Third Time's the Charm (An Aliso Creek Novella)

by Heather B. Moore

  “What time do you work tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “The usual ten o’clock.” She cocked her head. “Are you planning on coming in again?”

  “Ten would mean I had to wait too long,” he said. “Can I bring over breakfast around nine? I have to go to the admin office tomorrow, so I can stop by your place first.”

  “So, is this your slowing down plan? Getting together first thing in the morning?”

  He nodded with a sheepish smile. Liz laughed. He opened the door and walked through the salon, stopping to say something to Josi.

  Liz let out a sigh as she leaned against the doorframe and watched him leave. Was she seriously allowing this to happen? Sloane had said he’d made a promise to himself not to date for a while, and what about her own promises to herself? He was right. She felt as if she knew him longer than just a week as well.

  Josi crossed the salon and stood in front of her, arms folded across her red stretchy top. “Wow. He is like the real deal. Did you see his car?”

  Liz had seen his BMW, but she didn’t want to think about any of that. She knew that it wouldn’t matter if he drove a vintage VW bug; she was definitely in danger of falling in love with Sloane.

  Liz kissed Paisley as the school bus pulled up to the corner. “Bye, sweetie. Have a good day.” Liz had awakened early to get showered and dressed before sending Paisley to school so that she’d be ready when Sloane arrived.

  She’d spent half the night thinking about Sloane and how he was pretty much too good to be true. He could fix sinks, run a major business, kiss like a hero in a romance novel, and he was into her.

  Liz’s breath caught just thinking about it. She crossed the parking lot, casting a clandestine glance toward the admin office. Sloane’s car wasn’t there yet. She hurried to her apartment building, not wanting to be in the parking lot when he arrived. What if he kissed her in front of all her neighbors? A smile played on her lips at the thought, but still she bounded up the steps to her apartment.

  Five minutes passed, then ten, and Liz found herself watching out the window, eyeing the parking lot. It wasn’t like Sloane to be late, but anything could have happened. Liz wondered how the dinner with his ex-wife had gone last night. Had a compromise about the business finally been reached?

  Just then, Sloane’s BMW pulled in, followed by a black sports car. Liz took a step back, keeping herself out of view as she watched Sloane climb out of his car. He wore a tan shirt and tie with dark blue slacks. But instead of coming toward her apartment, he leaned against his car and folded his arms. That’s when Liz noticed the black car had pulled to a stop on the other side of his.

  A tall woman climbed out, her black hair shoulder length. Even from this distance, Liz could tell she was beautiful in an exotic way. When she came around Sloane’s car, Liz narrowed her eyes. The woman’s tanned legs seemed to go on forever, made more obvious by her sky high stilettos, and her short skirt only adding more emphasis.

  Liz’s heart thumped. Sloane was watching her, as if waiting for her . . . The woman walked right up to Sloane and put a hand on his arm. He kept his arms crossed, but he was definitely looking at her.

  The woman pressed against him and kissed his cheek, then drew away, but kept her hand on his arm. It had to be Darci, Liz decided.

  She felt sick watching Sloane’s ex-wife, a woman he’d shared a lot with, plainly throw herself at him. What in the world were they talking about? Sloane shook his head a few times, but that didn’t seem to deter Darci.

  Liz felt guilty watching them, but she had to know what she was getting herself into . . . if she was going to get herself into anything. It seemed that Darci was still very much interested in her ex-husband.

  Darci’s hand moved to his shoulder, then she stretched upward and kissed Sloane full on the mouth. Granted he didn’t really seem to kiss her back, but Liz’s mind was already consumed with the stuff of nightmares.

  She could never compete with a woman who looked like a super model or a woman who knew Sloane very intimately and seemed to still be able to command him like a puppy. Liz really wanted to look away, but she was glued to the scene.

  Darci drew back, and Sloane didn’t move, didn’t even uncross his arms. The woman stepped away, her hand lingering on his arm. Then she walked around his car, looking as though she’d just won something.

