Wedding Date in Hot Springs, Arkansas

by Annalisa Daughety

  “Easy there. I was only being helpful.”

  “You sure are in a chipper mood for someone who just worked a twelve-hour day.” Did his Starbucks outing have something to do with it? “What’s going on?”

  “I wanted to wait until it was a done deal to tell you the news.” Chad grinned.

  “Please tell me you inherited a million dollars and we’re hiring a nanny. And a housekeeper.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.

  “I officially hired a new assistant today. And she won’t be like Barbara and just answer the phones and make appointments. I’ve restructured things so the new position will actually handle some of the things I used to handle.” He looked positively gleeful.

  A sinking feeling washed over Reagan. “I meant to tell you that I think we saw you at Starbucks today.”

  Chad nodded. “You probably did. I wish you’d called. You could’ve stopped and met Reese. You’ll love her.”

  Reese. Even the name made her blood run cold. Coupled with that perfect hair and nice figure and it was enough to make Reagan want to cry. “Reese, huh? How old is this Reese person?”

  He frowned. “It’s kind of illegal for me to ask that in an interview. But based on the years she graduated from high school, college, and graduate school, I’d say she’s about twenty-six.”

  Of course she was. “Is she from here?”

  Chad took a sip of Coke. “She’s from a small town in northeast Arkansas. Went to college in Fayetteville and got her MBA from Vanderbilt.”

  Fancy. “Well that’s just great.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased that I’m going to be able to transfer some of my responsibilities. It should mean more free time and less late nights.”

  Right. Until he figured out how much more fun it was to stay late at the office with some hot twenty-six-year-old than it was to come home and wrestle four kids through dinner, baths, and bedtime. “So what does her husband do?”

  Chad finished his Coke and tossed the can into the garbage. “She’s not married. I know that because she mentioned today that she didn’t know anyone here. She just moved from Nashville.”

  “Why exactly was your meeting at Starbucks? Why not at the office?”

  He shook his head. “I do a lot of interviews out of the office. You know that. She had another appointment on that side of town, so it just made more sense for me to meet her there.”

  Reagan rolled her eyes.

  “What is your problem?”

  She knew that nothing she could say would make him understand. Anything negative about Reese and her shiny hair and perfect body would only make Reagan look stupid and insecure in comparison. And right now she had nothing to compete with but an extra fifteen pounds of baby weight and a belly that would never be totally flat again. “I don’t have a problem. Let’s just go to bed.”

  “You go on.” He motioned toward the living room. “I’m going to catch up with the DVR.”

  Reagan closed the bedroom door behind her and went into their bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror and took a long look. Her ill-fitting clothes made her look even lumpier than she felt. Her blond hair hung limply around her makeup-free face. She leaned closer to the mirror. Dark circles beneath her blue eyes told the story of the past months.

  And now Chad would be going to work every day and spending time with some single twenty-six-year-old.

  She could let the news knock her down. She could let her insecurity squash the last embers of fire from her marriage. But she wouldn’t go out without a fight. And if that meant taking some time to focus on the way she felt about herself, then that’s what she’d do.

  So starting tomorrow Operation Hot Mommy would begin.

  And Reagan was ready.

  Chapter 9

  Kathleen Morgan: MARK YOUR CALENDAR. WE’RE COMING TO THE LAKE HOUSE IN TWO WEEKS FOR ONE LAST BIT OF SUMMER. (Text message sent September 4, 2:43 p.m.)

  Jackson Stratford: SOUNDS GREAT. CAN YOU BELIEVE I HAVEN’T BEEN THERE YET THIS YEAR? P.S. MOM INTRODUCED ME TO HER DINNER DATE SUNDAY AT CHURCH. I’M NOT OKAY WITH THIS. (Text message sent September 4, 3:16 p.m.)

  Jackson pulled his Range Rover in front of a small bungalow-style house. Thanks to Google and White Pages, he’d tracked down Violet’s address. Did this make him some kind of stalker?

