by Fiona Lowe
“There’s no point in her moving into the cottage for a few days,” Luke countered, feeling himself being sucked into quicksand and the situation fast spinning out of his control.
Wade waved away Luke’s words. “How about we agree to this? As long as you clean the cottage when you leave, it’s yours for as long as you stay?”
Luke groaned.
Erin leaned in and gave Wade a hug. “You’re lovely, thank you.”
The pointed reference wasn’t lost on Luke but as he couldn’t care less what she thought of him, he put his general feeling of resentment down to the fact that despite his best efforts, Erin Davis was going to be staying on the farm. “Just keep your dog away from my cows.”
Bertha, one of his best milkers, chose that moment to drop a load and Erin shuddered. “Believe me, neither Maggie-May or I will be coming within a bull’s roar of you or your cows.”
Perfect. “Good to know.” He glanced at the clock. “Now, as neither of you are any help to me, go talk about your business arrangement elsewhere and let me finish up.”
Wade slipped his arm under Erin’s elbow and said conspiratorially, “He’s got a date. First one in a while.”
What the...? So help him, he was going to kill Wade.
Erin nodded slowly as her face filled with thoughtful consideration although her eyes danced with fun. “Dating can be scary, Luke, and no one likes being rejected. Given how we both know you have a serious problem with general etiquette, I recommend you shower off the cow manure, use deodorant and remember to chew with your mouth closed.”
He’d had enough. “Out! Now!”
Only she didn’t jump at his loud and booming yell, nor did she look remotely offended. Instead of throwing him a scalding look or shooting back a snarky response, she threw her head back and laughed. Not a tinkling, modest laugh that fitted her styled hair and coordinated pink-and-black clothes and accessories, but a loud, deep belly laugh that made the cows look up from their feed trough. The rich sound reverberated round him, pulling at the strands of discontent that had been rumbling inside him for months and tempting him to follow the sound to the source. To that wide, pink mouth. To those plump and luscious lips. To—
God, he wasn’t losing it. No, he’d lost it. Totally and utterly. Somehow in the past six months not only had everything he’d always loved about the farm changed, but he’d lost the ability to differentiate between the type of women he enjoyed and the type he loathed. The sooner he got into town, met up with Marlene, got drunk and got laid, the better.
* * *
Nicole sat back and sipped her coffee while watching Erin, who was intently listening to Jenna Ambrose. The bride’s wedding was a week away and Nicole had her fingers crossed that Erin’s portfolio and friendly manner would wow her, because Jenna had already fired two photographers and Eric’s style wouldn’t suit her. Nicole had a plan which involved connecting Erin to as many brides as possible either in person or over the phone and hopefully the brides would sign with the bright and cheery photographer. The longer Nicole could keep Erin working in Whitetail, the bigger the chance she’d relocate her business.
Nicole had seen the first rush of photos Erin had taken at Lindsay and Keith’s wedding and she’d been blown away by how well Erin had captured the essence of their day. It wasn’t just the way Lindsay and Keith’s joy radiated from the pictures, it was also the photos of the little things that defined them as a couple—the white bowls filled with bulging strawberries, their rings resting together on freshly turned dirt, Lindsay’s bare feet on the grass with her fire-engine-red painted toes, and Keith’s loving gaze. They’d wanted a casual celebration and Erin had given them the perfect pictorial memory of their day. Every time they opened the album they’d be instantly taken back to their special time in the park, and they’d remember the wonder.
At least, that’s what should happen. Nicole wasn’t naive and she knew that often photos lay in their album and the album in its beautiful linen box—both rarely opened because those revisits came with regret.
She bit her lip and thought about her own wedding album. The last time she’d looked at it was the night of Bradley’s funeral. That one look had brought back in a rush all the memories of her hopes and dreams for their future together. A future that had turned out to be so very different from how she’d imagined.
“I want a casual feel to my photos,” Jenna said, spinning her ring on her finger. “No lining up like a school photograph.”
Erin leaned forward, her smile bright and friendly. “How many in your wedding party?”
