by Lacey Baker
“The Bay is really pretty from here,” she said quietly. She hadn’t meant for him to hear or to actually respond.
“That’s the Miles River. It’s a tributary to the Bay, so I guess it’ll accept the compliment,” was his bland reply.
A response that almost had the effect of cold water splashing onto the minute rise in her body temperature at his proximity. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel any type of reaction to a man she’d just met, especially since their meeting was the farthest thing from a hookup. Admittedly, men and interacting with them were not Heaven’s forte. She accepted that just as she accepted all the other ups and downs of her life, and normally it didn’t bother her. But today, with this man …
She shook her head, closing her eyes momentarily, and reminded herself again that she didn’t like this man. The decision came quickly and definitively, and all other thoughts of Preston Cantrell sifted slowly away as she opened her eyes and looked to her left. There she saw a large gated area containing six puppies and one adult Labrador retriever. Just beyond their outdoor playpen was a lovely white gazebo that was the exact image she’d seen in the pamphlet she’d flipped through on her ride into town. From the airport Heaven had to hire a car service to bring her the hour-and-ten-minute drive to Sweetland. The service was apparently familiar with the town because it had a lot of literature about it in the pouch behind the passenger-side seat.
“Which one is Coco?” she asked, stepping down from the two stairs and planting her feet solidly in the plush grass.
Today, for a change, she’d forgone the pantsuit or skirt and jacket she normally wore. This time, because this appointment was purely about her and her personal contentment, and since she was desperately trying to separate the Heaven who used to work twelve- to eighteen-hour days from the one who someday wanted a real life, and because the airline had lost her luggage so she could not change, she wore a more casual outfit. As of right now, her wardrobe didn’t really consist of a lot of casual pieces, but she’d found this pair of jeans and shirt and figured they were sufficient. On her feet she’d decided on flats, leather, sensible. Now she wished she’d had something more feminine, more summer-like and open-toed so she could feel what she assumed was coolness from the soft-looking grass.
“How long are you staying in Sweetland?” he asked again because she hadn’t replied to his first inquiry.
Heaven was walking toward the play pen and had forgotten he was there. Or at least she’d tried to. He wasn’t making much effort to conceal the fact that he didn’t really want her to take his dog. But if that was the case, why put the ad online? Stop it! It’s not your job to analyze him. Or anybody else for that matter.
It had taken only two months of intense psychotherapy three times a week to get her to accept that point. And her trip to this small Eastern Shore town was part of her recovery. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
“Long enough to take care of all the remaining legalities of adopting Coco,” she told him. She’d already filled out an adoption application, submitted it, had a telephone interview and a house visit by one of the LovingLabs liaisons. This was the next-to-final step, meeting the Lab she’d fallen in love with. After this, there was just the signing of the adoption contract and receiving temporary licensing and tags. Then she and Coco could be on their way. She hoped all that could be handled today, but was prepared to find a hotel and stay overnight if need be.
“We both have to sign the contract,” he told her matter-of-factly.
“You’re the one who listed her on the website as available. That was a foolish idea if you really don’t want to give her up,” she replied with a tinge of annoyance.
They’d stopped right at the gate, and reluctantly she looked up at him. He was too handsome, she told herself. That was another reason she didn’t like him. Handsome men were trouble and for the most part ignored Heaven like the plague. And he looked dangerous. Well, not like he was going to turn around and choke her—that would be insane, and later she would admonish herself for being overly dramatic. Right now, though, she couldn’t help but look at him, at his dreamy dark brown eyes and thick neat eyebrows. He had an easy smile—or he had when he’d answered the door and when his sister had first entered the room. His complexion was almost golden, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his hair was raven black, cut short, waving a bit on the top.
She was in the process of gritting her teeth and trying to look away from him when he spoke again.
“I knew what I was doing when I listed her.”
He didn’t sound so much annoyed now as he did thoughtful. But Heaven didn’t want to think too hard on the emotional state of Preston Cantrell. His physical state was already wreaking havoc with her senses. “That’s good to know,” she finally replied.
They were standing at the gate, side by side, when Preston leaned forward and flipped the latch. The minute the gate was open every one of the puppies bounded for the exit, big feet and floppy ears whizzing past Heaven so fast she couldn’t help but let out a full-bodied laugh. Something she hadn’t done in a very long time.
It took about two minutes for her to figure out that what had been an explosion of too-cute and adorably furry little feet running through the grass was not as hilarious as she’d first thought. Or at least, Preston didn’t think so.
He ran after one puppy, stooping to scoop it up in his arms, then immediately bounding in the opposite direction for another. She figured she should help or meeting Coco might take even longer. After a couple of steps—she’d barely broken into a run—her hand was easily slipping beneath the collar of the adult Lab. Its pug nose and milk-chocolate-brown eyes stared up at Heaven, inciting another smile and a warmth that started a small swarm in the pit of her stomach.
