Just One Kiss (Appletree Cove)

by Hall, Traci

  “Do you have the Haviland guy’s direct number?” her dad asked.

  Grace cringed at the idea of that phone call. “I don’t think so, Dad. I just wanted to let you know what was happening, in case I can’t save our house.”

  “Oh honey!” Her mom sniffed.

  “Grandma wanted to make sure we all had a sanctuary.” She blinked rapidly, her throat thick. “I’m so sorry to have failed you guys.”

  “You haven’t failed us, Grace. Don’t you think that for a second,” her dad said.

  “Marty used to be a lawyer,” her mom said. “He’s new to the commune, Grace, but fits right in, like part of the family. He might have an idea or two. I am so angry right now.”

  Her dad took the phone. “Grace, sweetheart, we’ll be in touch tomorrow with some answers. You should’ve told us sooner. Makes me want to get a cell phone.”

  “You could start with a landline in your cabin,” Grace suggested drolly. She checked the time; she had two minutes left on her break. Sawyer and his rules. “I have to go. Love you both.”

  She gathered her lunch supplies and hurried inside the office, feeling very overwhelmed. It didn’t help that the first thing she saw was Sawyer watching her, as if he knew all her secrets. Why had she kissed him in the kitchen?

  They had no chance of being together.

  Later that afternoon, Grace printed off a new application for a Rottweiler named Rusty with barking issues. This was only Sawyer’s second client.

  The owner, Matthew Jenstone, was worried that he’d get kicked out of his apartment complex if the dog didn’t shape up. It was hard to believe that a month had gone by so fast and she was nearly out of time. Her official thirty days for the threatened foreclosure was on Monday. She stared at Rusty’s application papers in a daze, unsure how she’d find the money.

  Sawyer entered from the backyard door, heading to his office, his face flushed from working with the dogs.

  “You have a new client,” she said, waving the printout. “Here’s his sheet.”

  Sawyer walked over, wiping his forehead with his forearm. “Thanks. If you weren’t here to answer the phones, I wouldn’t have either of my two clients,” he said self-deprecatingly. “Just say the word, and you can keep your job.”

  Fear had her wondering if she should accept. Next Monday, she started afternoons at the high school for two months, which would leave her mornings free. Could she help Sawyer part-time? Ach—that wouldn’t get the money she needed. “Not unless it comes with a thirty-thousand-dollar bonus.”

  He crossed his arms. “Now, why would you want that big of a bonus?”

  She said nothing.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “We can talk about it.”

  Grace got up, not sure what to make of Sawyer’s words as she remembered Griffin’s unwarranted, unwanted advances. She shivered and hurried to the kitchen. “You look like you could use some water.”

  In order to sway Mr. Haviland, she’d need a year of steady employment, and that just wasn’t her. Even if she did accept a salaried position, it wouldn’t be enough money in time.

  Sawyer followed her in. Grace retrieved a water bottle and handed it to him then filled her own washable one. She’d tried to convert him into using a reusable bottle, but he liked the convenience of disposable too much.

  He drained and tossed the bottle into the recycle bin. “We’re having a barbecue tomorrow night. I’ve invited all of the guys. I was thinking you could take pictures.”

  “I have been taking pictures. It’s what I do.”

  He stared down at the break room floor. “I mean of the vets, working with the dogs.”

  “I know. I’ve sent them all to Kasam.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He glanced up, his brown hair falling just right on his forehead. “Listen, invite Lottie and Violet, too. I’d like to celebrate and give you a nice memory of the place before you quit.”

  “Hey! I’m not quitting.” She hated that connotation of not completing what she’d started. “I only accepted the position for a month, and that’s up Friday.”

  Clapping sounded behind her, and she turned, appalled and embarrassed.

  She recognized the model right away and felt even worse. Daniella—tall, slender, and gorgeous—stood in the kitchen’s doorway, with another man that looked like a Rivera.

  “Brava, bella,” Daniella said in a smooth voice. “You discovered Sawyer’s true nature long before I did.”

