Release Date: October 25, 2022
Keeping this secret gets complicated
with the family she wished for right next door.
Swapping places with her identical twin over the holidays sounds easy enough to Chanel Houston. But playing the role is trickier than expected when it comes to maintaining frosty relations with her sister’s neighbor and nemesis—especially since he has an adorable little girl and a rowdy puppy. Ryder Frost’s supposed to be grumpy and rude…so why does Chanel find the single dad so irresistible?
with the family she wished for right next door.
Swapping places with her identical twin over the holidays sounds easy enough to Chanel Houston. But playing the role is trickier than expected when it comes to maintaining frosty relations with her sister’s neighbor and nemesis—especially since he has an adorable little girl and a rowdy puppy. Ryder Frost’s supposed to be grumpy and rude…so why does Chanel find the single dad so irresistible?
Chapter One
Chanel Houston tossed her keys in her purse and reached into the back seat of her sister’s 2002 Honda Civic to grab one of the boxes of books. She had packed a couple of medium boxes, intending to use her unexpected ‘vacation’ to catch up on some reading.
She closed the door, already missing her Chevy Trailblazer, and made her way up the three rickety steps of the place she had spent a few summers as a teen. Brushing her hands across her gray hooded sweater and jean shorts, Chanel stood before the entrance of her grandparents’ home—a nineteenth-century historical landmark boasting six bedrooms, three baths, a wraparound porch, a vegetable garden and a small pond—and shook her head.
The things you do for your sister. Your identical twin sister.
Things like switching places when you’re a grown woman. Her sister, Cara, a detective at the Hawk’s Landing Police Department, was working with the FBI on a secret case and needed the people of her small hometown in Delaware to believe she was still here. So of course she had called her convenient stand-in to switch with her until Christmas. Chanel and Cara had met up in Sussex County to switch cars, clothes and keys. It was more than a coincidence that Chanel had just resigned from her job as a librarian in Newport News, Virginia.
She stopped at the top of the stairs and groaned. Oh no. She had thrown the key ring holding the house and car keys in her black hole of a purse…Placing the box on the ground, Chanel rummaged around in her bag for the keys.
While she searched, an odd sensation of being watched crawled up her spine. She turned but saw nothing in the dim lighting.
Scolding her overactive imagination, Chanel plopped the bag on the floor and stooped to conduct a more thorough search. Great. After a four-hour ride, she was sweaty and could use a drink of water.
She felt a small, wet imprint on the back of her leg. Followed by heavy breathing. Panting.
Her body tensed. That didn’t sound like a deer.
Grabbing a travel-sized umbrella out of her bag, Chanel whipped around, her bottom landing hard on the wooden porch. She yelped and met the blue-eyed gaze of a Siberian husky, taking in his white fur and hanging tongue. Her eyes went wide.
He snarled, watching her but otherwise standing still.
Realizing he was a puppy and had no intentions of harming her, Chanel reached out to ruffle his right ear, her other hand actively feeling around in her bag for the keys.
“Hey, boy.” She giggled and touched her chest. “You gave me quite a scare. Don’t you know better than to creep up on people like that? Huh?”
The animal moved closer to rub his nose against her arm before settling beside her. His shiny coat was soft. She could see the pup was well-groomed; someone was definitely missing their pet. She pushed her box of books into a corner and stretched her legs. Cocking her head, Chanel asked, “Where’s your owner, big guy?”
A throat cleared. “He’s right here.”
Chantal lifted her head to meet another blue-eyed gaze. This one belonged to a lean man a couple inches over six feet, with ash-blond hair and keen eyes filled with skepticism and wariness. He was dressed in a green polo and tan khakis, and not a single strand of hair was out of place. For a split second, she lost her voice, which was fine because the stranger continued.
“Go ahead. Let me have it.” He arched a brow, crossed his arms and waited.
Have what? Chanel racked her brain wondering who this might be. Cara hadn’t described this handsome stranger when she’d mentioned who Chanel might encounter. If she had, Chanel would have remembered him. However, it was obvious this man expected her to know his identity, so she willed her tongue to move. The man held out a hand, an unspoken offer to help her get on her feet.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She dusted off her shorts, particles making her cough. The dog closed his eyes as if bored with the conversation swirling around him. “I was just messing around with your dog.” She struggled to get to her feet on her own before accepting his help.
His larger hands gripped hers. A faint electricity passed between them. Chanel broke contact as soon as she was steady.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised to see you get close to Wolf. I’m even more surprised that you’re capable of talking without yelling.” He gave a chuckle filled with a mix of suspicion and humor.
At those words, the hair on her arms rose. Chanel knew who this was. This must be her sister’s surly, grumpy neighbor, Ryder Frost, who had moved in six months ago. She looked at the pup sprawled on the floor. And this must be the vicious terror who is always coming into Cara’s yard. Cara had expressly warned Chanel to stay away from them both. Menaces, she’d called them.
Chanel eyed the beautiful dog, who was staring at her with pleading eyes. She didn’t know how she was going to resist their pull. Even now, her fingers itched to play in his glossy mane. Chanel was a dog lover, and trying to stay away would be torture. But somehow, she must. Cara had been bitten by dogs twice, and that had sealed her dislike for life. Because of that, Chanel had never owned one. But her first job had been in a pet store as a groomer in the next town, so she had been given many opportunities to play with other people’s dogs.
She licked her dry lips, tugged on a tendril of her shoulder-length curls and then shot back. “Well, goes to show that you might not always know a person.” Inside her chest, her heart raced. She hoped he bought her flippant response; otherwise her ruse might be up before it began. Like a tennis player, she waited for him to serve his comeback.
Ryder held up a hand. “Easy now, Cara. I’m not about to engage in another shouting match with you because of Wolf.” Hearing him call her by her sister’s name gave Chanel a jolt. She stuck her tongue between her teeth to keep from correcting him. And, oh, how she wanted to. Instead, she kept up her search for the keys.
“I’ll be getting on my way.” Ryder gave a shrill whistle. Wolf opened his eyes, then turned his head and closed them. Ryder’s face reddened. He took a tentative step. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go.”