  Sloane kept his gaze forward, but as the black sports car left, he turned to watch it. Then he pulled a couple of sacks out of his car’s back seat.

  Breakfast.

  Liz held her breath as she watched him cross the parking lot, coming toward her building.

  What should I do?

  She did the only thing she could think of that would save her heart. She locked the front door and disappeared into her bedroom.

  Sloane knocked a couple of times, then rang the doorbell.

  Liz stayed curled on her bed, eyes closed, heart hammering. It’s better this way, she told herself.

  Her cell phone rang. Of course it was Sloane. Liz stared at it as the melody mocked her. When it stopped ringing, a text showed up.

  Are we still on for breakfast?

  Liz didn’t answer.

  A couple of minutes later another text came through. Are you okay? Your car’s here.

  Finally, she wrote, Sorry I’m not feeling well.

  What’s wrong?

  Migraine.

  I’ve got a special tea I can make for that.

  Of course he did. He was the Renaissance man. No wonder Darci was still after him. No thanks. I’m going to try to sleep it off.

  A full minute passed.

  Liz, can we talk?

  She groaned. He must have figured out she saw him with Darci. And she did not want to talk about it because then he’d convince her that it was nothing, and she’d just fall more in love with him, and a few months from now, they’d break up, and she’d be back to her insecure, messy self. She could get out now while she was still ahead, while there were only good memories between them: one incredibly sweet date and several fabulous kisses.

  When I’m feeling better, she wrote.

  OK. Leaving your breakfast by the door. Call me if you want tea.

  OK.

  And then he was gone. She heard his footsteps going down the stairs. A few minutes passed, and she imagined him going into the admin office. She waited until she was nearly late for work before leaving the apartment and grabbing the sack in front of the door. A gigantic blueberry muffin was in there. She hopped in her car, expecting him to come out of the office at any moment.

  But he didn’t come out, and she found herself at work, irritated with everything.

  Even Josi got tired of the moodiness. “Spill it, Liz.”

  “Not now,” Liz said. “And don’t ask me anything about you-know-who today.”

  Josi agreed, but Liz could tell she was dying to pester her with questions.

  On the way home from work, Liz felt steady enough to report into Gemma.

  “He was kissing his ex in the parking lot, right in front of your apartment?” Gemma asked.

  “Well, not right in front, but pretty close, and technically she was kissing him,” Liz said. “But they’ve been divorced for three years, and she’s still apparently all over him. He made it sound like their break up was totally mutual.”

  Gemma was quiet for a moment, which wasn’t a good sign. She usually knew exactly what to say. “Well, whether or not you decide to keep dating him, you at least should let him explain things more,” Gemma finally said.

  “I don’t know if I want to know his explanation,” Liz said, turning onto the Pacific Coast Highway. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

  “Because every relationship is hard.”

  “I don’t like it,” Liz said, knowing she was just whining. But luckily Gemma let her whine once in a while.

  “Look, Liz, I agree you should take things slow, but that’s just my point. Allow yourself to date him. Take a bit of a risk.”

&
nbsp; “I’m all risked-out.”

  Gemma laughed. “I’ve had to put up with your obsessive texting and calling for the past week about this guy, and I’m not going to let you off easy. You need to follow this through—and if it means totally breaking off things, that’s your decision. But don’t just cut him off cold. Be decent and listen to him, just like you’d want him to do the same for you.”

  “Ouch,” Liz said.

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “Yeah, I do love you. So maybe we should just be lesbians.”

  Gemma scoffed. “That would last for about five seconds until the next man walked into the room.”

  “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

  “You’re wired for men, Liz. You can’t deny that.”

  Liz pulled into the parking lot of her apartment. Sloane’s car was gone. Seeing Darci all over him this morning had made her crazy—crazy jealous. Gemma was right. She only wanted a man.

  And that was the problem. A man always came with a bunch of heartache.

