Then & Now (The This & That Series, book 3)

By Brooke Moss

Life can change in an instant. No one knows that better than Candace Chang.

After being widowed with three young children to care for, it was all she could do to keep her household functioning, and herself in one piece. In the two years since her husband’s death, never once has she considered getting remarried. Candace is fine with her books, her tea, and her memories, despite her friends’ and family’s growing concern.

When handsome, twenty-six year old cop, Mason Ledger, buys the house next door, Candace is quickly reminded of just how alone she is. Her kids are gone with grandma for the summer, and other than her attempts at restarting the career she abandoned to become a wife and mother, she's got nothing but spare time. What starts off as friendly neighbors simply sharing a fence line, takes no time to evolve into an attraction neither expected. Before she knows it, Candace is feeling more than just a need for distraction. The problem is, Mason sees a future between the two of them, and Candace is trying desperately to keep things casual.

Can Candace keep her meddling family at bay while she figures out this unexpected romantic conundrum? Will this almost-cougar and her young neighbor find some sort of middle ground? Or will Candace discover that love is every bit as sweet the second time around?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brooke Moss
• Release date: Dec 31, 2014

Brooke Moss

Author Brooke Moss writes contemporary romance, contemporary women's fiction, new adult, and fantasy young adult novels. She prefers her books filled with romance, whimsy, and just enough humor to put a smile on her reader's face. Escapism is her bag, baby, and she loves providing her readers with plenty of it. Brooke lives in beautiful eastern Washington state with her handsome, nerdy husband, and their five adorable/silly/wicked children. She is an avid ASD advocate, who loves to share her experiences with anyone who will listen. (To learn more about Autism related disorders, check out http://www.autismspeaks.org) Some of Brooke's hobbies...other than writing delicious stories...are reading (is anyone surprised?), cartooning, watching movies with her adorable hubby, chasing playing with my children, & traveling with her family. She lives to change the color of her hair, collects eyeglasses, has a constant struggle with her weight happening at all times, and consider herself a connoisseur of cheese. (Hence, the aforementioned weight problem.) Brooke's books are written to make you laugh, make you cry (sometimes), make you think, and maybe even touch your heart. It is her pleasure to share her stories with each of you. To contact Brooke.....try [e-mail] or [e-mail]. She looks forward to hearing from you. To quote Brooke: "Getting reader mail is like cupcakes sprinkled with unicorn fairy dust. True story."

Book preview

Book 3 in the This & That Series

Brooke Moss

Copyright © by Brooke Moss

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and used fictitiously. They are not to be misconstrued as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form, or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author. For inquiries, please contact the author, Brooke Moss, at www.brookemoss.com.

Cover art by: Brooke Moss

Edited by: Meggan Connors, www.megganconnors.com

Published by: Brooke Moss, CHP

ISBN ebook: 978-1-939976-03-1

ISBN print: 978-1-939976-04-8

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Texas Hold ‘Em; Ray Bans; Mercedes Benz; Sex in the City; Disneyland; Hoarders: Buried Alive; The Hungry Catterpillar; Seinfeld; Botox; Twilight; Mr. Clean; Zoolander; Jeep; Nair; International House of Pancakes; NYPD Blue; Pull Ups; Volkswagen; Grease; Raisin Bran; Skype; Seattle Seahawks; Baywatch; Titanic; Lost; The Flame and the Flower; Great Expectations; Edward Scissorhands; Hot Pockets; Jerry Springer; Lamborghihi; Magic Mountain; Mickey Mouse; M&M’s; Spider Man; 20/20; Oreos; Goodwill; Hypercolor.

For Lisa and Bekah

If you want to be happy, be.

~Tolstoi 

Prelude

Two years, one month, and three days ago…

My daughter, Ellie, looked up from her Go Fish cards, her brown hair still mussed from her nap. She stared at me from between wavy strands. Mama, your phone is wiggling again, she complained.

I narrowed my eyes at my oldest child, though the corners of my lips pricked upward. I’m ignoring it, because if I look away, you’ll cheat.

