OWEN COOPER WAS DRUNK. That didn’t stop him from pouring himself another glass of whiskey. He was on the small balcony of the two-bedroom apartment that was intended to be where he and Lucy would start their new life together.
He’d spent a few nights out here on the balcony over the past week, listening to the music rising up from the bars in downtown Greensboro. It was the hip and happening area of the city, or so his cousin had said when she sent him the lease to sign. She’d done the looking while he was wrapping up his obligation to the Army.
His mother had had a fit when he enlisted after two years of college, but the Coopers had a long history of military service. Owen was proud to be able to do his part as well as pay off his own college loans without relying on his parents. It was a good plan.
He and Lucy had agreed to wait on marriage until he was out of the military. It was a practical plan. They’d both agreed. He figured he’d come home, marry his girl and start a life together. He’d take over his dad’s landscaping and nursery business. Lucy would go to work at the nursery. Hell, she’d already started working there after her grandmother passed away. He’d even promised her she could set up a flower arranging counter in the nursery because it was all she talked about. It was a good plan. Until it wasn’t.
He took another sip of whiskey. This line of thinking felt painfully familiar and exceedingly pointless. He’d gone through it a hundred different times, in a hundred different ways. Putting himself through the drills, ignoring the pain, torturing himself because hey—no pain no gain, right? Just as he’d been trained.
His time in the military taught him to anticipate roadblocks, but he sure as hell never anticipated arriving at the church on his wedding day to discover his bride had fled. Not just changed her mind. She’d run away. From her entire life. From her family obligations. From her obligations to his family. From...him. He took another sip of his drink, relishing the sharp burn as it went down.
He couldn’t seem to stop hearing her voice in his head, repeating those questions before everything went toes up. She started after him as soon as he came home in April. Did something happen? Are you okay? What did “okay” even mean? He was more okay than the guys who came back in body bags. More okay than Katherine McCabe, sitting in a VA rehab center trying to adjust to life without her left leg. So...yeah, he was okay. Technically. But Lucy wasn’t happy with that answer. It was too late for better answers now. She was gone.
He was worried sick about her. Was she safe? Was she living out of her car? Or more correctly, Nikki Taggart’s car? Was this an I-have-to-find-myself road trip that she’d return from in a few days? Or was she gone for good? She’d texted him on what should have been their wedding night. She told him she was sorry. She told him she was safe. Insinuated that he’d be fine without her. All in a string of texts, like that was all the effort he was worth.
Lucy threw a grenade right into his life, then acted like it was no big deal. Sure, she’d apologized, but for what exactly? Oh, sorry I just cost your parents seventy grand. Sorry you signed that lease for an apartment. Sorry about humiliating you in front of your pals. Sorry about breaking your heart...
Owen drained the glass, refilling it and scowling when the bottle went dry in the process. Good thing he’d restocked that afternoon. He’d been living on takeout food and booze since she left. There was a sharp rap on the apartment door, sending him stumbling to his feet. Some dim part of his brain grasped at the possibility it was Lucy. That she’d come back. But no, that was male laughter in the hall. He opened the door and nearly got stampeded by his buddies from Fort Bragg. He’d forgotten they were coming. What day was it, anyway?
Pete Lamphear was first, carrying a case of beer. Joe Callaway followed with shopping bags full of chips and junk food. Marcus Jones brought up the rear, carrying a brown paper bag from the nearest liquor store. Owen wanted to tell them to get lost, but what the hell. He didn’t exactly have anything better to do.
Before long, Owen was even more drunk. So were his pals. He’d already told them they were spending the night, because nobody was in any condition to drive. Wasn’t like he had to check with a wife for permission. He didn’t have a wife.
“Fu-u-u-ck.” He groaned, wincing at the wound he’d just picked open. Again.
“And there it is!” Pete raised his beer as if in victory, then twisted his arm to squint at his watch. “Who had an hour and a half in the ‘Coop Finally Loses It’ Pool?”
Marcus crunched a mouthful of corn chips, sputtering crumbs everywhere as he pumped his fist. “I had eighty minutes! I knew my man wouldn’t crack that easy.”
“What?” Owen was having a hard time following the conversation, and wasn’t sure if it was the booze or his so-called friends.
The guys ignored him. Joe pointed at Pete. “You only gave him thirty, you low-faith bastard. At least I gave him an hour.”