  “Just getting home to Paisley. I’ll call you later, Gem.” After hanging up, Liz scrolled through the texts that had come in through the day. Around two o’clock Sloane had asked how she was doing. She hadn’t replied yet.

  Now she bit her lip, sitting in the quiet of the car with no distractions of work around her, and her tumultuous feelings from that morning faded. Sloane hadn’t responded to Darci—not as he’d kissed Liz. Not even close.

  Okay, just text him.

  She typed: Feeling better. Went into work for a few hours. Thanks for the breakfast. Liz exhaled and climbed out of the car. She had about twenty minutes before Paisley got off the bus. Before she reached her apartment door, Sloane had texted back.

  Glad you’re feeling better. When’s a good time to talk?

  He wasn’t going to let that drop, Liz realized. Thinking about what Gemma said to her—to give him a chance and that it didn’t have to mean she was going to date him—she texted back.

  Come over at 9 tonight.

  By eight forty-five Paisley was sound asleep, the apartment was clean, Liz had showered—again—and she was a bundle of frayed nerves.

  She texted Gemma. 15 minutes! I can’t breathe.

  Try to relax. It’s not like the world is coming to an end.

  Thanks for your sympathy.

  J

  Liz glowered at her phone, then slipped it into her pocket, listening for any sound of footsteps on the stairs. Maybe he’ll be late. Maybe he won’t show. Maybe he’s with Darci. But a couple of minutes before nine o’clock she heard his footsteps. Still, when he knocked, she flinched.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to be angry at him. But as he stood there, his blue-gray eyes gazing at her, she didn’t imagine him with Darci; she imagined him with her, kissing her as he had at the salon.

  She stepped back, pulling the door wide open, giving him a lot of space to enter the apartment. He walked in and didn’t hug or kiss her, which meant he sensed the tension from her.

  “Do you want a drink?” she asked.

  “No, I’m good.” Sloane eyed her.

  She’d forgotten how he seemed to fill the entire apartment with his presence. It was as if everything inside of her were zeroed in on him when she was with him. This was going to be much harder than she thought.

  “So . . .” He shoved his hands into his pockets—jeans tonight. “You saw Darci in the parking lot?”

  Her throat felt too thick to answer, so she just nodded.

  “Yeah, about that.” He pointed toward the couch. “Can we sit down?”

  “Of course,” Liz said in a faint voice. This must be worse than she thought. Was Sloane getting back together with Darci? The seriousness in his eyes made her stomach hurt.

  He sat at one end of the couch, and she perched on the other end, then faced him, ready with her speech. “Sloane, you don’t have to explain, and you don’t have to feel bad. She’s a gorgeous woman, and she seems to really care for you. Feel free to get back together with her—I totally understand.”

  Sloane’s eyes widened. Then his mouth fell open.

  She must have said the exact words he’d planned on saying to her.

  He let out a groan then leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face.

  “What?” Liz asked.

  “I guess I should have explained earlier, and I’m sorry I didn’t,” he said. “It wasn’t fair that you had to see Darci for what she is before I explained. And I’m sorry that what you saw gave you the impression we’re getting back together.”

  Liz folded her arms and leaned back on the couch. How was he going to explain this away?

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll always care for her, and I hope she’ll be truly happy someday, but . . .” he cleared his throat, “the reason we got divorced was because she’s a nymphomaniac.”

  Liz snapped her eyes to Sloane’s face. Surely he didn’t mean what he was saying, or maybe he didn’t understand the classification.

  “I’ve heard it all before.” Sloane raised his hand as if to stop her from asking any questions. “Believe me, my brothers are full of all sorts of advice. But the truth is Darci doesn’t see anything wrong with her addictions, and she refuses to seek help.” He looked away and shook his head. “You’d think it would be every man’s dream, but it goes far beyond the bedroom.”

  Liz held deathly still. Sloane wasn’t kidding. She could tell by the deflated tone of his voice.

