Sandpiper Cove

by Irene Hannon

  “Not a one. What about you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in the world . . . I’m getting the best son in the world”—he motioned with his mug to Matt, who was playing a game of catch-the-mole-crab with Clyde—“and I have work that feeds my soul. On this Thanksgiving weekend, my cup runneth over. What’s to have second thoughts about?”

  “Sharing a roof with your mother-in-law, maybe?”

  “Hey, you can’t beat a live-in babysitter and cook.” He flashed her a grin, then grew more solemn. “On a more serious note, I love Annette—and the whole idea of a built-in family. I’ve spent most of my life alone, Lexie. Having caring people around me every day will be a blessing, not a burden. No worries on that score, okay?”

  He sounded sincere, as he always did when this subject came up. She might not want to live with in-laws as a newlywed, however wonderful they were—but a man who’d never had a loving family might, indeed, welcome such an opportunity. She needed to let this concern go once and for all.

  “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Besides, after that second-floor Cape Cod master suite BJ designed is finished, we’ll have plenty of privacy. I can’t believe how different the house looks with a raised roof and dormers.”

  “It will be a great retreat. And just so you know, I intend to take full advantage of that privacy you mentioned.” He brushed the tips of his fingers across her temple . . . traced the curve of her cheek . . . grazed her mouth with the pad of his thumb.

  Whew.

  The air might be chilly on this last Friday in November, but after that heated touch, she could shed her jacket and never miss it.

  “Is that a . . .” Her voice hoarsened, and she cleared her throat. “Is that a promise?”

  “Count on it.” He set his mug down and tugged her close, resting his hands at her waist. “Now let’s talk about tomorrow. Did you decide to wear that silk dress I love?”

  “No. A woman needs a new dress for her wedding. But I have a feeling you’re going to like the one I found.” An image of the knee-length, peach-colored lace sheath with a scalloped hem materialized in her mind.

  Yeah, he’d like it.

  A lot.

  “Bring the other one on our honeymoon.”

  “To that hideaway you found for us deep in the redwoods?”

  “I have a couple of surprise excursions planned.”

  “Adam . . . I don’t need extravagant entertainment. You and me—together—will be more than sufficient.”

  “I want to take you out for some upscale dinners. We have a lot to celebrate—and I can afford a few splurges, with the commissions Rebecca is sending my way.”

  “You aren’t still fretting about the differences in our finances, are you?” The disparity had bothered him in the beginning, but he hadn’t mentioned it much in the past few months. She’d hoped he’d gotten over that needless worry. It made no difference to her.

  “Sometimes—but not at this moment.” He stole a quick kiss.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Why not?” He trailed his lips across her jaw.

  “Because . . . because finances are important.”

  “So is this.”

  “Adam.” She leaned back, out of his reach. “I can’t think straight when you do that.”

  “And this is only a tiny sample of what’s to come.” He winked, a roguish gleam in his eye.

  Oh, man. He knew exactly how to get her hot and bothered.

  But she was not going to let herself be distracted.

  Yet.

  “Will you be serious?”

  “I am—about you.”

  She wiggled out of his hold, backed off a few paces, and stuck her hands on her hips.

  He let out a long-suffering sigh. “You really want to talk about money the night before our wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It seems like . . . a loose end. I’m not certain you’re comfortable with the situation, even though you don’t say much about it.”

  Expelling a breath, he folded his arms. “Okay. Fine. I’ll give it to you straight. Does it bother me I’m marrying a woman who has a lot more in her bank account than I do? Yes. Does it bother me enough to change how I feel about her? No. And in the not-too-distant future, I’ll be earning as much as she is. Maybe more, once I’m making furniture full-time. I may never catch up, but I’ll be an equal contributor to the bank account going forward. Is that a perfect scenario? No. Can I live with it? Yes. Satisfied?”

  “If you are.”

  “I am. And while we’re on the subject of money . . . I was going to wait and tell you on our honeymoon, but I’ll share it now. A commission came in yesterday for a custom desk and bookcases for a library one of Rebecca’s clients is adding to his house.”

  When he told her the price tag, she did a slow blink.

  “Wow. I’m in the wrong business. Good thing you rented that empty furniture store at the edge of town for a woodworking shop. You’re going to need the space sooner rather than later. But how are you planning to juggle this new job, plus your other commission pieces, with BJ’s work schedule?”

  “I’ll worry about that after our honeymoon.”

  “She hasn’t found any potential replacements for you yet, has she?”

  “No—and she’s going to lose Luis too once he finishes his paramedic training. I can’t leave her in the lurch. She was my ally from the get-go.”

  Lexie moved close again and looped her arms around his neck. “That’s another reason I love you, you know. Loyalty is one of your many fine attributes. Shall I name some others?”

  “Why don’t you demonstrate how much you love them instead?”

  She checked on Matt, who was still occupied with Clyde, tipped her head back, rose on tiptoe, and . . .

  Her phone began to vibrate.

  With a huff, she yanked it off her belt. “Sorry about that. I’m shutting this off when I go to bed tonight and it’s staying off until we get back from our honeymoon.”

