How Many Times Do I Have to Say I'm Sorry?: Maudlin Falls, #1

By Lesli Richardson and Tymber Dalton

Welcome to Maudlin Falls, where the people are nice, the drama is plenty, and you have to fight to keep the cat out of the peanut butter…

 

Let me tell you a story.

 

Boy meets boy.

 

Boy falls. Hard.

 

Then boy screws up. Majorly. And has to win the other boy back.

 

How does it end?

 

I'll let you know. It's still a work in progress.

 

One thing's for certain—I never make the same mistake twice.

 

Sometimes, I make it three or four times.

 

(Warning: This MM low-angst, fluffy, sweet, small-town second-chance romance features an adorable doofus with really bad luck, a snarky introvert with the world's most badly behaved cat, annoyingly loving and pushy friends, and cringingly bad karaoke. Oh, and an HEA, if they can all get their acts together.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lesli Richardson
• Release date: Nov 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393898238

Lesli Richardson

Lesli Richardson is the writer behind the curtain of her better-known pen name, Tymber Dalton (her ""wild child"" side). She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her spouse, writer Jon Dalton, and too many pets. When she's not playing Dungeons and Dragons with her friends or shooting skeet, she's a part-time Viking shield-maiden in training, among other pursuits. The USA Today Bestselling Author (as Tymber) and two-time EPIC award winner is the author of over two hundred books and counting. She lives in her own little world, but it's okay, because they all know her there. She also loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for updates to keep abreast of the latest news, snarkage, and releases. There you'll also find reading order lists and more information about her different series.

Book preview

Chapter One

TOMAS

This is ridiculous.

Across the table from me, Edith Abercrombie rambles on about her book club’s latest selection. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the crotchety old woman. In some ways, we’re absolute soul mates.

But all I wanted to do early this Tuesday morning was sit here, sip my coffee, scroll through the morning news on my tablet, and eat my breakfast in peace.

Apparently, that’s not happening.

Nearly every morning before I go in to work, I eat breakfast here at Alacea’s Diner, which is owned by a very nice guy named Bob. Most days lately, I can’t stand the dark silence of my home where memories of my old morning routine start to inevitably peck away at my heart.

Unfortunately Edith, and most everyone else in town, also knows this fact. My breakfast habits, that is, not my morning funk. They usually feel they have to sit down with me so I’m not lonely.

They don’t understand that I’m not looking for company. Except I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by asking them to leave me alone.

I force a smile as Edith stops talking long enough to sip from her own coffee cup. It sounds like you already have a full house for book club tonight, I tell her. Besides, I don’t have a lot of time for pleasure reading right now. We’re going to start receiving our holiday stock soon and I need to plan my displays.

That’s hopefully enough to deter her.

For now. Usually, claiming something about work makes people back off.

Her grey eyebrows adorably lift. But sweetie, you’re all alone in that huge house every night! I can always make room on the sofa for you, believe me.

I’m not alone. Jester keeps me company. And my house isn’t huge. It’s a three-two, the same house I was raised in, and it’s only a couple of blocks from my store.

Although it has felt pretty empty the last three—

No. Not thinking about him right now.

It’s exactly the kind of weakness Edith would seize upon to insist I show up at her book club tonight, and she won’t hesitate to try to enlist help from everyone else if she senses even the slightest weakness in me.

She nudges her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose. You’re all alone with your cat, honey.

Having a cat means I’m not alone.

Her lips purse. How are your parents doing? I e-mailed Paulette yesterday but she hasn’t e-mailed me back yet.

They’re out in Wyoming right now. She probably doesn’t have cell service, much less Internet. They’re enjoying Yellowstone.

Her eyebrows lift again. Ah. Are they having fun? I’ve missed them.

I know Dad’s having fun. Mom’s probably just glad to be retired. I force another smile, something I’m pretty good at doing. I’m sure there’s a ‘misery loves company’ aspect to him passing the store to me that she’s enjoying like crazy.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents, and I don’t begrudge them their nomadic lifestyle, either. They’ve earned every bit of their retirement. Mom was principal of Maudlin Falls High for over twenty years after teaching there another ten years before that.