Her tanned cheeks blushed. No, I won’t.

I didn’t believe her. At six, Ellie was adept at almost all card games. Thanks to her daddy, who thought watching his little princess play Texas Hold ‘Em was hilarious. But her ability to avoid looking at other people’s cards lacked strength.

MOM!

At the sound of her brother’s voice, little Aubrey, just two, cried out from her crib down the hall. I winced. Quentin, you woke your sister up.

My son peeked his head around the corner from the kitchen. Your phone’s shaking.

Yes, I know. Thank you. I brushed graham cracker crumbs from my lap as I forced myself off the living room area rug. Go watch my cards for me, will you, Bubba?

He nodded, wiping a milk mustache off of his upper lip as he skipped over to the game. Ellie cheats, he announced simply.

No, I don’t! Ellie’s voice hit a freakishly high decibel, and I covered my ears.

Well, if Aubrey wasn’t all the way awake yet, she certainly is now, I deadpanned, reaching for my phone on the countertop. My husband, Brian, had gone golfing with his best friend, and he promised to bring pizza home for dinner. If he forgot his wallet again, and I have to cook…

Smiling to myself, I unlocked my home screen. Brian was notorious for forgetting his wallet. Cooking wouldn’t be so bad, I supposed. I had to come up with something to grill. The weather was warm, so maybe we’d invite Fletcher and Lexie over for dinner, since we probably owed Fletcher money for the round of golf and cart rental anyway.

Who is it, Mommy? Ellie asked, jamming a cracker into her mouth. When she spoke again, crumbs sprayed across the floor. Is it Daddy? Can we have stuffed crust?

I don’t know. My head jerked back when I saw that I’d already missed eighteen calls and eleven texts. What, the…

I scrolled through the texts. Instead of being from one of my two best friends, which is what I expected—we talked at least three times a day, and texted at least four times as much—they were all from Fletcher.

Call me, ASAP.

There’s been an incident. You need to call me or Lexie, stat.

Meet me at Spokane General Hospital as soon as you get this.

It’s serious, Can. Call now.

My heart thudded inside of my chest, and sweat stung the skin under my arms. Suddenly the air inside my house grew stiflingly warm, even though the central AC was going full blast. What was it? A car accident? No, he said an incident.

I scrolled to the next text, my hand shaking and the sound of Aubrey’s crying echoing in my ears, but the screen flashed with an incoming call. Dammit, I whispered to myself, pressing the green icon. Not a good time.

H-hello? I stammered. I can’t talk—

Candace? Lexie’s shrill voice rang through the phone. Where are you? Are you at the hospital yet?

I… no. I gripped the edge of the countertop to keep myself steady. Tell me what’s going on.

Her words came fast, blurring together like the kids’ sidewalk chalk in the rain. I couldn’t understand most of what she said over the sound of the kids fighting over Go Fish cards, and Aubrey wailing, but made out a few key phrases:

Brian collapsed.

Ninth green.

Ambulance.

I hung up and grabbed the keys to my minivan before she could finish. I ordered Ellie and Quentin to drop their cards and get into the van in a voice I didn’t recognize as I went to grab Aubrey from her crib. Hastily buckling her into her carseat, I barely noticed that she had soaked her diaper and none of the kids had shoes on. But then, neither did I. The tires squealed as I peeled out of the garage, scraping the roof on the bottom of the slow-moving door. I heard one of the neighbors honk, but I ignored it as I sped out of the cul-de-saq.

What’s wrong? Quentin’s voice shook.

Three terrified children stared at me in my rearview mirror. Their eyes were wide, and they clung to the armrests of their carseats with white knuckles. I’d always been a fast driver, scaring my parents and husband on a regular basis, but I flew as I turned onto the main road north of my neighborhood.

Daddy’s… My voice cracked. Daddy’s sick. We’re going to check on him.

In the passenger’s seat, another text from Lexie popped up. It’s not looking good, Can. Where are you??

