Veronica and Mindy both knew Chloe had no interest in Nate, but they also loved poking fun at her perpetual single status and weren’t going to give up until she had hooked up.
“Let it go, and let’s get going before we miss all the fun.” Chloe practically pulled them out the door and into the car.
* * *
Ten minutes later, singing a Cyndi Lauper song loudly and off key, Chloe pulled into the neon-splashed parking lot of the Barnyard, a favorite Gilmore hangout, and they all piled out of her battered Mini Cooper. The Barnyard was aptly named. Once a falling down wreck, the nearly hundred-year-old barn had been rehabilitated and turned into an entertainment center for adults who wanted to act like children—which meant the place was always busy and always a good time.
A circular bar occupied the center of the enormous barn, surrounded by high-top tables and mismatched bar stools. The front right corner of the room held a vintage arcade complete with games like Super Mario Bros, Centipede, and Skeeball. The other corner boasted several pool tables and dart boards, a few booths, and a number of flat screen TVs playing everything from sports to old movies and 80’s MTV videos.
The entire back of the barn was reserved for dancing, live music, and karaoke. Mismatched tile formed a patchwork patterned dance floor and helped maintain the comfortable, homey vibe that encouraged customers to stay late and drink profusely. Photo booths scattered throughout the bar streamed pictures onto a big screen mounted above the dance floor so that everyone could see just how silly you were acting behind the curtains.
After carefully surveying the room Chloe, Veronica, and Mindy headed for an unoccupied booth in the pool and dart room, which also just happened to be filled with a variety of attractive male specimens. While Chloe was the only one who could reap those particular benefits, Veronica and Mindy never turned down a chance to objectify the opposite sex. They were both on the prowl to find a date for their friend and began pointing out possibilities before ordering the first round of drinks.
“Cowboy Boots over there would definitely do in a pinch.” Mindy nodded toward a man in tight-fitting jeans and a flannel shirt while absently accepting a vodka soda with lime from their waitress.
“Eh, not really my thing. I’m more a t-shirt and flip-flops kind of girl. Preferably a tight t-shirt bursting with arm muscles, but cowboy boots just always look a little girly to me.”
“What about Socks & Sandals by the dart board in the corner?” Veronica asked with a sly grin. “What situation do you suppose he’s preparing for where he needs both?”
“Ooh, ooh, I spotted the hipsters!” Mindy exclaimed, pointing toward a table of guys in their late 20’s who were obviously members of one of the more obnoxious social groups to have emerged lately. From the tops of their fedora-adorned Bieber-cut heads to their custom-designed Converse sneakers, everything about them irritated Chloe to no end.
“You’re not a lumberjack; you don’t hunt to survive; and every time I see you, you’re drinking a craft beer or a mocha-choca-frappa-latte with extra foam. Therefore, you did not earn and do not deserve that beard you’re sporting! Beards and skinny jeans, brilliant combination.” she ranted in their general direction.
“OK, forget the hipsters; you know what a trigger they are for Chloe” Veronica admonished Mindy with a mischievous grin.
Chloe looked around at the men in the room, trying to imagine herself approaching someone with the intent of making a romantic connection. It had been quite a while since her last relationship; traveling had taken its toll, and she had never been one for long term commitments.
Most men were intimidated by her independence, and allowing work to rule her life had left little room for anyone or anything else. She had been on one or two dates since returning to Ponderosa Pines, but had learned rather quickly that privacy in this town was harder to come by than a two-dollar bill.
Just because she hadn’t liked when Rosalina Emmons’ son had taken her to a “nice dinner” at the Snack Shack, or that all Shane Davis wanted to talk about was the pot plants he was trying to grow in the field behind the cow pasture didn’t mean she was a snob who was too good for everyone in town.
