Chapter Three
“Be sure and call me if she kicks up a fuss,” Miranda told Kara, the owner of Blowing Bubbles. “I’ll only be a few doors down at Dreamspinner.”
“No worries,” the plump fortysomething woman said, waving a casual hand. “After all, kids are my life, at home and at work.”
Miranda admired, and envied, her so much. Happily married for almost twenty years, Kara had spun her love of children into a wonderful and profitable business, one where she could bring her own little ones to work. After giving birth to adorable blond Kaitlin, Kara had developed serious fibroids and had to have a hysterectomy, but that hadn’t stopped her and Robbie. They’d adopted boy and girl siblings who’d been in the foster care system. Then last year, they’d taken on another addition to their family, adopting the baby of two island teens who remained involved in their child’s life.
At least once every day, Miranda thought I want to be like Kara when I grow up. And she was trying to grow up. She really was.
Now, as the shop door closed behind her with a jangle of the now-fixed bell, and she wrapped her woolen scarf tighter around her neck against the chill ocean air, she wondered if this afternoon coffee meeting—not a date—with Luke Chandler was a step toward maturity or a step backward.
As Aaron often told her, she took after their mom. Never in neglecting her child or turning to alcohol or drugs. But yeah, okay, in falling in love neither wisely nor well. She led with her heart. But why was it wrong to believe in love? After all, look at Aaron, now happily engrossed in wedding planning along with Eden and her entire family. She sure didn’t begrudge him his good luck, that his heart picked a winner the very first time. She just wished her own heart had sounder judgment.
The main street of Blue Moon Harbor village was all of about four blocks long. So backwoodsy compared to cosmopolitan Vancouver, though she had to admit some of the shops—like Blowing Bubbles—were cool. Dreamspinner bookstore was another. As she passed its window, her gaze skimmed the display and she lusted after those shiny covers.
When she and Aaron were little, a neighbor at one of the crappy places they’d lived had given them some old picture books, and her clever brother had taught himself to read. Then he read to her, and taught her to read, too. The library had become one of the siblings’ favorite places. Free books! What could be better? That was another of her complaints about this island: the tiny library’s collection was pitiful compared to that of the Vancouver Public Library system. Of course, Eden had been fabulously generous in giving her an e-reader for Christmas, and Miranda appreciated finding free books to download. Still, though she’d never tell Eden, there was something more magical about actual physical books, perhaps because it was those books that had over the years offered escape from her dismal life, as well as fueled the dream that things might get better.
Miranda had always managed to save enough to buy Ariana a brand-new book or two for her birthday and for Christmas, but this year the gifts coming from all the new people who called themselves “family” had been almost overwhelming. The attention directed to her daughter, and to Miranda herself, was so unaccustomed. She was still wary of trusting in it.
Dreamspinner Coffee Shop adjoined the bookstore. Before opening the door, she glanced through the window. The warmly lit shop had a counter with a display case full of pastries and snacks, and eight or so wooden tables, most of them occupied. Plants tucked into corners, racks of magazines and newspapers, artwork by local painters, and a bulletin board with posters of island events made the room welcoming.
Luke Chandler sat at a table near the counter, his casually styled auburn hair gleaming like dark cherry wood in the light. He was chatting to a slight man with short, gray-streaked black hair who stood with a takeout cup in hand. She decided to let the guys finish their conversation before she went inside.
Luke’s jacket was off, revealing broad shoulders in a blue plaid flannel shirt. His expression was warm and animated, as it had been when he’d spoken to her at the shop.
He seemed like a good guy: a loving and conscientious dad; a man who’d built a career doing something worthwhile that he loved. He wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, but his was a comfortable kind of handsome, not the more dramatic, edgy looks that appealed to her. When they’d talked in the store, she’d liked him, but it wasn’t that spiky, adrenaline-type of buzz she experienced when she was falling for a guy.
And that was good. Since she’d hit bottom and come to Destiny Island, her focus was on educating herself so she could provide a better life for her daughter. Still, it might be nice to have a friend. She’d never had a man friend, unless she counted her brother. Either she was in love with the guy, or the guy was chasing her and she wasn’t interested. She hoped Luke didn’t ruin things by pushing for more than she wanted to give. When he’d asked her for coffee, she’d seen the unmistakable gleam of male appreciation in his eyes. And he’d only said he wasn’t sure he wanted to date, not that he completely ruled it out.