Wolf gave a growl and hunkered down on the front door mat.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Ryder said.
“Yes, you do,” she accused, taking on Cara’s attitude. “He does this all the time.” Well, she hoped he did. Her mind raced to recall. The only thing that truly registered in this moment was that she needed to suggest Cara check her vision. The man before her was not a beast.
Aha! Success. Her fingers curled around the keys.
Ryder looked away, his hair falling into his face. “I don’t know what it is about your porch or yard that draws him over here. I’ve tried keeping him away.”
“Yes, well. Do more than try and keep him away from my vegetable garden,” Chanel said, remembering Cara’s chief complaint. She opened the front door, knowing she had to get away from these two before she confessed. What she wanted to do was offer the dog some water or a snack. Chanel stepped behind the screen and into the house, then turned, intending to close the door.
Ryder bent over and scooped the dog into his arms, his muscles bulging. Chanel admired his strength. Ryder Frost was in great physical shape.
Then she saw a small figure approach. One that turned her legs into concrete.
“Daddy, I was looking for you,” the little girl said in a booming voice with a slight lisp. She looked to be about five years old and wore a sunflower dress, white cardigan, white frilly socks and black Mary Janes. Her blond hair had been pulled into a neat bun, and she wore a headband with a sunflower. Then she pinned Chanel with eyes similar to Ryder’s before lifting her head to ask her father, “Daddy, did Wolf get out again?”
She racked her brain to remember if Cara had mentioned her neighbor had a daughter. She touched her chest. The familiar ache returned for the child she would never have. All that had been buried along with her husband.
Ryder must have nodded, because Chanel heard her say, “Bad doggy. You need to stay over at our house.” That earnest face was a shock to Chanel’s system, bringing a hope she thought dead alive. The screen was a poor shield against the cute package mere feet away.
“We’re sorry to bother you,” Ryder said, turning to leave. He gestured toward the little girl. “Let’s go, Gabby.”
Her name was Gabby. Short for Gabrielle, maybe?
“Wait,” Chanel breathed out and pointed to the dog. She found she wasn’t ready for this family to leave. That was strange because she had lived on her own for years and hadn’t had a problem being alone. Maybe it was coming back to this house. This place. The first question that jumped into her mind popped out. “What made you decide to call him Wolf?”
“I named him that,” Gabby said in a loud voice, stepping close to the screen door. “Cause he’s a cousin of the wolf family. Daddy got him for me.”
Chanel felt her lips twitch, and she tried to keep up Cara’s persona. Her mother had said there was no such thing as a stranger with Chanel. She made friends quick and easy, always ready for a conversation. Unlike Cara, who was more reserved and suspicious—traits well suited for her career. Cara wouldn’t be smiling right now. She would go into inquisition mode. But at this moment, Chanel took over, did what she wanted to do. And what Chanel wanted to do was smile.
*
Her smile was electrifying. It evened out the sharp planes of her face and softened her look, making her countenance shine. Ryder Frost clamped his jaw shut and cuddled Wolf closer to his chest. He hadn’t known Cara Shelton was capable of smiling, but he knew better than to say so. Cara always had a frown or smirk on her face when dealing with him. He took in her widened lips and white teeth, then dared to explore further.
Since he had moved to Hawk’s Landing, he had never engaged in a good conversation with his neighbor. The fact that, as a white man, he had purchased a plot of land once belonging to slave-owners had been a sore point for Cara and others in town—but for Ryder, it was about the architecture.
And forget about his dog. Her lips curled every time she saw Wolf. The dog preferred her place to his: her porch, her yard, her vegetables.
Ryder had been in his kitchen, putting the finishing touches on his dinner—baked chicken breast with roasted brussels sprouts—when he realized Wolf wasn’t in the house. Shoving the pans into the oven and setting a timer on his watch, Ryder had rushed across the lawn to Cara’s yard, mentally preparing himself for another battle.
Yet here she was smiling, her beautiful white teeth on display.
His brows rose. Answered prayer? He had asked God on many occasions to give him patience when it came to Cara Shelton.
She flicked the switch to turn on both the inside and outside lights. Wolf jumped out of Ryder’s arms, rubbing his body against the screen door, and Gabby moved to pet him. “Good dog. Good dog.” Then she wagged her finger. “You need to listen to me and Daddy.”
Since Cara was only a few inches shorter than he was, and in his line of sight, Ryder took in her beautiful brown skin, the light freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, her high cheekbones and honey-colored eyes surrounded by thick, long lashes. He acknowledged his neighbor’s physical attractiveness. Every time he had seen her, she had her hair in a bun or ponytail. Today, she had it loose and flowing. Ryder liked it. However, for him it was all about a woman’s substance and inner beauty. He cleared his throat. Not that he was interested in dating. He had his research and Gabby to fill his days. Ryder backed up. It was time for him to go home.
He opened his mouth to say his farewell when he saw Chanel watching Gabby with a tender expression. She placed a hand over her abdomen. In that unguarded moment, a sadness and yearning filled her eyes before she shuttered it with her lashes.
Without taking her gaze off Gabby and Wolf, she asked, “How old is she?”
“She’s five,” he said.
“Where’s her mom?” she asked, then put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Ryder shook his head. “It’s all right,” he said, dabbing at his brow and ignoring the rumble of his stomach. He needed to eat, but his stomach could wait while he discovered what it was like to exchange pleasantries with his neighbor.
“Naw. I need to learn to mind my business,” she said, flailing a hand. “Forget I asked. My mother always told me that my mouth was not my own.”
The screen door creaked, and she returned outside to slink into one of the wooden rocking chairs. Gabby and Wolf ran down the steps to frolic in the high grass. It needed to be cut. It had been raining a lot over the past several days, causing more growth. Ryder had passed over his lawn with the riding mower early that morning and was tempted to do the same for Cara. But he’d refrained, not sure if his good deed would be welcomed or appreciated.
