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“I’m surprised that you want to own a run-down sporting goods store.” Her eyes narrowed. The Luke she used to know would rather build and remodel the old-fashioned buildings in the downtown core, not own a business in one of them. He’d always had a talent for designing and building things. When they were kids, his derby cars were always the best in the race, and she remembered the lemonade stand he’d made her from the wood left over from building his sister’s tree house. The stand had been the summer hotspot for all their friends that year.
“We haven’t spoken in a long time. Maybe I’m not the same guy you remember.” Pulling a Swiss Army Knife from his jeans pocket, he tore into the remaining cardboard boxes, breaking them down.
Victoria watched him work. She had noticed the changes in him, despite her best efforts. Time had been good to him. He was bigger now, muscular and slightly wider around the waist. No longer the physique of a struggling architectural student. His face showed signs of maturity, but the fine lines around his mouth and eyes only enhanced his gorgeous, blond looks. The temptation to touch the five-o’clock shadow along his jaw was overpowering.
Luke straightened and his gaze met hers. “Besides, this store has a history in the community. That means something to most of us.”
Of course. Luke had worked in the store every summer when they were teenagers. Maybe his interest in preserving it made sense. “Okay, well I guess we should get to work.” She faked a smile, forcing her professionalism. She didn’t need or want to get to know this man over again. What she wanted was for him to sign her contract so she could get out of Brookhollow. “I’ll have an offer by Wednesday, but we should go over the preliminary paperwork as soon as possible.” She scanned the store for a place to lay out her documents. “The major chain store interested in purchasing Legend’s Sporting Goods is—”
Luke turned off the lights and unplugged the multicolored Christmas strand draped across the window. Only the glow from the pole lamp outside illuminated them.
“Do you prefer we do this in the dark?” she asked sarcastically.
He slid into his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. “I have dinner plans.” He stood next to the door.
The familiar scent of his musky cologne made her pulse race. She suddenly remembered the nights she’d fallen asleep in his T-shirt, when he’d been away at college, enveloped by that smell. “Tomorrow, then.” She opened the door and stepped out into the frigid air. “I’ll come by in the morning,” she said through the icy burst of wind and snow. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a silver monogrammed cardholder. She popped it open with a manicured fingernail and slid one of her cards free, handing it to Luke.
“Your card?”
“It has my cell number on it.” Her teeth chattered. The sun had almost disappeared and the temperature drop in the last half hour was significant.
“Victoria, this is Brookhollow.” He laughed. “I could stand in the center and call out to you, and wherever you are, you’d hear me.”
The rich, deep sound of his laughter wasn’t at all the boyish laugh she remembered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Anyway, let’s not test that theory. Use the cell number.” But he was right; the card was unnecessary. If he needed to find her, it wouldn’t be hard. She shivered again, wishing she’d packed a warmer coat. The pretty white cashmere did nothing for warmth.
Her cell rang in her purse and, tugging off a glove, she dug around in the side compartment until she found it. The office number flashed on the screen. Shoot. In her stress over returning to town, she’d forgotten to check in. “Hello?” she answered, turning away from Luke.
“Victoria, it’s…” Static scrambled the receptionist’s voice.
“Kim…Kim, you’re breaking up.” She moved a few feet down the street. “Can you hear me?”
“Victoria?”
“Yes, I’m here. Can you hear me?” Silence. Victoria held her phone up in the air, shook it then brought it back to her ear. “Kim?”
Call failed.
Small-town reception.
She sighed and turned back to Luke who seemed to be hiding a laugh behind his hand.
“What’s so funny?” She glared at him. She’d love to know exactly what aspect of this turn of events he found so entertaining. She glanced at her phone again. By now she suspected her would be full, as well.
Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, looking down the street. “Hey, check out your rental.”
She turned and gasped. A large amount of snow had fallen in the short time she’d been in the store.
“I have a snow scraper in my truck. Give me a second, and I’ll grab it.”
Victoria grabbed his arm to stop him.
His gaze fell to her glove on his sleeve, and she pulled her hand away. “No, that’s okay. I have one in the car.” She hoped. Rule number one in an acquisition: Don’t indebt yourself to the seller. She began to walk away, her toes icicles in her two-inch-heel boots.
Luke shrugged, checking his watch. “Suit yourself,” he said as he disappeared around the side of the building.
Victoria’s temple throbbed a she stood frozen in place, watching him walk away. This would be the hardest acquisition and opponent she’d ever gone up against.