  “In the last half of our marriage, not a day went by when I didn’t discover something else she was involved with—either on the computer or in person with another partner.” He glanced at her, his face flushed. “I even got a phone call from a spa about her inappropriate advances toward the masseur.”

  Liz had no words. She sat there stunned. Watching the pain in Sloane’s face made her heart feel as though it were being torn in half.

  “Last night at dinner, she made it clear she was willing to offer herself as a bargain. We get married again, and her father drops all charges.” Sloane rubbed his neck. “She’s gotten into some hot water with a cop who was a bit too friendly in the beginning, and her father wants me to ‘restore’ her marital status. Thinks it will look better when she goes to court.”

  “Sloane,” Liz said. “I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think—”

  “Don’t even worry about it. It’s my fault.” He reached across the couch and grabbed her hand. “You already told me you have trust issues with ex-wives, and I should have been upfront from the beginning.”

  “This seems a lot different, though,” Liz said.

  Sloane released her hand. “Darci treats every man like a boy toy, and I’m no exception, despite our history.” He let out a sigh. “I’ve thought about putting a restraining order on her, but I just can’t do it.”

  “It might be your only option,” Liz said in a quiet voice.

  Sloane shook his head. “I can’t.” He looked over at her, his blue-gray eyes serious. “But I need to warn you. She knows about you, and she’s not happy about it.”

  A shiver trailed through Liz. “What do you mean?”

  “The last woman I dated, a couple of years ago, was freaked out enough that we broke up after only a few weeks.” He stared straight ahead. “Darci followed us a lot. Then she’d come up with excuses to talk to me, or she’d call me over and over, feigning some emergency.”

  “She was stalking your girlfriend?”

  “Not her alone, but me more specifically—at least when I was with Melanie.” His gaze slid to hers. “Darci followed me this morning because I told her about you last night.”

  Liz stared at Sloane. From what she’d heard about Darci, that was a bold move on his part. “What did she say?”

  “Asked all about you, and . . .” He hesitated.

  “And what?”

  “Well, she wanted to know if you were good in bed.”

  Disbelief shot through her. Was the woma
n giving her ex a hard time or was she really that demented? “Wow. I don’t know what to say.” She looked at Sloane. “What did you say?”

  “I told her it was none of her business, of course,” he said, his face red.

  “Are you blushing?” As crazy as this conversation was, she thought it was sweet he’d blush about it.

  His mouth lifted into a smile, and Liz was glad to see some of the seriousness dissolved.

  “So, I have a plan, but only if you want to,” Sloane said. “You might already hate me, and you can kick me out if you want.” He was gazing at her, his eyes pleading.

  Liz was genuinely curious. “What is it?”

  “I want to introduce you to her. It will make her realize that we really are serious . . . I mean, I know we aren’t serious and that we just started dating, but I think she’ll change her focus of attention if she thinks I’m unattainable.” His hand reached for hers again.

  Warmth pulsed through Liz at his touch. The look on his face was one of hope, replacing the pain that had been there moments before. She let out a breath. His story was nearly unbelievable, but then again, it made sense. And she wanted to believe it, because then she could let him back into her heart.

  He’s in my heart already. The thought rocked through her. Liz scooted over and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay,” she whispered.

  His arms enveloped her, and he pulled her close. His kissed her lightly as if he were unsure how she’d respond. She ran her hand along his cheek, then moved her hand behind his head and drew him closer. “Kiss me, Sloane.”

  It didn’t take him long to obey.

  Liz pulled her hair back into a twist, but her curls kept escaping. Finally she let a few frame her face, and the rest stayed done up in bobby pins. Brittney was already here, coloring with Paisley in the kitchen, and Sloane would be picking up Liz any minute. Liz added another layer of mascara then smoothed down her dark brown dress that was a bit clingier than her regular clothes.

  The week had flown by much too fast for Liz, probably because she was so nervous about meeting Darci, Darci’s father, and Sloane’s brothers. They had set up a mediator meeting between the lawyers—a last attempt to reach an agreement outside of court.