Gabby began doing backflips while Wolf ran beside her. Ryder walked over to the other rocking chair and sat. He and Cara sat watching Gabby’s and Wolf’s antics for a few minutes before he decided to answer Cara’s question. He felt comfortable sharing because, as his neighbor, she would have noted he was alone when he’d first moved next door in May.
“Four months ago, my doorbell rang, and I opened the door to see the sister of an old colleague, a fellow researcher.” He jutted his chin toward Gabby. “Her mother. With her.” Then he coughed, feeling a tickle in his throat.
“Do you want something to drink?” Cara asked, jumping to her feet.
His eyes went wide. “Yeah, uh, sure.” He coughed again, placing his hand over his mouth.
“Hang on,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
Ryder twisted his body to watch her bounce through the door, and he scrunched his nose. It felt like he was talking to a completely different person, because Cara was being so—well, neighborly. He laughed at his paranoia and shook his head.
A couple minutes later, Cara returned, carrying a tray. “I could use a little help here,” she said in singsong voice.
Ryder held the screen door open, battling a feeling of surrealness. Cara had placed two tall glasses and a smaller glass of lemonade and an old bowl filled with water on the tray. He was taken aback at her thoughtfulness in including Wolf. He thanked her for the drink and watched as she served his daughter and dog.
“Say thank you to Ms. Cara,” Ryder prompted.
“Thank you,” Gabby said, sitting on the top step with Wolf lapping away next to her.
After taking a few sips, Gabby returned to play, taking advantage of the little sunlight that was left. Fanning herself, Cara returned to the rocking chair. It creaked with her movements.
“So, I take it her mother left her with you?” she asked, laying her head back.
“Yes, Brittany—that’s her mother’s name—had an opportunity to go to Egypt to study the pyramids and decided it was time I met my daughter. She told me it would be for a few weeks, but as you see, it has turned into months. Not that I mind.” He spoke those words with wry humor, although he had had a different reaction that day. He’d been sucker punched. Speechless. And scared.
Cara leaned forward, her mouth dropping open. “This is better than any novel I’ve ever read. You had a secret love child?”
He patted his brow. “I don’t know if I would call what we had…love. Before I accepted God in my life, Brittany and I had a brief…encounter. She had accompanied my coworker to a convention we were both attending. We spent hours talking about my research and her studies in Egyptology. After that one weekend, we parted ways.”
She chuckled, then said in a dry tone, “The encounter might have been brief, but the repercussions are lasting.”
“Yes. Well.” Ryder gave a dismissive wave to cover his embarrassment. “In the four months Gabby has been here, I can honestly say I have no regrets. But I didn’t know anything about children. I was an only child of parents who were also only children. YouTube is a divine gift. It has saved me on many occasions. It’s my go-to for everything from combing her hair to coordinating her clothes. Being a parent is more challenging than my first dissertation.”
“But I’m sure it’s rewarding.” She gazed at Gabby, her eyes bright. “From what I see, she seems happy, so you must be doing something right.” This time, there was no mistaking the yearning in her tone. She smirked. “Although I reserve the right to be wrong. Just giving my first—um, my overall impression.”
“I’m glad I didn’t mess up,” he said, not quite sure what to do about the fact that his neighbor was giving him a compliment instead of her usual criticism.
“Some of us would have loved the chance…to mess up,” Cara said before lowering her lashes and sipping her lemonade.
Ryder scooted forward, searching for the courage to ask if she had children. He hadn’t seen any, but the papers said she had been a cop for close to 14 years. Cara was probably in early forties and could have grown children in college. Just as he opened his mouth, his timer went off.
Chapter Two
She’d wanted to say yes. Yes to having dinner with Ryder, to joining him and Gabby for chicken and Brussel sprouts when he had extended the invitation. Her tummy appreciated anyone with culinary skills. But she’d declined his offer, knowing Cara wouldn’t have accepted, and had eaten a couple of frozen waffles instead before spending the rest of the evening cleaning and dusting.
Chanel wasn’t much of a cook, which was why she was now heading toward the town square at six o’clock the next morning to purchase muffins. Though she had fallen asleep after midnight the night before after speaking with Cara, Chanel was an early riser. She didn’t like sleeping long. Sleeping meant dreaming. Dreaming about Warren’s death.
It was early November, and that meant Mrs. Collins would have pumpkin-spice muffins. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled in anticipation when she pictured the decadent display inside the huge glass.
Today, the temperature had dropped a few degrees, which was great for fall weather, so she had donned a mauve Guess tracksuit with a pair of New Balances before driving a quarter mile to Collins’ Grocer & Bakery. Cara’s cupboards and refrigerator were empty. Like her sister, Chanel ate a lot of fruits and veggies, but she also had a sweet tooth. There wasn’t a doughnut, Ho Ho or MoonPie safe from meeting her lips. Fortunately, they hadn’t found their way to her hips since she ran or cycled so she could eat what she wanted.
Chanel drove past the cornfields and chicken farms until she reached a fork in the road. The left would lead to the town’s sole strip mall, movie theater and grocery store. She swerved right, going past three large houses before turning down the gravel path of the circular entrance and pulling into the parking lot next to a burgundy pickup truck.
The other vehicle in the lot was a lime-green 1966 Chevy Impala, which belonged to Mrs. Collins. The shop owner had driven that same car when Chanel and Cara came to visit in their youth. She used to give them joyrides, speeding on the back roads, with Cara and Chanel laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs.
Chanel checked her purse to make sure she had enough cash to pay for her goods and then exited her car, careful to avoid stepping in a huge puddle. It had rained for close to an hour the night before, but it should be sunny for most of the day.
Opening the door to the store, she smiled at the clamoring ring of the bell and the sound of Christmas music—yes, Christmas music. Chanel sniffed, welcoming the aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin spice. She licked her lips, thinking about the warm glaze drizzling down the sides of the muffin, and grabbed a small black shopping cart. One of the rickety wheels cling-clanged, but Chanel didn’t swap out. If memory served, every single cart had something wrong—or, as Mrs. Collins said, something unique. Mrs. Collins hated throwing anything out, as was evident by all the sixties, seventies and eighties paraphernalia sprinkled throughout the store. Portraits, license plates and other knickknacks had been glued or nailed to the wooden ceiling, which the older woman said gave her store character.
