The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

Any journalist would kill for the position, Roman knew. Though he had to admit he might enjoy the political intrigue and change of pace, settling in one place had never been on his agenda. He’d done his share of traveling, but there was more to see, more news to report, and injustices to expose—though with the corruption in Washington, D.C., Roman figured he wouldn’t be bored there.

He doubted he’d feel as confined living in the nation’s capital as he had in his small hometown, and might even have taken the offer more seriously had he not lost the coin toss.

By early evening, his mother had dozed in front of the television and Roman had finally been able to leave the house knowing she was resting and he didn’t have to worry about her trying to overdo.

Because it was late, he walked quickly through town until color in a storefront window—lots of vibrant color—caught his eye, causing him to stop and check out the change. He squinted for a better look, bringing him nose to glass with women’s lingerie.

Frilly, sexy nighties, garters, and whatever else the opposite sex wore to attract a man—and he’d seen plenty of those getups in his time—decorated the display. The items in the window were sensual and decadent, including enticing animal prints.

Apparently some things in his small hometown had changed. As he wondered who was responsible for knocking conservatism to its knees, last night’s conversation with his brothers came back to him. Is Charlotte Bronson back in town? he’d asked them.

Owns a little business on First. … Stop by and see for yourself. His brothers’ replies had been deliberately vague, definitely amused, Roman thought now.

He allowed himself another glance at the provocative panties in the window and shook his head hard. No way Charlotte Bronson owned this shop. The Charlotte he remembered had been more quiet than outgoing, more innately sensual than overtly sexy. The combination had always intrigued him, but regardless, her personality type didn’t strike him as one who’d open such an enticing and erotic shop. Or would she?

A horn honked, jerking Roman back into reality, and he turned to see Chase’s truck pull into an empty spot down the street. He glanced at his watch. Rick would already be inside. Plenty of time to check out the shop after he met up with his brothers. He headed into the restaurant and strode to the back, bypassing the tables by the windows up front.

Roman met Rick by the old jukebox machine, which featured a jazzy reggae beat. He glanced around, taking in the familiar atmosphere. “Except for the music, nightlife in Yorkshire Falls is as exciting as ever.”

Rick shrugged. “Did you really expect things to change?”

“I guess not.” Even the decor was the same, he noted. Thanks to Norman senior’s obsession with bird-watching, the restaurant’s motif was comprised of wooden hand-painted birdhouses lining the walls, while pictures of varying species in their natural habitat hung in between.

The place had been and still was home to the older teens seeking independence from their parents, the singles in town, and the families needing a bite after Little League practice. Tonight, the patrons included the Chandler brothers. After living out of hotels for weeks on end and rarely seeing his New York apartment, let alone his family, Roman had to admit coming home felt good.

“Just tell me the burgers are as good as I remember and I’ll be a happy man.”

Rick laughed. “Takes so little to make you happy.”

“What would it take to make you happy, Rick?” Years had passed since Rick’s marriage ended in a devastating divorce, his wife leaving him for another man. To his credit, Rick had remained the happy-go-lucky brother, but Roman often wondered what pain he hid inside.

Rick folded his arms across his chest. “I’m already a satisfied man.”

After all Rick had been through, Roman hoped his brother meant what he said.

“Hi, handsome. What can I get for you?” a high-pitched female voice asked.

Roman rose to give Isabelle, Norman’s seventy-year-old wife and everyone’s favorite waitress, a swift hug. She smelled like a unique mixture of home cooking and the good old-fashioned grease Norman used in the kitchen when she wasn’t looking.

He stepped back. “Good to see you, Izzy.”

She smiled. “Your mother’s over the moon that you’re home.”

He settled himself back into the chair. “Yeah, just wish the reason were different.”

“Your mom’s a tough one. She’ll be fine. Norman and I sent over enough prepacked meals to get her through the week.”

“You’re the best.”

She grinned. “Don’t I know it. So what can I get you? Cheeseburger deluxe?”

Roman laughed. “You’ve got a memory like an elephant.”

“Only when it comes to my favorite customers.” She shot Roman a wink, then turned to Rick. “Steak and mashed potatoes, that I know. Soda tonight, Officer?”

Rick nodded. “I’m on duty.”