Maybe he felt her gaze, because as he continued to speak to the older man, he glanced toward the window. Seeing her, he gave a big smile and raised a hand to beckon her in.
She pushed open the door, unwinding her blue scarf and unbuttoning her navy fleece jacket in response to the warmth of the room.
The older man turned toward her, revealing a face with Asian features and sharp, intelligent brown eyes. She recognized him despite the gray that now threaded through his black hair. In that moment she felt like an unhappy, rebellious, dyed-and-streaked-haired teen again.
Any hope that her former eleventh-grade math teacher wouldn’t recognize her fled as Luke said, “Miranda, you remember Dahn Nguyen, right? Dahn, Miranda Gabriel and her little girl have recently returned to Destiny Island.”
She ducked her head in a nod of acknowledgment. “Hello, Mr. Nguyen.”
She was a slender five feet seven and he wasn’t a whole lot bigger, but he’d always had such an air of authority. That hadn’t changed one bit as he appraised her. “Did you ever finish high school, Miranda?”
Her chin came up. Glad that she’d finally listened to her brother’s advice and accepted his help, she said, “Yes, I did.” No need to tell the man that she’d obtained her GED only a few weeks ago.
He smiled. “That’s very good. Education is so important. It’s one of the many things I appreciated when I came to this country.”
She vaguely recalled that he’d been one of what the older generation referred to as the Vietnamese boat people, refugees who’d fled their country when that crazy war happened way back in the 1960s.
“I’ll leave you to talk,” Mr. Nguyen said. “Luke, Elsa and I will be in soon for her shots.” He smiled again at Miranda. “My cat has blue eyes and my granddaughter was in a Frozen phase when she named her.”
Astonished by the smiles, and at finding common ground with this man, she said, “My daughter’s only two so she doesn’t really understand the movie, but she loves the princess clothes. And Sven, the reindeer, and Olaf, the snowman.”
When her former teacher had gone, Miranda sank into a chair. “Whew. Back in eleventh grade, he was always scowling at me.” She peeled off her jacket and shoved it over the back of her chair along with her scarf.
“Back then, you deserved it,” Luke said, flecks of green and gold twinkling in his gray eyes. Those were intriguing eyes, an unusual combination of colors.
She stuck out her tongue, but grinned. “Okay, fair enough.” She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands. “I was acting out because I hated being here.”
He shook his head, looking puzzled. “Acting out? And why did you hate Destiny Island?” Then he said, “Hang on to those answers. Let me get you something to drink. Maybe a muffin as well?”
“That’s okay.” She pulled her wallet out of her jacket pocket. “I’ll just—”
“No. My treat. I invited you. What would you like?”
One of her first life lessons was that, on the occasions you did have money, you stretched it by picking the cheapest items. But now, seeing the bowl-shaped cup of foam-topped coffee in front of him, and the giant cranberry muffin, she gave herself permission to indulge. “I would absolutely love a hot chocolate and a Destiny bar.” The rich chocolate squares were the island version of Nanaimo bars, using Baileys Irish Cream flavoring instead of vanilla in the custard layer.
He grinned. “What is it about women and chocolate?” Not waiting for an answer, he took a couple of long-legged strides over to the counter.
Objectively speaking, the man had a fine butt to go along with those long legs and broad shoulders. He was obviously fit, and carried himself with a confidence that seemed unconscious, so different from the eye-catching, always-on-stage movements of Sebastian, the actor. Ariana’s father. A man who wouldn’t be caught dead offstage in a plaid flannel shirt. Or, come to that, in a backwater like Destiny Island.
When Luke returned, placing her hot chocolate and Destiny bar in front of her, he said, “Why did you hate it here?”
Before answering, she lifted the mug, admiring the artistic drizzle of chocolate syrup that decorated the peaks of whipped cream, and inhaled, closing her eyes to better savor the scent. Then she sipped, and smiled. “Pure, decadent bliss,” she said with satisfaction.
Luke’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth with a chunk of muffin, and his eyes widened, the gold flecks gleaming.
