Dinner on Primrose Hill: A Heartwarming Texas Love Story
Book 3:
Honey Creek Novel
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Synopsis
This delightful and touching new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of dozens of treasured romances returns readers to the picturesque Texas town of Honey Creek—a place where friendship and warm welcomes can be relied on, and love always finds a way. In this heartwarming new story, an Army Ranger who’s been hurt before may finally find the woman who can mend his broken heart.
“Thomas’s memorable, refreshingly candid characters are sure to resonate, especially the strong female protagonists. Series fans will be delighted.” —Publishers Weekly
Benjamin Monroe is pretty sure how his life will play out. He’ll continue teaching chemistry in his small college, and spend his free time biking through the valley. Eventually, he’ll retire to putter around in his garden and greenhouse.
His colleague, Virginia Clark, is not one for routines. She’s chatty, spontaneous, and bubbly, and before Benjamin realizes what happened, she’s talked him into collaborating on a research project—studying the mating habits of college students. Virginia knows her desire to work with Benjamin is motivated by more than the potential prize money . . . and hopes he might not be quite as indifferent as he seems to be.
Ketch Kincaid, one of Benjamin’s star students, returned to college after serving in the army. He needs something to get his mind off his recent breakup and collecting research data might do it. And there’s another distraction on the horizon—a woman who looks like she, too, knows about heartache.
Soon enough, their project, “The Chemistry of Mating,” is gaining notoriety. Friends, neighbors . . . the whole town has become involved. But no matter what the data determines, one conclusion seems inescapable: love follows its own rules . . .
“Compelling and beautifully written.” —Debbie Macomber on Ransom Canyon
“Thomas’s memorable, refreshingly candid characters are sure to resonate, especially the strong female protagonists. Series fans will be delighted.” —Publishers Weekly
Benjamin Monroe is pretty sure how his life will play out. He’ll continue teaching chemistry in his small college, and spend his free time biking through the valley. Eventually, he’ll retire to putter around in his garden and greenhouse.
His colleague, Virginia Clark, is not one for routines. She’s chatty, spontaneous, and bubbly, and before Benjamin realizes what happened, she’s talked him into collaborating on a research project—studying the mating habits of college students. Virginia knows her desire to work with Benjamin is motivated by more than the potential prize money . . . and hopes he might not be quite as indifferent as he seems to be.
Ketch Kincaid, one of Benjamin’s star students, returned to college after serving in the army. He needs something to get his mind off his recent breakup and collecting research data might do it. And there’s another distraction on the horizon—a woman who looks like she, too, knows about heartache.
Soon enough, their project, “The Chemistry of Mating,” is gaining notoriety. Friends, neighbors . . . the whole town has become involved. But no matter what the data determines, one conclusion seems inescapable: love follows its own rules . . .
“Compelling and beautifully written.” —Debbie Macomber on Ransom Canyon
Release date: October 26, 2021
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 322
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Dinner on Primrose Hill: A Heartwarming Texas Love Story
Jodi Thomas
Dr. Benjamin Monroe folded his notes and placed them in the worn leather briefcase he’d carried since graduate school. His lecture room at Clifton College was empty now. Peaceful. He always liked the stillness after class. He’d done his job, and he took pride in that.
As he often did, he turned to the long, narrow windows behind his podium and looked out over his hometown. From the third floor he could see east all the way to the river and north to where the land rose in rolling hills. There was a balance here that calmed his soul. A wide valley that nestled three small towns, but his town, Clifton Bend, was the best because the college rested in its center.
Benjamin hadn’t missed a class in twelve years. At forty-two he always came on time and well prepared. Routine ruled his life. He liked working with his dad on their farm every weekend and loved biking through the valley on sunny afternoons. The exercise kept him lean and tanned, just as his work kept him sharp.
What he didn’t like was spring break. It interrupted his routine. A worthless holiday, but he’d help his father on their little farm and manage to keep busy.
“Dr. Monroe?” A nervous, high-pitched voice bombarded his thoughts. “May I speak to you about something? It’s important.”
A creature with auburn hair, glasses too big for her face, and huge blue eyes leaned around the door. Professor Virginia Clark.
He plowed his long fingers through his straight, mud-colored hair. If teachers were allowed a nemesis, Miss Clark, the biology instructor, would be his. As far as he was concerned, all they had in common was age.
Benjamin was tempted to say, “No, you can’t speak to me,” but that would be unprofessional.
To her credit, Miss Virginia Clark was bubbly on a down day. Her voice was too high, her manner of dress was in no way appropriate, and her legs were too short. On a good day she was exuberant and misguidedly thought they were not only colleagues but friends.
