by Anna Argent
The procession started. Mark focused on holding his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted was for his sister to see him up here crying on her special day. She deserved to be the happiest bride ever, and he wasn’t going to ruin that for her.
He’d just gained a grip on himself when he saw Daisy walk down the aisle. The second he laid eyes on her, the rest of the world fell away. He didn’t see anyone else, didn’t hear the service or the vows. His whole universe shrank down to the sight of her pretty face lit up with happiness for his sister.
He didn’t know how she’d done it, but Daisy had worked her magic on him and pulled him out of his black pit of despair. She’d cheerfully barged into his life, turned it upside down and reshaped it so that he had a fighting chance of finding his smile again.
At one point, she must have sensed his gaze, because she looked up at him and mouthed, “Thank you.”
He didn’t know what she had to thank him for, but he was going to find out.
Chapter Fourteen
Daisy had been so shocked to see Mark up in the balcony that she’d almost gasped out loud.
She wanted to see him again so badly she ached, but she had a role to play and responsibilities to fill as Ellen’s maid of honor. No way was she letting her friend down on her big day.
The rest of the day dragged on. Photos, reception, seeing the happy couple off on their honeymoon. When all the work and celebration was over, Mark was nowhere to be found.
He’d probably already left, crawling back into his cave to grieve.
Her heart broke for him all over again, but she couldn’t let it make her weak. It didn’t matter how much she loved him if he wasn’t ready to love her back.
It was dark by the time she climbed the front steps of the little bungalow she had renovated. The place was tiny, but perfect for a single woman in a small town.
She couldn’t wait to get inside and kick off these uncomfortable shoes.
Movement on the front porch caught her eye. She turned and saw just the shadow of a man standing there.
“Easy,” came Mark’s deep voice. “It’s just me. I didn’t meant to scare you.”
She covered her pounding heart with her hand to steady it. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“We looked for you for the family photos.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I found Ellen and made sure she knew I was there, but there were too many people asking too many questions. I couldn’t deal with that. My sister understood.”
That explained why Ellen wasn’t upset about the lost photo op. “I’m sure she was just happy to see you.”
“She’s good like that.”
Daisy’s aching feet urged her inside. “Do you want to come in?”
“Just for a second.”
And then he had to go, no doubt. He couldn’t even stand to be here long enough for a visit.
She let them inside and flipped on an antique lamp near the front door. The stained glass shade didn’t put out much light, but it was enough to see her way around.
She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes against the solid oak floors. “Have a seat.”
He shook his dark head. “I won’t be that long. I just want to thank you.”
“For helping with your house. You already did. I told you it wasn’t necessary.”
“No, not for the house. For today.”
She frowned at him. “I thought you hated being around all the busy bodies.”
He waved his hand. “That’s just Whisper Lake. A nuisance.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Janey’s dad found me at the wedding. We talked. It was…good. Painful, but good. For both of us, I think.”
A lump formed in Daisy’s throat as she imagined how hard that had to have been for Mark. “I’m glad.”
“He blames himself. The way I did.”
A glimmer of hope flared in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it grow. “Did?”
He nodded and took a step closer. “I’m not done healing yet, but I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with you.”
Daisy closed her eyes to block out the sight of his handsome face. She didn’t know if not looking at him would help her resist him, but she had to try. “I can’t do that to myself. I can’t be the girl you sleep with while you’re thinking about someone else. I’m worth more than that.”
“It’s not like that at all. I didn’t want to go to Ellen’s wedding because I was sure that all I’d see was Janey’s face. I’d spend the whole time thinking how that should have been her day, our day.”
Daisy gripped the back of a chair to ease the pain ripping through her heart.
“But that’s not what happened. I saw you down there, and you were all I could think about, all I could see. Not her. You. The woman I love.”
It was too good to be true. There was no way he could really feel those things. It was too fast. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear because you’re afraid to be alone again.”
“I am afraid, but not of being alone. I’m terrified of loving you and losing you the way I lost Janey.”
“See? That’s what I mean—”
He covered her mouth with a finger to silence her. “But I’m even more afraid of losing you now, before we see where this can go. I’m terrified of never having a life with you.”
She swayed, her resolve weakening. He was the one she’d wanted since she was too young to know better. It was too good to be true that he would ever be hers. “I won’t be second choice, Mark. I won’t be a consolation prize.”
He took her by the arms and held on tight while he looked straight into her eyes. “Daisy Mae Grace is no one’s consolation prize. You are kind and loving and beautiful and sexy as hell. You are a brilliant, cheerful force of nature and the most hardheaded woman I’ve ever known. I can’t change the fact that I loved Janey first—I don’t even want to—but if you give me a chance, I will love you last. Forever. She may have been my past, but I want you to be my future.”
If there were any words that could have changed her mind about giving him a chance, it was those. She knew she was taking a big risk, but it was worth it. He was worth it. “You’re not done grieving.”
“I know.”
“You still need time.”
“I do,” he agreed.