Oops. She hadn’t intended to be suggestive, but it seemed he’d interpreted her actions that way. Putting the mug down, she said briskly, “I’m a city girl. I grew up in Vancouver and I love it.” Well, not the Downtown Eastside or most of the other places she’d lived as a child, but the city itself. “It’s so vibrant. There are so many things to see and do, and a lot of them are free. The people are such a great mix of races, cultures, lifestyles, and—”
“Hey,” he broke in, putting down his coffee cup and holding up his hand to stop her. “Destiny’s diverse. Look at Dahn Nguyen. The Yakimuras who own this place. Aaron’s friend Lionel. Rachelle and Celia who own C-Shell. And then there’s—”
“Stop. I hear you.” The Yakimuras, a long-time island family, were Japanese Canadian. Lionel, her brother’s best friend, was an African-American Vietnam War draft dodger. Rachelle was black, too, and married to Celia. On an island with a population of not much more than 1,500, there was a lot of diversity. “And yeah, before you say it, there’s some arts and culture going on here, too, but much less than in Vancouver.” She forked up a bite of gooey Destiny bar and managed to suppress a moan of enjoyment.
“You’re into arts and culture?” His tone was so carefully neutral that she guessed he didn’t see her as a big culture buff.
She had to chuckle and admit, “Well, maybe not so much. I do like theater and music. There are lots of free musical events in the city. Or if you volunteer, you often get to attend. Though I don’t do that now, since Ariana came along. But even if you stand outside a paid venue, like on the beach outside the Vancouver Folk Music Festival, you can still hear the music.” She added, with a grin, “Ariana’s developing eclectic taste.”
“Do you like my stepbrother’s music?”
“Your stepbrother?” She frowned and sipped hot chocolate as she tried to remember. “Did I know you had a stepbrother?”
“We didn’t hang out together. He was in your class, but like you he skipped school more than he attended. He always had incredible musical talent, and he’s done well for himself. Julian Blake?” He cocked his head.
“Oh. My. God.” She almost dropped the mug, gaping at him in amazement. “Julian Blake’s your stepbrother?” He’d been a moody, sexy bad boy. She’d had a mad crush on him, but he’d shown no interest in the girls at school. She’d wondered if he was gay, but didn’t get that vibe. Several years later, she’d been stunned to hear him on CBC Radio, an up-and-coming musician. Since then, she’d followed his career.
Julian was indeed incredible, and crazy good-looking. Superhot. In the way she most definitely was attracted to. And definitely not gay, given all the social media photos of him with various attractive women. “I’m a huge fan. I even saw him live once, before Ariana was born and my budget got so tight.” Intense, passionate, edgy Julian—with his tousled, burnished-gold hair, ripped black clothing, and tattoo—was pretty much the opposite of the comfortably handsome, easygoing, chestnut-haired island veterinarian. “You don’t share a parent?”
“No. My dad died when I was ten, and two years later Mom married Forbes Blake, Julian’s father. Forbes and Julian’s mom were divorced.”
He’d spoken impersonally, which led her to say, “You and Julian don’t get along so well?” She ate more of the Destiny bar, thinking that it tasted the way Julian looked and the way his music sounded: a mix of rough and smooth, of sweet and bitter. An irresistible blend.
“No, we do. I mean, there aren’t any problems. But we’re very different people. And he’s made himself scarce. Dropped out of school not long after you did, went over to Vancouver. He wasn’t in touch for a while, not even with his dad and they’d been close. But then suddenly he emailed to say he was okay, playing music. Since then we all keep in touch, but he only comes to the island a couple times a year. I think he hates Blue Moon Harbor as much as you used to.”
Automatically, she opened her mouth to correct him and say she still hated the place, but then she closed her lips. There were good things here. And good people, like Eden and her relatives who kept calling her family. Kara, who provided a perfect working environment. Iris at Dreamspinner who made sure she got first crack when kids’ books went on sale. Miranda still wasn’t exactly nature girl, all passionate about the ocean and trees and eagles and stuff the way her brother was, but she had to admit that Destiny Island had its merits.
It probably always had. A realization sank in. “I blamed the island for everything that had gone wrong in my life.”
“Your mom died, didn’t she?” Luke said quietly. “Her parents took in you and Aaron?”
Miranda gulped. How stupid to have said that out loud, to open the door to memories she tried not to revisit, much less share. She glanced at her watch, but didn’t read the time. “I need to get back to the store.” She stood and, not about to abandon the half-eaten Destiny bar, wrapped it in her napkin. Too bad Luke hadn’t bought the delicious hot chocolate in a takeout cup. Shoving her arms into her jacket sleeves, she said, “Thanks for treating me.”