He’d always hated bubbly people; they made him nervous. But she taught two doors down in the biology lab and officed next to him. Some days he swore he could hear her laughing or running around her tiny workplace like a squirrel in a box.
Right now, she was charging toward his podium like Grant taking Richmond. Too late to say no or run, so all he could do was watch her approach.
Another observation—professors should never bounce.
Miss Clark bounced. She was a bit on the chubby side, a head shorter than he was, and the white lab coat did not conceal her curves. Her corkscrew hair seemed to be dancing to a hard rock beat, and her breasts . . . well, never mind them. Unprofessional, he thought as he watched her coming down the steps row by row, breasts moving to their own beat.
“I need your help, Dr. Monroe.” She stopped one foot too close to him.
He fought the urge to step back.
“Of course, Miss Clark, I’m at your service,” he offered. Maybe she needed a ride or she was locked out of her office, again. He could make time to be kind. After all, they were colleagues. “I’d be happy to help any way I can.”
“Good. I was afraid you’d say no. It’s a great opportunity and we can split the work and the money.”
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “What work?”
“My research paper entry for the Westwin Research Journal has been approved as one of five finalists. The winner’s findings will be published in the journal as well as winning the ten-thousand-dollar prize.” She smiled. “Just think, we’ll be famous. Last year’s subject was how aging relates to location. The winner was interviewed on the Today show.”
She was bouncing again. This time with excitement. “I might finally get to go to New York City. I’ve always dreamed of seeing plays and walking through Central Park. They say you can hear the heartbeat of the whole world in the streets of New York.”
Benjamin fell into her pipe dream for a second. “If I had money to blow, I’d go to Paris and see Marie Curie’s office and lab. I’ve read every book about her dedication, her work, her life. Imagine walking the streets she walked.”
He didn’t mention that he’d also find his mother, if she was still alive. She’d left him when he was four years old, saying she must paint in Paris for a few months, but she never came back. He had only one question for her. Was the life she’d given him up for worth it?
Miss Clark frowned at him as if measuring his sanity. “Paris, really Benjamin, sometimes you surprise me.”
When he frowned at the use of his first name, she sighed, obviously reading his thoughts.
“Dr. Monroe,” she corrected. “We could split the research and the writing. I’ve already obtained the president’s approval for a small survey. All we have is a month to get this done, but we’ve got spring break to kick off our project with a bang.”
He nodded slowly, not willing to jump in, but willing to listen. “What is our topic of research?”
Blushing, she added, “Redefining sexual attractions in today’s world.”
Benjamin straightened slightly.
Miss Clark giggled. “We could call it, ‘The Chemistry of Mating.’”
He swallowed hard as she turned and bounced out of the room.
For a few moments, Benjamin forgot to breathe. Calamity had blown in on a tornado with red hair.
The only good news. Spring break wasn’t going to be boring.
When his Friday night class ended, Ketch Kincaid marched down the sleeping streets of Clifton in fast military steps. Peaceful shadows rested between houses and the melody of a spring night did nothing to calm him as he stormed toward what the locals called Low Street.
As he neared neon blinking lights, his surroundings darkened with caution and the melody of the night changed to a raging heartbeat. Trash rattled in the roughly paved street, echoing the rush of water from the river a few hundred yards away. This was a street, he thought, where dreams go to die, and his just had taken their last breath.
The barn-of-a-bar that backed against old train tracks wasn’t much to look at in daylight. Now, lit only by a sliver of moon, the COME ON IN, PARTNER sign seemed more an order than an invitation.
A hungry wind suddenly howled through the valley. The old bar seemed morose, as if the building was rotting from the inside out.
Just the kind of place Ketch was looking for.
His worn steel-toed boots throbbed against the plank sidewalk like a ragging heartbeat as he rushed toward his own personal implosion.
After fighting his way through the army for four years and then working two jobs while taking a full load in college for the past three years, tonight his world was crumbling.
Every dream, every plan, every goal was crashing around him, dissolving into rubble.
Thanks to one letter.
Crystal had broken up with him from half a world away with one page.
The six-year-old version of him standing outside his third foster home with all his possessions in a trash bag flashed through Ketch’s mind. He was the kid no one wanted. The soldier who made enemies because he pushed too hard. The student a few years too old to fit in at college.
“Alone Again” would be the theme song of his life, if he had one.
Kincaid’s big frame hit the door of the bar so hard it slammed the inside wall and sifted dust from the rafters. Not that anyone noticed. A country band played at full volume and everyone crammed inside was screaming above the music.
