by Dana Mentink
Would it have hurt so much, God, to let me see my plans through? To become that agent for Ian?
For Ian. Her body went hot, then cold.
Rhett had been right. She’d borrowed her brother’s dream. She’d picked it up like a trailing leash and let it run with her through the days and years of her life.
So what? So what if I did confuse Ian’s dreams with mine? There was no harm in it. She’d been a great literary assistant.
And Rhett had been a massively successful movie mogul.
But they’d both been hanging on to that leash, sprinting to catch up with a plan that was of their own making. Not God’s.
Not God’s.
Sweetness rolled on top of her feet then, wriggling against her thrift store shoes to massage his back. His paws bicycled through the air. She laughed out loud, once again catching sight of herself in the window glass.
Where did that smile on her face come from? Ian was gone and her blockbuster novel had vanished, but her mind was filled with the thought of all the things she’d collected on her crazed coastal trailer trip.
A lifelong friend in Karen.
A standing invitation to visit Big Thumb.
The affection of an ancient dog saved by another dog who took blessings as he found them.
Her seatmate on the bus.
And the love of a man, a very good man, an arrogant yet humble man, who had given her a new appreciation for French onion soup.
She laughed again, reaching down to scratch Sweetness behind the ears.
Rhett got the e-mail just before Thanksgiving. It arrived via the Dappled Acres website he’d set up. No name attached. That’s odd, he thought. Why couldn’t this guy have phoned or texted to arrange for a supply of Dappled Acres apples to be resold at his store? But then Rhett’s job was to cater to buyers of any kind who would market the apples, jellies, pies, and cakes that Karen and her helpers produced.
He’d only made it through a few weeks as a farmhand before being shooed out of the day-to-day operations. Karen said he was far too bossy and impatient to work with others. She was right, of course, and he enjoyed the travel, the excitement of landing a deal, the joy of flying over the lush fall foliage of fall. Sometimes he’d bring Panny along when she could be convinced to leave Bunny. She’d grown stronger, and his clients didn’t seem to mind the tiny elderly dog tucked into his jacket.
He’d bought a well-appointed cabin in Oregon because there was room for a landing strip. Before he’d even unpacked, he’d made arrangements to be reunited with his beloved aircraft. Thanks to his plane, he had easy access to Dappled Acres and enough distance to give Karen some breathing room. The hulk of a trailer remained on the Dapple Acres property even after she’d had the house restored to a livable condition so he could sleep over during his frequent visits. The rest of the time, he puttered around his cabin. He’d worried he’d hate the quiet, but he found that he enjoyed it, and the multitude of home and business projects kept his mind off of Stephanie. Mostly.
He often found himself, screwdriver in hand, staring into space trying to imagine what she was doing, picturing the mischievous glint in her eyes, her laugh—much louder than it should be for one so small—and the earnest lilt in her voice when she’d said, “I think…that I love you too.”
He held on to those words on long nights when he couldn’t sleep. During days when he missed her so badly that he drove for miles with no particular destination in mind, stopping in everywhere he saw a movie theater to take in a show, wishing she was sitting next to him. Daily he restrained himself from checking her agency website. That would accomplish nothing but tear open the wound in his heart. Again.
Don still called occasionally for advice, which Rhett was happy to give. Don was morphing into a top-notch CEO, and Rhett was proud to know his company was still growing and thriving. Don inked multimillion-dollar contracts, while Rhett was thrilled to score much smaller deals for apples and baked goods.
He secured the plane, rented a car, and began the drive to Big Thumb, arriving at the address he’d been given.
Right next door to the Cup of Mud. It must be a mistake. There was nothing at that location but an empty storefront. He got out and double-checked the e-mail.
Sighing, he figured he might as well go visit Sweetness and enjoy a cup of coffee and a bowl of navy bean soup to ward off the chill when the door of the empty storefront opened and Sweetness barreled out.
Rhett bent to greet him and laughed as he endured the slurping tongue. “What are you doing in there, boy?”
“He’s helping me.” Stephanie stepped out, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a streak of dust on her cheek, looking more beautiful than he had remembered.
Rhett was so shocked to see her he lost his balance and sat hard on the ground. Sweetness got in some extra licks while Rhett struggled to his feet, standing so fast he went dizzy.
“Stephanie?”
She smiled. “It’s good to see you, Rhett.”
“You…what are you doing here? Did you send me the e-mail?”
“Yes. I wanted to invite you to my soft opening. We’re going to have a big event later, of course. I thought we might need some pie for that. And some cider. Books go well with cider.” Then she walked back into the store, leaving him to gape.
Sweetness jogged across the threshold, turning to give him a look that said, “Well, are you just going to stand there like a clueless human?” Rhett closed his mouth and, heart pounding, went inside.
The place was a wreck, his gut told him. But his heart did not seem to record anything but the fact that Stephanie Pink stood in the center of the marred wood floor, smiling. At him.
A gray cat with part of an ear missing twined around Rhett’s ankles.