He stood, too, frowning. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not. But this is my coffee break and I left Kara not only minding the store but also looking after Ariana.”
As she turned toward the door, wrapping her scarf around her neck, he said, “Hold on a sec.” He strode over to the counter, got a cardboard cup, and neatly poured the remains of her hot chocolate into it. “To keep you warm.”
Oh yeah, this was a good guy. “Thanks again.” She gazed at him, into those very cool multicolored eyes, and got lost there for a moment. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope, and those were her favorite toys of the entire Blowing Bubbles inventory.
“Let’s do it again,” he said.
She pulled herself back out of the kaleidoscope. “Oh, uh, I don’t know.” As she walked toward the door, he grabbed his jacket and kept pace. He was beside her, pulling on his jacket, as she hurried down the street.
At the door to the kids’ store, he said, “What’s wrong, Miranda? We were having a nice talk, and now you’re blowing me off.”
“Luke, I . . .” A guy like this deserved more than a cool brush-off, so she’d tell him the truth, even though it was hard to admit. “I’m going to say that cliché thing that it’s not about you, it’s about me. You’re a great guy with a great job and I’m sure your kids are great, too. But I’m, well, at a weird place in my life. I’ve always been kind of messed up. You knew me back when, so you saw how screwed up I was, and—”
When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Let me finish. I look different now, but inside I’m still kind of a mess. I’m trying to straighten myself out, but it’s hard. And I don’t want to inflict that on anyone else.” The words were true and as far as she was prepared to go. She wasn’t about to tell him that something about him called to her in a way she wasn’t comfortable with, tempting her to reveal secrets and vulnerabilities.
Gripping the door handle, she added, “I’m sorry.” Then she squared her shoulders and went into the shop, leaving him out on the street in the cold.
* * *
A couple of weeks after he’d had coffee with Miranda, Luke was still thinking about her.
Sitting at his desk in the office of his veterinary clinic on a Tuesday morning after dropping the twins at daycare, with half an hour free before the clinic opened, he was supposed to be researching acromegaly. He had diagnosed the rare disease, a growth hormone overproduction, in one of his feline patients and needed to update his knowledge of treatment options. But, staring at the computer screen, the image of Miranda’s face filled his mind. Particularly, those sad, hurting, blue denim eyes as she’d told him she was sorry.
Wounded animals reacted in two very different ways. Some crawled away to suffer alone. He wondered if that was what Miranda was doing when she cut off conversations that edged too far into the personal.
Other animals struck out when they were in pain. As a teen, Miranda had been abrasive and rude. Her favorite word started with F and she used it in all its variations. Including the oft-expressed “fuck off and die.” At the time he’d taken her for a bad girl rebelling against a too-conservative world. Now he guessed maybe he’d been wrong, and she’d been hurting.
Hurting back then. And today, perhaps still nursing those wounds along with fresh ones suffered over the past decade. Like those inflicted by Ariana’s father.
Luke was a healer. The evidence of it surrounded him: files, research manuals, and drawings and photographs of animals presented to him by grateful island kids and adults.
When he was nine and his father was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Luke had done everything he could to help, from going to the library to get mystery novels for his dad to learning how to make what his father called “proper English tea.” None of it worked, though. He couldn’t cure his dad’s cancer. Nor could he heal his mom’s pain at losing her life partner at the age of forty. It had taken Forbes Blake to do that. But in the two years before Forbes came along, Luke’s mother was a bit of a zombie, stumbling through life on antidepressant medication. She’d barely noticed her son’s efforts to look after her and cheer her up.
When Luke was twelve, he stopped trying because she met and fell madly in love with Forbes. Luke had resented the interloper; no one could replace his dad. He’d also resented that his mom had time for Forbes but not for him. Thank heavens for Candace, her parents, and his other friends.
But then one day something amazing had happened. Riding his bike home from school, he’d come across a cat being attacked by a raccoon. He managed to chase off the raccoon, and then wrapped the wounded cat in his jacket, bundled it into his backpack, and bicycled as fast as he could to this very building, which had then housed Viola Cruickshank’s veterinary practice. She’d asked him to stroke the cat while she treated it. She’d said he had a healing spirit, which was as important as any medicine.
