by Lacey Baker
Of course she was an adult now, and you’d think she would have grown out of all her hostility and immature reactions. Still, Quinn had to give her credit: For the most part she had. Through the years when Quinn had seen her or called to check up on her Savannah appeared to indeed be a grown-up. She had a budding career and a good head on her shoulders. She’d invested a lot of her money and made sound purchases with the rest, there were no stories of her in this man’s bed or another, and she was very professional. Coming back to Sweetland had definitely done something to her.
As if on cue the puppy who had been graciously licking Savannah’s sandals sat back and looked up expectantly. He caught her attention and she looked down. “And you, little mongrel, are going to buy me another pair of shoes?”
When Savannah stormed out of the room Micah happily ran after her, leaving both Quinn and Nikki a little amused.
“She’s going to hurt that poor dog,” Nikki said, coming to stand fully in the foyer.
She moved to one of the tables that ran along the wall behind the door, straightening the huge flower arrangements that sat there. It seemed like a natural enough move, but Quinn suspected it was more of a distraction.
“Now that, I can relate to,” he said with a sigh. “Sweet Dixi and I don’t seem to get along at all. Makes me wonder what Gramma was thinking giving us all those dogs.”
“Really? You’re questioning Mrs. Cantrell’s will?”
There was a hint of alarm in her voice. “Not like that,” was his quick reply. He’d already pissed Savannah off. Going for another woman’s irritated looks and remarks was not on Quinn’s agenda. “We were all talking last night wondering why she thought it was a good idea to leave us the dogs as well as the house.”
Nikki turned, resting that delectable backside against the table, and looked up at him. “I think she was trying to share a part of herself with the people she loved. All of you were so busy with your lives in other places, you rarely had time for her. Maybe she thought this way you’d have a piece of her forever.”
She seemed serious about what she’d just said, as if Gramma had told her this for herself. Quinn wasn’t entirely sure of that, and he found himself focusing a little more on the physical reaction his body was having to her proximity.
“Why didn’t you mention the taxes that were due on the house?” he asked by way of distraction and because he wanted to know.
She looked only slightly startled that he’d asked. Then she looked professional and oddly serious.
“It wasn’t my place. Michelle said she would handle it.”
“But you’re the manager now,” he continued, not sure what reaction he was reaching for, but wanting one just the same.
“I can’t afford to pay the back taxes. If I could, I would, because I know how much this place meant to Mrs. Cantrell. And the business is doing well—we don’t owe anybody except for the taxes. I can’t say for sure why they were never paid, but I think she was hoping you and your siblings would all pull together and save the B and B.”
Quinn had thought that as well. In fact, he was almost positive that’s what his grandmother had been thinking. Nikki had just confirmed his thought that the place was doing good business so there shouldn’t have a been a reason Gramma didn’t pay the taxes. And yet they were presumably delinquent. Quite convenient when he considered the timing of his grandmother’s death along with what had to have been a quick change in her will.
“Well,” he replied finally. “I don’t know how well that’s going to work out.”
“Is it that you don’t want Dixi or you don’t want to save the B and B?” she asked.
The question was posed more like an accusation, and Quinn figured that reaction he was looking for was just about ready to erupt. “I didn’t say that.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t say you did, either.”
“Were you always this contrary?” he asked out of the blue. “I don’t really remember you being this way. But ever since I’ve been here we’ve been at odds about one thing or another.”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly. Maybe you’re just not used to anybody questioning you.”
Maybe he wasn’t used to women who looked like she did turning him on the way she was. Or maybe he was just annoyed at how much she turned him on and how guilty that ultimately made him feel. Quinn considered himself a smart man … apparently not smart enough to stop his feet from moving him closer to her, but still pretty damned intelligent. On a good day he knew right from wrong, up from down, and basically how to make his way in this big old cruel world. Today, right at this moment, he wasn’t quite sure. There were other forces at work here, forces he didn’t know if he had the strength to fight.
