hid the lipstick she’d given her—last season’s shade—in her back pocket.
“Well, go wash it off and start your homework,” Nathan said.
“Aunt Lindsay wants to watch the episode of Gossip Girl we recorded last night,” Melissa protested.
“Well, Aunt Lindsay can watch it. You have homework first. Besides, I need to talk to your aunt...” His voice trailed as his cell phone rang in his pocket and, reaching for it, he frowned. Again. “I have to grab this. Don’t go anywhere,” he told Lindsay.
“Where’s Rachel?”
“Upstairs bathing the two of my daughters you haven’t corrupted yet.” Answering the phone, he turned away from her. “Hello? Nathan Harper here...”
Saved by one of her brother’s demanding clients. Maybe it was Ben Walker, the friend who’d co-founded the land development firm with him. Lindsay’s most recently failed setup. Apparently, according to Ben, they’d met years ago at Nathan and Rachel’s wedding. She had no recollection of it.
Bending to whisper in Melissa’s ear, she said, “I’ll hide from your dad in your bedroom after I talk to your mom. Hurry, so we can watch the show.”
Thursday nights were Aunt and Niece Night, but the night before she’d been stuck at work. She hated disappointing the kid. The oldest of five, Melissa was expected to help out, stay out of trouble and, naturally, received the least amount of attention. Lindsay could relate.
“Okay, remember—no smoking.”
Seriously, the girl was worse than her own conscience. As a nurse, she knew the habit was a bad one, she knew the health risks, she also knew how terrible it looked to the patients when they caught her outside the clinic doing exactly what she preached to them not to do. The truth was, she’d tried many times over the years to quit and she’d failed miserably every time.
But how could she not attempt it for the fifty-eighth time when her niece had tearfully asked her to stop the month before when they’d watched a video in school about lung cancer?
She lifted the sleeve of her uniform to reveal several nicotine patches. “I’m trying,” she told her. And she was. So far she’d only caved twice in a month.
“I think you only need one,” Melissa said.
“Well, it can’t hurt. Go do your homework,” she said, the urge for a cigarette stronger now that they’d been talking about it.
The kid rushed off to do her homework at one of the dining room tables and Lindsay headed upstairs.
In the bathroom of the B and B’s living quarters, Rachel was perched over the bathtub. The eighteen-month-old twin girls, Mackenzie and Abigail, splashed in the bubbles while Rachel tried to wash their dark hair.
“What’s got my brother out of sorts now?” Best to get a heads-up from Rachel—the rational one of the pair—before dealing with her uptight sibling.
“The Facebook profile you created for Melissa.” She didn’t exactly sound pleased herself.
The girl wasn’t supposed to have told her parents Lindsay’d set up an account for her. Besides, she wasn’t stupid, she’d restricted the security settings. “What’s the point of being the cool aunt if she’s going to rat me out?”
Rachel rinsed the twins’ hair. “She didn’t. We got a call from Isabelle Thompson’s parents. Apparently, Isabelle was complaining that Mel was allowed to have Facebook and she wasn’t.”
“Wow, do all parents get up in each other’s business like that?”
Rachel shot her a look. “Nathan deleted her account.”
“Well, at least she won’t be upset with me.”
“Spoken like a true aunt,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Someday when you have kids, you’ll realize if they’re not mad at you, you’re probably not doing the job right.”
“I’m thirty-five and Mr. Right is nowhere in sight...I’m not exactly rushing out to buy parenting books.”
“Which reminds me, what happened on your date with Ben? He told Nathan you faked an emergency call halfway through dinner.” She frowned.
Great. He’d seen through the lie. She hadn’t thought he was paying attention long enough, answering his cell phone twice and replying to several “important” client emails. She’d seen her brother act that way on so many family dinners—and she wasn’t sure how Rachel put up with it.
If a man couldn’t put work aside for an hour, then she wasn’t interested.
“I’m sure he didn’t mind. We weren’t exactly hitting it off.”
“Really? He said he liked you and hoped you could try again sometime.”
Not likely. The man was nice and charming and good-looking but there hadn’t been a spark between them. He was too much like her brother...probably why they worked so well together, and exactly why he didn’t work romantically for her. Her brother was too serious and often far too stressed.
She took life one challenge at a time. The fact that Ben wanted to see her again was surprising but not going to happen. “I wasn’t feeling a connection.”
“Maybe you need to lower your standards a little. Your one-strike-you’re-out philosophy doesn’t really give the guys a fair chance, Linds.”
Lower her standards? “That’s not exactly easy, surrounded by perfect, disgusting couples all the time.”
Rachel laughed.
Lindsay sighed as she sat on the edge of the bathtub and lifted Mackenzie from the water, wrapping her in a ladybug towel.
The little girl shivered and she hugged her, wiping the soap bubbles off her legs and feet. Mac giggled and wiggled in her arms.
“‘Perfect, disgusting couples’?”
“Yes. You and my brother are the best example of the kind of nausea-inducing love hitting me in the face whenever I turn around.”
Rachel and Nathan had been high school sweethearts, which was status quo in the small town, and the couple had five adorable children. As co-owners of the Brookhollow Inn, they were family focused and as solid as any couple could be.
Lindsay had yet to find true love or anything close. Most of her short-lived relationships lasted a month at best. She couldn’t find someone who made her laugh, made her weak in the knees and wasn’t in too much of a rush to settle down. She wasn’t sure how she felt about marriage and kids. Most days, being cool Aunt Lindsay was enough.
“Well, we’ll try not to love each other so much,” Rachel said, wrapping Abigail in her butterfly towel and letting the water out of the bathtub.
“Rachel, you up there?”
Lindsay winced. Victoria Mason. Another blissfully happily married woman—one who was eight and a half months pregnant.
“In
