They both tried to tell her it was innocent, but Rose knew it wasn’t. Especially when she discovered Kyle had enjoyed flings with many of the girls in her supposed circle of friends.
Rose shut herself off from them all, focused on her studies, and returned home the day she graduated, relieved to be back in the loving security her grandmother offered.
Then Grams passed away and the broken pieces of her heart shattered all over again.
Rose finally worked past her grief. She’d made new friends. And life no longer seemed bleak. In fact, it seemed downright lovely and so very blessed.
As she breathed in the fresh morning air, Rose let her thoughts drift back two years to when she joined the other members of the Romantic Hearts Book Club for a vacation on a Caribbean island. Up until that trip, the furthest Rose had traveled was to Seattle for retail gift shows to purchase product for her shop. She’d certainly never been anywhere tropical or exotic.
The experience had been fun and unforgettable. It was one thing to chat with the women online, but had been so different and wonderful to meet them in person.
One of her friends, Rose couldn’t recall whom, dared them all to write love letters to their dream man. Each one of them wrote a letter, stuffed it into a bottle, and tossed the missives into the ocean.
Thoughts of the bottles that had been found and the resulting romances made her smile. Her friend, Kim, like many others in their group, was well on her way to a happily ever after, and Rose couldn’t be happier for her.
After two years of hearing nothing about the letter she’d written, Rose had all but given up on someone discovering her bottle. Part of her wished the bottle sank to the bottom of the ocean and no one would ever read her letter.
There was also a part of her, the part that still looked for fairies dancing in the violets when they bloomed, that desperately hoped her Mister Right found the bottle and would get in touch.
She was shocked speechless when an email popped up in her inbox about a month ago from a man who referred to himself as T. His email address, parksandgeeks4, didn’t give her any clues to his identity.
It took her a few days to decide if she wanted to respond to him. Finally, she concluded it couldn’t hurt anything. After that, they wrote several times a week, getting to know one another better. Even after dozens of messages, he still hadn’t shared his name and she hadn’t told him her last name or how to find her.
Although she was fairly certain he wasn’t a serial killer or a psychotic madman, a girl just couldn’t be too sure.
In a moment of pure fantasy, Rose thought of the dreamy hunk she’d seen last night on the beach. Wouldn’t it be something if her mystery parksandgeeks4 man turned out to look like him? In spite of her hesitation about letting another member of the male species trample her heart a second time, it wouldn’t be hard to go for a guy like that.
Rose lazily stretched then shook her head. She’d never be bold enough to pursue a heartbreaker like him anyway. A simple, quiet, straightforward life was what she enjoyed, and she planned to keep it that way.
Determined to cast thoughts of gorgeous men and broken dreams from her mind, she took a shower, dressed and styled her hair, then made her way downstairs. After breakfast and chasing the cat outside, she sat down and sipped a cup of tea as she checked through her emails. Amid the dozens of business emails was one from parksandgeeks4.
Excited, Rose opened it. The message was brief, wishing her a pleasant day and asking if she’d consider sending her phone number so they could talk.
Rose started to reply, but stopped. The online friendship they’d built was innocent and uncomplicated. Exchanging phone numbers could change the entire dynamics of their relationship. Rose wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, wanted that.
Her thoughts went again to the man she saw in the moonlight. Her heartbeat accelerated and she felt languid as she recalled the way he looked in the silvery light.
“You are such a hopeless romantic, Rose,” she chastised herself. When she realized she spoke aloud, she shook her head. “And a ninny!”
Amused and somewhat dismayed she’d started talking to herself, Rose thought about immediately replying to T. Obviously, she needed more verbal interaction. However, she wanted to consider T’s request before responding. A day or two to think it over would give her the time necessary to arrive at the best decision.
She washed the breakfast dishes, returned upstairs to brush her teeth, and then went down to open her shop. Although the sign said she was open from ten in the morning until half past five in the evening, she usually opened the door shortly after nine and often stayed open much later than her posted closing time. She didn’t mind because there was no place she’d rather be than in her shop. Filled with things she loved and sweet memories, everything about One Vintage Rose spoke to her heart and reminded her of splendid yesterdays.
How dearly she wished she’d been born a century earlier. She wanted to experience life in the early 1900s when most women were true ladies and men were gentlemen. Since that was impossible, Rose decided to create her own ties to the past through her business.
She went to a cupboard in the storage room near the kitchen and filled two baskets with supplies then carried them to a worktable she’d set up in the light-filled space that once served as a ladies’ parlor. Now, she used it to teach craft classes. Depending on the season, she taught one or two classes a week. Attendees paid a flat fee and went home with a finished project. It kept Rose busy trying to find new things to make, but she truly enjoyed it.
Today’s class would center on framing vintage doilies. She was supplying the doilies and frames. What she didn’t use in the class, she could easily sell in the shop. Generally, she had a few locals who came to each class, along with a handful of tourists who popped in and wanted to join in the fun.
She’d just gone to stir up a batch of lemonade to serve when the bell above the door jangled and the sound of voices carried down the hall.
