Then Comes Love: Welcome to Bellhaven

by Sophia Sasson

  Copyright © 2015 Sophia Sasson

  All rights reserved.

  Dear Reader:

  This novella is a the story of Joe and Lily, two people who are trying desperately to live up to other people’s expectations; at the cost of their own happiness. Will they find the courage to be with each other?

  This story is part of the Welcome to Bellhaven series and serves as a prequel to First Comes Marriage which is available on Amazon/Kindle.

  For more free reads, sign up for my VIP email list at http://SophiaSasson.com

  I hope you enjoy reading this novella. Connect with me on twitter (@SophiaSasson), find me on Facebook (/AuthorSophiaSasson) or my website http://SophiaSasson.com. I look forward to hearing from you.

  --Sophia

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Linda Ingmanson for editing and polishing this novella

  Chapter ONE

  “OOPSIE!”

  Lily looked down in dismay to see a big red stain blooming on her cream-colored dress. The dress that she’d spent way too much money on in the excitement of actually having a summer party to go to. Let alone the end-of-summer party. Sigh! She should have known Norma Jean didn’t know any fun people.

  The offending brunette in the red lace dress who had carelessly tipped her wineglass grabbed a canapé from a passing waiter and popped it in her mouth. She eyed Lily. “Sorry,” she muttered in a tone that implied she was anything but. “Maybe I did you a favor?” She twitched her brow in the way snooty women do when they look down on you.

  Several choice words came to Lily’s mouth, but she settled on a halfhearted “No biggie” and moved away before the woman caused more damage, teetering as she was on her red-and-black heels. The restroom was occupied. Lily stood outside the door and watched the well-dressed people walk by. They ignored her as if she were a picture hanging on the wall.

  “There’s a hallway bathroom on the second floor you can use,” a helpful waiter pointed out. She smiled gratefully at the girl and made her way to the grand staircase. When Norma Jean talked about the home of her cousin-in-law Bridgette, Lily had pictured an old farm house in the Mississippi sticks. Instead she was on a plantation estate. One with inside columns, a dance hall, and marble floors, but apparently a shortage of bathrooms. Partygoers of the nineteenth century, which was obviously when the house was built, must not have had bladders.

  She made her way upstairs and stopped at the landing. Bridgette had gone to the trouble of decorating the second-floor foyer with a fresh flower arrangement but not a single sign to indicate which way the bathroom might be. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

  She walked down the hallway to the right, searching for a door that was different. Although, she wouldn’t mind a peek inside a bedroom or two to get a glimpse of how the Southern aristocracy lived. She saw a door that was slightly smaller than the rest. She opened it to find a linen closet. She tried the door next to it. Ah-ha!

  She slipped into the bathroom, making her way to the sink. She lifted the skirt of the dress, pushing as much of it into the sink as she could while standing on her tiptoes, then turned on the faucet.

  Whoosh. Is that the sound of a toilet flushing? She froze, hands bathed in water, her granny panties on display for whoever had just flushed that toilet.

  She stared into the mirror, hoping it was some old woman. Nope. Why would luck be with her? The handsomest man she’d ever seen emerged from another door inside the bathroom. Who put a bathroom inside a bathroom?

  He stopped when his eyes connected with hers in the mirror. Lord help her, he was dressed in army class A’s, with close-cropped dark hair and hazel eyes that sparkled with amusement as her blue ones widened in horror. And then he lowered his gaze, right to the area where her fanny was hanging out.

  Be cool. “Excuse me, this bathroom is taken.”

  His lips twitched, bringing her attention to his generous mouth, full lips against golden-brown tanned skin. Good thing her wrists were already covered with cold water.

  “I’m pretty sure I was here before you.” Throaty, sexy voice. Life definitely wasn’t fair.

  “Ever heard of lockin’ a door?” she squeaked out.

  “Ever heard of knockin’ on a door?” he drawled.

  They stared at each other in the mirror. The water sloshed over the top of the sink, which had apparently been installed before they put those little slits at the top so the water wouldn’t overflow. She yelped, her hands unable to process the command her brain was screaming to turn off the water. The entire skirt of her dress was wet.

  Suddenly he was beside her, his arm reaching around to turn off the tap while she blinked stupidly, admiring the deftness with which his long fingers turned the handle. And why, oh why in the world was she still standing there with her not so attractive rear end hanging out?

  Finally! Her hands remembered they had the ability to move. She squeezed the water out of the now sopping wet dress skirt and lifted it out of the sink. The cloth clung to her as she dropped it over her hips.

  Why was he still standing there, smiling at her like she was a rodeo clown? He had perfect white teeth underneath kissable lips. It wasn’t fair. A man did not need to be that beautiful.

  Plop! She glanced down to see that her dress was now dripping onto the cool tile.

  “Do you need a change of clothes?”

  Yes, and perhaps some air to breathe, because you seem to be taking most of it in this room. “Do you know where I can get some?”

  “I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind you borrowin’ something from her closet.”

  “Your mother? Bridgette? She’s your mother?” Let me see if I can find another way to state the obvious.