Owen slammed the whiskey bottle down on the table, making glasses rattle. “What in the ever-loving hell are you idiots talking about?”
Pete was sprawled on the floor, his head propped against a chair, chip crumbs scattered on his shirt like snow. “We took bets on how long it would take for you to crack and tell us what’s goin’ on. That delayed-detonation f-bomb sure sounded like a crack to me.”
“Agreed.” Marcus nodded. “‘Cause this?” He held up Owen’s empty whiskey bottle. “This ain’t gonna do it, man. So enjoy tonight, because it’s time for you to dry out.”
He stared at his friends. His comrades in arms. They’d shared a lot of laughs. And they’d seen some shit in the mountains outside of Kabul. Pete and Joe were career Army, in it until retirement. Marcus had two years left, then he was headed home to Alabama.
Owen shook his head, trying to clear the whiskey fog.
“I’m not cracking. I’m fine.” The three men stared, wordless. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m not saying it was fun to get stood up at my own damn wedding. But it’s better than getting dumped after the wedding, right?”
“You ready to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
Joe’s head tipped to the side. “Ready to hit the bars and find someone new?”
“What? No!” Owen shook his head emphatically. His filter failed him. “I still love Lucy.”
Marcus started to chuckle, his voice deep. “And there you have it. I told you he wasn’t over her.” He gave Owen a hard look. “You want her back, after all this?”
No sense denying what he’d already blurted out.
“Yes. Damn it. YES. We had a life planned. We have a home.” Well, okay, it was a rental. “I’m gonna take over the business. She’s going to work there. We’ll get a nice, new house someday.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. He was reciting a plan that no longer existed. “She panicked. It happens. But once I get her back here, then we’ll be good to go. Reschedule the wedding...” His mother would not be pleased, but that was her problem. He suspected Mom’s overbearing ways were a big reason why Lucy seemed so detached from the wedding plans to start with. “After we’re married, we’ll start the life we had planned.” He felt another pinch of guilt. Lucy hadn’t given much input on those plans. He’d assumed her silence meant agreement. Another mistake.
“So how are you going to convince her to come back? Do you know where she is?”
“I’ve got a hunch. I think she’s in New York. Upstate, not the city. Lucy’s sister said Nikki handed Lucy the keys to her Mustang. Nikki Taggart went to her brother’s wedding up there a while ago.” He’d called Nikki a few times, but she’d been uncooperative. “I’ll plead my case in person with Nikki if I have to, which will be good practice for groveling to Lucy.”
Joe snorted out a laugh. “Sounds like good practice for your whole married life, my friend. Apologizing is Job Number One for husbands...trust me, I know.” His laughter faded. “But if you don’t know why she left, how will you know what to apologize for? What if she’s still pissed off at you? What if she tells you to go to hell?”
Owen stared at the coffee table, unable to answer. This was a mission he hadn’t trained for.
“Here you go!” Pete crowed, holding up his phone. “Ten Guaranteed Ways to Get a Lady’s Attention. It’s from an app my brother tipped me off to–Dr. Find-Love. The guy has a podcast on how to pick up ladies at bars, how to woo a woman you’re serious about, how to dump a woman you’re not serious about, and shit like that. And there’s even a phone app.”
“Yeah, right.” Owen grimaced. “Just what I need—cyberdating advice from some sleazeball named Dr. Find-Love. You know what we called blowhards like that in Kabul—oxygen thieves. Sounds like a con.”
“No, man,” Pete answered, handing Owen the phone. “The guy’s got a PhD or something.”
“Emphasis on the or something,” Joe muttered.
Pete didn’t break his stride. “He’s legit! He writes books and stuff. I’m telling you, his ideas work. How do you think I got Holly to fall for me?”
Owen glanced at the app, then dismissed it, asking which professional basketball team had the best odds to win the upcoming championship game. The guys went along with the change of subject, and they talked and laughed for another hour or so before everyone claimed a bed or a sofa for the night. But Owen couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about that stupid app Pete showed him.
He quietly grabbed his tablet from the kitchen and went back to his room. Dr. Find-Love—clearly not his real name—smiled back at him from the screen with gleaming blond hair and a toothy smile. Owen scrolled through a long list of testimonials. The guy did seem legit. And for just $1.99 per month, Owen could subscribe to Dr. Find-Love’s newsletter and app. He scrolled through the sample tabs, and one caught his eye.