  He shrugged off the feeling of uncertainty and hurried up the path that led to the front door. He squared his shoulders, feeling a bit like he might be headed into a war zone.

  One more shot.

  After being unable to get Violet off his mind over the weekend, he’d decided to give it another try. She really would make the perfect date to his event, and besides that, she was the kind of woman who would show Kathleen and Lauren that he could date someone they’d approve of. He knocked on the door.

  A dog barked inside.

  After a few seconds, the door swung open and Violet stood on the other side. Her red hair was twisted into a messy bun, and she wore an apron emblazoned with bright flowers. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “What do you want?” she asked with a frown. “No, a better question would be how did you find me?”

  Jackson grinned. “Southern hospitality must be a thing of the past.”

  “I’m very hospitable to invited guests.” She glanced down at her apron. “Clearly I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “This will only take a second.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Come on in.”

  He stepped into her house and inhaled. The sweet scent of vanilla permeated the air. “Smells good in here.” It reminded him of summers spent at his grandparents’ house.

  A tiny smile played across her face. “Cupcakes. I’m baking.” She motioned for him to follow her. “You can talk while I finish icing.”

  He stepped into her kitchen. Red appliances stood out against the white walls. It suited her. Bright and cheery. “Looks like you spend a lot of time in here.” He sat down on a red barstool that looked like it belonged in a fifties diner.

  “I bake when I’m upset. Or happy. Or confused.” She smiled and picked up a tube of icing.

  He watched as she expertly iced a cupcake. It smelled heavenly. “So which is it today?”

  She glanced up and locked her green eyes on his. “Which is what?”

  “Upset, happy, or confused?”

  Violet sighed. “D. All of the above.” She held up a cupcake. “Want one?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” He grinned.

  She put a cupcake on a small red plate and placed it in front of him. “Something to drink? Water? Milk?” She motioned toward a red coffeemaker. “Coffee?”

  “Milk, please.” He touched his tongue to the chocolate icing. “This is so good. You should open a bakery.”

  She laughed. “Here you go.” She put a glass of cold milk next to his plate. “Enjoy.”

  Jackson bit into the cupcake. It was moist but not undercooked. Perfection. “Seriously. This is better than I had last week at some fancy shop in the River Market.” Little Rock’s River Market district was a hodgepodge of shops, restaurants, and nightclubs along the Arkansas River.

  “Thank you. My grandma and I worked together on the recipe. It’s many years in the making.” She returned to her icing.

  “So I was serious earlier. What’s got you upset, happy, and confused?” He knew he was prying, but he sensed a melancholy air about her that hadn’t been present at lunch the other day.

  She shook her head. “Just some big decisions to make.”

  “I know you don’t like me much, but I’m good at decisions.” He smiled. “I’m very practical.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you are. But I think this is a decision I have to make alone.”

  “Fine. Just trying to help.” He popped the last of the cupcake into his mouth.

  She regarded him for a long moment. “
I quit my job last week. Aren’t you glad I didn’t agree to your stupid plan now? You wouldn’t be able to pass me off as a lawyer anymore.”

  Jackson took a drink of milk. “So you’ll find another job. Law firms are a dime a dozen.”

  Violet didn’t say anything. She turned her attention back to her baking. Finally she looked up at him. “I don’t know if I’ll go back to a firm.”

  “So start your own practice.” It’s what he would do if he were in her position. Jackson had always wanted to be his own boss. He’d given thought to opening his own small business but had never settled on what kind. Plus he enjoyed his work in economic development. There was something very satisfying about bringing in new industries and businesses. Sometimes one industry could breathe new life into a stagnant town.

  Violet pulled a fresh pan of cupcakes from the oven. “Why are you here again?”

  The words from anyone else would’ve offended him. But not her. She had every reason to be suspicious of him, every reason to dislike him. He’d earned it after the way he’d treated her in college. “I came to discuss our lunch meeting last week. But that can wait.”

