Second Chance At Love

Chapter One Rachel dragged the tines of her fork up the mound of potato, then squashed it flat. Without bothering to take a bite, she built up the ivory mountain and squished it again. Mashed potatoes had to be the most boring food ever. If Rachel had the energy, she would likely cry over her dinner plate. Ethan was at his friend's house three doors down, working on a school project, but she knew her son was more likely to be playing video games than studying. Well, she told herself, how serious could the project be in the fourth grade? Her daughter, Violet, scampered down the stairs and rushed to the laundry room to retrieve her jacket and shoes. “Mom, Teagan’s here,” the eleven-year-old announced. Teagan Price was Violet’s best friend for the past three years. She lived just a neighborhood over, and her mother would pick up Violet if she’d already planned to be in the car. Rachel glanced at her daughter’s plate which was mostly clear. Violet definitely preferred chicken nuggets to chicken marsala. “Okay, sweetie. If Mrs. Price can’t drop you back off, I’ll pick you up.” “Thanks,” Violet called as she tugged her backpack over her shoulder and headed out the door. Rachel sat at the secondhand round kitchen table she hated, wondering if this was what life as a divorcee would be like. Alone with the dishes from a meal she hated. She’d picked out the rectangular table for this kitchen, but it now resided at her ex’s. What kind of jerk would take the family dining table just because he could? Bastard. At least she’d gotten the house, the wine collection, and the big screen TV. The divorce had been official just a year, and admittedly, she was still adjusting. Weekends meant cleaning the house from top to bottom, running the kids to their activities and errands, and then collapsing at night in front of the TV with Netflix, too tired to enjoy the peaceful view of the lake out back. During her weekends with the kids, they could watch a movie together and share a bowl of popcorn. On weekends Violet and Ethan were at their dad’s, she’d do her own thing, like shop and visit with friends, but her life had become rather monotonous. God, she was pitiful. Rachel’s two priorities in life at the moment were her kids and her job—both brought her so much joy. She was a rare breed of person who looked forward to Mondays. Work excited her. Her job as an administrative assistant to the president of Blazer Electronics, a mid-sized electronics company, was rewarding and sometimes challenging. Her boss treated her as an equal, demanded a lot from her, and paid her well for it. She rose and gathered her and Violet’s plates, scraping the potatoes into the trash. “Might not be a glamorous life but it is mine,” she muttered to herself. And truly she’d rather be a little bored than married to Richie. On Monday, Rachel arrived at eight o’clock instead of nine to work because she needed to leave early for Violet’s try-out. Her daughter played the flute with the sixth-grade band. The school district had been invited to be part of a competition in Austin, and eight students from each grade were chosen to represent the district. Violet loved music and playing the flute, and practiced every chance she could—including the time she’d taken the flute into the bathroom as she waited on the hot water. Rachel was excited for her baby girl and wanted to be there to support her. Rachel’s boss, Roger Brennan, stepped into her oversized cubicle shortly before lunch. He’d already ditched his suit jacket and tie. He was barely six feet tall, had a large widow’s peak in his light brown hair, and a smile that made everyone feel comfortable. “Rachel, would you type this in an email? Send it to Larry and Suzanne in Procurement, and copy me on it—I need them on my calendar.” “Sure,” she replied, taking the paper he handed her. She read the note as he walked away. There appeared to be a concern about getting material from Sierra Leone in time for a client’s deadline. Roger wanted an update ASAP. Blazer had a source in Sierra Leone for necessary rare earth elements found in parts of Africa. Roger was not your typical boss. He considered everyone in the company family. All employees were his friends, inside and outside of the office. But he could also be direct and firm when he meant business. Investors knew it, vendors knew it, and employees knew it. After wrapping up her work for the day, Rachel slipped on her coat, turned off her monitor, and went to tell her boss she was leaving. She strode into Roger’s spacious office where he sat at his desk and snuck a quick peek at her watch. Six minutes before the traffic started to get crazy. "Okay, Roger, I'm heading out. Just checking to see that you got the email before I take off." She hoped he’d say all was fine. “Yes, thanks.” He drew his attention away from his computer screen, looking as if he’d just seen something humorous. "I'm good. Tomorrow we can tackle the trip to Palo Alto. I want Trey Wilkins to