Tears flooded my eyes, obscuring the road in front of the van. Please, God, let him be okay… please, oh, please, oh, please, oh—

Ellie gasped. Mommy, watch out!

When I blinked, tears rolled down my face, and a man and his dog appeared in front of the bumper. Screaming, I jerked the wheel, narrowly missing him, and scraping the rim on a nearby curb. We came to a halt, rocking in place as the dog owner flipped me the bird, and several nearby cars honked. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a siren wail.

Dropping my face into my hands, I started to sob. I can’t… I can’t…

My hands shook so badly, it looked like I was having a seizure, and my stomach ached like everything I’d eaten earlier was going to come back up. Brian was thirty-five, and the picture of health! He was supposed to mow the lawn later! We made love before he left the house that morning! This wasn’t possible…

Tap, tap, tap.

My head jerked up, and I saw the dark blue uniform of a police officer outside my window. In the corner of my eye, I saw the flashing lights of his police cruiser behind the van. Son of a… no. Scrambling to roll down my window, I wiped my nose on my shirt sleeve. I can’t stay. I have to go. Please let me go.

The officer peered down at me from behind his Ray Bans. License and registration, please, ma’am.

A lump the size of a grapefruit formed in my throat. I can’t stay.

You almost hit a pedestrian, and nearly jumped a curb, the officer explained patiently, folding his arms across his chest. You have to stay.

The tears started flowing again, and I hiccupped. "I said no."

Excuse me? He pulled his sunglasses off, revealing the youngest face I’d ever seen in uniform. Apparently he’d graduated from the academy earlier that morning.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My phone was buzzing in my lap, so I picked it up and handed it to him.

Ma’am? I need to see your license and registra—

My husband, I croaked, pointing to the screen. "There was an accident. Incident. He collapsed. I’m on my way… I made a choking sound, and cleared my throat. I have to get to the hospital."

The officer scrolled through my texts, his young eyes widening as he read a few of them. I see, he said finally, his voice low. Please excuse me for a moment. Don’t leave.

When he walked back toward his cruiser, I slammed my palms agains my steering wheel, swearing. I didn’t have time for this. Brian needed me.

Don’t think like that, I whispered, casting a glance at the kids in the backseat. They craned their necks to see what the policeman was doing. Everything will be fine… everything will be fine.

Every second felt like twenty.

Mommy, he’s coming back, Quentin said in a hushed voice.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I turned to my open window. Can I go now? Please?

The man-child officer handed my phone back to me. Ma’am, please park your car in the strip mall parking lot just over there.

What!? I wailed. Are you kidding me!? I’m in a hurry! I have to go!

He knelt beside my door so we were face to face. His expression was somber. I saw on the text that your name was Can. Is that correct?

Candace, I mumbled, my voice strangled.

Thank you. His voice was soft and metered, and it occurred to me that he was trying his damndest to calm me down. Candace, you’re not fit to drive right now. You’re under a tremendous amount of stress. I’m going to accompany you to the hospital. It’s only three miles away.

Y-you’re going to help me?

He nodded once. It would be my pleasure.

Thank you, I breathed, restarting the van engine. Thank you so much.

He gestured for me to park the car, and I obeyed. Opening the back door, he unbuckled Aubrey and picked her up, as Ellie and Quentin jumped out around him. The sun beat down and a small crowd gawked as the officer opened the back door to his cruiser, and we all filed in.

I’m not really supposed to do this, he explained almost sheepishly, as I folded my body in half to fit onto the awkward, hard plastic seat. But this is a special circumstance, and…

His voice trailed off, but I didn’t care. I was too busy reading another text from Fletcher.

They’ve taken him into a trauma room. They wouldn’t let us go with him. Hurry.

Chapter One

I blinked at the man sitting across the table, waiting for him to tell me he was kidding, but alas… he sat there. Wiggling his eyebrows at me. I may have seen a bit of tongue poke out of his mouth, but I couldn’t be sure because the waiter approached our table with the check.