“Fourteen adults, a page boy, a flower girl and Greg’s dog.” She gave a half grimace. “There’s been a lot of family pressure so I had to include my cousins as well.”
Erin nodded as if she understood. “Your mom sees your wedding as a big family event?”
“That’s exactly it. It’s like it’s her special day and Greg and I just have supporting roles.” Jenna’s lips thinned. “Well, I won’t let her dictate the photos!”
“It must be so frustrating for you,” Erin agreed. “Can I share something with you that I’ve learned from photographing weddings?”
Surprise flitted across Jenna’s face. “I guess.”
Erin flicked the pages of her portfolio until she came to the photo of a large wedding party and extended family. Twenty-two faces smiled at the camera. “This bride felt exactly like you but she gave her mom one formal photo. Believe me, you want to enjoy your day and having a grumpy mom will take the gloss off of it. So, early on, soon after the service, I can organize everyone into position and at the very last minute, you and Greg will put down your champagne glasses and just slot into the center of the group. I’ll take the photo and then it’s over. Painless. No memories of school photos and waiting in line.”
She turned another page showing photos of the same wedding where everyone looked to be having so much fun. “You see? This bride got the feel you want and her mom got the mantelpiece picture and everyone was happy.”
Jenna peered closely at the other photos, turning the pages slowly and then without looking up said, “You know, that might work.”
Erin was good. Nicole was giving her a grateful smile and a thumbs-up over the bride’s bent head when she felt her phone vibrate. With Jenna still distracted, she glanced at the text from Maddi, a high school senior.
at park max hurt come
Her mouth dried as her heart leaped into the back of her throat. She’d left Max in Maddi’s care to take this meeting and now... She shot to her feet. “I’m really sorry but my son’s hurt and I...”
“Go,” Erin said before the bride had even looked up. “Jenna and I are fine to keep chatting and getting to know each other, aren’t we, Jenna?”
The bride nodded. “Sure.”
“I hope he’s okay,” Erin said, picking up Nicole’s purse and shoving it into her hands.
Nicole nodded and ran to her car. Five minutes later she pulled up at the park and her breath stilled in her lungs. The Whitetail fire department’s rescue truck was here.
Oh God, first Bradley, now Max. Flying out of the car, she frantically scanned the park for the bright blue shirts of firemen kneeling down around her prostrate and unconscious child, but apart from a toddler on the swings with his father, she couldn’t see anyone. She ran directly to the truck.
“Mommy! Look.” Her eight-year-old son was sitting in the truck wearing a red fireman’s helmet on his head and beaming widely.
“Max?” Her heart still raced, even though her eyes clearly told her that he was obviously not seriously injured. In fact he looked happier than he had in a long time. “What are you doing up there?”
“Tony said I could.”
Tony? She sucked in some slow, deep breaths trying to get rid of the feeling that she’d just been hit upside the head. Not a lot was making sense.
“Who’s Tony? Where’s Maddi?”
“I’m Tony Lascio.”
A fireman with short, cropped black hair and tanned skin that gleamed like bronze, smiled at her and she realized that in her panicked state she hadn’t noticed him standing there. His name badge clearly said Fire Chief.
So this was the new chief everyone had been talking about at the town meeting last week? She swallowed at his sheer masculinity. With a wide neck, solid, broad shoulders and sculptured forearms with veins that bulged, he looked like he could take on a freight truck and win. Now she understood why Melissa and Emily had been so animated when they were talking about his appointment. Whitetail, with its Swedish heritage, was not used to dark and husky men like Chief Lascio.
He continued to smile at her and she got the oddest sensation in her stomach—like a squad of butterflies doing gymnastics—which rode in on top of her previous adrenaline surge, making her feel hot, flustered and confused. Her cheeks burned under the intense gaze of his chocolate-noir stare.
“Um...I’m...a...” Her mind blanked. Name! She closed her eyes for a moment to think.
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” A slightly rough hand slid under her arm with reassuring warmth.
Warmth that flowed into her and then eddied in the most delicious way, calling up distant memories of being touched. Stroked. Caressed.
