The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3) Page 10

  PJ reached for another slice of pizza and set it on her plate. Cappy’s Pizzeria was a far cry from The Grille, with its dark paneling, red vinyl booths, and questionable salad bar. Still, the blaring TVs, active pool tables, and lively atmosphere invited friends to come hang out. Since it was her night off and cooking wasn’t on her agenda, it fit the bill. She deserved a break from the hectic pace she’d been keeping.

  Across from her, Ryan signaled the server for another Coke. She’d invited their siblings, but Jade and Daniel were eating with his parents, and Madison and Beckett were having supper at Layla and Seth’s place.

  “So what are they like?” Ryan asked.

  “The kids?” PJ shrugged. “Loud. But in all fairness, anything overhead would probably be loud. The girl seems nice. She reminds me of a cherub, kind of all round and soft with these cheeks that you want to pinch—not that I would. And the guys seem pretty cool. One’s kind of quiet, and you get the feeling he doesn’t miss much. The other one’s really outgoing.”

  She bit into her pizza, unconsciously appreciating the tangy sauce with its blend of garlic, oregano, and basil with just a hint of cayenne pepper.

  She remembered the applications she’d sorted through with Cole. Sometimes she wished she could forget them. The details of Shaundra’s had stuck with her for some reason. The girl had been molested by four family members before she’d ended up in foster care at age fourteen. She had a learning disability and struggled in math, and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.

  “What’s with the face?”

  PJ lifted a shoulder. “Those kids . . . I helped Cole sort through the applications, and—”

  “You helped the competition?”

  PJ gave him a look. “It was the least I could do after he saved my rear end on opening night. Anyway . . . it’s just really sad what these kids have been through, you know? Josh, the quiet one, arrived yesterday with a garbage bag full of stuff. That’s it. All he had.”

  “Wow.”

  “And I just—” PJ shook her head. “It’s hard to fathom, that’s all. The other two probably didn’t have much more. Their apps were heartbreaking, all of them. I don’t know how he narrowed it down.”

  She bit into her pizza, but the flavor had lost its appeal. She washed it down with a sip of root beer.

  “Have you heard from Mrs. Simmons?”

  “She calls regularly to see how things are going. Called to congratulate me on the great opening. I’m sure she’s getting updates from Cole too.”

  “What’s going to happen if you win?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To the kids.”

  “What do you think will happen?” She hadn’t meant to snap, but who liked the thought of putting disadvantaged kids out on the street?

  “I just meant, will Cole move Crossroads somewhere else?”

  “Oh, sorry. No, the overhead would kill him. He doesn’t have the funds for that.”

  They’ll be almost nineteen by then, out of high school. Independent.

  “Tough break,” Ryan said.

  “If I win, Wishing House will employ locals and serve as much-needed housing for the community.”

  Ryan put both palms out. “Hey, I’m on your side. You’re my sister, remember?”

  But what about all the other kids?

  PJ was relieved when the conversation turned to Ryan’s job. But even as she drove home along the winding curves against the river, she couldn’t shake his question from her mind.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TALKED ME INTO THIS,” RYAN SAID.

  PJ walked him out the door of her restaurant and onto the back porch. She’d had six students in her first cooking class, including Ryan—she’d worked her charm on him at Cappy’s on Sunday.

  “You’ll thank me later when you’re whipping up meals for women and they’re begging for more.”

  “I don’t have the qualifications to be here.”

  She jabbed him in the stomach with her finger. “It’s Cooking 101. The only prerequisite is that you like to eat, and you definitely qualify. Besides, you prepaid, and if you quit I’ll think I’m a lousy teacher.”

  A low growl escaped his throat.

  She patted his cheek. “Go home and get to bed. You’re overtired and cranky.”

  After he left she sank onto the porch swing. Darkness was falling fast. She’d probably be eaten alive by mosquitoes, but the fresh air felt so good. The flower garden around the porch shared its fragrances, a sweet blend of begonias and phlox. There was just enough light to see that the bed was already overgrown. She’d been too busy since The Grille opened to handle her end of the landscaping.

  And how are you going to stay afloat if you have a B & B to run next year too? As busy as she was now, she couldn’t imagine being responsible for those rooms and the guests. You won’t be able to handle it, PJ. You’ll be in over your head.

  The back door creaked open, and Cole came out.

  “Smells good in there.”

  “Basic spaghetti sauce. My first cooking class.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Nobody burned down the kitchen, and they’re coming back next week—even Ryan.”

  “You suckered your brother in?”

  “Hey, he needs to learn his way around the kitchen.”

  “Your idea or his?”

  She notched her chin up. “It was mutual—after a little convincing.”

  Cole sank onto the chair across from her, stretching out his long legs to the edge of the porch. He scanned the backyard, no doubt watching the night’s first fireflies. The porch light gave his skin a golden glow, and he wore a couple days’ stubble on his jaw. A shadow settled into the subtle dip over his upper lip. His lower lip was pleasantly full, soft looking, like it was made for a delicious kiss.

  He turned and caught her staring.