“But I want to spend that time with you. I want to hold your hand and comfort you when you need it.”
“And I want to do the same for you. Whatever comes, Daisy. Together.”
She nodded in agreement as happy tears slipped down her cheeks. “Together.”
He kissed her, and she knew in her heart that although their path to find each other had been rough, the road ahead was going to be all the sweeter for it.
The Sweetest Temptation
Saxon Grace nearly crashed his truck into a tree because of a pair of Daisy Dukes.
Technically, it wasn’t the shorts that had distracted him from the road as much as the perfectly plump, heart-shaped ass the worn denim so lovingly cupped.
He was almost home, driving down his quiet street past his elderly neighbor’s house when he’d spotted the woman in cutoffs. As he stared, that decidedly feminine, completely delicious ass wiggled as she struggled to drag something heavy out his neighbor’s front door.
Not admiring a sight so rare and lovely was simply not an option for a red-blooded man like Saxon—his idea of smelling the roses along life’s path—so his only choice was to either stop his truck, or drive it right into old man Cyrus’s mailbox.
Saxon pulled to a halt in front of his neighbor’s house and, ever chivalrous, hopped out to lend the woman a hand with her heavy burden. His mama would have expected nothing less of one of her sons, Daisy Dukes or not.
The early evening air was humid and warm with the promise of summer. School had just finished for the day, and the sound of kids’ voices raised in happy play drifted from the small, busy park o
ne block over. The scent of grilling burgers and honeysuckle floated on the breeze, making his empty stomach rumble.
The closer he got to the woman, the better the view became, until he was completely mesmerized by the bob and sway of those succulent curves.
He knew it probably wasn’t right to stare, but there were some things a man simply couldn’t control—the weather, the stock market, fate, and apparently, the need to gaze at the finest ass to ever grace a pair of cutoffs.
As he hurried up the painted wooden stairs leading to Beth Fortier’s front porch, he heard the young woman grunting with effort. He was close enough now to see that she was trying to maneuver a heavy, rolled-up rug out through the front door and onto the covered porch of the little bungalow. The rug was too long to easily angle through the door, and obviously too heavy for her to manage alone.
The owner of the house, and the rug—who everyone younger than fifty called Aunt Beth—was nowhere to be seen.
“If you’re robbing a sweet, old lady,” Saxon drawled, “you should have done so after dark, like any self-respecting thief would.”
The woman let out a faint yelp of surprise, dropped the heavy end of the rug, and spun around. She pressed her hand over her heart as if to calm it, drawing attention to the gentle swell of her breasts. Her baby blue tank top was worn and smudged with dirt, but the way it clung to her curves made the dirty top sexy as hell.
Her warm, brown eyes were wide with surprise. The setting sun hit her face, giving him a clear view of garnet and amber colored flecks near her irises. Her face was pink with exertion, and beneath her flush he could see the beginning hint of summer freckles forming across her nose. Sweat dotted her forehead and made her skin glisten. She wore her shiny, brown hair in a short ponytail, but little wispy strands at her temples had escaped and clung to her damp skin. Tiny, corkscrew curls formed along her neck, and he had the strangest urge to touch them to see if they were as springy as they looked.
He rubbed his fingers together in an effort to resist the need to fondle a woman whose name—and marital status—he didn’t even know.
There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
In a lake town like Whisper Lake, a lot of tourists came and went over the summer months. It would have been impossible to remember all of them, though one as pretty as her would have been hard to forget.
Whoever she was—judging by the dirt and sweat she wore—she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work, which only made her more appealing to a hardworking man like himself.
“You scared me,” she said. Her voice was soft and melodic, even when laced with a touch of fear. Her breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing, and damn if he couldn’t stop staring.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was usually smooth, subtle. He didn’t have to be obvious to gain a woman’s attention. There were plenty of women around eager to date one of the Grace men.
But none of them had an ass like hers.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I live across the street and saw your epic battle with the rug. Thought I’d stop and lend a hand.”
She instantly shook her head. “Thanks, but I got it.”
Saxon glanced behind her at the length of rolled-up carpet. As a builder, he was good with dimension and spatial relations. He knew without the aid of a measuring tape that there was no way she was going to get that rug around the stairwell in the foyer without lifting it over the railing on the front porch. And as much trouble as she was having simply dragging the thing, lifting it was clearly beyond her strength.
Rather than argue with her, he asked, “Why are you moving it out, anyway?”
She rolled her shoulders as if they ached. “It’s a tripping hazard—one I’m trying to remove before my aunt gets back from physical therapy, which is going to be any minute now.”
Pieces clicked into place and he suddenly realized why she looked familiar.
“You’re Gemma Fortier, aren’t you? Aunt Beth’s niece?”
She’d spent summers here as a kid. She was few years younger than Saxon, so they’d never run in the same circles. He remembered her being scrawny and clumsy as she worked in her aunt’s bakery. At the time, she’d been all elbows, knees and freckles.
