Homecoming

by Lacey Baker

  From the totally uninterested tone of her voice Quinn couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. And truth be told he was more interested in the fact that little Nikki Brockington had grown into such an attractive woman—a woman he’d almost had a wet dream about.

  “You two were pretty close. It’s a pity you haven’t kept in touch,” Raine told her.

  “Yeah, it’s a pity I’ve been working,” Savannah said with a smile. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I did miss her a little but I just didn’t have time to call every five minutes.”

  “Didn’t have time or just didn’t want to?” Michelle asked.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Quinn said, his voice rising above the high pitch of the females. They were giving him a headache, or maybe he’d had one when he’d gotten up this morning, or maybe it had come on when he learned he’d been lusting after a female as young as his youngest sister. Whatever the cause, he had to get a handle on it and quick. There was more than enough stress in his life for any number of chronic ailments. He was lucky the headache was the only one to appear.

  Besides, in another second Savannah would jump up from the chair in full argument mode, which included yelling and screaming if she thought that would get her point across. Michelle was much more somber in her attacks and would remain calm but would not back down against their little sister. Raine would roll her eyes and become frustrated with both of them. Parker would ignore the chaos, being so used to producing enough of that on his own, and Preston—well, Preston was just too laid-back or preoccupied with whatever went on in his legal-beagle head to ever get involved in sisterly affairs.

  “None of us is innocent of leaving Sweetland and not looking back,” he continued.

  “Michelle is because she’s Miss Perfect,” Savannah quipped.

  Raine frowned but didn’t argue against Savannah’s words, which said she kind of supported the younger sister’s comment.

  “I did what I had to do,” Michelle told them.

  “And so did we,” Quinn announced. “Besides, now is not the time to rehash old grudges. We’re all adults now. We’re going to handle this will and Gramma’s wishes like adults.” The look he gave them all solicited no argument. “Now, as soon as I clean my shoes and change my socks, we can talk about hiring a manager for the B and B. Let’s all try to recognize that this has to be done relatively quickly since we all have lives and careers to return to.”

  He’d seen Michelle shake her head, which meant she didn’t totally agree with what he’d said. But then she cleared her throat. “We should hire Nikki Brockington. She just got her degree in hospitality and hotel management and she was Gramma’s assistant manager. She knows this place inside and out. You’re not going to find a better candidate,” she told them.

  “And you sound like you’re not going to vote for another candidate if we do find one,” Parker added with a chuckle.

  And because it was Parker, the most fun loving of the Cantrell siblings, Michelle laughed along with him before saying, “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Then as soon as I come back we’ll go talk to Miss Brockington,” Quinn said, picking up his shoes and heading out of the room. He didn’t know if Sweet Dixi followed him or not, and at the moment he didn’t really care.

  * * *

  As Quinn took the stairs he couldn’t help inhaling the scent of lemon and the warm breeze coming through open windows. At the top of the landing there was a white iron table with an antique lamp, a box of tissues, and a bowl of what looked like potpourri. But that wasn’t what gave off the citrus smell. That was coming from the left.

  His room was down that way, all the way at the end of the hall. With still-damp socks he walked along the shined wood floors and was stopped by humming and a burst of sunlight. When he paused at the open door to the room right next to his, he expected to see a housekeeper or possibly one of the guests who’d been booked here over the weekend. Either way, Quinn didn’t expect them to have the most delectable backside he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing in an upright position.

  She was on her hands and knees, in the center of a king-sized bed, pushing pillows to one end, crawling backward to smooth the sheets and situate another set of plump pillows. He almost groaned at the word plump, especially since he wasn’t really looking at the pillows when he thought it. Quinn knew at that moment he should keep right on walking, but of course he didn’t.

  Instead he stood in the doorway of the sunny yellow-painted room and watched as the female whom he was almost positive was Nikki Brockington made up the king-sized bed. The comforter was a pale sage design, which complemented the room’s decor perfectly. To the left the wall was exposed brick, just like the right side wall in his room. A lot of care and attention to detail had been put into decorating these rooms, he thought with a great deal of pride, because he’d known his grandmother had worked hard to make this place something. From what he could see she’d done a damned good job.