Her stomach flipped. Her eyes shot open and she managed to splutter out, “I’m fine. Just a bit wobbly after the text I just got.” She stepped back from his touch, remembering who she was and how that defined her. “I’m Nicole Lindquist, Max’s mom.” She glanced around looking for the sitter. “What’s happened? Where’s Maddi?”
“Maddi hurt her head,” Max said. “She’s in the bed with the legs that go up and down.”
“What?” Nicole jerked her head back to Chief Lascio who was nodding his affirmation of Max’s report.
“It seems Maddi misjudged the timing of the swing and she took a nasty knock to the head from Max’s feet.”
“Oh, no. Is she alright?” Nicole’s concern instantly shifted.
“She’s conscious but a bit dazed. We’re doing head injury checks on her and she needs to go to the hospital for observation.”
“But I don’t understand.” Nicole held up her phone. “She sent me a text saying Max was hurt.”
The chief smiled again, his faced wreathed with sympathy and understanding. She found herself wondering if his smile would be different if it was bestowed upon someone in a non-professional capacity and instantly gave herself a mental shake. She did not need to wonder that.
“I think you’ll find it was Max who used Maddi’s phone to send you the text. He told me he did that after he’d called 911. You’ve got a smart little guy there,” the chief said, his voice full of approval
Max called 911? When Bradley had died, Max had started waking up in the middle of the night, asking her over and over what he should do if someone was hurt bad like Daddy. She’d taught him 911 to reassure him so he could sleep again. She’d never thought he’d use it.
“Good job, Max.” She tried to kiss him but he squirmed away, too busy having fun sitting in the truck.
“Tony, can I turn on the siren? Please,” Max pleaded.
“Sorry, Champ, Maddi’s got a headache so we don’t want to make it worse. Tell you what, you can keep the hat.”
“Awesome.” Max’s eyes were as round as saucers.
“What do you say, Max?” Nicole demanded gently of her son.
“Thank you.” The little boy suddenly leaned out of the truck and threw his arms around Tony’s neck.
The fireman’s wide, firm stance didn’t move despite the fact a child’s weight had been hurled at him, but surprise streaked across his face. “Whoa there, little guy.”
“Max. Get down,” Nicole snapped, her heart sinking as she disengaged her son from the fireman’s chest. Since Bradley’s death he’d taken to hugging people but this was the first time he’d hugged a perfect stranger. Desperate to ease the uncomfortable moment she said, “May I speak with Maddi?”
“Sure.” He extended his arm, indicating she walk the length of the truck to the back.
Joe, the second fireman-cum-EMT who Nicole knew well, was sitting inside checking Maddi’s IV and writing on a chart. Maddi was propped up on the stretcher looking almost as white as the sheet that was tucked around her
“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Lindquist,” she wailed.
“Don’t be silly, Maddi,” Nicole soothed. “I’m just sorry you’re hurt. Is your mom on her way?”
The teenager shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “She and Dad are in Duluth and they won’t be back until tonight. I’m scared, Mrs. Lindquist.”
“Sweetie, there’s nothing to be scared about. The nurses at the hospital will look after you.”
“She needs an adult with her at the hospital,” Tony said, expectation clear in his eyes that she should be the one to sort this out.
He moved past her and the scent of male cologne tickled her nostrils. A whoosh of wondrous goose bumps rose on her arms and a half second later the searing pain of guilt doused them. She rubbed her forearm. “Yes, of course. I’ll make some calls.”
Her mind raced. Max at the hospital wasn’t a good idea. Her parents were busy and Bradley’s were on a vacation in Canada. Could she ask Dana Callahan if she could mind Max again so soon after he’d had a sleepover with Logan? Nicole had been so busy she hadn’t had time to reciprocate and although the Callahans always said “anytime” she didn’t like to impose on their vacation.
She hated asking for help but asking came with the territory of being a single mom and over the past year necessity had given her a diploma in it.
Max tugged on her hand. “Did Daddy go in an ambulance like this?”
