by Lacey Baker
“There’s nothing simple about evening dresses,” she said in an almost bereft tone. “I see I’m going to have my work cut out with all of you today. I’ll meet you in the car.” She left the three of them in the kitchen.
“She’s hiding something,” Raine said quietly.
“I think so, too,” Nikki commented, still staring at the swinging door that Savannah had passed through.
Michelle pulled her apron off with such force it was a wonder the material didn’t rip. “Vanna’s been getting in trouble all her life. Nothing she does now would surprise me,” she said with what was probably meant to be hostile disregard. But in her eyes Heaven saw concern and a pain that Heaven supposed could only exist among family.
“Then a day with the girls should make her feel a lot better,” Heaven offered. She knew she could use a day with the girls, even if these girls were only temporarily hers.
* * *
“Being involved with a woman is like tending a garden,” Mr. Sylvester said.
He’d been sitting at one of the tables on the patio side of the restaurant. The dinner rush had just died down, and now at a little after eight in the evening the only patrons left in The Silver Spoon’s main dining room were Caleb Brockington and whatever female he was romancing this week, along with the town’s mayor, Liza Fitzgerald, and her husband, Mike, who came in every week for dinner. The restaurant would be closing at nine, so right now their remaining guests were having coffee and drinks.
Preston and Quinn were cleaning off tables while Parker sat at another table rolling plastic silverware into paper napkins in preparation for tomorrow’s Bay Day Parade. Michelle had left strict and detailed instructions on everything the guys were supposed to get done today. The list had been extensive and grueling, which they all figured Michelle had done on purpose. Still, they’d decided early on to divide and conquer because defeat was not an option.
“How do you figure that?” Parker asked Mr. Sylvester, garnering irritated looks from both Preston and Quinn.
Mr. Sylvester was a nice old man. He was well meaning and certainly cared about the progress of The Silver Spoon. He was also still mourning Gramma’s loss just like the rest of them. So Preston had decided he would cut the man some slack; besides, he wasn’t that bad to talk to depending on what mood Preston was in. Tonight he was tired and he couldn’t stop thinking about Heaven, whom he hadn’t seen since around nine thirty this morning when he’d watched her climb into the back of Michelle’s mini van.
“You’ve got to tend to them daily. Not one day goes by that you don’t have to water them, talk to them. That’s how they grow and flourish. And the one thing you want with your woman is for the relationship to grow and to flourish. Standing still doesn’t work for anybody,” Mr. Sylvester continued.
He’d long since finished his dinner of smothered pork chops and dirty rice. His glass of lemonade was half full, and the dish that had held his double-chocolate Smith Island cake was empty. For the most part his attention had been focused on the game of solitaire he’d been playing for the last thirty minutes, slapping cards on the table in measured intervals as he surveyed his options like there might be a cash prize if he won.
“What if moving into a relationship isn’t what you want? I think a one-night stand should be legal in this day and age,” Parker continued.
Preston wanted to go over and choke him. Quinn, on the other hand, only shook his head.
“One-night stands get old fast,” Quinn added.
“Not when you’re doing them right,” was Parker’s retort. “Or with the right person I should say.”
“There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to stop dipping and diving and settle into something real,” Mr. Sylvester told them.
Preston moved around the tables, taking one last look for dirty dishes and/or trash with a swiftness he hadn’t had in a couple of hours. He desperately wanted to get out of this room and away from this conversation before it took a turn he didn’t even want to entertain.
“Yeah, but you have to find the right female to have something real with,” Parker continued. “And I’m not convinced there’s a right female for every man. Some men are meant to be just what they are, sexy and single.”
“Or just stuck on stupid,” Mr. Sylvester quipped before slapping another card down. He hadn’t even bothered to look up at them as he talked.
Quinn chuckled.
“That Heaven girl seems like a nice one. A real one,” Mr. Sylvester continued.
He knew it. Just as sure as he knew his name, Preston knew this was the direction the conversation had been heading all along. Mr. Sylvester’s bringing up Heaven had all been a part of the plan. His frown wasn’t going to make it go away. So instead he headed for the entryway that would take him back into the main dining room.
“A real one who just might be in some real trouble,” Parker added. “I meant to tell you that I ran a check through the national database and her name was a hit in a couple of reports coming out of Boston.”
For as much as Preston didn’t want to talk about him and Heaven on a personal level, he definitely wanted to know what was going on regarding her safety.
“What kind of reports?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.
Parker folded another napkin, tying it off with strips of some kind of ribbon material that Michelle had pre-cut and stuffed into a Ziploc bag. “As a witness in some type of investigation. I didn’t get a lot of details, just the name of the cop investigating.”
“A criminal investigation?” Preston asked, his mind already entertaining scenarios.
What if she’d witnessed a murder and someone was looking for her to keep her from testifying? He’d seen plenty of those incidents go drastically wrong—or right for the wrong person.
Or she could have witnessed something a little tamer on the criminal scope, like embezzlement. She worked at a huge pharmaceutical company, so things like that weren’t totally out of the question. Or maybe someone was stealing drugs from the lab and she was the sole witness? That would make someone angry enough to come after her. His teeth gritted so hard, his temples throbbed.
