Victoria Lane’s disappointment in Deanna’s career choice didn’t matter. Not only had she worked hard towards this goal for years, she also didn’t believe in luck. Her getting hired was a textbook example of preparation meeting opportunity.
Too bad I’m not going to make it past my first shift, her inner voice piped up.
She was failing miserably at the first task she’d been assigned—and it involved the chief’s dog. From the short time she’d been here, she’d seen that Lucky was a part of the department. As a yellow Lab, he broke the tradition of station houses having Dalmatians, but he was still family.
She’d lost family.
So she cupped her hands around her mouth like a bullhorn. “Lucky!”
Stilling for a moment, Deanna held her breath, hoping to hear something. Pick up on any leaves rustling or maybe (fingers crossed!) a bark in the distance. But she only heard the rushing water of the creek that ran down the mountain, birds chirping, and her heart pounding like the Little Drummer Boy. Oh, that and her career going down in flames.
As much as she’d love to blame this on the dog, the fault lay solely at her feet. After she’d been informed that her first duty was poop-related, she insisted on grabbing the leash from the utility closet. But Chris Martell, the engine driver, and Casey Palmer, the nozzleman, both friends with Eli, had assured her that no one ever walked Lucky on a leash. They’d said that he was so well-trained that he always stayed close by, and if he did run off for some reason, he came immediately when his name was called.
That wasn’t turning out to be the case. It appeared that Lucky was…gone.
At first, things between her and her canine companion had been going so well. She was breathing in the fresh air and he was happily wagging his tail as they walked down Main Street. Lucky had actually been pretty nice company as she’d checked out her new community. He’d cheerfully trotted along the wooden sidewalk right beside her as she took in the area. Being in Hope Falls reminded Deanna of going back in time or being transported into a postcard. The town was so quaint, so picturesque, that it didn’t seem real.
She’d been enjoying the scenery, even talking to the Lab about how pretty the storefronts were when they’d come to the edge of the trail. That’s when things had taken a turn for the disastrous. Lucky had taken off so fast that she had no idea why he hadn’t been named The Flash, after the superhero. He’d gone around the first curve of the dirt path before Deanna had even processed what was happening.
Looking at her watch, she saw that his great escape had taken place almost twenty minutes ago. With each minute that passed, the visions of what could’ve happened to the chief’s dog got more and more gruesome. Had he been attacked by a predator lurking in these unforgiving mountains? Had he fallen prey to a species higher up the food chain? Had he unwittingly walked into a fire ant hill and was being bitten by thousands of creepy-crawlies?
The horrific possibilities were endless.
Deanna always considered herself the outdoorsy type. Growing up in a beautiful beachside community on California’s Central Coast was ideal for her personality. Big cities had never interested her. She was a nature girl through and through. But even she was intimidated by this much nature. Mainly because of the inhabitants that came along with it.
Lions, tigers, and bears…oh my.
Those were the reasons she’d decided to stay on the trail even though her four-legged friend probably had no such inclination. Full alert—that’s what she was on as she continued scouring the seemingly endless wooded area.
As she turned another corner on the trail, she took in a deep breath. “Luck—”
Her rescue call and mission were both brought to an abrupt halt when she walked straight into a brick wall. Her hands flew up to brace herself on impact at the same time that her eyes lifted beneath the brim of her hat.
It took her a second to realize that the wall of brick was a very muscular chest that was attached to broad shoulders, strong arms that were currently enclosed around her waist, a face that was outlined with just enough scruff to make it both sexy and dangerous, brown hair her fingers itched to run through, and copper eyes that were sprinkled with yellow flecks, outlined with a darker-bronze ring, and surrounded by a thick bed of dark, inky lashes most women—including herself—would die for.
“Hey,” the stranger she was plastered against said in a baritone voice. His lips parted in a smile, revealing a row of straight, white teeth and two deep dimples.
The one-word greeting caused the brick wall—a.k.a. muscular chest—to vibrate beneath her touch. That delicious sensation ran from the center of her palm, up her arm, and down her body, and it landed with thud, right between her legs, which were now shaking like they were Shakira’s booty.
“Hey,” Deanna responded, which was totally out of character for her. She normally didn’t speak to strange men she met in the woods.
Then again, she’d never met a strange man in the woods, so apparently, that was exactly what she did.
As Mr. Coppertone Eyes stared at her, she had the oddest experience. It was like she was suspended, floating in this moment, as everything else around her faded. And the only thing she was aware of was the beating of this total stranger’s heart beneath her hand, and the feeling of his hard body pressed against hers while his arms surrounded her.
This is not safe! Move away! Stranger danger! her mind screamed. Unfortunately, it was muffled by her body and her heart, which were covering her mind’s mouth as they assured her that everything was fine and she should see how this played out. She’d always considered herself a pragmatic person, but she had to go with the majority on this one.
However, her fantasy-like, time-standing-still bubble was popped at the faint sound of a bark.
She sucked in a breath and asked Stranger Danger, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Mr. Coppertone Eyes asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Listen.” She froze in his arms.
