While You Were Speaking: Spring Flings and Engagement Rings Read online

  Spring, she’d heard, was her mother’s favorite time of year, and with Lucy’s own birthday during this same time, perhaps she was one of the reasons her mother had loved it. If only she’d thought to ask her father if that was the case . . . but now that both of them were gone, she’d just have to hope it was true.

  The door closed behind her, but then she couldn’t find her keys. She rummaged through her bag, trying to fish them out.

  “Hey, Luce,” an artificially low, oily voice spoke from behind her.

  She recognized her neighbor, JJ Roscoe, immediately. Truth be told, she hadn’t been surprised by it even though she hadn’t heard him approach. He paused on the landing near her door, giving her the impression that his timing in descending the staircase hadn’t been entirely coincidental.

  She raised her eyes from the doorknob she still hadn’t secured. “Good morning, JJ.”

  He reached into the pocket of his open-necked Hawaiian shirt and pulled out two tickets which he fanned out. “Mud bog racing.” He gave her a significant look. “Eight o’clock.” He gave her one of those creepy winks that, if she didn’t know he was harmless, might have put her on alert.

  She nodded before looking down into her purse again, listening to his steps continue their descent. JJ was a bit on the odd side, but she felt safe with him around. After two years of similar conversations, she still wasn’t sure if he was trying to date her or impress her. Probably both. Since he never actually came out and asked, she feigned ignorance and kept things friendly.

  Her fingers hooked around the key ring and pulled them out. “I really need a better system,” she muttered as she locked the door and then shoved her keys back into her bag. She was on her way to the Swiss Bliss Salon and Spa on Main Street to get her hair brightened with some subtle highlights. After a long winter, she felt rather dull, and she’d decided it was time to treat herself before the summer sun could bring out her caramel highlights. She deserved this after all of her preparations for the community cleanup—and it wouldn’t hurt to make a good first impression when she met Carter Hughes.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d actually said yes to her invitation. It really didn’t make sense for him to attend this kind of event, but she wasn’t going to question the bit of good luck that had brought him here. And now that he was coming—this week!—she was getting more and more excited.

  Did Carter prefer blondes or brunettes? Lucy tried to remember social media pictures of him with a date on his arm but couldn’t come up with any. Not that she cyberstalked him that way. She was more of a check-his-website, follow-his-career kind of fan rather than putting much thought into who he was dating. She’d never assumed she’d meet him in person. This so-called crush on Carter Hughes—if she even admitted to one—was nothing like Crew had teased her about.

  Well, no matter. The community cleanup kickoff was in five days, and she couldn’t be more ready for the entire ordeal to be over. How in the world had she allowed herself to be roped into chairing the committee when she hated being in charge of anything? But so far, so good. The members of the committee had been faithful in filling their jobs and reporting back. All of the supplies were accounted for and waiting.

  She’d caught Ronnie Williams after work and had her set to report for the Harvest Ranch Times, and Liv Bridges was on board for the photography. Out of the blue, West Slade, manager for country music star River MacKenzie, had contacted her, looking for a photo-op, public-relations stunt for his famous client. In exchange for River signing autographs and playing a few songs unplugged, she’d have the gazebo ready for him to paint in the public eye. She was fine with that—why would she turn down free labor?—but it would help if she had a date to mark down on her calendar.

  The best part of it all, hands down, was having Carter Hughes on board to keynote. Meeting him and listening to him speak in person was her treat for seeing this position through.

  A couple hours later, feeling refreshed and alive, Lucy left the salon only to have her tip and service fee refused. “Add it to the Save the Starlight fund,” Stella said.

  “But—” Lucy kept the cash extended.

  Stella folded her arms and lifted her chin, refusing to reach for it.

  Lucy cocked her head at the beautician who’d done an amazing job on her hair. “You have to make money, be compensated for your time and materials.” She’d force her to take it. Lucy stuffed the cash into the tip jar and mimicked her defiant posture, though she couldn’t completely suppress her smile.

