Chapter 22
Roll with the punches – to take adversity in stride instead of punching aforementioned adversity in the face
Rowan
Ithrow Sandra’s suitcases into the golf cart, and she gasps. I knew throwing her designer luggage would rile her up. Ask me if I care.
“Save it,” I tell her as I jump in. “Get in.”
She huffs but does as I say. Maybe she’s not as stupid as she acts.
“I—”
And maybe I spoke too soon.
“Stop. I don’t want to hear whatever you’re going to say. You left me. You divorced me. Why the hell would I want you back?”
She leans back in her seat to cross her legs. “You used not to be able to get enough of me,” she says as she bobs her ankle.
Does she think her thousand-dollar Louboutin’s are going to influence me? No thanks. The fact I even know what those shoes are called and how much they cost annoys any interest straight out of me. I much prefer a girl who runs around barefooted half the time.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles whiten. I should have left Sandra standing on my front porch with her expensive luggage and impractical shoes.
“This town has a certain…ahem… charm to it I guess,” she says as we drive down Main Street toward The Inn on Main. I hope someone’s there to check Sandra in since the owner, Ellery, just invaded my house to comfort Ash.
Ash. I rub a hand over my chest where it begins to ache. She must be furious with me. First, I left the bed this morning after making love to her in the middle of the night without saying a word. I should have at least left a note, but I barely made it out of the door in time to begin baking. I was too preoccupied with staring down at her blonde hair feathered over my pillows. As if leaving the house after not saying a word weren’t enough, my ex-wife shows up and harasses her.
I stop the golf cart in front of the bed and breakfast and jump out to grab Sandra’s luggage.
“Come on,” I order her when she remains standing next to the cart.
“This is actually quite charming.” She sounds surprised.
Was she always such a snob? No, I’m sure she wasn’t. When we first got together in college, she wore second-hand clothes. Second-hand clothes she’d redesigned and refashioned to be similar to whatever was in style, but there were still second-hand.
“Let’s get you checked in. Unless I can convince you to leave town immediately.”
She purses her lips. I guess not.
I follow her into the inn and breathe a sigh of relief when I find Soleil sitting behind the front desk.
“Rowan,” she greets me before pursing her lips at Sandra. “And guest.”
“Hi, Soleil. Good to see you.” Soleil is the same age as Aspen. Thus, two years older than me. She’s a potter and conducts pottery workshops during the tourist season. During the off-season, she’s similar to Ash – doing odd jobs here and there to keep herself busy.
“Soleil. What kind of name is Soleil?”
I glare at Sandra. “She’s checking in.”
“Alone?” Soleil asks and I imagine the news of my ex-wife checking into the inn will spread across Winter Falls before I’m back in my golf cart.
“Yes, alone.”
“For how long?”
I cock an eyebrow at Sandra.
“For however long it takes,” she says.