It might have only been a kind thing to say to a distraught kid, though gruff Viola, who’d lived alone all her life, had always denied that. She said she was kind to animals, not to people. Whatever her motivation, when he’d asked her to let him help out at her practice, she’d agreed. She had never wanted to hear about his personal issues, but she’d mentored him so effectively that when he went to the Western College of Veterinary Medicine in Saskatchewan, he’d come out top of the class. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he’d inherited his mom’s interest in, and aptitude for, sciences. But academic honors didn’t matter to Luke. What counted was that he healed countless living creatures. As he’d told Miranda, animals were easier than people. He didn’t know how to heal people. It was merely a perk of his job that, often when he healed a sick or injured animal, he also helped its owner.
Miranda Gabriel was a wounded creature. She said she was messed up as a teen, and was messed up now.
He didn’t do well at fixing human beings. Besides, he didn’t need a messed-up woman in his life, and he didn’t need to reprise his crazy high-school infatuation. Particularly with a woman who had a less-than-stable lifestyle, and seemed determined to return to Vancouver.
He had enough on his hands with his sons and his busy practice. Miranda had blown him off. He should accept that. But for some reason Miranda, the old version with the piercings and the attitude and the new one with the wounded eyes and the TTT kid, got to him.
“Oh hell, man,” he muttered. “It’s not just the eyes and the kid. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve seen in years.” His twenty-eight-year old body had almost forgotten what sex was like, yet the thought of Miranda made it stir. “Which is not a good reason to see her again.” He wasn’t that kind of guy, one who got into a relationship for the sex. Not that he actually knew what kind of guy he was when it came to dating and sex, since there’d only ever been Candace.
Luke picked up the phone. And put it down. If he called, she’d turn him down. Which was her right. She was a grown woman. Twenty-seven, he figured. With a two-year-old, a job, and a career plan. He knew her brother, Aaron. He was a good guy. No doubt he offered his sister all the support she needed.
Except hadn’t he heard that Aaron was engaged to a woman from Ontario, who’d moved here with her entire family? Which meant Aaron had other things on his mind than searching his sister’s eyes to see if there was something more going on with her than the kid, job, and career plan.
Luke was no schemer. He was a straightforward guy, not the least bit devious. So why did he find himself searching for an excuse to see Miranda again? Aha! Wasn’t there a birthday party coming up for one of the kids in Caleb and Brandon’s daycare? He needed to go gift-shopping. Checking his schedule, he saw a break in the early afternoon.
Miranda only worked part-time at Blowing Bubbles. In the past months he’d been in the store several times and he’d never run into her until that afternoon three weeks ago. What were the chances?
Maybe this was the test. If she wasn’t there, he’d leave her alone. If she was, it was a sign that . . . what?
* * *
The shriek that assaulted his ears as he opened the door of Blowing Bubbles made Luke smile. Ariana had a distinctive wail. And if she was here, likely so was Miranda.
Yes, she was at the counter, looking frazzled as she talked to Penelope Abercrombie, a woman in her late sixties who didn’t have the sweetest of dispositions. Glancing around, Luke didn’t see Kara, so it seemed Miranda was on her own.
He ambled toward the red-faced toddler who sat in the middle of the fenced play enclosure, ignoring the dolls and stuffed animals scattered around her, registering her displeasure in ear-piercing wails. He couldn’t possibly make her screech any louder than she already was, so he squatted outside a green plastic-mesh panel and said, “Hey there, pretty girl. It’s me. Remember? I came to visit you again, because you’re so darned irresistible.”
Dark eyes squinted at him and tear trails gleamed on her cheeks, but the wails receded to hiccupy sobs. It seemed that, like most females, she appreciated compliments.
“You like being the center of attention, don’t you, princess?”
She clambered to her feet and plodded over. “Up,” she demanded, lifting her arms.
Hoping Miranda wouldn’t mind, Luke stood and reached over the two-foot-high panel to hoist her into his arms. “Hey, Ariana. My name’s Luke. I went to school with your mommy.” This reminded him of holding the boys when they were younger, except that this child smelled sweeter than the twins ever had, even after their baths. Her scent was flowery and innocent, a little like wild roses.
“School?” she said, her head tipped up toward him.
“A long time ago.”
“Mommy go school. On puter.”
