Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (11 page)

“No. I just hate that men manipulate women for their own agendas.”

Angie inhaled a deep breath. “It was a long time ago, Katy. Megan’s not sharing the whole story, and it’s not likely it even matters. But can we at least agree that all men are not like Kevin?”

Katy’s mouth took an unpleasant twist. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Megan said, but it wasn’t fine. When it came to Kevin, her feelings were just as confused and bruised as the day he died and the ugly truth started seeping out. That he’d not only lied, but stolen from her. “In my head I know that, but I just can’t forget it. I never want to feel that way again. And you’re right, Angie. I can’t go casting those stones against everyone I meet. Just because I don’t want to be in a relationship does not mean that it’s wrong for someone else.”

“My ex broke some big trust, but they aren’t all that way. It’s not always a gamble,” Katy said.

“Fine. But no one ever broke Noah’s heart.”

Angie started smiling. “How do you know that?”

“I asked.”

“Really? When? And how the heck did that come up in casual conversation?” Katy and Angie grinned.

“Stop grinning like that. It was nothing.” Megan regretted saying anything. “It came up last night. No one is that hell-bent against marriage without some reason. If that reason is in the form of an ex-wife or a broken heart, I get it, but there’s that whole breed of self-centered bachelors that require quick and early screening. I screened him.”

“If you’re not looking for a man, then why are you screening them?” Angie’s eyebrow rose so high it practically hid behind the swoop of her bangs.

“Public service.”

“You want someone in your life. Admit it.”

“No. I’m different. It’s in my DNA. I’ll never marry.”

“How can you even say that?” Katy asked. “Spinsterhood days are over.”

Angie said, “You don’t really believe that. Tell me you’re joking.”

“Look at my parents. They couldn’t make it work. If I take after my mom, then I’ll let a man walk all over me. And I almost did. Look what happened with Kevin. I was absolutely clueless about what was going on. I will not put my guard down like that again. And if I take after my dad, well, we all know his story. So why bother? I’m a divorce waiting to happen. No, thank you. Besides, I have a good life with a lot of freedom to do as I please. I like that. Why mess up a good thing?”

“It can’t be that bad,” Katy said with a laugh.

“Whatever.” Angie rolled her eyes. Megan hated it when Angie did that. “You’re just jaded. You never think straight when it comes to relationships. Kevin’s faults were Kevin’s. Not yours. And I still think if you ever let your guard down long enough to feel something, you’d feel differently.”

“That was deep, Angie. If I let my guard down to feel, I’ll feel something. No kidding. That’s the whole idea. Back to the real question at hand.”

“And off of the subject of you?” Angie said in a mocking tone.

“Exactly. Would you, Angie Millwood-Drinkwater-almost-Crane, ever consider living anywhere else?”

Angie let out a long sigh. “Boot Creek is all I’ve ever known. I didn’t even get to go away to college like the rest of you did. My whole support system is here. But my life will be with Jackson and I adore him, and so does Billy. I know we’d be fine no matter where we were.”

“Then all is well,” Megan said and Katy nodded in agreement. “Okay, so we’re doing girls night here tonight?”

“Yes!” Angie raised on tiptoe. “Please. It’ll be great. I’ll bring stuff to make margaritas.”

“And I’ll make my special
queso
dip,” Katy said.

“Great. I’ll bring some chips,” Megan said. “This will be fun. It’s been too long. You want us to pick you up, Angie?”

“I’ll probably come over early and help Katy.”

“Okay, we’ll be here around seven. That should give Flynn time to visit with her grandparents and get them fed before we come over.”

“This is perfect. Y’all are the best friends. You’re keeping me sane this week,” Angie said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s our job.”

“And our pleasure,” Katy said. “I can’t wait to fire up the media room. Derek went hog wild with it.”

“Great. I’ve got to run. I’ve got work to do today if I’m going to be playing with you gals all night.” She turned to leave then stopped and turned back. “Angie, don’t let those boys cast any doubts. I know I may not be the marriage advocate of the group, but I do believe you and Jackson are going to have a wonderful and long-lasting relationship.” And Megan meant it, but now those words had her worried. Not about whether Jackson was holding something back, she really didn’t think that was the case.

