Worst Valentine's Day Ever: A Lonely Hearts Romance Anthology

by Kilby Blades

  “Whoops!” Sarah turned around and hurried back to the car. She took off his poncho. “Almost forgot.”

  Carter thanked her for returning it and put it on the passenger seat. He stayed until she walked inside.

  He just needed a good night’s sleep. Surely he’d wake up without a Sarah boner. She needed him to catch those PeachNote dumbasses, and nothing more.

  That night, Carter dreamed of making love to Sarah under the glow of Christmas lights, his poncho crumpled in the corner.

  On Christmas morning, Sarah sat on the sofa in front of the potted evergreen on her fireplace mantle, sipping peach tea and gazing at the silver jingle bells and tiny, battery-operated lights resting on the delicate green branches.

  Beside her, her phone seemed to call out conflicting messages.

  Go ahead, invite him over for Christmas brunch. You’ve texted every day since you met, anyway.

  Don’t do it. He probably has a mile-long list of women he’s giving holiday beard rides.

  Do it, but don’t make it a big deal. Act like you don’t care one way or another. If he declines, don’t text back.

  Don’t. You. Dare bring him over! What will the girls think?

  Carter had initiated texting the day after they met. He told her how much he’d enjoyed their talk, and apologized for the thousandth time for the awful PeachNotes she’d received.

  It had taken Sarah half a day to text back. She’d blamed it on Christmas shopping, but, in truth, she hadn’t known how to respond. The last attractive man she’d texted now lay six feet under. She’d known Greg. They’d had their own euphemisms for sex (“flip-floppin,’ ‘daily grindin,’ ‘hip-dippin’). They’d talked and texted about everything from the kids’ grades to house repairs. She didn’t have that familiarity with Carter, or anyone.

  She’d gotten over the hump by convincing herself that she needed to practice chatting it up with a man. After all, when she re-uploaded her PeachDate profile, she just might just get a good nibble.

  She’d replied with a simple ‘thank you for listening.’ He’d texted back, asking about Melody and Grace. She’d told him they’d gotten the holiday decorating bug, putting up even more lights that they’d unearthed in the garage. They had even talked her into getting a little tree.

  The subjects had varied as the texting continued throughout each day: work, the PeachNote investigation, missing their spouses. But Carter never crossed any lines. Sarah looked forward to hearing from him.

  Still, she couldn’t help but think inviting him over for Christmas brunch seemed a bit aggressive. The girls didn’t know he existed. It would blindside them.

  Just like that, she decided against it.

  And just like that, he called.

  “Hi there.” Her face hurt from smiling so hard. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you. I’ve got a present for you,” Carter said, his morning voice deep and illegally sexy. “We found out who those bastards were, or should I say, the bastard. It was the same troll. He wasn’t a member, but he’s way too stupid to be a hacker. Obviously we’ve still got some research to do, but this is a great start.”

  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. “That is a great gift! Thank you for letting me know.”

  “So you can go ahead and upload your profile again whenever you’re ready. I definitely think you’ll find a good match before Febzilla.”

  Out of nowhere, an unexpected melancholy overcame her. Sarah stared at the little tree in silence.

  “Still there?” Carter asked.

  “You should come over to celebrate,” she blurted.

  Now Carter fell silent. A voice in Sarah’s head shouted

  Abort mission! Abort mission!

  “I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to, or can’t,” she said, doing her best to sound nonchalant.

  “No, I’d be honored. I’m just wondering what stores are open, so I can bring your girls a little something.”

  Sarah’s heart melted. “That’s sweet, but trust me, they’re taken care of. I got them the electronics they asked for and a karaoke machine.”

  Carter laughed. “You did mention wanting to see some live performances.”

  “Exactly! Come by around noon, and just bring yourself.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Sarah hung up.

  That really happened. She pinched herself just to make sure. Then she grabbed the sofa pillow beside her, covered her face, and screamed into it.

