скачать книгу бесплатно
He was Matt’s friend. But she didn’t trust him and definitely didn’t want to know anything more about him. She was better off cataloguing Brad as that random kitten finder. “Do you work with Matt on his renovations or on his translation jobs?”
“Matt has the gift with languages. I’m in security.” Brad edged around the cart, stepped behind the counter and picked up the security camera from the floor. “I make these work correctly.”
Matt frowned at her. “Sophie, I could’ve introduced you to Brad a while ago. I thought you got that taken care of.”
“The manual to install it made it sound easier than it is.” Sophie took the camera from Brad and set it on the counter. “I’ll get to it.”
“I bet you haven’t fixed that front lower window yet, either.” Ruthie eyed the kitten box.
“Some things came up.” Like the trip to Chicago for a second opinion on Ella’s eye surgery. There weren’t any extra funds for window repair. And now she was out of funds, thanks to her father. “It’s fine. The glass is taped and I added a piece of plywood on the inside.”
“Anyone can kick that in,” Brad said.
“That’s what I told her when she did it,” April added. The extra tablespoon of gracious, obliging customer service saturated any condescending dips in her tone.
“Anyone can bust through the glass door if they really wanted to steal catnip.” Sophie scowled at Brad and willed him to be stiff and cold and abrasive like those expensive red heels she’d seen in the window display on Union Street. An alarm was quite low on her list of things to deal with. If she didn’t have a store, she wouldn’t need an alarm. She wanted to pull out her phone and see if her dad had replied. Or, better yet, keep calling him until he answered.
“That’s why you need that installed.” Brad gripped the cart handle and pulled, rolling past her. His tone patient, his voice calm, his words all too reasonable.
Sophie crammed her hands into the wide front pocket of her sweatshirt and tipped her chin up, defiance tumbling through her words. “Show me someone who will install it for free and I’ll get it done today.”
“I’ll do it.” Brad smiled at her, distracting her with his dimple.
Sophie paused. Hadn’t he heard her? “I can’t pay you.”
“We’ll work out a trade.”
“Other than dog food, I don’t have much to bargain with,” Sophie told him.
“The only Harrington in need of dog food is Brad’s mother.” Matt guided the front of the cart down the dog-food aisle, then glanced at Brad. “Unless you broke your own vow and adopted a pet, following in your mother’s footsteps, after all.”
Sophie watched Brad’s shoulders stiffen as if he’d been poked with a thick needle. He hadn’t liked Matt’s comment. Brad pressed his lips together as if to keep his response from flying free. And Sophie wanted to know what he refused to say. Sophie wanted to know about his family. Sophie wanted to know about this man.
But that wasn’t right. She wasn’t interested in Brad. She’d given up on relationships and all that ten years ago when she’d climbed into the ambulance with her unconscious sister and her three-pound niece born with a drug addiction eight weeks too early. Love stories belonged to people like Ruthie and Matt. Sophie might dream about her own fairy tale in the darkest, quietest, loneliest hour of the night, but dawn always returned her to reality.
Ruthie nudged Sophie. “Brad’s mother is the newly elected mayor of Pacific Hills. If you traveled down the coast at all last fall, you would’ve seen her campaign posters with the two greyhounds in shop windows and on the residents’ lawns throughout the entire town.”
“Your mother is Mayor Harrington?” Sophie had vowed never to follow in her own mother’s shallow footsteps. But Brad’s mother was mayor of the coastal town south of the city. Surely being like Mrs. Harrington wasn’t a bad thing.
“She is,” Brad admitted. “And I’m definitely not following in her footsteps.”
His voice was tight and drew her in even more. “You don’t want to be mayor?”
“I’ll leave the politics to my brother.” Brad lifted a bag off the cart and passed it to Matt. “And stick with what I know.”
Sophie needed to stick with what she knew, too. And that wasn’t Brad Harrington. Both Brad and Matt towered over the squat shelves that she swore groaned and pleaded for retirement every time she restocked. But the place was stuck in its current unpampered state, much like Sophie was stuck in baseball caps and budget lockdown. This was her life.
She pulled her baseball cap lower on her forehead. “You must have other clients or business to attend to. Something more important than installing a security system in a pet store for free.”
“I’m crashing at our friend’s place until my boat is ready,” Brad said. “Zack can use the food for the dog he rescued on his last trip to the mountains.”
“You’re still setting sail, then?” Matt asked.
“Just waiting for the guys at Delta Craft to let me know the restoration is complete.” Brad tossed the last bag to Matt. “Hopefully before the end of the month, I’ll sail out of the bay.”
“What about your job?” Sophie asked. “What about your family?”
“My partner is handling things in my absence,” Brad said.
Sophie noted he never volunteered anything about his family. And again she wanted to know more. But he was leaving. What else mattered?
“Brad is the H in J & H Associates.” Matt straightened the food bags on the weary shelf. “Always helps when you own the company.”
