by Debbie Mason
She glanced at Simon, following the direction of his bright blue gaze. A fortysomething woman strode toward them carrying a broom. She had a silver streak in the front of her dark hair and wore a short-sleeve black uniform dress with a black and white apron. It was a woman from housekeeping. Ivy, Olivia thought her name was. She helped out at the events too. Olivia noticed her lips turn down when she spotted Simon, her hand tightening around the broom.
“What have you been up to, Simon? She doesn’t look happy with you.” Olivia put a protective arm around him. She wasn’t really a cat person, but she’d grown fond of Simon. He had an odd habit of showing up whenever Olivia needed a friend.
Like Colleen, he knew all her secrets. At least Olivia didn’t have to worry about the truth getting out. Although, she did have a small fright when she’d discovered Colleen had written everyone’s stories in a leather-bound book—The Secret Keeper of Harmony Harbor—and it had gone missing.
Since the manor had been extensively searched, Olivia’s fears had been somewhat alleviated. Even if there was a book, she assumed it had gone missing long before Colleen died. So the Gallagher matriarch wouldn’t have had the opportunity to write down the secrets Olivia had shared not long after she’d arrived at the manor.
“Is there a problem, Ivy?” she asked when the woman approached. At the sound of Finn and Sophie calling to Miller, Olivia scooped up Simon and came to her feet.
The woman sucked on her teeth, lifting her chin at Simon. “Is he your cat?”
“In a way, I suppose he is. We’ve all adopted him. He belongs to the manor, something of a mascot.” Olivia smiled.
The woman didn’t return her smile. Her eyes flicked beyond Olivia, then back to her. “I’d suggest you all find yourself a new mascot before this one lands you in hot water with the Health Department.”
That’s all they needed. “Was he in the kitchen? He’s a very good mouser, so perhaps—”
“There weren’t any mice around. He was—”
At the sound of Miller barking, Simon hissed and jumped from Olivia’s arms. She turned to see retriever galloping down the path toward her, his tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. Then he veered off the path and into the garden, tromping on the pink tulips and anything else that got in his way.
“Miller, come out of the garden this—” Olivia began, but the friendly retriever gave her a playful bark and then picked up…her glove. “Miller, no, drop the glove. Drop it now!”
Chapter Two
Finn Gallagher stood on the garden path calling after the willowy redhead running after his dog. “Dana, don’t chase him! He thinks you want to play!”
If he wasn’t concerned about Miller getting lost in the woods because some crazy woman wouldn’t listen, Finn might take the time to figure out what it said about Dana Templeton that she was gardening in a pink shirt and a pair of khaki slacks stuffed into beige rubber boots decorated with pink flowers. He thought it was seriously weird that someone coordinated their wardrobe to dig in the dirt.
She whipped around, the pink floppy hat falling off her head. If he didn’t know better, it appeared her shoulder-length red hair was about to do the same.
“You don’t understand. He has my gardening gloves!”
“Good God, woman, I’ll buy you another pair! Just stop running after him.” He blew out an annoyed breath when she ignored him and continued to sprint down the path. He didn’t know what ticked him off more—that she wouldn’t listen to him or that he now had to chase after her and his dog.
“It’s okay. Don’t strain your leg, Finn. I’ll go,” his sister-in-law offered.
Huh, he didn’t think anything could have ticked him off more than Dana and his inability to run like he used to, but his sister-in-law had just proved him wrong.
He started after Dana. “Thanks, but I’ve got this. I’m not an invalid, you know,” he said to Sophie. Then realizing he was being hypersensitive, he added over his shoulder, “My overprotective baby brother would have my head if he knew I let you run a five-mile marathon when you’re pregnant and not feeling well. Go home and put your feet up, have a nap.”
Sophie called after him, sounding a little sheepish, “It was just an excuse. I’m feeling fine. I didn’t want Kitty and Tina to know we’re having an early Mother’s Day celebration with Rosa today.”
