Stealing His Heart: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love Book 2)

by Delaney Cameron

The cooling of the water told her it was time to get out. There would be no sitting around the house today. She’d agreed to go to a craft show with her mother to help sell the canned pickles and blackberry jam they’d spent the last four days making. Downstairs in the kitchen, she poured coffee and halfheartedly flipped through the script lying on the table.

  “This is worse than the other one,” Darcy said to the empty room. “Sylvia is madly in love with her best friend’s boyfriend. Doesn’t she have any pride? She needs to go find her own man.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She swung around to greet her mother. “This play Cason wants me to be in. It reads like a teenager’s diary.” She turned a few more pages. “Like this scene, for instance. This Sylvia person lets a guy who’s engaged to someone else kiss her. Not only is she boring, but she’s also the world’s worst best friend.”

  “It sounds like a typical romantic drama to me. The audience will love it.”

  “That doesn’t say much for the audience.”

  Her mother removed a tray of cupcakes from the refrigerator. “You should do the play. It will get you out of the house. Who knows? You might meet someone.”

  Meeting someone wasn’t the problem. Getting them to stick around was where things went downhill. Darcy shook her head. “There are more enjoyable reasons to get out of the house. How long before we need to leave?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Then I better get going.” She gulped down the rest of her too-hot coffee and put her cup in the sink. Back in her room, she quickly changed into shorts and a t-shirt. Now she knew why Cason hadn’t bothered to deliver the news in person. She hadn’t wanted to be there when Darcy looked through the script. Well, her sneaky sister could just forget it. She didn’t need any help finding things to do.

  * * * * *

  Matt grabbed a towel from the plastic bag in the cooler and wiped his face and neck. At this rate, he was losing water faster than he could take it in. His glance swept over the neatly mowed lawn and stopped at the tall hedge still waiting to be trimmed. Had he really chosen to have a landscape business in Georgia where the late summer temperatures hovered in the nineties? Not even the breeze coming off the ocean made any difference in this kind of heat.

  Eric usually did all the trimming, but his brother had something more important to do today. Matt’s sister-in-law Julie had gone into labor a few hours ago.

  As he poured gas into the trimmer, a beach ball bounced off the cab of his truck and rolled into the grass. Matt capped the gasoline can and walked over to retrieve it. A little girl’s voice could be heard on the other side of the privacy fence separating the two yards.

  “Mommy, my ball is gone.”

  “It’s not gone, darling. I’ll get it.”

  A faint smile touched Matt’s lips as he picked up the ball. He was reminded of the time he and Eric were tossing a football around in the backyard. All it took was one errant pass to break an expensive bay window. Their mother had been less than pleased when she was confronted by an angry next door neighbor. Neither of them had been able to sit down for a week after that episode.

  He followed the fence to where it formed a right angle. As he turned the corner, the gate opened and out walked a woman. Blonde hair spilled from the straw hat on her head. She could have been anywhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. When their eyes met, she smiled.

  He returned her smile and held out the ball. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you.” She reached to take it from him.

  “No problem.” He pointed to her head. “You’re well equipped for the heat. I accidently left my hat at home today. Big mistake! It’s hot enough out here to scramble eggs on the pavement.”

  A giggle erupted from behind the gate followed by a freckled face surrounded by bright red hair. “That’s silly.”

  “Silly?” Matt asked in mock horror, putting his hands on his hips. “Are you calling me silly?”

  The little girl laughed again. “He’s funny, isn’t he, Mommy.”

  The woman lightly touched the girl’s head. “It’s not polite to call someone silly. Thank the nice man for getting your ball.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, but just call me Matt. Sir makes me feel old.”

  “Stella, take the ball and wait for me in the house.” After the girl ran off, the woman looked back at Matt. “We just moved in a few days ago. I’ve been looking for a lawn service. Are you taking new customers?”

  “Sure am. Does Friday work for you?”

  “That would be great. How do I pay you? I may not be home when you come.”

  “I take cash or checks. If you’re not home, I’ll leave an invoice in your mailbox.”

  “Checks? You’re very trusting.”

  Matt shrugged. “I’ve found that most people can be trusted.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Can I get your name so I can add you to the schedule?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s Cason Finnegan.”

  “Thank you, Cason. I’ll be here next Friday.

  Matt returned to his trimming. This was the third new account this month. He and Eric were quickly reaching the point where they might have to hire a second crew to handle their growing customer base. Business had really picked up in the last two years – more than either of them expected. Matt gave all the credit for that to his brother.

  Gibson Landscape Company would never have been more than an idea in Matt’s head if Eric hadn’t supplied the capital to buy the equipment. His celebrity status as a former major league baseball player hadn’t hurt either. The name Eric Gibson was marketing gold.

  Their success had allowed Matt to build his dream house. It had been thrilling to watch the blueprints he and Sarah poured over for months become a reality. It had been agonizing to live in the house without her. Almost as bad as losing Sarah was the knowledge that he hadn’t seen it coming. He thought he knew her as well as he knew himself. Shouldn’t he have noticed that something was wrong?