Screwed Up and Lost Her? How to Grovel Successfully.
He knew there was still too much whiskey in his system to be shopping online, but damn. If he could pull up a blueprint for what to do to get Lucy to come back home, it could save him from wasting time, or from making things even worse. He didn’t give himself time to rethink it. One click on the app store and he became an official member of the “Lucky Guy Club.” He ignored the quiet voice of reason in his head, telling him the whole thing felt sleazy. As he opened the app, he felt more hopeful than he had since the morning his mother started screaming about the abruptly canceled wedding.
He had a plan now. He was going to find Lucy. He was going to follow this groveling checklist and win her back. Then they’d come home to Greensboro and start their life together. He looked at the top of the screen.
Guaranteed Results!
It was a done deal.
LUCY SLAPPED AT her phone, swearing at the alarm she couldn’t turn off. She was still disoriented most mornings when she woke to find herself in room 12 at the Taggart Inn in Rendezvous Falls. She blinked a few times after silencing the phone, then stretched and sat up. It was a pretty room, with soft yellow walls and cornflower blue curtains at the long windows. The queen-size bed was tucked into the corner at an angle, covered with a pastel quilt. There was an antique writing table in front of one window, and a large mahogany dresser on another wall, opposite the small private bath and equally small walk-in closet.
Piper Taggart, the manager of the inn, had explained that this room was one of three larger corner rooms they tried to keep available for long-term guests like her. These were the rooms with the most closet space and small sitting areas to relax. In room 12, on the third floor, that meant an overstuffed armchair and ottoman in one corner, near the tall windows. There was a flat-screen TV on the wall near the chair, and Lucy had spent most of her evenings staring at reruns of 1990s sitcoms on a streaming service.
She showered and dressed, pinning her hair back in a messy pink twist. It wasn’t easy to pin it up as short as it was now. The pink was already beginning to fade, but there was still enough to make her look like little Princess Sparkle Pony. Eventually it would be gone. Eventually she’d have to deal with the mess she’d left in North Carolina. Eventually she’d have to deal with Owen. She frowned into the mirror. The pink dye was her hourglass—slowly running out until her time was up.
It was Thursday, so she’d be working at the flower shop today. As long as Connie hadn’t changed her mind again. It had been touch and go since Lucy helped complete the wedding order for the angry young bride last week. She’d volunteered to make some updated arrangements for the cooler display, and they’d sold well that weekend. Connie paid her a percentage. Pocket money, but it helped. Connie had an order for a dinner party at some fancy home on the shore of Seneca Lake. She’d let Lucy create three tall table arrangements.
Lucy kept the blossoms heaviest on the bottom eight inches, then spray painted some curly willow branches with metallic blue paint she’d found in the workroom. Connie had a trio of blue china bowls on her shelves that helped keep the low profile intact. The tall narrow sticks added drama to the arrangements, but still allowed guests to see each other for dinner conversation. Mrs. Hudson declared them “divine” when she and her grandson, Mark, stopped to pick them up.
On Tuesday, Lucy had asked Connie point-blank for a job. She couldn’t stay at the inn much longer without one, and she wasn’t ready to go back home. She’d go stir crazy without something to keep her mind off the wreckage she’d left behind in North Carolina.
After a lot of hemming and hawing and repeated declarations that I don’t need help, Connie agreed that Lucy could work at the shop part-time. She’d help with inventory on Wednesdays, when fresh flowers arrived for weekend orders, and then she’d work five hours a day through the weekend. But Connie fixed her with a hard look before she left that day, telling her that this was strictly probationary and “might not last.” Not exactly reassuring. But Lucy knew she was skilled with arrangements. Better than Connie in some ways...certainly more contemporary with her designs. She slipped into her comfortable canvas sneakers and braced her foot on the edge of the bed to tie the laces.
It wasn’t fair to say she was better than Connie. It was Connie’s shop, and the arrangements she’d seen were nicely done. Technically perfect. They were just a little... dated. Lucy could show her more modern displays to appeal to a younger clientele, and maybe even tackle the shop window to give it some pizzazz. Lucy wouldn’t be staying here forever, but working at the flower shop could work out for both her and Connie if she played her cards right.
She was just sitting down at her usual breakfast table by the window in when Piper Taggart asked her The Big Question as she filled Lucy’s coffee mug.
“So what are your long-term plans?”
