Chapter 3
Fleur
You’re going to meet a handsome, mysterious stranger who will change your life.
“Why are we eating Chinese cookies in an American diner?” I tossed the little slip of paper on the table, reminding myself I didn’t have time for a personal life.
My bestie snagged the paper, giggling as soon as she read the line. “At least yours was sexy and what’s wrong with getting your fortune read?” Bekka winked as soon as she asked the question.
“Right. This isn’t a telling of anything. It’s a slip of paper in a stale cookie.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the woman who has a deck of tarot cards, a magic eight ball, and can read people’s minds.”
“Very funny. I cannot read minds. If I could, then I’d be horrified right now from what you’re thinking. Besides, what does that have to do with a fortune cookie telling me I’ll meet a stranger? What if I do? Then what?”
“Then you have wicked sex with him.”
I almost choked on my frosty beverage. “Not a chance.”
“All I’m saying is that your hoochie-coochie is going to dry up. Then you won’t even be able to use a crowbar to slit that bitch.”
My reflexes were shot, the spray of Diet Coke hitting Bekka in the face like a spew of lava, hot embers spitting like a rain shower.
She closed her eyes, laughing the entire time while I was still choking on half a sip going down the wrong hatch. “Wha… What?”
My best friend shrugged as she grabbed her napkin, blotting her face. “I’m just reminding you that you haven’t had a date in fifty years.”
I finally managed to wipe my mouth, glaring at her the entire time. “There’s a little problem with your strangely provocative suggestion. I’m half that age.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
“Okay, almost half,” I barked, doing my best to keep from laughing. Here I thought I was the resident wild child, including with use of my caustic mouth. Maybe that’s why the day I’d met Bekka after moving to Vermont, we’d become besties.
“You know I’m right. You’ve been on one date since I met you. One.”
“And you know exactly how that turned out.” The one date had left me with a seriously bad taste in my mouth for all men. Well, one of them anyway.
“What was wrong with Mark?” She grabbed her glass of iced tea, continuing to tease me by licking and sucking on her straw.
Leaning over the table, I tried to keep my voice down.
If there was one thing about Stowe that drove me bat shit crazy, it was the gossip mill.
Wildfires rolling through dry timbers in a hundred-mile-an-hour wind couldn’t beat the time it took for juicy and highly fabricated stories to hit every business in town.
That’s exactly what had occurred after my Valentine’s date with Mark. “He showed up in a cupid costume.”
“What’s wrong with that? A little cupid action never hurt anyone.”
I blew a strand of hair from my face. “He was wearing adult diapers sporting a hunting bow and arrow. The crown of thorns he so deftly crafted caused his head to bleed. The date was more like a Valentine’s Day massacre.”
“Ah, you’re being a little too hard on him. I’d give him an A for creativity.”
“He shot me with the fucking arrow. Did you forget about that? Do you know how humiliating it was lying on a cold steel table with my butt in the air trying to explain to the doctor how I managed to get an arrow stuck in my tushy?”
“I thought you were a cute couple,” a voice said from beside us. Instantly, I wanted to crawl under the table.
“I said the same thing, Tilly,” Bekka mused in her annoying adorable purr, thrilled to death we’d been overheard.
Tilly, the wonderful woman who owned Tilly’s diner. Tilly, a woman who’d give you the shirt off her back. Tilly, a woman with hands down the biggest mouth in town.
I threw her a look, trying to keep a smile on my face, plastic maybe, but I managed. “I was in pain and there was nothing cute about him.”
“Oh, come on. You were the perfect Aphrodite.” Bekka was on a roll.
Meanwhile, Tilly winked. “Bekka is right. You need to get back on the horse.”
In addition to being humiliated two years before, everyone also knew about my less than stellar past with men.
As in an ex-fiancé I’d rather never think about again.
At least I’d used the wedding dress I’d raced from the church in for target practice.
“How about this, ladies. There are no good-looking men in this town.”
“Hey,” Bart said from the next booth. “I’m a real catch.” The resident tour guide, ghost storyteller, and sometimes bear killer was practically crawling into our booth.
“You’re married. Or did Misty finally kick your ass to the curb?” I glared at him, although I adored the man. He was also the best handyman in town.
He acted wounded and I waved him off.
Tilly winked. “You’ll find the right guy. Of course you might need to use a crowbar to open your hoochie-coochie again.”