“Maybe there’s something else going on between us that’s making us edgy,” he said lowering his voice. He was edgy all right, and horny as hell. Both of which were not the norm for him.
She had to crane her head upward to see him, her eyes blinking fast. Pretty brown eyes, he noticed.
It was as if she refused to look away. Her shoulders had squared and she almost seemed to rise up a little taller. “You never paid enough attention to me to know if I was contrary or not as a child.”
“I’m paying attention now,” he told her because it was the God’s honest truth. Whatever else he’d convinced himself was true about her, the fact that he was obviously attracted to her was a given. And Quinn didn’t make it a habit of walking away from a physical attraction.
She looked as if she were carefully contemplating his words, like he’d made her a business offer she had to consider. There was an unmistakable flash of heat in her eyes, then a purposeful retreat in her tone. “You should walk your dog. She’s dancing around at the door like she’s about to pee on the rug. And that’s a three-hundred-dollar rug. As the owner of this B and B you’d want to take very good care of your property.”
Her words were said with a cool seriousness that was belied only by the heated look in her eyes and the slight blush along her cheeks. And even though she walked away quickly after she’d spoken them, Quinn knew he wasn’t alone in this attraction thing. The thought made his attitude toward Dixi a lot lighter—until he took two steps toward the dog and knew instinctively what she was about to do.
His curse was long and low as he made a mental note to go online and look for a replacement rug this evening.
Chapter 8
Cordy’s house sat on the corner of Birch Street and was surrounded by grass and miniature bushes that she trimmed herself twice a month. “Autumn Frost” hostas lined both sides of the walkway, draping over onto the sidewalk since Cordy’s house received every bit of the sunlight Sweetland enjoyed. In the spring and summer, Nikki always felt like she was making a grand entrance when she walked to her sister’s front door. The gorgeous green leafy border plants served as their version of a red carpet and she hummed as she moved along the path.
“Endless Summer” hydrangea bushes in plump lavender and creamy pale green colors hugged the width of the white shingled house. And on each side of the three steps leading to the door were azalea bushes in vibrant pink. It was a riot of color that never failed to put Nikki in a happy mood.
She’d actually been able to leave half an hour before her original plan as nobody had walked in for a room and Michelle indicated she was fine preparing for the dinner rush at the restaurant on her own. Nikki had driven her car over but wondered if she should have walked instead. Walking always helped clear her mind, and right now there were a few big issues battling for her attention. As she turned the knob and entered Cordy’s house, she heard the low hum of her cell phone vibrating in her purse. Snatching the purse off her shoulder Nikki tossed it on the couch as she continued walking through the living room. She knew who was calling and would rather not talk to him again today.
“I want it!”
“Mine!”
“I had it first!”
“No!”
“Did too!”
It wa
s an argument Nikki had heard before, in the high-pitched voices of two toddlers who were not very happy with each other. Since Zyra had just turned two in January, her vocabulary was a little limited; the one-word replies belonged to her. She’d mastered no fairly early in her talking life. Mimi didn’t care how old her sister was, though: When she wanted something that was all that mattered.
Before Nikki could make her way back to the second of the three bedrooms in the split-level house she heard adult footsteps and almost groaned. Cordy had heard the argument.
“Mariah Charise Brockington-Simmons, I know you are not bullying your sister,” Cordy yelled before she entered the room.
Nikki bumped into her sister as their paths crossed in the hallway.
“Oh hey,” Cordy said. “I’m about to go in here and strangle one of them.”
Nikki laughed. “You lie. You could no more hurt those children than you could yourself. Barry’s the disciplinarian in this house, that’s why they’re carrying on the way they are now.”
“Who asked you? Your expertise is in the hotel business, not the child-raising business,” was Cordy’s quick retort.
“Well, I’m the babysitter and I’m here now. So I’ll handle it,” Nikki told her, inching her way by to slip into the bedroom ahead of Cordy.