  “I like that plan.”

  “I’ll ignore this if you want.” She skimmed the screen.

  “Is it important?”

  “Maybe. It’s Jim Gleason. I don’t think he’d bother me tonight for anything frivolous.”

  “Go ahead and take it. I’ll watch the mole-crab hunt.”

  “I won’t be more than a minute.”

  “Don’t rush on my account.” He brushed a piece of windblown hair back from her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She watched him stroll away as she put the phone to her ear, relishing that promise . . . and the unexpected blessings that had filled her life with joy.

  For who could have guessed, on that April day she’d visited Sandpiper Cove for the first time, what a precious gift this holiday season would hold?

  A second chance at love with a kind, caring, generous man certainly hadn’t been on her wish list—but come Christmas morning, the best gift under the tree was going to be sitting right beside her.

  As it would be for all the Christmases to come.

  Adam glanced toward Lexie. Faint furrows scored her brow as she paced on the sand, cell to ear. The call was taking a lot longer than one minute.

  Must be trouble.

  But he was getting used to that. Dealing with emergencies was part of her job. Part of who she was.

  And he wouldn’t change a thing.

  Five minutes later, as he and Matt tried to corner a mole crab that dared to venture close, she slipped the phone back on her belt.

  “These guys are hard to catch, aren’t they?” As the crab burrowed beneath the sand, Matt sat back on his heels with an exasperated sigh.

  “Yeah. But keep at it. You might get one yet.” That outcome was about as likely as a nasty rumor dying a quick death—but it could happen, as his own situation had demonstrated. After that Sunday show of support back in April, the stories circulating about him in town had
dried up fast. It had been nothing short of a miracle, as far as he was concerned.

  Leaving the boy and dog to their quest, he rejoined Lexie. “Do you need to leave?”

  “No.” She picked up her mug, peered at the dregs, and dumped them onto the sand.

  “Would you like a refill? There’s some left in the pot.” He’d learned to be discreet about her police calls. If she could tell him about them, she would.

  “No. I need to get some sleep tonight—and adding more caffeine to the adrenaline already pumping in anticipation of our big day isn’t a smart idea.” She gave him a playful nudge, then leaned back against the rock where they always put their empty coffee mugs on sunset-watching nights. “Jim thought I’d be interested in some news that came in over the police radio.”

  If she’d brought up the call, that must mean she could talk about it.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s kind of sad, actually. Lucas Fisher just plowed into a car after running a red light up on 101, near Bandon.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “No—but he was speeding . . . and he had alcohol in his blood.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “He wasn’t over the adult legal limit, but Oregon has a zero tolerance policy for minors. He’ll be hauled into jail, fined, and lose his license for up to a year.”

  Adam gave a soft whistle. “A much bigger problem than the vandalism stuff.”

  “Yeah. If we’d been able to work with him on that, address some of his issues earlier like we did with Brian, he might have avoided this.”

  “You tried. His father didn’t do him any favors by sweeping the original offenses under the rug.”

  “No . . . but a DUI charge will be harder to circumvent.”

  “I’m glad Brian isn’t hanging out with him anymore.”

  “Apparently not many kids are, since he let it slip to a few of them that he was the one who spread the rumor about you.”

  “Well, maybe this new incident will be a wake-up call for both father and son.”

  “We can hope. And I agree with you that Brian was smart to cut ties with him when he did. I’m also glad the job with the clerics worked out for his mom. Their new apartment in town is much nicer than the trailer, and now that she’s home in the evenings and on weekends, she can keep closer tabs on him. They have you to thank for all of those positive changes.”

  “Not true.” He wasn’t about to claim credit for Brenda’s success. Her outstanding cooking and housekeeping skills had clinched the deal. “I just happened to be at Charley’s the day the clerics were bemoaning the impending loss of their cook. All I did was hook them up.”

  “That was enough to change two lives for the better. Some people wouldn’t have bothered to connect the dots or get involved.”

  “It was no big deal.” He passed off his minor role with a shrug. “But speaking of changing two lives for the better . . .” He draped an arm around her shoulders as the sun inched toward the horizon. “This time tomorrow night, we’ll be man and wife.”

  “I’m counting the hours.”

  “How long do you want to stay at the reception?”

  She gave a soft laugh. “Anxious to start the honeymoon?”

  “Yes—and in a great place too. When we were working on the renovations at Seabird Inn last year, I would have laughed if anyone suggested I’d end up spending my wedding night in one of the luxury suites . . . with a police chief, no less.” He grinned.

  “It was lovely of John to offer that as a wedding present.”

  “I agree—and I’d like to get there ASAP.”

  “Me too. But we’ll have to hang around the church hall long enough to dance to a few tunes . . . eat some food . . . cut the wedding cake . . . and sample the fudge confection Eleanor Cooper offered to supply for the groom’s cake.”

  He groaned and rested his forehead against hers. “That could take hours.”

  “But after that . . . I’m all yours. Forever.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes—and I’ll make that official tomorrow. In the meantime, this will have to suffice.” She snuggled into his arms and smiled up at him.

  He smiled back.

