Книга - Lakeside Hero

Lakeside Hero
Lenora Worth


A Soldier Returns Former marine Alec Caldwell is happy to return home alive. The scars he carries–inside and out–are a burden he plans to face alone. All he wants is a quiet life devoted to helping wounded veterans. That is, until he meets pastry chef Marla Hamilton–who's just too sweet to resist. But the single mother is fighting her own battles. The last man in Marla's life hurt her and put her daughter in danger, leaving the child frightened of strangers. Alec seems like the thrill-seeking men Marla avoids. But can becoming a family give these wounded hearts a chance to heal?







A Soldier Returns

Former marine Alec Caldwell is happy to return home alive. The scars he carries—inside and out—are a burden he plans to face alone. All he wants is a quiet life devoted to helping wounded veterans. That is, until he meets pastry chef Marla Hamilton—who’s just too sweet to resist. But the single mother is fighting her own battles. The last man in Marla’s life hurt her and put her daughter in danger, leaving the child frightened of strangers. Alec seems like the thrill-seeking men Marla avoids. But can becoming a family give these wounded hearts a chance to heal?


“So nice to meet you—again,” she said.

He let go of her hand but kept his eyes on her. “By the way, that cake was…A-mazing. A-plus-amazing.”

She grinned at that. “I’m glad you liked it. So, what’s involved with running the Caldwell Foundation?”

“We train and supply rescued dogs as service dogs for disabled veterans.”

“Oh, that’s really amazing.”

“Hey, that’s my word. Find one of your own.”

“Incredible,” she quickly amended.

“You mean, you never would have thought a rich-man type like me had a noble bone in his body?”

“I mean—” She stopped and looked at her shoes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought, but not anymore.”

He laughed and glanced around. “I have a vet coming with his service dog to show people exactly what we can do. Come over and see me when you have a minute.”

“I’ll try,” she replied, hoping she’d stay so busy she’d forget him. She didn’t want to like Alec, but something about his shyness and his wit made her want to get to know him.


LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. With sixty books published and millions in print, she goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.


Lakeside Hero

Lenora Worth






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


The water that I give them will become in them a spring which will provide them with life-giving water and give them eternal life.

—John 4:14


To my husband, Don,

as we celebrate forty years together.

You are my lakeside hero.


Contents

Cover (#u7b2f72dc-bdd0-5ce0-8130-28906eb6e867)

Back Cover Text (#ua7dead24-7c08-54b6-a7a4-e9773223c57c)

Introduction (#u662bc626-2ebc-5503-991c-9390245fabe4)

About the Author (#ud365af1f-2751-5fca-9eee-147afe8e3df8)

Title Page (#u6d24312a-c564-5dbe-bd51-fbc0812cd1a6)

Bible Verse (#uffee77dd-63dd-5866-98f4-bd241d070411)

Dedication (#ud49e31c6-760a-50c9-9793-0ef9b86b381e)

Chapter One (#ua1038ad8-ed8e-5abe-957d-6c5083814b54)

Chapter Two (#ueacf86ae-7778-5493-beb2-9f290fccd44f)

Chapter Three (#u122bd2a8-f4a6-5dea-a947-47404f314a6d)

Chapter Four (#u4e831273-0002-5b09-b628-2c465e26c2a7)

Chapter Five (#uf7da8122-8cfd-5794-897c-a15cb37ff22a)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_da356f2b-70cd-5ba2-bd59-17da3634c2b9)

Alec Caldwell stared at the remains of a wedding cake.

He also took his time studying the pretty woman who’d just burst through the door with the big round platter of the leftover cake.

She had hair the color of sun on wheat, reddish and golden all at the same time. And green eyes that sparkled brighter than the fake diamonds on that fancy cake.

Alec wanted to help her but he didn’t want to scare her. He’d been waiting for the valet to bring his car when the side door from what he figured to be the kitchen entrance of the Alvanetti mansion burst open and he came face-to-face with the bottom layer of the massive white wedding cake that glimmered with what looked like pearls and diamonds.

Alec had only been back in Northwest Florida for a few months now. Did they put jewelry on wedding cakes these days?

“Whoa,” he said while stepping back against the warm stucco of the towering beige mansion, his hands going up to stop the woman who carried the cake in a wobbly hurry.

A face peeked around the big chunky cake. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—” Her eyes hit on the curving scar moving down his left jaw.

