Every Little Kiss (Sequoia Lake Book 2) Page 8

  “Woof!”

  Liv braced herself as Bullseye, stick in his mouth, his sights locked on the pretty yellow sundress, charged up the beach with no intentions of slowing down.

  “Sit,” Ford said right before Bullseye would have lunged through the air and onto his new friend. Good boy that he was, Bullseye did as he was told, except the wet stick hit the ground, sending water and sand everywhere.

  Bullseye looked at the stick, then up to Liv, his tongue panting in anticipation.

  “First apologize to the lady for getting her dress wet.” He gave a signal with his hand. “Then I’ll throw the stick.”

  Bullseye lowered his head and nudged at her thigh with his nose in apology.

  “It’s okay, you were excited.” She gave his head a pat. Lucky dog. “He was so obedient with my son. How long did it take to train him?”

  “Two years.”

  Her eyes went wide. “That’s a long time.”

  “Not for a search dog.”

  Understanding filled those pretty eyes. “He works with you, then?”

  “Every day.” Ford picked up the stick and threw it in the water. “Bullseye is a special dog with a lot of special gifts. But it took two years of intense training to get him ready for the field.”

  Bullseye swan-dived into the lake with all the grace of a rhino, and she laughed. “How do you know which ones are special?”

  Ford watched the sun reflect off her hair, casting a soft glow around her, and said, “I know it when I see it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Smelling of iodine and still in her scrubs, Liv hurried to the back of the Bear Claw Bakery and plopped down at the end of the table, going low in the seat, a little breathless from her mad dash across the parking lot. She’d just finished a shift at the hospital and was gearing up for her second shift as president of Team Paxton Fan Club when she’d seen Ford standing across the street looking like sex on a stick.

  The worst part was that he’d seen her. Not just a moment ago, but the other night on the beach. He’d blasted right past the grieving-widow exterior and spoke to that place, deep inside, that she purposefully kept secret. Even more terrifying, she liked what she heard.

  She could blame the romantic backdrop of the sun setting over the deep blue lake for confusing her. But she was pretty sure it was the man himself. Which was why she’d spent the early part of the week avoiding him. A hard task since he lived just three doors down.

  But when Liv set her mind to something, she saw it through.

  Unfortunately, she chose to duck into the meeting place of the Women of the Wagon Trail—Sequoia Lake’s version of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Made up from some of the town’s oldest families, the WOTWT was the area’s oldest society. And she’d sat down just in time for their weekly fund-raising meeting.

  “What are you doing here?” Avery asked, looking at Liv as if she’d grown a third head.

  Nope, just wings and feathers. And at any minute she was going to cluck like the chicken she was.

  “I’m here for the meeting. Is it over?” Liv asked, looking around the café to find it oddly empty, then back to her two friends. Avery and Grace—the only two WOTWT members who seemed to be present.

  Maybe her luck was changing.

  “Hasn’t started yet.” Or not. “Irene was about to call the meeting to order when Mavis started harassing a couple of firemen, asking to sample their buns,” Avery said, her hiking boots, khaki shorts, and fitted tank making her look like a real-life Lara Croft with long blonde locks. Which was fitting since she worked as an adventure guide at the local lodge. “Mavis took one look at their uniforms and thought they were the entertainment, so she started waving bills in the air, and chaos broke out.”

  Liv slung her bag over the back of a chair and took a seat. “Where are they?”

  “Shelia kicked them out when someone started sampling buns without permission. Said they can’t come back in until they promise to behave,” Grace Mills, the third piece in their bestie sandwich, said. She was dressed in pressed capris, a light cream top with matching ballet flats, and a look of utter confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s the weekly Wagon Days meeting, right?” Liv asked, playing it cool and reaching across the table to help herself to one of the many cupcakes piled in the center of the platter. “I heard there was some kind of problem with the entertainment, and they needed volunteers, so where else would I be?”

  Easier than explaining she was hiding from her sexy new neighbor.

