And all because he would have given anything to have a son to feed properly and to potty train. And to love.
3
Several strings of Edison-style lights swayed in the ocean breeze overhead at dusk as the gathering swelled in numbers on Opal and Lincoln Cole’s back deck. Sophia listened to the lighthearted chatter that was sprinkled with sweet laughter. Standing on the fringes of such joy, she felt utterly alone.
“There you are!” Opal sashayed over, looking like a fifties pinup with her hair rolled and a saucy dress.
“Wow, Opal. That dress is so cute,” Sophia commented as she smoothed her palm down the side of her floral maxi dress, feeling anything but.
Opal danced a little circle, sending the hem of her navy swing dress dotted with bright-red cherries flaring out. “Thanks. Linc says I’m totally rockabilly tonight.” She handed Sophia a glass of summer punch. The very same recipe they’d sipped at most every summer party since she could remember. Pineapple juice mixed with pink lemonade concentrate—frozen, then mixed with ginger ale and served slushy style.
“Honey, your husband walks around in threadbare tees, holey jeans, and barefoot most of the time. How does he even know anything about rockabilly fashion?” Sophia took a sip of the sweet and tangy slushy.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lincoln said, all brooding smugness, as he joined them. He reached over and tugged the end of Sophia’s hair. “Glad to see you found a brush.”
Sophia barely contained an eye roll. “Glad you did the same and have that mess out of your eyes for a change.” No man should have such pretty hair, especially a giant Neanderthal such as Lincoln Cole, Sophia thought.
“Don’t be jealous,” Lincoln teased as if he could read her thoughts and made a show of smoothing back his dark hair. It was shoulder-length and hung in glossy waves.
“Don’t be a dork.” She went ahead and rolled her eyes. For some reason, Lincoln had taken it upon himself to become her surrogate big brother. Teasing her every chance he got on one hand, yet fiercely protective of her on the other. She still couldn’t get over him getting into a pretty heated shoving match with Ty when she showed up covered in bruises that last time. Lincoln liked to aggravate her to no end but wouldn’t allow anyone else to do so. No matter how annoying he was, she sure did like having him in her corner. He was definitely a good one, and she couldn’t thank the good Lord enough for sending him to Opal. Those two together were an invincible team.
“She even managed wearing something besides funeral attire.” This smart remark came from the other man who loved to get under her skin.
Sophia spun around and glared at August, who was grinning ear to ear as he swiped her half-empty glass of punch and finished it off. “Hey!” She reached over and pinched him good and hard.
August flinched out of her reach. “Dang it, Sophia! What have we told you about keeping your claws to yourself?” August tsked and had the audacity to hand her the empty cup.
She was about to go another round or two with the town’s famed artist, but someone walked by and caught not only her attention but that of the others standing around her.
“Wes! You made it!” Opal shouted over the music and chatter to get his attention.
Dr. Weston Sawyer was one smartly dressed man in a light-blue dress shirt and perfectly pressed khakis, and Sophia couldn’t help but stare as he sauntered over in a confident stride to join the group. Polished and poised, he tipped his head to each lady while holding a careful smile on his face, catching on Sophia for a punctuated moment. Apparently he didn’t recognize her or care to look any longer, so he moved his attention back to Opal.
“Thank you for inviting me. Sorry I didn’t have time Monday morning to get acquainted, but the cookies were delicious.”
Two things struck Sophia at once. First, the man spoke in such a smooth tone she wanted to snuggle up beside it. And second, she was disgusted with herself for even thinking it. Clearly the loneliness of her newfound single life was to blame. But then a third thing struck after actually taking in the words he said. She narrowed her eyes at Opal, but her friend was dutifully ignoring her.
“You had to unpack. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad you enjoyed the cookies.” Opal smiled, full of warmth.
“Where did you swipe the cookies, Opal? Surely they were stolen goods if they were edible,” August commented as he draped an arm over Josie’s shoulder as she joined the group.
Sophia smiled at Josie but couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering back to the man who accused her of being a bad mother. Her lips sloped into a frown at that thought as she studied him, hoping to find a flaw to revel in. His hair was a mix of blond and brown, as if the locks couldn’t make their minds up on what color to be. A striking set of hazel eyes seemed to be in the same indecisive predicament. Of course his youthful face held no stubble and each of those wavy locks of caramel hair were perfectly placed. Not even a bump on the bridge of his straight nose or any sign of crow’s-feet around his eyes. Nope, not one physical flaw could be found. She’d just have to stick with knowing his attitude held enough flaws to trump his handsomeness.
Wes glanced at her again, no recognition evident, before sliding his attention to August. He reached out a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Wes shook August’s hand and Josie’s hand next. “The two of you did a great job on the exam room murals. The children really like them.”
Josie blushed as predicted and August kissed her pink cheek as always. Truly, they were one of those adorable couples that sent some in awe while painting others green with envy. Sophia understood this because she’d been on both sides of those feelings.
She noticed Opal slipping away and followed. “I should pinch you too.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Opal asked while waving at a few guests.
“You knew who Weston Sawyer was the entire time we sat on this deck playing your silly ‘I Spy the Vampire’ game.”
Opal swatted the accusation away and moved over to the refreshment table set up on the farther side of the deck. “That was us just having some fun. No sense in getting your panties in a twist over it.”
“No, that’s you thinking you’re so slick, Mrs. Meddler.”
Opal refilled Sophia’s glass with punch, then hers, before taking a sip. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“You were hoping Wes would come over while I was here the other day. Why?”
Opal looked around, maybe searching for an answer that would save her hide. “Well, I ran into Agnes Nelson at Growler’s, and the poor thing is in such a pickle.”
“Ugh. Please, Opal. I don’t have the patience for your loopy talk. Just say it straight.” Sophia’s eyes darted to the pretentious man where he stood with August and Lincoln. Impeccably groomed, he appeared too graceful and proper to be hanging out with those two scruffy country boys. She moved her gaze to the two ruggedly handsome men—one with long hair and a thick beard, the other tattooed and wearing a five-o’clock shadow like a boss—thinking how Weston Sawyer couldn’t be more opposite of them.
I wonder what all that neat put-togetherness is hiding.