Читать книгу: «Hometown Valentine»

This book is dedicated to

my bestie and sunset sweats comrade.

Thanks for always being there for me. Tally ho!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Snapping her umbrella closed, Lily Rogers hurriedly stepped from the chilly late January downpour into The Coffee Cabana. The entry buzzer sounded above her head.

As the earthy smell of coffee hit her, she came to an abrupt stop just inside the door and darted her gaze around. The place was dead empty.

Odd. Washingtonians were famous for their voracious coffee appetites. She’d expected to find the place packed, especially since this store was the only thing that remotely resembled a coffee shop in Moonlight Cove.

Maybe business was bad. Lily hoped not. She desperately needed the barista job advertised in the help-wanted sign in the window. Though being a coffee jockey wasn’t her dream occupation, it was a paying proposition, and those were few and far between in a town the size of her hometown. She needed money; her future as a fashion designer was at stake.

Putting her still-dripping umbrella in the metal holder by the door Lily headed toward the unmanned front counter. As she neared it, she heard a shrill sound that seemed to be coming from behind a door to the left of the counter. She cocked her head, her eyebrows drawn together. Was that a...baby crying?

She listened intently. Yes, yes, it was. The sound was a baby wailing, actually. Her well-developed baby-soothing instincts had her immediately cringing. Her youngest sister, Laura, had shrieked like that from dawn to dusk when she’d been a newborn.

Lily stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was the place even open? The door had been unlocked, and it was the middle of normal business hours on a Monday, so she assumed so. Should she go look for the manager? Just leave a résumé on the counter? Hunt for the shrieking infant? What? She hadn’t planned on finding the place deserted, and she certainly hadn’t expected to encounter an unseen child in distress.

Just as she was about to go find the baby and take care of the poor thing, the door behind the counter opened and a man holding said screaming infant over his broad shoulder stepped out.

Ah. One mystery solved.

The man, who appeared to be around Lily’s age of thirty, give or take, moved toward her. As the grayish light from the windows hit his face, she realized that everything about him screamed exhaustion. Mussed hair. Dark shadows under his eyes. Sagging shoulders. Clearly this baby had been on a crying jag of epic proportions. Lily knew how grueling that could be.

As he drew closer, she took a moment to surreptitiously study him, noting that the mussed hair was dark, thick and wavy. Touchable. The obvious shadows under his eyes did nothing to detract from the beauty of their clear, sky-blue color. And though his whole upper body hung heavy with obvious fatigue, he had the physique of an athlete. Or gym rat. Whatever. He was definitely the best-looking haggard guy she’d ever seen.

“May I help you?” he asked loudly. Tiredly. Judging by the way the baby was kicking its legs, it was one unhappy camper.

“Um...well, yes.” She adjusted the strap of the pleather briefcase she’d bought at a thrift store in Pacific Beach on her shoulder and tried to tune out the baby’s piercing cries. Or at the very least ignore them as best she could, despite her nurturing instincts hovering on high alert. “I’m looking for the manager.”

“That would be me. I’m Blake Stonely.” He yawned, putting his free hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” she said at full volume. “I’m Lily Rogers, and I wanted to apply for the job.”

“The job?” He jiggled the baby, then started awkwardly rocking from foot to foot. “Oh, man, did I leave the sign out?”

Disappointment dug in. No job? “Yes, it’s there.” She’d seen it as she’d dashed through the rain from her mom’s car to the front door.

“I’m so sorry, the job’s been filled, just an hour ago, actually.”

Lily clenched her jaw. She was a mere hour too late? Great. Just great.

Blake jostled the baby. “What with Peyton here crying up a storm, I forgot to remove the sign.”

As if in reaction to her—or his—name, Peyton’s staccato cries grew louder. Harsher. More frantic.

Lily’s heart just about shattered, which helped take her mind off, at least temporarily, the fact that her one and only job lead had dried up, just like that.