  Stella tipped her head. “I’m doing just fine. Which means I can spend my money any way I want. I want something else to do in Harvest Ranch. I’m counting on being able to enjoy a movie out with my friends. Now take the money, or I’ll add to it and march it over to Crew myself.” She reached forward and placed the entire tip jar into Lucy’s bag.

  Lucy might as well give in with grace. She removed her fee and tip but placed the jar and the rest of the tip money back on the counter. She shook the cash, pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and sighed. “Thank you. Really. Every little bit helps.” Then why did she all of a sudden feel guilty for wanting to do something nice for herself? Had getting her hair done been a splurge she shouldn’t have indulged in? What did the rest of the community think when she spent money on food out or entertainment? Not only was Lucy trying to live life still having a bit of fun; she wanted to do her part to support others’ business ventures. Experience had shown her how hard it was to make a living. “See you Saturday?”

  Stella gave a quick salute. “I’ll be there.”

  On the sidewalk in front of the salon, Lucy hesitated. It was too nice a day to head back indoors. She’d been to the tulip fields once already this season, but she decided to pop in for a few minutes of serenity. She drove over, parked, and made her way to the front gate next to the gift shop.

  “Hey, Blaire.” Lucy greeted her friend and owner of the tulip fields with a quick hug. “How are things going?” Lucy looked over the flowers that brought surges of joy to her every time she was here. While the field of tulips beyond the barn was a wonder all its own, it was sometimes enough just to be swarmed by the different varieties of colorful blossoms in the flower beds around Tulips in Tandem as well. Lucy knew the Spencers’ grounds crew worked hard to maintain such a beautiful setting. “They’re still looking fantastic!”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to see the hard work pay off.”

  “I bet.” Lucy could imagine the relief Blaire and her parents had to be experiencing after all the craziness that threatened to spoil this year’s tulip festival. “I know I’ve been here . . .” Why did she feel the need to justify multiple visits? “I just can’t quit coming out, even if it’s only for a few minutes. We’re lucky the tulips survived that ice storm.”

  “I know.” Blaire nodded. “A week or even a few days later and it would have been disastrous. And the cows that nearly trampled them …” She smiled, her olive skin and dark hair glowing in the golden sun. She nodded toward the fields. “You’d better get out there. The sun’s going to set soon, and you won’t want to miss it.”

  Lucy started down the now-familiar path toward her favorite coral-colored tulips, taking stock of where she was with her to-do list for the cleanup while she drank in the beauty and serenity of the farm. She took a lungful of the damp, earthy scent, the deep breath slowing her heart rate. She had a lot to do, but she was on top of things. She’d make it through the next two weeks, and then she’d feel the same relief Blaire obviously did.

  Lucy had a great committee that had most everything handled. There were a few things, though, that fell under her purview. As program manager for WHHR, she needed to get a final, updated schedule of the cleanup events written out for Crew to announce on the air.

  As the business owner of the Starlight, it was her responsibility to have the drive-in ready for the kickoff. Over the last few weeks, she’d worked hard on upgrading the sound system, but she hadn’t done anything to prep the p
roperty itself. Broken tree branches littered the edges of the forest, remnants of the devastating ice storm. Now that spring had sprung, she could see that what was once healthy, thriving grass was losing ground to foxtails and dandelions, and brambles encroached the perimeter from the years of persistent neglect. The movie screens and concession stand hadn’t suffered from the ice, but peeling paint and a general all-around weathering hadn’t been kept in check in her years away. Some of the smaller things cleanup volunteers could help with.

  As far as the kickoff speech went, the biggest thing still on her to-do list was to check in with Carter Hughes’s manager. Not that Lucy didn’t believe Mr. Hughes would show up as scheduled, but she would rest easier if she knew when to expect him to arrive in town.

  “Ah!” she said out loud, smacking her forehead with the heel of her right hand. “I can’t believe I forgot!” She glanced at her watch and turned suddenly. Since she’d been the one to call this one last committee meeting, she couldn’t be late.

