Page 2

I peeked at the time on my watch as a notification arrived for a meeting with the engineering department back at Buchanan’s, another meeting I didn’t want to attend. I really needed to talk to my assistant, Pearl, about scheduling.

“We can’t wait to hear how you pull this whole thing off. If anyone can, it’s you, Rex.” Archer set the pointer down.

“I have to go, but this is great work, guys. Beautiful.” Again, I sort of gushed as I took one last look at the model, then left. Brooks followed me out to the elevators.

“Hey, I told your assistant to put me on your social calendar next week,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Want to hit the new wine bar Jameson opened on 5th?” Our buddy spent a year touring the best wineries in the world and I’d been looking forward to supporting him.

“Maybe, but first, I told Archer you and I would be his wingmen at one of those speed dating events.”

I practically punched the down arrow button on the wall. “Why the hell would you tell him that?”

“Come on, man, you know he’s been in a slump since Brianne left him last year. He’s finally admitting he’s ready to move on and wants to give this a try.”

“Surely there must be a dozen other ways for a man of his caliber to meet the next love of his life.”

“Oh yeah? Are you an expert on this topic?” He joked. He and my friends knew me too well. I had no plans to get tied down.

“You and Archer have fun, and meet me at the bar after.” I left him hanging there and got on the elevator, escaping his smirk.

I had nothing against the institution of marriage, but with a mother like mine constantly pressuring me to settle down and pass on the Buchanan genes, I rebelled against anything that wasn’t a quick one-night stand.

Ever since Richard’s engagement fell apart, she’d been even worse—Attempting to sign me up for a millionaire matchmaking service, and calling me over for dinner where a friend’s daughter just “happened” to be there.

No, now that I was on to her tricks to get me to tie the knot, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Marriage for me wouldn’t happen anytime soon, no matter who fell into my path.

2

122 DAYS TO GO

CHELSEA CALHOUN

Mom squeezedme tight until I didn’t think I could breathe anymore. She smelled heavenly, like the warm slices of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream she just served my sister, brother, and me in her diner, and the scent was all the things I loved about home in late August. I never wanted to forget this.

“I’m just moving to New York City. It’s only a few hours’ drive from here,” I patted her shoulder and reminded her.

Here being Holly Creek, the small town that’s been my home for twenty-seven years, and today being officially the day I was finally off on a grand adventure. It was one I had put off since high school, but suddenly it was difficult to leave. We had been saying goodbye for an hour and were already behind schedule. At this pace, we’d be in the thick of city traffic when we arrived. Then again, when didn’t the city have traffic?

Colt joined in the hug. My brother was so tall nowhe towered over us by at least a foot. He had grown into his handsome looks, with dark wavy hair and eyes of blue, just like our father—Dr. Oliver Calhoun, may he rest in peace.

“Oh, my Chelsea-Sunshine girl.” Mom cried again, adjusting the sunflower in my hair.

Maisy, my impatient sister, honked the horn from my car parked in front of Flora’s Diner, the restaurant my mother had owned and operated for as long as I could remember.

“Let’s go, Chelsea. Love you, Mom. See you soon, Colt.” She waved, letting her long, golden ponytail hang out the window.

“Yep. As soon as I can get this slave driver to let me have a weekend off,” he elbowed Mom. “I’ll come down to the city and raise hell with you all.”

“Oh, how did this happen?” Mom cried into her apron—again. “You three once were my babies and now you’re all adults. Soon you’ll be bringing your babies to me?—”

“Mom. Stop. None of us are having babies yet. Sheesh.” Colt rolled his eyes. At twenty-one, he was still immature and having fun with girls his age in town, and needed several years to grow up before I could see himeversettling down and having children.

“You’re already giving Mom a bad time? Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I teased, sort of.

“Chelsea Ruth Calhoun, you’re going. And I won’t hear another word about it.” Mom wiped away the tears from her blue-green eyes and I thought that might be the end of them, since she used all three of my names. She was putting on abrave face now, and I must, too. “Go on, the city awaits. Oh, and here’s a fresh box of chocolate chip cookies for you and Maisy-girl to share on the way.”

Mom looked behind her at the deep windowsill of the diner, but there was no box sitting there.