Sophie nodded. She was a business owner herself, but leaving had never been a consideration. Never. Not even for a long weekend. She had to be here to maintain the business and provide for her niece. An indefinite hold had been put on vacations. Last fall, she’d taken a day trip with Ella to Chicago for a second opinion on Ella’s eye surgery. Less than a twenty-four-hour turnaround, with most of their time spent in airports and waiting rooms. Definitely not Sophie’s idea of a vacation.
“So, do we have a deal?” Brad wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled. “Security system for dog food.”
“What kind of dog did your friend rescue?” Sophie was curious. “A Chihuahua hardly eats enough to pay for the cost of the security system.”
“A forty-five-pound mutt with one blue eye and one green eye,” Brad said. “I can be done installing this unit within the day.”
A day. She could handle one day with Brad Harrington. Brad’s presence was fleeting, like that wistful glance at the designer shoes in the department-store window—noticed and forgotten. “You have a deal.”
“That gives you about eight more hours to harass me,” Brad said.
The grin in his voice and the laughter in his gaze pulled her own smile to the surface.
“I’ll be back after I pick up a few things.” Brad looked at Matt. “Do you have a tape measure in your truck?”
“I’m parked out front.” Matt hugged Ruthie and moved to the front door.
Sophie watched Brad head toward the broken window. “I’ll replace that,” she said.
Brad faced her and shook his head. “This one is on me. Can’t put in a new security system when there’s a broken window.”
There was a stubborn set to his mouth, but something in his manner, how his head tilted just slightly, made her think he welcomed her argument. He wanted her to spar. Sophie stuffed her hands in her back pockets and held his stare, once again aware of that fluttery feeling in her core and her too-warm skin. His one-sided grin twitched into place as if he was aware of her feelings.
“Auntie!” Ella’s panicked shout steamrollered over all those soft, romantic notions inside Sophie.
Nice smiles, belly flutters—but Brad Harrington didn’t belong in Sophie’s world. Her reality was a ten-year-old girl, eye doctors and abandoned things.
Sophie swung around as Ella stepped into the doorway, a neon-pink brush stuck in her knotted hair, her fingers gripped around her white cane. “Auntie, I told Charlotte I’d have braids today. She has braids today. And I promised we’d match for the field trip. We have to match. It’s pairs day. You have to match your partner on pairs day.”
Sophie hurried over to her niece and started working the hairbrush loose. “Well, it’s a good thing Ruthie is here then, because there’s no one better at braids than her.”
Ella pushed her eyeglasses up her nose. “I thought I heard her. And Matt, too?”
“Good morning, Ella-Bell,” Matt called from the entrance. “Need a lift to school today?”
“I don’t want to wrinkle my dress,” Ella said. “Auntie ironed it last night.”
“Then we’ll plan another date.” Matt walked outside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Ella smoothed her hands over her dress and whispered to Sophie. “I haven’t wrinkled it yet, have I?”
“You look perfect.” Sophie leaned in and kissed Ella’s porcelain cheek.
“But am I wrinkled?” Ella stretched out the last word, unable to contain her concern.
“Not one wrinkle.” Ruthie adjusted the bow at Ella’s waist. “Now do you want one braid or two?”
Ella’s shoulders lowered and the corner of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “Charlotte says she has less hair than me. She says her hair is flat and mine is puffy.”
“That’s your curls, Ella.” Sophie freed the brush and untangled the worst snarl. “Charlotte’s mother texted me last night. She can’t do French braids, so Charlotte will have two ponytail braids.”
“Ruthie, can you do a French braid?” Hope pushed out Ella’s words in a rush.
Ruthie squeezed Ella’s shoulders. “How about two French braids? That will still look like two ponytails.”
“You can do that?” Ella asked.
“Anything for you,” Ruthie said.
“Careful, Ruthie, or Ella will call you over every morning to style her hair before school.” Sophie handed Ruthie the hairbrush.
Ella shook her head. “Only on special occasions. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”
The sincerity in Ella’s tone and seriousness in the firm set of her mouth ripped through Sophie’s heart. Ella had feared being an inconvenience ever since she’d overheard a conversation between Sophie and her older sister, who was also Ella’s mother. The little girl hadn’t needed supersensitive hearing skills during that particular morning. Sophie had dragged Tessa into the shower, fully clothed, after her sister’s two-day-long binge of drinking and drugs. Even through the hair pulling, kicking and continued resistance, Tessa had never ceased ranting about the inconvenience of family. The inconvenience of parenting. The inconvenience of children.
Sophie rubbed behind her ear. Her hair had grown back, yet the memory still lingered in vivid color. But the imprint on a young, innocent child was the deepest wound, and that unseen scar remained. No matter how often Sophie tried to prove to Ella she wasn’t an inconvenience or encourage her to leave out that word from her vocabulary, she hadn’t succeeded. But she’d never stop trying.
