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Nick knelt down to place the dog on the floor and glanced at her over his broad shoulder. “What? Like boil water?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Only if you feel like having some tea.”
He turned back to the dog before Darcy had a chance to see his expression. Had Nick Pirelli just told a joke? Darcy almost hoped he hadn’t. Grumpy and grouchy, he was hard enough to resist. Throw in a sense of humor, and she might be in some real trouble.
Half an hour later, Nick stepped out of the laundry room and joined Darcy in the kitchen. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she held out a steaming mug.
“Chamomile?” she offered, the challenging spark in her green eyes catching his attention and refusing to let go.
For all the talk he’d heard about Darcy Dawson, how was it no one had mentioned her quick wit or her sense of humor? The dangerous combination already had him lowering his guard and regretting his earlier behavior.
“How’s she doing?” Darcy asked with a glance over his shoulder at the narrow doorway.
“She’ll be fine.” In fact, now was a good time for him to go. Even though the dog was young and likely a firsttime mama, nature would tell her what to do. But he hadn’t missed Darcy’s reaction when he had first told her the dog was having puppies. Her face had gone white, and she’d looked ready to faint. What if Darcy actually did pass out and the dog needed help? Sticking around and making sure the delivery went smoothly was part of his job.
Joining Darcy in the small, intimate kitchen for tea was not part of his job, but even as the warning was drifting through his mind, Nick stepped closer and accepted the cup. His jeans were weighted down by mud, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and his shirt was soaked through, thanks to the rain. It might have been the end of July, but the sudden storm had dropped the temperature, and he took a minute to warm his hands around the mug. “Thanks.”
“I should be thanking you. I’m sure you had better things to do than make a house call on a night like tonight.”
Nick shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“So what’s it like?” Darcy had stripped off her jacket at some point, revealing a pale green knit sweater that hugged the curves of her breasts, but still wore the dark, wide-legged jeans. Her feet were bare, cherry-red toenails peeking out from beneath the mud-splattered hem. He tried not to notice how small and delicate they were, just as he tried not to notice how his own scuffed and scarred size-eleven work boots had tracked mud across the white tile floors.
Darcy leaned back against the butcher block counter, her hands cradling her own mug. Her gaze was open and interested, easily sucking him in until he could barely remember what she’d even asked. “What’s what like?”
“Being a small-town vet?”
Small town. Two simple words that had his hackles standing on end. Yeah, that was what Carol had accused him of being more times than he could count, and the insult had hurt. But Carol had been his wife. He’d felt frustrated and at a loss to keep her happy, and he’d failed her as a husband with his lack of ambition to move to a big city where he could make more money.
Darcy, though, was a stranger, a woman he’d just met. What difference did it make how small town she thought he was?
“I love it,” he answered, a hint of defensiveness undercutting his words. “Ever since I was a kid, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“Really?”
Nick’s lips twisted. “You sound surprised.” Like she couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t want something more.
“Not surprised. I guess, I’d say … envious.”
“Envious?”
Darcy shrugged. “That you’ve always known without a doubt what you wanted to do.”
He’d always known what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t questioned what was best for his family. After Carol left, he’d gone to see her in San Francisco, willing to give up everything—his house, his practice, his hometown—to keep their family together. Only to discover his everything still wasn’t enough for her.
“Yeah, I’m just lucky that way.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d given away with that comment, but Darcy’s expression softened and she searched his face as if looking for some way inside him. That was not a place he wanted her, so he quickly asked, “What about you?”
He racked his memory for what he’d heard about her reasons for moving to Clearville. He was pretty sure he’d heard his sister, Sophia, talking about the woman renting the space two doors down from The Hope Chest. “You’re opening a shop in town, right?”
As she went on to explain her boutique, a place where she would offer women advice on makeup, skin care and beauty treatments as well as sell the products along with candles and soaps in every scent imaginable, some of his skepticism must have shown on his face. “Why do I get the feeling,” she asked, “that you’re not going to be my first customer?”
Nick shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just—Well, I’ve seen this all before.”
Darcy set her mug on the counter with a dull thud. “Someone else has a shop like mine?”