  Wagon Days was an annual fund-raiser hosted by the Women of the Wagon Trail, and it was their most honored achievement. It served as the biggest community fund-raiser and the most-attended family day of the year.

  It was a time for neighbors to mingle and kids to run free. It was on old-fashioned town fair with more than a hundred food and craft booths from local vendors, a gold-panning contest, and even a cakewalk. The goal was to bring the town together to celebrate family, history, and nature the way the founders of Sequoia Lake intended when they settled this town. While raising much-needed funds for the local schools and churches.

  Avery shot Liv a look. “Um, anywhere that doesn’t involve talk of crafting, committees, and who’s going to run this year’s cakewalk.”

  Liv felt a rash break out on her wrist. “I don’t see any glitter or glue guns. I’m on the Yahoo group committee for WOTWT—”

  “Everyone in town is on the Yahoo group. It’s not a committee,” Avery interrupted.

  “—and I happen to love cake.” To prove it she snagged a cupcake right off Grace’s plate and sank her teeth into the gooey treat, moaning with pleasure. “God, that’s good,” she said around bits of key-lime cupcake. “So is there a sign-up list going around?”

  “It must be low blood sugar,” Avery said to Grace.

  “Either that or she accidentally ate one of Shelia’s special cupcakes,” Grace said, guarding the rest of the cupcakes with her arms. “Because I could have sworn she just said sign-up list and smiled.” She looked at Avery. “That is a smile, isn’t it?”

  Avery leaned in for a closer inspection. “I see teeth, but I’d say her lips are more curled than curved.”

  “Hello? Sitting right here,” Liv said.

  “We know,” Avery said. “You are here, at a Women of the Wagon Trail meeting, of your own free will. An emergency meeting that will likely include people sharing their opinions in a loud manner and forced participation, and you’re not looking for the nearest exit.”

  “When I mentioned it would be cheaper to sign up for my Sips and Splatters class rather than pop in every week, you said it was too much of a commitment,” Grace pointed out.

  Liv snorted. “You make me sound like I’m allergic to commitment.” Which was ridiculous, because Liv was the most committed person on the planet.

  As the daughter of two doctors, Liv had built her life around commitment. Always weighing her decisions in terms of achievement. Even before marriage, she’d only dated men who had potential to go the distance. She’d never had a fling, a hobby job, or even a phone plan that lasted less than five years.

  “See.” Grace pointed at her. “Just the word has you scratching.”

  Liv looked down and realized she’d been itching her wrist, so she sat on her hands. “Between Paxton and work, I never know what my schedule is going to look like. I didn’t feel comfortable promising I’d be there if I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t have to flake. So it is easier to pop in when I can.”

  Avery leaned in and asked, “So what has you popping in today?”

  Besides avoiding a too-young man and all of his too-good lines?

  “I talked to Dr. Brown about the Mobile Medic position, and she said I have all the qualifications she’s looking for.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Dr. Brown had said she needed to get involved in the community, and now she was sitting at a community meeting.

  “Liv, that’s amazing,” Avery said. “It will give you the
hours you’ve been asking for and the extra benefits for being full-time.”

  It was all those things and so much more.

  “Except, she needs someone who is involved in the community. And since the other person on her list is Kevin Curtis—”

  “Mr. Sequoia Lake Curtis?” Grace asked, plucking a second cupcake from the plate and handing it to Liv. “Seriously, senior year I was voted Most Likely to Study Abroad, and he was voted Most Likely to Be Mayor.”

  “Which is why I’m here.” Liv licked the frosting off the top of the cupcake like it was an ice cream cone. “The best way to prove to her that I’m invested in this community is to help out with Wagon Days. And while I don’t bake anything but cupcakes, and I can’t craft,” she said, convinced she sounded like the worst mother on the planet, “I make a mean Rice Krispies treat, and I’m as cool as a cucumber under pressure.”

  “A cucumber, huh?” Avery teased and let out a big yawn.

  “Early morning at the lodge?” Grace asked.

  “Nope. A couple of late nights with my sous chef.”

  “How did the iron steak and sweet potato mash turn out the other night?”