attend as well." Blazer had a big prospect in Palo Alto. If the sales team wanted Roger there, that meant they stood a high chance of getting the deal. "Sounds good. I have calls rolling to voicemail." "Perfect. Tell Violet I said good luck. Thanks again, Rachel.” She pivoted and barely made it over the threshold when she ran smack-dab into a wall of muscle. Oomph! A tall, dark-haired man smiled down at her. She stumbled back. His subtle hint of sandalwood cologne circled her, lifting her into a glorious brain fog. "Oh." Her hand went to her heart. "I'm terribly sorry." She stepped to the side. "Rachel? Rachel Johnson?" His eyebrows lifted as he talked over her apology. Her brow furrowed. This man knew her, but she didn't know him. After six years at Blazer, she knew most everyone in Roger’s circle, from vendors to his wife and kids—she’d even met his housekeeper. This delicious man, she did not know. "Yes?" "Oh, wow. Funny running into you. Here." He reached into his suit jacket pocket, retrieved a white envelope, and handed it to her. What is this? Was she getting served? She bit her cheek and resisted the deep desire to run. The envelope’s paper was far too nice to be a court or government document. “Cheryl can’t make it to the ARC Gala. She told me to ask you instead.” “Cheryl?” “Yes, Cheryl Moorland. So, here I am asking.” His boyish grin on a mature face could make a woman swoon. “Hunter!” Roger called from his office. “Get in here. You’ve got to see this.” The mystery man named Hunter smiled toward Roger and said, “Be right there.” Turning back to her, his head tipped slightly as he asked, “Did she not call you?” “No, but I don’t know—” “Well, I’m sure she will. I hope you’re free Thursday night?” His lips pressed together. “It doesn’t really start until eight.” What was going on and who was Cheryl Moorland? She lifted the envelope to return to him. “I think there is—” “No, please don’t say no.” He stepped closer, his eyes pleading with her. “Cheryl will call you later and explain everything.” His warm hands cupped hers, gripping the envelope tighter in her grasp. “Hunter,” Roger called again, an eager tone to his voice. Hunter smiled directly at her. His gaze scanned her face, stopping for a fraction of a moment at her lips. His looks were distracting. The words stalled in her throat. A thirty-nine-year-old mother of two energetic, almost-teenagers and assistant to a successful CEO of a growing electronics company was rarely at a loss for words. But now, nothing. “I’ll see you Thursday,” Hunter said softly before releasing her hands and strolling into Roger’s office. “You sure are getting impatient in your old age,” she heard Hunter tell her boss. Rachel stared down at the envelope. What was this about? She read the time on her phone. s**t! Two minutes later than she should have left. She would have to sort this out tomorrow, because right now her flute-player extraordinaire was expecting her number one fan to be sitting front row. Rachel sat in the school auditorium with other parents, watching the sixth-graders audition. Immense pride bubbled inside her and was hard to contain. All Violet’s extra practice had paid off. Afterward, there was a short break while the sixth-graders left with their parents and the seventh-graders set up for their turn. She shuffled through the crowd of parents in the hall to meet their children. “Baby, you were amazing. You should be very proud of yourself.” “Thanks, Mom.” Her daughter, with sandy-blonde hair like hers and precious pink lips, looked up with a glimmer of hope in her blue eyes. “So when will you hear if you made it?” “Mr. Hoth said in a week or two.” Violet locked her flute case and stood. “Let me get my stuff and we can get out of here. I have a lot of homework to do.” “Okay.” As Rachel waited on Violet, she shot a text to Bethany, the babysitter. Wrapping it up at school. Should be home in 15. Within a minute, Bethany replied. Ethan wants to know if you can get pizza for dinner. That sounded like a better option than what Rachel had planned. Dinner would have been like what she’d had growing up—a brown thing, a white thing, and a green thing. She typed. Sure. See you soon. Rachel dialed the local pizzeria and ordered an extra-large, loaded pizza. She could easily whip up a side salad with what was in her fridge at home. She slipped her phone in her purse and the crisp white invitation she’d received earlier stared back at her. She bit her cheek. Would it be bad to at least glance at the thing? The seal on the envelope will be broken, she told herself. “Okay, Mom, I’m ready.” Her daughter beamed up at her eager to leave. Rachel closed her purse. “Right. Need me to carry something?” “No. I got it.” As they walked toward the parking lot, Rachel shared, “Your brother wants pizza, so we need to stop at Aldo’s on the way home.” “Yay.” Violet bounced on her tiptoes. “They have the best pizza.” She smiled at her daughter. If her kids were happy, she’d consider this a great day.