They both stared at the perfectly baked muffins. “You ready to be my guinea pig?”
“A girl can only eat so much tuna casserole,” Sage teased. She filled up their coffee cups and waited for Katie.
They sat across from each other, picked up their muffins and brought them to their mouths. “On three. And if they’re awful, just lie and say they’re good, okay?”
“One thing I’ll never do is lie.” Sage readied her muffin and counted. “One. Two. Three.” She bit into the warm treat and let her eyes drift closed as the flavors danced across her tongue. Sweet. Salty. Sour. A perfect combination.
“It tastes like . . .” She didn’t want to say perfect, because it was so much more than that. This woman’s future rode on a raspberry confection. And in truth, it wasn’t the muffin at all, but the love of a town. “It tastes like . . . success.”
Katie let out a sigh of relief. “It’s pretty good, huh?”
Sage finished hers and emptied her coffee cup. “It’s more than good, but don’t take my word for it. Go ask the sheriff. They’re his favorite, and you promised he could be your personal taste tester.”
Katie rose from her chair when Sage did. Otis lifted himself up onto his three legs. She looked around at the peeling paper and damaged floor. “It will take some time to get this place renewed, but I can do it.”
Sage believed she could. Katie had heart, and that beat money or ambition any day.
Chapter Fifteen
Cannon glanced around the garage at his unfinished dreams. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he worked in Los Angeles as an intern for a master furniture maker when his life turned to crap.
He carved and whittled and joined until his fingers bled. When he mastered the craft, he went in search of his dream.
He’d graduated from high school, packed up his truck with his best work, and showed up on Sebastian Raine’s doorstep. He’d studied the man’s work for years. Replicas filled the houses of many residents in Aspen Cove.
Against the wall was an unfinished headboard woven from the thin branches of the Aspens made famous in the cove. Embedded in the wood were arrowheads and rocks found from his walks around the lake. It was these items that made the work unique. No two pieces would ever be the same, but the day his mother died was the same day his desire to create took its last breath.
In front of him were remnants of a life unlived. He walked over to the headboard that had been abandoned and ran his fingers along the smooth wood. How many hours had he sanded? How many coats of wax had it taken to get that shine? Even under nearly a decade of dust, the wood was still beautiful.
He picked up an awl and carved into the end post. At first, it was a deep line. Nondescript and heavy—an error to the untrained eye, but Cannon had a vision. He followed it up with a spray of finer lines.
He blew off the excess and looked at the beginnings of a pine bow. He pulled up a stool and continued. An hour went by, then two. He was lost in the work. Why had he stopped doing the one thing that gave him pleasure?
He leaned back and looked at the pine cone cradled on a bed of needles. He’d stopped because what created so much pleasure for him was a reminder of so much pain.
This would have been Bowie and Brandy’s wedding gift, had she not died with his mother.
After Otis ate, he crawled up into his chair and stared out the window toward the lake.
Sage picked up her phone and called her sister.
“Lydia’s love nest, can I help you?”
Sage laughed. “So you finally got laid?”
“Yes,” Lydia let out an exasperated sigh, “but it was a quickie on the counter before my shift. You’d think Adam would be up for more than that.”
“The counter where we prepare food?”
“I wiped it down. Besides, you don’t live here anymore.”
“This week.” Sage walked to the window and leaned her head on the cool glass.
“I see you’re still intent to bail on Bea? I thought you said the house was nice?”
In the background, Sage heard the Keurig spit and sputter. “Are you making coffee?”
“Yep, Starbucks bold brew.”
“I’d kill for a cup of good coffee.”
“I’d kill for better sex. We get what we get. How’s the nose?”
Sage took a selfie and sent it to her sister.
“Holy shit, you’re the poster child for domestic abuse. Don’t come home until that’s healed. I don’t want someone to think I beat you for losing your job.”
“Speaking of . . . has anyone called the house and left a message for me?” Sage had been checking her phone regularly, hoping to find a message from HR, telling her something had opened up.