  And as he bent to give her another preview of what awaited her at the inn . . . as the distinctive trill of a sandpiper echoed in the background and waves lapped gently against the sand . . . as the setting sun bathed the world in a golden glow . . . a deep, profound, abiding joy filled his heart—and soul.

  Maybe he’d spent most of his life treading a dicey and dangerous road.

  Maybe he’d made more mistakes than any man should be allotted.

  Maybe he’d come close to the gates of hell on far too many occasions.

  But today he was living proof that God did, indeed, work for the good of those who love him.

  Because here, in the arms of this remarkable woman who filled his life with joy and grace, he’d found heaven on earth.

  “Hello, Matt. Long time no see.”

  As the words slithered through the clammy night air, a jagged shaft of lightning illuminated the speaker’s face for one brief instant.

  But Matt Parker didn’t need a visual cue to identify the man on the other side of his front door.

  The glib voice was all too familiar.

  Fingers clutching the doorknob, he stared at the shadowy figure as shock thrummed through his nerve endings. In the background, another eruption of electricity slashed across the inky sky. A sharp crack of thunder shook the walls of the house. Rain pummeled the tulips rimming the porch, beating their heads into submission.

  Hollywood couldn’t have staged a more dramatic—or ominous—reunion.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  When the man he loathed flashed the same smug smile he’d worn during their last conversation five years ago, Matt attempted to slam the door.

  “Not so fast.” A foot shot between the door and the jamb. “I’ve come a long way to see you.”

  “You wasted your time.” The anger he thought he’d tamed churned anew in his gut.

  “I never waste my time.”

  “Get your foot out of my door.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, knuckles whitening on the doorframe.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I have some things to say to you.”

  “I’m not interested in hearing them. I told you five years ago—stay out of my life.”

  “I intended to. But I have a problem.”

  “Tough.” A pair of headlights swung onto the long driveway that led to the house he’d called home for the past three years. “My pizza’s here. Don’t expect me to share.” He kicked the foot away from the jamb.

  Before he could shove the door closed, however, the interloper shouldered through. “I didn’t come for pizza.”

  “Get out of my house.” Fury nipped at every syllable as he grabbed the other man’s arm.

  “I don’t plan to complicate your life for long, so back off and deal with the pizza guy.” He yanked free and strolled toward the kitchen.

  As the car lights swept across the front of the house, Matt muttered an obscenity—but remained by the door. Finding a pizza place willing to deliver to his wooded property on the outskirts of St. Louis had been tough, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize their arrangement by ignoring a delivery on a night like this.

  But once he took possession of the dinner he no longer wanted, the man in his kitchen was getting a swift kick out the door.

  Literally, if that’s what it took.

  An older-model Sentra stopped in the drive, engine idling. The lanky kid who often delivered on Saturday nights bounded up the stone walkway through the driving rain and leaped onto the porch, juggling an insulated container.

  “Hey, Mr. Parker.” He cringed as a shaft of lightning pierced the sky, followed by another bone-jarring crack of thunder. “I thought April was supposed to bring showers, not monsoon
s.”

  Matt tried to conjure up a smile for the high-schooler with the happy-go-lucky grin.

  Failed.

  “Thanks for coming out on a night like this.” The charge for the pizza was already on his credit card, but he fished out a generous tip.

  “It beats doing homework.” The teen’s eyes widened as he pulled the pizza out of the carrier and gaped at the bill Matt extended. “Are you sure about this? I mean . . . that’s a lot of money.”

  “Put it toward your college fund. And be careful driving tonight.”

  “I will. Thanks a lot—and enjoy the pizza.”

  Not likely.

  He waited until the kid was back behind the wheel, then closed the door and stalked to the kitchen.

  His visitor had tossed his slicker over a chair and was sipping a can of pilfered soda when he entered. Water pooled on the tile below the garment, the puddle widening with every drip.

  “I told you once to leave.” He slammed the pizza onto the counter. “You have thirty seconds to clear out.”

  “And if I don’t?” With infuriating nonchalance, the man settled on a stool at the island. “Is 911 in your plans?”

  Matt clamped his jaw shut, silently cursing the obnoxious piece of scum across from him.

  “I didn’t think so. I’ve been watching you, Matt. You lead a quiet, off-the-grid life. I doubt you’d want to call attention to yourself by filing a police report . . . or dredging up our past.”

  The very thought of all that garbage seeing the light of day sent a cold shiver snaking down his spine.

  But the man’s first comment scared him more.

  “What do you mean, you’ve been watching me?” Although Matt tried to contain his alarm, tension nipped at his words.

  “I mean exactly what I said. I’ve been watching you. Observing. Studying.” He started to lift the lid on the pizza. “Trish is pretty. I commend you on your excellent taste.”

  Matt shoved the box out of his visitor’s reach, blood chilling. “Leave Trish out of this.”

  “Hey . . . can’t a man notice a pretty woman? You did. The two of you seemed very cozy at lunch last week.”

  Matt’s stomach heaved. “Why have you been watching me?”

  “I need your help.”

  “You expect me to help you?” Matt barked out a harsh laugh. “What a joke.”