Falling For The Wrong Guy: A Holiday Junction Sweet Romance Read online

  “An extra scoop and extra cherries?” Abby frowned. “How’d she get you to agree to that?”

  Braden folded his arms, aware of how Abby flushed slightly, but didn’t look away.

  “She said it would be good advertising,” he replied. “Promised to tell all her friends that McKenna’s ice cream was the best.”

  “She did?” Abby shook her head. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “Eh, she’s not so bad. Knows how to get what she wants. Some would say that’s a good thing.” Braden saw her stiffen at his words, but shrugged. “So, what’ll it be?” He moved to the freezer case and slid open the door. “A triple scoop of Chocolate Cherry Madness? Triple Caramel Mousse Delight? Bubblegum Surprise?”

  She wrinkled her freckled nose. “What’s the surprise?”

  “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Abby perused the choices, fingers tapping on her lips as she considered them. “Single scoop of vanilla, please. In a bowl.”

  Braden’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” She crossed her arms.

  “With all of these choices,” he waved a hand toward the various tubs, “you choose a scoop of vanilla. In a bowl. You don’t even want a sugar cone? Some sprinkles?”

  She stiffened. “I happen to like vanilla.”

  “You would.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He held up his hands defensively. “Nothing at all. One scoop of vanilla coming up. In a bowl.” He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice, but he had a feeling he didn’t succeed.

  Lena emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large tub of whatever ice cream flavor she’d been working on. “I told you, Braden, you can’t hang out here if you insist on harassing the customers.”

  “I’m not harassing anyone,” he retorted, shooting Abby a glance. “I’m suggesting that Abby might want to expand her ice cream horizons.”

  “My horizons are just fine, thank you,” Abby said, rummaging in her purse for her wallet. “Your brother can’t accept the fact that some people know what they like, and simply want to enjoy it in peace.”

  “I can accept it,” Braden said, sliding the bowl with a single scoop of vanilla toward her. “I just can’t understand it.”

  “Lucky for you, you don’t have to.” Abby pulled out a twenty. “What do I owe you?”

  Braden plucked the bill from her hands and held out her change.

  She eyed it warily. “What about the extra scoop?”

  “It’s on the house.”

  Abby turned to Lena. “I need to pay for an extra scoop . . . and cherries.”

  Braden huffed. What was it with this woman? Why was she such a . . . he didn’t know the word, but stick-in-the-mud was probably as close as he could get.

  Lena smiled at her as she swapped out a near-empty tub for the new one. “Like he said, it’s on the house.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Sure you can,” Lena said, sliding the freezer case closed. “It’s only a scoop, Abby. And nobody really likes the cherries anyway. Except Joey.”

  Abby glanced through the window at her daughter, who was dangling a piece of the candy-sweet red fruit over her open mouth and licking off the syrup. “She sure does. Thank you.” She flicked her eyes at Braden, as though begrudgingly including him in the thanks, and took her change.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a gallant bow.

  Abby rolled her eyes, took her boring scoop of vanilla, and went outside to join Joey.

  “I still don’t get it,” Lena said to Braden as she wiped a smudge off the freezer case. “What is it with you two?”

  Braden shrugged. “I try to be nice, but she doesn’t like me.”

  Lena cocked a brow. “You try to be nice?” she repeated, not bothering to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “You purposely goad her.”

  “Goad? Me?” Braden pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes wide with mock offense. “I am not a goader. I’m an anti-goader if anything.”

  “An anti-goader?” Lena tossed the towel into the basket under the sink. “And what, pray tell, does that even mean?”

  He shook his head. How could his sister not understand him after all these years? “I make people comfortable,” he explained. “It’s my job. It’s in my DNA. That’s what I do.”

  “Right,” she said, dragging out the word. “Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but it’s not working on Abby Harper.”

  “Never has.” He sighed, surreptitiously watching Abby and Joey as he wiped down the counter. “She’s hated me since we were kids.”

  Of course, there was more to it than that. To say Braden and Abby’s history was complicated was the understatement of the century. But Braden didn’t like to talk about it, especially with his sister.

  To be honest, he didn’t even like to think about it.

  “I don’t think she hates you,” Lena replied, tucking a lock of brown hair back into her ponytail. “But you’ve always gotten a kick out of aggravating her. In fact, it’s almost like . . .” Her words drifted off as she studied the redhead, eyes narrowing in concentration, then cocked her head at Braden.

  “What?” His stomach flipped. He didn’t like the look on her face. Like she was working out a puzzle, and he was the missing piece.

  She shrugged. “It’s almost like you both doth protest too much.”

  “What?” he said again, a little too loud this time. Braden cleared his throat and sent a reassuring smile toward the people looking at him in surprise before lowering his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that maybe you both try to act like you hate each other to disguise the fact there might be some attraction there.”

  “There is definitely no attraction there,” Braden said, trying not to scoff out loud. “Don’t be dumb.”

  “You’re dumb,” Lena replied, more out of habit than anything else.

  “Ha ha. Real mature.” Braden turned to scoop cones for a couple on a date before resuming the conversation.

