Dedication
For the remarkable Amanda Bergeron,
editor extraordinaire, and one of the nicest people
I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Without you, my stories would exist only inside my chaotic imagination. Thank you so much for helping bring my characters
to life and for being so much fun in the process!
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
An Announcement page to Sweetest Mistake
About the Author
By Candis Terry
Copyright
About the Publisher
Acknowledgments
My sincerest gratitude to Marine Sergeant Kelly Aldrich for answering my numerous questions so clearly that I got a real glimmer of what it was like to be a Marine—without the whole boot-camp thing! I knew from the moment we met you at that Steelhead game so many years ago that you were a special young man. Over the years, you’ve become even more impressive. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for your service to our country and for continuing to display such honor. You make us all proud.
Thank you to Pat and Frank from the Eagle Ranch in Boerne, Texas. Your hospitality was delightful, and your guesthouse was the perfect place to stay while we researched the area. We shall return!
Also thank you to Randy of the Bergmann Lumber Company in Boerne, the helpful folks at The Boerne Wine Company, and all the amazing people we met on our visit to the Texas Hill Country. Your lively stories and willingness to give us the true flavor of the area really helped shape this book.
Chapter 1
Trouble rolled into downtown Sweet on the spinning wheels of a yellow Hummer. Inside the gas guzzler, the crew for cable TV’s makeover show My New Town waved their arms out the windows to the legions of enthusiasts extending a big Texas welcome.
On an ordinary day, there wasn’t much to attract outsiders to a town that progress had ignored. No interstate to bring in the tourists—just a poorly paved road with too many ruts to be comfortable even in the most luxurious limousine. With the exception of Goody Gum Drops—the candy store painted like a peppermint stick—most of the town’s cedar-sided shops were faded with age. Their metal overhangs more rust than steel. Their signs in various stages of chip and peel.
A few years back, Mayor Gary Gleason had promised to put a little zing into the ancient buildings that lined Main Street. Talk was he never got any further than the side-street boutique rumored to have a back room that sold naughty lingerie and large quantities of AA batteries.
Frustrated with the mayor’s lack of gumption, the over-seventy crowd who met on a daily basis at Bud’s Nothing Finer Diner for coffee, pie, and gossip, put their gray-haired heads together. They conjured up the outrageous idea to contact a reality makeover show to come in and give the town a face-lift.
The harebrained proposition churned up gossip for weeks and kept the town abuzz, like the hive wreaking havoc below the marquee at the Yellow Rose Cinema.
So on this steamy summer day, with wildflowers dotting the meadows and a curtain of brilliant blue draped across the sky, Tinsel Town came calling.
Everyone was excited about the change.
Everyone except Reno Wilder, who stood in the shade of the warped overhang above Wilder and Sons Hardware & Feed watching the parade of trucks and trailers thunder down Main Street.
Dust and gravel kicked up in the wake of the intruders as the community jumped up and down like they were at a Rangers doubleheader.
Arms folded across his chest, Reno leaned a shoulder against a rough-hewn post and crossed one booted ankle over the other. The muscles in his neck tightened as he shook his head.
He wanted no part of this insanity.
There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with his hometown.
Sure, it was a little weathered at the wings. Tarnished at the joints. But that’s what gave it character and charm. Yeah, maybe the place had been established in the mid 1800s, and all the downtown buildings were original. What was wrong with that? He liked historic. Traditional. If folks wanted new and trendy, they could go to Austin. He liked his little town just the way it was—like his favorite pair of boots. A little worn at the heels but real comfortable.
“They’ve all lost their minds.” The statement came out a grumble.
“Come on.” Former Army Ranger Aiden Marshall chuckled as he dumped the bag of dog food he’d just purchased into the bed of his truck. He reached through the open window and gave the golden retriever and border collie waiting in the cab a rub between their ears. “This is the most excitement we’ve had since I came home from Afghanistan.”
Reno raised a brow. Within weeks of Aiden’s return, he’d reconnected with Paige Walker, the love of his life. Word had it a wedding was in the works. An invasion from Hollywood hardly seemed a fair comparison.
“Yeah, well, that would be the Army part of your brain working in the wrong direction.”
Aiden laughed out loud. “Then I guess that means the former Marine part of your brain is working overtime.”
“Semper Fi, my man.”
The good-humored ribbing they tossed back and forth wasn’t unusual or meant to be unkind. Didn’t matter what branch of the military a man served, they were all brothers in arms. The joking helped bury the memories they’d rather forget. Eased the pain that still lingered.
After one of the darkest days in America, many enlisted. That list included Reno and his brothers. Aiden and his best friends. Some came home. Some didn’t. Reno knew that grief too well.
“Think they brought any good-lookin’ women with ’em?”
In unison, Reno and Aiden glanced down at the bald pate of the old codger standing between them. At eighty years old, Chester Banks was every bit the skirt chaser he’d been all his life. Reno didn’t know if Chester had been a handsome man in his youth; today he was all nose and sunken eyeballs.
