The First Love Cookie Club

by Lori Wilde

  In the aftermath of being thrust out on Travis’s backyard deck in her underwear, Sarah stuffed her arms inside her shirt and tugged it down overher head, then zipped up her jeans. She tried to convince herself that it was okay. It was better to know right up front that her burn scar was a deal breaker. It wasn’t as if they were even dating or anything.

  This was good. It was a good thing he’d shoved her out the back door when his neighbor had brought his daughter home. No one would blame him. How could she blame him? His daughter came first. She got that. It’s just she couldn’t help thinking what might have happened if Jazzy hadn’t returned home when she did. Would Travis have been able to overlook her scarred body? Their chemistry was strong, but was it strong enough to overcome that?

  So, whew, she wasn’t going to brood or feel sorry for herself. The foreplay had been good—oh, who the hell was she kidding—the foreplay (as much as they’d gotten to) had been fabulous. Which sort of only made things worse.

  She stabbed her feet into her boots, jammed her arms into her coat, and stumbled down the redwood steps, ducking her head in the process so if Jazzy was inside the kitchen she wouldn’t see her passing by. What a lovely new take on the proverbial walk of shame, slinking nefariously away so as not to get caught by your almost-lover’s eight-year-old daughter. Her heels clattered on the pavers as she headed for the back gate.

  She swept past a rose bush bare of vegetation. It clutched at the hem of her jacket with old summer thorns. Without a backward glance at the house that had given her so many wonderful holiday memories, Sarah hunched her shoulders againstthe wind rolling off the lake and headed for the Merry Cherub feeling broken in so many ways.

  Her nose burned and tears pushed against the backs of her eyelids, but dammit she was not going to cry.

  The farther she walked, the shittier she felt. She pretended not to stare enviously at the people she passed—lovers strolling along the shoreline holding hands, couples lining up two-by-two for festive horse-drawn carriage rides around the square, happy families ambling along the sidewalk, brightly colored shopping bags and gift-wrapped packages in their arms.

  A tear slipped down her cheek. Then two. Now three.

  Bah-fricking-humbug.

  At six P.M. the next evening Sarah arrived at Ye Olde Book Nook on the square to find a line of people queued up to get into the bookstore, many of them clutching well-worn copies of The Magic Christmas Cookie, wearing pajamas and carrying sleeping bags.

  Usually, at these types of affairs, there was a publicist assigned to help guide her. In Twilight, that turned out to be Belinda Murphey, who was outside working the crowd. She was a dynamo, dressed up like Mrs. Santa Claus, an Isabella doll tucked underneath her arm. She had the group singing, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” The minute she spied Sarah, she broke off in mid-song and hustled over to escort her into the bookstore.

  “Sadie Cool coming through,” Belinda announced. “Make way, make way, there’ll be time to get to know Sadie once we’re all inside. We have all night!”

  Earlier in the week, Sarah had dropped by to introduce herself to the bookstore owner. Smiley-faced Vivian Jones was a wizened senior citizen with a startlingly deep voice and sharp green eyes. Belinda handed her off to Vivian and went back for crowd control.

  Ye Olde Book Nook was one of those rare independent bookstores that didn’t sell used books. That told Sarah that Vivian had some money of her own. Independent bookstores had a tough time keeping their doors open in the current publishing climate. But Vivian seemed to have carved a niche for herself targeting the tourist trade, by offering a large section of regional titles dealing with the legend and lore of Texas.

  “I can’t tell you what it means to have you here,” Vivian enthused, sounding like Barry White with a bad cold. “The kids are so excited. Heck, I’m excited too. We’ve advertised the dickens out of your appearance. I took out an ad in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and at the radio station in Weatherford, where they run a Saturday morning talk show about books and authors. They’ve been mentioning your appearance for weeks.”

  “It is an honor to be here,” Sarah said, and meant it, even though she was nervous about the whole thing.

  “I knew your grandmother,” Vivian went on. “She was a dear friend and I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I was at Travis and Crystal’s wedding when—“

  “So this is where we’re having the pajama party,” Sarah interrupted, surveying the cordoned-off area.

  This section of the store was covered in quilts and blankets. In the middle of the floor sat a rocking chair decorated with red bows and holly. Stacked behind the rocker were copies of the re-released The Magic Christmas Cookie, packaged with Isabella dolls. Set up on the opposite side of the area were tables laden with Christmas cookies and fruit punch and other snacks.

  “Oh, yes, yes. First we’ll have the book signing out front.” Vivian waved toward the front of the store. “Then those lucky few who made their reservations early will be escorted back here for the pajama party.”

  Sarah forced a smile and resisted the urge to slip out the back door. Okay, so she wasn’t fond of crowds, but these were her fans. She could do this. It was only one night. Right? She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The butterflies in her stomach settled a bit.

  Vivian glanced at her watch. “Oops, it’s after six, we better let them in before they knock Belinda down. You have no idea how popular you are with my readers, Miss Cool.”

  “Please, call me Sar … — um, Sadie,” she invited.

  “Sadie it is. Now take your position at the table and I’ll go let them in.” Vivian beamed and waved to the table where she had books, a pen, and a glass of ice water set out.