  * * * * *

  Pine Needle Park was alive with activity. Artisans from St. Marys as well as the surrounding communities were energetically setting up booths in the grassy area ringed by the pine trees after which the park was named. As she flung a white cloth over the oblong table, Darcy wished she’d remembered to bring an umbrella. It was already warm and would only get more so as the day wore on. Lifting a heavy cardboard box off the ground, she began arranging Mason jars in neat rows.

  Her mother joined her a few minutes later, carrying a clear plastic container of cookies. “I hope I brought enough baked goods,” she said.

  Darcy glanced pointedly at a second box on the ground. “Are you serious? We must have twelve dozen cookies and half that many cupcakes.”

  “I don’t like to run out. Whatever I don’t sell, I can freeze.”

  “Since we’ve established that we have enough, can I have one? I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.”

  Her mother lifted the lid a few inches, allowing Darcy to slip her hand inside. “Going without breakfast isn’t healthy. This is what I was afraid of when you decided to go away to college. It’s important to eat regularly and get enough sleep. In my day, daughters only left home when they got married.”

  “Aren’t you glad times have changed? You might have been stuck with me forever.”

  Her mother made a sound between a sigh and a grunt. “The girls of today are too worried about finding themselves and having a career. Independence is great, but it can be carried too far. That business degree you’re working so hard to get won’t keep you warm on a cold, winter night.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? And it wasn’t like Darcy didn’t want someone in her life. No one seemed to understand how difficult it was for her to have a relationship. “I wish we’d brought some milk to go with the cookies.”

  “You’ll have to make do with lemonade. Let’s go get the rest of the stuff.”

 
; Darcy followed her mother to the silver van parked underneath a towering live oak tree. She pulled on a swath of moss dangling from the gnarled branches. “Remember when we gathered all that Spanish moss to make wreaths and ended up covered with chigger bites.”

  Her mother nodded as she rummaged around in the back of the van. “How can I forget? We spent the next week with cortisone cream smeared all over our arms and legs. Can you get that box of jelly? I’ll get the cupcakes and the lemonade.”

  Darcy felt her phone vibrate. It was most likely Alison. Her friend was still walking on air because her boyfriend had finally proposed. “I’ll get it right after I check this text. You better get back to the booth. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Don’t be long. You know I can’t make change without writing it out on paper.”

  Darcy pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. It wasn’t Alison. It was the pharmacy. In the rush of coming home, she almost ran out of medicine. Thankfully, she’d been able to get her prescription transferred here. As much as she hated taking pills, she knew the consequences if she didn’t. Grabbing the box of jelly, she closed the rear door of the van and hurried after her mother.

  * * * * *

  Matt stood by his brother’s side, both of them looking at the sleeping baby visible through the window of the newborn nursery. “I’m glad she looks like Julie. One of you running around is more than enough.”

  Eric nodded. “You can’t be more relieved than me. I’m scared to death to take her home. She looks so small and fragile, and I don’t know the first thing about babies.”

  “What did you do? Sleep through all those childbirth classes?”

  “There’s a big difference between doing all that stuff to a doll and having to do it for a real baby. What if I do something wrong?”

  “You won’t be taking care of Nerina alone. Julie is going home with you, too.” Matt started to laugh. “Remember when I went with her to one of those classes because you were out of town. She got so angry; I didn’t think she’d ever forgive me.”

  “What did you expect? You told the class you were her boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t think anyone would actually believe it.”

  “Don’t get me started on the subject of what people will believe. I lived in the public eye for too long.”

  “At least that’s slowed down a little. Marrying Julie has lessened your appeal, at least with the female portion of the population.”

  “Marrying Julie is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Today is the second best thing.”

  “Which makes winning the World Series a distant third. Some of your fans might think you’ve gone too far.”

  “I’ll tell you something, Matt. I didn’t think I could love Julie any more than I do, but watching what she went through to have Nerina gave me a whole new appreciation for her. Men have it easy.”

  “Don’t let Julie or any other female hear you say that.”

  “Just wait; you’ll see what I mean when your time comes.”

  Matt stepped back from the window, his dark eyes shadowed. “I thought my time had come. I was days away from asking Sarah to marry me, and she tells me she doesn’t love me anymore. I’m still trying to process that.”

  “All you can do is take one day at a time. There’s no quick fix. Love is tenacious. It slips into your heart and takes over.”

  “You’re telling me. Why couldn’t Sarah have taken my love with her when she left? It’s not doing me any good. It’s been five months and three dates that were memorable for all the wrong reasons. When your divorce was final, I couldn’t understand why you wanted to be left alone. You kept telling me you weren’t ready. I thought that if you went out occasionally it would help you get over Sydney more quickly. Now I know that it’s not as simple as filling that void with another person.”

  Eric nodded. “It only takes a few seconds for your heart to break; it can take weeks, months, and even years for it to heal. The process is different for everyone. The only advice I can give you is stay busy. It sounds obvious, but it helps. I know you love Sarah; but believe me, it’s better that she told you before rather than after you got married.”

  “I know you’re right. Here I am complaining when you had it so much worse. At least Sarah didn’t announce her decision on a talk show.”

