Boone

  Boone

  Sweet Southern Charmers, Volume 3

  Lori Wilde

  Published by L&C, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BOONE

  First edition. November 6, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Lori Wilde.

  ISBN: 978-1393464815

  Written by Lori Wilde.

  Boone

  Sweet Southern Charmers Book Three

  Lori Wilde &

  Carolyn Greene

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Excerpt: Colton

  About the Authors

  Also by Lori Wilde & Carolyn Greene

  1

  “Let me get this straight. You want to advertise for a dad?”

  The two children, who’d introduced themselves as Bethany and Brad Thomas, gazed up at Boone Shelton, nervous disappointment in their eyes, as if they were afraid that he’d send them home before they accomplished their goal.

  Slowly, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Why were they advertising for a father?

  Bethany, the oldest, spoke up. She was around twelve and clearly the ringleader. “Actually, it’s for our mom. She can get dates—”

  “Yeah, but once they find out about us,” the boy piped in, hitching a thumb at his scrawny chest, “they don’t come back.”

  The girl nudged her brother with her elbow. “It’s not that we’re bad,” she hastened to reassure Boone. “It’s just that Mom wants a man who wants us, too. And she wants someone we’d like. So, this way we’d all be happy.”

  Boone leaned his back in his chair and propped an elbow on a pile of papers stacked at the front of his desk. When the receptionist had brought the children back here, amusement twinkling in her eyes, and sat them in his office guest chairs, he’d seen their nervousness.

  To put them at ease, he’d moved his chair closer to theirs so the desk wouldn’t be between them. Now he was beginning to wonder if he should just send them home and tell them to stay out of trouble. But that wasn’t his way.

  Besides, he was curious.

  “So, your mom sent you here to place an ad?”

  “Oh, no!” the girl replied. “We thought it up ourselves.” She exchanged a look with her brother. “Mom keeps telling us to be proactive, but she isn’t doing anything to find someone nice for herself. Or us.”

  Impressed by their audacity and initiative, Boone spread his arms wide. “But why advertise in the Bliss Crier? Why not set her up a profile on a dating site? That makes more sense.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Mom checks our browsing history. She gets weird about stuff like that. Besides, the Crier is delivered free to everybody in Bliss, and you’ve got an online version too, so nobody will miss our ad.”

  “Boy, will she be surprised when men start coming out of the woodwork!” The boy rubbed his palms together, and the kids exchanged triumphant smiles.

  Boone hated to burst their bubble, but he couldn’t allow the types of men who’d be “coming out of the woodwork” to just show up on these nice kids’ doorstep. Not only would their mother be displeased, but things could get unpleasant if some weirdo read the wrong message into their ad.

  “Look, why don’t you talk this over with your mother, and if she says it’s okay, come back tomorrow,” he said.

  “Aw, man!” The boy punched his fist and scowled. “She’ll just say no.”

  From her pocket, the girl pulled out a piece of paper folded to form a makeshift envelope. She opened it and took out two ten-dollar bills and an assortment of coins.

  “We’ve been saving our allowance. We would have had more”—she narrowed her eyes at her brother—“but Brad bought a candy bar yesterday.”

  Brad seemed unconcerned by his sister’s frown. He patted his tummy. “I’m a growing boy.”

  The girl got up and dumped the money onto Boone’s desk. “Is this enough to run the ad for three weeks?”

  Twenty-three dollars and forty-five cents wouldn’t get them very far, but somehow, he couldn’t break that news.

  Boone studied the children more closely. They certainly were determined to go through with this. Their expressions reminded him of the sneaker incident of his youth. When he was a boy, he’d watched a commercial of a kid running so fast he took off flying in the super-powered sneakers, and Boone had been convinced that owning a pair of that brand of sneakers would enable him to run so fast he’d take off and fly, just like the kid on TV.

  His mother could have simply told him it was nonsense to think a pair of sneakers would make him fly. Instead, she had let him find out for himself. He’d bugged the neighbors for odd jobs and earned the money for the prized sneakers. When he’d insisted on having a “test flight” in his new shoes, his mother had sought to soften his crash-landing by piling old blankets at the end of the takeoff ramp he’d rigged up in the backyard.

  Not only had she cushioned his behind, but she’d cushioned his pride and taught him a valuable lesson, as well.

  “Well,” she’d said casually as he’d rubbed his sore backside, “it looks like we can’t believe everything we see on TV.” In his young mind, he’d thought she was every bit as surprised as he was by the disappointing results.

  And now these kids thought an ad would bring them all they’d ever wanted. He didn’t have the heart to tell them it would bring more of the same kind of men their mother had already met, or that it might be ignored altogether.

  Most likely the latter. And in a weekly paper in a town the size of Bliss, Virginia, the ad would create more curiosity than tangible results.

  Boone thought once again of those flying tennis shoes.