“This has been going on since 5:00 a.m.,” he muttered, his voice coated in bone-tired exhaustion. “And she only slept three hours last night.”

Ah. A little girl. “Oh, that’s rough.” Lily wanted to ask where Peyton’s mom was, but she held back. Clearly he was on his own with the baby, at least for the moment.

Without thinking much, she lifted up her arms. “Mind if I try?” Many years spent helping her mom with her four younger siblings—Laura in particular—might help Peyton to settle down. Besides, the crying was pitiful and really tugged on Lily’s heartstrings.

He raised his brows. “You want to try getting her to stop crying?”

“Yes, I would.” She waggled her hands. “Hand her over. Besides, you look like you need a break.” As in, he looked like death warmed over. Twice. Not that she’d say that. He clearly had his hands full.

“O-okay,” he said, holding the baby out, then turning her to face Lily. “But nothing works.” In seeming response, Peyton kicked her little legs and screamed louder.

Lily took Peyton from him, noting her red, scrunched-up, tear-stained face. “Hey, little girl.” Lily recalled what had worked with her middle sister, Lydia, and gently laid Peyton back in the crook of her elbow while her other arm slid under Peyton’s bottom. “What seems to be the problem?”

Peyton paused for a moment, staring up at Lily with clear blue eyes that looked a lot like her daddy’s. Blessed silence engulfed the room.

Lily was certain the quiet was just temporary.

Sure enough, after a few beats of silence, Peyton started up again, going stiff and screwing up her face and letting loose with a wail that pierced Lily’s ears.

Blake held out his hands, a look of pure defeat on his face. “See? I told you.”

“Give me a moment.” With well-practiced precision she began to smoothly swing Peyton from side to side, maintaining eye contact. Automatically, Lily began to sing a lullaby in a hushed voice as she walked away from the counter—swing, swing, swing—back and forth from side to side in wide arcs, smooth as silk.

Peyton still cried, squirming, her little body tense. But after Lily’s third circuit around the small space, weaving in and out of the tables, the baby’s cries grew less frantic. Lily kept moving—swing, swing, swing—and by the time she made her way back to Blake, who’d slumped exhaustedly into a chair by the counter, Peyton had quieted and was drifting off to sleep.

Blake gave Lily an incredulous look, then opened his mouth to talk.

Lily shook her head and kept singing.

Rising, he pointed to the door from which he’d emerged earlier. She nodded and followed him into a small room that was obviously his office-slash-makeshift nursery. The space had a large, neat desk and task chair facing out from one corner, one other beat-up plastic chair opposite the desk and a rickety-looking bookcase with a well-organized collection of books and folders in the other corner. The rest of the area was taken up by a playpen and numerous other items of baby paraphernalia, all neatly arranged in one corner. A literal stockpile of kid equipment.

He turned and indicated the playpen, which was lined in all kinds of fleecy blankets, showing Lily she should put Peyton down there. But Lily was no baby care rookie; it was always wise to hold on to a baby for a few minutes to be sure she was actually sound asleep. She held up a finger—Wait...

Blake gestured in acknowledgment and then went over and plopped into the desk chair, his shoulders sagging. He ran a hand over his head, and suddenly it was obvious why his hair was so messy. She was surprised he had any left. Clearly he’d had a rough go lately.

She kept swinging Peyton, back and forth in a comforting motion. Pretty soon every muscle in her little body went limp and Lily knew the baby slept soundly enough to be put down. Ever so carefully she bent over, holding her breath, and laid Peyton on her back amid the blankets, pulling one up to cover her, snug and warm. Lily waited, hoping Peyton had worn herself out and would sleep, as much for her own sake as Blake’s.

Peyton slept on, even as Lily rose and pointed to the door. She went out into the store and Blake followed her, closing the door quietly behind him.

“You’re amazing,” he said when they were away from the door. “She hasn’t gone down for a decent nap in days.”