Thank you, Lord, for rescuing me from this pervert.

How was dinner tonight? Good, eh? The waiter beamed down at us like our steaks could’ve changed our lives.

Mine hadn’t. It had, however, given me a rotten case of indigestion. Or maybe that was the company. The slick expensive suit and Mercedes Benz parked outside of the restaurant weren’t enough to convince me this date had been a good idea. In fact, I was convinced that it had been a completely, utterly bad idea.

This was the last time I let my friend, Marisol, fix me up. Six dates with a myriad of handsome, successful men, and not one of them had made my heart twitch. Or my girlie bits twitch… because that’s what she said really mattered when you’re a thirty-five year old widow. Her opinion, not mine.

Marisol’s illicit track record as a serial dater—before she married a handsome mechanic—convinced me I was better off alone. Besides, I got more hot and bothered fantasizing about getting home to devour my latest novel, than I was by the thought of going home with this guy. I could practically feel the thin cotton comfort of my favorite sweat shorts on my legs, instead of the constrictive grey skirt I wore. And in the back of my mind, I imagined the way the worn pages turning would sound in my quiet bedroom.

I nearly gasped. I had a babysitter at home, which meant the kids were probably already asleep. And that meant I would be left alone to read in peace.

Hot damn! I could hardly contain my excitement. I had to get home. Now.

My eyes darted from the waiter’s face to my date, who stared at me the way a teenager stares at the most dangerous ride at a theme park. Like a roller coaster he needed to conquer.

Sorry, buddy. There won’t be any conquering tonight.

Suppressing a shudder, I smiled up at the waiter. The steak was dry, I said sweetly. And the asparagus tasted like gym socks. Can we get our check please?

Okay, okay. I was being nasty. Usually not my style. I avoided confrontation like the plague. Even now, despite the fact that my husband had dropped dead on a golf course, leaving me alone with three small children to raise. In the two years since, I’d become quite adept at placating my family and friends, and morphing into the most neutral woman on the planet. Since losing Brian, I’d become unbearably vanilla. My friends and family told me they missed the old me, who’d been too perky for my own good.

Hey, we can’t help what grief does to us, right? At least that’s what my therapist said before I stopped going to my sessions a few months earlier. I considered that permission to be as antisocial and monotone as I wanted. That’s why I paid her the big bucks.

"That was, uh, direct. Irritation flashed in my date’s—Rick, or Rich, or… oh, I didn’t care, anyway—eyes. You know, I had to pull some major strings to get us into this place without a reservation. It’s the hottest restaurant in town."

Oh, really? I wouldn’t know. I looked at him flatly. Thank you for the dinner, Rich.

"Rob," he hissed, adjusting his cufflinks.

Seriously, who cares?

Right. I looked down at my hands and noticed the subtle indentation the third finger on my left hand still had. A sinking sensation filled my stomach, and I sucked in a sharp breath of air.

I stopped wearing my wedding ring a few months ago. Around the same time Marisol convinced me to go on defunct date number one. Thom with a th, who asked if I wanted to come to his place for sex and won tons. Little did the poor schmuck know I’d given up sex and won tons after my husband died.

Where are we headed next? Rob smoothed down his tie. How about some martinis at Moon’s? Maybe that’ll loosen you up.

I glared at him sharply. Need loosening, do I?

He scoffed. "Well, yeah. When Marisol Vargas called to tell me she had someone she wanted me to meet, I expected someone a little more… you know."

I knew where this was going. I had the same discussion with most of the other dates. When Rob paused, I folded my arms across my chest. Promiscuous?

No! He shook his head, then laughed. Well, yes. Maybe. A little.

Good Lord, I hated dating. I hated it in college when I met Brian at a frat party. And I hated it now. Sorry. Not my style.

Rob leaned forward, his elbows on the table making his roll plate tilt. Marisol says you’re a widow.

Uh huh.

I’m sorry to hear that.

No, he wasn’t. They never were. If Brian hadn’t died, we wouldn’t have been on the date. Duh.