  Grace was torn between wanting to step in front of Sawyer to protect him from Daniella’s poisonous words and kicking the model in her unnaturally white teeth and right out the door. Unable to decide, she remained rooted in place.

  “Not everything you hear is meant for publication,” Grace said tartly. She wouldn’t put it past her to use Grace’s words against her.

  “Ouch,” the other man said. He walked toward her, his hand outstretched. “I’m Luca, Sawyer’s youngest brother.”

  At over six feet, with broad shoulders and a smoldering smile, Luca didn’t look like the baby of the family.

  “Grace,” she answered in a clipped tone, shaking his hand briefly. Why was the youngest Rivera escorting Daniella?

  Luca strode toward Sawyer, who’d clamped his jaw closed, dark brown eyes hard as river rock. The brothers shared a quick side hug—a formality rather than a warm greeting.

  “Mom said that Tomas and Bobby are here?”

  “Out back.” Sawyer braced his boots on the kitchen floor. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve come to arrange a truce.”

  Grace didn’t like the way Sawyer’s shoulders hiked, as if he had to steel himself against Luca—who had brought the enemy literally into his camp.

  “You should’ve called.”

  “I can get a hotel.” Luca inspected the kitchen as though sizing it up. “If I’m not welcome.”

  “She is not welcome.”

  Daniella’s sly smile held no regret. “Perhaps we should come back another time,” she said in a purr to Luca.

  “Never would be just fine.” Sawyer urged them out of the kitchen to the lobby.

  Tomas and Bobby rushed inside from the back area where they’d been bathing the dogs. Wet and soapy, the two brothers lost their grins when they saw Daniella looping her arm through Luca’s.

  “What the hell?” Bobby asked.

  Tomas ran a soapy hand through his hair, his easy pirate charm turning to fury.

  “Oh, this is fun,” Daniella cooed.

  Grace thought her loathing for Mr. Haviland at the bank was the darkest she could feel toward an actual human being, but what she felt about Daniella was downright scary. How could one person exude such negativity?

  “I’ll give you some time to talk.” Grace backed up a step, thinking she’d sit at her desk, plug her headphones in, and stay out of the way of something that was not her business.

  “Grace, it’s okay. We can take this into my office.” Sawyer swiveled on a boot heel and headed for his office, the line of his back rigid.

  She’d never been so proud of him—all of that control he practiced allowed him to stay collected in an awful situation. She sent Lottie a text that Daniella was at Bark Camp.

  Lottie: What’s she like?

  Grace: Beautiful. Terrible. What am I going to do about the taxes?

  Lottie: Call me later.

  Grace logged into her email, and her heart raced at a message from another photo contest she’d entered. Her pulse quickened and then slowed as she read the words “honorable mention.”

  Pfft. Just her freaking luck. “Where are you, Grandma Dahlia? I could use some good news.”

  The office phone rang, and Grace answered, “Bark Camp.”

  “May I speak to Grace Sheldon?” asked a man with a sultry, accented voice she couldn’t place.

 
“This is Grace.”

  “Oh, Grace, this is Kasam Kramer.”

  “Hi!” It was the first time they’d actually spoken and not communicated via email. “Have you received the pictures?”

  “Yes, and I have to say, they’re exactly what the campaign needed.”

  “Great.” She wanted Bark Camp to be a huge success.

  “My calendar idea has expanded into a major part of the campaign. Is this something you’d be willing to do with these pictures? Of course, you’d get photo credits. All twelve would be yours.”

  Yes! “That’d be wonderful.”

  “You made a point of noting in your emails the photos were taken when you were ‘off the clock.’” The line became silent as he waited for her to explain.

  “Yes, Sawyer asked me not to take any artistic pictures when I was paid to do other kinds of work. Is that a problem?” asked Grace.

  “And the camera you used is your own?”

  What was this man driving at? Grace pulled out her drawer to admire her new camera—the one Sawyer had bought after Bert had eaten hers. “Yes, of course.”