  “Anyway—”

  “All I’m saying,” Lena interrupted, “is that there wouldn’t be so much conflict between you two if there wasn’t some underlying tension.”

  “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.” He gave her a playful shove.

  “Excuse me,” Lena said. “But there is no such thing.”

  “No such thing as what?” Gage Turner approached the counter, popping over it to give Lena a kiss.

  “Gross,” Braden said. “Dude, that’s my sister.”

  “And this is my shop,” Lena said tartly. “If you don’t like it, go back to the Shamrock.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  Lena smiled wickedly, and turned to Gage. “We were just talking about all the unresolved tension between Braden and Abby Harper,” she told him.

  “You don’t say.” Gage cocked a brow and looked from Braden to Abby through the window, as if considering the possibility.

  “On second thought, I think I will head over to the Shamrock.” Braden took off his apron and tossed it at Lena’s head. “At least people there appreciate me.”

  “That’s because you give them beer!” Lena called out as Braden stalked to the door.

  He ignored her laughter as he walked out, winking at Joey as he passed, but definitely not looking Abby Harper’s way.

  Lena was out of her mind. There was no unresolved tension between Abby and him. They simply didn’t like each other. It happened all the time, right? They weren’t friends. He’d thought once it might be possible, and had been quickly proved wrong.

  Very wrong.

  But it was fine. He’d learned over the years to accept the fact and move on. Everyone didn’t have to like him. It definitely didn’t bother him.

  Not at all.

  And he definitely wasn’t interested in Abby that way. Absolutely not. Abby was definitely not his type, and even if she was—which she definitely wasn’t—dating a single mom meant a relationship, and relationships were not Braden’s thing. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, thank you very much. Not worth the hassle.

  No, Braden preferred to keep things light these days. And he preferred women who liked to have fun. To laugh and enjoy life. Who didn’t take everything so seriously.

  He turned the corner and the Shamrock came into view. Art was running the bar for him, and it looked busy, the parking lot more than half full, and the sound of Irish music drifting out anytime anyone opened the door. This was where he belonged.

  Braden jogged across the street and headed into the pub, grinning at the cheery greeting that met him. He made his way behind the bar, laughed at some jokes, and poured a few pints, all thoughts of Abby Harper drifting quietly away, for the moment.

  * * *

  Joey swirled a maraschino cherry through hot fudge and popped it into her mouth. The sugary treat burst, letting out a stream of syrup and she let out a little mmm as she tapped her feet on the sidewalk. The sun was warm on her head, and she hurried to eat her ice cream, trying to find a balance between getting it in her mouth before it melted, and not eating so fast she got brain freeze.

  Oops. Too fast. Her head ached and she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  “Want to go to the movies?” her mom asked. “I can see what’s playing at the Rialto.”

  “I guess.” Joey replied with a shrug. She liked going to the Rialto, but it usually played movies she’d already seen on Netflix. They had great popcorn though, and Mom usually let her get a box of candy. She had to admit it was a bigger draw when she wasn’t stuffed full of ice cream.

  “Or we could watch a movie at home,” Mom said. “It’s still earl
y. How about a double creature feature?”

  Joey smiled. She’d been obsessed with old monster movies lately. “That sounds cool. Can we get pizza?”

  “You’re still hungry?”

  “Not right now, but I will be again,” she replied. “And pizza is an excellent accompaniment for monster movies.”

  Mom laughed. “Okay, then. Pizza it is.” She looked away across the street, and Joey watched her, sucking on another cherry. Her mom definitely seemed more relaxed since she quit her job in the city. Sure, she worked a lot—especially on Tobara, the big project in Holiday Junction she was designing—but she seemed happier. Which made Joey happy.

  She looked down at her bowl, unsure if she could finish the sundae. She kind of felt like she had to now, after Braden suggested she might not be able to. It was a challenge, and Joey Harper did not back down from a challenge.

  She took another bite and hoped she wouldn’t throw up. Braden would never let her live it down if he found out.

  And he might never give her an extra scoop again.

  “You okay?” her mom asked. “You don’t have to finish that, you know. It’s a lot.” Her jaw tightened, and Joey knew she was still irritated by Braden giving her the extra scoop.

  “I know. I’m fine.” Joey wondered why her mom didn’t like him so much. She’d asked her once, and Mom said she didn’t know what she was talking about. Then she changed the subject like Joey was too dumb to realize she was changing the subject.

  Joey let it go, though. Sometimes, it helped to let grownups think you were dumb.

  Still, she didn’t really get it. Braden was fun and weird and always gave her an extra scoop or cherries or piles of whipped cream when he was at the shop. And sometimes she’d see him on the street, and he’d stop to talk to her, but not like grownups talk to kids. He talked to her like a person. Like he actually liked talking to her.

  As long as she wasn’t with her mom.

  It was weird. Braden seemed to get along with everyone. So did her mom. But they just didn’t get along with each other, and Joey didn’t understand why.

  “Something bothering you, sweetie?” Mom asked, her forehead was crinkled up like she was worried.

