Page 1 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Chapter 1

Kate

“Hey, there, sweetheart!”

“Can’t stop! Late!” I hollered over my shoulder, barely registering who was speaking.

I wrenched open the door to Goat’s Tavern, the effort causing an errant brown curl to escape my French braid. It bobbed over my left eye with the joyful exuberance of a child bounding off the bus on the last day of school before summer vacation until I ruthlessly tucked it back into place, securing it with one of the bobby pins I always kept in my pocket. I blinked slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light.

Goat’s Tavern was a quintessential dive. Located on the outskirts of Hart’s Ridge, North Carolina, it was half watering hole for locals and half pit stop on the Appalachian Trail for thru-hikers. The owner, Luke Buchanan, had built the tavern out of his family’s 1840s farmhouse, and apparently couldn’t keep track of whether it was Christmas or the Fourth of July, because the tavern was decorated for the holidays—all of them. Christmas lights were strung up behind the bar. Some of the tables had Halloween-type centerpieces, and some had Easter bunnies and eggs. Patriotic bunting in red, white, and blue lined one wall. It was…a lot. But somehow it worked. The whole place looked cozy and festive no matter what time of year it was.

There was the minor issue of the sadistic Goat, but a hasty look around assured me that my knees were safe. For now, anyway.

“Kate! Over here!”

My friends, Suzie Barnett and Emma Andrews, waved to me from a booth near the bar. I waved back and weaved through the small crowd to get to them. Goat’s Tavern was always packed on Saturdays. Also, it was late August, so while most of the south-to-north thru-hikers were long gone, the hikers who had started in Maine and were now in the final leg of their journey to Georgia were out in full force.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I said breathlessly, sliding in next to Suzie, across from Emma. “I know I’m late. Have you been waiting long?”

“Well, we agreed to meet at 6:30, so Suzie and I got here at 6:30. It is now”—Emma made a big show of checking her phone for the time—“7:12. So, yes. We have been waiting long. Forty-two minutes long, to be exact.”

I winced. Emma hated to be kept waiting. In addition to running Holiday House, a bed and breakfast, Emma was mayor of Hart’s Ridge—a part-time position that seemed to require full-time hours, and none of those hours were paid. How she managed to get it all done was a mystery to me. We were similar in a lot of ways, but somehow Emma always managed to pull everything together, whereas I couldn’t shake the feeling I was one red light away from the world falling down around my ears.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “It was an unfortunate series of events, and—” My phone buzzed, and I paused long enough to see Mom flash across the screen. Ignore. “I had just closed Sweet Things when Mrs. Gaither stopped by. She had an emergency.”

Suzie shook her head. “We know how important your business is to you. But Sweet Things is a candy store. There’s no such thing as a candy emergency.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” Emma said. “There are definitely times when sugar is the only thing standing between me and a public tantrum. What Suzie is trying to say is that it’s okay to say no every now and then.”

I frowned. “But then Mrs. Gaither would have been disappointed.” Just the thought of it sent a sliver of anxiety up my spine.

Suzie and Emma exchanged a look. A judgmental look, in my opinion.

“Anyway, it only took ten minutes,” I defended myself. “So then I was running late to drop Jessica off with her grandparents, and of course I had to stay and chat for a minute because they’re always a little sad this time of year.”

Jessica, my fourteen-year-old daughter, spent the fourth Friday of every month with her paternal grandparents. Tonight Maria and Juan were teaching Jessica how to make pupusas. Fingers crossed there would be plenty of leftovers when they brought her home tomorrow.

Emma sighed. “I have the feeling we’re still a few favors away from Kate actually walking through the door, so how about I get us a round of drinks first? Suzie, another soda?”

Suzie nodded. She had just given birth to her third baby two months ago, and Carly was still nursing. “Thank you.”

“Kate? What can I get you?”

I grinned, knowing she was going to hate my answer. They both liked simple drinks. Suzie preferred wine (when she wasn’t pregnant or nursing, a rare occurrence these past few years) and Emma always ordered beer or whiskey. Not me. I liked fruity drinks, the more colorful the better. “A cosmopolitan, please.”

Emma pulled a face, but she hustled over to the bar. I watched gleefully as she told Luke our order. Luke, who looked like he should be Mr. July for a lumberjack calendar, shook his head. He raised one arm, pointing directly at me. “Only for you, sweetheart!” His voice boomed across the bar.

Everyone turned to look where he was pointing, quickly realized there was nothing interesting to see, and turned back around. Except for the man sitting closest to us at the bar. Instead of turning back around, he spun on his barstool to fully face us. I hadn’t noticed him sitting there before, but I noticed him now.

With a face like that, it was hard not to. He was hot.

Incongruently hot, actually. Like if a motorcycle club member had a baby with a college professor, and that baby had eyes the viridescent shade of a morning meadow. There was something about his face that reminded me of Hart Mountain itself, the peak that dominated the mountain ridge encircling the town like a halo. All sharp angles and rugged granite, beauty and danger in equal measure. But he was also clean-shaven, his brown hair was a respectable length, and his green eyes were owl-like behind thick glasses.

Our gazes collided. He was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Was it a smile? Was it a frown? Was it—

Oh, god, I was staring back.

I tried to stop, tried to look at anything but him, but my eyes refused to budge. I couldn’t look away.

---