Chapter 2 #3
As they entered the kitchen, West said, “We’ve got your favorite. Chicken enchiladas. Plus, Darby’s bringing Spanish rice and beans.”
“And I’ve got a taco salad,” Autumn chimed in.
“Gotta go back to the truck,” Sawyer said. “I forgot the dessert.” He looked at Summer. “It’s a German chocolate cake from Luscious Layers.”
“Quick!” she cried. “Give me a fork. I’m heading to the truck with Sawyer. That cake is all the supper I’ll need.”
Everyone laughed as the doorbell chimed. Soon, Darby and Jace had joined them. She greeted her cousin and Jace and chatted with them, learning that while they were living in a new apartment complex near Triple H, they had bought the land adjacent to West and Kelby.
“The construction crew broke ground yesterday,” Jace said proudly. “It’s too dark now, but you’ll have to come over and walk the property.”
“We share a tank with West and Kelby,” Darby said. “It straddles both our properties. Jace has been doing some fishing with Eli, so I’m sure the guys and future kids will be down at the pond fishing.”
The doorbell rang again, and Summer wondered who else might be coming. “I’ll get it,” she volunteered, heading to the front door.
When she opened it, her heart stopped.
Chance Blackstone stood there, cowboy hat in hand. His unruly, coal-black hair had been tamed into place, and his gray eyes were steady as they looked at her.
“Hey, Summer,” he drawled. “I hear you’re back in Hawthorne for good.”
She swallowed, her heart now beating wildly against her ribs. “Yes. I’m going to try my hand at writing.” She paused. “Come on in.”
He stepped into the foyer, which suddenly seemed small. She also got a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the scent of leather. The combination was intoxicating.
“You didn’t say anything at Christmas when we talked about you leaving New York.”
“It wasn’t in the cards then,” she replied. “I did tell you I was working on a small-town romance novel. I’m proud to say I’ve completed it and will be starting another one come Monday.”
“I suppose Monday is a good day to start a romance,” he said, his gaze steady.
Summer swallowed, the butterflies madly flapping away in her belly. She had always had a crush on Chance Blackstone. He had been West’s best friend since kindergarten and two years her senior. She had always looked up to him, thinking him smart, funny, and hot as hell.
Chance had never given her the time of day.
She didn’t know if part of the reason was guy code.
How a best friend’s little sister should be off-limits.
At least, that was one of the big tropes in romance.
She’d edited a few of those over the years.
Chance was polite and friendly to her. Then again, he was that way with everyone.
Summer also thought he had never been attracted to her.
She had been all legs and arms and awkward as all get out before she hit her teens.
She’d also had a mouthful of braces and thick glasses.
By the time the braces came off and she’d gotten contacts, Chance had moved on, graduating from Hawthorne High School.
Her choice of college had been SMU in Dallas.
Not because it was where Chance was, but because Summer had entered and won a writing contest. The grand prize paid for a year’s tuition at SMU.
Her parents never could have afforded to send her to the private school, but the scholarship had made all the difference.
Once there, counselors at the university had helped Summer in applying for other scholarships, and about three-quarters of her tuition and fees had been paid for by these scholarships during her next three years.
She hadn’t rushed a sorority, though. Membership fees to those exclusive Greek clubs were expensive.
And Chance was president of one of the most popular fraternities on campus.
They had existed on the same turf, but they had lived in different worlds during their college years.
She had seen Chance on the SMU campus maybe four or five times during the two years they overlapped.
He had never seen her before, mostly because he was always with some beautiful Kappa or Tri Delt.
Summer knew even though they were now adults, Chance had no interest in her. The most she could hope for was that they could continue to be friendly toward one another. Maybe even become friends someday.
“Mondays are the best day to begin a romance,” she replied saucily. “I plan for my hero and heroine to meet, and I promise that sparks will fly. That’s what a romance novel is all about.”
Chance studied her a long moment. “I wonder if real-life romances begin on Mondays?”
Was he flirting with her?
“I wouldn’t know,” she said breezily. “It’s been too long since I’ve been in one.”
“So, no brokenhearted guys left behind in the Big Apple?”
“Nope,” Summer said cheerfully, stepping around him to head to the kitchen, her knees a little wobbly.
Then his fingers closed around her elbow. A tingle shot through her so fast, her head began to spin.
“Then maybe we can meet up for coffee,” Chance suggested. “I’d like to hear about your time in New York.”
She shook her head. “I know you only think of me as West’s kid sister. You don’t have to be so nice, Chance.”
His fingers felt warm against her elbow as he said, “You haven’t been a kid for a long time, Summer. I realized that back at Christmas when we talked. And I’m asking to take you to coffee because I want to. Not out of any sense of obligation.”
“Really?” she asked, her butterflies high-fiving one another inside her.
“Really. That is, if you have time on Monday to do that. Starting a romance … novel must be pretty time-consuming.”
“I can take breaks,” she said, trying to calm herself. “I wrote a lot of my first book in coffeehouses. Write. Sip. Edit. Write. Sip. Edit. I’ve got the pattern down.”
“Sounds like you do. There’s a new coffeehouse on the square. Not a chain. It’s called Coffee Hour. They serve you coffee in big, white porcelain mugs. Could we meet at two? Maybe you’d have enough writing done by then and can take a break.”
“Two is good,” she heard herself say, thinking how surreal things had turned. She was going to have a coffee date with Chance Blackstone. The Chance Blackstone. One of the most popular kids who had walked the halls of HHS.
And he had matured into a devastatingly handsome guy.
“Good. Two it is. That’ll give me plenty of time in the field early in the day.”
“We should go into the kitchen. Dinner’s almost ready. Some of my favorites. I love chicken enchiladas. Don’t you?”
She winced inwardly, knowing she was babbling now. But how could she remain calm when Chance Blackstone was paying attention to her? As if he were seeing her for the first time ever.
They returned to the kitchen, and West handed her a margarita. He passed one along to Chance, too, and then held up one of his own.
“Here’s to Summer’s return to Hawthorne. May she take the romance world by storm as she renews old friendships in her hometown.”
“Hear-hear,” said everyone, holding up glasses. She noted Kelby and Autumn toasted with bottled waters and wondered if anyone else picked up that Autumn wasn’t drinking a margarita, a particular favorite of hers.
She took a sip of her own margarita and sighed. “Oh, it’s sweet to be back in Texas. Thanks for welcoming me home.”
The entire time Summer spoke, she was aware of Chance standing next to her, heat radiating from him, his cologne enticing her.
Tempting her.
“Everyone take a plate and circle around the island,” Kelby instructed. “We’re eating in the dining room. It’s too chilly to be outside tonight.”
As Summer filled her plate, she wondered why Chance had really asked her to join him for coffee. If she were reading too much into the situation. Or if he felt some of the sparks she had felt back at Christmas—and he was now acting on them.
Returning to Hawthorne was proving to be very interesting.