“Then I guess it’s good we found each other.” His lips grazed the side of her neck as the dog barked again.
Seconds later, something slammed against the back door with enough force to make it shake in its frame.
The dog howled, the mournful cry reminiscent of a wolf calling to his pack.
“Tiny?” Sinclair asked, cupping her face with his hands and kissing her one more time. A quick kiss. A gentle one. But she felt a lifetime of promises in it.
“I should check,” she murmured, reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms.
“You should,” he agreed, but his hands stayed where they were, and neither of them moved.
The dog howled again and again.
“Someone is going to complain,” Sinclair said, his hands dropping away.
“Or call animal control.”
“Does Benevolence have animal control?”
“No, but if Tiny keeps howling like that, we’re bound to get it.” She crossed the room, opened the door.
Sure enough, Tiny was there, his tail thumping wildly.
If dogs could smile, Tiny was, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, eyes sparkling with happiness.
He’d found his people.
Which was a whole lot better than him finding the neighbor’s trash or Mrs. Grizzle’s old tomcat. Yesterday, Tiny had chased Sebastian from one end of Mrs. Grizzle’s yard to the other. If Chase hadn’t been home and heard the elderly woman screaming, Sebastian probably would have gotten sick of the puppy’s unrequited love and scratched his eyes out.
“What are you doing out there?” she asked, and Tiny barked in reply.
“The better question might be, how did he manage to get out of the house? There are three people there now, right?”
“Maybe. Or maybe Byron took the kids out to dinner. Larkin tried her hand at cooking last night. It didn’t go well.”
“What did she make?” Sinclair asked as he snagged an apron from a hook and attached one end of the tie to Tiny’s collar.
“That’s a good question. I think it was supposed to be meatloaf, but none of us were sure.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“And crush her spirit?”
“I think she probably could have handled it.”
“She’s been through a lot, Sinclair. She doesn’t need to be hurt any more than she already has been.”
“And now she’s here,” he pointed out. “With you and Byron and her brother. She has people who care and are going to make sure that all the stuff she’s been through becomes a memory of something that made her stronger.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
She laughed at that, and he kissed her, Tiny whining at their feet and nosing in between them.
“He’s jealous,” Adeline said, scratching the puppy behind his ears.
“He should be, because I’ve never been very good at sharing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when there’s one piece of fudge left and we both want it.”
“I don’t want fudge, Adeline. I want you.” He took her hand and pulled her out into the rain. “Let’s bring the mutt home and listen to some of that music you love. We can dance in the moonlight together while it plays.”
“There’s no moonlight tonight,” she said with a laugh, her heart tripping and dancing with happiness.
“We’ll dance in your living room, then.”
“And have Byron and the kids making faces at us?”
“Why not?”
And she knew he was right. Why not dance in front of everyone? Why not bring the joy they’d found into her little house and share it with cranky Byron and two kids who were still trying to find their way?
Why not?
Because Addie had found what she hadn’t known she’d been looking for. She’d been given a gift that she hadn’t asked for. All the things she’d stopped dreaming about when Adam had broken things off? They were a possibility again.
But that wasn’t the reason why she didn’t care if Byron saw her dancing in the living room with Sinclair, and it wasn’t the reason why she’d smile if Chase and Larkin laughed while she waltzed through the house with the man she’d fallen hard for.
She didn’t care about all the dreams she’d had.
She didn’t care about revisiting what she’d lost.
She only cared about being with Sinclair, making what they had work the best way it could, sharing what they’d found with the people she cared about most.
“Hold on,” she said when he started to close the shop door. “I forgot something.”
“A coat?” he asked, standing on the threshold with Tiny while she ran back inside.
“A coat would be helpful,” she responded, but that wasn’t what she’d gone back for.
It was that list. That damn list with all the things she should do and needed to do and wanted to do. That list with GET A LIFE scribbled across it and Make sure Mom is okay written in tiny letters in the corner.
She eyed it for a moment, looking at all the things that had filled her time, all the stuff she’d made important because she’d been afraid to face what she’d lost.
Only, really?
She hadn’t lost anything.
Her life had always been exactly what she’d wanted. The town had always been exactly the place she wanted to be.
And Sinclair?
She glanced his way.
He was the icing on the cake, the cherry on the sundae, the best part of the things she’d found because she’d stayed in Benevolence.
She ran her palm across the list, smudging all the letters together until there was nothing left but a mess of black and red and green.
“Wow!” Sinclair said as she wiped marker off her hand. “You finished it all?”
She shook her head, taking his hand and walking outside. “No, but I’ve decided I don’t need to.”
“Because it’s too much for one person?” He urged Tiny into the back of the truck’s cab.
“Because I’d rather dance in the moonlight with you.”
He was laughing when he lifted her into the truck, laughing when she pulled his head down for a kiss.
The rain stopped as he drove her home, the lights from houses and businesses reflecting on the pavement, sparkling on the wet grass and the glossy leaves of the trees.
It was beautiful, this town she loved, and she didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else. Ever.
