Love, Honor & Cherish: The On the Cape Trilogy: A Cape Van Buren Trilogy

by Meredith, MK

  The last thing he needed was Banon I on his ass because of Tiny Town’s color-by-number comic. “Look...” He stepped forward. “Take your coloring book—”

  “No, sweet thing. You look.” The other woman who’d joined Sage and Alora stepped in front of him. Had he been paying attention earlier, he’d have noted both the vintage biker jacket and the warning look in her eyes. But he certainly noticed now. “This is a family affair, and you’re not invited. Sage isn’t stuck holding your hand around town until tomorrow.”

  “Family affair? From the looks of it, the whole town is here.”

  “Exactly.” She stepped close, almost nose to nose. “And I’m warning you, one wrong move...” She flicked a butter knife at his crotch, and he died a little inside. “And you’ll be leaving on a higher note than you came in. I roller derby and, at this point, ridding the world of one mere man would be child’s play.”

  His balls shrunk faster than the time a hot blonde—with both an ass and rack competing for number one—talked him into taking a polar ice plunge.

  He tried to retreat as far as possible away from the weapon. Butter knife or not, balls and blades were never meant to meet.

  “Blayne, stop.” Alora laughed, not even trying to hide her amusement for the sake of politeness.

  Sage just watched with an all-too-satisfied smirk on her face.

  Parker skimmed his eyes over Sage from the top of the hair piled high on her head, to the fire in her eyes, and on down to the Ugg slipper boots on her feet, liking what he saw a helluva lot more than he should—his dick never did have a lick of sense—and pointed to the paper.

  “You’re only making my decision easier.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Sage gave a sharp nod of determination, then walked toward Parker with a smile pasted on her face, a plan in her heart, and a strategy in her head. She’d spent the night gleefully replaying his look of horror when Blayne had threatened his precious with a butter knife.

  Maybe she should feel bad but should didn’t always lead to did. Especially when he was messing with her newspaper and calling her comic a coloring book. Her teeth ground tight, and she wiggled her jaw a bit to force it to relax.

  If only he could see the importance of Grandpa Horace’s vision. It was more than just the news. It was a way of life, a part of the happily ever after she was determined to find, and Parker was trying to destroy it all before it had a chance to begin.

  But she’d open his eyes.

  And what incredible eyes they were.

  As she approached Mr. New York, her legs threatened to give out. Cape Van Buren boasted a lifestyle of work to play in a community that was really good at slipping on a pair of Bean boots to clean a boat or fix a fence, so she didn’t see many suits around her circles. Though, she had when she’d lived in the city and never thought much about it.

  But now, the desire to give a low, slow whistle that was all meat-market and no class made her lips tremble. Pressing them together, she resisted—barely. One thing was for certain, she hadn’t known what she was missing when a suit was filled out. Parker Edwards in dress slacks that formed to his muscular thighs like a hug, and a pressed shirt that showed off his muscles more than concealed them, made her seriously consider if she’d ever seen a real man before.

  Well, no doubt, he fit the bill. She’d always been told that men were animals, and Parker happened to be the big, dumb gorilla type. At least, that’s what she liked to tell herself to ease the not-so-subtle quiver in her stomach.

  Because holy hell in one of Janice Brennan’s floral handbaskets, the man gave Cape Van Buren’s finest a run for their money—and this town was full of hot men.

  She cleared her throat. “Truce?”

  His jaw flexed a few times as he assessed her from head to toe, making her skinny jeans feel a little too skinny, and her dark brown sweater less roomy than she’d remembered.

  “I wasn’t the one at war.”

  She fell in step next to him as they made their way toward the large, open green space in Van Buren Square. “You want to destroy my grandfather’s legacy.” Her words were quiet but firm.

  He grabbed her arm and turned her toward him, sending a little thrill straight to her middle.

