The Valentine’s Day Disaster Read online

  She didn’t have the heart to tell her assistant her new attitude was just a big dose of fake it till you make it.

  “Hey,” Jana said, her voice dry but her eyes full of mirth. “I think I have the prefect song for you to play when Josh gets up to strut his stuff on stage.”

  Sesty fell for it. “What’s that?”

  “Prince. ‘Kiss.’ ” She belted out an off-­key rendition. “Perfect lyrics, iTunes here I come.”

  “You’re enjoying my misery aren’t you?”

  Jana laughed with wicked glee. “Immensely.”

  SESTY SPENT THE rest of Thursday morning dealing with the logistics of the bachelor auction—­touching base with the auctioneer, proofreading the programs before Jana sent them to the printer, meeting with the organizers of Holly’s House to give them an update.

  No grass grew under Jana’s feet. She hustled social media with a buildup campaign that was now showcasing Josh as the premier bachelor on the auction block, and she was getting an encouraging number of retweets and Facebook likes on Twilight’s Web site.

  Meanwhile, Sesty was so busy that she almost forgot about Josh.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Just when she was completely absorbed in her work, he’d steal into her mind and rob a few minutes of her thoughts. In response, she’d snort, shove her bangs off her forehead—­brush that man right out of her hair—­and get back to it.

  A little after one o’clock she glanced up from her work and looked out the window at the stately courthouse Texas Monthly once proclaimed the prettiest town square in Texas. On a day like today, spring breathed across the land, whispering promises of flowers to come. Sesty didn’t fall for it. She’d been raised in North Texas, knew the untrustworthy weather could snap in a second. Summer was the only reliable season. It got blistering hot in June and stayed that way through September.

  Something else she wasn’t going to fall for was the man strolling across the courthouse square headed straight for her office.

  Her pulse did a little break dance.

  Monkey pudding. She wasn’t ready to see Josh again. Not yet. Not until she’d had time to sort out her feelings. After Sheriff Hondo had admonished them for breaking curfew last night and sent them on their way, she spent the night tossing and turning and spinning scenarios she had no business spinning. Seeing Josh before she was ready to deal with him would only compound her confusion.

  Get out of here.

  She snatched up her purse and barreled for the door, hustling down the hallway toward the back staircase that exited into the alley, her sensible pumps tapping out a hollow rhythm against the aged boards.

  “Sesty!” Josh called out from the front staircase just as she reached the rich oak banister in the back.

  Crap. How did a man with a bum knee move so quickly? Was he part ninja?

  “No time.” She waved a hand at him over her head without turning to look. “Appointment. Gotta go.”

  “Hang on, we can walk and talk.”

  She didn’t wait, plunged down the stairs, every nerve ending in her body throbbing with excitement and fear.

  Josh clambered down the steps after her. The man just kept coming. “I need to talk to you.”

  What? Did he need an anvil to fall on him to realize she did not want to talk to him right now?

  “Later. We’ll talk later,” she called, forcing cheeriness into her voice so he wouldn’t know how unsettled he made her, then broke through the exit door and out into the alley.

  She skirted a Dumpster, ignoring a fry cook from the neighboring restaurant who was lounging against the side of the building smoking a cigarette that did not smell entirely legal. The guy snubbed out his smoke, ducked back inside with a sheepish air.

  And damn if Josh wasn’t still following her. “About last night—­”

  Sesty stopped in the middle of the alley, turned back and raised a palm. “I have no memory of last night.”

  “Kiss amnesia, huh?”He smiled at her with a tenderness that almost stopped her heart. A grin bomb. Boom! He detonated it on her, knowing exactly what he was doing. He’d used it on her before, primarily the night he’d coaxed her out of her virginity.

  Not that she’d been that hard to convince.

  “What kiss?” She blinked rapidly, buying time to mentally vacuum ever speck of restraint she possessed as a force field against that smile.

  “Denying it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” he drawled, trying to reel her in with that sexy voice.

  She folded her arms over her chest. Knees, don’t wobble now. “Meaning what exactly?”

  “Meaning . . .” He looked flummoxed.

  “See? The kiss meant nothing. It was good. It was great. Okay, maybe the best damned kiss ever, but so what? In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “It means there’s something still there.”

  “Still where?”

  “Between us.”

  “No it doesn’t.” It was getting really hard to breathe with him staring at her like that. So much for inner fortitude. She spun on her heels, stalked away.

  His footsteps padded behind her.

  “Stop it,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Stop what?”

  “You’re skulking. Stop skulking.”

  “Then stop running away and talk to me.”

  “Fine.” She spun around, heaved a heavy sigh. “Talk.”

  “Apparently, I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He came closer.

  “Okay, now we’ve got that straight, let’s move on.”

  “I shouldn’t have,” he said, reaching out to grab her elbow before she could turn away again. The second he touched her, goose bumps froze her skin. “I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

  “Look, this doesn’t have to be a thing. Let’s not turn it into a thing. We’ll just shut up about it and move on.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” he insisted.

  “But I do.”

  “Are you saying that your world was not rocked?”