  Something could be said about such a perfect rear end as well. Something along the lines of Damn, that looks good! He certainly wasn’t going to say that, but the thought was plastered in his mind so that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at her again without thinking it. And she was on her knees. Somebody really needed to just shoot him right now.

  Okay, that wasn’t going to happen so he’d have to be the bigger person and walk away. Quinn was just about to leave, to stop gawking like a horny teenager and return to his room like he was supposed to. The moment he turned he heard it.

  Barking.

  It grew louder and more frenzied until he saw the fuzzy chocolate ball take the top step then lunge down the hallway. He knelt, reaching out an arm to stop the procession, but the rascal slipped right through his hands and bolted into the room. When he turned to check where the puppy had ended up he was startled to see that the gorgeous backside had not only turned around but was no longer on the bed. Now she was kneeling on the floor much like him, catching the puppy in her outstretched arms.

  “Hello, little lady. How are you?” she was saying as the dog happily licked every part of her face. “You’re happy to see me, huh? Well, I’m happy to see you too, Sweet Dixi.”

  So this was his ward, Quinn thought, the puppy who had been assigned to him. Had she followed him up the stairs? Not likely; the two of them hadn’t gotten off to such a great start.

  “Oh, hello,” Nikki said, and Quinn realized she was now talking to him.

  “Hello,” he replied, slipping the hand that didn’t hold his shoes into his front pocket. “I’m sorry about her.”

  “No. No, don’t apologize. Sweet Dixi and I are great friends. I was there when she was born.” She scooped the puppy into her arms and stood.

  Quinn now looked into a small round face with hair that was way too big and unruly, but somehow just right.

  “Nikki Brockington?” he asked, only because now that he knew who she was, he remembered her from when they were younger. Or rather when she was younger and had hung out with Savannah.

  “That’s right,” she said and gave him what Quinn thought was an exasperated look. “I’m Nikki and you’re the Mighty Quinn,” she added drily.

  “Excuse me?”

  She looked down at the puppy, snuggling it closer to her face, offering her cheek for an exuberant lick. Quinn swallowed hard and mentally kicked himself for wishing he were a dog, that dog in particular, to have that privilege.

  “When Savannah and I were young we used to call you that. Of course you were never around when we said it—we were too afraid of what might happen if you found out. Well, I was afraid of you; Savannah, as you know, thought she could beat the world. And whoever she couldn’t beat she could certainly woo with her pretty smile.”

  Memories of hot summer days, cherry-flavored snowballs, and swimming down at the lake came to mind as she talked. Her voice was light, like any minute now she’d laugh. And Quinn waited, hoping, as if he’d never heard what he knew would be a lovely sound
before.

  Then she smiled. Her pert lips spread to show brilliantly white teeth, and her dark eyes lit up with excitement as Dixi licked her face once more. She seemingly liked this dog a lot, and the dog obviously returned the feeling. He couldn’t help but look at her hair again, a mass of springy black curls that he’d bet all the money in his wallet were as soft as the sheets on that bed.

  The thought came quick, slapping against his brain like a whip, and Quinn sucked in a breath. He wasn’t a stranger to women or to physical attraction. But to put it simply, this was not what he’d expected. Not now and certainly not here. He’d blame it on the coffee he had before coming downstairs or the fragrant Chesapeake Bay air, or whatever would get it out of his mind. But the reason might be simply that she was a very attractive woman.

  “We were just talking about you,” he said, pulling himself back to business. The safest place Quinn knew.

  “Really?” she questioned, taking a step closer to him. “Is something wrong with your rooms? Or did you need me to get anything for you?”

