Let New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods sweep you away with this acclaimed tale about uncovering long-hidden secrets.

Drawn to an old trunk in the attic, Lara Calhoun is unable to resist finding out what treasure her late, beloved mother had kept hidden away for all these years. Her unexpected discovery soon turns her world upside down and makes her second-guess everything she’s ever believed about her mother and about love. Will it lead her straight into Dave Lafferty’s arms—or make her turn away from the love of a lifetime?

Sherryl Woods Booklist

The Sweet Magnolias

Stealing Home

A Slice of Heaven

Feels Like Family

Welcome to Serenity

Home in Carolina

Sweet Tea at Sunrise

Honeysuckle Summer

Midnight Promises

Catching Fireflies

Where Azaleas Bloom

Swan Point

Chesapeake Shores

The Inn at Eagle Point

Flowers on Main

Harbor Lights

A Chesapeake Shores Christmas

Driftwood Cottage

Moonlight Cove

Beach Lane

An O’Brien Family Christmas

The Summer Garden

A Seaside Christmas

The Christmas Bouquet

Dogwood Hill

Willow Brook Road

The Devaney Brothers

The Devaney Brothers: Ryan & Sean

The Devaney Brothers: Michael & Patrick

The Devaney Brothers: Daniel

The Calamity Janes

The Calamity Janes: Cassie & Karen

The Calamity Janes: Gina & Emma

The Calamity Janes: Lauren

The Adams Dynasty

A Christmas Blessing

Natural Born Daddy

The Cowboy and His Baby

The Rancher and His Unexpected Daughter

The Littlest Angel

Natural Born Trouble

Unexpected Mommy

The Cowgirl and the Unexpected Wedding

Natural Born Lawman

The Unclaimed Baby

The Cowboy and His Wayward Bride

Suddenly, Annie’s Father

The Cowboy and the New Year’s Baby

Dylan and the Baby Doctor

The Pint-Sized Secret

Marrying a Delacourt

The Delacourt Scandal

The Valentine Wedding Dress

Sherryl Woods

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

CHAPTER ONE

It had been her mother’s annual Valentine’s Day ritual. Now it was a tradition Lara intended to continue.

She climbed the stairs of the old Victorian house that had been her home for all of her 22 years, opened the door to the attic, and stepped inside for perhaps the first time since she’d stopped playing dress-up there as a child. The old clothes and her mother’s childhood toys had been the attraction then. Now it was the locked trunk that drew her across the chilly space.

Dust motes swirled in the beams of sunshine coming through the single round window. Using the rag she’d brought with her, Lara carefully wiped off the lid of the trunk, took the old brass key from her pocket, inserted it into the lock, then hesitated.

Whatever was inside had been her mother’s private treasure, something that made Susan Calhoun nostalgic and teary every single February 14, as far back as Lara could remember. And yet she had continued the ritual, though it was obvious that it made her unhappy. It had been almost a year since her death and Lara was determined to carry on the tradition, even though not once in all those years had her mother told Lara or anyone else what was inside the trunk.

After the funeral Lara had asked her father about the mysterious contents. He had shrugged off the question, insisting that everyone was entitled to their whims…their secrets. Her 24-year-old twin sisters, less curious and more self-absorbed than Lara, hadn’t even recalled the tradition. With their big-city careers, fancy homes, and doting husbands, they rarely came home to the small Virginia coastal town where they’d grown up, much less worried about one of their mother’s many idiosyncrasies. That had been left to Lara, who identified with her mother in so many ways.

Lara sat down, letting the rays of sunshine warm her, and considered whether she was doing the right thing. Was she invading her mother’s privacy? Or was this something her mother would want her to do, now that she was no longer here to carry on the tradition herself?

“Mom, what should I do?” Lara whispered. “I want to understand why this trunk was so important to you. I need a sign. I really, really need a sign.”

Just at that instant, her mother’s beloved gray-and-white cat jumped onto the trunk and began purring. Maybe it was a sign, maybe it wasn’t, but it was good enough for Lara. She reached for the key and turned it. As she lifted the lid, Prissy leapt down without protest and curled against her side, still purring as if she wholeheartedly approved of Lara’s decision.

At first glance, the trunk appeared to be filled with little more than tissue paper, not yellowed with age as she might have expected, but as crisp and white as if it were brand-new…as if it had been replaced frequently with loving care. Lara lifted the top layer and then the next, then gasped as she found the treasure beneath…a wedding dress.

Like the paper, the white satin bore few of the marks of time. The tiny seed pearls adorning the neckline were as neatly in place as if they’d been sewn on the day before.

With an odd sense of reverence, Lara lifted the dress from the trunk and held it up. It was a size eight, her mother’s size and her own. Her breath caught in her throat, Lara moved to an old mirror and stared, trying to imagine what her mother must have looked like in this elegant, simple gown. It had been years since she’d looked at the wedding album downstairs or even noticed the enlarged wedding snapshot on the dresser in her parents’ bedroom. But gazing into the mirror she had some idea.

Not only were they the same size, but they had the same fair coloring, the same dusting of freckles across their noses if they spent too long in the summer sun, the same periwinkle blue eyes.

Tears welled up as she stared at her reflection and imagined her mother looking just like this—okay, with her blond hair tidy, not mussed from the wintry breeze outside, and without the streak of dust on her cheek—on her wedding day.

For a moment she hesitated, tempted to try the dress on to get the full effect.

“Why not?” she murmured. Who would ever know?

Quickly she stripped out of her clothes, shivering a bit in the attic’s chilly air. Slowly, carefully, she lifted the folds of fabric over her head, then let the dress slip into place. Her fingers trembled as she drew the zipper up in back. Only then did she step in front of the mirror.

As she’d known it would be, the dress was a perfect fit. Gazing at her image, she felt a lump form in her throat. She looked…radiant, as if she truly were a blushing bride.

Even though there hadn’t been a man in her life for months now, even though she had so many things she wanted to do before she settled down, Lara felt the most amazing sense that someone special was just around the corner, that it wouldn’t be long before she could wear this very dress at her own wedding. Though her family scoffed, Lara was a very big believer in destiny, and something told her that hers was about to take the most astonishing twist.

* * *

David Lafferty normally didn’t take on quick little fix-it jobs like the one he’d agreed to do today. In fact, since he’d reluctantly left his dream job with a major developer in Atlanta and come home to help out in the aftermath of his father’s heart attack, Lafferty Construction had been going after major contracts with some of the area’s biggest developers. He was happiest when there were major challenges on his plate.

