by May Williams
“What if that accidentally happens?” He studied the machine doubtfully.
“You take my grandmother’s advice and add cognac. Even if it tastes bitter, no one cares.” Colette took eggs and butter from the refrigerator while she talked.
“I think I would have liked your grandmother. How long ago did she pass away?”
“Almost five years. Grandpa died suddenly. Heart attack while he was working in his garden. She was never herself after that. She died a few months later—of a broken heart I think.” She pulled a copper skillet from its peg on the wall. “Even after sixty years of marriage. Makes you think that some people are fated to be together.” She was sure of it in the case of her grandparents. She could add her parents and even her sister and brother-in-law’s happy marriage to the will of fate. But herself…
“I don’t know if I believe in fate.” He leaned against the counter, studying her closely. Although his camera wasn’t in his hand, Colette felt like he was mentally adjusting settings to bring her into focus, to understand her.
“Really? You don’t think that anything in your life was meant to happen?”
“I think most things happened because I was lucky and others because I was stupid,” he said almost as a challenge, despite the smile on his face.
“Could have been fate.” Maybe fate’s what stranded Ian on this island yesterday, she thought. “Never underestimate the power of fate or a good breakfast. How do you like your eggs?” A pad of butter melted in the heating pan.
“Over hard.”
“We call that flipped, squished, and fried around here.” She cracked four eggs into the skillet with only the slightest flick of her wrist as the eggs met the edge of the pan. “You make the toast and get the OJ out of the fridge.”
“Yes, ma’am. You ever thought of opening a restaurant?”
“That’s my sister’s territory.”
“You said she owned a business, but didn’t say what kind.” He put four slices of bread into the toaster.
“A bakery, and a café called Hemingway’s Haunt in downtown Petoskey.”
“You didn’t want to join her?”
“I like to cook, but I’m no professional. While I was out in the barns and in the clinic with Dad, she was in the kitchen experimenting. She went to culinary school, came home, and opened the café.” She flipped the eggs and pressed the spatula down on the yolk. “I get free croissants whenever I want them. That’s good enough for me.”
“Sounds like a great deal.” He poured orange juice into glasses. “Almost as good as the one I’m getting this morning.” When he returned the juice to the refrigerator, he found a jar of homemade raspberry preserves. “Out of curiosity, how does a cottage on a remote island have such a well-stocked kitchen?”
“Did I mention we like food in my family?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how you have fresh eggs.” Ian retrieved the toast and settled down at the scarred oak table.
“Good neighbors. The MacLeans down the shore get supplies for us when they know we’re coming. The island works on a sort of barter system.”
“You supply veterinarian services, they give you fresh eggs?”
“Something like that.” She slid the eggs out of the skillet onto two plates and brought them to the table. The percolator made a distinct gurgling sound and the room filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Colette poured two cups of the dark liquid and took a seat at the table opposite him. “Cream or sugar?”
“No, thanks, I need it straight.” He slathered preserves on a piece of crisp, browned toast.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” She picked up a forkful of eggs.
“I started running through some of the images I shot yesterday along the shore and before I knew it, it was two in the morning. Since I wanted to see the sunrise, I didn’t sleep much.”
“I’m sorry. I was sleeping like a baby.” Colette put down her fork to take a sip of coffee. “Do you often work at night?”
“Yeah, it’s a habit I acquired in the army.” He avoided her eyes by looking down at his plate. She had the impression there was more to it than habit, but she didn’t want to pry. Despite the lack of sleep, Ian’s face covered in dark stubble this morning gave him an untamed, sexy look. He wore his recently washed clothes with a faded green sweatshirt. Somehow, the green sharpened the color of his gray eyes.
“Do you have a place to stay at Boyne?” She assured herself she only asked to make sure he didn’t need a room. Not because she wanted to see him again.
“Uh-huh. An army buddy of mine is the PR person for the resort. He set it up so I could stay in one of the villas and work from there.”
“Have you built many websites?”
“Several while in the army and a few since, but my real interest is in the photos. I want to open my own studio.”
“Baby and wedding picture kind of thing?”
“Not exactly. More like…” The cell phone on the counter rang, interrupting him. Colette hopped up to answer it.
“Hello…”
“Colette, glad I caught you.” Her normally calm dad sounded a bit frantic.
Oh, hi, Dad. Something wrong?”
He began speaking rapid-fire, and she blinked as she tried to make sense of his words about three miniature horses.
Out of habit, she paced across the kitchen as she listened to his dilemma. “Three? How bad?”
“Bad, honey.” Even over the phone, the concern in his voice made her gut churn.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Okay, I can get the cottage closed up and make the nine o’clock ferry. I’ll be there by noon. Love you, Dad. Bye.” She hung up the phone and turned back to Ian.
“Trouble?” His eyebrow cocked up in question.
“Three miniature horses coming in from Gaylord. The police officer who called Dad said their owner’s been ill and the horses have been neglected for several months, which means they’re filthy and underweight.”
“You’ve got work to do.” He stood and crossed to the sink with his dirty dishes. “How long does it take to get a neglected animal healthy?”
