Love Reclaimed: (Clean Small-Town Romance) (Kings Grove Book 4)

by Delancey Stewart

  As Tuck leashed his dogs back up and waved a goodbye, I leaned against the railing and thought about everything we’d just said. Why would a guy like Tuck be working on a Saturday? He seemed like the kind of easygoing guy who’d want to head out to the lake with friends or watch football or something. But it occurred to me that maybe Tuck was doing what I tended to do on the weekends—maybe he was staying busy so he didn’t notice just how alone he really was.

  Sneak Peek - Christmas in Kings Grove (Chapter 3)

  Tuck

  The coffee I’d made in the little French press was too damned strong, but I wasn’t in the mood to do it again. Why I couldn’t remember the right number of scoops was beyond me, or maybe it was just that I’d bought the wrong coffee again. Either you were supposed to use a super dark espresso roast or you definitely weren’t. I had a mental block about it. Coffee wasn’t my area. Coffee was Jess. She made the coffee. You’d think after almost two years of living without her I’d have figured some things out. Like how to make coffee.

  But I hadn’t figured out much of anything.

  There was a sheen of condensation on the Adirondack chair I slid into on the deck, and as soon as I laid my arm along the wide planks I was sorry, since my flannel shirt was now soaked from elbow to wrist, not to mention the back of my jeans. I didn’t get up to change though, it seemed like a lot of effort considering my clothes would dry once I got to work.

  The big house that lay in front of mine and set off to the right was dark this morning, and though it was a decent hour—8:00 a.m., I didn’t hear any sounds from within, didn’t see any windows light up with evidence of the occupant moving around.

  The occupant… Harper Lyles. I wasn’t sure what to make of her. I’d wracked my brain after meeting her, hearing she’d grown up here, trying to remember a Lyles family. But I knew these mountains and the people who lived here like I knew my own sorrows—deeply and intimately. And there was no Lyles in Kings Grove, though I guess she might have gotten married somewhere along the way. She’d said her dad was still here, and even though I didn’t make a habit of spending my time playing Nancy Drew and trying to unravel the mysteries of those around me, I’d been curious enough to do a mental sorting of the older men I knew who might have a daughter Harper’s age. Hell, my age. Harper looked like she might be a year or two younger than me.

  I’d have to ask Maddie if she remembered her from when we were kids. Although Maddie’s memory wasn’t great for that sort of thing—she hadn’t remembered that we’d once played with Connor when we’d all been little. The guy had saved her life, pulling her out of a pond in the creek down below, and she’d barely remembered that. Maybe my sister wasn’t my best source for information.

  Not that I needed to know anything about Harper Lyles anyway.

  I sipped my coffee sludge and decided resolutely to not think about her.

  The interesting thing about that, though, was an annoying little truth. For the first time in a long time, my mind seemed to have found something to do besides dwell and churn and mope. When I allowed myself to ponder the woman who’d taken the keys from my hand yesterday and then dragged the biggest suitcase I’d ever seen into my house, I didn’t feel as generally horrible as I had for the last couple years. She was an interesting new character, and I guessed maybe considering her wasn’t the worst thing I could do. Especially if it pulled me out of my abyss a little bit.

  The girl who’d stepped out of her car yesterday hadn’t looked like a mountain girl at all, but I guessed when you’d left Kings Grove at seven, it didn’t leave that particular stain on you quite as deeply. Some of the folks up here couldn’t rub the mountains off with steel wool if they wanted to. It was something about the fine dust that crept into every wrinkle of skin, the clear air that made the eyes shine just a little more brightly than was normal. No, she looked city to me—all messy bun and purposely casual clothes that were undoubtedly expensive. She’d looked me right in the eye at first, and then it had felt like she’d purposely avoided looking at me again. Strange. Stranger still that I found myself wishing she would see me.