Enough had been enough when she had heard someone she barely knew discussing the awkward kiss the latter had tried to land on her at the end of the night. Nope, she would no longer be accepting dates with anyone who lived in the Pines. Unfortunately, since she rarely left the little hamlet anymore, her chances of meeting anyone had diminished to the point where she had decided there was a chance she would wind up an old lady with 57 cats.
“Hey, isn’t that Talia Plunkett over there dancing like it’s 1999?” Mindy pointed not at all inconspicuously at the wife of the man Chloe and EV unaffectionately referred to as Douchebag #2. Luther didn’t deserve the title of number one; he lacked the faculties necessary to be taken seriously in any capacity.
His wife, on the other hand, was a horse of a different color. Far more desirable than Luther, it was a mystery to many—and to Talia’s sister Lottie in particular—how the pair had come together in the first place. Lottie hated Luther, partly because she was insanely jealous that her younger sister, Talia, married before she did.
Peering past Talia’s vibrating backside, Chloe observed Luther’s dancing skills, and once again came down on Lottie’s side in her estimation of the couple. Talia seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly. To each their own, Chloe thought.
Veronica, ignoring the fact that the woman was clearly drunk and attempting to perform a sexy number that was coming off more like the chicken dance, zeroed in on what she considered most important about the scene: fashion. “I know Luther jacks prices a bit, but do you suppose he really has enough money for her to be spending hundreds of dollars on a scarf? That’s vintage Pucci, if I’m not mistaken. It must have cost a pretty penny.”
Raising five kids left little cash for luxuries like expensive accessories, but Veronica was still a fiend. She bargain shopped and mixed vintage finds with cheap knockoffs, always managing to look chic and original. Trusting that Veronica knew her Pucci, Chloe filed the comment away in the back of her mind for later contemplation.
“Time for a trip to the Ladies, ladies. Anyone need a touch up?” Mindy led them on a winding path toward the restrooms and through saloon doors labeled “Cowgirls”. The line stretched almost back to the door, and Chloe kept one ear perked for gossip; she couldn’t allow any prime opportunity for column fodder to go unchecked—no matter how much she had wanted a night away. If a Pines resident was mentioned within earshot, Chloe was going to do her best to accidentally overhear anything that might prove useful.
Snaking around the corner and into a section of restroom lined with three stalls, Chloe and her friends overheard a familiar name as the two women occupying the stalls carried on what they couldn’t have possibly thought was a private conversation. Jackpot.
“…Evan, that guy who ran for mayor. He tried to get me to go on a date with him, telling me he was ‘setting himself up to be the most powerful man in Gilmore’ and that I should ‘hop on board the Evan train while I had the chance.’” Chloe rolled her eyes at the last comment, while Mindy stifled an hysterical giggle.
“Well, I heard he’s got a clandestine affair going on with some woman in that sorry excuse for a town. He’ll never get into office with a scandal like that going around.”
As the three women stepped out of their respective stalls almost simultaneously, Chloe and her friends shot each other looks of amusement and quietly took their places inside hoping to hear the next part of the conversation. At that moment the DJ’s booming voice rose above the music and whisked away whatever words were spoken. Interesting, thought Chloe. Very interesting.
Chapter 5
Chloe opened one eye and immediately closed it again as a thousand fireworks exploded inside her head. Her stomach curled into a fetal position and locked itself into a sailor’s Alpine Butterfly knot. A loud banging that Chloe had mistaken for blood pumpin
g through her temples was punctuated by a tinkling she recognized as the wind chime next to the front door.
Even before she heard the key turn in the lock and the door open Chloe knew her visitor must be EV. What she couldn’t understand was why EV would be visiting so very early, especially after the last time she had dared disturb her friend at what Chloe considered an inappropriate hour.
For that, EV must pay.
Cracking one eyelid she turned toward her nightstand and realized it was after noon.
Whatever it is, it can wait, Chloe thought to herself while pulling a silky, monogrammed sleep mask over her eyes. The script aptly read “I’d rather be sleeping,” and Chloe couldn’t remember having ever agreed with the sentiment more than she did right now. She could just make out the sound of some bustling around downstairs and a tinkling of metal on glass, but chose to ignore it and instead concentrate on stopping her head from spinning.
