“You could have smacked your head.” The thought of hurting this precious woman made his head ache. “Head injuries are very serious.”
She laughed. “Calm down, Boy Scout. I’m not a delicate little princess. Dancers are tougher than most.”
“Are you sure?” He resisted the urge to run his hands over her body to make sure nothing was broken. In the Marines he’d been trained in first aid. However, he knew his touch would not be welcomed.
“I’m fine, other than I’ll be stiff tomorrow. I basically leaped onto your shoulders to pull you backward. I’ve taken a million tumbling classes and hours of stage combat. My mom always said I was like a monkey. And you’re a tree, so there you have it.”
A beautiful, graceful monkey. She could climb up his tree anytime. Shut up, gutter mind. Keep it classy.
She slid her gaze to his hands still wrapped around her arms. “You can loosen your hold on me now. I’m just fine.” Her eyes glittered as she raised her head to look at him. He wasn’t sure if she was amused or about to launch into one of her attacks on his caveman ways. Last time it was because he called her a girl instead of a woman. Her sharp tongue had nearly slashed him into a million pieces. It had taken great control to hide how her anger hurt him.
He released her and apologized. Heat rose to his face. “I’m sorry.” He grimaced. What a dolt. “Thank you for saving me. I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your fault. I’m glad I was there.” She moved to sit cross-legged on the sidewalk and flapped her hands, as if they’d fallen asleep. “That scared the crap out of me.” Her eyes were almost too large for her delicate heart-shaped face and were a mixture of blue and gray that reminded him of the sky right before a thin layer of fog departed from the shore. “It came speeding out of the alley—like warp-speed fast. Thank God it’s Saturday. Weekdays the high school dancers have class before school. They exit right around this time, all spilling into the alley while reading their cell phones and not paying a bit of attention to their surroundings. He could’ve plowed them all down.” Even angry, she had the most delightful voice, like whiskey with a dab of honey. Actresses always had the best vocal tones. They were trained that way, he supposed. Not that he knew much about actresses, but he imagined they spent quite a lot of time practicing scales and such. “Didn’t you hear the squeal of the tires? They about gave me a heart attack.”
“No, I didn’t hear a thing.” Not a thing, other than the buzzing in his ears from the encounter with his long-lost mother. Stone tried to get up, but black dots danced before his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was distracted—thinking about something else.”
“It must have been a heck of a something to keep you from noticing a large black vehicle.” She blinked, and her thick lashes swooped like the wings of a butterfly. Wings of a butterfly? Did I hit my head? He might have a concussion.
“I had a shock just before…this happened.” He remained sitting as she leaped to her feet with the lithe and grace of a dancer. So much for stiffness. Pepper was a song-and-dance girl from New York. As was her best friend, Lisa, who was engaged to his best friend, Rafael. Rafael and Lisa. The happy couple. Meanwhile, he was sitting on the sidewalk with a carton of spilled milk leaking into the cement while staring into the eyes of the woman he loved. Who didn’t love him.
Be patient. She just saved your life.
“How did you think so fast?” he asked.
“I’d just come out of the studio and was standing here looking for my phone. It always falls down into my bag.” She gestured toward a duffel bag under the awning of the dance studio. “I saw it whip around that corner just as you approached the crosswalk. I guess my instincts just kicked in.”
“Your ninja instincts?” he asked.
“I had no idea I was a ninja, but I’m glad she kicked in when I needed her.” She offered him a slender hand to help him up, smiling down at him.
His big stupid heart turned over. Could there be a better smile in the entire universe? He looked away from her before he gave himself away. And now he was eye level with her tight bottom in those leggings. God, he was a pervert. He’d almost been killed and all he could think about were those legs wrapping around him. “I’m fine. I can get up by myself.” As if she could lift him even if he wanted assistance. He probably weighed twice as much and was at least a foot taller. He scrambled, rather ungracefully, to his feet.