His father had reluctantly agreed to the business expansion, but David knew he would have been happier if the company had been some small, father-son enterprise. Usually he let David decide what jobs to take these days.

But today, for some reason, his father had been insistent that David be the one to waste an afternoon driving to the next county to repair some wobbly steps. He’d gotten the distinct impression that his father just wanted him out from underfoot. Or maybe he was just tired of hearing David go on and on about Chelsea’s desire to get married.

Tonight was supposed to be the big night. She was expecting an engagement ring for Valentine’s Day, but David just couldn’t work up any enthusiasm. Chelsea was a wonderful woman, but he wasn’t ready to have a wife or to start a family, especially when he wasn’t at all certain that he wanted to stay in Virginia.

Not only that, with Chelsea, there was no spark, no magic. David wanted magic and at 25, he wasn’t quite ready to settle for anything less.

He rang the bell at 337 River Glen still debating whether Chelsea was going to get that ring or not. When no one answered, he rang it again, impatient to get the job done and be on his way to the meeting he had scheduled to discuss a huge office building complex that would put Lafferty Construction in the big leagues.

Suddenly he heard what sounded like a startled scream. Testing the handle of the door, he swung it open and stepped inside just as a woman dressed in a wedding gown tumbled down the stairs and straight into his arms.

He found himself gazing into vivid blue eyes and suddenly, without warning, he knew without a doubt that this was the magic he’d been waiting for. And it had literally fallen into his life when he wasn’t the least bit ready for it.

CHAPTER TWO

“Are you okay?” David couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the woman in his arms. Aside from a streak of dirt on her cheek, she looked none the worse for her tumble down the stairs. In fact, she looked amazing…as radiant as a bride.

Suddenly it dawned on him that a woman wearing a wedding dress was probably engaged to another man. The thought brought on a powerful surge of pure jealousy, an emotion with which he wasn’t at all familiar. He had no idea how to deal with it except to ignore it. He was good at ignoring inconvenient emotions.

“I thought the bride was supposed to toss the bouquet, not herself, down the stairs,” he said, proud of his casual tone.

“Bride?” She stared at him blankly, then glanced down at her dress as if just realizing what she was wearing. “Oh, my. That’s why I tripped. I was in the attic when the doorbell rang. I was rushing and I forgot all about the dress. I must have caught my foot in the hem.”

She tugged frantically at the skirt, revealing a shapely calf and probably considerably more thigh than she realized. Dave couldn’t seem to prevent an appreciative survey.

“I hope I didn’t tear it,” she said, studying the yards of fabric.

“So, when’s the big day?” he asked, his voice annoyingly tight.

She regarded him with surprise, then chuckled. “Oh, I’m not getting married.”

Determined though he was to pretend it didn’t matter, he couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that washed through him. “You’re dressed awfully formally for cleaning.” He brushed at the streak of dirt on her cheek.

“Long story,” she said, her gaze locked with his, her voice a little breathless. “By the way, you can put me down now. I’m fine.”

Reluctantly, he set her on her feet, though he couldn’t quite make himself release his grip on her arms. It was hard to tell where satin left off and bare skin began. The fabric was cooler, he decided when he finally pulled away.

She stared at him, looking as shaken as he felt. “Who are you?” she asked at last.

“Dave Lafferty. I’m here to fix some stairs. Obviously, I was a bit too late.”

“Actually it’s the steps to the attic that need fixing, not these. This little tumble of mine was my own doing. I’m always rushing without thinking. Come on. I’ll show you. I’m Lara, by the way. Lara Calhoun.”

Dave couldn’t seem to shake the odd out-of-body sensation he had as he followed her to the foot of the attic steps, which were, indeed, dangerously wobbly. There was something about this Lara that seemed strangely familiar, as if he’d known her all his life, yet he knew they’d never met.

Surely he would have remembered a woman with this fragile, heart-shaped face, with hair the color of corn silk and a mouth so tempting it was taking every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep from kissing her and, no doubt, scaring her to death. Better to concentrate on the steps.

“How long have they been like this?” he asked.

When his question drew nothing more than a vague hmm? he glanced up and saw that her gaze was locked on him. “Lara?”

An embarrassed blush crept into her cheeks. “Sorry. I was distracted.”

He knew the feeling. He also could think of only one way to get beyond it—fill the time with innocuous chitchat. He was a master of it.

Instead, what came out of his mouth was an invitation. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, regretting the impulsive words the instant they were spoken.

“Tonight?”

He’d done it now. He could hardly back out, now that he’d uttered the invitation. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Would you like to go out for dinner?”

His gaze locked with hers and he felt that odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Or do you already have plans?” It was part question, part plea. If she had plans, he’d be safe. He could go out with Chelsea, who was clearly no risk at all compared to this woman.

Lara regarded him with surprise. “You want to go out with me on Valentine’s Day? Surely there’s some other woman you’d rather be spending tonight with. Someone you know better.”

An image of Chelsea came and went. He would have to call her—no, stop by in person—and break things off. How could he possibly go out with Chelsea when the woman of his dreams was right here in front of him, lousy timing or not?

And, he thought, allowing himself to enjoy the irony, she was already dressed for the wedding.

* * *

Lara fingered the soft, cool satin of the wedding gown and considered Dave’s invitation. She didn’t date strangers. She made it a rule never to go out with anyone to whom she hadn’t been properly introduced by mutual friends or family. It was an old-fashioned standard, but in this day and age a woman couldn’t be too careful. Her only exceptions were for men she’d met and spent a lot of time with through her job working for a restoration architect.

Funny thing about Dave Lafferty, though, it didn’t feel as if he were a stranger. From the moment she’d landed in his muscular arms and gazed into his eyes, he’d felt familiar, as if their souls were somehow connected. And it was Valentine’s Day. Everyone should have a date with someone special on this most romantic night of the year.

She looked into his green eyes warmed by flecks of brown and felt her heart flip over. She’d never bought into the possibility of love at first sight, but she had a feeling this man could make a believer out of her.

Still, she hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Would it help if I told you that my father knows your father?”

She brightened at that, eager for any excuse to do what her heart was yearning to do. “Really?”

He grinned. “Well enough to call and ask me to come over and do this repair job, anyway.”

“How do I know he didn’t just get the number out of the Yellow Pages?”

“Call him. Ask.”

Lara considered doing just that, then dismissed the idea. What if it turned out that her father knew nothing at all about Dave Lafferty or his father? Then she’d be forced to say no to the invitation.

“I’ll go,” she said in a rush.

Dave gave her a crooked smile. “Great. Just one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Could you lose the dress?”

