“My pride.”
A smile sparked on her face once more. “Ah, pride is such a funny thing, isn’t it? You never really even know it’s there until it’s wounded. Come on,” she continued, nodding to the cabin. “Let’s get these bags inside. I’ll help you.”
I led the way, the older woman with the gentle eyes following right behind. It took us another trip to completely unload, and once I had a kitchen counter full of bags, I turned to thank her.
“I really appreciate that.”
“It’s nothing. I’m Vonnie, but everyone calls me Momma Von.”
I smiled, reaching for the hand she’d extended. “Wren.”
“Nice to meet you, Wren.”
She hooked her hands on her hips and looked around, flicking her light blonde bangs from her face. Her hair was short, graying just a bit at the top, framing her round, tan face. She didn’t wear an ounce of makeup, and she was strikingly beautiful, with bright blue eyes and laugh lines that told me more about the life she led than her words could have. Her frame was slight, and though her sun dress was what should have caught my eyes first, it was the lack of a ring on her left hand that did.
I found myself looking for that more than I used to, and I wondered why. Maybe I was looking for a friend, for someone who understood, or maybe it was just nice to see that life went on without a husband. Though, how was I to know if she was single by choice or circumstance?
“So, you bought this old place from Abe, huh?”
My hand reached for the back of my neck out of habit. “Oh, no... I’m just renting for the summer.”
Her attention snapped back to me. “Oh? I was under the impression he was selling it.”
“He is,” I clarified. “But he... well he’s sort of doing me a favor, letting me stay for a few months while he visits his family. I think he’s going to put it back on the market in the fall.”
Momma Von eyed me that same way Abdiel had, like she, too, wondered who I was and what I was doing in her small town. But there was something else in her eyes, a hint of understanding, and she smiled softly. “Well, you picked a great time to stay here. Summer is beautiful. Here, what do you say I help you unload these and then I can take you around, introduce you to some folks?”
“Oh no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that.”
“Posh,” she said with a wave of her hands, already moving to unload the first bag. “I want to. No sense in sitting in a cabin by yourself all summer. Besides, it’ll give this old woman someone to talk to.”
And talk she did.
I learned more about Momma Von in the twenty minutes we spent organizing my kitchen than I did about most people in a lifetime of knowing them. I learned quickly that she was very open, and very blunt, and that I appreciated both of those things immensely. After all, I’d lived with a man who preferred to never talk about his feelings for the majority of my adult life and with a family who saw communication as a weakness through all of my youth.
But Momma Von loved to talk, and she told me all about how she stumbled into the small cabin community when she was about ten years older than I was. She’d traveled the world before that, staying no longer than a year or two in country after country and working wherever she could find a job, mostly nannying or bartending. And though her vast knowledge of the world and its culture or her fluidity in three languages should have been what fascinated me most, it was her five marriages that held that title.
“Oh honey, why only be married once?” she said, tucking a few jars of pasta sauce into one of the cabinets. “Love is far too fun to experience it with just one person your entire life. But then again, I’m sort of a lush when it comes to romance.” She shrugged. “I like the feeling of being drunk off another person. And who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to relationships?”
“Everyone,” I chimed in. “In my experience, anyway.”
She gathered the spare plastic bags from the counter and tied them all together, tossing them under the sink for later use. “Yeah well, you ever wonder why so many have an opinion about what you do with your life, though? Is it because they really think what you’re doing is wrong, or is it because they need to convince themselves that what they’re doing is right?” Momma Von didn’t give me a chance to respond before brushing her hands off and hooking her arm through mine. “Come, let’s walk.”
It was a beautiful afternoon, a light breeze sweeping in through the trees and the cabins to meet where Momma Von and I walked on the road between them. It wasn’t hot just yet, but it was warm enough to wear shorts, and I tucked my hands into the pocket of mine as we strolled by the next cabin.
“So that’s Martha and Lou’s, you’ll meet them at the annual pig roast.”
“Pig roast?”
“Oh yes, it’s quite the summer event around here. The whole community kind of turns into a block party. There’s horseshoe tournaments, multiple kegs, family events for the kids and plenty of adult entertainment well into the night. Lots of fun, lots of trouble,” she added with a wink. “But yeah, Martha and Lou have been married since they were born, practically. They stay down south in Florida for the winters but always come back for the summer for the pig roast.”
I laughed, the idea of having an entire event centered around roasting a farm animal absolutely ludicrous to me. But Momma Von was dead serious, and the more we walked, the more I discovered she was hell bent on me attending. She was in the middle of brainstorming what activities I could help plan for it when a little boy came barreling out into the street, completely naked.
“Wee wee, wee wee, wee wee!” he chanted, chubby legs taking him just past us before a woman around my age came racing after him.
“You stop right now, Benjamin, or so help me I’ll tan your hide!”
Momma Von laughed. “I told you once he started walking, you’d be in trouble.”
“Not the time, Momma Von,” the woman said in a rush as she passed us, long black hair flying behind her, but there was a hint of a smile on her face.
She finally caught Benjamin, swinging him up and over her shoulders as he giggled with delight. She smacked his bare butt playfully, keeping him hoisted as she walked our way again.
