Just One Kiss (Appletree Cove)

by Hall, Traci

  Grace was pretty good at going with the flow, but it took all of her willpower not to smash the rest of her chocolate cupcake into the guy’s handsome face. One, it would be a waste of a good cupcake, and two, it would set a very bad example for Violet. While she tried to hold back, Violet diligently colored outside the lines, completely unaware of Grace’s dilemma.

  Why hadn’t he waited for her? She hadn’t pegged him as the kind to skip out on something. He’d fooled her, and that burned. Maybe she’d given more credit than was due, and that was ridiculous. Her anger needed to be at herself, too.

  Lottie passed the coffee and donut he’d ordered over the top of the glass case. “You’re Sawyer Rivera, aren’t you?”

  He shuffled his feet, as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  Grace popped up from her seat, and all the calming self-talk went out the window. She’d never heard of him, but Lottie obviously had. She ambled toward the two men. “Lottie, this is the guy I was telling you about on the beach this morning.”

  “With the bad dog?” Lottie asked in surprise. She wiped her hands on her apron.

  Sawyer backed up a step, almost into poor Bill, who juggled his coffee and an apple fritter. Lottie giggled nervously, her green eyes round. Bill looked from Grace to his friend in confusion.

  “Yep.” Grace glared at him.

  Sawyer set his coffee and donut on one of the empty white tables. “I can explain,” he told her in a rush. He glanced from Grace to Lottie and back. “I wanted to wait for you, but my dog ate your camera, and I had to take him to the vet.”

  That was probably the worst excuse she’d ever heard. No wonder teachers all over the world didn’t fall for it.

  Grace flung her arms to her sides. “He didn’t eat the camera. He chewed the strap a little.” She lifted an eyebrow at Bill. He was a good guy—if Sawyer was lying, Bill would tell her, right?

  “Sawyer, what’s she talking about?” Bill asked. “Grace, hon, there has to be a mistake. My buddy just moved to Kingston…” He put his coffee down next to the register. “He’s a dog trainer.”

  “Trainer?” That had to be the biggest joke of all, if that was why he was famous. “I don’t believe it. He had no control over his dog.”

  Sawyer reached for her arm, his fingertips grazing her elbow and making her whole arm tingle. She instinctively jerked back, and he flushed as if embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “After you left, Bert broke your camera with his teeth and swallowed the plastic pieces. I had to make sure he’s okay. Vet said he upchucked it all on his own, no surgery, so that was a relief. He’s fine now.”

  “Oh.” He’d had a legitimate emergency, which made her feel bad for assuming he’d ditched her. Grace swallowed and smoothed the ruffles on her bright yellow hem to calm down. Bert had been a handful. “I’m glad your dog’s okay.” Should she ask for his assistance with the camera or just let it go?

  Before she could bring it up, he said, “I ordered a camera that was the same brand as yours, with all the bells and whistles. I’ll have it in the next day or so. Where should I drop it off for you?”

  His deep voice hinted at mysteries to be uncovered, his masculine scent combined with expensive cologne—just like he had on the beach, Sawyer muddled her senses.

  Violet, realizing Grace was no longer sitting at the table, broke her favorite pink crayon. “Hey!”

  Grace hurried over to her goddaughter then tossed her short curls as she turned toward Sawyer. “You bought me a brand-new camera?” Those were upward of two thousand at a base price. She’d gotten hers on sale. She doubted he bought anything on sale, if his creased jeans and soft leather boots were anything to judge by.

  “Yes.” He held her gaze with confidence that the incident had been handled and they could move on.

  She didn’t know why that annoyed her and cleared her throat. “Thank you. I’d be happy to pick it up.”

  “I don’t mind bringing it to you. Or I can mail it, if you’d prefer.”

  Violet’s lower lip began to quiver, and a meltdown would be on the way if Grace didn’t act fast.

  “Lottie can give you my address and phone number—me and Violet have a date with the park.”

  Lottie also knew the signs and nodded at Grace in gratitude. “I’ll put the crayons away.”