She glanced down and smiled. “Under any other circumstances, I’d probably be offended by that suggestion, but I suppose you’re right. We don’t want people to assume this is our wedding night.”

He tensed visibly at the suggestion. “No,” he said in a tight voice. “We most definitely do not want that.”

He sounded as if the very idea panicked him. Too bad, Lara thought, because the idea was suddenly beginning to appeal to her….

CHAPTER THREE

After Dave had fixed the stairs and left with a promise to be back by seven, Lara floated back up to the attic. She literally felt as if she were walking on air. How was it possible for a humdrum day to be transformed so quickly into something absolutely magical?

Of course, she had another transformation to make before seven. She was not going out tonight looking like Cinderella’s poorest, ugliest stepsister.

Quickly she stripped off the wedding gown. She carefully covered it with tissue and folded it. She was about to place it back in the trunk, when she spotted the envelope, yellowed with age, the writing on the front, bold and masculine, the postmark from a town less than 50 miles away. Unable to stop herself, she picked it up and slid out the card, an elaborate valentine meant for a sweetheart.

It had been opened and read so many times over the years that it was coming apart. There were blotches, too, suggesting that it had been soaked with tears, probably more than once.

Hands shaking, Lara opened it, feeling an odd sense of trepidation.

In addition to the printed verse, there was a note in that same bold handwriting: “My darling Susan, on this day of all days, thoughts of you fill my heart, replacing for a few brief hours the regrets that haunt me always. You know why I did what I did. And because of the kind of woman you are, I know that you understand and maybe, after all this time, have even forgiven me. If only things could have been different. With all my love, Peter.”

Peter? Lara stared again at the signature to make sure she’d gotten it right. Who was Peter? Her father’s name was Mitch. Mitch Calhoun. Lara had never heard of anyone named Peter. Certainly her mother had never mentioned the name. Why would a card with such an obviously intimate message be tucked away with her mother’s wedding dress?

Suddenly Lara thought she knew. Dropping the card on top of the folds of satin, she ran downstairs, relieved that she had the house to herself, that her father wouldn’t be home for hours, not until long after she’d left for her date.

She paused at the door to her parents’ bedroom, took a deep breath, then stepped inside and walked over to the dresser. Swallowing hard, heart thundering in her chest, she reached for the informal wedding picture that had sat in the same spot as far back as she could remember. In it, her mother was smiling brilliantly, but it was a spring day, not winter, not February 14. There were buds on the trees and daffodils blooming beside the church steps.

And the dress? Lara’s gaze swept over it in a single glance. Soft and feminine, it was trimmed in lace, not pearls. It was made of organza, not satin. Which meant that the dress in the attic was from another wedding.

She thought of the valentine. Or, she concluded, from a wedding that had never taken place at all.

* * *

“Going out with Chelsea tonight?” Peter Lafferty asked as Dave stood in front of the hall mirror and straightened his tie.

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not.”

“Really? I thought that was getting serious.”

Dave sighed. “She thought so, too. I told her a little while ago that I couldn’t be with her anymore, that we didn’t have a future.” It had been the most difficult conversation he’d ever had, but he knew in his heart it had been the only fair thing to do.

“Can’t say I’m sorry,” his father said. “I never did think she was right for you.”

Dave stared at him in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because nobody knows better than I do that you can’t let other people pick the person you’re going to love.”

Dave was startled by the admission. He walked into the living room and sat opposite his father. “Dad, were you and Mom happy?”

CHAPTER FOUR

From the moment Lara answered the door, Dave knew that something had happened since he’d left that afternoon. It wasn’t that she didn’t look fabulous. She did. Her hair had been brushed until it gleamed. Her makeup was perfect. She was wearing a red wool dress that skimmed over her curves in the most enticing way. She’d chosen sleek red heels that added two inches to her height, yet brought her only to his chin.

“You look beautiful,” he said with total sincerity. He touched a finger to her cheek. “Or you would if it weren’t for the sorrow in your eyes. What’s wrong? Would you rather not do this?”

“No, I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

“About as much as you would to having your tooth pulled,” he said. “Come on, Lara, what is it?”

She hesitated, then drew him inside. The living room was smaller than his own, but cozy. He could tell at once that this was a real home, furnished with love. Photos lined the mantel of the fireplace. A gleaming piano stood against one wall with sheet music piled atop it.

“Something did happen,” she confessed, looking shaken. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Tell me.”

“You know that dress I was wearing?”

He grinned at that. “How could I forget?”

“It was my mother’s. It’s been in the attic for years, in this trunk.”

So far, he didn’t see the problem. “Okay?”

“But it wasn’t the one she was wearing in her wedding pictures.”

Dave felt an odd tingling in his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe it wasn’t hers.”

“Then why was it in our attic?” she asked reasonably.

“Could it have been your grandmother’s?”

“No way. The design was too contemporary. Besides, I’m almost certain it had never been worn.”

“How can you be certain of that?”

“There wasn’t a spot on it, not so much as a hint of any kind of stain.”

“It could have been cleaned. Besides, what’s the big deal? It’s just a dress.”

“Not any dress,” she argued. “A wedding dress.” She drew in a deep breath and leveled a look straight at him. “Besides, there was a valentine in the trunk.” She shook her head. “I must sound like an idiot. I’m probably making way too much of this, but there’s no one I can ask. I certainly can’t go to my father and say, oh, by the way, was Mom supposed to marry someone else.”

Dave’s heart took on an erratic rhythm. “A valentine?” he repeated in a choked voice. “What did it say?”

“The usual hearts and flowers stuff, but there was a note apologizing. Though it wasn’t spelled out, it sounded like he had broken their engagement.”

Dave had never fainted in his entire life, but he felt right now as if he could. As if he wanted to. Surely this was simply a crazy coincidence—his father telling him about an old romance, now Lara telling him about a valentine expressing regret over a canceled wedding.

“Was the card signed?”

Lara nodded. “Peter,” she said softly. “My father’s name is Mitch.”

“Oh, God,” Dave whispered, getting to his feet unsteadily.

Lara stared at him with obvious alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go. There’s someone I need to see.”

“About this?”

“I don’t know. Not really.” He leaned down and gave her a distracted kiss. “I’ll call you. I promise, Lara. I will call you and explain everything, if there is anything to explain.”

If he lived to be 100, Dave was fairly certain he would never forget the confusion and heartache on Lara’s face as she watched him walk out the door.

* * *

Lara absentmindedly smoothed down the skirt of her pretty red dress. Clearly Dave knew something about the valentine in the attic, but how? He’d looked so distraught, so shaken. But until he came back or phoned, there would be no answers.