How long has he been gone? Rob asked, tilting his head to the side.

Ah, the head tilt. The number one way people expressed their sympathy without actually uttering the words my sympathies.

Two years, I told him, my arms tightening around my middle.

He clicked his tongue. That’s awful. Just awful.

I didn’t know what to say, so I decided on: Yes.

"So, in those two years, you haven’t… you know, dated anyone seriously?"

Aw, hell. I knew where this was going. Date number three—Patric-without-a-K—had gone there, too. The whole you’re a lonely widow, you must be so horny thing. Oh, yeah. I heard that one before.

I shook my head. No.

His eyelids lowered in what I could only assume was supposed to be a seductive gaze. So… He licked his lips. "In theory, you haven’t been with a man in, like, two years. Right? He said this like I refrained from something necessary for life. Like water or air. I’ll bet you’re lonely."

Listen, Rob, I—

He didn’t let me finish. Why don’t we go back to my condo? I’ve got a hot tub, and maybe we can get to know each other better. Work off some of that sexual tension you must have pent up.

I rubbed my eyes. Oh, good Lord.

The truth was, I’d only recently started to miss sex. In the years prior, I’d missed Brian’s hands on my skin, or the way he laughed into my neck when we made love, or the scent of his cologne on my pillow in the morning. I still missed those things. But the all-consuming ache I felt for those moments had dulled. Now they were distant memories that made me wistful.

I no longer craved Brian’s adept ability to satisfy me. Now I craved the release. The explosion of sensation that made my mind go fuzzy and blank. The split second of utter disconnect when I could forget how lonely I was, and the stress of being a single parent. When the buzz filled my head and my toes curled and my body hummed. That’s what I missed now.

Not that I was going to admit that to Rob. I’d rather grow cobwebs in my woo-hoo than go to bed with the likes of him. Or any of the other losers I’d been set up with. No thank you. As much as I missed the feel of someone else’s hands on my body other than my four-and-a half year old’s, having a friends with benefits relationship wasn’t my style, and I wasn’t sure it ever would be.

I liked being a wife and mother. I was good at it. Too bad it’d come to an abrupt end.

You know what? I picked up my purse and pushed my chair back. I think I’m going to call it a night.

Wait, what? He sat up straight. What about your wine? You didn’t finish your wine.

I leveled him with my no nonsense look. It worked wonders with my kids. You really think my finishing the wine will make this date go better?

I’d hoped. Rob picked up his glass and drained it. Make it worth my while at least.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I stood up. On that note, goodnight Rick.

"Rob," he deadpanned over the rim of his glass.

Right. Sorry. I stepped out of the way of the waiter as he whisked past the table with our check. Thank you for dinner, Rob.

I heard him call me a name as I walked away, and a few of the diners turned their heads to stare, but I ignored them. All I could think about was getting the heck out of the stuffy restaurant and back into the safe cocoon of my house. It didn’t matter that my kids would wake me up at the crack of dawn, or that I wouldn’t put on real clothes or makeup again until Sunday, when my mother forced me to go to church. The only thing that mattered was that I was done with this damned date.

Tugging my phone out of my purse, I dialed Marisol’s number and pressed send. It only rang one time before she picked up, her voice shaking with excitement. Tell me everything. Rob’s pretty sexy, huh? Did you sleep with him?

I heard her husband grunt in the background.

Sorry, babe. He’s not nearly as sexy as you are. Marisol’s voice was muffled as she reassured Demo. She giggled when she came back on the line. Jealous husband. Who knew?

Who knew that he wouldn’t like you calling your ex-boyfriend sexy? I said as my heels clicked on the pavement. I knew that.

In my fourteen years with Brian, I never once thought about the sexiness of one of my other boyfriends. Maybe that was because I’d been eighteen when we met, so my dating history was peppered with acne and rented prom tuxes, and Marisol’s dating history resembled Samantha’s on Sex in the City. If I’d led such an exciting life pre-marriage, maybe I’d brag about it, too.

