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“Hey yourself,” I said. “Busy?” I looked around at the almost-full restaurant.

  Maddie nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice to see things picking up after such a slow winter.”

  “Winter’s always slow up here,” I told her. “Even when there’s no snow.” And there hadn’t been more than a couple feet this year—nothing like the snowfalls I remembered growing up. We had pictures from my childhood of me standing on the roof of the house while Dad dug a tunnel down to the door. In those photos, the house was so buried it looked like a log or a boulder under feet of soft snow—not like a two-story house.

  Maddie’s eyes had landed on someone just over my shoulder and then she whispered, “Your table.”

  I spun to see Chance Palmer and his brother Sam standing at Adele’s podium, looking around the crowded restaurant. Adele sat them in Maddie’s section.

  “Go ahead,” Maddie urged.

  My head spun every time I saw Chance. He was gorgeous when I watched him trying to make up for my mom’s humiliation on television, but that had been a year ago. He was even better looking in real life. I’d thought so since high school, and heaven knew he’d only improved with age. Both brothers looked like they’d been working hard, their work shirts rolled up to the elbow and dusty jeans brushing the tops of steel-toed work boots.

  I took a deep breath. I could do this.

  I walked to their table, order pad in hand, and celebrated a minor victory when I arrived without tripping. “Hey guys.” My voice was higher than I would’ve liked. I cleared my throat and pushed my glasses up my nose. “What can I get you to drink?”

  Both brothers turned to look at me, and two sets of deep blue-gray eyes made me feel like I was under a microscope.

  “Hey Miranda, how’s it going?” Chance said and then turned his attention back to his menu.

  “Good,” I managed, trying to force my voice to remain in one octave.

  Sam’s eyes stayed on my face, and I wished he would return to his menu, too. Sam Palmer had never been my favorite person and he wasn’t my favorite Palmer brother by a long shot. “How’s school?” he asked.

  I shrugged, waving the order pad in front of me. “Fine. I still have a ways to go.”

  “Probably get more done if you weren’t hanging out in a diner.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you’d have more time for school.”

  “Iced tea, please,” Chance said before I could even address Sam’s jab. I wished Chance would look at me again, but his eyes remained on his menu.

  “Make that two,” Sam said. “Unless you’re feeling off-balance today. Then I’ll just have water.” A grin spread across Sam’s face, making his eyes dance. “Tea leaves a stain.”

  Anger bubbled in my stomach and embarrassment made my skin heat. “I think I’ll be fine,” I said, my voice low.

  Unfortunately, Sam had witnessed many of my clumsier moments, here in the diner and back in school. In fact, Sam had been at the root of the event that I still relived when I found myself alone in darker moments—it was one of those defining high school turning points that sets in your mind who you are destined to be in this world. I blamed Sam almost completely for the humiliation and self-loathing I’d suffered through for years as a result of that one. And just when I’d almost recovered form that—but hadn’t forgiven him by a long shot for the role he’d played, he’d been front and center for a wardrobe malfunction of epic proportions on the stage at senior prom. That last one might not have been his fault, but both events were humiliating, both were tied inextricably to Sam Palmer, and both were things I’d rather never have to think about again.

  “If you’re having a stable day, then I’ll have the iced tea,” Sam said. His eyes were still on me, though they looked a little less cheerful than when I’d first walked up. At least he was sensitive enough to know when he’d been rude.

  I turned and walked away, slowly and carefully, my mood darker than it had been before. Every time Sam made a sarcastic comment or pointed out one of my deficiencies, I felt small. He knew way too much about me, and I didn’t want his jerky antics to color any chances I might have of finally catching his older brother’s attention.

  “How’d it go?” Maddie whispered when I was back behind the counter.

  “Oh great,” I said. “They basically asked me not to spill anything on them.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “Sam doesn’t mean anything by it. What did Chance say?”