  “Good. Because I don’t see that there’s anything to discuss. It was a fluke.”

  A fluke his foot. It was the answer to what they were both looking for. No strings. No complications. A believable solution. But she’d have to come to that conclusion on her own. “If you say so.” He picked up his plate and carried it to the sink. “Want me to wash this?”

  She shook her head. “Just put it there. I’ll get to it later.”

  “So why did you resign anyway?” His curiosity got the better of him.

  Violet stopped icing the cupcake she was working on. “Did you ever think maybe you were going down the wrong path? And you were going downhill and the only way to stop was to jump?”

  Oddly, he understood. “Yes.”

  “That’s kind of what happened.” She gave him a tiny grin. “So I jumped.”

  Violet couldn’t believe she was spilling her guts to Jackson, of all people. She’d sequestered herself to her house for the better part of the past week, only leaving to get groceries and go to church on Sunday. The rest of the time she’d baked and prayed and cried and paced. And ignored the barrage of calls from her mother. “When I was in college, I always admired those people who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up.” She perched on one of the bar stools and dipped her finger into the icing for a taste.

  “You seemed to turn out okay,” Jackson said.

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t one of those people. What I was going to be depended on which day of the week you asked me. An author, an artist, a dancer, an archaeologist.” She sighed. “I had a lot of interests. And I wished I were one of those who’d always known their path.”

  “Sometimes it’s more fun to figure it out as you go.”

  She shook her head. “Not if you’re me. My younger sister can get away with that. But everyone has always expected more from me. So when I graduated with the broadest liberal arts degree possible and wasn’t really qualified to do anything but pour coffee…” She trailed off.

  “You went to law school,” Jackson finished for her. He grabbed another cupcake.

  Violet nodded. “Yep. How nuts is that?” She held up a hand. “No. Don’t answer that.”

  He grinned. “There are crazier things to do than become a lawyer.”

  “My grandfather started the firm when my dad was a baby. They were so pleased when I became the third generation to work there. But I hated it. Every single day I hated it.”

  “What prompted you to finally own up to that?”

  She shrugged. “Have you ever taken a long look at your life and not been happy with what you saw?”

  Jackson’s blue eyes met hers. “I sure have. More than once.”

  “A few weeks ago my dad made someone else partner. At first I was really hurt. Outraged even. But then I realized it wasn’t even something I wanted in the first place. Just something I thought I should want.”

  “So what do you want to do now?”

  She lifted up a cupcake. “Something I’m passionate about. Something I love. And something that will pay the bills.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be a customer.”

  Violet filled him in on the possible bakery in Hot Springs. “Moving and opening my own business just seems like such a leap of faith.”

  “But given the alternative—joining another firm and continuing to do something you have no desire to do—how can you not take it?”

  “It isn’t that simple.”

  “It never is.”

  She regarded him for a long moment. It was the closest to a civil conversation she’d ever had with Jackson. He must be up to something. “So that’s my story. And the reason for my baking marathon.”

  “And now you’re headed to Hot Springs for a few days to check out the place?” he asked.

  “Just for a day.” She pointed out the kitchen window where a boxer-mix dog lay in the sun. “That dog in the yard is Arnie. I put him outside before I opened the door for you, otherwise we would have had to endure a barking fit.” She grinned. “He’s old and nearly deaf, but he’s still pretty protective of me. I can’t take him with me because Grandma is allergic. So that means I’ll need to make a quick trip.”

  Jackson pulled his keys out of his pocket and removed one from his key ring. “Here.” He handed the key to her.

  She furrowed her brow. “What’s this?”

  “The key to my lake house. Right on Lake Hamilton.” He grinned. “It’s the most peaceful place you could ever hope for. And dog friendly. My sister’s family never visits without their dog, Max.”

  Violet stared openmouthed. “Oh, I couldn’t. Really.” She thrust the key back at him.