“Not a shop just like it, but that spot you rented? It’s gone through more changes in the past few years than I can remember. A dress shop, a shoe store, a health food clinic. Nothing stays open for long.”
“So, you’re telling me that the shop I’ve rented has some kind of Clearville Curse attached to it?” Darcy wiggled her fingers in a spooky motion, her teasing smile enough to jerk a rough half laugh out of Nick. But then a rush of heat surged through him when he remembered those same fingers pressed into his shoulders, and he quickly sobered.
“Not a curse, and it’s not just Clearville, either. I’m sure it happens in small towns all over the place. Big-city folks get tired of the traffic and noise and fast pace of the city, so they go off seeking peace and quiet in some small town. Only before they’ve had the chance to even unpack, they start to miss all those same things they left behind. Before you know, they’re gone without a word.”
Darcy wasn’t unaware of the chance she’d taken, and a string of failed stores could give a location a bad rap. Plus, starting a new business was always a risk, especially in this economy. But for as long as she could recall, her mother had talked about moving back to her hometown, only to never have the chance.
Darcy refused to miss her opportunity by waiting for the perfect moment. Instead she was going to make the most of the time she had now. Not that she was counting on blind faith to see her through. She’d done her research. Clearville was a small town, but one with a healthy tourist trade, catering to travelers who came to enjoy the surrounding redwoods, the rugged coastline, the days-gone-by feel of the Victorian Main Street.
The town had its share of bed-and-breakfasts, and Darcy had already arranged for a few of those businesses to carry her beauty baskets in their gift shops. She hoped to start up a buzz about The Beauty Mark before her grand opening.
“Maybe those other shops closed for a reason,” she suggested.
“Such as?”
“So that the space would be available for me.”
Nick stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was for real, and Darcy doubted she’d be able to explain her certainty in the move she’d made. Because even though she’d struggled with turn-of-the-last-century plumbing, ghostly electricity and a car that had turned into a lemon at the stroke of midnight, she refused to allow any of it to shake her faith that she was right where she was supposed to be.
Darcy’s only regret was that her mother wasn’t there with her, but she felt her presence in every decision she made. From their long-ago conversations as they’d imagined the perfect look and feel of the shop to the recent, far-more-practical hand Alanna had given her only child—the life insurance policy that made the dream a reality.
“I would think,” she told Nick, “if anyone would understand, you might.”
Nick’s dark brows arched toward his hairline. Clearly he thought he’d be the last person to understand anything about her. “Me?”
“Yes, you said being a vet, being Clearville’s vet, is the only thing you’ve ever wanted to be. It was the same thing for me the first time I drove down Main Street. I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It might have taken me a little longer to get here, but it’s really the same. We’re really the same.”
Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Nick wryly countered, “We’re really not. I was born here. I grew up here. This is all I’ve ever known.”
“And I didn’t just stumble across Clearville by accident. I may not be from here, but my family was,” she said, feeling a little gratified by the surprise on his face. “My mother lived here until she and my grandparents moved when she was a teenager. She always dreamed about coming back and opening this boutique.”
“Your mother always dreamed about it?”
“She did.” Darcy didn’t see the knowing look in his eyes until it was too late. “I mean, we did. It was our dream. It just turns out that I’m the one who’s going to make it come true.”
Seeing the unasked question in his gaze, she explained, “She was in a car accident a little over a year ago. Her injuries left her paralyzed. She was making progress, and I really thought if anyone had the strength to recover, she did. But then she suffered from a blood clot, and the doctor said there was nothing they could do.”
“I’m sorry, Darcy.”
Already figuring out Nick was a man of few words, she wasn’t surprised when his condolences ended there. But she was touched when he took the mug she barely realized she was still holding and poured her a second cup of tea from the pot warming on the stove.
She soaked in the comfort of the small, thoughtful gesture and the heat from the steaming mug he handed back to her, but she wanted more. Nick stood close enough for the rain and earth clinging to his clothes to blend with the floral fragrance of the tea. But beneath that was the faint scent of his aftershave and warm male, and she longed to step closer and breathe it in.… To breathe him in.…
He stepped back suddenly, leaving her holding nothing but the cup of tea.
