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

by Rochelle French

  Five minutes before, Peter had walked off to find them a table. He’d most definitely had a smile on his face at that point. In the space of time it had taken Peter to find them a table, Neva had made friends with the sheriff, promised to volunteer for Jack Gibson’s wife’s charity, and had met Peter’s aunt and her new husband. And in that space of time, something dramatic must have happened to set Peter over the edge.

  “Who is this?” he demanded when he arrived at her side, staring at Roberto De La Cruz, his new—

  Step-great-uncle? Great-uncle-in-law? Was that the correct terminology for Peter’s great-aunt’s new husband? Neva wasn’t quite sure.

  “Young man, what did I teach you about manners?” his aunt asked crisply. “What are you supposed to say?”

  Peter remained silent.

  In the few minutes Neva had spent chatting with the newcomer, she’d found Peter’s aunt to be vivacious and energetic and full of life. The woman’s new husband was charming and so obviously in love with Maude, given the way he couldn’t take his beaming eyes off the woman. Neva hadn’t seen anything deserving of the negative energy flowing off Peter and directed to the man at his aunt’s side.

  “Are you after her money?” Peter blurted out.

  “Peter!” Neva gasped.

  But the older man seemed rather nonplussed for having just been called a gold digger. Instead, he gave Peter’s aunt a reassuring smile. “You’re right, sweetheart. Your nephew calls it like he sees it.” He glanced back up at Peter. “I like a man who speaks his mind. Enough with the bullshit chitchat, right?”

  He stuck his hand out for Peter to shake and kept it there, even though Peter deliberately ignored the man’s attempt at civility. “My name’s Roberto De La Cruz,” the older man said patiently, still holding out his hand. “I married your aunt a few days ago.”

  “In Brazil? Is the marriage even valid?” Peter snapped.

  “In Vegas. And I’m not Brazilian, I’m American.”

  “Oh.” Peter appeared slightly mollified, but still skeptical.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Roberto continued. “Your aunt’s told me a lot about you.”

  “She hasn’t said a word to me about you.”

  “What you’re supposed to say, Peter,” Maude said, “is ‘My name’s Peter Leary. I’m pleased to meet you, too.’ Then shake the man’s hand.”

  “I have my own money,” Roberto added. “And lots of it. You’re welcome to check my bank accounts any time you like.” He tipped his head in Remy’s direction. “Or have your law-enforcement friend vet me.”

  Peter finally seemed to calm. “I’m pleased to meet you, too,” he said, mimicking his aunt’s words. His tone wasn’t soft and gentle, but at least he sounded slightly genuine and certainly not as furious as earlier.

  “Better if you called him ‘sir,’” Maude said.

  “Don’t push it, Auntie,” Peter growled. He jutted out his chin, his jaw tight, eyes glittering, as he reached out and shook the hand of his step-great-uncle-in-law (Neva still couldn’t figure out the proper terminology to define the connection between the two).

  Neva had to wonder how, in the span of three days, her life had grown so thoroughly complex.

  Exhausted, and way too sexually satiated to untangle his feet from Neva’s sheets, Peter collapsed and rolled onto his back. With one hand, he stroked Neva’s shoulder. She quivered under his touch but settled, her breath resuming a steady pace. He stared up at the white bead-board ceiling in Neva’s bedroom and wondered how the hell he’d gotten here.

  Well, he knew how he’d gotten in Neva’s bedroom—Maude and Roberto were staying in Maude’s house and no way was he going to have sex with his great aunt under the same roof.

  No, what he couldn’t figure out was how he’d ended up in this emotional place he was in with Neva. He’d wanted to sleep with her, have some fun, maybe play out a few fantasies he’d had back in high school. He hadn’t anticipated craving her taste, the sensation of her skin under his fingers, her unique scent to the point where he felt addicted.

  Somewhere along the path, he’d discovered something he thought was lost forever.

  Friendship.

