Rose (Beach Brides Book 9)

by Shanna Hatfield

  In a move that made Rose nearly swoon, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers before striding down the steps, and out into the bright morning sunshine.

  “Oh, my heavens!” Zetta loudly proclaimed.

  Rose spun around as the two old women stood near the stairs, using the current issue of the town’s travel guide to fan their faces.

  “Rosie, girl, that man is quite something,” Lucille declared. “When he kissed your hand, I thought I might faint.”

  Rose giggled. “Me, too.” She looped her arms around theirs and guided them back to the craft room. “I suppose now I’ll have to tell you all about how we met online.”

  Zetta’s vermillion hair bounced every which direction as she vigorously nodded her head. “You sure do, honey. We’ll need some more of those cakes to sustain us through the conversation, though. If you don’t have more cakes, some of the cookies I spied in the jar on the counter will work just fine. We must have sustenance.”

  “Of course.” Rose laughed and rushed back to the kitchen.

  How would she make it through the day knowing she’d spend the evening with the mysterious T? And how in the world had he found her?

  Chapter Four

  Tanner forced his feet to carry him down the sidewalk and across the street to the Prom. What he really wanted to do was turn right around, march back inside One Vintage Rose, and take Rose in his arms.

  Rose, his Rose, was the beautiful girl he’d seen in the moonlight last night.

  What were the chances of that happening? Of the woman who’d bewitched him on the beach being the same one as the girl who’d enchanted him with her messages. The odds had to be astronomical. Maybe he should purchase a lottery ticket or search for a four-leaf clover because he was obviously experiencing quite a lucky streak. Not that he really believed in luck, but at that particular moment, he did feel incredibly blessed.

  He’d spent half the night in the big, comfortable bed at the yurt, tossing and turning, trying to get the vision of the moonlit girl out of his head. He hadn’t come to Seaside to go all gaga over a woman who seemed more dreamlike than real. The entire purpose for his visit was to meet Rose.

  Something about her, about her emails, had left him so restless and… he didn’t even know words to describe how he felt. Unsettled. Troubled. Ill at ease. Enthralled and fascinated. But it was more than that. Different than that.

  The past few weeks as he and Rose emailed back and forth, he’d gone from thinking about her occasionally to thinking about her all the time. He figured if he actually came to Seaside and met her, satisfied his curiosity, thoughts of her would stop tormenting him.

  As he flew to Portland, he’d done his best to envision her as a little homely thing, albeit one with a sharp mind and a wonderful way of expressing herself, at least in emails.

  Yet, last night when he’d watched the lovely young woman playing in the water, something in him whispered “it’s her.”

  How could his head or heart have known the woman was Rose?

  Rose Lawson.

  Now, he at least knew her full name. Knew she was young and lovely and more than he’d even dared dream.

  Filled with anxiety and anticipation, he’d eaten breakfast at a restaurant across the street from her shop. He sat at a window booth, waiting for her doors to open. The moment he saw the two old women go inside, he knew it was time to meet Rose. Several minutes passed while he gave himself a mental pep talk. Finally, he stood and paid his bill then made his way to One Vintage Rose.

  When he opened the door and stepped inside the restored Victorian home, his gaze skimmed across the beautifully decorated entry as the scent of fresh cut roses surrounded him. As he looked around, he noticed the luscious woman smiling at him as she made her way down the hall.

  He almost choked when he recognized his moonlit girl. It took him all of five seconds to decide she had to be Rose. Before a minute passed, he concluded he was in love.

  Nervous beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life, the edgy feelings amplified the moment he touched her hand. The fiery sensations rocketing through him had to be the reason he stuttered over his name. He hadn’t done that since he was nine. After years and years of speech therapy, he thought he’d outgrown the affliction. Clearly, he had not.

  Tanner sank down on a bench and leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees. His mind tried to reason through everything that had happened. His mother found a bottle on a beach, read the message inside, and decided the girl was the one for him. Tanner took the bottle and message, with no intention of reaching out to the person who wrote the letter, yet he couldn’t throw the bottle away. And two years later, here he was, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

  No one just looked up one day and fell in love. Did they?

