A Mistletoe Affair
Farrah Rochon
The Silk Sisters–longtime friends Janelle, Sandra and Vicki–have turned their business savvy into a top-tier event agency. In the wealthy enclave of Wintersage, Massachusetts, there's an abundance of lavish parties, society drama and longing hearts to keep them busy. Floral designer Vicki Ahlfors is a shy, hopeless romantic. The dutiful daughter of a banking dynasty, she has always done what was expected of her–until she falls for her best friend's divorced brother.Attorney turned political strategist Jordan Woolcott has always defined himself by his work. Now at a crossroads, Jordan's not sure who he is, other than a dad to his young son, Mason. It's a rewarding job, but being a single father is so much harder than he'd ever imagined.Vicki has a magical touch when it comes to Mason, and her heart goes out to the overwhelmed Jordan. As feelings grow tender, will an explosive political scandal end their dream of forever before it even begins?
The Silk Sisters—longtime friends Janelle, Sandra and Vicki—have turned their business savvy into a top-tier event agency. In the wealthy enclave of Wintersage, Massachusetts, there’s an abundance of lavish parties, society drama and longing hearts to keep them busy.
Floral designer Vicki Ahlfors is a shy, hopeless romantic. The dutiful daughter of a banking dynasty, she has always done what was expected of her—until she falls for her best friend’s divorced brother.
Attorney turned political strategist Jordan Woolcott has always defined himself by his work. Now at a crossroads, Jordan’s not sure who he is, other than a dad to his young son, Mason. It’s a rewarding job, but being a single father is so much harder than he’d ever imagined.
Vicki has a magical touch when it comes to Mason, and her heart goes out to the overwhelmed Jordan. As feelings grow tender, will an explosive political scandal end their dream of forever before it even begins?
Her brow arched.
“So, this is our first date?”
“I’m not sure it started out that way, but that’s how I would like to end it.” He trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “You said you didn’t want casual. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for anything more. But I am.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He nodded. “Casual doesn’t have the appeal it once did. I’m ready for something serious. Are you willing to take this to the next level, Vicki?”
It felt as if hours went by as she studied him, but it was only a few moments. Finally, she said, “So, how do you usually end your first dates?”
The smile that stretched across Jordan’s face was so wide it made his cheeks hurt.
“It’s been a while since I had a first date,” he said. “But if I remember correctly, it usually ends like this.”
He dipped his head and connected his lips to hers. The minute their mouths touched, Jordan was bowled over by the sheer softness of her lips, the sweetness of her delectable kiss. It had been so damn long since he’d felt anything even remotely close to the feelings racing through his blood that he had to slow himself down before he attacked her mouth with the passion suddenly coursing through his veins.
FARRAH ROCHON
had dreams of becoming a fashion designer as a teenager, until she discovered she would be expected to wear something other than jeans to work every day. Thankfully, the coffee shop where she writes does not have a dress code. When Farrah is not penning stories, the USA TODAY bestselling author and avid sports fan feeds her addiction to football by attending New Orleans Saints games.
A Mistletoe Affair
Farrah Rochon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader (#ulink_3c4555a2-2aef-51be-bac2-ca8bdea024a6),
Have you ever wondered why love stories at Christmastime are so enduring? Year after year, bookstore shelves overflow with yuletide tales of love, laughter and sometimes even a little heartache. As I was writing A Mistletoe Affair, I finally figured out why these stories are so popular. It’s because the holidays and love go hand in hand. As you embark on this journey into the fictional seaside town of Wintersage, my hope is that the magic of the Christmas season touches you as deeply as I was touched while writing this story.
I would be remiss in not thanking fellow contributors to the Wintersage Weddings series, Mills & Boon Kimani authors A.C. Arthur and Phyllis Bourne. Bringing the town of Wintersage to life with the two of you was an amazing experience.
Blessings,
Farrah Rochon
For my aunt, Gail Becnel.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
—Proverbs 31:27
Contents
Cover (#uf656b459-1e79-585b-aefd-05ce54bfc337)
Back Cover Text (#u07f7a594-76a5-50f9-bcb8-cbdd31b3e397)
Introduction (#u070014f6-6325-58bd-91d5-0a07292e81f1)
About the Author (#uec041689-4d32-5d0b-ae21-048608093ffc)
Title Page (#u93f01e70-c6e2-5593-8b67-5ec5677d3b99)
Dear Reader (#ulink_b90265fb-a445-593a-89a4-7a39f5f01bfc)
Dedication (#uf1b303d3-6b95-577e-8f39-4a04618d5ba1)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_aa2abb0b-855f-5e4e-8f13-0cdb8df7341b)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_141408b5-efcd-5c30-98b6-752c32487173)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_f7b0ef96-e34b-5fcb-a083-64207237ca37)
Stealing a brief moment to decompress after a hectic morning of back-to-back-to-back customers, Vicki Ahlfors closed her eyes and inhaled a healthy lungful of rich, pine-scented air.
God, she loved this time of year.
The delicate perfume of tea roses in spring was lovely, but it couldn’t compare to the crisp freshness of balsam fir. The fragrant scent filling Petals, her floral-design shop, was a telltale sign that her favorite time of the year was finally upon her.
She snipped a wayward thatch of pine needles from the thick spray, then draped the nine-foot garland across her custom-made chest-high worktable. She gathered sprigs of deep red hypericum berries and, using floral wire, attached them to the garland in perfectly measured six-inch increments. She knew how precise Mr. Wallace liked his floral arrangements, and she would not give that old curmudgeon a single opportunity to complain about the treatments she’d designed for his front door this year.
“Oh, my goodness! It smells amazing down here.”
Vicki lifted her head to find Sandra Woolcott-Jacobs, one of her partners in crime in the Silk Sisters event agency, rounding the newel post at the base of the winding staircase. She walked over to Vicki’s workstation, leaned over the garland and pulled in a deep breath.
“I love this time of year,” Sandra said with a satisfied sigh. “Laurel Collins was hanging Christmas lights around the window of her gift shop when I walked past there this morning. I nearly broke out into ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’”
Vicki arched a brow in knowing amusement. “That may be the case, but for some reason I don’t think it’s just the time of year that has you singing these days.”
Sandra dipped her head, a coy grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “There may be another reason,” she admitted.
Vicki burst out laughing. “Sandra Woolcott-Jacobs, is that an actual blush forming on your cheeks?”
“Oh, stop it,” Sandra said, the blush deepening.
If that wasn’t a sign that Sandra had undergone a radical change since reconnecting with the love of her life, Vicki didn’t know what was. Isaiah Jacobs had swooped back into town and swept her girlfriend right off her feet.
“You’ve got that special newlywed glow,” Vicki said. “It looks really good on you.”
She denied the slight twinge of envy that pinched her chest, refused to even acknowledge its existence for fear that it would show on her face. She was thrilled for her friends. Truly, she was. Both Sandra and Janelle Howerton-Dubois, the third member of their trio, had found love in the past few months, and Vicki could not be happier for her two best friends.
But happiness and envy weren’t mutually exclusive. She was a multitasker; she could feel both.
“I can already tell that my first Christmas with Isaiah will be magical,” Sandra said with a look that could only be described as dreamy. “If you’re not booked solid already, I may have you put together a wreath for our front door.”
“You know I’ll make time for you,” Vicki said. “What about a tree?”
Another of those soft, faraway smiles graced Sandra’s lips. “I think we’re going to decorate that ourselves. It’ll be our first tree as a family.”
Vicki could barely contain her own wistful sigh. In the epic battle between happiness and envy, envy was winning by a landslide right now. There was no doubt about it, decorating her tree at home, once again by her lonesome self, would suck even more this year.
“I will, however, have you order our tree from the supplier you usually use,” Sandra said, finally coming out of her it’s-a-wonderful-life-with-Isaiah-induced daze. “Have you ordered the tree for the Victorian yet?”
Vicki nodded. “It’s being delivered later today. I was able to find the most gorgeous twelve-footer for the front parlor. It should fit perfectly in the curve of the staircase.”
