What a Girl Wants

Ethan shot her an annoyed look and lowered his voice. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Bailey.”

“I appreciate your concern, Ethan, but it’s not your decision to make. We both know Uncle Doug would never leave this car stranded.”

She was right, and while he wanted to argue, he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Bailey had been on her own since she was seventeen. She’d lost her mom to cancer at twelve, and she’d been desperate to escape her family home where her father and two overprotective brothers had driven her crazy. Listening to the advice of others was not her strong point. She insisted on doing things her way. That stubborn independence was one of the things he liked about his friend, unless he was going up against it.

“Fine, it’s your shop.” He shrugged, but he couldn’t resist taking a jab at her. “Oh...and be sure to have fun tonight,” he said with a smirk as he hopped back into the fire truck.

* * *

ARRIVING BACK AT the shop fifteen minutes later, after dropping the frazzled Mr. Huntley at the Brookhollow Inn for the evening, Bailey wasn’t surprised to find the door locked and no one around. Nick wouldn’t be there unless he had to be. She let herself in and picked up the mail on the floor. Flicking through the envelopes, she was happy to see payments for work completed last month.

Her uncle had run the shop on an invoicing system for the town locals. Only out-of-towners were required to pay at the time of delivery and even then he accepted personal checks. When she’d taken over the bookkeeping and accounting side of the business several months before, there had been many outstanding, unpaid invoices. In a few short weeks, she’d collected on almost all of them and the shop’s finances were in much better shape. Unfortunately the surplus in revenue had been one of the reasons her uncle had been able to talk her into giving Nick the job as her apprentice that summer.

She pushed through the swinging door that led to the bays where two vehicles awaited paint jobs. Might as well get them ready for pickup and parked outside before bringing in the Jetta. Though she wasn’t sure what she could do to fix the old car. She’d try her best, but she suspected it was headed for the junkyard in town.

Sighing, she tied her hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, tucking the strands beneath her collar. Detail work was her least favorite job. She’d rather be under the body or peering under a hood any day.

Approaching the workbench where all the paint supplies and air-brush color cans were, she noticed several detail brushes in containers of warm, soapy water and six or seven spray cans in the trash under the desk. Had Doug come by and completed the work himself? Since retiring, he sometimes came by to tinker with a vehicle or two. Bailey suspected he was going crazy at home with nothing to do. However, she couldn’t remember the last time the older man had taken on any paintwork, claiming his less-than-rock-steady hands and less-than-perfect eyesight couldn’t be trusted anymore.

Bailey flicked the light switch on the wall to see the vehicles more clearly. Checking the work order, she approached the first one. A Toyota Corolla brought in a few days ago by Mrs. Norris. There had been body damage to the left side of her front bumper after she’d hit a newly placed concrete divider in the grocery store parking lot. Inspecting the bumper, she was shocked to see the expert paint job. Doug could claim he wasn’t as good as he used to be, but his work rivaled hers any day. The second vehicle, a Ford Focus that belonged to Dr. Carson, the local pediatrician, was done with the same precision and care. Bailey felt herself relax. One less thing to worry about.

* * *

ETHAN STRAINED UNDER the weight of the three cases of beer he balanced on his forearms as he continued to wait in the long line at the liquor depot. The beer-can-shaped clock hanging above the register revealed it was six-thirty. The men would be arriving at the station in less than an hour. The blood pressure and cholesterol screening had gone on past five o’clock, putting them a little behind in their bachelor-party preparations. Each month there seemed to be even more women in Brookhollow coming to the free clinic, and today he’d even caught a few getting in line for a second time in one day.

He loved his involvement with the local fire hall and its contributions to the town. His father was the head of the police department in Brookhollow, and his older brother, Jim, and he had inherited their dad’s sense of pride and responsibility for the community. As kids they’d spent a lot of time at the police station and the fire hall, learning about the trucks and the duties of the fire chief and crew. As soon as they were old enough, they’d signed on to become firefighters.

