Winter Valley Wolves 7-9

by V. Vaughn

  Whoa. I never knew a man eating an olive could be so hot, because I think I might be visibly trembling. I smile at him to buy time to pull myself together before I say, “Yes. That would be nice.”

  18

  Paul decides to join us for a drink before dinner, so while he returns to his friends to say good-bye, Sophie and I move to a high bar table. Chad brings Paul’s martini over and says, “He told me to put it on his tab.”

  Sophie touches Chad’s arm as she thanks him, and I swear he melts a little. I chuckle softly as he walks away. “You’re too much. That boy already has a thing for you.”

  “It’s quite simple, Caro. You just need to treat men as if they’re the most important one in the room, and before you know it, they’ll be eating out of your hand.” She takes a sip of her drink, and I wonder if she’s trying to bolster the courage she just pretended to have as she says, “Isn’t this the kind of stuff you make up all the time?”

  She’s right. “I do.” I help the girl get the guy in a hundred different ways. No matter what I throw at my heroine, she always manages to find her happy ending. If only I could have that kind of control in real life. “My fictitious heroes have no choice but to do what I say, because if they don’t”—I tap the table as if it’s a keyboard—“Delete.”

  Paul has returned, and he slides his stool to sit. His arms thump on the tabletop as he leans forward to ask, “Who are we deleting?”

  Sophie raises her eyebrows at me to answer. She knows I don’t share what I do with many people, so I say, “I was talking about my writing.”

  Paul lifts his drink, and after he takes a sip he says, “Ah, so when a male character doesn’t make you happy, you delete them.” His eyes twinkle with humor. “Handy.”

  “Women too,” I say. “You know how they can be.”

  Sophie asks, “Paul knows what you write?”

  I nod as I recall how easy it was to flirt with him when we first met. I teased him about being an alpha and told him about the fictional version I create. He teased me by acting the part. If only it had been real. “And he still talks to me.” He just doesn’t call.

  Sophie waves at someone and says, “Excuse me a minute. I see Linda and should go talk to her. I’ll be right back.”

  When she leaves, the vodka in my drink makes me brave, and my tone is sarcastic when I ask, “Tell me Paul, what have you been up to since last summer?”

  He gazes into my eyes for a moment. “Caroline, I meant to call. I really did enjoy spending time with you. But I wasn’t ready.”

  I recall that Trixie said he’d lost his wife, and it’s like the air has been sucked from my lungs when I realize how petty I was. “Paul, I’m--”

  “Don’t apologize. Let me instead. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know how I was feeling.”

  I reach out and touch his arm. “No need. How are you coping?”

  He grips my hand and squeezes. I’m acutely aware of the heat he transmits as he says, “I’m ready to live life again.”

  My heartbeat quickens, but it’s not from his touch, it’s from the panic that floods my veins. I’m not sure why. Isn’t being with Paul something I want? I notice Sophie and pull my hand away as she approaches.

  “Our table is ready whenever we are,” says Sophie.

  I say, “Let’s just take our drinks over now. I’m hungry.” I stand and avoid eye contact with Paul as Sophie leads us to the hostess stand. Linda greets Paul with a smile, and her gaze flits quickly down his body as she checks him out. It’s so slight that I don’t think he notices, but I sure do. He’s the kind of man women are attracted to.

  As we walk to the table, the few diners watch us, and I glance over at Paul to see he nods at them as if he’s royalty acknowledging their presence. I suppose as the alpha, he is. My stomach churns, and I realize I haven’t got a clue how to date a guy like him.

  Linda seats us, and a young man quickly comes to fill our water glasses. The waitress stops by to introduce herself and tell us about the specials. When she leaves us to our decisions, Sophie asks, “What do you do with your time, Paul?”

  I watch Paul speak, and an idea forms. Sophie’s got the confidence and personality to deal with him, and he’s the kind of man that would challenge her. Paul says, “I own a jewelry store in town and play golf. I’m afraid I’m rather boring compared to the two of you.”