Petals inhabited the majority of the first floor of the three-story Victorian she, Sandra and Janelle owned in their New England hometown of Wintersage. Dubbed the Silk Sisters since their high school days at Wintersage Academy, the three had gone into business together soon after college graduation. Swoon Couture, Sandra’s dress boutique, was on the second floor, and Janelle’s event-planning business, Alluring Affairs, occupied the third.
“The place looks great so far,” Sandra said, gesturing to the gathering room, which served as the lobby for all three businesses. The room’s focal point, a pillared, carved wooden mantelpiece, was festooned with silver ribbon, ice-blue glass ornaments and glitter-dusted seashells to bring in the essence of their seaside town.
“If you need help decking the halls, just give me a ring,” Sandra said.
Vicki waved off her offer. “You’ve got enough on your plate with getting Swoon Couture Home off the ground.”
Sandra and her new husband were starting a new venture, marrying her design business with Isaiah’s family’s furniture business.
“Only if you’re sure,” Sandra said.
“I’m sure. Besides, I get a bit territorial when it comes to holiday decorating.”
“Don’t I know it,” Sandra said with a snort. “One piece of tinsel out of place and the girl goes crazy.”
Vicki pointed her pruning shears at her. “If you even think about bringing a string of tinsel in here...”
“No tinsel! I promise.” She laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll leave the decorating to you. I can’t wait to see the finished product.” Sandra started up the stairs, but stopped on the second step and called, “The Quarterdeck at seven?”
“I’ll be there,” Vicki returned.
Even though the Victorian served as their home base, it was rare for the three of them to be in one place at one time. Even when they were all here, they were so busy with their respective businesses that there was never much time for idle chitchat. Years ago they made a pact to meet on Monday nights for dinner, drinks and girl talk at the Quarterdeck, a landmark eatery on Wintersage’s waterfront.
They were in for some serious chatting tonight. These past couple of months had been a whirlwind of activity, with life-altering events happening for Sandra and Janelle.
After witnessing the transformation in both her friends’ lives, Vicki had decided it was time she undergo a few changes herself, on both the professional and personal fronts. She had sensed for quite some time that she was in a rut, but as far as ruts went, hers had been comfortable.
Honestly, what did she have to complain about? At twenty-eight years old she owned her own business, her own home, and had family and friends who loved her. She was blessed.
But she wasn’t happy. At least, not as happy as she wanted to be. As she deserved to be. Witnessing both her friends enter into that much-sought-after world of wedded bliss had brought what was missing in Vicki’s own life into stark relief.
So she’d taken matters into her own hands, undergoing a radical makeover. Okay, not entirely radical; it wasn’t as if she’d dyed her hair purple and gotten a nose ring or anything.
But for quiet, reserved Vicki Ahlfors, a chin-length pixie haircut and a closet of new cleavage-revealing blouses and dresses were pretty darn drastic. By the slew of new male clients Petals had garnered over the past week, the results of her transformation could not be denied.
She was Wintersage’s hot new item.
“Whatever,” Vicki said with a snort.
She had definitely caught the eye of several men around town, but instead of being flattered, Vicki found herself just a tad pissed off. She’d lived here her entire life. Why in the heck had it taken a makeover for all of them to finally notice her?
Despite the umbrage she’d taken over her admirers’ obvious shallowness, Vicki wasn’t entirely blind to the romantic opportunities that her newfound popularity had created.
There was just one problem: not a single one of the men who had come calling in the past week held an ounce of appeal. She found their overaggressiveness off-putting, and for the few who’d strolled into her flower shop as if they were God’s gift to the female population, Vicki had taken great pleasure in knocking the wind out of their overinflated egos.
Talk about egos! What about her own? After all her bellyaching over being single, she now had the nerve to play hard to get.
“Damn right,” Vicki said.
Not only did she refuse to settle for the first guy who walked into her flower shop and offered to buy her a dozen roses, but she planned to make sure that any man she dated was worthy of her precious free time. Life was much too short to waste it on a relationship that was going nowhere. She wanted to find what Sandra and Janelle had both found.
So why are you still dragging your feet?
Setting down the shears, Vicki walked over to her laptop and flipped it open. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she logged on to the online-dating profile she’d created after she’d got home from Sandra’s wedding this past weekend. The message sitting in her inbox seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She’d read over it at least a dozen times since it had arrived, had attempted to hit Reply more than once. Yet there it sat, staring at her, goading her into donning the new, confident, vivacious mantle she was determined to wear.
The new Vicki.
Was she really going to take this step? As popular as online dating had become, Vicki could never bring herself to try it. She’d held steadfast to the romantic notion of meeting her Prince Charming the old-fashioned way. They were supposed to spot each other across a crowded room, fall madly in love, start a family and live happily ever after.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
The old-fashioned way hadn’t worked for her. The old-fashioned way had her still single, while her two best friends were now both married and living their happily ever afters. She was done waiting for things to happen the old-fashioned way.
Especially after accepting the harsh reality that the one man she’d been waiting on—the one whom she’d carried a torch for so much longer than she would ever admit to anyone but her own foolish heart—would apparently never see her in that way.
A dull ache settled in her chest, but Vicki quickly tamped down the gloominess before it could take hold.
She was done pining for what would never be. It was time to move on.
Ignoring what felt like a million butterflies flittering around in her stomach, Vicki replied to the date request from a handsome E.R. doctor who, according to his profile, was an attending physician at Tufts Medical Center in Boston. The moment she hit Send, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.
There. That hadn’t been so bad. And it was yet another step on her journey to finding the new Vicki.
Maybe she should give her new journey a name—something along the lines of The Reinvention of Vicki?
She rolled her eyes as she closed the laptop.
That was something the old Vicki would do. The new Vicki would not be so lame.
The rumbling of a truck engine had her dashing toward the front door. All morning she’d been anticipating the arrival of the Christmas tree she’d ordered. It was the final piece required to transform the bottom floor of the Victorian into the picture-perfect New England seaside Christmas escape.
Vicki stepped out onto the gabled front porch and stopped dead in her tracks.
“What is this?” She pointed to the truck bed. “I ordered a twelve-foot Fraser fir. This tree isn’t even eight feet.”
“This is what they gave me, lady,” the deliveryman replied in a thick Boston accent. He rounded the truck and pulled the tree out by its thin trunk.
Vicki shut her eyes against the thumping that instantly started up at her temples. With a full slate of projects lined up, hassling over the tree farm’s obvious mistake was exactly what she did not need today.
But she’d had her heart set on that Fraser fir. She’d purchased the most amazing hand-painted ornaments from a gift shop on Main Street, along with a crystal tree topper that would bring the entire ensemble together.
Dammit, she’d paid for that Fraser fir, not this scraggly little pine that looked as if it was a reject from A Charlie Brown Christmas school play.
The old Vicki would just accept the tree and move on. The new Vicki wasn’t standing for it.
She stomped down the porch steps and blocked the deliveryman’s path. “Sir, would you please bring this...this thing,” she said, pointing to the tree, “back to the lot and return with the tree I ordered?”
“Come on, lady. A tree is a tree.”
Vicki folded her arms over her chest. “I want the tree I ordered,” she annunciated in a clipped tone.
The man let out a grunt. He shoved the tree back onto the truck bed and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
“Thank you,” Vicki said with a curt nod. She marched up the steps and walked inside, closing the door behind her. She fell back against it, covering her hand with her chest.
“Holy crap,” she breathed. A grin curled up the corners of her lips. “I think I’m going to like the new Vicki.”
* * *
Vicki buried her chin deeper into her scarf as she braced herself against the brisk wind coming off the water. She could have taken her car, but with the Quarterdeck so close to Silk Sisters, it felt unnecessary, even in the misty, frigid weather. Besides, she could not fully appreciate the holiday decorations adorning the businesses on Main Street from behind the wheel of her car. Even the shops that were closed—now that the tourist season was over—were bedecked with festive lights.
