by Lacey Baker
Actually, it caused an ache in the pit of her stomach. Something like longing overcame her, and she wondered what she should say or do next.
“Hey, Delia, I see you’ve met Heaven. She’s our guest at The Silver Spoon, and we need to spice her up a bit,” Savannah said when she almost collided with Delia in front of a rack full of bathing suits that Heaven was almost positive she did not need.
Especially since she and a tall handsome male she did not wish to name had already taken a dip in the river, fully dressed.
“She’s gorgeous, Savannah. Thanks for bringing her into Boudoir. I’m sure we have lots of nice things that will suit her,” Delia replied.
“She’ll need a nice dinner dress, too. Not too fancy but something that maybe dips here, maybe a split there,” Savannah was saying, dragging her fingers down the front of her chest, then up the back of her right leg.
Heaven’s head swam as the two conversed about her as if she weren’t even there. Until finally, she felt enough was enough.
She snatched two pairs of jeans off a rack and two T-shirts, then marched to the counter that was a pink-tinted glass confection with glitter evenly dispersed. Atop it was a gleaming silver bell, which Heaven unceremoniously smacked three times. “I’m ready to check out now,” she called to Delia without even turning to face her.
Delia hurried over, still conversing with Savannah, whom Heaven suspected was coming over to survey her purchases.
“Okay.” Savannah began picking up the items Heaven had placed on the counter. “These are fine. But she’ll also take these.”
With that she dumped lingerie, nightgowns, and that yellow dress onto the two outfits. And just when Heaven was about to object, Delia dropped a slinky little black dress atop.
“Perfect! I’ll ring everything up. Cash, check, or credit?” she asked Heaven.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell both of them to butt out and put all the things besides the two jean outfits back. Okay, well, she did need underwear so she’d keep that. And it probably made sense to have a nightgown so she wouldn’t be forced to sleep in said underwear and nothing else. But she definitely did not need the two dresses, or the strappy sandals that Savannah had not-so-discreetly pushed under the pile of clothes. She just did not need all of this. She was only here to pick up a puppy and …
It’s okay to live, Heaven. You were saved from that explosion for a reason.
Her therapist’s words replayed in her head, and Heaven sighed heavily.
“Charge,” was her begrudging reply.
* * *
“I thought you needed a ride back to the house,” Preston said when he’d parked his SUV at the corner of Main and Maple Streets and stood talking to Sylvester Bynum, his late grandmother’s boyfriend.
Sylvester shrugged his thin shoulders. He wore overalls even though it was inching toward ninety degrees. His shirt was bright orange with the number 33, which was partially hidden by the bib of the overalls. On his head was an Orioles hat, which matched the Eddie Murray shirt. His weathered skin looked shiny today, probably from the humidity, and he held tight to his cane in his right hand.
“Maybe I’ll just walk. Decorations are starting to go up for the Bay Day celebration. I like to see the progress,” he told Preston in an absent voice.
But Preston knew better. There was nothing absent about Mr. Sylvester. He was as spry and alert as any teenager walking these streets. He had an introspective type of personality and a wisdom that Preston figured only came with age.
“Mr. Sylvester, you called the house and asked me to come and pick you up. I can take you home, especially since it’s getting pretty hot out here.”
“Nah, I’m gonna walk and see the sights,” Sylvester told him. “Might wanna do the same yourself.”
Preston was the one to shake his head now, watching the traffic as Mr. Sylvester had stepped off the curb into the street. No cars were coming; traffic was as slow in Sweetland as the town itself. The cobblestones on Main were enough to slow any driver down, but even the side streets only saw a few cars per day. The people of Sweetland preferred to walk. Preston knew that. Hell, he’d walked these streets on many days himself. So he couldn’t blame Mr. Sylvester. Still, he watched the old man as he passed Wicks & Wonders and then Boudoir, where he stopped to talk to …
Heaven had just walked out of the store with bags in hand. At that same moment Sylvester looked across the street, his smile as broad as the pink glittering BOUDOIR sign above the front door. Preston could only smile to himself as he realized just how spry and alert Mr. Sylvester actually was.
It took him just another minute to put aside the warnings to stay away from the woman before Preston was crossing the street himself. He was just going to offer to take her and Mr. Sylvester home, that’s all. Innocent. Right?
“Shopping?” he asked the moment he stepped onto the curb and was face-to-face with Heaven once more.
She’d been smiling at something Mr. Sylvester said. It was a pretty smile. A very pretty smile that did something even prettier to her eyes.
“Ah, yeah. I needed a few things,” she replied before clearing her throat.
She looked at the ground, then at the bags in her hand, then nervously back up to him. Did he make her nervous?
“Let me take those,” he offered and reached for her bags.
Instantly she retreated, taking a step back almost too quickly so that she stumbled a bit.
Before Preston could catch her, Mr. Sylvester had stepped up, wrapping an arm around her waist and smiling at Preston. “This heat’s something fierce today. The lady looks a little thirsty.”
“No, I’m fine,” she said regaining her balance, her cheeks flushed.
