Ava
Clutching my recent candle purchase against my chest, I canβt fight the grin as I exit Bendy Bodies, the yoga studio where I just had my Tarot reading. The woman I met with, Clementine ValentineβI love the way her name rhymesβseemed super excited over what my cards revealed. She said I was entering into a new phase of my life where everything Iβve been manifesting is finally coming to fruition. And better still, she said she sees a meeting of twin flames in my near future.
Twin flames!
Those are even better than soulmates, and I feel like I could just kick up my heels and squeal with delight over how excited I am.
And before you even think it, yes, I know that Tarot isnβt an exact fortune telling scienceβif there is such a term. And I know itβs wildly open to interpretation and that some people think itβs just a bunch of phony hocus pocus. But to me, it brings great comfort. I strongly believe that if I can visualize something enough, I can will it into existence. Which is exactly what Iβve been trying to do for my love life.
Well, my non-existent love life. Seems Iβm ratherβ¦picky when it comes to men. Or so Iβm told, anyway.
Still, the one thing I want more than anything in this world is a man who loves me. All of me. Not just my personality. Not just my βpretty faceβ. And certainly not my βpotentialβ if I were to drop about a hundred poundsβall of me. Every last curve and roll that I have covering my five-foot-seven frame. He doesnβt have to be a model himself. But he does have to be decent and good, willing to put in the effort and easy enough on the eye that Iβm also attracted to him. I donβt care if heβs tall, short, fit, thin or big like me. I just need to feel a connection with him. I want to be loved by a man who thinks Iβm beautiful and perfect from the moment he locks eyes with mine. Is that too much to ask?
I donβt think it is. And I know heβs out there. Deep down in my soul, I feel that thereβs someone else in this world feeling just as lonesome for me as I am for them. The tricky part, of course, is finding him. But thatβs where Clementine comes in.
You see, I like to think that the universe gives us signs. And a few months ago, when I was trying to buy my favorite Bed, Bath and Body Works candle scent, it turned out they discontinued the line. This sent me searching for the next best scent. I ordered candles from big chains and little specialty stores, and it was the Whisper Valley scented candle that had my senses calming and singing all at the same time. Itβs so hard to explain exactly how it smelled, but the scent felt so familiar. Like the comfort of a family Christmas or the fresh-baked bread from your favorite bakery, orβ¦like home.
The packaging promised that the candle smelled exactly like the little town itself. So when I looked it up and found it wasnβt far from Sugar City, I knew that I had to come and experience that scent in full HD.
Iβve only been in Whisper Valley for a couple of days, but oh my lanta! It even feels like home. Itβs like a Hallmark small town where everyone is welcoming and kind, and I honestly donβt want to leave.
Pity I have to be back at work in Sugar City come Monday. Sitting and typing code into a computer day in day out is nowhere as soul-satisfying as being surrounded by nature. I really got into the wrong business, and if it wasnβt for the mountain of student debt Iβve got on my plate, Iβd toss it all away to become a bread artisan or something fancy like that.
Sighing to myself, I balance both candles in one arm and unlock my car door, getting into my Prius as graciously as I can before starting her up. Itβs getting close to dinner time, and the AirBnB Iβve rented is about half a mile from a bar and grill called Valentineβs. I havenβt been in there yet, because I was worried that with it being on the outskirts of town, itβd be more like one of those roadhouses filled with bikers and unsavory types like in the movies. But Clementine assured me itβs the place to be for anyone over twenty-one in Whisper Valley. Her cousins-in-law run it, and every Wednesday night is ladiesβ night. So Iβve already made an executive decision to dine there tonight.
Maybe thatβs where my twin flame will be?
With the two new βWhisper Valleyβ scented candlesβClementine is also the one who made themβsecured in the seat beside me, I flick on my indicator and hum a happy tune as I pull out into the street. Iβd prefer it if I had music instead of my own humming, but my radio went and broke on me a few weeks back, so now all I have is the jukebox worth of songs in my head to listen to. Which is probably just as well, because I canβt turn the volume up on that, so when I accidentally go backward into the car behind me instead of forward into the street like I meant to, I very clearly hear the crunching of metal on metal and hit the brakes hard.
