She finally decided on A Mountain View, hoping people would get the double meaning of beautiful scenery coupled with her new outlook on life. Then she added a picture she’d taken of the mountains the first time she and Toni visited Icicle Falls. Perfect. Now all she needed was an entry.
She glanced out the window at the blanket of white in her yard. Thank God the snow had finally stopped, and the blanket wasn’t getting any thicker. She tapped the keyboard thoughtfully, then began typing....
It all started with a book my sister gave me on how to simplify your life. I hated the fact that I didn’t have time for anything, so I made some major changes. I left the city and moved to a small town in the mountains. For the first time in months I could breathe.
So true. The stress had melted away since she’d arrived in Icicle Falls and she was loving it up here, in spite of her scary snow adventures. Hmm. Maybe she should write about that. She typed on.
But sometimes simplifying your life isn’t all that simple. Take the “simple” fact of snow, for example...
She wished somebody would take it. She set aside the laptop and went to the window to look out again. She had to admit it was beautiful. But she was way too social to like the idea of being snowed in by herself. She wouldn’t mind being snowed in with a certain sexy fireman, though. A fire in the woodstove, some hot, buttered rum...
How did you make hot buttered rum, anyway? Finding a recipe for that sounded like a lot more fun than writing, especially since she wasn’t very excited about what she’d written so far.
She found a recipe for the basic batter and smiled. She had all the ingredients and she had rum in the cupboard. She had wood for the stove. Everything she needed for a cozy late-afternoon tête-à-tête. She grinned. Feeling a little like a spider working on a web, she built a fire in the stove (making sure to pull out the damper), then took out butter, brown sugar and spices and got to work. Mixing up a recipe in the kitchen on a wintry afternoon—one of life’s simple pleasures. What was better than that? Sharing it with someone, that’s what. Hee, hee. Who needed an SUV, anyway, when you could lure a handsome man to your house? Not that she was rushing into anything, of course.
As if on cue, Garrett Armstrong’s truck made its appearance in her driveway. She threw on her coat and hurried outside, positioning herself where he was bound to see her. She knew he had because he waved. But he didn’t stop pushing snow. With his truck and its plow attachment he’d be done in no time and then he’d be gone and she’d have made her buttered rum mix for nothing. She moved closer to the truck and flapped her arms to get his attention.
He stopped the truck and lowered the window, then looked at her questioningly.
“Would you mind coming in for a minute when you’re finished?” she asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I—I need an opinion on something.”
“Uh.”
This man sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted. Before he could come up with some pathetic excuse, she turned and went back into the cabin.
A few minutes later he was coming in the door, as wary as a deer entering a forest clearing. A buck. A big, handsome buck.
She was ready for him. She was holding two mugs and handed him one. “Tell me what you think of this.”
He regarded it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Hot buttered rum. I made the mix myself.”
He took a sip and looked pleasantly surprised. “It’s good. You made this yourself, huh?”
She smiled. “I can make all kinds of things.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “I’ll bet you can.”
“I make a mean veggie wrap. Would you like to stay and try one?”
He took a hasty gulp, then set his drink on the counter. “Uh, no. Thanks. I have to get going.”
Okay, he had to have someone. “Got a hot date?”
“With my kid.”
“You’re married?” Maybe not. He’d said kid, not wife. She held her breath.
“Divorced.” She was about to ask if his child liked veggie wraps when he added, “I’m seeing someone.”
So he did have somebody. That figures. A man like Garrett Armstrong wouldn’t be unattached. She should have known. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed. This is where you let it go, she told herself. Instead, she asked, “Is it serious?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign that she’d made him uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s none of my business. And there’s nothing in the lease that says you have to keep your renters from getting cabin fever.”
“Well, we’re... It’s...complicated.”
How was it complicated? Either he was serious about the woman he was seeing or he wasn’t.
“You should be good to go now,” he said, backing toward the door.
He was always doing that, like a man in a tiger cage, afraid to turn his back. It took all her self-control not to frown. “Thanks for helping me out,” she said.
“No problem. Have a good night.”
And then he was gone. She sat down on the couch with her hot buttered rum and took another sip, determined to enjoy it. This sip didn’t go down as well as the first one and she set it aside.
Who was Garrett Armstrong seeing, anyway?
Chapter Thirteen
It’s only our unrealistic expectations for romance on special days like Valentine’s Day that make it so disappointing.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
It wasn’t until the week before the chocolate festival that Jen learned who Garrett Armstrong was seeing. She had recently joined Bruisers Fitness Center (New Year’s resolution, of course) and was on her way in when she encountered him leaving with a tall, fit brunette dressed in workout clothes. The woman’s hair was short and lay flat and damp against her head. She had the kind of supermodel cheekbones Jen had always dreamed of having but other than that there was nothing remarkable about her face. It was okay, but she wasn’t a knockout. What was the attraction, then? The legs, obviously. He liked tall girls. Tall, athletic girls. Jen wasn’t tall and she was about as athletic as a marshmallow.
