Third Time's the Charm (An Aliso Creek Novella) Read online

  Her phone buzzed, and Liz checked it again.

  Nice try. It actually works out better this way.

  Did he mean he was going to his family’s dinner after all? She wondered why he wanted to avoid a family dinner so much. Liz wanted to ask him what he meant. But as her fingers hovered over her phone, she decided not to text back. At least for a while. She’d think about it.

  Liz was proud of herself. She hadn’t texted Sloane after his last reply yesterday, and she hadn’t needed to emergency-text Gemma. This morning, Liz felt very in-control. Paisley woke up grumpy, though, and Liz made an extra effort to be funny and cajole her out of her sleepy mood.

  “Do you want to help me make Mickey Mouse pancakes?”

  “No,” Paisley’s little voice came from underneath her Cinderella comforter. The girl was a Disney lover, and it didn’t help that Liz was on the sale alert list for Disney.com.

  “What about Goofy pancakes? You could help me make his big nose.”

  Paisley giggled and peeked out from beneath her covers.

  Liz pulled the covers down and smoothed the strawberry curls around her daughter’s face. She was grateful that Paisley took after her in looks rather than Nick, which of course confirmed to Liz that she was a selfish person. I’m working on that.

  “Come on, babe. Goofy is waiting for us in the kitchen.”

  Paisley scrambled out of bed, her hair matted on top of her head, making her look like a pixie fairy.

  They made pancakes together with a lot of laughter and plenty of batter splashed onto the stove top. When Liz dropped Paisley off at the bus stop, only then did her stomach knot. She didn’t know what time Sloane would show up, and she hadn’t even showered. But if she waited for him to come, there wouldn’t be enough time to shower before work.

  Inside her kitchen, she stared at her cell phone, then broke down. What time do you think you’ll be here?

  It was several minutes before he replied. About 30 mins.

  Okay. Liz hurried through her routine and found herself pulling on one of her better shirts and her favorite non-holey jeans. Even if she did admit it to herself, she knew she looked good in them. Why am I worrying about how I look at nine in the morning?

  She ignored the thought of texting-911 to Gemma right away. Instead, she scrubbed off the pancake batter from the stove. Her quick strokes matched the rhythm of her pounding heart. When Sloane knocked on the door, Liz’s heart was in overdrive.

  Calm down, she ordered herself just before opening the door.

  He was leaning against the rail on the opposite side of the door, typing onto his phone. Before he lifted his gaze, Liz got a good look at him. Today he had on another tie, but his shirt was a blue-gray. His slacks were a dark brown, and of course his shoes matched his belt: a sign of a well-dressed man, or at least one with a good job.

  When he lifted his eyes, a warm jolt shot through Liz. His shirt matched his blue-gray eyes quite perfectly. Oh no. Not this. She smiled and led the way to the kitchen. Sloane was saying something, and Liz mm-hmmed. She sat at the table while Sloane arranged his tools on the counter and went to work.

  911. Text only! Liz typed furiously. He’s in my kitchen.

  Just relax. What’s he wearing? Gemma responded.

  You’re no help at all!

  A couple of seconds passed before Gemma texted back. LOL! Call me when he leaves.

  Maybe.

  Liz set her phone on the table just as Sloane turned to look at her, holding up the new pipe. “Nothing but the best.”

  Liz smiled. “Where’d you learn about plumbing?”

  “Worked maintenance at an apartment building during high school. It turned into a landlord position, which helped me through college.” He knelt down on the floor and shone a flashlight inside the cupboard. “Hey, can you hold this light?”

  Liz knelt next to him, shining the light into the darkness. She didn’t let it bother her that she was so close to him. He smelled the same as he did yesterday, a nice, pleasant manly-smell. Except she wasn’t noticing it today, because then she’d have to text Gemma again and put up with her rebel friend’s teasing.

  “How was the family dinner last night?” she asked.

  Sloane leaned back and rested his hands on his knees, then looked over at her.

  Okay, they were really close.