“Morning, Miss Sleepy Pants, did you have a fun night out?” EV asked in an ear-splitting sing-song voice as she barged into Chloe’s room and set a breakfast tray down on the edge of the rumpled bed.
Receiving only a grunt in response, EV tugged on the thin embroidered quilt that was covering all but Chloe’s head. “I made you something to help you feel better. It’s an old Torrence family hangover cure, and it works like a charm. I gave the recipe to Maggie Mullen a good ten years ago, and you can barely tell she gets hammered at least five out of seven nights a week. Come to think of it, maybe I should have kept it to myself instead of becoming an enabler.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to be able to shake her friend until she at least sampled the magic elixir, Chloe pushed the sleep mask onto her forehead and propped herself up against the headboard. Relentless, as always, Chloe mused while EV went around the room closing blinds, then turned on a small lamp in the corner. Chloe sipped the concoction that, as far as she could tell, contained orange juice, ginger, and a good dollop of hot sauce. By the time EV had settled herself in Chloe’s favorite comfy reading chair the color had begun to return to her face and the room had stopped spinning like a top.
“Everything was fine until Veronica started buying tequila shots for everyone. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“It always does, until you’re praying to the porcelain god the next morning.”
“At least we had the wherewithal to take a cab home. I know why you’re here, by the way, and I know it’s not just to nurse me back to health—although I do appreciate it. Of course I kept my eyes and ears open, at least until the end of the night. You want to know about what I happened to spy with my little eye, don’t you?”
“Why I never,” EV retorted in a fairly believable southern accent.
“I’m 100% convinced that the Ericksons are having a baby. They were playing some pretty hardcore darts and looked like they were enjoying themselves, but she was sipping water and I noticed him place his hand on her stomach in a fatherly way.”
“They seem like a cute young couple, and it’s not as though there’s an excess of kids running around here save for your friend Veronica’s brood. Good for them. But that was an easy one, and not exactly of the juiciest variety. What else you got?”
“Talia Plunkett was pretty drunk and should definitely never try for a dancing career. Luther was with her, and for all the world I can’t figure out how the two of them wound up together.”
“You and half the town. Lottie practically had an apoplectic fit when they announced their engagement. Serious case of sour grapes is the general opinion about town, but I think it’s more that Lottie thought she could do better.”
“By far the biggest news I got was that Luther’s jerky brother has been rumored to be partaking in a scandalous affair with a married Pines resident. And also hitting on co-eds, but big shocker there. No names were mentioned, and I doubt the girls who were talking about him actually know anything anyway. But the rumor is definitely out there, and I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if it was true. He’s a smarmy, cocky ass; and I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“Gee, Chlo, tell me how you really feel.” EV snorted with a grin. “Let’s tuck that little bit of information away and see if we can find out the real deal. He’s going down, one way or another.” She cocked an eyebrow at Chloe suggestively and changed the subject abruptly.
“You’re wrong, you know. Don’t you realize the very biggest reason I’m trying to resuscitate you is that I want to know if you met a man? I half hoped you wouldn’t be alone when I got here.”
Chloe rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time in response to the same question. “Why is everyone so pushy about finding me a man? Am I giving off some bitch vibe that makes you all think I need to get a piece? I’m perfectly capable of making myself happy.” She paused and before EV could let a giggle escape her lips at that last comment, fixed her with a stare that clearly stated, “Now is not the time.” It only lasted a moment until Chloe herself couldn’t keep from smiling.
“I’m just not comfortable hooking up with someone. It’s not like I’m going to form any real connection with some guy in a bar—especially not at The Yard where Objective #1 is to hook up with the first drunk girl who makes a bad decision. I’d like more than that, especially after being out of the game for so long.”