  PJ looked away, cleared her throat. Darn guy was too handsome for his own good. She’d overheard a couple of the single ladies in tonight’s class whispering about him. They’d probably signed up hoping to get a glimpse of him, but he was pretty busy with the kids these days.

  “How goes it upstairs?” she asked.

  “Not bad. Zac got a paid internship at the garage this week, and Shaundra got on at Sassy Nails.”

  “That was my first job.”

  “You’ll have to share your trade secrets with her. I think it’s a good fit though. She sure seems to like all that stuff.”

  PJ frowned at her fingers. “My nails haven’t looked good since I worked there.”

  They were short and blunt and hadn’t sported a fresh coat of polish since, let’s see . . . her last date with Keaton. Shame swelled at the memory of the night she’d discovered his secret. She shoved the thought away. She refused to become mired in bad memories.

  She pushed the swing instead, the rhythmic squeak of the chains punctuating the silence.

  “So I was wondering about the cooking lessons,” Cole said. “The kids need some basic kitchen skills—actually, I do too. In the future I’d like to be able to teach them myself.”

  “You want to take my class?”

  “I’d like all of us to, but the funds aren’t really there. I was hoping we could work out a trade or something?”

  “What kind of trade?”

  “I don’t know. I must have something you want.”

  PJ’s mind went straight to her thoughts of his lips. She forbade her eyes from dipping south a few inches, but she couldn’t stop the heat working its way up her neck and into her cheeks. Thank God it was almost dark.

  “Can’t think of a thing.” Even she couldn’t miss the flirtatious note in her voice.

  He took a few seconds to study her face. “I’ve been told I’m pretty useful to have around.”

  “By whom?”

  “People.”

  “Women?”

  His eyes twinkled under the porch lights. “Haven’t had any complaints.”
>
  She’d imagine not. She bit the inside of her lip. It was impossible to tear her gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes. She hadn’t seen this relaxed, playful side of him, and she liked it. Liked it a lot.

  “I need a new closet,” PJ offered.

  “What’s wrong with the old one?”

  “It’s an old maid’s room. The closet was built for three uniforms and a pair of orthopedic shoes.”

  “I’m pretty sure they didn’t have orthopedic shoes at the turn of the century.”

  “I want a walk-in with shoe shelves and wire baskets. Are you up to the task?”

  “Bring it.”

  “And cubbies for purses!”

  “You’re getting awfully excited about this closet.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a girl.”

  His eyes skimmed her figure so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. He cleared his throat. “So, where’s this closet going to go?”

  “You know where it is now, to the left of the door? I thought we could just bring it out a few feet.”

  “We?”

  “Well, I’ll be supervising.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll buy the materials.”

  “No, that’s on me. You’re teaching four beginners to cook—believe me, you’ll earn it.”

  “When would be a good time for the lessons? Sunday anytime after brunch ends would work, or Monday before my six o’clock class.”

  “The kids work after school, but Sunday would be good. Our weekly meeting is at three, so four or five?”

  “Let’s make it five, then we can eat the spoils for supper.”

  “Deal.”

  A radio blared on upstairs, shattering the peaceful night.

  PJ winced. “Wow, that’s some loud, uh, music?”

  “Zac’s partial to screamo. He does play a mean electric guitar though.” He stood. “I’ll tell him to turn it down before our neighbors kick us out.”

  They said good night, and PJ watched him go, admiring the broad set of his shoulders and the lean cut of his waist. Another cooking class scheduled, and she was going to have her dream closet. All in all a good day.

  A song pulled PJ from her sleep. She freed her arms from the covers and grabbed her phone as the familiar ringtone woke her fully.

  Keaton.

  Her breath quickened and her heart raced. She released the phone and it clunked onto the nightstand.

  The song seemed to go on forever, and as much as she wanted to deny it, her fingers itched to answer. She clasped them tightly until her blunt nails cut into her palms.

  Only when the tune stopped did she lie back against her pillows. Why was he calling? She hadn’t heard from him since she’d left Indy. Since the week after he’d broken her heart.

  The memories rushed in like a thick fog. She’d met Keaton at a fund-raiser for Meals on Wheels. They’d been in line at the cash bar and had struck up a conversation about the line that never seemed to move. He was so handsome and charming in his fitted black suit with his striking blue eyes. He had sandy blond hair that toppled over his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. But that was the only thing boyish about Keaton.

  He was a sales rep for a printing company, and he came into Indy weekly on business. PJ was drawn to his commanding presence and dry sense of humor. They left the fund-raiser later and met at a coffee shop, staying until the lights were being turned off.

  Afterward she didn’t hear from him for almost two weeks and had moped around her dorm until Kayla had been ready to beat her with a spatula. Then on a cold Tuesday evening, with snow drifting down into soft blankets, he came back into her life.

  They began spending every free moment together when he came to town. He was smart and ambitious. He listened when she talked and believed in her dreams and goals.

  They’d been dating three months when he took her to St. Elmo’s. It was the most romantic night of her life. She’d always wanted to go to the restaurant, but it was out of her budget. The food was everything she’d been told. And the company . . . It was there, over a candlelit table, Keaton’s blue eyes intent on hers, that she realized she was falling in love.