“I’m going to enjoy dying an early death.
But I will take certain people with me. The act done violently.
” I gritted out the words and turned my head toward the oversized glass window.
With the afternoon sun peeking through the trees and the entire ground painted in pristine white after the late-night snow, the setting was picture perfect.
Like a small town straight out of a Hallmark movie.
Funny how I never watched the channel or the flicks. Too ooey-gooey for my tastes. Plus, there was no such thing as a happily ever after. I was fine with that. I had a fulfilling life, a business that I adored, amazing friends, and I wouldn’t change where I lived for anything.
Even if my neighbors were all nosy busybodies.
Bekka was enjoying herself, still laughing.
“I know what you mean. There are some slim pickings in this town,” she agreed. “And I mean single guys, Bart.”
He grunted in response.
I rested my head on my hand, my elbow on the table, watching people coming and going, heading to the various small shops and enjoying the small-town atmosphere.
“Think of it this way. It’s tourist season. Maybe you’ll meet some sexy guy and have a month-long fling.”
With a slow turn of my head, I offered a scathing look. “Just what I need.”
“No complications. Just like you prefer.”
She was right about that. At least I could enjoy some eye candy, which was a regular sport for the single women in town during the height of tourist season. Given the town’s location at the base of Mt. Mansfield, we had our share of rugged mountain climbers and other outdoor sports enthusiasts.
“Maybe. But you’re right. Enjoying the… ahem, scenery will be nice after a dry summer,” I teased in return.
A lone man walking toward the courtyard caught my attention.
Not that seeing a single person on the sidewalk was an abnormality, but whoever the guy was, he acted as if it wasn’t positively frigid outside.
Wearing a suit and tie without an overcoat, it was obvious the man was a stranger. Of course Stowe had its share of businessmen and women, but given the frigid temperatures, the smart ones wore bulky parkas. His lack of clothing meant he was a tourist.
Standing just outside the courtyard where a dozen quaint local shops surrounded a small ice-skating rink and tons of other vendors, he ripped a piece of paper from his pocket. I could tell he had no idea where he was going, his brow furrowed. What I couldn’t see very well was his face.
But he was tall, broad, and buff. Whew.
The man was deadly handsome in a way that I sensed was raw and powerful.
Even from where I sat, I noticed everyone who passed him took notice.
He oozed enough power that everyone acted as if they wanted to get close to him, yet were too frightened that doing so would find them embroiled in danger. Everything about him was dark.
Dark hair.
Dark clothes.
And I could swear a dark aura, as if danger was following him. Wow. I hadn’t experienced something so powerful from simply seeing a stranger from afar in a long time.
He had the look of a vampire or predator on the prowl.
But I also sensed refinement in him from his aristocratic nose and high cheekbones.
Women would call the intensity of his look passionate, but I could easily gather a sense of disregard to everything and everyone around him, an arrogance defined by wealth and influence.
Maybe I was reading too much into the way he was fuming, but I’d always had a good sense of people.
Well, for the most part. A single mistake had almost tethered me to a life I would never have survived.
As he scanned the area, Bekka leaned forward.
“Oh, now he shows promise. Your mysterious stranger perhaps. Fortune cookies are always right.”
“Do not go there. He’s an arrogant prick,” I said, just for kicks.
“You’ve met him?”
“No, silly. Just judging by his clothes.” He started walking toward the diner and the closer he came, the more I realized I was holding my breath.
“Damn. He is one handsome man,” she mused. “I mean ooh-la-la.”
Yes, he was. With shaggy, shoulder-length dark hair tousled in the wind, broad shoulders that would have trouble fitting through a doorway, and thighs that filled out his trousers, he held the look of someone rugged, willing to get his hands dirty.
However, there was something about his demeanor that screamed polished executive.
Why did my instinct scream his type of dirty was something I wanted no part of?
By the time he was only a few feet from the entrance, both Bekka and I were leaning in.
“Admit it. He’s hot,” she chided.
“Fine. Not bad,” I admitted. While his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, the long line of his square jaw captured my attention as did his rosy, plump lips. I hadn’t realized I’d dragged the tip of my tongue across my bottom one until I caught Bekka staring at me.
“At least you’re drooling for a change. He must be six four. Easy. A good two twenty of solid muscle. Mmm. Mmm. You need to apologize to the fortune cookie.”