She ducked past the beaded curtain placed above the first aisle and spotted the store owner unpacking a box of pumpkin cans. She waved at Mrs. Collins, who beckoned her over.
“How’s it going?” the older woman asked. She was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a colorful shirt along with her ever-present store apron. “That was some nasty business with Jeremiah Greene.”
Cara had told her all about the man who had killed three high school students and who had escaped on her sister’s watch. It had been a long time since Chanel had heard her sister cry for hours. She had vowed to find him, which was why Cara had pretended to quit her job at the station and gone undercover, sending Chanel here to secretly take her place.
Picking up some cans and placing them on the shelf, Chanel assumed her sister’s demeanor. Mrs. Collins knew everyone, so it was important that she convince the other woman that she was her sister.
Lowering her head, she pictured Cara’s heartbroken face to guide her taut emotions. “You don’t know how that haunts me. That I failed.” Chanel’s voice hitched. She felt her sister’s pain like it was her own. Blinking back tears, she continued to stack the cans and compose herself. Her sister would be emotional, but she wouldn’t fall apart. She had too much strength for that.
Mrs. Collins placed a wrinkled, brown, spotted hand on Chanel’s arm. “Oh, dearie. Nobody blames you. You stopped to help someone else in need. Wasn’t no need for you to up and quit like that.”
Chanel faced the other woman, whose eyes reflected warmth and compassion. “I couldn’t continue working. I can’t look those family members in their eyes,” she whispered.
Mrs. Collins nodded. “I understand. Stop punishing yourself.” She tilted her head. “You’re too young to just sit home. What you plan on doing with yourself?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet.”
The front door chimed, which distracted Mrs. Collins long enough for Chanel to escape and finish her shopping.
Going to the back of the store, she picked up a quart of milk to have with her muffins. Next, she went to the fresh-goods section and snagged a bag of peaches and then a carton of strawberries that were on sale and featured on a checkered tablecloth. Eyeing the bananas on another table, Chanel fought to turn the cart, but the wheel got stuck on the tablecloth. Bending over, she yanked on the material wedged in the wheel until she heard a deep voice. One she already recognized.
“Need some help?” Ryder asked, parking his cart across from hers.
“Yes, please,” she said before clamping her tongue between her teeth. Her messy bun had already begun coming loose because of her efforts.
He crouched close and grabbed the edge of the cloth while she lifted the wheel. Chanel caught a whiff of sandalwood, nutmeg and mandarin—a pleasing woodsy smell. He was dressed in a long-sleeved black polo and a pair of black slacks. The dark color was a nice contrast against skin the color of sand.
It took a couple of trials, but they managed to free her cart. Chanel stood and grabbed the handle. “Thank you. I don’t know how I managed to do that,” she said, putting space between them. She turned to continue her shopping.
“I’m glad I was able to help,” he said, stepping beside her. The aisle was more suited for one person, so their carts bumped. His had eggs, cheese, milk, green peppers, turkey bacon and other items that made her think of omelets, how much she loved them and how jealous she was because she wasn’t going to be having any.
Chanel stopped walking and picked up a can of beans, hoping he would be on his way. Otherwise, she would be tempted to chitchat. If there was a longer way to say something, Chanel would use it. Her sister was the one with few words. Chanel loved words.
Apparently, Ryder did also. “What brings you here?” he asked, in a tone way too chipper for the hour.
“Where’s Gabby?” she asked instead of answering his question.
“She’s in the bakery section, bending Mrs. Collins’s ear.” He chuckled. “Gabby spotted the apple fritters and made a beeline for them.”
Chanel bit back a smile. Gabby had good taste. She would need to add fritters to her list. Hunching her shoulders, she said, “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a lot to do.” She pushed off.
“Sure. See you around, neighbor.” Ryder gave a small wave, his brows furrowed.
She swallowed her guilt over seeing the confusion in Ryder’s eyes, like he was wondering what he had done to ruin their rapport from the previous day. She couldn’t tell him that he had done nothing wrong and that talking to him felt very right. She wasn’t ready to wonder why.
Chanel headed to the bathroom to hide out until Ryder and Gabby departed. Once they were gone, she’d grab her baked goods and take a different route home to ensure she would get back after them. Chanel exhaled. Avoiding the man next door would not be easy.
*
Ryder finished his shopping and thanked Mrs. Collins for entertaining Gabby while he gathered the rest of his items. The older woman was a huge help. Before Gabby, Ryder had never engaged in small talk, but the first time he had ventured inside with her had ended with apples all over the store. Since then, Mrs. Collins kept Gabby occupied, giving him a chance to move through the aisles without incident.
That morning, Ryder had awakened in the mood for omelets and breakfast potatoes, so once he had gotten himself and Gabby dressed, he rushed over to the grocer’s. Ryder liked to make Gabby a large breakfast every day and pack her lunch from home. When she first came to live with him, Gabby had climbed onto the cupboard to get a bowl to make herself some cereal. That had melted his heart. It was obvious his daughter was used to tending to her own needs. He wasn’t surprised because, like Brittany, he could get caught up in his research and forget to eat until he was done.
However, since Gabby’s arrival, he had changed his behavior patterns. Taking care of her gave him an internal sense of joy and satisfaction, filling a need he’d had no idea existed. Family.
Just as they got close to the vehicle, Gabby twisted out of his grip and jumped into a huge puddle.
“Why did you do that?” he scolded. “Now your shoes are filled with mud.”
Gabby shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Stay here,” he directed, holding her shoulders until she stood still.
Ryder swallowed his annoyance and moved his eyes away from that cute little face. She was being a kid, and kids jumped into puddles. What he should have done was warn her not to do so. One day he would get the hang of this parenting thing.
He blew out a huge plume of air, opened his truck and dropped his groceries on the passenger seat. Then he hoisted Gabby into his arms.
“Wheee,” she said, swaying her body.