  “I made a late appearance,” he said, and his lips quirked.

  “Is your family really that bad?” she asked before she could tell herself not to ask him any more personal questions.

  A serious expression crossed his face. It was the first time Liz had seen him serious.

  “How should I say this?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “My ex-wife and I started Branden Enterprises with her dad’s money. When it became successful, we paid him back, but about that same time, things were falling apart between us.” His blue eyes filled with sadness and Liz wanted to reach out to him. But she barely knew him, and with her heart thudding against her chest at his nearness, she should really be keeping her distance.

  “We stuck our marriage out for a while longer, but we both knew we were doing it only for the business. When we got divorced, her dad sued me for interest on the loan.”

  Liz nodded since she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Twenty percent interest. Even Darci agreed it was ridiculous, at least in the beginning.” He shook his head; his eyes had a faraway look in them. “But her father’s lawsuit has held up properties we were about to close on and develop. My brothers are furious. They’re in business with me now, and they want me to pay the twenty percent.”

  “Wow,” Liz said. “Is the twenty percent worth the future business you’re losing?”

  “If it were that simple, I’d definitely consider it just to get the guy off my back and break away from Darci’s family for good.” He was looking at her again, and Liz was struck by a real desire to take his hand. “But his latest demands include a share in equity.”

  “Is Darci still your partner in the company?”

  “She never was a partner. She helped with the accounting in the beginning, but when we started making money, I hired an accountant, and Darci spent her days at the spa.” His jaw flexed. “Another story.”

  “Well,” Liz said, dumbstruck. “I have no advice for you.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Thanks for saying that. It’s nice to be with someone who isn’t going to tell me what to do.”

  Liz laughed. She couldn’t help it, even if it was totally inappropriate at this moment. “I expect your family dinners are full of unwanted advice?”

  “Exactly.” He held her eyes for a moment longer then turned back to the pipe.

  Liz almost sighed out loud. Instead, she held the flashlight as she watched his arm muscles flex against the effort of installing the new pipe.

  “Do you have any kids?”

  “No, thank goodness. Darci would never adjust.”

  I’m barely adjusted myself, Liz thought.

  He tightened the final coupling and gathered his tools. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Thank you,” Liz said, standing and switching off the flashlight. “I wish I had some good advice for you, but I have nothing.”

  He stood and smiled at her. Liz realized that it was just the two of them, standing a couple of feet apart—very alone together in the kitchen. Grease was smudged on his cheek, and Liz’s first impulse was to wipe it off.

  But she kept her hands at her side and said, “You’ve got some grease on you.”

  “Oh, here?” He swiped at his cheek, making it worse.

  Liz laughed. “Uh, yes. Let me get a paper towel.” She pulled one off from the roll on the counter, and then because he was standing there so patiently as though he were waiting for help, she moved toward him and wiped it off. “Much better.”

  His eyes held hers, a slight smile on his face. “Your daughter is adorable. Like her mother.”

  “My . . . You know Paisley?”

  �
��I’ve seen her at the jungle gym with the other kids. Had to patch up her knee once.”

  “You’re the Band-Aid man?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what the kids call me. They run to the office for a scraped knee or elbow. I’ve learned to keep all kinds of Band-Aids on hand.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe we haven’t met before,” Liz said. “Paisley talked about you for a straight week after you fixed her knee. I just thought you were one of the other kids’ dad.”

  “When I came over yesterday, I realized who you were because . . . Paisley looks like you.” He paused, looking a bit embarrassed. “I’ve seen you plenty but never really went out of my way to say anything. I probably should have come over to introduce myself after helping Paisley.”

  “It’s all right,” Liz said, watching him. “Thanks for helping her when she needed it.”

  His mouth lifted into a smile. “It really is remarkable how much she looks like you,” he said.

  “I guess it’s better than looking like her drugged-out drummer father,” she said.

  Sloane’s eyebrows lifted, and he leaned against the sink, arms folded. “Sounds like we both have a history.”