Luke raked a hand through his thick, snow-covered hair as he made his way carefully on the slick sidewalk to his truck. Despite the below-freezing temperature, sweat pooled on the back of his shirt beneath his coat. Victoria Mason. He’d known she was coming. Had been expecting her, but certainly hadn’t been prepared for the sight of her. Even more beautiful than the photos he’d seen posted on her Facebook page.
She obviously still knew the happenings in the small town she’d abandoned two weeks before their wedding. Enough to know the store was in a transition, during which time it could be vulnerable. He’d never thought she’d be capable of something like this, though. The big city certainly changed people. The girl he remembered may have had a wild side and a stubborn streak, but she’d been kindhearted and well-meaning. The Victoria he fell in love with would never have considered pulling something like this.
She’d always been interested in the betterment of the community…and of him. If it wasn’t for her belief in him, he might never have considered applying to college after having struggled with academics throughout high school. The support and encouragement she’d always offered him made it impossible for him to stay angry with her now. But he didn’t understand how she could be back here to buy out his store.
How could she forget the contributions that Legend’s made to local organizations each year? Without the sponsorship programs provided by the store, the junior hockey team—the Brookhollow Blades—wouldn’t have the funding to compete against bigger-city teams. He wished she’d tried to pull this a year ago when Mr. Jameson had been in charge. Now Luke was forced to deal with his ex-fiancée himself. He prayed he was up for the challenge.
The store’s role in his own involvement with sports from a young age was the reason he’d agreed to buy it when Mr. Jameson had asked him about it a month before he’d passed away. Claiming Luke was the closest thing to family he had, because of the bond they’d formed while working in the store and their shared passion for sports, he’d sold him Legend’s for next to nothing. Luke hadn’t the heart to refuse. He just hoped the business generated some profit in the New Year, otherwise the overhead would cut into his capital.
Climbing into his truck, he turned the key in the ignition. The old engine resisted. “Come on…” he said, closing his eyes and trying again. The engine sputtered to life. If it lasted the winter, he’d consider himself lucky. He hated the idea of parting with the old beast. Good memories were tied to this truck—Victoria close to him as he drove, her hand tucked in his.
After all this time, he’d hoped he wouldn’t have reacted to her as he had. He barely thought of her anymore. Okay, that was a lie. He thought of her more often than he cared to admit. Thought of her smile, her laugh, her soft skin…how she’d left him, and how he’d been crazy to just let her go. Frowning, he turned the truck onto the quiet street. He’d been angry and hurt for a long time, but the emotions had turned to a dull longing. He’d fought every urge to contact her, despite the attempts of social media to reconnect them through mutual friends. He always found a reason to be out of town when there was a chance she might be coming in—Rachel Harper’s wedding three years ago…her grandmother’s funeral two years before that… Now here she was and there would be no avoiding her.
She would be gone before the week was over, but only if he gave her what she came for.
CHAPTER TWO
“Since when is Luke Dawson interested in owning an old sporting goods store?” Victoria asked her mother an hour later.
Sheila Mason bent to look through the glass of the oven door. Her light blond hair, streaked with gray, was tied in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and fell over one shoulder. The rich aroma of her chicken-and-mushroom casserole filled the kitchen. “I don’t know, dear.” The timer on the oven rang and she hit the off button on the stove.
Victoria paced the kitchen, biting her thumbnail. Her perfect manicure didn’t stand a chance of surviving the week.
“Stop biting your nails.” Her mother smacked her hand away from her mouth. “Can you hand me the oven mitts?” Opening the oven door, she fanned the blast of escaping heat.
Victoria opened the same kitchen drawer where the mitts had been for as long as she could remember. Nothing had changed here. From the antique table-and-chair set in the corner that had once belonged to her grandmother, to the lace curtains hanging in the tiny kitchen window, everything looked just as it always had. Even the advent calendar hung in the same spot on the wall near the window, where it had year after year. She remembered how excited she used to be on the first of December when they would fill the tiny squares with chocolate balls and count down the days until Christmas Eve. Despite the absence of children in the house now, her mother still kept up the tradition.
Victoria handed the mitts to her mother. “But I thought you said he was working for an architecture firm? And he usually worked out of town.” So many unanswered questions.
“I really don’t know. The store does mean a lot to Brookhollow.” Her mom shrugged, taking a knife from the block on the counter. “You’ll have to ask Luke those questions,” she said, cutting into the casserole.
Victoria’s stomach growled. “Since when have you become so tight-lipped?” she asked pointedly. Her mother would be the first one to admit she couldn’t keep a secret. She prided herself on being a source of information in town, even if that information wasn’t always accurate.