  “Since you’re first-time advertisers with the Bliss Crier,” he said, returning half the money they’d given him, “you’re entitled to the first-timer’s discount. But there is one catch.”

  Both children looked up, suspicion darkening their brown eyes.

  “It has to be a blind ad. That means any, uh, applicants will write to you in care of this paper. They won’t know who you are unless your mother chooses to contact them.”

  The girl let out her breath. “Good. That way, we can weed out the pervs.”

  “Well, yeah, to put it bluntly,” Boone said.

  She blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  Boone grinned. These kids were something else. “So, what do you want the ad to say?”

  Bethany cleared her throat. “‘Help Wanted: Father. Strong, loving, dependable. Prefer someone as good-looking and as smart as our mother.’ Oh, and don’t forget, ‘Must like kids and animals.’”

  They’d obviously rehearsed it. Boone finished jotting it down and turned to Brad. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Yeah, but change it to ‘Help Wanted: Daddy.’” When his sister shot him a stern look, he explained, “A father is someone who goes to work, mows the lawn, and punishes you when you’re bad. But a daddy is someone who plays ball with you and lets you work on the car with him and takes you for ice cream on Saturday afternoon. That’s what I want … a daddy.”

  While they were in his office, the kids missed their school bus. Boone offered them a ride to their mother’s place of business nearby. But first, he made them call her to get permission to ride with him.

  He’d been a little surprised that she hadn’t asked to speak with him and had given her okay after only a moment’s hesitation. When he met her, he planned to take her aside and tell her she should be more careful about who she let those terrific kids ride with.

  As he drove, the children chattered excitedly about how many and what kind of people might answer their advertisement.

  They pulled into the parking lot at Cordaire Signs, and Boone felt his stomach do its familiar flip-flop at the name.

  Nixie Cordaire. The girl who’d grown up two houses away from him. The pretty, petite girl who’d captured his heart and tied his tongue. The problem was, in his adolescent awkwardness, he’d shown his affection by teasing her mercilessly, and she’d never liked him.

  Boone hadn’t had a chance to look her up since he’d returned home to Bliss after buying the Crier a couple of months ago. He wondered why she didn’t have a man in her life. He couldn’t imagine anyone overlooking a gem as precious as Nixie Cordaire.

  Maybe she wasn’t in the office. He hoped. When they did meet again, he wanted to be prepared so he’d say just the right things and didn’t fall back on the teasing.

  “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Shelton.” The kids climbed out of the car and torpedoed into the small building.

  Boone followed after them to the back office and found the kids talking excitedly with … her.

  He didn’t know how it was possible, but she was even more beautiful now than she’d been in high school. She was still petite—still had that same delicate bone structure and graceful way of moving that made him think of a ballerina. Her auburn hair was longer, though, and styled so it emphasized her heart-shaped face … from wide-set, golden brown eyes to a pointed chin that begged him to cup it in his hand.

  She looked up at him and watched him warily.

  “Little Nixie Cordaire,” he murmured. “Look at
you.”

  Nixie narrowed her eyes. Even after all these years, Boone Shelton was still treating her as if she were his kid sister.

  “I’ve grown up.” In case you haven’t noticed, she added mentally. “And my name’s Thomas now.”

  Boone’s eyebrows drew together. “Thomas Cordaire?”

  Nixie sighed and fidgeted with her small gold earring. He was doing it again. Deliberately teasing her. It seemed some things never changed.

  “Nixie Thomas,” she said.

  He glanced at her bare hand. “You’re divorced?” He couldn’t imagine any man being foolish enough to let her get away.

  “Widowed.”

  “I’m sorry.” The instant he said it, Boone knew it was a lie. Sorry for the departed Mr. Thomas, sure. But not sorry Nixie was available. He only hoped her husband had deserved her.

  “Mom, we decided to find us a daddy,” Brad blurted.

  “And we’re going to find you a husband,” Bethany added.

  Nixie’s startled gaze shot to Boone, then back to the kids. “You did what?”

  Boone couldn’t help himself. The years-old habit hit him as strongly as it had when they were children themselves.

  “Oh, come on, Nixie. You don’t need to pretend you knew nothing about your kids placing a personals ad for you.”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small O. Boone plunged recklessly ahead.

  “If you’d like, I could go through my phone book and fix you up with someone nice.”

  “Really?” said Bethany and Brad in unison.

  “Of course not,” Nixie admonished. Then her tone softened. “He was just kidding.”

  She looked askance at Boone as if to double-check that he had been joking.

  “Why don’t you two tell me what you were doing at the newspaper office?”

  After they gave their scrambled version of what had transpired, and Boone had offered his two cents’ worth, Nixie turned to him, one hand on her jeans-clad hip.

  “Boone! How could you?” She tossed her hair with one hand, as she’d always done when perturbed with him. “It’s one thing to involve me in your corny teasing, but to drag two little kids into your silly prank….”

