by Terri Osburn
Several miles of silence later, as they rolled into downtown Ardent Springs, Snow said, “Chocolate is your favorite.”
“My what?” Caleb asked, parallel parking in front of the store entrance.
She put her hand over his on the shifter. “Chocolate is your favorite flavor of ice cream. And you like action movies, especially ones with car chases.” Her smile was meant as an apology. “I remember now.”
Dropping a kiss on her nose, he said, “Took you long enough. Do you want me to hang out here today?”
Scrunching up her face, she said, “Not really. You’d be bored out of your skull within an hour.”
“What time do you close?”
“For the next couple weeks it’s five on Sundays, then I’ll extend the hours as we get closer to the Christmas season.”
“Okay, then.” Caleb opened his door. “I’ll carry the painting in and see you at home later.”
For the first time in eighteen months, Snow would finish the day by going home to her husband. The thought appealed more than she was willing to admit. Maybe convincing Caleb that they were wrong for each other would be easier if she convinced her heart first.
Snow was relieved to have ten minutes before the clock would strike noon and the second half of her day would begin. The first part had already been more than she could process. Caleb had helped her find a deal that could take her shop to the next level, but he’d also bounced among arrogant, spoiled, and possessive. Not to mention his penchant for winning over the locals with no effort whatsoever. If they knew he was filthy rich and had done nothing to earn a penny of it, they wouldn’t be so inviting.
Dropping her head into her hands, Snow hated that the previous thought had even entered her mind. His parents had turned their noses up at her lack of money and substance, and she was doing the same thing to Caleb for the opposite reason. He was right—a person didn’t get to choose the circumstances into which he was born. Holding his trust fund against him was no better than all the prejudice she and her family had endured over the years.
Granted, Caleb could walk away from the money, but why would he? It wasn’t as if the elder McGraw had made his fortune selling drugs or something. As far as Snow could tell, the man was a workaholic who put his business dealings above all else. Including his son.
Her husband was a good man, a product of his upbringing, and so far out of her sphere that even if she wanted them to live happily ever after, they never could. The mere thought of going back to Baton Rouge made her want to run again. But she wasn’t running anymore.
Snow had found a life here in Ardent Springs, and it did not include a husband. That meant Caleb had to go. She had to make him go. She’d cried for a week after leaving him a year and a half ago, and she would likely cry again when they ended for good. But cutting things off as quickly as possible would prevent her losing her heart completely. At this stage, she might recover. If Caleb kept giving speeches like the one he’d laid on her today, Snow was a goner for sure.
Self-preservation could be a powerful motivator. And right now, Snow was desperate for any kind of lifeline.
“Snow, are you in there?” yelled a voice through the back door, followed by three hard thumps.
Lorelei.
“I’m coming,” she yelled back, crossing the storeroom to unlock the door. “Why didn’t you come to the front?” Snow asked as Lorelei stepped inside.
“I tried, but it was locked.”
Snow checked the clock on her desk—12:02 p.m. Crap.
“Sorry. I was distracted and lost track of time.”
Lorelei followed Snow as she headed for the front door. “Does the distraction have anything to do with, say, your incredibly hunky husband?”
“Lorelei, I—”
“Not that I blame you for not getting any sleep last night. Holy heck.” The blonde made a purring noise. “Don’t get me wrong. Spencer is hot, and I don’t want anyone else, but girlfriend, that man of yours is smokin’.”
Snow ignored the bubble of pride that formed in her chest. “Yes, Caleb is pretty to look at, but I got plenty of sleep last night.” Slept better than she had in months, but she ignored that fact as well. At this rate, she’d be the queen of denial in no time.
“You mean you didn’t—” Lorelei stepped in front of Snow, putting her back to the front door before the lock could be turned. “Are you telling me you didn’t jump that man’s bones as soon as I locked this door for you? You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
On a sigh, Snow said, “There are . . . issues.” She reached for the lock, but Lorelei blocked her again.