His praise warmed her up inside. “I just have lots of experience with babies.”

His eyebrows rose. “You have kids?”

“Goodness, no.” Kids tied a person down, limited their options. “I’m the oldest of four younger siblings and I helped raise them.” As the oldest girl it had fallen upon Lily to supply child care so Mom could work cleaning houses and at the local grocery store to keep the household afloat.

“Ah, I see,” Blake said. “Well, I appreciate your help. I’ve been at my wit’s end trying to get her to sleep.”

Curiosity rose in Lily, and she wanted to ask about Peyton’s mom. She opened her mouth to voice her question, but she clamped it shut just as quickly. She didn’t want to pry or bring up a possibly sensitive subject. She barely knew this man.

“You’re probably wondering about Peyton and me.” He put a green apron on.

Lily canted her head slightly. “Kind of.” Dying to know, actually.

“Peyton is my niece.” He filled a sink behind the counter with water, his jaw visibly tight. “My sister was her mother.”

Was? Lily’s heart sank. This didn’t sound good. She said nothing and simply waited for him to go on.

“She...um...” He turned the water off and stood with his head down and his eyes closed, clearly composing himself.

Lily’s eyes burned.

Finally he went on. “She was killed by a drunk driver a month ago, and I have temporary custody of Peyton.”

“Oh, no.” She swiped at tears that had sprung up. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“What about Peyton’s father?” she asked, then realized she was being nosy.

“He and Anna weren’t married, but were planning a wedding next summer,” he replied in an even tone. “He was killed in the line of duty in Afghanistan while Anna was pregnant.”

A knot formed in Lily’s chest. “Oh, no. So she’s an orphan. Poor little thing. Thankfully she has you.”

“Anna and I were very close, and losing her...well, it’s been really rough.”

Empathy welled. “I’m sure it has.” Suddenly, his story tweaked a memory. “Did the accident happen out on Old Pass Road?”

He just nodded ever so slightly, seemingly incapable of speech.

“I used to work at The Clothes Horse, and Jean, the owner of the store, mentioned that accident.” Jean had suddenly decided to retire and close the store last week. Hence, Lily’s need for a job.

“Yeah, that was Anna,” he said, his voice husky. “Peyton was only three months old when her mom died.”

A horrific thought occurred to Lily. “Was the baby in the car?”

“Thankfully, no. Peyton was with me. Anna was on her way to a doctor’s appointment in Pacific Beach, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He let out a shaky sigh. “She was only supposed to be gone for an hour or two.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I know how rough it is to lose someone you love.”

He looked at her, his gaze questioning.

“My dad died of cancer when I was in high school, and though my grief has muted over time, I still miss him terribly.” Everything had changed that day. Lily’s life most of all. Mom had gone to work, and Lily had become her younger siblings’ primary caretaker. All of her dreams had been deferred then.

“So the grief gets better?” Blake asked, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Yes, it does.” It had taken a while to ease—a long while, actually—but Lily didn’t want to depress him even more.

“I hope so.” He turned the water back on and squirted some soap in the sink.

Lily looked around. “So, you’re running the business and taking care of Peyton full-time?”

“I usually have help with Peyton, but my babysitter called in sick yesterday. Hopefully she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Yes, I do.” He put some dishes in the sink and turned the water off. “I had no idea what goes into parenting.”

“It’s a full-time job.” One Lily didn’t want for a long while. She was determined not to follow in her mother’s footsteps. No kids, no man, nothing tying her down right now. Now that her sister Laura was close to graduating from high school, Lily finally had the opportunity to pursue her own dream of winning the TV show Project Fashion and becoming a fashion designer.

“And I already have one running this place, so I’ve been crazy busy.” Blake gestured around. “I haven’t even had time to do my morning routine.”