Rose made her way to the entry where Lucille and Zetta, her two stalwart yet entirely daffy supporters, argued about what smelled worse — sea lions or a sweaty mule. The two women had been friends since they were both six and looked nothing alike. Lucille was tall, graceful, and stylish. Zetta was short and round, dressed in clothes she might have rummaged through yard sale castoffs to find. A dull butter knife would have done a smoother, more professional job of hacking her short hair than the style the woman currently sported. But Rose wouldn’t change a thing about either of them.
Lucille and Zetta were friends with Rose’s grandmother and when Bette passed away, they did their best to watch over Rose. Both women doted on her and often kept her entertained with their senseless banter and amusing stories.
Laughter bubbled out of her as Rose hugged them both and motioned them to step into the craft room.
“Oh, Rosie, that dress is the cat’s pajamas,” Zetta said, stepping back to admire Rose’s summer gown. Made of pale green lawn fabric, it was a replica of a gown from the early 1900s. Lace sleeves and lace insets gave the gown a light, airy appearance while intricately stitched braiding encircled her trim waist. Rose was glad she could wear the period styles without the aid of a corset. If she had to wear one of those contraptions, she would have to give up her love of vintage fashions.
“She looks like a nymph rising out of sea foam,” Lucille said, patting Rose’s cheek. “You’re just lovely, darling. Simply lovely.”
“Thank you both for your kind words,” Rose said, seating the two elderly women at the table. “If you give me just a moment, I’ll bring lemonade.”
“Do you happen to have more of those little teacakes you served the day we made flag pins?” Zetta gave her a hopeful look.
“It just so happens I made some of those yesterday.” Rose grinned at the older woman. “Were you peeking in my kitchen window?”
Zetta cackled and shook a gnarled finger at Rose. “No, I wasn’t, but I was sure hoping you’d make them f
or today. They are so moist and good, just like your grandmother used to make.”
Rose beamed under their praise then hurried to the kitchen. The cat yowled at the back door, so she let Tumnus in. He glared at her, tail swishing as he made his way back over to his food dish.
While he ate his second portion of breakfast, she filled a cut-glass pitcher with lemonade and ice. She set it on a large silver tray along with vintage glasses, plates, cutlery and napkins.
Rose hefted the tray and carried it to the craft room, setting it down on a sideboard before returning to the kitchen. Artfully, she arranged pastel frosted teacakes on a silver pedestal cake stand.
Pleased with her efforts, she lifted the cake stand and carried it down the hall. The bell above the door tinkled, drawing her gaze to the front of the shop. She stopped in the entry and smiled, ready to greet her visitor.
When the man she’d seen on the beach last night strode inside, the cake stand slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Little cakes scattered everywhere.
For the length of several heartbeats, Rose remained too stunned by his appearance to blink let alone move. Mercy, but he looked even better in the broad light of day than he had in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his deep, resonant voice stirring something in her heart.
As he bent down to help pick up the scattered cakes, Rose breathed in his fragrance. It smelled like musk and spicy woods, and something entirely too appealing for her own good.
“Great balls of fire, Lucy! She’s dropped the cakes!” Zetta screeched, pointing to where Rose and the stranger picked the cakes off the floor.
Tumnus scampered down the hall and into the fray, madly licking at frosting and crumbs stuck to the floor.
“Well, get out of the way, Zet, or help the poor girl,” Lucille demanded. Agile for a woman of eighty, she scurried down the hall and returned with a mop. “See to your guest, darling. Zet and I can finish this.” The woman grabbed Rose’s arm, tugging upward.
Rose stood and brushed crumbs from her hands, her gaze fixed on the man who slowly stood and offered her a heart-melting smile.
“My apologies, sir, for such a… um… disruptive greeting.” Rose gulped, trying to calm her skittering nerves. “How may I be of assistance to you today?”
The man’s lazy grin caused heat to churn in her stomach while an electrical current zinged up her arms and down her legs. If he kept smiling at her like that, she was sure Lucille and Zetta would have more than just cake crumbs to clean off the floor. They’d find her in a mushy puddle there as well.
Mister Muscles-and-Seductive-Smiles took a step closer to her. “I’m looking for One Vintage Rose.”
Zetta smirked. “You’re standing in it, buster. Didn’t you see the big sign outside?”
Politely, he nodded at the old woman with red hair that most definitely wasn’t a shade produced by nature. “I did read the sign. What I meant is that I’m looking for Miss Rose, the owner of the business, not the business itself.”
“You are ogling her right now,” Zetta said, giving him a pointed glare before she blew imaginary dust off one of the teacakes and popped it in her mouth.
Lucille rolled her eyes and shook her head, giving Rose a little nudge forward.
Rose gathered enough of her scattered wits to recall her name and held out her hand. “I’m Rose Lawson.”
When the man took her hand in his large, callused one, Rose felt the zap of something. Something magical and wondrous and completely unexpected zinged all the way to her heart. Although she tried to jerk her hand away, he held on, bringing up his other hand and holding hers captive between them.
“Rose,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
She noticed his were blue, a warm, summer-sky blue that made her want to fall into them and drift in her dreams. Nonetheless, that would never do.