“That’s Biscuit. Sweetness lugged her in here last week. I think she’s mine now. Very sweet, but I told her no more bringing me dead birds as presents.” She shuddered. “Gross.”
“Stephanie,” he finally managed. “What…what is all this?”
“It’s my bookstore.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. It’s a wreck, but look at it this way.” She went to him and crooked her arm through his. “Over there,” she said, pointing to a dingy corner stacked with broken pallets, “that’s the kids’ corner. There will be beanbag chairs. And music. And pretend trees—kind of a forest theme.”
He let himself be towed along. “And here is the grown-up reading area, which will house excellent books that real people want to read and some of the fancier, hoity-toity variety that most people don’t want to read. And there will be comfy chairs and a table for those who want to grab coffee and knit while they talk about books. The Chain Gang, by the way, is going to fly out for the grand opening. They promised.”
She smiled.
He gaped. “Stephanie…you’re opening a bookstore?”
She nodded.
“In Big Thumb?”
She nodded again.
“You’re not going to be a literary agent? But it was your dream.”
She released him and sat down on an overturned bucket. “No, it was my brother’s dream, just like you said. God has another plan for me. Once I stopped chasing after the leash, it became clear to me.”
“What leash?”
“Not important,” she said, her chin on her hands. “Rhett, it’s focus time now, so listen up because I’m only going to have the courage to say this once. You are the bravest man I know, and you helped me to be brave. I’m ready to run after another dream, my dream, the one God meant for me to have.”
He couldn’ answer.
“So I’m staying,” she said. “Here. Near Sweetness and not so far from Dappled Acres…and sharing a coast with you.”
“Me?” He hardly dared breathe.
She looked at her toes, suddenly shy. “I love you. You’re an odd mix-up of things. You’re brave and humble and arrogant and snobby and sweet and ferocious and gentle…and I love yo
u. I want us to grow a life together.” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I mean, if you’re still interested.”
He was frozen to the spot.
“Because, full disclosure, I still like bologna and cheese and cheap novels and microwave popcorn.”
He was electrified, afraid to believe his ears.
“You…really are…and we’re…”
She laughed. “Rhett Hastings, I believe you’re speechless.”
And he was, completely unable to render a coherent sentence except for four words. “I love you, Stephanie.”
He took her hands, tugged her into his arms, and swung her in a circle, which made Sweetness bark and Biscuit take cover.
She threw her arms around him, laughing. “I know you can fly anywhere, but I was thinking maybe we can find some middle ground between Big Thumb and your place in Oregon. I mean, if you didn’t mind relocating. There’s plenty of land here if you wanted to put in a landing strip.”
“For you, I’d live anywhere.”
She laughed some more and he kissed her, and then he kissed her again. When they were both out of breath, he put her down.
“You know, if you hadn’t started chasing that crazy dog past my trailer, we never would have met,” he told her, gazing into the eyes he’d called up in his memory for four long months.
“I’m going to buy Sweetness a new spatula to thank him.”
He stroked her hair as he felt the joy of her arms around his waist. “Oh, somehow I think he knows he’s a one-of-a-kind dog.”
Sweetness looked from Rhett to Stephanie and leaped into the air, his ears flapping and jowls wobbling. His bark echoed through the ruined storefront, filling the space with his own particular kind of joy.
About the Author
Dana Mentink lives in California, where the weather is golden and the cheese is divine. Dana is a two-time American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year winner for romantic suspense and a Holt Medallion Merit award recipient. Her suspense novel, Betrayal in the Badlands, earned a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award.
Besides writing, Dana busies herself teaching third grade. Mostly, she loves to be home with her husband, two daughters, a hyperactive mutt, a chubby box turtle, and a feisty parakeet.
Visit her on the web at www.danamentink.com.
Sit, Stay, Love
DANA MENTINK
“I’ve asked everyone from the shortstop to the hot dog vendors, and no one wants a thirteen-year-old mutt.”
Pro baseball pitcher Cal Crawford is not a dog guy. When he inherits his deceased mother’s elderly dog, Tippy, he’s quick to call on a pet-sitting service.
Gina isn’t thrilled to be a dog sitter when her aspirations lie in the classroom. Furthermore, she can’t abide the unfriendly Cal, a man with all the charm of a wet towel. But with no other prospects and a deep love for all things canine, she takes the job caring for Tippy.
As Gina travels through Cal’s world with Tippy in tow, she begins to see Cal in a different light. Gina longs to show Cal the God-given blessings in his life that have nothing to do with baseball or fame. This pro athlete, along with an out-of-work teacher and an overweight, geriatric dog, is about to get a lesson in love…Tippy-style.
The author is committed to donating a portion of the proceeds toward senior dog rescue.
Paws for Love
Want another entertaining, romantic, and tail-wagging story involving hapless humans and an adorable dog?
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Paws for Love
(Early 2017)
About the Publisher
* * *
To learn more about Harvest House books and to read sample chapters, visit our website:
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
* * *
Table of Contents
Cover
Love Unleashed Series
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
About the Author
Sit, Stay, Love
Paws for Love
About the Publisher