  Years ago, she’d walked out of his life without explanation. Now he was about to walk out of hers. This time, though, they’d be parting ways with no secrets between them. No unanswered questions, no confusion.

  “This goes without saying, but that was good. So very, very good,” he said.

  Neva rolled onto her side and curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, her hand flat on his stomach. She let out a soft laugh. “Beyond good, I’d say.”

  “Stratospherically amazing?”

  “Most definitely.” She sobered, toying with his bellybutton. “Peter?”

  “Mmm hmm?”

  “You really had no clue your aunt was married?”

  After the shock at discovering his newly-married aunt at the community potluck had worn off, and after grudgingly accepting his aunt’s new husband, the four of them had (mostly) enjoyed dinner before heading back home—Maude and Roberto to the farmhouse, and him and Neva to Neva’s place.

  When he and Neva arrived, Carla was tucked away in the guest room, chatting on a video call. He’d ushered Neva past the guest room and into her bedroom, where he proceeded to rip her clothes off and ravish her, as she did the exact same to him.

  “She tried calling me a few times, but we couldn’t connect.”

  “You’re glad for her, though.”

  “Yes. Roberto appears to be decent enough.”

  “You didn’t ask Remy to run a background check on him, did you?” She twisted to look at him. “I hope not, because wouldn’t that be illegal? I mean, you know, if there’s no cause?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to trust Maude on this one. Seems like she knows what she wants. Who she wants.” The way he wanted Neva.

  “Think they’ll stay in Meadowview?” she asked.

  “I assume. I mean, Maude’s done with her two-year volunteer program, which means she’s back in town to manage the farm. I’m headed out of town, so her place is free.”

  “So she and Roberto will be my new neighbors. Cool.”

  It stung that she’d responded in such a cavalier way to his verbal reminder of his soon-to-be exodus. Then his mind batted about an earlier thought, the one about leaving Neva behind with no unanswered questions or confusion. He cleared his throat. “You’re gonna be okay when I go, right?”

  “What do you mean by go? Like, tonight? You’re not heading back to your house, are you?” She sat up, tugged the sheet out from under his rump, and wrapped herself up in it. “I mean, it’s not like I’m offering you closet space or buying you a toothbrush or anything, but I did think you’d stay the night. Morning sex with you is fantastic.”

  He chuckled. “I’m most definitely planning to stay tonight. You can’t keep me away from morning sex.” He sobered, then added, “I meant when I leave Meadowview. You know, you’re not going to like…get hurt, or…” He swiped a hand over his face. “I dunno. I’m not sure what I’m saying here.”

  “This thing between us”—she gestured to their naked forms—“is for fun. I’m not expecting anything more.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “This conversation’s getting too serious,” she said, suddenly scowling. “Can’t we go back to talking about what great sex we just had? And how much more we’ll have over the next two weeks?”

  “Eleven days. Well, after tonight, ten.”

  “Do you have your plane ticket already?” She lay back down and snuggled closer.

  He toyed with her hair, pulling a strand and letting it drift down to cover her bare breast. “Mmm… nope.”

  “That doesn’t seem like you. Back in high school had a huge map on the wall in your bedroom, with thumbtacked yarn transecting across continents, mapping out your itinerary. Remember?”

  He remembered.

  “And you eve
n had a binder with your travel plans all laid out from start to finish. How is it you don’t even have a plane ticket yet?”

  “Dunno.” He swirled a finger around her nipple.

  “Are you sure you want to go? I mean, maybe I’m reading you wrong—and I highly doubt I am—but you don’t seem all that into going on your great adventure. At least, not in the way you used to be.”

  True. He’d noticed his lack of excitement over his upcoming plans—or lack thereof, to be precise—himself. Before, he would imagine himself climbing the stairs to Machu Picchu, or wandering down the Great Wall of China. Maybe hiking through the Austrian and French Alps. Eating actual Thai food in Thailand.