  She wasn’t a tall woman—kind of a little thing, actually. Not thin and petite like Jess had been, but curvy and compact, and… something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on. That was the mystery. That was what had her on my mind first thing in the morning after two years of thinking of almost nothing but my dead wife. Part of me resented the sudden mental shift, and a part of me that was hard to acknowledge, because it felt like a traitor to my aching soul, was so relieved at the change that it almost hurt.

  I shook my head to clear it, and went back inside. All I really needed to know about Harper Lyles was that her money was good and that she didn’t throw wild parties and trash the house.

  Just as I reached the sink, ready to dump the rest of the coffee and admit I’d be better off going to the diner yet again, a light rap came at my front door.

  With the French press still in hand, I walked over and pulled it open.

  And there she stood. Messy bun back in place, tendrils of long dark hair escaping down her neck and around her face, dressed in flannel pajama pants with martini glasses on them and a T-shirt that was tight enough to give me a pretty good view of her top-level assets. Which were… nice.

  “There’s no coffee up there,” she said, her voice halfway between a moan and a whine. Her face was a comical misery, her round cheeks rosy and her mouth pushed into a soft pout below those gleaming dark eyes.

  “Ah,” I wasn’t sure what I was meant to say.

  Her eyes fell to the French press still in my hand. “Please?” she said, her voice high and reedy. “I promise I’ll go to the store today and you’ll never hear from me again. But I cannot function without…ohhh, is that espresso?” Her eyelids had slid halfway shut, and it was clear the right answer to the espresso question was yes.

  “Yeah, uh… come on in.” I pulled the door open all the way and watched as Harper walked into my house and settled herself in a chair at the kitchen table, just past the living room.

  She dropped her head onto her arms on the tabletop, exposing the back of her long white neck, and a muffled, “Thank you,” came out from beneath all the hair.

  I poured another mug of sludge and set it on the table. “Milk or sugar or anything?”

  She made a noise that sounded negative, so I stepped back, unable to contain my fascination. It wouldn’t have seemed like much to most people, but having an attractive woman wander into my house in pajamas demanding coffee first thing in the morning was a seismic shift from my usual routine.

  Harper lifted her head and eyed the cup, her expression turning from misery to pleasure as she dipped her nose toward the rim. “Ohh, this is amazing.” She lifted the cup and I watched her sip, hating myself for my own intrigue, but unable to look away or resume the nonchalant attitude I’d been using for just about everything in life for years now.

  For five solid minutes, neither of us said anything. Harper drank and moaned over the coffee, and I stood nearby like a statue, confused and enthralled, and generally moronic.

  “How’d you do it?” she asked finally, setting the cup down. She had transformed before my eyes. Her face was clearer, her spine was straighter, and her voice was steady. I’d never met anyone who needed coffee like other people need oxygen.

  “Do… what?”

  “The coffee. I saw the French press, but this was super dark and rich and… did you use an espresso roast?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention.”

  She stood and went to the counter next to the sink where the coffee bag still sat. She picked it up and eyed it, then opened it and stuck her nose inside, inhaling. “Oh yeah, this is good. Can you buy this in town? At the grocery?”

  “Yeah.” Where else?

  “Huh.” She shrugged and put the coffee bag back down on the counter and turned to face me. “Well, thanks, Cameron. You’ve saved my life.” She lifted a small h
and and punched me lightly in the shoulder as she passed, heading for the door again.

  “Sure,” I said, unable to access the bulk of my vocabulary.

  She lifted a hand in a wave of goodbye and then let herself out the door, making her way barefooted through the soft brown dirt between my house and hers.

  When Harper had left, I shoved my wallet into my pocket and headed out to the diner for coffee I could actually drink before I went to work.

  “Hey.” My sister greeted me as I stepped into the diner, and Adele gave me a smile from her eternal post at the podium by the door.

  “Cameron,” she said. Adele had been sweet to me since Jess had died. It made Maddie suspicious—Adele was never nice to her.

