What Matters Most Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By Georgia Beers

  Acknowledgement

  Dedication

  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

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  By Georgia Beers

  What Matters Most

  Starting a new life in a new city is never easy, but Kelsey Peterson is managing. She owns her own specialty shop, she’s made some new friends, and she’s finally feeling like she’s ready to put down some roots in this small Chicago suburb. She’s even struck up some regular flirtatious banter with that sexy blonde she continually runs into at Starbucks. But when her business and personal life unexpectedly collide, Kelsey’s confidence in her newfound happiness starts to slip through her fingers, and the hardest part is figuring out what matters most...

  WHAT MATTERS MOST

  © 2017 BY GEORGIA BEERS

  THIS ELECTRONIC PAPERBACK ORIGINAL IS PUBLISHED BY BRISK PRESS, BRIELLE NEW JERSEY, 08730

  EDITED BY LYNDA SANDOVAL

  COPY EDITED BY HEATHER FLOURNOY

  COVER DESIGN BY ANN MCMAN

  FIRST PRINTING: MARCH 2017

  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

  THIS BOOK, OR PARTS THEREOF, MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR OR THE PUBLISHER.

  ISBN-13: 978-099667749-3

  By Georgia Beers

  Novels

  Finding Home

  Mine

  Fresh Tracks

  Too Close to Touch

  Thy Neighbor’s Wife

  Turning the Page

  Starting From Scratch

  96 Hours

  Slices of Life

  Snow Globe

  Olive Oil and White Bread

  Zero Visibility

  A Little Bit of Spice

  Rescued Heart

  Run to You

  Dare to Stay

  What Matters Most

  Anthologies

  Outsiders

  www.georgiabeers.com

  Acknowledgement

  Each book I write has a behind-the-scenes team that helps me make it the best book it can be. They deserve my gratitude every time. So thank you from the bottom of my heart to:

  Lynda Sandoval and Heather Flournoy, my awesome editing team.

  Carolyn and Susan, my amazing publishers at Brisk Press.

  Ann McMan, my ridiculously talented cover artist.

  Carleen Spry, my source for all things Chicago.

  Rachel, Nikki, Melissa, and the Central NY Romance Writers, my cheerleading squad.

  And you, the most wonderful readers a girl could ask for.

  Dedication

  To Debbie Metzger, my very own Favorite Cousin

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WELL, THE LAST GUY I had a date with smelled like an egg salad sandwich that had been left in the sun.” The woman paused for dramatic effect, then added, “For days.”

  Kelsey Peterson’s laugh burst out of her and seemed to surprise both of them. “Oh, no. Gross.”

  “So gross.”

  Kelsey was familiar with this woman. Well, not this exact woman, but this kind of woman. In her thirties, dating again—most likely after a divorce—and had probably seen way too many of her evenings taken up by unworthy men the online dating service said were “perfect matches” for her.

  “The one good thing that came out of it is it made me understand how important it is to smell nice. What’s that saying? ‘You never get a second chance.’”

  “To make a first impression,” Kelsey finished. “And I’m right there with you about smell. If somebody smells bad—or even if they smell okay, but it’s not a smell their date enjoys—it’s hard to come back from that.”

  “You get me, Kelsey.” The woman’s smile was imperfect, her front teeth slightly overlapping, and Kelsey found it endearing. “I’m Jennifer, and I am open to suggestion.” She held out her hand and Kelsey shook it. “What do you recommend?”

  This was where Kelsey shined and she knew it. Smell was her thing. She had the uncanny ability to talk to somebody for a very short time, size them up visually, and pick the exact right scent for them. Nobody knew exactly how she did it—not even her—but customers routinely asked for her, going so far as to eschew all the other employees in her Common Scents store, willing to wait however long it took for Kelsey to get to them.

  “You seem like a warm scent person to me,” Kelsey said and led her to the opposite side of the store. “Many of your warmer scents lean toward food—vanilla, cinnamon, apple—but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Especially on a date.”

  “If I’m a warm scent person,” Jennifer began, holding out her hand for Kelsey to squirt a small dot of Vanilla French Toast lotion onto it. “Are there cold scent people?”

  Kelsey made a face and tilted her head from one side to the other, weighing the question. “I’d call them cool, but there aren’t many. There are people who are more floral. Some are nature-scented people. Seasonal scented.”

  “How do you know?” Jennifer rubbed the lotion in and took a sniff. “Oh, my God, that smells awesome.”

  “I don’t really know. It’s just a hunch. A feeling that I go with.” Kelsey gave a modest shrug. “It’s just my thing.”

  “Well, your thing is right on the money because I love this.” Jennifer held up her hand. “I have another date next weekend with a new guy. Let’s see what he thinks of Vanilla French Toasted Jennifer.” She took two bottles off the shelf, paused, then snagged a bottle of bubble bath as well. With a sheepish grin at Kelsey, she explained, “I like baths.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Kelsey asked. “We’ve actually got some bath bombs back in that corner display.” She pointed toward the back of the store. “There’s a Vanilla French Toast one that just arrived last week.”

