by Lacey Baker
“Dammit!” he cursed.
* * *
“We need to talk.”
Just like that, in a serious, don’t-mess-with-me tone and a look that said Try me. Heaven was debating whether to be offended or simply amused by the fact that Preston thought this was all he had to do and she’d come running.
“Well, hello. I was just about to take Coco into the basement with the others. Then I’ll be walking down to the bake-off to help Michelle,” she said, sparing him only a slight glance over her shoulder as she walked toward the basement door.
“I need to talk to you about something important,” he insisted.
“Then walk with me and I’ll listen.”
She’d seen him come from the house taking long steps that spoke of determination. The furrow of his brows and the thin set of his lips indicated he was angry about something. Maybe because she’d left her room before he’d awakened this morning. Heaven doubted very seriously that was it. But whatever it was had put Preston in a crappy mood, a mood that was now being inflicted on her.
“I need your undivided attention,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
Heaven shook her head as she moved out of his reach. “Okay, once I put Coco away you’ll have it.”
He didn’t look happy with that, but it was the best she was willing to do. Sitting in the yard most of the afternoon playing with Coco had allowed her lots of time to think. She’d thought about her job and her parents, Geoffrey and her job again. At regular intervals thoughts of Preston would interrupt. She wondered where their relationship was going, or if it was a relationship at all. And while she’d come to some conclusions, the jury was definitely still out on the Preston situation.
He followed her down into the basement where Coco was escorted to her own kennel that was attached to her siblings’ kennels. This way, Michelle had explained, they could all see one another and didn’t feel separated even when they were inside. Ms. Cleo’s kennel was on the other side so she could see her puppies. Behind her, as she secured Coco, Heaven heard Preston locking the door behind them. They could use the stairs to enter the house without having to go back outside.
“Parker thinks someone is stalking you,” he said, his voice falling like lead in the dim basement.
She hesitated only momentarily, then continued to work the door to the kennel until it was closed and Coco was secured. Then she stood, wiping her hands down her thighs as she turned to face him.
“That’s ridiculous. Nobody would want to stalk me,” she said in as calm a tone as she could manage.
“How about the fiancé that you left in Boston? Did you try to run away from him by coming here? Is he the one who’s calling you, or maybe he was the one who tried to run you down.”
Heaven didn’t like the way he was talking to her. She didn’t like the underlying implication in his tone. Basically, she didn’t like this entire exchange. But instead of yelling and possibly looking even more guilty than she presumed she already did, she took a steadying breath before speaking.
“Does your brother do a background check on everyone who stays at the inn? You’re going to lose a ton of customers that way.” Her voice was perfectly calm. She wanted to give herself a pat on the back.
But Preston wasn’t amused. He stepped closer to her.
“I asked you if there was someone back in Boston you needed to hurry back to,” he said, accusing her with the way his eyes bore into her.
Heaven slipped her arms behind her back, clasping fingers she didn’t have any other idea what to do with.
“And I told you no.”
“Parker says you’re engaged. He read it in the newspapers online when he searched your name.”
She tilted her head, surveying him because she was trying to see what was really going on here. Was Preston pissed off at the thought that she might be engaged and had slept with him anyway? Or was he angry about some sort of betrayal he thought she’d inflicted? He had that hurt look, like somehow she may have disappointed him. But Heaven had no idea how that could be.
“You asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. If you want to believe the newspapers that were undoubtedly written by someone other than myself, go right ahead.”
“That doesn’t really sound like a denial,” he scoffed.
“Take it as you want.” Then she realized she didn’t really want to be here with him right now. He was in a pissy mood, and she had other things to do.
“I want to know about you and Geoffrey Billingsley, and I want to know how many times he’s called to harass you,” Preston told her.
“Have you ever not gotten what you wanted, Preston? I mean, your reputation with women precedes you, so it’s no wonder I had to sleep with you even though I knew it was probably a mistake. Now you’re talking to me as if you’re giving me an ultimatum. ‘Tell me the truth or else,’” she said, trying to mimic his tone.
“I’m not joking,” was all he said.
She shook her head. “And neither am I. There’s never been any reason to lie to you, Preston.”
“So when you said there was no boyfriend to go back to, that wasn’t really a lie, since Billingsley is your fiancé?”
“Billingsley is a close friend of my mother’s. He’s the man my mother would like for me to marry because of his social status and bank account. I never agreed to marry him.”
“Who called you this morning?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they say that upset you?”
“Is Parker a reporter in his spare time?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “The call was nothing. Someone telling me I’d be sorry for what I did. Considering I didn’t do anything, I can’t take the threat seriously. Case closed.”
He was in front of her before she could take another breath, his hands on her shoulders as he pulled her closer. “Case is not closed if there’s some maniac out there trying to hurt you. First there was the speeding SUV, then the phone call. There’s something going on, Heaven, and you cannot stand there and deny you’re thinking the same thing.”
