by Amy Lyon
He trailed off and Sara chewed her lip, unsure what to say. This was the second time he’d called himself a failure and she couldn’t stand the way he beat himself up. She pushed to her feet and stood in front of him, resting her hands on his shoulders.
“If only you could see yourself the way I see you,” she said softly.
He pinned her with a stare. “I could say the same to you.”
The words hit her like stones and she drew into herself. “What do you mean?”
“You struggle just as hard as me, if not harder, with your past.”
He folded his arms across his chest and she mimicked the gesture.
“True,” she said. “I do have some issues from my past I’m working through—”
“And I have to tell you, Sara, even up to a month ago I didn’t think I could make a right decision to save my life and then—” he exhaled “—well, then you arrived.”
She flinched. What did she have to do with his life decisions?
“All of my worries, they didn’t disappear, but life seems more manageable now,” he said, sitting forward. “You are the bright spot in what has otherwise been a pretty dreary couple of years.”
He reached out and in one swift motion she was on his lap and in his arms.
“I …” He shook his head and held up his finger, touched his eye, then his heart, and pointed at her.
She beamed and mimicked the gesture, holding up two fingers at the end.
Jackson brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally his mouth covered hers.
She quivered at the sweet tenderness of his kiss and slipped her hand inside the collar of his shirt.
“Will you show me your scar?” she asked, running her hand over his shoulder.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jackson wondered if Sara felt the thud of his heart below her hand as her touch seared a path over his shoulder.
“It’s too dark to see.”
“Then let me feel,” she whispered, her fingers tracing a line of fire across his skin.
Jackson guided her fingertips to the indentation he knew all too well. The bullet hit just outside his vest, lodging in the muscle below his clavicle, just missing the suprascapular artery and nerve, and, of course, his heart. He learned more than he cared to about anatomy and medical terminology, and when the doctors called the location of the hit a miracle and said he was lucky his injuries weren’t more severe, the only emotion he’d felt was anger.
And the fury had only escalated from there.
Tonight, though, Jackson felt the lingering bits of that anger turn to ashes under Sara’s touch. He wasn’t the same invincible man he believed himself to be before the combat injury and he’d evolved somewhat from the angry man who blamed God and everyone else.
Life really was too short. And even in death—whether it was the death of a dream or a loved one—Jackson had to believe there could be new life.
“I feel it,” Sara said, her finger tracing the small circle on his skin.
The hole healed quickly, the muscle repaired itself, and with a rigorous rehab plan, Jackson had regained most of his shoulder mobility.
The hardest part of his recovery was mending the blow to his ego.
“I’m so thankful your injuries weren’t more serious,” she whispered. “You’re very fortunate.”
Fortunate.
A year ago that word would have floored him, but tonight, Jackson agreed. He was beyond blessed.
“I’m fortunate to have you beside me,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Sara returned his kiss, her warm hand exploring his chest.
The heat of her touch radiated through his body and Jackson pulled her closer, his hands tangled in the silkiness of her hair.
Suddenly, there was a slight tearing noise and Sara reeled back. “Oh!” she said, reaching for his chest. “I popped your button.”
“You popped something,” he said, reclaiming her lips.
She buried her face in his neck. “I should go,” she said softly. “Before I wind up ripping your shirt off.”
“Hmmm,” Jackson breathed into her hair. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”
She playfully pinched him and he pushed back a little to look at her.
“I’m teasing,” he said and helped her to her feet.
He knew a sleepover wasn’t in the cards. Sara was a lady and he’d be a gentleman, no matter how much his body begged for more.
* * *
Jackson still felt the heated lines of her touch on his chest half an hour later when he pulled up in front of Sweet Serenity.
“I’ll walk you in,” he said, putting the car in park.
“Wait,” Sara said, slapping her hand on his forearm. “There’s a light on in my shop.”
He shrugged. “You must have left it on.”
She shook her head. “No, someone was here.”
Jackson peered over his shoulder at the empty spaces in the parking lot, knowing they couldn’t get much safer neighborhoods than those on Mimosa Key. “Looks pretty quiet to me.”
Sara’s hand bounced and she lightly shushed him. “I have a bad feeling about this. I know I turned off all the lights before I locked up and came out here to wait for you on the sidewalk.”
“You should have let me pick you up at your door,” he said with a grunt.
She turned to him with frustration. “This is serious, Jackson. I think somebody was in my shop.”
Jackson read the fear on her face and shut off the engine. “Okay, wait here.”
But Sara was right next to him when he came around the front of his car.
He reached for the knob on the front door. “Do you have your key handy?”
Sara unzipped her purse, but he didn’t need it—a quick turn of the knob revealed the door was unlocked. He looked down at her and her eyes widened.
“I lose my keys all the time, but I never forget to lock a door,” she said.
Without warning she pushed past him and flicked on every light in the small space. “If you’re here, we’ve got guns!”
She glanced over her shoulder at Jackson and shrugged. He didn’t carry a gun and he was pretty sure she couldn’t fit a weapon in that little purse of hers.