“You mean he can’t . . .” Her friend held up one finger, bent at the knuckle.
“No!” Snow exclaimed. “Caleb can get it up just fine, thank you very much. Now let me unlock this door.”
Lorelei finally moved. “You know, if you’d gotten laid last night, you might not be so grumpy today.”
With an evil glare, Snow said, “When you rolled into town in June, did you jump Spencer’s bones right away?”
The sheepish look said it all. “That was different. Spencer and I weren’t married. And we had things to work out.”
“Exactly,” Snow said. “Caleb and I have things to work out. And if everything goes to plan, he’ll be leaving town soon.”
“You’re leaving town?”
“Of course not. I said he’ll be leaving town. A-lone.”
“Oh.” Lorelei grew serious. “You’re talking divorce. So this is more than some lovers’ spat.”
“Much more,” Snow answered. “Caleb and I don’t fit together. We’d known each other only two months before waking up in a Vegas hotel suite wearing matching rings. It’s all a lust-hazed blur when I think about it now.”
“I don’t blame you on the lust thing. That boy is—”
“Please stop pointing out how hot my husband is,” Snow said, pulling the cash drawer from the safe. “I’m aware. But there’s more to marriage than sex.”
Lorelei leaned an elbow on the counter, balancing her chin in her palm. “Were you drunk?”
“Excuse me?” Snow blinked in confusion. “Was I drunk when?”
“The night you got married.”
“No,” Snow said. “I’d had a glass of wine, maybe.”
“Then if you didn’t want to get married after knowing him for only two months, why did you?” Lorelei gave a quick shrug. “There had to be a reason, and it doesn’t sound like he forced you into it.”
Caleb hadn’t forced her into anything. Snow took the treacherous journey back in time to the night she and her hunky boyfriend had sprinted to the nearest wedding chapel, high on young love and the giddiness of total freedom. She’d felt like they owned the world that night. Like there was nothing that could break them apart.
And then something did.
Within a week, they were living in Baton Rouge and Snow’s world went from perfection to a bad dream. Caleb seemed as happy as ever, doting and generous, but Snow had become a whirling mass of insecurity and panic.
It was no wonder she’d bolted the way she did. The real mystery was what took her so long.
“Did he refuse to give you a divorce before you left?” Lorelei asked, dragging Snow back to the present.
Keeping her gaze from meeting Lorelei’s, she said, “I didn’t ask for a divorce.”
“Then what reason did you give for leaving?”
Keeping her voice low, Snow answered, “I didn’t give any reason.”
The blonde leaned forward. “So you what? Said good-bye and drove off?”
She’d thought answering to Caleb had been hard. Snow leveled her shoulders and prepared for Lorelei to think the worst of her. Goodness knew she didn’t like herself very much right now, and regardless of the circumstances in which she’d found herself, Snow sure as heck couldn’t
justify her actions.
“I didn’t say good-bye. I waited until he was asleep, and then I left.”
Lorelei stood straight. “Just like that? No warning? Not even a note?”
Snow shook her head.
“Wow,” Lorelei said. “That’s—”
“Cowardly,” Snow finished for her. “Not to mention rude, idiotic, and immature.”
“I was going to say gutsy.”
Not the reaction Snow expected. “Gutsy?”
“Men don’t like it when they don’t get a say in things. How long ago did you get up the nerve to tell him where you were?”
“I didn’t tell him. He found a flier for the Ruby festival down in Nashville and caught the Snow’s Curiosity Shop mention. He didn’t even know for sure it was me, but he drove all the way up here to find out.” As she heard herself explain it that way, Snow realized how far Caleb had gone to find her. And not just geographically. “If I’d gotten the tip that he was coming, I could have hidden somewhere and let you pretend to run the store.”
The bells jingled over the door as the first customers of the day strolled in. The two older women lingered in the jewelry section near the front. Dropping her voice, Lorelei said, “How would you have gotten a tip?”
