Hearts Are Wild

by Synithia Williams

  Dean went back to his hammock and tried again to take that nap. If he heard sweet harp music in the background, he paid it no heed. He dreamed of tiny pixies with crumbs on their cheeks surrounding a beautiful fairy queen with gossamer wings and long, bright red hair.

  • • •

  The three little cookie thieves had been fed, bathed, and sent to bed early for stealing from their new neighbor. Shannon should have welcomed the extra quiet time but she found herself restless, unable to relax. Normally able to calm her racing brain with nimble fingers, she was frustrated when crocheting didn’t seem to work. She set the afghan-in-progress aside.

  Heading to her cozy little kitchen, Shannon stood on tiptoe and tried to catch a glimpse of the big house next door. She could just make out a twinkle or two of lights through the thick hedging as her new neighbor settled in for the evening. Dean. His name was Dean.

  Dust flew as she drew her curtains closed for the first time, not for privacy but to shut out the obsessive thoughts that had been plaguing her since she’d met the annoyingly hot Malibu Ken lookalike that afternoon. Seriously, the guy must have come from Southern California, with that deep tan. Did he surf all day? How did he afford one of the luxury summer homes in Scallop Shores? Screenwriter? Actor? He didn’t look like anyone she’d ever seen in the movies. But then again, when was the last time she’d been to the movies? It must have been at least five years.

  It was a cool evening in her tiny little caretaker’s cottage, behind the huge summer house of her employer, Ms. Sheffield. Shannon perched on the edge of a wooden chair at the table. She wrapped her fingers around the mug of tea she’d fixed and stared down into the whirling steam. It was May and things were starting to get busier in the little tourist town of Scallop Shores, Maine. Ms. Sheffield would probably make an appearance over the holiday weekend. Shannon needed to get the big house ready for her arrival.

  She’d be eternally grateful to the wealthy Wall Street mogul who had taken a chance on a very pregnant, single mom, who had never even been to college. Ms. Sheffield had never married, never had children, so Shannon had been flummoxed when the old woman took them under her wing. Last spring, after the muddy season was over, she’d had a huge play area built in the backyard, with swings and a slide, a sandbox, and a climbing wall. Shannon had offered to have it taken out of her paycheck, a little each week, but Ms. Sheffield wouldn’t hear of it.

  But the successful businesswoman was in her seventies now, and the weekends she hosted at her summer home were getting fewer and farther between. What would happen if she sold the place? Or worse, what if she died? She didn’t have family to leave it to. Where did that leave Shannon and her kids? She’d gotten too comfortable with their easy life. She didn’t have a back-up plan.

  Agitated, Shannon carried her tea to the sink and dumped it out. She quickly rinsed the mug and set it in the drying rack. Tapping her fingers on the edge of the counter she looked around for some busy work. The counters were clean. The stove, oven, and refrigerator were spotless. She headed for the living room, certain to have something to do there. The Legos were all neatly put away. Brenna’s tea set was on its tray, all the pieces together. Not even a stray sock lying on the floor. She blew out a long sigh and pursed her lips.

  She wasn’t usually on edge like this. Rolling her shoulders to try to work out some of the tension, Shannon trod quietly down the hall. She peeked her head around the half-open door to Brenna’s room. One leg hung off the bed and her monkey was clutched tightly to her side. Shannon slipped in and slid the skinny leg back beneath the covers.

  Across the hall, the boys slept in twin beds, side by side, a Batman nightlight in between. Brian snored softly while Brady muttered in his sleep. Shannon felt that familiar clutch in her heart, that same one she’d experienced for the first time as she held each of her new babies. It had never been her intention to raise such a large family alone. But life didn’t always work out the way you would expect. Shannon learned the hard way that she didn’t need a man.