“I was about to leave,” he said before she could turn away. But she didn’t turn away. She just stood there, smiling across that white sea of sweetness, her expression bordering on shocked before she smoothed it into a sparkling blankness that rivaled the cake.

“Do you need help with that?” Alec asked, his manners kicking in. If he kept his face turned away into the late afternoon light maybe she wouldn’t stare at his scar again.

She shook her head and laughed. “No, I’m used to this. Do you need help finding the valet?”

Offended in the highest sense, Alec frowned and then mimicked a laugh. “No. I mean, I see him coming now, but thank you.”

Seriously? Had he been away at war for so long he’d forgotten how to carry on a conversation with a pretty woman? He hadn’t forgotten, but he sure didn’t like this feeling of being trapped. Or the way his heart seemed to skip a beat or two when she smiled.

He offered again. “While I wait, I can help you.”

“I’ve got this,” she said as she skirted around him. “Just part of the job.” She motioned to a big open van. “It’s going in there.”

“I can see that,” he replied, grinning. But he took the round platter full of cake anyway. Holding it against his chest, he took a tentative step toward the van.

Lord, don’t let me fall on my face with this cake.

The woman shook her head and all that rusty hair tumbled in layers around her freckled face. “Be careful or you’ll have wedding cake in your face.”

“Okay.” He wondered if she was as worried about his limp as he was, so he hurried ahead of her to a bright yellow-and-white van with the words Marla’s Marvelous Desserts painted across the doors. Underneath that bold title, a depiction of luscious cakes, cupcakes, cookies and pies in all colors tempted Alec’s empty stomach. In smaller black print, another proclamation: We Cater Big Events, Too!

“What do you do with leftover cake?” he asked, curiosity and hunger getting the best of him after he’d placed the partially cut cake inside the van. He hadn’t eaten much at the reception and now he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave after all.

She settled the cake into a waiting box and turned back to him. “What do you do with any leftovers? You eat them or share them with family or friends. Or strangers, if they ask politely.”

He had to laugh at her teasing tone. “That’s a nice thought.”

She fluffed her hair and smiled. “I’ll take this back to the shop and either cut it and wrap it up for the family or probably throw it away.” She glanced back at the house. “They...don’t stay around enough to eat cake and they don’t care what I do with the leftovers.”

“Oh, right.” He understood that comment about the people who lived here. Ultrarich and always on the go. Jet-setters.

Alec had decided earlier that he’d been polite enough for one day so he’d turned away from the few stragglers still out in the garden and kept walking toward the big six-car garage of the Alvanetti estate, the slight limp in his left leg causing his steps to sound off with a now-familiar cadence. He’d driven out here on a cool April afternoon and attended this wedding in an effort to finally win over the eccentric and oh-so-rich Sonia Alvanetti. Mrs. A, as everyone called her, had agreed to write a big check for the Caldwell Foundation’s Caldwell Canines Service Dog Association.

Alec would be forever grateful for that, at least.

Mrs. Alvanetti had money to spare and Alec had time to spare. So when she’d seen some flyers regarding Caldwell Canines at a recent art fair, she’d called Alec and asked him about the foundation he’d recently inherited from his deceased mother. Apparently his mother, Vivian Caldwell, had been friends with Sonia Alvanetti. Another surprise, but then, his formidable mother had always been full of surprises. Alec hated surprises, and he’d resented his unpredictable mother’s eclectic friends. But this one would certainly help his cause.

Mrs. Alvanetti was in her late sixties and a tad forgetful. She’d invited him to the wedding and had insisted he should attend, but he’d had to remind her about the promised contribution to his foundation.

“Oh, silly me,” she’d said with a wave of her bejeweled hand. “You know, Alec, there are a lot of eligible young ladies here.”

“I’m too busy for a relationship,” he’d politely told her.

Soon, she was back to asking all about Caldwell Canines and then she was off on another tangent. But she at least summoned someone who brought her a check already made out to Caldwell Canines Service Dog Association—the official title.

With a flourish, Mrs. A had put her sprawling signature on the check and smiled up at Alec. “Use this wisely, you hear?”

He’d heard, loud and clear. Mrs. Alvanetti would expect a full report.

“Mrs. A is certainly an interesting woman,” he said now, grasping for some conversation.

The woman looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally gossip about people who employ me. I’m only here to supply the wedding cake and take back the leftovers.”