Blah, blah, blah, she said. He knows I love him. Now give me the dish on your date.

I pulled out the clip holding my white blonde hair back, and it tumbled over my shoulders in waves. Then I slid behind the wheel of my car. I don’t even want to tell you.

My friend released an exaggerated sigh. I swear, Candace, if you tell me that you’re not seeing him again, I’m going to drive to your house and kick your butt.

I started the engine and pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. You’ll have to wait to do that until morning. The kids are sleeping.

Ugh. She scoffed. You’re so boring. Do you know that?

Yes, I replied. "You tell me all the time."

Oh, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level now. I set you up with one of the most exciting men in my retired rolodex, and you rejected him.

Demo harrumphed in the background.

Sorry, babe. You’re the only one for me. You complete me, and all that nonsense.

I laughed, the stress of an hour and a half sitting across the table from Casanova Rob melting off my muscles. Well, gee… how can he resist that?

Can it. Let’s focus on the subject at hand.

Which is?

She grunted. Don’t get coy with me. You need to get out there. It’s time.

I rubbed my eyes. But Marisol, I don’t want to be set up again.

Oh, shut up. Of course you do.

Marisol wasn’t mean. Well… maybe a little brash, but that was part of her vibrant personality. My other best friend, Lexie—who was also my cousin—was more reasonable than Marisol. If I told her about this date, she would’ve offered to come over, make homemade cocoa, then sit and gossip about it until the wee hours of the morning. But we didn’t talk much anymore.

No, really, I said weakly. I know it’s hard to believe.

Come on, Can. You’ve got to get out there. Especially now that you’ve got the opportunity.

The opportunity?

The kids are leaving in a couple of days. You’re going to have over a month to yourself. You should be shagging men all over your house. Your kitchen island is grossly underused. You know that?

I grimaced. Gross. I feed my children at that island every morning.

Not this summer. She laughed. Mama Chang is taking the kids to Disneyland. And to a family reunion. And to a… to a… crap, what was the other thing they’re going to do?

I pulled onto the freeway. Redwood National Forest.

That’s right. To see the big trees. Candace, this is your time to come out of hiding.

Out of hiding? I snorted. Mar, what do you think I’ve been doing? I just went on a date for you.

Yeah, but… She paused, and for a split second I thought I might get off scot-free. But alas, Marisol spoke again. With Ellie, Quentin, and Aubrey away, you won’t be able to avoid life anymore. No more using the kids as an excuse not to go somewhere or do something.

I frowned. I do things.

Yeah, right. Now you can do things with friends. Or you can go on more dates. I have plenty more man candy to fix you up with.

I don’t want to be fixed up again. When she started to protest, I interrupted. I mean it.

Marisol sighed, her demeanor changing. Honey, I know you’re gun shy, and—

Gun shy? I looked up at the moon above the car as I rolled down the road. "It’s not like I went through a tough breakup. I didn’t get dumped at the homecoming dance. My husband died. Big difference."

She sucked in a sharp breath. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to minimize this. I want you to use this time off in a productive manner.

I snorted. A productive manner?

I just want you to be happy.

Happy? My voice cracked.

I’d had this conversation before. At least a dozen times, with at least a dozen family members. Everyone wanted something different from me, but it all whittled down to the same thing: they all wanted me to be happy. Ugh. I’d heard that so much over the last few years, I was ready to amputate my own ears to avoid hearing it again. What did happy look like after you lost the love of your life?

Honestly, I thought I was doing pretty well. I no longer cried myself to sleep. I didn’t drink a bottle—or worse yet, a box—of wine every night. I woke up to care for my children every day, whether I wanted to or not. My house hadn’t turned into one of those houses on Hoarders: Buried Alive yet. I showered on a regular basis, and even occasionally shaved my legs. What else did they want from me? Backflips and balloon animals?

Listen. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I know you mean well. But I don’t want to be fixed up again. My friend started to protest, but I cut her off. "No dates arranged by you, none