Their grandmothers had a long-standing feud. He didn’t know what it was about or if they’d just taken up where their DiRossi and Gallagher ancestors had left off. According to local folklore, the original feud had started sometime in the seventeen hundreds. Apparently his grandmother had started this one by insisting that Sophie’s mother, Tina, stay at the manor. A move that was guaranteed to tick off Rosa, who wasn’t exactly her former daughter-in-law’s number one fan.
“I’ve got your back, but you might want to…” He lifted his chin at the dark-haired woman crouched on the path picking up the flowerpots that Miller had bowled over. Because he wasn’t paying attention, Finn’s foot landed awkwardly on the uneven woodland trail. His pained grimace turned into an eye roll when he heard Miller’s playful bark and Dana’s panicked cries for his dog to stop before he dies.
Talk about a drama queen. Then again, maybe it was a reaction to whatever drug she was on. She might be delusional, but she was also fast. He was running full-out…He shook his head at his assessment.
His full-out was equivalent to someone jogging. Finn ignored the voice in his head that said he had to accept his limitations, that he was lucky to have survived the rebels’ attack. The voice sounded a lot like his old man’s.
Finn grimaced, and this time it wasn’t due to the twisting pain in his leg. It was because Sophie was right; the family wouldn’t be happy about him leaving. Grams, never one to let the grass grow under her feet, as his great-grandmother Colleen used to say, had already come up with what she seemed to believe was a winning strategy.
First, she and her fellow members of the Widows Club had decided he should take over for Doc Bishop, the local family physician, who was retiring next week. Not that it was going to happen, because the last thing Finn wanted was to move back home and have his every move dissected, discussed, and evaluated.
He loved his family, but really, what thirty-four-year-old guy would subject himself to 24/7 surveillance and interference? Grams had proven him right when she suggested Dana would make a wonderful wife. Wife? He barely knew the woman. But he’d seen and heard enough to know that she wasn’t his type, even when she wasn’t wasted.
Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of pink through the trees. They were closing in on the footbridge that arched over the tide pools. The bridge connected the estate to the windswept spit of land his oldest brother, Griff, a former Navy SEAL, had recently purchased. Griff and his wife, Sophie’s cousin, were renovating the lighthouse.
They’d be back in a few days from their honeymoon…and he’d break the news he was leaving the next day. He’d put off telling his family. Mostly because he hated goodbyes. And it was tough to hold his ground in the face of their sorrow. He hoped none of them cried. Tears got to him every time. There was a part of him that wanted to sneak off in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.
“Miller, stop this instant!”
The image of what his family would do to him if he left without saying goodbye faded at the sound of Dana’s voice. Her tone was all proper and superior. He thought of it as her high-society voice. Come to think of it, that might have been the reason he’d taken an almost instant dislike to Dana.
It wasn’t her fault. She reminded him of Amber, a woman he’d dated while doing his residency. Amber and her mother, who lunched and raised funds for the hospital like the rest of their moneyed friends. Women who had no idea how the other half lived and had no interest in knowing. The only thing they were concerned about was their social standing, having a wing named after the family, and the preferential treatment they felt they were entitled to due to their connections and their husband’s or dadd
y’s bank accounts.
But even if Dana were his type, the last thing Finn wanted was a wife. He didn’t do long-term relationships. He liked his women fun and fleeting. Did he have issues? Sure he did, and he’d made friends with his issues years before. And if his grandmother thought that was going to change anytime soon, she was as delusional as the woman she was trying to set him up with. The one who was currently on her knees and elbows, her backside in the air, playing tug-of-war with Miller.
Now, Finn might not have any interest in the woman, but he had to admit she had one great-looking ass. He wondered how he’d failed to notice that. Probably because her conservative wardrobe was classy and not sexy or the least bit revealing. He couldn’t help but wonder what else she’d been hiding, because that was one sweet…
As though his matchmaking grandmother could see that particular thought bubble over his head, Finn quickly burst it by reminding himself that Dana was the reason for the persistent throb in his leg.
