Love At Last: Haven, #6

By Beth Gildersleeve

Croix Adams has built his life on routine, predictability, and numbers. He can't imagine a woman wanting a future with him. But his confirmed bachelor's life takes a chaotic turn when a disaster forces him to share his safe space with his best friend's older sister—the woman whose long-ago kiss he can't forget.

 

Krista Dupont is desperate to find her Mr. Right-Enough and start a family. When a storm destroys her apartment, Krista moves in with Croix. She's secretly loved him for years, but he's made it painfully obvious he isn't interested. Because of her age and her doctor's warning, she knows she's running out of time—until she makes a drastic decision that will change both their lives forever.

 

When forced proximity exposes buried desires, do they have the courage to see themselves and each other in a new light? Maybe it's time for love, at last.

 

If you like a small-town, friends-to-lovers romance with lots of heart, get Love at Last today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Gildersleeve
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201323783

Beth Gildersleeve

Beth Gildersleeve lives for a happily ever after, especially when it's part of a contemporary sweet romance story. Beth's a big fan of Dr. Brené Brown and her work around shame, vulnerability, and bravery. Her characters' struggles and successes reflect these themes. When Beth isn't plotting or writing, she's busy Googling answers to her adult daughters' questions (they still think she knows everything), finding misplaced items for her husband of almost thirty years, serving her rescued dogs' needs, losing at Words with Friends, and searching for the last three books to complete her Betty Neels collection. She is a member of RWA and Northern Lights Writers.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I want to be a Komodo dragon. Krista dropped her head on her desk and groaned. She loved her hometown, she really did, but it was a desert of dating opportunities. Haven was the type of town young adults eagerly escaped from and didn’t return to until they had a family in tow. It was a wonderful place to raise a family, but it was a lousy place to date.

Hence the desire to be parthenogenic, like Komodo dragons, zebra sharks, and honeybees. She wouldn’t need to date to find her mate. She could do it all herself, no man required. Except she didn’t want to do it alone. She wanted a loving partner. A mate for life.

It was a safe bet she’d gone on at least one date with every single guy in Haven, excluding the ones that were more like brothers to her or out of her age range. She was like the Haven Welcome Wagon whenever she caught wind of a new a man in town. But she was even failing at that. There’d been a handful of single new men in Haven in the last year, but she’d missed out on all of them.

Her friend London had quickly caught the attention of Alex Preston, the owner of a new clothing start-up in Haven. He’d medaled in biathlon at the last winter Olympics, bringing home two golds and a silver, but he’d left competition to focus on his business, his new development role with US Biathlon, and building a life with London.

Alex’s stepbrother, CJ, also worked with Alex and London. Krista had dropped several hints about getting together with the former professional football player before she’d finally asked him out. He’d frowned and given her a firm but polite no, adding, I like easygoing women, and from what I’ve seen and heard, you’re more woman than I can handle. She’d done a good job of avoiding him and the painful memory, but now that Emily Wyatt’s mayoral campaign had kicked into high gear, she and CJ were thrown together more often. As with all the men in her life, they’d become friends, eventually.

Gabe Kane was the new manager at Haven Woodworks, but Krista suspected he was interested in Josie. Josie roasted and brewed incredible coffee and created melt-in-your mouth desserts, not to mention running multiple Jo’s Joe locations, but Gabe always looked at Josie like she was the best thing on the menu.

Krista slapped a smile on her face and pulled her head up when she heard the rapping on her doorframe.

Bad time? Emily asked, standing in the doorway. Can I help, or should I come back later?

Nope. Your timing is perfect. Krista motioned her in.

Is this for the Donovan wedding? Emily asked, picking up the pile of papers Krista had dropped on the chair after her meeting this morning.

Yes. Krista took the papers from Emily and set them on her table. The mention of this morning’s meeting with the bridezilla reawakened her headache.

How’s that going? Emily asked, settling back in her chair.