She entered the Quarterdeck and headed straight for the table she, Sandra and Janelle usually occupied.
“Sorry I’m late,” Vicki said as she came upon them, planting a kiss on Janelle’s cheek. She hadn’t seen her at all today. “There was a mix-up with the Christmas tree. I’m convinced the driver took extralong delivering the correct one just to be difficult.”
“That just means that you’ll have to play catch-up with me and Sandra,” Janelle said. She signaled a waiter, who was at their table in an instant.
His pen poised over his notepad, he asked, “The usual?”
“Yes,” Vicki automatically answered. Then she thought better of it. “Actually, no. I’ll have a vodka martini with two olives.”
The waiter’s brow shot up. “Okay, then. Coming right up. I’ll have that fried calamari appetizer out in a minute, ladies.”
Vicki looked across the table to find both Janelle and Sandra staring at her with their mouths open.
“What?” she asked.
Sandra put her hands up, her eyes wide with shock. “First the new hair and makeup, and now a vodka martini instead of a white-wine spritzer?” She slanted Janelle a questioning look. “Can you tell me what’s happening with our girl over here?”
“I’m not sure, but I like it,” Janelle said.
Even as she waved off their teasing, Vicki could feel a warm blush turning her cheeks red. She knew these changes were a shock to her friends. They were used to her being demure, staid.
Dull.
The fact that a simple change in her drink order could elicit that kind of reaction from them was as telling as anything.
As they snacked on crisp calamari tossed in a sweet ginger sauce, Sandra filled Vicki and Janelle in on the plans for her and Isaiah’s belated honeymoon in Paris in a few months.
“It just makes sense to wait. We’re both looking forward to several art exhibits, and I’ll have the chance to check out Fashion Week. Besides, we can do what we’re going to spend most of our honeymoon doing right here in Wintersage,” she said with a wicked grin. She batted her eyes and added, “Wink. Wink.”
“Subtle,” Vicki said with a good-natured eye roll. She laughed, but deep down it was hard not to feel the tiniest bit jealous. Of the three of them, she was, by far, the romantic at heart. She was the one who had always believed in one true love, happily ever after, the whole nine yards. Yet she was the one who was perpetually single. Both Janelle and Sandra, cynics to the core, had found love. Where was the fairness in that?
Vicki squelched a groan. When had she turned into such a complainer? She was beginning to work on her own nerves with all this bellyaching.
The waiter came over to take their orders. Vicki bypassed her usual Caesar salad in exchange for the almond-crusted cod in a lemon beurre blanc sauce, garnering yet another pair of baffled looks from her friends.
Seriously? Was she that predictable that they could be so surprised at her ordering fish instead of a salad? It looked as if the decision to become the “new Vicki” couldn’t have come fast enough.
The discussion around the table soon segued from Sandra’s honeymoon plans to Vicki’s plans for the float she’d entered into the Wintersage Holiday Extravaganza Day float competition. Her submission had yet to be accepted, and now Vicki was starting to regret ever telling her friends about it. If Petals wasn’t chosen as one of the businesses to contribute a float to this year’s extravaganza, it would leave some serious egg on her face.
“Building this float won’t interfere with the decorations you’re putting together for the Kwanzaa celebration, will it?” Sandra asked.
“Absolutely not,” Vicki said.
The Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration had become an institution in Wintersage. As had been the case for the past few years, Janelle had been hired as the event coordinator and Vicki was, once again, in charge of decorating. Janelle set her fork on the edge of her plate and folded her hands. “Speaking of the Kwanzaa celebration.” She paused for a moment, and then continued, “Things were a bit, well, strained at the dinner table this Thanksgiving when my dad asked if Alluring Affairs was still involved in the planning of your parents’ party.”
“Because of the election?” Sandra asked. “Does he expect you to give up a job you’ve taken on for years just because of this thing with Jordan?”
A few weeks ago, Janelle’s father, Darren Howerton, had claimed victory in a statewide election against Oliver Windom, the candidate Jordan had campaigned for. The ensuing fallout had caused much tension between their families.
“Can you blame him? My dad should be celebrating his victory as the new state representative and preparing to head to the legislature. Instead, there’s a huge cloud hanging over the election now that your brother has called the results into question.”
“You can’t put the entire blame on Jordan,” Sandra retorted.
“Who else is to blame? He’s the one who won’t let this go.”
Vicki held her hands up. “I thought this topic was off-limits? We’re Switzerland, remember?”
“You’re right,” Janelle and Sandra murmured in unison.
“I’m sorry,” Janelle continued. “We did agree not to talk about it, but I do wish Jordan would drop this.”
“I know.” Sandra blew out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon, though. Jordan took an extended leave of absence from the law firm. He was so confident Oliver Windom would win the election and would need Jordan to work on his transition team.”
“So should I tell my dad that Jordan plans to be a pain in the ass until he returns to practicing law?” Janelle drawled.
Sandra shrugged as she tipped her wineglass to her lips.
“It sounds as if he needs something to occupy his time now that the election is over,” Vicki said.
“I think he needs to get laid,” Sandra said.
Janelle pointed the lime wheel from her cosmopolitan at her. “Bingo. Has he even been on a date since his divorce? It’s been long enough.”
Sandra waved her hand. “His pat response is that he’s too busy to get involved with a woman, but Jordan’s not fooling anyone. He could find the time to go on a simple date if he really wanted to.”
“What about his wife?” Vicki asked.
“Ex-wife,” Sandra stressed. “And let’s not even go there. I don’t know the last time Jordan spoke to Allison, and as far as I know, she’s made no attempt to contact him, either.”
“Not even about Mason?” Janelle gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t understand how a woman could leave her baby and not even bother to see how he’s doing.”
“Especially a sweetie pie like Mason,” Vicki agreed.
A smile broke out across Sandra’s face at the mention of her nephew. “He is the most adorable child on the face of the planet, isn’t he? He takes after his auntie Sandra.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t have his auntie Sandra’s attitude,” Janelle said with a laugh, and then laughed harder when Sandra flipped her the finger.
As the two went back and forth trading good-natured barbs, Vicki’s mind remained stuck on Jordan.
No surprise there.
How often had just the mention of his name prompted a long spell of daydreaming about what could have been? If only Jordan had any idea that she’d been crushing on him like a lovesick fool since the age of fifteen.
Actually, it was probably better that he didn’t know. The only thing worse than Jordan discovering that she’d been clutching so tightly to this torch she’d carried for him all these years was for him to discover it and then pity her because he didn’t feel the same way.
Oh, God. A rush of heat swept across her skin just at the thought of how mortified she would be if that ever happened.
Her chagrin quickly turned into annoyance, along with a healthy dose of self-disgust. She would not allow thoughts of Jordan Woolcott to turn her back into the starry-eyed romantic she’d been just a week ago. The new Vicki wasn’t spending her days hoping that Mr. Clueless would finally notice her.
Yet despite her anger over his obliviousness, Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jordan’s current predicament. The madness following the state representative race had caused such turmoil. After Darren’s victory over Oliver Windom, Jordan had demanded a recount, claiming that there must have been some sort of tampering.
His accusations had driven a wedge right between the Howertons, Woolcotts and Ahlfors. It all must be weighing heavily on Jordan’s peace of mind, knowing that so many people were against his dogged determination to contest the election. Vicki hated that he was at the center of the friction currently rubbing their families raw.
Of course, if she was making a list of the things she hated regarding Jordan, she had several other items she could add. Like the fact that he’d settled for such a cliché when he’d married his now ex-wife. Sure, Allison Woolcott was beautiful and vivacious, but that was all she was. The woman had no substance.
Another item on the list would be how much she hated that Jordan had never bothered to see her as anything other than a friend of his little sister. After all these years, Vicki still felt like nothing more than an acquaintance in his eyes.
Getting past this long-held obsession with Jordan should be at the very top of her priority list. If she was to fully embrace this new outlook, she could not continue to pine over a man who had never shown even the slightest romantic interest in her. It was time for her to move on, to concentrate on all the changes she was ready to make in her life.