After several beats, a dog’s bark sounded once again.
“That!” she exclaimed as her fingers tightened over his defined pecs.
Maybe later Deanna would be horrified that she was feeling Stranger Danger up like she was a high school boy at the movies with his girlfriend, but in that moment, all she felt was relief that Lucky was still alive.
“The dog?” her bubble partner asked.
She nodded excitedly as she started to move in the direction of the bark. “Lucky!”
Stranger Danger tightened his hold on her. “What?” he asked expectantly.
Note to self: Next time you’re alone in the woods with a man that you don’t know from Adam, go with your mind and not your overactive hormones. Screw majority.
Deanna wasn’t the least bit alarmed by her situation. Growing up, she’d spent every summer with four male cousins who constantly wrestled, fought, and roughhoused. She had learned at an early age how to use their strength against them. It’d been either that or be bored as she watched from the sidelines.
And she wasn’t a sidelines kinda gal.
Then, in college, she’d taken Krav Maga, which was a self-defense system developed for the military in Israel, and earned a blue belt in it. After the Jennifer Lopez movie Enough, it’d become widely used by women for its focus on real-world and brutally efficient counterattacks.
“You have one second to let go of me,” she spoke with calm authority. Having the knowledge that, if he didn’t comply, she could have him on his knees in seconds, was something she wished all women had.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to use any of her training. Stranger Danger released his hold on her and took a step back, his hands in the air like she was a robber and this was a stickup. She should’ve felt relieved, but instead, she was struck with a distinct twinge of…disappointment. She actually missed his arms surrounding her, his body being flush against hers.
What is wrong with me?
She shook her head, shelving that particular question
. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting Lucky safely back to the station house and not losing her job. The bark sounded again, and this time, she was sure it was coming from the direction of the river.
Not knowing what else to say or do, Deanna waved awkwardly. “Bye.”
Mr. Coppertone Eyes dropped his arms. “See ya?”
She didn’t know if he sounded unsure because he had no idea if they would run into each other again or if he thought she was crazy and he hadn’t added the wouldn’t want to be ya at the end to spare her feelings.
Either way, that was her cue to go.
Turning back the way she’d come, she called out, “Lucky!”
“What?” Stranger Danger asked, frustration tinging his words.
Spinning around, she saw his frustration and raised him a healthy hand of irritation. “Why do you keep saying ‘what’?”
Deanna had always prided herself in having an acute intuition. Nine times out of ten, her first impressions of people ended up being spot-on. Despite her mental nickname for this guy, he didn’t seem like he was dangerous. Well, maybe for her sanity, but not for her safety. So she had no idea why he kept blurting out, “What?”
“Why do you keep calling my name?” he asked, mirroring her emotions of aggravation with a side of confusion.
“I’m not!” Deanna’s hands flew up in the air just as a very happy, very wet, golden Labrador came trotting around the bend of the trail.
His tongue and his ears flapped as he bounded towards them.
“There you are!” She was so excited to see him that she bent down to throw her arms around his neck.
But he came to an abrupt stop and decided to take Taylor Swift’s advice to shake it off. Water flew everywhere like a sprinkler that had gone wild on spring break.
She put her hands up to block the spray, but the attempt was futile. By the time Lucky had finally stilled, she was soaked from head to toe. She stood slowly and wiped the moisture from her face.
“Here.”
Opening her eyes, she saw that Coppertone was handing her a dry handkerchief. “Thank you.” She took it and dried her face.
When she finished, Stranger Danger had assumed the position she’d just been in and was petting the super soaker.
“Hey, boy, I’m guessing that you’re also named Lucky,” he said as he rubbed Lucky’s large head.
The dog barked happily, like he was really answering him back.
“Wait. Your name is Lucky?”
“Yeah.” Lucky (the man, not the dog) grinned up at her. Upon standing, he held his hand out. “Lucas, actually, but everyone calls me Lucky.”
“Oooh.” Deanna nodded as she rewound their meeting in her head. Their entire interaction made so much more sense now.
Her face broke out in a smile as she placed her hand in his with the full intention of introducing herself. But that flew out the window when the second their hands touched, a heated tingle ran from the center of her palm and skittered up her arm, before spreading through her body like butter melting in a hot skillet. Then, when their eyes met, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and goosebumps broke out over her bare arm.
He grinned a lopsided grin that she was sure would’ve had a lesser woman swooning at his feet. She, however, was not a typical swooner. Nope. Yes, her mouth watered as she fought the urge to lick his lips like they were a churro stick. But swoon? Not so much.
The connection that she felt with the virtual stranger was palpable. The energy between them crackled with electricity. She was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. Just like she didn’t believe in luck, she also didn’t believe in fate. But, even she had to admit that it was almost as if an outside force was at work, pulling them together.
It was powerful—so powerful that she almost forgot her name. It took her a few seconds to regain her senses, but she was finally able to form words.
After swallowing some of the drool that had flooded her mouth, she said, “Hi. I’m Deanna.”