“I was just about to put this little monster down for a nap and make some adult Kool-Aid, you want a glass?” she asked, Benjamin squirming in her arms.
“Well I never turn down your potion, Yvette.”
“Maybe one day it’ll be as renowned as your hooch.”
The young woman smiled, her dark hazelnut eyes finding me next. I figured out quickly that this little community wasn’t used to newcomers, because she looked at me the exact same way Abdiel and Momma Von did.
“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, extending the hand not holding Benjamin in place.
“This is Wren,” Momma Von answered for me. “She’s staying down in Abdiel’s cabin for the summer.”
“Oh? I thought he was selling?”
“He still is, but she’s here for the summer only,” Momma Von said, and the two of them shared a look that told me they’d be discussing that in more detail later when I wasn’t around.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in, I’ll fix us up an afternoon treat.”
We followed her inside, me trailing in last, eyes wandering across the vast yard that led around their cabin and straight to the river. The trees had all been cleared away, unlike Abdiel’s cabin, which made for a stunning view of the mountains and the water.
There were several people already inside as Yvette climbed the stairs to put Benjamin down for his nap, and I shook each of their hands, hoping I’d remember their names later, realizing the likelihood of that was slim. I was the absolute worst at names, a flaw that reared its ugly head often in my line of work. I focused on repeating the names, taking in the characteristics, and listening to the stories Momma Von had to tell about each of them.
Yvette and Davie were my age, a young married couple who ha
d been high school sweethearts like Keith and I were. Hearing their story sent a small pang through my heart, one that was fleeting but took my breath along with it as I watched them together. They were like night and day, her features dark and claiming a Native American heritage where his was pale as moonlight, his hair a bright strawberry blonde. He watched her make our drinks like there wasn’t a single thing in the world more pleasant to view, and she snuck glances over her shoulder at him, promises made between them that I felt I wasn’t meant to see.
Keith used to look at me that way, with that spark in his eyes. His hands never left my body for long, and his words were like sweet cinnamon as he kissed promises across my skin any chance he got. Seeing Davie and Yvette together made me miss him, or maybe the idea of him, since that version no longer existed.
There was another couple around my age there, though I learned quickly that they were not a couple.
Sarah’s cheekbones were high, and so was her ponytail, which perfectly matched her nose that she held in the air as she appraised me. While everyone else smiled and asked about me, she simply watched me with narrow eyes, not like she felt threatened by me, but rather like she was annoyed and wanted me to disappear.
Tucker, on the other hand, was looking at me like a steamy slice of pizza.
He was attractive, built in all the right places with a megawatt smile and pretty boy hair, but something about him made me feel a little uneasy. Maybe it was that I was the new shiny toy that everyone in the room was staring at, or maybe it was that his particular stare made me feel like I left half my clothes at home. I even patted down my shorts at one point, just to be sure.
The conversation was easy, mostly led by Momma Von. I had no problem sitting back as a spectator and sipping my drink, which was actually quite strong for a fruity pink lemonade. Tucker asked me the most questions, his eyes never leaving me for more than a few minutes, and though I should have felt flattered or perhaps intrigued, I felt more like his prey.
“Can I just say something?” Yvette asked as she grabbed Davie’s glass for a refill. “You are so pretty, Wren. I mean, your makeup is amazing, but those clothes? It’s like you walked straight out of a magazine.” She set the pitcher back down and slid the freshly filled glass to Davie. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore makeup. Or clothes that didn’t smell like baby food.”
Davie laughed, his hand gently squeezing her leg under the table.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, cheeks burning as I glanced down at my outfit. It was simple, a thin white blouse with a deep V and delicate straps hugging my shoulders. I’d tucked it into my favorite beige, high-waisted pleated shorts I’d designed for our spring line, and my feet were strapped into a comfortable pair of taupe lace up sandals. The same three necklaces I always wore wrapped around my neck, all of them dainty chains and charms varying in length with the longest disappearing between my barely-there cleavage under the blouse. The whole outfit was clean and casual, but looking around at their jeans and sundresses, I realized I didn’t exactly fit in.
I cleared my throat, offering Yvette a small smile. “Well, if I had your skin and hair, I wouldn’t wear any makeup either.”
“Oh, like your skin isn’t flawless. You’re like a little doll.”
“It does seem a little much though, don’t you think?” Sarah chimed in, eyes barely skirting mine before she looked back at her drink as she stirred her straw around in the ice like it was far more interesting than I was. “You’re in the mountains. Not like there are any malls nearby.”
“Oh, don’t mind her,” Momma Von piped in quickly. “Damn vulture hasn’t seen a piece of fresh meat in quite a while, apparently.”
Yvette snickered while Davie and Tucker quickly took drinks from their glasses, but Sarah wasn’t affected in the slightest. She rolled her eyes, pulling her feet from where she’d propped them up in the chair next to her before standing. “Whatever. I’m going to go see if Anderson is home.”
“He’s working on the Morrison’s shed,” Davie said quickly, his voice firm, eyes hard on the back of Sarah as she sauntered out.