Lucy straightened. “Why? Do you need my room? I can look for...”
“Don’t be silly,” Piper said, shaking her head. “You have room 12 as long as you need it. Even if I wasn’t terrified to refuse my sister-in-law Nikki, I’d never make you leave. I just wondered... I know you broke up with your fiancé, but what made you leave the entire state of North Carolina? Did he do something that bad?” Piper started to laugh. “And oh my God, I’m giving you an interrogation before you’ve had a chance to eat breakfast! I’m sorry.”
Lucy had been admiring the Taggarts’ restraint since her arrival. Maybe they didn’t know all the juicy details. She smiled. “You’ve been holding in all those questions since I got here, haven’t you?”
“And you have no idea how hard that’s been!” Piper laughed again, glancing around. It was after nine on a weekday, so the inn was quiet and the dining room empty. “But seriously, you don’t owe anyone, especially me, any explanations. Nikki doesn’t ask for many favors, so we didn’t hesitate to say yes.”
“Nikki’s an independent one, for sure,” Lucy agreed.
“She and Logan didn’t have the easiest childhood, with their mom gone and their dad moving them all over the country chasing his big dreams. Logan’s my hardworking gentle giant, and Nikki...” Piper hesitated. “Well, I’ve only known her a couple of years, but Nikki is so fierce about everything she does.”
“Fierce is a good word for Nik.”
Lucy remembered Nikki talking about how her brother had unexpectedly settled in Rendezvous Falls to run their grandmother’s inn after a lifetime of globe-hopping from one oil rig to another. These days he lived in a fanciful pink Victorian house right next door to the Taggart Inn with previously widowed Piper and her two children. As surprised as she’d been at Logan’s life change, Nikki said she loved her new sister-in-law. And she adored being Aunt Nik to Piper’s children, Ethan and Lily.
“I only ask the questions because I want to be sure you’re okay. If you need anything, or ever want to talk or go have a drink or anything, just say the word.” Her smile brightened. “I’ll stop talking now and get your breakfast. Today’s special is our Greek omelet, if that’s okay.”
Lucy nodded, and found herself blinking back tears as she watched Piper, petite and trim, walk away. She’d kept to herself since her arrival, not engaging much with other guests. It wasn’t as if she was vacationing here. The flower shop had kept her busy, but other than that, she’d hardly spoken to a soul. At least, not in person.
Her phone and her social media accounts had blown up. Seemed everyone in Greensboro wanted an explanation, from friends and family like Kris to opposite-of-friends like Faye Cooper. Her parents begged her to reconsider leaving and to forgive them for not being honest about what was happening between them.
Dad called and they’d had a long talk. He insisted the divorce wasn’t all her mother’s fault. The fight Lucy overheard was a fluke. He’d forgiven her mother. Mom called, too, but Lucy hadn’t answered. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation. Mom’s voice mails were an endless cycle of apologies and explanations that she and Dad would always be friends, but they’d fallen out of love. Lucy did not find that very reassuring—hearing how people could just fall out of love the same way kids fell out of trees.
But it hadn’t just been her parent’s divorce. They were simply the final straw in a long line of disappointments.
Nikki had packed up more of her clothes from Lucy’s parents’ house and shipped them to her, with a note telling her to take as much time and as little bullshit as needed for her sanity. And Owen had called. And texted. And DM’d. He didn’t understand, which was fair. Kinda hard to explain what she didn’t fully understand herself. She needed more time. Or was she just avoiding the inevitable? For someone who hated confrontation, she’d created the fodder for an awful lot of it.
With every day that passed, Lucy realized Owen wasn’t the only reason she’d run, either. She missed the man she’d fallen in love with, and when he came home all cold and silent, it was just one more thing that knocked her off balance. He was so determined to follow the life path his parents had set for him. She just wasn’t sure anymore that she could go down that path with him. But as mad as she’d been about Owen shutting down emotionally when he returned from deployment, she knew she was doing the same thing in return.
Piper returned with a breakfast platter, and Lucy thought she might stay and ask all of those burning questions she had. Instead, she said she had to make sure room 3 was ready for a guest arriving shortly, leaving Lucy alone in the dining room. And surprisingly disappointed. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe she was ready to start talking—and thinking—about what came next. Because right now she had no clue. As angry and hurt as she was by her parents, Owen’s parents and Owen himself...running away wasn’t going to solve a damn thing.
