Love Reclaimed: (Clean Small-Town Romance) (Kings Grove Book 4)

by Delancey Stewart

  She turned and stepped on the first riser, but then spun around and came back down. She moved in close in the darkness and her hand came up to cup my face, the warmth of her palm on my jaw sending my mind spinning.

  “Cam?” she breathed.

  I didn’t move, didn’t respond. The stillness of my exterior, I hoped, was hiding the chaotic turmoil going inside me—in my heart, my mind, my entire body—as I fought the urge to pull her into my arms and relieve the aching loneliness I didn’t even know I’d felt so acutely until Harper had arrived.

  “You’re not cursed,” she said softly.

  And maybe it was because I’d needed someone to say that to me, maybe it was because I wanted it to be true. Maybe it was just because there was something about Harper that was the opposite of death, the opposite of the macabre darkness that filled me when I thought about the trail of desolation behind me. But I gave up fighting in that moment, let my guard slip. And I leaned into her hand, my own arms going around her, one hand burying itself in her luscious thick hair.

  For a long second, we hovered there, suspended in anticipation as our lips remained just millimeters apart. I could feel her shaking in my arms, feel her heart thudding inside her small body. I could feel how human, how alive, and therefore, how vulnerable she was. But I couldn’t help myself. I pressed my lips to hers and took what she offered. Reassurance, contentment, warmth and a frenzied storm of desire. It all rushed through me, replacing the worry and fear for the few minutes we stood there, kissing in the darkness like each of us was taking a treasure from the other.

  I held her to me, felt her body mold to mine, felt the warmth of her hands on the back of my neck and on my low back, pulling me nearer.

  And then it was over, and for a blissful second there was nothing but a warm contentment inside me. But then the dread and fear I lived with rushed in to replace it and I stumbled backward, unsure what to say or do.

  “You’re not cursed, Cam,” she said again, and before I had to say anything at all, she was gone. She closed the heavy front door and I was left alone in the darkness.

  Finally, I trudged back to my own house. I hadn’t left on the porch light, but my eyes were adjusting to the darkness deepening around me, and I could clearly see something on my deck as I approached. Just at the top of the stairs near the door there was a shape, a dark lump that didn’t belong there. I pulled the knife from my belt, sliding it open with a click.

  Slowly, I climbed the steps, eyes on the shape. It moved, just a slight little shiver, and then it whined. And slowly I realized this must be the animal I’d been feeding. I stepped past it, glad it wasn’t blocking the door, and reached inside to switch on the porch light.

  There, in a shaking heap just to the right of my door, was a dog. A very pregnant, very frightened dog with dull desperate chocolate eyes staring into mine, even as a low growl came from her throat. I put away my knife. She looked like a collie, except her coat was black instead of brown, but she had a white muzzle and expressive brown eyebrows next to a white blaze up her nose and forehead. I’d have to do a search to learn her breed. But first, I needed to figure out what to do with her.

  “How’d you get here, girl?” I asked, squatting down and keeping my voice gentle and low. “Did you follow my scent?”

  The dog whimpered, her eyes never leaving my face.

  “You’re gonna be a momma, aren’t you?” I reached a hand toward her head, just holding it there, not moving.

  The dog moved her head a little, angling her nose toward my hand, and I moved just a bit closer so she could smell me, hoping she’d match the scent to the food and water I’d brought, that she would know I wasn’t a threat. I guessed she already understood that, since she’d tracked me here.

  The dog issued another whimper, sounding miserable and tired, and dropped her head. I looked her over as well as I could in the darkness, and saw a muddied dirty slash across her hip, just above the back leg. Had this dog tangled with the mountain lion?

  “It’s okay, girl,” I told her, glancing around the darkness as my mind worked through what to do. “I’ll be right back.”

  I couldn’t leave the dog outside. If a mountain lion was feeding in these hills, this injured dog was an easy target, and I wouldn’t be responsible for that. It was a miracle the dog had survived whatever had gotten her in the first place.