  The fact that a man just happened to have moved into the house that had been vacant as long as she’d lived here should not have rattled her the way it did. So what if he was good looking? Big deal that he could be about her age. They were polar opposites and she’d do well to remember that. Mr. Perfect Dean was some sort of trust fund baby and she was a glorified maid. She didn’t need a man. She didn’t need a neighbor who happened to be a man. Disgusted that she was putting way too much thought into this, Shannon headed back down the hall—to scrub her perfectly clean kitchen.

  Chapter Two

  “So then he just takes the plate of cookies, thanks us, and shuts the door!” Shannon threw her hands up in the air and let them fall back down again, slapping against her legs.

  “You sure you didn’t catch him at a bad time? Maybe he had a guest. What was he wearing when he came to the door?”

  Shannon laughed as her friend Talia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Taking a peek through the office window, she could see the kids in the main play area of Tumble Tots. The instructor had given everyone scarves to dance with and they were having a ball. Shannon found her mug on the mug tree and helped herself to some coffee. She settled in at the desk with a sigh.

  “It’s not like I want to date the guy. My kids are doing just fine without a father figure.” She took a sip and let the heat from the brew slide all the way down, warming her insides. “It just gets so quiet up there. I was hoping for someone to talk to, a little adult conversation once in a while.”

  “You’re welcome to bring the squirts by any time you want, you know? Once a week can’t be enough for your active bunch.”

  “This is my weekly treat. It’s something to look forward to. And yes, once a week is plenty.” Shannon smiled gratefully at the woman who had come to be a very dear friend.

  There was no way Shannon could have afforded classes for the triplets at Tumble Tots. But one day, during story time at the library, she’d been approached by another mother of multiples. Talia and her husband owned Tumble Tots and she’d suggested it as a great way for the triplets to get their wiggles out and for Shannon to get out of the house. Embarrassed, Shannon had explained she didn’t have the money to cover the cost of tuition. Talia had that part covered.

  While the children attended the hour-long class in the play area, Shannon could help out Talia in the office. She’d do a little bookwork, some filing, envelope stuffing, anything was helpful. Some days she did help out. Most days, however, the two women holed up in the office with a pot of coffee and chatted. Talia had two-year-old twin boys. She totally understood what it was like to parent multiples. But since Shannon was getting these classes for free, she would not take advantage by bringing in her children more than the once a week they had agreed upon.

  “I say give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s shy. Maybe he’s just not used to kids and doesn’t know how to act around them.”

  “Yeah, he’s definitely got a story. I mean, who just up and moves to a mansion on an isolated stretch of beach in Maine? He’s young. Maybe not twenty-four, like me, but not much older. It’s like he’s hiding away.”

  “And if I know you, you aren’t going to stop until you figure it out.” Talia held up a finger, checked to make sure no one was going to walk in on them, and pulled a tin of cookies out of a desk drawer. “You never saw these, okay? I promised myself I’d lose ten pounds before bikini season.”

  “Cookies? What cookies?” Shannon snatched one out of the tin and grinned. “Maybe I’ll send the kids over to play in his yard and feign innocence when he happens upon them.”

  “Wicked woman! You make me proud.” The two women laughed over their coffee and cookies.

  • • •

  Dean stood on the wide front porch of the cottage on the other side of the hedges. He couldn’t call first; he didn’t have her number. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here in the first place. He’d tried to wait until the kids were probably in
bed. But did Shannon go to bed early too? Heck, if he had three little ones running ragged on him all day, he probably would.

  He leaned to the side and snuck a look in the window. There was a crack where the curtains didn’t quite meet and he could see Shannon sitting in a huge, overstuffed chair. She appeared to be alone. Great. Now he was a stalker. Disgusted with himself, Dean almost turned to leave. The Tupperware container under his arm slipped and almost fell from his grasp. Blowing out a puff of air, he squeezed his shoulders together, stood up straighter, and knocked softly on the wooden door.

  Footsteps scuffed louder the closer they came. The door opened a sliver and Dean could barely make out a flash of coppery hair and one narrowed blue eye. He held out the Tupperware, whether in defense or in explanation he wasn’t certain. The eye he could see through the space in the door widened and the door was opened all the way.

