by Codi Gary
Now all he had to do was wait.
The clock on the wall chimed six times, and Eric cursed. The guys were supposed to come over for poker tonight, and he had nothing but leftovers and beer in his kitchen. Travis had texted to cancel earlier, so there was one less mouth to feed.
Pulling on his coat, he headed out to the store and walked back through the door forty-five minutes later with enough junk to feed an army.
Just after seven, there was a knock on his door, and he opened it to find Gabe and Mike on his doorstep.
“Hey, guys, come on in.”
Gabe stepped inside first, pulling off his gray wool cap and revealing the short strip of hair along his otherwise dark shaved head. He shrugged out of his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of a gray sweater that looked out of place with the diamond studs and the tattoos.
“Nice sweater, J.Crew.”
Gabe grimaced. “It’s warm.”
“Apparently, Caroline’s sister Ellie made it for him. Knitted it herself,” Mike said.
Eric couldn’t imagine Ellie, one of his bartenders and a bit of a wild child, sitting around knitting anything, but the fact that Gabe was wearing a sweater his girlfriend’s sister had made him spoke volumes about the domestication some men could experience.
Mike tossed his coat over Eric’s couch and made a beeline for the snacks across the counter. None of his friends were shy about their appetites.
“I thought Chase was coming with you guys?”
“Nah, he said something about going to bed early,” Gabe said. “Justin and Everett Silverton are coming, though.”
Eric nodded. He liked the Silverton brothers. Justin was married to Val, Caroline’s other sister, who was in her second trimester. He shuddered. Whatever was in the water this year, Eric hoped none of the women he’d slept with had drunk it.
Everett had been dating Callie Jacobsen, but the two had split suddenly a few weeks ago, and Eric couldn’t figure out why. They had been pretty perfect together, and Everett seemed to be taking it hard.
Hopefully a night with the guys would do them all some good. Eric knew it would help him at least get his mind off a certain, hot-tempered blonde who took offense to just about everything. Eric was still blown away by the way she’d gone off on him, but lesson learned. He was going to avoid Gracie like the plague and stop trying to help her.
At least, he hoped so.
Chapter Seven
“Never trust a man who hates kids and animals.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.
On Saturday, Gracie was just putting Pip down for her nap when she heard her cell phone ringing in the kitchen. Trying to sneak out of the room without waking her, Gracie waited until she hit the hallway to pick up speed and grab her phone.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Gracie, it’s Darrin.”
Gracie didn’t know why his tone made the hackles on the back of her neck stand on end, but it definitely wasn’t friendly.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m fine, except we were supposed to have breakfast this morning, and you never showed.”
Gracie covered her mouth, trying to fight back exhausted laughter. “I am so sorry, Darrin, I’ve just had so much going on, it completely slipped my mind.”
Her apology didn’t seem to ease his irritation. “What’s been going on?”
“Well, it’s the craziest thing, but on Thanksgiving, I was delivering meals for the church, and at one of the houses, there was this abandoned toddler, and I offered to take her home for the night—”
“Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just let social services handle it?” he asked.
Gracie was a bit taken aback by his attitude. “Because it was Thanksgiving, and they couldn’t get out right away. She’s so sweet, I just couldn’t leave her at the police station.”
“Hmmm,” was all he said.
“Anyway, they couldn’t find a placement for her, and since they’re still trying to locate next of kin, my friend Viola is petitioning for temporary guardianship for me.”
“Wait, what? You mean you’re fostering a child?”
The way he said it, as if she’d told him she’d adopted a skunk, send a flash of rage through her body.
“So?”
“Isn’t that something you should have discussed with me?” he asked.
Gracie almost laughed her ass off. “I’m telling you now. I didn’t need to discuss anything with you. I’ve been dating you, what? Three weeks? Maybe seven dates, total? I’m also in the process of buying a house. Is that something you thought I should run past you too?”
“When you’re seeing someone, it’s only right to discuss life decisions that may alter your current status, and a child is one of those things.”
“Wow, the balls on you. I had no idea you hated kids.”
“I do not hate children, but I’m definitely not ready for them right now.”
Gracie’s temples throbbed. She didn’t even care to point out that her guardianship was temporary. The bottom line was she had no interest in continuing a relationship with Darrin, and if she’d been honest, instead of trying to hold on for her parents’ sake, she wouldn’t even be having this rather aggravating conversation now.
“I think we’ve said all there is to say, then, don’t you think?”
“Excuse me?”
Did he actually sound surprised? “I think it’s obvious that I’m not what you’re looking for, so it’s better this ends now before we get more involved.”
The silence on the other end of the line was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. Then he snarled, “I planned on dumping you anyway. I was just trying to get laid.”
“Stay classy, Darrin,” she said, pressing the red phone icon.
What a gigantic prick.
How could she not have noticed what an über tool he was? Because all she’d been looking at was the fancy job. She’d known her mother would have gone absolutely apeshit over a potential son-in-law who was a settled, successful lawyer.
Oh God, her mother. What the hell was she going to say to her?
