by V. Vaughn
My feet thud softly on the carpet as I step out into the living room for Sophie’s approval. She says, “Lovely. You’ve got an artistic flair but appear poised enough to show your serious side.”
“I feel pretty. This is a nice change from the yoga pants I usually wear.” Or baggy sweats covered in coffee stains.
“Good. Step one accomplished. You need to be confident to land that man.”
“Confidence isn’t my problem.” I grin at her. “It’s leaving the house.” I take the coat Sophie holds out for me, and my keys jingle as I retrieve them from my purse.
“Let me know if I need to throw a blanket over your head so you don’t realize we’ve left your cave.” Sophie opens the door, and a cool breeze blows around us as we walk to my car.
The country club is on the edge of town near the vast acreage of farmland in our area. Spring is an awakening for the residents of Winter Valley after our long winter, and as I drive, I gaze out at the daffodils and hyacinth that adorn gardens. The sweet scent of lilacs filters in through the air vents.
I ask, “When does the club officially open?”
“The first week of May, but only the diehards come to play golf until it warms up in June.”
We turn the corner, and the vivid green of the carefully maintained golf course comes into view. I gaze at the clubhouse in the distance and notice people milling around. I say, “It looks like there are more than a few eager golfers out today.” It doesn’t surprise me, since one has to be a hardy sort to live in this area.
“Wow,” says Sophie. “The restaurant might actually be busy.”
When we pull into the parking lot, I scan the cars for a certain Jaguar but don’t find it. Although there’s another place to park closer to the course, so my hope isn’t dead when I park next to a Lexus. The aroma of fresh mulch is pungent as we make our way to the clubhouse. When we enter, we walk by the stairs to the locker rooms and the pro shop before arriving at the restaurant.
The dining area is full of windows that must make the room brightly lit during summer days, but tonight, dusk lends a cozy atmosphere as candles flicker on the tables. I glance around, and when I spy the bar, I discover an attractive blond bartender that is my sister’s type. I tilt my head his way and say, “Let’s sit at the bar and have martinis before dinner. I think you’re going to like working here.”
Sophie chuckles as she begins to walk. “I most certainly am.”
We climb onto high chairs, and the brass bar rail is cold under my arms when I lean on it to reach for the drink menu. The bartender says, “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Chad. What can I get for you?”
Sophie says, “Hi, Chad. I’m Sophie, and starting next week I’ll be the new wedding planner.” She opens her palm toward me and says, “This is my sister, Caroline.”
“Nice to meet you both.” He leans on his forearms to speak quietly to Sophie. “I hope you’re prepared for crazy. Some of the weddings get a little wild here.”
The way he emphasizes wild makes me study Chad’s build and wonder if he might be a werewolf. I smile when I determine that his broad shoulders and narrow waist along with his large stature indicate he probably is. Ever since Trixie mated with a werewolf, I’ve begun to realize how prevalent they are in Winter Valley.
I say, “I’ll have a vodka martini with olives, please.”
Sophie says, “That sounds good. Me too.”
“You got it,” says Chad as he winks at us.
When he walks away, Sophie leans in to say, “He just winked at us. How adorable is that?”
“Very, but he might be a little young for us,” I whisper, even though I know that Chad’s werewolf ears mean he can hear what we’re saying if he wants to.
“No way,” says my sister. “My rule is ten years in either direction.”
“Well, that certainly opens up the dating pool.” I try to imagine being with a guy in his twenties, but the reality is, I don’t think I could handle the immaturity after having spent the last nineteen years raising a daughter. But ten years older? That’s Paul Ryan territory, and I could certainly work with that.
Martini glasses clink lightly on the bar when Chad sets them before us. He put three olives on the tiny plastic swords, and I lift it up to bite one off. Salty flavor explodes in my mouth when I chew, and I swallow the garnish down with a sip of my drink.
“Ah,” says Sophie. “Now that hits the spot.”