Preston couldn’t tell if that was from the heat or if his proximity made her more than nervous. He wanted to go with the latter, but couldn’t ignore the former.
“We can go down to the hot dog shop. They have a great half lemonade, half iced tea. It’ll cool you right down,” he told her. “I’ll carry your bags for you.”
He took the handle of the bag and she pulled her arm back. “I can carry them. And I’m here with your sister, so we’ll just be going home now.”
Nervous. Preston decided that he was definitely making her nervous. Which meant he should take a step back, go back to his truck, go home, and work on his brief, or … he could see just how nervous pretty Ms. Heaven could get.
“Hey, gang’s all here,” Savannah said with her breezy voice as she stepped out of the store. “Delia’s going to bring by some other things for you to try on, Heaven. We’re drinking and thinking tonight.”
“Drinking and thinking?” Heaven asked with what looked like exasperation.
“Yeah, I’ll explain later when the male species are gone. What’s going on, Mr. Sylvester?” she asked, looping her arm in the older man’s and dropping a kiss on his weathered cheek.
“Just hanging out, sweetie,” Mr. Sylvester replied with a wink to Preston.
Preston shook his head, reminding himself to ask Mr. Sylvester not to call his baby sister “sweetie.”
“Why don’t you give an old man a ride home so I don’t have to walk in all this heat?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“I told you I’d take you home,” Preston told him once more. “I can give everyone a ride home and get Heaven a half and half. My truck’s right across the street.”
Savannah looked from Heaven to Preston, then smiled. “Ah, well, I was thinking about ice cream. How about you, Mr. Sylvester? Wouldn’t you love an ice cream cone?”
“Orange sherbet in a cup with marshmallow on top,” he replied. “Yes siree, that sounds nice and refreshing.”
“Great, let’s go,” Savannah said, hooking her arm through his and turning away from Preston. Then she looked over her shoulder with her signature smile. “Preston, you take Heaven for her half and half and we’ll catch up with you later.”
Subtle, Preston thought to himself, undecided on wheth
er to be ticked off or amused. They were both very subtle.
“Guess I’ll need that ride now,” Heaven said with a chuckle.
It almost sounded like a giggle, and she closed her mouth quickly as if it was a mistake. But Preston wanted her to do it again. It was ridiculous. He liked his women polished, sexy, submissive. Right?
“Can I carry your bags?” he asked this time and waited for her reply.
She looked down at the bags, then up at him, then shrugged. “Thanks,” she said, handing the bags to him. “And I’d like to try that half and half, please?”
Chapter 6
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Heaven recited the words she’d heard her therapist say as she walked along what looked like a pier/shopping center with Preston.
She’d purchased almost three hundred dollars’ worth of clothes she didn’t need, after she’d come to this small town where she didn’t know a soul to adopt a puppy to keep from dying a lonely old maid or having guilt simply eat away at her until she croaked—whichever came first. And she really wanted to dislike this man with the dreamy eyes and superstar swagger. But since he owned the bed-and-breakfast she was staying at, and owned the puppy she wanted to adopt, well, that wasn’t going to work out, now, was it?
“How do you like it?” she heard him ask.
And she almost choked on the swallow she’d just taken. There were several answers to that question. How did she like the way he looked at her? She loved it, had always wanted a guy to look at her like he couldn’t bear to turn away.
How did she like the way he smelled? It made her tingle all over, and each time she inhaled she wanted to reach out and touch him.
“Heaven?”
“Hmmm?” she answered, still walking, still looking ahead at the way the brilliant sunlight fell onto the water.
“Am I really that boring?”
“What?” She looked at him then, saw the quizzical expression he was giving her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Which time?” he asked with a smile. “I asked if you liked your drink.”
“Oh, yes. It’s really refreshing.”
He nodded. “Then I asked if I was boring you since you didn’t seem to be paying attention to a word I said. I mean, it’s okay if you want to be rude to the guy who’s carrying your bags and just spent a whopping two dollars and twenty-five cents on the jumbo half and half to quench your thirst.”
“Of course you’re not boring me. I always talk while I’m drinking.”
“And here I thought I was much more intriguing than a cup of juice.”
“Good thing you don’t get paid to think,” she quipped. When he didn’t immediately reply, she looked at him wondering if she’d gone too far.
She didn’t have a lot of experience talking with men, outside of the lab that is. And when she did talk to them the mood was always so stuffy she hadn’t dared crack a smile or a joke, for that matter.
“You’re funny.” He followed up with a chuckle that inspired her own smile.
“Thanks for the drink and for carrying my bags, and for giving me a ride back to the inn.”
“Don’t thank me for that yet, I’m still trying to decide if I’m taking you back there or if I’m going to find us a nice cozy room with privacy so my siblings won’t interrupt what I’m thinking of doing to you.”
That stopped her instantly. People passed them on the pier, two older women each with umbrellas in hand to shield them from the sun and huge floral purses on their arms.
“Hello, Preston, good to see you back in Sweetland,” one of the ladies said.
“Hi, Ms. Daisy. Ms. Flora. It’s nice to see you again,” he replied and immediately turned back to Heaven. “Daisy and Flora Huntington. They’re also twins, the only other set in Sweetland besides me and Parker. Isn’t that something?”