“Nope, it’s a tough market right now. No one is leaving jobs. It could take some time. You okay on money?”
Unlike Katie, money wasn’t Sage’s issue. She had a decent-size savings account. Her parent’s life insurance policy had paid for college, so neither Sage nor Lydia was saddled with student loans. And since she’d been living with her sister, her expenses were almost zero. She had piled away a good little nest egg.
“Yes, I’ve got plenty of money, but I don’t have Starbucks.” Her mouth watered at the thought of a good, strong cup of coffee.
“I’m sure they have a Costco or a Target or something. Go buy a proper maker and some K-cups.”
It all seemed so easy for Lydia because she hadn’t seen Aspen Cove.
Sage’s belly ached. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said? I’m in the middle of Timbuktu. Ever heard of it? It’s a small town swallowed up by two mountains. I’ve got the Corner Store, a bar, a diner that’s open two days a week, and a bakery that made its first muffin today.”
“Oh, I love muffins. Were they good?”
Sage let out a phlegm-clearing growl. “Yes, they were good, but that’s not the point. Living here would be like me asking you to take care of a gunshot wound with a pair of tweezers and a Band-Aid.”
There was a moment of silence. “I could probably do it.”
The worst part of this conversation was that Lydia probably could save someone’s life of a person with tweezers and a Band-Aid. She was an excellent doctor.
While Lydia talked about her last shift in the ER, Sage walked away from the window and sunk into the soft cushion of the other plaid chair. She heard a noise coming from the fireplace. It was probably a breeze drifting down the flue. She ignored it until Otis lifted his head and growled.
“Hey, I’ve got to go. Otis hears something. Besides, I’ve got my first guests coming, and this place needs a good cleaning.”
“So you’re staying?”
“For a few days.”
“That’s great. Love ya. Don’t kill anyone.”
“Whatever.” She hung up the phone. What her sister didn’t realize was, if she had to cook her guests breakfast, there was a real possibility of that happening.
When she heard the noise again, she went to investigate. On her hands and knees, she crawled into the fireplace opening and looked up. Nothing but black greeted her. With the nights so cold, Sage knew she’d need to build a fire for her guests. A debris-packed flue would be dangerous, and the last thing she needed to do was burn down the only inn in town.
Otis was all ears and teeth at this point. “It’s okay, boy. It’s probably just some pine cones settling. Let’s get it cleaned out.”
Sage gripped the metal handle for the flue and pulled. A cloud of dirt and debris fell to the brick floor, and several black winged creatures flew at her. Her bloodcurdling scream filled the air.
One winged beast got tangled in her hair and another flew down the guest hallway while Otis gave chase. Sage ran around the great room and swatted at whatever moved in her hair. A thunk and a bang and a crash came from a room down the hallway.
Sage batted at the winged creature, certain it was a bat. Screaming like a bear was chasing her, she ran outside in hopes the allure of fresh air and freedom w
ould get the damned thing to let go.
She ran her hands through her hair and felt a sharp bite. The animal broke free and flew away. All Sage could think about was rabies and how painful the treatment would be. She looked down at her finger, grateful her skin wasn’t broken.
At the slight pressure on her shoulder, she spun around, certain the bat had come back for a real bite, but instead of a bat, she found Cannon standing there while she struggled to maintain her balance.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He gripped her shoulders to stop her from falling over.
“There was a bat.” She moved her hands through her hair. “In my hair. It bit me.” She pointed her finger at him to show him the indentation.
“Really? A bat?” He lifted his hand to push her wild, mussed-up hair away from her face. “I guess there could have been a bat. They do exist in these parts, but I’ve never seen one. They generally stay out of populated areas.”
Sage looked down to her finger. “It bit me. You can’t tell me all hundred and fifty people living in this town make it a populated area.” She pulled her finger to her mouth and sucked on the dent left behind.