βOh shit.β I close my eyes and take a calming breath.
Please tell me I didnβt just hear what I think I heard.
Shifting forward slightly, I shut off the engine and get out of the car, trying my best to ignore the curious glances from passersby as I assess the damage. My little red hatchback now has the perfect imprint from the front bumper of the blue Ford pick-up behind me. The Ford, however, has little more than a few bright-red paint scrapes embedded in its paintjob. I sigh as I look at my Prius. They just donβt make cars as sturdy as they used to.
Despite the minimal damage done to the truck, I canβt in good conscience just get in my car and drive away. So, I grab a notepad and pen from the glove compartment and scribble out an apology with my cell number on it. Then I fold it in half and slide it under the front wiper.
Except the wiper comes right off in my hand.
βShoot.β This really isnβt my finest moment.
Going back to my car, I scrawl a promise to pay for the wiper repair too, then decide using the other wiper to hold the note in place is a bad idea since Iβll likely tear that one off too.
Returning to my car, I grab one of the heavy candles and place it in plain view on the hood of the truck on the driverβs side, note underneath. Then I tell myself thatβs the best I can do as I dust off my hands and turn to go back to my car. Which is precisely when I run into a wall of man.
βWhat the hell are you doing to my truck?β
Β
Β
Duke
A head full of curls collides with my face as I inhale, smothering me as they tangle with my stubble. To make matters worse the owner of said curls has somehow managed to headbutt me in the throat. Iβm desperate and gasping for air but that just makes things worse by sucking the curls deeper into my mouth. I think this might be the way I die.
Reflexively, I place my hands on the shoulders of my assailant and shove, coughing and spluttering as air rushes into my lungs.
βStay back,β she yells, spinning what looks like a carβs wiper like itβs a set of nunchucks. βI know self-defense, and Iβm not afraid to use this against you.β
βWhoa there, kitten,β I say holding my hands out, so she doesnβt slash me with the broken metal. βRetract those claws. Iβm not trying to hurt you.β
She frowns slightly as she holds the wiper still between us. βThen why did you push me?β
βI was suffocating in your hair,β I say scrubbing a hand down my overgrown facial hair and finding a few strands of platinum-blonde curls. βSee? Iβm going to be shitting your hair for a week.β
βOh gosh. Iβm sorry. Is this your truck?β she thumbs over her shoulder.
βIt is. Is that your candle?β I ask of the large glass jar filled with wax and rocks that is sitting on my hood.
βWell, technically itβs yours now. Consider it an apology for hitting your car.β
My brow shoots up. βYou hit my truck?β
βYeah.β She winces. βBut I swear Iβll pay to fix it. Somehow.β That last word is said under her breath as she looks away, and it makes me look at her a little closer. Sheβs youngβmaybe mid-twenties at mostβaround five-seven in height, blonde shoulder-length hair and wide brown eyes, freckles across the top of her nose and curves that are likely to show up in my dreams later tonight. I look away and frown. I shouldnβt be thinking with my dick so soon after choking like that. Β
βShow me,β I grunt out.
She blinks, seemingly unsure what Iβm talking about. βHow Iβm gonna pay?β
βNo. The damage. Show it to me.β
βWellβ¦β She hands the broken wiper to me first. βThereβs that. But I did that leaving the note about the first problem.β
βJesus,β I say, following her around to the front of my vehicle.
βThis is where I backed into you.β She gestures to the bumper where thereβs a slight dent and some red paint mixed in with my blue paint.