“Sneaky little brat,” Cordy mumbled, leaning against the doorjamb to watch how Nikki planned to handle the situation.
For Nikki, dealing with children wasn’t so hard, another feather in her personality cap. However, dealing with Mimi and Zyra was totally different. They weren’t your ordinary girls and could easily serve as an effective form of birth control.
“Hey girls, what’s going on?” Nikki asked, lowering her voice and instantly going to sit on the edge of Mimi’s bed.
The girls shared a bedroom—a princess-themed, pink, yellow, and white, froufrou room with more lace and fluff than Nikki had ever seen. They had a huge window on the wall opposite their beds—Mimi’s a pink-and-white canopy and Zyra’s a white framed toddler bed in the shape of a princess crown. Yellow lace curtains hung from the window, letting in spears of sunshine since their room faced the front of the house. The walls were painted the palest shade of yellow with each of the girls’ names painted in glitter pink cursive letters. There was a three-foot-high dollhouse that Nikki remembered playing with when she was a little girl. Their maternal grandfather had built the dollhouse and all its furniture while their grandmother had made all the curtains and linens to match. In one corner was a dark yellow beanbag chair; in another, a white trunk full of dolls and jump ropes and any other toy imaginable for a young girl. Barry hated the time he was required to spend away from his family, and he often repaid them with material possessions that none of them complained about.
“I want that dolly,” Mimi said with a pout, her little arms instantly going over her chest.
Mimi was just about three feet high with an adorably chubby frame that started with plump toes, nails painted neon orange, and ended at the most pinchable cheeks ever made. She preferred her sandy brown hair be left out to curl adoringly around her face—similar to Aunty Nikki’s—but Cordy insisted on pigtails with coordinating hair accessories.
“Mine!” Zyra screamed in her tiny voice as she gripped the doll in question even tighter.
Zyra had an angelic look, her tiny body complete with a round face and heart-shaped lips. Her hair, having just started to grow, was usually highlighted by coordinating headbands, because Cordy just wouldn’t have it any other way. To Nikki they were the most adorable girls in the world and she loved them more than anything. They filled a void in her she’d long since figured would never heal.
“Who does this pretty little dolly belong to?” Nikki asked, pulling Mimi closer so that her chubby little thighs were alongside Nikki’s jean-clad leg.
“It’s hers but Mommy says we gotta share,” Mimi answered.
Zyra shook her head. “Mine!”
And she was definitely not in the mood to give up her dolly—which by the way was missing her pants and only had on one sock to match her white shirt.
“Well, if she wants to play with her dolly right now, Mimi, why don’t you play with something else? I see lots of dollies in your toy box.”
“I don’t want those,” Mimi crooned.
Of course she didn’t want those; that would be too much like right.
“But you have some really nice ones over here.” Nikki got off the bed and headed over to the toy box. Going to her knees, she began picking through the toys.
“Look, this one is yours. I know because I gave her to you for your birthday. She looks like she’d like to play,” Nikki said, waiting for Mimi to come and join her.
She was a stubborn child so trying to convince her of anything was a struggle. “She’s missing a shoe. Maybe you can help me find it.”
“I don’t know where it is,” Mimi said. She was still pouting, Nikki could tell by the sound of her voice even though she hadn’t turned back to look at her.
She just kept moving stuff around in the toy box. “She needs her shoes if she wants to go out back and ride the swings. And she might need a sweater if it gets cool outside.”
“It’s hot ’cause it’s almost summer,” was Mimi’s reply.
“Then maybe she’ll need a bonnet to protect her from the sun. Oh, here’s her shoe!” Nikki put the shoe on the dolly, still not looking back at Mimi.
A few seconds later she heard a rustling then felt the whisper of Mimi’s breath as she leaned over her shoulder and said, “She has a green bonnet with little flowers on it. It matches her shorts and Mommy says it’s good to match.”