Computer, he figured. “Yes, I know. She told me about that.” Experience suggested that a two-year-old’s interest in anyone but herself was limited, so he said, “But how about you? What do you like to do?” He gestured toward the discarded cloth dolls, which wore fancy costumes. “Do you like princesses?”
She babbled a string of syllables from which he recognized the words, “Fairies! With wings!”
Now he noticed the wings, more bedraggled than perky, telling him these were much-loved dolls. “Yeah, fairies are much better than princesses. They can fly!”
“Fly! Unc Aaron flies.”
“I know he does. But he isn’t a fairy, is he?”
The girl giggled. “He’s pi-lot.” She said the word carefully. “He flies air-planes. With wings!”
“Yes, planes sure do have wings.”
The raised voice that now claimed his attention wasn’t the child’s but Mrs. Abercrombie’s, saying, “Yes, the very first time Tedward played with it! The tail just came off in his hand.”
He turned to see the woman glaring at Miranda, who said, “I told you we’d replace the dog, ma’am. But if I might suggest—”
“But it’s wrong! You stupid girl, you’re not listening to me. You shouldn’t sell defective merchandise!”
Luke was an even-tempered guy, but anger stirred inside him. How dare she use that tone and call Miranda stupid? Not to mention, it was Kara who ordered merchandise. Still holding Ariana, he walked over to the women, noting the stuffed dog on the counter and wincing at the obviously yanked-off tail. His boys, particularly Brandon, could be tough on toys, too. “Mrs. Abercrombie, there’s no need—”
“Luke,” Miranda said sharply. “I’m serving this customer. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Her narrowed eyes, steely gray rather than blue, warned him not to interfere.
Clenching his teeth, he rubbed Ariana’s back, hoping the girl didn’t pick up on the tension in his body and in the atmosphere.
“Mrs. Abercrombie,” Miranda said, all politeness now, “perhaps rather than another stuffed animal, Tedward might prefer a toy truck? They’re very sturdy. Great toys for strong, active kids. What do you think?”
Luke thought of saying that his boys were big fans of toy trucks. But he figured Miranda had the situation under control and he’d obey her unspoken request that he butt out.
“Hmm.” The older woman seemed to have calmed down, and was considering the suggestion. “Perhaps you’re right. Stuffed animals are more a toy for little children, aren’t they? And girls, of course.”
“Why don’t I show you what we have?” As Miranda led the woman away, she shot Luke a quick smile. “Thanks for looking after Ariana, Luke.”
Her eyes were denim blue again and that smile, though brief, warmed him. The child in his arms was a cozy bundle, relaxed now in the boneless way that told him she was dozing off. He rocked her lightly, simulating the motion of a cradle, and listened with amusement as Miranda’s sales efforts resulted in Mrs. Abercrombie not only getting a free truck to replace the returned stuffed dog, but also purchasing a second truck.
When the woman, toting a big bag, had left the shop, Miranda came over to him. In a scoop-necked blue cotton tee and nicely faded jeans, wearing dangly sea-glass earrings, she was beautiful in such a natural way. It was funny, but Candace, who was crazy about clothes and makeup, had looked more city-girl than Miranda. Whether or not Miranda was ready to believe it, she belonged here in Blue Moon Harbor.
“Whew.” She drew her hand across her brow, grinned at him, and reached out for her sleeping child.
He passed Ariana over, finding he missed the warm weight. Watching Miranda cuddle her daughter, he felt a pang of sorrow. Candace, with her loving nature, would have been a fabulous mom. Life could be so damned unfair.
After a final hug, Miranda carefully set her daughter back down in the play area.
Luke got control of his emotions and said, “That woman was awful. I’m surprised you kept your temper.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I’ve done all my life? Waited tables and sales-clerked. I can be polite to anyone in any circumstance.”
That was so unlike the old Miranda, who was blunt and abrasive. He wondered how tough it had been for her to learn to put on a polite face. He also hoped that, with him, she could be genuine. “You handled her really well. I gather Tedward ripped the tail off that poor stuffed dog?”
“It’s not the first time we’ve had a return on something that was given to Tedward.”
“That was a good idea, suggesting trucks. My boys have them, and they’re almost indestructible.”
“Maybe it’ll keep Tedward from getting the idea that it’s okay to torture animals,” she said, her tone dead serious.
“That would be a very good thing.”