“Then I’ll wait for his return like a good little girl,” she shot back, turning just enough to offer an exaggerated smile before disappearing out the front door and down the cabin steps.
“Sorry about her,” Yvette offered sweetly. “She’s really not as big of a bitch as you might think, just protective.”
“It’s all good, I get it.”
Momma Von was looking me up and down now, and suddenly everything I’d packed away in the dresser the night before seemed completely out of place. “You really do dress like a movie star.”
“Yeah, uh—” My hand twitched for the back of my neck, but I held it in place on my lap. “I actually kind of do this for a living. Fashion, I mean.”
“Really?” Yvette bounced, clearing our drinks and dumping the glasses in the sink. “Oh, you have to tell us all about it. I’ll make lunch. Burritos okay?”
“Oh, actually, I’m going to head back to my cabin,” I said, the legs of my chair grinding against the hardwood floor as I stood. “I’ve just got some work to do and a few things still to unpack.”
Yvette’s face fell, and once again I hated the anxiety I felt in situations like this. I didn’t have a damn thing to do back at the cabin, but I’d been maxed out on social interaction for the day. I knew I should stay, take the welcome I’d been given, make a few friends, but I just wasn’t ready.
Anxiety was new for me. I’d always been known as the goofball, as the sun in the room, at least until I’d sat next to Keith on a marriage counselor’s couch as he described that quality as if it were the worst one in the world to possess.
“She’s like a nucleus,” he said, shaking his head. I wrung my hands next to him, watching the woman sitting across from us as she jotted down notes in the thick book on her lap. “It could be someone else’s birthday, and yet everyone would stop when she walked into the room. Everyone wants to be around her, and she’s the center of attention. Always.”
But to Keith, it wasn’t a compliment.
It was a flaw.
“But next time, okay?” I added, pushing Keith out of my mind. “I’d love to tell you all about it.”
That made Yvette light up again, and Tucker, who’d been surprisingly quiet since my appearance was brought up, popped up out of his chair quickly.
“I’ll walk you back,” he offered enthusiastically.
“You don’t have to. Really,” I tried, but he was already ushering me toward the door. I looked back over my shoulder at Momma Von for help, but she simply grinned and threw me a wink.
Traitor.
My stomach twisted as we descended the stairs and made our way down the drive. My cabin was only a few doors down, but every step seemed to stretch a mile.
“So, you work in fashion, huh? That’s pretty unique.”
I nodded with a smile, hoping he’d catch the hint that I wasn’t into talking, but he kept on.
“What exactly do you do?”
“I’m a fashion designer. I own a little boutique in Seattle with my best friend.”
“So you like, make the clothes?”
“Kind of,” I said. “I sketch them first, fill in the details as they come, and then work with my team to bring them to life. Most of it is born on paper and digitized on my tablet or laptop, then we work together to find the right fabric and get to sewing. But once I see the clothes on a mannequin or a model, there are always changes to be made. Sewing is tricky like that. It’s about cutting and shaping and piecing it all together in the perfect way to achieve what you want.”
“No shit,” he said, goofy grin wide on his face.
He really did have the pretty boy look down. Sandy-blond hair combed over, slight dimples that framed a bright white smile. If he were a little taller, he would have been perfect for a runway show.
“So you’re like those girls on Project Runway, huh?”
Just two more cab
ins.
“Something like that,” I answered flatly, my final attempt to squash the conversation.
The truth was that I was one of the most well-known local designers in Seattle. The small boutique Adrian and I had dreamed would maybe break even after five years of business had ended up booming in just one. All it took was one fashion blogger to stumble in one day and everything changed. Clothes were flying off the racks faster than we could design them, and our team of two grew quickly to a team of five.
My line had remained modest throughout the years, though—mostly due to Keith not wanting to move to New York City to take a risk on any of the offers I’d had to expand it. I’d convinced him to come with me to Fashion Week only once, and he’d made fun of every designer and every line. He didn’t understand it, thought fashion was unnecessary and strange. He never imagined the “hobby” I’d enjoyed so much when we met in high school would blossom into my career.
But it did. And he hated it.
I frowned. Keith was popping into my mind too much, more than I expected him to since I’d come to the cabin to get more in touch with myself. He was such a big part of me, always had been, and I was beginning to realize that not thinking about him wouldn’t be easy to do.
We were almost to my cabin, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk anymore about myself, so I turned the attention to him. “What about you? What do you do?”
I’d always hated that question, as if what we chose as a career defined every aspect of who we were. It was the first thing I was asked at every party I attended, the first question I thought to ask when I met someone new. One day I’d ask something meaningful, something worth inquiring about in the first place.
“Oh, me? I’m in law school at UW. Taking the summer off. Well,” he said with a chuckle, “as much of a break as you can take studying for the Bar exam, that is.” He winked at me, so proud of himself, so anxious to see my impressed face.
I forced one.
“Wow! I bet that’s really hard.”
“It is,” he continued quickly. “But it’ll be worth it. I’ll be set for life, you know?”
Summer Romance Box Set: 3 Bestselling Stand-Alone Romances: Weightless, Revelry, and On the Way to You Page 32