by Lacey Baker
In other words, mind your damned business, Preston surmised. Okay, that was fine with him. He didn’t need to know anything more about her. What he already knew—that she was pretty and clearly a bundle of nerves, but could kiss really well and felt like every bit of sunshine in the sky as she’d been in his arms—was more than enough.
“Right,” he replied, pulling into the driveway beside the restaurant. “I hope everything goes according to your plan.”
Turning off the ignition, Preston stepped out of the truck and was about to walk around to the passenger side to open her door when she’d already done so for herself.
“I’m going to my room. But I’d like to spend some time with Coco later if that’s all right with you?” she asked and looked at him as if she fully expected him to say no.
“Sure. Michelle keeps them all kenneled in the basement. You remember the way?”
She nodded. He did the same and headed up the front steps. He assumed she followed but didn’t look back. Because looking back never solved anything. It wouldn’t bring his grandmother or his dad back, and it certainly wouldn’t make Heaven Montgomery answer questions she damned well didn’t want to answer.
And who knew, that might be a good thing.
* * *
“Cordy said he kissed her. Right there in the middle of the dock they were kissing like the next step would be the bedroom,” Nikki said, slapping her palms on the kitchen table before breaking into a nervous giggle that proved infectious. Mary Cordelia Brockington-Simmons—it was customary in Sweetland for the firstborn female in every family to carry the first name of Mary, after the wife of the town’s founder, Buford Fitzgerald—was Nikki’s older sister.
Savannah stomped her feet and let her head fall back as she laughed. Michelle clapped her hands and poured them each another glass of champagne.
“Preston kissing the pretty woman from Boston. Wow, what will happen in Sweetland next?” Michelle quipped and took another sip from her glass.
“It’s kind of soon, don’t you think? I mean, she just got here yesterday,” Raine brought up with her sober and serious tone.
It didn’t go over well because each of the three other females in the room looked at her like she’d grown another head.
“Love has no clock. It falls on top of you like a boulder whenever it damned well pleases,” Nikki said, emptying her glass.
Six weeks ago Nikki had been named manager of The Silver Spoon. She’d also been accused of murder and swept off her feet by the solemn and studious Quinn Cantrell in the same time period. Now she was planning a Christmas wedding with her mother, sister, and soon-to-be in-laws.
“You are not allowed to rain on the drinking and thinking night, no matter what your birth name is,” Savannah slurred with a frown. She’d had more than her share of champagne but wasn’t about to stop anytime soon.
They’d come up with the idea of drinking and thinking nights as a way for the females in the Cantrell house to get together and dump all their worries on one another. It had been Michelle’s idea, one she’d been completely surprised that her sisters had agreed to. Having Nikki join them seemed only natural.
“I need to lie down,” Savannah said and almost fell out of the chair as she struggled to stand, then sat again.
“You sure do,” Nikki told her. “Let’s move this party into the living room.”
Minutes later they’d all found a spot in the living room, Michelle and Raine on the couch at opposite ends, feet up and tapping the other person on the thigh. Savannah had skipped the chairs altogether and stretched out on the rug-covered floor. Nikki sat in one of the high-backed Victorian chairs that added to the grandeur of the Queen Anne Victorian style of the inn.
“So he kissed her,” Nikki continued. “We all know about Preston and Parker’s reputation with the ladies. At thirty-three they’ve probably kissed millions of females by now. It might not mean a thing.”
“And that’s precisely why he shouldn’t have done it,” Raine added. “They should be tired of playing with females now and thinking more about settling down.”
“The Double Trouble Cantrells settle down?” Nikki asked, then laughed. “That’ll be the day.”
Michelle shook her head. “No, I think Raine has a point. Kind of. I mean, they are older and we all have more responsibilities now. Wouldn’t it be nice if Preston fell in love and got married like Quinn is doing?”
From the floor Savannah raised her arm as if she were in class, but she didn’t wait for the teacher to call on her to begin speaking.
“Wait a minute, Mary Michelle Cantrell Matchmaker.” Her voice had begun to slur even more so her words sounded like mush and more mush. Nikki chuckled. Michelle frowned, as she’d probably managed to hear her name in the mix.
“Heaven doesn’t even live in Sweetland. And your dream is for all of us to come home and stay home. You should know that might not happen,” Savannah continued.
“But we’re all still here,” Raine added quietly. “The funeral was six weeks ago and all of us are still in Sweetland.”
“But Savannah’s right, Heaven doesn’t live in Sweetland,” Nikki added with a sad look to Michelle.
“When I was seventeen”—Michelle spoke softly—“I broke my leg ice-skating at Fitzgerald Park. The ice wasn’t totally frozen, so not only did I fall—twisting my left leg in an unheard-of position—but I broke the ice and was stuck there for two hours while Mr. Brockington and his fire crew tried to get me out. I was in a hot pink cast up to my thigh and caught a terrible bout of pneumonia. I missed an entire month of school, and because I spent a lot of that time sleeping from Gramma’s special hot tea concoction and the meds Dr. Stallings gave me, I couldn’t do most of the makeup work they’d sent me. My third-quarter grades sucked big-time. So when I applied for the International Culinary College I thought for sure they’d never accept me. Sure, it wasn’t an Ivy League school, but grades and attendance were still important. I worried from the moment I mailed that application off and every second afterward.