  She’d always scoffed at her lovesick friends, at her sisters, with their moony eyes and furtive smiles, but later that evening as Keaton walked her to her dorm, his body shielding her from the cold, PJ knew what it was all about.

  When he touched her, her heart sighed. When he kissed her, she melted. They stopped by the deserted entrance, and he boxed her in against the brick wall. His eyes caught her and held her captive, and her body begged for a kiss. He didn’t disappoint. Her knees were as limp as overcooked noodles by the time he drew away.

  “Thank you for tonight,” she whispered. “I had the best time. I wish you didn’t have to go home.”

  “I wish I didn’t either.”

  “I miss you when you’re gone.” His phone calls were sporadic, and their schedules made it hard to connect. It seemed she was always leaving voicemails. But when he was here . . .

  He ran his finger down her cheek, and she felt it to her toes. “I miss you too. I’ll be back next Tuesday. Where would you like to go?”

  She pulled a pout. “I have a class on Tuesday night, remember?”

  A group of girls busted out the door, talking loudly.

  He pulled away, but leaned back in for another kiss. “I’ll call you. We’ll set something up for Wednesday.”

  “Okay. Night.”

  As he turned, she pulled out her phone and punched in his number. When it rang in his pocket a few steps away, he checked the screen and turned, smiling.

  “I miss you already,” she said into the phone.

  He stalked toward her, his eyes like magnets. “You’re hard to leave, PJ.” When he was close enough, he lowered the phone and gave her a kiss to remember. She inhaled his spicy cologne and cuddled into the warmth of his body. For the first time she wished she had her own apartment. He didn’t draw away until she was trembling.

  As she opened her eyes, they caught on the phone in his hand. “Where’s your iPhone?”

  He glanced at the cheap-looking phone. “My, uh—this one’s for personal use. My iPhone’s for work.”

  “Oh.” That was strange. She’d seen him texting a friend more than once. At least that’s what he’d said.

  After they parted, PJ was in a funk. The phone bothered her. What if he had another girlfriend in Illinois? Kayla pulled it out of her when she was still tossing and turning an hour later.

  “That is kind of odd,” her roommate said after PJ explained. “And I’ll be honest, there are other weird things too. You said you always get his voicemail when you call—”

  “He’s just busy.”

  “And he calls at odd times.”

  “He works late.”

  “Did he ever accept your friendship request on Facebook?”

  “No, but he said he hasn’t been on there in ages. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s a really good guy. We had the most romantic time tonight, Kayla. I think I might be—”

  She looked at her friend and was sure she had that same moony expression Jade had worn the night Daniel proposed. “I’ve never felt this way.”

  Kayla studied her from across the darkened room. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  As much as PJ wanted to wallow in the giddiness of new love, she couldn’t shake the suspicions from her mind over the next week. She hadn’t always chosen the best boyfriends in the past. Was Keaton a poor choice too?

  His visit the following week did nothing to allay her concerns. In the middle of the Circle Centre Mall Wednesday night he excused himself to take a phone call—on his iPhone. She couldn’t hear his words as he greeted the caller, but his tone of voice was gentle, like when he spoke to PJ.

  When she asked casually who it was, he said it was his boss. The suspicions didn’t go away as her attentiveness picked up on other details over the next couple weeks. The way he turned his phone
away from her when he texted sometimes. The way he always stepped away to make a phone call at nine o’clock.

  Several times he asked her if everything was okay, and she brushed him off, afraid an unfounded accusation would ruin things between them. But when he visited her in early spring, she made a bold plan. She was going to follow him back to Illinois. It was only three hours. She’d be exhausted for classes in the morning, but she had to do it for her own peace of mind. For her heart, which shuddered in her chest at the possibilities.

  She borrowed Kayla’s car, tucked her hair inside a baseball cap, and followed the silver Verano at a distance even though it was night.

  Two hours later a traffic snarl caused her to get closer to him than she liked. She ducked behind a semi, her heart pounding hard. If he caught her following, what could she say? If he wasn’t hiding anything, he’d never forgive her.

  What was she thinking, following him all the way home? A few minutes later the jam cleared, and she followed at a comfortable distance. Maybe she should turn around. She was being stupid.

  But then he took the south ramp onto 57. Mount Vernon was north of 64. Her nerves clattered. She turned off the radio and turned the heat down, suddenly too warm.

  Awhile later he took the Benton exit. PJ followed him through a small town and into an older subdivision with nice, large homes. She lengthened her distance.

  Please, God, let there be some reasonable explanation.

  His brake lights flashed, and he pulled into a drive. PJ tugged her cap lower and passed by, turning around at the cul-de-sac.

  Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. Why had he lied about where he lived? Less than a minute later, she eased up the street and parked in front of the house next door in the shadows along the curb. She ducked down in the seat, watching as Keaton exited the detached garage and walked up the porch steps.

  When he reached the top, the door flew open. A little pajama-clad boy barreled into him. Keaton swooped him up into his arms.

  PJ’s breath caught in her throat, choking her. Then a woman appeared in the doorway, her willowy frame silhouetted by the light behind her. Light glinted off her short blond hair.