An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love. Kimberly Van Meter
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about it, it’s probably nothing.”
“Maybe you should tell Dean.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “And why should I do that?”
“Because maybe he could look into it for you.”
“Dana, I don’t need a man to chase away bad-mannered teenagers. That’s all it was. I almost didn’t mention it.”
Dana looked worried. “Well, I’m glad you did. If it happens again, please tell me you’ll let Dean know. I don’t like it.”
“Fine,” Annabelle grudgingly agreed, though only for Dana’s benefit. A prank call was nothing to get worked up over. She felt silly for even mentioning it. And the fact that Dana wanted Dean to be her champion was transparent.
All this baby business had given Dana a one-track mind, it seemed. Annabelle would have to be an idiot not to see where this was going. She didn’t need Dana’s help in the matchmaking department. Annabelle could screw up her own love life, thank you very much. And as much as she ached to be a part of a wonderful family like the Halvorsens, it wasn’t right to try to insert herself into a picture where she didn’t belong.
Besides, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Dean was still nursing a broken heart. Annabelle wasn’t about to sign up to be Dean’s rebound woman. God, the thought gave her chills. Rebound women always got the shaft in the love department because people who never should’ve been together in the first place inevitably realize this fact and that’s when everything falls apart. In that situation, someone ends up the loser. And that wasn’t going to be Annabelle.
“In case I haven’t told you, I’m so glad you moved here.”
Annabelle looked up at the catch in her friend’s voice. Dana blinked back tears but the sincerity in her eyes nearly bowled Annabelle over. They were each other’s closest family and didn’t need blood to bind them. Despite how she might mature and change, a part of Annabelle always felt like the kid living in the trailer park with next to nothing to call her own. Dana understood this because she struggled with it, too. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know. And I’m glad, too. But I don’t want you to be disappointed if my happy ending isn’t the same as yours. I don’t want you to worry about me, either. I’m a survivor and I’ll always land on my feet. With or without a man to help me.”
HE’D TRIED to be understanding, but each time Brandon saw Annabelle sitting at his mom’s old desk he saw red. She was trespassing. And her kid was a nuisance, too. Brandon’s dad had baby-proofed the entire office until it took a degree in engineering just to open a drawer. Brandon wanted things to go back to the way they were before she got there.
“Hi, Brandon,” Annabelle said with a smile as if she wasn’t aware that he could barely tolerate her. That baby actually smiled at him, too. Like they were working together to mock him with their nice routine. Annabelle looked around him to gesture toward Jessie. “This your girlfriend?”
He gritted his teeth, hating even to answer, but his dad kept getting after him for being rude so he jerked his head in the affirmative, but turned his attention to his dad. “Me and the guys are heading over to Buckley’s for a few hours. That okay with you? I’ll be home by curfew.”
Dean paused to regard his son but then returned to his paperwork. “As long as your homework is done and you’re home by ten o’clock. What did Coach say about your shoulder?”
Brandon rotated the muscle and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a strain. The PT guy said there’s nothing ripped or torn. Everything should be fine for the game tomorrow.”
“That’s good but I don’t want you playing if you’re hurt,” his dad warned him. “One game isn’t going to kill you.”
“Dad, I’m not stupid. Don’t worry about it. Everything is fine.” He looked to Jessie, who had been quietly chatting with Annabelle, and gestured that it was time to leave. “See you later. Thanks, Dad,” he added over his shoulder as he left, Jessie right behind him. Once they were out of earshot, he nearly snarled at Jessie, who blinked in surprise at his tone. “Don’t get chummy with her. She’s not sticking around,” he said. “She’s just a charity case that my dad’s taken on because he felt bad.”
“That’s a crappy thing to say,” Jessie said, frowning. “What’s gotten into you?”
He drew a deep breath and apologized for snapping, but inside he felt no different. The sooner Annabelle Nichols was out of their lives, the less chance Brandon had of getting a stepmom. The thought made him queasy.
The only thing that kept him from totally freaking out was that his dad had promised him there was nothing going on between him and Annabelle. If only she wasn’t so pretty…and nice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANNABELLE had just snapped Honey into her car seat and slipped the key into the ignition when her old Ford Escort made a horrible racket that ended in a guttural wheeze.
“No, you will not do this to me,” Annabelle muttered, trying to turn the ignition again despite the ominous clicking it was making. “You were just given a clean bill of health last week after the oil change. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this,” she said, talking to the car as if it were a recalcitrant child rather than a machine that had just expired. She clenched her teeth and leaned into the steering wheel. “I do not accept this. You will turn over and we will drive home!”
Dean appeared beside her window with a puzzled expression. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Just great,” she lied with a bright smile. “Just having a difference of opinion with my vehicle.”
“Come again?”
She shook her head and waved him on. “No worries. I’ll get this figured out. Go on home.”
But just as she feared, Dean wasn’t about to leave her without knowing she had reliable transportation, and, while that chivalrous routine was endearing, she really didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay. She glanced at her watch. Dana was working tonight. It was a five-mile walk from the office to her craptastic duplex and it was already getting dark. She considered her meager checking account balance and immediately discarded the thought of calling a tow truck.
“Annabelle, pop your hood.”
“No, it’s okay, really,” Annabelle called out, but Dean refused to budge and gestured impatiently. “Well, uh, okay. But I’m sure it’s nothing.”
The latch snapped and Dean propped the hood. Needing to feel useful, she grabbed the flashlight from her glove compartment and climbed out of the car to stand beside Dean as he inspected the engine. She peered into the coiled machinery and wondered if he knew what the heck he was doing. Thad hadn’t been much of a mechanic but he had always liked to pretend he was.
“Fan’s not broken and your battery cables are fine. But we’ll have it towed to Mountain Motors and see what Jonas can make of it.” He carefully closed the hood. “I’ll take you home. Go ahead and grab your stuff and I’ll get Honey.”
She wanted to decline politely, but that would really be stupid. There was no way she was going to walk five miles with a toddler who was a half hour away from becoming really cranky, not to mention, Annabelle wouldn’t be able to see two feet in front of her once she headed out of town. She might end up in a ditch or something. “Thanks,” Annabelle said, though it came out not at all grateful sounding. He didn’t call her on it and she was at least glad for that.
Honey gurgled with pleasure as Dean strapped her into the back of his king-cab monster diesel truck and then Annabelle hopped in, trying not to notice how comfortable his ride was in comparison to her own. Of course it was comfortable. It was practically brand-new, while hers was…not.
There was nothing wrong with her little Escort. It was her first car and she’d bought it with her own money. It probably just