“And when my worry had finally turned into full-blown panic, complete with tears and hyperventilation, Gramma sat me down. We were out back, on that old bench, and she said, ‘Anything is possible, Chelle. You have no idea what the good Lord’s plan is so you just keep the faith and remember that anything is possible.’
The room was quiet as Michelle finished speaking.
“She always called you Chelle,” Raine replied after a few seconds had passed.
“And she called you Sunshine because you were too bright to be considered a rainy day,” Savannah added with a sniffle.
Nikki rubbed the edge of her wineglass, looking down at the movement of her hand. “She called you Vanna and used to laugh when Wheel of Fortune came on because you would parade around just like Vanna White.”
“Oh yeah, I remember those days,” Michelle quipped.
Soft laughter erupted then, a sort of connection lingering among the four women as they shared this memory. For the last ten minutes Heaven had been standing at the bottom of the stairs. Actually, she’d sat down, resting her head against the banister as she heard the ladies talking just beyond the foyer and didn’t want to intrude.
They’d all known one another forever, and while it seemed each of them was vastly different, they were all connected by a familial bond that Heaven couldn’t claim. Not only was she an only child, but her parents didn’t seem to have a warm bone in their bodies. If they did she’d never seen it. Mary Janet Cantrell, or—as her grandchildren fondly called her—Gramma, must have been a very loving and caring woman. Everyone in this house had loved her and, as far as Heaven could tell, missed her intolerably.
There was no one in Heaven’s life that she would ever miss like that, she was certain. As for the topic of their discussion, well, that made her nauseous. So much so she finally eased off the steps and tiptoed through the foyer and the front desk area of the inn to get to the kitchen, where she made her way out the back door.
The air was still thick with humidity as she walked down the steps, her bare feet touching the cool grass. After she’d come in from her shopping spree and yet another embarrassing moment in front of Preston, she’d showered and taken a nap. Dinner, thankfully, had been brought to her room by a smiling Michelle. She had no idea how the woman had known she wanted to be alone, but was thankful just the same.
Now she wanted air, she wanted to breathe, to rejuvenate herself. If she were at home in Boston she would have had a glass of wine and sat out on her balcony to a cooler evening and skyline filled with bright lights. Here, however, the gentle rustle of water in the distance, the steady creak of crickets, and the intermittent glow of lightning bugs offered another kind of solace.
Her heart was no longer racing as it had been earlier today on the pier, and again minutes ago when she heard her name mentioned with Preston’s. His sisters had been talking about their kiss, no doubt, and if it were leading to some grand love affair. She’d almost wanted to run into that room screaming Hell no! She was not getting involved with Preston Cantrell.
Now she was calm as she walked toward the water’s edge where just yesterday she’d taken an unplanned dip. Sitting on the rocks she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms securely around them. Resting her chin on her knee, Heaven stared out to the water, thinking about her life and about her future.
Trying desperately not to think about the man with the great eyes, great body, mesmerizing scent, and killer lips.
Until he spoke.
“I asked you if you wanted to sit out here and talk earlier,” Preston said from behind her.
“I didn’t want to talk then,” was her instant reply. She didn’t turn around, didn’t have to.
He would be standing with his feet slightly parted, his muscled arms folded over an equally muscled chest. His face would be grim—not frowning, but just in that thoughtful look he liked to give. It didn’t matter what he wore, she knew he would look good. Another reason she didn’t bother to turn around.
“Do you want to talk now?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll just sit here with you and enjoy the scenery.”
And without another word he did just that. There was maybe half a foot between them as Preston joined her on the rocks. He couldn’t pull his long legs upward to match her position, so they stretched out in front of him, bare from the knee down because he’d changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Basketball-type shorts that hung baggy around his thighs, but did nothing to hide their sculpted form, or the light dusting of hair on his calves. Another quick side glance showed that his shirt fit him well—too well. Her mouth watered slightly at the sight of his biceps bulging from beneath the sleeve.
“Where’s Coco?” she asked because she desperately needed her mind to be on something else besides how good this man looked without even trying.
“In her kennel,” was his bland reply.
“Is that where you always keep her? I read that Labs need lots of exercise and love to play. It can’t be good that you keep her kenneled up all the time.”
He was quiet for a moment, looking straight ahead just as she was. Then he took a deep breath and released it.
“I took her to the park earlier and we played for almost two hours. I also walked her right after dinner so she could do her business and get a bit more exercise for the day. I know how to take care of my dog,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Really? Was she destined to embarrass herself in front of this man? Maybe she could just get up and go back into the house, lock herself in her room until Monday morning when it was time for her to leave. No. That would be running, and Heaven was really tired of doing that.
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. When you don’t know, you ask. I answered. No big deal,” he told her with a shrug.
“Must be nice to lead such a simple life,” she quipped.
“My life’s not simple.”
That thought hadn’t occurred to her. Probably because she shouldn’t care; this wasn’t a trip about meeting a man and getting to know him better. It was about her progress, her rebirth after the explosion that didn’t kill her, but just might have killed the career she’d worked so hard to build.
“You have a great family. This inn is beautiful, and everyone in town seems to know and respect the Cantrells.”
“That’s not my life. I live in Baltimore City. I’m in court or at my office more than I’m in my apartment. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my grandmother’s puppy and giving him every bit of love and dedication that she did.”
“But you don’t want to?” He hadn’t said that, but she could tell that’s where he was going. She wondered why anyone would not want all this.
“I’m not cut out for small-town life. That’s why I left. It’s really simple, I don’t want to come back. I don’t want to do what everyone here does.”
“So why are you here if it’s not where you want to be?”
“Responsibilities. I’ve been raised not to ignore them,” he told her then turned to look at her. “Why are you here, Heaven Montgomery?”
She’d also been raised not to ignore responsibilities, but that’s exactly what she was doing by being in Sweetland. She wondered at the irony between them. “I’m here to adopt your puppy.”
“Why? Aren’t there puppies where you live?”
“I live in Boston. In a condo that overlooks the city. It’s a great place to live, and it’s only about thirty minutes from the lab where I work. Or worked,” she corrected. “Sweetland is different.”
“So you’re unemployed now?”
Heaven shook her head, afraid she’d said too much. She didn’t want to talk about her life in Boston, the life she was desperately trying to change.
“I just need to get a dog, that’s all. I’ll be just fine when this entire adoption process is complete.”
He picked up a small stone and tossed it out to the river. It skipped along the top of the water three times before sinking down with a plop.
She couldn’t help it, she smiled.
“Can you teach me how to do that?”
Looking at him then, she could almost ignore how his eyes glittered in the moonlight. Almost.
“You want me to teach you how to skip rocks?” he asked. “Because you don’t want to talk about your life in Boston or why you’re really here in Sweetland.”
It was a starkly honest question, centered in a statement that she couldn’t actually refute. She’d heard how good an attorney he was and figured this was just a glimpse of what it was like to be cross-examined by him in a court of law.
Whatever it was, Heaven was determined not to overanalyze it. She wanted to learn to skip rocks and that was all. If he could teach her, so be it. His assessment could be correct.
“You’re absolutely right. Very smart of you to observe, counselor. Now,” she said, standing and pulling at the shorts she’d just purchased this morning that were a little shorter than she’d expected. “Are you going to teach me or not?”
His eyes followed her every movement, up as she stood, down again as her hands moved to the hem of her shorts, settling there for long enough to make her nipples hard. Then he stood and smiled, and caused a reaction in her she didn’t want to verbalize, not even in her own head.
Ignore it and it will go away, she warned herself.
“I’ll teach you anything you want,” he answered when he stood just a breath away from her. “Anything you want, Heaven.”
How could she ignore his scent that permeated every crevice of her body, warming her as it filtered throughout? How could she ignore his gaze so intense her knees shook? How could she ever expect to ignore this man and go back to her previous life and the job that had almost killed her?
Chapter 8
“We’re looking pretty good moneywise,” Quinn said, not bothering to look up from his desk.
He’d moved the desk into Nikki’s offic
e, directly facing hers. Considering they’d be married in the next six months and both of them were managing the inn, Preston figured it made sense. Except the office was too small for two desks and two chairs and file cabinets and the kennel they had set up in there for Sweet Dixi, the Lab that Quinn had inherited.
“And all the bills are up to date?” Preston asked from his perch by the window where he looked out at the dogs running around in the yard.
“Everything is on time. Except Walt. Michelle just made a huge purchase from him two days ago for the crab feast that’s booked for tonight,” Quinn continued, his fingers tapping rhythmically over the keyboard to his laptop.
It was still kind of weird to see his older brother in this tiny office, sitting behind a desk, his attention focused on a computer instead of a patient. Quinn was a renowned oncologist who’d had a very successful career back in Seattle before their grandmother’s passing. He’d given all that up for Nikki Brockington, whom Preston absolutely adored. Now his brother ran the local medical center since Doc Stallings was getting ready to retire and move to Florida with his longtime office assistant/girlfriend. On the surface Preston could see the logic of Quinn’s decision. He was the older brother, the most responsible of them all, and from what Quinn had told them he’d been disenchanted with his job long before he’d come back to Sweetland. So the transition seemed to be a good one for him.
Preston, on the other hand, wondered if he would have been able to pull something like that off himself. His career was at its peak; he and his partner were making more money than Preston could have ever imagined. His life in Baltimore was exactly what he’d wanted all his life. It was a big city versus this small town, with its ideals of happily-ever-after and nosy-beyond-reason citizens. And for Preston, that was enough.
“I still can’t believe Inez and Hoover King were swindling the townsfolk for extra taxes and fees,” Parker brought up.
He was sitting in the chair behind Nikki’s desk, playing with the fuzzy lime-green stress ball she kept next to her phone. He’d heard it was for when she talked to her mother or anyone from the women’s auxiliary that Odell Brockington led. For Parker, it just seemed to be something to do.