  “I think the menu is more interesting than I am.” I poured the iced tea and got ready to return to deliver it. Maddie was giving me an evaluative look, her eyes running the length of my body and landing back on my face. “What?” I hissed.

  “I have a dress I think will look fantastic on you. Maybe help you catch Chance’s attention?”

  My jean skirt suddenly made me feel immature and childish. I felt my face heat.

  “I don’t mean that you don’t look great now, Miranda. That isn’t what I meant at all.” She was backpedaling.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not exactly a fashion plate.” Denim and flannel were pretty much my go-to uniform when I wasn’t changing things up with my maroon polyester diner polo—and Maddie actually was kind of a fashionista. She’d toned down the heels and skinny black pants once she’d realized how impractical they were in the mountains, but she still looked better than most full-time mountain folks I’d ever met.

  “Come over tomorrow. You can see if you like the dress?”

  I nodded. “Sure. Thanks.” A while ago, Maddie had offered to give me some advice about how to catch Chance’s attention. I guessed she might know what she was doing, since she had managed to snag Connor Charles last fall—the guy most people couldn’t even get to say hello to them. He sat pounding away at his laptop most days while she was working, pausing to smile at her sometimes. He was definitely good-looking, if you liked the norse God look, which let’s face it—most women did. He was also ridiculously wealthy and successful. His career as a novelist had taken off years ago and showed no signs of quitting.

  “Hey,” I ventured. “Still up for giving me some tips, too?” I asked her. “I’m not sure there’s much to work with here.” I’d looked pretty much the same since graduating high school four years before. Kings Grove wasn’t really a fashion mecca. Some of the old timers made fun of Maddie for being on the cutting edge of fashion for this environment. I didn’t need inappropriate footwear to be at the butt of jokes, though. I just needed to try to walk across a parking lot without falling down—a nearly impossible feat. I was born with the clumsy gene front and center in my genetic makeup.

  She nodded once, her curls falling around her cheeks. “I’ll share what little I know.” She grinned at me and I turned to deliver iced tea.

  “Two iced teas,” I said, carefully placing the drinks in front of the Palmer brothers. I coaxed a false brightness into my voice. Thinking about Maddie offering to update my wardrobe and give me tips about how to interact with men only made me suspect I was even more completely hopeless than I’d imagined. No wonder Chance barely noticed I was alive. “What else can I get for you guys?”

  Chance had put his menu down and was staring at his phone, but when I asked this question, he turned his eyes to me and I had to take a steadying breath. “A burger sounds great, Miranda. Fries and maybe some coleslaw?”

  I nodded, the force of his gaze and his deep voice combining to render me incapable of speech.

  “Same here,” Sam said, pulling my gaze his way. Where Chance was all suave sophistication—as much as that was possible covered in dust—Sam was just Sam. Sure, he was every bit as searingly sexy as Chance, but didn’t matter because it seemed like every time I made a misstep, Sam was there to point it out, and that made me like him a lot less. I was on my guard with Sam—off balance. He was quick with a snarky comment, and honestly, I never could tell what his angle was. I wasn’t sure if he really was an asshole, because it really seemed like he was only that way with me, but either way, it put me on edge.<
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  Chance had been three years ahead of us in school. I’d only ever really known him as a distant icon of everything that was masculine. When we were freshmen, Chance was a senior, and he had been ridiculously handsome even then, long before Sam had grown into his looks. But Chance had never looked at me in school. And the one time I thought maybe the heavens had opened and somehow Chance had noticed me, it had turned out to be a cruel joke, which was part of why I couldn’t trust Sam, because of the part he’d played in it.

  And then Chance had gone away to college. I figured a guy like Chance would never return to Kings Grove. He had way too much going for him. But family is a strong draw, I guess, and when his dad got sick and couldn’t run the business, Chance returned to do it. He had a newly minted MBA when he got back.

  “I’ll go put in your order,” I told them, and spun around. I had the distinct feeling Sam’s eyes were still on me as I walked away. I glanced back over my shoulder to see, and ran directly into my father, who’d just walked in with Mom.