She tilted her chin. “Working in this store has been enlightening. When you see how kids play, you get an idea of their personalities. When parents shop and talk about their children, you gain insights into how those children are being raised. Kara says she can make a good guess how most of the island kids are going to turn out when they grow up.”
“Huh. That’s perceptive.” And made him wonder what Kara thought about Caleb and Brandon, and his own parenting skills.
“Anyhow, you’ve been waiting a while. What can I help you with?” She smiled. “You aren’t carrying anything, so I take it you’re not here to return one of those birthday gifts?”
“Nope, no returns. There’s a birthday party for a four-year-old girl, Katie Dvorak. I have no idea what she likes but I bet Kara’s magic computer system can tell me.”
“I’d bet on it.” She walked away, toward the desk.
The woman had a fantastic butt, he thought as he followed her. And once she gave Destiny Island more of a chance, there was no way she’d move back to Vancouver. Besides, while her lifestyle might have been unstable in the past, and she’d confessed to being kind of messed up, she was clearly on the path to pulling it all together. So it wasn’t crazy for him to want to ask her out.
He stood on the customer side of the counter while she, on the other side, clicked away at the computer.
“At first, I thought this database was a bit scary,” she said. “You know, all ‘big brother is watching.’ But it does make a lot of sense. We’re the only kids’ store on the island and we want to keep our customers happy.” She added dryly, “And keep them from shopping online, or over in Victoria or Vancouver.”
Watching her slender fingers deftly click keys, he imagined those fingers on his body, a healthy male body that hadn’t felt a woman’s caress in years. Yeah, his sex drive had reawakened with a vengeance. Trying to sound like a logical adult rather than a horny teen, he commented, “You’re the only kids’ store, but you don’t carry books.”
“No. Kara told me it’s a longtime agreement with Dreamspinner. They carry children’s books and we carry everything else.”
“That’s typical Blue Moon Harbor.” He seized the opportunity for a low-key sales pitch. “Businesses cooperating rather than competing.”
She glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s not a bad place.” Then she gazed at the screen. “Katie collects the Maplelea Girls, a set of dolls from different parts of Canada. They’re great toys because they’re fun for little kids to play with, and they have backstories that interest the child as she gets older. Katie doesn’t have Jenna from the East Coast or Saila from Nunavut.”
“Let’s go with the Inuit one.”
“Great. I’ll log it into the computer so no one else will buy her the same thing.” She clicked a few more keys, and then went to the shelves and selected a box containing a brown-skinned, black-haired doll in outdoor clothing and mukluks.
She processed the sale, he paid, and she said, “Gift-wrap?”
“That’d be great.” When he was operating on an animal, his fingers knew exactly what to do. When it came to tasks like wrapping presents, he tended toward clumsiness. He guessed that, when it came to asking a woman out, he’d be even more awkward.
From a rack with rolls of wrapping paper, she selected one that had puppies and kittens scattered over it. “This?”
“Good guess. For me, anyhow. But does Katie . . . ?” About to ask whether the girl liked animals, he remembered her last name and made the association. “Dvorak. They have a two-year-old Persian cat named Emerald because of her big green eyes.”
“If it had been Emerald’s birthday, you’d have known exactly what to buy,” Miranda teased.
“Most cats and dogs are easy,” he agreed. “The ones that are finicky, I know about it. Sometimes it’s due to allergies or other health conditions, but mostly it’s because the owners spoil them. They think they’re being nice to the animal, but in fact they’re screwing with its health.” And he was lecturing, which probably wasn’t the way to persuade her to date him.
And yet mischief sparkled in her blue eyes and she teased, “You, of course, never spoil your boys, right?”
“Uh, well . . .” Mischief looked so much better on her than sadness. “Mostly I’m pretty good.” Okay, this was an opportunity, so he seized it. “But there’s a place in everyone’s life for a little ice cream, don’t you think?”
“Especially if it’s chocolate,” she agreed promptly.
“Bring Ariana over on Sunday afternoon. We’ll build sundaes. I’ll make sure there’s chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and some fruit and nuts just for some token healthy stuff.”
She made herself busy wrapping the present, her head down, ignoring him.
“Sprinkles?” he offered. “Chocolate chips?”
As she fussed with a froth of curly, multi-colored ribbon that was so much prettier than the plain old bow he’d have tied, he said, “Miranda?”