The line moved, creating an empty space on the conveyor belt, just as his grip slipped from the side of his load. That was close. As he set the beer down and rubbed his aching forearms, his eye was caught fleetingly by a blonde disappearing at the far end of the store’s middle aisle. Emily? His mind raced, but his feet remained frozen to the floor as he leaned around the end of the register to try to catch another glimpse. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. She’d just called a few hours ago from Miami. Just pay for the beer....

“Just a second,” he told the clerk as he moved past the other customers waiting in line behind him. “Go ahead and take the next person.” Quickly he made his way toward the center aisle. “Emily?”

The woman turned immediately and smiled when she saw him. “Ethan, hi. How are you?” Emily’s younger sister Kimberly rushed forward to hug him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before wrapping one arm around her in a brief hug. The sisters wore the same perfume.

“Hi, Kim. Sorry, I thought you were...”

“Emily. I know. I’ve been getting that a lot since I highlighted my hair.” She tossed the wavy golden locks over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

Ethan flinched, hating that look. It had been the only way anyone had looked at him for months after Emily had left, and he’d felt uneasy to be on the receiving end of sympathetic smiles and gossipy whispers.

“No, don’t apologize. I should have known anyway—Emily always wore her hair straight....” He coughed. Not doing a great job recovering here, man. Get a grip. “Anyway, how is she?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was hopeless. “I mean you. How are you?”

Kimberly gave him a knowing look. “She’s good...I think,” she said with a shrug as she reached for two bottles of merlot from the shelf. “I mean, she hardly calls, but she texts me every few days.... She was just offered a promotion to the senior management team—corporate trainer, I think.” She paused, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry if all of this is hard to hear.”

“No,” Ethan lied. Of course he was happy that she was doing well, wasn’t he? “I’m glad she’s doing okay. How’s everyone else?”

“My parents just got back from a Caribbean cruise and I’ve been accepted to the media-design program at NYU for the fall semester.”

“Wow, Kim, that’s great.” He really meant it.

“Thank you. You know, that invite to dinner always stands. With or without Emily, you’ll always be part of the family.”

Ethan shuffled his feet, avoiding the sympathy in her ocean-blue eyes—Emily’s eyes. Just one of the features the sisters shared.

“Tell your folks I said hello....” He wasn’t ready to commit to anything with the family just yet. And though he suspected Kim might be genuine in the offer, he wasn’t sure Mayor and Mrs. Parsons would be as comfortable seeing him. Part of him believed they held him responsible for the relationship breakdown. Who knows, maybe they were right. His unwavering commitment to life in Brookhollow hadn’t made Emily happy. “And maybe think about changing that hair color, huh?” he teased.

“I promise to think about it,” she said, struggling to grab another bottle of wine from the rack.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, picking up the extra bottle. “Having a celebration tonight?”

“Victoria’s bachelorette party at the B and B. Actually, it’s a bridal shower, but they’re calling it a bachelorette party to make it sound more fun.” Kimberly followed him to the counter.

“Well, then, allow me.” He waved Jim’s credit card in the air. “Consider it a gift from the best man,” he said as he took the wine from her and added it to his own items on the counter.

CHAPTER TWO

JIM PROPPED OPEN the west entrance door of the fire hall with a brick as they carried the cases of beer into the fire hall later that evening. He plucked the receipt from the top case and shot his brother a questioning look. “What’s this wine on the bill?”

“I ran into Kim Parsons at the liquor depot. She was picking up wine for Victoria’s bachelorette party. I took care of it.... Rather, you took care of it.”

Ethan shut the back door of the Jeep. His brother, Jim, had been friends with Luke Dawson since grade school and he knew, despite his grumbling, Jim had been honored when Luke asked him to be his best man.

“Last time I send you to get the booze,” Jim huffed as Luke’s truck pulled into the driveway of the fire hall. The old clunker rattled and gurgled as Luke cut the engine and a dark puff of exhaust escaped the tailpipe.

Ethan watched in amusement. “What happened to his new truck?” Owner of a successful architecture firm that had contracts in New Jersey, New York and Boston, Luke had bought a new Ford F-250 just before Christmas, but whenever Ethan saw him, he was driving that old beater.

“Victoria is using it. As long as Bailey keeps reviving that thing, he’ll keep driving it,” he said, nodding toward the truck where Luke was trapped inside, struggling with the door handle.