  “I don’t. I want to save it. Turning small newspapers around is my specialty, and I’m damn good at it. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. The point is to keep the paper alive. You can draw anywhere. It’s not like it’s your livelihood. My job is.”

  Not her livelihood? He didn’t understand a damn thing, which was embarrassing. But the passion in his voice was unexpected, almost as much as the cowlick at the part of his hair that was stubbornly sticking in the opposite direction from the rest.

  Her fingers itched to fix it and, at the same time, she tried to figure out who he was trying to convince. The assertive tone in his voice spoke of something much larger than her opinion.

  Shoving her hands behind her back to both remove the heat left from his hand and keep her from touching his hair like the weirdo she was trying so hard not to be wanted to do, she argued, “But, The Van Buren Tribune creates family, it unites us.”

  “And that won’t change.”

  Iridescent dream bubbles floated about her head and popped one at a time. Because yes, it would change. All of it.

  “Now, more than ever, the paper needs experience and business savvy to keep it relevant.”

  “Business savvy? And what you don’t think that’s possible in small town Cape Van Buren?”

  He gave an indulgent nod. “Your words not mine.”

  And she wanted to knock him on his smug ass.

  “So you think you’re what? More savvy? Sophisticated, maybe? Unable to be manipulated or duped or whatever you businessmen do to win?” She said the word like it was a contagious infection.

  “Haven’t yet.”

  She pulled in a deep breath of ocean air, loving the scent filling her nostrils and relieved it had the same calming effect as every time before.

  Her position as the cartoonist for the paper, making a home in Cape Van Buren, and her grand idea of ever finding a man to look at her like Jay Astor looked at Blayne seemed more like a cruel joke than a possibility at this point.

  Words piled against her closed lips like rocks in an avalanche, but she swallowed them down. An idea took shape, pushing a giggle up her throat. Arguing would do nothing but make them late for the Vino Pairing Picnic that Dine on the Vine was throwing to launch their newest wine. They were blowing past wanting to be a premier winery into being one of the most sought-after cellars in the world, but Marco Bonamici always put the town first. The wine started and ended with Cape Van Buren. Just like family.

  Words had their place. But when it came to this community, Parker would have to feel it.

  Pulling in a breath, she let go of every argument she’d prepared for the day and pulled him toward the soon-to-be party.

  The feel of his large hand in hers was startling. Her palm was curiously sensitive to the calluses that ran along his, and her fingers twitched with the need to rub against his skin.

  Pull yourself together, woman.

  She released him before she embarrassed herself.

  The large, open lawn was polka-dotted with round tables and heat lamps rented from the fire station. The navy cloth napkins stood out against the white tablecloths and were placed around centerpieces of grape bunches twined with ivy leaves. Marco was setting up a cheese tray at one of the many tasting booths that ran the perimeter of the park and Dine on the Vine employees were unloading boxes of wine.

  Sage rubbed her hands. This was one of her favorite events, and the universe had blessed them with the perfect day, the sun shining high in the sky with the welcoming cry of the seagulls heard from overhead.

  Moby, the baby moose that had imprinted on Evette Kingsley, was dressed in rose-bedazzled collar and tied next to a Cape Van Buren Fire Department metal trough. True to form, it looked as thou
gh the animal was working steadily on the knot of the rope. He kept finding his way back to town no matter how far out Cape Van Buren Wild Life Rescue had tried to relocate him. Until they could figure out what to do, they tried their best to manage him. Thank goodness he wasn’t yet fully grown.

  Blayne spotted them walking up and pulled Jay along beside her. “Isn’t this great?” Ignoring Parker, she looked pointedly at Sage and pulled her in for a hug.

  Finally, she spared Mr. New York. a glance, then she flicked her hand at belt level, the reflection of the late morning sun glinting off a cheese knife this time. “Just so you don’t forget.”

  Jay groaned and grabbed it out of his wife’s hand, giving Parker a silent man-to-man apology. “Leave the poor guy alone. He’s just doing his job.”