  A flash of distaste passed over Eric’s face. “Exactly. Getting over someone is difficult enough without it being discussed on the nightly news.”

  “All of that is behind you. You’ve got Julie now.”

  “There’s a Julie for you, too. The right girl is out there waiting for you to sweep her off her feet.”

  Matt sent him a skeptical glance. “So Sarah wasn’t the right girl? I wish you’d said something sooner.”

  Eric grinned, but refused to take this obvious bait. “Julie’s parents will be here tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to have a houseful. It’s a good thing you’ve got a big house.”

  “Yeah, and one more won’t hurt, so don’t start making excuses for why you can’t come over.”

  “That means I have to shave and get a haircut.”

  “Only if you want them to recognize you.”

  Matt looked at his watch. “I better get over to Pine Needle Park. I promised your wife I’d pick up her birdhouses.”

  “I didn’t think there was a power on earth that could get you to a craft show.”

  “I didn’t either, but have you ever tried to refuse to do something Julie asked? It’s impossible.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir. I don’t even fight it anymore.”

  “Smart man. See ya later.”

  * * * * *

  Matt groaned audibly when he saw the number of booths lining the perimeter of the park. How was he supposed to find the birdhouse man in this mass of confusion? If that wasn’t enough to make him want to turn and run back to the truck, there wasn’t a male under fifty in sight. He felt like one of those fish stuck in a glass bowl at the pet store.

  Crowds weren’t his thing at the best of times. He couldn’t always pivot fast enough to get out of the way of a running child, a kid on a skateboard, or a woman pushing a stroller. All three of those hazards were present today.

  Taking a deep breath, he dove into the fray. The first booth was selling knitted doilies. Behind the table sat his high school science teacher. She still looked as stern and unbending as ever.

  “Matt Gibson! Is that you, dear?”

  Dear? That wasn’t what she’d called him when she caught him putting a ‘For Sale’ sign in her front yard. “Hey, there, Mrs. Bannerman. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. What brings you here today? Picking up something for your wife?”

  He was picking up something for another man’s wife. It was a depressing thought. “I’m looking for the man who makes birdhouses. Do you know where he is?”

  Her wrinkled face broke into a smile. “Mrs. Higgleston will know. He’s her son-in-law. She’s over by the hot dog cart.”

  His piano teacher was still alive? Mrs. Higgleston had to be in her eighties. The last time she’d seen Matt, he’d been a skinny fifteen-year-old with acne. Would she even remember him?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bannerman.”

  By the time he made his way through the throng, Mrs. Higgleston had bought her hot dog and moved on. He tracked her down in front of a table selling cookies, cupcakes and something in Mason jars. Not wanting to interrupt the animated conversation she was having with a man wearing an enormous cowboy hat, Matt stationed himself close by and tried to blend in.

  To his left, a little boy straddling a bicycle that looked too big for him was talking to an attractive young woman on the other side of the table. The way the child’s eyes kept straying to the spread of treats brought a grin to Matt’s face.

  “Are those chocolate chip cookies?” the boy finally asked, pointing to the ones closest to him.

  “Sure are. I’ve also got oatmeal raisin.”

  “Do
they have nuts in them?”

  “No nuts.”

  “I’ll take a chocolate chip cookie and some lemonade.”

  “Good choice.”

  A small hand grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with the pale yellow drink. Then the woman wrapped not one, but two cookies in a napkin. A handful of change was offered and refused. After the boy ran off, she reached into her pocket, took out a few wrinkled dollar bills and pushed them through the opening in the plastic lid of a large tin can.

  “You may have started something you’re going to regret,” Matt told her as he stepped into the gap left by the boy.

  She glanced his way, her eyes widening enough for him to notice that they were somewhere between dark blue and gray. A strange expression passed briefly over her face. “You’re probably right. Can I get you something?”

  He picked up one of the jars. “Are these sweet pickles?”

  “They are, but the official name is bread and butter pickles.”

  “Did you make them?”

  Slim fingers with pale pink nails pushed a few loose strands of wavy, dark blonde hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the scar running down the side of her neck.

  “Only if you count holding the funnel, putting on the lids and making the labels.”

  “I think we can count that. I’ll take two jars.”

  “That’ll be three dollars.”

  Matt removed a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the change for your lemonade fund.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested, her eyes not quite meeting his.

  She must have noticed his leg. He knew that seeing it made some people uncomfortable. “I want to.” He glanced around. “Now, where did she go? She was right here.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Mrs. Higgleston. For an elderly lady, she moves fast.”

  The girl stood on tiptoe and looked around. “She’s over by the pies.”

  “Then I better hurry before she leaves again. Thanks for the pickles.”

  She smiled at him, just as she’d done to the little boy. “You’re welcome. I hope you like them.”

  He felt a flicker of recognition strong enough to make him wonder if they’d met before. The next moment the feeling was gone, leaving him staring at her foolishly. He hurriedly grabbed the Mason jars and turned away. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find his former piano teacher, pick up the birdhouses for Julie, and get out of here.