Flirty in Cheshire Bay

By H.M. Shander

Libby learns her donated kidney is no longer prolonging her estranged father’s life. He needs another, and preferably from the sister she doesn’t remember. Shocked, she’s now tasked with reaching out and convincing this familial stranger to donate an organ. But how? She can’t blurt it out. She needs to soften the blow. She needs a way in.

Enter the fun and devilishly flirty older man, Landon Morris.

As he sets his wise, ocean-blue gaze upon her, Libby fights against his charms, until she discovers his connection to her newfound sister. Suddenly, Landon has a lot more appeal, and she mirrors his flirtatious behaviour, until he’s wrapped around her unintended finger, introducing her to his family and friends – and the older sister she never really had.

In the midst of her deceit however, Libby finds she’s falling hard for Landon, and she worries the truth behind her actions will sabotage any future with him. Will her true feelings and intentions be enough to keep them together, or will she lose everything because she flirted with deception?

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.M. Shander
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781990240157

H.M. Shander

USA TODAY bestselling author H.M. Shander is a star-gazing, romantic at heart who once attended Space Camp and wanted to pilot the space shuttle, and not just any STS – specifically Columbia. However, the only shuttle she operates in her real world is the #momtaxi; a reliable electric car that transports her two kids to school or work and all their various sporting events. When she’s not commandeering LeBolt, you can find the elementary school librarian surrounded by classes of children as she reads the best storybooks in multiple voices. After she’s tucked her endearing kids into bed and kissed her trophy husband goodnight, she moonlights as a contemporary romance novelist; the writer of sassy heroines and sweet, swoon-worthy heroes who find love in the darkest of places.If you want to know when her next heart-filled journey is coming out, you can follow her on Twitter(@HM_Shander), Facebook (hmshander), or check out her website at www.hmshander.com.

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Flirty in Cheshire Bay

Published by H.M. Shander

Copyright 2023 H.M. Shander

Flirty in Cheshire Bay is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, events or locals, are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored, in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written consent of the author of this work. She may be contacted directly at [e-mail], subject line ‘Permission Requested.’

www.hmshander.com

Cover Design: Eleanor Lloyd-Jones @ Shower of Schmidt Designs

Editing: PWA & IDIM Editorial

Shander, H.M., 1975—Flirty in Cheshire Bay

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Other Reads

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter One

Have you made contact yet? The clock’s ticking.

I stared at the text message, the only person from my past I truly kept in touch with. Feverishly, after glancing around to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I responded.

No.

He needs another match, and she’s the only blood who could possibly save him. After this, he goes on some transplant list and things go from bad to worse.

I know. I know. I’m working on it.

Work harder.

Then drag your sorry ass here and talk to her yourself.

I rubbed my back, along the right side, feeling the raised five-inch scar beneath my shirt. There was only one kidney left inside my body as I had already given him my other four years ago. It sucked it didn’t last as long as we had been told, but I couldn’t go on dialysis for the rest of my life and give up my other kidney. Pretty sure there was some unwritten rule that a healthy person had to keep their organs, no matter how sick the dying recipient was. Besides, my father would take the higher road and refuse, that much I knew. As it was, it had been damn near impossible to get him to accept my kidney and go from a more natural approach in his medical care to one that now involved daily pills for organ rejection. But longevity won out over stubborn refusal.

I typed back to Everest, my brother from another mother. Didn’t you match?

Not even close. He may not even be my father.

What?

That wasn’t a conversation for texting, however. I needed to hear his voice and get all the answers, but I was at work. I wasn’t even supposed to be on my phone as it was.

I’ll tell you later. Right now, she’s the last possible blood match.

That we’re aware of.

I threw in the dig. After all, it was only a week ago I learned about the sister I’d never known.

Be nice.

Bite me.

My best comeback. The only one in my arsenal.

I’ll call you later.

You’d better. You have some explaining to do.

You’ll get all the deets. Find her though. She lives nearby...

Which I already knew. How ironic.

Two years ago, I deliberately moved away from my father and our living accommodations, to spread my wings and learn who I am and who I wanted to be, only to find out that Cheshire Bay wasn’t a big enough place to do all that. Not when everyone here knew everyone else.

Two years after trying to find myself the only thing I had discovered, and that was only a week ago, was how my estranged sister also lived in the same small town.

Apparently, I was still learning to stop being a pushover because I’d been tasked with the impossible, and I’d agreed to find this sister, get her up to speed real quick on the situation, and then drop the bomb asking if she’d be willing to donate a kidney to her father; a person she maybe didn’t even know existed.

There was probably a reason she left and a bigger reason why I never knew of her until a week ago.

Thanks Everest. What a pain in my ass.

I typed a quick I gotta go as I locked eyes with my boss who’d walked behind the counter with a tray of fresh pastries. In my rush to hide my phone, I stuffed it into the apron pocket and grabbed the cloth to rewash a table, trying to appear like I was actually working and not messing around.