  “Inedible.” Yet her friend couldn’t stop smiling. “I overcooked the steak, burned the sauce, and didn’t even get to the green beans before Ty got home, looking like a rugged, hungry mountain man. So I made omelets in nothing but my heels and a spatula. According to Ty, I should check off another adventure in my journal, because he thinks I’m Sequoia Lake’s hottest chef.”

  Liv remembered those early years, before kids and mortgages, when everything between Sam and her was so simple. Spontaneous and easy. Every little thing was an excuse to fall into bed together. They had miss-you sex, make-up sex, morning sex, mad-for-you sex. And her personal favorite, maybe-we’ll-get-caught sex. Which happened often, but rarely happened in a bed. And they never got caught.

  That was the Sam she’d mourned, the marriage she’d grieved. But the grieving had started long before the accident.

  “Was there dessert? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable,” Grace said, tearing off the top of her cupcake and flipping it over to make a cupcake sandwich. “But please tell me. The closest I’ve come to sex on a stick was eating a Fudgsicle while watching the lawn boy manicure my hedges.”

  “Why don’t you ask Liv?” Avery said, skewering Liv with an amused look that sent her pulse skyrocketing.

  “Why me? A Fudgsicle makes my vanilla ice cream sundae sound tame,” Liv said coolly. Only her palms were starting to sweat, and her cheeks felt awfully red for a girl who hadn’t spent much time in the sun.

  “I was talking about you playing doctor with Cub Candy the other day—”

  “Cub Candy with the abs and perfect butt?” Grace asked.

  “I had an emergency. He happened to pass by and lent me his finger,” Liv said, and Grace’s mouth fell open. “He was helping me stitch up Superdog Stan!”

  “What exactly was he helping you do on the beach at sunset, then?” Avery asked.

  “Nothing,” Liv said, but Avery wasn’t having it.

  Giving another yawn, her friend sat back in her chair and settled in for the long haul. “From what I heard, it looked like a whole lot of something was going on.”

  And since Avery had more sources than the local newspaper, Liv knew there was no point in lying. “Fine. I came home to Paxton hiding Ford’s dog in his room, so I went over to his house to return him. Ford was there, and I thanked him for helping with Stan, then apologized for my son being a pet-tomaniac. No big deal.”

  “Even a blind woman would agree that Cub Candy in nothing but lake water and a wetsuit is a big deal,” Avery said.

  Liv held up a hand. “Can you please stop referring to him as a cub? It’s not like he’s a coed guy spending his summers paddling around the lake and picking up on sun bunnies.”

  He was spending his summer rappelling from mountains and rescuing coeds. Big difference. Or so she’d told herself every night when she’d fallen asleep thinking about just how hard those glistening abs would feel—above her.

  Both women exchanged a pointed look that, combined with the snorts, had Liv squirming in her scrubs.

  “From what I understand, he was too busy eyeballing you to even notice the sun bunnies,” Avery said.

  “He wasn’t eyeballing me. He was just making me laugh, flirting with me to get a reaction.” And her body had reacted all right. Revved up as if it had never seen a half-naked man before.

  Not like him, her girly parts whispered. Because while Sam had been handsome in a distinguished doctor way, he’d never looked as if he lifted logs for sport. Sam was a surgeon with a one-track mind and a soft touch.

  There was nothing soft about Ford. Even his name suggested molded steel and firing pistons.

  “According to Ty, the only thing Ford was interested in making was moves on you.”

  “God, I wish someone would move on me,” Grace said. “It’s been so long I don’t know if my body would know how to move back.”

  “How would Ty know if he was making moves?” Liv asked with an exaggerated eye roll, even though something about Ford making moves her way sent her stomach into a free fall.

  “He was paddleboarding with Ford, doing his male-bonding-with-the-new-team-member thing,” Avery said. “He claims he waved to you, but you were too busy drooling over Ford to wave back.”

  Good God, had she been that obvious? And in front of his new teammate?

