Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2)

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  But this wasn’t Boston.

  Mercy waved and the men smiled or tipped their hats. She giggled.

  “You shouldn’t encourage them,” Cat stage-whispered as she pulled open the front door.

  “Lighten up. These are country boys. Their mammas raised them right.”

  “No sir.”

  “Ya huh.”

  “Hello, ladies,” said one of the guys Mercy had just waved to. He was tall and thick. Not bad-looking, but kind of on the rough side. How he managed to beat them inside was a mystery.

  “You were saying …” Cat gave Mercy a pointed look.

  Mercy pressed her lips and wondered how to politely tell a man to get lost. She had a sinking suspicion that whatever reception she gave this guy would be broadcast throughout the store and spread to the whole town of Snow Valley before the end of the work day. It was a tricky line to toe. Throwing her hair over her shoulder and brushing the guy off would start a rumor that she and Cat were stuck up, or mean, or something worse. However, being too friendly would give him the wrong idea.

  Mercy decided a direct approach was best. “I need a bucket,” she announced.

  He lifted his bushy eyebrows.

  Her cheeks flamed. “I mean, can you tell me where I can find the buckets?”

  Cat turned so only Mercedes could see her roll her eyes. “I’m going to find the outdoor garbage bags.”

  “Okay,” agreed Mercy. She turned back to the cowboy who rubbed his palm across his ruddy cheek.

  “I don’t work here.”

  “Oh. Thanks anyway.” Mercedes lifted her shoulder and moved to walk away. That worked better than she thought it would.

  He lifted his thick arm and called, “Hey, Tack, get over here and show us where the buckets are.”

  Mercedes cringed at the “us” in his command. There’s no us!

  “I’m coming, Sam.” A thin teenager slunk their way.

  Mercedes didn’t like the tone Sam used to call Tack, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. For all she knew, they were related and that was just how things were in their family. The Bauers didn’t talk like that to each other, but Mercy had known plenty of families that did.

  “Thanks,” she said, hoping to dismiss the guy as the gangly teen arrived. His name tag said “Tack,” and she wondered if it was short for anything.

  “They’re right over here,” said Tack. He took her to the end of aisle three, where there were several five-gallon buckets in different colors.

  To her horror, Sam followed her. The toe of his boot snagged the back of her shoe and it almost slipped off. Sheesh, this guy was persistent. Now that he’d attached himself, she wasn’t sure how to un-attach him.

  “Do you need anything else?” asked Tack.

  “I don’t think so, but I know who to ask if I do. Thanks.”

  Tack gave her a smile and earned a shove from Sam as he passed.

  Mercy scowled.

  Sam tucked his thumbs in his belt loops. “You new in town or just passing through?”

  “Visiting for a short time.” She emphasized the word short.

  “If you’re only here for a short time—” He copied Mercy’s tone, making her jerk back in surprise. “—then you have to eat at Big C’s. Best burgers in town.”

  Mercy pushed past him, keeping the bucket between her and Sam. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll try it out.”

  Sam jumped in front of her and held up his hands. Mercy stopped, trapped. Behind her was a cinderblock wall and in front of her was a wall of eager cowboy. The only way out would be to scale one of the shelves and climb over. She wasn’t opposed to it if need be, but wanted to avoid knocking down the merchandise if possible.

  “That advice doesn’t come free.” Sam grinned.

  Mercedes shuddered. Sam’s smile was thin and he had a glint in his eye that said he was after more than a quarter pound of meat. Mercy hoped he intended to flirt and not threaten. Some guys were just backward, and she’d been hit on by enough stumbling men to know they did their best. However, the way her adrenaline spiked, she was ready to meet a threat and go down swinging if necessary.

  “I’ll take you out for a Big C burger, but you have to buy me a shake.” Sam wiggled his thick eyebrows.

  Mercy leaned back. Was that some sort of twisted pick-up line?

  “Thanks, but …” She looked around for a good excuse and saw a familiar face walk past the aisle. “Chet!” she called.

  He doubled back, a confused look on his face.

  Mercy had a brilliant idea. She turned her attention back to Sam. “Chet is taking me and my sister to Big C’s—today.”