  Grace pummeled Carter with questions the moment he stepped over the threshold.

  “How old are you?”

  “33.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A poncho.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s super warm, and super special.”

  “Why?”

  “My late wife made it for me. Wanna try it on?”

  “No. How do you know Mommy?”

  “Grace Elizabeth MacNeil!” Sarah scolded. “You’ve asked him about everything but his name.”

  “You told us. Carver Shuffle.”

  Sarah pulled on one of her braids. “Carter Sheffield, silly.”

  “Mom,” Melody said, taking long, exaggerated strides into the foyer, “let me handle the pleasantries. Some of us are civilized.” Melody extended her hand to Carter. As he shook it, she squeezed his fingers and pulled him to her, hard.

  “Whoa.” The girl had a mean grip.

  “Melody Raven!” Sarah cried. “Let him go!”

  “Eres amigo o enemigo, Señor Sheffield?”

  Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

  “Amigo, absolutamente, señorita.”

  She freed his hand.

  “You may enter,” she said, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. The girls ran ahead of them into the family room. Sarah stood in place, dumbfounded.

  “Don’t be too impressed. My parents made me take Spanish all four years in high school,” he whispered. He presented her with a rectangular bag decorated with snowflakes. “For your table. The grown-up table, that is.

  “Carter! I told you not to worry about it.” Sarah pulled out a bottle of champagne from the bag. “But I’m glad you did. Now I can make mimosas.”

  “And I got some gift cards for the kids. I couldn’t resist.”

  “You are too much! I’d wait to give them the cards, after we’ve cleaned up. Gift cards will get lost in there. And we have something for you, too.”

  Tripping over the large area rug that anchored the family room, Carter did a bad job of hiding his surprise. Thankfully, no one saw him.

  Carter felt instantly cozy in the room, bathed in bright yellows and warm grays. A low fire burned in the fireplace. Crinkled wrapping paper and new clothes with tags still on them covered the wood floors. A mix of aromas wafted in from the kitchen: clove, cinnamon, garlic, onion. Beyond the family room, a harvest table decorated with greenery and silver Christmas ornaments sat in a wide dining alcove.

  Sarah went to the kitchen while he took a seat on the sofa and watched Melody and Grace with their gifts. Melody unboxed a smart phone and started reading the instructions. It looked as if Grace had already set up her new tablet as she opened different apps. The karaoke machine, out of its box with the mix resting atop it, appeared to have gotten some use, too.

  Sarah returned, sat beside him and handed him a package covered in newspaper.

  “I just got back. I didn’t have time to wrap it,” she said.

  Carter peeled back the layers of newspaper, revealing a tool set. He chuckled and shook his head, thinking of Maggie calling him a fix-it man.

  “Lame, I know,” Sarah said. “That’s the only thing the store had that looked halfway useful.”

  “I love it, and I’ll tell you why a little later. Thank you.” Without giving it one iota of thought, Carter gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  Grace and Melody rushed over and started chanting, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!”

  “We don’t have any,
” Sarah said, “and that was a kiss of appreciation between acquaintances, not a mistletoe kiss.”

  Acquaintances. Carter’s heart sank a little. What did he expect? They’d known each other only a few days, and she’d told him a million times that she wanted a companion for Febzilla.

  “Everybody ready to eat?” Sarah said, rising from the couch. The girls hollered yes.

  At the dining table, each silver-rimmed white plate had a place card.

  “You’re sitting next to me, Carter,” Sarah said. “Hope that’s OK.”

  Carter grinned, showing way too many teeth for the situation. He looked as if he’d just won the Mega Millions jackpot.

  “That would be great.”

  You have a message from a potential PeachDate!

  The alert, her fifth since the new year, popped up while Sarah reviewed one of the worst essays she’d ever seen. Although she needed a break, she didn’t feel like opening another PeachNote.

  Just to test the waters, she’d had coffee with each of the other four men who had messaged her. Unfortunately, they all fell into one of two categories: too eager or too boring.