“Are you calling me a gossip?” Her mother faked an expression of shock. She set the knife in the sink and rinsed it. “Look, all I know is what I hear around town’ You know Darlene Dawson and I don’t talk much anymore.”
Victoria sighed. Her ignorance about what was going on locally couldn’t be blamed on her mother. She’d done her best to distance herself from the everyday happenings in Brookhollow. Over the years, she’d been successful in convincing herself that she wasn’t missing much. She grabbed a fork and sampled the casserole. “Oh, my God, that’s good.”
Her mother swiped her hand away. “Don’t pick. Your aunt and uncle should be here any minute and then we can eat.”
Her dad swung open the kitchen door and poked his head inside the kitchen. “Luke’s truck just pulled into the cul-de-sac.”
“What? You invited Luke? Mom, you can’t be serious.” Victoria dropped her fork onto the counter and turned toward her father. “And you—how could you not tell me?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” he said, quickly escaping the kitchen.
Turning, her mom set the dinner plates onto the counter and said, “Oh, relax. I saw him earlier today, replacing the burned-out bulbs in Ginger’s Christmas lights and he said he was looking forward to seeing you again, so I invited him to dinner.” Her mother shrugged.
“Mom, he is my ex-fiancé, in case you’ve forgotten. Not to mention my company is working for the store trying to buy out Legend’s.” She paced back and forth in the kitchen, frowning. How could her mother have invited him to dinner? How could he accept knowing the reason for her visit? And why hadn’t he said anything?
“Business is business, honey. I’m sure you two will figure that stuff out. But can’t you just put it aside for the evening and have a pleasant dinner with an old friend? I’m sure Luke has long gotten over the fact you left him at the altar.” Her mom waved a hand dismissively and busied herself with the pie she was making. “Even if his mother hasn’t,” she mumbled, rolling out the crust.
“I didn’t leave him at the altar.” Victoria stopped pacing, wondering how many times they’d had this conversation. Too many. “I called off the wedding two weeks before and, besides, he certainly didn’t try to stop me.” Memories of those last few weeks before her supposed wedding day were painful to recall. The stress of the preparations—her mother and Luke’s mother forcing her to taste wedding cakes and try on dress after dress—even though her heart wasn’t in it. The entire time, hidden in her bedside table drawer had been an acceptance letter for an entry-level position with Clarke and Johnson Acquisitions.
When she’d applied the summer before she’d never imagined the big New York firm would accept her application—she’d had only a two-year business diploma. But they had offered her a job and she’d had a month to decide. Keeping the offer to herself and struggling with her conflicting desires had created tension between her and Luke and had made her question her commitment to him. Their ideas about a life together had seemed worlds apart.
She’d chosen the unpaid internship with a dream of a future so different from the one he’d been planning, and left him behind. And he hadn’t tried to stop her.
Her mother waved a hand. “You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s in the past. At least I’ve learned to keep it there…unlike some people.”
Victoria shook her head. Her mother was impossible, and Luke’s mother would be furious if she found out. The two women, once best friends, hadn’t spoken since the day Victoria left town. According to her mother, she’d let the feud between them die, but Luke’s mother still held a grudge. The two avoided each other as much as possible in the small community.
The doorbell rang.
How was she supposed to sit at the same table with him, after everything they’d been through? She was here to do battle with him over a store. And this was supposed to be a pleasant evening? She peered through the glass opening of the kitchen door.
Luke shifted from one foot to the other on the front porch. Wearing clean jeans and his leather jacket, his short hair gelled into a spiky, controlled mess, he’d obviously gone home to shower and change.
She made no move to let him in. Why couldn’t he have gotten fat? Or bald? Or both?
“Victoria, go take off your suit jacket and brush your hair, while I get the door.” Her mom removed her apron and straightened her sweater.
Victoria held out an arm to block her mother. “I have a better idea. You go get pretty for Luke, and I’ll let him in. He may as well get used to seeing me at my worst.”
Victoria forked a lump of potatoes and savored the rich, buttery carb combination. No one used butter quite like her mother. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pile on a few pounds in her short visit. She pushed a mushroom around her plate, only half listening to the conversations around her. Her father, Uncle Frank and Luke discussed football statistics across the table and her mother and Aunt Linda complained about the new format of the Brookhollow View, the local newspaper.
“I can never find the movie listings or my horoscope. They keep shifting things from one section to another,” Linda said, shaking her head as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Uh-huh.” Sheila nodded in agreement. “And last week the flyer inserts were missing.” She turned to Luke. “How’s the casserole?” she asked as she poured him another glass of wine.
“Thank you. It’s delicious…better than I remember.” He smiled and shot Victoria a glance.