  Sam rounded on Chet, and Chet took a step back. Mercedes winced. Sam was a good two inches taller than Chet and probably twenty pounds heavier. And he was put off. Not a good combination. She should have thought this through a little more. It was just that, when she thought of Chet, he was broad-shouldered and strong. And he was—just not as big as Sam, who had an uncanny resemblance to Andre the Giant. Well, not really; but he was just as big. Or seemed like it.

  Sam took a step toward Chet, and Mercedes’s random thoughts cut off. She dropped her bucket, ducked around Sam, and looped her arm through Chet’s leaning into him as if they were a couple. Her heart rate doubled.

  Chet stared at her like she’d grown antlers.

  Just go with it, she pleaded with her eyes. “Chet’s been super helpful. We’ve just loved getting to know him and spend time with his family.” She batted her eyelashes at Chet and wanted to kick herself for acting like an idiot. She prayed Chet would catch on and play his part.

  Sam squinted down at the two of them, and Mercy was reminded of Robert, her boyfriend during her junior year of high school, who had a hard time understanding simple things, like the word ‘no.’ Even after she broke up with him, he left love notes in her locker and brought her anniversary gifts. Robert’s stalking behavior escalated to the point he’d demanded she go out with him “at least one last time.” Mercedes was scared to leave the house alone. Her father had a police officer return the framed photos of them together along with the letters and a detailed lecture on restraining orders. The harassment stopped, but the longing stares in the hallway continued. It wasn’t until Robert graduated and joined the military that Mercy finally felt safe. She couldn’t go through that again. She just couldn’t.

  “I’m sure Chet wouldn’t mind if I tagged along,” drawled Sam.

  Chet looked at Mercedes.

  She didn’t know what to say, how to tell him that the last thing she wanted was to share a meal with this guy who was apparently as dense as he was tall.

  Chet answered without taking his eyes off Mercy. “Ooooh, sorry, Sam. My truck only fits three.” Chet placed his hand on Mercedes’s back and guided her to the end of the aisle. “See ya later.” He waved as they turned the corner.

  Cat waited by the cash register, a box of industrial garbage bags in one hand and her purse in the other. “Where’s the bucket?”

  Mercedes looked down at her empty hands. Where was the bucket? She looked back at aisle three. There was no way she was going back in there.

  Chet chuckled. “I have a bucket you can borrow.”

  “Thanks.” Cat squinted at Mercy. “What’s going on?”

  Sam stormed passed.

  Chet nodded.

  Sam grunted.

  Mercy ducked her head, and Cat took in the whole thing with eyes as big as a Thanksgiving Day balloon.

  “Tack!” Sam bellowed.

  Mercy flinched. Poor Tack.

  Chet’s fingers splayed against her lower back, and she took comfort from his firmness. He’d kept her safe. She exhaled and shook out her hands, which were clenched into fists.

  “Sorry about Sam,” said Chet. “He’s pushy and doesn’t know when to back off unless he gets a firm no.”

  “Good to know.” Mercedes’s smile was weak.

  Tack joined them at the register and rang up their purchase. Cat paid with
one of the cash cards their grandpa had supplied to cover building materials and they walked together to the parking lot in time to see Sam spray gravel as he left.

  “Jerk.” Cat ran over to check her windshield.

  “My truck’s this way.” Chet gestured to the loading dock where his beat-up Ford waited.

  “Oh—um.” Mercedes chewed her lip. “I didn’t mean you actually had to take us to lunch.”

  Chet stuffed his hands in his pocket. “No, yeah, I mean, yeah.” He started for his truck. “Have a great day,” he said as he hurried away.

  When Mercedes climbed into the car, Cat hit her shoulder.

  “What was that for?”

  “You just killed our chances for another barbecue invitation.”

  Mercy rubbed her arm. “I didn’t mean to embarrass him.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Just because he’s not Mr. Muscles doesn’t mean you can’t go out with him.”

  “He’s got plenty of muscles,” muttered Mercy.

  Cat laughed. “I knew you looked! He’s gorgeous, right?”