But I was washing the table with the dry cloth, which was doing jack shit.

Ugh. I needed to focus, but I was so confused and flustered about everything.

One week ago, my life had been flipped upside down.

Everest, my older brother, had discovered some eye-opening information after our father had been rushed to the hospital. He babbled daily about the four kids he’d had, which was strange, as we believed it was just Everest, his twin brother Juniper, and little ole me. Only under that morphine-induced high had Everest learned our half-sister was even older than him and had left the area and her past, before I’d barely turned six. Since this sister didn’t share the same mother as me, how was I to have known? Even my twin brothers were only half related to me – the common bond between us all was our father, or possibly not given Everest’s latest surprise. However, the twin’s mother had been buddies with my own, until things went south. It was so complicated, and my family tree was more a grove of twisted and interconnected vines than a single trunk with beautiful branches.

I now knew who my half-sister was, as my half-brother had stumbled upon her name while digging through some of our father’s personal effects. After that, it was fairly easy to piece the information together and learn about her. This small town didn’t hide much, like I did with my true identity, however, if I didn’t want to give anything away unprepared, I had to keep my stalking to a minimum.

My estranged sister already had kids; twins, as they ran on the paternal side of our wonky family tree – a boy and a girl. I just hadn’t figured out if she was married, not that it mattered. Apparently, she was in a long-term relationship, and the couple of times I’d spied on her, she seemed happy, and her joy infectious – something she clearly inherited from her mother as our father was a sullen, miserable old goat.

She was boisterous and friendly, and a regular at Sylvia’s Bakery, the establishment I’d started working at a couple of years ago when I was just nineteen. For the past week, I’ve been mustering up the courage to say more than a friendly hello, but it’s terrifying. How do you tell someone you’re related? That you’re estranged sisters?

It’s not like I could pass her the box of pumpkin spice scones and say, That’ll be fifteen bucks. Oh, by the way, I’m your half-sister. Can we talk about our dying father? He needs you to match with him so he can have your kidney and live a little longer.

These things have to be done with precision and delicacy. I needed to find a way in first, to soften the blow. That was the proper way, right?

The bells chimed above the door, and I stopped wiping off a sticky section on a table with the damp cloth this time and walked behind the display cases.

Good morning– I almost addressed her by name but bit my tongue. Although, it wouldn’t be rude; she was a regular after all.

Her bag was wider than she was, and it shielded her as she walked over, right on time, to pick up the order she’d placed yesterday.

Good morning. Her voice was soft and soothing, and I couldn’t imagine her ever raising her voice.

I stared unblinking, trying to see if there were any family resemblances, and aside from the shared blond hair, there wasn’t much. I was definitely taller and more filled out, but likely because I worked in the bakery.

I’m here to pick up my order. She set her huge boho chic purse on the counter and rummaged through to dig for her wallet.

Ah, yes, your name please?

Cedar Ratzloff?

Right, sorry. I’m terrible with names. Faces I never forget, but I just can’t seem to stick the names. Let me just finish putting it together now.

I added the last couple of items fresh off the tray and closed the box, tying the signature string around it.

She retrieved her credit card and held it above the pin pad as I typed in her total, but I was transfixed by her hand, something I’d never noticed previously. If I had doubts she was blood-related, they were slapped out of my head. Her pointer, swear, and ring finger were all the same length - just like mine. An oddity since everyone else I knew had a longer swear finger and some used it exceptionally well.

The total? She tucked her wavy blonde hair behind an ear with a sigh.

Sorry. Shaking my head, I punched in the amount and curled my fingers into my palm so as to not be noticeable.

The machine beeped and she put her card away, grabbing the package.

Thanks for shopping at Sylvia’s.

Of course. She adjusted her denim jacket as she looped her arm through her bag and grabbed the box of pastries. I live for these.

With that, she was out the door and I could finally breathe. How on earth was I going to ever going to muster up the guts to speak to her about our father, Frank, and ask her to test and see if she’s a donor match?

After wishing for a do-over while staring at the door for a while longer, I shook my head of my daydreaming and busied myself putting together the rest of the incoming orders. Each time I ran a pot of standard black dark roast to the patrons sitting in the dining portion of the bakery, I glanced at the door, hoping a miracle of an answer would present itself. Maybe she’d come back. Maybe Everest would show up and ask her himself.

My boss, the owner and baker, and the most loveliest woman in the area, if not in the whole entire world, sidled on up to give me a fresh stack of receipts. These orders need filling by noon, hon.

On it. I set them beside the others. There was always a growing stack, and it was wonderful to see. Hey, Vee, can I ask you a weird question?

She froze in her tracks and turned, putting her hand on her ample-sized hip. Shoot, honey.

If you wanted to meet someone, but you didn’t want them to think it was weird, how would you do it?

