“The only thing that woman wants is grandkids to spoil,” James says.
“You’d better get busy then,” I tell him.
“Me? I don’t have time to meet anyone, let alone date them. Plus, you’re older than me. No sir, if grandkids are in the cards, you’re the one who’d better get busy.”
I love my family. I love kids. I just never spent much time thinking of myself in terms of being a dad. After Emma left, even the idea of marriage left a sour taste in my mouth. But after three years, maybe James is right. Maybe I should open the door to a new relationship and who knows, fatherhood might follow.
I’ve had friends who’ve wanted to set me up with various women since my break-up, but I’ve never been interested. Truth be told, I’m not interested now because the only face that pops into my mind when I think of romance is Addison Cooper’s. But that’s insane. Not only is she holding the mother of all grudges against me, she lives in New York. Nothing about the two of us together makes any sense.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Mothers
Libby: Do you ever think it might be beneficial to join a grieving group.
Ruby: I’ve thought about it, but I think I’m doing okay now.
Libby: I just hope you’re not holding your emotions inside.
Ruby: Hardly. The first three months after Bob died, I had panic attacks that nearly had me ripping my hair out. They were awful.
Libby: Why didn’t you say anything?
Ruby: Because my doctor gave me a lovely little pill that took the edge off. I’m working my way through this, Lib. Don’t worry.
Addison
Spartan is like one of those towns you see in Hallmark movies. It’s tiny and charming and every store I pass makes me want to go inside and buy things. I walk by a beauty parlor with a sign in the window that says, “Get your beaver waxed here!” I stop dead in my tracks as a burst of laughter ripples out of me. Oregon is the only state where they can borderline get away with something like that.
My first stop is the Quick Stop Market. I need to pick up some earplugs. My reasoning is that if I can’t hear anything, I won’t have anything to worry about. Sure, a bear might still break in and maul me in my sleep, but the chances are slim because Billy promised to sleep on my porch for a while longer.
A smiling woman about my age calls out, “Welcome! Let me know if you need any help.”
I could walk around the grocery store for a month in New York City and no one would randomly offer to help me. “Thanks,” I reply. “I’m looking for earplugs.”
“Ah, you have a husband that snores, huh?”
“No husband,” I assure her.
“Noisy cat?” she asks.
“Nope.”
She puts down the folder she’s holding and says, “I give up. What’s making so much noise you can’t sleep?”
“I’m staying up in one of the cabins at the Willamette Valley Lodge.”
“And? Surely there’s nothing making any noise up there.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I reply. “The owls hoot up a storm, other creatures sneak through the woods snapping branches, and I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there are cougars in the woods.”
She starts to laugh. “Where are you from?”
“New York City.”
“Do you sleep with earplugs there?”
“I don’t need them there. I know what every sound is that I hear in the city.”
She walks over to me and stretches out her hand. “I’m Cheryl Wilkens. And you are?”
“Addison Cooper,” I tell her. “My mom and Ruby Cavanaugh were college roommates and have been best friends ever since.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Addison. We don’t see a lot of folks from New York City in these parts.”
“I’m an interior designer. I’m helping Aunt Ruby work out what to do with some cabins.” I suddenly realize I could really use a local brain to pick. One that doesn’t have the last name of Cavanaugh.
“If you’re not too busy, Cheryl, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
“Not at all.” She sounds pleased by the prospect. “Come with me.” I follow her into the freezer aisle where she already has one folding chair set up. She pulls another off one of the units and unfolds it. “Have a seat,” she says while using her chair to prop open a freezer door.
I release an awkward laugh and ask, “Do you always sit in the freezer aisle?”
“I had a complete hysterectomy last year which threw me right into menopause. The hot flashes are like something out of a barbecue in hell.” She fans her face to help illustrate her comment.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not quite sure how to respond to a stranger telling me about her female problems.
“Don’t be. I already have my kids, so there are no worries on that end, and my husband left, so I’m not too concerned about the full beard I have coming in.” She brushes her hand against her chin.
I spontaneously snicker before saying, “I’m sorry about your husband, and you do not have a beard.”
“I pluck it every morning,” she confesses. “Now, what kind of questions do you have?”
“Do you enjoy camping?”
“Damian, that’s my ex, and I had a fifth wheeler that we used to take out quite a bit. We slept in it and put the kids in a tent outside.”
“Did it have a bathroom?”
“Darn straight it did. I love camping, but I’m not going to dig a hole to do my business for anyone. If God wanted me to relieve myself outdoors he would have made me a squirrel or something.”
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “Brogan makes me out to be some kind of alien because I’m uncomfortable using an outhouse.”
“You’re friends with Brogan?”
“Hardly. He’s been picking on me since we were kids. He used to go out of his way to make our joint family camping trips a living hell for me.”
“You’re not Honey Bucket, are you?” she asks excitedly.
