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Another stupid party ... with six people to look on,

and talk nonsense to each other.

—Jane Austen

BLAKE DREADED THE DINNER on Friday at Samantha Braeburn’s home. But he’d forced himself to attend, despite the pressure of seeing Hensley Fitzwilliam again. She’d seemed more than a little bristled with him by the end of their first encounter.

He’d gone over it a number of times in his mind, replaying their meeting.

He had to admit he hadn’t been all that friendly.

Sure, he’d seen her around at church and maybe a time or two at the diner he and Bing enjoyed now and then, The Gathering Place.

This prompted him to ask himself why he hadn’t been friendly.

Despite the fact, he acknowledged it was time to make friends in his new surroundings.

It had been a year since he’d moved to the town and hadn’t socialized much, working to build up his new property.

The answer came to him. It was because of rule number one to always be on guard when it came to women.

He’d adopted the rule after Elise Martin had double-crossed him.

And he had no intention of changing that rule anytime soon.

Secondly, when women discovered his limo and personal driver, women were all too eager to find out more about him, his net worth, and his family legacy.

Unfortunately, many women he’d encountered over the years were gold diggers. One couldn’t be too cautious.

He shouldn’t have mentioned that Hensley Fitzwilliam wasn’t his type.

That’s precisely when it had become evident that he’d opened his mouth and stuck his foot in it.

The expression on her face had gone from happy and easygoing to one of pure indignation.

He also clearly remembered her stomping away from him without a word or backwards glance.

He’d obviously upset her. Sam didn’t seem to have taken note of this when she’d invited them to a dinner party.

But what was to be done about it now? Climbing out of the limo as his driver held the door, he raked a hand through his hair and buttoned one button on his suit jacket. The fact was, he had no idea how to make up for that faux pas. He’d have to ponder it some more and figure it out later.

That issue aside, he was ready to make some friends and meet other folks from Dogwood Creek if he was going to become a fine and upstanding member of the community.

His father had taught him that much about business and community, even though this was nothing like Manhattan.

Besides, spring was in bloom after the long winter.

And he had been a little stir crazy lately, itching to get out and about.

He’d done his best to read books and work on various projects to keep himself occupied while being cooped up indoors during the colder months.

He and his crew had done a ton of work in his first year of living in the area.

They’d finished building the main lodge and five of the eight cabins.

All two-bedroom cabins with lofts so far.

Plus, his own cabin, a sprawling five-bedroom log cabin for that future family he would have someday.

He’d settled in, unpacked, even decorated a few things, but it was time to break out of his shell.

So, there he stood at the side entrance to the residential quarters for the Braeburns, adjusting his tie.

He’d told his driver it shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.

Since his driver was also his security staff, Blake knew Wickham would do a good job of keeping them safe while waiting inside the limo.

Not that Dogwood Creek could boast of having much crime.

No, the small town had low crime, friendly neighbors, and all of the charm and appeal he had appreciated since the first moment he’d visited the area before purchasing the land for his log cabin resort tucked into the mountains.

He rang the buzzer and waited for a voice to sound through the speaker.

Samantha’s voice said hello and buzzed him inside.

He took a flight of stairs to their front door at the top of the landing.

Once he finished the meal, he’d have some dessert, make polite small talk, thank them for the dinner, and be on his way.

It might save him from stirring up more trouble with Miss Hensley Fitzwilliam.

The less he said, the better, at this point.

When Sam threw the door wide open and welcomed him inside with a cheerful hello, he quickly spotted Miss Trouble, seated on the sofa.

It wasn’t as if he could miss the beauty with those brunette waves and big blue eyes, but Sam’s husband, the one she’d called Tiff, stepped forward and shook his hand.

“I’m Christopher, but everyone calls me Tiff. Nice to meet you, Blake. Come inside and make yourself at home.” Tiff rested a hand on a little boy’s shoulder.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you too. And who is this cute little guy?” Blake grinned and knelt down to eye level with the youngster wearing a Superman cape and pj’s.

Sam introduced him as their five-year-old son, Noah, who peered at him with great big curious eyes and a shy smile.