  Now, when he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the future, all he saw was Delilah’s Diner, or the brick façade of the Meadowview Theatre. The pond in front of his house. The apple orchard, teeming with delicate white blossoms in the spring and red apples in the fall. The twinkling lights on the rooftops along Main Street.

  Had he lost his joy? His drive?

  “You keep talking about people needing to change, but it’s a little sad, Peter, if this is how you’ve changed. Losing sight of your dreams. Giving up on what matters the most to you.”

  Frustration and some unknown emotion caused his neck to tighten. “I may not have a detailed itinerary or even a destination in mind—”

  “Or a plane ticket.”

  “—or a plane ticket, but that doesn’t mean I’m not leaving Meadowview.” He lifted his hand off her breast and slung his arm under his head, going back to staring at the ceiling instead of Neva.

  “I hope this lack of energy over your plans wasn’t inspired by your father.”

  The sudden mention of his father jolted the lethargy out of his bones. “Why would you say that?”

  “He used to cut you down about your travel plans. He’d call you a—”

  “I remember what he called me. No need to say the word.”

  “Are you and Hugh still in contact?”

  “I haven’t seen my old man since the day we graduated from high school, but he got my number from Maude a few years ago. Told her he wanted to see me to reconnect. I said no, but he and I occasionally text.” His voice was tight, his words clipped. He hadn’t wanted Neva to hear the resentment in his tone, but tension had escaped anyway.

  “You’re still angry with your dad.” Her words came out blunt.

  “Sure.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “What good would it do? And what would I say?”

  “How about, ‘Hey, Dad, I’m still mad you used to beat me up.’ Or, ‘Hey, Dad, think you could beg me for my forgiveness?’ Or even, ‘Hey, Dad, let’s talk about why you were such an abusive jerk.’ You know, start an actual conversation.”

  “I’m not sure this is any of your business.”

  “Maybe it’s time you faced your past, Peter.”

  “I walked away from that a long time ago. Headed into the future and didn’t look back.”

  Neva sighed. She stroked his arm, letting her fingers trail down, past his bellybutton, then lay her hand there, palm flat against his lower belly. “I think I get it,” she said. “I hate it when the past comes knocking. Especially when it’s a relation.”

  “If you’re referring to Carla, I don’t believe she actually knocked. She let herself right on in.”

  “When I wasn’t even home!”

  He tugged her closer. “Things going okay between you two?”

  “We’ve made some progress. It isn’t easy, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s like you and your dad, I guess. It’s because of the past.”

  He shifted until he was on his side, propped up by an elbow. “I’ve told you before—you need to walk away from the past. Forget about what happened before. Move on.”

  She snorted. “Easy for you to say. You don’t know what she did to me. To my entire future. Carla ruined everything.”

  “Someone, and it’s not me, is using a bit too much hyperbole.” He nudged her, but she stiffened instead of responding to his gentle teasing.

  “Seriously, Peter. She did something to hurt me. And I’m still bleeding.”

  Even though she’d said the dramatic words, he didn’t get a sense she still ached over anything. At least, not that bad. “You don’t seem all that shook up.”

  “There you go, saying exactly what’s on your mind. No finesse, no subtlety.”

  Her words dug into him. Maybe he had been too blunt in what he’d said. Maybe he should be more sensitive. Considerate. Dance around the edges of the topic the way other people did. Trying for compassion, he asked, “What happened, Farmer Girl?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she sniffed.

  “Tell me what your sister did that was so heinous that you’d stop speaking to her for six years, that you’ll never forgive, and that hurt you so terribly your soul still bleeds.”

  “My soul aches. It’s my heart that bleeds.”

  “Neva.”

  “I know. I’m being a pill.”

  “Only slightly. Is it really too hard to talk about?” When she winced, he added, “It’s me. You know you can tell me anything. You were there for me when my dad kicked my ass to Kingdom Come, and I was there for you when your mom made you feel like your sister mattered more. Talk to me.”

  She sighed. “It’s not pretty. And you have some sort of a weird friendship with Carla that seems to be developing. I’m not sure I want to mess that up.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I can handle my friendship with your sister. What happened? And when?”