“Must be love,” Ethan said. “So explain to me why Luke and Victoria are holding their prewedding parties so early. The wedding isn’t for another month.” His brother’s longtime best friend had gotten engaged for the second time to his childhood sweetheart on New Year’s Eve and the wedding was scheduled for the Labor Day weekend.

“Luke’s out of town a lot working on that restaurant in Boston for the next few weeks. His crews are under a tight deadline for a grand opening the first weekend in September. This was really the only time we could do it, and holding it at the fire hall made sense because I somehow got stuck on night rotation this weekend.” He turned as Luke entered, a case of beer under his left arm. “Hey, man. You weren’t supposed to bring your own drinks,” Jim said, taking the beer from him and putting the bottles in the cooler filled with ice near the poker table.

“My mother says you shouldn’t go anywhere empty-handed. Hey, great setup.” Luke scanned the transformed fire hall. A poker table stood ready to go, stacks of multi-colored chips at each place. A dartboard hung on the wall and the scoreboard had each of their names already written in white chalk. The old tan leather sofa and matching recliner had been moved to the side of the room and a small flat screen was set up on the coffee table. The first inning of the baseball game lit up the screen.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to run out to get the pizza and wings before my shift starts,” Jim said, grabbing his truck keys from the hook on the wall near the door.

Ethan glanced at the clock on the wall. “Your shift started five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but I’m usually fifteen minutes late, so technically I’ve got ten minutes,” Jim said as he disappeared out the side door.

“Can’t argue with logic like that,” Luke said.

“Brother or not, I’m going to have to start writing him up.” Ethan shook his head. “Anyway, ready to get wild and crazy?” he asked, slapping Luke on the back.

Luke laughed, suppressing a yawn. “As long as we’re done by ten. I’m exhausted.”

“Working a lot these days?” Ethan stocked the small bar fridge with extra beer, removing bottles of water and Gatorade to make more space.

“Around the clock. This restaurant chain I’m working on has me commuting to Boston three or four times a week. And then I’m helping Vic plan the wedding....” Luke pulled out a chair at the poker table and sat. He reached for a chip and flicked it between his fingers.

“I thought women loved to do all the wedding planning themselves?” Ethan opened a beer and handed it to Luke. “A game of darts before everyone else gets here?”

“Sure.” Luke headed over to the board and took out the darts. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. When I say helping, I mean acting as a buffer between our moms.” He handed Ethan three red darts, keeping the blue ones.

Ethan gestured for him to throw first.

Aiming carefully at the bull’s-eye, Luke released the dart with one easy, smooth motion. It landed in the black zone just millimeters from the center.

“Nice,” Ethan said, positioning himself for his turn. “But I thought your mom and Mrs. Mason were getting along again.” When Victoria had called off their wedding years before, it had created a feud between the mothers, one that had lasted over twelve years, but the couples reuniting last Christmas had brought the two women close again. Ethan threw his dart, landing it square in the bull’s-eye.

Luke let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

“We have a lot of downtime,” Ethan explained.

“Our mothers are getting along, until there’s a decision to be made about flowers or cake....” Luke shook his head. “I swear they call Victoria at least four times a day. Then, of course, she calls me.”

“Women. I don’t know how you survive.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful she agreed to marry me—again. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her down the aisle this time,” he joked. “She left me once—twice actually....” he corrected, releasing his last dart. “I won’t be letting her go this time.” The dart missed by a mile and he turned to Ethan. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Ethan said, tossing his final dart and reaching for his beer.

“You know, Victoria still feels partly responsible for the whole Emily thing. She says so all the time.”

“What?” Ethan shook his head as he removed his darts and wrote the scores on the board. “She shouldn’t. Emily leaving town had nothing to do with her.”

“Well, if Play Hard Sports hadn’t come to town...”

“Look, tell your pretty fiancée she has enough to worry about with running the bed-and-breakfast and planning the wedding. Besides, if it hadn’t been the executive from Play Hard Sports, someone else would have caught Emily’s eye eventually. She hadn’t been as committed to our relationship in the months before she left.” Ethan shrugged. “Victoria did a good thing. I know better than anyone about the positive impact that Play Hard has had on the community.”