  Sarah sat there feeling awkward and vulnerable and not really sure what do with her hands as the doors flew open and the crowd flooded into thestore. People surrounded her, chattering and shoving books at her to sign. She felt her mind detach from the hubbub, and mentally she pulled back. It was almost as if she was standing outside her own body, watching it all happen from a safe distance. She smiled and signed books and made small talk and then looked up to see Travis standing in front of her, tall and heartthrob handsome. But it wasn’t just his good looks that had feminine heads whipping around to stare at him. There was that charming way he smiled, the relaxed, self-confident way he walked, and that greatest-single-dad-on-Earth thing he had going on. He was the only grown man in the bookstore thronged with women and children and he was holding Jazzy’s hand and looking completely irresistible.

  He wore a black polo shirt, starched blue jeans, and chestnut-colored cowboy boots. A five-o’clock shadow had sprouted around his chin, and his hair was windblown. He smelled of lake mist and candy canes. Her stomach did a stupid roller coaster loop-de-loop, sliding up into her throat before plunging back down where it belonged.

  “Hi, Sarah!” Jazzy grinned. She wore pink fuzzy bunny pajamas with a pink car coat over the top. “We just had peppermint cocoa at Rinky-Tink’s, with pink marshmallows. I wanted to invite you but Daddy said you were too busy to come with us, so now here we are. We’re staying for the pajama party.”

  Sarah blinked at Jazzy. “Your Daddy is staying too?”

  “Yep,” Travis drawled, and flashed his deadly lady-killer smile. “Daddy too.”

  What was he smiling at her for? Last night, he’d tossed her out his back door. Did he think she was just going to act like that hadn’t happened? Be all giggles and grins? But of course that’s precisely how she should act. As if his behavior hadn’t affected her at all. As if she didn’t care.

  His gaze lowered to take in the V-neck of her flannel pajama top and then slowly roved back to her eyes.

  Crap! Why had she worn a push-up bra? “Um …” she said, “there’s a line of people behind you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, and pointed with his thumb in the direction of the area cordoned off for the PJ party. “We’ll wait f
or you over there until there’s a break in the action.”

  “The line’s pretty long. It might be a while.”

  “The store closes at eight,” he said. “That’s when the party officially begins.”

  “And you’re going to wait the whole time?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Was he trying to irk the hell out of her? Why was he acting as if nothing had happened? Well, if he could be blasé, so could she. “Suit yourself.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.”

  “Great.”

  “Splendid.”

  “Terrific.”

  “Oh, Travis,” simpered a pretty young mother zooming across the room. She linked her arm through his. She was wearing a zebra-striped negligee with matching dressing gown and fussy bedroom mules. Her hair was freshly coiffed and her faux nails looked newly painted. Sarah knew a woman on the hunt when she saw one. “Andi and I were hoping you and Jazzy would be here. Come on over, we’ve commandeered a table in the corner.”

  The woman whisked him to the back of the store.

  Do not look. Who cares where they‘re off to? It‘s none of your business.

  She glanced in their direction and saw Travis peeking over his shoulder at her as he was being trolled away like a bass behind a fishing boat.

  Ha! Served him right. So why the twinge of jealousy biting into her?

  The traffic finally slowed just before Ye Olde Book Nook closed up for the night. Vivian made a big deal of starting the pajama party and introduced Sarah with much fanfare.

  Belinda had stuck around to help serve the cookies and punch and get the kids settled in their sleeping bags and on pallets. While all that was going on, Sarah grabbed a small plate of veggies and dip from the hors d’oeuvres buffet. She hadn’t thought to eat supper before this thing and she was starving. She’d positioned herself out of the way of the fray, but then turned around to see Travis sauntering over to where she stood nibbling a broccoli floweret dipped in ranch dressing.

  “You look like you’d rather be having a root canal,” he said.

  “No, I love broccoli.”

  “I’m not talking about the broccoli.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” She wished he’d just leave her alone. She only had to get through one more night and then it was hasta la vista Twilight.

  “You’re hiding out in the corner by yourself and you keep looking at the clock.”

  “So, you and Little Miss Zebra Print.” She nodded to where the woman in the black and white striped negligee was sitting with Jazzy and another girl about Jazzy’s age.

  “Sandy?” Travis looked over and Sandy wriggled her fingers at him. “What about her?”

  “Does she know you shove your dates out on the back porch in their underwear when they get inconvenient?”

  “We weren’t on a date.”

  “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize that was a technicality.” She didn’t know why she was being bitchy. She understood why he’d done what he’d done.

  Travis shoved a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m really sorry about it. I must have made you feel—“

  “You didn’t make me feel a thing,” she cut him off. “Other than cold. It was pretty cold on the porch. In my underwear.”

  “I freaked,” he admitted. “Panicked. I didn’t know what to say to Jazzy if she found you there. I’ve never had a woman sleep over.”

  “Seriously?” Sarah arched an eyebrow and looked around the room. Half the women in the place were staring at him like he was a big, thick slice of filet mignon. “I find that difficult to believe. You were always such a player in high school. One girl after another.” She sounded jealous. She could hear it in her voice. Hell, she was jealous.