It was only her vulnerability after talking about her mother that made his withdrawal feel like a rejection. It wasn’t like he knew what she’d been thinking.
Please don’t let him know what I was thinking.…
“So your mother wanted to move back,” Nick was saying as Darcy refocused on the words instead of simply following the movement of his lips.
She sighed, unsure why he was so hung up on that point. “This isn’t only about my mother’s last wish. It’s about a new start for me. A chance for me to own the kind of store where I like to shop.” She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by Nick’s lack of interest. He wasn’t exactly the demographic she had in mind for her boutique. “You know your sister’s looking forward to my grand opening. I think Sophia’s almost as excited as I am. And your daughter will love it. Girls always have a blast playing dress-up and having little girl makeovers—”
Warming to her subject, it took Darcy a minute to realize however slightly Nick had relaxed in the last few seconds, that moment was now gone. His expression was closed off, his posture once again rigid. He cut her off saying, “I should go check on the dog.”
“I thought you said she was fine.”
“She is.”
Staring at the straight, unbending line of Nick’s backbone as he walked away, Darcy couldn’t help wondering, if the dog was okay, then what on earth was wrong with Nick Pirelli?
Chapter Three
Darcy bringing up his daughter and the dog’s quick delivery of four tiny puppies could not have happened at a better time, Nick determined later as he watched the new pups, their eyes and ears still closed, their mouths wide open. The mama dog nuzzled them each in turn, guiding them toward their first meal.
“You’re doing great, girl,” he reassured her, and Nick could have sworn the dog responded with a proud smile.
He didn’t know if Darcy truly was squeamish, but she had stayed away from the laundry room during the birthing process, giving Nick time to clean up and toss some of the old rags into the trash out back. She hadn’t been in the kitchen as he’d passed through, and he hadn’t gone looking for her.
“It’s a big responsibility, you know,” he murmured to the dog who’d either grown accustomed to his touch or had better things to worry about than the human petting her head. “Having a child is the most amazing experience and the most terrifying.”
But he was determined to do right by Maddie. Which did not mean little girl makeovers. He didn’t want Maddie growing up any faster than she already was, and no way was he ready for blush and mascara and highlights and God knows what else Darcy had in mind.
He’d been fighting with Carol for years about Maddie not being old enough to have her ears pierced. Even his mother and sister had taken his ex’s side on that one.
“I was five when I had my ears pierced,” Sophia had argued.
And she’d been eighteen when she left home.
Nick cringed at his line of thinking. Okay, not even he could make a direct correlation between ear piercing and taking off for parts unknown without admitting he sounded nuts, but still, the idea reinforced his plan to find a solid, wholesome influence for Maddie’s life. Someone who could see his side of things and understand that his daughter belonged with him in Clearville.
Darcy was not that woman. Her decision to move to her mother’s hometown, to make her mother’s dream come true was admirable and touching … and misguided. But she’d have to learn that the hard way. Just as he had when he finally admitted getting married and raising a family in Clearville might have been his dream, but it hadn’t been Carol’s. Her dreams were bigger than small-town living, and Nick was sure Darcy’s were, as well. Once reality set in, she’d figure that out.
Nick caught the scent of something fruity drifting over his shoulder. Was it one of her moisturizers or mud-mask thingies that made Darcy smell like a tropical, sun-kissed beach? If Darcy knew what she was talking about, women loved that kind of stuff. Somehow, though, he didn’t think the explanation was that simple. He’d never had the desire to seek out the scent on any other woman’s skin, to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.…
He knew better than to turn around, feeling her presence there even before he heard her soft gasp.
“Oh, my—They’re so tiny. Are they—?”
“They’re fine. Perfectly healthy and good sized. Two boys and two girls.” The boys took after mom with her blue merle coloring, but the girls must take after dear old dad with their smooth black coats. It was too soon to tell what the mix was, but Nick thought lab might be a good guess.
“Four,” she breathed, and even though it wasn’t possible, Nick swore he could feel her sigh drift like a caress over the exposed skin at the back of his neck. Chills raced down his spine, but he blamed the recent trip he’d made out into the storm. He’d ducked the rain as best he could, but clearly the collar of his shirt had gotten damp. It was the only reason why goose bumps were rising along every inch of skin.