  Still looking at her watch, she quickened her pace, taking only a couple of steps before she practically ran into someone. Startled, she stopped. In front of her, head down with pain etched into what she could see beyond the lock of dark hair hanging over his forehead, a man inspected one of his thumbs with a look of concern. She ought to go right by him—he was an adult, after all, and the injury appeared minor—but the least she could do was acknowledge him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” The man dropped his hands to his side, lifting his head as if embarrassed at being caught checking his owie. “Thank you.” Yet he flicked his hand slightly a couple of times. Whatever it was still hurt him.

  He used that hand to brush back the lock of hair, and Lucy immediately recognized him.

  “Mr. Hughes?” Lucy blinked. It was as if she’d conjured him here by her thoughts. His only answer was a wince as he surreptitiously rubbed his hand on the side of his leg. “I’m Lucy Morrowitz.” She started to raise her hand to shake his, but then realized that was a bad idea since he was hurting. She continued the motion to tug on the purse strap on her opposite shoulder, hoping it looked natural and that she hadn’t made things awkward. “I’m the one who emailed you?” Even that was rather vague. The guy probably received fan mail all the time. “For the—”

  “Lucy, of course.” His voice was kind, as was saving her from stumbling all over herself more than she already had been. “I would shake, but . . .” He raised his hand, where an angry, red welt grew larger by the second.

  Lucy winced. “Bee sting?”

  He nodded.

  She bent down next to the path, dug three fingers into the soft mud, and stood again. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand with her clean one. Holding on to him, she carefully rubbed the mud over the sting, taking her time so as not to put too much pressure on it. It wasn’t until she was halfway through the process that she realized what she was doing. She’d touched him—a celebrity—without asking. And then rubbed mud on him. She wished the hole she’d dug in the mud was large enough to jump into and hide.

  “I’ve heard it . . . helps?” she blundered. His hand was smooth, large and masculine, but without scratches or calluses, and so perfect that he probably had his nails manicured. Which, of course, fit with his being impeccably dressed. A big part of his career hinged upon his presentation to the world, so it made sense. And then she’d gone and sullied it with a dab of mud like a backwoods, small-town girl.

  “I think I’ve heard that too,” he said carefully. “Though I wonder . . . What about infection?” His lip quirked.

  She should have thought of that. Her cheeks flamed. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that, Mr. —” It felt weird to call him Mr. Hughes. He was probably only a couple of years older than her at the most. But he was famous. She couldn’t call him Carter. Hoping to keep him from noticing her embarrassment, she pawed through her bag, noticing a man and a toddler skirt around the two of them. “I think I have some hand sanitizer in here. We could wash it. I was trying to dull the sting.”

  Sorting through her bag’s contents was harder than usual as she tried not to touch it with her dirty hand. She found a napkin and wiped her fingers before extracting the small bottle of hand sanitizer and a tube of toothpaste for good measure. She lifted one in each hand. “After we wash off the mud, we could try toothpaste. It sounds cleaner than mud, but not as effective.”

  Carter chuckled. “Then I’d better stick with the mud.” His warm smile helped lessen her embarrassment. “Thank you for the help, Lucy, and please, don’t call me Mr. Hughes. You threw me off with that one.”

  She placed the items back in her bag. “Of course.” She hesitated. “Carter.”

  “And thank you for saving my life.”

  She almost laughed, but his words sounded sincere. Still, that was a bit much for a simple bee sting. “Saving your life?” She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.” Except slather you in mud. She tried not to blush again.

  “You stopped to help. That’s pretty heroic.” He gave her a significant look. “If I’d been allergic, I could have gone into anaphylactic shock and no one would have noticed.”

  “Except you’re not—” She cut herself off. Had she really just said that? She might not pay that much attention to his personal life when it came to dating, but she had looked up allergies to make sure she didn’t kill him with a stray peanut or expose him to flowers that would have him sneezing through the speech. But she shouldn’t have let the fact that she knew that slip. “—not going . . . into anaphylactic shock, right?” She covered it the best she could.

  “I’m not.” He shifted out of her direct path. “You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. Don’t let me keep you.”