  “Steady there,” he chuckled, grabbing me by the shoulders and keeping me on my feet.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile for him as I gathered my senses together post-collision. He’d cleaned up and he smelled like soap and home.

  “Any time,” he said. “Can you grab us some Cokes?” He and Mom sat down at the long counter and I went to put in the Palmers’ order, hoping that they hadn’t been watching when I’d run right into Dad.

  The place was packed, so I didn’t have much time to chat with my parents, and it took all of my focus to get from one place to another without incident. When the food was up for the Palmers, I checked to be sure my path was clear before loading up with plates. Once they were successfully delivered, I let myself relax a bit as I stood next to their table.

  “You planning to stay up here, Miranda?” Chance’s eyes were on my face.

  Oh God, he was gorgeous.

  My brain stopped working and words refused to come as the blood rushed into my face. His hair was a light brown, perfectly tousled, and he had a quarter-inch scruff over his jaw that made me want to run my fingers over it. Or maybe my tongue. His teeth were straight and white, and his broad chest was challenging the plaid work shirt he wore as his muscles bulged beneath it.

  Say something. “I … I don’t know,” I managed. Brilliant.

  “Well,” Chance put a fry in his mouth and tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “You’re way too smart to waitress for the rest of your life.”

  I nodded, then stopped myself. Agreeing with him was arrogant. I tried to keep my head still and look like I was listening and not hanging on every delicious word from his lips. His very full, perfectly proportioned lips.

  “We’re looking to hire an admin assistant,” Chance continued. “Part time. Nothing big, but we need kind of a problem solver.”

  “We need someone to answer the phone,” Sam said, his voice flat.

  I swung my gaze to Sam and narrowed my eyes at him.

  “She doesn’t want to do that,” Sam finished, looking at his brother.

  “I can totally do that.” The words were out before my brain had engaged. For as long as I could remember I’d conditioned myself to say ‘yes’ to Chance Palmer, and to hold my own with his brother if I felt like he was putting me down in some way. It turned out not to matter what Chance was asking.

  Chance smiled and shook his head. “No, I meant, I thought you might know someone … your age?”

  My face undoubtedly fell as my heart sank. My age? He saw me as a kid.

  “Uh, hello? She’s my age,” Sam said to his brother. “Don’t make it sound like it’s a disease just ‘cuz you’re getting all old and withered.” So it turned out Sam’s attitude wasn’t reserved only for me. That was good to know, at least.

  Still, this was not going well at all. And what the hell was Sam doing jumping to my defense? It was confusing.

  “I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head,” I said. “I’ll keep my eyes open though.”

  Chance wasn’t asking me after all. He was hoping for someone else. I didn’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

  “Thanks Miranda,” Chance said, putting another fry in his mouth. He was always so calm, so confident. I envied him as much as I wanted him. He’d go on about his day, having no idea that this simple conversation would have me stressing out and rethinking every word I’d uttered for weeks. I was hopeless.

  Chapter 4

  Sam

  Shit.

  Seriously. Shit.

  Any time Miranda George got near me my brain turned to complete mush. But not the kind of mush that made people stupid or dumb—where they just became charmingly inarticulate. That would have been greatly preferable. Instead, my brain defaulted to asshole. Maybe that was my basic nature. When Miranda got near me with her cute little curvy body, her swinging blond ponytail and infectious smile, I turned into a complete asshole.

  Because if I didn’t?

  Well, if I wasn’t an asshole to her I might just end up confessing that I’d been in love with her since I was five.

  And we couldn’t have that.

  So when she walked away from our booth, thinking I was a dick for saying she’d get through school faster if she didn’t work at a diner, it was probably for the best. Because what I’d wanted to say was something closer to, “Why would you want to get a degree that might enable you to leave Kings Grove…and me?”