“Doubt it,” Reno said. “Looks like you’ll have to stick with Gertie Finnegan. I hear she’s taking fox-trot lessons over at the senior center just for you.”
“Pfft.” Chester waved an arthritic hand. “That woman ain’t got no sense. She should be learnin’ that cha-cha like they do on Dancing with the Stars. ’Course, Gertie ain’t built like those hot little dancers.”
“Don’t expect she is.” Reno squinted against the glare bouncing off another truck bearing the TV show logo. “Hard to maintain a killer bod when you’re pushing ninety.”
Chester’s hopeful smile slid into the abyss. “Ain’t that a fact.”
“Paige mentioned something about the designer host’s name being Charli,” Aiden said.
“Probably light in the loafers.” Chester gave an all-knowing nod.
“That’s an awfully big assumption,” Reno said.
The old man looked up at him. “I don’t see you pitchin’ a hissy over polka-dot chintz or chandeliers with them dangly little crystals.”
“I’m not much into fabrics or lighting,” Reno agreed. “Unless my sheets need washing or my Maglite needs new batteries.”
“Exactly.” Chester said this in the same way one would holler,
“Eureka!”
“Why are y’all standing over here?” All three men looked up as Paige Walker—honey blond ponytail swinging—jogged toward them. “The party’s across the street.” She came to a stop in front of Aiden, grabbed hold of his T-shirt with both hands and pulled him in for a kiss. Paige had always been a take-what-she-wanted kind of girl. Not that Aiden seemed to mind.
“We can see fine from here,” Reno answered. Not that she was really listening. Reno’s heart cramped as he watched his buddy’s arms go around the woman he loved.
He’d had that once. That crazy, can’t-get-enough-of-her fire in his blood. Like everything else, he’d lost it. Tragically. Horribly. Unforgettably.
Never one to take no for an answer, Paige lifted her head, wrinkled her nose, and zeroed in on the weak link of the bunch. “Chester? Don’t you want a better look?”
“Ah.” He waved a shoofly hand. “I ain’t interested in no girly men.”
Paige laughed. “Girly men?”
“You know,” Chester said, doing a little dance on bowed legs. “The tiptoe-through-the-tulips type. Like that Charli fella.”
“You mean Charlotte Brooks? The designer?”
Chester’s rheumy hazel eyes widened. “Charli’s a girl?”
“Was the last time I saw her on TV.” Knowing she’d won at least one of them over, Paige gave a victorious grin. “She’s kind of a knockout too.”
“Now you’ve done it,” Reno said, as Chester found a sudden giddy-up to his get-along.
“Y’all come on.” Halfway across the street, Chester waved the three of them over. “In case I have me a heart attack.”
“I’m good right here,” Reno mumbled. He had no intention of setting foot anywhere near those who planned to seek and destroy his quiet, humble little town.
“No, you’re not.” Paige grabbed both him and Aiden by the arm. “And if y’all are having any ideas of taking off for the hills, think again,” she added, “I’ve got on my running shoes.”
Didn’t matter that the front door to his hardware store stood wide open, Reno knew better than to mess with any female who had Texas running deep in her veins. They built them strong in the South. And when a Southern woman used that tone, they meant business. A lesson he’d learned years ago and would not soon forget.
Paige hauled them across the street and pushed them toward the front of the crowd, where the big yellow Hummer and parade of trucks had rolled to a stop at the curb of what the folks liked to call Town Square. In reality, it was only a patch of grass with a few trees, picnic tables, and a gazebo with half the roof gone from a random windstorm last spring. Yet more weddings and birthday parties took place there than anywhere else within a ten-mile radius.
With the mayor directing the Hollywood interlopers, the Hummer cleared the curb and drove up onto the lawn, mashing the grass Ernie McGreavy had spent hours the day before meticulously mowing. Like a swarm of killer bees, the crowd of locals surrounded the yellow monstrosity and let out a cheer when the doors popped open. Cameras were already rolling when four passengers stepped out—a tiny blonde with a studious look and a clipboard hugged to her chest and a ragtag trio of men who looked as though they’d pounded a few nails—or heads—in their day.
The last to emerge was the driver—a brunette in a snug skirt that hit her midcalf and a blouse that molded like a second skin over high, firm breasts, and a narrow waist. A tall, curvy brunette, whose ankles wobbled when she stepped down from the vehicle. A tall, curvy, smiling brunette, whose skyscraper heels sank deep into Ernie McGreavy’s perfectly clipped grass.
Reno covered a laugh with a cough.
Looked like Charli was going to find out fast that her big city ways—and shoes—wouldn’t fly in this small Texas town.
“Whoops!” She giggled as the mayor reached out to steady her. Then she looked up with wide eyes, and asked the crowd, “Do you mind if I dispense with propriety?”
The crowd responded with a cheer.
Reno watched in surprise as she reached down, pulled off her shoes, and instantly shrunk several inches. She wiggled her painted pink toes in Ernie’s grass with a long “Ahhhhhh.” Then she flashed another smile through full lips tinted a soft coral.
Paige had been right.
The woman was a knockout.