She couldn’t go through two weeks with her mother heaving great sighs of disappointment and talking about everyone else’s grandkids.
At least Mr. and Mrs. Winter had been overjoyed she was interested in their house, especially when she’d offered to put fifty thousand down. They’d emailed her the contract this morning, and she’d called her attorney, Sophia Perez, to look it over with her.
She was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure she had the house; now she had just three weeks to find a guy.
* * *
Eric walked into the Rock Canyon Veterinary Clinic and Shelter, not really sure what he was doing there. Maybe it had to do with how quiet the house had been after the guys had left last night, but he’d driven out of his garage straight here.
Dotty, the receptionist, sat behind the large desk. Her thick glasses made her eyes appear bigger, and her silver hair was sprayed stiffly into place.
“Hey there, Eric! What can I do you for?” she asked.
“Hey, Dotty, I was just coming to look at your available dogs.”
Dotty’s face filled with sympathy. “Oh, honey. I’m afraid we don’t have any dogs right now.”
Well, if that wasn’t a sign for him not to adopt another dog, he didn’t know what was.
“That’s all right.” He started to leave, but she called him back.
She held out a piece of paper to him, and he took it, reading over the bold print and a picture of a small dog in a Santa hat. “Whiskers in Wonderland?”
“Yes, if you’re interested, the Twin Falls Animal Shelter is doing a free adoption event in a few weeks. Apparently, someone came in and paid every available animal’s adoption fee so they could get homes for Christmas.”
Eric didn’t care about the adoption fee. He’d willingly pay anything for the right dog.
“Thanks, I’ll keep this in mind.”
H
e left the shelter and headed to the bar. He might as well get started on inventory since he had nothing else going on today.
His cell beeped, and he checked the screen. It was a text message from Jim Heeler, editor for the Rock Canyon Press.
Subscriptions are up. Nice work.
Eric grinned. When he’d first started writing for the Rock Canyon Press, he’d done it as a joke. It had been a type of therapy for him, writing about all the goings-on at the bar and the other gossip he heard from drunk patrons. Jim had loved it, especially after the first week’s response nearly doubled sales.
Still, Eric had never thought in a million years that “Small Town Scandals” would take off the way that it had. Or that people would love to hate his alter ego, Miss Know-It-All.
After a year and half of writing the column, he was actually surprised no one had figured it out. People loved to point the finger at Gracie or Mrs. Andrews. They were obvious choices, always putting their noses is everyone else’s business.
No one ever suspected the big, burly bartender they told all their secrets to.
Which made the whole thing just about perfect.
He texted Jim a thumbs-up pic, and put his phone into the cup holder. He might as well head into work, even though it was supposed to be his day off.
It wasn’t as though he had anything to go home to.
* * *
“There is no freaking way!” Gracie hissed, staring down at the newspaper column. Pip was sitting on the floor of Gemma’s bedroom, playing with one of the toys Connie Henderson had given her, and Gemma was lying in bed, snacking on a plate of almonds, cheese, and strawberries Gracie had made her.
“What did she say this time?” Gemma asked.
Gracie held the paper up to her face. “How in the hell did she know? It just happened this morning!”
Gemma took the paper and read aloud. “‘Looks like bachelor number… Well, I’ve lost count. Needless to say, everyone’s favorite barista has kicked another man to the curb. It begs the question: is there something wrong with them or her?’”
Gracie took the paper back and crumpled it in her fist. “If I ever find out who she is, she better run fast and far.”
“Oh, come on! There’s nothing wrong with you. You just haven’t met the one yet.” Gemma glanced toward Pip on the ground and shot Gracie a meaningful glance. “So, what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” Gemma kept staring at her, and she shrugged. “She needed me, okay?”
Gemma took her hand and squeezed. “And that’s how I know there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Yeah, well…” Gracie looked around uncomfortably, searching for something else to talk about, when she spotted Gemma’s laptop. Gemma had been working on writing regency romances, but she had yet to finish one that Gracie knew about. “What are you working on? Handsome Hal’s turgid flesh?”
Gemma snorted. “More like staring at a blank screen. I just can’t concentrate when I’m tied down to this bed all day.”
Gracie took a drink of her iced tea. “Yeah, I hear that. I burned a pan of brownies this morning.”
Gemma’s eyebrow rose. “You burned brownies?”
“Amazing, right?” Gracie set her bottle of iced tea down on the side table and laid down next to Gemma. “We just need to forget men! Let’s be nuns.”
Gemma laughed. “I think you have to be a virgin to be a nun, and neither one of us are that. Besides, I think my husband might have something to say about that.”
Gracie made a face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just get tired of being the last single girl.”
“What about Eric?” Gemma’s hazel-green eyes watched Gracie expectantly.
“You mean Eric Henderson, the dude who I cannot have a single civilized conversation with without yelling at him? That one?”
“That’s the one.”
“Like I said, even if I was interested in him, we’d have to make it through one day without wanting to kill each other.”