  Grace grabbed her purse and took Violet by the hand, something Vi accepted as a necessary evil in order to swing, and gave Sawyer and Bill a wide berth.

  “Bye, Bill.” She edged past them. Sawyer made an awkward attempt to shake her hand, but she acted like she didn’t notice and squeaked, “Nice to meet you, Sawyer.”

  Grace escaped, her fingers wrapped around Violet’s. Nice to meet you? Ugh! Sawyer Rivera, gorgeous in designer jeans, with smoking hot brown eyes, shouldn’t make her feel like a fan girl, especially when she didn’t even understand why he was famous.

  An hour later, Grace and Violet, done swinging, were walking to the parking lot next to the coffee shop to head home. She peeked into the large picture window, but there was no Sawyer or Bill inside. Lottie saw her and rushed out the front door.

  “Why don’t you go grab your stuffed rabbit to take with you?” Lottie said to her daughter. She held the navy-blue door open so she and Grace could stay outside on the sidewalk.

  Which meant that Lottie wanted to speak to her without any listening ears.

  Violet shuffled inside.

  “You didn’t tell me the man on the beach was Sawyer Rivera!” Lottie’s eyes gleamed like emeralds as she clutched Grace’s wrist.

  “I don’t know who he is.” Grace’s dress fluttered in a late afternoon breeze.

  “How do you not know? He’s a celebrity with two bestselling dog training books.” Lottie pointed toward the ferry dock. “From Seattle.”

  “Nope. Not familiar.”

  “Sawyer trained Sarge, Bill said, and he might be getting his own cable show on dog training. The man’s hot.” Lottie fanned her freckled face.

  “I’m more of a chicken person.” Sawyer was hot, yes, but what Grace cared about most was finding the money to save her house from the devious Mr. Haviland and getting her van fixed.

  Lottie waved Grace’s comment away like a bad smell and pulled an envelope from her apron pocket. “This is for you.”

  She knew right away the note was from Sawyer Rivera. She opened it, reading his name and phone number. The precise block print handwriting, the polar opposite of her looped freestyle, directed her to contact him in case she had questions regarding the camera.

  Lottie glanced across the street to the Veteran’s Association. “He explained to Bill what happened. You left out the part that you actually took pictures of him. When he said he thought you were a stalker, I almost died laughing.”

  “I got a blurred image of his shoulder, Lottie. I told him it was an accident. He ran into my line of sight!” Her face heated with mortification. “Did he say why he’s here?”

  “Business,” Lottie said. “He’s hiring Bill’s vets to help him renovate that old eyesore on Fiftieth. He plans on opening some kind of center—I didn’t get all of the details.”

  He was opening a business, in Kingston. She was starting a temp job tomorrow for a new business. She’d have to check the paperwork for the name and address. Grace hugged her waist. “What are the chances he’s my boss? I can’t work for him!” It would be all kinds of awkward.

  Lottie started to laugh. “That would be sorta funny.”

  Grace shook her head emphatically. “Not even a little bit. And what about the camera? He probably spent more on it than I did…”

  Lottie put her hand on Grace’s shoulder, the baking scents of vanilla and chocolate rising from her best friend. “Oh, hon. You deserve it. I don’t want you even questioning sending it back.” Lottie glanced inside the shop. “I’ve been thinking about
the banker. Maybe you should call an attorney to see what rights you have as a homeowner?”

  “How much money would that be?” Her parents’ commune lifestyle left a lot of finances out of the day-to-day equation.

  “You’ve been watching Violet for years. I can write up invoices for you. We don’t have to tell them that you get paid in muffins and tea,” Lottie said.

  “He’s a hard ass,” Grace said with distaste.

  Lottie’s fine red brows drew together. “Then let’s go to someone else… Have you called your parents?”

  “No. They don’t have money. Grandma told me to take care of them, remember?”

  Lottie slid her arm around Grace’s shoulders for a quick hug. “You’re a sweetheart.” She peeked behind them to make sure Violet was still out of earshot. “Listen, let me know if she’s acting differently, okay? School has only been in session two weeks, but I’m not getting a good vibe from her first-grade teacher.”

