Practically Persuaded in Pittsburgh Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Why this story?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  A little bit of magic, and a lot of heart

  * * *

  Ticket to True Love is a series about new beginnings, second chances, and finding true love in unexpected places. Visitors to True Springs are skeptical about the town’s legendary water leading them to love, but residents believe. Even they don’t realize, however, that the water is only part of the story...

  * * *

  In Book 1, Practically Persuaded in Pittsburgh, big city trader Jake Walker returns to the Strip District to run the family diner after his dad passes away unexpectedly. In order to gift his mom with the freedom to travel the world, he cooks up a fake wedding with a sexy waitress who’s practically part of the family. Sadie Evans hardly needs to be persuaded to enter a pretend marriage with the man of her dreams—but what happens when Jake wants to make the union permanent and discovers she’s got other plans?

  To Kate

  whose support, brainstorming prowess, and infectious laughter were essential

  to the creation of the Ticket to True Love series

  1

  Jake Walker stood in swim trunks, bare feet, and goosebumps on an outcrop of rock and contemplated the thirty-foot jump while ignoring the jeers and ribbing from the other pasty-white New York City traders across the water. This spot of the creek was the highest outcrop a person could scramble up to through the trees and growth without breaking his neck, at least according to the local guide from True Springs, Pennsylvania, where they’d come for a team-building event.

  Team building, my ass, Jake thought. This was just another way for these yahoos to compete.

  The water below was crisp, cold and—judging from his previous jump on the lower rock shelf—deep enough that he’d survive.

  He leaned over to get a better look, and nerves skittered across his chest. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but this was really high. And it wasn’t even part of the Delaware River. This was just some creek or stream that fed into it. But more than anything, if he got injured or died, he didn’t want it to be among this miserable crew.

  Somebody hollered, “Come on, Walker, just walk right off.”

  Lame. They’d direct their attention to somebody else the second he surfaced.

  Nothing for it. He swam with these sharks daily. Didn’t matter they actually had some water today.

  One, two…screw it.

  Jake leapt, adrenaline surging, and grabbed his nose just before he went under. Down, down, and then a second of buoyancy before he started pulling up with his arms. He popped out of the water and shook his head hard to clear some water. He even whooped—’cause yeah, it’d been a rush.

  He had just crested the slippery ridge peppered with rocks and tree roots, when he saw Reese Statler—who’d already jumped but was clearly afraid of heights—get shoved straight over the edge by one of the senior traders. Dirtbag. That move was dangerously stupid. Because if Reese didn’t clear the ledges below…

  Jake scrambled over to the edge—and waited…waited.

  Finally, he heaved a sigh of extreme relief when Reese came up bright red and cursing. The epithets bounced off the cliff walls.

  Jake echoed the sentiment.

  By the next morning—despite a killer breakfast at a little place called the Heartland that reminded him of his family’s diner in Pittsburgh’s Strip District—Jake couldn’t wait to leave True Springs.

  Under different circumstances, he’d get a kick out of this charming little Pennsylvania town. On the eastern edge of the Poconos and very near the New York border, it was only an hour and a half from New York City. And the surrounding countryside, all hills and leafy green and curving two-lane roads, reminded him of the suburbs of Pittsburgh—and made him long for home.

  He’d had enough of his coworkers, though. Bad enough to spend the week with them. Torture to waste a weekend in the same company. Especially when he’d been trying to figure a way out of this company, maybe this career, for nearly a year now.

  The senior traders and execs had taken off one by one as their town cars arrived to take them home to their 2.4 kids in Darien and Ridgefield and wherever else. The rest of the young schmucks like him sat in the cozy lobby area of the Sweetwater Inn, a boutique hotel and the only place to stay right in town. While they waited for a private bus to cart them back to the city, every single trader had his head bent to a laptop or cell phone.

  Rather than sit with them, Jake hovered near the door. He grabbed a brochure off the front desk.

  True Springs, according to the pamphlet, catered to tourists—especially those looking for a little romance in their lives. Apparently, legend had it that the spring water held lovers’ magic ever since a couple—Miles and Adele Hoffman—reunited after World War II. At the very moment they kissed, the bus ticket that brought them back together just happened to float into the town fountain.

  Ah, Jake thought, that explained the grand fountain in the center of town. It sported a life-sized statue of a couple in a lip lock in forties-era clothing and a spigot. Not to mention that everything in this town spelled l-o-v-e love. There was a Lover’s Lane, Valentine’s Cafe, Sweet-on-You Shoppe, and who knew what else.

  That also maybe explained why Carly, the executive admin who’d coordinated this trip, chose the destination. Because honestly, it was an odd place to take a bunch of traders from the city. He’d suspected Carly had a thing for Reese. Jake glanced around but didn’t spot either of them. Huh.

  The manager of the Sweetwater Inn, Maddie Kate, appeared next to him.