Nikki nodded. “It is and you’re getting so good at it. Can you find the bonnet for me while I make sure Zyra’s dolly has another sock to wear outside?”
“She’s too small to ride swings.” Mimi pouted, pushing past Nikki to bend her small frame into the toy box moving stuff aside as she looked for the bonnet.
“But the sliding board is just right for her. It’s short so she doesn’t have far to go, and when she lands she’ll go right in the sandbox.”
“And get sand in her Pamper. Mommy says that’s gross,” Mimi declared, sounding much older than her four years. “But Zyra likes it. She says it tickles.”
Nikki had moved to the other bed and extended her hands to Zyra. The baby happily gave over her dolly, which led Nikki to believe that it was only Mimi whom Zyra didn’t want to have her doll. She almost smiled, remembering treating Cordy the same way when they were young. Then Zyra crawled to the top of her bed and reached under the pillow. She smiled as she offered Nikki the dolly’s other sock.
“As soon as Mimi finds her dolly’s bonnet we’ll be all set to go outside.”
“Got it!” Mimi said, holding up a green-flowered doll bonnet.
“Great, then let’s go.” Nikki handed Zyra her doll and helped the baby off the bed. As she walked she extended her other hand, and as expected Mimi took it.
When they arrived at the doorway it was to confront a smugly smiling Cordy. “You’re too good at that to remain childless.”
“Please, babysitting yours suits me just fine,” Nikki said, moving past her sister and heading toward the back door.
“That’s what you think,” Cordy whispered as she watched her sister walking away with her daughters.
Nikki had so much love inside her, so much compassion and so many smiles to give to children, to a man she loved, to a family she could come home to every night. Cordy hated to see her walking down the old-maid path. Before long she’d be sitting inside the coffee shop right beside Marabelle and Louisa talking about everybody who walked up and down Main Street. Cordy groaned at the thought.
Maybe because she’d fallen in love and had a gorgeous family, she wanted that same type of happiness for her little sister. Or maybe it was because she knew Nikki better than anyone else. She knew that Randy Davis had broken Nikki’s heart a few years ago and caused her to give up on men en
tirely. And she knew without a doubt that Nikki’s no-men declaration would lead her to a very solitary and unhappy life.
That’s why she prayed for her little sister every night. Prayer worked, Cordy knew this without a doubt. It was the only thing that got her over Parker Cantrell and his smooth talk and rude departure. It was what kept Barry safe while he was away fighting a war she didn’t really understand. It was what brought her lovely babies safely into this world. And it was, she thought with a small smile as she stared out the back window to see Nikki, Mimi, and Zyra playing happily in the backyard, what would save her sister’s life.
* * *
Quinn strolled down Main Street on his way to the vet’s office. The decision to walk was kind of made for him since he hadn’t rented a car to come to Sweetland from the airport, either. He’d simply reserved a sedan service to bring him into town and really hadn’t thought he’d need to get around, or be available to take his sister to the airport, for that matter. He’d come here to attend a funeral. A limousine provided by the Brinks Funeral Home in Easton had taken the family from the house to the church and back again. His plan to get back to the airport was to hire that same sedan service to pick him up. As for when he was leaving Sweetland, well, Quinn had had enough forethought to give himself the whole week here. He hadn’t known what Gramma’s will would say or how long it would take to make sure all her affairs were in order.
Now he was walking the same streets he had as a child with his father and then again as a teenager when it wasn’t so cool to walk with one’s father. He’d stopped at the municipal building, had even gone into the only completely marble building in Sweetland and walked around for a few minutes. The portraits inside—the one of Hubert Fitzgerald, the first mayor from 1900 to 1904, and the one of the very familiar-looking Liza Fitzgerald, the current mayor—were on prominent display in the hall that greeted visitors as soon as they walked through the brass entry doors. All other mayoral portraits—including the one of Quinn’s great-grandfather and Gramma’s father, Jerry Davidson, who served two terms from 1920 to 1928—were located down an adjacent hallway.
