The Reluctant Bachelorette (7 page)

As if Jessa could get off that easy. As
if
. “I don’t
think so. You’re going to have to work a lot harder for that.”

“What’s it going to take?”

“I’ll let you know,” Taycee said. “In the meantime, just know
that you owe me big-time. We’re talking a go-to-jail-for-me sort of favor.”

Jessa swirled what was left of her juice. “Are you thinking of
doing something drastic that would land yourself in jail?”

“Maybe.” The idea had merit. Taycee couldn’t be the
bachelorette if she were in jail.

“All right, fine.” Jessa set her juice aside. “So long as it’s
not a life sentence. I can only wear those orange jump suits for so long.”       

“You’re impossible.” Taycee fought back a smile. That was
Jessa. Dictatorial, overly confident, prideful, yes, but also forthright and
funny. There was no one else who could make Taycee laugh at her current
situation. Only Jessa—the one person who’d put her there in the first place. Go
figure.

“So really, why do you want Luke off?” A slow grin spread
across Jessa’s face. “Methinks you still like him.”

“No way.” Never, ever, EVER would Taycee admit that to Jessa.
Not in this lifetime.

“It’s the only reason I can think why you’d feel so strongly
about it.”

“If I liked him, why would I want him off?”

A knowing look appeared in Jessa’s eyes. “Because you’re
afraid of getting your heart broken again. Admit it.”

Again, not in this lifetime. “Please. I was fourteen when he
left. You can’t have your heart broken at fourteen.”

“You did,” Jessa said, her expression pensive. “And you’ve
never really gotten over it. That’s why you haven’t been able to seriously date
anyone since then, isn’t it?”

The couch suddenly felt uncomfortable. Taycee shifted
positions, mentally adding “too perceptive” to Jessa’s list of faults. “You’re
wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Believe it or not, Jessa McCray, sometimes even you can be
wrong.”

Jessa swung her feet to the ground and clasped her fingers
together. “Okay, fine, so you don’t want to talk about Luke. I get it.”

Wow, this was a day for the record books. Not only had Jessa
apologized, but she’d even listened and obeyed. She really must be sorry.

Jessa set her empty glass down with a clink. “So, since Luke
is off limits, want to tell me where that ketchup came from now?”

L
uke weaved his cart
through
the narrow aisle of the grocery store, dreading the long night of work still
ahead of him. People had made it sound so easy. You graduate, pass the state
boards, and then set up a practice of your own. No sweat, right?

Wrong.

Business classes weren’t part of the veterinary program, so
Luke’s only experience with that aspect of a practice were the two years he’d
spent completing a residency in Ohio. Problem was, he’d focused more on the
medical side of things and less on the business side.

Maybe he should have taken the partnership offer. It would
have been so much easier to walk into an established practice with established
clients and an established billing and filing system. Instead, Luke had turned
it down. Not because he didn’t like his boss—the man was amazing—but because he
decided to move back to Shelter Springs, with its soaring population of 1,000
and a welcoming sign that read:

Welcome to Shelter Springs, Colorado!

(And you thought you were lost.)

Luke shook his head. He honestly didn’t know what had prompted
him to make this move. Maybe he was running away or maybe he was looking for
something he’d once had but lost. Either way, he’d made his decision. He passed
the Colorado state boards and now here he was, back in Shelter Springs and
wondering what in the world he’d been thinking.

He picked up a can of chili and examined it, and then put it
back on the shelf as his mother’s words echoed through his mind. “Always cook
fresh, you hear me? Always, always, always!” Oh, Luke had heard all right. But
it wasn’t about the health so much as the taste. His mom had been such a good
cook that he was now trained to think canned chili tasted nasty. Which was all
well and good, but how many times had he been too busy to cook and wanted to
open a can of soup or throw in a frozen lasagna for dinner? Too many.

Thanks to his mom, easy cuisine was now ruined for him.

Luke frowned, and then forced his tired body toward the
produce section. He rounded the corner and stopped when he saw Taycee with her
back to him, examining some grapes. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a
ponytail that swished a little as she moved.

When Luke had first bumped into her, it was like a “welcome
home” banner. Taycee Lynne Emerson still lived in Shelter. Who would have
thought? Her being here had given him hope that things really could be like old
times. Romping around in the summer. Snowball fights in the winter. The slow,
easy-going life he’d come to crave so much the past couple of years.

Unfortunately, Taycee had changed. Or Luke had. Either way,
things were different. The brother/sister relationship they used to have was
gone, replaced by a whole lot of something else. Awkward tension mixed with an
unexpected attraction. Taycee had always been cute, with her wild dark hair and
hazel eyes, but now she was way beyond that. It caught him off guard—as did the
way she kept him at a distance. Add to that the fact that she’d volunteered him
to date her on some stupid show, only to tell him he was the last guy she’d
ever want to date, and he was more confused than ever.

Taycee opened a bag of green grapes and popped one into her
mouth. In a frantic movement, her hand waved in front of her face as she looked
around for who knows what. “Blech!” she finally said before pushing the bag of
grapes aside and moving on to the apples.

A woman nearby dropped a package of strawberries in her cart
and headed for the grapes, reaching for a bag.