The smell of stale beer and sweaty bodies hit him in waves as he stomped across the floor. The lights were low enough to make every drunk look handsome and every wilted flower perk up. Glasses and longnecks clanked in applause at every stupid joke.
At six-five Ketch had no trouble looking over the crowd. The smell of sweat and mud seemed to grow thicker as he moved. This was just the kind of place he hated. No one was real; they were all pretending. He’d seen hangouts all over the world just like this. Different music. Different drinks. Same action.
Right now it was what he needed. He planned to do damage to as many brain cells as possible before dawn, maybe get in a fight or get arrested. Nothing mattered. Crystal had dumped him in a damn letter and scratched out all his dreams with her pen.
They’d served together, both Army Rangers. Spent a thousand hours planning their future and sometimes flying halfway around the world to spend their leave wrapped up in each other. Crystal was his only friend, his one love, his today and his tomorrow.
They had decided he’d muster out first and start college. She promised she would follow in a year. Crystal would complete her tour of duty, leave the army, and start teaching wherever he was, maybe get a master’s while he finished up. By the time he graduated, they would have saved enough for a house in any state that offered them both jobs. They had it all planned out. A home. A life together.
But she’d hesitated when it was time for her to leave the army. After all, it meant a promotion if she stayed one more year. Then another year passed. She said she wanted to travel, and her military assignments gave her the chance. She would serve another year. By then they could start grad school together.
Only now his graduation was less than two months away. He’d been expecting any day to hear when she’d be back to the States and out of the army. But her call never arrived.
Their texts and calls had grown more sporadic the last few months. He’d figured they were both just busy. While overseas she took online classes in programing, and he tried to get thirty hours of construction work in each week while studying, attending classes, and sometimes taking on programing jobs for some of the faculty. Some weekends, when he’d laid bricks or roofed a house for twelve hours, he’d been too tired even to check his email.
Then there were the times Crystal would move from one location to another with her team and he wouldn’t hear from her for a few weeks. But it never bothered him. They had a plan. They’d known it would be hard for a few years, but it would be worth the struggle. Once they were out of the army and out of school, they’d have a great life. That was the plan.
Until today. Time 17:57. He’d opened the letter.
Ketch had stopped thinking at 17:58. He’d stopped believing in dreams. He simply sat through his night class in a daze and now pushed through the drunken crowd cussing to himself.
She’d written him a damn letter. A real letter. Her first. Her last.
No fast text sent off in anger, but a letter. She’d had to think about it. Walk over and mail it. It was sent six days ago, meaning she’d had six days and nights to change her mind. Six days to send an email to tell him not to read the letter. She’d made a mistake. Nothing had changed. She still loved him.
But she hadn’t. The letter said it all. It took Crystal just one page to say goodbye. She’d even listed why it wouldn’t work between them, like she’d been keeping a list since the day they met, and finally she had one too many reasons to leave him.
He’d thought she really loved him. He should have learned that lesson at six years old. No one would ever bother to care about him. Never. And he swore he’d never expect it again.
Crystal had loved her job. He’d been searching all his life to find where he belonged. A home, a real place to call his own. You’d think at twenty-six he’d give up on dreaming. He’d wasted a third of his life looking for something that didn’t exist.
His only plan tonight was to prove he wasn’t good enough for her. He’d erase her memory if it took half the alcohol in the bar.
Wynn Henry Wills yelled his name and Ketch started navigating across the crowded room to his lab partner in chemistry. Wills wasn’t his friend even though they’d had several classes together, and as a lab partner he was about as much help as a cracked beaker.
Ketch was at the top of the grading curve and Wynn was balanced at the other end. Two sides of the seesaw. The only reason WW hadn’t been kicked out of school was simple: a building on campus was named after his grandfather. He was trying to pack six or seven years into getting a four-year degree. Partying was his major and bragging his minor.
Ketch didn’t need anyone to try and reason with tonight. He needed someone to drink with and Wynn Wills was just the man.
Another plus about the guy was that Crystal had hated him the one time she’d visited Ketch here last Christmas. She’d even embarrassed Wynn several times by calling him Ketch’s “bad influence” friend.
Ketch smiled grimly. Tonight, Wynn would probably prove Crystal right.
“About time you got here, Ketch, my man. You’re three drinks behind.” Wynn slapped Ketch on the back.
“I’ll catch up.” Kincaid lifted Wynn’s full bottle of Coors and downed it.
Wynn laughed. “So the rumor is true. The blonde bitch dumped you.”
“Yep.” Kincaid held up four fingers to the waitress.
She nodded back. For a moment, Ketch saw the small barmaid; really saw her, in a room full of people who never noticed the help. She was slender, with long black hair tied up in a ponytail, no makeup, T-shirt a bit too low-cut, but what startled him was the fact that her beautiful green eyes looked sadder than he felt.