“I understand,” he responded, still holding the open van door. “I have to admit, I don’t usually attend big functions but...it’s hard to say no to Mrs. A.”

The woman gave him a sympathetic stare. “She does command respect, but she’s a sweet person.”

Alec could agree with that. “Yes...sweet but determined and always on her way out the door to somewhere else.”

Which was probably where he should be going right now.

The woman let out another wind-chimes kind of laugh. “She has a lot going on. Too many plates in the air.”

Alec interpreted that to mean the lovely older lady was a bit scatterbrained, but in an I’ve-got-money-so-I-can-afford-to-be-eccentric kind of way.

“Yeah... I get that.”

The pretty woman turned to go but then whirled back around. “I’m Marla Hamilton, by the way.”

She pointed to the van. “Just in case you ever need a special dessert, say for a big party.” Then she gave him a conspiring glance. “I can cut you a piece of this cake if you’d like.”

“Really?” Alec grinned. “I didn’t get any earlier, so how can I refuse that offer now that I’ve met the woman who baked it?”

“Okay, then.” Grabbing a big white bag, she pulled out a plastic plate and knife and proceeded to cut a huge slab of the sugary white cake. “Here. On the house.”

She layered a paper napkin over it, handed him the plate of cake, then winked and smiled up at the imposing Alvanetti house.

He shook his head, held to the van’s open door like a lifeline while he accepted the cake with his other hand. “I guess I’ll have a nice midnight snack later. Thank you.”

Her smile brightened. “Hey, I never got your name. I mean, if you want to order cupcakes or cookies or even a wedding cake. Not that I need your name for that—not yet anyway.”

Liking the way she blushed, he reached out a hand. “I’m Alec Caldwell. No wedding cake in my future, but I do love cupcakes.”

She gave him a puzzled stare. “Nice to meet you, Alec Caldwell.”

That halfhearted cliché didn’t seem like she was really glad to meet him. Was it the scar? Or the limp? Or his name?

“You, too.” He glanced at the address on the van. “So you’re a local caterer?”

She went about shutting the van door. “Yes. I live right here in Millbrook. No sand or sea around but we do have Millbrook Lake and the river, of course.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I kind of grew up on that lake. Love it here.”

“So you’re one of the Caldwells?”

Adjusting to her almost-condemning tone, Alec nodded. “The only one now.”

The soft sheen of another blush colored her pretty freckles. “I’m sorry. Your mother was Vivian Caldwell?”

“Yep.”

“I’m really sorry. She...uh...was one of my favorite clients.”

“She was my favorite mother.”

Marla’s freckles grew more pronounced. And more adorable. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Alec smiled. “Yeah, me, too. Thanks.” He changed the subject. “Millbrook is a special place. Not that far off from the coast but just far enough inland to be in another world. I got back a few months ago so I’m still trying to get into a new routine.”

“I just moved back about a year ago,” she said. “But you’re right about Millbrook. It’s home.”

Nervous now, he prattled on. “It’s different inland. More like farmland. Lots of ranches, horse farms and green pastures.”

Her eyes held a forlorn longing. “Yes. My daddy owned some of that farmland until he retired near the other end of Millbrook Lake. My parents love the new retirement community out there.”

Alec felt an instant connection that worked right along with the instant attraction. “I grew up here but left for college and didn’t get back much after that. Had to come home after I got wounded and made it here a few weeks before my mother died. Retired from the marines. A captain.”

Her left eyebrow lifted. “Oh, so...you’re a soldier?”

“I was. Went through two deployments overseas. Retired and home for good now.” He shrugged. “And trying my hand at something different.”

She gave him an appreciative smile but stepped back, her eyes going a cool green. “Okay, then. I’d better get back in there and finish cleaning up.”

He bobbed his head and wondered what he’d said or done to bring about this sudden chill. “Sorry, didn’t mean to hold you up.”

She turned and said over her shoulder, “No problem. I think the wedding is winding down so I have to get back to the bakery and unload my things.”

Alec didn’t like people staring at his scar or watching him walk with this aggravating limp. And Marla Hamilton had obviously decided she didn’t like him or his wounds or his name, either. For the best, he figured. She was interesting and cute but she was probably also happily married. Even if she was available, he didn’t want any entanglements right now.

Calling after her, he said, “Nice meeting you, Wedding Cake Girl.”

She stopped at the back door and shot him one last skeptical glance. “Nice meeting you, too, Soldier Boy.”