“Unless you like your grapes on the extreme side of sour, I’d
keep on walking,” Taycee told her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“No problem.” The woman moved on as Taycee examined an apple,
and then dropped it into a sack.

Luke gave a wry smile and pushed his cart forward. “Aren’t you
going to try the apple too? How do you know they’re not sour? Speaking of
which, I didn’t realize we could sample the produce before we buy.”

Taycee stiffened as she slowly turned to face him. “Clive
knows I hate sour grapes and told me I could try them whenever I wanted.”

Luke leaned over to inspect the bananas. They looked ripe, so
he tossed a couple into his cart. “Interesting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taycee’s bright blue T-shirt
made her eyes look almost look blue today. It was something he’d always found
fascinating about her. When he stood close, her eyes were a variegated hazel
but back away several feet and they seemed to lighten or darken depending on
what color she wore or what mood she was in.

Luke shrugged. “It means I find you interesting. But now that
I think about it, it makes sense. You like to sample things first—whether it’s
fruit or twenty-one guys, right? A quick date with each of them and then what?
You’ll pick the best looking? Richest? Smartest? Strongest?”

He rested his arms casually across the cart’s handle. “How
exactly do you like your men anyway?” He’d meant to goad her a little, but he
found that he was pretty interested in her answer. What kind of guys did the
grown-up Taycee Lynne go for?

Her eyes widened initially, but then the corners of her mouth
lifted slightly. “I like them sweet, like my fruit.” With a hand on her cart,
she pushed it away from him. A few steps later, she stopped to look over her
shoulder. “You should try the grapes. I bet you’d love them.”

Luke chuckled. He couldn’t help it. For all her oddities and
confusing ways, Taycee Lynne was always good for a laugh. “Hey. One more
question before you run off again.”

Her expression turned wary.

Luke nodded toward the grapes. “How do you know that grape you
tried tasted like all the others? Maybe you just picked a bad one.”

She hesitated, as if seriously considering the question.
Finally, she said, “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that. Night,
Luke.” With that, she steered her cart toward the checkout counter.

Luke watched her go, feeling like she’d just told him
something important. Something he should be able to decipher and somehow understand.
But whether he was too tired or just plain clueless, he had no idea what she
was talking about.

“J
essa, I have enough clothes.
Please
no more. Not today. I’m begging you,” Taycee complained as Jessa dragged her
down a bustling Denver street. Her stomach had been growling for the past hour,
but did Jessa care? No. When it came to hunger and shopping, shopping took
first priority. Every time.

“Only one more, and then we can get dinner. You’re going to
love this place. Totally random and eclectic, but oh the finds I’ve discovered
here. It would be a sin to come this close without taking a peek.” Jessa
stopped in front of a small shop called Talia’s Treasures and examined a few
shirts and skirts that hung from hooks suctioned to the inside of the windows.
She gave a satisfied smile, and then yanked the door open and tugged Taycee
inside.

Taycee looked around the dimly lit room. Eclectic was right.
Besides several racks of clothing, jewelry hung from stands and plaques from
the walls. There were pictures, books, hair accessories—even chocolate covered
strawberries—all packed into one tiny space that couldn’t be more than 200
square feet. Cinnamon and vanilla scents wafted through the air, making
Taycee’s stomach grumble yet again.

“Hey, Jess, haven’t seen you around for a few weeks,” said a
girl from behind the register. Her skin was a beautiful rich brown and her
black hair had a wild look to it, with tight natural curls that splayed around
her face.

Jessa brightened. “Hey, Talia, got anything new for me?”

Talia’s head bobbed and she held up her index finger. “One
sec.” She disappeared into a back room. A moment later she returned, carrying a
floral shirt with cap sleeves and rows of ruffles zigzagging down the front.
Some earrings dangled from a card in her other hand. “Only the most perfect
pair of earrings and a shirt that totally screams your name. I knew you’d want
first look.”

“Oooh, I love it!” Jessa took the shirt and shoved it in
Taycee’s arms. “Go try it on.”

“But this shirt screams
your
name, not mine.” It wasn’t
Taycee’s style at all. Much too frilly and chic.

“Oh, I think it’s screaming your name now.” Jessa looked in a
small mirror resting on the counter and raised the earrings next to her face.
“Go, go.”

“Fine,” said Taycee. “But if I do this—again—you’re paying for
dinner.”

“Done.”

Taycee followed Talia to a fitting room and pulled the flimsy
black curtain closed with a sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t like shopping or
buying the occasional new thing, but Jessa had dragged her out nearly every night
during the past two weeks for one reason or another. Shopping, hair
appointments, makeup lessons, manicures—it was . . . well, exhausting. Taycee’s
once plain wardrobe now consisted of new spring dresses, designer jeans,
shorts, blouses, swimwear, and several new pairs of shoes. Enough was enough.
Especially with the opening event only two days away.

Taycee pulled the “screaming” shirt over her head and studied
her reflection. Okay, wow, not at all what she’d expected. It fit her well and
even tapered in at the waist in a flattering way. Sort of a dressed up casual
look.

Sold.

Now for the “I told you so.”

“Well, how is it? Let me see,” Jessa’s voice floated through
the curtain.

Sliding it open, Taycee placed her hands on her hips as she
walked from the room, model-like. Or at least as model-like as she could pull
off.