  He nodded. “I’m Joe Harper.” He stuck out his hand, and she automatically extended hers, needing to feel the touch of the godlike creature before her. And he doesn’t disappoint. The touch of his hand was electric, sending delicious tingles up and down her arm. His skin was rough but his touch gentle. She didn’t know what all the shiny objects hanging from his shoulder and chest meant, but it was enough to make a girl swoon. She knew the army boys were expected to dress up for home parties.

  “I’m Lily.”

  “Let’s go to Mom’s bedroom and see if we can rustle up some dry clothes for you.”

  You, me, and a bedroom? “Shouldn’t we ask her first if it’s okay?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “She has Southern manners. No way she’s lettin’ a guest walk around in wet clothes.”

  He opened the door and waved to her. “After you.” She reluctantly stepped out, careful of the drips on the floor. As she made her way down the hallway, she had the distinct impression he was studying her rear end. She instinctively smoothed her dress, surreptitiously making sure she was fully covered.

  He led her to the end of the hallway and into a bedroom so large, her entire house could have fit into it. It had a large four-poster bed, complete with royal-blue-and-gold drapes that matched the curtains on the window and the fabric on the couches.

  He motioned to the sitting area, and she shook her head. She was already watching the silent drips drop onto the rich burgundy Oriental rug she stood on, pushing back the insane urge to take the dress and throw it into the trash before it damaged any of the fine furnishings.

  Joe walked across the room and opened a door, then disappeared through it. Secret hallway? She’d heard about castles and old homes having tunnels and hidden passageways. She followed him to see he had gone into a whole other room that was a closet the size of a warehouse. Women’s clothes hung in sections or were neatly folded on top of shelves. She was glad to see an overflowing laundry hamper in the corner to indicate
that someone other than the Queen of England occupied this space.

  He reached on top of a shelf and handed her a blouse and skirt. She glanced at the label on the shirt and realized Mama Bridgette was a petite size six. If she sucked in her stomach and didn’t breathe, she could squeeze into a size ten. Maybe.

  “You know, if it’s okay, maybe you can find me a hair dryer and I’ll just dry my dress.”

  He frowned. “You’ll miss the party. Why not put those on?” Obviously he wasn’t an expert in women’s dress sizes, but it was nice to think he saw her as being as tiny as his mother.

  “Um, I don’t think it’ll fit.”

  “All right, then, come with me.”

  He grabbed her hand, and she followed him, enjoying the view of his rear end as he dragged her out of the room and back down the hallway, past the landing with the fresh flowers and to the other end. As soon as she stepped through the door, she realized it was his room. The queen-size sleigh bed was unmade, the horse-themed comforter hanging off the side. There was a desk with papers strewn about and a computer with pictures taped to the sides. The US flag hung from one wall. It was the kind of room where she didn’t need to worry about her dripping dress.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to his bed, and she shook her head. “I’m okay standing, if you’ll get the hair dryer.”

  He opened the door to his closet and pulled out a pair of sweats.

  “These will be big on you, but put them on, and I’ll take your dress and throw it in the clothes dryer.”

  Since when had her wet dress become his problem? But it seemed more reasonable than sitting with a small hair dryer, hoping for the best. She took the sweats.

  Any day now.

  “Oh, you probably want me to turn ’round.”

  “Actually, it’d be great if you could leave.”

  He quirked a brow, the disappointment obvious in his eyes. “I’ll be right outside the door. Holler when you’re done.”

  As soon as he closed the door, she tugged on the zipper of her dress. Oh, come on now! It was stuck. She blew out a breath.

  “Um, Joe, I need help.”

  The door opened in a flash. “How can I assist you?” The smirk on his face was enough to make her want to walk out, wet dress and all, and spend the rest of the party sitting in the car until Norma Jean was ready to leave. Except, they’d just gotten here, and she would be sitting in the baking sun for hours.

  “My zipper’s stuck.”

  She turned so she wouldn’t have to look at the sparkle in his eyes and think about his fingers touching her. She felt him tug on the zipper. That was the last time she was buying a zipper from the discount store. “Careful, there’s a seam right below the zipper that’s delicate. Don’t tear the dress.”

  “Did you make this dress?”

  She nodded. She made all her clothes. It was cheaper than buying them and the only way she could get stuff that looked halfway decent on her curvy body. The American fashion industry seemed to only make dresses for women with perfect proportions.

  “It’s pretty.”

  He tugged more gently, and she tried to curve her back to give him some leverage.

  “Ah, got it.”

  She felt the zipper give way and roll all the way down to the top of her granny panty line, the shoulders of the dress slipping off. Her hands flew to her chest to keep the cloth against her skin.

  “What’s going on here?” a shrill voice said.

  I guess the day can get worse.

  She and Joe turned to see the red-dress tartlet in the teetering heels at the door, her arm against the frame, glaring at them with murder in her eyes. The glass of red wine was thankfully absent.

  “Carrie!” Joe’s voice was a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and surprise.

  Carrie walked right up to her, lifting her nose so her face was inches from Lily. A cloud of fragrance, something floral and expensive, assaulted Lily’s senses.