He was trained in detection, though, and whoever had been here was long gone.
“Do you see anything missing?” he asked, sweeping through the back of the shop where there was a small closet. “Or anything out of place?”
Sara shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it.” She rounded the perimeter of the room, then stopped at the worktable in the center.
“My blend,” she said, touching an empty space on the table. “I know I left it right here.”
“Blend?”
“The new one. Sweet Serenity.” She sighed heavily. “The one we told Vivian about.”
Jackson ran his hand through his hair. “Naw,” he said. “She wouldn’t break in here and take one little bottle.”
But Sara didn’t look so sure.
“I’m calling the police,” he said, taking out his phone.
“And tell them what? There was a break-in and one five milliliter bottle of essential oils is missing?”
Jackson’s thumb hovered over the call button. “What do you want me to do?”
She shook her head and sat on a stool. “I’ll deal with Vivian myself.”
Jackson clenched his teeth. He couldn’t imagine Vivian would, first, break into her shop, and second, only take one bottle of oils if she did. What was the point? But if Sara felt sure she hadn’t misplaced the bottle, left the light on and forgotten to lock the door, he wouldn’t think twice about questioning Vivian for her.
“She probably had Kenny pick the lock,” Sara grumbled.
“Kenny knows electronics, but I don’t think he’s much of a burglar,” Jackson said. “Either way, we’re investing in security systems for both of our shops.”
; Sara shrugged, but didn’t protest. He felt violated and couldn’t imagine how she felt. Mostly, she looked exhausted.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “No,” she said flatly. “I’ll be fine in the cottage.”
But Jackson knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t sleep a minute by herself.
“Non-negotiable,” he said, walking toward the door.
She jumped off the stool. “But the wedding, my dress.” She ticked off items on her fingers. “And I’m meeting Andi for breakfast at eight-thirty.”
He opened the front door for her and flicked off the lights. “We’ll bring everything you need to my house. You can leave from there.”
She looked up at him, opened her mouth, then clamped it shut.
“I have a friend, Nick, who works at the police station,” he said. “I’ll call him in the morning and see if he thinks we should file a police report.”
Sara’s shoulders hunched forward and she leaned into him in obvious relief. “Thank you,” she said.
* * *
Sara didn’t tell Andi about the break-in or that she’d stayed the night at Jackson’s house. There were some things you didn’t burden the bride with on her wedding day.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t think about both events throughout breakfast.
Jackson gave her his bed and slept on the couch. Sara saw the clock on his nightstand hit midnight before she finally fell asleep. Having him so close, but just out of reach, was more torturous than she could have imagined. Especially after the protective vibes he gave off while she packed her things, guarding her cottage like a warrior defending his queen’s fortress.
She felt safe and fussed over and, to her surprise, she liked it.
After breakfast, Sara accompanied Andi to Eucalyptus Spa where they had manicures, pedicures and got their hair styled in up-dos. Sara also met Matt’s sister, Maggie, and his daughter, Lily, and could relate to the little girl’s tomboy demeanor from her own days of playing sports and hanging out with the boys at her dad’s shop.
Not only did Lily experience her first spa day, but she’d celebrated her eleventh birthday the week before and was now being entertained by The Golden Girls’ rendition of happy birthday.
The distraction was almost enough to help Sara forget she’d have to confront Vivian about the break-in.
As landlord of the shop, Jackson had filed a police report on Sara’s behalf, but his friend, Nick, didn’t expect much could be done without proof of a break-in or theft.
Vivian and Kenny would be at the wedding. While Sara had enough sense not to make a scene, she wasn’t sure she could hold her tongue if she and Vivian just happened to be in the bathroom or the parking lot at the same time.
Best if she just avoided the Fine siblings for today.
The morning and afternoon were a blur of the kind of pampering and fussing Sara wasn’t accustomed to. Her nails were painted a pearl color that coordinated beautifully with the strapless, A-line dresses Andi had chosen for her, Lily and Maggie to wear. The dresses, Andi said, reminded her of the ocean, dark blue on top and fading through a gradation of blues to off-white at the hem.
In the makeshift dressing room that doubled as the church nursery, Sara slipped into her dress and, once The Golden Girls arrived to witness the moment, helped Andi into her wedding dress.
This was the second time she’d seen the gown, but the effect was no less spectacular, especially with Andi’s blond hair done up and wispy strands kissing her face.
“An absolute dream,” Dottie sighed.
“My son’s a lucky man,” Fancy agreed.
But Millie stared blankly like she watched a stranger.
Sara caught the sadness in Andi’s eyes when she noticed and wrapped her cousin in a hug. “Love you, pretty girl.”
“Love you, too,” Andi said, sucking in a deep breath. “What do you say we get this show on the road?”
Sara had to laugh. Those were the words Andi’s father used when trying to wrangle the cousins for any kind of family event. Sadly, obligations with his new family kept Andi’s father away from the nuptials, and Sara found herself aching for her own father to step into the role.
Just as she adjusted the crochet belt around Andi’s waist, there was a knock at the door.