“I don’t think so. No one’s ever called me that before.”
“That’s good. Brogan used to tell us about this prissy girl his family used to camp with. Lord, the things he did to her!” She bends over as hilarity rips through her.
The image of me washing my hair in honey pops to the forefront of my brain.
That loser! He used to brag about the pranks he played on me? “Cheryl,” I confess, “I think I am Honey Bucket.”
She valiantly tries to stop laughing but fails miserably.
I give her a moment to compose herself before saying, “I’m not prissy. It was simply hard to enjoy camping when two idiot brothers went out of their way to make every waking minute miserable for me.”
“Oh, I bet. I know some of the pranks they pulled on you. Why in the world are you up there now, after all of that?”
“Like I said, I’m here to help Aunt Ruby. I had no idea Brogan would be in the vicinity.”
“Girl, you need to get even. You know that, right?”
“You’re the second person today who’s told me that.” And when more than one person tells me something, I start to feel a consensus afoot.
Cheryl jumps up and orders, “Follow me.” She walks down the spice aisle to the condiment aisle. Picking up a bottle of clam juice she says, “Brogan hates clams. Like seriously the taste makes him gag. Why don’t you invite him to your cabin for dinner and lace all the food with this?”
“While I love the idea, I don’t particularly love clams myself. Not enough to eat a whole meal tasting like them.”
She shakes her head. “Ask him to kill a spider or something. While he’s busy, just sprinkle it on top of his food.”
“Cheryl, why are you helping me like this? I thought you and Brogan were friends.”
“Oh, we are, but I know the horrible stuff he did to you. Sometimes karma can use a little help.”
I take the clam juice with a big smile on my face and say, “I’d better do some shopping while
I’m here and pick up some things for dinner.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Mothers
Ruby: I just saw Brogan in the wine cellar. He was picking up a bottle of wine to take to dinner.
Libby: Fascinating.
Ruby: It is when you know where he’s having dinner.
Libby: No! There’s no way Addie would cook for him.
Ruby: All I know is what he told me.
Libby: Either hell has frozen over, or my daughter has something up her sleeve.
Ruby: I’ll keep you posted.
Brogan
I spend the afternoon in my hammock reading a book. I don’t read nearly as much as I did before becoming a writer myself, and I miss it. I must have fallen asleep though, because when I open my eyes Addison is standing over me.
On the off chance I’m not dreaming, I say, “Hey, I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m pretty stealthy when I want to be,” she jokes. I love it when she smiles. I’d like to be the cause of her doing a lot more of that.
“What can I do for you?” I might sound a little surprised but only because I am. The last time I saw her, she was showing me the door.
“I came by to see if you wanted to come to dinner tonight.”
“Really?” I’m so shocked I practically roll onto the ground. When I asked her to my place she made it sound like she’d rather lick the outhouse floor than eat with me.
“How about if you come up at six. That ought to give me enough time to cook one of my specialties.”
“I’d love to,” I tell her. I don’t even care what Addison’s cooking abilities are. The meal is the least of the reasons I’m looking forward to having dinner with her. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to convince her what a great guy I’ve become.
“Great, I’ll see you then.” She turns and walks away, affording me a very nice view. Even in shorts and a t-shirt, Addison Cooper looks like she just walked off the pages of a fashion magazine.
After she leaves, I run up to the lodge to grab a bottle of wine. I also stop at my mom’s and take a hot shower. As much as I told Addie how invigorating cold showers are, I still prefer getting clean in hot water.
At five forty-five I leave my cabin with a bottle of wine, a bouquet of flowers, and a shopping bag carrying a surprise gift. Billy is sitting on the porch drinking a beer when I get there. “Hey, Bill, what are you doing here?”
“I stopped by to check on Addison and she invited me to dinner. What are you doing here?”
“She invited me, too.” So much for a romantic evening.
“She’s in the kitchen cooking if you want to tell her you’re here.”
I drop the shopping bag between two trees before going inside. I immediately notice the changes that have been made since this morning. For one thing, there’s a dining table with four chairs that is nicely set with a tablecloth and dishes, all way nicer than the ones in the fishing cabin.
Addie is standing in the kitchen wearing a pretty sundress and an apron. “Something smells good,” I tell her.
“It better. It’s strange cooking without an oven, though.” She turns around to greet me.
“For you.” I hand her the flowers.
“How nice, thank you!” Her skin flushes prettily.
“I also brought wine.”
“I hope you brought a wine opener, I haven’t been able to find one. Otherwise you’ll have to settle for beer,” she says.
I pull a wine opener out of my pants pocket and announce, “Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout.”
“The Boy Scouts were big wine drinkers, huh?” she teases.
“Only the classy ones.” I pull the cork out and offer, “Chardonnay?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I walk around her to the kitchen and pull open a cabinet in search of tin coffee cups. I’m surprised to find four long-stemmed wine glasses. “Where did these come from?”