Holding my glass, I twist on my stool to take a better look at the restaurant behind me. The tables are covered with white linens, and the wood walls are golden in the dim light. “This place is pretty, Soph.” A few tables have diners, and when I lift my garnish to my mouth to take another bite, I spy Paul entering. I inhale sharply as I drop my gaze, and the olive in my teeth falls into my shirt.
I tug my camisole out and peer down into my bra. I reach in to retrieve it as Paul’s familiar voice carries over to me. “Caroline!”
I glance up to him approaching me as heat rises to my cheeks, and I yank my hand out of my shirt before I get the olive. “Hi, Paul.”
He’s dressed in a golf sweater and dark slacks. His teeth almost gleam in the candlelight, and his lips twitch as if he’s containing a laugh. “I always catch you at interesting moments.”
Sophie turns around, and even though this is the third time he’s caught me doing something one might consider sexual, I try to play it cool. “I suppose you do.”
She asks, “What? Caro, who is this gorgeous man?”
Oh no, she’s not stealing my guy, even if he doesn’t want me. I hold back my squirming as the olive rolls under my breast. “Sophie, this is Paul. We met at Trixie’s last summer.” I offer him my best attempt at a smile as salty juice drips down my stomach. “He’s mighty with a canoe paddle.”
My sister gets my clue, because she backs down and takes the lilt out of her voice as she says, “Hi, Paul. It’s nice to meet you.”
Paul tilts his head at me in question. “What brings you two out to the club? Are you a member, Caroline?” He’s turned to Sophie to speak, and I take the opportunity to grope myself again for the olive.
“Oh, no. My sister, Sophie, is the new wedding planner, and we thought we’d check things out before she starts next week.”
“Wonderful.” He asks Sophie, “Do you golf?”
Sophie shakes her head. “No. Caroline was the athlete in our family.”
I pull my hand out of my bra quickly as the attention turns to me. I still don’t have the damn garnish. Paul’s mouth is twitching again, and I guess he’s on to my elusive hunt for the olive. I quickly add, “That’s not saying a lot. What she really means is, sometimes I can catch what is thrown at me.”
“Really?” Paul reaches out and hooks his finger into my bra. I gasp as he tugs it away from my chest, and the olive falls out of the bottom of my shirt. He catches it and then pops it in his mouth.
He chews slowly, and I nearly melt in a puddle from his gaze as he asks, “Can I buy you two dinner?”
Whoa. I never knew a man eating an olive could be so hot, because I think I might be visibly trembling. I smile at him to buy time to pull myself together before I say, “Yes. That would be nice.”
Chapter 4
Paul decides to join us for a drink before dinner, so while he returns to his friends to say good-bye, Sophie and I move to a high bar table. Chad brings Paul’s martini over and says, “He told me to put it on his tab.”
Sophie touches Chad’s arm as she thanks him, and I swear he melts a little. I chuckle softly as he walks away. “You’re too much. That boy already has a thing for you.”
“It’s quite simple, Caro. You just need to treat men as if they’re the most important one in the room, and before you know it, they’ll be eating out of your hand.” She takes a sip of her drink, and I wonder if she’s trying to bolster the courage she just pretended to have as she says, “Isn’t this the kind of stuff you make up all the time?”
She’s right. “I do.” I he
lp the girl get the guy in a hundred different ways. No matter what I throw at my heroine, she always manages to find her happy ending. If only I could have that kind of control in real life. “My fictitious heroes have no choice but to do what I say, because if they don’t”—I tap the table as if it’s a keyboard—“Delete.”
Paul has returned, and he slides his stool to sit. His arms thump on the tabletop as he leans forward to ask, “Who are we deleting?”
Sophie raises her eyebrows at me to answer. She knows I don’t share what I do with many people, so I say, “I was talking about my writing.”
Paul lifts his drink, and after he takes a sip he says, “Ah, so when a male character doesn’t make you happy, you delete them.” His eyes twinkle with humor. “Handy.”