He’d thought he’d cornered the market on sorrow tonight, but maybe he was wrong.
Ketch turned away. The last thing he needed was being around someone who was worse off than he was.
When she delivered the drinks, he thanked her but avoided eye contact. Her hand shook a bit when she set the beers down.
“Who is that girl?” he asked WW as she walked away.
“Tuesday Raine.” Ketch took a long drink while Wynn added, “Some of the guys call her Mattress Tuesday ’cause she’ll go home with anyone. Only, from what I hear, she never talks. She just lays there and lets the guy do what he wants.”
“You ever sleep with her?” Ketch watched the waitress moving gracefully through the crowd, reminding him of a willow swaying in the wind. Probably about five foot four, which would be too short to date in his book. Not that he’d ever date again.
“No.” Wynn pulled Ketch back to the conversation. “I must have caught her on an off night. She turned me down.” WW grinned. “Besides, I like my women to participate. If I’m drunk, I want a wild roller-coaster ride, not a dead fish.”
Ketch wouldn’t be surprised if WW was a virgin. He was always bragging, but in three years Ketch had never seen a girl look interested in him. Even with his granddad’s oil money, he couldn’t find a date.
Three girls wearing sorority sweatshirts neared their table. They started talking to WW, but they kept glancing at Kincaid. Wynn introduced him as the smartest guy in the class, and all three blondes smiled as if WW had said, “He’s richer than me and available.”
Ketch raised his beer in salute but didn’t smile. They were probably barely twenty-one, five years younger than he was. He was too old to fit in with students who graduated from high school a few years ago. Or maybe he’d seen too much of life to talk about nothing.
“You want to dance?” the tall blonde nearest him asked.
“With all three of you?” Ketch noticed her makeup more than her face.
“Why not?” The blonde with curly hair said, “You look big enough to take us all on.”
The third girl didn’t say a word, but she looked at him like she was hungry and he was the entrée.
Before Ketch could answer, Wynn jumped in. “We’ll dance with you ladies.” When Ketch frowned, WW added, “How about I take these two and you take the tall one, Kincaid?”
Wynn pulled the shorter two out onto the dance floor. His dance moves reminded Ketch of an out-of-control garden hose. Makeup-girl acted like she was dancing by herself, but the curly-headed one started trying to teach Wynn. He looked ecstatic and tried to follow every move.
Ketch didn’t want to dance, but he couldn’t very well just stand there. He knew he’d embarrass the third girl if he walked away, so he took her hand. “One dance. That’s all. I’m here to drink tonight.”
“OK,” she answered as if she’d lost all interest in him. Or maybe she decided to start playing hard to get.
Ketch didn’t care either way. His boots made dancing impossible, so he just held on to her and swayed. She locked her fingers behind his neck, leaned back and closed her eyes.
Holding this stranger felt awkward. Mixed feelings rumbled through him. He had no interest in any woman right now. Now that Crystal had dropped him, he hated the whole gender.
The tall blonde seemed to forget about him. He might as well have been a pole she was hanging on to.
Maybe he should sleep with this wayward sorority girl first, then swear off the entire female side of humanity. He could act nice. Pay her a few compliments. Offer to take her home. Hell, he could tell her he thought he was falling in love. Lots of guys slept with women they didn’t know. He could do that. What did it matter? The whole love thing was all a lie anyway.
Ketch had never done a one-night stand. Not in the army. Not in school. He’d met Crystal the second week of boot camp. They’d been friends for a few years before they’d started dating and sleeping together. He always thought, even from the first, that he was her makeover project, but he’d believed she’d loved him too.
Hell, he almost said aloud. He wouldn’t know love if it body-slammed him to the floor.
Looking back, he realized he’d been the one falling in love, while Crystal was just working on training him. Sex was the treat she gave him when he performed. Apparently, he’d been the only one thinking of forever. He’d been the one making plans while she always said there would be time to get serious later. With his graduation close, he must have pushed too hard at the forever plan. He doubted she’d even filed paperwork to muster out, or even applied to grad school. All the signs were there; he just hadn’t wanted to see them.
What hurt the most was that letter. Sure, they’d been arguing, but that was nothing new.
The letter had mapped out her new plan, one that didn’t include him. She’d finish school online, stay in the army, and retire in her forties. She’d see the world and make it better for all somehow, while he’d be teaching chemistry to high school kids who didn’t even care about learning. She loved her job in the army and was never going to leave it to live in some little town.
