The Makeover Prescription

by Christy Jeffries

  The Bronco was parked to the left, where there was a workshop and what looked to be an entire mechanic’s bay. To the right was a perfectly reconditioned blue Chevy truck, the license plate boasting the year 1952. Next to that was some sort of green muscle car Julia recognized from a Steve McQueen movie her dad used to watch.

  “You restore cars, too?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said as though this was yet another thing about him that was clearly obvious. Julia had just done all sorts of intimate things with the man only to wake up this morning to find out she hadn’t really known anything about him.

  “But all of these must be worth a lot of money.” Even someone who’d just bought her first car a few months ago understood the value of a classic automobile.

  “Yep.” He turned to look at her.

  “Like, a whole lot of money.”

  Kane lifted a brow. “Is it a problem if I’m not some poor small-town contractor?”

  Just then, several alerts pinged from Kane’s pants pocket, and he pulled out his own cell phone.

  “Aren’t you Mr. Popular all of a sudden,” Julia said.

  “Everyone in town is trying to warn me about the picture online,” he replied, a frown deeply etched in his face. Julia hated that frown. It had been there last night when they’d left the gala, and she’d put in a lot of intense physical effort to make him forget about whatever had bothered him.

  And judging from the way his phone was repeatedly vibrating, a lot of other people didn’t want him upset, either.

  So everyone knew about Kane’s career and his ex-girlfriend and his car collection. Had she been the only one left in Sugar Falls who was completely in the dark?

  She put her palm out. “Give me the keys.”

  “Let me drive you home. We can talk about it on the way.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Either give me the keys, or I’ll call for a taxi.”

  “This is Sugar Falls. We don’t have taxis. Sometimes Elaine Marconi’s sister will use her own car for cab fares, but you don’t really want everyone in town gossiping about you spending the night here, do you?”

  Her response was to keep her hand extended as she glared at him.

  “Jules, it’s a sixty-eight Mustang GT. You know what you said about my brain being a superfast race car? The engine in this thing puts it to shame.”

  Julia gave him a dark look. “Luckily, I know how to slow things down.”

  * * *

  Watching the way she peeled out of his driveway in his prized muscle car, Kane knew she was furious. And he couldn’t blame her. Julia thought he’d kept this all a secret from her. Technically, he hadn’t hidden anything from her, but he hadn’t been quick to parade his disastrous past in front of her, either.

  He reminded himself that she’d grown up sheltered. That a woman like her was used to things being laid out in black-and-white terms. All he needed was five minutes to explain things to the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with...

  Oh God. It was true. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Dr. Smarty-Pants, who’d looked as though she was going to split the second Erica had shown up. Not that any explanation he had would prevent Julia from laughing at what an idiot he’d been to think she could possibly feel the same way about him. What a mess he’d made of this, too.

  His gut twisted and his fingers twitched. It was too much to hope for Julia not to dump him, but did she have to do it while gunning the V-8 engine he’d so patiently restored?

  Then he replayed her words in his mind and recalled that she didn’t break up with him. At least not in so many words. Kane looked at the other two vehicles parked in his garage.

  Should he go after her, or should he give his impulses time to simmer down?

  He went back into his house to grab his cell phone and another set of car keys—just in case. Then he called the one relative that was professionally obligated not to laugh at him.

  His brother-in-law Drew picked up on the second ring. Kane explained the situation, the words tumbling out in a rush as he described the confrontation with Erica and Julia’s departure. “Now Julia thinks I lied to her about my past and I need you to tell me how to convince a hardheaded woman how to give me a second chance.”

  “I heard that,” his sister yelled in the background.

  Kane let out a breath. “So much for doctor-patient privilege.”

  “You’re not my patient,” Drew reasoned with his calm psychologist voice. “Now tell me again what happened with Julia.”

  Kane stood outside his truck, flipping the keys around his finger as he told his brother-in-law—and his sister, who had obviously convinced her husband to put the call on speaker—what had happened with Julia this morning. Of course, he did leave out some of the more personal details, but the story took long enough that he felt like he should switch to Bluetooth and get Drew’s advice while he followed Julia back to her house.

  “Do you love her?” Drew asked.

  “Who? Julia?” Kane put his truck in Drive.

  “Of course Julia, you weenie,” Kylie shouted loud enough to wake one of the babies who then began crying.

  He’d thought he’d loved Erica, even imagined they’d end up married. But looking back on their relationship, her betrayal hadn’t run as deep as the surgical scar on his shoulder. He’d been too busy mourning his career to give his ex-girlfriend a second thought. But Julia? Hell, losing her would do more damage than a team of doctors, coaches and meddling family members could ever repair.

  “God, I really do.” Saying the words out loud brought Kane a sense of calm. “Please tell me that’s not the stupidest thing ever?”

  “Do you feel like it’s stupid?” Drew asked.

  “Only if she doesn’t love me back.”