Ryder was about to put her in her car seat when he noticed her small hand gripped a huge chocolate chip cookie, which he had agreed she could have with her lunch at school. Some of the chocolate chips had melted along her palms and fingers. Ryder had learned to keep the wipes handy because they cleaned everything—spills, chocolate, markers. Wipes and Ziploc bags were his two must-haves.
He went around his truck to get baby wipes out of the glove box and wiped Gabby’s hands, shoes and leggings.
As he cleaned, he thought about his wishy-washy neighbor. When he’d seen Cara struggling with the cart, he’d been eager to assist and continue their conversation. A loner by nature, Ryder wasn’t sure why his tongue had loosened around her yesterday or why his heart rate seemed to quicken in her presence. That had never happened before, but he liked her sense of humor. Especially since he hadn’t known Cara even possessed one.
However, today, she had been…standoffish.
He grabbed a Ziploc bag and dropped Gabby’s cookie inside before placing it on the front passenger seat.
“I want my cookie,” Gabby whined.
“You can have it with lunch,” he reminded her.
Ryder found himself dragging out the task of settling Gabby into her car seat, looking behind him to see if Chanel would come out of the store. After a few minutes, he glanced at his watch and knew he couldn’t lag or Gabby would have to eat breakfast at school. Ryder backed out of the lane, keeping his eye trained on the front door, but Cara remained inside.
“Daddy, I don’t want green peppers in my om-ah-let,” Gabby said, her loud voice echoing in the small space.
“Okay, I won’t put any in your omelet,” he said, correcting her pronunciation before peering into the rearview mirror to glance at his child. She was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt with a doughnut on her chest and leggings that featured tiny replicas of the doughnut. Ryder had purchased the outfit from Amazon, and he had another package due from Walmart soon. Gabby had grown about three inches and needed a new wardrobe and shoes for her rabbit-like feet.
A few minutes later, he turned down the gravel path to his driveway. This time, Ryder made sure to warn his daughter to avoid the muddy puddles. While she changed into another outfit, he worked on the omelets and breakfast potatoes. Though Ryder liked historic homes, he appreciated modern luxuries, so he had gutted the interior of the kitchen and installed stainless steel appliances and marble countertops in the open space, knowing he would spend a lot of time there.
Growing up in foster homes, Ryder had dreamed of sitting around a breakfast table with people who cared about him, who didn’t see him as a detriment to their income or a nuisance. The kitchen was the heart of the home. That’s why he had a round white table and chairs in the center along with a nook with sofa cushions. His heart had warmed the first time Gabby had curled into the corner with a book on her lap, reading while he cooked.
Gabby returned, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a ballerina on her chest. When she sat at the table, Ryder said grace, served Gabby a small portion of food and added a dollop of ketchup to her plate before placing a disposable white plastic bib around her neck. There would be no more outfit changes.
Once they had blessed their meal, they dug in. After the first bite, Ryder nodded with satisfaction. Gabby smacked her lips. Everything was just right.
A few minutes later, Gabby placed the last potato in her mouth and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Can we give some to Wolf?”
Wolf.
Ryder paused before scrunching his nose. He didn’t remember seeing Wolf when he’d entered. He cocked his head. His mind had been centered on getting breakfast ready and Gabby re-dressed for school.
Oh, no. If Wolf wasn’t here, it meant he had escaped through the doggy door in the kitchen. Ryder must have forgotten to close it before leaving. Again.
Ryder’s chair scraped across the wooden floor as he bounded to his feet, then slipped into his boots. He yanked open the door and scanned Cara’s yard. Seeing the bus pull up, he yelled out to Gabby to grab her lunch bag and her backpack. Then he scooped her under his arm and dashed down the driveway before the bus could pull off. Mr. Atkins had a ten-second-wait rule. She giggled, probably enjoying how her body flopped like a puppet the entire way.
After shaking his head, Ryder kissed her cheeks. “Have a good day.”
“See you later,” she said before making her way up the steps.
Ryder always felt a pang watching her get onto the bus. He looked to Mr. Atkins for commiseration, but the older man pursed his lips and closed the door.
Remembering Wolf, Ryder slapped his forehead and ran into Cara’s yard. By this time, the sun was out, drying up the damp earth. Though the grass was high, Ryder could see Wolf’s white fur covered in mud. His paws were busy digging holes in Cara’s vegetable garden.
“Wolf! Stop!” he called out.
The dog just kept digging. Ryder drew close, noticing the carrots tossed around the yard. Some were chewed. Some were smashed. None seemed salvageable. “Get home,” he commanded.
Ryder lunged, but Wolf took off, running back onto Ryder’s property. He heard a door slam behind him and turned to face Cara with dread. To his surprise, she was laughing—she was pointing her finger, doubled over and laughing at him.
He looked down and gasped. He had stepped in a huge pile of poop. Wolf’s parting gift. As Ryder lifted his leg, the scent hit his nostrils, and he gagged. “Ugh. Wolf knows better than to do this.”
She snorted. A very unladylike snort. “I know I should be mad, but this is hilarious. You should have gotten a cat, and your dog needs training.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of him. Then another.
“The only pet store in town closed, so I have to train him myself. I’ve watched several YouTube videos, but they aren’t much help.” Hearing another snap, he pointed. “Delete those pics. I wouldn’t have stepped in poo if your grass wasn’t so high.”
“You wouldn’t have stepped in it if your dog was in his own yard,” she shot back.
Ryder made a move toward her just as she took another photograph. He knew his face was beet red, but he hated how she was having fun at his mortification.
“No way.” Shaking her head, she started backing up. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she said, “Don’t move.” Her laughter escalated like musical keys on a scale until tears rolled down her cheeks. “This is the best thing I’ve seen all morning.” She dashed to the side of the house.
A few seconds later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the hose. Before Ryder could protest, Cara turned the water on him full force, washing away the grime from his legs and boots. He clamped his jaw shut, fully intending to toss his outfit in the garbage. This humiliation wouldn’t be easy to erase from his mind anytime soon. His only minor consolation was that she was also getting wet in the process.
“Turn it off now, please,” he yelled once his boots were clean. “I’m glad the sun is out or I would be worried about catching a cold.”