He limped to the small hill in the clearing where the tug-of-war continued. Miller was winning, and Dana was…Oh hell, she was sobbing. “Please, I don’t want you to die. Please let me have the glove.”
“Hey, come on, don’t cry. Miller isn’t going to die because he ate your garden glove.” He had to work to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Beige with pink flowers, the glove matched her gardening outfit to a T. His leg screaming in protest as he crouched beside her, he bit back a curse and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, if you saw what he eats, you wouldn’t be worried about a little—”
She looked up at him, a tear slipping from eyes that almost looked black. “No, you don’t understand. The glove came in contact with a monkshood leaf. They’re highly poisonous.” A sob broke in her voice. “Does…does he look dizzy or confused to you?”
The slivers of bright blue that ringed her dilated pupils reminded him that he was dealing with a woman whose feelings and thoughts may not exactly be grounded in reality.
“Let go of the glove, okay? I’ll handle it from here.” He spoke to her in low, soothing tones, smiling to let her know he wasn’t mad and everything was good.
Her eyes narrowed. “I am not high, so don’t speak to me like I am. If you want to save your dog, call a vet and then pry his mouth open while I get the glove.” She tossed him her phone.
He felt bad that she’d obviously overheard his conversation with Sophie, but her clipped and proper tone took his guilt down a notch or two. And maybe because it did, and his kneecap felt like it was tearing through his skin, he said, “Your dilated pupils and glazed eyes say you’re high and so does the way you’re enunciating your words. You’re trying not to slur. And FYI, I’m a doctor, and”—he pointed at the dog—“Miller is not dying.” He swore under his breath when the retriever rolled on his back and pretended to be dead. It’s a trick they’d taught him when he was a puppy. But he only did it when Finn or his brothers used the word dead or when they shot him with their fingers.
Finn only had a moment to wonder whether Miller was confused by the word dying or the hand gesture before Olivia threw herself at the dog. It looked like she was about to give Miller mouth-to-mouth. Finn had to admit that his opinion of her went up a couple of notches at that.
But it went down when she turned on him. “What is wrong with you? Don’t just sit there—do something. Call the vet, do chest compressions, just do something!” she cried, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Finn sighed, leaned over, and picked up the infamous glove Miller had dropped when he rolled over. “Miller, buddy, go fetch,” Finn said, pretending to throw the glove.
Miller rolled over so fast that he took out Dana. Finn assumed it was either because her rubber boots slid on the grass or because her balance was impaired due to the fact that she was high.
She lay flat on her back, blinking, and then slowly turned her head to look at him. “He’s not dying?”
He bit back a smile. She looked pretty cute lying there, and he wasn’t going to kick her when she was down. With a hint of pink tinting her pale cheeks, it was obvious she was embarrassed for overreacting. Miller had galloped toward the white wooden footbridge in search of the elusive glove, snuffling the patches of clover. Before he gave up and came back, Finn examined the glove, lifting it to his nose. “It smells like—”
She made a grab for the glove. “No, don’t, there could still be— Oh!” she gasped, and began rolling down the hill.
He stared at her, kind of in shock and then positive that she’d realize all she had to do was put out a hand or a foot and stop her downward momentum. But no, apparently, she was just going to roll right on down the hill and into the—
“Dana!” he yelled, lunging in an effort to reach her. At the same time he made a grab for her, she lifted her head, and his fingers got tangled in her hair. Figuring the pain of him tearing a hunk of hair from her scalp would be worse than her landing in the tide pool, he was about to let go when she jerked away, leaving him holding an entire head of hair. He didn’t have time to wonder why she was wearing a wig because at that moment he realized he was in trouble.
Dana’s jarring movement had not only left him holding a fistful of red hair, but it’d also thrown him completely off balance. Over his grunts of pain as he repeatedly rolled over his bad leg, he heard a splash and a shriek. Then a whoomph when he landed on top of her in the tide pool.