  For a moment, the line became quiet again. He murmured something to another person that she couldn’t make out before saying to Grace, “Well, then, we were wondering what your price would be for us to buy them.”

  Grace’s heart lifted. “My price?” She’d get paid in actual money and not just credits?

  “Yes, these pictures were taken while you were off the clock and with your own equipment, which changes the rules a bit. I’m very happy you were so clear in your communication and we can pay you for your talent. Price?”

  “Oh, right.” A rush of happy, tearful energy passed through her heart. “I don’t suppose thirty thousand would be too much?”

  The silence on the phone was interrupted by Kasam’s forceful laugh. “You drive a hard bargain. Why don’t we rein that in a little? How about two thousand?”

  Grace quickly did the math. Even Griffin was going to pay her five hundred a photo. “I really need to make more than that, to be fair.” Twelve photos at five hundred a piece equaled six thousand. “How about six?” she asked.

  “I’ll have to get Jaden Lewinski in on this, but I think we can swing twenty-five hundred. I believe that’s fair.”

  The emphasis in his voice indicated he really did, and that would be that. “That sounds okay,” said Grace. It was better than nothing.

  “Wonderful. We’ll send you a formal contract and a check. Thanks again!”

  She hung up the phone—elated and sad at the same time. So close, but it wasn’t enough. What else could she possibly do to make that money?

  Luca and Daniella sauntered out of Sawyer’s office, arm in arm, and the snobby model offered a finger wave. “Ciao.”

  What had happened? She had to find out if Sawyer was okay—Daniella hadn’t been there but fifteen minutes.

  Grace walked over to his office. The door was partially open. She heard Sawyer say, “In order to get the show, we need to lean heavily on the veteran’s stories, human interest stuff.”

  “The grittier the better,” said someone on the speakerphone.

  “A guy missing fingers is pretty gritty,” said Bobby.

  They were talking about Rudy, who’d been nothing but kind and hardworking. She pushed the door all the way open, and Sawyer turned red, as if he knew how his words came across.

  Grace brought her fingers to her throat. “Lean on the vets?”

  His jaw clenched, but he didn’t defend himself.

  “Given our history of misunderstandings, I’d love an explanation.” She prided herself on staying calm.

  Bobby swiped his hair back. “Gritty, babe. For the show.”

  “Sawyer.” She lowered her hand. “Are you using the guys?”

  “I hope to hire them for a show.” He glared at his brothers.

  Grace couldn’t believe how conniving he’d been. Daniella wasn’t the only one playing games. Her heart ached as she suddenly understood his motives.

  “I’m not feeling well,” she said in a husky voice. “I’ll be leaving early.” She held his gaze, angry and hurt. “You can dock my pay.”

  Sawyer bristled at her disrespectful tone.

  She was so disheartened that she left without saying another word, taking her camera home with her.

  How could Sawyer use the veterans that way?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Coffee?” Grace asked Wednesday morning as Sawyer and his brothers huddled around a video call in his office. She’d been coldly polite, and Sawyer didn’t like it.

  “Yes, please.” He too could be polite. What he really wanted to do was discuss what had happened yesterday, but now wasn’t the time, especially with Tomas and Bobby all eager ears—and opinions.

  Grace was properly dressed in her uniform of a polo shirt tucked into jeans, but she had tiny chimes in her hair hidden among the black curls. She just had to push things to the limit.

  Her floral perfume teased him as she filled up his mug and then topped off Tomas’s and Bobby’s. “I made banana loaf. It’s in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

  If she hadn’t been mad at him, she would have brought it into his office on a tray with plates. “Thank you,” he said anyway, in concert with his brothers.

  Grace left, and he focused on Kasam and Jaden for another hour, fitting things into place for the revised Sawyer Rivera plan. At last, the men hung up after coming to an agreement.

  “It’s a start,” Sawyer said, rubbing the back of his neck. The good news was that the launch for Bark Camp was taking shape. The network liked the idea of utilizing soldiers in a community and had agreed to talks. They also wanted a backup concept.