  “You’re lucky you grabbed the blade, or you’d be next,” Blayne threatened Jay with her hands on her hips.

  He yanked her up against his body. “The only thing you’re going to be cutting me with is that sharp-ass mouth of yours.” And before she could answer, he swooped in for a kiss.

  Sage swore if someone opened her chest at that moment, hundreds of little hearts would float out in a love-drunk waltz. It might be crazy, most would definitely say corny, but she just couldn’t help it. This is what she was looking for.

  Someday, anyway. She pulled in a breath, then forced a smile on Parker. “See? Family.”

  The look on his face screamed get me the hell out of here, but he didn’t resist as she grabbed his hand. This time, he even gripped hers a bit tighter, making goosebumps shoot up her arm any time his fingers moved against her skin. She was hopeless. “Let’s go check out the tasting booths and see what else is going on. They’re just about set up, and as soon as noon rolls around, this park will be shoulder to shoulder, Cape Van Buren style.”

  “God help me,” he mumbled.

  Sage heard him but chose to ignore it. Not everyone appreciated how amazing small-town living could be. Heck, she’d resisted it herself for a long time. But carving out her own space in the city was like trying to find room in a sardine can.

  And the dating. She shuddered. Out of sheer desperation, she’d tried one of those speed dating lunches. The first guy asked her bra size, the second guy asked if she was into open relationships, and the third guy wanted to know if she had any brothers. She was about as successful at dating as Evette was at keeping her moose on a leash.

  “Look out!”

  Sage grabbed Parker, and a look of pure horror crossed his face as if the devil himself barreled down on them with hooves, a large furry snout, and massive shoulders. “What the hell is that?”

  “A nightmare.”

  Parker threw his arms around her, then pivoted until they both went flying. Somehow, he tucked her against him and rolled them out of the path of insanity.

  “Moby!”

  She could hear the commotion of trying to wrangle the beast, but all she could see were the buttons on Parker’s shirt, and all she could feel was the delicious weight of him sprawled out on top of her, making it hard to focus.

  The proverbial dust—which, in this case, was dormant blades of grass and a few rose petals that must have fallen from Mittens’ picnic collar—settled around them like a snow fall at the end of a romantic movie.

  “What just happened?” Parker asked, gasping. His eyes were wide, dilated, and the brightest blue Sage had ever seen. His chest rose and fell with large volumes of air, which crushed her breasts in the most intriguing way. He’d yet to realize he was still on top of her. She would tell him to move. Really, she would.

  As soon as she could breathe again. Because the feel of his massive chest, the scent of his cologne, and the fact his mouth was mere inches from hers, had stolen her breath and made her lips tingle as if zapped with an electrical current—whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, shoving his fingers through her hair and skimming her skull.

  Shivers of delight raced across her scalp and down her neck.

  Who the heck ever thought her head could be so sensitive? She grabbed at his hands to still them before she asked him to keep going. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m fine. Besides, I was the one who was supposed to save you.”

  He stilled, looking closely at her face. “Save me?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re not kidding,” he said in a tone of disbelief.

  “Why would I be kidding?”

  Those baby blues dropped to her mouth and stayed there so long, she almost raised her head to close the distance, but then, they lowered to the cleavage pushed up from the weight of him on her chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to make light of their position.

  “Well, this is one way to change your mind that I hadn’t thought of.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to swallow them whole. What the hell? Did she really just joke about propositioning him—with sex?

  That was not how she operated. Besides, the last woman he’d ever want would be to have sex with was some cartoonist who was making his job harder. Making his pants harder, on the other hand…

  Wait. What? The feel of his body against her thigh burned, and she couldn’t help shifting against him.

  His eyes snapped back to her face, dilating further and proving she wasn’t mistaken. Something warm and heady bubbled up in her chest.