It was a surprisingly soft landing. Her boringly expensive wardrobe did a good job of concealing not only a nicely rounded backside, but some other intriguing curves as well. And for the first time—since they were practically nose to nose—he noticed her features were softer than he expected.
Her creamy skin was flawless, the defined bow of her full upper lip sexy, and her blue eyes…were not blue. Well, the left one was but the right one was brown. Okay, that was a little weird; he could have sworn…He didn’t have time to contemplate why the woman was in disguise because, at that moment, she made a funny sound in her throat.
After a quick visual search ensured that she wasn’t outwardly injured or lying on a rock, he realized he was probably responsible for her distress. He wasn’t exactly a lightweight. “Sorry, just give me a sec, and I’ll get—” He bit down a pained groan. His leg had locked. He wasn’t sure how to break it to Dana that they might be stuck in this position for a while. He looked over his shoulder to see Miller sitting at the top of the hill with his head cocked as if to say, Stupid humans.
“Hurry! There’s something biting…Ow!” Dana yelped, pushing against Finn’s chest while trying to move out from under him.
His brain flashed a warning: Do not react to the soft, tantalizing body parts rubbing against you. The warning proved unnecessary when her knee slammed into his. Hers was sharp and bony, and his had only recently recovered from knee surgery. “Dammit, woman, are you trying to ensure I never walk again?” he asked through clenched teeth as he let go of her wig to grab his leg.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you really need to get off me. Something bit me and…,” she babbled, and then howled, “Ow!”
“I’m trying, and it’s probably a minnow. So could you just relax and stop yelling in my ear?” he shouted, and then felt bad for doing so because, for all he knew, she was hallucinating.
“You don’t have to be so cross. It’s not my fault something is biting me.”
Cross? Seriously, who talked like that? Oh right, she did. Somehow, despite lying in a pool of stagnant water, she still managed to pull off her superior act. He supposed he was being unfair. She’d never been anything but nice to him.
Unfair or not, Dana was the reason they were currently in the position they were in. And if the crippling pain in his leg was any indication, she had more than likely set his recovery back by a couple of weeks. So maybe he was cross after all. Because she’d just ensured he wouldn’t be leaving Harmony Harbor next week as he had planned.
He scowled down at her as he admitted the embarrassing t
ruth. “My leg locked. Just give me a minute.”
A flash of panic and then frustration crossed her face, but both were quickly replaced with sympathy. He’d prefer the frustration, which obviously he wasn’t going to get now. He shouldn’t have opened his big mouth.
“I’m so sorry. Let me see if I can just move…” She wrapped her arms around him and bit her bottom lip to stifle an ouch from what he imagined was another nip from her pal the minnow.
At that moment, he kind of envied the minnow. Just a normal guy reaction, he assured himself. It had nothing to do with…She lifted her hips, and he stifled a groan. Good God, he had to get off her. “Miller! Come on, boy. Come play.” He hoped Dana didn’t pick up on the desperation in his voice.
It didn’t seem like she noticed, or maybe she did and thought it would be fun to torture him, because she kept lifting her hips while yelling, “Get off me. Oh, please get off me.”
As Miller galloped to their rescue, latching on to the back of Finn’s shirt with his teeth to drag him off Dana, he realized she’d been saying it. And he knew this because when she jumped from the tide pool and began dancing in a circle, she cried, “Get it off me. Please, get it off me.”
He winced. It wasn’t a minnow after all. She had a green crab clinging to her backside.
Chapter Three
Olivia glanced over her shoulder and yelped at the sight of a green crab hanging onto her butt. She shook and wiggled in an effort to shake the crab loose. It didn’t work out as she had hoped. As though the crustacean were holding on for dear life, its slime-green pincers sank deeper into her butt cheek. Watching Finn struggling to his feet, Olivia felt bad for being unable to contain a tortured whimper.
“Okay, I realize you have a problem taking my advice, but I’m going to try one more time,” Finn said. “Stop shaking your ass.”