  “What’re you doing half-naked with my fiancé?”

  Lily’s eyes widened. Oopsie.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SO things could get worse. Joe and Carrie had left her in the room and the hushed tones of their argument subsided several minutes ago, so now there was nothing but silence. She was sitting in Joe’s bedroom wearing ugly sweats, her granny panties damp and uncomfortable, but she could plainly see the too cute picture of him and Miss Can’t-hold-her-red-wine Carrie. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and she was in a yellow summer dress that showed off the copper highlights in her hair. He had his arm around her, and she had her hand forward, showing off a giant candy diamond ring, the kind that children liked to suck on. A picture of young exuberance.

  Of course he was engaged. Had Carrie been wearing an engagement ring? She’d been too flummoxed to check. Even if he wasn’t, a beautiful creature like him would never slum it with the likes of a girl like Lily, who could charitably be described as ordinary.

  The minutes seemed to tick away in slow motion, but finally there was a knock on the door, and there he was. Carrie wasn’t with him, apparently having decided that Lily was not a threat to her. He handed her the dress on a hanger, the red wine stain now a faded pink. Oh yeah, that’s much better.

  “You ironed it?”

  He shrugged. “It was creased.” He’d done a better job than she had. “Where did you learn to iron like that?”

  “The army.”

  Be all that you can be.

  She thanked him, then raised her brow and tipped her head pointedly at the door. He gave her a thousand-watt smile and left. It took her a full minute to recover from the effects of his halo. She finally took off his sweats, resisting the urge to smell them and see if she could catch a whiff of his scent. She put on her dress and prayed the zipper would work. Thankfully, it did. She folded the sweats and put them on his bed.

  After all that, she’d have to go wait in the car. She had come with Norma Jean, they’d woken up well before dawn and driven all day. Norma Jean wouldn’t want to leave before the party was done. In any case, they were staying with a friend of Norma’s Jean’s tonight. Lily couldn’t go anywhere, but no way was she walking through this hoity-toity party with a stained dress that looked like she’d had a surprise visit from Aunt Flo.

  She opened the door and found him waiting on the other side. He held out his arm, and she raised her brows in surprise.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Escortin’ you back to the party.”

  “What a gentleman.” She took his arm, unable to resist touching him to feel the powerful muscles of his biceps. “But I’m not goin’ back to the party. The dress is ruined.”

  He turned to her. “You look great. No one will notice.”

  She dropped her chin, trying to blink away the tears stinging her eyes. They would notice. The mean girls would point and laugh, or make snide comments disguised as compliments. When her mother was alive, she’d consoled Lily by saying things would change after high school. But they never did. She should be used to it by now.

  “On second thought, do you mind if I hang out here? Maybe check my email?”

  His eyes searched hers. “Come with me. I have a place that might be more interestin’.”

  Tempting, oh so tempting. “I don’t think Carrie would like that.”

  “Carrie’s not my keeper,” he said tightly.

  What was she supposed to say to that? She followed him down the hall. The sounds of country music floated up, mixed with people talking and laughing. She was used to sitting in the corner, watching people around her have fun. Would be nice to have some company for once. She squeezed his arm and gave him a smile.

  Joe led her past the grand staircase and to the end of the hall. He took her down a back stairwell and out through a side door. The hot day hit them both. At least her dress had short sleeves. His army class A’s were probably itchy hot, but he kept his cool.

  They walked down a brick walkway, then continued onto a gravel path.
Her small heels dug into the gravel, making her unsteady. As if he sensed that, Joe tightened his grip on her. They arrived at a rose garden in full bloom.

  “This is amazing!” There were at least twenty different varieties artfully arranged in the shape of a giant flower. She let go of his arm and walked through the plants. She reached over to touch a flower.

  “Be careful, they’re the thorny kind.”

  She touched the delicate petals, savoring the velvety feel. Even the air smelled better here, none of the thick humid scent of the Mississippi Delta.

  “Is this where you come to get away?”

  “Ever since I was a little boy.”

  “What were you gettin’ away from?”

  WHAT wasn’t he running away from? He watched her bend down and put her nose into a yellow rose, a stunning smile lighting up her face. Her dark hair glimmered in the sunlight, and he wanted to run his fingers through it, feel its silky softness. What was it about this girl? From the moment their eyes met in the mirror, he’d felt a frisson go through him as if he’d been jolted with a thousand volts. His mother would be livid that he wasn’t at the party, but for once, it felt good to walk away from it all. To believe, for a moment, however fleeting, that he could make his own choices, be his own man.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She was staring at him now, her eyes piercing his soul. He knew how to flirt, how to charm. He was a master at it.

  “I’m running away from the same thing you are, people’s expectations, and their judgment when you don’t meet them.”

  Her eyes widened, then she smiled, a small, sweet smile that made him want to bend down and claim her kissable mouth. “Isn’t it funny that someone you’ve never met makes assumptions about you the minute they see you?”

  “And what do you assume about me?”

  She blinked against the sun, which had peeked out from behind a cloud and was glaring into her face.