  “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she said, nodding her head so vigorously her dangling earrings slapped against her neck. “No rocking going on. My world was not rocked. In fact, it was the opposite of rocked. My world is solidified in cement.”

  “After I kissed you.”

  “That’s right.” She wished he would let go of her elbow and stop looking at her like she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

  “Then why did you invite me home with you?”

  “Do I do that?”

  He held up both palms. “My mistake. I thought since my world was rocked, yours was too.”

  Something shifted in his face, darkened his eyes. Disappointment? Her heart staggered, and it hit her with breath-­stealing rawness that this man, once known only for being the cockiest daredevil in Hood County, was now a NASCAR star and she didn’t stand a chance with him. Not long-­term. Not for happily-­ever-­after, and that’s all she’d ever wanted.

  So here’s the part where you just say hang it all and have wild monkey sex with him.

  “Nope.” She stubbornly hardened her chin. She could not let him back into her life. Soon as he was healed, he’d be back on that NASCAR track surrounded by adoring fans, zooming off without her. “Not rocked.”

  He inclined his head, his hair falling across his forehead. Why did he have to be so damn charming? “You sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Could it just be that you’re scared, because it’s understandable if you’re scared. Your boyfriend cheated on you. He burned a hole through your heart. You’re afraid if you let me in again, I’ll hurt you too.”

  She notched up her chin. “I’m not afraid.”

  He stared at her so hard it set her head spinning. “Really? Because
I am. I’m scared to death.”

  The vulnerability in his voice made her want to confess, tell him, Hell yes, I’m scared. You scare the living daylights out of me, Josh Langtree, because if I let you, you could break my heart into a million little pieces. He could hurt her so much worse than Chad ever had.

  “You don’t have to be scared,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. This too shall pass. Fill in the blank with whatever platitude works for you. Nothing happened but a kiss. We didn’t cross a line. No line was crossed,” she blathered.

  “But you wanted to cross that line. Last night. You invited me home with you.”

  “Momentary insanity.”

  He moistened his lips. His fingers were still locked around her elbow. Why wouldn’t he let her go? “You’re not the least bit curious—­”

  “No!” she said more emphatically than she intended.

  “My mistake.” His Adam’s apple bobbled like he was going to say something more but changed his mind and swallowed back the words.

  “Look . . .” She softened her tone. “It’s complicated. You’re on the rebound. I’m on the rebound. You’re only in town for a few weeks. I’m here to stay.”

  “Who says it has to be anything more than a good time?”

  Yes! Yes! Take me now! Her knees did start to wobble then. “I can’t, Josh. Not with you. If I slept with you—­”

  “What?” he pressed. His hand was so warm.

  “Nothing has really changed in ten years, has it? The same reason we didn’t work then is the same reason we wouldn’t work now.”

  “But the sparks are still there. You can’t deny that.”

  “Phenethylamine. That’s all it is.”

  “You’re right.” He smiled in a breezy way, but she wouldn’t lay any bets on the authenticity of it. “Phenethylamine. That stuff really sneaks up on you.” His short laugh was as undependable as the smile. “Twilight almost hooked me.”

  “Valentine’s Day propaganda will do it to you every time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just as long as you come to your senses and shake it off.” Her smile was as phony as his.

  “You make an excellent point.” He tightened his grip on her elbow the slightest little bit and then let go and stepped away.

  It was all she could do to keep from stroking her fingers over the skin he’d just touched. “Besides, you’re the hottest bachelor on the auction block. We don’t want the ladies believing I’ve been sampling the wares. Gotta get those bids up. Holly’s House is counting on you.”

  They stood there a moment, the rosy scent of the flowers from Caitlyn Garza’s flower shop on the corner mingled with the odor of overripe Dumpster. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

  “Where do we go from here, you and me?”

  She straightened. The event planner. The professional. “You still owe me thirty-­four hours of community ser­vice. Help break down the conference center after the bridal show is over tomorrow afternoon at five and set up for the bachelor auction on Saturday. That’s where we go from here.”

  “And then?”

  “There’s the auction itself.”

  “And after that?”

  “Why after that you’ll be off on a date with the woman who buys you.”

  Chapter Seven

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, February 14, eager brides-­to-­be from all around the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex descended upon Twilight. Cars filled the conference center parking lot as fresh-­faced young women rushed inside to visit the wedding vendors.

  Around the town square, kiosks had been set up to take advantage of the holiday.

  Flower carts sold roses; their crimson smell filled the air. Merchants peddled heart-­shaped jewelry engraved with mushy quotes. Lovers could have personalized cards made while they waited. A clerk from the Candy Bin passed out samples of heart-­shaped chocolate truffles. Perks had a sandwich sign parked on the sidewalk outside the shop: “Today’s Special: Sweetheart Hot Chocolate Half Price.”

  Every B&B in town was full. ­Couples, both young and old, strolled arm and arm around the square. Soaking it up, smiling dopily at each other, resting heads on shoulders, falling hook, line, and sinker for Valentine’s Day.

  Ah, phenethylamine, that wicked, wicked stuff.

