Allen looked as though he wanted to cry. “I did, too.”
“That’s okay.” Heath reached into his pocket to where he kept spare baseball cards for times just like that.
A man rushed over, his tie askew and his face pale. “There you two are. I’m sorry if they’re bothering you.” He shook his head. “Take my eye off them for one second and—”
“I have quite a few nieces and nephews, so kids don’t bother me at all.” He ruffled Amanda and Allen’s hair, grinning at them, and then stood. “I have a couple of signed baseball cards. Would you like those?”
The twin looks of sadness faded from their faces as they nodded.
Heath turned to the kids’ dad. “How would you feel about t-i-c-k-e-t-s to opening day for the whole family?”
“Tickets!” the brother and sister squealed.
Heath winced, muttering, “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it—I appreciate what you tried to do.” The man ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. That would be great. We’re all big fans. I’m Dave, by the way. Dave Jones.”
“Great to meet you.” After handing Amanda and Allen a baseball card each, he pulled out his cell phone and texted his publicist. “Can I get your email address, so my publicist can coordinate everything with you?”
Dave gave Heath the information he needed before herding his kids back to their table.
Ready to attack the buffet once again, Heath rubbed his hands together and turned around. There was only one left.
Shit.
He had to get the last one. Grabbing a plate, he headed right for that little slice of heaven and encountered the one woman who made his life hell.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
She gave him a smile so sweet that it made his stomach hurt, or the sight of her gave him indigestion. “You can have this one if you want,” she said, surprising him with her thoughtfulness. “I can wait.”
Manners that had been drilled into him since birth reared their inconvenient heads. “Ladies first,” he said, giving the cucumber sandwich one last look of longing.
Scooping up the petite sandwich, she took a bite, moaning at the taste. “So good.”
“When will they bring more out?” he asked. If she kept moaning over the food, he would lose it, and not because he was attracted to her. He wasn’t. She was too irritating.
“They’re not,” she said, licking her fingers.
He stared at her. “Did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t mention anything about more.”
“You said you would wait. Wait implies there’s more to come.”
Her silver eyes widened in mock amazement. “They’re teaching you really big words at baseball camp. I’m so proud of you, especially with the way you spelled tickets. Good job.”
His blood began to boil. Why in the hell she’d always felt the need to insult him was beyond his comprehension. “Then you lied by omission.”
“I guess.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, her cotton candy-colored hair sliding over her shoulders. “I really wanted one.”
“So did I,” he all but growled at her. A tic started up in his jaw.
“Guess I wanted it more.” She whirled around, but he reached across the table and grabbed her before she could flounce off with rest of the sandwich.
“You’re not being nice, Haven.”
Over her shoulder, she glanced at him, her eyes flicking up and down his body. Normally, he’d be flattered if a woman who looked like her was perusing him like that, but again… she irritated the pure hell out of him.
“Let go, and I’ll share.”
“Promise?”
“What do you think?” she said, her nose tipping in the air.
He let go of her. “Fine.”
Haven’s mouth twisted up slightly in one corner, like she was up to no good. Which was probably true. Then she picked up the last bit of the cucumber sandwich and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes and moaning in such an exaggerated way that more than a few heads turned to stare.
“You little—” He took a breath and began again, “You made a promise.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You said—” He paused. She hadn’t promised him anything. Just asked him what he thought.
Damn it.
“Fine. You got me. Satisfied?”
She leaned in a little, giving him a glimpse of the tops of her breasts. Very nice breasts. Gorgeous even. He didn’t have to like her to appreciate that fact. He averted his eyes before she could call him out on staring at her. “By you? Yeah, right.”
“We’re getting too old for this, Haven.” They were way too old to be fighting over food of all things.
“Maybe in baseball years.”
“Like that.”
Suddenly, Haven’s expression changed, a friendly smile on her lips. Heath looked around, only to find Leah Ambrose bearing down on them with a determined look.
“Leave,” he said.
“What?” She shook her head, hands fists on her hips. “Don’t tell me what to do at my own—”
“My mother is in matchmaking mode.”
“So what,” she snapped.
“I’m single, and my mother wants all her children…
not
single. Apparently, I’m the holdout,” he managed say without losing his cool.
“Aw,” she said with a little pout and a whole lot of sarcasm. “Did your baseball bunny hop to another guy with a bigger basket?”
His basket was big enough, but if he even hinted as much, she would tear him down in two seconds flat. “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Heath glanced over his shoulder. His mom was almost to them, but different people at the reception kept sidetracking her. “I’m sure that big brain of yours can figure it out.” While she just stood there, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried again. “You. Me. Together. Date.”
“Oh my word.” A look of horror covered her face. “Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” Then she hightailed it out of the reception tent and left him to face the one woman he loved to death but drove him crazy, too.
“Heath,” his mother said, kissing his cheek and then wiping away her lipstick with a thumb. “You looked so handsome today, and the woman you escorted—”
“Married,” he said flatly.
“Oh, isn’t that nice,” she said, but he didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes.
“Having a good time?” he asked, hoping to derail her get-my-son-with-a-woman train from its tracks.
“Wonderful time. Your father and I got to get a little shagging in when the DJ played
Carolina Girls
. Now, I’m beat.” His mother’s back had been bothering her more and more lately as had flagging energy levels. Between raising six kids and being a farmer’s wife, hard work was a constant in Leah’s life. Now her body was paying for it.
His heart skipped a beat. He hated to think of his parents as getting older. Older meant sickness, and sickness eventually led to death. She was only in her sixties—that wasn’t old at all, but her health was on his mind.
A lot.
Gently taking her by the arm, he led her to a couple of empty chairs and helped her sit first before he took the one beside her. “You danced to
Carolina Girls
without me? Man, I was hoping to dance with the most beautiful woman here.”