I run my thumbnail over it. Itβll be easy enough to buff out. βDonβt worry about it.β
She pulls her head back. βDonβt worry? Sir, I damaged your car and the least I can do is pay and make it right.β
βI donβt need you to.β
Her mouth opens then closes. βYou donβtβ¦ Why?β
βBecause from the looks of things, your car took the damage. Not mine. And the damage I did take, I can fix myself.β
βReally?β
βYeah. And I can fix your car too if you need a good deal.β I reach into my back pocket and pull a card out of my wallet. βI own the garage over on Wattle Street. Stop by anytime and Iβll see what I can do for you.β
She takes the card from my hand like sheβs afraid Iβm going to jump at her and yell βsurprise, motherfucker!β. And when she plucks it safely from my grip, she lets out an audible sigh.
βSmall-town hospitality is an actual thing, huh?β
I look her up and down as I nod, refusing to speak in case my thoughts fall out of my mouth. This offer has nothing to do with small town hospitality and everything to do with the way my body reacts to the shape of her. Call me crazy, but I feel like this woman is supposed to be in my life. Like sheβs the salve to my loneliness, the woman Iβve always been told was out there waiting for meβjust for me. Itβs a difficult feeling to explain.
βOK. Well, I guess Iβll see you soon then,β she says, sliding the card into her pocket. βIβm Ava, by the way.β She holds out her hand to shake mine.
βDuke,β I say, wrapping my hand around hers and getting a kick out of the size difference. I dwarf her.
βDuke,β she repeats, her voice a little breathy as she smiles up at me. βI guess Iβll see you tomorrow then.β
βAny time, kitten. You show up and Iβll be waitinβ.β
She giggles. βEnjoy your, uh, candle.β She nods toward my current hood ornament as she extracts her hand from mine. I want to hold onto it again.
βIβm sure I will. You drive safe, now.β
βOK,β she says, taking a few steps toward her car before stopping abruptly and turning back. βCan I ask you something?β
I grin. βOf course.β
βDid we justβ¦β She rolls her lips together like sheβs not sure she wants to let her next words out. βDid we just share a moment?β
Swiping a hand across my chin, I let out a chuckle. βI believe we did.β
βOh good. It wasnβt just me then.β
βDefinitely not just you.β
βWould it be too forward if I asked you to dinner tonight? Itβs fine if you say no, itβs just thatββ
βIβd love to have dinner with you.β
Her face lights up. βValentineβs? Eight oβclock?β
βIβll be there.β
βOK then.β She lets out a happy sigh along with her words. βItβs a date.β
I give her a nod and as she gets into her car, I make sure to keep my eyes on her every movement, enjoying the sway of her ass and the awkward way she gets into her car when she realizes Iβm still watching. She gives me a little wave as she drives away, and just after I do the same, I pick up that candle she left for me, pocketing the note with her number as I read the label on the side. The scent of Whisper Valley. Holding it to my nose, I inhale nice and deep. I canβt quite put my finger on it, but it smells likeβ¦
***
βNothing,β my sister hands the candle back to me while crinkling her nose up and shaking her head.
βWhat are you talking about? It smells of something.β I hold it to my nose and inhale again. βItβs something familiar, and I canβt quite put my finger on it.β Itβs like an autumn breeze or a home cooked meal or an outdoor cookout on a summerβs day. I know thatβs an odd way to describe a scent, but it evokes all those memories in me. I just canβt pinpoint exactly what it is thatβs making the smell.
βMaybe if I light it?β Dottie says, taking the candle back from me and walking it over to the mantle in her old farmhouse. Itβs been a labor of love restoring itβsomething Iβve been helping with ever since I got laid off from my old job and she convinced me to move out to Whisper Valley and open a shop of my ownβbut itβs starting to look more like a home than a construction site. We now have a complete living area and kitchen to use, but the rest of the place is still a work in progress. Her goal is to get the attached vineyard to flourish again so she can produce her own wine and open the grounds as a function center.
Dottie clicks the stick lighter, and the candle wicks lights up, its soft glow hitting the odd-looking stones embedded in the wax and throwing different colors.
βI still canβt smell a damn thing, but those stones are cool. What are they?β
βIβm guessing theyβre just something from around here,β I say, watching her as she reads the label.