Then she was gone about as fast as the glimmering sunset winking at him through the live oaks and palm trees.

* * *

Marla maneuvered her minivan through late afternoon traffic, her mind whirling with vivid thoughts of Soldier Boy.

Alec Caldwell. A marine. Former marine. The Alec Caldwell. Not someone who’d traveled in the same circles as she had, growing up. He was a few years older than her but she recognized the name immediately. Private schools and big boats out on the lake, lots of society events. So not her type.

But Marla was surprised that such a privileged man had gone off to become a marine. And that he’d come back to Millbrook at all.

He fought for our country and that counts for something, she reminded herself as she turned past the old courthouse that now housed antiques and collectibles and was aptly named Courthouse Collectibles. The stately building drew tourists who bought her standing-order confections from the cute little Courthouse Café. The café was one of her regular customers, not only for the tourists but for everyone who worked and shopped in the building.

She pulled the van up to the front door of her shop, her gaze hitting on the blue Victorian storefront facade that housed her bakery on the bottom level and a two-bedroom apartment upstairs, where she lived with her preschool-aged daughter, Gabby. After parking, she sat there for a minute trying to gather her thoughts. She was almost happy again. Almost.

After she’d become a widow a year ago, she’d moved from Tallahassee back to the tiny Florida town of Millbrook. She’d needed the quietness and the quaintness of the place where she’d grown up.

And she’s needed her parents nearby to help with Gabby. A daughter who had dark hair and eyes like her daddy. But Gabby would never know her daddy. Charlie Hamilton had been killed in a shootout during an armed robbery at his family’s jewelry store. Gabby had witnessed most of the whole horrible scene when she and Charlie had walked in on it.

Charlie had died too young, working at a job he hated. But family had to come first. Duty had to come first. Because he felt trapped, Charlie had turned mean and angry and moody, so much so that Marla felt as if she’d let him down in some way. The harder she tried to please him, the worse things had become. That had made her angry and miserable in return. They had not been in a good place when he died.

Her husband, ever the macho thrill seeker, had started hanging out with a lot of questionable people, and one of them had turned on him and had planned an elaborate robbery at the store. Charlie had walked in after picking up Gabby at day care, had seen what was happening and shoved Gabby toward the terrified female sales associate who was being held at gunpoint. He’d turned the attention on himself and saved the woman and Gabby, but he’d gotten himself shot. In the crossfire, the sales associate and Gabby had crawled behind one of the counters and hit the alarm. Hearing sirens, the robbers had grabbed what they could from a smashed glass display case and fled.

Charlie had performed a heroic last deed. He’d died on the stretcher a few minutes after Marla had arrived at the scene. She’d been five minutes too late.

Five minutes. She often thought if she’d just been there sooner, Gabby would have been with her and on the way home.

Or, as her parents had stated, always trying to reassure her, she could have walked in on the whole thing and Gabby could have lost both her parents.

Marla leaned her head against the steering wheel. She’d never told anyone, but the marriage had been over long before her husband died. She’d told him as much the day before he’d been killed. Now the guilt of knowing that, coupled with her guilt regarding her daughter’s trauma, was destroying her piece by piece. At least the robbery perpetrators had been apprehended and sent to jail for the rest of their lives.

Her phone rang, startling her out of the dark thoughts that caused her to stay awake at night.

She grabbed her phone and saw her mother’s name. “Hey, Mom,” she said after hitting the answer tab. “I’m at the shop. I’ve got a few things to put away and then I’ll be there.”

“No, hurry, honey,” her mother replied. “Gabby wants to tell you about how she and her pawpaw are out back playing golf—with Gabby’s miniature set.”

“Okay.”

She heard giggles and then Gabby’s voice. “Mommy, I wuv that golf car.”

“You do? Are you and Pawpaw having a good time?”

“Uh-huh. When will you be here? You can ride with me.”

“I’d like that. I’m on my way. About thirty minutes or so, all right?”

“Aw-wight. Here’s Memaw.” And her daughter was off again.

Coming home had been the right thing. Gabby had improved so much since they’d moved back to Millbrook.

Marla had to smile at the image of Gabby and Pawpaw riding around the complex. Her father had learned to play golf after they’d moved to the retirement village and now he loved the sport. Gabby liked watching out the patio door to see if Pawpaw would ride by in his funny little “car.” So Daddy had found her a cute pink-and-green golf set. Marla’s father was the only male Gabby would get near and even that had taken months to accomplish.