  Kings Grove wasn’t exactly a big town. Hell, it was barely a town. And imagining life here without Miranda…

  Well, I couldn’t imagine it.

  So why the hell did I keep pushing her away?

  Mostly because she pushed me first.

  Chapter 5

  Miranda

  You’re not hopeless,” Maddie said, circling me as I perched on a barstool at Connor’s house.

  “Far from hopeless,” Connor agreed, sipping a beer and nodding, the kitchen lights catching his red-gold hair as he stood behind the counter.

  “Connor,” Maddie said, turning toward him. “I love you, but you’re probably not needed here right now.” She must’ve picked up on the way I flinched when Connor chimed in. Maybe “not hopeless” was intended to be a compliment, but any man’s opinion was hard to take objectively.

  “I see how it is.” Connor pretended to be offended and came around the counter to give Maddie a kiss. “I’ll just take the laptop up to my bedroom. I’m writing a scene where I need to kill off a curly-haired crazy woman, anyway.”

  “We both know I never die in your books,” Maddie said, raising an eyebrow at him. There was a Maddie character in every one of his books, and had been even before they’d met again as adults. It was part of what brought them together—the romantic mysterious coincidence of it all.

  I watched Connor ascend the stairs and shook my head. “I want that.”

  “Sorry. That’s mine,” she said.

  “No!” I felt myself blushing. “I mean, I want what you guys have. You’re so happy, so comfortable.”

  “Well it wasn’t always that way,” she said.

  I remembered well the struggles they’d faced to be together. Between ex-husbands and the police, it was a small miracle they’d made it through. “I know.”

  “And I kissed a lot of frogs first,” she said. “But hopefully you won’t have to.”

  I ducked my chin and looked up at her, the dark rim of my glasses providing a shelter I’d grown used to. Behind the lenses I felt protected and safe.

  “First,” Maddie said. “What do you say we lose the frames?”

  I shook my head. “I’m clumsy enough when I can see. Blind? I’d be screwed.”

  “Contacts?”

  “I do have some. But they’re not super comfortable. Especially when the air is really dry.”

  “Like always.”

  “Especially lately.” The newscast in the background was predicting more of the same. Namely, no rain for Cali
fornia.

  “Well, glasses are pretty retro, and these are really cute as glasses go, so forget I said anything there. To be honest, I don’t think there’s much about your looks that needs any kind of fixing.”

  “So it’s just my personality?” I said, slumping.

  “No!” Maddie looked stricken. “I didn’t mean that at all! Miranda, this isn’t about fixing anything that’s broken. Because nothing is! There is nothing at all wrong with you exactly the way you are. You know that, right?”

  I looked up, meeting her eye. I wasn’t exactly insecure, but even a confident independent girl had things she wouldn’t mind changing. Especially if those things prevented the man of her dreams from seeing her as a potential match for him.

  “You are smart and funny, genuine and sweet. You’re gorgeous…” She stood up and took a step away, shaking her head as I started to protest. “And you’re pretty tough, too, I think.”

  “Why do you think I’m tough?”

  “This isn’t an easy place to live your whole life,” she said. “Harsh winters, not a lot of luxuries … and the kind of close community where everyone knows everyone else’s business. And …” she paused, eyeing me sideways as if she thought I might jump at her, “anyone who has as many little accidents as you do has developed a thick skin and the ability to laugh at herself.”

  I nodded. I definitely had that. I had no choice. If I couldn’t laugh at myself, I’d end up crying most days.

  “So I’m not trying to change you, and I wouldn’t let anyone else ever tell you to change, either.”

  “I thought that’s what this was about?”

  “No. This is about taking the things that are already amazing and bringing them forward so silly men with no observational powers might pay more attention to what’s right in front of them.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Maddie gave me a focused look. “Maybe a stronger eyeliner?”

  “I can do that.” Maybe this would be easier than I thought.

  “And no more denim skirts.”

  I had like twelve denim skirts. I lived in denim skirts. “Um…”