  The scent was hers. As she grew closer, his lungs filled with lemons. No, it was more like a tall glass of homemade lemonade with plenty of sugar and ice cubes, which would melt over her skin like …

  “We,” he began and then had to clear his throat. “My siblings and I just want to talk to you about the B and B. If you’re finished in here we could go down. They’re waiting in the parlor,” he told her.

  She nodded. “Just give me another second to put things in order here.”

  In her arms Dixi had been scrambling as if the dog couldn’t keep still to save her life.

  “She’s a handful. I can take her,” he offered and reached out. He dropped both his shoes and cursed because he’d forgotten they were in his hands.

  They both bent to pick up the shoes.

  Dixi jumped out of her arms and found one shoe before either of them could grab it. She was inside licking before she could be stopped. Which neither of them attempted to do because their hands touched, his left against her right as they reached for the shoe that had been quickly taken from them. Heat sizzled up his arm; he thought maybe it crackled in the air, too, because Nikki looked taken aback as well.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered quickly.

  “No,” she said, pulling her arm back as if it had touched the same flame he felt ripping through his body. “It’s okay.”

  He had to look away from her, had to move away from her actually because he might do something he’d never done before. He might kiss this woman whom he hadn’t seen in years and who could be his little sister.

  “Give me that,” Quinn directed at Dixi, pulling the shoe away from her. “You’ve had your time with my shoes.”

  Standing, Nikki gave a nervous chuckle. “I see you two are getting along nicely.”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he replied, coming to a standing position, shoes once again in tow. “I don’t think urinating in your new owner’s shoes is a good way to start a relationship.”

  Now her laugh came in swift guffaws that sounded oddly feminine, yet more than a little contagious.

  Quinn found himself smiling. “I didn’t think it was funny at the time.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that Dixi is the nicest of the bunch. She’s always friendly and playful. I can’t imagine her doing such a thing.”

  “Well, she did.” Quinn held up a shoe. “I’ve got proof.”

  Nikki nodded. “And it looks like she’s not quite finished with your shoes yet.”

  Dixi was yipping and dancing around Quinn’s feet as if she expected him to maybe lift one of those up for her to urinate on next.

  “Sit!” he ordered but it was as if he’d said it in German because Dixi didn’t so much as take a pause.

  “Poor Sweet Dixi. I’ll just take her down with me,” Nikki said, shaking her head. “You go and get, ah … another pair of shoes.”

  The way she looked at him said she was about to laugh again, but she bent down, taking Dixi into her arms once more. Lifting one of her paws, she made like the dog was waving at him. “We’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

  Quinn was not amused and walked away thinking it was going to be a horrendous task keeping that dog.

  But once he was back in his room he went to the window; his suitcase was propped against the wall just beneath. He dropped his shoes beside it and was just about to bend over and open the case to find another pair when the outside caught his attention. The room he was staying in faced the back of the house, which in turn faced a line of maple and oak trees as big and full as if they were perfectly drawn in a picture book. The grass was emerald green, almost too green to be believable. The sun sprinkled its golden rays down in abundance, until it looked like another place and time entirely. Surely this could not be the town he’d left more than nineteen years ago. He never remembered it being this beautiful on a Sunday morning.

  Then again, Quinn and his siblings usually spent their Sunday mornings sitting on a pew at the Redeemer’s Baptist Church. They’d all sat there yesterday, in the same old church that Gramma had dressed them up for and dragged them to every week. But yesterday they’d said good-bye. He’d looked down into that pale rose casket to the body of one of the only women he’d ever loved. Even in death she looked happy and healthy and ready to take on the world. Gramma hadn’t been afraid of anything. She’d said that only fear itself was scary; that’s why she didn’t allow it into her heart. She always looked forward, always kept her head up. On a long sigh Quinn was determined to do the same.

  He’d known that coming back here was going to be hard. But it had to be done. And now it was almost over. He’d just about made it without any issues.