“Women too,” I say. “You know how they can be.”
Sophie asks, “Paul knows what you write?”
I nod as I recall how easy it was to flirt with him when we first met. I teased him about being an alpha and told him about the fictional version I create. He teased me by acting the part. If only it had been real. “And he still talks to me.” He just doesn’t call.
Sophie waves at someone and says, “Excuse me a minute. I see Linda and should go talk to her. I’ll be right back.”
When she leaves, the vodka in my drink makes me brave, and my tone is sarcastic when I ask, “Tell me Paul, what have you been up to since last summer?”
He gazes into my eyes for a moment. “Caroline, I meant to call. I really did enjoy spending time with you. But I wasn’t ready.”
I recall that Trixie said he’d lost his wife, and it’s like the air has been sucked from my lungs when I realize how petty I was. “Paul, I’m--”
“Don’t apologize. Let me instead. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know how I was feeling.”
I reach out and touch his arm. “No need. How are you coping?”
He grips my hand and squeezes. I’m acutely aware of the heat he transmits as he says, “I’m ready to live life again.”
My heartbeat quickens, but it’s not from his touch, it’s from the panic that floods my veins. I’m not sure why. Isn’t being with Paul something I want? I notice Sophie and pull my hand away as she approaches.
“Our table is ready whenever we are,” says Sophie.
I say, “Let’s just take our drinks over now. I’m hungry.” I stand and avoid eye contact with Paul as Sophie leads us to the hostess stand. Linda greets Paul with a smile, and her gaze flits quickly down his body as she checks him out. It’s so slight that I don’t think he notices, but I sure do. He’s the kind of man women are attracted to.
As we walk to the table, the few diners watch us, and I glance over at Paul to see he nods at them as if he’s royalty acknowledging their presence. I suppose as the alpha, he is. My stomach churns, and I realize I haven’t got a clue how to date a guy like him.
Linda seats us, and a young man quickly comes to fill our water glasses. The waitress stops by to introduce herself and tell us about the specials. When she leaves us to our decisions, Sophie asks, “What do you do with your time, Paul?”
I watch Paul speak, and an idea forms. Sophie’s got the confidence and personality to deal with him, and he’s the kind of man that would challenge her. Paul says, “I own a jewelry store in town and play golf. I’m afraid I’m rather boring compared to the two of you.”
As the leader of a wolf pack, I’m sure Paul does a whole lot more and has little free time. But since Sophie doesn’t know he’s a werewolf, that part of his life isn’t up for discussion. Yet. I let a smile come as I wait for an opening.
I lean back as the waitress places a basket of bread at our table. We’re still holding our menus, so she leaves us without speaking. Sophie says, “I doubt that you’re boring, Paul. However, I am. I need to find a hobby, because other than work, I only have television to keep me busy.”
“Perhaps you’ll try golf,” says Paul. “I bet you can get lessons and tee times for free now that you work here.”
And there’s my chance. It’s as if Paul tossed it my way. I say, “That’s a fantastic idea, Sophie. Who knows? You might discover you’re really good at it.”
She frowns at me and says, “Right, maybe we should do it together.”
I shake my head. Bread is warm in my hand when I grab it. “I’m much too busy with my writing and grandmother duties.”
We’re interrupted by the server when she comes to take our order. Once she leaves, there’s a moment of awkward silence before Sophie saves us with one of her stories. My sister has led an interesting life, and she keeps us entertained throughout the meal. Whenever she tries to turn the conversation back to me, I do my best to deflect. My goal tonight is to get Paul to ask her out.
After we finish dessert, Linda comes to the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I steal you away for a minute, Sophie?” She glances at Paul and me to add, “It’ll be quick, I promise.”
“Of course,” I say.
Once they leave, I ask, “Isn’t Sophie great?”
“Yes. She is,” says Paul.
“Everyone loves her. It’s hard not to have fun when my sister is around.”
Paul smiles as he swirls his glass of wine. “I think people say the same about you.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No, I was never the popular one.”