She sighed inwardly but forced herself to say a friendly hello.
That, in turn, forced him to stop and introduce the other woman. “Jen, this is Tilda Morrison. Jen’s my new renter,” he explained to Tilda. No need to explain Tilda to Jen. She wasn’t stupid.
Still, Garrett and this woman seemed more like pals than a couple. He never so much as put an arm around her while they stood talking.
“How do you like Icicle Falls?” Tilda asked.
“So far, so good,” Jen said. “It helps to have a great landlord,” she added, smiling at Garrett.
Now he seemed suddenly uncomfortable. She’d only meant to be nice but the other woman might read more into that remark than she’d meant. Nothing like failing to think before opening your mouth, she thought, annoyed with herself. Much as she wanted to start something with Garrett, she didn’t want to start trouble for him.
“Well, I should get busy getting in shape,” she said, motioning in the direction of the fitness equipment.
Tilda didn’t seem the least bit threatened. “Nice to meetcha,” she said, then strode out of the building.
“Take care,” Garrett said, and followed her out.
Jen watched as Tilda walked over to the patrol car parked near the door. A cop? Garrett was seeing a cop?
They stood next to the car for a moment, chatting. As they did, Tilda’s earlier casual expression softened into something Jen easily recognized. That was the look of a woman in love. But they didn’t kiss. And there was nothing
sexy about their exchange. He stayed another minute, then walked off and she slid behind the wheel and drove away. Why was Garrett hanging out with Tilda if he didn’t feel any chemistry? Jen was still trying to puzzle it out when she ran into Cecily Sterling at Bavarian Brews.
“Are you going to the chocolate festival?” Cecily asked, nodding toward the poster on the wall. It showed a chocolate truffle superimposed over a shot of the town with Sleeping Lady Mountain looming in the background. “It’s not to be missed,” Cecily said, and told Jen about some of the events.
“Hey, did I move to the right town or what?”
“You did,” Cecily said with a smile.
“Maybe I’ll see if my sister wants to come up.” Toni the chocoholic would love this.
“A whole weekend dedicated to chocolate? Oh, twist my arm,” Toni said when Jen called her.
“They’ve got all kinds of things going on—a chocolate tea, a tour of the Sweet Dreams chocolate factory, free samples, candy-making demos and a Mr. Dreamy pageant. Even a masked ball. You could bring the whole family.”
“Or I could come by myself and leave Mr. NonDreamy at home,” Toni said crisply.
This didn’t sound good. “Is everything okay with you guys?” Jen asked.
“Oh, yeah, we’re fine. Just dull and boring. Knowing Wayne, he’ll have some emergency to deal with. He won’t even miss me.”
Were Toni and Wayne in more trouble than Toni wanted to admit? They’d seemed fine when they came up to help her move in. But who could tell? Trouble could build under the surface of a marriage and then suddenly erupt. She knew; she’d been there. She sure didn’t want to see that happen to her sister, but Toni’s discontent was evident, which was too bad because Wayne was a nice guy. It wasn’t easy to find a nice guy.
And once you found one...well, it still wasn’t easy. Jen wondered if Garrett Armstrong would be hanging around at the chocolate festival. She envisioned him feeding her a truffle and smiled. This was quickly followed by a vision of Tilda Morrison shoving her into a vat of boiling chocolate. She frowned. Why did she have to be attracted to a man who clearly wasn’t interested in her?
Never mind, she told herself on Saturday as she and her sister immersed themselves in the fun of the chocolate festival. Your love life will work itself out. That was what Muriel said. Cecily, too. Meanwhile, enjoy the moment.
There was plenty to enjoy as the sisters strolled among the various booths on Alpine Street in the downtown area. The festival was in full swing and the very air was heavy with the aroma of chocolate.
“This is fantastic!” Toni said, taking in all the booths. “I’m going to spend a fortune. I can feel it.”
That wouldn’t be difficult. Local artisans were selling everything from paintings and scarves to chocolate tea and soap. It seemed that every eatery and service club in town was represented, and all were offering chocolate of some sort. One of the local church youth groups had a booth selling chocolate doughnuts. Another sold hot chocolate. Of course, the Sweet Dreams Chocolates booth was drawing the biggest crowd, with tourists flocking to have their picture taken with this year’s Mr. Dreamy. The Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams” added a musical backdrop.
Billy Williams, whom everybody called Bill Will, had won the title the night before at the estrogen-driven Mr. Dreamy pageant, where the women came for Sweet Dreams chocolates and a chance to root for their favorite man. The men had paraded around the stage, strutting their stuff while women on a chocolate high cheered and whistled and generally egged them on. Contestants had showed off their talents, some singing (often badly), some dancing and some doing simplistic magic tricks. Bill Will was a shoo-in when he displayed his roping skills, roping a gigantic pink wooden heart bearing the Sweet Dreams logo and then presenting it to Samantha Sterling, who was the president of the company and the moving force behind the town’s chocolate festival. A few sore losers had muttered that it was the equivalent of bribing the judges, but most agreed that it was Bill Will’s turn to win.