Unless…Could there be something more in the trunk? she wondered. And if there was, did she really want to know? This had been her mother’s secret, one she’d carried to her grave. And yet Lara was compelled to find out the rest.

She kicked off her bright red shoes and ran upstairs, turning on the low overhead light that gave the attic an illusion of cheeriness, despite all the shadows in the corners. She’d left the key in the trunk earlier and now she turned it, then lifted the lid for the second time that day.

Carefully she removed the dress, then the card. There was more tissue paper below. Lara hesitated, then lifted that out as well, revealing a square, flat box from a department store that had closed years ago. Hands shaking, she picked up the box and set it in her lap. There were answers inside. She knew it. She could feel it.

She fumbled as she removed the lid. There were more valentines inside, two dozen at least, all yellowed with age, all bearing the same signature she’d seen earlier, all expressing the same deep regret.

She was openly weeping as she reached for the last one, the biggest of them all. She wondered if they’d been in chronological order, if this lavish one had been the first one sent, all those years ago.

As she picked it up, something slid out. Even as she reached for it, she realized it was a snapshot, an old one.

Heart pounding, she retrieved it from the floor. Could this be the man her mother had loved and lost?

Lara had to take a deep breath before she felt brave enough to turn it over. When she finally did, her breath came out in a gasp.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dave stood in the hallway for what felt like an eternity. How could he face his father and ask if Lara Calhoun was the daughter of the woman he had once loved? Still, he had to know. There was a connection between him and Lara. He’d felt it from the beginning. This could explain it. Perhaps they were destined to find the happiness that had eluded their parents.

He forced himself to walk into the living room, where his father was watching a basketball game. “Dad?”

His father blinked, then regarded him with surprise. “Back already? Didn’t your date go well?”

Was there disappointment in his voice? Dave wondered. “Actually we postponed it,” he told his father. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know Lara Calhoun?”

“No.”

Dave looked him straight in the eye. His father had never lied to him, not once. “Did you know her mother?”

His father looked away, then sighed heavily. “Yes. Susan Calhoun was the woman I was engaged to marry. She was Susan Davis then.”

“Why would Mitch Calhoun call you to do a repair job over there? Or didn’t he know about your past with his wife?”

For the first time ever, his father looked guilty. “He didn’t call. I sent you over there on my own. I wanted you to meet Susan’s daughter. Call it a whim, but I knew it was the right thing to do.”

Dave regarded his father with bemusement. “But the steps were wobbly.”

“It was an old house. I figured the odds were in my favor.”

“Oh, Dad,” he said, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“She looks just like her mother,” Peter said, his expression nostalgic. “I’ve seen her over the years, never up close, always by chance. Of the three girls, Lara was most like Susan.”

“She’s beautiful,” Dave said.

“And you were drawn to her, isn’t that right? Don’t walk away from this because of my part in arranging the meeting.”

Dave reached for his father’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m not going to walk away,” he said quietly, then admitted to his father…and himself, “I don’t think I could.”

* * *

Lara was still sitting in the attic, that snapshot clutched in her hand, when the doorbell rang. It was Dave. She knew it was. How could she face him, knowing what she knew, that her mother and his father had once been engaged, that his father had broken her mother’s heart? The picture had been undeniable proof. The man in it had looked exactly like Dave, same square jaw, same eyes, same tousled, sun-streaked hair from working outdoors.

In the snapshot he had been holding a baby. She had known instinctively that the baby was Dave, the man who had suddenly appeared in her life just that afternoon. The man who was already close to stealing her heart.

She took her time going downstairs this time, debating her options, weighing what was right…for her mother, for herself.

When she opened the door, Dave took one look at her face and said, “You know, don’t you?”

She nodded and held out the picture. Her hand trembled. “I found this in the trunk along with more valentines. He’s your father, isn’t he?”

Dave nodded, looking as stricken as she felt, yet calmer somehow, as if he’d come to some sort of a decision, as if he’d made peace with it.

“Yes,” he said. “If you’ll invite me in, I’ll explain. I’ll tell you everything I found out tonight.”

Lara shook her head. “Not here.” Not in her father’s home.

“I invited you out to dinner. It’s not too late to go.”

She looked into his eyes, saw what her mother must have seen in Peter Lafferty’s eyes so long ago—a hint of vulnerability, an irresistible sexy charm. And that stunning sense of connectedness.

She nodded at last. “Let me get my purse.”

He grinned. “And your shoes,” he suggested with a pointed glance at her stocking feet. “Unless you want me to sweep you into my arms and carry you like Cinderella after the ball.”

She laughed despite herself. “A lot’s happened today that doesn’t make much sense. I think I better keep my feet planted firmly on the ground.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

It was past 10:00 by the time they ate, past midnight by the time they had pieced together as much of the story as each of them knew.

“I wasn’t ready for what happened today, not any of it, but I know I want to see you again,” Dave said as he walked her to her front door. “If I learned nothing else from what happened to my father and your mother, I learned that it’s important to seize something that feels right.”

Though she agreed with the lesson, Lara was hesitant. So much about today had been disconcerting, downright upsetting, in fact.

But then there had been the undeniable magic, that irrefutable sense of destiny. She might be young, but she was wise enough to understand that magic didn’t come along all that often.

“We can’t do this if it’s only about the past,” she said at last. “We can’t make up for what went wrong between our parents.”

Dave cupped her cheek in his hand, brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip as his gaze locked with hers. Lara felt a rush of heat more than equal to the night’s frosty air. When he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, she trembled with the wonder of the kiss. That sense of magic that had been with her all day deepened.

“That’s the here and now,” he said softly but emphatically when he released her. “No, it’s more than that. It’s the promise of the future. How can either of us risk losing it by walking away?”

“I don’t want to,” she admitted.

“Then don’t. This is about you and me. I don’t know where this is going, but it feels right to me. As inexplicable as it is, it’s felt right ever since I caught you at the foot of the stairs wearing that wedding dress that your mother intended to wear when she married my father.”

It had felt right to Lara, too. Still, she hesitated, then glanced at the brilliant night sky with its scattering of stars. A year ago, when her mother had died, Lara had stood in this very spot, broken-hearted, staring at the sky. She had chosen a star just beyond the Big Dipper and convinced herself it was her mother, watching over her. She glanced that way now, found her star, saw it wink against the black velvet of the night, and she had her answer.

She met Dave’s gaze, then reached for him. “I know it’s past midnight, but happy Valentine’s Day,” she whispered just before she kissed him.

“I’m going to see you in that dress again one day,” he said.

Lara lifted her eyes to the sky once again, then smiled. “I know.”