  “You okay?” Maddie asked, walking me to my usual booth. “You look… you look different.” Her eyebrows and nose wrinkled as she watched me sit, like scrunching her face would help her figure me out.

  “Fine. Just worried about being late for work. Spent a little more time at home than I’d meant to.”

  “Well, order quick and we’ll have you on your way. Chance was just in here though, and I doubt he’s too worried about it. He said progress was good on the Outpost.”

  I lifted a shoulder. I’d been working construction since I’d come back to Kings Grove, slaving away for the Palmer brothers, doing my best to exhaust myself every single day so my mind didn’t torment me at night. Sometimes it worked, but my old life was prodding me more often lately, tugging at my sleeve and asking for attention like a neglected child. I’d been a film producer, and though walking away had been easy enough when Jess was sick, construction didn’t seem to scratch the same itch. Right now I was helping set up an offshoot of the new Kings Grove Inn—a fine dining restaurant halfway up the ridge that was part warming hut in the winter months, part open-air dining in the summer. It was called the Outpost. “Mostly need coffee,” I said, sliding my menu away. “Some scrambled eggs.”

  “Be right back.” Maddie tucked her pencil into her apron and disappeared.

  I turned my head to stare out the window at the central parking lot, which was flanked by the trees that had given Kings Grove its name. The sun had risen hours ago, and the sky shimmered with late-spring heat. It was going to be a hot summer. The Post Office and grocery store sat directly across the lot from the diner, and as I sipped the coffee Maddie placed in front of me, I watched a familiar little silver Subaru pull into a spot directly in front of the grocery, and felt my heart tick up a notch.

  Harper.

  She popped out of the driver side in jeans and high-heeled sandals, a loose floral blouse tied at her waist making her look very “city” for the landscape. I watched, unable to look away, as she leaned back into the car to reach for something, and I had a hard time swallowing my coffee as her legs and butt swiveled as she reached. I didn’t like admitting it, but Harper was damned attractive, and this particular view only cemented my opinion.

  When she’d retrieved her bag, she stepped back out of the car and closed the door, turning to look around her. If she’d grown up here, she was probably curious about all the changes. Kings Grove had grown slowly over the last decade or so. I know I’d been surprised when I’d come back here two years ago.

  Harper’s dark hair bounced in curls around her shoulders and down her back, and mirrored aviator shades covered her eyes. Her perfect little lips stood out, even at this distance, painted a deep plum color.

  “Oh Lord, what is that?” Adele had spotted Harper out the window. “Princess, is that your sister? She dresses like you did when you first came up here.”

  “Not everyone with fashion sense is related to me,” Maddie scolded, coming back to my table to look out the window. “Oh, she’s cute,” she said admiringly. “Who is that, I wonder?”

  “That’s my renter,” I said.

  Maddie’s head spun and she stared at me. “Is it now?” I could hear the wheels turning in her head. “Well, she looks like a very nice girl,” she said. “With excellent fashion sense.” She added this last part loudly, looking at Adele, who turned away muttering, “she’s gonna break an ankle… no common sense…”

  Maddie sat down across from me after retrieving my eggs from the kitchen. “Tell me about her.”

  I started eating, and said through a mouthful, “I don’t know much. Got here last night. Likes coffee.”

  “She does, huh?” Maddie waggled her eyebrows, almost like she knew Harper had been by my house this morning in her pajamas, like she thought there might be more to things than there was.

  “Don’t get ideas.”

  “I have no ideas.”

  “You always have ideas.” I swallowed some coffee and gave my sister a focused stare. “I mean it. No ideas.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “She’s going to work at the Inn, right?”

  “I didn’t interview her, Maddie.”

  “She’s living in your house—didn’t you get any references or anything?”

  “A couple. A Mr. Franklin and his friend, Mr. Franklin.” The money had been enough for me originally, but now I was kind of curious about my renter. Though I didn’t want to tell my sister that or I’d never get her to stop digging up details and Harper would never get a moment’s peace.