  “Hey, I wanted to return your cookie . . . thing.” God, that was lame!

  “No problem. You just scared me, is all. I’m not used to anyone knocking on my door at 8:30 at night. Guess I need to remember we’re not alone up here on this road anymore.”

  “I didn’t wake anyone, did I?”

  “No, not at all. The kids went to bed an hour ago.” She took the container from Dean but didn’t appear as though she had any intention of inviting him in. He probably deserved that.

  “Okay, well, I don’t want to keep you up . . . ”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s early.” She stole a glance behind her. “I don’t want to wake them up. Would you like to sit out here on the porch with me? It’s warm enough.” Without waiting for an answer, she snagged a long, wool cardigan off a coat tree by the door and slipped outside.

  Shannon settled on the porch swing, drawing her long legs up underneath her. Though there was plenty of room left on the swing, Dean chose a wicker chair in the corner. It creaked when he sat down.

  “I didn’t offer you anything to drink. I’m so sorry. What can I get you?”

  “Oh, I don’t need anything. Don’t worry about it.” Dean played with his fingers in his lap. He hadn’t pictured this scene playing out quite like this. In his plan, he’d be halfway back to his own house already.

  “No, really, I insist.” Shannon untangled her limbs and stepped from the swing. “I’ll be right back.”

  Dean watched the moths hovering around the porch light while he waited for his new neighbor to return. They reminded him of teenaged girls, autograph books in hand, jockeying for a close enough position around their favorite idol. He jerked his gaze away from the fluttering and wiped his palms on the fabric of his jeans. Before long, his hostess returned.

  “So, what do you think of Maine? It is safe to assume you aren’t from around here?” Shannon’s voice issued from somewhere behind a tray, a large carafe hiding most of her face. “You don’t have the look of a New Englander.” She set the tray down on the wicker coffee table between them and poured hot chocolate into two cups.

  Not bothering to ask what a New Englander was supposed to look like, Dean chuckled. “Let me guess . . . surfer dude?” He smiled at her embarrassed expression. “I get that a lot. And, no, I don’t even know how to surf.” He reached for the mug painted in tiny pink flowers, figuring the “#1 Mom” cup was meant for Shannon.

  He leaned back in his chair, took a big swallow, and breathed in the sweet smell of late spring. There was still a slight chill to the air after dark, but surely that wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “Maine comes highly recommended. I have a laundry list of things I’m supposed to experience, according to a tutor I had years ago.” He leaned forward, his brows knitted together as he shook his head. “Maybe you can help me out with something. What is a whoopie pie? Seriously, is that even for real?”

  Shannon’s laugh was so sweet, he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Absolutely. Whoopie pies are for real, and you definitely need to experience one.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe I’ll just bake up a batch for you.”

  “Cookies, cocoa, whoopie pies . . . you’re going to make me fat.”

  “Well, the great thing about Maine is that I can show you the best places to swim, awesome hiking trails, and beautiful, scenic bike rides.”

  She looked so excited at the prospect that warning bells were starting to go off in Dean’s brain. Oh, why did she have to be so damned adorable? She had her knees drawn up close and her cocoa resting on top of them. She wiggled her fuzzy purple slipper-clad toes on the edge of her seat.

  He wondered, yet again, if there was any way she had recognized him as the front man for Five of Hearts and was somehow keeping the knowledge to herself. To what end? Dean hated to admit that he just couldn’t figure this woman out. He must have waited too long to say something because she was watching him closely, a sad smile on her face.

  “You didn’t come to Maine for whoopie pies. You came here to be alone.” It wasn’t a question, and from the look on her face, she didn’t expect to be told any differently.

  “It’s nothing personal.” God, did that come out as lame as he thought it had? Dean chanced a quick look at Shannon and she was still watching him, that sad little smile threatening to put a chink in the fortress he’d spent years building up.