  Back inside, I cleared a corner behind the couch and a path to the front door. I went back out and took the edge of the outdoor rug the dog was lying on in my hand. “Just going for a little ride,” I told her, and I gave the rug a gentle tug. It slid, with the dog still lying on it, and I pulled it over the wood of the deck, and up over the threshold of the door. The dog whined, especially as she went over the threshold, but she didn’t get up. I dragged the rug to the back corner of my living room, some distant voice wondering what the hell I was doing. I ignored the voice and brought a few towels, some food, and some water for the dog, tucking the towels around her like a little nest.

  “I must be losing my mind,” I told her. “But you’re welcome here. You’re safe, okay?” I reached out again, but another low growl discouraged me from touching her. I’d have to gain her trust.

  I moved around the house, cleaning up a bit and keeping the dog in the corner of my vision. She wasn’t bleeding, so I thought the gash could probably wait until morning for attention, and I didn’t think she’d let me touch it anyway. She watched me as I moved around, and eventually she ate a little bit and drank some water, lifting only her head and chest as her swollen belly lay on the rug. I guessed she might actually be in early labor already and figured I was about to be responsible for not just one stray dog but for many.

  After a while, she seemed to be sleeping, so I took a seat as well, and made a call.

  “Hey Doc,” I said, leaving a message for the local vet. “I’ve got a dog here that has a pretty nasty gash. Think she might’ve met the mountain lion, or maybe a bear. Anyway, I’ve got her in my house, and think she probably needs some attention. Oh, and doc? She’s about to have puppies, too. Could probably use a hand with that.” I hung up, knowing full well that Annie Gish probably wouldn’t call me back until Monday morning, and then only after she’d gotten into her office, which was just outside Kings Grove up by the stables. She was a great vet, but she was a little bit scatterbrained, and everyone knew she forgot her phone places constantly. I hoped she might have actually taken her phone home and not left it in a stall in the barn or at the diner, as she’d been known to do.

  I breathed out a sigh, grateful for the distraction from the kiss I’d just shared with Harper—the kiss that really should never have happened. I needed to keep my distance there—for both our sakes. I liked Harper. I liked her a lot, but dragging her into the mess that was my life, or my mind at least, wasn’t fair to her. She had plans to leave, and I needed to respect that. I swallowed down the feelings I was developing for her and mentally set that kiss away. And then I made another call, because I’d promised my sister I would.

  “Hey Tuck,” I said, when my friend answered the phone.

  “Cam?” he laughed. “That really you, man? It’s been a while.”

  “It has.” I said.

  “Good to hear your voice. Doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Listen, are you busy lately? Interested in a project?”

  “What are we talking about?” he asked.

  “I need a cameraman in August, maybe a week or so before then to get things planned.”

  He laughed, and I realized how long it had been since I’d talked to any of the friends I had in Los Angeles. “I was kinda hoping this thing might start more immediately. Work’s been hard to find. Things are tight.”

  Tuck was strong and capable, and I knew Chance would hire him on if I vouched for him. “You could work construction until then. You’d have to come live up in the mountains here…”

  “Sounds amazing,” he said.

  We went from there, and Tuck promised to
be up in the next couple days, which for him could mean tomorrow or three weeks from now. I checked on the dog again, watching her side rise and fall slowly enough to make me believe she was sleeping somewhat peacefully, and went to bed feeling worried and conflicted. Maybe Harper was right about the curse—some rational part of my brain knew she probably was. But on the off chance she wasn’t, I was worried. What would happen to her if she was wrong? I was already far more attached than I should be. And that could be devastating for us both.

  Chapter 10

  HARPER

  I stood just inside the door after Cam and I separated, my heart racing, my breath practically coming in pants. I tried to channel my yoga teacher to calm both my breathing and my mind. Be curious, she would say. Explore your feelings, your thoughts. Don’t react, don’t judge, just observe.