She thought of the squat, mine-resistant-ambush-protected ATVs that were used as ambulances in Afghanistan. The only thing that the two vehicles had in common was the medical equipment. “Sort of.”
“Did he have a Tony or Joe?”
Nicole nodded, having spoken to the two men who’d been with her husband when he’d died. “He had a Dan and a Kevin.”
Tony started to close the doors and Nicole called out, “I’ll meet you at the hospital, Maddi.”
The girl gave a wan wave as the doors shut completely
The chief squatted down so he was at eye level with Max. “Bye, Champ. Thanks for all your help.”
“My daddy was in an ambulance,” Max said. “He had a Dan and a Kevin look after him.”
Dark eyes looked up, scanning Nicole’s face with an intensity that made her shiver. “Shh, Max. Chief Lascio doesn’t want to hear about that.” Doesn’t need to hear about that. I don’t want to tell him about that.
The fireman’s gaze returned to Max. “I’m glad he had Dan and Kevin.” Then he pulled Max’s helmet over the little boy’s eyes.
Max laughed.
The sound of pure, giggling delight should have brought joy to her, but for some reason it only added to Nicole’s jangled nerves. She gripped her hands together. “Thank you very much for looking after Maddi and Max, and for the hat and—”
He rose to his feet. “No problem, Nicole. It’s my job. It’s what I’m paid to do.” With a quick wave he strode to the front of the truck and in one fluid movement, he swung up into the driver’s seat.
Nicole stood and watched him drive away.
Chapter Five
“I want to come and see it.” Connie’s strident tones crackled over speakerphone.
Erin silenced today’s GPS accent of choice—the hunky Aussie Ken with his distinctive diphthong—as he told her to “turn roight.”
She pulled over. “Connie, Luke Anderson is...”
How did she describe him? Diff
icult? Gorgeous. Pigheaded? Funny. Rude. Eloquent. Graceless? Sexy as hell. “...adamant that he doesn’t want people traipsing over his farm before the day. We don’t want to tick him off and risk him pulling the plug on the idea now we’ve finally got him to say yes.”
Now that Nicole had gotten him to say yes.
“I need to know it’s going to work.” Connie’s voice ratcheted up a notch.
“It’s going to work,” Erin said firmly. “I’ll go check out the field, study the light and shoot a bunch of angles so you can see that it’s all going to be perfect. Then you can relax. How does that sound?”
Erin crossed her fingers and rode out the long silence.
“Okay,” Connie finally replied. “But do it today.”
“Um...” Erin thought about her schedule. “I’ll do my best.”
“I always expect that, Erin.”
The line went dead and Erin pressed the message icon on her phone and texted Nicole. She’d been planning on starting the editing process to give the “Erin Davis” touch to Lindsay and Keith’s wedding photos as soon as she’d finished putting together the package outlining all their album options. She could picture a rustic album complete with photos mounted on handmade paper and using a bark cover to pull the entire package together. It would perfectly reflect the couple’s connection with the land and she was excited about discussing it with them after their short honeymoon. All too often, she fell in love with the final albums and found it a wrench to part with them.
Usually she discussed the package details with the couple at their engagement shoot or when they signed the contract to employ her as their wedding photographer. She smiled at the thought of the two newly signed contracts she had tucked safely in her leather satchel. Counting Connie’s, she now had three weddings to shoot and Nicole had hinted at another two.
Her phone beeped with Nicole’s reply. Sorry. Am at the hospital. Can’t meet you at farm today.
Fabulous. Erin groaned, remembering the last time she’d seen Luke and how she’d let her usually restrained temper get the better of her. During Lindsay and Keith’s wedding, when she’d been mingling in the crowd and taking photos, she hadn’t seen Luke. She’d almost dropped her camera when she’d heard his richly timbered voice over the PA system. His speech had been pitch-perfect for a crowd that had been partying for a few hours and yet it still honored the bride and groom. It totally reinforced Nicole’s opinion of Luke and had decimated hers. At that moment, her growing suspicions that he’d played her for a fool became an absolute belief.