Not well. I think your idea to promote Hart Haven as a destination wedding location for fall is brilliant. Unfortunately, this is not the bride or the family we should have as part of our trial run.

So it’s not like a regular wedding?

Krista rolled her eyes at Emily’s innocent question. There was no such thing as a regular wedding. Each one was unique with its own challenges.

The wedding and the accommodations are nothing new. It’s just more difficult to plan from a distance. Meeting over Zoom is not the same as meeting face-to-face to build trust. And they want a list of other activities and what’s available in the area. I feel like the tourist board sometimes.

Emily frowned. Can you make a list of all the non-normal requests, and we can review them? We can work on a plan over the winter, so we’ll be better prepared for next year.

I already am. To a huge degree, this is the bride’s personality. I’m not having the same level of frustration with the other wedding in early October.

That’s good, Emily said, smiling and looking relieved. That makes two of us, Krista thought. If there was a bridezilla wedding every weekend, Krista would quit. And do what? She didn’t know, but it might mean moving, which in the grand scheme of life might not be bad. Not if it helped achieve her long-term goals of having a family.

So, what’s up? You don’t usually wander down to this section of the hotel. Are you here on executive business or candidate business?

Candidate, but based on the way I found you, I’m here as a friend. What’s wrong?

Men, Krista complained, and Emily chuckled.

In general, or one in particular?

In general, since the one in particular is no more. Krista sighed.

Was it the age thing?

"No, it wasn’t the age difference, or the ex-wife, or his two adorable daughters. One advantage of getting older is knowing what you won’t compromise on. Chet and I want different things. We parted as friends, but it will take a while before I stop drawing mustaches and devil horns on his editor picture in the Haven Times," she admitted with a watery smile.

I’m sorry. Emily squeezed her hand.

So am I. Krista grabbed a tissue and held it against the corner of her eye. Sorry for misreading the signals and wasting three good months that I can’t afford. She’d been so sure that a man who already had children and loved them to pieces would want more. When Chet realized Krista wanted children, he’d quickly set her straight. Shortly after his youngest was born, he’d had a vasectomy, a procedure he refused to reverse.

Hey, Kri— Jackson Wyatt spun into her office, took one look at her face, and the sentence on his lips died. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked between the two women. Problem? the CEO of Hart Hotels and CHART Resorts, and Emily’s husband, asked.

It’s personal, not business, Emily told him.

Which means she’ll tell you at home tonight, Krista added, giving Emily a pointed look. Emily and Jackson both looked guilty, and Krista’s heart twisted. She wanted what they had. What Miller and Wren had, but without looking so exhausted. Happy, but exhausted, ever since Robyn had come screaming into the world in May. The only quiet moments around Robyn were when she was nursing or attached to someone in a baby harness.

Are we set for this weekend? Jackson asked.

I think so. I’m going to catch up on some sleep, get a mani-pedi at Ruthie’s Retreat, read a book, run errands, maybe clean a bit. You know. The usual weekend routine, she teased, smiling sweetly at him. She knew he wasn’t nervous about sponsoring Haven’s newest event, Fall in Love with Haven, a joint venture between Hart Hotel and the downtown merchants’ association. Jackson was nervous about the impact it would have on Emily’s mayoral campaign. It was nauseatingly endearing.

Cute, Dupont, he said, not rising to the bait. Are we set for the Hart Booth and the Emily for Mayor booth?

Yes, Jackson, we’re good on both. But you should do something about your stress. Hey, maybe you should join me for a mani-pedi?

Not a chance, he scoffed. I’ll go for a trail run with the posse, but take Emily to Ruthie’s with you. She’ll be doing lots of handshaking on Sunday. He strode out the door but then poked his head back in, saying, Em, don’t forget, we’ve got that call with marketing at Chance in ten minutes.

And that’s my cue to leave, Emily said, standing. I’m going to swing through the kitchen to see if I can snag a leftover muffin or two.