Pepper placed her hands on her hips. “You know, that car came out of nowhere. Like it was chasing someone.” She pulled her sweater tighter over the leotard underneath and shivered.
“Really?” Was it chasing his mother? His mind whirled as the possibilities occurred to him. Fraud? Criminal? Grifter? Who was this woman? Was she even his mother at all?
He looked up to see Pepper regarding him with a suspicious glint in her eyes. “What did you just think of?” she asked.
“What? Nothing.”
“Who were you talking to over there by the tree?” she asked.
He swallowed. “Um. Just a woman. Looking for directions.” There was no way he could tell her before he’d even told his siblings. That was my mother. She’s probably a grifter and wants to extort money from my brother.
“Maybe they were after her.” She tossed her chin-length hair, then placed her fingers through her curls as if to tame them. They were as feisty and misbehaving as Pepper herself. “I mean, no sooner had she taken off than the car whips around the corner.”
“Were you watching from the window?” he asked.
She blushed the shade of the red mums in front of the dance studio. “I happened to notice you. It’s impossible not to. You’re like the Jolly Green Giant.”
He laughed. “That’s mean.” She was watching me.
“Well, the giant part anyway.”
“I should get home. Trey’s waiting for his ice cream.” He surveyed the spilled contents of his grocery bag. A bottle of orange juice had miraculously gone unharmed and was now nestled against the curb between the street and sidewalk. A package of hamburger and a box of cereal were also intact. The carton of ice cream was facedown under a tree but seemed relatively unharmed.
Pepper helped him gather it all up, but the paper bag was useless now, ripped and soggy. She ran back to the entrance of the dance studio and rummaged around in her duffel, returning with a tote that had her initials embroidered on the side. P.G. “Here, use this.” She thrust it at him. “I use this for groceries.”
As he tucked the bottle of milk into the canvas bag, he noticed his hands were shaking. Whether from the adrenaline of his near-death experience or the resurrection of his mother, he couldn’t say. “Were you headed to the store? Do you need this?” he asked, referring to the tote.
“I have another.”
“Thanks for this. And for saving my life.”
“You all right?” Pepper stepped nearer to him, concern knit between her brows. “You’re pale and shaky-looking all of a sudden.”
“I’m okay. I think.”
She looked at her feet, clad in tennis shoes. “I’m headed to Lisa’s. How about if we walk together?” Lisa and Rafael lived in the apartment next to Stone.
“Do I look that bad?” he asked with a smile. “I must, if you’re offering to walk with me.”
“You look like you’re in shock, which makes me wonder if you’ll walk into the street and almost get killed again.”
He blinked, surprised by the kindness in her voice.
“I’d love to be escorted home.” He gestured toward the crosswalk. “How about you take the lead?”
“Sure thing.”
They crossed the street in silence and then walked a block east to the Victorian mansion set slightly off Main Street. Roughly a year before, Rafael Soto had bought the old house and hired Stone as his contractor to execute an entire renovation, including dividing it into six apartments. After working well together, along with local interior designer Trey Wattson, they’d decided to start their own f
irm, buying and renovating houses and apartment buildings. Through a happy turn of events, they were now joined by David Perry, architect and brother to Lisa, and Nico Bentley, landscape architect. Thus far, Wolf Enterprises had successfully renovated Autumn’s cottage and built a house up north in the town of Stoweaway.
When they reached the wraparound porch of the building, he walked ahead to open the door for her. He let her take the lead as they traipsed up the stairs. Despite his agitation, he admired her nicely shaped bottom as she climbed the steps one by one.
At the third-floor landing in front of his apartment, he thanked her again.
“Don’t make it a habit.” She patted the tote that he held against his stomach. “I can’t be expected to ninja you out of trouble every day.”
“I’ll try not to. I didn’t survive three tours in Afghanistan to be taken out by a reckless driver on the quiet streets of Cliffside Bay.”
Her mouth lifted into a sassy, almost flirtatious smile. “Saved by a woman in a leotard. What will you tell the guys?”