  “Come on. It’s empty. I haven’t used it all summer. And you could spend a few days there making your decision.” He grinned. “Maybe this would make up for you graduating a semester late?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Okay. Maybe not. But consider it this way—you’ll have a home base while you get things figured out. You can take your time and make your decision. No need to rush back.” He shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

  Violet thought for a minute. She didn’t want to be in his debt. At all. He’d been a charmer in college, and she knew he hadn’t changed. There was always something in it for him. “What do you get out of this arrangement?”

  An indignant expression flashed across his handsome face. “Give me a little credit, okay? I’m not such a bad guy.”

  That was debatable. But she was sort of desperate. If she was going to move to Hot Springs and open a business, she needed to get the ball rolling as quickly as possible. “Okay. Well, thanks.” She smiled. “Really. Thanks.”

  Jackson wrote down the address and security code on the back of a piece of junk mail. “And here’s my phone number in case you have any questions about anything.” He pushed the paper across the counter to her. “Stay as long as you need.” He grinned and picked up another cupcake. “One more for the road.”

  Violet followed him to the front door, not sure what to think.

  Jackson waved and headed to his car.

  She watched him climb inside and drive away.

  What had she just gotten herself into?

  Chapter 10

  Violet Matthews: I AM AT JACKSON STRATFORD’S LAKE HOUSE IN HOT SPRINGS. CAN YOU SAY “PLACE I NEVER EXPECTED TO BE”? (Text message sent September 6, 10:23 a.m.)

  Reagan McClure: WELL I’M AT A GYM. ME. A GYM. WHO HAVE WE TURNED INTO? AND I’M GOING TO NEED SOME DETAILS ON YOUR LAKE ADVENTURE.…PLEASE TELL ME JACKSON ISN’T THERE. (Text message sent September 6, 11:16 a.m.)

  Reagan glanced around her. She couldn’t remember feeling more like an outsider. These women were fit, tan, and looked about twenty-two. And the men were either beefy or elderly. But the reviews she’d read online had been good ones, plus they had a daycare area for kids. Ava Grace
hadn’t been super happy about it until she’d spotted a Disney princess dollhouse.

  The three college-aged girls watching the children had oohed and ahhed over the twins. Even though Reagan wasn’t used to leaving the kids with anyone, knowing she’d be right across the hall made her feel better. Besides, after a week of trying to force herself to exercise while the kids napped, she was ready to admit she needed professional help.

  A gym employee waved her over. “Would you like your personal training consultation now? It comes with your membership.”

  Reagan peered at the perky girl’s name tag. “Thanks, Heather. What all does that entail?”

  “Oh, you know. Weighing, measuring, determining your BMI…you know, just stuff like that.”

  “BMI?”

  “Body mass index.” Heather smiled. “We also do a complete nutritional evaluation where we help you to make better choices when it comes to food.”

  Reagan shook her head. “I think I’ll wait on that. I’m just interested in starting slowly.”

  Heather nodded. “Okay, great.” She pointed to a set of double glass doors. “That’s the weight and exercise room. Ellipticals, treadmills, exercise bikes, and all the strength-training equipment you need is in there. Look for James. He’ll have on a blue shirt just like mine. He can give assistance on any of the equipment.” She handed Reagan a sheet of paper. “This is our class schedule. We offer pretty much everything. Aerobics, Zumba, yoga—you name it.” She grinned. “There’s also a pool for swimming and water aerobics.”

  Reagan felt so overwhelmed. This was much more complicated than she’d expected. Right now she mostly wanted to curl up on the couch with a Sam’s Club-sized tub of cheese balls and watch mindless TV.

  “Ma’am?” Heather asked. “Are you okay?”

  Reagan looked up numbly. This had been a mistake. She turned to go, clutching her schedule. She’d get the kids and leave. She could cancel her membership over the phone. No one would ever have to know. She hadn’t even told Chad what she was doing in case she failed.