He was the first to admit that the big chain store had improved the town’s sports facilities, paying for an extra rink at the hockey arena and maintaining the soccer and football fields.

“Yeah, but you’ve also taken the biggest hit on your personal life because of it.” Luke took a sip of his beer and waved to John Bentley, a member of their bowling league, who had just entered the fire hall.

“Ah, it’s been six months. I’m done feeling sorry for myself.”

His cell phone chimed in his pocket with a new text message. Bailey’s familiar ringtone. He opened it and read Get me out of here. “It’s Bailey.”

Luke turned to look around the room. “Hey, where is she?”

“At the B and B.”

“Oh, man, didn’t anyone tell her she’s welcome here tonight?” Luke said. “She took a bunch of my money last weekend playing pool. I was kind of hoping to get some of it back at poker.”

“Or lose even more.”

“Good point.”

* * *

“THANKS FOR YOUR help cleaning up, Bailey.”

Rachel Harper, coowner of the Brookhollow Inn, carried another load of dirty dishes into the newly remodeled kitchen of the bed-and-breakfast. In the past six months, Brookhollow’s historic landmark had undergone a complete makeover thanks to the new ownership team of Victoria Mason and Rachel Harper. The main common areas and guest quarters had been freshly painted and the original hardwood floor refinished. The chipped stained glass windows had been replaced with large bay windows, complete with a window seat and lined with small bookshelves for the enjoyment of their guests. The living quarters had been transformed into a home for the Harper family of mom, dad and five kids.

The dishwasher was already running with a full load, so Bailey stood at the double sink washing dessert plates. The stack of plates, cups and cutlery piling up on the granite counter seemed never ending. The turnout had been even better than expected—Victoria Mason was well liked in Brookhollow.

“No problem,” Bailey assured her.

Victoria entered the kitchen with several empty wine bottles gathered in one arm and a big garbage bag of discarded wrapping paper from the shower gifts, which were now stored inside the gazebo in the yard. She tossed the bottles into the blue recycle bin and dropped the bag near the kitchen door. “Thanks, Bailey,” she said, reaching for a dish towel and a handful of cutlery.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be cleaning up after your own party,” Rachel chided, taking the dish towel from her. “Go sit. We’ve got this.”

“I’m not arguing.” Victoria surrendered the towel and slumped into a wicker chair at the table with a yawn. Glancing at her watch, she gasped. “What? Nine-thirty, that’s it?” Her emerald-green eyes were wide with disbelief. “We must be getting old. The sun’s not even completely set and I’m done.”

“We’re not old, we’re responsible,” Rachel defended, abandoning the dishes and joining her at the table. She reached for a half bottle of white wine and said, “Bailey, come sit. Have a drink with us. We’ll finish cleaning up in the morning.” She poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and took a sip before handing the bottle and an unused wineglass to Victoria. “I’d forgotten how much I missed wine.”

Bailey dried her hands on a dish towel and pulled out a chair at the table. With the fire hall off-limits to the female species that evening, she really had nowhere else to go.

“Wasn’t I right about that breast pump?” Rachel’s sister-in-law, Lindsay Harper, entered the kitchen with a bowl of veggie straws and dip.

“Yes. I never used one with the other children, but it’s been a lifesaver this time with the girls.” Rachel’s eight-month-old twins, Abigail and Mackenzie, were the most recent addition to the Harper clan.

Bailey glanced between the women, almost afraid to ask. “Breast pump?” It didn’t sound like something she wanted to know about, but she suspected she was about to get an education.

Victoria handed her the bottle of wine. “Don’t worry, I knew nothing about mommy life eight months ago, either.” She turned to Rachel and Lindsay. “And you know what, ladies, I think we should allow Bailey to live in her wonderful breast-pump-and vomit-free oblivion a little longer. I’m actually dying to hear about her exciting single life.”

“Definitely a better topic,” Lindsay agreed, climbing onto a kitchen stool at the counter and reaching for a carrot stick.