“And you are?” she asked, taking in his square jaw, the tiny cleft in his handsome chin, the faint scar above his right eyebrow. Then she noticed the laugh lines. Deep, grooved, delicious laugh lines. Either the man spent a lot of time squinting or he knew how to laugh. A second wave of tingles washed over her and her knees began to quake. In need of support, she gently pulled her hand from his and moved to lean against the stair post. “I’m sorry. Would you please state your name?”
“T… T… Thomas. T…T…Tanner,” the man stuttered.
Rose found his stutter endearing. Such a big, handsome, powerful-looking man didn’t strike her as one who would have any sort of challenge in life. Somehow, the fact he stuttered made him seem more real and much more human. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Tanner.”
He shook his head. “T… Thomas.”
“You prefer to be called Thomas? That’s fine Mr. Tanner. How may I assist you?”
Frustrated, he shook his head again. “It’s T… Tanner. Or Mr. Thomas.” He sighed and stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his again.
Rose wasn’t sure it was a good idea. From the heat licking up her arm, she worried about him setting the lace on her sleeve aflame, not to mention what his slight touch was doing to her head and heart. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas. I misunderstood.”
Another lazy, slow grin turned her insides to syrup. “That’s perfectly understandable, considering I can’t quite seem to get things right this morning. May we start over?”
Rose nodded, unable to speak as those beautiful blue eyes bore into hers.
“Rose Lawson?” he asked.
Rose again nodded her head.
His smile broadened. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I know I should have called first, or at least let you know my plans, but I wanted to surprise you. I’m T.”
At her confused look, he tenderly squeezed her hand. “Parksandgeeks4?”
Rose’s mouth fell open and she gaped at the man giving her a concerned glance. This was the mystery man who had her bottle? The one who’d read her ridiculous letter? This was T?
Had her whimsical wishing for him to be the guy she’d seen on the beach last night somehow made it so?
Giving herself a firm mental shake, Rose yanked together what little sense still lingered in her head and smiled at the man. “It’s nice to meet you. I am afraid you caught me off guard this morning, Mr. Thomas.”
“Please, after all the emails we’ve exchanged, you should call me Tanner,” he said, still holding onto her hand. Rose certainly wasn’t going to suggest he let go. Not when she savored the feel of his warm, rough skin against hers.
“Tanner,” she said, in a soft whisper, testing out the name and finding she liked it. Far too much.
“Who’s this geeks and freaks fella?” Zetta asked, giving him a narrowed glare from behind a pair of big round bifocals that went out of style about ten years before Rose was born.
“An online friend. We’ve been chatting for a while,” Rose said, smiling at the two older women. Lucille leaned on the handle of the mop while Zetta held the cake stand and methodically worked her way through the remaining cakes.
Tumnus scavenged the crumbs. Tired of that game, the cat wandered over to Rose and brushed against Tanner’s legs.
Three pairs of eyes watched as Tanner bent down to pet the cat. Tumnus purred and leaned into his hand. Zetta and Lucille gave Rose a wide-eyed look. Tumnus generally avoided strangers, especially men.
“What’s his name?” Tanner asked, looking up at Rose with a boyish grin. If she hadn’t already been half in love with the man, that look would have sealed the deal.
“Tumnus.”
“Mister Tumnus. What a pleasure to meet you, good sir. I enjoyed your character in C.S. Lewis’ story.” Tanner lifted the cat and stroked his back. The volume of purring increased as the cat contentedly rested in his arms. He tipped his head toward the cake stand in Zetta’s hand. “And here I’ve spoiled your tea party.”
Lucille smiled and visibly relaxed. “Not at all, Tanner. You’re just in time for lemonade. I’
m Lucille Lund. This crazy old bat is my best friend, Zetta Vane.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Tanner respectfully tipped his head to them both then focused his attention back on Rose.
“I certainly didn’t mean to upset your day, Rose.” Tanner studied her as he continued petting the cat. “Would you feel comfortable meeting me for lunch or dinner? You could pick the time and place.”
“Of course she would,” Lucille said, placing a hand on Zetta’s shoulder and giving her a push down the hall. “You two work out the details while we take these things back to the kitchen.”
When they disappeared, Rose found it hard to look anywhere but at Tanner’s attractive face. This was the guy who had a job at a historic park and loved working with the kids who visited there? Who teased her about her obsession with dark chocolate and all things vintage? This hunky hottie was the man of her dreams?
Well, he certainly looked the part. Although Rose truly was interested more in what was inside his heart, she couldn’t help but admire his rugged masculinity and magazine cover-worthy features. Those dreamy blue eyes didn’t hurt at all, either.
“So? What do you say? Would you like to get together later today?” he asked when she continued gaping at him. He set down the cat and gave it one last rub before taking a step closer to her.
Rose forced herself to speak. “Dinner? At six?”
“Six is perfect. Where would you like to meet?”
She walked over to a brochure rack by the door and lifted one, handing it to him. “Meet me here.”
Briefly, he glanced at the brochure before tucking it into his back pocket. He opened the door and stepped onto the porch then looked back at her.
Rose (Beach Brides Book 9) Page 3