“There’s a cute little kitchen shop in town. I picked up some stuff while I was there,” she says.
“Camping with wine glasses. That’s not something I’ve heard of before.”
“I’m not camping, I’m glamping.” She has a smile on her face that positively takes my breath away.
I pour a glass and hand it to her. “To glamping.”
She takes a sip and replies, “To New York.”
“You really don’t like it out here, huh?”
“It’s only my second night. Once I get things situated, I’m sure I’ll like it just fine. But that doesn’t mean I don’t long for the comforts of the city.”
Billy pops his head in and asks, “Do I have time to go get some berries?”
“You have thirty minutes,” Addie tells him.
“I’ll be back.” He hurriedly walks down the path.
“That was nice of you to invite him to supper,” I say. I don’t add that I wish she hadn’t.
“The more the merrier.” She takes the lid off the frying pan on the camp stove and gives everything a quick stir. “I hope you’re hungry. I normally only cook for myself at home, so I quadrupled my recipe. I think I have enough food for eight people.”
“Good thing I skipped lunch then. I’m starving.” After a moment I bravely ask, “Do you have someone special waiting for you at home?” I’m guessing not because if she did she would have never raised the stakes on our bet.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now,” she answers plainly. “What about you?”
“Free as a bird,” I tell her before saying, “It must be hard to date when you’re traveling all the time for work.”
Instead of answering the question directly, she shrugs her shoulders and says, “A lot of people travel for work.”
“I’m glad I’m not one of them.”
“Don’t you go on tours when you release a new book?”
“I do, but I don’t look at that as work. That’s more like celebration for getting the work done.” Then I ask, “How is it that you’ve never come to any of my signings in New York City?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she says. “What kind of masochist do you take me for?”
“Addison, I’m truly genuinely sorry for all the pranks I played on you when we were kids. I wish you’d believe that,” I tell her for what feels like the millionth time.
She shrugs her shoulders. “While I appreciate the apology, I still have the memories. Words alone can’t wash those away.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” she states. I don’t like the look she gives me when she says that.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Mothers
Libby: No word from Addie, and I’ve been gone for two days.
Ruby: She asked what time your birthday dinner was scheduled for Wednesday night.
Libby: Uh-oh. What did you tell her?
Ruby: I said that I was just finalizing everything, and I’d let her know as soon I was done. What are you and Bob going to do to celebrate?
Libby: We’re ordering room service.
Ruby: I’d do the same in your shoes. Enjoy every minute.
Addison
“Why don’t we sit outside while we wait for Billy to come back,” I suggest. This cabin is small but it’s positively suffocating with Brogan in it. Not only is he physically a big guy, but his aura is humongous.
“Sounds nice,” he says as he steps back to lead the way.
“Bring out a chair with you if you don’t want to sit on the porch. There’s only one seat out here.”
“I have a better idea.” He reaches to take my hand. “Come with me.”
I tentatively put my palm in his. The reaction is the same as shuffling through thick carpeting before touching a light switch. I wonder if he felt the zing, too. My skin is positively prickling from it.
Brogan leads the way toward the woods and abruptly stops next to a large shopping bag sitting up against a tree trunk.
“What’s that?”
He hands me his wine so he can pull something out of the bag. “I brought you an extra hammock that we had stored at the fishing cabin. I thought you’d like to have it.”
“Thank you!” I’m more excited than I should be considering I don’t plan to spend too much time outdoors. I still have bears and cougars on the brain.
He opens it up and immediately gets to work strapping it first to one tree trunk then to another. He clearly already scoped out the perfect location. Once he’s done, he takes both of our glasses and says, “You sit down first.”
I can’t wait. I practically jump on top of the thing. I’m sorely tempted to lie down on it and start swinging, but I don’t want him to see how excited his gift makes me. Once I’m situated, I take the wine glasses while he gets settled.
I’d forgotten that when two people sit side by side on a hammock they both tend to roll toward the center, making for a very cozy situation. I’m starting to wonder if that’s why Brogan brought it for me.
I try to scoot over but make very little progress in the elbow room department. Gravity is not on my side. “It was very nice of you to bring this, but I don’t think it’s built for two.”
“You’re wrong. A hammock is a great place for two people to lie down and take a nap together.” His eyes are twinkling like napping is the last thing on his mind.
“We’re not exactly lying down.”
“We could be,” he shrugs his eyebrows up and down looking like that old-time comedian Groucho Marx.
I try to stand up, but he pulls me back. “I was just kidding. If you want more space you have to do this.” He lifts one leg over and straddles the hammock. “This way we can face each other.”
We could, but if we both sit like that and slide together our lady and man business would be in dangerous proximity to each other. So, yeah … no. “Move your leg back,” I tell him.
Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1) Page 14