She complied and returned the hose to its base.
“I’m sorry about all this.” He swept his hand across the yard. “I’ll repair your vegetable garden.”
“You don’t have to. I can do it,” she said, waving a hand.
“I insist. I can help you or hire a handyman.” He gave Cara his cell number and watched her long fingers put his contact information into her phone. “Text me so I know it’s you. I don’t answer the phone unless I know who’s calling or texting. Too many spam callers.”
“Yes, I can’t stand the random robocalls. People have nothing better to do with their time.” She placed a hand on her hip. “If you want, I could train your dog. I worked at a pet store in my teens, and that was one of my responsibilities.”
All Ryder could do was nod. “This has been a most…humbling experience.” Without making eye contact, he turned toward his house with the peanut-sized pride he had left.
He heard a chuckle behind him.
“I think the word you’re looking for is unforgettable,” she said.
Chapter Three
“Why didn’t you capture it on video?” Cara asked Chanel on FaceTime that night. “That would have been epic.” Her sister’s eyes were filled with mirth at her neighbor’s debacle. Because of that, Cara wasn’t as mad about Wolf destroying her vegetables, stating she wouldn’t be there to eat them anyway—if there were any left after the rabbits got to them. Chanel didn’t mention Gabby, and Cara didn’t either.
“I took a couple of pictures, but there’s no way I’m sending them to you.”
“You’re no fun,” Cara joked.
“Really? You’re saying that when I agreed to switch places with you?” Chanel shifted on the living room sofa and slapped her leg. “Did you forget all the fun we used to have fooling people?”
“Nope. Mom and Dad used to get furious with us.”
Thinking of her deceased parents made Chanel sadden. “I miss them.”
“I do too. They were the best…” Their parents had died within months of each other. Her mother of a sudden stroke and her dad of a broken heart not too long after. He hadn’t wanted to carry on without their mom. A testimony of the close bond they had shared. Like the one Chanel shared with her sister.
Cara interrupted her thoughts and shifted the conversation with a random observation. “Besides our parent, the only person who could tell us apart was Ms. Mavis.”
Hearing the former librarian’s name made Chanel’s eyes go wide. “What if I run into her? Our cover could be blown.” She fretted with her lip. “The entire town knows we’re twins, so what’s to stop somebody from casually bringing that up in conversation?” Her eyes went wide. “Does Ryder know you’re a twin?”
Cara waved a hand. “No, why would I tell him? He doesn’t need to know. In fact, he’s a hermit and sticks to himself. And as for the town, it’s been fifteen years since you left. You might not have lived there full-time for long, but having you gone was painful for all of us. Hardly anyone mentions you for that reason. Besides, a lot of people who knew us are retired and moved somewhere warmer or are six feet under. There’s a lot of new people in town. I think you’ll be fine.”
She raised a brow at her sister’s words. “Six feet under? Can’t you come up with a more sympathetic phrasing?”
Cara shrugged, bringing Chanel’s attention to her slim shoulders. Her face appeared gaunt, like she hadn’t been sleeping. Chanel cocked her head. “How are you doing?”
Cara’s expression closed. When it came to her job, she could be tight-lipped. Even now, she spoke to Chanel with the background blurred. This was for both their protection, but it made Chanel acutely aware of how dangerous this assignment was. “I’m managing.”
Worry swirled like a building tornado, but Chanel knew better than to voice her fears. It would only put her sister on edge, and she needed Cara safe. Before Chanel had agreed to be Cara’s stand-in, her twin told her that Jeremiah was a computer genius who had infiltrated the police station’s intricate computer systems, so she needed to work with the FBI.
Cara had insisted on going deep undercover and being part of their investigation while they tracked Jeremiah’s movements. Since Jeremiah had family in town who were covering for him and informing him, Cara had asked Chanel to do the switch. That was all her boss had allowed her to share. Chanel didn’t know how her sister was able to put her life in danger like this, but Cara excelled at her job as a detective in Hawk’s Landing.
Typical of Cara, she directed the conversation away from herself. “I should be home by Christmas, as promised. Can you stay until then?”
“Yes. Thanks to working nonstop, I had a good payout when I quit. They paid me all my sick leave and vacation days.”
“Has your boss called to say they made a mistake?”
“Nope. They feel as if they made the right decision giving the promotion to Alma, though they asked if I could train her before leaving.”
Chanel couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone. Alma Tate was a younger Caucasian woman with a master’s degree in fine arts. She had limited experience on how to run a library, but they had still chosen her over Chanel, who had years of experience, though her bachelor’s degree was in agricultural studies. So Chanel had quit.
“I’m glad you left.”
Clearing her throat, Chanel brought up another topic. “Do you think it would be a red flag if I put up Christmas decorations?”
“Can we get through Thanksgiving first?” Cara scoffed.
“Quit being a grinch, and answer my question.”
Her sister pondered for a beat and then shrugged. “Go ahead. Ryder is my only neighbor, and he has no idea what I do for the holidays. So I don’t think it’d be a problem. Besides, if anyone from town ventured that far, they would think I’m doing it because I’m bored since I left the police force.” Cara leaned closer, her tone changing when she spoke again. “How have you been sleeping?”
Chanel shifted, folding her legs under her. “I’m fine during the day. I feel like the prodigal son—or in this case, daughter—who returned home, and this house, the land, has welcomed me. We had so many great memories here as children. But at night, I’m in a mental tug-of-war between peace and panic. All I do is think of him.”
Warren Houston. Her high school sweetheart and husband. He’d loved life. Even now, she could picture him—tall, powerful, strong.
Until he wasn’t.
Because of her.
She sniffled.
“Ray wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself like you’ve done for the past fifteen years,” her sister said, eyes soft and tender. “He would have wanted you to grab your second chance and run with it.”
“I didn’t deserve to live,” she whispered, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.
“God must have thought so, or you wouldn’t be here,” Cara said, pleading. “He has plans for you. You can’t be a Jonah forever. At some point, you have to be where He wants you to be, which is here in Hawk’s Landing. It’s home. I firmly believe that. That’s why I wouldn’t—haven’t—sold that place. I’ve been waiting for you. When we were teenagers, we vowed to bring the farm back to its former glory, and that’s what I intend to do. With you.”