  “No, not really,” she replied. Her gaze drifted to the giant bear dad and son that Chief Turner had made, and she frowned, thinking about her own dad. She barely remembered him now. She’d only been five when he died, and that was so long ago that everything seemed hazy and unclear. Sometimes, she even wondered if what she remembered was more from pictures and videos than her own memory. She didn’t mention that to her mom, of course. She did once and it made her cry. Mom had gone into her room and closed the door, but Joey could still hear her sniffling, so she never brought it up again.

  Still, sometimes she missed having a dad, even if she didn’t really remember what it was like. Her friend, Harry, had an awesome dad. Well, he was a foster dad, but he still did stuff like take Harry fishing, and go on Sunshine Scouts campouts and do the father-son three-legged-race at the Father’s Day Tournament of Champions.

  Joey loved her mom. She does. But sometimes she thought it would be nice to have a mom and a dad.

  A lot of kids have both. Some even have more than that, if their parents got divorced and remarried—stepdads and stepmoms, and some kids have two dads, and then there are the grandparents, and aunts and uncles . . .

  Anyway, she loved her mom. But it’s just the two of them—her grandparents died before she was even born, and she didn’t have aunts or uncles or cousins . . .

  Or a dad. Not anymore, anyway.

  Maybe Joey was being greedy. After all, there were kids who didn’t even have one parent. But she couldn’t help how she felt, could she? She couldn’t stop wondering if she could maybe have more.

  “Hey, Mom?”

  “Hmm?” Mom looked up from her own bowl, tucking the last bit of melted ice cream into her mouth.

  “Why don’t you ever go on a date?”

  Mom choked and covered her mouth with a napkin. “Why do you ask?”

  Joey shrugged. “I just wondered.”

  “Well, I . . . I really don’t have time for dating.”

  Joey pressed her lips together. “But don’t you want to fall in love?”

  “Where is this coming from?” she asked. “Have you been watching Netflix movies without me?” She laughed, shaking her head.

  “No.” Joey rolled her eyes. “I just think maybe it would be nice.” She looked down at her ragged fingernails, wishing she could stop biting them.

  Her mom sighed. “Maybe it would be,” she admitted. “But honestly, sweetie, I’m serious when I say I don’t have time. With the new business and everything, dating is the last thing on my mind.” She reached across the table and squeezed Joey’s hand. “Besides, I don’t need a man to be happy. I have you and my job and my friends and that’s all I need.”

  But there was something in her eyes that told Joey maybe that wasn’t exactly true.

  Joey knew her mom missed her dad. And she knew she talked to him sometimes when she didn’t think Joey was listening. Her mom may not have realized that she needed someone to talk to—someone who was actually there—but Joey was getting old enough to understand that her mom was lonely. Even with all the people in her life, sometimes Mom sat out on the back deck and looked out over the yard and she seemed . . . sad.

  “Joey?”

  She blinked. “Yeah?”

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  Her mom smiled and released her hand. “Well, then finish up your ice cream and let’s get going, okay? We have a big night ahead.”

  Joey obediently spooned up the rest of her melting ice cream, but her gaze was drawn back to the giant bears—where the dad and son held paws . . . the giant bear-smiles on both of their faces.

  And slowly, an idea began to take form.

  “Can Harry spend the night tonight?” Joey asked the next morning as Abby waited in line to drop her off at school.

  “Not tonight. It’s a school night,” Abby replied.

  “Mom,” she whined, drawing the word out to about sixteen syllables. “It’s the last week of school. We’re not even doing anything.”

  “Joey.”

  “Mom.”

  “Joey.” Her warning tone left no room for argument.

  The girl huffed, and Abby watched her through the rearview mirror as she glared out the window, chewing on a fingernail. Abby inched forward two car lengths, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Fine,” Joey relented, turning her big hazel eyes on her mother’s reflection. “How about Friday night?”

  Abby sighed. She had a lot of work to do Friday night, but Harry was really no trouble. He was a sweet little guy, and Joey loved hanging out with him.

  “Okay. Friday night.”

  “Yes!” Joey pumped a fist. “Can we camp out in the backyard?”

  “Yes.” Abby pulled forward and Joey unsnapped her seat belt. “Make sure he asks his parents!” she called out as Joey jumped out of the car.

  “I will!” Joey shouted back before she slammed the car door and bee lined toward the tow-headed boy waiting for her, glasses a little crooked, and a coat peeking out through the open zipper of his backpack. He listened as Joey gestured expansively, most likely informing him of their Friday night plans, and the two disappeared into the school amidst the crowd of students.

  A horn honked and Abby jumped, signaling an apology with a raised hand before she drove out of the school parking lot. She had a client meeting at nine and had to get moving if she didn’t want to be late.

  She took the back way home, enjoying the winding drive and the summer breeze through her open window. Even though it had been more than three years since she’d moved in, she still felt a rush of contentment when she pulled into the driveway of her little house. It had been a mess when she bought it—which was the only reason she could afford it, actually.

  She’d been broke, both financially and emotionally, when she came back to Holiday Junction. At loose ends. When Daniel died—killed by an IED in Afghanistan—she was devastated and, in the midst of her grief, she didn’t know what to do or where to go. She and Joey were alone in the world, living on base housing in Spokane that they were no longer eligible for. She didn’t blame the military, but it was a difficult time.