“He’ll probably find her a nice pint-size golf cart next,” she said to her mom, laughing.

“He’s already on that one,” Mom replied. “Why don’t you rest up and then come for dinner? I’m making lasagna.”

“Hmmm, that does sound good.” Mom made the best lasagna. “Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“That’ll work,” Mom replied. “See you then—and you can tell me all about that Alvanetti wedding.”

Marla laughed, ended the call and got out of the van to unload. Most of the time, she’d slice up the cake on-site and wrap it up to give to the family members, but today, in such a big place with so many plastered but skinny society girls, no one would dare ask for a piece of wedding cake to take home. And Mrs. Alvanetti and the groom’s mother had both taken big slices and had saved the top layer for the couple’s first anniversary, but had insisted on Marla taking the rest.

“Give it to a homeless shelter,” Mrs. A had said with a Lady Bountiful smile.

“I just might do that,” Marla had replied. But she’d take a couple of pieces for her parents and Gabby, too.

Then she thought about Alec Caldwell. He’d probably have his slice with a big glass of milk. With that close-cropped blondish-brown hair and those hazel eyes, he did look like the all-American type. The gung-ho all-around-good-guy type.

But not her type—at least not anymore. He might be out of the military, but his kind always looked for adventure. Plus, he had obviously been an upper-crust preppy, from what she could remember from hearing his name and background. So had her late husband. Charlie had been spoiled and pampered all of his life so he’d expected things to come easily to him. But he had saved Gabby and his employee.

Marla thanked God for that sacrifice. But she was afraid of moving on, afraid of getting involved with any man so soon after losing Charlie. Like her frightened daughter, she had been traumatized. Both by her husband’s horrible death and by how horrible they’d both made their once-happy marriage.

But who was she to judge? She’d had a decent enough life growing up in Millbrook. Her college days in Tallahassee had been full of friends, and she’d been with Charlie, so it hadn’t been all bad between them. At least Charlie had left a trust fund in his will for Gabby’s future.

Marla shook her head and came back to the present again. What Alec Caldwell had done or did now was none of her business. She’d probably never have another encounter with the man anyway.

So Marla unloaded her supplies and finished tidying up around the bakery. Her two other employees had already gone home for the day, so she set the alarm and locked things up until Monday morning. Then she got in her van and headed southeast toward her parents’ house. “Sorry, Soldier Boy. You’re adorable and interesting, but I need to forget I ever almost ran into you.”

Just as well. He probably had a society darling in his life anyway.


Chapter Two (#ulink_a7677923-9bca-59fb-ad09-7adcc7a13f46)

Alec saw his friends sitting at a round table in the corner of the Back Bay Pizza House. Waving, he headed for the table, thoughts of Wedding Cake Girl as fresh as buttercream icing in his mind. He’d enjoyed that nice slab of cake she’d given him yesterday, but a good meal with these characters would cure him of any sugary feelings he might have. That, and the workout his physical therapist had just put him through an hour ago. He’d do anything to lessen the limp that slowed him down on a daily basis.

He didn’t intend to mention that he’d met Marla Hamilton. His buddies were all bachelors, but lately they’d singled him out for blind dates and matchmaker testing. He didn’t want to be the first one to cave.

“About time you got here,” Detective Blain Kent said when Alec slid into a chunky wooden chair. “We’re about to order.”

“And he’ll have a fully loaded meat-and-cheese, right?” Rory Sanderson, once an army chaplain and now a minister, said with a grin. “Am I right, Alec?”

The Back Bay Pizza House was famous for fat pizzas that oozed with plenty of cheese and meat—or veggies, if you liked eating produce with pizza dough, which Alec did not.

“Right as rain,” Alec replied with a grin. “And I don’t plan on sharing.”

Hunter Lawson, as always, didn’t have much to say beyond a greeting that consisted of lifting a hand in the air. Former special ops, Hunter came and went so fast, half the time no one even knew he was around. A native of Oklahoma, Hunter hadn’t decided if he liked Florida yet or not. He liked to wander around and sleep on couches. Definitely commitment-shy.

“So how’d it go with Mama Alvanetti?” Blain, a former Marine MP, asked after they’d ordered three loaded pizzas and their drinks.

Knowing that Blain’s detective brain was always in overdrive, especially when it came to the slightly-on-the-right-side-of-shady Alvanetti family, Alec tried to tread lightly. “I finally got a chance to talk to her—after the big wedding yesterday.”