  Perhaps he was confusing love with infatuation, or something baser. That had to be it. Rose was so, so different from any female he knew, especially any he’d dated.

  Most girls in his circle knew about his family’s wealth and he wasn’t ever sure if they dated him because they hoped to get their hands on the money he’d one day inherit or if they liked him. After a few dates, he generally tired of them anyway. The longest he’d ever dated anyone was a girl in his college days, but she’d left him high and dry a month before graduation when she ran off with a guy in a grunge rock band.

  Rose had no idea about his family’s net worth. She didn’t seem to care what he did for a living. He was sure he could have been one step above homeless bum and she wouldn’t have greeted him any differently.

  The look of shocked recognition in her gorgeous green eyes was unmistakable as she dropped the tray of teacakes all over the entry’s hardwood floor.

  Thoughts of the silver tabby cat and two lively old women helping clean up the mess made him grin. Rose was right when she said in her letter that life in her world was never dull. That might be a gross understatement.

  As he bent to help her pick up the cakes, he breathed in the fragrance of her, of roses and something alluring he couldn’t even define. Pins contained her tawny hair up on her head, but curls escaped, framing her face and taunting him as they fell against her long neck.

  The dress she wore, something that would have looked at home on the Titanic, accented both the green of her eyes and the perfect curves of her figure. Without a doubt, she was the most feminine woman he’d ever seen.

  Even now, his fingers itched to touch her creamy skin, to burrow into that thick golden brown hair.

  Tanner had to do something to gain control of his thoughts and make it through this day. He’d rather hoped Rose would invite him to stay for lemonade with the two old women. Instead, she said she’d meet him for dinner.

  Right now, the time until then seemed like a lifetime away instead of seven hours.

  Determined to explore the area, Tanner walked back to his SUV and drove to Astoria.

  To kill time, Tanner spent a good part of the day exploring Fort Clatsop. Originally, it was home to the Corps of Discovery from December 1805 to March 1806. A replica of the original structure offered visitors the chance to see a fort comparable to the one built by the explorers. He wandered through an interpretive center and exhibit hall, checked out two short films, and browsed around the gift shop.

  When he happened upon a group of students led by a tour guide, he hung at the back of their party, listening to the details shared by the guide and the questions the children asked. Tanner always got such a kick out of the way kids’ minds worked. Interacting with children in a similar type of setting was one of the reasons he loved his job.

  After the children moved on, Tanner introduced himself to one of the park guides and spoke with the man at length, then made his way back to the gift shop. He purchased two books, one about Lewis and Clark and the other about Pacific Northwest history, before returning to the yurt.

  He sat in an Adirondack chair in the afternoon sun, listening to the birds in the trees and the occa
sional plop of fish and frogs in the pond as he read several chapters from the Lewis and Clark book.

  Warmed by the sun and drowsy from lack of sleep the night before, he dozed. He awoke with the book open on his chest and a squirrel watching him from the base of the tree on the other side of the pond.

  Tanner grinned and swiped his hand over his face, brushing away the vestiges of sleep. He went inside the yurt, glanced at the clock, and rushed into the bathroom to take a shower and shave for the second time that day.

  He hurried to dress in a pair of khaki slacks with a blue polo shirt, shoved his feet into shoes, and rushed out the door.

  On his way to the restaurant, he stopped at a florist shop to purchase flowers for Rose. As he stood looking over the bouquets, he had no idea what to buy. Obviously, she liked roses. That was clear from the big cabbage rose wallpaper in the entry to the vase of freshly cut roses by the door.

  Regardless, roses seemed too easy, too clichéd. His gaze roved around the options and settled on a bottle green vase full of white flowers. White roses mingled with white Asiatic lilies, calla lilies, snapdragons, and a few other flowers he didn’t recognize.