  As the leader of a wolf pack, I’m sure Paul does a whole lot more and has little free time. But since Sophie doesn’t know he’s a werewolf, that part of his life isn’t up for discussion. Yet. I let a smile come as I wait for an opening.

  I lean back as the waitress places a basket of bread at our table. We’re still holding our menus, so she leaves us without speaking. Sophie says, “I doubt that you’re boring, Paul. However, I am. I need to find a hobby, because other than work, I only have television to keep me busy.”

  “Perhaps you’ll try golf,” says Paul. “I bet you can get lessons and tee times for free now that you work here.”

  And there’s my chance. It’s as if Paul tossed it my way. I say, “That’s a fantastic idea, Sophie. Who knows? You might discover you’re really good at it.”

  She frowns at me and says, “Right, maybe we should do it together.”

  I shake my head. Bread is warm in my hand when I grab it. “I’m much too busy with my writing and grandmother duties.”

  We’re interrupted by the server when she comes to take our order. Once she leaves, there’s a moment of awkward silence before Sophie saves us with one of her stories. My sister has led an interesting life, and she keeps us entertained throughout the meal. Whenever she tries to turn the conversation back to me, I do my best to deflect. My goal tonight is to get Paul to ask her out.

  After we finish dessert, Linda comes to the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I steal you away for a minute, Sophie?” She glances at Paul and me to add, “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  Once they leave, I ask, “Isn’t Sophie great?”

  “Yes. She is,” says Paul.

  “Everyone loves her. It’s hard not to have fun when my sister is around.”

  Paul smiles as he swirls his glass of wine. “I think people say the same about you.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “No, I was never the popular one.”

  “As I remember it, we had an enjoyable day last summer.” He lifts his glass and adds, “I think you’re fun.”

  Uh-oh. “That was your doing.” I pause and knit my brows as if an idea just came to me. “You should go out with Sophie. I think you two would really enjoy each other one on one.”

  Paul sets his wine glass down with a thump, and he frowns when he says, “You do?”

  I lift my goblet. “Yes. I do.” I take a sip of my drink and forge ahead with my plan as I say, “She’s new in town, and I’m sure you can introduce her to all sorts of people. Please, I’m terrible at being social. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  Paul’s scowl fades, and he says in an even tone, “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

  I glance at Sophie as she walks toward us. Alcohol has removed my filter, because when she sits, I take my plan one step further and say, “Paul and I were just talking about you two going out some time.”

  Sophie’s eyes widen for a brief second before she says, “Oh. I don’t know. I’m going to be so busy.”

  “Nonsense. You can find time to go out with Paul.” I turn to him and lie, “I have a deadline I need to meet by Monday. Sunday night would be a good time.”

  Paul says, “Sure.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Give me your number, Sophie, and I’ll call about the details.”

  She rattles it off, and when Paul is done, he says, “Ladies, it’s been lovely, but I must be going.”

  I say, “Thank you so much for dinner.”

  Paul stands as Sophie says, “Yes. Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”

  “It was my pleasure. Good
night, ladies.”

  As he walks out, Sophie grabs my arm so tight, it hurts. She hisses. “What the hell was that?”

  “You have a date.”

  “Because you forced it on him.”

  “I did not.” Okay, maybe I did. “He likes you, and I think you should give him a chance,” I say. “After all, Paul’s the kind of guy that could be the one for you.”

  Sophie stands up quickly, and her chair almost topples over with the force. “You are unbelievable. Come on. I can’t yell at you in here.”

  I follow her as she walks toward the door. Once we get outside, Sophie stomps a bit as she makes her way to the car. When we’re both inside, she turns to me. “Caro, I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but that poor man has a date with the wrong sister. You’re the one that should be going out with him Sunday night.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Guys like Paul need strong women like Sophie. “I don’t get why you’re so mad about this. He spent the night talking to you.”