  Mercy sighed. “All the more reason to keep my distance.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I invite him to Big C’s?” asked Cat as she started the car.

  “Of course not.” Mercy smiled so hard it hurt. “But I thought you were here to write, not date.”

  “I wasn’t the one who swore off men, you were.”

  “Just the good-looking ones,” reminded Mercy.

  “Lucky me, Chet’s as handsome as they come.”

  Mercy looked out the window as she said, “Lucky you.”

  “Ooooooh, you so like him.” Cat shoved her shoulder.

  Mercy continued to stare out the window, ignoring Cat’s giggles. Maybe she did like him, just a little. All the more reason to stay away.

  ***

  They split up at the grocery store. Mercy liked lots of spice and Cat liked to eat organic, but there was a lot of overlap with the two. They’d decided to take turns cooking dinner, and each had a recipe plan for the week.

  She was relieved to see that prices in Montana were lower than in Massachusetts. Her savings would last longer that way. With her initial money worries assuaged, Mercedes decided to concentrate on her shopping list.

  Paying attention to laundry soap and almond milk was harder than she thought. Things were organized differently here than they were in Boston. The foods didn’t fall into the categories she was used to. Take the syrup, for example: back home, it was on the cereal aisle. Here, it was with the Karo syrup and the baking supplies. As she grabbed a bottle of sugar-free maple and set it in her cart, she wondered if syrup wasn’t the only thing she’d been categorizing wrong. Take Chet, for example … he was so gorgeous, he made her insides melt. She would normally put him on the same shelf as Robert the Stalker and Jeremey the Cheat because he was seriously handsome. But he was a gentleman in every way, so maybe he should be on the cereal aisle with the guys who were good for her and were a part of a complete breakfast—er, life.

  She whipped a box of Wheat Chex into her cart and shoved the cart forward. This was dumb. There was no reason to consider dating Chet, but there were plenty of reasons not to. For one, she was not in an emotional state to start a new relationship. For two, her guy radar was all out of whack and completely untrustworthy. It had failed her too many times. And three, he hadn’t asked her out. Sure, he thought he was buying her lunch—and in truth, she’d kind of asked him. More like trapped him between Sam and a hard place. She picked up a package of frozen chicken. Nodding to herself, she decided she’d done him a favor by saving him twenty bucks at Big C’s.

  She paused in the middle of the aisle, remembering Chet’s face when she told him she wasn’t going with him. If she’d done him such a big favor, why did he look dejected at her dismissal? She opened the door to the frozen veggies and stuck her head in as far as it would go, hoping the cool air would clear her brain. The glass fogged up, so Cat surprised her when she spoke. “Freezer head, already?” she asked.

  Mercy leaned out and let the door fall shut on its own. “No! I need stir-fry veggies.”

  Cat sighed. She lifted her right hand and said, “I solemnly swear that I will not ask Chet out.” Her hand dropped. “There, do you feel better now?”

  Mercy cocked out her hip. “It wasn’t about Chet. I wasn’t doing freezer head. And yes, for some dumb reason that makes me feel better.”

  They locked eyes and dissolved into giggles like two little girls. Once they caught their breath, Mercy sagged against the door. “I wanted to go with him. Ugh, I’m such a chowderhead.”

  “Yep.” Cat grabbed her cart and started toward the dairy at the end of the freezer section.

  Mercy caught up quickly. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

  “Yep.” Cat opened the door and pulled out a carton of mint cookie ice cream.

  “Why am I so shallow? When I meet a good looking guy, I fall hard and fast. I’m such a sucker.”

  Cat put the ice cream in her cart and faced Mercedes. “You’re not shallow. You have an artistic eye and that eye is drawn to beauty.”

  “You think that’s all it is?”

  “If it wasn’t, you’d still be with Jeremey the Cheat. You may be attracted by looks, but when it comes to falling in love, you need more than a pretty face.”

  “And big biceps.” Mercedes nodded.

  “A chiseled jaw?” Cat grinned.

  “Of course! And a thick head of hair.”

  “Let’s not forget a good set of pectorals.”

  “Oh, we can’t forget those.” They burst into giggles again.