  She tilted her head and then her mouth dropped open. “Mr Franklin? Oh my God, are you ten?”

  “Her money’s good. All I need to know.”

  “And?”

  I put down my fork. “I’m trying to eat.” This was our game. I got annoyed at my sister’s persistence, and she repeatedly kept me from sinking into my own isolation. Maddie was the only thing keeping me afloat some days. I wished I could tell her how grateful I was for her. But deep chats had never been my thing, so instead I bantered when appropriate and stayed close the rest of the time.

  “Just tell me what else you know and I’ll get back to work and leave you in peace.”

  “You’re so nosy.” I swigged my coffee and leaned back. “She grew up here until she was seven and then her parents split. Says her dad is still here, but I don’t know who he is. Last name Lyles.” I stood, dropping money on the table. It felt ridiculous to tip my sister, but I did it every time.

  Adele had crept nearer as we talked, pretending to wipe down the booth next to us. When I said “Lyles,” she gasped lightly and then turned and bustled back to her podium when I stood. “What do you know?” My sister asked her.

  “What?” Adele was not very good at playing dumb.

  “Who is she?” My sister pressed. Adele and Frank had been up here for years. It was no surprise they knew who Harper really was.

  “Well, I don’t like to gossip,” Adele said, pursing her lips, her little eyes betraying her excitement.

  “Bullshit,” I said through a fake cough, and my sister tried to stifle a laugh. Adele liked to gossip very much and everyone knew it. We stood near the door of the diner, Adele at her podium trying to decide whether to share what she knew.

  I shook my head. “I’ve gotta get to work. I don’t have time for this. See ya.” I pushed out the doors into the warming morning, wishing my mind wasn’t screaming at me to stay and find out what I could about Harper.

  It was better this way. I didn’t need to know anything about her, other than that she was paying rent.

  Plus, there was no way Maddie would let Adele off the hook. If I really wanted to know, she’d tell me. Hell, she’d probably tell me either way.

  I drove the truck out the back of the parking lot past the Palmer offices and down the dirt service road to the site of the Inn’s outpost restaurant. It was rising up impressively from the forest, with a huge deck as the main feature. Some ingenious engineering would allow a windowed wall to enclose the deck in bad weather and during the winter months, and stay open to the air in the summer. Inside would be a state-of-the-art kitchen and a winter sports rental and repair facility. The place was mostly bones at this point, but it had been progressing quickly and had a good chance of being ready for
the Maddie’s wedding reception at the end of the summer.

  “Hey Cam,” Chance Palmer strode around the side of the structure, approaching the truck. “Everything good?”

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late.”

  Chance shook his head, his toothpaste commercial smile spreading across his face. “No worries, man.” He turned back toward the structure as I pulled my tools from the back of the truck. “Can you keep an eye on the deck planking today, and see if we can get that railing up around the edges? We need to reinforce it over here where it’s going to be external to the main building so it can handle a lot of snow.”

  “Pretty optimistic,” I commented. Kings Grove hadn’t had a lot of snow in a lot of years.

  “One day this drought will end, man.”

  I nodded. Chance clapped me on the back, and I got to work, clearing my mind of small dark-haired women and mysterious mountain stories, to focus on the physical exertion that felt like it saved my life some days.

  Ready for more of Tuck and Annie’s story? The pre-order is up! Grab it here!

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  Also by Delancey Stewart

  The KINGS GROVE Series:

  Love Rebuilt

  Love Reimagined

  Love Redefined

  Love Reclaimed

  The Kings Grove Box Set (Books 1-3)

  Christmas in Kings Grove

  The LOVE IN THE VINES Series:

  Vintage

  Redemption Red

  Beyond Redemption

  A Holiday Delay

  The Love in the Vines Box Set (Books 1-4)

  The STARR RANCH WINERY Series: