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“I have a flight out of Bozeman tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank. “I see. When do you think you’ll return?”
“I’m hoping to be back for Christmas.”
That was only a couple weeks away. “Stay for a few days when you come back. We can see a movie or go skating at Miracle Lake.”
“Perfect.” He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”
“My number?”
“Friends keep in touch through calls and texts.”
She blushed. “Right.” She rattled off her number and watched him save it. “I better get back to work.” Charity returned his coat to him and then leaned over to give a quick, awkward hug. “Stay in touch.”
“You, too.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“I’ve already texted it to you.”
*
Amanda’s hair salon, The Wright Salon, was in an older house that had been painted pink and it looked festive with all its boughs of greenery.
A sole stylist was still working downstairs at her station in what had once been the living room. Amanda waved Charity to come to what had been the dining room and was now a pretty sitting room for clients in between appointments.
Amanda had the bottle of wine open and two glasses on the table. “Pizza is coming,” she said, dropping into a white slipcovered armchair. “Ah, this feels good to sit. It was busy today.”
Charity curled into the corner of the couch, tucking her legs under her. “It was a busy day,” she agreed. “Not sure if you heard…”
“I heard.” Grinning, Amanda leaned forward to fill their two glasses. “Quinn Douglas, my sweet Charity. Now there’s a catch. Marietta’s most eligible bachelor. Earns millions every year—”
“I could care less about the money.”
“Comes from a great family. We all adore McKenna.”
“I’m not dating him, Amanda. He and I have agreed to be friends.”
“That’s a good first step.”
“I’m serious. It’s not romantic.”
“But he’s perfect for you.”
“He’s not perfect for me. He’s perfect for a perfect woman. I’m not her.”
“So, is that what this is about? Your poor self-esteem?”
“I’m tired, Mandy. I’m not in the mood to be analyzed.”
“You’re the one keeping you from happy-ever-after—” Amanda broke off at the sound of the doorbell. “Hold that thought. We’re not done here.”
Charity shifted miserably on the couch while Amanda retrieved the pizza, not wanting to discuss Quinn anymore with her sister, or anyone.
Amanda came sailing back into the sitting room and placed the pizza and plates and napkins on the coffee table in front of them. “No one is perfect,” she said, opening the box and placing two slices of pizza on each of their plates. “Quinn’s not perfect. I never implied he was. I said he was perfect for you.”
“Mandy, I know how this will play out, and I can’t handle more disappointment. Not right now.”
“Loser Greg hurt you that much?”
Charity started to lift a pizza slice and set it back down. “Or maybe Loser Charity hurt me this much, because I’ve done an excellent job of making bad decisions. And, yes, I do feel banged up. I feel stupid and bruised. It seems I’m lousy at reading people… specifically guys… and I don’t want to keep making mistakes.”
“Well, I’m pretty good at reading people, and I’d say your only real problem is a lack of confidence, which is why you’ve been dating the wrong guys for the past couple of years.”
“I used to be better at this,” Charity said quietly. “Once upon a time there was Joe.”
“And you were crazy about him.”
“I was.”
“But you hated that his ranch was so remote.”
“It was. You’ve been there. It’s way up on the mountain—and windy and bitterly cold.”
Amanda simply smiled as she bit into her pizza.
Charity saw her sister’s smile. “What?”
Amanda just chewed and shrugged her shoulders.
“You never liked him,” Charity said irritably.
Amanda blotted her mouth on a paper napkin and then wiped her fingers. “I didn’t dislike him, but I thought it was wrong of him to not meet you part way. His ranch is remote, but it wasn’t just his ranch that scared you. He lived with his grandfather and mother and four brothers and you would have become a cook and housekeeper to all of them. It wasn’t going to be a paradise for you. You were going to be isolated and lonely and he didn’t get it. He didn’t want to see how life would change for you. It was all about him, and what he needed, and, let’s face it, Joe wasn’t the kind of guy who’d let you drive on your own to town every day, especially in winter. He’s so old-fashioned and protective, he’d say, ‘Wait babe, I’ll drive you on Saturday when I’m done working.’” Amanda’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what terrified you. Being trapped out there and not having any friends close by.”
Charity chewed her bite slowly, her heart heavy, because Amanda was right. Charity needed people, and town, and activity. Joe had grown up on his family property, and the only life he knew was the life of a cowboy and rancher, and he didn’t understand her fear, or her need to remain close to her sister. Their big fight and breakup was about Mandy, too. He’d said she was too dependent on her sister, and that dependence wasn’t good for her. His words had wounded, and infuriated her. How dare he criticize her for being close with her sister, when he still lived and worked with his brothers? How dare he say she was too dependent when he wasn’t having to give up anything? She was the one who’d lose her world, not him.
And so they fought, hard, with the same passion they’d once loved each other, and neither of them would back down. Neither would apologize nor compromise. One day became a week, and then a week became a month, and months turned into a year.
A year after they broke up, she heard he was engaged to another girl, and Charity was privately devastated. She told no one that she was upset, not even her sister, but it had hurt her terribly that he could just move on so easily without her.
She forced herself to move on and began dating here and there. The dates were all vaguely depressing. None of the men were Joe. None had his quiet intensity, or his rugged masculinity, or his beautiful face and shaggy dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes—
Dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes, beautiful face.
Charity dropped her pizza slice and reached for a napkin. She wiped her fingers and then balled it in her hand. “They kind of look alike,” she said in a low, strangled voice.
“The Wyatt brothers? Of course—”
“No. Quinn and Joe. They both have the same look… the same sexy rugged I-can-do-anything look.”
“Oh, you mean hot alpha look.” Amanda’s eyebrows arched. “You’ve always like alphas far more than I did.”
“Tyler is not a beta hero.”
“No. But he’s not the Tarzan, beat-on-your-chest kind of guy that appeals to you.”
“That’s true. I do like the muscles and wickedly handsome.”
“So to recap, you don’t like Quinn because he resembles Joe, because they look nothing alike. Joe’s hair was brown and his eyes were green, and Quinn has dark blond hair—”
“I know what Quinn looks like,” Charity interrupted testily.
“You like Quinn because he makes you feel safe, and protected, like Joe did.”
Charity mulled this over for a moment. “Quinn does make me feel good,” she admitted.
“I think you should give Quinn a chance when he returns for Christmas.”
“He comes back almost every year.” Amanda reached for the bottle of wine and topped off each of their glasses. “And when he’s back, give him a chance. It’s silly to impose these rules—”
“I’m not imposing rules.”