She didn’t mention how lonely she had been lately. That would just add fuel to EV’s fire. The last thing she wanted was to be set up with every moderately attractive man EV met; and it was in her friend’s nature to meddle, especially if EV thought she was helping.
EV shot an appraising look at Chloe. “And there’s absolutely nobody you think you might be able to have a serious relationship with?”
“I swear, the next person who mentions the name Nate Harper to me is going to get a box of dirty socks for Christmas.”
“Save that for the Yankee Swap this year and stop being petulant. He’s good looking, has a job, and you know he’s not a psychopath or a big crybaby. You could certainly do worse.”
“What makes you all even think he wants anything more than friendship with me?” she asked, tentatively. If Nate had his sights set on her, she was not going to enjoy breaking his heart.
“He’s not dead, Chloe, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Chloe shifted uncomfortably and visibly reddened. “And how’s that?”
“Like a ten-year-old looking at a sweaty Popsicle he’d like to lick.”
Not knowing what to say, Chloe simply laid back down and closed her eyes. Was it true that she felt a spark whenever Nate was around? Maybe. Was he attractive, and someone she felt safe with? Certainly. But was Nate going to stick around long enough for a relationship? Not likely. He’d hightail it out of town faster than you could say “Boo” as soon as he could, and she wasn’t about to embark on a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. She had no intention of moving, and long distance never worked out. She should know.
“Just think about it.” EV left it at that, covered Chloe with a blanket and let her friend finish sleeping off the previous night. She’ll figure it out for herself. EV thought with a chuckle.
Chapter 6
Somehow, much to the chagrin of its residents, Ponderosa Pines was slowly becoming a destination spot for the eco-curious. While tourism was not encouraged—the town was not listed in any brochures handed out at information kiosks along the highway—neither was anyone ever turned away. Curiosity was tolerated as a necessary evil and a bit of extra income.
Talia’s sister Lottie owned Open House, one of two bed and breakfast establishments in town, and Sabra Pruitt ran the other, aptly named Come On Inn located directly across the road.
Both women had very different reasons for taking in lodgers. Lottie pinned her hopes of finding a husband on renting rooms to what she hoped would become a slew of eco-minded bachelors. So far, her master plan had yielded only one rather hairy, unmarried fellow who smelled as though he had developed an almost unheard of allergy to a
ny bar of soap.
She might have been able to overlook that small detail if he hadn’t been so vocally disgusted to learn people from the Pines actually owned computers and occasionally shopped at IKEA. His week-long stay ended a few days early after he commented loudly in front of Horis that no self-respecting green community member would be caught dead driving a car, using a gas-powered rototiller, or wearing clothing they had not made by hand.
Horis had deadpanned that even the Amish made their own soap before giving the young man a dunking in one of his irrigation ditches then frog-marching him off the property. The hairy complainer’s Birkenstock-clad feet barely touched the ground the entire time.
Most of Lottie’s customers came from politer, more considerate couples looking to learn alternative building methods and visitors drawn in during town festivals.
Sabra catered to the same crowd, but socked every penny away toward building herself a rooftop observatory where she could scan the skies for proof of alien life.
Both establishments suffered from being hard to find, hidden from the auspices of GPS by being on an unmapped, dead-end road about half a mile from the center of town.
Worse, neither woman was above poaching unregistered guests who might have mistaken one inn for the other—the two buildings being similarly constructed often confused potential guests—which only fed the rivalry between Lottie and Sabra.
Typically, EV avoided getting involved in the ongoing feud, but today it might work in her favor. Annoyed people always passed along the best gossip.
Now for the bribe.
Lifting up on her tiptoes, EV reached into the cabinet over the fridge and pulled out a jar of crab apple jelly made with her mother’s secret ingredient—a squeeze of ginger juice to give it a little bite. Sabra had been trying to figure out the recipe for years. One of these days Sabra would have some gossip juicy enough to warrant being let in on the secret, but today was not that day.
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