Her sister’s chest rose and fell with each breath while she waited for Chanel to respond. Cara was right about her being home. That much she could agree with.
The rest, not so much.
The years melted as fresh pain bubbled into her chest, and words traveled from her heart to her lips. “He died trying to save me.” Chanel’s body shook under the weight of her guilt. “If I hadn’t made Warren take the boat out for us to go fishing, he would be alive. And I wouldn’t have lost—” She flung her head back and cried, her shoulders shaking, unable to bear the brunt of her sorrow. Her ache. Like a constant toothache, it gnawed at her, keeping her awake—in limbo, restless, paused in time.
Chanel sniffled. Her tear ducts were putting in overtime. The grief threatened to engulf her.
She heard her sister’s gentle voice. “Get the box of tissue, and wipe your face.” Once Chanel had done so, Cara asked her to meet her eyes. “You’re the strongest person I know, but guilt will bury you deeper than quicksand. You don’t control the weather. You couldn’t have seen that storm coming. No one did. Not even the weatherman.”
Chanel shuddered as she remembered that moment, when the boat capsized and the sail pierced her abdomen, causing her to lose their unborn baby.
Cara kept talking. “I smile when I think of Warren because he was your hero. He saved you, and if he had to decide, he would do it again. I have no doubt about that.”
Chanel nodded, knowing Cara was right. “I can’t do this farm without him. That wasn’t the plan.”
“You can and you must, or you will never be at peace. Fifteen years is a long time to carry the guilt like a hiker’s backpack. You have to let it go. Cast your cares on Him. God said that for a reason.” Her sister spoke with such certainty that Chanel felt the words take root within her.
“I’ll pray on it.” She licked her lips and then whispered her current biggest concern. “Ryder has a daughter. A little girl. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You know why, honey,” Cara said. “If I had, you wouldn’t have come.”
“And you expect me to stay away from him?” Her chest tightened. “From her?”
Cara’s eyes held empathy and understanding. “I see now that request was impossible. Unreasonable.” She looked upward and chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes blinking rapidly while she processed.
She shrugged. “I don’t think befriending them would appear out of character or do any harm. My disliking him and his dog has nothing to do with the case. But I think you do—like him, that is. Just act like me when you’re around him.” Cara waved at the screen. “Get rid of our pictures in the house in case he ever comes inside. And wear black. Dark colors, like I would.”
Chanel laughed and tugged on the tracksuit she was wearing. “This was a gift I bought for you that you never wore.”
A distraction in the background made Cara turn off her video and mute her microphone. Chanel’s stomach muscles clenched, and she kept her eyes pinned to the screen. Several tense seconds passed before her sister returned. She could see Cara looked shaken, but she knew asking her to share would be pointless. All her sister said was she would be off the grid for a while and that she might not be able to call as much. With a nod, Chanel squelched her worry, uttered a quick prayer and begged her sister to stay safe.
Once she was off the call, Cara’s words about her liking Ryder came back to her, and she frowned. Though Cara was cool with her chatting it up with her neighbor, Chanel didn’t feel at ease now. Images of her and Ryder talking and laughing on the front porch, her hosing him down in the backyard filled her mind. It was all a bit too…close. Too companionable. Too…soon.
Chanel was friendly, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for friendship with someone she found attractive. And the fact that each encounter with Ryder felt natural—easy—scared her. It had been easy with Warren, and look how that had ended.
Her cell pinged with a notification. When she saw Ryder’s name, her heart rate accelerated. She swiped the screen to read the text message. When will you begin dog training and how much is your fee?
She read his words several times, analyzing them, contemplating how to respond. She wanted to keep her distance, but she had promised to train his dog. Chanel wanted to keep her word…
Maybe she could help with Wolf without having Ryder or Gabby around.
Chanel figured she would take a few days to get settled and get her mind in gear. The next time she saw Ryder, she would have her sister’s mannerisms conquered. She glanced at her watch. It was close to eight o’clock. Not too late to respond. You don’t have to pay me. Your dog will need a lot of training…
She hit the back button and deleted those words. She needed to be brief and not her usual long-winded self. She would just answer the question. Keep it simple. I’ll start next week. No fee.
That was her impersonal, but necessary, response.
*
Ryder returned a couple of emails to his colleagues at the Sloan Kettering Institute, where he worked as a cancer geneticist. His focus was to study stem cell growth and tumor progression. Though he’d been on family leave since Brittany had dropped off Gabby on his doorstep, his colleagues often reached out to ask questions or run ideas by him because they knew he was a genius at what he did. They were feeling it with him not being there.
But he wasn’t sure about going back full-time. At forty-three, he had years to go before retirement, but Ryder had worked at the institute for close to twenty years. All this time off with Gabby had him thinking about a career change, tackling something new. Like maybe teaching online. Although he loved what he did now, so he would have to think about it before making a decision.
Since the weather would be close to seventy degrees without any chance of rain, Ryder decided to cut his lawn. He went into the house to change into his old jeans, a faded shirt and the grass-stained black boots he wore when doing yardwork. He grabbed his Beats headphones and searched for TobyMac to pull up one of his albums. For once, Wolf remained at home, lying on the back porch, taking a nap.
He sauntered over to the shed and opened the door to start up the John Deere Zero-Turn Mower he had purchased that summer. Navigating his way onto the grass, Ryder got lost in the worship music, whistling or belting out some of the lyrics. He finished his yard in about forty-five minutes. After catching sight of the thick patch on Cara’s property, Ryder headed over to tackle her lawn, praying his prickly neighbor wouldn’t accuse him of trespassing.
Thinking about Cara made his brows furrow. He hadn’t been in a lot of relationships—partly because of his studies but also because Ryder had no intention of opening his heart to anyone. Not when his own parents had abandoned him, leaving him to the will of the state. It was better to be alone, depending on God and himself.