  Grace tucked the note from Sawyer into her black clutch. “Whatever you need.”

  Lottie sniffed and then blew out a calming breath. “I’m not sure if I should go in and observe or just let things play out?”

  “You’re very intuitive. Go with your gut.”

  “Best. Friend. Ever.” Lottie stepped away from the front door. Violet skipped out with her pink bunny and joined the women, not looking at either of them, though she leaned close to her mother’s leg.

  “So, are you going to call Sawyer?”

  “What for?” Alarm ran through her. So far, he hadn’t seen her at her best. She wanted her camera and that was all.

  “To find out if you’re working for him.”

  The idea of being around him every day for thirty days brought on an attack of hives. “Lottie, I’d have to quit.” And that was something she couldn’t afford.

  Chapter Five

  Sawyer picked Bert up from the veterinarian’s office, just two blocks from the VA.

  Downtown Kingston was quaint with historic buildings taking up a six-block radius, bordered on one side by hills and apple trees and the other by water. The dog was so happy to see him that Sawyer couldn’t stay upset with him because of the camera.

  Bert panted heavily, strapped in the dog seat in the back of Sawyer’s Rover. Poor pup was probably worried that he’d be abandoned again. “I don’t give up, Bert.”

  The dog happily sneezed all over the window. Ugh.

  Sawyer stopped at a red light, surprised to see Grace walking away from the coffee shop with her daughter. Had Lottie given her his phone number? She glowed in her yellow dress and sandals with sparkly straps that glinted in the late afternoon sun. He couldn’t look away from the bounce of her short black curls.

  Her eyes had been just as brilliantly turquoise blue as he’d remembered. Her address burned a hole on the piece of paper in his pocket. He couldn’t believe that she lived next door to him. That he’d discovered her at the coffee shop. What were the chances of that? If he believed in fate, he might question the coincidence, but he did not. He believed in facts.

  Bill had filled him in on the basics—Grace Sheldon, free spirit, heart of gold, not married or attached that he knew of—helped Lottie with delivering day-old pastries to the homeless down at Salsbury Park. She was genuine…while he was using the vets to help with his PR. He shifted uncomfortably.

  The “not married” part had banished the remorse over finding her attractive, and his interest returned tenfold. A car honked behind Sawyer, and he realized the light had turned green. He lifted his hand in a wave and took a right turn. Bert barked at a Chihuahua on the sidewalk, and when Sawyer looked back, Grace and her daughter had slipped out of sight.

  She was intriguing, though not his type—a hippie chick with a kid. Her not being married erased the guilt of finding her hot. He’d never dated a mom, having too much respect for their position unless he was serious about a relationship that would lead to something more, like marriage.

  His mother had promised that when he found the one, he’d know it. His heart would race and he’d feel as if he’d found his other half. As if on cue to remind him of his mistake with his ex, his lawyer called. He pressed the button on the console to answer via Bluetooth on the Land Rover’s speakers. Bert whined, tongue to the side.

  “Hey, Gary,” he answered. “How’s it going?”

  Since he’d split with his girlfriend Daniella six months ago, he and Gary Walsh talked almost daily. Not only had Daniella accused him of cheating, she’d emptied their Seattle house, taking everything except the dogs. It wasn’t that his heart had been broken, because he’d never given it to her—but his pride had taken a direct hit.

  “I found the painting at an art gallery in New York City,” Gary said.

  Out of all of the paintings in their old house, the Frank Stella abstract was Sawyer’s favorite because it had meant success. Growing up, his parents had gold-framed pictures of Jesus or artwork from HomeGoods. Buying from a gallery? That was special. He’d made the mistake of sharing that story one night after too many glasses of wine. A big mistake, as it turned out.

  His ex hadn’t wanted the artwork herself—she’d just wanted to kick him below the belt.

  “I wish I could fly to New York tomorrow, but I’m locked down here for a while,” he said. Sawyer was used to living a life where he could come and go as he pleased, but in this new house, there was no staff yet, and he didn’t want to leave the dogs with strangers.