  “I’d like that one,” he said, pointing to the vase as he removed his wallet from his pocket.

  “An excellent choice, sir,” the woman behind the counter said. “Would you like it delivered? A card included?”

  Although he originally intended to give the flowers to Rose himself, he liked the idea of surprising her with a delivery. “Delivered would be great. Is it too late to have these delivered today?”

  “Not if I charge you an extra five dollars,” the woman said, sliding an enclosure card across the counter.

  “Perfect. If you get them there before six, I’ll add an extra ten.”

  “Done!” the woman said with a grin, ringing up his total. “Are these for a friend?”

  “They are.” Tanner nodded. He returned his credit card to his wallet after the woman swiped it through the card reader. “Why?”

  The florist pushed her glasses up on her nose. “This is the deluxe version of our Forever Friendship bouquet.”

  “Forever Friendship?” Tanner asked, wondering if he should have chosen something else. He certainly hoped to develop more than just friendship with Rose. “Would something else be better for a special friend?”

  The woman read the name and address he’d written on the delivery information sheet. She shook her head with a broad grin. “These are perfect for her.”

  Relieved, Tanner relaxed shoulders he hadn’t even realized he’d stiffened. “Great. Thank you for making sure she receives them tonight.”

  “My pleasure,” the woman said, tucking the card into a little plastic pick and inserting the stem into the vase.

  With thirty minutes to kill before he needed to meet Rose, he wondered if he should go to the restaurant and save a table. Surely, a small town like Seaside wouldn’t be that bustling on a week night.

  He drove to the restaurant and parked, still undecided what to do. It was too hot to sit in the SUV unless he left it running, so he got out and walked along the sidewalk, observing the nearby businesses.

  When he’d made his way down a few blocks then back up the other side, he crossed the street and went into the restaurant, surprised to see it was packed.

  He gave the hostess his name and let her know he needed a table for two, then sat down to wait.

  Five minutes later, Rose breezed inside carrying the faintest scent of roses and looking as fresh and dewy as one in the same vintage dress she’d worn earlier.

  Her face lit with a smile as he stood to greet her. Uncertain how familiar he should be with her, he settled on taking her hand in his. When she gave his a light squeeze, he grinned.

  “You look lovely,” he said, wondering if she’d somehow grown prettier during the day. Her cheeks were flushed, but the pink suffusing them only made her appear more beautiful.

  “Thank you.” Self-consciously, she reached up and poked in a few loose hairpins. “The flowers you sent are absolutely gorgeous and so perfect. It’s very kind of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Pleased she liked the flowers, he was glad he had them delivered. His gaze traveled over her, from the top of her head to the toes of her vintage leather shoes.

  Absently, he wondered how long it took her to fashion her hair like that, with it piled on top of her head in a poufy style that seemed just right for her. Before he mentioned it or did something to embarrass himself, the hostess showed them to their table. Thankfully, it was a small table for two by a window.

  Tanner held out Rose’s chair for her, drawing on his best manners. He took his seat and studied her. Full, lush lips were naturally pink, without a hint of lipstick or gloss. Expressive green eyes reminded him of sea glass he’d seen in Florida when he was a boy. Smooth skin once again begged to be touched, even if he had to sit on his hands to keep from doing so. And Miss Rose Lawson had what he could only think of as a stubborn chin. He could picture her setting it defiantly if someone got on her bad side or offered a challenge.

  “Thank you for meeting me this evening,” he said, accepting the menu the server held out to him. She set glasses of ice water in front of them then took their drink orders before bustling away from their table.

  “Thank you for inviting me.” Rose sipped her water then set the glass back on the table. “Honestly, Tanner, I’m a little surprised you’re here. You never mentioned the idea of meeting. I just got your email this morning asking for my phone number and I was trying to decide if it was a good idea to share it with you before replying. How did you find me?”