  “That’s because every time he asked you a question, you made it all about me.” She squints her eyes at me. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” I turn to start the car. I have no idea. Because now that I’ve set them up, I want to vomit. I say, “He’s just not my type.”

  She groans and says, “You’re impossible. He’s so your type, and you know it.”

  The kind I’m attracted to? Yes. But I’ve managed to ruin any chance I had with Paul. Maybe I am destined to be alone. We drive back home in silence as I think of names for my twenty-six cats.

  19

  Sophie was no longer mad at me this morning, and after breakfast, I took her shopping for something to wear tonight when we go to Pete’s. My hair is soft between my fingers as I pull it out of a low-cut top I’m wearing to go with rhinestone-studded jeans. I call out from my dressing room to Sophie, “I think this is what one calls a boob shirt.”

  “Good. You have a great cleavage.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I wore something like this.” I lean over to see just how much I’ll share if we play pool. The view makes me gasp. “I’m a mother.”

  “Yes, but you’re also a single woman on the prowl. Sex appeal is your weapon.”

  I chuckle and say, “Those are some mighty big guns you’ve got there, ma’am.”

  Sophie’s laugh echoes in the changing area and she asks, “What about the jeans?”

  I twist my head to look at my butt in the mirror. The denim is rough under my hands as I slide them down my hips. The pocket flaps make my curves appear rounder, and I’m tempted to smack my bottom. I almost do before I remember how I met Paul. I was sassy and fun that day, because it didn’t matter. I sigh. Just like tonight won’t matter, because who really meets a life partner in a bar anyway?

  I turn back around and decide I’m on the trampy side of good taste, so I say, “I’ve found my outfit.”

  “Me too,” says Sophie as a door clicks open. “I’ll be at the checkout.”

  As I change, I take a moment to berate myself once again for my actions last night. I spent months wishing Paul would call, and then when I get the chance to be with him again, I spend the evening pushing my sister on the man instead.

  I shake my head at myself as I leave the dressing room. Maybe I’m emotionally stunted since I haven’t dated in over a decade. I stop at a jewelry display, and the chains jingle as I lift them to look closer. It’s time to fix that. A necklace made of silver catches my attention, and I remove it.

  Sophie has finished checking out, and I place my things on the counter. The register beeps as the girl rings me up. I say to my sister, “Outfits are done. Makeup next?”

  “Yes. I bet you don’t even have eyeliner, do you?”

  I shrug. “It’s not like I’ve needed it.”

  “Well, you do now, missy. I might even make you sit in the chair and get a makeover.”

  I roll my eyes at her, and the plastic of my credit card is slick in my hand when I swipe it. “You’re kind of pushy.”

  The salesgirl hands me my bag as Sophie says, “In the best kind of way.”

  After a lesson on how to make my eyes say come hither, my sister and I go over to Trixie’s house. She and her husband, Parker, live on Silver Lake with her twin baby boys. Parker greets us when we get there. He’s a former NFL football player, and his frame fills the unusually tall doorway. When he sees us, he breaks into a smile that makes him appear to be a gentle giant. “Caroline and Sophie, come on in.”

  Sophie frowns at him as we walk by and says, “You look too well rested. You’re not making Trixie get up with the babies each time they cry, are you?”

  “Of course not,” says Parker. “Don’t you worry. She has me on a strict schedule.”

  The aroma of coffee fills the air, and I say, “I bet caffeine is your trick.”

  “You’re on to me.” Parker grins and asks, “Want some?”

  “Yes, please.” I glance around the room to find it empty. “Now, where’s my daughter?”

  “Upstairs getting Dylan and Drake dressed for their guests.” When I raise my eyebrows at him, he shrugs. “I know. I told her you didn’t care, but you know Trixie.”

  I do. My daughter was born to be a mother. She started taking care of me by the time she was five, and when she was in high school, I think we had almost switched roles. Sophie says, “I’ll go help her. I can’t wait to get my hands on those babies.”