  The morning started out sunny, but by noon the sky was overcast and the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees. Merchants scrambled to adjust, pulling out sweaters, wraps, gloves, and hats to sell.

  By five o’clock, when the bridal show ended, the wind was whipping across the lake, making the fifty degrees feel like thirty. The sky was so dark it might as well have been midnight, and the local weathermen were calling for a tornado watch. Tornadoes in February weren’t all that common, but they weren’t unheard of either.

  The previous year, a tornado had hit Twilight and lives were lost, and now everyone was edgy when it came to thunderstorms. Sesty counted herself lucky to have purchased a house that came equipped with a storm cellar in the backyard. But a tornado watch was only a watch. She couldn’t let the threat of a maybe storm keep her from getting the conference center ready for tomorrow’s auction.

  She dashed from her office to the conference center, a short three blocks away, but in the dark and cold it felt much farther. The kiosks had vanished, but the restaurants on the square were lit up and she could hear laughter and warm conversation spilling out as she hurried past, collar upturned, head bent against the wind.

  She arrived at the conference center to find Josh there with about twenty high school boys. They’d already broken down the vendor booths and were busy sweeping up. The cutouts she and Josh had built were stacked on the stage, ready to be arranged. Sesty stood in the doorway a moment, watching him with the kids.

  As he and the teens moved the chairs back onto the conference center floor, Josh instructed the boys on car maintenance and safe driving techniques. They hung on his every word. She was mesmerized by him too—­his depth of knowledge, how relaxed he was with the kids, the way the room just seemed brighter with him in it.

  He looked up and caught her studying him. Instantly, his face warmed and he straightened, setting down the folding chair in his arms. “Here’s the boss,” he told the boys. “We’re ready to start setting up for the auction. Tell us what you need for us to do.”

  “Everyone should go on home,” she said. “I appreciate your help, but with the storm warnings, I don’t want to be responsible for you kids getting caught out in it.”

  “But miss,” one kid said, “Mr. Langtree was gonna take us out for pizza afterward.”

  “Miss Snow is right. We’ll have to take a rain check.” Josh clamped a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Quite literally. Sunday night. Pappa Pastas. I’ll reserve the banquet room.”

  After a few disappointed mumbles and grumbles, the teens agreed and started arranging carpools to get home. Within a few minutes she and Josh were alone in the conference center.

  “Wow,” she said. “Where and how did you get the kids to help you? I thought it was going to take us hours to clear this place out, and you’ve already got it done. How did you manage it?”

  “Many hands make light work.”

  “Even so . . .” She swept a hand at the empty room. “The bridal show went until five, and it’s only . . .” She glanced at her watch. “. . . fifteen after.”

  “Because of the weather, the crowd thinned out around four, so most of the vendors left early.”

  “How did you get the set designs?”

  “Your assistant asked me to bring them over.”

  Staring into his mesmerizing eyes, she could barely think. What was Jana up to? “And the boys?”

  “I dropped by the high school this morning to see my old shop teacher, and he asked me to give a speech to the class. All it took was the promise of pizza and the boys were over here like a shot.”

  “It
wasn’t the pizza, Josh. It was you. Those kids look at you like you hung the moon and the stars and the Milky Way.”

  “They think it’s cool I crashed a two hundred thousand dollar car. Little do they know . . .” He tapped his injured leg.

  “Don’t undersell yourself. You’re good with them.”

  “Some might say it’s because I’m as immature as they are.”

  “You’re not.” She cocked her head. “You’re different than you used to be.”

  “Is that right?” His smile was Little Red Riding Hood wolfish.

  “You’re . . .” She canted her head, sized him up. Long and lean in his blue jeans and T-­shirt, so similar to the boy he’d been, and yet, not.

  “What?” he nudged.

  “You’ve wised up.”

  “Now that’s the kiss of death.” He put an index finger to his lips. “Shh, don’t tell the kids.”

  “In spite of the racing and the wrecking, you’ve got a head on your shoulders.”

  “Ah, Ses, don’t get all serious on me.”

  “I mean it. I didn’t realize it at first because you’re so good at the cool, cocky dude thing, but the celebrity stuff didn’t go to your head. I’m impressed.”

  “Oh, but it did. Be glad you weren’t around to see that. You would have hated me.”

  “I could never hate you, Josh.”

  “But you can’t lo—­” He broke off, shook his head.

  What had he been about to say? Her pulse thumped wildly. Her chest suddenly seemed too small and her heart too big. “Is something bothering you?”

  He put a hand to the nape of his neck, shifted a sidelong glance at her, opened his mouth, shut it again, hesitated.

  “What is it?” she prompted, uncertain whether she wanted to hear what he had to say.

  His hand moved to shove a lock of hair from his forehead, a boyish gesture accompanied by a cheery, photo-­shoot smile and a no-­big-­deal shrug that belied the weariness in the back of his eyes.

  Something was bothering him. “Josh?”

  “I don’t know whether it was the wreck or Miley screwing around on me or maybe that thirty is looming in my windshield, but as much as I love what I do, stardom doesn’t live up to fantasy.”