New Vicki. Think new Vicki.
“I’ve got some news,” she blurted.
Janelle and Sandra both stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.
Oh, great. Now that she’d put it out there she would actually have to share some news. She should have considered that before she opened her normally not-so-big mouth. A lesson for the new Vicki.
“So?” Sandra raised an expectant brow.
Vicki sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I, uh...I signed up for an online-dating website. Just before I came here tonight, I accepted a date with a guy that contacted me a few days ago.”
“What!” Janelle and Sandra both whooped, high-fiving each other.
“I told you our girl was breaking out of her shell,” Sandra said. “Who is it? Have you been talking to him through email? Have you two had a phone conversation yet?”
“Slow down,” Vicki said with a laugh. “His name is Declan James. Doctor Declan James. And yes, we’ve shared a couple of emails. I haven’t talked to him on the phone yet. He seems nice,” she finished with a casual shrug, as if it didn’t feel like she had a million butterflies doing an aboriginal rain dance in her belly.
“So,” Janelle prompted, circling her hands in a give-us-more motion.
“He suggested dinner,” Vicki continued. “But then he said if I wanted to take it slow and start off with a coffee date he would be okay with that, too.”
“I take it you two are going out for coffee?” Sandra asked.
An impish grin tilted up the edges of Vicki’s lips. “Dinner. And dancing.”
“Ooh,” both Janelle and Sandra said.
“I’m scared of you, girl,” Janelle said.
“So when’s the date?”
“Tomorrow,” she said. She hunched her shoulder. “I know a Tuesday night isn’t your typical date night, but he’s on call a lot at the E.R. Tuesday is his only night off this week.”
“Who cares what night,” Sandra said. “All I know is that the men of Wintersage had better watch out. Vicki Ahlfors is on the move.”
Chapter 2 (#ulink_b0ce7834-c551-5b0a-b483-eda53afec8e2)
“Don’t be an idiot,” Vicki murmured around the piece of twine she’d stuck between her lips. “You know better than this.”
Even though she did know better than to try to balance on the wobbly, backless stool, she remained standing on it. If she fell and broke her tailbone it would be sufficient punishment for forgetting to bring the stepladder she’d taken from the Victorian to hang the new artwork in her living room at home. As far as punishments went, maybe a broken tailbone was a bit harsh.
“But you don’t have to worry about that,” she said as she tied that last bit of twine around the garland, fastening it to the molding that framed the front door. She hopped off the stool and slipped back into her heels. Then she took a couple of steps back and observed her handiwork.
“Perfect,” Vicki said.
“I’d say so.”
Vicki whipped around, spotting Jordan Woolcott walking up the walkway. Sixteen-month-old Mason toddled alongside him on legs that still didn’t quite have that whole walking thing down yet. Vicki smiled as the chubby-cheeked sweetheart fought for his independence, trying to walk ahead of his father.
She stood on the top step and waited patiently while he slowly climbed up to meet her. She scooped Mason into her arms, plopping a kiss on his too-adorable-than-it-had-a-right-to-be face.
“How’re you doing today? You and your daddy coming to see your auntie Sandra?” She looked up at Jordan, who remained at the base of the porch steps, a tired smile tilting up the corners of his lips.
“Hello, Jordan,” she said.
“Hey there, Vicki.”
There went her idiot heart, doing that stupid fluttering thing it did whenever she saw him. Goodness, how pathetic that at twenty-eight she still had the same reaction to him that she did as a teenager. No, it was more than just pathetic, it was downright pitiful, because never once had anything in Jordan’s demeanor suggested that he felt anything even remotely similar toward her.
Yet when she’d sat in that salon chair last week and told the stylist to glam her up, it was with the intent of seeing Jordan’s reaction to the finished outcome.
Pathetic.
If the man hadn’t caught a clue in all these years, he certainly wouldn’t notice her just because she’d cut her hair.
“Is my sister up there?” he asked, gesturing to the building’s second floor with the hand that held Mason’s diaper bag.
“She sure is.” Vicki looked down at Mason. “You want to get out of this cold and see your auntie Sandra?”
Jordan joined them on the porch, but before Vicki could turn toward the door, he stopped her.
“What exactly did you do here?” he asked, motioning at his own head.
“You mean my haircut?”
“Yeah. The light brown color you added to the ends, too.”
“They’re called highlights.”
He nodded. “I like it. It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she answered.
She was not going to blush at a simple compliment.
Dammit, she was so blushing. She could feel the heat climbing up her cheeks. Her fair skin hid nothing, so in a matter of seconds Jordan would see it, too.
With Mason in tow, Vicki quickly turned for the door, leaving him to follow her inside.
“Wow,” Jordan said once they’d entered the building. “You all are really getting into the holiday spirit, huh? There are more flowers in here than at the Rose Bowl parade.”
“Well, it is a floral-design shop,” Vicki noted with a laugh.
“A busy one at that,” Jordan said, pointing to various arrangements in different stages of completion. They covered every available surface.
“When it comes to flowers, the Christmas season is second only to Valentine’s Day. Although, to be honest, I’ve been a bit busier than usual this week.”
Jordan peeled Mason’s puffer jacket off while the baby was still in her arms, and then stuffed it inside the diaper bag.
He gestured to her feet. “You don’t normally wear fancy shoes to make flower arrangements, do you? Is this something special you’re doing for the holidays?”
Vicki’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be funny?”
The blank look on his face gave her his answer even before he said, “No.”
“I’m wearing fancy shoes because I have a date,” she said.
“Really?” Jordan’s head reared back slightly. He took Mason from her arms and the baby immediately started to fuss. “A date?”
Vicki couldn’t see past her irritation over Jordan’s apparent surprise at the news that she had a date. It both stung and pissed her off.
“Is it so hard to believe that someone actually wants to go out with me?” she asked.
“No,” he said with a hasty head shake. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”
Not that that should come as a surprise, either. When had he ever taken interest in whom she was dating?
Vicki held no illusions about where she stood as far as he was concerned. She had never been in Jordan Woolcott’s league. For that matter, she had not always been in Sandra and Janelle’s league, either.
Unlike her two best friends, Vicki hadn’t been born into money.
She and her three brothers had spent the majority of their formative years in the public school system, not moving to Wintersage Academy until her sophomore year of high school, once her father’s business had taken off.
Ahlfors Financial Management’s success secured her family’s place among Wintersage’s elite, but their wealth didn’t reek of “old money” like that of the Howertons and Woolcotts. Although her friends never made her feel inferior, Vicki never let herself forget that one difference between them.
When it came to Jordan, there was no denying that they were different.
He had been several years ahead of her in high school, having already graduated from Wintersage Academy by the time she’d started there. Vicki had developed the most ridiculous crush on him from the very first day she’d gone over to the Woolcotts’ to study with Sandra one afternoon. It had taken her years to accept the fact that, if not for her being one of Sandra’s very best friends and their families knowing each other for years, Jordan wouldn’t know she existed.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Wintersage was a small town. He would know she existed—in the same way he knew Jocelyn Cornwell, who ran the realty office on Main Street, or Agnes Ripple, the owner of the corner bakery, existed.
That thought annoyed her to no end. And when she thought of how long she’d pined over Jordan, it irritated her even more.
Vicki returned to her worktable, picking up the stem cutters and attacking the stubborn stalks of the lilies that had just been delivered by one of her suppliers. But as Mason’s crying intensified, she walked to where Jordan stood struggling to get the baby to calm down. The minute she lifted him out of Jordan’s arms, Mason’s cries quieted. Vicki bounced him softly, running her hand up and down the baby’s back and whispering soothingly into his ear.
“I don’t know what’s going on with him today,” Jordan said. “I usually don’t have a problem getting him to calm down, but he’s been more agitated than usual.”
“Maybe he can sense that you’re—” she started, but then she stopped.
“I’m what?”
Vicki bit her bottom lip, but then she stopped that, too. The old Vicki would keep her mouth shut to spare his feelings. She was no longer listening to the old Vicki.