Krista waved her off as her phone pinged with a date request. She’d rejoined one of the dating sites this morning, and she’d widened her net. It meant more driving, which she didn’t want to do, but she wouldn’t know until she tried. She sighed.

If she would compromise on distance, what else would she compromise on? She’d already compromised on that elusive spark with Chet. They’d had a lot in common and she’d found him attractive, but there hadn’t been that zing between them. The tingles down her spine when they’d kiss. The rush of heat when she’d thought of him. She’d almost felt it with him and had convinced herself that over time the barely there spark would grow into a steady flame. But his no-kids declaration had doused her desire and their future.

She’d had fire. Once. One kiss long ago from a man who only saw her as a close friend. It would be so much easier if she hadn’t kissed him. Then she wouldn’t know what she was missing. Kisses that made her lose all sense of time and place. Kisses where the only connection to the here and now was the person holding on to her. Kissing Croix Adams had been the best and the worst thing to happen to her.

She wanted a child, a husband, and tingles, but as her biological clock gonged, she knew she couldn’t be that picky. Her fibroids were getting worse, and her doctor said her chances of conceiving had dropped significantly. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the ideal man, not like she had in her twenties. At thirty-six, she needed to take a hard look at her situation. She knew she’d regret not having a child, but would she regret not having a loving husband? Would a companionable, non-passionate marriage be satisfying? Would any man measure up to Croix?

A girl can dream, she said to her empty office as she shoved away from her desk. She needed coffee. Now. The caffeine might chase the headache away, and the energy boost would help her finish next week’s liquor order and review the details for the Wyatt for Mayor booth one more time.

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Croix slipped on his waders, secured his most recent hand-tied fly, and waded into the Poplar River. He raised his face to the sun and grinned. It’s good to be me , he thought as he whipped his line into the fast-moving current. He glanced up and down the river, enjoying the solitude.

The last week had been intense, as it always was when tax deadlines were around the corner. Everyone always thought April was the crazy time of year, but late August through mid-October might be even worse. April was busier, but this time period was more trying. Companies and people who filed for an extension in the springtime did so for a reason—they were complex or procrastinators. And more often than not, these filers were a special mix of the two. If it wasn’t for Rica Palma, his partner at Fortress Advisers, who normally wore her financial planner hat for clients but donned her CPA hat when needed, and his bookkeeper, Lucy, he’d be up a creek without a paddle.

Earlier in the week, Lucy had said that getting these clients to cooperate was like herding cats. Miller, his other partner, and the only attorney in their practice, had laughed, warning her, You’re starting to sound like my wife.

Watch it, Counselor, Wren, Miller’s wife and their part-time office manager, threatened without any heat.

I should be so lucky, Lucy had said.

That’s why you’re my favorite. Wren patted Lucy’s hand.

Hey, I thought I was your favorite, Miller complained. The phone had rung, and she’d quickly handed Robyn to him before answering. Croix had watched as Wren answered the caller’s questions and booked an appointment for Rica. Thank goodness, he’d thought. The last thing they needed was another last-minute accounting client. Miller had dropped a kiss on Robyn’s forehead before handing her back to Wren and then had tugged Wren in for a kiss before she and Robyn escaped for nap time at home. The look on Miller’s face as he’d watched his wife and daughter walk away tugged at something in Croix. Something he didn’t want to explore or examine.

He was okay being a bachelor. In fact, he was more than okay with it. He loved his life. He had great friends, a successful business that continued to grow despite his lousy people skills, a home, and money he could spend with no one to question him. Although it would have been nice to have someone remind him he already owned three fly-fishing poles before he bought his fourth. No one to report to outside of business hours. And while loneliness knocked on his door more than it used to, he figured it was the price he had to pay for his independence.

It’s all their fault, he thought as he shot the line further upstream. Life had been a lot simpler before his friends started falling in love and getting married. And now babies. Although, technically, Chuck, who everyone else called Charlie, wasn’t a baby anymore, but screaming Robyn sure was. Andi’s and Eric’s baby was due in January.