βLooks that way. But Iβve never seen them before. Youβd think with all the work Iβve done on this place, Iβd have come across one by now. Theyβre cool.β
βYou can dig one out if you want. Hell, when the candle melts down, you can have them all.β
βI just might take you up on that,β she says, centering the candle then stepping away from it. βWho did you say this was from?β
βI didnβt,β I say, quirking a brow at my nosy sibling. βBut since youβll likely find out anyway with the way this town gossips, Iβm having dinner tonight with a woman named Ava.β
Dottieβs face lights up. βA girl gave you this candle?β
I grunt. βDonβt get your hopes up. Itβs just dinner.β
βStillβ¦β She follows me as I move into the laundry room in search of clean clothes. βThis is progress, big brother. You havenβt been on a date sinceββ
βIβm aware, Dottie,β I warn, giving her a look that says I have no desire to rehash my past. I like that shit boxed up and left to history where it belongs.
"Iβm just so excited for you.β I can hear the dreaminess in her voice and fight a smile. I can lie to her, but I canβt lie to myself. After meeting Ava earlier, I kind of have my hopes up here too. But Iβm concerned about dating again. Hearts can only crack so many times before theyβre permanently broken. βWhatβs she like?β
βI donβt really know. We met for maybe five minutes.β
βWhat were your first impressions then?β
I turn and lean against the dryer and fold my arms. βCute, great smile. She had a great energy about her.β I chuckle as I remember the way she tried to use my broken wiper as a weapon. βShe wanted to fight me.β
βFight you?β Dottieβs eyes bug out. βDear brother, what are you getting yourself into?β
βHonestly, I have no idea. But Iβm looking forward to finding out.β
Β
Ava
I tried on every single outfit in my suitcase before settling on a long peach-colored dress that has long sleeves and a V-neck. It says more βsummer stroll through the marketβ than βdinner at a roadside bar and grillβ, but when a girl is far from home, she doesnβt have a lot of clothing choices.
When I step my sandled feet onto the wooden floor of Valentines, Iβm instantly hit with the sound of happy chatter and the scent of meat on the grill and beer on tap. Music floats out of a jukebox sitting at the far end of a tiny dance floor, and the general air of the place is one of fun. Seems this really is the place to be.
βSomethinβ I can help you with, sweetheart?β a giant man with a bushy beard and piercing green eyes asks from behind the bar. Heβs drying glasses as I move toward him while taking a quick look around to see if my date is already here. Heβs not.
βIβm, um, supposed to be meeting someone for dinner. Itβs a date, actually,β I say, keeping my voice down because I have this deep-seeded fear that Iβm going to get stood up. It wouldnβt be the first time.
βGood for you. Well, I know just about every man in townβand woman, if thatβs your preferenceβso if you give me their name, I can tell you if Iβve seen them.β
βOh, I only know his first name. But itβs not too common. Do you know a guy called Duke? He said he runs the garage in town.β
βDuke Fox. Good man. Helped me out when my axle got a crack in it last month. But I havenβt seen him today.β
βOh, thatβs OK. Iβm early, anyway,β I say, looking at the wall clock above the bar behind his head. Itβs seven-forty-five. Iβm way early.
βCan I get you a drink while you wait?β
βUm, OK.β
βWhatβll it be?β
βWhatβs the nicest tasting drink you have that isnβt too strong.β
He grins. βYouβll want to talk to my brother, Remy, for that.β He turns his head and lets out a whistle, summoning a darker-haired version of himself to his side. Iβm taken aback by how gorgeous these bartenders are. There must be something in the Whisper Valley water supply.
βWhatβs up?β Remy asks.
βOur guest here would like something sweet but not too strong.β
βAny particular flavor?β He directs that at me.
βAnything fruity.β
βComing right up,β he says, giving me a dazzling grin before turning and walking to the opposite side of the bar.
βWhy donβt you take a seat in that vacant booth over there, and Iβll get someone to bring it over to you?β
βOK. But I havenβt paid.β
βAnd youβre not going to. Consider this a welcome to Whisper Valley. First drink is on the house.β
βThatβs so kind of you. Thanks, erβ¦β
βKellen.β He smiles and holds out his hand.