  Lifting himself from her, he stood, brushing at the front of his shirt and his dress slacks. Large, brown patches of earth and grass stains colored each elbow and his right shoulder from the fall.

  Desperate to change the subject, she joined him and swiped at his shirt with short, jerky movements. “I can get this out for you. I’m so sorry.” She continued to swipe blades of grass from the front of his chest, intrigued by the hard muscle she felt beneath. At this point, she was sure her blush had passed her hairline and was fast on its way down her back and to her ass by now.

  This time, he grabbed her hands. “It’s okay.”

  She shoved them behind her back, then searched for Moby. Jerking her chin in the direction from which they’d come, she said, “There he is, damn trouble-maker.”

  Parker raised a brow. “Moby?”

  “Like I said…boys are dumb animals.”

  He nudged her, then laced her arm through his. “Show me more, but regardless of how fun it was to wrestle you to the ground, can we stay on our feet this time?”

  The square filled as more and more of Cape Van Buren’s residents came for a swallow of vino and a savory mouthful of cheese. This was a crowd that treated samples like a smorgasbord, and Marco was prepared.

  Lines began to form at each tasting booth; each one represented a certain grape and with it, the perfect pairings of sweet, savory, and delicious—thanks to the concerted efforts of Delizios and the North Cove Confectionery.

  Sage narrated as they went, introducing Parker to shop owners, and showing him how many of the businesses pulled together to give the people of Cape Van Buren something special.

  “And this is a regular thing?” he asked.

  She shook her head, swiping a small wedge of blue cheese from a sample plate along with a small wine glass filled with a heavy, aromatic dark red. “Is what regular?”

  Parker waved his hand around the event. “This. The crowds of people, the businesses working to help one another. Is it like this for every event, or is there something different about this one, in particular?”

  Sage took a bite of the cheese, letting it melt against her tongue. “Ohmygosh. You have to try this.”

  She held it to his lips.

  With something akin to confusion in his eyes, he glanced from her to the cheese, then opened his mouth. She popped the cheese in, then pulled her hand away, but not before his lips had closed around the tip of a finger. A sharp tingle shot through her hand as the feel of his generous, warm lips imprinted on her memory.

  He closed his eyes while he rolled the small bite around in his mouth. “This is amazing.”


  Yes, it was. She blinked. Oh, the cheese, of course.

  Sipping from the wine glass, she hoped it would yank her over-active libido back down to Earth. She handed him the glass, praying he wouldn’t notice it trembling. “Try this with it. Marco’s a genius when it comes to pairing his wines with just the right food.”

  He tipped the wine back, emptying the glass, but then, let it settle in his mouth before he swallowed. “You’re not lying.” Glancing from booth to booth, then out toward all the tables now filled with towns folk, his lips quirked up. “Huh. For such a small town, this wine packs a pretty big punch.”

  She tried to keep her irritation out of her voice. “You’re so focused on the fact we’re a small town. We may be small, but we’re progressive, with growing businesses, and a passion for caring for every person in this town. All you have to do is walk down the street to see it. Or visit the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren. But besides that,” she waved her hand, “Dine on the Vine and the wine they produce are in demand all over the world now.”

  Pride swelled her chest. Their success had nothing to do with her, but living in Cape Van Buren meant everyone celebrated everyone else.

  And they also gave her hope.

  Hope that she’d find her own one day. She thought of the comic samples she’d sent to Andrews McMeel Publishing. The idea of publishing in the same house as The Far Side was as likely as getting Moby to ever go home or behave, but she’d gone for it anyway. And every day she waited to hear back was agony. Parker might think her comic was nothing more than an over-rated coloring book, but it was so much more. Comics were both her passion and her dream.

  He didn’t even bother masking the surprise in his voice. “Really?”

  Sage turned toward his condescending tone, the now common sensation of frustration tightening in her chest further. At the rate her emotions were tracking around this guy, she was going to end up at the Van Buren Memorial with a panic attack before the week was up.