Blain’s blue eyes went dark. “It’s always hard to pin down an Alvanetti. Did she agree to help fund Caldwell Canines?”

Alec nodded and waited for the waitress to pass their drinks around. “She did, but she was just finishing up with her niece’s wedding and right after that, about to turn around and leave town for a while. I grabbed her generous check and got out of there.”

They all laughed and moved on to other topics, catching up with baseball stats and anything sports-related. The four of them had formed a bond right here at the pizza house during a fierce game of darts, and after serving in the military, they’d migrated back to Millbrook Lake. They’d made friendships that would last forever; these weekly meals and the occasional fishing weekend out at the camp house they’d all bought together suited Alec just fine.

That bond extended to their faith, too. When they were about to leave, Rory, often called Preacher, turned to Alec.

“Hey, we’re having this dinner at church Wednesday night. Kind of a singles thing, but more of a business thing. Thought I’d extend an invitation to you—but not for the obvious reason. The theme this week is local businesses and organizations.”

“I certainly fill that bill,” Alec replied, wondering what the catch was.

Rory grinned his boyish smile. “Thought you might bring some of your Caldwell Canines business cards and host a booth with your brochures, maybe even bring one of your service dogs. Good networking opportunities. A lot of other locals from all over the area will be there, and since we have a lot of returning vets around here...”

Alec mock-frowned but realized these kinds of events could help his cause. Plus, he hadn’t been to church in weeks, and he missed the time spent with friends—even if his scar did scare some of the younger children.

“Let me check my busy calendar,” he said. Then he laughed. “Sure, why not? I’m working the rounds right now, trying to drum up support, so it stands to reason that I need to attend an event that will bring Caldwell Canines more exposure.”

“How are you doing?” Rory asked, with the concern only a pastor could exhibit. “You’ve missed a couple of fishing trips recently.”

“I’m doing fine,” Alec replied, glad to have Rory on his side. “It’s been a process readjusting, but the foundation work is keeping me too busy to feel sorry for myself.”

“Good to hear,” Rory said, slapping Alec on the back. “You haven’t been to church in a while, either. Maybe this will get you more involved again.”

Alec rubbed a hand across his scar. “I scare people, Preacher. Especially children.”

“No children at this event. Adults only.” Then Rory leaned close. “I’m not judging, and I’m not trying to force you into anything uncomfortable. I really want you to share your philanthropic work with a few other people.”

Alec thought about that. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to show people what I want to accomplish by placing disabled vets with service dogs. After all, that is the point.”

Rory’s grin widened. “So you’ll come? Setup is around five. We’ll do a reception type thing, with tables and booths for the vendors, and then we’ll have a good home-cooked meal.”

“I’ll be there,” Alec replied. “Just don’t try to set me up with any women.”

Preacher shot him a pained glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

* * *

Marla walked into the fellowship hall of the eclectic Millbrook Lake Church and started setting up the many platters and cake dishes she used to display and serve her cupcakes. Pastor Sanderson had called her last week to ask her about showing and selling some of her baked goods at Wednesday’s single-and-socialbusiness-night get-together.

“You’re not trying to set me up with anyone, are you?” she’d asked through a grin.

“Nah, just trying to get some networking going. Word of mouth is the best form of advertising and with your cupcakes, I’d say we’ll give new meaning to that phrase. People will be talking with their mouths full.”

“You are such a cutup, Preacher,” she’d replied. “I’ll be there. Thanks for inviting me. And this batch will be on me.”

After unloading her serving trays and tiered plates she went back to the van to bring the first tray of cookies and cupcakes to the table where a placard read Marla’s Marvelous Desserts. She and her staff had made around five dozen luscious little muffins in flavors ranging from Red Velvet Reality to Vanilla Velocity and Cinnamon Cream Cheese Calamity. She liked to name her concoctions to get attention. She’d even made a batch for Pastor Rory: Preachin’ It Pecan Praline.

“Need some help?”

Marla turned from the creamy beige tablecloth to find Pastor Rory heading her way. The tall, relaxed minister was about as enticing as her cupcakes. He had shaggy sunshine-bleached blond hair, a boyish grin and blue-gray eyes that were always laughing. Most would think he surfed all day but this man did a lot of his surfing in the Bible. He was the best minister in the world. He’d sure helped Marla through some rough patches, but they were just good friends. Preacher liked tending to his sheep as much as she loved tending to her bakery items.