  With all of her stumbling over herself, she’d made him uncomfortable. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from her awkwardness. For his sake, she took the graceful out he’d offered. “I do have somewhere I need to be.” She paused only a fraction of a second. “You have my contact information?” She was surprised that he’d be in town a full five days before he was scheduled to speak.

  He nodded at her rhetorical question.

  “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  Carter gave a brief nod. “Harvest Ranch is a beautiful town. I’m excited to be here.” He stepped back gallantly. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Lucy really had to go. She needed to get to the meeting and away from embarrassing herself. She kept a quick but controlled pace to the front of the tulip fields, but her mind was still reeling. Carter Hughes. She’d met Carter Hughes. And yet, it didn’t feel as momentous as she’d built it up in her mind. Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of the meeting. She certainly hadn’t planned to literally run into him. And she could have made a better impression by not slathering the man in mud. Embarrassment swelled over her again. One thing was for certain: Carter Hughes wouldn’t have been very impressed with her. Why couldn’t she have been normal?

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” she muttered under her breath, thinking of all the things she could have said and done rather than discussing questionable home remedies for bee stings. “You’ve changed my whole thinking.” She let out a quick breath. “Because of you, I may save my business.” She sighed. “I love you.”

  And yet she’d said nothing. No goodbye. No see you Saturday. She’d lost her chance to have a real conversation, and there was no way she’d be professing her love—not now that Carter Hughes had seen the real her. But he was in Harvest Ranch, he was going to speak to the community, and he’d been gracious to her. That was all that mattered.

  She rounded the corner with only the gift shop between her and her car, meandering through a few small family groups, when a particularly handsome man carrying a particularly distraught toddler caught her attention.

  “I know, Ezra. Mr. Scruffy is your favorite, but don’t worry. We’ll find him.” The man tenderly swiped at a couple of the boy’s tears, but his little lip kept quivering.
r />   “A black-and-white plush dog?” Lucy hoped the man didn’t mind her interference, but anything to save a few moments of stress for the little guy . . .

  The man nodded eagerly. “Did you see it?” Though his hair was a softer, lighter brown than Carter’s, a lock of it fell into his eyes the same way.

  She pointed at the path she’d just come down. “Probably a hundred yards that way. Someone set it nicely at the side of the path.” She looked into the little boy’s sweet face. “He’s waiting for you. He’s not even scared, because he knows you’ll find him.”

  “Thank you.” The man’s tone was one of sincere relief.

  His startling green eyes caught hers, and she couldn’t look away. Goose bumps broke out down her arms. Why was it she’d felt nothing more than friendship when she’d met her celebrity crush, but an inconsequential conversation with a young dad could send her heart thumping?

  “You’re welcome.” She took a quick breath and smiled, pushing back the momentary reaction. So he was good-looking. He was also taken. The good ones always were.

  The adorable blond toddler mumbled a single unintelligible word in the middle of his sustained sobbing.

  “You might want to hurry,” Lucy said, sorry to see the two of them go.

  6

  The woman had eyes so deep brown that Zach got lost in them for a moment, mesmerized by their expressiveness. In the few moments their conversation had lasted, he’d seen compassion and kindness, but there had also been playfulness—and, if he wasn’t misinterpreting, interest. The last sent his heart racing. She was even more beautiful than he’d picked up on when he’d passed her on the trail a few minutes before.

  Zach had been the nonsensical uncle who gave a toddler a bright blue lollipop. He could barely blame his sister for insisting it was, therefore, his responsibility to clean Ezra up as well. So he and little Ezra had been on their way to the restrooms to wash up, Zach tucking Ezra’s stuffed dog under his elbow to prevent the stickiness from marring its white fur. The two of them had been rushing past Carter and the latest of his groupies, until it dawned on Zach that it was weird. Weird to be new in town and sharing a gesture more intimate than a handshake. How was it their first day in a new town and Carter was holding hands with a beautiful woman? As soon as he’d seen her warm brown eyes on him and seen the pretty flush of her cheeks, Zach had rushed past, giving Carter and his new woman some privacy.