* * * * *

“Sherryl Woods writes emotionally satisfying novels about family, friendship and home. Truly feel-great reads!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

Love can be found in the most unexpected of places...

And sometimes, it takes a family’s help to find it.

Join #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods and the Carlton family

in the Perfect Destinies saga, where true love, a little matchmaking, second chances and a sassy tale of revenge (with an unexpected twist) await:

Isn’t It Rich? (March 2016)

Priceless (April 2016)

Treasured (May 2016)

Destiny Unleashed (June 2016)

Looking for more great reads from Sherryl Woods?

Catch up with the O’Brien family in Chesapeake Shores, where stories of friendship, family and love are only just around the corner—you may never want to leave. Collect the complete series!

The Inn at Eagle Point

Flowers on Main

Harbor Lights

A Chesapeake Shores Christmas

Driftwood Cottage

Moonlight Cove

Beach Lane

An O’Brien Family Christmas

The Summer Garden

A Seaside Christmas

The Christmas Bouquet

Dogwood Hill

Willow Brook Road

“Woods's amazing grasp of human nature and the emotions that lie deep within us make this story universal.”

—RT Book Reviews on Driftwood Cottage

Take a trip to Serenity, South Carolina, where the Sweet Magnolias are always in season and sweet romance is only ever a stone’s throw away:

Stealing Home

A Slice of Heaven

Feels Like Family

Welcome to Serenity

Home in Carolina

Sweet Tea at Sunrise

Honeysuckle Summer

Midnight Promises

Catching Fireflies

Where Azaleas Bloom

Swan Point

“Woods employs her signature elements—the Southern small-town atmosphere,

the supportive network of friends and family, and the

heartwarming romance—to great effect.”

—Booklist

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Read on for a special first look at Sherry's latest Chesapeake Shores novel, Willow Brook Road, now available from MIRA Books.

CHAPTER ONE

The original Mick O’Brien–designed cottage on Willow Brook Road had been built with weathered gray shingles, white trim and a tiny back porch barely big enough for two rockers side by side. They faced Willow Brook, which fed into the Chesapeake Bay. The backyard sloped gently to the brook, with the graceful branches of a trademark weeping willow touching the lawn at the water’s edge. The peaceful setting was just right for quiet conversation or relaxing with a good book.

In front the cottage featured a small yard with an actual white picket fence and a climbing yellow rosebush that tumbled over it with a profusion of fragrant blooms. Bright red and hot pink geraniums filled pots on the stoop in a vibrant display of clashing colors. The property oozed picturesque charm.

With three cozy bedrooms and a fireplace in the living room and a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen, it was the perfect Chesapeake Shores vacation getaway or a starter home for a small family, but Carrie Winters had been living there alone and at loose ends for almost six months now. The only personal touch she’d added beyond the mismatched furniture she’d acquired from various family attics was the portrait of the whole O’Brien family taken at the Christmas wedding of her twin, Caitlyn.

These days, sitting in one of those rockers for more than a minute or two made her antsy. After two years in a pressure-cooker public relations job at which she’d excelled, being idle was a new experience, and one she didn’t particularly like. She was too distracted for reading anything deeper than the local weekly newspaper. And though she loved to cook, making fancy meals for one person just left her feeling lonely.

Worst of all, she seemed incapable of motivating herself to get out of this funk she’d been in ever since coming home. Chesapeake Shores might be where she wanted—or even needed—to be as she tried to piece her life back together and reevaluate her priorities, but it had created its own sort of pressure.

While the rest of the O’Brien clan was unmistakably worried about her, her grandfather Mick was bordering on frantic. O’Briens did not waste time or wallow in self-pity, which was exactly what Carrie had been doing ever since the breakup of her last relationship. Timed to coincide with the crash and burn demolition of her career in the fashion industry, the combination had sent her fleeing from Paris and straight back to her loving family.

Carrie sighed and took a first sip of the one glass of wine she allowed herself at the end of the day. Wallowing was one thing. Getting tipsy all alone was something else entirely. Even she was wise enough to see that.

An image of Marc Reynolds, the fashion world icon she’d thought she loved, crept into her head, as it did about a hundred times a day. That was down from about a million when she’d first flown home from Europe after the breakup. If it could even be called that, she thought wryly. Truthfully, she’d finally realized that Marc thought of her more as a convenient bed partner and workhorse whose public relations efforts for his fashion empire had helped to put it on the fast track to international acclaim. Unbeknownst to her, his heart apparently belonged to a she-devil, self-absorbed model who treated him like dirt. Carrie could relate, since Marc had pretty much done the same to her. She was still struggling to understand how her judgment could possibly have been so clouded that she hadn’t seen that sooner. Surely the signs had been there. Had she been so besotted she’d missed them? If so, how could she possibly trust her instincts about a man again?

Not that she was going to let that be an issue anytime soon. She was swearing off the male of the species until she figured out who she was and what she truly wanted. At the rate she was progressing on that front, it could take years.

Enough! she told herself firmly, carrying her almost-full glass inside and stepping over a scattering of toys as she went. She smiled as she picked up a floppy-eared bunny and set it gently in a chair. A stack of children’s picture books sat on a nearby table.

Taking care of her twin sister’s little boy Jackson McIlroy was about the only thing that gave her a sense of fulfillment these days. With Caitlyn serving a medical internship at Johns Hopkins, and Caitlyn’s husband, Noah, running an increasingly busy family medicine practice here in town, Carrie had volunteered for daycare duty whenever they needed her. More and more often they’d come to rely on her, which suited her just fine, but seemed to be making everyone else in her driven family a little crazy. Babysitting wasn’t considered a suitable career goal for the granddaughter of the town’s founder.

She picked up a few more toys, put them in the brightly colored toy box she’d painted herself one particularly dreary winter day, then grabbed her purse and walked into town. Ten minutes later she was at O’Brien’s, the Irish pub her second cousin Luke had opened a few years back. She knew she’d find a good meal there, even if it came with a serving of family meddling from whichever O’Brien happened to be around.

When she walked in the door, she was startled to find it mostly empty.

“Hey, Carrie,” Luke said, automatically pouring a glass of white wine for her.

“Where is everybody?” she asked, as she settled on a stool in front of the magnificent old bar that Luke had found in Ireland and shipped home to be the centerpiece of his pub.

“It’s barely five o’clock,” he pointed out. “We’ll be filling up soon.”

Carrie glanced at her watch and groaned. Today—a day without the baby to watch—had been endless. Apparently it wasn’t close to being over, either.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said, as Luke polished glassware and readied the bar for this evening’s business.