But did she really have a problem that was going to keep her from ever trusting someone? She’d never thought of it as a problem before. She was happy. Wasn’t she? Had Noah somehow gotten under her skin? Maybe a teeny bit? Were the girls right?

She got in her car and headed home with that niggling worry dancing in her mind. Was there more happiness out there that she was missing out on? She tried to picture her life differently. Imagining herself in Angie or Katy’s position, with a man who loved her and didn’t mind showing it. A true partner in every way. Could there be someone out there for her like that? She couldn’t even picture it.

She cranked up the radio.

I’m perfectly fine with that.

Chapter Nine

Megan had tossed and turned half the night. In her dreams, Noah’s eyes—
those gorgeous, dark chocolate eyes that seemed to lock in like he was gaining access to her mind
—had the power to access her thoughts.

Her pulse quickened. That dream had been sexy. Really sexy, and now that was a little awkward. How was she supposed to act around him after what she’d seen in that dream?

It was odd enough to meet a guy who seemed to be her doppelgänger from a behavioral standpoint. They had a lot in common, but the last thing she’d expected was to be dreaming about him. She wasn’t even interested in him. In anyone.

Lord, help me.

This probably wouldn’t have happened if she’d talked to the girls about Noah last night. But she was afraid she’d slip up and ruin the surprise about Billy’s room. And they’d been drinking. She sucked at keeping secrets when she’d been drinking.

Besides, they’d have jumped to the wrong conclusions for sure. She wasn’t interested in him like
that
. She just found him . . . interesting. He made her smile, and that was fun. Nothing wrong with fun.

But one thing did bother her.

Everything Noah had said mirrored her thoughts and beliefs exactly, but she questioned that. He’d seemed aloof, and a little too overconfident in what he’d said. Did she seem that way to others? She hoped not.

She remembered in psych class talking about how the things that trigger a negative response in you are the very things you need to work on.

Great. Now I’m psychoanalyzing myself. And based on one semester of a class I barely paid attention in. If that didn’t spell trouble, nothing did. And Kevin is not like every man that I’ll meet in my life? How can someone who’d been gone for so long still influence me so much?

She got out of bed and checked the weather on her phone. Another scorcher.

With a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt from the annual Blackberry Festival on, she tugged her hair up in a clip and then tucked her ball cap into her big purse. She’d want that when she was painting later, but her mom would have a fit if she wore a hat into a restaurant.

Mom has a lot of rules. She’d probably have a conniption over her not being dressed up to meet with Flynn and her grandparents for tea at Bella’s this morning anyway, but really no one else would even be there. Not like the queen was going to show up for a spot of tea. It was Boot Creek for goodness sake. And she had things to do today.

The heat hit her the instant she stepped out of her house, the humidity hanging from her like a winter-weight poncho.

She walked up the street and over to Bootsie’s Bouquets to pick up Mom. They’d walk over to Bella’s together from there.

Just as Megan crossed the street, her mom walked out of the store, looking at her watch. “I was getting ready to go ahead and walk over without you. Thought maybe I got the plans mixed up.”

Megan knew better. It was her mom’s way of putting her on notice for pushing the timeline. Mom always liked to be early. Poor Daddy had gotten the brunt of that passive-aggressive behavior when Megan was a kid. Now she was the sole recipient.

Lucky me.

“We’ve got plenty of time. Come on,” Megan said, hooking her arm through her mom’
s.
“How are you this morning?”

“Good. I have an order of flowers coming in this afternoon. I’m trying a new place. Can’t wait to see how they look.”

“That should be fun.” And just as she lifted her gaze from the sidewalk, Noah came walking toward them wearing a car-show T-shirt that showed off well-defined muscles she hadn’t noticed before.

“Megan?” The beginning of a smile tipped his mouth as he lifted his chin. “Good morning.”