“Yoo-hoo! Special delivery for the bride.”
Sara’s stomach dropped as she recognized the voice. “Is that—”
Vivian appeared in the doorway wearing a raspberry-colored, knee-length dress and heels that matched the bright color to a tee.
Andi went to the door to meet her. “The gang’s all here,” she said, playing a much more gracious host than Sara would have.
Sara hung back, eyeing the woman warily. She had some nerve …
Vivian produced a satin pouch. “I’m sure you’ve heard of something old, something new—”
“Yes, I’ve taken care of that,” Sara said, moving quickly across the room.
In fact, she’d taken her maid of honor responsibilities so seriously that she now felt the need to run down the list for Vivian, just to show this woman how astute she was. Nothing slipped by her.
“Something old is a small black and white photograph of Andi and her parents that I put in this tiny frame and attached with a quick stitch to her mother’s ribbon to wrap around Andi’s bouquet. Something new is a delicate silver bracelet Matt picked out with a small cross.”
Andi proudly held up her arm. “Perfect, isn’t it?”
Sara moved right along. “Something borrowed is a pair of my pearl earrings that were a gift from our grandmother at my sweet sixteen birthday party.”
“Oh, I didn’t know they were from that party,” Andi said, touching her ears. “That makes them even more special.”
Sara continued. “And for something blue, I went with the classic garter belt.”
Vivian flashed her perfect white teeth. “I figured you took care of that part, but since your dad isn’t in the picture, Andi—”
Andi gasped as if struck and pressed her hand to her chest. Sara moved in closer. Had Vivian really brought up the dysfunctional dynamics of their family on Andi’s wedding day?
The shock on their faces didn’t slow Vivian down. “So I figured I’d take care of the silver sixpence in your shoe.” She shook a silver coin, slightly smaller than a quarter, from the pouch into her hand.
“This coin brings love, prosperity and happiness,” Vivian said.
A sharp retort rested on the tip of Sara’s tongue, but she swallowed it and bit her lip.
“Is that a thing?” Andi asked, touching Sara’s arm. “A sixpence in your shoe? I’ve never heard of that.”
Sara shrugged and craned her neck to get a better view. “I missed that part, too.”
Vivian held up the silver coin. “I’m not usually superstitious, but as someone who has been married, divorced, married again and divorced a second time, I consider myself kind of an expert on wedding traditions.”
“Clearly,” Fancy muttered behind her.
Sara brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Anyway, like you, I missed the line at the end of the poem, ‘And a sixpence in your shoe,’ both times and, who knows, that could have been the determining factor.” She pushed the coin into Andi’s palm. “Hopefully you’ll have better luck than I did.”
Andi closed her hand around the token. “Thank you,” she said tentatively.
Vivian leaned forward and hugged her. “I wish you more than luck,” she said. “I wish you love.”
She turned and patted Sara’s arm. “I’ve got something special for you, too,” she said, backing toward the door. “You’re going to love it!”
When the door closed behind Vivian, Fancy zeroed in on the coin. “That’s a British custom, not at all American.” She tsked. “But I wouldn’t take a chance. Shove that sucker in your shoe and let’s get moving. Couples today need all the luck they can get.”
> Sara grabbed Andi’s shoes and held them out. “Do you think it matters which one?”
Andi shrugged, dropped the token inside the left one and slipped the shoes on her feet.
After that, everything went wrong.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hope Presbyterian Church was a small building and the nursery doubled as the ladies’ dress room. As they made their way to the foyer, which opened up to the sanctuary, Sara clomped down on the front of her dress in a very unladylike fashion, fell forward and smashed her bouquet in the landing.
“Holy crap! Are you okay?” Lily cried, bending to help Sara regain her feet. “You totally biffed it.”
Sara’s face flushed. “I’m fine, Lily,” she said to the boisterous pre-teen, trying to laugh at her own clumsiness.
Fancy descended, fluffing Sara’s dress and rearranging her bouquet. “Better here than down the aisle,” she said.
A few steps later, Lily, who was apparently allergic to something in the bouquet, began feverishly itching her arms.
“I’m breaking out,” she hissed. “I have a rash!”
Dottie swooped in, examined the bumps and in moments produced an anti-itch cream from the nursery.
“Is this for babies?” Lily scowled as Dottie dabbed the ointment on her skin. “Please tell me this isn’t butt cream.”
Dottie shushed her and took the flowers. “I’ll hold these until you walk down the aisle.”
It was Maggie’s turn next. Somehow, she stepped wrong and the heel broke clean off her shoe.
Fancy was right there, pulling off Maggie’s other shoe and whacking the heel on the counter of the hostess station. That heel flew off just as easily as the first one.
“There,” Fancy said, handing the shoe to her daughter. “Now you have flats.”
From the back of the line, Andi rested her weight on Millie’s wheelchair. “Thank God for The Golden Girls, right, Mom?” she said, but her mother responded with another blank stare.
As they lined up in the hallway just outside the sanctuary, Andi let out a low groan. “I should have used the bathroom before I put this dress on.”