Ketch closed his eyes as he moved across the crowded floor with a stranger in his arms. He could almost pretend he was dancing with Crystal. Almost. But the tall blonde didn’t feel right against him. Maybe no one ever would again.
When the dance ended, he thanked the girl and went back to his beers. After several more bottles, his brain seemed to slow down and Ketch watched the world as if he were underwater. Nothing seemed real.
When Wynn asked one of the blondes to join them at the table, Ketch saw his chance to leave. It was almost closing time and he knew he’d be going home alone.
As he walked out of the bar, his head started pounding and he felt like he was on a boat rocking with the waves. He stumbled and fell hard onto the gravel parking lot. Rolling to a sitting position, he waited a moment, wondering if he could stand without tumbling again. The ground didn’t seem steady. His head was square dancing and his stomach was a stoned rocker. Two or three drinks was his limit usually and tonight he’d quit counting at eight.
It took all his concentration to stand and try to figure out which way was home.
Something wet trickled over his eye and he looked up to see if it was raining, then he sobered enough to recognize blood. He felt the gash across his forehead, just deep enough to drip. “Damn, what next?” he mumbled, feeling like he was in a fight with fate.
“You all right?” came a voice from the darkness.
“No,” he answered. “I’m leaking.”
The waitress with the sad jade eyes moved out of the corner blackness.
“Here.” She pulled a small towel from where she’d looped it over her apron. “It’s not clean. I wiped up beer with it, but then half your blood is probably beer anyway.”
“Thanks.” He patted his forehead. “Good night, Tuesday.” The last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone gloomier than he was.
She didn’t look surprised that he knew her name. . .
As he often did, he turned to the long, narrow windows behind his podium and looked out over his hometown. From the third floor he could see east all the way to the river and north to where the land rose in rolling hills. There was a balance here that calmed his soul. A wide valley that nestled three small towns, but his town, Clifton Bend, was the best because the college rested in its center.
Benjamin hadn’t missed a class in twelve years. At forty-two he always came on time and well prepared. Routine ruled his life. He liked working with his dad on their farm every weekend and loved biking through the valley on sunny afternoons. The exercise kept him lean and tanned, just as his work kept him sharp.
What he didn’t like was spring break. It interrupted his routine. A worthless holiday, but he’d help his father on their little farm and manage to keep busy.
“Dr. Monroe?” A nervous, high-pitched voice bombarded his thoughts. “May I speak to you about something? It’s important.”
A creature with auburn hair, glasses too big for her face, and huge blue eyes leaned around the door. Professor Virginia Clark.
He plowed his long fingers through his straight, mud-colored hair. If teachers were allowed a nemesis, Miss Clark, the biology instructor, would be his. As far as he was concerned, all they had in common was age.
Benjamin was tempted to say, “No, you can’t speak to me,” but that would be unprofessional.
To her credit, Miss Virginia Clark was bubbly on a down day. Her voice was too high, her manner of dress was in no way appropriate, and her legs were too short. On a good day she was exuberant and misguidedly thought they were not only colleagues but friends.
He’d always hated bubbly people; they made him nervous. But she taught two doors down in the biology lab and officed next to him. Some days he swore he could hear her laughing or running around her tiny workplace like a squirrel in a box.
Right now, she was charging toward his podium like Grant taking Richmond. Too late to say no or run, so all he could do was watch her approach.
Another observation—professors should never bounce.
Miss Clark bounced. She was a bit on the chubby side, a head shorter than he was, and the white lab coat did not conceal her curves. Her corkscrew hair seemed to be dancing to a hard rock beat, and her breasts . . . well, never mind them. Unprofessional, he thought as he watched her coming down the steps row by row, breasts moving to their own beat.
“I need your help, Dr. Monroe.” She stopped one foot too close to him.
He fought the urge to step back.
“Of course, Miss Clark, I’m at your service,” he offered. Maybe she needed a ride or she was locked out of her office, again. He could make time to be kind. After all, they were colleagues. “I’d be happy to help any way I can.”
“Good. I was afraid you’d say no. It’s a great opportunity and we can split the work and the money.”
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “What work?”
“My research paper entry for the Westwin Research Journal has been approved as one of five finalists. The winner’s findings will be published in the journal as well as winning the ten-thousand-dollar prize.” She smiled. “Just think, we’ll be famous. Last year’s subject was how aging relates to location. The winner was interviewed on the Today show.”
She was bouncing again. This time with excitement. “I might finally get to go to New York City. I’ve always dreamed of seeing plays and walking through Central Park. They say you can hear the heartbeat of the whole world in the streets of New York.”