“Whoa, hold on there, don’t go losing your temper,” Parker said, standing up and walking over to where Preston stood. “She doesn’t have a police record, so she’s just a witness. I don’t know the details yet but I’ll get them.”
“Fine,” Preston said tightly.
Quinn had also approached him. “No. It’s not fine. You look like you’re ready to tear someone’s head off. I’m thinking most likely whoever was driving that SUV that almost ran her down last night.”
“That girl’s got a lot of pain in her past,” Mr. Sylvester put in from his spot at the table.
“Don’t we all,” Preston quipped, even though he really couldn’t claim to have gone through a lot of pain. Yes, he’d lost his father and subsequently his mother, but his grandmother had always been the glue that held them together. So as long as she was still there for them each day they came home from school, all had seemed right in the world. Now was a different story.
“Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out,” Quinn told Preston, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “And if you’re feeling something for her, that’s okay, too.”
“I don’t like the idea of someone trying to hurt a female. You know that, Quinn,” Preston argued, because that was all there was to feel where Heaven was concerned.
Quinn gave him a knowing look and shook his head. “None of us likes the idea of a female being hurt,” he said, letting his hand fall from Preston’s shoulder.
“That’s why we’re going to take care of this situation. I’ll put in a call to the Boston PD first thing tomorrow morning to see what I can find out,” Parker vowed.
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Preston replied and began to walk out of the room once more.
“Trying to convince yourself you’re only worried about her safety’s like a dog chasing its tail. Just gonna keep going in circl
es until you finally fall on your butt and face the truth,” Mr. Sylvester said, then scooped up his deck of cards and stood from the table.
“You boys have a good night,” he told them before moving in his slow gait past Preston to exit through the front restaurant door.
* * *
Yellow, white, and black balloons and ribbons and bows decorated Main Street. Twined around each lamppost were thick satin yellow ribbons with sunflower-centered bows. There was a yearly window-decorating contest so that each of the stores along the street had gone all-out to decorate a window representing the town’s theme: Visit Sweetland, MD—Life should be this sweet.
There was no traffic on the street today as this was the main route of the parade. Yesterday as they’d returned from shopping at the outlet mall in Queenstown, Michelle had driven along the parade route checking to make sure that all of the booths had been assembled and were in the spaces coordinating with the map she’d given to Hoover and the band of barmates he’d assembled to help him with the setup. Heaven had since learned that the man whose vehicle had scared the crap out of her when she’d first arrived in Sweetland was Hoover King, former town-council member, who was still called on to do odd jobs around town because most of the older citizens felt sorry for him.
That’s the way it was in this town, Heaven had surmised: Everybody looked out for one another. No matter what. In the time she’d been here she’d watched as Nikki’s sister Cordy showed up at the restaurant to help out during the lunch-hour rush while her children played in the backyard with the dogs. Nikki’s father was the fire chief, but he’d been right there helping shuck the corn and setting up the steamers the day of the crab feast. And Michelle—that woman cooked more than was humanly possible, it seemed, on a daily basis. Heaven hadn’t gone to school for cooking and she didn’t really do it all that well, but she’d gotten into the habit of getting up early each morning to meet Michelle in the kitchen, helping to prepare whatever she needed. This morning they’d been baking cakes and pies to sell at The Silver Spoon booth during and after the big parade.
That’s probably why she’d missed seeing Preston. While he and his brothers loved to eat whatever Michelle cooked, being in the kitchen while she was cooking it was not one of their favorites. Heaven had almost expected to see him waiting for her in her room when she’d finally gone back upstairs to get dressed for the day. But he hadn’t been there, either. Telling herself she was being silly, she’d even walked into the backyard under the pretense of checking on Coco but really hoping to see him. No such luck.
Sometime during their ride over to Boudoir—which was where The Silver Spoon’s booth had been strategically placed, a block away from where the other food vendors and storefronts began—she’d decided that she wasn’t going to let Preston Cantrell get to her. No matter how much her body craved his touch, or how much some mental part of her felt it needed to see him. She was going to be stronger. He was just a man, like she was just a woman. And they’d just had sex.
Terrific sex.
Mind-blowing, body-melting, terrific sex.
Dammit.
“The sun’s really shining today,” Raine said, looking up and shielding her eyes from the morning sunshine.
“That’s why I wore a hat,” said Savannah, who playfully tipped the wide brim of her wheat-colored floppy sun hat. Wrapped around the cap was a shimmering silver ribbon that tied and hung alluringly down to the center of her bare back. Her white halter-top one-piece romper looked equally cool and sexy, while wedge sandals completed the decidedly chic summer outfit. It didn’t even matter that Michelle had given her sample duty, which meant she would spend the majority of her day slicing up pieces of pie and cake and walking up and down the street offering the free samples of The Silver Spoon’s best.
Heaven secretly wished she could be that without-a-thought sexy. Maybe then Preston wouldn’t have simply vanished.