  “Don’t I ever,” Liz said, then clamped her mouth shut, blushing. Did she just say that? “I mean . . . I meant . . . Yeah, I have a history, which is why I live by myself now.”

  “Far away from drummers?”

  “And gamers.”

  “Gamers?” His face tightened. “Oh you mean like Call of Duty?”

  “Halo, Grand Theft Auto, you name it. I mean, if you like that kind of stuff, that’s totally fine with me.”

  Sloane smiled. “It doesn’t sound like you’re fine with it. But don’t worry, I’m not a gamer.”

  “Or a druggie-drummer?” She laughed at herself. It was better than dying of embarrassment, which she felt about ready to do right now.

  “So your ex-husband was a gamer too?”

  “My second ex-husband,” Liz said in a quiet voice. She was ready for the look of disbelief on his face. Everyone was surprised she’d been divorced twice by the age of thirty. “Like I said, I have a history.”

  He shrugged, apparently recovered from his shock. “You probably have a hard time keeping the men away, so you have to eventually choose someone.”

  Heat crept up her neck, and she tilted her head. “Did you really just say that to me?”

  Sloane chuckled. “I guess I did. I’m not always the most eloquent person. But . . .” he straightened and grabbed the tool box and old pipe from the counter, “I’m probably more eloquent than a druggie-drummer and a gamer.”

  He moved past her and walked out of the kitchen. Liz stood there for a second. What had Sloane just said? What did it mean?

  She followed him out to the door, where he turned, his hand on the knob.

  “Life’s tough as a single mom,” Sloane said. “I watched what my aunt went through—she sacrificed so much.” He paused. “If you need anything else, feel free to call me anytime.”

  Her mouth almost fell open as he pulled open the door and left. Her mind was still spinning by the time she shut the door and leaned against it. Catching her breath.

  Her kitchen faucet no longer leaked, but Liz still slept poorly. It had been a week since Sloane had fixed the sink, a week of blessed silence, and a week of conflicting emotions. She thought about his family, his business, his ex-wife, his former father-in-law, his aunt that was a single mom, and everything he’d said to her. Call me anytime, whispered through her mind.

  She thought it might fade, and she’d think about him less and less with each passing day, but it wasn’t happening as it was supposed to. The sun was barely coming up when Liz finally got out of bed. She gave up on sleeping and decided that maybe if she exercised, she could count on better sleep tonight. But following the moves on her yoga DVD didn’t make her feel much better.

  It was Thursday, and predictably, Mrs. Peterson showed up at ten in the morning at the salon. Liz shampooed and styled her client’s hair, getting into the soothing routine. Mrs. Peterson even walked out with a smile on her face. The door opened, and Liz looked over to see who the next client was.

  Sloane stood inside the doorway, hesitating, and looking around. His gaze caught hers, and he gave a faint smile. Josi, the lady at the reception desk, greeted him. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Sloane glanced from Josi to Liz, then back to Josi. “Does Liz have an opening today?”

  Liz froze. He was here for a haircut? Flashes of Garrett entered her mind, and she felt her stomach twist. Garrett had been sweet and mellow at first . . . She had cut his hair every four weeks, and then . . . Liz turned and walked into the back room, not wanting to hear what Josi told him.

  Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t quite breathe normally. What’s wrong with me? He’s not asking me out, and so what if he does? I can say no.

  “Liz!” Josi called, coming into the back room. “Someone named Sloane wants to book you for your next appointment. I told him you don’t have an opening for two hours, but he said he’d wait.” She wagged her finely-tweezed black eyebrows.

  “Tell him you were mistaken, and I don’t have an opening today.”

  “So you know this guy?” Her mouth drew into a smile. “Someone you’re dating? He’s pretty cute.”

  “Please, Josi. Help me out. I’ll take on your Saturday shift if you just do this for me.”

  Josi pursed her lips. “Is he a creep or something?”

  “No, not at all. I just . . .” She shook her head. “I’m crazy and dumb, and I don’t know what I’m doing, so it’s better to keep away from all males.”