“Uptight,” she finished. “You’ve been rather uptight lately, and I think Mason can sense that.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “You’re probably right.”
The sheer exhaustion on his face quelled the ire that had risen within her just moments ago. Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Jordan cocked his head to the side and looked down at his son. “The problem is I can’t seem to unwind because he constantly has me on the go. I get agitated, and then he gets agitated. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“You need some rest, Jordan.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I don’t see rest anywhere in my immediate future, not with this little rascal who wants to get into everything these days,” he said, pinching the baby’s chubby leg through his cute corduroy pants.
Vicki took a moment to consider the suggestion she was about to make before she asked, “How about I watch Mason for you so you can get some rest?”
Jordan’s neck stiffened with shock. “Really?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
That was what his mouth said; the naked hope in his eyes, on the other hand, said that he was dying for a little help with the baby.
“It’s not as if it would be a hardship,” Vicki reasoned. “How could I pass up the opportunity to spend time with this little heartbreaker?” She kissed the baby’s chin. “And while I do, you can get some much-needed rest.”
Jordan’s shoulders sank with relief. “God, Vicki, that would be wonderful.”
“I’m happy to do it. Just not tonight,” she said.
“Yeah. You have a date,” Jordan said. He lifted Mason from her arms but remained standing there, his gaze trained on her.
“What?” Vicki asked. After several moments of his staring, her self-consciousness ramped up to skin-tingling levels.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “Nothing.” He gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll go up to Sandra’s.”
“Okay.” She leaned forward and gave Mason a little baby wave. “See you later.”
“When?”
Vicki’s head popped up at Jordan’s question. “Excuse me?”
“When will you see us?” He shook his head. “Him? Mason. To babysit?”
She hadn’t thought that far in advance, but it was obvious Jordan needed to rest as soon as possible. “What about tomorrow, maybe around seven?”
“Tomorrow is good. It’s great, actually.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow, then.”
“Good.” He gave her another of those tired, grateful smiles before he started up the stairs. After he’d climbed a couple of steps, he stopped and turned. “Vicki?”
“Yes?” She felt her face heat after being caught still staring at him.
“You really do look nice,” Jordan said. “I hope this guy you’re going out with tonight realizes how lucky he is.”
The instant warmth that traveled across her skin from his simple compliment was embarrassing to say the least.
“Thank you,” Vicki said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She fingered the wispy end of a lock of hair and grinned as she returned to her workstation. Her stylist would get a very nice tip after her next haircut. Even though she no longer cared whether or not Jordan Woolcott noticed her, apparently the pixie cut had gotten her just the result she’d initially hoped for.
* * *
“Anybody home?” Jordan called as he arrived on the second-floor landing of the huge Victorian where his sister’s dress shop was located.
Sandra turned from the glittery ball gown she was adjusting on a mannequin and smiled.
“Well, look who’s here.” She walked over to them and reached for Mason. “Give me my nephew.”
Jordan handed the baby off and plopped into an empty chair. The exhaustion of the past week had him on the verge of both mental and physical collapse.
“So what brings you two here?” Sandra asked, taking the chair opposite his and bouncing Mason on her lap.
Jordan shrugged. “Just thought we’d get out for a bit. He doesn’t understand that it’s too cold for the beach or the park, so I’ve been taking him other places. We just came from the dry cleaners.”
“Such party animals,” Sandra said with a snort. She snapped her fingers. “I know exactly where you should take him—the children’s museum in Dover. I saw something on TV about a special exhibit they have going on for the Christmas season.”
Sandra turned the huge computer monitor around to face her and grabbed the wireless keyboard from her desk. As his sister searched the web, Jordan pitched his head back and let his eyes fall shut. He tried to shake off the edginess that had his skin tingly. The weird vibe had settled over him after his exchange with Vicki, and hell if he knew what to make of it.
She had popped up in his head more than once this week, creeping into his thoughts and setting off memories of how shocked he’d been when he’d noticed her standing on the beach at Sandra’s wedding. The new haircut and that curve-hugging dress had been something to behold.
Jordan couldn’t remember if he had ever once noticed what Vicki wore. Of course, he’d noticed her—no man could deny that Vicki was gorgeous in her own right. He just had never looked at her in that way.
She was just...just Vicki.
She was the quiet one; the one who, if Sandra or their other best friend, Janelle, ever got into trouble, would get them out of it. She was steady. Reserved. She wasn’t the type that normally produced the prickle of awareness that climbed up the back of his neck when he’d spotted her standing on the porch in sexy leopard-print heels.
“What do you think about that?” Sandra asked.
Jordan blinked. “Huh?”
His sister stabbed him with the most aggravated look. “Are you even listening to me? I just listed every special exhibit going on at the children’s museum in Dover. Or maybe there’s something in Portsmouth the two of you can do.”
“Maybe.” Jordan shrugged. “I need to find something to keep him occupied. It can get boring sitting around the house. Makes me wonder what Laurie does over there all day,” he said, speaking of his housekeeper.
Sandra started on the tirade Jordan knew was forthcoming. “Oh, let’s see. She takes care of your son, keeps the house impeccable and cooks dinner.”
“I meant besides all that,” Jordan said, his mouth tipped up in a smile.
He saw the moment that Sandra caught on to his teasing.
“You’re such an ass,” she said.
“Not true. You’re just an easy target,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I know exactly how indispensable Laurie is, especially now that she’s away on this extended Christmas vacation. I haven’t done the best job at keeping up the housework since, and when it comes to dinner Mason and I have tried just about every takeout place within twenty miles of Wintersage. He likes gyros. Who’d have thought?”
Sandra shook her head, a pitiable look on her face. “I’m almost tempted to tell you to hire a temporary nanny to cover for Laurie while she’s away, but that won’t solve your problem.”
“I don’t have a problem,” he said.
“You most definitely do have a problem. You have no life. And yes, I know you’ve been taking care of Mason full-time since the election ended, but that’s not the life you’re used to living. Maybe you should just go back to work. Maybe you’d be less irritable.”
Hadn’t Vicki just accused him of the same thing?
“Why does everyone think I’m irritable?” Jordan asked. “I’m just tired. Besides, I can’t go back to the firm. I took an extended leave, remember? I thought I would be working on Oliver’s transition team right now.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. The election was a sore subject for everyone in his family, especially his sister.
When he spoke, Jordan kept his voice low. “Hey, Sandra? The fallout from the election, it hasn’t caused any friction, has it? You know, between you three?”
“What do you think, Jordan? You accused my best friend’s father of trying to steal an election. Do you think things would be all sunshine and roses around here? The three of us decided that when it comes to the election we’re Switzerland, but things are still a bit awkward.”
“Switzerland?” he asked.
“Completely neutral.”
“Oh. Well, I wish I had that luxury.”
“You do.” Sandra reached over and clamped a hand on his forearm. “The election is over. You can accept the results and move on.”
Jordan shook his head. “I can’t. I know something—”
She lifted her hand and held it up, stopping him. “Switzerland. I don’t want to know.”
“That’s too bad,” Jordan said. “I’m pulling the ‘sibling in need of an ear’ card, because I need to talk this out with someone.”
Sandra blew out an aggravated breath. “What is it?”
“I heard from the election commissioner this morning. According to Massachusetts’s election laws, only the candidate can officially file for a recount, so they can’t go forward unless Oliver requests it.”
“Oliver has already conceded.”
“I know. I told him he was making a mistake, but he refused to listen to me. I just don’t understand how he can sit back and do nothing.”
“Maybe he wants to be gracious in his defeat and move on with his life,” Sandra said. “Just as you should move on.”
Jordan shut his eyes and pitched his head back again.
“I wish I could,” he said. He straightened in the chair and looked at Sandra. “Something fishy happened with that election. My polling data was solid.”
“Well, if the commissioner’s office refuses to go forward with a recount, none of that matters, does it? You need to just put this election behind you.”
Jordan pressed his palms together and tapped his fingers against his lips. “I hired my own investigators,” he finally admitted.