After eating more of the giant omelet than she thought she would, Lucy put her dishes and silverware on the tray on the sideboard. Time to go see what kind of mood Connie would be in. Defensive and belligerent, as she’d been most of the time? Or reluctantly attentive, as she’d been on Sunday when Lucy was putting those dinner party arrangements together?
Lucy grabbed her bag from her chair and headed out to the hallway toward the front door. Logan Taggart, easily a foot taller than his petite bride, Piper, and looking every inch like the former oil rig worker he was, was checking in a guest at the desk.
A prickling sensation swept under her skin as she got closer, heading for the front doors. The man had his back to her. An olive green military duffel sat at his feet. His hair was in a near-military cut. It was an all-too-familiar chestnut brown.
“Lucy!” Piper rushed up behind her, breathless. “I’m glad I caught you. This is your phone, right? You left it on the table and I...” Piper stopped. She followed Lucy’s gaze down the hall to the front desk and back. “What’s wrong?”
The man at the desk had frozen as soon as Piper called Lucy’s name. He turned. It seemed like he was moving in slow motion, or maybe it was her brain moving slowly, trying so hard to understand how this could be happening. Then he was facing her, his golden eyes wide. His name fell out of her mouth in a startled breath.
“Owen?”
He moved toward her, and she backed up in a panic. That confrontation she’d been avoiding was now standing in front of her. Action, meet consequences. Piper jumped in front of her, facing down Owen with her finger waving in the air.
“Stop right there, buster,” she said. Piper was only a few inches over five feet tall, but there was a fierce mama bear strength in her stance. Owen stopped abruptly, rocking back on his heels. He nodded toward Lucy, his jaw tight.
“That’s my fiancée.”
“Not anymore.” Lucy shook her head so forcefully that her hair started to fly free from the clips. How could he still call her that after she’d left him at the altar? His eyes were darker and more solemn than she’d ever seen.
There was a rush of movement, and her view of Owen was blocked. Piper had been replaced between them by her husband Logan. The moment’s intensity ramped up exponentially.
“You need to take a step back, pal.” Logan’s voice was low and calm, but it was the type of calm that came before a storm. A violent storm. “In fact, you need to step right on out of here.”
Logan was bigger than Owen. He was every inch the clichéd mountain of a man, making his pairing with petite Piper even cuter. But Owen was a soldier fresh off deployment to one of the most dangerous places in the world. The two men glared at each other in the hallway, chests beginning to swell in posturing aggression. This wouldn’t end well for anyone if she didn’t snap out of her stupor and do something.
“Logan...” She put her hand on his bicep and stepped to his side, feeling the rock-hard muscles pulsing beneath his shirt. Owen’s eyes narrowed even further when she left her hand on Logan’s arm, but she ignored it. “It’s okay, Logan. Owen and I...well... I wasn’t expecting him, but I’m not afraid of him.” She should have known he’d find her eventually. She gave Owen a firm look. “Stand down, soldier. Logan and Piper own this place. He’s Nikki’s brother. I’m assuming she’s how you knew how to find me?” It was a disappointing thought.
Neither man budged. Finally Piper Taggart let out a loud sigh and moved between Owen and her husband. She stared back and forth between both men. “Okay, I’m officially declaring this testosterone competition a tie. No winners. No losers. It’s over. Let’s all step into the library where we won’t be scaring any guests who might wander downstairs. We don’t need people posting online reviews mentioning some fight they saw happening...” Pipers eyes narrowed dangerously. “In. The. Lobby.”
The men continued their glaring contest for another beat, then Owen stepped back, holding his hands up. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. Typical Owen. Those words should have been emblazoned across his forehead like a warning, because Owen was never looking for trouble. Or conflict. Or even an uncomfortable conversation.
It wasn’t like she wanted him to punch Logan Taggart in the lobby or anything, but there was something infuriating about the way he backed down. Maybe it was the way his eyes had shuttered, closing himself off from displaying any emotion at all. Then again, he’d be an idiot to want her after what she’d done.
She cleared her throat. “What exactly are you looking for, Owen? Why are you here?”
Piper grabbed Owen’s elbow in one hand and Lucy’s in the other, steering them toward a nearby doorway.
“Like I said, let’s move this conversation to the library.” Her voice dropped to a whispered hiss. “The Millers are coming down the stairs!”