“I always figure twice as long than the period they’ve been neglected, but that’s only recovering their health. Like people, they have trust issues and anxiety. Those can take years to recover from.” Colette moved around the kitchen cleaning up as she went with a cup of coffee clutched in one hand.
“Can I help with anything?”
“I’ll clean up the kitchen and call the MacLeans to come get the extra food. Will you lock up the windows and doors?”
“Sure, meet you at the front door.”
The churning in his stomach had little to do with the six-foot swells on Lake Superior and everything to do with the complicated mess he was in with Colette. Why did she have to be the owner of those damn eight hundred acres? Nothing was ever simple, especially things that looked simple. It was a lesson he’d learned in the army, but one he really wished didn’t have to follow him home.
Since the brilliant sunrise, the skies had become overcast and the wind stiff and cool. He snapped pictures of the turbulent lake, but more out of habit than artistic pleasure. A lone man in a dory rowed away from the dock area. Normally, Ian would have been plotting angles and playing with the light setting on his camera to capture the image of the red boat against the gray waves. This morning he was too distracted by her.
Colette chatted with the dock hand in the moments before the ferry departed. Romeo nervously crisscrossed the ground, catching the scent of something, but never straying far from his owner. When the ferry’s horn blasted a warning, Colette gave the man a quick hug and ran to the boat, the long-legged dog beside her. Together, they made the leap as the ferry pulled away from the dock.
“You like to make an entrance.” Ian grinned at her as she hurried over. “I bet I couldn’t have gotten away with that.”
“You’re a tourist. I’m a local. The rules are different.” She dumped her bag on t
he deck of the boat and leaned against the rail with Romeo by her side. They had the lower deck to themselves as the few other passengers waited in the small room on the upper level. An arc of spray came over the side and misted her hair. She turned her face into it and smiled. “Going to be a wild ride this morning.”
“Good thing it’s only five minutes long.”
“Do you get seasick?” She shifted closer to him with a look of concern on her face.
“No, I just don’t want my equipment to get wet.” He shielded his camera under the edge of his sweatshirt. Another wave shot over the side near him and drenched the deck of the boat. He backed away from the rail, glancing around for a safer location.
“Here,” she said, scooping up their bags, “under the overhang.” She strode toward a small area under the pilot’s house where they could see off the front and back of the ferry, but had the protection of a roof from the sides where the waves pounded the vessel. “I guess it wouldn’t have been a good morning for kayaking after all.”
“I’d like to take a rain check on that.”
“Yeah?” She smiled brightly at him
He nodded, feeling encouraged, and moved closer to her. “I’d also like to buy you dinner as a thank you for taking me in last night.”
“Is that the only reason you want to have dinner with me?” Her blue eyes flashed up at him as she tilted her head toward his.
She was flirting this morning; her reluctance of the night before seemed to have vanished, so he took a chance. “No,” he answered. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss and backed away slightly. “I want to meet your other dogs, two horses, donkey, and turkey buzzard.”
“Don’t forget the three miniature horses,” she whispered, blushing a little.
“Who could forget them?” His lips closed over hers for a second time, and he whispered back, “I’m no miniature horse, I can assure you.” When his arms wrapped around her slim waist in a light embrace, his mind wondered what the hell he was doing, but his body understood it all perfectly. He wanted her completely, and it had nothing to do with a real estate deal. He hadn’t known her long, but he felt he knew her well. And he knew he wanted her affection, her comfort, and the life she had to offer. He wanted her. But he was a liar, a cheat, an enemy interloper. Why would she want anything lasting to do with him?
He pulled her against him and balanced them both on the rocking deck of the ferry. The waves smacked the sides, but neither cared as they clung together in the small shelter. A sudden lurch of the ferry sent them stumbling back a few steps, threatening to break the spell between them, and he feared she would pull away. When the boat righted itself, she lifted her head up to him and, with a shy smile, stroked her fingers over his cheek.
He wanted to stay right here forever, but far too soon, the boat bumped against the dock on the mainland and the scurry of other passengers gathering their bags forced them to separate.
“That’s one way to pass the time on the ferry,” she commented, smoothing her wrinkled shirt as the dreamy expression disappeared from her face. “Never done that before.”
“I’m regretting the short trip.” He picked up both their bags, already missing the intimacy between them. He couldn’t let it end here. “I know you have to get back, but I’d like more time with you. When can I see you again?”
“Here’s my card,” she dug a business card out of the exterior pocket of her bag. She pointed to the number at the bottom. “Call my cell.”
“Cherry Ridge Animal Rescue?” He read, pretending that he didn’t already know the name of her center and didn’t have all of her phone numbers in a file on his computer. If life were like photography, he’d go back to the original image and re-print what had brought them together in a different way. But it wasn’t possible.
“I thought it best to leave the name of the farm in the title. Most people in the area know where it’s at.”
“Been there a long time?” They stepped onto the dock, hand-in-hand, and made their way to the parking lot, Romeo galloping alongside them, like they were a couple returning from a weekend away.
“Over a hundred years,” she answered, giving his hand a squeeze.
“Are there cherries?”