Heaven nodded. “Right. Something.” She cleared her throat. “Can you go back to where you mentioned doing something to me that required privacy.”
Yeah, she really wanted to know what that “something” was. Or did she?
“Here’s the thing, Heaven. I don’t normally mix business with pleasure, and I’m not into relationships. But—”
She shook her head. “But did I say I wanted to mix business with pleasure? I’m here to adopt your puppy, remember?”
Remember? Hadn’t she just reminded herself of that fact a couple of hours ago, before she bought all those clothes and definitely before she accepted Preston’s offer of a drink and a ride home?
He didn’t immediately respond—or maybe the step he took until he was standing a breath away from her was his response. Anyway, he reached up a hand to her face, and Heaven instantly stepped back out of his reach.
He frowned, his brow wrinkling slightly. Then he moved closer again and touched a wisp of hair, tucking it softly behind her ear.
“It’s what we’re both being careful not to say that’s leading us in the direction of a nice comfortable bed, Heaven,” he told her in a soft voice.
“You are arrogant and presumptuous and way out of line, Mr. Cantrell.”
“And I make you nervous, Ms. Montgomery.”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. He lightly ran a finger over her cheek. “You feel the attraction between us but you don’t know what to do about it.”
“I don’t plan on doing anything,” Heaven retorted. Even though her body was all but demanding she do something. What, she wasn’t quite sure.
“Fine. I like to be in control,” were the last words she heard him speak before he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.
The first second or so she was in a daze, a luxurious, cloud-filled abyss that cuddled and held her securely as his lips moved slowly over hers. Then instinct kicked in and she melted into the kiss, parting her lips and feeling the initial shock of heat that was his tongue scraping along hers. That lovely heat swirled around in the pit of her stomach for what seemed like an endless amount of time and then it was over.
Behind her there was a loud noise; something fell and broke and someone yelled. Then someone else yelled and the sounds echoed in Heaven’s head, drowning out everything else, including Preston’s tasty kiss. Her heart hammered in response, and she pushed away from him so fast her cup of half and half tumbled to the ground, liquid splashing onto her feet and the bottom half of her jeans. Her hands and arms shook and the smell … smoke, acid, fire … it was overwhelming this memory. Or was it her reality?
Chapter 7
Preston seethed. His back teeth clenched so hard he was either going to dislodge them or give himself a tremendous headache any moment now.
Walt Newsome who owned and managed The Crab Pot restaurant down at the pier had lost a very valuable shipment of lobster about ten minutes ago when one of his dockworkers slipped on the planks and upended eight very large crates. And being the brawny, cranky, sea-bred old bastard that only Walt could be, he’d cursed loud and long enough to have some of the locals shaking their heads, and the tourists pulling out their cell phones to record him.
Heaven, on the other hand, had startled again. She’d backed up so fast she almost ended up in the river, right alongside most of the lobsters that had escaped to safety. Of course he’d reached out to catch her, yet again. And whether by habit or simple instinct she pulled away from him, this time running away as if one of the remaining lobsters might be chasing her. Preston hadn’t chased after her. She had no way back to the house but to ride with him—he suspected she didn’t know her way to walk—so his guess was she’d end up at the truck waiting for him. He walked away, stopping briefly to make sure Walt didn’t break the bones of his workers in his tirade.
When he’d arrived at the vehicle, just as he’d figured, Heaven was there. The doors were locked so she stood against the passenger side, her forehead resting on the window. She looked deflated and his first instinct was to go and wrap his arms around her, to pull her close and ass
ure her that all was well.
But that seemed awfully intimate, and Preston didn’t know enough about her to assume that right. Sure, he’d kissed her, a very delectable kiss, he might add. But even that lovely memory didn’t override the sense that something bad had happened to her, something that had frightened her and quite possibly hurt her physically. The thought that the particular “something” might have been a man made him angrier than he’d been in quite a long time. The fact that when he’d stepped up beside her, gently moving her to the side while he opened the door and watched her quietly slip into the seat, without once offering an explanation, pissed him the hell off. Because helplessness was not a feeling Preston Cantrell was used to experiencing.
“If you’d like, we could take Coco to the park for a while,” he offered when the silence inside the truck was threatening to drive him insane.
She shook her head and continued to stare out the window.
“Parker has one of those game systems. I don’t know if you’re the video game type, but there are a couple I’m pretty good at. You could join me or just watch me totally embarrass myself.”
This time she inhaled deeply, only to let out a sigh that seemed pretty damned close to sounding depressed.
“Or we could sit by the water and talk about what has you so frightened that the next time you hear a loud noise, you might actually jump out of your skin,” he said, trying to hide his irritation.
“I just want to adopt a dog,” she finally said. “Really,” she added, grasping his arm, then pulling it back quickly. She’d most likely realized that he was driving and pulling on his arm when his hand was on the steering wheel probably wasn’t the best idea.
“What I mean is that I came here to adopt a dog and that’s all I plan to do. On Monday I’d like to be on my way home.”