Her thick dark brows knit together. I’m afraid I’m not following. Like trying to meet a guy? Because honey, you’re young and gorgeous and should have no issues with that.

I rocked back and forth on my heels, a faint heat crawling across my cheeks. She was always so complimentary, even if that wasn’t what I was getting at. I wasn’t digging for compliments.

Thinking around her comment, another thought popped in. Say you were trying to get some information out of a person, but you couldn’t ask them directly and the internet only provided the basics.

Hmmm…I think I getcha. Like how a cop gets the goods about a suspect? Her voice pitched in excitement, and she waddled her way closer.

Sort of. This wasn’t going well, and I was going to be treading water very soon, but I needed ideas. Yeah, sure. Like that.

Well, they lead the suspect into a room, and they grill them. Trick them into giving up the answers they wanna hear. The very thought seemed to light her on fire with the sudden zest in her speech.

But before that. How do they find out that’s the person they’re after? Quickly, I glanced around the dining room to make sure all the customers were well taken care of and weren’t approaching the counter where they could potentially here this wild conversation.

She rubbed her chin and leaned against the stainless-steel counter, a heavy sigh pulling on her shoulders. Well now, I suppose they’d interview friends or colleagues and gather the information first.

Friends? Why hadn’t I thought of that? I could make nice with her friends. There was another semi-regular who came in, and I could lay on the sweetness and weasel my information from her, get what I needed, and move in. She just needed to show up again, but the pub owner didn’t make regular appearances at Sylvia’s Bakery.

Honey, you in some kind of trouble? Utter seriousness washed over Vee’s face and snapped me back to the present.

Never. I promise I’m on my best behaviour. I was just curious.

I stared at the stack of orders, feeling a sense of shame wash over me although I hadn’t done anything wrong. Sylvia was like another mother to me, and I hated thinking my mere questions had given her a reason to think I’d taken a wrong turn again.

I had someone reach out to me about something someone in my family did, and I wasn’t sure what the meaning behind it was.

She nodded, slowly and methodically, assessing me in her motherly way. Well, they are probably putting together a case or something. She studied me hard, her dark eyes narrowing into thin slits. Your family you say?

Yeah, the family I’d never mentioned to Sylvia. They didn’t live nearby, and I most definitely did not associate with them in person, and aside from Everest, they weren’t really a part of my life.

I hung my head. Yeah, them. There’s something going on, and I’m just trying to figure out how to break the news to someone.

She walked right up to me, and her strong hands cupped my shoulders. I know you’re hiding from them, and whatever ghosts you keep trying to avoid. Her dark eyes burrowed into mine. You’re safe here. I promise.

I sighed. Of course, that’s what she thought, and I never gave her reason to think otherwise. The first time she met me, I had the appearance of a homeless disaster, which was pretty much how it was – she’d caught me rummaging through her dumpster, and after that, she took care of me.

I’m not in any danger. I promise. I crossed my heart for extra proof. Just a few things have come to light, and I’m not sure how to make it work. Or what to do about it all.

Eyes still narrowed, she squeezed me. Making the right decision is never easy, but I believe in you, honey, and I know you’ll make good choices.

You’re right.

It wasn’t quite the advice I was looking for, but still, it held me. Making good choices had always been something she’d said to me.

I grabbed the stack of orders and the first of many boxes. I should get these filled.

She meandered off, but not before giving me a solid once over.

There was something though in her earlier words – going through a friend made perfect sense. I could make friends with someone my apparent biological sister is close to and weasel my way in. That’s better than being direct and abrupt, right? But who?

The doorbell chimed again, and my gaze shot to the all-glass door with Sylvia’s Bakery etched upon it. Striding through the doorway was Mr. Flirty; he wasn’t a regular-regular, at least not the I-can-judge-the-time-by-his-appearance kind of regular. Those customers were our bread and butter. But the non-regulars, they were nice too. Someone different to chat with. Someone new to look at and imagine in all sorts of fun scenarios. Someone, who in another lifetime, would be interested in someone like me…

There was a certain strut in his steps as he crossed the worn and weathered hardwood floor in my direction, eyeballing the variety of fresh pastries and baked goods while he removed his ball cap and ran his fingers through his thick hair.

Morning, he said, with a slight drawl, and ended the word with a wink.

If I had to guess, I’d have pegged him in his late thirties as he had the telltale start of wrinkles around the eyes that likely came from all the smiling I often saw him doing, and he sported flecks of greys at his temples which could’ve been from the overhead lighting up his rusty blond strands. But it was his voice that truly held his power; smooth like whiskey and just as tantalizing.

What would today’s recommendation be?

I, ah, well, it’s all fresh. I ran my gloved hand along the display and put on my sweetest smile. What’s tempting you?

His gaze travelled along the glass cases, rolling up and connecting with me. Something sweet.

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed. What a flirt this guy was, and my body reacted to it. Every. Single. Time. Although I was playing it up a little too, it was a