“But the job is taken?” she asked, going back to the reason she was here. She’d saved every penny she’d made working part-time at The Clothes Horse, except for what she’d given Mom for unexpected car repairs, but Lily was still several thousand dollars short if she were to save for the plane fare and rent in LA, where she planned on staying indefinitely. A temporary job until June was a must.

“Yes, I’m sorry, it is.” Blake headed out toward the tables. “A kid showed up midmorning and I hired him.” He gathered a few empty coffee cups. “He starts tomorrow.”

Disappointment clogged Lily’s throat. “The early bird gets the worm, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Blake frowned. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She should have come in yesterday when she’d first seen the sign. But Laura had needed a ride to basketball practice, and with Mom at work, Lily had had to take her. Seemed there was always something pulling at her these days.

He dried off his hands on a bar towel, then went to the register and grabbed a pen and a pad of paper. “Here, write your name down and if the kid doesn’t work out, I’ll call you.”

She did so, then handed him the paper. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate your help with Peyton.”

“No problem. She’s a darling little girl.”

His blue eyes went soft. “Yes, she is. Now, if I could just get her to be a quiet little girl, we’d be golden.”

“It’ll get better.” Lily held her arms as if she were holding a baby, then did the baby-soothing swing, swing, swing. “And remember the motion.”

He nodded. “Right. I’ll give your technique a try.”

“If you need any more help, you know how to reach me. Call me anytime.” Belatedly she realized that her comment could have been construed as an invitation to ask her out. “For baby advice,” she said in a remarkably even voice. Yeah, just that. She definitely wasn’t looking for any kind of romance. She remembered how broken Mom had been after Daddy died. Lily never wanted to be so vulnerable to emotional devastation by a man. And, anyway, she was determined to leave Moonlight Cove permanently and follow her own dreams in LA.

“I hope I can keep track of your number,” he said. “Sleep deprivation has made me spacey.”

“I know how that can be. My mom routinely lost track of what day it was when she was up all night with babies. My twin brothers just about drove her around the bend.” Liam and Larry were still wild, though they were both now in college. Funny how they’d escaped to follow their dreams and Lily hadn’t. The benefit of being male and not firstborn in her family.

A look of horror materialized on Blake’s face. “I can’t imagine having two at once.”

“Well, by that time I was old enough to help out quite a bit, which made things a bit easier.” For Mom. Not so much for Lily.

“How old were you when they were born?”

“Nine. And then she had two more after them.”

He paused, clearly doing the math in his head. “So...that’s five kids?”

“Yep. My youngest sister, Laura, is a senior in high school.”

“Wow. Five.” He shook his head. “I can barely handle one.”

“Well, the twins are now in college, so we lived.”

The buzzer sounded, signaling the arrival of a customer. Lily turned and saw Mrs. De Marco, one of her mom’s cleaning clients, enter the store. Mrs. De Marco was clad in a sturdy-looking raincoat, and had a plastic rain hat covering her silver-gray hair. She carried several shopping bags in her gnarled hands.

Lily rushed forward. “Here, Mrs. De Marco, let me help you with those.”

“Oh, bless you, Lily.” She handed one of the bags over. “I thought I could handle them, but as usual, I’ve overestimated my ability to actually be able to get my treasures to my car.”

Lily put one bag on a nearby table, then took the other one from Mrs. De Marco. “No problem. I’m strong.”

“You take after your mother, then,” Mrs. De Marco said, removing her rain hat. “She’s a hard worker and does a wonderful job cleaning my house. Even the hard jobs like scrubbing floors.”

Lily put the other bag down, wondering what Mrs. De Marco had purchased. Bricks, maybe? “Yes, she definitely works hard.” A widow with five kids had little choice.

Mrs. De Marco toddled to the counter. “Well, hello, young man.”

Blake inclined his head. “Good afternoon, Mrs. De Marco. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“Double low-fat latte, heavy on the whipped cream and caramel, coming right up.” Blake went to work behind the counter.

Lily stepped back to stand beside Mrs. De Marco. “Why don’t I help you get your bags to your car?”

