by Scott, Lisa
Harper dodged out of the way. “Not yet!”
***
Lori had brought a big box of Truffles and a bottle of Tom’s favorite wine to his shop. The wine was finished, and they’d put a good dent in the chocolate. “This definitely isn’t how I’d been planning to spend my Valentine’s Day,” she said, as Tom slid a truffle onto her tongue. “But it’s almost time for me to meet my friends.”
“I haven’t even given you your gift yet. Wait right there.” Tom walked back to his storeroom and returned with a big wrapped present. He set it next to her in front of the huge storefront window, and the glow of the streetlamp illuminated the scene. It was a beautiful moment.
She clasped her hands together. “What is that? A foam cutter? A heat gun?”
He laughed. “Just open it.”
She hesitated because the wrapping was so beautiful, but then she tore off the curly gold bows and the shiny red paper. “Oh, Tom!” It was a stool that matched her chair. “Where did you find this?”
“When I saw your chair, I remembered a guy I’d bought some antiques from downtown. I was sure he had one of these, and I hadn’t taken it because it was a mismatch to the chair he did have. I called him up and refinished it for you. Do you like it?”
She jumped up and hugged him. “I love it. It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Good. You deserve something special like that.” He bent down to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. But then the room dimmed a bit, and she realized someone was standing in front of the window, watching.
“We’ve got an audience,” she said, with a giggle.
“Who cares, we’re two fools in love in Valentine’s day.”
She wasn’t sure what shocked her more—the love part, or seeing Harper’s stunned face in the window when she turned around.
They stared at each other for a moment, like two deer realizing they’re about to get creamed by a semi. Lori was rounding up an explanation in her head, when she realized Harper was arm-in-arm with a very handsome man.
Harper dragged him inside the store. “Lori, what’s going on here?”
Tom walked behind her and put his arms around her. “This is my upholstery teacher,” Lori mumbled, heat blazing her cheeks.
Harper’s mouth hung open. “You said he was old and cranky!”
Tom’s arms dropped away. “You said I was old and cranky?”
“I lied!” Lori said.
“And you broke the resolution!” Harper said, sounding hurt.
“What resolution?” Tom’s smile had disappeared.
“Her resolution—the one you made up, Lori! You didn’t tell him?”
Lori took a deep breath. “My friends and I decided to give up guys for New Year’s—just for a few weeks to focus on something else for a change. That’s why I took your class. And I kept telling myself it was okay to go to dinner with you since were talking about upholstery stuff, or that stopping by your house would be like a field trip.” She shrugged. “But I fell for you. And I totally broke the resolution.”
Harper slapped her knee. “See, I told you we’d meet men—since we resolved not to—because resolutions never work.”
“Yeah, what about you and the arm candy here,” Lori asked. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one who failed.”
Harper tipped up her nose. “Believe it or not, he’s in my belly dancing class, and we have not kissed, we’re waiting until tonight when the resolution is up.” She jabbed her thumb against her chest. “I followed the rules.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “Actually, I did kiss you that one time when we stayed after class.”
She whacked him with her purse. “Right, but we haven’t been having passionate interludes like these two.”
Lori checked her watch. “We’re supposed to meet Claire at the bar in half an hour. You guys might as well come along when we ‘fess up to her.”
“She’s going to kill us,” Harper whispered.
“No, she’ll just pout and rub it in for a few weeks,” Lori said. “I hope.”
They drove to the bar, ready for the wrath of Claire. They’d never hear the end of it from her. She’d been taking scuba lessons from an angry old Navy SEAL, no chance she’d been going out with him.
They stood outside the bar for a moment, until the cold got the better of them. “We’re early,” Harper said. “We shouldn’t be nervous to go in. She’s not here yet.”
But still, they stood there as their toes froze in their totally-inappropriate-for-the-weather pumps. “Let’s get it over with,” Lori said, stomping her feet and pushing open the door.
***
Claire couldn’t stand it any longer. “Nate, it’s Valentine’s Day. The resolution is over. Kiss me already.”
“Not until my shift is done.” He set another drink in front of her. “A kiss-tini.”
She pushed it away. “I want a real one, before my friends get here.” She was sitting on the side end of the bar and snuck a peek at the door. They wouldn’t be here for at least twenty minutes. Standing up on the rungs of the stool, she leaned over the side of the bar, grabbed Nate by his tie, and pulled him to her. She set her hands on the side of his face and gave him the kiss she’d been dreaming about for weeks.
When they came up for air, he said, “Maybe I can take a ten-minute break out in my car.”
While Claire waited for him to duck from behind the bar, she turned to the door and saw Harper and Lori with their arms crossed and toes tapping. Harper pointed at her. “You were canoodling!”
Claire’s heart started racing. “That’s the first time we’ve kissed! I’ve been coming here on Thursday nights and we’ve just been talking.”
“I thought you were taking scuba lessons on Thursdays.”
Claire bit her lip. “I kind of flunked out. I couldn’t swim the whole length of the pool. I was nursing my blues here at the bar. But I didn’t break the resolution.” That’s when she noticed the two men standing by her friends. “What the hell is this?”