  I was observing myself reacting to the fact that I’d just kissed my landlord. Or had he kissed me? I’d definitely touched him first, but I couldn’t stand the self-condemnation I’d heard in his voice and felt in every atom of energy around him since we’d been on the deck at Connor and Maddie’s. He really believed he was cursed, and when I let myself think about the string of tragedies that had followed him through life, it was really no surprise. My heart broke imagining a little boy, a young man, and this fully grown adult, believing he was actually doomed—that his love was capable of dooming others. It was mythic. And while I subscribed to the occasional woo-woo sentiment (just ask Wind about my short-lived green tea fast or my commitment to making my own kombucha, which, as it turns out is very difficult to do when you live in a tiny Manhattan apartment), I did not believe for a second that Cam was cursed. Or that I was risking anything other than my heart by getting too close to him.

  That thought fully formed, I did realize I didn’t exactly need to be rushing into some kind of romantic entanglement here, considering I had solid plans to leave soon. And I’d managed to trip right into this after how many days back? I hadn’t even officially started work yet.

  All in all, I’d had a great night, cemented a solid working friendship with my new boss, Mike, and gotten to know a few other folks around the village. I enjoyed Cam’s sister a lot, and knew Maddie and I would work well together as her wedding neared. I just hoped I could live up to her expectations.

  Miranda and Sam were sweet, too, and while I didn’t get to talk to them much, I felt immediately welcome among this group of close friends. I hoped maybe I’d have a few people to hang out with now, for as long as I was here. Though it wasn’t my dream town, and my heart missed New York sometimes, I was starting to feel settled here, even at home.

  The big house whispered around me and I did my best not to think about how many empty spaces the place held, about how anything could have come in while I’d been out, despite my locked doors. I knew rationally that Kings Grove was a safe place. I knew nothing had come inside while I’d been out at dinner. I knew all of this, and still, I had to force myself not to listen carefully for the floor creaking upstairs, for the sounds that would reveal that I was not actually as alone as I believed.

  I’d just about talked myself back to calmness (after searching all the rooms—the only way to put my mind at rest, and though I felt silly doing it, I still walked the floors, opening doors and peering under beds) when that eerie screeching yowl filtered through the closed windows from the dark hillside beyond my house. I shuddered as my heart picked up speed once again. Between my thoughts about Cam and the creeping fear that seemed to linger in the darkness, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping now.

  Instead, I streamed a yoga class to the television and tried to embrace my mind’s desire to churn, tried to accept myself as I was (potentially nuts), and breathe deeply into my stomach. After an hour of that, I was still nervous, but now I was sweaty, too. I ran water over my wrists at the kitchen sink (the thought of a shower alone at night in a big house was beyond me at that point) and filled a glass. While I stood there drinking it, I allowed my gaze to drift to the lit windows of Cam’s house.

  Even though he was there and I was here, the knowledge that he was home, and awake, actually calmed me in a way nothing else had since I’d walked in the door of my dark house. I let my eyes rest on his bright window for a long minute, and thought about the way I felt kissing him earlier.

  Warmth rolled through me when I thought of him, of his intense eyes, his troubled words. Part of me wanted to win him over, to accept the challenge he posed and do my damndest to charm him into wanting me again. And a bigger part of me knew I should focus on my goals—get enough money to pay my dad back and get out of here.

  I put the television on low, pulled the snuggly throw blanket around me, and curled up with a cup of tea, my mind lingering on the bright troubled intensity of those icy blue eyes, the way those corded arms had felt around me, the slide of his hands up my back. And when I finally closed my eyes, I found myself dreaming of the kiss I’d shared with Cam. I dreamed I was weak enough to pursue him even when I knew I shouldn’t.

  Mornings had been hard since I’d moved into the big house in Kings Grove. Since I wasn’t sleeping well, and generally wasn’t sleeping in a bed, I often woke to the fuzzy gray light coming through the front windows as the sun rose, and found myself stretching out kinks and knots gained by sleeping on the couch.