But she was definitely grown up now, with plenty of enticing curves to show for it.
She grinned, and her face went from pretty to stunning. Her eyes lit up, and her full mouth curled at the corners in a way that caught and held his gaze. All he could think about was how soft those lips looked, and how good they’d feel gliding against his.
“The one and only,” she said. “Contrary to how many people call her Aunt Beth, I’m the only one with the legal claim.”
“You’re a lucky woman. I’ve never met a sweeter lady than Aunt Beth. It’s a shame about her broken hip.”
“Sweet, yes, but stubborn.” Gemma sighed. “She’s determined not to change her life over her ‘little mishap’ as she calls it. That’s why I need to get this rug out before she comes home and stops me.”
“Then let me help.”
“Really, that isn’t necessary. I’ve almost got it.”
It was all Saxon could do not to laugh. “Honey, this is a small town. If word gets back to my mama that I didn’t help you help Aunt Beth, I’m going to have hell to pay before sunrise. Besides, we need your aunt back at her bakery ASAP. Life just isn’t worth living without Aunt Beth’s pies. We’ve all been pitching in to help her get back on her feet.”
Gemma’s gaze slid away like she was hiding something. “Thank you for all you’ve done, but I’m here now. I’m going to make sure that she has what she needs.”
“Starting with a house free of tripping hazards?”
“Exactly. I don’t think she’ll approve of my redecorating, but it’s for her own good.”
Saxon didn’t budge. “Sorry, but there’s no way you’re getting that rug out by yourself. Let me give you a hand.”
As soon as he saw her mouth tighten in the same way Aunt Beth’s did whenever she dug in her heels, he knew his gentle requests weren’t going to get the job done. They’d still be standing here at midnight with that damn rug right where it was now.
Saxon was too hungry after a long day of work for that nonsense.
Rather than argue with Gemma, he simply stepped around her and went into the house. As he passed her, he caught a faint scent of her skin, all warm from exertion. She smelled completely edible, like buttercream frosting and ripe cherries. He slowed as he passed, breathing in the delicious scent of her until his mouth watered.
His arm brushed hers, and she flinched as if he’d given her a static shock. Her chin lifted until her gaze met his, and he came to a dead stop halfway to his destination.
Damn, but she was pretty. The longer he looked at her, the more he was drawn in by those cute freckles, and the warm gemstone-colored chips in her eyes. Behind them, a keen intelligence burned along with a hundred feminine mysteries Saxon was dying to discover.
She lowered her lashes under his scrutiny, and only then did he realize just how long he’d been staring.
Without her eyes on his to hold his gaze, her plump mouth drew his attention. Smooth, pink, and pillowy—the perfect mix of sultry and innocent.
The urge to lean close and taste those sweet lips was almost undeniable. Only his good manners held him back.
If she tasted half as good as she looked and allowed him even a little nibble, he might never go hungry again.
***
Gemma tried not to hyperventilate as Saxon Grace came close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin.
He was even more handsome now than she remembered from her years of schoolgirl crushes on him. They’d never really hung out as kids. He’d been four years older, which put him into the category of a god. She didn’t think she’d said all of ten words to him her whole life, and now here she was, carrying on a conversation with a man who passed for royalty in the s
leepy lake town of Whisper Lake.
All the gangly awkwardness of his youth was gone now, leaving behind a big, tall, rock-hard man. The Grace men were all lean and sturdy, like skyscrapers, but seeing them from a distance and being this close to such a fine specimen of masculinity was completely different. She had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on him, but the view was definitely worth the effort.
His skin was deeply tanned, though the summer had only just begun. His jeans were tight, accentuating thick layers of muscles—the kind only a man who worked hard every day could maintain. As he bent down to pick up the rug, his shirt stretched taut across his sculpted shoulders. Muscles flexed and bunched as he hefted the rug onto one shoulder.
“Where is it going?” he asked casually, as if lifting the handwoven wool monstrosity wasn’t even a challenge.
Gemma’s tongue dried to the roof of her mouth with a sudden flood of feminine awareness. She had to peel it free so she could speak. “You’re going to hurt yourself. That thing weighs more than I do.”
“Honey, I work for a living. Lifting heavy stuff is just part of the job. Now, where to?”
She hated being a burden to anyone, but this was for Aunt Beth, so she swallowed her pride and hurried down the steps to lead the way to the cellar doors on the side of the house. “This way.”
She rushed into the cellar to make sure there was still room on the heavy blue tarp to keep the rug clean. Knowing Aunt Beth, the rug was an antique, and Gemma would never hear the end of it if she ruined it.
The air down in the cellar was cooler and less humid, but heavy with the smell of earth. Shelves were lined with canning jars filled with an array of fruits, jams and jellies. By this time of year, most of the stores were usually depleted, awaiting the next summer berry harvests to make fresh batches. The fact that the shelves were still relatively full meant that either last year’s harvests had been awesome, or Aunt Beth was doing far less baking than usual, even before the broken hip.