Lori jerked her thumb at Tom. “Hot reupholstering teacher.”
Harper wrapped her arm around Patrick. “Hot belly dancing student. He’s her first male student ever. Imagine that?”
They all stood there, silently staring at each other, when Claire’s phone rang. Grateful for the distraction, she answered it. “Oh, hey Ginny!” She listened for a moment, nodding and smiling, then turned to her friends. “Ginny’s just calling to say Happy Valentine’s to her single gal pals.” Claire turned back to the phone. “The resolution? Yeah, that’s over tonight. Um, it went really well. Mmm, hmm, it worked out just like we wanted.” Claire held out the phone to the girls. “Say Happy Valentine’s Day to Ginny, everybody, and tell her stop bragging about how warm it is down there.”
“Happy Valentine’s day!” the group said.
Claire put the phone back to her ear. “Guys? You heard guys? Sorry Ginny, the line’s breaking up. I gotta go. Talk soon sweetie!”
She hung up and dropped the phone in her purse.
Patrick stepped forward and made a time out sign. “Okay, so does this mean the resolution is officially over?”
The girls looked at each, shrugged and nodded. “I guess so,” Lori said.
“Good.” Patrick took Harper in his arms, and dipped her, giving her a long, end-of-the-war kind of kiss.
That got some hooting and hollering from folks in the bar.
“Get a room!” someone shouted.
Harper came up for air and looked to see who said it. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “It’s the canoodlers! From New Year’s!”
The girl wiggled her fingers at them in a friendly, but teasing wave.
Lori nudged Claire. “Look, she’s got an engagement ring now!”
The door to the bar burst open and a man and woman walked in. “Can I have your attention please? For those of your dawdlers, those last minute shoppers or those who’ve just met the love of your life tonight, I’ve
got good news. The Save Land mobile shopping van is outside with Valentine’s day cards, chocolates, teddy bears, you name it. Come on out for a look.”
The woman next to him was beaming. “That was my idea.” She nodded. “He’s lucky to have me.”
“I sure am, Lindy.”
People started heading for the door, and Nate was pulling Claire outside, too.
“You don’t need to buy me a teddy bear,” she said.
He looked at her funny. “I want my ten minute make-out session in the car.”
She laughed and followed him.
“Wait!” Harper shouted. “We have to have another toast!”
Lori grabbed them flutes of champagne from a passing cocktail waitress. “To true love. May it always last!”
“Here, here!” said the group.
“Wait!” Harper said, lowering her drink. “Does this really mean we don’t want it to last because resolutions never work?” She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling as she tried to work it out.
Patrick pulled her in his arms. “It’s not a resolution, silly. It’s a promise.”
She looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh, that’s much better than a resolution.”
Lori raised her glass again, and canoodling couple from the bar even joined them. “To love!” she said.
“To love!” they all said.
“Okay, now we’re getting the hell out of here, I’ve waited long enough for this,” Patrick said, taking Harper by the hand.
He dashed to the door with three other couples close behind.
***
If you liked this story, tell a friend, leave a review, or drop her a line at [email protected]. Like “Read Lisa Scott” on Facebook to get the latest news on upcoming releases.
You might also like volume 1: Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories and volume 2 Beach Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories. Read a sample of Lisa’s novella, Spouse Hunting, below.
About the Author
Lisa Scott is a former TV news anchor who now enjoys making up stories instead of sticking to the facts. She’s dreamed of writing a book ever since she was in second grade and received lavish praise from her teacher for her short story on a group of crafty elves. (“So creative!” is the exact quote.)
When not begging her husband and two kids for a few minutes of peace to write her stories, she works as a voice actor and putters around in her koi pond and garden in upstate NY.
Bonus content: Spouse Hunting
By Lisa Scott
Chapter 1
Elizabeth Marshall parked across the street from the home with the big for-sale sign, wondering why her heart was dancing in her throat. She was buying a house, the good old American dream. Her phone rang, interrupting the niggling thoughts. Didn’t need caller ID to know it was her little sister, Julie. Again.
She answered with a chuckle. “Cake question or dress question?” Ever since Julie announced her engagement two weeks earlier, she’d been bombarding Elizabeth with menu questions and invitation samples and worst-case scenario worries.
“Are eleven bridesmaids too much? It’s just that Janey found out I asked Kim to be in the wedding and now she’s real upset I didn’t ask her, and if I ask Janey then what about Trisha?” She sighed. “This wedding stuff is so hard.”
You’re telling me, sister. Elizabeth clicked the top of her pen open and closed. “Eleven, fifteen—whatever you want will be fine. It’s your wedding; you call the shots. Listen, I’ve got an appointment with a realtor, I’ve gotta fly.”
“You’re not even married, why are you buying a house?” Julie took it quite personally that Elizabeth had quit the dating game. Not that it stopped her from playing matchmaker.
Elizabeth swallowed a sigh. “I want a house. The husband, I can do without. And spare me the man lecture.” She wasn’t waiting for her happily ever after. Not everyone got one of those.