Preston was absolutely right. She couldn’t stand there and deny it. So she opted to walk away.
Chapter 17
“I’m not nervous at all,” Michelle said.
It was the third time she’d said it in the last five minutes. Raine and Heaven cast each other knowing glances. The bake-off was being held in the basement of the city hall building because the forecast had called for late-afternoon showers. The place was packed, because each contestant had an individual booth—twelve in all, lined in a U shape around the room. The judges had tables spread across the front, just beneath the small stage-and-podium setup.
The walls were painted a cheery yellow with beige tiled flooring. Black and white satin had been draped all around. Big crystal vases bursting with sunflowers adorned each booth, with a framed number marking the contestant’s identity in the contest. Michelle was number 5.
People milled about all throughout the center of the room, flipping through a program that listed the biographies of the contestants and the products each had entered. It was designed to look like a menu, which Heaven thought was a great idea. In fact, she thought this entire Bay Day celebration, or at least the parts she’d seen of it so far, was turning out to be more fun than any of the social parties she’d ever attended. Tomorrow the barbecue cook-off would take place down at the pier, followed by the seafood cook-off on Monday. Both these events took place in the evening, allowing time for everyone to go to church on Sunday and then work the next day. Wednesday was all about the Fourth of July; restaurants would set up booths outside to serve customers as they explored the town and searched for the best seats for the evening fireworks. On Thursday the boats arrived for the sailing contest, which was slated for first thing Friday morning. And Saturday night would cap off the week’s celebration with the Bay Soiree, one of Sweetland’s most lavish and formal affairs.
There never seemed to be a dull momen
t here, even though it was a small town and those were reportedly boring and stale. Heaven wondered about whoever had come up with that description of a small town. That person must not have had the pleasure of staying in Sweetland.
“No, honey, you’re not nervous at all,” Raine said calmly. “But Heaven and I will take your entries over to the judges. You stay here just in case someone comes by with questions about the inn.”
Michelle’s hands were shaking as she closed the top of the container she’d slipped her double-chocolate-and-raspberry cake into. She had three entries: the cake, an apple pie, and strawberry tarts, each of which looked delicious. As Heaven picked up one of the containers and followed Raine across the crowded room, she felt a spurt of pride to be involved in such an event. These entries not only represented Michelle Cantrell’s cooking and baking abilities, but they also spoke of the kind of treatment one would get at The Silver Spoon. The hospitable way that Raine greeted each judge—showing Heaven how to duplicate the same—spoke of the gracious treatment each guest would receive at the inn.
In this town, Heaven had learned, everything tied in together to make a whole. All her life she’d felt like a loose end. The child that Opaline had never planned to have, the woman that no young, attractive, normal man was good enough to date, the biochemist no company would ever trust again.
“We need to finish our conversation later.” She heard his voice from behind, felt his hand as he touched her elbow. And she sighed.
She didn’t want to talk to Preston again.
If he’d said they needed to go down by the river and lie on the grass, holding hands as they watched the moonlight, she would have jumped at the opportunity. But talking, well, that wasn’t going to end well and so she’d rather avoid it altogether.
“I’m walking Coco later,” was her sugary-sweet reply as she turned away from the judges’ table and found herself up close and personal with him.
“Heaven, this is serious. It’s about your safety,” he told her adamantly, his brow drawn tight so that he looked like he was in deep consternation.
She inhaled slowly and sighed. She totally got that he was concerned and was actually touched by that sentiment. Nobody had ever been concerned about her welfare before—concerned about her portfolio, maybe, and her marriage of convenience to support the high-profile social status her parents preferred, but never solely about her welfare.
And really, she could see why he was feeling there might be some danger. An SUV had almost run her down in the street, and there was some crazy person calling her cell phone and hanging up, but both of those things could have been coincidence. Drunk drivers strike all the time, and rarely do they know their victims. People dial the wrong number, cell phone numbers are recycled—there were numerous reasons she could be getting the crank calls.
Except the last one had told her she would regret what she did.
Heaven’s answer for that was, she hadn’t done anything.
“I understand why you’re worried, but really there’s no one who would want to stalk me. Geoffrey is not in love with me, never has been. Nobody cares that I left Boston. Nobody has asked about my research or if I’m coming back to finish the serum. It’s like I’ve dropped off the face of the earth for them. So I’m not worried about a few off things happening. I’m trying to start again,” she said with an exasperated sigh.
Then, because the look on his face said she’d said too much, she moved back a step. And then another. Until she bumped into someone and heard a female screech that could burst an eardrum.
“Are you crazy? Don’t you know how to watch where you’re going?”
Those were the first words she heard before turning to stare into angry sea-green eyes.
“I apologize. I really didn’t see you,” Heaven began to say but Miss Stormy Eyes wasn’t trying to hear it.