  Tyson Donovan wasn’t just Avery’s husband. He was also head of the technical rope team for Sequoia Elite Mountain Rescue. He was the coordinator for the local team and ran most of the searches in the area. He was on the fast track to coordinating the entire Sierras.

  And Liv was on the fast track to developing a serious crush on his newest coworker. Not all that unexpected when one came eye to pec with something oh so tempting three times in one day. Plus, Liv hadn’t been tempted by another man since college when she’d met Sam, so the attraction had caught her by surprise. “Making moves is like breathing for a guy like Ford,” Liv said. “Trust me, he isn’t interested in anything more than a little flirting with a cougar.”

  Grace snorted. “If you’re a cougar, then I’m a saber-toothed tiger.”

  “Half my age plus seven is the cougar equation,” Liv pointed out, reciting one of the dozen or so Cougar Life blogs she’d stayed up late reading.

  “That only works if you’re over forty, and last I checked you weren’t anywhere near the big four-oh.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m closer to cougar than coed,” Liv said, trying to remember the last time she’d had the energy to paddleboard after a full shift at the hospital. The closest she’d come was lifting the couch to find the remote. Had it not been Bachelor Monday, the only heavy lifting she would have done was with the Costco-size bag of Red Vines licorice hidden in her bedroom.

  “Before you start checking the mail for your AARP magazine,” Avery teased, “I will have you know that Ford is twenty-eight.”

  “Twenty-eight?” Six years’ difference wasn’t so bad, Liv thought as she took a sip of her lemonade. Twenty-eight meant they were almost in the same decade. Almost.

  “And he’s sexy, single, and a stand-up guy,” Avery added, as if she were reading his profile off a dating website.

  “He looks more like an up-against-the-wall kind of guy to me.” Grace shrugged. “But what do I know? I’ve been divorced for more years than I was married.”

  Avery considered this for a moment, then scrunched her nose. “He looks like more of a kitchen-counter guy to me, but that could be last night coloring my opinion.”

  Liv could picture him as both, but what had her heart going thump-thump was that he’d also be a sweet lover. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how gentle he’d been helping her at the craft store. Ford would be considerate and thorough and—oh my God, did she just moan?

  “Even though he’s older than I though
t, he’s still six years, one marriage, and thirty-six hours of labor younger than me,” Liv said, feeling the wrinkles set in.

  “There’s always Chuck from Bunny Slope Supermarket,” Grace offered, and Liv shivered—and not in the same way she shivered when she thought of Ford.

  Chuck was balloon-shaped, balding, and the town butcher. He was also fifty and convinced that Liv needed a man to bring home the country-cut bacon.

  “Ford is looking better and better,” Avery teased. “Plus, he’s on loan from Reno and leaves at the end of August, making him the perfect summer fling.”

  Liv’s heart stopped, and she choked on a piece of ice. “I don’t think so.”

  “What if you give him a kiss and see how you feel after?” Grace asked, eyes wide with excitement at the idea.

  “Because the last man I kissed was Sam,” she said, a wealth of conflicting emotions churning in her belly. “And kissing someone else would change that forever.” And when something had the power to change forever, Liv had become gun-shy.

  “Plus, I have my hands full with work. Paxton’s still taking in stowaways, only this time it wasn’t a stray. Carolyn is in town, her helicopter-grandma blades going a zillion rotations per second. And Ford and I are in completely different phases of our lives.”

  He was living life single and fancy-free, and she was a single mom who had lived more lives than she’d ever hoped to.

  “Avery said a summer fling, not matching headstones,” Grace reminded her.

  “And being in different phases makes this perfect.” Avery shook her cupcake at Liv. “Remember when we sat in my hospital room while waiting for the transplant results and made a promise? We vowed we were going to stop letting fear and outside limitations decide our future. To go after life at full speed and find some happiness.” Avery’s tone was soft but serious. “I believed you, so much that I dove in without looking and found my way. I found Ty.” She took Liv’s hand. “Now it’s your time.”

  “Ford is not my Ty, and I barely have time to breathe. And what about her?” Liv pointed at Grace. “She was there too.”