“Better than eight,” he answered, his tone more wry than he’d have liked.
“I can’t even imagine. So what do you think?”
He tried keeping his gaze on the small family on the blanket in front of him, but he couldn’t resist turning in Darcy’s direction. He saw immediately the reason why she’d left the kitchen earlier. She’d changed out of the green shirt and jeans she’d worn into a pink softer-than-soft-looking jogging suit with a zippered jacket and drawstring bottoms. The potential ease of removal for both items was enough to run his mouth dry. To make matters worse, instead of being confined in a ponytail that kept the long strands away from her face, her hair now tumbled in voluptuous waves over her shoulders.
“What do I think about what?”
“What do you think we should name them?”
“I think that’s up to you.”
“But you delivered them. You were here when she needed you.”
Her voice was soft as she gazed at him, and he had a hard time remembering she was talking about the dog. The warmth and gratitude in her gaze made Nick feel like puffing up his chest with pride. He didn’t think he’d moved from his crouched position, but he would have sworn she was suddenly closer. Close enough for him to see her eyelashes were surprisingly, and naturally, darker than her hair. Close enough to see the faintest spray of freckles across her nose. Close enough for him to watch every movement of her tongue sliding across her pale pink lips.
The low rumble of thunder sounded from outside, and Nick jerked his attention away from Darcy’s mouth and back to the request she’d made. “Stormy,” he blurted out. “For one of the girls.”
“Oh, how fitting. You said the girls were the little black ones?” At Nick’s nod, Darcy said, “Then how about Cloud for the one of the gray boys?”
He suggested Rain for the other girl. “Which leaves one boy left.”
Darcy’s smile was full of mischievous laughter simply waiting to be unleashed, and Nick paused with an almost helpless feeling of anticipation to hear whatever she’d come up with.
“Bo,” she announced suddenly.
He shook his head as if the word hadn’t quite penetrated his brain. “Stormy, Rain, Cloud and … Bo?”
This time he had no doubt Darcy had leaned closer as she lowered her voice to share a secret. “It’s short for Rainbow, but don’t tell the other kids. They might make fun of him.”
Rainbow. It was as silly and ridiculous as Nick had feared, still he couldn’t help but give into laughter. Darcy’s joined his, the masculine and feminine sound combining until, at once, all other sounds faded away. So, too, did the lighthearted energy in the tiny room, replaced by a growing awareness of how close they were, how isolated, with only the dogs inside and the lingering storm out.
“I should go.” The statement, if not the words, were firm and decisive and utterly meaningless as Nick still didn’t move.
Darcy swallowed. “You don’t have to. It’s still raining outside. I could fix some coffee.”
But it wasn’t coffee he was craving. Her scent called to him again, and this time Nick thought he recognized the summery mix of coconut and pineapple. He wondered if her skin would taste like piña colada if he kissed her.
He heard the faint catch in her breathing and the quicker rhythm that followed. He was less than a sigh away from claiming her lips with his own when the overhead bulb flickered. The light wasn’t out for more than a split second, but when it came back on, the glare was like a flash of clarity illuminating the huge mistake he was about to make.
He didn’t know if it was the storm, faulty wiring or fate stepping in to save him, but he jerked abruptly to his feet. The unexpected movement almost knocked Darcy back on her heels. He bent halfway—the gentleman his mother had taught him to be insisting he give her a hand, battling the survivor Carol had forced him to be warning him to stay far, far away. In the end he did nothing as Darcy pushed herself to her feet.
“I have to—This can’t—” His mind formed the words, but his tongue tripped over them in his haste to say the exact opposite of what his body was feeling. “Look, I’m not interested in a fling or an affair or—”
Darcy’s eyes widened, at first in shock, then in a growing realization and finally anger. “I offered you a cup of coffee, Dr. Pirelli, not a roll in the hay. You might be right and I don’t know much about small towns, but where I come from coffee means coffee. If I was offering you sex, I would have said sex.” The chill in her voice and fire in her eyes told him sex was nowhere near in the offering. “You can let yourself out when you’re done here.”
