by Cindi Madsen
Ford glanced from her to the page titled my dream wedding cakes. “Wow. That’s…intense. Like obsessive-serial-killer level, but for cakes you plan to murder.”
“Ford. Be nice.” Shep’s wife placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Ignore him. What he meant to say is thank you.”
No, what he meant was holy shit, she has her entire wedding planned out. And he shouldn’t have touched her hand or teased her in the kitchen, and why did he hate the idea of her being already taken so much?
Bracing herself on her forearms, Addie leaned across the table. “Those are gorgeous. I see what you mean about the flowers, although purple isn’t really my color.” She spun the binder her way. “While I get your aversion to dandelions, Lex, I do like yellow. What about daisies and sunflowers—are they weeds? I realize they’re out in the fields, but I want the decorations to match how I feel about marrying Tucker: happy.”
Without warning, Lexi launched herself at Violet, arms winding around her neck. The legs of the chair wobbled from the impact, and Ford placed his hand on the chair back so they wouldn’t go down. While he wouldn’t mind seeing the two women plastered together on the floor, no one was going to get a concussion on his watch.
“Violet, you’re a miracle worker,” Lexi said, releasing her hold on the woman next to him but not relinquishing her personal space. “She picked a color and a flower. Or flowers, as the case may be, but at long last I have something to work with.”
Another glossy paper fell from the binder as Addie flipped the page. She excitedly tapped a picture in the middle. “This is the one. A cake like this, but with daisies.”
“And a cake.” Lexi’s voice came out at an octave he’d previously thought only dogs could hear. When she sat back in her own seat, Violet appeared a bit shell-shocked, but a smile slowly spread across her face.
Lexi latched onto Addie’s arm and dragged her toward the bakery counter while calling Maisy’s name.
A few silent seconds ticked by, and then Violet haughtily lifted her chin. “See, I’m not obsessed or too intense. I’m a miracle worker.”
“My apologies,” he deadpanned.
Arms tightly crossed her chest, emphasizing her cleavage. Before he could rein himself in, his fingers twitched with the urge to grab her chair and tug her closer. Ask what was up with that ridiculous binder, and why didn’t she have a ring on her finger?
“Why do you sound so sarcastic?” she asked. “Yes, you met me on a super shitty day—”
“The shittiest, I believe you called it. Sounded like it was from more than starting that fire, too.” There he went, poking the beast instead of deescalating the situation.
Her nostrils flared. “Right. On both counts, actually, although I’d rather we pretend the fire never happened.”
“I’m fine with that. Not sure I can say the same for the oven.”
She exhaled as if he’d taken up every ounce of her patience—which, fair. “The point is, I’m not normally like that. All flustered and creating a disaster in my wake. I’d even go so far as to say I’m relatively levelheaded, especially considering everything I’ve been through.”
Ford jerked his chin at the binder. “I’m assuming the reason you hid from me this morning and made that recovering bridesmaid remark is because you’re engaged and get to be the star now?”
Violet’s mouth hung open for a beat, and then she blinked and shook her head. “No, nope, and no.”
His lungs contracted with an odd amalgamation of relief and apprehension, as if he were facing down a bear and couldn’t decide if he should marvel at the sight or slowly back away with his hands up.
Though her answer was far from straightforward—she’d skimmed right past why she’d hid and what her earlier remark had meant. Was she purposely withholding to be infuriating? And why couldn’t he stop prying?
“Then why do you have your entire wedding planned?” Call it self-sabotage, but he needed to keep his wits about him. Ever since Violet joined them, his thoughts had been on the scrambled side. He wanted to tempt her closer and push her away all at the same time.
“Oh, don’t even start. You sit there all judgy, but I bet you have a stack of wildlife or vehicle magazines—or whatever other country-bumpkin hobby you’re into—at your house. It’s the same thing; mine’s just better organized.”
Amusement set in, making it that much harder to disengage. Kitty had claws, and he sort of enjoyed the way she raked them over him. “Sounds like you’re fishing for an invite to my house.”
“With how big your ego is, I doubt I’d fit inside.” Violet began to push away, and he flattened his palm to the thigh of his jeans so he wouldn’t reach out, snag her hand, and ask her to stay.
If he did that, he’d also have to apologize for being an asshole about the binder and the jab about starting a fire. Apologizing wasn’t one of his many talents, and the faster she fled, the sooner he could scrub her out of his head.
“Thank you for reminding me why I’ve given up men,” Violet muttered, taking a step in the other direction.
The chime that accompanied the opening of the door pinged. With a tiny squeak, Violet abruptly reversed course and dove for the table. She bypassed her chair and dropped to the floor by his mud-coated Adidas. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Ford glanced from Mayor Hurst and his wife, Cheryl, to the girl trying to become one with his leg. “Somethin’ I can help you with, ma’am?”
“Shhh. Just shut up,” she hissed.
“Well, if you’re going to be mean…” He shifted as if he were going to stand.
“Wait.” Violet clamped onto his leg, her fingernails digging into his calf muscles as she held him in place. “I’m sorry, okay? Even though you’re a cocky ass, I shouldn’t have told you to shut up.”