  The bad news was most kennels were empty, and his stardom hadn’t driven the immediate response he’d hoped. Sawyer had the pups he’d gotten himself and was diligently training them, but he’d been counting on an influx from adoring fans to keep Bark Camp afloat.

  Worst of all, no matter how many times they went around with ideas, the concept of dog training on TV had already been done. It was old news. Made Sawyer feel like old news. The executives wanted something fresh, something more than miraculous results from the Sawyer Rivera system.

  Sawyer had a difficult time thinking beyond that. Whenever he imagined his future, he didn’t see Bark Camp, but a blue-eyed pixie. Then the past: Grace, playing on the beach with Violet. Grace, launching her canoe from the end of her broken dock. Grace, accepting a blanket from him on a cold night. Her lips, her eyes. The way he could drown in her kiss.

  Bobby lobbed a tennis ball against the wall and caught it when it bounced back. “How about a contest? The winner stays here for a week with their dog, and you train them both.”

  “It’s been done,” said Tomas, rolling his eyes.

  “How?” asked Bobby, flipping his ponytail out of the collar of his Bark Camp polo shirt. “How has it been done?”

  “It’s no different than the timed dog bathing idea you had.” Tomas had smoothed his beard so much it was actually a point. “It sucked. Who is going to want to watch dogs get bubble baths?”

  “Girls. Bikinis. It would climb the ratings.” Bobby threw the ball against the wall with more force.

  Sawyer lifted his palm. “Enough!” They weren’t going to arrive at a winning concept today. He held out his hand to catch the ball, and Bobby threw it to him. He hadn’t liked the idea, either, but the process of brainstorming meant some of them were stinkers. He hoped Bark Camp would be a winner.

  “Luca shouldn’t have brought Daniella here,” Tomas said. “Now she knows everything you’re doing. She’ll ruin it somehow.”

  “He should’ve called instead of acting off the cuff,” Sawyer agreed. His youngest brother tended to jump first and check for a parachute later.

  “Maybe
the offer of her wanting a truce is legit,” Bobby said. “It could end your troubles with her.”

  Sawyer had mixed emotions regarding Daniella and Luca, but he wanted an end to this nightmare. “Let’s call Gary and let him know what’s going on.” He dialed his lawyer and put him on speakerphone.

  “Gary, it’s Sawyer. Tomas and Bobby are here in my office.” His brothers nodded eagerly, though Gary couldn’t see them. “You’ll never guess who stopped by.”

  “Hello, gentlemen,” his lawyer drawled smugly. “What took you so long to call?”

  The brothers gawked at each other.

  “Why’s that?” asked Sawyer.

  “Let me read the front cover of the Hollywood Star.” They heard pages fluttering. “Why is Daniella Romano feeding us lies about Sawyer Rivera?”

  “What?” Sawyer asked, sitting straight up.

  “It seems,” said Gary, “someone’s been giving a news investigator I know a lot of slanderous information about one of my esteemed clients.”

  Sawyer smiled broader than he’d ever smiled. “You set her up?”

  “Set her up is strong. Let’s just say, encouraged her to be herself to the wrong person.”

  “The right person for us,” said Bobby with relief.

  “That’s excellent.” Now that Sawyer understood the context of why Daniella had shown up, he could trust her peace offering a little more. “Good work.”

  “After a while, the public loses interest in beating up the same person. Where’s the drama in that?” Gary chuckled. “I bet her agent’s all over her to fix the situation.”

  “She told me that she wants to apologize, publicly,” Sawyer said. “But you can’t blame me for being cautious.”

  “Models have a limited shelf life,” said Gary. “You always had time on your side. You can train dogs until you’re, what, eighty?”

  Sawyer’s brothers flashed him smiles and identical thumbs-up.

  “You’re the best, Gary,” said Sawyer. “She wants us to meet over dinner and have a filmed conversation where she apologizes and takes it all back, blaming her love for me”—which she never felt—“and says she’s found someone new in her life blah blah.”