  “I just wanted a chance at a new life, a new beginning. My life before . . . it was crazy. It wasn’t me, wasn’t what I wanted. They wouldn’t leave me alone.” Too much! He’d said too much! Dean looked up sharply, wanting desperately to get inside Shannon’s head and find out what she knew.

  “You want to go it alone. Dean, look at me. If anyone gets your situation it’s me.”

  “Well, that’s part of it, yeah.” He set his mug down on the tray, his eyes straying to the porch steps. An overpowering urge to escape had him drumming his fingertips restlessly on his knees.

  “You also want to be alone. You bought that isolated house surrounded by nothing but summer homes, so you could hide away.”

  Again, she’d nailed it.

  “All right, Doctor Shannon, what am I hiding from?” Dean’s snarky remark was meant as a warning to back off. The truth hurt and he was scared of what her answer would be.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He hadn’t been expecting that.

  “It’s none of my business and I feel awful for making you uncomfortable.”

  Now it was his turn to feel like a heel. Dean shook his head.

  “No, you didn’t . . . it’s just . . . ” Suddenly, he was at a complete loss for words.

  “Hey, I’m a big girl. It’s fine.” Shannon stood up and began to clear away their evening snack. “You go on back to your new house, your new life.”

  “I . . . thank you for the hot chocolate. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “That’s what neighbors do for each other, Dean. They welcome new folks into their lives as friends.” She lifted the tray and set it on her hip in order to open the front door.

  “You’re my new friend, Dean. Like it or not. I’ll respect your need for privacy if that is what you really want . . . for now. But you’ve got to come out of your shell sooner or later. I can’t wait to get to know you when you’re ready.”

  And with that Shannon gently shut the door behind her. Dean was left standing on the porch more unsure and confused than he’d been when he had first stepped up here to drop off a cookie container. Dear God, that woman was a force to be reckoned with. He headed back to his own house. The idea of having privacy suddenly seemed bleak, not as satisfying as he’d imagined.

  Heading up his own driveway, Dean frowned at the dark, unwelcoming windows. He remembered watching Shannon, curled up in a chair in her living room. The lamp light was cozy. She’d looked so comfortable. He knew the kids were snug in their beds. Now, that was a home.

  No. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted peace, quiet, days on end going by when he didn’t see or hear from anyone. That was what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
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  Chapter Three

  It had been raining for four days straight and Shannon was going out of her mind. She hadn’t seen her new neighbor since he’d shown up on her porch five nights ago. She’d promised to give him the privacy he craved and she would keep that promise. Her two little boys streaked by, hollering as they ran. Shannon raised her eyes to the ceiling, choosing not to ask why they were not wearing a stitch of clothing.

  “Mommy, Rosie is playing hide and seek and I can’t find her. Can you tell her it’s time to come out now? I think maybe she wants a snack.” Brenna, no doubt feeling outnumbered by her brothers, had recently invented an imaginary friend.

  “It’s nearly lunchtime, Bren. Rosie will come out when she gets tired of hiding.” Shannon plucked a tee shirt off the coffee table and a small pair of jeans off the arm of the couch.

  Brenna sighed dramatically and raced off to her next adventure. Shannon snatched a pair of Superman underwear from the top of the television, carrying her growing pile of discarded clothing with her as she went. She was just passing the front door when a knock nearly made her drop everything. She took a calming breath and answered the door. The sight of Dean on her front porch made her heart beat just a bit faster. Too late, she wished she’d ditched the pile of laundry in her arms so she could pat down her messy hair.

  “Well, hello there, neighbor. What brings you out on this miserable day?”

  “Does it rain like this often? I feel like I’m in Seattle,” Dean groused, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  “Aw . . . not used to the wet stuff, huh? Wait until the snow is so high you can’t even make it over here, unless you have snowshoes.” Shannon chuckled at the look of horror on Dean’s face. She held the door wide and announced, “Come on in, take off your clothes and join the party!”