Benjamin fell into her pipe dream for a second. “If I had money to blow, I’d go to Paris and see Marie Curie’s office and lab. I’ve read every book about her dedication, her work, her life. Imagine walking the streets she walked.”
He didn’t mention that he’d also find his mother, if she was still alive. She’d left him when he was four years old, saying she must paint in Paris for a few months, but she never came back. He had only one question for her. Was the life she’d given him up for worth it?
Miss Clark frowned at him as if measuring his sanity. “Paris, really Benjamin, sometimes you surprise me.”
When he frowned at the use of his first name, she sighed, obviously reading his thoughts.
“Dr. Monroe,” she corrected. “We could split the research and the writing. I’ve already obtained the president’s approval for a small survey. All we have is a month to get this done, but we’ve got spring break to kick off our project with a bang.”
He nodded slowly, not willing to jump in, but willing to listen. “What is our topic of research?”
Blushing, she added, “Redefining sexual attractions in today’s world.”
Benjamin straightened slightly.
Miss Clark giggled. “We could call it, ‘The Chemistry of Mating.’”
He swallowed hard as she turned and bounced out of the room.
For a few moments, Benjamin forgot to breathe. Calamity had blown in on a tornado with red hair.
The only good news. Spring break wasn’t going to be boring.
When his Friday night class ended, Ketch Kincaid marched down the sleeping streets of Clifton in fast military steps. Peaceful shadows rested between houses and the melody of a spring night did nothing to calm him as he stormed toward what the locals called Low Street.
As he neared neon blinking lights, his surroundings darkened with caution and the melody of the night changed to a raging heartbeat. Trash rattled in the roughly paved street, echoing the rush of water from the river a few hundred yards away. This was a street, he thought, where dreams go to die, and his just had taken their last breath.
The barn-of-a-bar that backed against old train tracks wasn’t much to look at in daylight. Now, lit only by a sliver of moon, the COME ON IN, PARTNER sign seemed more an order than an invitation.
A hungry wind suddenly howled through the valley. The old bar seemed morose, as if the building was rotting from the inside out.
Just the kind of place Ketch was looking for.
His worn steel-toed boots throbbed against the plank sidewalk like a ragging heartbeat as he rushed toward his own personal implosion.
After fighting his way through the army for four years and then working two jobs while taking a full load in college for the past three years, tonight his world was crumbling.
Every dream, every plan, every goal was crashing around him, dissolving into rubble.
Thanks to one letter.
Crystal had broken up with him from half a world away with one page.
The six-year-old version of him standing outside his third foster home with all his possessions in a trash bag flashed through Ketch’s mind. He was the kid no one wanted. The soldier who made enemies because he pushed too hard. The student a few years too old to fit in at college.
“Alone Again” would be the theme song of his life, if he had one.
Kincaid’s big frame hit the door of the bar so hard it slammed the inside wall and sifted dust from the rafters. Not that anyone noticed. A country band played at full volume and everyone crammed inside was screaming above the music.
The smell of stale beer and sweaty bodies hit him in waves as he stomped across the floor. The lights were low enough to make every drunk look handsome and every wilted flower perk up. Glasses and longnecks clanked in applause at every stupid joke.
At six-five Ketch had no trouble looking over the crowd. The smell of sweat and mud seemed to grow thicker as he moved. This was just the kind of place he hated. No one was real; they were all pretending. He’d seen hangouts all over the world just like this. Different music. Different drinks. Same action.
Right now it was what he needed. He planned to do damage to as many brain cells as possible before dawn, maybe get in a fight or get arrested. Nothing mattered. Crystal had dumped him in a damn letter and scratched out all his dreams with her pen.
They’d served together, both Army Rangers. Spent a thousand hours planning their future and sometimes flying halfway around the world to spend their leave wrapped up in each other. Crystal was his only friend, his one love, his today and his tomorrow.
They had decided he’d muster out first and start college. She promised she would follow in a year. Crystal would complete her tour of duty, leave the army, and start teaching wherever he was, maybe get a master’s while he finished up. By the time he graduated, they would have saved enough for a house in any state that offered them both jobs. They had it all planned out. A home. A life together.
But she’d hesitated when it was time for her to leave the army. After all, it meant a promotion if she stayed one more year. Then another year passed. She said she wanted to travel, and her military assignments gave her the chance. She would serve another year. By then they could start grad school together.
Only now his graduation was less than two months away. He’d been expecting any day to hear when she’d be back to the States and out of the army. But her call never arrived.
Their texts and calls had grown more sporadic the last few months. He’d figured they were both just busy. While overseas she took online classes in programing, and he tried to get thirty hours of construction work in each week while studying, attending classes, and sometimes taking on programing jobs for some of the faculty. Some weekends, when he’d laid bricks or roofed a house for twelve hours, he’d been too tired even to check his email.