She lowered her eyes to her plate. Just get through this meal. Her mother’s attempt to create a blast from the past was working. From their favorite dinner dishes to the old picture albums of the two of them in junior high and high school she’d produced before dinner, the memories were overpowering as they came rushing back.
The last thing Victoria wanted was to remember. Remember the long summer nights in Brookhollow when they would drive for miles outside of town, cut the engine and lie on the hood of Luke’s truck, gazing up at the stars. Or the fall days when they’d walk hand in hand through the leaves in the park and kiss in the shelter of the big oak tree that held their carved initials inside a heart. She’d forced those special moments from her mind years ago, replacing them with new friends, exciting work, brunches and dinners in trendy restaurants.
“So, Victoria, your mom says you still play soccer in the city,” her aunt said with a polite smile.
She nodded. “Sort of. I play on the corporate team, just once or twice a year. Usually some sort of charity game against one of our clients.”
“Well, with you on the team I’m sure they win every time,” her uncle said.
She hesitated, not wanting to disappoint him. Of everyone in her family, her mother’s brother, a retired lawyer, was by far the most understanding about her life choices. He’d told her time and again how proud and impressed he was by the success she’d had in the city. “Um…well, we’re actually not allowed to win,” she confessed with a wry grin.
“Huh?”
“Apparently, it isn’t good for business.”
Uncle Frank cocked his head. “Well, that must be tough for you with your competitive spirit.”
She laughed and admitted, “Yes, it is.”
“What about your volunteer work—do you still keep that up?” her aunt asked. She didn’t pause for an answer. “You know they still have that Adopt-A-Grandparent program you started years ago at the seniors’ complex.”
Victoria glanced at her mother. “Yes, Mom mentioned that.” The Adopt-A-Grandparent program seemed to be the last thing she’d done that her mom was truly proud of. Victoria had had the idea for a seniors’ visitation program when she’d been to see her own grandparents as a teenager. She’d always stay much longer than planned, playing cards or watching movies with some of the other residents without family nearby. The idea of asking other kids from the school to visit along with her had started small, with just a few of her close friends baking cookies to deliver or helping plant flowers in the complex garden, but then it quickly grew into a larger program organized by the school principal.
“You were always up to something…could never sit still for long.” Linda chuckled.
“From what I remember, you were quite the handful sometimes, too,” Frank teased her.
It was to be expected that her uncle would bring up her long-ago antics. Despite her visits to Brookhollow over the years, she hadn’t spent much time with her extended family. Whenever she came to town for weddings or funerals, she stayed a day or two at most—the only time her busy work schedule would allow. A pang of regret hit her then. She should have tried harder to find the time.
She blushed as her eyes met Luke’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do,” her father piped up. “Should I remind you of the time you snuck into the science lab at the school and rescued all those rabbits you thought they were planning to use for experiments?”
Linda, a tenth-grade math teacher at the school, chuckled. “I remember that. The school had agreed to house them overnight while the local pet shop painted the bunny room. It was the only place in town big enough to keep all of them.”
Victoria winced as the others laughed. How was she supposed to have known? If the science lab had in fact been planning to use them for experiments, everyone would have praised her good deed. Instead she’d gotten a suspension for breaking the lab window. “I still think Mr. Douglas was up to no good,” she said. The twelfth-grade biology teacher had always seemed strange to her.
“Mr. Douglas is a vegetarian. He’d never hurt a fly.” Her aunt shook her head and wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye.
“I think my favorite was when you and Rachel tied yourselves to that big maple tree in the park, to save it from being cut down,” remembered Uncle Frank.
“That would have worked…if it had been the right tree,” she mumbled.
Another fit of laughter erupted around her.
Her mom stood and collected the empty dinner plates.
“Mom, sit. Let me clean up,” she offered, her chest tight. Please, let this be the only family dinner on this trip. All this talk about her childhood antics was taking its toll. No one seemed to recognize that she wasn’t that kid anymore. She’d actually made something of herself in the city. She no longer had time for volunteer work and sports…but it was because she was accomplishing great things. It was hard to feel proud of her success in the city when her family and friends in Brookhollow only seemed interested in her adolescent ventures. Collecting the plates from her mother, she pushed through the swinging kitchen door with her hip. She set the plates on the counter near the sink and leaned against it. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Oh, thank God. Her service must be back. She reached for it. A new text from a Brookhollow area code.
Do you need help escaping through the kitchen window?
Tension seeped from her shoulders and a genuine smile formed on her lips for the first time that day. She glanced from the kitchen window to Luke.
Now do you understand why I stay away?