He studied her face for a moment, then came around the bar and sat down beside her, giving her his full attention. “What’s on your mind?”

“You were the youngest in my mom’s generation, right?”

“Oh yeah,” he confirmed.

“Did you feel pressured to accomplish something?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said seriously.

“You know all this, but let me remind you. By the time I finished college, your mom was a financial success story on Wall Street. Kevin had served in the military, then jumped onto the bandwagon to preserve the bay with Uncle Thomas. Connor was a hotshot divorce lawyer in Baltimore. Bree had opened a successful flower shop, then a local theater, where she’s now writing and directing to critical acclaim. And Jess was barely into her twenties and already turning the Inn at Eagle Point into a successful regional destination.”

He allowed that to sink in, then added, “That’s what I was up against. On top of that, my brother started working with Uncle Mick as an architect straight out of college, and my sister is all but running the real estate business here in town with my dad. O’Briens seemed to know what they wanted in the womb, all of them except me.”

“And me,” Carrie lamented. “Funny how you were the youngest and felt lost. Cait and I are the oldest in our generation. She recognized her destiny even before she got out of high school. She’s determined to be a doctor and save the world. Not even marriage and a baby have derailed her plans.”

Luke grinned. “And your goals aren’t that lofty?”

“I’m not sure I even have goals,” she admitted. “I thought I did. I enjoyed PR work well enough. I was good at it, too. And I liked being in the fashion industry, but that was more about being with Marc than the work. It didn’t break my heart when another job in fashion didn’t materialize right away. Working with him is what I miss most, so that must be telling me something.”

Luke studied her with a commiserating look. “Have you figured out the message?”

She shrugged. “Nope. All I know is that I hate being at loose ends.”

“What about that trip you took with Uncle Mick to Africa? Any inspiration there?”

Her grandparents had gone to Africa to check out several villages in dire need of medical help, especially since the outbreak of ebola had had such a devastating impact. Mick had been drafted by Cait and a doctor in Baltimore into designing small medical facilities for the villages to provide the care they so desperately needed. It had been an eye-opening trip with an idealistic mission she admired.

“Sure. It made me realize how lucky we’ve all been. I’ve donated a ton of money from my trust fund to the cause because I’ve seen firsthand how worthwhile it is, but I don’t want to return, not the way Cait’s chomping at the bit to go. She was so envious that I got to go with Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan. Me?” She shook her head. “I could hardly wait to get back home.”

“The States?”

“Not just the States, but here, back in Chesapeake Shores. I thought once I got here everything would magically become clear to me.”

Luke gave her a long, considering look. “Have you thought about staying here, Carrie? Really thought about it? I always knew this town was right for me. It was just about the only thing I did know, but you’ve lived in a lot of exciting cities—New York. Milan, Paris. Are you absolutely certain Chesapeake Shores is big enough for you?”

She frowned at the question, which seemed to suggest a shallowness she didn’t appreciate. She didn’t need glitz and glamour. She really didn’t. She’d had a taste of it. That had been enough.

“What do you mean?” she challenged. “This is home for me, Luke, the same as it is for you.”

“If you say so,” he said, his doubts still evident.

“I do say so.”

“You were born in New York,” he reminded her. “You went to college there, too, and traveled all over the world when you were working in fashion. I’ve only been to Ireland, where things were pretty laid-back, especially in the smaller villages, but I imagine the lifestyle here is very different from the glamorous places you’ve seen in France and Italy. It’s definitely a world away from the hustle and bustle of New York.”

Though her instinct was to counter Luke’s obvious skepticism with complete certainty, she took a sip of her wine and actually gave the question some thought.

“It is different, but in a good way,” she replied slowly, trying to put her gut feelings into words. “The pace is slower. The values are different. Family really counts for something. Mom saw that. She left New York and brought me and Caitlyn back here.”

“Because she was in love with Trace,” Luke said.

Carrie sighed. “Yes, Trace did play a big part in her decision, but she’s been happy being home. She’d tell you that. She’s figured out how to balance the career she loves and the family she loves even more.”

“Balance is important,” Luke agreed, then gave her another of his annoying long looks. “What do you envision doing with your life here? I know the ambition gene can’t possibly have skipped over you completely. All O’Briens have it.”

“Not me,” she admitted as if it were a crime. Luke was right about one thing—O’Briens were expected to be excellent multitaskers, and, despite her last name being Winters, she was an O’Brien through and through. Luke had brought the conversation full circle, right back to those goals that seemed to be eluding her. She’d been so blasted lucky her entire life. What right did she have to complain about an unexpected bump in the road?

“All I ever really wanted was to be a wife and mom,” she told her cousin. She made the admission in a hushed voice, as if it were some sort of crime to want so little for herself.

When Luke didn’t react as if she were crazy, she continued, “Gram was my role model. Nell made a real home for mom and her siblings after Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan split up. I always saw myself doing that same thing—cooking, baking, nurturing my kids—right here, surrounded by family. All through college I kept expecting to meet someone and fall in love. I practically made a career out of dating. I thought for sure I’d get a marriage license fifteen minutes after I picked up my diploma.”

She sighed again. “That was the plan, but it never happened. Then I met Marc and thought he was the one. Of course, he was the last man on earth who’d ever be happy in a small town, so I have no idea how I expected him to fit into my dream.”

“Ever heard of compromise?” Luke asked with a smile.

“From Marc? Not likely.”

“How about you?”

“For the right man, sure,” she said glibly, then wondered.

“Okay, you’re right. I can’t settle. It would never work. I want what Mom and Trace have, what Bree has with Jake and Grandpa Mick has found with Grandma Megan now that they’re back together. I want the whole happily-ever-after thing.”

“So you can’t settle and you claim you don’t care about a career,” Luke summed up. “You have yourself a real dilemma.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you?” she said in frustration.

“Maybe you need to focus, pick the area of your life that matters the most to you, the one over which you have some control.”

She smiled at that. O’Briens did love to control things. Her grandfather was a master at that and he’d instilled that stubborn, we’re-capable-of-anything streak in all of them.

“We’ve already concluded that I can’t control when or if the right man might come along, and I have no career goals, at least not the kind I’m passionate about,” she reminded him yet again.

“I think you’re making this too complicated,” Luke suggested. “Stop fretting about a career, if that’s not what you care about. Put it on the back burner. Get out there and start dating. There are single men in here every night of the week. I’ll fix you up. When was the last time you went on a date? The path to marriage generally starts with a first date.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said, though random dating didn’t appeal to her. She’d done that all through college to no avail. Besides, she’d sworn off men until she figured out how she’d been so wrong about Marc, how she’d misjudged his values and his feelings.