She would have told Sinclair that, but the silence was too lovely, his hand resting on her thigh too nice.
They had time to talk, time to dance. They had all the time in the world to figure out where they were headed and what they were going to do. And they had each other.
That, she thought as Sinclair pulled into her driveway, his headlights flashing over Chase, who stood in the yard, yelling for Tiny, is all that matters.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Shirlee McCoy’s next Home Sweet Home romance,
SWEET SURPRISES,
coming in August 2016 from Zebra Books!
There it was. Just the way Brenna Lamont had left it—Benevolence, Washington, in all its small-town glory. Porch lights glittering in the darkness. Pristine yards and beautiful old trees lining quiet streets. The post office at the north edge of town. The library tucked neatly into a large lot on Main Street. From her vantage point in the parking lot of Benevolence Baptist Church, Brenna couldn’t make out the details of the buildings, the yards, or even the row of brownstones, one of which housed her family’s chocolate shop. She didn’t need to see the details to know what they were. She’d spent seventeen years there. Not long by some people’s standards. By Brenna’s, it had been an eternity.
And now it was going to be an eternity more.
She knew how these things worked. The just a few weeks her grandfather had promised would turn into a month or two or three, working in the family chocolate shop.
B
renna had hemmed and hawed over that, put on a good show designed to convince Granddad that she was reluctant to help out. Chocolate wasn’t her thing. Small-town life didn’t suit her. She’d be bored out of her mind in twenty-four hours. Brenna had tossed out one argument after another, because she hadn’t wanted Granddad to know just how desperate she’d become. She hadn’t wanted her sisters or mother to know either.
Let them think she still owned the beautiful penthouse in New York. Let them believe that her high-end clothing boutique was still bringing in a hefty profit, that her bank account and stomach were pleasantly full.
Otherwise, they’d worry, and Brenna had spent most of her twenty-seven years making sure they didn’t.
Truth?
She had $3.45 left in her checking account and she hadn’t eaten anything but a sleeve of Ritz crackers in two days.
Her stomach growled, just to prove the point, and she scowled. She’d made a mess of her life. Scratch that. Dan the Dope had made a mess of his life. By virtue of association with her idiot former fiancé, Brenna’s life had become a mess too. She’d learned a couple of valuable lessons from the experience. First: When the guy you plan to marry embezzles money from his business partner and gets caught, he’s going to do one of two things—skip town or go to jail. Second: When faced with the choice of going to jail or running, rats like Dan always ran, taking every valuable thing they owned with them. Dan had one-upped that. He’d taken every valuable thing Brenna owned. He’d emptied their joint account, cleaned out their savings, and taken every piece of expensive jewelry she owned. He’d left her with her grandmother Alice’s ring, but only because Brenna had been wearing it. Otherwise, he’d have taken that too.
“Bastard,” she muttered, opening the door and getting out of her ancient Cadillac Seville.
There was a hint of fall in the breeze, a tinge of firewood hanging in the air. Someone in town had a wood-burning stove going. Late August, and already people were preparing for winter. Not too many weeks from now, and there’d be ice hockey and skiing, snowman contests and ice-skating on the frozen pond in Anderson’s field. Hot chocolate after a day spent outside.
She liked the sound of that.
For all her protesting about returning to Benevolence, there was a small part of Brenna that was looking forward to hot chocolate and snowy hikes, books read by firelight while winter raged outside. She had some good memories of the place, mixed with all the not-so-good ones.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she snagged it from her purse, eyeing the number that flashed across the screen. Her mother. Calling for the fiftieth time. Janelle had probably readied Brenna’s old room, smoothed the flowery sheets and bright green blanket, swept dust bunnies out from under the ancient twin bed in some vain hope that Brenna would change her mind and decide to stay there.
Dust bunnies?
Not in Janelle’s house. She took a lot of pride in caring for the Lamont family home. She also took a lot of pride in her daughters’ accomplishments.
She’d be devastated if she learned the truth about Brenna’s situation. So, she wouldn’t. Simple as that.
“Hello?” Brenna pressed the phone to her ear, eyeing the dark lot. No sign of the pastor, but she hadn’t expected there to be. Not at this time of night. The church stood forlorn and empty, a single exterior light shining above the door.
“You finally decided to answer,” her mother replied.
“I was driving.”
“Where are you now?”
“Stopping to stretch my legs.” The truth. Or part of it. Janelle didn’t need to know that Brenna was already back in town. Tomorrow was soon enough for that.
“You should find a hotel. Spend the night. It’s not safe for a young woman to—”
“Mom,” Brenna said, cutting her off, “I’ve been living on my own since I was seventeen. I think I can handle driving across the country.”
“When you were seventeen, I traveled with you. After that, you were living with Dan and the two of you traveled together. This trip is different. You’re a beautiful young woman alone.”
“There were a lot of years between seventeen and Dan,” she pointed out. “I turned twenty-one in Paris. Alone. Remember?”
“How could I forget? I begged you to come home, but you insisted on taking that job.”