  One man, George, had the most potential at first. A widowed, retired firefighter, George had an 11-year-old son and a 20-year-old daughter. He liked to read, watch TV, and attend concerts.

  As Melody would say, “perfecto.”

  But it hadn’t taken long for him to show his true colors. After having coffee with her one time and speaking on the phone twice, he’d proposed spending a long weekend together “bumping uglies.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Sarah had responded. She hadn’t heard that sex euphemism in ages.

  “Look, you’re available, and probably horny as all get-out, and I know I am, especially after checking you out. Hot damn.”

  “I thought you wanted a companion.”

  “I’d rather get my cock stroked.”

  “Goodbye, George.”

  “I think your husband would want you to -”

  Sarah had disconnected the call and blocked him. She’d told Carter about it, but hadn’t taken things beyond that point. If she reported every jerk she encountered, PeachDate would only have a handful of members left.

  Weary of the companion interview process, Sarah had half a mind to delete her latest peachy message and forget the whole thing.

  Carter kept her and the girls entertained with weekly visits for karaoke and Scrabble. He’d started coming over so much, Sarah joked about giving him a key.

  WYD?

  Sarah’s face lit up when she received his message. Carter sent her that text at least once every day.

  Working & ignoring my PeachNotes, she replied.

  What about Febzilla?

  She frowned before answering. It’s going to suck no matter what.

  I promised you it wouldn’t, he shot back.

  Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she tapped out her response.

  Some promises are impossible to keep.

  The somber tone of their texts made Sarah feel even more exhausted. She hoped Carter wouldn’t take her attitude personally. He really did try to fix things.

  A second later, her phone rang.

  “Sounds like you could use a pick-me-up,” Carter said.

  “Coffee?”

  “No. Begins with a ‘c’ though.”

  “Ugh...” Sarah feigned disgust.

  “Not that ‘c’! Geez, who do you think I am, George?”

  “Heaven forbid. Now, stop playing games.”

  “The ‘c’ is for cruise. As in, cruise ship. There’s a sailing from Miami during two of your Febzilla dates, the seventh through the tenth, to Key West and the Bahamas. You’d have to pull your girls out of school, of course. And this doesn’t cover Valentine’s Day. We still have to come up with a plan for that. But it would be an excellent distraction.”

  Sarah sat up straight. She’d never gone on a cruise, although she and Greg had talked about it for years. They couldn’t afford it then, and the only way to afford it now involved dipping into her savings.

  “Sounds nice,” she said, “but a cruise is way too rich for my blood.”

  “What if I paid for -”

  “No!”

  “I get a nice discount through a business association I’m part of.”

  “No. Way.”

  “Cruise ships have a ton of live entertainment. And lots of mimosas. I’ll bet they even have chocolate almond crunch ice cream.”

  Sarah blew a raspberry into the phone. She still didn’t want him to pay for it, but the idea of sailing away during Febzilla sounded mighty tempting.

  “I insist on paying you back,” she said. “It might take twenty years, but…”

  “Sarah, please don’t worry about it. You guys just go and have a great time.”

  “You’re not going?”

  “I thought about it, but I didn’t want you to think there were strings attached. There aren’t. I made a promise to you, Sarah. I intend to keep it.”

  Sarah had never met anyone, not even Greg, who wanted to right wrongs and solve problems as much as Carter. She could see how it would annoy his ex-girlfriend, but to a person whose universe had collapsed when her husband died, Sarah found it refreshing and admirable.

  “I think you should come, too,” she said.

  Sarah fastened her scarf with a knot at the nape of her neck, then did a 360, her forehead collapsed in wrinkles.

  “Anybody seen my pool bag?”

  “Mom, hurry up! Please!” Grace begged. Melody stood behind her sister, holding her breath while nervously tapping her foot.

  Sarah grinned. “Ah. There it is.” She skipped across the suite and grabbed her blue straw bag.