  Josi laughed. “Okay, I totally get it. You have a crush on him, but since you’ve sworn off dating—”

  Liz groaned. She’d been much too forthright with Josi about her previous dating snafus.

  Josi disappeared through the door. Liz sank onto a chair amid the hair coloring boxes and shampoos and conditioners. She let her head drop into her hands. She needed to talk to Gemma. But first, she needed to figure out a way to apologize to Sloane. She was a professional hairdresser and shouldn’t let her weird hang-ups get in the way.

  The back door opened, and Liz looked up, expecting to see Josi.

  “Hey,” Sloane said, the door swinging shut behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a bit unsure of himself, which Liz found absolutely adorable. “Just wanted to say I’m sorry for barging in and not letting you know in advance.”

  Liz wanted to melt into the chair. Instead, she stood and met his gaze. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you . . . here. And I just . . .” She took a deep breath. “This may sound weird, but Garrett used to come in here to get his hair cut. That’s how we met.”

  Sloane lifted a brow. “Druggie-drummer?”

  “No, gamer.”

  “Ah, I get it,” Sloane said in a slow voice. “So if you cut my hair, then maybe we’d start dating?”

  Liz’s face flamed. “I didn’t think that.” She was mortified and couldn’t think of how to explain. Or maybe it was what she’d thought.

  “Don’t feel bad,” Sloane said, taking a step forward. “I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I have to be honest.”

  Liz snapped her eyes to his, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

  “I did come here with the intention of asking you out. But I thought maybe I’d see how it went first and how good of a haircut you gave me.”

  She stared at him, her mouth tugging into a smile. “So it was dependent on the service?”

  “Which I know would be great.”

  Liz relaxed a bit. “And how can you know that, Mr. Branden?”

  “I can just tell.” He took a step forward.

  She held her breath. Her heart rate doubled. He was also standing much too close to her.

  “So if you want to skip the haircut, that’s fine with me,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I can just ask you out with
out any pretense.”

  “Okay,” she said, hardly daring to believe she’d agreed.

  “Perfect.” He reached for her hand, lifted and kissed it. Then he winked.

  Liz was no stranger to kissing, but Sloane kissing her on the back of the hand like a gentleman was extremely romantic.

  “How about tomorrow at seven?” he said.

  “All right,” Liz said, her voice faint in her ears.

  Sloane smiled and squeezed her hand. “By the way, you’re beautiful when you blush.” He released her hand and walked out the door.

  “Are you kidding me?” Liz said to her daughter. She’d fixed Paisley’s favorite meal of chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, but the kid refused to eat. Paisley’s mouth drew into a pout, and her eyes squeezed shut.

  “The babysitter will be here in ten minutes. Eat now, or you don’t get any ice cream, Paisley-girl.” Why did her daughter’s stubbornness have to be in full force tonight? Liz needed her fed and happy by the time Sloane arrived.

  Liz wanted Paisley to be on her best behavior. But she’d been cranky since coming home from school, and Liz figured if she got a decent dinner into her, she’d perk up.

  Suddenly Paisley lurched forward and threw up all over the table. She burst into tears.

  Liz stared at the mess, stunned. Then she jumped into action. “Come here, baby.” She pulled off Paisley’s soiled clothing and dropped the shirt and pants into the sink. Then she picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. She set her shivering daughter in the bathtub, while she adjusted the water temperature. “Sit down while the tub fills up.”

  Liz hurried out of the bathroom and cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. The smell was awful, so she opened the window and lit a scented candle. The night was over anyway. There was no way she could leave Paisley now, and her mom was too far away to call at the last minute.

  She went back into the bathroom and turned off the water. Just then the doorbell rang, and Liz hurried to the door. Brittney stood there, with Sloane coming up the stairs. Brittney was late; Sloane was early.

  “So sorry, Britt. Paisley’s sick. Let me pay you anyway.” She handed money over to the thirteen-year-old. Then she turned to Sloane, who certainly overheard everything.