  Mercy gasped for air. “Okay, we’re both shallow.” She slowed down as they neared the checkout counter. “Really, though, I just want someone who treats me like Dad treats Mom.”

  “Someone who will pull your chair out.”

  “And help me with my coat.”

  “Give you his coat, if you forgot yours.”

  They both sighed.

  Cat looked at her pointedly. “A guy who faces down a giant for you.”

  “Yeah, a guy like that.” Mercy hated to admit, Chet was the best-looking guy this side of the Mississippi and he acted like he had no idea. His quiet confidence unnerved her. He had to have a weakness; every guy did. Well, she wasn’t about to spend the summer looking for it. She resolved to be a good neighbor and nothing more.

  Cat tapped her finger against her chin. “Gee, I wonder where you could find a guy who fights giants?”

  “I hear they live way out in the country and are basically legends, like Bigfoot.” Mercedes unloaded her cart first.

  “Really? I hear they drive beat-up Fords and hang out at the feed store.”

  The red-headed clerk gave them a funny look.

  “You know the next move is on you, right?” Cat put the ice cream on the conveyor belt.

  “Okay, first of all, I’m not about to make any ‘moves’ on the guy. Second of all, I should apologize. I think I embarrassed him.”

  “Ya think?”

  Mercedes rubbed her finger over the small lump that remained from the bee sting. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Cat waved a bag of chocolate chips at her before sending it for a ride down the conveyor belt toward the bewildered clerk. “Mom always said baked goods are the best way to make amends.”

  Mercy rolled her eyes. “You want me to bake him cookies?”

  “Or a cake.”

  “Hey, gear down there, turbo. I’m not sure he’s cake material.”

  “Cookies it is.”

  Mercy narrowed her eyes. “You’re being awfully insistent here. Are you sure you’re not interested in him?”

  Cat gave her a mischievous smile. “Oh, I’m interested all right.”

  Mercedes heart snagged. She wasn’t going to pursue Chet, but for reasons unknown, the idea of Cat dating Chet felt wrong, outlandish, and made her want to stick her head back in the freezer. “Really?” she asked, her voice sounding far aw
ay, like the floor was swallowing her.

  Cat laughed. “Yes! The man has a bucket. Do you even know the value of a good bucket? Since you lost ours at the feed store, you had better make nice and get back on Chet’s good side.”

  “Wha—? You little …” Mercedes shoved Cat down to the end of the conveyor, where the groceries piled up. She grinned. “Start bagging.”

  “Paper or plastic?” asked Cat.

  Mercedes rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you like a sister.”

  Cat placed the shortening in the bottom of a bag and piled two packages of milk chocolate chips around it. “Like, the best sister ever.”

  “Second best,” Mercedes pointed to her chest. “World’s best sister—right here.”

  The clerk’s ponytail flicked. She looked slightly annoyed at the sisters’ banter. Mercedes paid, and they made their way back to the car, where they tried to find space for all the groceries.

  Slamming the hatchback closed, Cat said, “The sooner you’re on Chet’s good side, the better.”

  Mercedes ducked into the passenger side. “Why’s that?”

  Cat slid behind the steering wheel. “I just realized we don’t have room in this car for lumber.”

  Mercedes flipped around to take in the grocery bags piled high and blocking their view out the back.

  “Sure wish we knew a guy with a truck …” Cat lifted her shoulders.

  “And all this time I thought you were concerned about my happiness.”

  Cat winked. “Your happiness is my happiness.”

  Mercedes rolled down the window to let in the cool air. She knew Cat was just teasing her about the bucket and the truck. Cat was the first one there when Jeremey the Cheat broke Mercy’s heart. There was no way she’d want her to risk it again unless she was pretty sure of the guy. They picked up speed, heading out of town, and the wind rushing through the open windows made it hard to talk, which suited Mercy just fine. She had a lot to think about. The first thing she needed to decide was if the syrup went on the cooking aisle or the cereal aisle.

  Chapter 7

  That evening, Chet finally got around to unloading his truck. He’d put off the chore in order to spend some time on the tractor and hopefully avoid thinking about Mercedes. When she’d slipped her arm through his, something inside him shifted.