βAva. Itβs lovely to meet you.β
βEnjoy your date.β
Giving him a grin, I hold up my hand and show him my crossed fingers before I head toward the booth he indicated.
βOne fruity, low-alcohol cocktail for our newest resident of Whisper Valley,β a smiling blonde says as she sets a highball filled with bright orange liquid with a wedge of pineapple on the side. βIβm Jade. Kellenβs wife. Seeing you sitting here waiting for a date has got me all nostalgic for the night I met my man.β
βOh, hi Jade. Iβm Ava, but Iβm not a resident. Just visiting.β I take a sip of the drink and nod approvingly. βThatβs delicious.β
βRemy made it special for you. He has a knack of knowing just what to give someone. You had your cards read by Clementine today, right?β
βUm, yes,β I say, drawing out the word because Iβm not sure how she knows that.
βIβm not being creepy. Sheβs my sister-in-law. Well, kind ofβsheβs married to Kellenβs cousin. So whatever that makes her is what she is. And, anyway, thatβs how I know.β
βShe told you about my reading?β
βOh gosh, no! Iβm messing this up. She told me about the candles. And I might also know about the accident between your car and Dukeβs truck.β She winces. βSmall town.β
βNews travels fast around here, hey?β
She laughs. βYou have no idea.β Her eyes lift from me to the door, and her expression brightens. βLooks like your date is here. Hopefully weβll meet again,β she says, lifting her hand to give Duke a wave before she leaves to join her husband behind the bar.
βI see youβre already meeting the locals,β Duke says, his deep voice a rumbly perfection as he approaches. I stand to greet him.
βShe was just keeping me company. I was early.β
He chuckles and nods toward the bar clock. Seven-fifty-five. βMe too.β
I blush harder than Iβve ever blushed before and giggle in a way that seems foreign to me. This man just seems too good to be true. Tall, dark hair, muscular and broad. He makes me feel tiny even though Iβm far from it, and when he leans in to greet me with a kiss on the cheek, he pauses to inhale, and my knees almost give way.
βYou smell amazing,β he murmurs.
βYes,β I say like a blithering idiot. βI mean, thanks.β
My cheeks burn as we move to sit opposite each other in the booth. Duke shifts a little to get comfortable, but then he frowns and stands again.
βIs something wrong?β
βI think Iβd feel better if I was sitting next to you instead of across.β
βOK,β I say, beaming as I shift across and he slides in next to me, our thighs pressing up against each other, my soft against his hard. Why does this feel soβ¦hot?
βThis isnβt normal for me,β he says rather suddenly. βI donβtβ¦date.β
My eyebrows lift, curiously keeping my flattery at bay. βThen why are you on a date with me?β
He looks at meβno, he studies meβthen he grins and shakes his head. βBecause I havenβt shared a moment with a wiper wielding spitfire before, either. I guess you could say youβve intrigued me.β
βEven though I reversed into your car and broke the wiper from it?β
βSometimes things happen for a reason. Perhaps the point of you backing into my truck was so youβd still be there when I got back.β
βSo what youβre saying is that the two of us meeting was some kind of kismet?β
βIβm willing to find that out if you are.β
I couldnβt even hide my grin if I tried. βWilling and ready.β
Β
Duke
βItβs after midnight,β Dottie says in an excited rush as I enter the door. βTell me everything. Are you in lurve?β She giggles after drawing out that last word then the expression on her face drops when I step into the light of the kitchen and take my coat off. βIs thatβ¦blood?β
βItβs not mine.β
βThen whose? Marmaduke Arthur Fox, were you in a fight?β
βNo, the blood is hers. And donβt call me Marmaduke, you know how much I hate that.β
βAt least you got named after the main character. I got named after the mother who no one ever remembers.β
βAt least sheβs human, and you werenβt teased about it all your life.β
βIβll give you that. But donβt go changing the subject. What happened to your date?β
I look at her for a moment then decide to refrain from pointing out exactly who went off on a comic-related tangent. βShe got hit in the face by a swinging door as we were leaving. Slammed her straight in the nose, and there was blood everywhere.β