  “Ow,” I moaned, leaning my head to one side after sitting up, trying to stretch the opposite side of my neck where a tight painful knot had formed. One of my arms was asleep and my legs hurt from being curled beneath me. I was going to have to start sleeping in the bed upstairs, no matter how hard it was to fall asleep with a huge house sitting around me, the space and vacancy yawning like a living breathing thing.

  I stood, stretching and grumbling, and took myself upstairs to take a shower. By the time the clock had reached a reasonable hour, I was dressed and feeling better. Except that it was Sunday and I had no idea what to do with myself. I ran through the usual chores—checking my phone, scanning for news, listening to voicemail (Dad and Wind.) And then I needed to make some decisions about what to do with myself. Just as I was considering my limited options, there was a knock at the door.

  “Good, you’re here,” Cam said when I pulled the door open. He wore dark jeans and a tight blue T-shirt, along with an expression I hadn’t seen before—he looked apprehensive.

  “Where else would I be on a Sunday morning?” It was still early, after all.

  He appeared not to have thought of this until now, and suddenly looked abashed at being reminded that early morning visits on a Sunday weren’t necessarily neighborly. A big hand curled around the back of his neck and he stepped back, away from the open door. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, maybe too quickly. “I’m up. I’ve been up for a while.”

  “Can you lend me a hand with something?” Cam’s face was anxious and his tone was much more tense than I’d heard it.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Better if I show you.” He turned and moved toward the steps, pausing for me to join him.

  I pulled the door shut and followed, stepping to his side as he crossed the small space between our houses. “You’re making me nervous,” I told him.

  “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t explain why he looked worried, or what he could possibly need help with.

  I followed Cam up the steps to his house and through the front door. His furniture was pushed around, and I was about to ask if he needed help rearranging the room or something when I heard the whine from the corner. My eyes tracked the sound to a nest of towels and blankets where an Australian Shepherd lay on her side with at least five pups nursing next to her and a wicked gash crusted with blood and dirt on her leg.

  “Oh my goodness.” I moved toward the dog, dropping to my knees and putting my hand out to her.

  “I wouldn’t—“ Cam said, but he stopped talking abruptly as my hand smoothed the fur on the dog’s head.

  “Hello there,” I crooned in a soft voice, the
one I reserved for tiny babies and cute furry things. “What a lucky mama you are, look at these adorable puppies.” I sat down next to her and let my hand run from her head to her back a few times, noticing that her fur was matted and clumped with pitch and pine needles as I checked for other injuries. “You need a bath and a comb,” I said, “And we need to get this wound clean.” The dog responded with a low whine. As I petted her, my eyes found Cam, who was standing in the center of the room, one hand on his hip and the other gripping the back of his neck, staring at me.

  “She hasn’t let me touch her,” he said, and his voice held an edge of appreciation I hadn’t heard before.

  “I’m like the dog whisperer,” I said. “I’ve always been good with animals. So this is the animal you were feeding? Across the hill?”

  “Looks like it. She must’ve followed my scent. Found her on the porch when I got home last night, and she had the puppies early this morning. She’s got that nasty gash though. I called the vet, but haven’t heard anything.”

  “She okay, you think?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not really qualified to say. You know a lot about dogs?”

  I laughed, quietly, not wanting to disturb the dogs. “Nope.”

  “Can you stay with them while I go see if Annie Gish is home?”

  “Annie?” The name was familiar. “I think I used to play with Annie Gish…”

  Cam made a face, one side of his mouth lifting as his eyebrows came down. “Maybe, but…” his mind was clearly on helping the dogs, not on playmates I might’ve had when I was a kid. “She’s a vet. And she never remembers to take her phone home. I already tried her a few times. She must’ve left it at the office again.”

  That sounded like the Annie I remembered. Even at seven, she’d been a little flighty, but smart as a whip. “Land line?” I suggested.