  “Have you thought about asking her?”

  “So she could laugh in my face?” Kane said, then took a left onto Snowflake Boulevard, already knowing he was willing to take that risk.

  “Do you ever think you worry too much about losing?”

  “Do you ever think you could just give me some advice or at least a brotherly pep talk instead of asking me all these rhetorical questions? You know what, never mind. I already figured it out for myself.”

  Kane disconnected the call while Drew was still chuckling.

  And his brother-in-law had a good point, even if he hadn’t said it directly. Kane hated to lose.

  In fact, Julia was right when she’d once told him that he didn’t like trying something if there was a chance he’d fail at it. Hell, she was right about a lot of things. Julia hated failure as much as he did, yet she was the opposite and would throw herself at a challenge, determined to become the best at it. Even if she hadn’t wanted to do it—like going along with her aunt’s makeover and dating plan.

  Therefore, if Kane didn’t want to lose her, he needed to convince Julia that he was a challenge worth taking on.

  But just to be on the safe side, he stopped off at the bakery and grabbed a bag of doughnuts for their dog because he needed all the backup he could get.

  When he pulled up to the house on Pinecone Court, he was relieved to see his classic Mustang parked behind the MINI Cooper.

  He knocked on the door, rocking back on his heels while he waited for her to answer. He probably would’ve had to wait a lot longer if Mr. Donut hadn’t pressed his wet nose against the glass-paned windows in the entryway and seen the white bakery bag before barking like crazy.

  Probably figuring out that the dog wouldn’t calm down until he got his treats, Julia finally opened the door. She was still in her sexy evening gown and, even with all the creases caused by it spending the night forgotten on his bedroom floor, the sight of her froze his vocal cords.

  “You must’ve come for these,” she said holding
out his keys.

  He shook his head. “You can keep the car.”

  “Then would you mind giving those doughnuts to the dog before you leave so he’ll stop making all this noise?”

  “I know you’re upset about what happened this morning,” he said, holding up his free palm to stop her from closing the door. “But it wasn’t like I purposely kept anything from you. Plus, all that stuff was from my past. It’s not who I am anymore.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Don’t you think who we were in our past defines who we become?”

  “You sound like my brother-in-law, Drew.”

  “Stop getting off-topic, Kane. Just tell me the truth. You were a professional baseball player?”

  “Yes. A pitcher. I was drafted straight out of high school and played in the minors for a couple of years before being called up to the majors.”

  “Were you good?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “It’s just a question. I’ve come to the conclusion that I haven’t been asking enough of those where you’re concerned.”

  “Yes.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I was good.”

  “Is that why people call you Legend?”

  “I guess.”

  “Now’s not the time to be modest,” she said. “Tell me why they call you Legend.”

  “I won the award for best pitcher in the league four years in a row. Which my dad never lets me forget, considering he won it only twice.”

  “Wait,” she frowned. “Your father is a baseball star, too?”

  “Well, he’s a team manager now. He doesn’t play anymore himself.”

  “What about you? Why aren’t you playing baseball now?”

  “You saw my shoulder,” he said. “You also touched it, kissed it, rested your leg on it when—”

  “I’m familiar with your shoulder, Kane.” A crimson heat stole up her cheeks, and he was glad he’d sidetracked the conversation long enough to remind her of what they’d already shared. “But your ex-girlfriend mentioned something about a scandal, so I’m trying to figure out if that event was responsible for your drastic change in careers.”

  “At least you know that she is my ex-girlfriend. As in, very ex. A long-time-ago ex. A no-idea-she-was-going-to-show-up-out-of-the-blue ex.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression when half the population of Sugar Falls practically launched its own form of an emergency broadcast to warn you she was in town.”

  “I just didn’t want you to think there was anything between me and her. Or that I would ever sleep with you if I wasn’t completely free and available.”

  “We can talk about you sleeping with me after you tell me this baseball story,” she said, not moving an inch, let alone inviting him inside.

  Man, Julia would’ve been just as good a prosecuting attorney as she was a surgeon. “A couple of years ago, I was pitching in game six of the division series. We were up three to two, and there was a runner on second. Their designated hitter was at bat and hoping to set a home run record that night. But I walked him.”

  “Like, on purpose?”

  “There’s no more, buddy,” he said to the dog as he brushed the sugar off his hands. “Yes, on purpose. A pitcher does that when there’s a risk of someone scoring. The batter doesn’t get an RBI and we stack the bases, which gives us a chance of making more outs.”

  “You’re forgetting I don’t speak baseball.”

  “Basically, the hitter got pissed that I walked him, and he charged the mound. That means he ran at me because he wanted to fight. But he brought his bat with him. He managed to get in a few solid blows to my shoulder before the dugouts cleared and the rest of the teams joined in. Supposedly it was one of the biggest brawls in televised history, and the news stations and broadcasters still refer to it as Brawlgate.”

  “What happened to the other guy? The one who hit you with a bat?”