  “I need that.”

  “I thought you might.” Kelsey watched for a moment as Jennifer moved away from her, and before she could turn to help one of the next three people waiting for her, her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket. She excused herself and stepped away and behind the counter to take a quick look. As she pulled it out and read the text, Jeanine, one of her two other employees working with her today, bumped her with a shoulder as she passed by, a basket of new stock in her hands.

  “Let me guess. Hannah the Not-So-Secret Admirer?” She grinned to take away any sting the tease might have held.

  Kelsey rolled her eyes good-naturedly and shook her head. “I keep telling you. We talked. She knows I don’t feel that way about her.”

  “Which doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel that way about you.” Jeanine braced the basket between her thigh and a nearby shelf and began stocking. “You know that.”

  Jeanine was right, but there really wasn’t anything Kelsey could do about it. She and Hannah had met through an online gathering site for lesbians and lesbian events, and while they’d hit it off as friends, there was really no spark there for Kelsey at all. No chemistry. And that was okay. Being new to town, having only been
there for two months, Kelsey could use all the friends she could get and Hannah was great for that. They had a lot in common and texted almost every day.

  “I do know that.” What else could she say? “There’s a softball game tonight.”

  “Dig out your cheerleading outfit.”

  “I sometimes wish I played.” With a wrinkle of her nose, she added, “But mostly not.”

  “That park is a haven for local lesbians. If meeting new people is what you’re trying to do, that’s a good place to be.”

  Jeanine was certainly right about that, which Kelsey found amusing, as Jeanine was straight. The park being a lesbian gathering place was the main reason Kelsey went pretty much every week to Hannah’s game. Now that she’d opened and settled comfortably into running her store, she was ready to branch out, meet some new people, and begin to establish herself in Westland, lay down some roots. She planned to be here a while.

  Sending back a quick text telling Hannah she’d see her there and no, she didn’t need a ride (thereby avoiding any leading on of Hannah and forcing herself to drive around on her own—two birds, one stone), she slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned her attention to the sixtyish woman who needed a gift for her granddaughter.

  “If I get her something I like, she’ll end up smelling like her grandma and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want that.” The woman grimaced and Kelsey squeezed her upper arm.

  “No worries. We’ll find something just for her,” Kelsey said and led her toward the far wall. “Tell me a little about her.”

  Once the lunch hour died down, so did the influx of customers, and Kelsey was able to scoot to her office in the back and get some paperwork done. There were orders to be placed, sales reps to call back, and displays to open. As the owner and manager of the store, she didn’t really need to be on the floor at all. She had employees to do the selling. But the truth was, not only did she enjoy helping people find the right scents for themselves or for loved ones, customers often requested her. In less than nine weeks in the Westland store in Pineview Plaza, she’d garnered herself a bit of a reputation, customers coming in and saying their friend/sister/cousin recommended they talk to “Kelsey, the Owner” to find just the right product for them. She was proud of that.

  Just before five, Kelsey wandered back out into the store, knowing Jeanine had to leave for her night class. Jeremy, who covered the five-to-nine shift, was just walking through the front door.

  “Ladies,” he said as he gave a nod to Jeanine and a customer she was helping. Jeremy was super handsome, very put together, and totally gay. Which actually helped in the sales department, as straight women seemed to have tons of faith in the fashion suggestions and any makeup tips they could get from gay men. Apparently, scent was no different. With his dark, wavy hair and precisely trimmed beard, Jeremy looked like any one of the Prince Charmings from a Disney movie, and the women in the store often did double takes at him. “Boss,” he said to Kelsey, as he went behind the counter and into the back area to drop off his stuff. Kelsey followed him so they could go over what she needed done during his shift, then they both headed back out into the store.

  “Softball game tonight?” Jeremy asked as he rang up Jeanine’s customer so she could get her stuff from the back and get to class on time.

  “Yes, sir.” Kelsey shouldered her messenger bag and her small purse. “The cheerleaders are important.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” he said with a wink as she headed toward the door. “Have fun.”

  As was her tradition, Kelsey always stopped at the Starbucks about a mile down the street from her shop on the way to a game. As was also her tradition, she felt a little guilty every time because, being a small business owner, she knew she should patronize other small businesses, not overcharging behemoths like Starbucks. But she could freely admit to an addiction. To their coffee (mostly the caramel macchiato). To their pastries (mostly the enormous Rice Krispies treats because she was too lazy to make them at home). And to the little pouches of dried fruit trail mix that she couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. With limited funds, she couldn’t afford to stop more than once or twice a week, but on softball nights, it was an indulgence she allowed herself.

  The store was fairly busy, buzzing with an equal mix of young hipsters and business folk who were finishing up their days, grabbing a blast of caffeine to get them home. Kelsey placed her order for a grande caramel macchiato with whole milk, deciding to splurge and forego the skim milk this time. Five extra minutes on the bike would be her payment, she promised herself. She gave her name, grabbed a dried fruit trail mix pouch, paid, and moved to the end of the counter where six other people were waiting for their orders. She scanned her phone, checking for mail, texts, skimming Facebook, but was bored quickly and slipped the device back into her bag, choosing instead to people watch.