I like even better that they don’t live here full-time anymore. Otherwise, Dad would be in the store every day, just wanting to help while doing anything but. For the past six years, they’ve been on the road and enjoying their life. Meaning I’ve had free rein to bring the store into a more modern age without having to spend most of my time trying to talk my dad into the changes first.

Mom confided in me that was one reason she put her foot down about wanting to buy the condo in Arizona that’s their new home. When they visit Maudlin Falls, they’ll sometimes stay with me, but usually prefer their RV, which they can park in my backyard.

We all need our personal space.

Edith chuckles. She might have mentioned something about that when she finally put her foot down and made Ronald officially hand it over to you. Her smile fades. How soon before you get sick of it? Of running a store in a small town?

I shrug, sitting back in the booth. I’m not going anywhere. This is my home and where I belong.

But don’t you miss… Fortunately, she lets her words drift into the abyss. "We really need to find you a new boyfriend, sweetie." She sharply nods, as if that’s that.

Resigned, I pull out my standard answer and drop it on the table. Edith, you know I love you, but I really don’t want to talk about my personal life. I pick up my tablet again. I just want to finish my morning paper before I head to the store. Not to be rude, but if you’ll please excuse me. I tip my head toward her table, where her friend Carlene is chatting over the back of her booth seat with yet another friend. Besides, looks like your food’s ready.

She finally hauls herself out of the other side of the booth. She leans in and kisses the top of my head before she picks up her cup of coffee, which she’d carried over from her own table where the waitress is now setting down Edith and Carlene’s food.

You know where I live, sweetie. First Tuesday evening of every month, seven sharp. I’ll even feed you my famous homemade blueberry pie.

I know. Thank you. Once I’m alone again, I breathe a sigh of relief and resume reading. I love Edith and my other friends. I really do.

But I get more than my fair share of peopling at work. When I’m done for the day, all I want to do is vegetate on my sofa.

Okay, yes, usually reading, but reading doesn’t mean I want to be in a book club.

I expend enough energy trying to put on a smiling face every day, meaning I don’t have any to spare after hours.

No matter how well-intentioned my friends might be.

It’s 6:35 a.m. when I unlock the hardware store’s back door, let myself in, and shut off the alarm. We don’t open until 7:30 today but I always like to be early.

I enjoy the quiet.

The store’s been in my family for over fifty years. My dad’s father started it and kept it running until Dad took over. Grandpa has been dead over twenty years, but I remember when he still worked in the store, even after my father was technically running it.

Grandpa never could let it go, and it was forever a source of irritation to Dad, who felt it was a passive-aggressive commentary on how he ran it.

It wasn’t, though. Grandpa just wanted to feel…useful. Needed.

Like he wasn’t being put out to pasture.

I think I always knew I’d end up running it, mostly because I wanted to. Both my parents and Grandpa insisted I go to college first, though. My business degree and marketing minor have helped me keep our local store relevant when many others like it have long since folded. From my grandfather and father I learned the fine arts of customer service, communication, and building community loyalty.

It’s why I know a little about everything from horse feed to electrical wiring, from holiday light displays to raising chickens, from smokers to canning systems, and the difference between mustard greens and collard greens.

It’s why people will pay a little extra to purchase from my store rather than order something from Amazon, or drive all the way over to the large home improvement store in Colley. In fact, I frequently have customers drive all the way here from Colley, because I will special order items, or stock things that the big-box store can’t be bothered to order.

I don’t take that community support for granted, either. I guarantee you when a water pipe explodes in your basement in the middle of the night and you can’t afford an emergency plumber call, the Mega Warehouse manager won’t get out of bed to sell you what you need to fix it so your kids can flush the toilet in the morning when they get up for school.

He also won’t hurry over to your house to look at the situation first to see exactly what you need and make sure you know how to safely remedy the issue.

Or roll up his sleeves to show you how to properly braze a new pipe into place.