“Let me see that.” He plucked her finger from her mouth and pulled it close to his face to inspect. “The skin isn’t broken.”
“It still hurts,” she whined.
Cannon did something unexpected. He pulled her finger to his lips and kissed it. “Feel better?”
Somehow, it did. A warm feeling spread through her body. “Yes, thank you.”
“As for population, if you count the entire county, we are well over seven hundred and growing, if Bobby Williams doesn’t leave his wife alone.”
“Pregnant woman working on a baseball team?” Sage tilted her head in question. “I saw her walking into the Corner Store.”
“Good people, but they need to get cable.”
Otis walked out of the house, and Cannon knelt down to pet him. “Who’s this?”
Sage introduced Otis and told Cannon the dog’s history.
“It seems we have something in common,” he said. “We collect strays.”
It’s confirmed, she thought to herself. Sage had judged Cannon harshly. “I’d invite you in for coffee, but I’m pretty sure there’s another bat in the house.” Otis barked, as if confirming.
“Tell you what, you make coffee, and I’ll find the bat.”
That was the best offer Sage had had in a long time. “Deal.” She led him into the house and pointed him down the hallway. “Look for the room with the broken glass.”
Moments later, Cannon appeared with his hands cupped. He opened his palms to reveal a wounded sparrow.
“Oh my God, I’ve killed it.”
The warmth of Cannon’s smile calmed her racing pulse. “He’s not dead, just injured, but he won’t fly anytime soon.”
The bird tried to flap its wings and take off, but one wing wasn’t working as it should. It lay loose in Cannon’s large hand. He folded his palms around the bird and brought it to his mouth, where he whispered in a calming tone, “Shh, it will be okay.”
Right then, Sage knew she could never hate Cannon. He was a bird whisperer. How could she not love that?
“What now?”
“Where did you find the birds?”
She pointed to the fireplace.
“Open your hands.”
She did as he said, and he placed the bird in her palms. Closing her hands around the tiny animal, she brought it to her chest while Cannon dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace. He reached inside and pulled out a nest, and Sage’s world crumbled around her. She’d wiped out an entire family in seconds.
“I’m a bird murderer.” She hugged the injured sparrow and whispered a litany of I’m sorrys.
He held the nest out to show her it was empty. “It’s still early. They didn’t have time to get it on. No eggs.”
Relief washed over her but was short-lived when she realized she still had an injured bird in her hands. “What about this one?”
Cannon looked at her, then looked around the cabin. “You can put it outside and let it die a dignified death, or you can nurse it back to health and hope it will fly again.”
“Can you take it and get it healthy?” Sage could nurse a person back to health if it was doable, but she didn’t want to take on a bird.
Cannon’s laugh rose to the ceiling beams. “No.” He shook his head. “The last time I looked, cats and birds aren’t compatible roommates. You might as well put it outside and let nature take its course.”
The feeling of warmth she had toward Cannon evaporated quickly. She almost blurted out something unpleasant. If he abandoned his father, she couldn’t expect him to care for a bird, but a knock at the door saved her from putting her foot into her mouth.
She cradled the tiny bird and opened the door to find Doc Parker standing on her porch. He looked over his shoulder to Cannon and smiled.
“House call?” Cannon asked.
Doc shook his head as he stepped inside. “Nope, I’m putting on a different cap today. Sage asked for a real estate agent, and I’m the only one in town.”
She closed the door behind him. “You’re the agent Sheriff Cooper sent?”
He leaned over in a mock bow. “Paul Parker, real estate agent and doctor, among other things.”
“So now you’re leaving?” Cannon said it like he was surprised. “Give me the bird so I can put it in a bush and hope it dies quickly.”
“No, I’m not letting this bird die.” She sheltered the bird against her chest and turned away from Cannon.
“You can’t nurse him back to health if you leave, and it would be cruel to take him with you. Its poor mate already flew away. You can’t take it home.”