  Always so much more interesting than Tumblr, she thought as she gazed around the group of waiting customers.

  The woman caught her eye almost immediately, so stunning Kelsey had to make a conscious effort to pull her gaze away, afraid she’d be caught staring. No, not staring. Ogling. The woman was that attractive. And just like that, it was as if all the sound in the Starbucks simply faded away. There was no chatter, no other people. Only her and a beautiful woman she’d never met before.

  Blond hair fell just past her shoulders, bouncy with a slight wave to it, several varying shades of gold shot through. Navy blue skirt and jacket, tailored to perfection, the sleeves pushed up to not quite her elbows. Conservative heels with no sign of a scuff anywhere. As she scrolled on her phone, Kelsey watched her hands, could see she had a ring on her right hand but not her left. The skin on her forearms looked smooth and creamy, the tone not really pale, but not quite tanned, falling somewhere in between. Kelsey found herself wondering would it be as soft as it looked if she were to run her fingertips over it. More importantly (the big question for Kelsey), what did she smell like? Was she warm? Did she smell like apples with a touch of clove? Warm chocolate? Lavender maybe? She wasn’t quite close enough to find out, and when she finally pulled her eyes away from the bare forearms and shifted her gaze upward, the woman was looking directly at her, an amused smile on her face.

  The world came screaming back.

  “Shit,” Kelsey muttered quietly as she looked away, her ears suddenly assaulted by all the noise around her which, in reality, had never actually dimmed. She yanked her phone back out and tried to look busy, to look like she was occupied, to look like anything other than a creepy pervert staring at the pretty girl in Starbucks.

  “Grande caramel macchiatos, one whole, one soy,” the barista called out. Kelsey stepped forward to grab hers.

  So did the blonde.

  They each took a cup and before Kelsey could even peek at hers, the blonde said, “Um...are you Shelley?”

  Kelsey furrowed her brow and shook her head. The blonde turned her cup so Kelsey could see “Shelley” scrawled across it in black Sharpie. “Oh,” Kelsey said, understanding. “No, I’m not Shelley.” With a glance at her own cup, she added, “But I’m not Lisa, either.”

  With an understanding nod, the blonde held up a finger, then sipped the coffee in her hand. “Whole milk,” she said and handed the cup to Kelsey. “Looks like you’re Shelley after all.” She took the other cup from Kelsey with a gentle smile.

  “Well, then, it’s nice to meet you, Lisa,” Kelsey said, because something about that gentle smile told her it was safe to joke with this woman.

  “Back atcha, Shelley,” the woman said, held up her cup in a little salute, then went on her way, tickling Kelsey’s senses with the scent of...cinnamon? Honey? She couldn’t quite tell. Kelsey watched her walk toward the door, watched the easy sway of her hips in the skirt, listened to the click of her heels, couldn’t pull her eyes from the toned calf muscles.

  “Good God,” she said under her breath. She brought the cup up to take a sip and noticed a very faint imprint of light pink lip
gloss on the lid. Kelsey couldn’t help the smile that broke out across her face.

  ***

  The softball game went into extra innings, which was a bummer because nobody should be forced to sit on bleachers for any longer than they had to. Kelsey shifted for the twenty-seventh time and wrinkled her nose at Ree sitting next to her on a vinyl cushion.

  “I need one of those,” Kelsey said with a sad sigh.

  “You say that at every single game,” Ree responded, chuckling.

  “That’s because it’s true every single game.”

  “Target. Sporting goods section. Nine ninety-nine.” Ree’s attention was hijacked by sight of the batter, her wife DJ. “Come on, baby! Base hit!”

  The evening had grown muggy, causing Kelsey to question why she hadn’t ordered her coffee iced. Each sip sent an uncomfortable wave of heat through her body and, much to her dismay, she was going to have to toss it. A glimpse down at the cup reminded her of the lip gloss print, and she smiled to herself as she recalled the visceral effect that blonde had had on her. Women caught Kelsey’s eye often; she could admit that. She was an admirer of the female form in all its shapes, sizes, and colors, and she would never apologize for that. But this one...

  “Hey, Ree?” she asked as she leaned to her left. “Can I ask you something?”

  They weren’t close, Kelsey and Ree. They were acquaintances at best. But they saw each other every week on these very bleachers, always sat next to each other, and for some reason, they felt safe with one another. Ree always smelled like baby powder and and that made Kelsey feel totally comfortable with her. They’d talked about racism, sex toys, and politics—among other things—at various times during various games.

  “Sure.” Ree kept her eyes on the game, as she always did, but Kelsey knew she was listening. Her dark hair was spiked pretty dramatically today, and her earrings were bright green cupcakes with tiny red cherries on top.