Then there were the times Crystal would move from one location to another with her team and he wouldn’t hear from her for a few weeks. But it never bothered him. They had a plan. They’d known it would be hard for a few years, but it would be worth the struggle. Once they were out of the army and out of school, they’d have a great life. That was the plan.
Until today. Time 17:57. He’d opened the letter.
Ketch had stopped thinking at 17:58. He’d stopped believing in dreams. He simply sat through his night class in a daze and now pushed through the drunken crowd cussing to himself.
She’d written him a damn letter. A real letter. Her first. Her last.
No fast text sent off in anger, but a letter. She’d had to think about it. Walk over and mail it. It was sent six days ago, meaning she’d had six days and nights to change her mind. Six days to send an email to tell him not to read the letter. She’d made a mistake. Nothing had changed. She still loved him.
But she hadn’t. The letter said it all. It took Crystal just one page to say goodbye. She’d even listed why it wouldn’t work between them, like she’d been keeping a list since the day they met, and finally she had one too many reasons to leave him.
He’d thought she really loved him. He should have learned that lesson at six years old. No one would ever bother to care about him. Never. And he swore he’d never expect it again.
Crystal had loved her job. He’d been searching all his life to find where he belonged. A home, a real place to call his own. You’d think at twenty-six he’d give up on dreaming. He’d wasted a third of his life looking for something that didn’t exist.
His only plan tonight was to prove he wasn’t good enough for her. He’d erase her memory if it took half the alcohol in the bar.
Wynn Henry Wills yelled his name and Ketch started navigating across the crowded room to his lab partner in chemistry. Wills wasn’t his friend even though they’d had several classes together, and as a lab partner he was about as much help as a cracked beaker.
Ketch was at the top of the grading curve and Wynn was balanced at the other end. Two sides of the seesaw. The only reason WW hadn’t been kicked out of school was simple: a building on campus was named after his grandfather. He was trying to pack six or seven years into getting a four-year degree. Partying was his major and bragging his minor.
Ketch didn’t need anyone to try and reason with tonight. He needed someone to drink with and Wynn Wills was just the man.
Another plus about the guy was that Crystal had hated him the one time she’d visited Ketch here last Christmas. She’d even embarrassed Wynn several times by calling him Ketch’s “bad influence” friend.
Ketch smiled grimly. Tonight, Wynn would probably prove Crystal right.
“About time you got here, Ketch, my man. You’re three drinks behind.” Wynn slapped Ketch on the back.
“I’ll catch up.” Kincaid lifted Wynn’s full bottle of Coors and downed it.
Wynn laughed. “So the rumor is true. The blonde bitch dumped you.”
“Yep.” Kincaid held up four fingers to the waitress.
She nodded back. For a moment, Ketch saw the small barmaid; really saw her, in a room full of people who never noticed the help. She was slender, with long black hair tied up in a ponytail, no makeup, T-shirt a bit too low-cut, but what startled him was the fact that her beautiful green eyes looked sadder than he felt.
He’d thought he’d cornered the market on sorrow tonight, but maybe he was wrong.
Ketch turned away. The last thing he needed was being around someone who was worse off than he was.
When she delivered the drinks, he thanked her but avoided eye contact. Her hand shook a bit when she set the beers down.
“Who is that girl?” he asked WW as she walked away.
“Tuesday Raine.” Ketch took a long drink while Wynn added, “Some of the guys call her Mattress Tuesday ’cause she’ll go home with anyone. Only, from what I hear, she never talks. She just lays there and lets the guy do what he wants.”
“You ever sleep with her?” Ketch watched the waitress moving gracefully through the crowd, reminding him of a willow swaying in the wind. Probably about five foot four, which would be too short to date in his book. Not that he’d ever date again.
“No.” Wynn pulled Ketch back to the conversation. “I must have caught her on an off night. She turned me down.” WW grinned. “Besides, I like my women to participate. If I’m drunk, I want a wild roller-coaster ride, not a dead fish.”
Ketch wouldn’t be surprised if WW was a virgin. He was always bragging, but in three years Ketch had never seen a girl look interested in him. Even with his granddad’s oil money, he couldn’t find a date.
Three girls wearing sorority sweatshirts neared their table. They started talking to WW, but they kept glancing at Kincaid. Wynn introduced him as the smartest guy in the class, and all three blondes smiled as if WW had said, “He’s richer than me and available.”
Ketch raised his beer in salute but didn’t smile. They were probably barely twenty-one, five years younger than he was. He was too old to fit in with students who graduated from high school a few years ago. Or maybe he’d seen too much of life to talk about nothing.