She gazed up at him, biting her bottom lip in a way that had him wanting to kiss it.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. When they’d gone for coffee, she’d said it wasn’t about him, but her. Seemed to him, that meant she didn’t trust him to understand that she was dealing with some issues, and to treat her right. What had he ever done to make her feel that way? Or was it, perhaps, men in general she mistrusted? “Look, I don’t know what guys have done to you in the past. Like”—he lowered his voice—“Ariana’s father. But I’m not them.”
“I know you’re not,” she said promptly, sounding slightly annoyed. “In every way, you’re not them.”
She almost made it sound like a bad thing, so maybe his hunch was wrong. “But you don’t trust me,” he said, needing to know what was going on here.
“I do.” She dragged the two small words out slowly. “As a person, I mean. But like I said, I’m kind of messed up right now and I’m not into dating. And I can see, well, not to be egotistical or anything, but I can see you’re attracted to me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and squinted up her face. “Aagh. That sounds terrible. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s true, I find you attractive. But Miranda, if you don’t want to date, I get it. We could just be friends. I wouldn’t push you.” Craving a woman’s caresses—oh hell, be honest, craving down and dirty sex—was the stuff of fantasies. Dating, though . . . Now that he really thought about it, it was big, for him as well as for her. “I’m honestly not sure I’m ready for dating myself. Candace and I—well, she was my only girlfriend. Ever.”
“Ever?” Her eyes widened. “You’ve only ever . . . uh, dated, one woman?”
He figured what she was really asking was if he’d slept only with Candace. It didn’t damage his male pride one single bit to say, “Yes. One.” Still, he figured an explanation wouldn’t hurt. “I loved her. As kids, she was my best friend, and her friendship kept me going through some rough times. Adolescence hit and we became boyfriend-girlfriend. We fell in love. I guess more accurately, we realized we’d loved one another all along, but when all the hormones kicked in the love became non-platonic.”
Miranda was gazing at him as if he were an alien life form, but when she spoke he heard a trace of envy. “That sounds amazing. Kindred spirits, right?”
He hadn’t heard the term before. “Different in some ways but yeah, when it came to the important stuff—what we valued, what we wanted out of life—I guess we were.”
“But still, you never got curious? What it’d be like with someone else? You were never attracted to anyone else?”
Remembering the inexplicable appeal of the girl with her punky hair and piercings, he swallowed. “Never seriously attracted or curious. I was smart enough to know the value of what Candace and I had together.” If his wife were alive, he’d probably still find the new Miranda attractive, but no way would he consider doing anything about it.
Her eyes clouded. “And lucky enough that she realized it, too.”
Maybe his hunch hadn’t been so wrong. “You fell for a guy you thought was a kindred spirit, but he didn’t feel the same way?” Ariana’s father?
She snorted. “A guy? It’s happened more than once. I have the worst luck. Or, as Aaron says, taste or judgment. I’m just like my—” She broke off. “Never mind. It’s a long story.”
“A story I’d like to hear.”
The shop bell jangled and Jillian Summers and her son, Cole, entered the store. Luke wondered, as he and Miranda both said hi to them, if Miranda was thinking “saved by the bell.”
Jillian, a seaplane pilot, flew for Miranda’s brother’s Blue Moon Air. She and Cole, who was eight or so, had a Dalmatian-Labrador cross called Freckles, a dog they’d rescued from the shelter three years ago.
Miranda asked how the wedding plans were going, and Luke remembered hearing that Jillian was engaged to Cole’s father, a man who’d reappeared in their lives at Christmas.
Luke could have left, probably should have, but he wasn’t going to let Miranda blow him off again so he browsed while Jillian filled Miranda in on all the details that women found so interesting. Cole had disappeared among the shelves, and finally Jillian went to join him, saying that they’d poke around for a bit.
Luke rejoined Miranda and said quietly, “Sundaes on Sunday. Three little kids, lots of mess, sugar highs, and I promise there’ll be chocolate. Not a date. Maybe the beginning of a friendship. You can handle that. Can’t you?” Deliberately, he made it sound like a challenge.
The old Miranda wasn’t the type to walk away from a dare.
The new one studied him for a long time, and he wasn’t sure whether she was trying to read his mind or to figure out her own feelings. It didn’t matter because in the end, she spoke one word. It wasn’t as enthusiastic a response as he’d hoped for, but he’d take it.
“Fine,” she said.