Cold Hearted Bachelor by Logan Chance
One
Paisley
Ten Years Later
I havea short list of things I dislike more than what’s about to happen at tonight’s family dinner.
1. Star Wars. How anyone can sit through twenty plus hours of absolute misery is beyond me. Spoiler alert—The hero falls for his sister? And then, she falls for Han, a bad boy who talks to a giant teddy bear? Puh-lease. I’d rather watch paint dry than any of those ridiculous movies.
2. Pumpkin spice. At the beginning of October, when the air chills, and the leaves change from green to gold, around here in Colorado, most people sprout vines and turn orange as they sip on pumpkin-spiced lattes and eat pumpkin-spiced bagels. I don’t understand it.
3. Pea haters. They’re really a misunderstood vegetable. How can you not love peas? Peas in a pod. So cute.
4. Vaughn James.
“Paisley, will you check on the roast for me?” my mother, whipping a mound of potatoes, asks.
A spiral of dread coils in my stomach. “Sure.” As I move to the oven and open the door, the appealing scent of roasting meat does nothing for my nonexistent appetite. “I think it’s ready.”
“Perfect timing.” She scuttles to the cabinet and grabs the white china bowl reserved for Sunday mashed potatoes. “Take it out, please.”
I slide the pan onto the stovetop as Mom becomes a whirling dervish, plating all the fixings. Maybe I’ll just take the meat and run. Normally, I’d be happy to be here. Mom is the champion of moms when it comes to cooking, and my dad is a great guy. I’m one of the lucky ones who grew up with an enviable set of parents. No skeletons in the closet there. And sure, Spencer was a jerk to me when he was younger, but he’s grown up to be quite a good friend of mine. It’s all very sympatico when it’s just us four.
But, it’s not just us four tonight. When I was informed Vaughn would be joining us, I'd like to think the twitch in my eye went unnoticed. I’ve spent ten years pretending I’m unaffected by him. Pretending I don’t even know him. Which, for the most part, it’s been easy. I rarely ever run into him. I’ve seen him a few times on major holidays, but hardly ever speak to him. And now, I get to put the pretending I’m unaffected to the test. I don’t want to fail.
Mom loads my reluctant arms with baskets of fresh baked yeast rolls, and I follow her into the dining room with lead feet because I know that in mere minutes Vaughn will walk through the door.
“Smells delicious,” Spencer says, snagging a roll as I place the bread on the table. “Found the hardwoods you liked within your budget, Paisley.”
“No way.” I side-eye him. “Seriously?”
My budget is pitiful, but Spencer has connections within his construction business, so I’d like to believe he really found a bargain and didn’t foot the bill just to get me what I want.
“Yep.” He smiles. “That run-down place you call a home is going to be unrecognizable when it’s finished.”
I laugh. “I prefer ‘house with character.’”
I don’t even know what possessed me to buy the battered farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Something about the wraparound porch and view of the mountains entranced me. Instead of peeling paint and problematic plumbing, I saw potential.
“Speaking of character, Vaughn should be here soon.”
“How’s he doing?” Dad asks, bracing his hands on the back of a chair. “Still doing good in the city?”
Yes, he is, I say internally. Spencer and Vaughn went into business together the moment they graduated college. Two Ordinary Guys Construction has been booming since they started. Shameful to admit, but I occasionally look him up from time to time. From what I’ve seen, he’s your typical bachelor that doesn’t deserve space in my head. I should be glad he rejected me a million years ago.
As Spencer and Dad have a mini love-fest over Vaughn’s keen eye for valuable property and the massive success of the business due to him, I debate whether to sneak out the back door. Instead, I leave the room and retrieve my phone from the coffee table and send a text to Gwen.
Yes, we’ve remained best friends since high school. And she’s the only one who’ll understand what seeing Vaughn means to me.
“I can’t do this.”
She replies instantly.
“You can. He’s just a man. Are you wearing the dress?”
“Yes. But now I feel like maybe it’s too much?”