His mother’s cheeks pinkened. “You are a mess.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Leah made a little noise of dismissal. “I heard the cucumber sandwiches are to die for, but they’re already gone.”
“I didn’t get to have any either.”
“And here I thought you were the one to clean off the plate,” his mom said with a laugh.
Heath could feel someone’s eyes on him. He sliced his gaze to the right and found Haven staring at them. She was far enough away that his mother wouldn’t notice her, but he wasn’t sure if Haven was far enough away to hear what they were saying.
He didn’t want her hearing their conversation, mostly because he didn’t want it used against him at another time. Then again, Haven had never used her sharp mouth against his family. Only him.
Wasn’t he special?
“Excuse me, sir?”
Heath looked up to find a man holding a tray. “Yes?”
“The lady said you and your mother would like some of these.” He lowered the tray.
“Oh my goodness,” his mother said, taking a sandwich. “How adorable. Practically bite-sized with the bride’s monogram on top.”
Heath searched the tent again, looking for Haven, but she was nowhere to be found.
What was he thinking? A more likely answer was that Willow had sent the server over because Haven would rather die a thousand deaths than have anything to do with him.
Always had, always would. Well, not always. In middle school, they didn’t hang out. It wasn’t until he started dating Bella that Haven became a constant fixture in his life.
Or rather, a constant pain in his ass. Hell, he even remembered the first fight they ever had. They’d been in high school. Freshman year. As usual, she’d been running her mouth, showing the world just how brilliant she was while insulting everyone else in the process for their stupidity.
He stopped by her locker, leaning one shoulder against it. “If you’d be a little less acidic, more people would sign up for the food drive.”
Tossing her purple hair over her shoulder, she sneered at him. “It’s acerbic, and it’s not my problem if they can’t handle the truth.”
“Maybe not.” He saw a glimmer of sadness in her eyes when another student made a point of crossing to the other side of the hall. “You know, I could get some guys on the team to help you—”
“Why—so I would be indebted to the entire team and y’all can lord it over me for the rest of high school? I’ll pass. Besides, any favor from you would require one in return.”
“I thought you were all about helping people?”
“People who actually need help. Your kind always comes out on top.”
“My kind?”
She waved a hand at him. “Dumb jocks.”
“Your best friend doesn’t have a problem with me.”
“We all have our weaknesses.” She turned around and began to rearrange her display, effectively dismissing him.
“I’ve also been informed that there’s an empty guest room, if Mrs. Ambrose needs a minute to get refreshed,” the server added.
Heath blinked. The only person here who could offer that was Haven…
He glanced up at the server and said, “Tell the lady that my momma and I said
thank you
.”
Finally, he spotted Haven. She stood on the edge of the dance floor, a high-heeled foot tapping to the music. For the first time, he allowed himself to look at her.
A light blue dress with silver beads at the hem clung to her curvaceous figure. As usual, she wore a matching headband that pulled her hair back—a small tattoo in the shape of a feather was barely visible behind her ear. She had three more, two on her wrists—one said
forever
and he wasn’t sure about the other, while the third was new. It was a sleeve of tropical flowers that started at her shoulder and ended right before her elbow.
“Such a pretty girl,” his mother said with a sigh.
“She is,” he agreed. He wasn’t blind to her looks, just immune to them—an immunity that had been built up over time and hundreds of her pricking remarks.
“It’s a crying shame the two of you—”
He took his mother’s hand, noticing for the first time the age spots on her skin. “Haven’s her own woman, and she doesn’t have time for a schedule like mine.” Not to mention the fact that they couldn’t be in the same room together for longer than five seconds without verbally sparring. Privately though, he liked it, or at least, he liked it when she wasn’t taking pot shots at his intelligence and package.
He grimaced.
“True. I’ve always admired her—the way she gave up that scholarship to Duke to come back and help her grandparents out by taking over Chesson House. Not many kids would have done that.”
“Probably not.” He looked at Haven again, trying to see her as a person who cared about someone other than herself and not the smart-mouthed kid who’d told everyone she was leaving the ass-backwards town of Holland Springs and never coming back.
Well, she’d said that in so many words, during her mock valedictorian’s speech at rehearsals. The problem was that most people didn’t get her humor—too dry, witty, and blunt.
On graduation day, she’d been booed off stage before she could even speak, but he hadn’t taken part. Then again, he hadn’t exactly stopped anyone from doing it. Right before she walked away from the podium, he’d caught the pained look she’d given him, as if he had disappointed her somehow.
Haven caught him staring at her and he smiled, mouthing,
thank you
. Instead of scowling or giving him the evil eye, her cheeks pinkened a little and she glanced away, but not before replying with two shocking words.
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter Three
‡
“L
ist time,” Willow sang out as she danced her way to the kitchen table with a pad of paper and a pen.
“I don’t wanna,” Haven mumbled, chasing the carrots in her soup around with a spoon.
“But you will, because you want to keep Chesson House forever, and I want you to keep it forever. Because if you don’t, then the next people to own it might not let me use the facilities, and I’ll go out of business.”
Haven snorted. “So your motives aren’t strictly altruistic.”
“They’re
partially
altruistic.”
At least she could always count on Willow to be honest with her.
“Who’d you come up with?”
“Er… no one really,” she said with a little wince. “Sorry, but almost everyone I know is already engaged.”
Haven held out her hand. “Just give it to me.”
Willow placed the paper in her palm, and Haven glanced over it. “Heath Ambrose. Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, he’s all I could think of,” Willow said slowly.
Crumpling up the paper, Haven tossed it on the table. “Think harder.”
“I think he’s perfect.”
Letting go of the spoon, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s hear it.”