  “Feel free to take that,” she said with a grin. “You might want to come back sometime soon. Maybe with somebody?”

  Jake reared back a bit. Awfully pushy, wasn’t she?

  “I’m not looking to romance anybody at the moment,” Jake said. He was taking a breather from girlfriends. The last one—who preferred clubbing until all hours over dinner or a show or nearly anything—couldn’t stand his early trading hours and only lasted a couple of months. He couldn’t even remember what attracted him to her in the first place.

  She shrugged. “You drank the water here, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t exactly take a cup over to the spigot.” Jake hooked his thumb in the direction of the fountain.

  Maddie Kate chuckled and pushed a chunk of blond curls away from her face. “Doesn’t matter. Practically every chef and bartender and baker in this town mixes a few drops into everything they make. And really, if you even brushed your teeth—”

  “I definitely brushed my teeth,” he said.

  “Well then,” she said, flipping her palms up, “you’ll find your true love whether you come back or not.”

  “Don’t tell me you buy into all this?” He waved the brochure.

  She smiled again. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen it in action too many times. I no longer doubt.”

  A vision of laughing brown eyes and a cloud of the softest dark hair flashed through Jake’s mind, right along with the scent of cinnamon.

  Sadie Evans
.

  The girl that had featured in almost of all of his teenage fantasies—although he had always been careful to treat her no differently than one of his brothers. Most of the time, anyway. There’d been that one kiss—that single but all-consuming kiss that had screwed with his foundation and turned him into some kind of Leaning Tower of Pisa. Still standing, but never quite the same.

  He shook his head—why had he thought of her today? Breathing in all this greenery and then inhaling that diner breakfast must really have brought him back in time. Sadie had worked—still did, actually—at his parents’ diner, The Wanderlust, along with him and his brothers.

  He spotted the small luxury bus out the front window, so he stuffed the brochure back into its holder and told Maddie Kate, “It’s a great hotel. Thanks.”

  He didn’t think he’d be back. Certainly not anytime soon. He needed to figure out his life before he dragged a woman into it.

  He grabbed his duffel bag and slipped out the door.

  He’d already known he halfway despised his work—and, therefore, pretty much his life—but this event had made it crystal clear.

  The guys he worked with were nearly all arrogant, self-important, and brash. Maybe that was a vast generalization, but in his company it seemed to hold true. And no matter the caliber of people, trading was a high-octane, stress-filled, empty career.

  Did he make good money? Yeah. Really good money. He traded options. When he’d tried to explain it to his parents, his dad had scratched his head and said, “Okay, so basically you sell air.”

  Uh… No. But he totally got that there was something horribly intangible about it. Experience, knowledge, instinct, and especially accuracy actually mattered—but it was still like placing bets. All day long, every day. At this point he didn’t feel especially good about that. The thrill had worn off. He was tired of it all.

  But where did he go from here? What options—ha ha—were out there for a twenty-six-year-old trader who was already washed up inside? Would he commit career suicide if he left? Did he care? And what else would he even do?

  As he greeted the driver and stepped onto the bus, his phone rang. It was his mom. He would have liked to talk to her but didn’t care to with his coworkers listening. He let it go to voicemail, figuring he could call his parents once he was back in his apartment.

  Except a notification for voicemail didn’t show up. By the time he’d slid into a seat, a text from his mom did. It said: Call me right away. IMPORTANT.

  Jake frowned and called her back.

  “Mom?”

  “Jake,” she said.

  Just that one word, his name breathed out, and he heard it all: relief, dread, shock, grief.

  And he knew that something was very, very wrong.

  The next morning, the receptionist of Hillendorf’s Funeral Home led Jake down a short, carpeted hallway, knocked on the heavy door, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer. They’d been expecting him for a while now, but his flight into Pittsburgh had been delayed at landing. The small group clustered inside all stood: his mom, Rita; his brothers, Jeremy and Jonah; and the director, Hap Hillendorf.

  Rita threw her arms wide, and Jake stepped into them.

  “Mom,” he said, squeezing her hard. “I’m so sorry it took me so long.” He’d hoped to be here last night but couldn’t get a same-day flight. And he’d considered renting a car, but Rita was adamant that he not drive while upset.

  She pulled back to look up at him, still holding his arms. Tears swam in her eyes, and although she was made up, he could see that she must have used plenty of tissues.

  “Please,” she said. “I’m just so glad you’re here now.” She patted his arm and stepped aside.

  Jake embraced Jeremy, the eldest Walker brother, first. He was in his usual black jeans but had capitulated to wearing a black button-down shirt rather than the band t-shirts he generally preferred. His expression was nearly always serious, but Jake could see the strain around his eyes today. They didn’t speak, just shared a look, lips pressed into hard lines.

  Jonah, the youngest, was next. More hugging and back pounding. Jonah was fighting crying, and only managed, “Sucks, huh?”