Sophie hugged Ella. “Okay. Ruthie, while you braid, April can give you tips on how to use the cash register.”
Ruthie groaned. “But you told me I wouldn’t need to run that ancient thing.”
“It’ll be fine.” Sophie pushed confidence into her voice. Her friend was a brilliant PhD, but far from tech savvy. “The cash register is vintage, that’s all.”
“And temperamental and finicky,” April added.
Sophie plowed on. “We might not have any customers this morning. So this is just in case.”
“It’s Friday. The bell chimes at least eighteen times on Friday mornings,” Ella said, and nodded, authority lacing her matter-of-fact tone. “I counted when I was home sick a few weeks ago.”
“That was a rare day,” Sophie lied.
“Auntie, you told me it was slower than usual that day.” Ella frowned.
Sophie kissed her niece’s cheek to distract her. “You stand still and get braided. I’m putting a load of laundry into the washing machine and checking on Troy. Then we’ll walk to school. April, you have twenty minutes to talk Ruthie through things and then you’re off, too.”
“Are the babies coming?” Excitement lifted Ella’s voice into a breathless pitch.
“Not today.” Relief poured into Sophie’s words as she rushed through the back door. Delivering twins couldn’t be on today’s to-do list.
“I’ll be here later this morning if Ruthie has any trouble,” Brad called from the front of the store.
Sophie shook the smile off her face. That she liked the idea of Brad being here poked at her conscience; she’d buried these kinds of feelings so deeply inside her, so long ago, she’d assumed they’d be lost forever.
Sophie returned to the group and touched Ella’s shoulder. “Brad rescued a litter of kittens this morning and he’s agreed to put in the security system today.”
“How many kittens?” Ella clasped her hands together. “Can we keep them?”
“Only until we find them their forever homes,” Sophie answered.
“This could be their forever home,” Ella said. “With us.”
Sophie rubbed her forehead. First, she had to ensure Ella had a forever home. “You know the deal. We can’t keep them forever, only for now.”
“Can I hold one?” Ella asked.
“After Ruthie finishes your hair and only for a minute. You don’t want to miss the bus for your field trip.”
“Ask for the white one,” Brad said. “She’s a puffball and soft like a cloud.”
Ella laughed. “She sounds perfect.”
Sophie watched Brad walk outside. Something about him made her want to pull up a chair and ask questions. But Sophie didn’t have time for idle conversations over coffee and cake. She’d never had time for the frivolous. Thankfully, she had less than twenty-four hours to spend with Brad because there were some things Sophie could never have. Brad Harrington was one of them.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf90b98c7-e577-5a00-bd3a-3c91258254f4)
BRAD NOTICED SOPHIE push the empty cart into the back room. For such a petite package, the woman remained a study in motion. She hadn’t stopped moving since she’d wedged herself between him and the cart and demanded he stop shelving her dog food.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already found families for those kittens he’d brought inside.
She was efficient, competent and obviously guilty—like her father. There had to be a dark side to balance all that good, and he’d always been fascinated with exposing that shady inner core. And Sophie Callahan was too fascinating.
Matt leaned against his truck and tossed the tape measure at Brad. “Got a case you’re investigating?”
“No.” Brad caught the tape measure and avoided his friend’s stare. He wasn’t working a case. He was doing a favor. A favor for the widow whose late husband should be seated behind the Pacific Hills mayor’s desk, instead of his mother. “Would it matter?”
“If it involved Sophie Callahan, then yes, it’d matter.” Matt came over to stand beside Brad. “It’d matter a lot.”
Despite his experience, and what it had taken to build his company into a high-end forensic accounting and surveillance specialist firm, Brad hadn’t anticipated his friend’s reaction. Brad tapped the toe of his boot against the corner of the plywood-covered window. If he rammed his foot into the adjoining window, he’d shatter the glass. Nothing unexpected about that. Whereas everything was unexpected about Sophie.
His grandmother had dragged him to the symphony when he was thirteen. He’d been struggling to fit into his height, cursing his pimples and praying Sarah Quincy wouldn’t spot his braces. He’d lodged a series of complaints longer than any kid’s Christmas wish list from the back seat of his grandfather’s pickup, and still they’d arrived early to the performance. He’d slouched in his chair, dug his chin into his chest, convinced the evening would be torture.
But the music—the drive of the woodwinds, beat of the percussion and harmony of the strings—collided inside him and shoved out everything until only the sound remained. He’d never confessed to his grandparents, and even now his family didn’t know his contributions put him in the VIP seats of the San Francisco Philharmonic’s Stradivarian Circle, where he escaped to as often as possible.
Sophie Callahan was the first person to pull at him in places he thought only the music could reach. But, unlike the symphony, he wasn’t interested in becoming a patron of Sophie Callahan’s.