Sandra groaned. “Okay, Jordan, I’m just going to say it. This election has driven you right off the deep end.”
“I’m only doing what I think is right,” he said. “If I just rolled over and played dead the way Oliver has, then it’s like admitting that my polling was wrong, and I know it wasn’t.” He put both hands up. “If I don’t find anything before Darren takes office in January, then I’ll drop it. But until then, I’m going to search for the proof I know is out there.”
“Can we please stop talking about this election? You’re giving me a headache.”
“Fine,” Jordan said. He picked up what he could only assume was some kind of dressmaking thing from a nearby desk and twirled it around his finger. “Are you and Isaiah planning to hang around until after the Kwanzaa celebration?”
“Of course,” Sandra answered, balancing Mason on her lap while he bounced up and down. “This is Isaiah’s first Christmas in Wintersage in years. He wants to experience it all again—the big extravaganza and Christmas parade, and our family’s annual Kwanzaa celebration. We’ll likely spend Christmas Day shuttling between Mom and Dad’s and his parents’ place.” She glanced over at him. “What about you guys?”
Jordan shrugged. “We’ll be at Mom and Dad’s.”
“What about spending Christmas with his mom?” She nodded toward Mason. “Have you heard from Allison at all?”
“No,” Jordan said. “Subject closed.”
“Jordan—”
“Subject closed,” he repeated. He ran his hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to talk about Allison.”
“After I just had to listen to all that election crap?”
“Do you really want to use your ‘sibling in need of an ear’ card on talk about Allison?”
“Whatever,” Sandra said. “Why did you come over here in the first place if you don’t want to talk about anything but that election?”
“Maybe I wanted you to spend time with your nephew, but if you don’t want to we can leave.” Jordan made as if he was about to get up. His sister shot him an evil look.
“Sit down,” she said.
He grinned, knowing that would get under her skin. He took his seat, picked up the shiny tool again and resumed twirling it around his finger.
“Would you put down my eyelash curler?”
“Your what?”
She gestured to her eyes. “Eyelash curler. You know, to extend my lashes.”
Jordan tossed the thing on the desk as though it had suddenly caught fire. He blew out another weary breath and stretched his legs out in front of him.
Folding his hands over his stomach, he said, “I saw Vicki downstairs. She looks nice today.”
“She has a date.”
“Yeah, that’s what she told me. She offered to babysit Mason so I can get some rest.”
“I hope you took her up on her offer. You can use it. You look like a reject from The Walking Dead.”
“You do know how to flatter a guy,” Jordan said with a snort.
She sent him a saccharine smile. “I try.”
“So,” Jordan asked, picking up a pencil from Sandra’s desk and tapping it against his thigh. “Do you know the guy she’s going out with tonight?”
The moment the question left his mouth Jordan wanted to take it back. Why had he just asked that? Especially of Sandra.
His sister’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t met him,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Forget it.”
Her brow arched. “No, why don’t you tell me, Jordan? Why the sudden interest in Vicki’s dating life?”
Just as he was about to tell Sandra to drop it, Mason threw his head back and started to wail. Not since his first moments of life in the delivery room had Jordan been so grateful to hear his baby boy cry.
* * *
“I hope your mother appreciates these,” Vicki said as she handed Samson Cornwell his credit card. “It’s sweet of you to buy her a dozen roses just because.”
“I thought it would be nice to brighten her day,” Samson said. “And you do such an amazing job, Vicki. These roses are just amazing.”
“I can’t really take the credit. I just arranged them. Mother Nature did the hard work.”
His roaring laugh echoed against the walls. The effort it took for Vicki not to roll her eyes was downright admirable.
“Did you have this sense of humor back in high school?” Samson asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Who knew you were so funny?”
Vicki hunched her shoulders in a “who knew?” gesture. She pushed the vase filled with blush-colored Antique Silk roses and baby’s breath toward him, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. He didn’t.
Sam rested an elbow on the counter and leaned in close. “When did you get interested in flowers?” he asked. “You know, I read somewhere that there are over twenty different species of roses. That’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“Try nearly two hundred,” Vicki said.
His eyes went wide. “Really? Two hundred? That’s amazing.”
She wondered if he would be offended if she threw a thesaurus in with his dozen roses. That was the fifth amazing since he’d walked through the door.
The phone rang. Vicki decided then and there to give whoever was on the other end of the line a free centerpiece for their holiday dinner table.
“I have to get this, Samson. Thanks again for utilizing Petals for your floral needs. I hope your mother enjoys her roses.”
“Oh, I know she will,” he said. He winked at her.
It took everything Vicki had in her not to groan. She answered the phone. “Petals.”
It was Declan. As she listened to his apology and explanations for canceling their date tonight, her spirits deflated. Well, there went her big plans. Maybe she should run outside and stop Samson before he drove away.
The door swung open and Samson rushed back in. She immediately regretted the thought she’d just had. She so was not going out with Samson Cornwell. She didn’t care how amazing a date with him would be.
“My wallet,” Samson said, retrieving it from where he’d left it on the counter.
Vicki walked him to the door, then turned and spotted Sandra, Jordan and Mason marching down the stairs.
Sandra pointed to the door as she reached the landing. “Let me guess, another new male customer who suddenly has a penchant for flowers?”
“Samson Cornwell,” Vicki said. “You remember him?”
Sandra pulled a face. “That fool who nearly blew up the chemistry lab at Wintersage Academy?”
“The very one.”
“Don’t tell me he asked you out.”
“I didn’t give him the chance,” Vicki said.
Jordan stood there with Mason, his gaze volleying back and forth between her to Sandra.
“The men of Wintersage have developed an amazing interest in flowers this week,” Sandra explained to him.
Vicki groaned. “Please don’t say the word amazing.” Sandra’s forehead dipped in question. “Don’t ask,” Vicki added.
“Anyway,” her friend said, turning once again to Jordan, “one came in yesterday and bought a bouquet for his dentist. His dentist. It’s ridiculous.”
“Petals appreciates it,” Vicki said. “Petals’s owner, however, is so over it.”
“Wait.” Sandra frowned. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have a date tonight?”
Vicki tried to keep the defeated sigh from escaping, but failed. “Declan had to cancel. He was called in to cover the E.R. Apparently they just got slammed with food poisoning from a birthday party.”
“Aw, honey, I’m sorry.”
“There’s always a next time,” she said, hunching her shoulders. She turned her attention to Jordan, who was now fighting to put Mason’s jacket on him, a battle he was clearly losing. Vicki bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “Do you need some help?” she asked.
He held the jacket out to her and let out a relieved sigh. “Please.”
Instead of taking the jacket, she took Mason. The little boy leaned his head on her shoulder and stuffed his thumb between his lips, and Vicki’s heart instantly went the way of ice cream on a hot summer day.
Her heart did something all together different when she looked up again and found Jordan with his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating hard as he threaded Mason’s chubby arms through his jacket sleeves. She absolutely hated that everything he did looked so damn sexy on Jordan. And that she couldn’t help but love it.
She suddenly discovered a bright spot to her canceled date.
“I’m free to babysit tonight,” she said to Jordan.
His head popped up. “You sure? What if your date manages to get away from the hospital after all?”
“From the way things sounded, that doesn’t seem likely. Besides, you look as if you can really use the rest.”
“I told him he looks like shit,” Sandra said.
Vicki covered Mason’s exposed ear. “Not in front of the baby,” she admonished.
“Don’t waste your time,” Jordan said. He hooked a thumb toward his sister. “I’ve already accepted that this one will teach my son every swearword there is by the time he turns three.”
“That’s what aunties are for,” Sandra said, giving the baby a kiss on the cheek before heading back up the staircase.
“So are you really up for babysitting tonight?” Jordan asked. “Because if you are I won’t turn you down. Sandra’s right, I do look like shi... Crap,” he finished.
“Saying crap isn’t much better,” Vicki said, unable to hide her grin. She jiggled Mason’s chubby cheek. “Just wait until his grandma Nancy hears those swearwords coming out of his mouth. Then both your daddy and Auntie Sandra will have some explaining to do.”