“As I remember it, we had an enjoyable day last summer.” He lifts his glass and adds, “I think you’re fun.”
Uh-oh. “That was your doing.” I pause and knit my brows as if an idea just came to me. “You should go out with Sophie. I think you two would really enjoy each other one on one.”
Paul sets his wine glass down with a thump, and he frowns when he says, “You do?”
I lift my goblet. “Yes. I do.” I take a sip of my drink and forge ahead with my plan as I say, “She’s new in town, and I’m sure you can introduce her to all sorts of people. Please, I’m terrible at being social. You’d be doing me a favor.”
Paul’s scowl fades, and he says in an even tone, “Sure. I’d be happy to.”
I glance at Sophie as she walks toward us. Alcohol has removed my filter, because when she sits, I take my plan one step further and say, “Paul and I were just talking about you two going out some time.”
Sophie’s eyes widen for a brief second before she says, “Oh. I don’t know. I’m going to be so busy.”
“Nonsense. You can find time to go out with Paul.” I turn to him and lie, “I have a deadline I need to meet by Monday. Sunday night would be a good time.”
Paul says, “Sure.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Give me your number, Sophie, and I’ll call about the details.”
She rattles it off, and when Paul is done, he says, “Ladies, it’s been lovely, but I must be going.”
I say, “Thank you so much for dinner.”
Paul stands as Sophie says, “Yes. Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”
“It was my pleasure. Good night, ladies.”
As he walks out, Sophie grabs my arm so tight, it hurts. She hisses. “What the hell was that?”
“You have a date.”
“Because you forced it on him.”
“I did not.” Okay, maybe I did. “He likes you, and I think you should give him a chance,” I say. “After all, Paul’s the kind of guy that could be the one for you.”
Sophie stands up quickly, and her chair almost topples over with the force. “You are unbelievable. Come on. I can’t yell at you in here.”
I follow her as she walks toward the door. Once we get outside, Sophie stomps a bit as she makes her way to the car. When we’re both inside, she turns to me. “Caro, I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but that poor man has a date with the wrong sister. You’re the one that should be going out with him Sunday night.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Guys like Paul need strong women like Sophie. “I don’t get why you’re so mad about this. He spent the night
talking to you.”
“That’s because every time he asked you a question, you made it all about me.” She squints her eyes at me. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” I turn to start the car. I have no idea. Because now that I’ve set them up, I want to vomit. I say, “He’s just not my type.”
She groans and says, “You’re impossible. He’s so your type, and you know it.”
The kind I’m attracted to? Yes. But I’ve managed to ruin any chance I had with Paul. Maybe I am destined to be alone. We drive back home in silence as I think of names for my twenty-six cats.
Chapter 5
Sophie was no longer mad at me this morning, and after breakfast, I took her shopping for something to wear tonight when we go to Pete’s. My hair is soft between my fingers as I pull it out of a low-cut top I’m wearing to go with rhinestone-studded jeans. I call out from my dressing room to Sophie, “I think this is what one calls a boob shirt.”
“Good. You have a great cleavage.”
“I can’t remember the last time I wore something like this.” I lean over to see just how much I’ll share if we play pool. The view makes me gasp. “I’m a mother.”
“Yes, but you’re also a single woman on the prowl. Sex appeal is your weapon.”
I chuckle and say, “Those are some mighty big guns you’ve got there, ma’am.”
Sophie’s laugh echoes in the changing area and she asks, “What about the jeans?”
I twist my head to look at my butt in the mirror. The denim is rough under my hands as I slide them down my hips. The pocket flaps make my curves appear rounder, and I’m tempted to smack my bottom. I almost do before I remember how I met Paul. I was sassy and fun that day, because it didn’t matter. I sigh. Just like tonight won’t matter, because who really meets a life partner in a bar anyway?
I turn back around and decide I’m on the trampy side of good taste, so I say, “I’ve found my outfit.”