As part of my being over Vaughn, and maybe a little to show him what he missed out on, Gwen convinced me to wear a dress almost identical to the one from so many years ago. Her reasoning being, that I’m so unaffected by his rejection, I can flaunt it. If he even remembers. It’s all so ludicrous, I realize.
“Is anything too much for the guy who broke your heart?” she types back.
There’s no time to answer that, because the doorbell rings, and in a heart thumping daze, I slip the phone into my handbag and watch as Spencer welcomes in Vaughn. Wearing jeans and a black button down, he’s lean and manly, with no bulk. So far, so good. I didn’t swoon and land in a heap at the sight of his ridiculously sexy six-feet-two inches topped with tousled dark hair.
Blue eyes meet mine. His lopsided grin starts on the left, and slowly spreads to the right side as he takes me in, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“Hey, Pea,” he says in a low tone. “Long time.”
“Hello,” is all I can muster as my mom bypasses me to bring him in for a hug.
Thankfully, my awkward lack of response is countered with the enthusiasm of the rest of my family.
Mom ushers everyone into the dining room, and to my dismay, Vaughn takes the seat next to me, across from Spencer.
He leans in, setting off alarm bells with his clean scent that I craved my entire teenage years. “Someone grew up.”
I fold my napkin in my lap and resist the urge to scoot my chair away from him. “That’s usually what happens over time.”
His gaze combs over my blonde hair, making my scalp tingle. But I’m unaffected, for the most part. My right pinky toe is definitely unaffected. Good job.
“Paisley bought a house,” Spencer says, as we all start digging in.
“A homeowner, huh?” Vaughn’s fingertips brush mine when I take the gravy bowl from his hand.
“Yes, I just closed and got the key.”
“Congratulations.”
My father chuckles from the head of the table. “Don’t congratulate her yet. It needs some major work. But Spencer is going to help her.”
“Actually,” Spencer says, “I was thinking Vaughn might be interested in helping out.”
Vaughn straightens in his chair. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Ok.”
I can tell Vaughn has no interest in helping me out. So I put him out of his misery. “No, seriously. It’s ok.” I don’t need his pity help.
Vaughn faces me, and our eyes connect. “Of course, I’ll help.” He nudges me with his elbow. “You’re practically like a little sister to me.”
Ugh.
“If you’re free, maybe you can swing by there after dinner,” my father suggests. “Check the place out.”
“Sure, Brian,” Vaughn says. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Listen, you don’t need to stop by tonight.” I like how no one even bothers to ask if I have plans. Maybe I have a date. It’s just assumed I’ve got nothing going on. Which is true, but still.
“I’d love to see the place,” Vaughn says to me, and then turns his attention to Spencer. “You coming, Spencer?”
“Can’t,” he says between chews of his roast beef. “I’ve got an early morning meeting with a potential client.”
Vaughn shifts in his seat, like the news Spencer gave him was not the answer he’d expected.
Obviously, he doesn’t want to go. And now that it will be just me and him, I don’t want to go either. “Seriously, you don’t have to go tonight.”
My father dismisses my words, “Hogwash. It’ll give him an idea of what they have to work with so they can make a plan.”
“I agree,” Spencer says. “Is that cool, V?”
Vaughn nods. “Like I said, I’ve got my whole night open.”
“Well, so do I.” I grab the napkin from my lap and mutter, “Not that anyone cares to ask me.” I’m not mad, but I sometimes feel like my family bulldozes past me to make decisions that are in my best interest. Of course, I’m grateful for everyone’s help, but this is not in my best interest to be alone with Vaughn.
“Sorry, Pea. Are you busy tonight?” His warm hand lands on my thigh. “Can I come and take a look at your new place?”
Like a teenager, I blush and proceed to ruin whatever notion I have of maintaining the facade I’m unaffected by him, “Sure, it’s a date.”
And now, I can add one more thing to the list of things I dislike more than this dinner—myself.