  Sarah stood in front of her daughters and put her hands on her hips.

  “You guys are in an awful rush to leave me.”

  “You can stay at the slumber party with us,” Grace suggested, “but whatever you do, we need you to take us there now, before they start the movie.

  “Come on, Mom! It’s the last day of the cruise!” Grace whined.

  Sarah drew them in for a hug. She had never allowed them to go to a sleepover, and even this one didn’t completely qualify. The Kids’ Cruise Crew Club Pajama Party ended at ten. But for the first time since Greg died—outside of school and extracurricular activities—Melody and Grace would have several hours of fun in someone else’s care. It felt strange, but necessary. Before Sarah left on the cruise, Dr. Hudson had made her pinky-promise to do some things without her children.

  “OK, OK.,” Sarah said. “I’ll sit this one out. Just make sure you look out for each other, and have fun.”

  “We will!” the girls cheered in unison. They headed for the door.

  “Are you meeting Carter after you drop us off?” Melody asked.

  “Yep.” Sarah closed the suite door and started the walk down the long corridor.

  She and Carter planned to sip cocktails poolside, something they hadn’t done the whole trip. They’d had too many other things to do. They’d taken a trolley tour of beautiful, colorful, casual Key West and braved the water slides at Atlantis in the Bahamas. On the ship, they’d attended Broadway-style productions, fitness classes and food demos. But Carter and Sarah had spent most of their time getting spa treatments while the kids had fun at the cruise club. Sarah had once read that widows and widowers craved touch. Massages and facials fit the bill without the complication of sex or emotions.

  Not that sex hadn’t crossed her mind a few billion times.

  Carter hid a buff body underneath his poncho. Judging by his ample beard, she had imagined he’d have hair galore everywhere else. But he had only a small tuft of blond chest hair that looked silky and soft. The hair on his muscular legs looked like fine baby hair. And his bulge... well, damn.

  After she signed the kids in for the party, Sarah took the elevator to down to the pool deck. A dance party in full swing had at least sixty people shaking their groove thangs.

>   “Sarah!” Carter waved his arms. He stood by the bar in black swimming trunks, a statuesque platinum blond in a pink bikini to his right and a curvy, brick house of a brunette to his left, letting it all hang out in a midriff and booty shorts.

  Sarah stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling huge, awkward and plain in her simple white one-piece.

  “Come on over, come on over,” Carter called, continuing to wave. Sarah schlepped toward him and his groupees.

  “What is this, Carter’s Angels?” Sarah asked. Her tone sounded much more envious than she cared to admit. Fortunately for her, the loud music playing over the speakers swallowed her comment and the venom behind it.

  Carter placed his hand on the small of the blond’s back.

  “Sarah, this is Candi,” he shouted.

  “Of course it is,” Sarah mumbled. She shook the woman’s limp, French manicured hand.

  Carter turned to the brunette. “And this is Tawny.”

  “Even better.”

  Tawny didn’t offer her hand. She said hi, then turned to the bartender and ordered a drink.

  “Well ladies, I’ve got to go.” Carter stepped away from them. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too, Carty,” Candi said. She winked at him and gave him a little wave.

  Carter gently took Sarah’s elbow and walked off in a hurry, right into the dance party. He started to shake his hips from side to side. Sarah reluctantly joined him with a two-step.

  “God, they would not leave me alone!” he complained.

  “Poor you.”

  He placed his hand behind his ear and leaned forward.

  “What’d you say?”

  “Poor you. Must be terrible to be hounded by beautiful women!”

  Carter straightened up and frowned. “I swear you’re whispering.”

  “Was at least one of them good with numbers and art? That’s who you’re supposed to be with, remember ‘Carty’?”

  Sarah took off, her emotions raw and confusing. What the hell? Had she turned into an irrational baby all of a sudden? She’d never once told Carter she found him attractive, or that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night from vivid dreams of him making love to her, or that she didn’t need to open PeachNote any more because she had him.