  “It’s fine. I’ll have the gallery send me photos, and if something’s wrong, I’ll handle it,” Gary said. “Are you settling in to your new place?”

  His home on the bay was an acre lot. The property was mostly gravel and trees on the hillside and required a stone staircase from his small lawn at the top descending to the beach and dock.

  “The house is great, and I picked up the keys today to an old insurance building on five acres that’ll be perfect for Bark Camp. Got a crew coming in first thing to get the cleaning started.” He had a tight schedule in order to achieve his goal of at least one shelter built by the end of the month so that he could start dog training. Dream big, work hard. Don’t quit. That was how he lived his life.

  “Good luck,” Gary said. “You do your part on rebuilding your public persona and I’ll do mine by suing each time Daniella goes too far—she’s bound to lose interest.”

  He followed a curve in the road that took him toward the quiet bay where he now lived. He only had a year before the option with the network was up. “Thanks again, Gary.” Sawyer ended the call.

  His “Sawyer Rivera” team consisted of his publicist, his lawyer, his accountant, and his agent. He’d known things were bad when all four agreed that ducking out of the spotlight for a while and resurfacing later with a feel-good Sawyer Rivera specialized training camp built by veterans was the best course to take.

  Daniella’s words about him being a diva shouldn’t have mattered, but they’d cut him close to the bone. Probably because, with his humble beginnings, that wasn’t the way he saw himself at all.

  When did a man’s ego become his own worst enemy?

  He was in Kingston to find out that answer for himself.

  Grace Sheldon’s bright smile came to mind. His neighbor—she must be a successful photographer to have a place next to his. Maybe when he dropped off her new camera, he could bring a well-behaved Bert over as an apology, along with flowers and wine, and ask her if she’d be interested in getting dinner.

  No! Concentrate on salvaging your career and forget about blue eyes.

  Sawyer parked the Land Rover and brought Bert into the house, greeting the other pups. Kita and Diamond were pit bulls he’d had for almost ten years and could model perfect canine behavior. Sky was a gray standard poodle his ex had abandoned—the pedigreed pet preferred luxury inside to outdoors.

  He got the dogs set up with din
ner and then changed into shorts so he could run some of the energy off of Bert. They’d work on fetching and returning. Nobody else, like Grace or her daughter, was on the bay. He took the steep stairs from his house to the packed sand below. “Sit.”

  Bert did.

  Sawyer threw the ball around the curve of land toward the old dock next to his. “Fetch!” Bert raced after it.

  He rounded the thick bushes to see Grace sitting cross-legged on a floral-print blanket. She glanced up in surprise when the ball landed by her knee. Bert chomped the orange ball, and rather than run back to Sawyer, he charged toward the little girl with the bucket and shovel to say hello.

  The little girl’s green eyes were wide with concern, though she didn’t shout or make a noise. Sawyer waited for her to laugh with the dog, but she was frozen in place. Grace jumped up and inserted herself between Bert and her daughter.

  By all the angels and saints, Grace was smoking hot in a purple bikini with a sheer purple scarf thing wrapped around her slender hips. Focus on the dog, Sawyer. She already thinks you’re an idiot.

  Sawyer whistled the stop command, and Bert plopped down into the surf at Grace’s toes.

  The little girl giggled and bounded around Grace’s legs to touch Bert on his nose.

  Sawyer reached down for the orange ball and picked it up. Grace smelled like sunscreen and lemon.

  “What did I tell you about a leash?” Grace asked sharply.

  It grated that he owed this woman another apology. Before he could get out the words, Bert gave the little girl a lick on the cheek.

  She stiffened and wrapped her arm around Grace’s leg. Was she scared? Bert’s pink tongue lolled to the side, his tail wagging. The pup licked her cheek a second time.

  “No.” Sawyer’s directive startled the girl, who averted her gaze, not quite looking at Sawyer. He regretted his tone right away.

  Bert whined.

  “Come,” Sawyer said firmly. While it might seem Bert was out of control, he’d actually learned a few commands in the last week. Repetition was key with a willful dog.