Snow leaned close and said, “His mother.”
“What?” Lorelei asked, jerking back. “You got his mother to work against him?”
“Trust me,” Snow said, “she was more than happy to have me out of Caleb’s life. She caught me the night I left and gave me an e-mail address to contact her when I landed somewhere. As she put it, when Caleb finally agreed to divorce me, they’d need an address to send the papers.”
“And she kept your secret all this time?” Lorelei asked, fascination dancing in her eyes. “That’s wild.”
For the first six months, Snow had been certain Caleb’s mother would fold and spill her whereabouts, but the woman was more ruthless than she let on. Vivien McGraw—bone thin, always smiling, never angry or flustered—was in reality a mean woman with a heart of stone. Snow wanted to believe the McGraw matriarch’s motives were to protect her son’s heart, but deep down, she knew it was all about the family. Keeping up appearances. Maintaining their high standards.
“She did,” Snow said. “In exchange for sharing my location, I made Vivien agree to send the occasional message to my family. If Mom didn’t know where I was, she didn’t have to lie to Caleb if or when he asked her if she’d heard from me. But I couldn’t leave them wondering whether or not I was okay either. Vivien wasn’t my favorite choice for messenger, but I had no other options at that point.”
Lorelei shook her head. “To save your parents from having to lie, you let his own mother betray him. And I thought Hollywood had the drama.”
Betray was such a harsh word. It wasn’t as if Snow had paid her to keep silent. Or even had to twist her arm. “However it went down, Caleb is here now and I have to convince him that we aren’t right for each other.”
“How is that going?” Lorelei asked.
Pushing unruly curls back from her face, Snow said, “Rocky at best. I set the condition that we wouldn’t have sex in the next month, and I thought that would send him running.”
“He agreed?”
“Yeah.” She still couldn’t believe that tactic hadn’t worked.
Following a low whistle, Lorelei said, “That boy is determined. And I don’t know how you’re going to hold out for a whole month.”
“Sadly, neither do I.”
Chapter 8
Caleb wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d considered checking out his temporary new town, but driving around alone held no attraction for him. He’d rather explore the area with Snow. Let her show him around and share whatever it was that drew her to this place. As far as he could tell, Ardent Springs was a sleepy little metropolis with a bustling downtown and not much else. The proximity to Nashville kept the town from being remote, but without a business or family in the area, he didn’t see much of a reason to stick around.
As he parked the Jeep outside Snow’s apartment—or rather their apartment for now—he was surprised to see one of the garage doors open. The walls were lined with shelves, most holding neatly organized paint cans, canvases, a few easels, but there was no vehicle. Seemed a waste of space. This garage was made for cars, not paintbrushes and dirty rags.
“You got a reason to be nosing around my property?” Caleb spun to find an elderly woman nearly his own height staring at him through the biggest pair of sunglasses he’d ever seen. She wore a ball cap, an oversized blue robe-looking thing that buttoned up the front, and a pair of regular glasses dangling from a string of beads around her neck.
Caleb didn’t make a habit of checking out older women, but it was impossible not to notice that this one desperately needed to put on a bra. Everything was sitting around waist level.
“I’m Snow’s hus—” he started, then corrected himself. “Fiancé. Snow’s fiancé. Are you Mrs. Silvester?”
“Since when does Snow have a fiancé?” she asked, dragging out the last word into several syllables.
That was a good question. They hadn’t discussed a time line for this bogus engagement, so Caleb decided to wing it. “Since two weeks ago.”
His interrogator looked him up and down. “How long have you been in town?”
He was tempted to tell the busybody it was none of her business, but the impression she was digging for answers in protection of Snow kept him polite. “I got here yesterday,” he said.
“But you asked her to marry you two weeks ago.” The words were more statement than question. Her top lip curled as if she’d tasted something bitter. “What’d you do? Ask over e-mail or something? What kind of a boy asks for a girl’s hand like that?”