  Neva finally told him. Time passed slowly, the seconds spreading into minutes, the minutes easing by, as he listened to Neva explain how she’d been engaged. How her sister had come for a visit. How Carla had betrayed her by coming on to Neva’s fiancé.

  When Neva stopped talking, he kept still, sorting the pieces of what she’d shared. None of it made sense, though. What Neva thought her sister had done bewildered him. Those actions weren’t Carla’s. Neva had to have gotten it wrong. So very wrong.

  “Neva, I know your sister wasn’t trying to seduce your fiancé. She would never have made out with him. There had to have been something else happening in that room that day.”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I know what I saw. And I’ll never forgive my sister.”

  “You made an assumption. You were wrong.”

  Anger chewed up her good mood. “How could you possibly know? You weren’t there.”

  He couldn’t betray Carla’s confidence. The secret she’d kept from her sister was hers to share, when she was ready. But he could help the woman in his arms realize she’d misunderstood the past.

  “I just know,” he said. “And you should, too. Have you ever asked Carla her side of the story?”

  “Stop, Peter. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “It does, though.”

  She backed away from him, huffing and folding her arms over her chest, looking much like a recalcitrant child. “I don’t see how.”

  “You won’t let go of the past. You’re stuck there. Stuff happened back then and you won’t let it go. You won’t grow, won’t change.”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m—”

  “I get it. Bad things happened to you when you were young. Your parents were total shits and your sister was a bitch, so you hid behind your thick glasses and boy’s haircut and saggy clothes in defense.” He wasn’t sure why frustration was building up inside him, but it was. And along with frustration came anger. Easing out a paced breath, he focused on not blowing up at the woman who had now bolted out of the bed, picking up pieces of clothing and holding them tight to her chest.

  “You’re a business owner now, a success,” he said. “You’re beyond desirable, and your sister is trying to make things right. And yet you’re not letting yourself move forward.”

  “What do you mean, I’m not moving forward? I thought I was. At least, I’m moving for
ward with you. All those years ago, I didn’t speak up—yes, I assumed the worst about you and Carla. I thought you were making out with her when you were really just helping her grieve. And I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I ended our friendship—the best thing that had ever happened to me—because of that stupid assumption. And now?” She gestured wildly. “I’ve overcome that insecurity. We’ve talked. I know better now.”

  “But only because I told you that you misinterpreted that event. Not because you opened yourself up to your sister on your own.”

  “How could I, after her betrayal?”

  “Carla did not betray you!”

  When Neva gaped at him, eyes round, mouth open, body drawn back as if in shock, he realized he’d bellowed out those words. He’d thrown them at her in anger. He’d lashed out at her the way his father lashed out at him. Neva deserved an apology.

  “Why don’t you believe me about Carla?” she bit out before he could open his mouth.

  “I have good reason.”

  “And I have good reason to hate her. So stop trying to mend fences that can’t possibly be mended.”

  “I’m only trying to help,” he explained.

  “I don’t want your help!” she shouted. “I never have! Never will! I don’t need your help to make friends in this town, and I don’t need your help to fix my relationship with my sister. So just stop.”

  He contemplated her for a moment. Took in her face, screwed up and angry. A hollow sensation grew in his chest. He was done. Just…done.

  “I’ve tried to help because I care about you,” he said. “And I care about your sister. But I can’t deal with the fact you won’t move beyond the past. Not really. And that changes everything between us.”

  “What do you mean by ‘everything’?”

  He tipped his chin in her direction. “This relationship we’re building. I can’t deal with it anymore.”

  She barked out a harsh laugh. “You don’t get it, Peter, do you?”

  His mouth was tight. “No, I guess I don’t.’”

  She gestured to the rumpled bed. “This isn’t a relationship. It’s just sex. Nothing more. You’re moving away in days. You don’t need to ‘deal’ with me at all. We’re not building a relationship here. All we’re doing is having sex.”