Gemma’s face grew animated as she said, “That reminds me of chapter seven in my last manuscript. My hero has finally ticked my heroine off enough that she’s pushed him into a pond.”
“We’d all like to do that to our men a time or two. Are you going to finish it?”
Gemma sighed. “Someday, I hope.”
Pip took that moment to crawl over onto Gracie’s lap. When she saw Gemma’s food, her whole face lit up.
Gemma held out a square of cheese. “Do you want one?”
Pip shyly took the cheese square and shoved it into her mouth.
Gracie kissed the top of her head, and Gemma’s expression turned sad. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Gracie.”
Gracie understood what Gemma was telling her. Don’t get attached. She might have a family out there.
“I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a heart made of steel.”
Gemma snorted. “More like gouda cheese.”
Chapter Eight
“Life in a small town has its highs and lows, but I tell you one thing, it is never boring.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.
Since Gemma was unable to run her bookstore while on bed rest, Gracie had offered to do it for her, and by Wednesday, she hated to admit how much she was enjoying the slower pace of Chloe’s Book Nook. Gemma had named the little book store after the calico cat she’d had for eighteen years and the décor was country cute with cat related signs on the wall.
The best part about the shop was even when it was busy, it wasn’t insane.
Tanya had needed the extra hours at The Local Bean Coffee Shop anyway and been happy to cover for her. Plus, the back room of the bookstore was the perfect place to lay Pip down for her naps, and Gracie had installed a baby cam she’d bought at Another Go Round, the children’s store down the street. And when she wasn’t playing with her toys, Pip liked having Gracie read kids’ books to her.
Gracie was hanging Christmas lights in the window when her cell phone rang.
She climbed down from the step stool and pressed the green phone icon.
“Hello?”
“Gracie, it’s Viola Merryweather.”
Gracie’s stomach plummeted. “Hey, Viola. What did you find out?”
“Well, I’ve got lots of bad news and some good news. I found out Pip’s name is Jocelyn Ryder, and she is just over two-years-old. She was born at St. Luke’s in Twin Falls, and her mom was Meghan Ryder of Buhl.”
“Was?” Gracie asked.
“Unfortunately, her mother died of a meth overdose three weeks ago. They did pick up Rita, the woman who Meghan supposedly gave Jocelyn to.”
Gracie gasped in disbelief. “She gave her kid away?”
Viola’s voice sounded completely disgusted. “In exchange for her next fix. Some good news is Rita is being booked on endangering the welfare of a child, child neglect, and several drug-related charges.”
Gracie didn’t want to admit how blood thirsty she was, but she briefly pictured herself in a quiet room alone with Rita for five minutes. “What does this mean for Pip, I mean, Jocelyn?”
“Well, we’ve located her maternal grandmother and great-grandmother, who both live in Filer. There was no father named on the birth certificate, so I’m just waiting for one of them to call me back. Just gotta be patient at this point.”
Gracie picked up the monitor and stared at the screen. Pip was sleeping on her back, her little mouth open. She had filled out more in the few days Gracie had been taking care of her, but still had a way to go.
“What if her grandmother doesn’t want her?”
“Then she’ll officially go into the system available for adoption.”
“And what’s the average wait for a child in foster care?” Gracie asked.
Viola was silent for several ticks. “Two years, but sometimes it is much shorter.”
“Or longer.”
Gracie heard Viola sigh. “That’s true, but that’s just the way the system works. I promise to call you
when I hear more, but in the meantime, I’ve set Jocelyn up with an appointment with a child psychologist in Twin Falls on Friday at one in the afternoon. If you can’t take her, I can come by—”
“I’ll make sure she’s there.”
“Good. I’ll text you her information.”
Gracie hung up the phone, her heart aching. Little Jocelyn had been through so much, and no one had cared. If she hadn’t come by with that dinner, what would have happened to her?
Guess sometimes there is a reason for everything.
* * *
Eric was in the storeroom of Buck’s, placing bottles on the shelves, when his phone beeped with a notification.
He had a new e-mail from Neal.
He’d talked to his agent on Monday, who’d told him when he had something, Eric would know about it. He clicked on the email.
Eric-
Got time for a chat? I have good news, my friend.
Best,
Neal
Eric tapped off a response and waited. The minutes ticked away slowly until finally, the cell rang.
When he answered, he tried to keep his voice calm, even though his skin was humming with excitement. “Hey, Neal.”
“Eric! I got great news! How do you feel about writing for one of the biggest publishers in New York?”
Eric’s heart stopped beating. “Are you shitting me?”
“No, my friend, I am not. Random House wants you.”
“Seriously? Have you seen the contract?” Eric asked.
“Yes, and if you agree, they want to fly you out for their special New Year’s Eve party. You’ll get to meet the editor you’ll be working with, the marketing team. It will be great.”
Eric was still having a hard time believing this. “Is it a good deal?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t a fantastic offer. I’ll email over the deets with my suggested changes, and you can let me know what you think.”
“Great. Thanks, Neal. I owe you.”