squats. Perspiration beaded on her
neck at the unwanted memory of a party. Of people knocking into each other…strangers…loud
music. She placed a hand on her stomach to squelch the nausea. Plastering on a smile
and backing away, she said, “Thanks, but I can’t tonight.” And then she walked as
fast as her shaky legs could carry her to the cottage.
A few evenings later, Dani hit the print key on her laptop, then slouched back against
the chair. Larry—she smiled every time she remembered Sam’s choice of dog name—rested
his head on her lap. The sunlight had dwindled, leaving a soft, dusky glow about the
kitchen. She took a chug of her bottled water while her printer spurted out the recipes
she’d concocted.
It was the first time she’d had a chance to compile all her recipes. Despite her best
intentions, she hadn’t spent as much time as she normally would at the computer. When
she wasn’t in the kitchen, she was on the beach. Just last night, she’d sat with Rachel,
Jack, and Matt around the fire pit. They’d kept her entertained with stories of their
shenanigans growing up in Lake Bliss, and it had been wonderful. Getting involved
with the town and its people was fun, too. All she had to do was concentrate on not
letting Matt in particular get too close.
The months of caring for her mother meant spare time had vanished, and its departure
put an end to her social life. She’d missed having friends. She’d missed flirting,
too. Matt seemed to enjoy her sarcasm and sass. Keep things light. Happy. The I’d-rather-laugh-than-cry
theory.
When Matt had asked if he could work at her cottage today, they’d agreed on a late
start time, since he’d be spending the earlier part of the day at work. Now with the
onset of sunset, he still worked upstairs. She’d only caught a few glimpses of him—once
when he arrived and another time when he retrieved tools from his truck—but it was
nice to have someone else in the cottage. All afternoon she tried to tell herself
it didn’t matter that the other person was a certain handsome sheriff.
“Time to cook,” she told Larry. She kissed the top of his head. “You smell a whole
lot better since your bath.” Obviously not interested in her newest recipes, he plopped
down on a blanket she’d placed in the corner of the room.
She lit candles about the kitchen, toyed with the radio until smooth jazz replaced
the near silence. As she gathered ingredients, Matt’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
She pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge, turned in his direction. He wore faded
blue jeans, a paint-speckled T-shirt, and carried the faint smell of sawdust. The
temperature in the room cranked up a few degrees. Her mouth spoke without first consulting
her brain. “I’m about to make dinner. I know it’s late. Would you like to stay?”
…
Matt thought he’d stepped into a seduction scene. Except on the night he’d come by
to apologize, he’d seen her in the same environment with candles and music. This was
a woman who surrounded herself with the things she found pleasurable. Including people?
“Sure. Thanks.” It was ridiculous how much he wanted to stay. Hadn’t he decided it
best to keep his distance? Yet he jumped at the first chance he got for a little one-on-one
action. No, he corrected his warped brain, not the man-woman kind of action.
“It’s a new recipe. Could turn out terrible.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He glanced at his hands. “Give me a minute to wash up. Then
I’ll be happy to help.”
“You can use the bathroom through there.” She motioned behind him to a semidarkened
hallway.
With a flip of a switch, he entered the bathroom. Various bottles and jars—some tall
and thin, others short and squat—sat on the countertop. He glanced at the mysterious
collection of Dani’s beauty regimen and admitted to himself how much he missed having
a woman in
neck at the unwanted memory of a party. Of people knocking into each other…strangers…loud
music. She placed a hand on her stomach to squelch the nausea. Plastering on a smile
and backing away, she said, “Thanks, but I can’t tonight.” And then she walked as
fast as her shaky legs could carry her to the cottage.
A few evenings later, Dani hit the print key on her laptop, then slouched back against
the chair. Larry—she smiled every time she remembered Sam’s choice of dog name—rested
his head on her lap. The sunlight had dwindled, leaving a soft, dusky glow about the
kitchen. She took a chug of her bottled water while her printer spurted out the recipes
she’d concocted.
It was the first time she’d had a chance to compile all her recipes. Despite her best
intentions, she hadn’t spent as much time as she normally would at the computer. When
she wasn’t in the kitchen, she was on the beach. Just last night, she’d sat with Rachel,
Jack, and Matt around the fire pit. They’d kept her entertained with stories of their
shenanigans growing up in Lake Bliss, and it had been wonderful. Getting involved
with the town and its people was fun, too. All she had to do was concentrate on not
letting Matt in particular get too close.
The months of caring for her mother meant spare time had vanished, and its departure
put an end to her social life. She’d missed having friends. She’d missed flirting,
too. Matt seemed to enjoy her sarcasm and sass. Keep things light. Happy. The I’d-rather-laugh-than-cry
theory.
When Matt had asked if he could work at her cottage today, they’d agreed on a late
start time, since he’d be spending the earlier part of the day at work. Now with the
onset of sunset, he still worked upstairs. She’d only caught a few glimpses of him—once
when he arrived and another time when he retrieved tools from his truck—but it was
nice to have someone else in the cottage. All afternoon she tried to tell herself
it didn’t matter that the other person was a certain handsome sheriff.
“Time to cook,” she told Larry. She kissed the top of his head. “You smell a whole
lot better since your bath.” Obviously not interested in her newest recipes, he plopped
down on a blanket she’d placed in the corner of the room.
She lit candles about the kitchen, toyed with the radio until smooth jazz replaced
the near silence. As she gathered ingredients, Matt’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
She pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge, turned in his direction. He wore faded
blue jeans, a paint-speckled T-shirt, and carried the faint smell of sawdust. The
temperature in the room cranked up a few degrees. Her mouth spoke without first consulting
her brain. “I’m about to make dinner. I know it’s late. Would you like to stay?”
…
Matt thought he’d stepped into a seduction scene. Except on the night he’d come by
to apologize, he’d seen her in the same environment with candles and music. This was
a woman who surrounded herself with the things she found pleasurable. Including people?
“Sure. Thanks.” It was ridiculous how much he wanted to stay. Hadn’t he decided it
best to keep his distance? Yet he jumped at the first chance he got for a little one-on-one
action. No, he corrected his warped brain, not the man-woman kind of action.
“It’s a new recipe. Could turn out terrible.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He glanced at his hands. “Give me a minute to wash up. Then
I’ll be happy to help.”
“You can use the bathroom through there.” She motioned behind him to a semidarkened
hallway.
With a flip of a switch, he entered the bathroom. Various bottles and jars—some tall
and thin, others short and squat—sat on the countertop. He glanced at the mysterious
collection of Dani’s beauty regimen and admitted to himself how much he missed having
a woman in
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