Page 14 of Happy After All

“It’s not yours either,” I point out.

Elise pulls a face. “Thank you for saying that.”

I don’t want to be too pushy, but I sort of do. “You know, if you and Ben ever hooked up, it would be the perfect friends-to-lovers romance.”

In my opinion, friends to lovers is much more realistic than enemies to lovers. Mostly, if a man is mean to you, odds are he’s going to keep being mean to you. Mr. Darcy excluded. Not that I don’t enjoy reading a good enemies to lovers. I just don’t think ...

It’s realistic?

I hear that in Nathan’s voice, and I find it irritating.

“No,” she says, waving a hand. “I can’t. He’s too important to me.”

Ben Martinez is the mechanic at the local garage, and I think he would be perfect for Elise. Honestly, he’s a great surrogate father to Emma, and he treats Elise like the sun rises and sets on her.

“Why not?”

“Baggage,” she says. “Which I thought you understood.”

“Right.” Elise knows about Christopher. Mostly. There were things about my life in LA that I just wasn’t willing to share. The part where Christopher was a cheater?ThatI’d been more than willing to share.

“You seem to be a hopeless romantic for other people, just not for yourself.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Do as I say and not as I do?”

“Really, really no offense, Amelia, but you don’t know what it’s like to try to navigate dating when you have a child. She’s already been hurt by her dad.”

I ignore the way that gouges me right underneath my ribs. She’s right. I don’t have to think about a child. That wounds me. Right in the most unhealed part of myself. But I know what she means, so I choose not to be hurt by it.

“I get it. It’s complicated.”

“You, on the other hand, could pursue whatever this thing is that you’re obsessing about with Nathan.”

“I’m not obsessing.”

“Excuse me, miss,” Elise says in her best Mom Voice. “Have the last four heroes you’ve written in the last year all had green eyes and slightly disheveled dark hair?”

I sputter, “So?”

“You write him. Over and over. As a billionaire. As a prince. As the boss your heroine calls Daddy ...”

“I do not!”

I do. Dammit. She’s right. I do.

“No one calls anyone Daddy,” I mutter.

“Maybe that was just my overactive imagination,” Elise says, grinning widely at me.

“I can’t ... I’m not a fling sort of person,” I say. “I tried it once when I was in college. It didn’t work. I ended up crying over a guy who didn’t give me his number or an orgasm. There’s no benefit there for me. Anyway, he works on his books here. Someday I’m going to have that put on a plaque in the Hemingway Suite.Jacob Coulter wrote many novels here.”

Elise reaches up to pat my head, and one of the jewels on her nails snags in my hair. It’s so specific to her that I find it endearing. “I admire your aspirations. Maybe if that tourism boom Sylvia promised when she got elected mayor ever eventuates, it will really pay off.”

Rancho Encanto is small, but it’s charming. There are quite a lot of people who choose to stay here instead of in the thick of Palm Springs when they want a desert vacation. We offer something quaint, a little bit kitschy. Or, in the case of the Pink Flamingo Motel, a lot kitschy. But I like to think we know who we are and that we know who we cater to.

“Well, a boom would be nice,” I say.

Our main tourist season is during the cooler months. That’s why Rancho Encanto’s main drawcard is A Very Desert Christmas, an event we have every year, with a parade, food trucks, craft booths, andChristmas pageantry. Just last night I found out I’m going to be on the committee. I’m thrilled to be included in planning something that’s so vital to the health of my new community.

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