“I begged you to come visit, but you were worried about Adeline’s love life, so you didn’t.” Brenna wished the words back immediately. No sense in yanking the scab off the old wound.
Her mother’s silence spoke volumes, the thickness of it filled with hundreds of words that neither of them would ever say. Finally, Janelle sighed. “If I could go back, I’d make a different decision.”
“There wouldn’t have been any need. I was fine.”
“You’re always fine, dear,” Janelle said, a weary edge to her voice. “Any idea when you’ll hit town?”
“Before dawn.”
“And you haven’t changed your mind about staying here?”
“The apartment will be more convenient.”
“Right, and you’re all about convenience and ease. Call me when you arrive. I made chicken pot pie. It’s in the fridge at the apartment.” She hung up before Brenna could thank her.
“Great. Perfect. You pissed her off before you’ve even laid eyes on each other.” Brenna tossed the purse and the phone into the car and shut the door. No one would bother it—not in Benevolence—and she didn’t want to field calls from her sisters, her grandfather, her mother, and her old friends.
All she wanted was a little peace.
Two jobs waitressing so she could pay the rent on a roach-infested apartment? Countless meetings with Dan’s former business partner, lawyers, police? A twenty-four-hundred-mile drive across the country to help her family? Those things made a person tired, and Brenna was not just that. She was to-the-bone exhausted. She didn’t want to see her mother, her sisters, her grandfather. She didn’t want to reconnect with old friends, dish about old crushes, stoke the memories that were always just a thought away. All she wanted was to just . . . be.
She also wanted a cigarette the way other women might want chocolate or a slice of cake.
You’ve got an addictive personality, babe. She could almost hear her imbecile ex-fiancé’s voice, see his smarmy, irritating grin. And I thank God every day that I’m what you’re addicted to.
“Bullsh—” She stopped herself just short of saying it.
She was standing in the parking lot of Benevolence Baptist Church, for God’s sake!
And she had a niece or nephew on the way.
She didn’t want to fill little ears with words that she’d rather not hear a tiny kid say.
Yeah, she’d given up swearing the day her sister Adeline had called and told her she was pregnant. She’d given up cigarettes the same day. That had been three months and six days after she’d found out that Dan had cleaned out their mutual account and skipped town with all their assets.
“Water under the bridge,” she said, as if there were anyone around to hear.
Leaves rustled in response, the sound following her across the parking lot and around the side of the church.
The cemetery was there, tombstones dotting a gentle knoll that looked out over the town. A pretty little place to be buried. Her father had said that to her once. She’d never forgotten it.
Weird how things stuck with a person. Even after all these years, she could see her father’s craggy face, his bright blue eyes, hear him telling her how lucky they were to live in a town like Benevolence.
She’d never felt lucky.
She’d felt different. A square peg in a round hole. If he’d lived long enough, she might have told her father that. Maybe he could have given her some sage advice that would have kept her from running off at seventeen and taking a job she’d hated just so she could be free of a town that had never felt like home.
As if she would have listened to her father!
She’d been hell-bent on getting
out of town, and she’d done it.
And now she was back.
She kicked a pinecone, listening as it skittered across soft grass and pinged off the trunk of a giant oak tree. A hundred yards out, the Lamont family plot lay silent in the moonlight. Her grandmother’s grave was there, her father’s.
How long had it been since she’d visited either?
Two years?
Three?
Maybe more than that.
She wasn’t an overly sentimental person, and it had never made sense to make a trip to Benevolence just so she could put flowers on the graves of people who couldn’t appreciate them. She supposed it would have been nice to do it anyway. She’d had plenty of years when she’d been able to afford it.
Now she didn’t have two nickels to rub together.
Oh well. Money came. Money went. Family was forever.
That’s what Granddad had said when he’d called to ask if Brenna would help run the family chocolate shop.
Brenna had argued—of course she had—but she’d only done it halfheartedly. The fact was, life on the outskirts of New York City was getting old, and she’d been this close to contacting her modeling agency and asking to be hooked up with a few gigs. She was still young enough. She just didn’t really have the heart to go through it all again—the travel, the jet-setting lifestyle, the money and drinks and late-night parties.
She’d never really wanted those things. She’d wanted a cozy little house on a sweet little lot. She’d wanted a nice guy to share it with. She’d wanted a kid or two or more, a dog, a garden with fresh tomatoes and onions and peas.
She’d wanted, she guessed, to just be . . . normal.
She reached the cemetery gate and strode through it, ignoring the sadness that nudged at the back of her mind.
Shaded by mature oak trees and a giant willow, the Lamont family plot sat apart from the rest of the graveyard, a huge marble angel standing in the middle of it. Wings folded, hands cupped, its face somber and streaked with tears, the angel had a weathered, weary look that fit Brenna’s mood.
She walked past it, heading to the newest graves. Her grandmother’s, sheltered under the willow, a bench just beside it. Her father’s just a few yards away. Someone had placed flowers on both.
Sweet Haven Page 27