“And you already know Hensley.” Samantha gestured toward where the wedding boutique owner sat on the far edge of the sofa, patting Boscoe.

Were her feet anchored to the floor? Hensley made no move toward greeting him, but maybe she kept the dog from bounding toward him and jumping up by keeping a hold of his collar. And Sam was still speaking ... so he turned his attention to his hostess.

“Please, make yourself at home. I’ve got to take the roasted veggies and the baked potatoes out of the oven.

The lasagna is ready, and Tiff just brought the steaks up from the grill.

We’ll eat in a couple of minutes. I’m keeping the steaks warm.

” Sam dashed away, asking over her shoulder if he’d like sweet tea or water with the meal.

“Sweet tea will be fine,” he replied.

“Noah, it’s time to pick up your toys.” Tiff steered his son toward the pile of building blocks despite a few groans.

Hensley offered a nod when he gazed in her direction again. “How nice to see you again, Blake.”

“Yes, nice to see you too.” He should say something better than that, but what?

It didn’t seem to matter since she rose from the sofa and followed Samantha into the kitchen, the ruffled bottom tier of her dress swaying as she walked. “I’ll help you in the kitchen, Sam.”

Did she have to appear so pretty in her black dress?

If he wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t know much about women’s fashion, but the dress had a tiny white floral pattern, appropriate for spring.

It matched the cute little white jacket she wore.

Black heels revealed shapely legs and slender ankles.

He averted his eyes to glance around the upstairs apartment above the hair salon. Lots of windows to let in the light.

But now that Hensley had let go of Boscoe, the dog greeted him with fervor, licking his hand, and a generous amount of tail wagging. “Hey there, Boscoe.” He patted the dog to calm him.

“He never forgets a friend,” Tiff remarked, appearing to observe Boscoe carefully.

Noah finished his task and stared up at him as he patted Boscoe.

“What grade are you in, Noah?” Blake’s brow arched.

“Kindergarten.” Noah handed him a Superman action figure.

It had been a while since he’d been around any children, but he’d start with that action figure and the cape. “I see you must like Superman. ”

Noah nodded. “I do. He’s a hero.”

“That’s awesome. I loved Superman when I was about your age too,” Blake confessed, returning the figure to the boy, who then held his arms out and ran around in a wide circle, arms outstretched as if he was flying.

He smiled, recalling his superhero phase as a young boy.

It sure would be nice to have a few kids someday.

Which led him to ask himself if he should try harder to make friends with Hensley, but then he thought about her career.

How did so many women abandon their children to pursue careers?

No, he shouldn’t pursue a woman who wouldn’t focus solely on her marriage and family.

Sure, maybe some women could juggle both, but he didn’t know any who did that well.

And even his mom, who hadn’t worked a day in her life, had ended up in divorce.

“Time to tuck you in, Noah. Go kiss your mom goodnight and then we’ll say bedtime prayers. We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” Tiff reminded his son. Turning toward Blake as Noah ran toward his mom, he explained, “We’re spending the day at Dollywood and he’s excited about it.”

“Yippee! Dollywood!” Noah let out some hoorays before his mom stooped down to kiss him on one of his rosy cheeks, her hands full with a plate of what appeared to be roasted asparagus and squash.

The aroma of cinnamon and maybe a hint of brown sugar wafted.

And those rosy cheeks had to be the result of the fresh mountain air around Dogwood Creek.

They seemed like a nice family. Maybe Sam was a shining example of someone managing a career and a family, but he would have to observe and reserve an opinion for later.

“Sleep well, Noah.” Samantha ruffled his brownish-blond hair affectionately after placing the dish on the table. Turning toward Blake, she explained, “He’s already eaten and it’s his usual bedtime. ”

Blake nodded as Hensley drew his attention. She stood behind Sam with a bowl of foil-wrapped baked potatoes. Noah gave the boutique owner a big hug around her legs, making her smile.

“Superman” then sprinted down the hallway toward his bedroom with his arms extended before him and his cape flying out behind him as Hensley called out, “Sweet dreams, Noah!”

“I’ll return in a few. It’s my turn to tuck him in bed this week.” Tiff excused himself and followed his son with an amused grin, calling out, “Did you brush your teeth?”