“What about Dave? Totally gorgeous and totally hot for you…”
“And he’s totally my boss now. Forget it.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I know. Talk to you later.” She hung up and sighed. A house would also be a good distraction at Julie’s wedding, when everyone was sure to ask, “When are you getting married?” So, bonus points for that. She was still clicking the pen. Fast.
She slid it onto her clipboard, grabbed her purse and crossed the street to the cute Cape Cod flanked by two lilacs, heavy with purple blooms. She gave the house a this-might-do nod. But how would the realtor stack up? His ad said he had the experience to “Find Exactly What You Want.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders and thought, Mr. Henry Watson, you have your work cut out for you. Just like every sales clerk, waiter and hair stylist who came her way.
She walked up the wide stairs to the porch and the front door opened. A tall man with wavy dark hair and bright blue eyes came out and smiled. She tottered back a step as she took in the broad shoulders, the square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He was, simply, the most gorgeous man she’d seen in…ever. This wasn’t good.
“Elizabeth?” His deep voice sent a hum zinging through her. “I’m Henry Watson.” He held out his hand.
The clipboard slipped from her fingertips. She stooped down to grab it, but he beat her to it. Still squatting, her eyes met his and she couldn’t look away. Neither did he. She sucked in a breath, and oh, he was lust on a rope.
“I’m sorry, I was expecting someone…older,” she stammered, pushing her hair out of her eyes. The old-fashioned name….the experience. She certainly wouldn’t have picked such a handsome realtor had she known.
She gripped the stair railing. Hotties played by different rules, and it had become survival mode not to trust a gorgeous guy with anything. With good-looking men? Things always ended ugly. She toppled back on her behind. She quickly stood up and smoothed her skirt, trying to remember the last time she’d made a total fool of herself.
He smiled and handed her the clipboard. Words escaped her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got ten years in the business. My father taught me everything I know, and I’m working on one million in sales this month, Miss Marshall. Or is it Mrs.?” One corner of his mouth quirked up.
Perfect, he has dimples. She pressed the clipboard against her chest. “It’s Miss.” She did her best to steady herself on her heels.
He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Well, Miss Marshall, I’m the guy you want.”
She blinked. And blinked again. “Excuse me?”
“To help you find the home of your dreams. That’s my slogan. I’ll help you find exactly what you want.” Cue the grin. Clearly, he knew how effective that smile was.
Regroup. “Right. I saw that in your ad.” She glanced down at her clipboard. Looking at the long, logical list of requirements for her first home helped quiet the emotions swirling in her chest. “I have two and a half hours per week to devote to house hunting, a budget I’m not budging from and a checklist of requirements.”
“Come inside and let’s hear it.” He held the door open for her, and she walked into the big, empty living room.
She glanced around—at everything but him—and started making notes. “No formal entryway, but it does have a fireplace. Wood-burning or gas?”
“Is that one of your must haves?”
She looked up at him—and quickly back down at the list. “It’s on my second-tier requirement list and merely adds bonus points. One for gas, two for wood-burning.”
“It’s wood-burning. Add two points to your tally. Tell me what’s on the primary list.” He leaned against the banister and smiled.
Could he quit with the grinning, already? “I want two stories and two bedrooms.”
He rubbed his chin, sprouting late day stubble. “Might be tight if you ever have a family.”
She stiffened. “There will be plenty of room for me and the fifteen cats I’m sure to have some day.”
He cocked his head and gave her a look.
“I mean I won’
t be getting married and having children.” Her voice echoed in the empty room.
He raised his eyebrows. “A beautiful woman like you?”
Her lips pressed together in a frown. That was just a hot-guy line designed to flatter and disarm her so he could get what he wanted. But what did he want? A sale, and don’t you forget it. “It’s just me and two bedrooms will be fine.” She forced a smile and shrugged. “The world needs more cool aunts. I’ll be doting on my sister’s kids when she has them.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry, out of line and none of my business.”
Nice big hands, she thought.
“What else do you have on your list?” And out came his dimples again.
She walked to the front window and drew back the curtain, peering out at the street. Two kids whizzed by on bikes. “Definitely not on a busy street, not on a corner lot.”
“Understandable,” he said.
She turned back toward him and rattled off the rest of her long list: a deck, at least half an acre of land, an older build with charm. She flipped through the three pages of itemized details, reading them off and then looked up from her clipboard. “Nothing too complicated.”
“No, not at all.” He laughed and rubbed his hands together. “You know what you want. Should be easy to help you find it. This house has most of what you’re looking for. Let’s go see the kitchen.”
“Lead the way.” She followed him into the kitchen and wished she hadn’t; his rear view was perfect. “Very nice—the glass cabinets,” she quickly added, pointing to the cupboards. “Not on my list, but should be.” She got back to scribbling instead of gawking.
“One of those charming old details you want. Add a few points for that.”
“Oh, I will.” She wrote on her checklist and took a deep breath.
“Look at this convection oven, the granite counters.” He ran his hand across the gleaming countertop. “Gorgeous.”
Her eyes flicked up to his and back to the clipboard. “That’s one way to put it.” She tucked her bottom lip under her front teeth. “Let’s see the rest of the house.” She walked out of the room and realized he now had a look at her rear view.