Was this his window? A signal that she might be open to a date? She’d softened a little. Maybe saving him made her feel powerful, thus rendering him less threatening. Thanking her for saving his life was the perfect excuse to take her to dinner. Wasn’t it? What the hell, he would go for it. If he didn’t ask, he’d never know. “I could take you to dinner. To thank you for saving my life.”
Her eyes widened. “Dinner? With you?”
Instantly shot down. Good job, dummy. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” He made sure to keep his voice light, good-natured. No big deal. “Have a good weekend.” He turned toward the door.
She tugged at the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Wait. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’d like to have dinner with you sometime. I mean, as friends. Just not now. It’s not a good time. That’s all.”
“Sure, no problem.” He smiled, but his mouth had gone so dry he wasn’t sure his lips had actually moved. Just as friends. That might have hurt more than the rejection itself.
“It’s nothing to do with you.” Her fingers still grasped his sleeve. She seemed to notice and dropped her hand like he was a hot burner. “I have a few things to work out. I’m in therapy.” The last sentence spilled out of her as though the pot on his burner had boiled over. She colored and let out an embarrassed snort. An adorable snort from her perky little nose. “Not sure why I just told you that.”
“Hey, it’s fine. And good for you. Therapy helped me a lot.”
“You were in therapy?”
He almost laughed at the shock on her face. “Why’s that surprising?”
“I don’t know. You seem like the type who doesn’t need any help being happy in their own skin.”
“I am. Now. But I’ve had some stuff to work through.” Cartloads of stuff. He looked down at the tote in his arms. He might have to return to therapy now that his mother had reappeared.
“Does it work? Therapy?” she asked.
He raised his gaze to look into her eyes. The frankness and sincerity in her expression touched him in a deep, vulnerable spot of his own. “For me, yes. But it’s not a magic pill that erases everything that ever hurt you.”
“I wish it did.” Her expression darkened.
“Me too.” He studied her hands. She fingered the charms on the silver bracelet she wore around her left wrist. When he lifted his eyes, her gaze was fixed on him. Searching. Did she wonder what he’d like to erase? “Good luck with everything. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He turned toward the door.
Once again, she stopped him by grabbing his sleeve. “Wait, one more thing.” He circled back around to face her. She moved closer. The tote created a barrier between them, and he wished with a sudden fervor that it didn’t. “Why would you want to take me to dinner when I’ve been such a brat to you?”
He raised an eyebrow, shocked. “I…I don’t know. Just being friendly, I guess.” Because I love you.
“I lied just now.”
“About what?” he asked. This conversation was too much for his pea brain.
“If I were to go to dinner with you, it would not be as friends.”
He held the tote tighter to his chest, a sliver of hope making its way up the back of his neck. “Are you saying you might say yes if I asked you another time?
“I might.”
“Well, then, I’ll be asking you again.” He smiled, hoping it was as charming as hers. “If you gave me the chance to take you to dinner, I’d be the happiest guy in Cliffside Bay.”
A line formed between her eyebrows. “What if our date was a total disaster? Then you’d be unhappy.”
“True. But it won’t be a disaster.” He lowered his voice, hoping to seduce her a little with a cocky promise and a husky tone. “It’ll be the best night you’ve ever had.”
She tilted her head to the right and swallowed. He’d gotten to her with that one.
“What makes you so sure about that, Stone Soup?”
He shrugged and pursed his lips as if thinking it through. “Well, Pepper Shaker, no one’s ever complained in the past.”
“Yes, but have they raved?” She elongated the last word.
“If there were an app that ranked men on their dating skills, I’d be ranked all fives, baby.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “It almost makes me want to go out with you simply to knock you down a peg.”
“I have an unflinching self-confidence. It’s impossible to squelch.”
She adjusted the strap of the duffel bag on her shoulder and peered up at him through narrowed eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. “I believe that, actually.”