But Luke was right about one thing. She did need some sort of social life before she went completely stir-crazy. “How about this? I don’t want to be fixed up, but the next time I’m in here, if there’s a nice guy around, introduce us. Women and men can be friends, right? That’s not a bad starting point.”

“I have my doubts about men and women being pals, but it’s definitely a start,” Luke said. “I predict you’ll be married in no time, with a half-dozen kids underfoot.”

As alluring as that image was, Carrie could see the downside. “Can you picture what Grandpa Mick will have to say about that? He loves all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but he expects more from us.”

“Forget your grandfather. This is about what you want. You know Nell will be on your side.”

Carrie smiled. “Sure she will, but she’ll be standing there all alone. Grandpa Mick will be horrified. So will just about everyone else. Even Mom and Trace will think I’m wasting my potential.”

“This is about you, though,” Luke argued. “And about what will make you happy. When it comes down to it, I think that’s what they truly want for all of us. As appalled as my dad was by the idea of this pub, he got on board when he saw how much it meant to me. Treat the whole marriage thing as if it were a job hunt. Interview applicants on a daily basis.”

Carrie gave him a chiding look. “You say that as if it’s perfectly simple to pluck the perfect man out of thin air or to identify him by getting him to answer a list of questions. Trust me, it’s not. Besides, where’s the magic in that?”

Her cousin chuckled. “Ah, so you want the magic, too?”

“Of course. And until I find it, I can’t very well sit around and do nothing. I still need a goal. Being idle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not suited for that, either.”

Luke’s expression turned thoughtful. While he pondered whatever he was pondering, Carrie sipped her wine.

“You’re babysitting for half the kids in the family, aren’t you?” he said eventually.

“Yes, but what’s your point? That’s not exactly a job.”

He gave her a long look. “Make it one.”

She frowned at the seemingly offhand suggestion, though it was evident Luke was warming to the idea. “What do you mean?” she pressed.

“You love kids. You don’t have any of your own on the immediate horizon.” He stared at her as if willing her to reach the same conclusion he had. When she remained silent, he added with a touch of impatience, “Consider opening a daycare.”

Carrie immediately waved off the idea. “Come on, Luke. I can’t charge family for keeping an eye on their kids.”

“Why not? If you weren’t around, they’d be paying somebody else. I certainly charge them for their pints of ale when they come in here.”

“Not the same thing,” she insisted. “This is a business. We all understand that.”

He laughed. “And the daycare could be your business,” he said. “Just something to think about. The town could use one. Moira was saying that to me not twenty-four hours ago. She said if we’re ever going to have kids, given our busy schedules and her traveling with her photography exhibits, we’ll need someone we trust to care for them. She flatly refuses to put a playpen in the corner and see our child raised in a bar.”

Carrie could just imagine Moira making that point very clear. From her very first introduction to the O’Briens in her native Ireland, Moira had never hesitated to express an opinion. It had earned her the nickname of Maddening Moira, until Luke had pleaded with all of them to drop it.

Luke gave her a grin. “Maybe when you’re totally focused on starting a business for yourself, the right man will suddenly appear. By then you may be so busy, you won’t even have time for him.”

“The way you were when Moira came along?” she said, recalling how he’d expected Moira to sit by patiently while he got the pub up and running. She’d taken exception to that.

“Exactly,” he admitted with a grimace. “Moira tried to get some sense through my hard head, but it was Nell who finally set me straight about waiting.”

“How? I never heard the story.”

“After Gram fell ill during the trip she and Dillon took to New York, she called Moira and me into her room at the hospital and told us to stop wasting time. She reminded us that we should never put off the things in life that really matter, that there’s never a perfect time for falling in love. I swear, even lying there in that hospital bed looking so blasted tiny and frail, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“She still is,” Carrie said, then admitted, “It scares me to think what will happen when we lose her. She’s the bedrock of this family.”

“And to hear her tell it, she’s not going anywhere till she’s satisfied we’re all settled and content,” Luke replied. “With a whole slew of great-grandchildren around now, I think she’s planning on being with us for a while.”

“I hope so,” Carrie said softly.

Luke patted her shoulder as he stood up. “I need to get back to work. Just think about what I said. Maybe daycare is the right fit for you, maybe not, but you won’t know until you’ve explored the possibility, the same as I figured out a pub was the right fit for me the first time I walked into one in Ireland and realized it could be the heart of a community. I found my true calling on that trip.”

“And Moira,” she said, smiling.

“And Moira,” he agreed.

After he’d gone into the kitchen to check in with his chef, Carrie sighed. Was there any merit to Luke’s idea? Or would it feel as if she was giving up on her own dream of having a family by surrounding herself with other people’s children? She was a great babysitter, a terrific aunt, but there was a whole lot more to running a daycare, including more regulations than she’d ever had to deal with. Of course, she had taken a couple of early childhood development and child psychology classes in school. She’d been fascinated by the topics and she’d aced them. She might even have pursued more classes back then, if she hadn’t gotten a PR internship and gravitated in that direction.

She thought of all the O’Brien kids who were underfoot on a regular basis and smiled. They were the best part of her life, no question about that. Could she turn that into a career?

Just as Luke had suggested, it was something worth considering. She certainly didn’t have an alternative in mind and she needed to do something before her family lost patience and she lost her mind wrestling with all this indecisiveness.

* * *

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that his nephew had finally fallen asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the long silences when Bobby said nothing at all or the string of unanswerable questions that had been thrown at Sam ever since his sister and brother-in-law had been killed in an accident two weeks earlier. The discovery that Bobby was being placed in his care had shocked him into silence, for sure. It was little wonder it had left the six-year-old thoroughly confused.

And now, here they were driving into Chesapeake Shores, a town where Sam hadn’t even had time to get himself settled before learning about the tragedy that had taken Bobby’s parents. He’d left his new job as a grieving brother, his only thoughts focused on getting through the funeral. Now he was returning as a single parent with so many thoughts and fears swirling in his head, he had no idea which needed to be tackled first. He’d put his own grief on the back burner so he could stay focused on the scared little boy suddenly in his care.

“Dinner,” he muttered under his breath. Whenever Bobby awakened, he’d be starving. The one thing Sam did know was that he couldn’t go on feeding the boy nothing but fast food, the only thing that seemed to tempt Bobby to eat. Fortunately fast food was in short supply in Chesapeake Shores, which didn’t have a chain restaurant in town. The closest McDonald’s or Burger King was miles away.