  “Believe it. You were the first since Crystal.”

  “Lucky me.” She stared at Travis’s neck so shedidn’t have to look him in the eyes. The pulse at his throat was jumping visibly. “Does Sandy know that?”

  “I didn’t feel a need to share that information with her.”

  Even though she didn’t want to, she dragged her gaze to his face and felt a profound craving for something she was afraid to want. A craving that went against all reason.

  “Please forgive me,” he said. “I was very rude.”

  He held her gaze and she simply could not look away. She studied his handsome features in the fluorescent lighting that should have made his skin look sallow like everyone else’s, but instead lent a burnished glow to his complexion, and waited for her breathing to slow. This was not the time or place for a lusty stare-down.

  “I should have stuffed you in a closet instead of pushing you out the back door.” He winked.

  She had to laugh at that, although the sound came out rushed and breathless. She glanced at his broad, masculine chest and then flashed back to his eyes. They were gentle, apologetic. Quickly, she looked back at his chest again, remembering how it had looked stripped bare of clothing. A lump knotted up in her throat. She raised her chin, grinned, forgiving him for anything and everything.

  “I brought a peace offering,” he said. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hang on.” He disappeared into the back of the store and returned a minute later with a huge bouquet of cherry Tootsie Pops tied up with red Christmas ribbon.

  “They were out of roses?”

  “You’re too special for clichés. Besides, you can take Tootsie Pops on the plane. The roses would go to waste.”

  “Handsome, contrite, and practical.” She laughed again and accepted his Tootsie Pop bouquet.

  His answering smile hijacked what little breath she had left. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Uh-huh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she popped a carrot in her mouth and tried to deny how shaky her knees felt.

  Travis stood looking at her, not moving, breathing the same air.

  Sarah heard the clomp of mules on the laminated faux wood flooring, smelled the scent of Chanel No. 5, caught a flutter of zebra print from the corner of her eye.

  “I snagged us some spiced apple cider,” Sandy oozed.

  Travis smiled, at her, not Sandy. “Thanks.”

  Sandy beamed. “Great, I’ll just take the cider back to our spot.”

  “You do that,” he said, not once breaking eye contact with Sarah.

  Sarah suppressed a smile and when Sandy was out of earshot, she said, “You’re leading her on.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Sitting with her. Letting her fetch and carry your cider when you’re not interested.”

  “Her daughter and Jazzy are friends. That’s all.”

  “Zebra Print Sandy has other ideas.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. She’s over there licking her chops right now.”

  “Watch out, your eyes are turning green.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Now your nose is starting to grow.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And you love that about me.” He winked. “I shake you up.”

  Boy, did he. This was the Travis she remembered from her youth, teasing, fun-loving, relaxed.

  Suddenly his smile disappeared and his features sobered. “So,” he said, “you’re leaving town tomorrow.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you think you’ll be coming back this way anytime soon?”

  Sarah met his gray-eyed gaze. “I really don’t have a reason to come back.”

  “Oh.” He stepped back, splayed a palm to the nape of his neck. “There’s no way we can persuade you to stay a little longer? Maybe until after Christmas. We’ve got the annual lighting of the town Christmas tree on the square, that’s always a lot of fun.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’ve got a book due …”

  He forced a smile, but there was no longer a light in his eyes. “It’s okay, I get it.”

  “It’s just that my home is in New York.”
<
br />   “You’re wrong about that, Sadie Cool,” he murmured. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, Twilight is your home.”

  “I’ve never even lived in this town.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Now his smile was sad. “Twilight is still in your heart.”

  That pulled her up short. Was he hinting that he wanted a relationship? “What are you saying, Travis? If you’ve got something to say to me, then just come out and say it.”

  “This town is going to miss you. Jazzy is going to miss you … I … I’m going to miss you. Last night was …” He glanced around. “Well, this isn’t the time or place to discuss the implications of last night. That’s why I was hoping you could stay in Twilight a little longer.”

  How she wanted to say yes! She felt something inside her loosen, like the bracings on a river dam threatening to give way against the swell of heavy rains. She wanted to tell him this, but she was so afraid of the consequences. She’d never been emotionally close to anyone and she didn’t know how. It was easier, safer, to just pretend last night had been a lark and she was on to the next adventure.

  “Look you’re off the hook for last night.” Sarah held up the Tootsie Pop bouquet. “Honestly, Travis, it’s okay. Last night was great, especially the part where you saved me from drowning. That was my favorite part. The ending was regrettable, but hey I understand. Don’t feel that you owe me anything at all. Your priority is your daughter, as she should be. Take care of her and just let it go at that.”

  He scowled. “I—”

  But he didn’t get any further because Vivian scurried over. “It’s time to start the story, Miss Cool.”

  Sarah took her place in the middle of the circle and started to read. The rapt children sat mesmerized by the story. She slipped inside the book and let herself be carried off, blocking out everything around her except the words on the page— withdrawing, tucking in, escaping the intensityof emotions she’d never learned how to deal with beyond burying them. The words she knew so well tumbled over her, ran through her, came out of her.