Appearances could be deceiving. Anyone knew that. While Reno had to admit that Charli made a pretty package, it wouldn’t take long for the rest of the town to realize what he already knew. They’d made a huge mistake. They’d send her and her cohorts packing faster than roaches out the kitchen door of Mabel’s Grits and Grog.
“This is going to be so much fun.” Beside him, Paige practically vibrated in her white sneakers. She grabbed hold of Aiden’s arm and grinned. “Maybe we can even pick up some design pointers for our B&B.”
For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Reno shook his head. If Paige took so much as a hammer to Honey Hill, her Aunt Bertie—the elderly relative from whom she’d bought the place—would pitch a hissy all the way from the Texas Rose Assisted Care facility.
A loud screech of feedback ripped Reno’s attention back to the mayor and the TV star. After brief introductions, she took the microphone like she’d been born to hold one in her hand. Reno imagined that manicured hand had probably never seen a day of hard work. Most likely she used it for pointing and ordering others around.
As she addressed the crowd, Reno watched her perfectly bowed lips break into another smile, which flashed her straight white teeth. You could tell a lot about a person from their smile—though these days it was hard to tell with all the collagen, Botox, and veneers going around. He ran his tongue along the slight chip in his front tooth—a gift he’d received during a tussle with his brother about fifteen years back. Not everyone came perfectly put together. Some folks were a little rougher around the edges.
All the better in his mind.
The makeover star made eye contact with several eagerly nodding folks in the pack of humans squished together, vying to be in a camera shot. In Reno’s book, direct eye contact spoke volumes about a person. If a man—or a woman—wouldn’t look you square in the eye, you’d best figure out how to defend yourself. He’d learned that the hard way. Had the scars to prove it. There were other wounds inside him too. The ones in his heart might be invisible to the eye, but that didn’t mean they weren’t just as devastating.
After several syrupy comments from Ms. Brooks about how happy she was to be there and how those on the show planned to give Sweet a shot in the arm and help turn it into a wonderful tourist destination, Reno had had enough. He started to back out of the crowd, only to be stopped by the woman who’d raised him.
“Where y’all going, son?” Jana Wilder stood barely tall enough to reach the bottom of his chin, but she wielded a mighty sword that he and his brothers yielded to—if they valued their hides. And they did. On most days.
By the flash in her bright blue eyes and the tilt of her big blond hairdo, he knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a lecture. “Left the door open on the store,” he said. “Need to get back.”
“This is Sweet, sugarplum.” She reached up and patted the stubble shadowing his jaw. “Who’s going to pay attention?”
He angled his head toward the makeover crew. “Strangers in town.”
“Oh pooh. Don’t be silly. These nice folks came here fixin’ to help. Not rob us.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
His mother smiled. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”
“Yeah.” Paige gave him an elbow nudge. “Lighten up a little.”
Reno looked for a little masculine support from Aiden and Chester. Knowing they’d be wasting their breath, they both shrugged. Tempted to go the battle alone, Reno put on his best glare. “Y’all might want to reconsider your enthusiasm before this town you love so much disappears. You let something like this in, next thing you know you’ll have a McDonald’s and Walmart on every corner.”
; His mother chuckled. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you that life was just one big ol’ adventure, and you’d best snatch it up with both hands?”
“Yes.” The day before he died, in fact. Reno fought back the huge sense of loss that remained as powerful today as the day two years ago, when they’d buried the man who’d saved his life.
“Then turn around and grab it,” his mother dared with a big smile.
As Reno turned back to the circus, he found Fancy Pants leaning into that big gas guzzler. Her efforts hiked up her skirt and gave him, and anyone else who cared to look, a splendid view of the backs of her firm thighs.
Chester let out a wolf whistle. Paige gave the old skirt chaser a poke in the ribs. Reno had to admit that as much as he did not want change in his little town, he was a man. One who recognized a gorgeous woman even as everything inside him tried to ignore the warning bells and whistles.
The gathered crowd waited with hushed whispers until the TV host backed out of the Hummer with something in her arms. That something happened to be a tiny, apricot-colored poodle sporting a sparkling rhinestone collar.
Charlotte Brooks took a step forward, coming close enough for him to catch a whiff of her sweet perfume. Her brown eyes traveled down the length of his body and slowly climbed back up to his face. She flashed him a grin that seemed to say she approved.
“Hold Pumpkin for me, won’t you, handsome?” Her voice was the kind of sexy low and husky a man wanted to hear in the bedroom. Whispering his name. As she begged him to take her again and again.
The sensual spell she cast crashed down as she thrust her prissy pooch in his arms, then sauntered away to continue wowing the crowd.
Pumpkin?
Reno glanced down at the pathetic excuse of a dog shivering in his arms. For Christ’s sake, it had glitter-painted toenails on its raccoonlike feet. Who the hell would do that?
Chester elbowed him, leering and nodding like a bobblehead figurine. “She likes you.”
Reno could barely think beyond the irritation burning through his veins. That was when something warm and wet spread across the front of his shirt.
Shocked, he stared down into bugged-out brown eyes that silently said, “Oops.”
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