  “It sure as hell does,” Jake said tightly. What did you say at a time like this? There was so much that should be said, and yet nothing seemed adequate.

  Jake reached to shake the funeral director’s hand. “Hap,” he said.

  A short, trim, middle-aged man with a full head of white hair, Hap always wore a pleasant, serene expression. He’d helped the Walkers bury all of Jake’s grandparents, too. A first-name basis seemed appropriate, although Jake always thought the name an ironic one, given the Hillendorfs’ business. Still, when a guy was born Harold the third, the family had no choice but to shorten it to something.

  “Jake,” Hap said, squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry about your dad. Chuck was the best kind of man. He will be sorely missed.”

  “Thank you.” The swelling in Jake’s throat prohibited him from saying more.

  “Take some time together as a family,” Hap said, making eye contact with Rita before he slipped out the door. The man was truly a master at managing people’s comfort during difficult times.

  Jake let out a breath.

  “Come sit,” Rita told him. “We’ve already covered most of the details. We were just talking about who should be pallbearers.”

  Jake swallowed, still trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

  “Us three, of course,” Jeremy said.

  “And Uncle Mark,” Jonah said. That was his mom’s sister Reenie’s husband.

  “So we need two more?” Jake said.

  Jeremy suggested cousins. Jonah suggested other uncles. Rita wondered about her husband’s best friends.

  Jake had a better idea—one that made his nose tingle and his eyes burn from trying not to cry. “It should be Sadie,” he said. Chuck and Rita had become surrogate parents to her, and numerous times over the last twenty-four hours, he’d wondered how she was holding up. This would hit her hard.

  “Traditionally it’s men, but Sadie’s strong,” Jonah said, while Jeremy nodded.

  Rita burst out in tears.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Jake said, and leaned in to squeeze her knee.

  She grabbed a wad of tissues off Hap’s desk, swore, and then bowed her head and sobbed, while Jake and his brothers wondered what the hell to do to fix this.

  Finally, she blew, took a shuddering breath, and sat up straight. She grabbed a fresh tissue and swiped at her eyes. “You are absolutely right. It will be Sadie. As for the other…” Her expression wobbled again. “Damn,” she said quietly. “There’s so many your dad loved, and yet not enough.”

  Jake frowned, and a glance showed him similar expressions on his brothers’ faces. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I never imagined he’d be gone so soon. I always thought we’d both see you boys married. Your wives should be here. Grandbabies should be here.”

  Jake had barely gotten past the shock of that statement—none of the Walker boys were anywhere close to settling down, let alone becoming rewards members at the baby superstores—when his Mom broke down again.

  “Babies always bring comfort during funerals,” she cried. “And we don’t have any!”

  Normally, Rita wasn’t the pushy kind of mom. Jake understood that she was grieving and extra emotional right now. In fact, Jake got it entirely. It was way too soon for them to have lost husband, father, and not-yet grandparent Chuck Walker.

  2

  Sadie Evans’s shoulders sagged with relief the second she escaped into the kitchen of The Wanderlust to replenish more empty pans of food. Half the city of Pittsburgh seemed to have turned out for Chuck Walker’s post-funeral dinner—but there were two men in particular taking up all her air.

  One whom she’d always secretly had a serious thing for.

  The other, she suspected, was very close to proposing to her. Again.

 
Sadie shook her head, then dumped the two messy tin pans into the giant garbage can. She was running on fumes at this point. She’d done her share of hugging, crying, consoling, and laughing. Yet she’d held off grieving herself, instead lending her strength to Rita and her energy to preparing for and running this gathering. She’d been working here so long that she didn’t know how to just sit and be part of the crowd anyway. That said, she was overdue for a good, honking, ugly cry. She was going to miss Chuck something fierce. He and Rita had employed her for years, but what they’d really done was parent her—far better than her own unreliable folks had.

  Sadie bit her lip. Don’t cry—just don’t. Not yet.

  She hauled open the oven door, grabbed some mitts, and slid a fresh pan of mac and cheese out onto the center counter, and then one of baked ziti.

  “Need help?”

  Sadie jumped a mile, then spun to glare at Jake Walker.

  There you had it. One of the main reasons she was so on edge.

  Jake was a maddening, frustrating, ridiculous fantasy she’d harbored since she discovered boys existed. A fantasy she’d thought she’d finally shaken—until he’d shown up last week with his wicked dimple and warm smile and hugged her good and hard. He’d come to be with his mom and help her with the details. Of course he had. He was close to his parents. He was a good person. He was supposed to be here, doing exactly what he was doing.

  But she wasn’t.

  She shouldn’t have been practically drooling over the man. One look at his stylish suit and the way he filled it out shouldn’t have her aching to grab his tie and bring his lips to hers. Her body certainly shouldn’t have gone pliant with need with one friendly I-know-you-are-grieving-too embrace from him. What kind of crazy was she that she could think such things when she should be solely focused on missing his dad?