  Then he saw the old man from last night. Sylvester Bynum. He walked with a significant limp this morning, his cane’s bottom disappearing in the lush grass as it assisted him out to the line of trees. He walked down farther, past the old gazebo, to where Quinn could see a lone bench and a couple of colorful bushes—azaleas in all shades from white to fuchsia. Sylvester sat down with a tired plop, using both his hands to hold the cane in front of him. Then he simply stared. At what, Quinn wasn’t quite sure. But he recognized the stance, almost read the thoughts in the man’s head. He was grieving.

  Quinn didn’t do grief well. No, he didn’t do it at all. He loved hard, worked even harder, but let the dead bury the dead. That was all, and he’d never really had any other choice. It was what worked for him.

  Tearing his gaze away from the window, he reached into the suitcase and grabbed another pair of shoes and socks. When he’d slipped on the leather loafers he went into the bathroom and washed his hands. Leaving the room, he was more determined than ever to hire a manager for the B&B and get the hell out of this godforsaken town, once and for all.

  Chapter 4

  Quinn Cantrell still did something to her, Nikki was the first to admit when she’d finished that room and walked down the steps with Dixi in her arms. She’d moved a lot faster than she’d planned, partly because she didn’t want to be stuck going down the steps with Quinn. Not that stuck was the best word.

  She’d always avoided him. Like the plague, she thought seriously. Savannah said he was mean and liked to yell at her all the time. But Nikki had never believed that, not entirely. Savannah was spoiled and could be a bit of a brat. She hadn’t spoken to her much in the years she’d been away from Sweetland, so Nikki wasn’t sure if she’d grown up any—she wasn’t really betting on it. And they hadn’t had a moment to talk during this trip. Savannah had arrived yesterday morning just in time to climb into the limo and head to the church.

  But Nikki’s best recollection of Quinn was his sad brown eyes, the same ones that had stared at her when she’d played with Dixi. A part of her had wanted to invite him to come down and play with the dog with her, but she hadn’t. Quinn Cantrell did not play with puppies. Hell, she’d thought he didn’t smile, but she’d seen one today and figured it was almost as perfect
as the picturesque scenery outside. And as if the smile weren’t enough, they’d touched, like skin on skin—which was a thought that made her burn within, but that was another story. And just like last night when he’d looked at her as if she were just another citizen of this lovely town, he’d given her his signature scowl and she’d felt like crap. He even looked at Sweet Dixi like she’d just come in on a bus from hell.

  “He just doesn’t understand us does he, Sweet Dixi?”

  Her answer came in another boisterous licking of the face and a wagging of Sweet Dixi’s otterlike tail. Nikki doubted Quinn understood anything but his high-class job at that fancy hospital in Seattle. At the funeral Ms. Marabelle and Ms. Louisa had been talking about the Cantrell siblings as if they were all on the cover of some tabloid magazine. Then again, Marabelle and Louisa could be called Sweetland’s live version of the National Enquirer, only they didn’t bother to write down their glamorous and often over-the-top stories, they just sat in the front pew of Redeemer’s Baptist and let it all out. When they weren’t sitting in church gossiping, they were at Jana’s Java Shop sitting right in front of the window so they could get a good look at everyone walking down Main Street, all of them fair game for their commentary.

  Anyway, they’d been saying that he’d gone to the top schools and graduated at the head of his class—Quinn, that is. Then he’d worked at the famous Johns Hopkins for a while but thought he was better than those fine folks there, including Dr. Ben Carson himself, and picked up and moved all the way to Seattle where he ran some part of the hospital all on his own. Quinn looked like he was used to being in charge—after all, he was the oldest sibling. He also looked like he needed to loosen up a bit, if Nikki were really looking at him, which as she got to the bottom of the steps she decided she definitely was not—or at least she didn’t plan to anymore.

  When she entered the parlor she heard Raine—the quiet and pretty Cantrell sister—remembering a particularly memorable fiasco the “Double Trouble” Cantrells had gotten themselves into. Preston and Parker were well known around town for their practical jokes as well as the long line of broken hearts they routinely left in their wake. Looking at them now, Nikki figured they hadn’t changed a bit.