Mom tugged on her arm. Megan knew she was dying to know who the good-looking man calling her name was.

“We are bumping into each other all over the place,” she said to him as they got within just about six feet of one another.

“Sure are. Am I going to see you today?”

Why did she find him vaguely disturbing? Like she wanted to see him, but didn’t? “I was thinking I’d text you when I’m on the way.”

“Looking forward to that.”

“Noah,” Megan said, trying not to screech from the pressure her mom was applying to her bicep, “this is my mother. Everyone calls her Bootsie. She owns the flower shop next door. Noah is in the wedding.”

“Hi, Bootsie. Very nice to meet you. Noah Black.” He offered a nod.

Mom tittered like a schoolgirl. “You must be the one from California? You’re too tan to be the Eskimo.”

He laughed politely. “Yes, ma’am. I’m the Californian, by way of Tennessee anyway.”

“What part of Tennessee? I love Nashville. Country music is my favorite.”

“I grew up just outside of Nashville. In Franklin, home to lots of the biggest country music stars.”

“You’re so lucky.”

“Well, I haven’t been back in a long, long time.” Noah said. “I’m surprised we didn’t meet the other night. I can see the resemblance between you two. Megan obviously gets her good looks from your side of the family.”

“Thank you,” Bootsie said.

Megan watched her mom nearly coo at the compliment. “We’re off to meet some friends. I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, steering her mom forward before she tried to invite him along.

“Sounds good,” Noah said.

Megan forged ahead.

“He is delightful.”

“He’s nice.” When Megan glanced back over her shoulder, he was standing there, watching her walk away. A little tinge of excitement raced up her spine.

“I think he likes you.”

“He lives in California.”

“But he’s cute. You think he’s cute, don’t you?” Bootsie exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “Well, I think he’s really very good looking. You could do worse.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Why her mom wanted to always fix her up with someone was beyond her. Look how bad her marriage to Dad had ended up. Why would she want that for her daughter? Of all the people who should understand why she wasn’t hot to trot to get into a relationship, you’d think it would be Mom.

They stepped inside Bella’s to see Flynn and her grandparents already seated at a table. The white tablecloth looked pristine against the dark wood of the walls. The table was set with perfectly matched china and goldware. Very elegant. A three-tiered porcelain tray held an assortment of bites to eat along with the requisite tea.

One level was nothing but scrumptious looking pastries in an array of colors—lemon yellow, strawberry red, an amazing carrot cake, and brownies with a dark chocolate glaze the color of Noah’s eyes.

Noah’s eyes? Stop.

She glanced over at Flynn who was staring at her. Megan hoped she hadn’t just said that aloud. She smiled and grabbed a lemon bar and held it to her nose, inhaling the citrusy sweetness.

Like her candles, each delicious nugget she picked up teased her with appealing aromas—herbs, fruits, and chocolatey sweets. She inhaled the tangy lemon and burst of sugar, maybe even a tiny hint of lavender, before nibbling the tasty bite.

Sweets and savory sandwiches were passed around the table as they chatted. Bootsie and Flynn’s grandparents filled in most of the conversation. As they started getting deeper into a conversation about the economy and the local mill closing down, Megan leaned over to Flynn and tapped her on the hand.

She looked up.

“What do you think of the groomsmen?”

Flynn’s features became more animated. “I think they’re great.” Her brow wrinkled. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Megan shrugged. “Of course, I mean they are all really different, but nice. I . . .”

“What?”

“They’ll be gone at the beginning of the week. I don’t know. I was just wondering if you were kind of interested in Ford? I mean, he seemed to be interested in you, but he lives in Alaska. That would just be crazy, right?” Or even if it was just California.

Flynn picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. “That’s just geography. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen no matter what. I’m going to enjoy the moment and not even think about it. Just let things happen. Kick a few doors open. If it’s right, they won’t slam back on my hand.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why not?”

Why not? Good question.

“Is this about me or about you?” Flynn asked, casting a direct challenge.

