Page 1 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

ONE

ANABELLE

It isa truth universally acknowledged that an exhausted, single, soccer mom must be in want of a coffee. Especially if it’s an iced latte with the caramel syrup my friend Josie makes at her coffee shop.

I’ve been doing bookkeeping for my boutique, trying to catch up—and watch the register—while Eliza’s out today. She provides coverage on my days off—and so I can crunch numbers. The girl is thinner than I am, but she has the biggest sweet tooth and is usually snacking on Swedish Fish or a treat from the local bakery. It’s totally not fair. I could never get away with that.

The profit and loss could be better, but I’ll think positive and manifest good things—like being able to take my ten-year-old son, Nolan, on a vacation every year.

The bell over my door jangles, and Aubrey Wheaton sashays into my boutique. “Hey, girl!” she calls out to me, her red hair down and wavy.

I tuck back a strand that’s escaped my messy bun. “What are you up to, Aubrey?”

“I need a new candle for my kitchen. Do you have any of those honey lavender ones left?”

“You’ve been eyeing those for a while. Have you finally decided to buy one?” I say excitedly. I walk over to where she’s browsing the candles and pluck down the one she’s looking for from the gray wooden shelf I painted last summer. It had been a flea market find, like most of the shelving in my shop.

“You know I rarely spoil myself.”

“Idoknow. You’re too busy spoiling everyone else getting married at the Whitmore House. So why now? Do you have a guy coming over or something? You trying to set the mood?”

I was just kidding, but her face turns bright red.

“Oh.Oh! Youdohave a guy coming over. Who is it?” Usually, Aubrey is the one trying to set people up. For some reason, I never see her with anyone.

She leans in and lowers her voice. “If I tell you, promise you won’t spill a word of this to my mom. The last thing I need is her breathing down my neck, pressuring me to get into a serious relationship so I can give her grandbabies.”

I gasp and throw a hand to my chest. “Your mom? She would never do such a thing!”

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “So funny.”

“I wonder where you get it from?”

“Me? I don’t—” She cuts off mid-sentence, and a sheepish smile forms on her face. “Well, maybe I have done it a little.”

“So, tell me his name. How’d you meet him?”

She cocks an eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Okay, okay. I promise I won’t tell your mom.” I laugh.

She grins. “His name is Sean, and I met him at Dixie’s Tavern yesterday. He wants to come over for dinner tonight.”

Wait a second—I don’t like the sound of that. My protective sister instinct kicks in. “You’re letting him come over before he takes you to a restaurant? And you’re cooking for him?” There’s so much I want to say. He should be wining and dining her before she cooks for him.

“He did buy me a drink last night, and that counts in my book. I think it’s fine. Besides, you don’t always have to pressure a guy to buy you nice dinners.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

But hey, it’s her life. I can give my opinion, but ultimately, it’s up to her. Although . . . “Are you sure it’s safe to tell him where you live? Do you know anyone else who knows him?”

“I have a really good feeling about him,” Aubrey insists. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big girl who can take care of herself.”

“You’re right. I tend to be a bit overprotective of the people I love.”

The defensiveness around Aubrey’s eyes softens, and she reaches out for a hug, squeezing me. “Anabelle, you are an amazing friend.” She pulls back, her red hair framing her face.

I take a cloth and begin wiping down the counter. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll ring you up. I miss having Eliza here today. She always talks customers into buying three things they didn’t know they needed. It’s like a superpower.” I can’t help but feel hopeful that Aubrey coming in to buy this is a good omen. I have to keep thinking positive.

Clasping the soy candle, Aubrey wanders over to the homemade soaps one of my local vendors provides. She picks one up and sniffs it and sighs. “I’m such a sucker for a good homemade soap.”

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