Ushering the mother back to the pen, Heaven secured the gate, then took off to find another one of the runaway pups. In the midst of the hide-and-seek she played with the one pup that had found shelter behind a fat and cheerful azalea bush, she allowed herself to once again forget about her handsome host. Until she heard him curse loudly as he took off after another puppy. The curse didn’t sound friendly or remotely cheerful, as she’d begun to feel during her merry little chase. Her smile had only faltered slightly as she decided to give Preston a hand.
He’d run all the way across the yard, down to where the border of rocks started the incline. It didn’t take her long to catch up—she’d run track and field in high school, one of the only times she’d had a rebellious moment against her parents and won. By the time she hit the rocks Preston had already begun his trek down, taking slow steps, one in front of the other. The puppy, with its large feet and flopping ears, seemed to smile up at Preston. With each step the human took forward, the pup took one back.
“Come here, you little nightmare!” Preston yelled.
The puppy’s ears flopped and one of her back feet slipped on a rock. Heaven gasped.
“Maybe you should talk nicely to her, coax her to come back up,” she suggested.
“I know how to handle this,” he snapped.
Heaven didn’t bother gasping. It was no secret to her that men didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by a woman—even though in her experience with them, men rarely knew what to do on their own. Still, that was fine and good for Mr.-Rude-Arrogant-And-Totally-Hot. She wouldn’t tell him what to do again. She’d simply show him.
“Here, cutie-pie,” she coaxed, taking her first step down onto the rocks. “Come on, girl, come on.”
Her voice was soft as she moved slowly. The puppy had stopped her descent, flopping down onto her bottom and staring up at Heaven expectantly.
“That’s a good girl. That’s a good puppy. You’re such a pretty little one.” The puppy looked like she was lapping up every word, so Heaven continued until she was just an arm’s reach from the puppy.
Now she would show Preston Cantrell that she knew what she was talking about, that she could certainly handle a puppy and that he … H
eaven’s words were lost somewhere on the rocks with her balance as she toppled into the chilly river.
* * *
Preston saw it coming about three seconds before it happened. He’d already cursed and taken another step to catch her when Coco stood abruptly and with her always playful and mischievous manner dived feetfirst, ears following, into the water. Heaven reached for her—and toppled over the last couple of rocks into the water right along with the puppy.
With a curse, Preston made it to the bank, reaching into the water to grab Coco before she could swim away. Beside him Heaven sputtered, wiping her long hair back out of her face. Her blouse was plastered to her chest … and what a delectable chest it was. Hell, he thought with a pang of lust so potent he almost fell back on his own butt gaping at her.
“If you laugh I’ll punch you,” she said, her eyes narrowing to mere slits as she glared at him.
Preston put Coco down on the rocks and pointed directly at her. “Stay,” he said firmly, then turned back to Heaven.
“I wouldn’t think of laughing,” he told her with as straight a face as he could manage. Fifteen years ago he would have gaped and probably panted like Coco was presently doing. Now he remained stoic, or at least he hoped that’s what he was doing.
“Let me help you,” he offered, extending a hand to her.
“I don’t need—” she began. Then her narrow gaze shifted and a small smile touched the edge of her mouth. “Thank you, Mr. Cantrell.”
She reached for his hand, clasped the palm, and Preston instantly knew how this would end.
The splash of cold water wasn’t a total shock. Still, his body gave a little jolt as he, too, was submerged in the river. She had some strength to her, this pretty, sexy wisp of a woman. He hadn’t expected that. Nor had he really expected she would have the balls to pull him into the water. But she had, and Preston was mystified at his reaction to it all.
When she tried to make her way to the bank, standing because the water level at the entry of the river was only about three and a half feet, he got another glimpse of her extremely fine backside and had an idea of his own. He was just about to reach for her, about to take her by the waist and pull her back into the water with him. It had been a long time since he’d frolicked in the water with a wet and willing female—even though he admitted he might have to work on the willing part with her. But Coco had other plans. The hyperactive dog disobeyed Preston’s direct order and bounded back into the river, waddling until she was splashing water all over Preston and giving Heaven the time she needed to get safely onto the rocks.
When he finally made his way out of the river, Coco tucked tightly under his left arm, Preston was no longer in a laughing mood. Heaven had just cleared the rocks when he grabbed her by the arm.
“Heaven Montgomery, meet Coco. Coco, meet Ms. Montgomery,” he said, thrusting the puppy into Heaven’s arms before stalking off.
Chapter 3
“The Bay Day celebration starts in two weeks. And I haven’t been contacted yet about riding in the parade,” Diana McCann complained in a nasal voice that every citizen of Sweetland was familiar with and hated just the same.
“We’re not organizing the parade, Diana,” Michelle Cantrell said with what felt like her last bit of patience.
It had been an extremely long day with preparing the restaurant’s regular menu and baking the additional cakes and pies for the Sunday School’s monthly bake sale tomorrow. She was tired and hot and just basically agitated. The very last thing she wanted to do at almost nine o’clock at night was sit in the living room listening to Diana’s rant about what car she would be riding in during the Bay Day Parade. Especially when she really would rather see Diana riding under one of the parade cars.
Despite all that, Diana’s rant continued.
“Liza told me to speak to you directly. She said the Cantrells were picking up where Janet left off and that you would be helping with the celebration. I tried to tell her how foolish that sounded, but of course there’s no telling Liza Fitzgerald anything.”