  I let my sister go without me since I get to see my grandchildren as often as I wish. It’s only been in the last week that I haven’t been here every day. And that’s because I thought my daughter’s marriage could do without me constantly around.

  The leather of a bar chair is cool on my bottom when I climb on to sit at the counter. Parker places a steaming mug in front of me. I say, “You really do look good. Are the boys sleeping longer now?”

  “The last two nights, we’ve only gotten up once to feed.”

  “That’s great. They’ll be sleeping through the night before you know it.”

  Parker lowers his voice and leans across the counter toward me as he says, “I think I may have offended you. Whatever I did, I’m sorry, and I want you to know you’re welcome here any time.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not upset at all. I just thought you and Trixie could use some time without me underfoot, telling you what to do.”

  Parker stands as footsteps thumping on the stairs carry to us. “We like having you here, and if it weren’t for your help, Trixie and I would be lost. Don’t be a stranger.”

  I smile at my son-in-law. “You’re one of the good ones. Thanks.” The truth is, I do miss my daily grandchild fix. The babies have awakened my nurturing side, and I even find myself longing for another child of my own.

  I turn my attention to my daughter and reach out for Dylan. “Come here, little man. I’ve missed you.”

  Trixie hands him to me and says, “I’m so happy to see you, Mom.” She grabs my coffee and walks with me over to the couch, where Sophie has already seated herself with Drake.

  Sophie says, “Caro, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s just get pregnant and have babies instead of finding a man.”

  “Been there, done that.” I smile at Trixie.

  Sophie asks, “And see how well that turned out?”

  Trixie shakes her head at us as Parker hands her a cup of coffee. “You two need men in your lives.” She gives Sophie a serious stare as she leans against her husband, and he puts an arm around her shoulders. “You promised you’d get Mom dating again. We had a deal.”

  “Hey. What kind of deal?” I ask.

  “I told Aunt Sophie I’d make sure she got to plan your wedding if she found you a husband.”

  “Seriously? You two are plotting a way to get me married?”

  The couch sinks as Trixie sits next to me. “Mom, you said it yourself. If you live alone too long, you’re going to become a crazy cat lady. You need companionship now that I’m gone.”
/>
  “No need to worry. Sophie and I have plans to wow them all at Pete’s tonight.” I whisper as if I’m revealing something scandalous, “You should see what I’m going to wear.”

  Trixie frowns. “A bar?”

  Parker says, “I think I’m going to bow out of this conversation now. Trixie, I’m going to run to the store.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget milk,” she says. Parker nods before he leaves.

  Sophie says, “Yes. A bar. We have to start her off somewhere.” She glares at me. “And no way are you pushing anyone off on me tonight, sister.”

  Trixie scoots to the end of the couch to gaze past me at Sophie. “What?”

  Sophie says, “So last night we go to the country club for dinner and run into a guy your mother likes, and what does she do? She freaks out that he might like her too and somehow forces the guy to take me out tomorrow night.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I say. “He’s interested in you.”

  Trixie asks, “Who are we talking about?”

  “Paul Ryan,” says Sophie. “And he is so not into me. He just agreed because you gave him no choice. I have half a mind to make you come with me.”

  Trixie says, “Mom. What’s wrong with you?” She knows that I was upset when he didn’t call me after her party last summer.

  “He clearly decided he didn’t want to be with me last summer, so I thought he might like Sophie better.”

  Trixie’s brows knit, and she asks, “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yes.” No. I’m green with envy that Paul might hit it off with Sophie, but what’s done is done.

  My sister says to Trixie, “Don’t you worry. I’m going to get to the bottom of this tomorrow night. Your mother’s not done with Paul; she just doesn’t know it yet.”

  I stand up and hand Dylan to Trixie. “I need more coffee.” But what I really need is to figure out if I’m stuck on Paul because he’s the only man that’s paid me any attention in years, or if it’s something more. Maybe tonight will give me a clue.

  20