  Tense, he jiggled his foot beneath the table, causing the silverware to jangle. “I, um… well, you see…” Tanner took a moment to collect his thoughts before he started stuttering again. “You did say you lived on the rugged Oregon coast in a seaside town. Only you capitalized Seaside. Then your email address is One Vintage Rose. I Googled your business name with Seaside, and it was easy to find your shop. At least I hoped it was your shop.” His foot ceased its nervous dance and he set his hands on the table. His left hand toyed with his knife while his right drummed out a discordant beat. “I know it’s crazy of me to just show up like this, but I wanted to meet you.”

  At her wary glance, he continued. “I promise I’m not a serial killer, stalker, psycho, or weirdo. If you don’t believe me, I’ll call my boss and you can ask him. I’d have you talk to my mother, but she’s a little biased. Besides, if she finds out I’m with you, she’ll take the first plane here to meet you. I promise you, no one wants that to happen.”

  Rose laughed. The soft, joyous sound pierced his heart. “I won’t call your mother, then, but a reference or two might be nice.” She leaned toward him, as though she planned to share a secret and lowered her voice. “Lucille and Zetta practically held me down and forced me to tell them how we met. They both made me promise to call as soon as I get home this evening and if I’m not back by nine, they plan to call the police and report a missing person.”

  It was Tanner’s turn to laugh at the antics of the two old women. “They are special to you, aren’t they?”

  Rose nodded. “They are. I’ve known them my whole life. My grandmother was friends with them. When she died…, well, they helped me through more than one difficult time in my life. They stop by my shop almost daily. As you may have noticed, Zetta enjoys a sweet or two… or ten. If I’m short staffed, Lucille has been known to help.”

  “I think it’s great you have them around. And your cat keeps an eye on things, too.”

  Rose smiled. “Tumnus was full grown when I found him down on the beach. I don’t know what happened, but he had a broken leg and his ear had been torn to shreds. I took him to the vet and kept him while he recuperated. I asked all around town if anyone was missing a cat, but no one claimed him, so he stayed.” She picked up her menu and perused the selections. “He keeps me company when the house is too quiet.”

  The server brou
ght their drinks and took their orders. After she moved on to another table, Tanner drank deeply from his glass of iced tea and studied Rose. “You never mentioned in your emails that you dress up in vintage clothes. What era is that from?”

  She glanced down, as though suddenly recalling what she wore. “This is a style from 1913. It’s actually a reproduction. Most women were so small back then, and fabric like this didn’t survive well, unfortunately. For business purposes, I visit more than my share of estate sales. At one of them I attended, there was an old, beaten up trunk, the kind you would have seen people use in the late 1800s for travel. Anyway, I bought it for ten dollars, thinking I could use it out in the garden if it was beyond hope of repair. Grams and I worked for the better part of an hour to get into it. The hinges were rusted and we were afraid of causing further damage. When we opened it, it was full of old patterns, yards of fabrics, jars of buttons, and oodles of delicate trims. I was thrilled. Those patterns are what I use to make my dresses.”

  “You make your own clothes?” Tanner couldn’t hide his surprise. Most girls he knew wouldn’t have bothered with an old trunk. They certainly wouldn’t have gotten so excited at the contents. He didn’t think a single girl he’d dated even knew how to sew on a button. They sure couldn’t have made anything as elaborate and charming as the dress Rose wore.

  She nodded. “Just the clothes I wear at my shop. Once in a while I sew a costume for someone, but that’s about it.” She shrugged, as though her talents were no big deal.

  “You didn’t mention your various talents in any of your emails. You just said you ran an antique store.” Tanner leaned back and smirked. “When I picture an antique store I think of one of those dark, dusty places so crammed full of junk salvaged from yard sales and curbside trash that you can’t turn around without bumping into something. Your shop is incredible. It’s like being inside someone’s home. From the little I saw, you have it set up like rooms in a real house.”

  “Thank you. I do try to keep the displays visually appealing and give people room to move around without feeling crowded. Grams discovered long ago fewer pieces are broken when you don’t cram the merchandise together. Besides, people like things that are pleasing to the eye.”