“You want to dance?” the tall blonde nearest him asked.
“With all three of you?” Ketch noticed her makeup more than her face.
“Why not?” The blonde with curly hair said, “You look big enough to take us all on.”
The third girl didn’t say a word, but she looked at him like she was hungry and he was the entrée.
Before Ketch could answer, Wynn jumped in. “We’ll dance with you ladies.” When Ketch frowned, WW added, “How about I take these two and you take the tall one, Kincaid?”
Wynn pulled the shorter two out onto the dance floor. His dance moves reminded Ketch of an out-of-control garden hose. Makeup-girl acted like she was dancing by herself, but the curly-headed one started trying to teach Wynn. He looked ecstatic and tried to follow every move.
Ketch didn’t want to dance, but he couldn’t very well just stand there. He knew he’d embarrass the third girl if he walked away, so he took her hand. “One dance. That’s all. I’m here to drink tonight.”
“OK,” she answered as if she’d lost all interest in him. Or maybe she decided to start playing hard to get.
Ketch didn’t care either way. His boots made dancing impossible, so he just held on to her and swayed. She locked her fingers behind his neck, leaned back and closed her eyes.
Holding this stranger felt awkward. Mixed feelings rumbled through him. He had no interest in any woman right now. Now that Crystal had dropped him, he hated the whole gender.
The tall blonde seemed to forget about him. He might as well have been a pole she was hanging on to.
Maybe he should sleep with this wayward sorority girl first, then swear off the entire female side of humanity. He could act nice. Pay her a few compliments. Offer to take her home. Hell, he could tell her he thought he was falling in love. Lots of guys slept with women they didn’t know. He could do that. What did it matter? The whole love thing was all a lie anyway.
Ketch had never done a one-night stand. Not in the army. Not in school. He’d met Crystal the second week of boot camp. They’d been friends for a few years before they’d started dating and sleeping together. He always thought, even from the first, that he was her makeover project, but he’d believed she’d loved him too.
Hell, he almost said aloud. He wouldn’t know love if it body-slammed him to the floor.
Looking back, he realized he’d been the one falling in love, while Crystal was just working on training him. Sex was the treat she gave him when he performed. Apparently, he’d been the only one thinking of forever. He’d been the one making plans while she always said there would be time to get serious later. With his graduation close, he must have pushed too hard at the forever plan. He doubted she’d even filed paperwork to muster out, or even applied to grad school. All the signs were there; he just hadn’t wanted to see them.
What hurt the most was that letter. Sure, they’d been arguing, but that was nothing new.
The letter had mapped out her new plan, one that didn’t include him. She’d finish school online, stay in the army, and retire in her forties. She’d see the world and make it better for all somehow, while he’d be teaching chemistry to high school kids who didn’t even care about learning. She loved her job in the army and was never going to leave it to live in some little town.
Ketch closed his eyes as he moved across the crowded floor with a stranger in his arms. He could almost pretend he was dancing with Crystal. Almost. But the tall blonde didn’t feel right against him. Maybe no one ever would again.
When the dance ended, he thanked the girl and went back to his beers. After several more bottles, his brain seemed to slow down and Ketch watched the world as if he were underwater. Nothing seemed real.
When Wynn asked one of the blondes to join them at the table, Ketch saw his chance to leave. It was almost closing time and he knew he’d be going home alone.
As he walked out of the bar, his head started pounding and he felt like he was on a boat rocking with the waves. He stumbled and fell hard onto the gravel parking lot. Rolling to a sitting position, he waited a moment, wondering if he could stand without tumbling again. The ground didn’t seem steady. His head was square dancing and his stomach was a stoned rocker. Two or three drinks was his limit usually and tonight he’d quit counting at eight.
It took all his concentration to stand and try to figure out which way was home.
Something wet trickled over his eye and he looked up to see if it was raining, then he sobered enough to recognize blood. He felt the gash across his forehead, just deep enough to drip. “Damn, what next?” he mumbled, feeling like he was in a fight with fate.
“You all right?” came a voice from the darkness.
“No,” he answered. “I’m leaking.”
The waitress with the sad jade eyes moved out of the corner blackness.
“Here.” She pulled a small towel from where she’d looped it over her apron. “It’s not clean. I wiped up beer with it, but then half your blood is probably beer anyway.”
“Thanks.” He patted his forehead. “Good night, Tuesday.” The last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone gloomier than he was.
She didn’t look surprised that he knew her name. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Dinner on Primrose Hill: A Heartwarming Texas Love Story
Jodi Thomas
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