Megan stuffed a tiny quiche in her mouth to keep from having to answer. Unfortunately it was spinach and some kind of weird cheese that was more pungent than tasty. Thank goodness Flynn’s grandmother pulled them right back into the conversation. Perfect timing.

She hadn’t been here but a couple of times before, but Flynn was very close to the family who owned the place. He’d been a chef in Asheville, North Carolina. A big deal. But Megan was more the pizza-and-beer type. She could only do so much of this pinkies-up tea stuff, despite her mother’s wishes.

An hour was about the length of Megan’s sit-still span, and that had passed about twenty long minutes ago. She kept waiting for a moment where she could gracefully exit, but the conversation seemed to drone on without anyone taking a breath.

Finally, Bootsie stood. “Oh, goodness. I’m having so much fun that I’ve lost complete track of the time. I have a shipment coming in. You will forgive me, won’t you?”

Her mother looked panicked. But for once, Megan did want to thank her.

“We all understand,” Megan consoled her. “I’ll walk you back to the shop.”

“You don’t have—”

“I don’t mind at all.” She shoved enough to cover her mother’s and her own tab into Flynn’s hand. “Should be enough for the tip too.” She stood and pushed her chair in. “It was so great to catch up, and Flynn, I’ll see you tomorrow at the spa.”

“You sure will. I can’t wait.”

Megan waved and herded Bootsie right out the door.

“Slow down, Megan.” Bootsie said, half out of breath. “We’re not in that big of a hurry.”

Megan slowed down, and then it came: “What else do you know about that handsome Noah? I can’t stop thinking how nice he seemed,” Bootsie said.

She had half a mind to lie and tell her that he was out of prison on probation. That would shut her up. “Don’t know much about him. Just that he’s a car guy.”

“Like your dad.”

That’s all she said, and Megan wasn’t sure if that was meant to be good or bad. But since she didn’t drone on and on trying to talk her into pursuing him, she was perfectly happy with whatever it meant.

She kissed her mom on the cheek. “Have a good day, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

Bootsie unlocked the shop and took down the “Be Back In Thirty Minutes” sign that had been hanging in the door for the past hour and a half and probably would be back up in a little while when Bootsie took her lunch break. You could set your watch by Bootsie’s lunch hour. Hungry or not, she’d take that break.

Megan walked back to her place and loaded up a box with paints and brushes. She grabbed a box of chalk, a couple of pencils, and a sketch pad out of a drawer on her workbench.

She carried the box to the front door, and then set it down while she put on her hat. Checking herself in the mirror, she went back to her bathroom and applied a little mascara, which led to a little foundation and a little blush too. Some lip gloss and she was finally satisfied, if not regretting that she even cared.

She texted Noah, and he responded right back.

Megan: Sorry it took so long. Still need help?

Noah: Come on over. The guys went out to lunch, but I’m here.

Megan: Need me to bring anything?

Noah: Just your smile.

Can’t paint with a smile.
She shoved her phone back in her purse and carried her box of supplies out to the car and put it in the passenger seat. An unexpected swirl of excitement coursed through her as she got in her car to head over to Jackson’s house. Probably just the thrill of being part of the surprise.

But as she pulled into the driveway, that swirl picked up speed when Noah walked out. He’d changed out of his jeans into a pair of cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. A T-shirt that fit him just right. The logo, silver-foiled California Dreaming Restoration, had her doing a little California dreaming too.

“I brought some paints and stuff,” she said as she got out of the car.

“Great,” he said. “Can I carry something?”

“In the passenger seat.” With guns like that he could carry her stuff anytime.

He walked around and got the box then led her inside.

“Billy’s room is going to be the one at the end of the hall.”

She followed him, and then stood in the doorway with him. An empty canvas. The walls had been primed and painted a soft buttery yellow, giving the room a sunshiny look. Blue painter’s tape still covered the power outlets and wood trim.

“Is it dry?”

“Yeah.” He tugged a piece of blue tape from the switch inside the door. “I was getting ready to put the plates back on.”

“Well, let’s figure out what and where we’re painting. No sense in having to tape things up twice.”