  “Arturo Dominguez? He was fined and suspended for a year. He’s playing for a team in LA now.”

  “That’s the guy you mentioned when you were talking to Erica.”

  “Yes.”

  “And she slept with him? While you were in surgery?”

  “You heard her. She wanted to get the story.”

  Julia shook her head. “Tough crowd you used to run with.”

  “Nah. They weren’t all bad.”

  “Then why not go back? Not as a player, but as a coach. It sounds like your dad and agent think you could.”

  “And be reminded of what I lost?”

  “No. To be reminded of what you could give other players.”

  “I don’t know. I never had the patience to coach. When I was pitching, I could focus out there because I was on my own little island. All I had to concentrate on was the ball in my hand going into the catcher’s mitt.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Baseball? Yeah. A little. Alex Russell and Luke Gregson talked me into umpiring a few Little League games last season. It was a nice balance, to be able to work on houses and then go to the ball field once or twice a week.”

  She looked him up and down, as if she were taking it all in. Taking him all in. And she still hadn’t closed the door on his face.

  “So, can we move on to the talk about us sleeping together?” he asked.

  Instead of answering, Julia laughed and brushed by him before sitting down on her porch step. Hmm. Maybe he didn’t like this sassy, confident Julia after all. Not when he was left wondering what was going through that brain of hers. The dog waddled beside her and rolled onto his back, sticking his stubby legs in the air as she rubbed its belly.

  He took the smiling expression on her face as a good sign. But he would remain in suspense until he knew for certain that Julia felt at least something for him. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking that I have a dog named Mr. Donut and that I just slept with a man named The Legend.”

  “Not The. Just Legend.”

  She rolled her eyes, then glanced back at him. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this new information I should’ve realized from the very beginning. I can’t stand not knowing things.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been getting that feeling.”

  “Do you? I had no idea you were a famous baseball player. I had no idea Mr. Donut didn’t belong to you.” She was ticking off items on her fingers. “I had no idea that junky old Bronco of yours was a classic and probably worth as much as my MINI Cooper.”

  “You thought my Bronco was junky?”

  “Kane, focus.” She motioned for him to join her while the dog plopped between them. “What I’m trying to say is that I like knowledge. Sure, I could’ve found out most of that information with a simple internet search, and I’m annoyed with myself for being the last to know. But the thing I’m still trying to process—the thing nobody else can tell me—is how you feel.”

  “How I feel about what?”

  “About me!”

  “I’m crazy about you.” He shot up and paced in front of her. “Stupid, mad, crazy about you.”

  “Don’t say stupid. You’re not stupid.”

  “Maybe not. But I have one more confession.”

  She tilted her head. “What else could you possibly confess?”

  He immediately sat back down. “I knew about your man list before you ever brought it up.”

  Julia’s hand flew to her mouth. “You saw that thing?”

  “It was on your desk, in that picture you sent me with the tile samples. I hated the thought of you going out with some loser and thought I could steer you away from that. Plus, it helped remind me that you were so out of my league, the only criterion I met was my closet full of flannel shirts.”

  She started
laughing. “You should’ve seen the first draft. It was all about you. Besides, I don’t need some silly list to tell me that I love you, Kane.”

  He put a finger under her chin and looked into her eyes, not sure he’d heard correctly. “You love me?”

  “Even before I knew you had an entirely different life before me, I loved everything about you.” His fingers moved along her face, but he remained silent, unable to talk around the lump rising in his throat. “I love your quiet brooding and your impatient knee that jiggles whenever you’re nervous. I love the way you know exactly what I want to buy or eat or drink and have it here at my house waiting for me before I even have to ask for it. I love the way you clean up after me because you require a clutter-free work zone. I love the way you negotiate with salespeople and take in wandering animals, then pass them off to someone else.”

  “In my defense—” Kane scratched the basset hound between his floppy ears “—Mr. Donut was making himself at home here.”

  “Only because you would feed him baked goods every morning.” She pushed playfully at his arm.

  Kane took her hand and kissed her palm. “Tell me what else you love.”

  “I especially love the way you look in those sexy flannel shirts.”

  “I knew you were a smart woman.”

  “I think you’ve been the smart one, Kane Chatterson. You steered me straight into your arms.”

  “I love you, Julia. Just you.”

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “Sug, you’re supposed to slice the strawberries,” Freckles said. “Not make jam out of them.”

  Julia hadn’t quite mastered the technique. Yet. But she was getting close. Her aunt demonstrated how to use the knife crosswise along the cutting board as the Dixieland Jazz Band played a catchy tune from the gazebo in Town Square Park.

  And because her aunt didn’t do anything small, the sign for the Cowgirl Up Café’s booth was almost as big as the Shortcake Festival banner strung up across Snowflake Boulevard. The town’s main street was closed off so the townspeople and tourists could freely roam amongst the vendors and the carnival-style atmosphere.