Lucky (the dog, not the man) barked as he put his paw on top of their hands, and the comedy of the entire situation hit her all at once. The confusion of Lucky the Dog and Lucky the Man. The three of them standing in the middle of the forest, soaked and smelling like wet dog, shaking hands. Her head fell back as she laughed. Not a chuckle. Not a giggle. A full belly laugh.
Then both Luckys joined her; the dog barked happily and the man laughed.
When she’d finally composed herself, she took a steadying breath and wiped the tears that had formed in her eyes. Sniffing, she reached down and hooked her fingers in the dog’s collar. The last thing she needed was to lose him again.
When her eyes met Lucky’s golden gaze, she was struck again by just how drawn to him she was. To hide her body’s desire to throw herself into his arms and profess her undying love, she took one step back and lifted her free hand.
“Well, I would say it was nice meeting you, but that doesn’t really feel like it covers what just happened. I guess…” A sudden bout of nerves flooded her normally fearless demeanor. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.
Lucky remained silent though. She wasn’t sure if he was giving her enough rope to hang herself or if he too had no idea what to say.
Thankfully, the awkward moment came to an abrupt end when Lucky (the dog) saw a squirrel and started running back down the trail the way they’d come.
“See you later,” she called over her shoulder as her arm was practically ripped from its socket by the eighty pounds jerking her body into motion. The second the words had left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She had no idea if she would see him again, and that made it seem like she wanted another run-in to happen. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
“Yes. You will!” he shouted to her as she rounded the bend and could no longer see him.
It was a promise. One that, despite herself, she hoped he would keep.
Chapter 3
‡
“Can I get a large coffee? Black.” Lucky rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. Exhaustion pulled at him like the tide trying to take him out to sleepy-time sea.
The attractive brunette behind the counter smiled. “Coming right up.”
As a rule, he avoided caffeine. Today, he was making an exception. Not only was he getting the keys to the space he’d rented to set up his gym in, his equipment was also being delivered, and his manager had several virtual meetings with potential sponsors scheduled for him. The last thing he needed was someone who was willing to invest in him thinking he was too tired, too washed up, or—the absolute worst—too old to get the job done.
In the back of his mind he was starting to fear that he was all of the above. In his early, his mid, and, hell, even his late twenties, he had been like Eddie Murphy’s girl: He could party all the time and never show any wear or tear. If he got an hour or two of sleep to reboot, he was good to go for another twenty-four hours.
This current bout of fatigue, however, was solely due to two fitful nights of sleep. He had slept; he’d just never made it to REM. Instead of sweet dreams, his head had been filled with visions of a green-eyed, brown-haired girl who’d won a wet T-shirt contest she’d never even entered. A girl so familiar, yet, he’d never met her before their run-in in the woods. A girl who looked sexier in sweats, a ball cap, and zero makeup than any Sports Illustrated model ever had. A girl who had a laugh he could not get out of his brain. He could hear it every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.
Somehow, someway, this girl, who, before she’d smelled like a wet dog, smelled like vanilla, flowers, sunshine, and strawberry Pop-Tarts (which were his favorite growing up), had him completely captivated.
Forty-eight hours.
No, this time, he wasn’t making an Eddie Murphy reference. That was how long it’d been since he’d seen her. It’d been over forty-eight hours since he’d watched her rounded, firm butt cheeks bounce down the dirt trail as the dog with his name had d
ragged her away from him. It’d been over forty-eight hours since he’d followed behind her in the woods—in what he considered stealth-mode, though others might’ve confused it with stalker-mode—to make sure she made it back to town safe and sound. It’d been over forty-eight hours since he’d told himself that he needed to snap the hell out of whatever spell she’d cast on him.
It had been forty-eight hours and he still couldn’t snap out of it.
The brunette handed him the drink. “That’ll be three fifty.”
He grabbed a five out of his pocket. When she gave him his change, he dropped it in the tip jar.
“Thanks.” She smiled, interest sparking in her eyes.
“Thank you.” Lucky nodded, waiting for his libido to kick into action—for his Lucky charm to manifest itself.
This girl was a hottie with a capital H. She was obviously interested but hadn’t come on too strong. From what he’d seen while he had been waiting in line, she was friendly and efficient, and everyone seemed to like—scratch that, love—her. She had more checks in the pro category than the last dozen girls he’d dated, and he desperately needed to get his mind off of the green-eyed, brown-haired girl in the woods.
But, other than appreciating the barista’s pinup curves and enjoying her one-part-shy, two-parts-flirty smile, he had no interest. And, just like with Gigi, he refused to lead anyone on.
“You have a good day.” Lucky tipped his ball cap in a very Clint Eastwood, black-and-white-cowboy-movie gesture and turned to leave. He was glad he hadn’t added now, ya hear or, worse, little lady to the end of his parting words.
It was ridiculous that, at thirty years old, he had no idea how to exit the company of an attractive woman if he wasn’t hitting on her. No, not ridiculous; it was pathetic.
His hand was just about to push the silver bar of the door when it opened without his assistance.
Lucky Kiss Page 2