Michelle wanted desperately to roll her eyes but remembered Gramma telling her how un-lady-like that was.
“Well, she is the mayor, Diana,” she said instead. “However, my sisters and I are only organizing the booths for all the businesses that will be lined along the parade route. That and decorating for the Bay Soiree are all we’re responsible for. I think Louisa might be organizing the actual parade.” Michelle just had to offer that last bit of information. The scowl that etched Diana’s cold features almost made her laugh.
“That old hag doesn’t know anything about a parade,” Diana protested.
She stood with her arms folded across her chest, the black-and-white polka-dot slim-fitting sundress she wore matching the absolutely ridiculous wide-brimmed black hat with polka dots along the brim and a thick veil hanging down to cover her face. She looked like Morticia Addams revamped, except for the fact that she was wearing her long bone-straight hair in a strawberry-blond shade these days.
Michelle disagreed. “She should. She was on the original committee when the celebration started almost thirty-five years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. At least with you three doing it I wouldn’t have to explain everything I want three or four times,” Diana said with another one of her dramatic huffs.
Raine sat in a chair near the window shaking her head. She wouldn’t say anything, Michelle knew. Raine did not like confrontations, never had. Savannah, on the other hand …
“You don’t have to explain a thing to us,” Savannah quipped, unfolding her legs and rising to stand face-to-face with Diana. “If we were organizing the parade, I’d have you riding in the very last car, which as you well know is Hoover’s prized taxi-wagon.”
Diana dropped her arms, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides so that her long acrylic nails clicked together.
“Look, you little wannabe,” she began yelling at Savannah.
Savannah who was about four inches shorter than Diana and five years younger, took a step toward the woman pointing her finger—which had natural nails that weren’t as long as Diana’s but probably just as deadly—into Diana’s face.
“Watch your mouth in my house,” Savannah warned.
“Please!” Michelle raised her voice, the effort causing her temples to throb more intensely. She came to her feet because from the looks of things Savannah might slap Diana soon. And Diana was so dramatic, she would most likely fall onto the floor of the poor decrepit old inn she so despised.
“Diana, we are not in charge of the parade and that is a fact. Call Louisa in the morning, or stop by Java’s to see her and Marabelle. I’m sure you can whine your way into one of the first cars in the parade.”
“Even though you don’t deserve a spot,” Savannah added as Michelle stepped between her and Diana.
“A Beaumont has always ridden in the Bay Day Parade,” Diana insisted.
“Technically you’re no longer a Beaumont,” Raine added quietly with a raise of her hand as if she were in a classroom and not the living room of her own house.
“You! Don’t you even speak to me!” Diana yelled at Raine.
Raine clapped her mouth shut, but shook her head again. Michelle figured if Raine ever really stood up to somebody with all the repressed emotions that girl felt, the person she confronted was in big trouble.
“And on that note, you can now leave,” Michelle told her. “You know your way out.”
Diana made a series of sounds that ranked right up with screeching, growling, and overall annoying as she stomped out of the house.
“We need an alarm that senses when she steps up onto the porch,” Raine suggested with a sigh.
“And dumps spoiled milk all over her head as she stands at the door,” Savannah added.
Michelle laughed. There was nothing else her tired body and mind could do.
As her sisters joined in on the laughter, the front door opened
and closed again.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a soft female voice said about a second before her head poked around the corner so they could see her face and the long dripping tendrils of hair.
“Oh, hi, Heaven. I thought you’d be on your way by now. What the hell happened to you?” Savannah asked.
The female Michelle assumed was named Heaven came completely into the living room, a timid smile on her face, red splotches spreading rapidly at her cheeks, her clothes and everything else dripping water onto the Aubusson carpet.
“Ah, there was a little incident,” she said slowly.
“I see,” Savannah replied, then made the introductions. “My sisters Michelle and Raine. This is Heaven. She’s here to adopt Coco.”
“Oh, you’re soaking wet and so is Coco,” Michelle said, praying she didn’t sound as disappointed as she felt that her brother was giving away part of his inheritance.
“Yes. The dogs sort of got away, and I tried to keep this little one from drowning, only to end up in the river myself.” Her chuckle was slight and quickly replaced by a shiver.
Raine stood, extending her hand to Heaven. “Oh, this air-conditioning is so high you’ll catch an awful cold if you don’t hurry and dry off. I’ll get you something to change into. And by the way, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Now, this was what Raine was good at, Michelle admitted—the pretense, the polite socialite. Her sister was everything prim and proper and perfectly trained, right down to the short haircut that didn’t dare show disrespect by frizzing in the ninety-eight-degree humidity hanging around outside like an unwanted guest.
“Me too,” Heaven said, looking down at the cell phone she’d just retrieved from her pocket. “And thank you. Oh, dear, I hope this still works,” she was saying. Then she frowned and Michelle was instantly concerned.
“It’s broke, isn’t it? Those cell phones aren’t worth all the money we pay for them, or the time it takes for us to figure out how they work,” Michelle quipped.