“Some, not as many as there used to be.” She clicked the button on her keychain and the lights of a Jeep Patriot flashed. He stored her bag in the back before catching her hand again. The look of expectation on her face gave him no doubt about what she wanted.
He warned himself to keep his intentions and the kiss light, but here in the windswept parking lot with a willing woman in front of him, light proved to be an impossibility. The way she wrapped herself around him left him in no doubt of her desires. When he finally lifted his lips from hers, he said, “I’ll call you.”
He headed across the lot, only allowing himself to look back when he reached his car. She was already pulling onto the road, but he caught her brief wave before she was gone.
Ian put his bag and camera in the trunk and inspected his other equipment to make sure everything else was all right from the unexpected night in the car. With that done, he thought about the drive ahead. He had to wind his way through the Upper Peninsula, across the Mackinac Bridge, and into Boyne without losing his mind by overanalyzing the situation he’d gotten himself in.
He flipped the ignition of his Chrysler 300 and a light on the dashboard flashed insistently at him. Damn these new cars, something was always flashing a warning. He wanted his old car, where when it broke down it was a surprise. Inconvenient as hell, but at least a surprise. None of this flash and worry crap. When he shifted the car into gear, he saw it was only the low fuel indicator. He needed to calm down and come up with a plan that would get him everything he wanted.
He wished like hell he hadn’t presented her with a false image of himself. He’d have to pay for that eventually. Still, he couldn’t help imagining a more developed relationship with Colette, one that had nothing to do with business.
The word “business” ended his brief daydream.
Shaking his head, he pulled onto the highway. No plan was going to get him Colette, the property, and his father’s acceptance. He didn’t bother to think of his father’s love. He’d settle for the old man’s approval. He’d never had it in thirty-two years and had convinced himself that he didn’t care. But since his mother’s death last year, keeping a connection to his only parent took on a new significance. No matter how difficult a man he was or what kind of price Ian might have to pay.
His track record with his dad was a series of false starts and abysmal failures, but did he have a better chance with Colette? Reviewing his life as he drove the lonely roads of the Upper Peninsula, he wasn’t impressed with himself. He hadn’t adjusted to civilian life yet after years in the military. He didn’t have his life anywhere near in order. No real job, no permanent place to live, and a detached relationship with his father. Not exactly Prince Charming material for a woman like Colette.
Chapter Four
Colette brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her ponytail holder was slowly working its way loose, leaving her hair a jumbled mess. When she got a minute, she’d fix it, but so far the day was too busy. The morning started early with a trip to one of the local horse farms. She and her dad had delivered twin foals a little past three. Just like human babies, animal newborns often came in the night.
Breakfast had been a granola bar and a cup of coffee in the truck as she drove into Petoskey to open the veterinary clinic. She sucked in a breath when the mama cat on the exam table scratched at her arm and hissed. Her cell phone on her desk across the hall rang for the third time that morning while she got the cat back into her carrier. Another high-pitched beep sounded when the call went to voicemail.
Soon as she had the chance, she’d check the messages, fix her hair, and gather her sanity, but she’d been telling herself that for the past two hours. It could be a call about a rescue animal, but they would call the clinic since it wa
s open. More likely, it was Ian. She hadn’t heard a word from him in the past three days and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Half her brain wondered what she’d been thinking inviting him to the cottage and kissing him. The other half wondered why he hadn’t called yet. Had it all meant nothing to him? The kiss on the ferry ride was possibly the most exciting kiss of her life. If he was looking for encouragement, she’d certainly given it to him. But what should she do now? Get involved with a man who was vaguely from Chicago and Virginia and nowhere?
Still, he was the only man she’d met in a while who caught her interest.
The short, yappy barks of a Chihuahua signaled the arrival of Pancho Villa, a little dog who suffered from a Napoleon complex. He had to be caged in a cat carrier to prevent him from pressing all of the big dogs into his private army. As if that weren’t enough, Colette’s spine stiffened when she heard Jamie’s voice in the waiting room.
Anything could happen if her six-year-old nephew was around. Jamie could run so fast his shoes flew off and landed on roofs. Jamie could find the one pile of dog crap in the yard and track it throughout the house. Jamie could somehow sit on a piece of bright pink sidewalk chalk and smear it all over his little rump. If Jamie was in the waiting room, all hell would break loose.
“Jamie, get away from Pancho’s cage.” The sharp tones of Colette’s mother cut the air from behind the receptionist’s desk. Colette stepped into the long hallway that ran down the center of the clinic and briskly walked to the waiting room to head off trouble.
“But, Grandma, I just wanted to see…” Whatever Jamie was going to say ended in a cacophony as Pancho launched from his carrier. Six pairs of hands reached for the little dog to no avail as he ran down the hall. With the skill of an experienced tracker, Pancho found his way to Trigger, a Great Dane, who stood, wet and shaking, in the bathing tub at the end of the hall.
In fear or in some age-old instinct to follow the little general, Trigger leaped from the tub, knocking the hose off the faucet and spewing water everywhere. A chorus of wailing and barking rose through the air, inciting Trigger to skid wildly down the hall spreading water and suds in his wake.