“Oh, dear, would you?”

“Of course.”

“That would be wonderful. With this rain, my packages would be soaked by the time I managed to get them in the trunk.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Blake asked Lily.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Lily replied. Actually, a warm drink sounded good, but coffee drinks weren’t in her budget.

“Oh, pshaw,” Mrs. De Marco said, waving a hand. “It’s cold and rainy out. You need something to warm you up.”

Lily shook her head. “No, it’s fine, really.”

“Well, I’m getting you a drink, on me.”

“I don’t know...” Lily said. Her mother had instilled in her a strong desire to provide for herself.

“I insist, my dear.” Mrs. De Marco looked at Blake. “She’ll have what I’m having, to go, of course.”

Lily gave up the fight. Clearly Mrs. De Marco had it in her head to treat Lily to coffee. And, actually, a steamy, rich coffee concoction sounded lovely; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a store-bought drink, much less one with whipped cream on top. How decadent!

Mrs. De Marco paid, and then she and Lily sat at a nearby table. While they waited for their drinks, Lily did her best not to stare at Blake as he worked with quiet efficiency behind the counter making the coffees.

The more she saw him in action, though, the more she decided he was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. Something about the combination of his dark hair and blue eyes, maybe? Or perhaps it was his broad shoulders and lean waist? Or maybe his sculpted cheeks and firm jawline, which, she’d noticed, was whisker-shadowed in the most appealing way? Add to that the fact that he’d taken in his orphaned niece and was willingly raising her, and yes, he was definitely attractive.

“Lily, dear, our drinks are ready,” Mrs. De Marco said as she stood. “This weather has made my hip cranky, and now that I’ve sat down, I’d just as soon wait by the door. Would you mind getting them?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Lily said, thankful Mrs. De Marco had pulled Lily’s thoughts away from the owner of the store. She went over to the front counter to pick up their drinks, very studiously keeping her gaze off Blake. Nothing but trouble there. She needed to get out of there.

Just as her hands touched the drinks and she was about to make her getaway, he caught her eye with a wave and lift of his chin.

She stopped, her hands falling to her sides, her heart giving a little hiccup.

He came over, a towel slung across one broad shoulder. “Thank you so much for your help with Peyton today,” he said, a light smile gracing his face, magically transforming him from haggardly handsome to flat-out drop-dead gorgeous.

Wow. As if he needed to get any better looking.

He went on. “Even a little break was great, and I’ll definitely be using your swing technique.”

She swallowed and tried not to gawk. “You’re welcome,” she managed, somehow sounding completely unaffected by him. When had she become such a good fake-out artist?

Blake flipped the towel down and began wiping the counter in front of her, bending just a tad closer. “Again, if the kid I hired doesn’t work out, I’ll call.”

She picked up the drinks, glad they had lids. “Okay, sounds great.” She lifted one drink-laden hand. “Bye.”

With that she turned and headed to the front door, where Mrs. De Marco waited, sure she would never hear from Blake Stonely ever again.

And given her unwanted reaction to him, that was probably for the best.

* * *

Blake covertly watched Lily and Mrs. De Marco as they walked away. After a brief discussion, Lily grabbed her umbrella from the holder by the door with her free hand and then followed Mrs. De Marco out. Before the door could even close, Lily had the umbrella up and over the elderly woman to keep her from getting wet.

Blake watched them walk left, presumably toward Mrs. De Marco’s car. He couldn’t help but be impressed by Lily Rogers. She’d jumped in to help him out, and had also been quick in assisting Mrs. De Marco. He liked her. From afar, of course. And there was no harm in that.

Once the ladies were out of view, he turned and began putting clean coffee mugs in their place. But his thoughts remained on Lily. She’d looked younger than his own age of thirty-one, but she had to be close to that age to have brothers in college who were nine years younger than she. He’d noticed that she was tall and slender with long chestnut-hued hair and a pale, smooth complexion devoid of much makeup. Very pretty, in a natural, girl-next-door kind of way.