She nodded. “I have three more of these big covered pans out in the van. If you help, I’ll give you a cupcake, no charge.”

“I will accept that offer,” he said, already walking backward toward the open door into the fellowship hall. “Even though I know you’re giving them all out for free anyway.”

She laughed and went back to her work, setting up her cupcakes on the platters and cake stands she’d brought in earlier and marking the flavors with cards one of her employees had printed out. Humming to herself, Marla got lost in arranging her presentation. She liked this part of her job almost as much as she enjoyed baking.

“Where do you want these?”

The deep voice behind her caused her to whip around so fast she almost knocked the whole table over. The man standing there holding a huge plastic-covered container was not Pastor Rory Sanderson.

Alec Caldwell smiled at her over the huge pan of sweets.

“Hello, Cupcake Girl.”

So now she was Cupcake Girl?

Marla regained her equilibrium and smoothed the already-smooth tablecloth before she returned his smile. He really was a good-looking man, and that scar just made him mysterious and...intriguing. “Uh, hi, Soldier Boy.”

He lifted the pan higher.

“Oh, just set it on the end of the table.”

Alec did as she asked, then turned toward her, the clean scent of soap reminding her of wind and water. She noticed his slight limp and wondered if his leg gave him trouble. “So we meet again.”

Alec glanced around the long room. “Yes. Small world.”

Looking uncomfortable, he eyed the grinning pastor standing at another table. “Preacher seemed mighty keen on me bringing this in to you. Right after he told me you’re single and that you’re a good cook. Think we’ve been set up?”

Marla hoped the heat rising up her throat didn’t show. “I don’t know. Are you single and a good cook, too?”

He rubbed a hand down his scar. “Single, yes. Is that important?”

“You tell me, since you look so frightened.”

Surprised that he kept glancing at the door, Marla shook her head and made a note of that panicked look in his amber-gold eyes. “I agreed to this event last week, but I never considered you might be here. And I haven’t mentioned anything about being set up to anyone.” Turning back to her table, she added, “Relax, Soldier Boy, you’re safe with me.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said with a shrug and a sheepish expression. “Just a bad joke. Never mind.”

She felt the heat now rising on her cheeks, the same kind of flush she got when she opened the door of a hot oven. “I mean, why would I mention you to anyone?” Then because that had sounded so very bad, she hastily added, “Not that I would mind mentioning you to anyone. I’ve just been busy. I mean, you’re not on my mind.”

Alec’s brow twitched upward while his frown hardened. “Hmmm. I didn’t tell anyone about our close encounter of the sugary kind, either, so let’s both relax, Sweet Cakes. Preacher told me about this event on Sunday night, but he did remind me a lot of single people would be here.”

Marla wished she could hide underneath the tablecloth. “So the preacher didn’t know we’d already met. We can’t blame him for us running into each other again.”

“Technically, no,” Alec replied. “But you never know what runs through Preacher’s mind. He just wants everyone to be happy.”

“I’m such a ditz,” she replied, wishing she wouldn’t jump to the wrong conclusions all the time. “I’m sorry.”

Alec stood back on booted heels, looking completely out of place with all the daintiness surrounding him. The trace of confusion in his eyes changed into something else...hope? “Maybe it was divine intervention.”

Marla didn’t know how to respond to that. She just stared at him for a moment or two and then said, “Or maybe because we both have kind of unique occupations, he honestly wanted to showcase our endeavors.”

Alec glanced around. “Yep, lots of interesting artists and vendors here tonight. The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker—”

She added her own nursery rhyme. “And rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.”

The smile on his face died a quick death. “I get your point.”

Marla was definitely going to hide under the table. “That didn’t come out right. I never was very good at nursery rhymes.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug but the darkness in his eyes told her it wasn’t okay. “I get that this town thinks I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But I’m trying to honor my family’s legacy. My mother’s legacy, really.”

“I’m such an idiot,” Marla said. “Forgive me. I’m kind of nervous about this whole affair.”

“I don’t think you should call yourself names.” He stole a cookie off one of her trays. “You are neither a ditz nor an idiot, as far as I can tell. We’re both nervous, but that doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other.”

“I do need to lighten up.” She shook out her hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to scare away any customers.”

He relaxed at that, his hand moving over the scar on his face, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of having. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I just did,” she said. “But not in a very nice way. Can we start over?”