She had a point. Caleb cursed his quick answer and resented Snow for making him lie like this. “Not exactly,” he said, stalling to come up with a better story. “We talked about it over the phone and then agreed that I should come stay for a while to see how things go.” What a load of bull. He only hoped he’d remember all of this to get the story straight with Snow later on. “I haven’t actually gotten down on one knee and made an official proposal yet.”
“What the hell you waitin’ on?”
Caleb went with the first thought that entered his head. “I don’t have a ring.”
That put a hold on the rapid-fire questions. The woman slid her sunglasses to the end of her nose. “You’re certainly pretty enough for my girl. What do you do for a living?”
Refusing to throw another lie on the metaphorical pile, Caleb said, “I’m between jobs at the moment.”
Gray brows shot up. “At least you’re honest.” With a tilt of her head, she added, “Louisiana boy, aren’t you?”
Impressive. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re lucky,” she said, sliding the glasses back up. “I have a soft spot for Louisiana boys.” Turning on her heels, she said, “Follow me.” Caleb was so surprised, he didn’t move for several seconds, until she turned and barked, “Don’t be dillydallying now. We’ve got work to do.”
Too stunned to argue, Caleb shuffled across the driveway, following Her Geriatric Highness through the garden gate and toward the side of the big house. “You are Mrs. Silvester, right?” he asked as he caught up to her.
“I am not and never have been Mrs. anything. Call me Miss Hattie.” She floated up the six steps to reach the porch without touching the hand rail. “First, we’ll take care of the ring situation.” Resting her hand on the screen door handle, she removed the sunglasses, sliding one stem into the top of her robe thing—Caleb wasn’t sure what to call the outfit other than shapeless. “I assume you’re staying in the apartment with my tenant. You young folk might take this sort of thing lightly, but in my day, a woman didn’t live with a man without first getting the ring as well as the vow
s spoken in front of the preacher.” Opening the door and waiting for Caleb to hold it, she said, “I’ll let the second part slide, but insist on the first. You have a problem with that?”
Since they’d already said their vows, be it in front of an Elvis impersonator instead of the traditional preacher, Caleb saw no reason to argue. “No, ma’am. But I can take care of the ring part myself if you’ll point me in the direction of a good jeweler.”
“Nonsense,” she said, charging into the house. “I’ve got the perfect bauble.”
Was she suggesting he take a ring from her? That was out of the question. “Mrs. Silvester . . .”
“That’s Miss Hattie, and don’t worry, I’m not giving you anything for free,” she said, stepping up to a table in the foyer and dropping her hat and glasses on the marble surface. “The only kin I have is some distant cousin in Chattanooga who likely wouldn’t know an heirloom from his hairy bottom. I’d rather sell a piece to you than see it end up in a pawn shop.”
“But, ma’am . . .”
“Snow deserves the best, and what I’m offering is better than anything you’ll find for several hundred miles,” she said. “You want your wife to have the best, don’t you?”
Yes. Yes he did. But this still seemed wrong.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, knowing how closely his mother protected the jewelry that had been handed down through generations of McGraws, dating back to pre–Civil War days. “You don’t even know me.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
The question took him off balance. “Um . . . Caleb,” he said. “Caleb McGraw.”
“Nice to meet you, Caleb,” Miss Hattie said with a hand extended. Manners made him accept the shake without thought. “Now we know each other. And we both care for Snow, am I correct?”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation.
“Then it’s settled. Let’s get that sweet little thing a ring.”
Thirteen thousand dollars. Snow leaned back in her chair, staring open-mouthed at her computer screen. The only painting by William Norton that was close to the size of the one she’d bought had sold at auction the year before for thirteen thousand dollars. Her eyes cut over to the new treasure and all she could do was smile. This lucky find was going to change her life, and she had Caleb to thank for it.