Her hand covers her mouth as she gasps. βNo way. Is it broken?β
βI donβt think so. The ownerβs wife kind of swooped in and took care of everything.β
Her brow shoots up. βYou left her there?β
βWhat? No. Iβm not a total asshole. I felt like I was completely in the way, but I stuck around until the wife drove her home, and the husband followed behind in her car. Once they were gone, and I was sure she was fine, then I left.β
βWhat a horrible end to a date.β
I sit down and start unlacing my boots. βThe whole entire thing was awful if Iβm honest.β
βYou didnβt get along?β
βSheβs amazinβ. Butβ¦β
βBut what?β
βIβm over-the-top attracted to her, but Iβm not sure we have nothing in common. The only thing we seemed to agree on is the smell of that damn candle. Everything else, weβre total opposites.β
βIn what way?β
βFor starters, Iβm into cars and sheβs into meditation. I read the newspaper, and she reads romance novels. I like waking up and seeing where my day takes me, and she likes taking advice from a deck of cards with pictures on them. I justβ¦β I let out a sigh and shake my head. βIf Iβm honest, the thing thatβs really getting to me is her age. Iβm far too old for her being forty-eight to her twenty-nine.β
βNineteen years. Itβs not so bad.β
βIt will be in ten yearsβ time when Iβm pushing sixty, and sheβs only your age now.β
Dottie sighs. βSo thatβs your big issue. She makes you feel old?β
Kicking both my boots off and shoving them under the table, I lean back in my chair, and it creaks from my movement. βOld, out of touch, set in my ways. Sheβs a breath of fresh air and most of the time I smell like an oil pit. And the way she talks about the things she enjoysβ¦β I think back to the way her face lit up as she described how the energy from crystals and the guidance of Tarot led her to making this trip to Whisper Valley. It was at that moment that I decided she was too good for me. Too good for anyone, really. Sheβs one of those people with a spirit thatβs meant to be wild, free and unburdened. The last thing I ever want to do is weigh a woman as pure as Ava down. Despite my attraction to her, I have no right to be part of that young womanβs life. Iβll hurt her spirit, of that, Iβm sure. βIβm just not the man for her,β I finish.
Dottie picks up her mug of tea and takes a sip. βSounds like that date wasnβt so bad if you can look past all that self-deprecation.β
βIβm just being realistic here.β
βI guess that means you wonβt be seeing her again?β
βEven if I wanted to, sheβs leaving town on Tuesday.β
βYouβre not going to stop by and at least see how her face is after getting attacked by a door?β
βI doubt sheβd even want to see me. I really wasnβt much of a date. Poor girl had to do all the talkinβ while I just sat there realizing sheβs too good for me.β
βFrom what Iβm getting here, you sat and quietly listened to her talk about the things she loves, right?β
βWell, yeah. I didnβt want to bore her withββ
βThen I think youβll find you were an amazing date,β she says, smiling as she gets up from her chair and places her mug in the sink. βI think youβre letting old wounds guide the voices in your head. You arenβt boring. You arenβt too old, and you have so much good to offer a woman.β I scoff and turn away, but she walks back over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. βI know itβs hard for you to put yourself out there again, but I think you should at least go check if sheβs OK. Sheβs probably embarrassed and feeling incredibly sorry for herself. And really, what do you have to lose?β
βThe last shred of self-worth I have when she rejects me for being boring and old.β
βSounds to me like youβre just being a big ole scaredy cat, big brother. And if I remember correctly, it was you who said when I was unsure about buying this place that if I never take a risk, Iβll never reap the rewards.β
βDoesnβt sound like me.β
She laughs. βWell, it was you. So maybe you should take your own advice. I have a good feeling about this girl even if you donβt.β Dropping a kiss on my cheek, she says her goodnight and shuffles off to bed, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the echoes of Avaβs laughter drowning out the constant memories of my past. Maybe I should stop by and check on her?