Too many changes, he thought with a slight frown. He was happy for his friends, and he hoped all their marriages stood the test of time. Croix was better with numbers than with reading people, but he didn’t think the divorce statistics would apply to his friends. He liked all their spouses—they were almost like sisters to him—but he knew living with someone took a lot of patience, and no one on the planet had enough patience to take him on.

His mother had often said he was lovable, but hard to love sometimes. He was quirky and odd. He liked order and quiet. There was too much chaos with other people and their needs. To an outside observer, Croix was normal. But he worked at it. It wasn’t natural to him. At the end of the day, he needed to decompress and rebalance himself. To be with people all day and then come home to a wife and children who needed him wasn’t in his skill set, and it never would be.

Croix was a bachelor for life. He’d decided long ago not to have children—he wouldn’t knowingly subject a child to the teasing and ridicule he’d endured. He spoiled his nieces and nephews rotten when he saw them, which wasn’t often enough, and he was determined to be the best fake uncle, or funcle, his friends’ children could have. Croix had a lot of love to give, but he knew he was a terrible investment of anyone’s time and affection. Loving him had a lousy rate of return.

Chapter 2

Croix pulled open the front door of Jo’s Joe, inhaled, and smiled as the scent of fresh-roasted coffee beans hit him. At the office, they’d switched to single-serve pods during the pandemic, and Wren refused to tell him where she’d hidden their old coffee pot. He missed the pre-COVID days of everyone chatting around the machine in the morning, waiting for their morning lifeline in a cup. Now they brewed their individual cups and headed back to their own offices.

He looked around the shop as the barista made his drink. At a front table, Josie, the owner, and Gabe Kane, the general manager at the Haven Woodworks, were deep in conversation. Josie lifted her head, spotted Croix, and waved him over to join them. Kane frowned. Yeah, not going there, Croix thought, shaking his head and lifting the papers in his hand with a shrug. Josie tilted her head and arched her eyebrows, as if she wasn’t buying his excuse.

A movement in the corner caught his eye. Krista. He pointed toward her, and Josie gave him a slight nod of acceptance. The last thing he needed was to aggravate Gabe Kane. Croix wanted the Haven Woodworks business, and once he’d proven his worth with that one, he’d work to get the rest of Kane’s extensive holdings.

Croix paid for his drink and walked toward Krista. She lifted her head and looked at him, but she didn’t look happy. She looked tired and frazzled. Hair sprung out from whatever bun-type style she’d pulled it into that morning. He’d learned a long time ago not to tell a woman when she looked tired or to comment on crazy hair, so he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t need to act as a mirror. She pushed out the empty chair across from her with her foot, the one that had escaped the confines of its shoe. A strawberry smoothie?

With extra whip, Croix confirmed in case she’d missed the mountain of creamy foam. Do you want some? I can dump it in a water glass, he offered.

No, thank you. I’m fine. She gave him a tight smile.

You don’t sound fine, he said, dropping his papers on the table before sitting down. You sure you don’t want some of this? It’s fruit. He wiggled the drink in front of her.

She sighed. I’m a grown-up, and I like to get coffee at a coffee shop.

Your loss, he said before taking a sip. But maybe not. Smoothies were better before Josie got these new lids and banned straws.

It’s better for the environment, Krista reminded him.

I know, but I miss the straws. He sighed dramatically and the corners of her mouth twitched up, just as he’d hoped they would.

What are you working on? Krista asked, looking at his pile of papers.

I need to finish the end-of-season paperwork for baseball and T-ball and do some soccer prep before the next practice.

You’re coaching soccer?

Yeah, he said, pulling the paperwork toward him.

But you don’t like soccer.

Not true. I do like soccer. It’s just never been my sport, not like it is with you and Miller. She and Miller had both played in high school, and Krista had been on the state all-star team.

So why are you coaching? Not busy enough with work and counting all the beans for Emily’s campaign? she teased. He hated being called a