“Don’t remind me,” he said.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Vicki laughed. She turned her attention back to Mason. “What do you think of me coming over, huh? We can play games, or watch a movie, or even make a snowman while your daddy gets a little rest. What do you say about that?”
The little baby teeth that peeked out as his face broke into a smile was hands down the most adorable thing she’d seen in months.
“I think he’s okay with it,” Jordan said with a grin of his own.
Her reaction to that smile was wholly uncalled-for. Maybe if she refused to acknowledge the flutter that swept through her stomach, she could pretend it didn’t really happen. Because, seriously, how could a simple smile give her butterflies?
She could not wait until the day she was past this ridiculous infatuation—if she could ever move past it.
No. There was no if about it. When it came to her feelings for Jordan, the new Vicki was not going down the same road the old Vicki had traveled. She’d come to that decision after Sandra’s wedding. It was the reason she’d signed up on that dating website: she was done pining for Jordan Woolcott.
Yet she’d just agreed to babysit for him tonight. What in God’s name had convinced her to come up with that stellar suggestion?
She studied the look of exhaustion etched around his face and was reminded of just why she’d made the offer.
“Are you on your way home now?” Vicki asked.
“You done here?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerated display case.
“Yep, Petals is closed for the day. I was supposed to be on a date, remember?” Vicki refused to read anything into the way his brows dipped at the reminder. “Just let me grab my purse and keys and I’ll follow you to your place.”
She retrieved her phone from the counter and sent Sandra a text message, letting her know she was leaving. When she went outside, Jordan was strapping Mason into his safety seat. A few minutes later, they were making their way along Seaside Drive, the stretch of highway that hugged the coastline that wrapped around Wintersage. Jordan lived on the opposite side of town, what locals called “below the bay.”
Jordan’s gray, single-story, shingle-style cottage, with its charming white shutters and walkway bordered by weather-beaten boulders from the shoreline, was, in Vicki’s opinion, one of the most charming homes in this section of Wintersage. Though modest for someone of Jordan’s means, it seemed to fit him perfectly.
He turned into his driveway and both doors of the double garage opened. Vicki pulled her car in alongside his. When she walked over to Jordan, he was holding a finger against his lips.
“He fell asleep on the drive over,” Jordan whispered.
“Ah.” Vicki nodded. She pointed to her car and mouthed, “Should I go?”
He hunched his shoulder. “I guess,” he whispered as he unstrapped Mason. He took great care in lifting the baby from the safety seat, huddling him close to his chest.
Vicki waved goodbye and started back for her car, but her feet stopped at the sound of Mason’s sudden wailing. She spun around and instantly took pity on Jordan’s pathetic expression. He looked on the verge of collapse.
“I guess I’m staying after all,” Vicki said, returning to Jordan’s side. She lifted Mason from his arms. “It’s okay, honey.” She patted his back as she followed Jordan up the garage’s steps and into the mudroom.
By the time they entered the house, Mason’s wail was down to a soft whimper. Vicki carried him through the short hallway that led into the kitchen, but stopped short as she passed the threshold.
The place was a mess.
Plush teddy bears and plastic toys littered the floor. There were newspapers and empty coffee mugs strewn about the table in the breakfast nook. Dirty dishes and at least a half dozen sippy cups filled the sink.
“Uh, excuse the mess,” Jordan said as he pushed aside an open box of animal crackers to make room on the counter for the baby bag he’d carried in from the car. He perched against the counter and folded his arms over his chest.
He looked from her to Mason and huffed out an exhausted laugh. “I don’t know what you do, but I wish you’d tell me,” he said. “I’m starting to believe you have some kind of magical powers when it comes to my son.”
“I already gave you my theory,” she said. “You’re agitated, and I think Mason can sense that.”
“I guess your theory makes more sense than magic. I have been wound pretty tight since the election results came in. I can’t seem to relax.”
“Have you tried?”
“Not really,” he said with another weary chuckle. “I’ve never been good at it. Always seems as if my time could be better spent doing something more productive.”
“Get some rest, Jordan. I’m sure some uninterrupted sleep will do you good.”
He walked over to them and smoothed a hand over Mason’s head. This brought him way too close to her for her peace of mind.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” Vicki said, taking a step back to create some distance between them. “Put the election and everything else out of your head for a few hours and rest. This little one and I will be just fine.”
He came over to them again and pressed a kiss to Mason’s forehead. “Thanks again for doing this,” he said to her, his grateful though exhausted smile setting off all kinds of sinfully delicious tingles in her belly.
Goodness, but she was pitiful when it came to this man.
“If you need me, just come in and wake me,” he said before walking through the arched entryway that led to the rest of the house.
Vicki remained standing there until she heard the click of a door closing.
She looked down at Mason. “The new Vicki needs to remember what she said about not acting a fool for your dad.”
“Ball,” Mason said, pointing to a multicolored ball on the table.
Vicki picked up the ball, along with several other toys scattered along the kitchen counter, and brought Mason into the living room. Lifting an afghan with a seaside lighthouse pattern on it from the sofa, she spread it out on the hardwood floor and set Mason on it, then she plopped down next to him and rolled a plastic ball toward him.
After several minutes of playing with the ball, Mason’s mouth twisted in a frown. Seconds later, Vicki caught a whiff of something that made her stomach turn.
“Oh, you would do that after your daddy has gone to nap, wouldn’t you?”
She scooped the baby up and went in search of diaper-changing supplies. Vicki opened several doors, including a linen closet and what had to be Jordan’s home office, which was impeccable—a surprise—seeing as how the rest of the house was in shambles.
Finally, she came upon Mason’s brightly colored bedroom. Unfortunately, she didn’t find any diapers in there.
Vicki remembered the baby bag Jordan had brought in and returned to the kitchen where he’d left it on the counter. With the baby perched on her hip, she searched the bag but only came up with baby wipes and a small bottle of baby powder.
“Well, we’ll definitely need these, but we’re missing the most important thing.”
She hated to wake Jordan up so soon after he’d gone in for his nap, but if this diaper didn’t get changed soon the stench would probably wake him.
She went through the great room and down the hallway to the master bedroom. Tapping lightly on the door, she softly called, “Jordan?”
“Come in,” came a voice that was much too robust to come from someone who should have been asleep.
Vicki pushed her way through the door and frowned.
Jordan sat up with his back against the headboard, his stocking feet crossed at the ankles. An open laptop rested on his thighs and a pair of reading glasses was perched upon his nose. Make that an astonishingly sexy pair of reading glasses.
She tried to block the sexiness from her head, otherwise her impending lecture wouldn’t be nearly as effective as she needed it to be. She plopped a hand on the hip that didn’t have a twenty-two-pound toddler on it and narrowed her eyes at Jordan.
“Seriously?” she said, jutting her chin toward the laptop.
“Yeah, I know.” He grimaced. “I just needed to check one thing.”
“You’re supposed to be resting, Jordan, not working. Those are two very different concepts. It’s easy to tell them apart.”
He looked at her over the rim of his glasses and grinned. “Who knew Vicki Ahlfors was such a smart a—” He glanced at Mason. “Aleck,” he finished.
No, no, no. Her cheeks would not heat up at his teasing.
“No changing the subject,” she said, keeping her voice as firm as possible. “I didn’t volunteer to watch Mason so you can work.” The little boy shifted in her arms and Vicki caught another whiff of his aroma, reminding her of the reason she’d come in here in the first place. “Please tell me you have diapers,” she said.
“In there.” He pointed to the master bath.
Vicki cursed the deep flutter that traveled through her belly as she entered Jordan’s bathroom. There was something way too intimate about this. The discarded facecloth hanging on the rim of the sink, the bottle of multivitamins, the razor—not an electric one, a classic manual razor, the kind that required control and a steady hand.
She briefly shut her eyes against the image that tried to crop up in her head. Thinking about Jordan and his steady hands was bound to get her in trouble.