“Anyone ever tell you that your apologies are somewhat lacking?”
The Hursts walked to the cash register, and Violet hunkered down more. She crawled around to his other side on her hands and knees.
A large truck drove down Main Street, its muffler in desperate need of repair, and Mayor Hurst idly glanced out the large bakery window.
Violet wrapped herself around his leg like a koala bear, and her head brushed his inner thigh. If they’d been acquainted for longer and there wasn’t a chance of her mistaking a joke for a serious request, he’d make an inappropriate Hey, while you’re down there… remark.
Not only was he spot-on about her being flighty and temperamental, she had a few loose screws to boot.
Yay for his instincts, but what did he do about the heat stirring in his gut? It wasn’t the only part of him slowly waking up, either. It’d been a long time since a woman had been this close to… Definitely not thinking about that, or the situation’s gonna get even bigger.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Violet shout-whispered, and he wondered if his pervy thoughts were showing. “I realize this doesn’t exactly help the case I was pleading about being levelheaded, but this is an extenuating circumstance.”
“My buddy Tucker would approve of your legal jargon—he’s a lawyer.”
“That’s Addie’s fiancé, right?”
Ford nodded, stifling the desire to run his fingers through the strands of silky hair draped across his knee. “What’s the extenuating circumstance, then, Madam Foreman?”
“Ha-ha.” She ducked her head, attempting to peek under his thigh, although he doubted she saw much besides his track pants. “Larry Hurst is my biological father. He only ever acknowledges my existence when he absolutely has to, and the last time I saw Cheryl, she told me I was ruining Maisy’s wedding with my dramatics.”
“You, dramatic? No.” Sarcasm was already their home base, but hurt flickered through her features, and Ford instantly regretted his words. If she wasn’t gonna jab back, it sucked out the fun, and he hadn’t meant to cross into sore-feelings territory. “Y
ou also seem extremely energetic. How would you like to go hang out with some puppies?”
“Trying to lure me into your dark, windowless van?” There was the live wire he wanted to grab on to. Before he could answer, she added, “You know what, I don’t even care. Anything to get away from here. Let’s go.”
Chapter Five
Ford made a cooing, bird-type sound, and Violet froze in place, afraid to move or blink or even breathe.
That’s it. I’m going to have to climb the guy and strangle him.
Sure, she’d blow her cover, but she’d asked him to sneak her out, and instead he was drawing attention.
Addie was the only one who glanced their way, though.
A few hand signals from Ford, and Addie’s voice turned boisterous. She began loudly talking about how excited she was for the wedding, and the mayor and his wife would be there, right?
With Larry’s and Cheryl’s focus on Addie, Ford stood, his back to the counter. Then he pulled Violet to stand in front of him. His warm breath wafted over the shell of her ear, and goose bumps swept across her skin. “Walk with me now…”
He nudged the back of her foot with the toe of his sneakers, and they moved as close to in sync as you could with someone you’d barely met. The stutter step made it clear his legs struggled not to overtake her shorter stride, but in no time, they were out the bakery door.
The loud chime had her striding faster, in the opposite direction of the window that overlooked the sidewalk. “Thanks,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You make a pretty good shield.”
“Happy to help.” Ford’s hand moved to her lower back, his fingertips radiating five spots of heat. He propelled her toward a giant black truck with wheels the size of boulders.
Violet dragged her heels. “Wait, where are we going?”
“To train puppies,” he said, reaching around her to open the passenger door. “That was the deal, remember?”
“Deal? I thought it was more like you taking advantage of my desperate situation.”
“Why can’t it be both? Now, can your teeny legs reach that high, or do you need a boost?”
Despite the phfft, don’t-be-absurd noise she made, she wasn’t sure. Using the metal step, she clamped onto the seat. It took nearly doing the splits, but she’d be damned if she was going to ask for help getting into a truck that was clearly overcompensating for something.
The engine also growled as if it had something to prove, and then she was riding down Main Street with a man who was little more than a stranger. How did she always manage to get herself into such bizarre situations?
If it was her gift, she was going to find the receipt, because she totally wanted to return it.
“So, the Hursts are your parents?” he asked.
Violet tilted her head. Was this guy for real? If he was pretending to be unaware of her family’s soap-opera history, he shouldn’t bother. Every time she’d visited Uncertainty, she’d heard the whispers. Noticed the curious looks.
In this abnormally small town, her notoriety came from being the mistake. The physical reminder of infidelity, which was why she didn’t blame Cheryl for not being her biggest fan. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about me.”
Ford shifted into a higher gear. “Why? Are you famous?”
“More like infamous. I’m Larry Hurst’s bastard. Some people say love child in an attempt to sound less harsh, as if you can put a bow on a bomb to counteract the destruction. But he’s made it clear there was no love involved.”
Over the years, she’d heard Larry and Cheryl fight several times during the custody agreement visits.
It meant nothing.
I was super drunk, and she happened to be there.
If I could take it back, I would.
Ford squinted across the cab at her. “I don’t pay much attention to town gossip.”