That thought had her shaking her head, silently wishing for another therapy session. Even though she knew what her therapist would say. “You can be whatever you want to be, Heaven. Stop waiting for permission or validation.”
It was good advice. Expensive-as-hell, three-times-a-week, $225-hour advice, but good nonetheless.
“You still thinking about that dress?” Michelle said as she nudged past Heaven to get behind the booth.
Heaven had just finished hanging the silver-and-white satin sash across the front of the booth that hung over the SILVER SPOON sign. She’d stood up and seen Savannah, then swiped her hands over the short sundress she wore. It was new; she’d bought it yesterday at the outlet. It was fuchsia, a really nice color on her, so Michelle had said. And it was short, coming only to mid-thigh in a swirling skirt while the bodice hugged her chest like a glove. It made her feel pretty and sexy and just a little self-conscious, all at the same time.
“It is okay, right?” she asked, commanding her arms to remain at her sides and not tug at the dress anymore.
“It looks fine,” Michelle said. “Actually, I think it looks better than fine.”
“And I happen to agree,” Preston said, stepping up behind her.
She jumped and turned at his voice, her heart doing some crazy little flutter that made her feel like smiling. Instead she coughed to cover her silly schoolgirl reaction.
“I think I might be developing allergies,” she continued, still covering up.
“I have some Claritin in my purse,” Raine offered.
Savannah rolled her eyes. Michelle handed Raine a pie and indicated that she should start cutting instead.
“Have I told you how much I like you in the color pink?” Preston asked.
He wore shorts today, navy blue, with another polo shirt in a sky-blue color that made him look perfectly tanned and decadently handsome.
“It’s fuchsia,” was her reply. She wanted to bite a hole right through her lip for the silly response.
He smiled.
And that made her smile.
“It’s a pretty dress for a pretty lady,” he continued, reaching up to touch a soft curl that rested on her shoulder.
“You here to help?” she asked because he was too close. So close her breasts were already swelling with arousal, her pulse quickening.
“Michelle gave us a list yesterday. At the bottom it said to be here at ten fifteen and not a second later.” He lifted his arm and looked at his wrist. “I’ve got ten minutes to spare.”
She nodded. “She’s a stickler and today’s really important to her.”
“Today’s really important to all of us,” he told her.
Us. The word had a special sort of ring and made her feel like smiling all over again. Standing here, today, beneath the sunshine on this beautiful summer’s day in a town she never thought she’d be in, with people she’d never imagined meeting. She wanted to smile and to hold on to this moment forever. And to run at the same time because if something felt too good to be true that usually meant it wasn’t true at all.
Except something else her therapist had told her replayed in her mind throughout the rest of the day.
“You can be happy if it’s what you really want.”
* * *
“See that up there?” Preston asked Heaven when they were alone walking along the riverbank behind the house.
“It’s the moon,” she replied, loving the feel of his hand wrapped securely around hers.
“It’s the summer’s moon,” he continued. “When you see it hovering above the water, like it’s ready to take a dip in the coolness, you close your eyes and make a wish.”
She chuckled. She’d been doing a lot of that today—during the parade and afterward at the big dinner Michelle had cooked for them all, which they’d shared on the patio of the restaurant.
“You’re making that up.”
He shook his head and stopped walking to stand behind her. He reached around to put his hands over her eyes.
“Close them,” he whispered in her ear.
She shiver
ed at the warmth and took a deep breath. Then she did as he said and closed her eyes.
“Now think about what you want most in the world.” His words brushed along her earlobe a second before his lips.
This time she shivered and didn’t care if he noticed.
“Now wish for it,” he finished, and his tongue stroked her lobe, then the tender skin beneath.
Heaven wished once. Then again for good measure.
Then Preston’s arms wrapped around her waist. He pulled her back against him, holding her so tight that for a moment she almost couldn’t breathe. That could also be attributed to the warmth that engulfed her at his touch. They’d been together all day long, in a roundabout sort of way. She’d stood at the booth passing out pamphlets and answering questions about the B&B and the restaurant alongside Michelle. Raine had taken more of a backseat to the festivities as she’d focused on cutting all the cakes and pies—making Savannah’s job easier, since at that point all she had to do was smile and hand out the free samples. Quinn and Nikki had been on foot patrol, walking throughout the crowd to get up close and personal with any tourists who hadn’t managed to get to the booth. Parker, who wasn’t as mobile as he wanted to be, opted to stay at the inn in case anyone decided they’d like to check in immediately. And Preston had appeared every now and then, each time talking to someone Heaven had neither seen nor heard of before. Of course that really didn’t mean much to her since she didn’t know a good portion of the townsfolk. But at one point Michelle had even asked about a particular man that Preston had been seen talking to on more than one occasion.
“I hope your wish comes true,” he said, reminding her that she was standing in the almost-cool night air, looking out at the serenity of a calm river illuminated only by the romance of the full moon.
“Did you make a wish?”
“Nah, haven’t done that in forever,” he replied.
She looked back at him with a mock frown. “Then why’d you tell me to do it?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Because you looked like you could use a wish come true.”