“That was incredibly tacky,” Toni had said when it was over. “And fun. We have to find him tomorrow and get our picture taken with him.”
“Looks like we found Mr. Dreamy,” Jen said now, pointing to the Sweet Dreams booth.
“Let’s get over there before his back gives out,” Toni said.
They made their way through the crowd to where Bill Will was in the process of sweeping an older woman off her feet. Literally. The woman giggled as her friends gathered around and snapped pictures with their cell phones.
At the sight of Jen and Toni, he unloaded the woman and steered her over to where the Sterling sisters were selling their famous chocolates. “Hey, there,” he greeted them. He pointed a finger at Jen. “I’ve seen you around. You’re the new lady in town.”
“I am,” Jen agreed, and introduced herself.
“Welcome, darlin’,” he said, giving her an appreciative once-over. “I’m Billy Williams. Everybody calls me Bill Will.”
“I’ve heard about you,” Jen said. Juliet had filled her and Toni in the night before at the Mr. Dreamy pageant. “You’re doing a great job representing Sweet Dreams Chocolates.”
“I aim to please,” he said, grinning. “And who’s this you got with you?”
“This is my sister, Toni Carlyon.”
“Well, don’t pretty run in your family,” he said. “You come to get your picture taken with Mr. Dreamy?”
“And to get chocolate,” Jen said.
“But first, I need a picture,” Toni insisted.
“Of course.” Bill Will held out an arm. “Step right up, darlin’.”
She handed Jen her phone. “Let’s make this a good one,” she said to Bill Will.
“All right,” he said, and scooped her up in his arms.
Toni grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on her head. “Yee haw.”
With her long highlighted hair, pretty face and perfect figure, Toni made a convincing cowgirl. “Oh, that’s cute.” Jen snapped the picture.
Bill Will set Toni down and she returned his hat. Jen handed back her phone, she looked at the picture and said, “I think I’ll send this to my husband. I’ll caption it, ‘Having a great time. Wish you were here.’”
“That should make him jealous,” Jen said.
“I doubt it,” Toni said with a frown.
“Okay, Jen, you’re next,” Bill Will said. Now the music had changed to Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” “Hey, good idea.” Bill Will presented his back to Jen. “Climb on, cowgirl.”
Why not? She obliged, hopping onto his back and taking his hat. Bill Will let out a whoop and the crowd around them increased in size. He jumped and Jen yelped, making everyone laugh, including her.
She looked to see if her sister had captured the moment on her phone and caught sight of Juliet from the book club, along with her friend Chelsea. Juliet grinned and gave Jen a thumbs-up.
Then, behind Juliet, she spotted another face, this one frowning in disgust. Garrett Armstrong. Obviously Garrett didn’t approve of saving horses and riding cowboys.
Feeling chastised, she slid off Bill Will and returned his hat, thanking him.
“What’s the matter?” her sister asked.
“Nothing,” Jen lied.
“Right. You’re acting like a little kid who lost her balloon.”
She felt like that, too. But it was silly to let a disapproving look from her landlord ruin the moment. She’d just been having fun.
She was allowed. She glanced over to where he’d been standing and saw he was now moving off in another direction. And he wasn’t alone. He had a little boy—probably his—by the hand and his pal Tilda in tow. Shouldn’t she be on patrol somewhere?
“Come on,” Toni said, “let’s get some chocolate.”
Jen nodded, determined to forget about her stick-in-the-mud landlord and his stick-in-the-mud opinions. And she wasn’t going to indulge in any more fantasies about him, either. So there.
* * *
He’d known it the day she moved in. Jen Heath was another Ashley, just out for a good time. She’d moved to Icicle Falls on a whim; no doubt she’d move away on a whim. Or move in with some guy, like Bill Will. Never mind that she looked like the girl next door with that freckled face and full-lipped smile. It was a facade.
“What’s bugging you?” Tilda asked.
“Me? Nothing.” He smiled down at Timmy. “Let’s go get a hot dog. What do you say to that, buddy?”
Timmy nodded eagerly. “I like hot dogs!” He gazed up at Tilda. “Do you like hot dogs?”
“Sure,” she said. “And curly fries. Can’t forget curly fries.”
Good old Tilda. Another woman would have continued to pester him, insisting something was wrong and wanting to know what. Not Tilda. Being with her was as comfortable as being with another guy.
And that was exactly what Garrett wanted. Yes, sir.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Now Jen was at the booth, sampling chocolate and laughing with Cecily Sterling and a couple of other women. Garrett’s eyes strayed to her well-rounded bottom. Seen one butt, seen ’em all, he told himself.
Yeah, right. And that was why he had to force his head to turn and his eyes to look straight ahead.
Don’t get chummy with her, he reminded himself. Stay in the truck when you go over to plow snow from the driveway. Collect the rent and scram. Don’t stick around to get tempted.
The Cottage on Juniper Ridge Page 15