What a refreshing change after Amy, who’d spent a good hour in the morning getting ready for work and was always shopping for the latest makeup products and clothes in Manhattan, where they’d both lived and worked. He’d guess she spent a good portion of her lawyer’s paycheck on makeup, her expensive car and clothes every month.

Just the thought of his former fiancée had Blake’s hackles rising. He let out a breath, searching for calm. Had he really lived that high-flying lifestyle once? It seemed five lifetimes ago, though in reality he’d left New York just under a year and a half ago.

Left New York. The burn of failure spread through him, hollowing out his gut as it always did. He couldn’t bomb out again.

He looked around The Cabana and his resolve wavered. Though he’d had a spurt of customers this morning, overall business wasn’t good and the shop was hovering on the edge of red. And now with Peyton to take care of, he was wondering how he was going to make it all work.

How was he going to keep the wolf away this time?

Just the thought of failing again filled him with dread, and made him wonder if he’d done the right thing by following Anna to Moonlight Cove when his job had gone bust in New York. It had seemed like the perfect plan to Blake: move to Moonlight Cove, live in the same town with Jim and Fran, and Anna, too, who had moved to Moonlight Cove three years earlier to be close to Jim and Fran, as well. His family. Small but perfect.

But now Anna was gone.

A wave of grief washed over him and he felt his eyes burn.

His downward spiral of emotions was interrupted when the buzzer over the door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. Blake looked up.

A group of five ladies he didn’t recognize—tourists, he figured—came in and ordered, keeping his hands busy for the next little while, and his mind focused on the here and now.

Just as they all sat at a table by the window, drinks in hand, two more customers came in. He recognized Jeb Campbell, who ran the local hardware store, and Myra Fleming, the local librarian. He got them their drinks, and very quickly the bell over the door was going off again. Maybe all this business was a sign of busy times to come.

Blake looked up from making a fresh pot of brew and saw Jim Wilson, his foster father, come in, his trademark baseball cap in his hands—he’d always been a stickler for manners. Jim’s gray hair was, as usual, cut military short and neat. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a green windbreaker, and had a large square bandage on his right cheek. Jim was in treatment for a relapse of skin cancer and had just had a biopsy yesterday. Just the thought of losing someone else filled Blake with heartrending grief.

“Hey. What are you doing up and about?” Blake said as Jim headed to the counter. “I know for a fact you’re supposed to be resting.”

“Aw, don’t you start,” Jim said, waving a hand. “Fran’s been all over me to take it easy, and she knows I hate just lyin’ around.” Fran was Jim’s wife of forty years and one of the most wonderful, kindhearted women Blake knew. He’d been blessed with fantastic foster parents. Having no kids of their own, Fran and Jim, Blake’s freshman math teacher, had taken Blake and Anna in out of the goodness of their very big hearts when Blake and Anna’s mom had died of a drug overdose during Blake’s freshman year. Blake and Anna’s dad had walked out when Anna was just a few months old.

“That’s because she cares about you, and because you’re a stubborn old goat when it comes to taking care of yourself.”

“I know. I just needed some fresh air, so I thought I’d come down here and get me a cup of your strongest brew.”

“Coming right up.” Blake turned and went to the special pot of straight black coffee he kept just for all of the older customers who weren’t interested in frothy drinks and just wanted a good old-fashioned cup of hot joe. He poured, expecting to see sludge ooze out at any moment. To each his own.

He set the cup of goo in front of Jim.

As usual, Jim went for his wallet.

“It’s on the house,” Blake said per tradition, waiting for the dialogue that always followed.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Blake said, taking comfort in the reliability of their discussion.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Okay, then.” Jim picked up the cup and drank. He sighed heavily. “Oh, yeah, just what I needed on such a wet, cold day, especially since Fran only serves decaf.”