“What do you mean, Lindsay? You’re single, too, and I’m sure you have better stories,” Bailey said, desperate to take the attention off herself. Lindsay, a nurse at the medical clinic in town, was known for her serial dating and late-night partying. While Bailey refused to date just anyone, hoping to find the right person, Lindsay adopted a different approach. The voluptuous blonde believed you had to kiss a lot of frogs before finding Mr. Right.

But Lindsay just shook her head. “Not lately. My shifts at the clinic have been crazy. All I do is work and sleep. So come on, let us live vicariously through you.”

Bailey stretched in the wicker chair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve got nothing to report.”

“That can’t be true,” Lindsay protested. “You’re always with the men. I know for a fact you have a VIP card to the fire hall.”

Not tonight.

“And weren’t you dating Jonathan Turner for a while?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, that didn’t work out.” Jonathan was a great guy, but they had very little in common. He was bookish and serious and she was a grease monkey who loved loud music. Their three weeks of dating had confirmed one thing for sure—compatibility was key to a successful relationship.

“Why not? Jonathan’s gorgeous and so sweet,” Victoria said, standing and pouring a cup of coffee.

The phone rang on the wall and she checked the caller display as Rachel reached for the cordless on the table. “Don’t!” Victoria said.

Rachel froze.

“It’s my mom,” Victoria explained. “Since leaving here an hour ago, she’s texted me three times about different types of fabric for the wedding dress. I’m ignoring her.”

“Understood,” Rachel said, letting the phone ring. “Although, Vic, you really do need to make a decision about your dress. I know the B and B and your position on the New Jersey tourism board have kept you busy this summer, but you need to take some time to focus on you for a bit. All of the other wedding details have been sorted out, except that one. Your mom is a fantastic seamstress, the best in town, but even she can’t perform miracles.”

“I know, I know. It’s just every time I think I’ve decided on a style, I see something else I love even more.... I just want to look perfect, you know?” Victoria waved a hand and turned to Bailey. “Anyway, back to Jonathan....”

“Um...we’re just too different,” Bailey said with a shrug. “I mean, he spent most of our date trying to convince me that my motorcycle is too dangerous and that I should buy something safer.” Bailey knew she was more vulnerable on a bike, but in a small town like Brookhollow where traffic was minimal, the bike was often the only vehicle on the road, especially in the early morning when she started her shift at the garage.

“He was concerned about you—that’s a nice thing,” Rachel pointed out.

“There were other things, too—he said the UFC was barbaric.” She just couldn’t date someone who didn’t like the Ultimate Fighting Championship. She watched it all the time, knew all the fighter stats and even trained in mixed martial arts with her younger brothers at Extreme Athletics.

“Again, not exactly an invalid point,” Victoria pointed out.

“Either way, it’s important for me to date someone with similar interests, but then most of the guys in town just see me as one of them.” A no-win situation. “In fact, they even invited me to Luke’s bachelor party tonight.”

The women gasped and exchanged looks.

“What?”

Victoria sipped her coffee and Rachel toyed with the edge of a paper napkin. Even Lindsay held her tongue.

“Come on... What?”

“Well, I guess we all just figured you had your pick of them,” Victoria said.

“Yeah, I mean, look at you.” Lindsay stood and tugged an old elastic band from Bailey’s hair. The loose, dark waves fell around her thin shoulders. “Look at this beautiful virgin hair. I’d kill for these thick, healthy strands.” Lindsay’s voice was filled with pure jealousy as she examined Bailey’s hair. “Nope, not a split end to be found, despite using elastic bands.” She dropped Bailey’s hair and crossed her arms.

“And you’re in great shape, too. I’d kill for your flat tummy,” Rachel said, frowning as she touched her own stomach.

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right one, that’s all,” Bailey said. The challenge had never been finding someone interested in her, it was finding someone who could hold her interest. She wanted someone who made her laugh, someone she could have fun with but who also understood her need for independence and admired her strength. She wasn’t prepared to change who she was just to fit someone else’s idea of the perfect partner.

“Okay, well, if you aren’t seeing anyone, who have you been texting all night?” Rachel asked. “I saw those smiles, and it definitely wasn’t a female friend.”