eyes on her, she added, “You seemed deep in thought.”

  “I was.”

  “About Carla?”

  “No. About when I leave this town.”

&n
bsp; Neva raised her chin off her hands and looked off in the distance. She grabbed her beer and took a deep gulp. “Focus on one thing at a time, okay? You need a lot of work and we don’t have all day.”

  “Whatever you say, sensei.”

  “Knock it off with that ‘sensei’ stuff. How did I get myself into this?” Neva grumbled to herself. “I am supposed to just be a gardener.”

  “You took pity on me?”

  “Nope, that’s not it.”

  “You like to help?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “You think your sister and I would make beautiful babies?”

  Her chin shot up and she glared at him, but laugh lines showed at the corners of her eyes, giving her away. “Oh, that’s right. I remember now. You’re blackmailing me.”

  He grinned. “Yep, there is that. But it’s not blackmail. It’s ransom.”

  “Exactly. You’re holding a perfectly reasonable contract—one that I need to save my farm—for ransom.”

  A desire to reach out and stroke her cheek grew inside him. Neva was so damned adorable when she got huffy. Instead, he kept his hands wrapped around his beer and asked, “Next lesson? What do I do after I’ve ordered my Scotch?”

  Neva relaxed and matched his grin. “Fine. We’ll move on. So something I know women like my sister are overly fond of is to hear of all the VIPs you’ve met.”

  “VIPs? Such as…?”

  “You know, any famous people you’ve encountered. Actors, musicians, artists, luminaries, statesman, royalty,” she said, airily waving a hand. “Casually bring up a time when you’ve met someone famous. Make sure she understands you had a connection with said famous person.”

  “Drop names?” Clearly, Neva had no clue who her sister was, who her sister had become. And for that, he felt a little sorry for her. Why couldn’t Neva let go of her prejudices? Or of the past? Whatever happened between the sisters had occurred years before. Time to move on.

  “Yes. Exactly,” Neva said, unaware of what was going on in his mind. “Then, after that, mention positions of power that you hold. Or held. But Peter, make them actually be powerful so she’s impressed.”