“Yeah, so about this date we may or may not have in the future—how long should I wait before asking again? Is there a specific waiting period?”
“I’ll let you know.” She brushed up against the bag as she leaned closer, transfixing him with her eyes. Then she raised up on her dancer toes and pressed her velvety lips to his cheek. A wave of her perfume washed over him. She smelled of the forests of his youth, woodsy and floral, perhaps honeysuckle mixed with cedar. He was intoxicated, made bold, by her nearness. If he hadn’t held the tote, he might have gathered her into his arms and kissed her properly. Fortunately, the environmentally conscious grocery carrier saved the earth and lovestruck giants. “All teasing aside, I’m glad you’re okay.” With a dramatic twirl, she disappeared into Lisa and Rafael’s apartment.
Dumbfounded, he stood in front of his door with one hand pressed against the spot where her mouth had landed for too brief a second. Was it possible that a friendly peck could be felt in every nerve ending?
Be patient. Your time will come.
Chapter 2
Pepper
* * *
For Pepper Griffin, therapy sessions were like high school all over again. She was trapped like a bug in a jar. The world went on outside the glass, but she could not participate, tortured as the last of the season’s sunny afternoons faded. The bracing snap in the air invigorated her, made her feel more alive. Fall breezes, with their hints of woodsmoke and dried hay—and here in Cliffside Bay, the briny sea—sharpened her mind. The layers of protection over her heart thinned under the piercing blue sky. Oh, how these crisp autumn days made her greedy, wanting more. Without them she might become as brittle and cold and gray as the winter to come. She longed to be in Maggie’s backyard dancing with baby Lily as the fall light doused the landscape in gold. They could laugh and breathe under the bright yellow leaves of the aspens.
Instead, she fidgeted in the counseling office of pudgy Cora Sandberg, PhD. Good old Cora with her basset-hound face, always serious, contemplative. Cora knitted during the sessions, her needles clicking with unremitting cheerfulness in direct juxtaposition to her sad eyes.
The office smelled of lavender. For hours after she left, the cloying scent clung to Pepper’s clothes.
Knitting and lavender. All the rage these days. Everyone and their mother trekking to re
mote parts of the Pacific Northwest to gather around lavender fields and remark on their beauty and scent before returning to a bed-and-breakfast to drink tea and knit endless numbers of scarves.
“Why don’t you know how to drive?” Cora asked a lot of questions.
Pepper’s role was to answer them and somehow be cured of her tragic past. Yes, that was slightly dramatic, but for heaven’s sake, how long had she been here today? Surely the clock on the table next to the bowl of lavender sachets was wrong. Fifteen minutes. She’d only been here for fifteen minutes!
Did therapy make everyone feel somewhat suicidal?
Cora halted her knitting. The brown scarf went limp in her lap, like a tired beaver. She reached for the plastic water bottle next to her chair, then sucked from the straw while observing Pepper. “Is that a hard question for you to answer?”
“What was the question again?” Pepper’s mind had drifted off as she fixated on the layers of lipstick on the straw of the water bottle. How often was it washed? How many days or months did the red stain represent?
“I asked why you can’t drive.”
Pepper’s cheeks warmed. “I grew up in New York City. You don’t need a car there. In fact, it’s much better not to have a car. Plus, I like walking. Did you know most questions can be solved while walking? It’s also great for learning lines. Something about the physical movement makes your memory keener.”
“Are those the only reasons?” Cora resumed her knitting.
Pepper shrugged. “Not exactly.” She told people it was because she grew up in New York City. That was a lie. Technically, she grew up in the Hamptons and went to college in New York City. Everyone in the Hamptons drove cars, usually fancy, shiny, fast cars. The truth was seedier and more complex. She had a phobia about driving. Undiagnosed thus far, although Cora might do the honors before the session was over today.
Her stepfather, Dack, had tried to teach her. After coming inches from a lamppost during her first lesson, he’d been a less enthusiastic teacher. That night he’d suggested driving school.
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