It’s impossible for me to compete on price and volume, so I make up for that in other ways. So far, it’s provided me with a comfortable life. Adjusted for inflation, the store’s even more profitable now than when my father and grandfather ran it. Years ago, my father learned not to kvetch at me when I came up with new ideas, like kids’ classes, and partnering with the library to create exhibits. I don’t mean I’m rich—far from it.

But I don’t have a mortgage on the house or the store, we pay our bills on time, I can afford to pay my employees a decent wage that keeps them loyal to me, and I can even give them health insurance, the part-timers as well as the full-timers.

Overall, life is good.

Even if it feels like I encounter painful memories every time I turn around. If there is one area of my life that’s not blessed, it’s my love life. Apparently, all the blessings I have gained are balanced out by that dark emotional cave I do my best to avoid. Three years out, you’d think I’d have moved on.

Not so much, it turns out.

I flip on lights as I make my way through the building and, eventually, upstairs to my office on the second floor. I take the stairs instead of the elevator to the upstairs, because I need the exercise, quite frankly.

Today, we’re holding a class on orchids for the ladies’ group from the Methodist church but that’s not until after lunch. We do more than just teach our classes here—we loan and rent the space to other local groups and events, too. Sometimes, we have more than one event going on, because we have a smaller, unused office that we use for things like meetings and potlucks in addition to the larger space. It used to be my dad’s office, but Mom finally made him clean it out and I haven’t had the heart to use it for anything else.

We have guest presenters come in to lecture and teach on a variety of topics. We bring in small artisan shows. We host the local schools’ science fair competitions every year, plus we work closely with the science departments of those schools to help them with their curriculums.

We are the community.

I think Dad truly started letting go of his control of the store and ceding daily operations to me twelve years ago when one of the first decisions I made after graduating college and returning home was to contact the schools and arrange the science fair program. He didn’t see the value in it, until the initial bump in sales following that deal continued to grow with parents admitting they wanted to shop with us if we were that vested in their kids.

Loyalty.

Something I prize, something woven into the very fabric of my family’s history.

Something I wish others valued as much as I do.

Something that got my heart shattered—forgetting that loyalty isn’t a universal trait in others.

Chapter Two

DESI

"…a nd today’s weather in Maudlin Falls will be mostly sunny skies, with highs in the low 70s and lows in the mid-60s tonight. Don’t forget, WMFF listeners, today at two, the Maudlin Falls Methodist Ladies are meeting over at MF-Squared for their Orchids, Oh My! class. All are welcome, and it only costs— "

I punch the radio’s power button to silence Terry Hackworth mid-sentence. I was doing okay listening to it until that. I changed from satellite radio over to the local station when I stopped for gas in Colley after getting off the Interstate around dawn.

That was a mistake.

The change in radio station, I mean. Not getting gas.

Last night, I stopped about an hour north of Colley and stayed at a large hotel where I felt reasonably certain no one would know me. I wanted to remain incognito today for as long as possible.

Mostly because I’m a chicken. I still don’t know how to approach Tomas.

I drive along in silence for a few minutes with nothing more than the sound of my Range Rover’s tires smoothly gliding along the apparently fresh asphalt of New Falls Road. The road’s name is a little misleading because it’s at least twice as old as I am, and I’m thirty-six.

Looks like the county finally got around to repaving the old two-lane road sometime recently. Which is one of the reasons why I decided to drive my SUV down here in the first place instead of flying and renting a car. I thought I’d need it while dodging potholes the size of fricking VW Beetles.

I wonder what other changes I’ll discover that have taken place over the past three years?

That’s not a question I seriously want my soul to ponder because I’m here first and foremost to do my job. Get in, get out, preferably as quickly and quietly as possible before I can even think about dealing with anything else. I reserved a hotel room down in Sarcan for tonight because it’s closer to Webley, the county seat, where most of my business will take place.

Plus, it means fewer chances of me being clocked by anyone in town before I’m ready to deal with those ramifications.

I can’t help looking for other changes as I drive. I spot a freshly painted barn. Another farmer built a new pole barn. Yet another has a new-looking section of fence stretching along