  “I’m not little,” Brad insisted. He pushed up his sleeve and flexed his wiry arm to display a puny muscle. “See.”

  Boone picked the boy up and tucked him under one arm as casually as a businessman carries a newspaper. Brad giggled at the unexpected action.

  “It’s not what you think,” said Boone.

  “How could you allow—even encourage—the children to proceed with such an ad?”

  “Sometimes,” Boone began, “it’s best to let kids find out for themselves that super-power sneakers won’t make you fly.”

  “What?”

  Even Bethany, who was doodling on a pad of paper at her mother’s desk, stopped and waited for his explanation.

  “What I’m trying to say is that if I hadn’t let them place the ad, they would’ve been disappointed, and it would’ve squelched their initiative.”

  By now, Brad, still dangling under Boone’s arm, was moving his arms and legs in a slow swimming motion.

  “Aw, c’mon, Mom. Be a sport.”

  Nixie rolled her eyes. She could tell it would be impossible to make Boone see how foolish such a scheme was.

  “It’s a blind ad,” Boone assured her, “so no one will know it’s you. Besides, there probably won’t be many responses.”

  The kids were waiting expectantly for her answer.

  She worried that they might be disappointed when their plan failed. But they would be disappointed if she said no after all their effort. Still, Nixie wasn’t happy about being pushed into a corner.

  Finally, reluctantly, she agreed to let them pursue this crazy plan.

  “All right,” said Brad from his airborne position.

  Bethany beamed.

  Boone smiled. “It might be fun. And who knows, you may find the man of your dreams.”

  Nixie had a sickening feeling that this man of her nightmares held her love life in his brawny hands.

  2

  Boone tugged at the frilly pink dress that had ridden up around his waist. Under his stiff khaki pants, the pantyhose bagged around his knees and ankles. He resisted the urge to pull them up.

  Across the road at the elementary school, Cub Scouts and their parents gathered at the front door, waiting for someone to unlock it.

  He hated being late, especially when Scouts were depending on him. And even more so, when he’d talked Nixie into bringing Brad to watch the Cub Scout play rehearsal tonight. Maybe the kid would enjoy the camaraderie enough to join the pack.

  Boone patted his overcoat pocket to check for the key and sprinted across the road.

  Too late, he saw the blue sedan round the corner without slowing down. With the skill of a lifelong athlete, he leaped to avoid a direct impact. His body glanced off the front fender, then connected solidly with the hard pavement.

  His world went black.

  Talk about being in the right place at the right time.

  Nixie had stopped at the rescue squad building to check the training schedule before heading home, and that was when the call came in about a hit-and-run accident.

  Another had volunteer arrived while she was pulling on her jumpsuit. In a few seconds, they were on the road with sirens blaring.

  This time the victim was lucky. Jeff pulled the ambulance up at the accident site just four minutes after they received the call. Nixie hoped this kind of luck would hold out until they could recruit and train more volunteers.

  Jumping lightly down from the cab of the ambulance, she grabbed her bag and trotted back to where a dozen little boys in blue uniforms and neckerchiefs gathered around a man in an overcoat.

  “Excuse me, coming through.”

  Kneeling beside the unconscious form, she checked his pulse and respiration. Both were steady and strong.

  Nixie touched the man’s cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. The blond-haired giant she tended was none other than Boone Shelton.

  Briefly, she wondered if this was another elaborate setup for a joke at her expense. Fortunately, her paranoia left as quickly as it came. Boone would never joke about something as serious as this.

  She took another look at his massive body lying so still on the pavement, and it scared her. She’d never seen him so helpless and vulnerable before. Boone had always been the protector, never the protected.

  Nixie became aware of Jeff moving the crowd back, and she turned her attention to the lump on Boone’s forehead. She had to stay busy—partly to help Boone and partly to keep from reacting emotionally to the fact that the boy she’d grown up with was lying helpless before her and needed her more now than he ever had.

  He appeared to have some slight road rash on his hands and across his cheek, but the lump—and his unconsciousness—was what concerned her most. She pushed the shaggy blond hair off his forehead to closer examine the injury.

  Boone winced, and his eyelashes fluttered before they opened and focused on Nixie. “Well,” he murmured, “if it isn’t little Nixie Cordaire. Still taking care of people, aren’t you?”

  Nixie let out a big breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Boone? What are you doing here?”

  Boone cautiously glanced around him. “Presently? Lying in the middle of the road.”

  Jeff knelt beside her. “How is he? Should I call for the chopper?”

  “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Why don’t you get the gurney while I check for fractures?” Turning to Boone, she said, “Let me know if it hurts.”

  “You’ll be the second to know.”

  Aware of those pale-blue eyes watching her every move, Nixie felt almost shy as she ran her hands over his neck, shoulders, arms, and legs.

  Just pretend he’s the dummy you worked on in training class.