Doc stood off to the side and looked back and forth as the two argued. A sly smile lifted his lips, like he enjoyed the exchange.
“Fine,” Sage yelled. “I’ll stay until the bird heals.”
Doc turned and walked to the door. “If you’re staying, you don’t need me.”
“Wait,” Sage called. “While you’re here, can you look at the bird?”
Doc grumbled. “I wear a lot of hats in this town. Veterinarian isn’t one of them.” Despite his rebuttal, he turned around and walked into the kitchen. “Is that coffee I smell?” He took off his coat and hung it over a chair. “Get me a cup and a towel.”
Minutes later, the bird was in the hands of Doc Parker, who examined his patient no differently than he would a human.
The poor bird tried to flap its injured wing. Doc turned to Cannon. “Calm him down, son.” As soon as Cannon covered the bird’s head, it became still, which surprised Sage because she found nothing about Cannon calming. His very presence made her heart beat hummingbird fast.
Cannon picked up the cup of coffee Sage poured him and sipped. A visible shudder ran down his body. “This is awful. I need to show you how to make a decent cup of coffee.”
Sage scoffed. “Just drink it. It’s not that bad, and it’s not like you’re drinking Starbucks every day.”
Doc took a sip and grimaced. “You’re right, it’s swill.” He walked to the door and disappeared for a few minutes, only to return with a black doctor’s bag.
“You really do house calls?” Sage asked.
“Not if I can help it.” He pulled out a piece of gauze. Doc flexed the wing and said, “It doesn’t look broken, and it’s not bleeding. I’d say it’s a pulled muscle, but then again, what do I know? I’m not an ornithologist.” He stabilized the wing and packed up his bag.
“What do I feed it?”
The doctor lifted his shoulders. “A cheeseburger?” He looked toward Cannon. “You making a liquor run tomorrow?”
Cannon nodded. “You need anything from town?”
“Nope, but you can take Sage with you. Drive by the pet store so she can get some worm meal or seed or whatever they feed birds.” Doc started back toward the door. “Keep your feathered friend quiet, keep it covered, and giv
e it water.” He was almost outside when he turned to Sage and said, “That’s two you owe me. I expect to see you at the clinic on Monday.”
Cannon piped in, “If she’s still here.”
“Oh, she’ll be here.” Doc said. “You two lovebirds have a good night.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
Sage and Cannon turned toward each other with their mouths opened and heads tilted in confusion.
Chapter Sixteen
Cannon led his father from the front seat of his truck, where he’d spent the night, into the house, where he cleaned him up and put him to bed. Why he couldn’t take the extra twenty steps inside the front door was always a mystery, but at least he landed at home and not on someone else’s porch this time.
He picked up two cups, a thermos of coffee, and an empty shoebox, then climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck. Even a spritz of his cologne couldn’t cover the smell of stale alcohol and sweat that filled the cab. He rolled down the windows and drove the hundred yards next door, then exited his truck with his offerings.
Greeting him at the top of the steps was the bear he’d carved when he was fifteen. Above the door swung the sign he’d made for Bea when he was ten. All the members of Bea’s family had names that started and ended with a B, so it made sense to use one letter to honor everyone. B’s Bed and Breakfast, it said.
With no free hands, he tapped the bottom of the door with his boot and waited. It swung open, and there she stood. Despite her poor attempt to cover her injury, she was beautiful.
“Good morning.” Her sweet voice sang.
Cannon hated that she had consumed his thoughts since that first meeting on the sidewalk. “I come bearing gifts.” He held out the thermos and cups.
She did a happy dance before she stepped back and let him inside. “Please tell me that’s real coffee.”
A smile took over his face. “It’s bold brew.” In his experience, it took more than a good cup of coffee to please a woman. The simplicity of his gift and exuberance of her reaction made him like her more. She wasn’t who he thought she was. Not a land developer, not an investor, but Bea’s nurse, as he found out last night when they hovered around the tiny injured bird.
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