But he was drawn to Cara’s optimism and her wit. Yet she confused him. Cara was like a water faucet running hot and cold. Take her text message response the night before: It was stiff. Formal. The complete opposite of the woman he was getting to know but characteristic of the one he had known all along. Which was the real Cara?
Turning up the volume when TobyMac’s song “It’s You” began to play, Ryder made his way around the perimeter of her yard. He would keep circling until he had completed the entire area.
Ryder lapped the huge circumference three times before he saw Cara waving at him from the back porch. She sat by a small glass table with two chairs, next to an oversize hammock that was in serious need of repair. Wolf was now stretched out by her feet like he lived there. Ryder shook his head. That dog. He used the back of his hand to wipe his brow and put the mower in park before waving back.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she yelled, gesturing for him to join her.
He held up a hand before turning off the motor, climbing down and walking over to where she sat. She was wearing a floral maxi dress and a straw hat. She held Christmas garlands in her hands and had a huge smile on her face.
Like he’d thought earlier, he didn’t know how to read her these last few days. At least before, she had been constant in her loathing, and he’d known to keep his distance. Now she was a seesaw, and it made his head hurt. That didn’t stop him from returning her smile or hurrying his steps, though. In fact, if he were being honest, his heart felt light.
Wolf opened one eye before closing it. Ryder smirked. His dog seemed quite content to pretend he didn’t know Ryder. He’d remind Wolf of that when he came looking for food.
Ryder’s eyes were drawn to the huge glass of water on the table with condensation running down the sides. His throat was dry. There was a platter with a couple of large muffins as well. His stomach growled at the sight.
“Thanks so much for taming our wildebeest of a lawn,” she said, her voice bright and cheery as she rested the garlands across a chair. “I brought you some muffins and water because the sun is no joke and our—I mean, my yard is massive. I’m sure you must need hydration.”
That was odd. Had she said our wildebeest of a lawn? To his knowledge, Cara lived alone. An ex-husband, maybe? Ryder was curious about the slip but decided not to question his neighbor—not when she was being sweet and thoughtful. He didn’t want to be the thorn in her rosy demeanor.
“I could use some liquid hydration. Thanks.” Ryder reached for the water and took several gulps. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. He emptied the glass. “It’s not a problem. My lawn mower is doing most of the work anyways.”
“Still, I’m grateful because I wasn’t looking forward to pushing that old mower out of the shed.” She bit into a muffin. Some of the icing ended up on the sides of her mouth, reminding Ryder of his own hunger. He snatched one of the muffins, slipped into the chair across from her and took a huge bite. It was soft and moist and simply delicious. He slid a glance toward the plate; he might have to have another one.
“What were you listening to?” she asked. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while.”
“TobyMac. Do you know him?”
“Yes,” she said, gyrating her body. “I love him. Have you listened to his album called The Elements? ‘It’s You’ is my jam.”
His brows rose and he felt his eyes go wide. “I was literally just listening to that. It’s one of my favorites on the entire album.”
Their eyes held. It seemed like they meshed, had so much in common. There was a light breeze, causing her hair to frolic in the wind just so. He found it…appealing. He cleared his throat to break the spell and reached for another muffin. He figured if he were moving his mouth, he wouldn’t do anything foolish, like tell her what he was thinking.
“I take it Gabby’s in school?” Cara asked, looking out toward the yard.
“Yes. Although getting her on the bus this morning wasn’t easy.” He groaned. “She has a loose tooth and wanted to talk with her mom.”
Cara watched him, a brow arched, curiosity in her eyes. “By your demeanor, I take it you couldn’t reach her?”
“I tried, but the call went straight to voice mail. I didn’t know what to think or what to say to Gabby. I hated to see her chin quiver and her eyes fill with tears. Nothing I said made her feel better. She didn’t even look back at me when she got on the bus.” His shoulders slumped. “She goes to school half-days, so I’ll try again later. I pray that Brittany answers.”
“Sometimes a girl just needs her mother,” Cara said in a wistful tone.
He cocked his head and asked the question burning in his mind. “Do you have children?”
“No,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table. “I can’t anymore.” Now her chin wobbled, and her eyes appeared slick.
Great. A second person crying today because of him. Ryder ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s all right,” she said softly before wiping her face. “I was pregnant once. With a girl.” She met his eyes. Her next words stunned him into silence. “She would have been fifteen today if my careless actions…” She appeared to struggle for words before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “I lost her, and it was all my fault.”
Somehow he doubted that. “What do you mean?” he asked gently.
“Can we not talk about this anymore? I’ve already said more than I meant to say, and losing a child the same day you lose your husband isn’t easy…”
The relaxed banter between them dried like a raisin in the sun. Breaking eye contact, she had the look of someone ready to flee, but he wasn’t ready for her to go.
“Sure. Uh, it wasn’t my intention to… I’m sorry.”
She gave a nod and stood. The chair made a scraping sound, jolting Wolf awake. “Let me put these decorations up.”
Wolf chose that moment to provide a much-needed interruption. He bit into the garland, growling and gnawing on the snaky green invader, which made a light swishing sound on the porch when he shook it back and forth.
Cara bent down to pet his ears and gave a wobbly laugh. “Easy, boy. Let me have it.” Once she had rescued the garland, she proceeded to wrap it around the banister. Sensing her discomfort, Ryder didn’t tease her for putting out decorations so early. After she’d finished wrapping the garland, Chanel went in the house and returned with a fake snowman, which she placed a couple of feet from the door.
Wolf barked at it so much that Ryder decided to head home. He said his goodbyes, and Cara replied with, “I’ll see you soon,” while her tone said, It doesn’t matter if I do.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets after Cara went inside, Ryder released a small whistle and gestured for Wolf to follow him. The dog gave a pitiful howl and looked at the door before turning sad eyes toward Ryder. He stifled a laugh. The dog looked how he felt. Like he’d lost a friend. Only Cara wasn’t his friend. They had shared a few minutes of civility and adult conversation, and he wouldn’t confuse friendliness with friendship. They were acquaintances. Nothing more.
Excerpt from The Christmas Switch by Zoey Marie Jackson. This material is protected by copyright
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