“Come on. You never heard about me, the daughter who messed up the perfect marriage between the beloved mayor and his beautiful wife?” It didn’t help that Mom had kept Violet’s existence from him a secret for eight years, until Violet insisted on tracking down her father and meeting him. “Every summer, my visits would stir the pot, and the whispers and stares were unavoidable.”
Old news by a long shot, so why did residual hurt rise up? What had started as a daydream about meeting her father ended up a nightmare where lives were ruined in her wake. Mom constantly consoled Violet by insisting her dad loved her and wanted a relationship, thus the visits. Frankly, it was hard to believe whenever Violet was away from her real home and her stepmother glared at her with such disdain.
Violet suspected Dad requested the visits more out of “doing the right thing” and not so much because he wanted a relationship.
Ford turned onto a rutted dirt road. “Now that you mention it, it does sound familiar. One of the many reasons I ignored the gossip stemmed from my family always bein’ part of it. The McGuires have been the notorious rotten apples of Uncertainty, goin’ on a century now. But what I’ve discovered through the years is that there aren’t any so-called perfect families. Everyone struggles. Some are just better at hiding it than others.”
Surprisingly candid. Accurate, too.
The squat white house they pulled up in front of had blue shutters, a porch, and a large yard with a white picket fence. And as promised…
“Puppies!” Violet catapulted out the truck as the pint-size German shepherds congregated by the fence, their dark noses poking through the planks.
Pyro leaped the fence as if it were nothing, and Ford bent at the waist and patted his head. “Hey, boy. How were the pipsqueaks?”
The dog replied with a half whimper, half grumble, like a babysitter who’d been relieved after a rough day.
Ford scratched the thick black hair around the dog’s neck until his pink tongue lolled and his complaints turned into pants. “The world needs more amazing search and rescue dogs like you, which means they need us to train them. We can handle that, can’t we, boy?”
Pyro pranced around, as if he were now on board and encouraging Ford to hurry it up. For a second, Violet’s insides went mushy on her. Since the guy had also saved her from an awkward run-in, she allowed herself to indulge in the mush for another two or three seconds.
Her fingers sought the camera hanging around her neck, only to come up empty.
It was the first time in a long time she’d habitually grabbed for her camera, desperate to capture the moment.
Then it was over—a slice of life she wouldn’t get to study and analyze later.
Ford opened the gate for her, and three black-and-brown fluffballs rushed her at once, their ears flopping with every springy movement.
Violet dropped to the ground and let them climb into her lap. One of the puppies took her invitation the extra mile, its paws digging into her right boob as he launched himself higher and licked her chin.
“Thanks for that, buddy. Or girlie. I’m not really sure, and I don’t want to embarrass you by lifting your tail in front of everyone.”
One of the dogs abandoned getting her attention the conventional way and latched onto her shoelaces. He tugged, gradually dragging Violet’s foot out from under her.
A shadow blocked the sun, and she lifted her gaze up, up, up. “They’re adorable,” she said to Ford.
“They’re undisciplined,” he replied.
The puppy that apparently loved the taste of her makeup kept licking her face. Violet wrapped her hands around its furry body, right behind the front legs, and lifted it in the air. “Are you undisciplined? Or do you just like to give Ford a hard time?”
The puppy barked.
“I agree,” Violet said. “It is super fun. But then he starts name-calling. Don’t tell me he’s called you obsessive and overly dramatic, too.”
The dog gave another squeaky bark, and she gasped and poin
ted the puppy’s snout toward Ford.
“Say you’re sorry,” she demanded.
Ford shook his head, but the corners of his mouth quivered with a smile. “Just to clarify, I didn’t call you dramatic. I implied it using sarcasm.”
“Oh, pardon the hell out of me.”
A chuckle escaped as Ford crouched to the puppy’s level. He petted her furry head and then his eyes—decidedly more green than hazel, although on the olive side—lifted to Violet’s face. “I can see you’re all about the fun and games, but the reason I conned you into helping me is for the working part.”
“Hmm. You failed to mention that while luring me into your windowless van.”
One eyebrow arched, a villainous curve that had her contemplating how to become one of his minions, and evidently her common sense had gone on vacation. “I let you have a window in my big, badass truck, but let this be a lesson to ya. This is what happens when you let yourself be baited by puppies.”
Violet rotated the puppy and brushed her nose against its wet one. “I guess if this is the way I go, so be it.”
The puppy who’d untied her shoelaces had moved on to chasing a grasshopper, and now she felt bad for not snuggling him when she had the chance. “What are their names?”
“They don’t have ’em yet,” Ford said, still squatting, and she wondered if his thighs hurt. Then she was examining his muscular thighs, and she absolutely shouldn’t do that because dayumn.
“That’s just sad.”
“I’ll make you a deal—”
Violet sighed, nice and loud. “Oh no, not another deal.”
“It’s called quid pro quo.”
“I really should’ve asked for the quo—or is it the quid?—before agreeing to the rescue mission.”
The third puppy flounced over, and Violet lay back in the grass and reached for him. She placed him on her chest so she had all three doggies crawling over her. Pyro tracked her and the puppies’ movements with his eyes, and she patted the spot next to her.