She’d stepped closer to Heaven, pointing a long-nailed finger in her face. “You should have seen me because you should have been paying attention. Don’t you know who I am?”
And before Heaven could answer Preston had stepped up beside her.
“I know who you are, Diana. She apologized, now let it go.”
“She destroyed my dress, Preston. I will not let it go!” Diana screamed.
It was then that Heaven looked down. Diana wore a white silk dress that danced in flirty ruffles at her knee. The bodice was smeared with what looked like hot pink and yellow frosting. On the floor at her feet was a platter of what used to be cupcakes.
“I’m so sorry,” Heaven said.
“You already apologized and it’s not enough,” was Diana’s retort before another sound erupted from her.
She seemed overly dramatic for a woman that Heaven doubted very seriously had baked those cupcakes herself. After staring at her for a few seconds, then Preston saying her name, she remembered the woman from the first day she’d been at The Silver Spoon. She’d been having a temper tantrum then as well.
“I’ll buy you more cupcakes, Diana,” Preston told her, grasping Heaven’s hand as he spoke.
Diana’s head tilted, and she looked from Preston to Heaven and back again. Heaven could feel it, the slow slithering down her back that signaled disaster. She’d felt it seconds before the explosion.
“So this is your new conquest? You Cantrell boys don’t waste any time, do you?”
She looked at Preston as if he’d betrayed her in some way. Heaven felt compelled to say something, to stop the scene that was beginning to draw attention.
“No. It’s not like that. Preston had nothing to do with it. I just wasn’t watching where I was going and—”
Before Heaven could finish her sentence, Diana struck, pushing her with both hands on her shoulders. Heaven stumbled back. Preston reached out an arm to steady her. Diana bent down and popped up so quickly Heaven barely registered her next move. But the smashed cupcake appeared in her peripheral vision, and she reached up her hand to block Diana’s. With her arm midair Heaven grasped Diana’s wrist and turned. In the next seconds the cupcake collided with Diana’s face and another scream erupted.
That was followed by some claps, some gasps of disapproval, and Preston putting himself quickly between her and a swinging Diana. Minutes later she was whisked through the crowd and pushed through a door, the early-evening breeze brushing against her face.
The door slammed behind her and she jumped, but Preston was right there putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.
“I just closed the door,” he whispered into her ear as he leaned close to her.
“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” Heaven said, her entire body shaking.
It had been a long time since she’d had to defend herself physically, but growing up a so-called privileged child, who was tall and lanky, quiet and unassuming, she’d turned out to be a beacon for bullies. And when pushed to her limits, Heaven had fought back. Then and now.
“Diana McCann is a scene, wherever she goes. It’s in her nature to overdramatize and reach for any bit of attention she can. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have been watching where I was going,” she continued, shaking her head.
Preston still held her, his arms moving to wrap completely around her, his front pressed into her back. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head? I’m standing back here but I don’t see any.”
“Not funny,” she said when she felt his chest move and heard the slight ripple of laughter.
“I don’t know, seeing Diana with chocolate cake and rainbow icing smeared over her face was pretty funny,” he said, his laughter coming quicker now.
So quick and so infectious, Heaven found herself laughing with him. Diana had looked funny, stomping her feet and screaming like a three-year-old with cake smeared all over her.
“She’s going to hate me forever now,” Heaven said getting herself together.
“It’s okay, she vowed to hate me forever about twelve years ago. Your life will go on, believe me.”
&n
bsp; Heaven turned in his arms because the feel of his growing arousal pressing into her was fast becoming a distraction.
“What did you do to make her hate you? I thought you were the smooth Cantrell, the one all the ladies wanted to capture,” she asked playfully.
Preston shook his head. “It’s all talk. I’m just a regular guy. One who on a hot summer’s night had decided that Diana’s nasty attitude made even the sight of her bare breasts unbearable.”
“Oh, goodness, you saw her naked?”
“I saw her naked breasts, after she lifted her shirt and bra to show me. I guess it was her attempt at seduction. But we were both young and I definitely was not interested.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t take rejection well.”
Heaven smiled. “Rejection or cupcakes on her dress and in her face. We’re some pair, huh?” she asked and chuckled.
Preston didn’t even smile. Instead he traced a finger along the line of her jaw, staring down to follow the path of his finger until it lightly touched her bottom lip.
“We definitely make some pair, Heaven.”
Her breath caught as his gaze locked with hers.
“Preston,” she whispered.
“Don’t think,” he warned in a soft voice. “Don’t think about what we should do or shouldn’t do, just feel. We’ll be the couple that just feels,” he told her.
And then he kissed her.
And Heaven didn’t think; she didn’t even think she breathed. But damn, did she feel … like wrapping her legs around his waist and riding him until they both screamed.
* * *
“Really, you guys need to get a room,” Savannah quipped as she came through the back door where Heaven and Preston stood. “Oh, I forgot, you have a room at the best bed-and-breakfast in town.”