Instead of heading straight to The Inn at Eagle Point, where he’d been staying since his arrival in town, Sam turned onto Shore Road and found a parking spot across from several local restaurants, including O’Brien’s, a pub that specialized in traditional Irish comfort food. Wasn’t that exactly what he and Bobby both needed? Something comforting and filling?

Exiting the car, he hesitated. Did he have to wake Bobby just so he could run in, order some food and run back across the street? It was early enough that the street was mostly deserted. The shops had closed, so few tourists were lingering along the waterfront, and it was too early for most people to be heading out for dinner. And it was, after all, Chesapeake Shores, a town without any significant crime except for the occasional high school prank.

Even as Sam opened the back door of the car, he could hear Bobby’s soft snores. The boy looked so peaceful; it seemed a shame to wake him. Convincing himself his nephew would never be out of sight, he jogged across the street and went inside, grabbing a menu off the bar, then moving back to the doorway while he glanced through the offerings. Irish stew was the day’s special. That sounded healthy and filling. And how long could it possibly take to dish it into a container so Sam could be on his way?

After one more glance to reassure himself that Bobby hadn’t awakened, he returned to the bar, only to find no one there to take his order. In fact, the only person in the place was a young woman, her expression glum as she stared into a glass of wine she’d barely touched.

“What’s a man have to do to get some service in here?” he asked irritably.

The woman’s responding frown was likely justified, but Sam couldn’t worry about the impression he might be making. He had a child outside and way too much on his mind.

“Sorry,” she said in a cool, polite tone. “My cousin had to go in back to speak to the chef. He’ll be right out, I’m sure.”

“You don’t work here?”

“No, but if you’re in a hurry, I can get Luke.”

Sam nodded. “Please. Or can you just tell him I’d like two orders of the Irish stew to go?” He hesitated. “Do you think a six-year-old would like that?”

Her expression brightened. “Sure. It’s great. All the kids in our family love it. I’ll give Luke your order. He’ll fix you right up.”

Sam couldn’t help noticing the sexy high heels she was wearing when she slid off her bar stool. Those shoes drew attention to long, shapely legs. He didn’t know a lot about fashion, but he had a feeling she hadn’t bought them at the discount store out on the main highway. In fact, her entire outfit, as casual as it was, seemed to shout that it had come from a designer, not off the rack. A rich tourist, perhaps, though she did seem to be totally comfortable in here. And hadn’t she referred to the owner or the bartender as her cousin?

Sam didn’t have time to try to put the puzzle pieces together. He sure as heck didn’t have time to allow his curiosity to be stirred by a beautiful woman. His life had recently gotten more complicated than he could ever have imagined. Right now, he needed to get his food and get back to Bobby.

Once more, he went back to the door and glanced across the street. There was no sign that Bobby was stirring and nobody was standing beside the car looking alarmed that a child had been left alone inside. That didn’t mean Sam could be gone for much longer. The last thing he wanted was for Bobby to awaken, find himself alone and panic.

Pacing impatiently, he was startled when the woman appeared at his side, obviously on her way out.

“Your food’s on the way,” she said as she opened the door.

A light floral scent that reminded him of summer nights was left in her wake as she passed him, then headed across the street.

Sam saw the exact moment when she spotted Bobby. She stopped beside the car, did a double take, then turned back to give Sam a look that could have melted steel. She whirled around on those spike heels of hers and marched straight back in his direction.

The pub’s door slammed open and she stood before him.

“That’s your car?”

Sam nodded, a flush crawling up his face.

“You left your son in the car all alone? What were you thinking?” she demanded indignantly. “This may be a safe town, but no place is 100 percent safe. Plus it can get hot inside in practically no time, especially on a sunny day like this.”

Even though he knew she was probably justified in her indignation, Sam stared her down.

“Why is this your business?”

“Because innocent children need to be protected from irresponsible parents.”

“I’m not his parent,” Sam retorted, though not only was that not entirely true, he knew it was also hardly the point. He’d been a parent for about a nanosecond. He was still getting the hang of it. “He’s my nephew.”

Since her harsh stare didn’t waver at that, he found himself explaining. “His parents died in an accident two weeks ago. I’m just bringing him here to live with me. You’ll have to forgive me if I thought letting him finally get some rest was more important than dragging him over here to wait with me while I get some food. He was never out of my sight, was he? And the windows are all cracked, so there’s air circulating. Didn’t you see me standing right here by the door keeping an eye on him?”

“I suppose,” she said, backing down, but sparks still flashed in her eyes. “You can’t take chances with a child’s safety. Things can happen in the blink of an eye.”

“I’m well aware of that, probably more so than you are,” he said. “That’s what happened to my sister and brother-in-law. They were gone in the blink of an eye. Nobody could have anticipated that. And I sure as heck didn’t anticipate becoming a dad overnight.”

She faltered at that, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m sorry. Look, just go back to the car, okay? I’ll bring your food out as soon as it’s ready. It’ll make us both feel better if he’s not over there alone.”

Sam started to argue, then gave in. He pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet and gave them to her. “I’m not sure how much the bill will be, but this should cover it.”

She handed back one of the twenties. “This will do. I’m going to have Luke put some chocolate chip cookies in with your order. They’re not on the menu, but he keeps them on hand for the kids in our family. They’re my great-grandmother’s recipe. She bakes once a week and brings them over here. She leaves a supply at my house, too, since most of the kids are in and out of there, too.”

The thought of home-baked cookies triggered a longing in Sam, one he hadn’t even realized he’d buried deep inside. “My grandmother used to do the same thing. She baked for the whole family. She’s been gone for years, but I still remember the way her kitchen smelled.”

A smile spread across the woman’s face at last. “There’s nothing like it, is there? Don’t ever tell Nell, if you happen to meet her, but I bake, too, just so my house will smell like that when the kids come by. I want to be the go-to aunt or cousin or neighbor when it comes to cookies.”

She shooed him toward the door. “Go. I’ll be over with your food in just a minute.”

Sam dutifully left the pub and crossed the street. He stood beside the car and waited for the woman to emerge with his order. At least he told himself his gaze was so intense because his stomach was rumbling, but the truth was, he wanted another glimpse of her. She was a mass of contradictions with her fancy clothes and home-baked cookies, the lost expression he’d caught on her face when he first noticed her sitting at the bar, and her fiery indignation when she’d found Bobby alone in the car.

Contradictions like that, though, usually meant trouble. And these days Sam had more of that than he could possibly handle.

Copyright © 2015 by Sherryl Woods

ISBN: 9781459294653

The Valentine Wedding Dress

Copyright © 2002 Sherryl Woods

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