“Not this again.”
“Your brother's not going to have children anytime soon. Cole is a sweet boy, but he's not exactly what you'd call a ladies' man.”
That was certainly true. Though Cole was so protective of me that he'd beat up anyone for my sake, he was a shy, artsy, quiet kind of guy, who'd rather play his card games than flirt with a girl.
I was sure there had to be a woman out there to love him. Trouble was, merely gathering the nerve to say hello to girls was enough to bring on an anxiety attack for him.
Guess that's why mom placed all her hopes for babies on me.
“Surely there must be someone you've got your eye on.” She cheerfully tossed silver tree icicles into the cart. “A nice boy you met at work, perhaps.”
“Yeah, I don't think so. The only customers the shop gets these days are senior citizens or crazy antique hunters. That, or dorky guys looking to add to their comic book and Star Trek figurine collections. I'm pretty sure a couple of them are still living in their parents' basement.”
“Well then, you'll just have to put yourself out there, dear. How else are you going to meet the one?”
I had bigger problems than worrying about tracking down my soul mate. Of course, I hadn't told mom about my business woes. She'd blab them to anyone who'd listen, and if grandma got wind of it, she'd likely keel over from heartbreak.
“I might know a few choice men who would make a fine boyfriend for you,” she added, wandering over to the racks of greeting cards.
“I'll start looking when I'm ready, mom. Running the store takes up all my time right now.”
She grunted, unimpressed. “All the good ones will be taken soon enough, you'll see. Only a loser isn't married by age thirty.”
“What does that make Cole, then?”
She paused and considered his age. “Well, you know. Except for him. Your brother is a special boy. Any woman would be lucky to have him; they're all just too stupid to see he's got a heart of gold.”
The truth was that I'd been lonely for quite some time. Reagan treated me like shit when we dated in college, then broke my heart and bailed. Ever since then, I vowed that the single life sure had to be better than dealing with men like him.
But these days, I caught myself daydreaming a lot. My one and only relationship had been dysfunctional, emotionally abusive maybe. What would it be like to have a boyfriend who treated me with kindness and respect?
Someone sweet, nice, and normal. That's the kind of guy I wanted – the polar opposite of arrogant, sex-crazed jerks like Asher.
“Here, Sarah.” Mom thrust a stack of Hallmark cards into my hands, thick as a college textbook. “Read these and tell me which one Aunt Jenny will like the best.”
“You know they sell box sets of cards so you don't have to bother with this? Look over there. A dozen for five dollars.”
“Blasphemy. Each and every person in this family always gets a card personally handpicked by me. They're unique and special; why on earth would I dare give them something so painfully generic?”
She fretted over one card with a ribbon on it and another covered in gold glitter, most of which flaked off and somehow managed to end up on my coat.
This was yet another of mom's hobbies. She'd spend hours and hundreds of dollars a year picking out the perfect card for over two dozen family members, plus her entourage of friends and acquaintances. I hadn't the heart to tell her everyone probably threw theirs in the trash soon as they tore open the envelope.
Instead of reading the cards she handed me, I thought hard about ways to find Asher a wife.
He said he'd talk to a lawyer, to try and get out of this bizarre contract. If it worked, that'd be great – but it might just piss Heath off even more. If he got mad enough, there was nothing stopping him from taking over the land by force.
So we needed a backup plan. But how was I supposed to hook him up when he refused to get married in the first place?
“Ah, I almost forgot,” mom said, dropping a stack of useless cardboard into the basket. “I need some things to make holiday cookies.”
“Tell me you're not baking for everyone in Grant City again. Last year it was the postman, your hairdresser, the bank teller...”
“Certainly I am. Now, do me a favor and go grab what I need while I finish up here.” She plunked a scrap of paper into my palm. “It's nothing much. Just make sure you get the right color of sprinkles.”
This store, Bullseye, had a grocery section on the other side. I left the overfilled cart with mom, grateful to let her push it for once, and fetched a smaller basket as I headed over there.
The eggs, sugar, and chocolate chips were no problem. The sprinkles were another story.
“Turquoise? Are you kidding, mom? You'll get blue and green, and be happy with it.”
Then, as I filled my basket, a familiar male voice reached my ears. Asher! What would he be doing shopping in a discount market?
I followed the sound to the food court in front of the store. There he was, seated at a table – and with an angry-looking girl at his side.
My heart sank, though I couldn't begin to figure out why. Why should I be ticked off if he was with a new lady every day? That was simply his M.O.
The funny thing was, I could have him too if I so desired. He wanted me in his arms, he said.