At the far end of the long vanity sat a stack of disposable diapers, along with more baby wipes, lotion and powder. She grabbed a plush towel from the wooden towel rack and gently laid Mason on top of it.
She’d just pulled off his pants when she heard Jordan say, “I can do that.”
Vicki’s back stiffened. She’d been so busy with Mason that she hadn’t heard him approach.
“I’ve got it,” she called over her shoulder.
The tingle that raced down her spine was completely inappropriate, but wholly expected. Those tingles were par for the course when it came to being in close proximity to Jordan. The new Vicki was supposed to be done with those tingles, but apparently she hadn’t gotten the memo.
Standing watch just over her shoulder as she efficiently went about changing Mason’s diaper, Jordan said, “You handle that like a pro.”
“Changing a diaper?” she asked.
“Yeah, especially with the way that one squirms.”
As if on cue, Mason immediately started to writhe around on the vanity. Vicki caught his feet together in one hand and moved her hip to block him from rolling right off the counter.
“I see what you mean.” She leaned over and nibbled Mason’s chin. “But your cute little booty isn’t getting away from me.” She looked back at Jordan. “Goodness, is there anything more adorable than those two bottom teeth that peek out whenever he smiles?”
“Nothing I’ve found,” he said with a laugh.
He finally backed away, making it easier for Vicki to get her breathing under control. His nearness was pure torture on her new quest to not be affected by him.
He settled in the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. “How’d you learn to change a baby’s diaper?” Jordan asked. “You don’t have any kids of your own.”
Vicki snorted as she glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
“Damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did. I’m just impressed,” he continued. “It took me a while to get the hang of diaper changing.”
“I guess it’s instinctual for some,” she said. She gave the two pieces of tape a firm pat before pulling Mason’s corduroys up over his fresh diaper. “There you go, sweetie,” she said, tickling the baby’s belly. He giggled and treated her to that wide, sweet grin that was sure to break hearts.
“So did you reschedule your date with the doctor?” Jordan asked.
Vicki’s head jerked up. She met his eyes in the bathroom mirror.
“Uh...no,” she stammered, caught off guard by the subject change. “He was already at the hospital when he called earlier. He didn’t really have time to talk.”
“Oh. Well, maybe you two can find a time that works later this week.”
Hefting Mason into her arms, Vicki turned and faced him. “I doubt there will be any future dates with Declan.”
“Really?” Jordan’s brows rose. “So it wasn’t anything serious, whatever it is you had with the doctor?”
Should she tell him the truth, that before it was canceled, her date with Declan would have been her first in well over a year? And that the last date she went on—with the cousin of a friend of a friend—was so unremarkable that she couldn’t even remember the guy’s name?
Vicki considered it for a moment, but decided against mentioning it. She had no desire to be pitied, especially by Jordan.
Instead, she said, “It’s pretty obvious that Declan is too busy for even a casual relationship, let alone something more serious.”
Still leaning against the doorjamb, he crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “And you’re opposed to casual?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to it. But it’s not what I want.” When it came to this particular issue, Vicki decided that being vague would do her no good. “I’ve done the casual-dating thing in the past. I’m ready for something more stable...something that has potential.”
She fought against the self-consciousness brought on by Jordan’s thoughtful, probing gaze.
Several long moments passed before he asked in a curious tone, “Does this have anything to do with Sandra and Janelle both getting married? Are you feeling left out?”
Vicki’s head reared back. Had he really just asked her that?
“You do realize how insulting that is, don’t you?”
He looked completely baffled. “Insulting?”
“Yes. Your question insinuates that I only want a serious relationship because my two best friends have recently found their soul mates. It’s insulting.”
He grimaced, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his neck. “Now that you put it that way...” When his eyes returned to hers, they were filled with contriteness. “I’m sorry if that offended you. I swear that wasn’t my intention.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s just that the three of you have always done everything together. With Sandra getting married so soon after Janelle, it just seemed natural that you would be next.”
Vicki had to work hard not to release a deflated sigh. He was likely one of many who shared that same sentiment.
“It’s okay, Jordan. Both Janelle and Sandra would tell you that of the three of us, I’m the one who they both suspected would be the first to marry.” She gave him a wan smile. “Things don’t always turn out the way we expect.”
“Tell me about it,” he said with a gentle smile of his own. His gaze shifted to the little boy in her arms. “But sometimes those unexpected detours in life turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to you.”
The complete adoration in his eyes made her heart squeeze.
“A blessing in disguise,” Vicki said.
“Ball,” Mason said, pointing in the direction of the living room. “Ball, ball, ball.”
She laughed. “We were playing with the ball before the diaper change became mission number one.” She scooped up the towel she’d used to cushion Mason and tossed it on top of the overfilled clothes hamper before heading past Jordan on her way out of the bathroom. Her elbow brushed against his chest and a shudder went through her.
Pitiful!
“You are going to nap, right?” Vicki called over her shoulder. When he didn’t say anything, she turned and scowled. “Jordan,” she said in a warning tone.
“I will,” he said, following her out of the bathroom. “I just need to finish rerunning some polling data.”
“Seriously?” Vicki rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep going at this pace. This election is going to drive you crazy.”
“It already has.” He ran a hand down his face, the exhaustion in his eyes becoming more apparent with every second that passed. The man was dead on his feet.
“Maybe I’m missing something here, but if Oliver Windom can accept the election results, why can’t you? I don’t understand why you’re allowing this to consume you.”
“Because I messed up, and I can’t figure out what went wrong.” He shook his head. “I’ve been racking my brain, but nothing makes sense. It doesn’t matter how many angles I look at, I still don’t see how Darren pulled it off.” He pointed at the laptop. “According to my statistics, Oliver should have won.”
“Polling isn’t an exact science. No one really knows what happens when a person enters the ballot box except for that person.”
“I know there are margins of error, and I know that this race was close, but when I look at the districts that Oliver lost, it makes me even more convinced that there was some sort of tampering. Those were the ones that he should have won by the biggest margin.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s the math nerd in me, but I just don’t see how I could have been so off with the data.”
His pained expression was full of anguish. “I wish I could let this go, Vicki. I’m not oblivious to the rift this has caused between my family and the Howertons, and to a certain extent your family, too. I truly hope that it hasn’t affected the relationship between you, Sandra and Janelle.”
“We’re Switzerland,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s what Sandra told me, but still, it can’t be easy.”
No, it wasn’t. There had been an underlying layer of tension around the Victorian since the end of the election. Yet as much as she wished Jordan would drop this, Vicki couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he’d held to his convictions, despite the enormous pressure he was obviously getting from all sides to let this go.
“I doubt anything is going to change with the numbers in the next couple of hours, so why don’t you put that stuff away and get some rest?”
“You’re right,” he said. He lifted the laptop from the bed and set it on the tufted ottoman in the sitting room area. He turned to her and held his hands up. “I promise that I’ll sleep this time.”
“Good,” she said with a firm nod. A blue-and-white pamphlet caught her eye as she passed the dresser on her way out of the room. “Do you work with Mass Mentors?” Vicki asked, referring to the mentorship program she’d been a supporter of for the past few years.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I’ve been helping out there.”
“It’s a great program. I’ve brought in several of the kids to intern at Petals. They go out on deliveries and a few are even starting to learn floral design.”
“I didn’t realize you were involved with the program,” he said. His voice softened with appreciation. “That’s wonderful, Vicki.”
Their gazes locked and held for several weighty moments. Jordan was the first to look away, picking up a pen from the lap desk on the bed and tossing it on the nightstand.
“Uh, we didn’t discuss any kind of payment for the babysitting. How much...” His words trailed off and his mouth dipped in a frown. Probably because of the daggers she was shooting at him right now with her stare. “What?” he asked.
“Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?” Vicki asked, making sure her displeasure came through her voice. “I volunteered to watch Mason out of friendship. Don’t you dare suggest paying me, Jordan.”
“Sorry.” He held his hands up in mock surrender once again. “It looks as if I’ve made a world championship sport out of offending you today.”
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