He grinned at her sharp retort but held out his hand. “I could use a do-over,” he said. “Hi, I’m Alec Caldwell, Soldier Boy.”

“Hi.” She shook his extended hand, again feeling the warmth that tingled against her nerve endings. “I’m Wedding... I mean Cupcake Girl, at least tonight. Marla Hamilton.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.

“So nice to meet you—again,” she said, hoping they could be civil now.

He let go of her hand but kept his eyes on her. “Oh, and by the way, that cake was a-m-mazing. A-plus amazing. I might have to get married just to have that cake at the wedding.”

She grinned at that comment and put images of him waiting at the altar for some happy woman out of her head. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and glanced around the room. “Do you think we’re all single? I mean, it is singles night,” he said. “All joking aside, are there a lot of single people in Millbrook?”

“Single-and-social night,” she amended, wishing he didn’t make her so nervous. Her skin tingled with awareness while her nerves seemed to want to dance. “Networking with a spiritual twist—single or not.”

“Then it is divine intervention.”

Marla glanced around and noticed a lot of people. “I think you might be right.” She lifted her hand toward a cute little older woman wearing a full skirt and pretty spring jacket. “Mrs. Braxton looks like a real cougar.”

He laughed at that one. “She’s got her own booth—showing off crocheted stuff from the Courthouse Collectibles. Lots of baby booties and a few nice feminine hats.”

“Some men find that fascinating.”

He shook his head but smiled. “And I guess that gray-haired man over there with the lovely seascape paintings would be just right for her?”

“Boston Bob? Of course. She can crochet him a good fishing cap and he can paint her sitting in the window, gazing out toward the sea.”

Alec laughed out loud. “You have a vivid imagination. But you do have a romantic job.”

“And you seem to want to go with the conspiracy-theory thing. What’s involved with running the Caldwell Foundation, anyway?”

He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Right now I’m trying to raise money for our Caldwell Canines Service Dog Association. We train and supply rescued dogs as service dogs for disabled veterans.”

“Oh, that’s amazing. I mean really amazing.”

“Hey, that’s my word. Find one of your own.”

“Incredible,” she quickly amended.

“You mean you never would have thought a rich-man type like me had a noble bone in my body?”

“I mean—” She stopped and looked at her shoes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, or maybe thought, but not anymore. I’m not doing very well at this networking thing, am I?”

He laughed and glanced around. “At least you’re honest. That’s refreshing.” He nodded toward the other booths. “I guess I should mingle, huh?”

Marla warred with that notion. “I guess so.” Relaxing a little bit, she glanced around. “Where’s your table?”

He pointed two tables over behind her. “Right there. I’d better go finish setting up. Come over and see me when you have a minute. I have a vet coming with his service dog to show people exactly what we can do.”

“I’ll try,” she replied, hoping she wouldn’t have a minute, hoping she’d stay so busy she’d forget Soldier Boy. She didn’t want to like Alec but something about his shyness and his wit made her want to get to know him. When she watched him walk away, his back straight in spite of that slight limp, Marla felt her heart turn as soft as marshmallow icing.

She could deal with the visible scars, but what if that handsome marine had the kind of scars that only came out when he was in a dark mood? And what if being around her brought out the worst in him, in the same way as it had her late husband?

She couldn’t risk Gabby being scared into even more trauma.

And Gabby would always come before Marla’s love life.


Chapter Three (#ulink_1c0bf175-4162-5573-9350-04b878dfcb7a)

Two hours later, Alec was exhausted but also glad that he’d come to the single-and-social event. He’d handed out a lot of business cards and had fielded a lot of questions about Caldwell Canines. His friend Wilcox had shown up with his service dog—a beautiful Labrador retriever named Rocket—right by his wheelchair. They’d both talked to the people walking around while Rocket stood by and did his job. People asked to pet him and Wilcox let them, but carefully explained how service dogs worked while they got to know Rocket.

“We got some donations, bro,” Wilcox said once the line moved on. “You need to tell them about the school you want to build, too.”

“Working on that,” Alec replied. “Baby steps, Wilcox.”

“I’m too impatient,” his buddy grumbled. “And I’m ready for a good meal.”

“I think it’s about time to eat,” Alec replied, his own stomach grumbling. But he did feel a tremendous satisfaction in seeing Wilcox so content after the turmoil of losing both his legs in battle. Rocket had been a big part of that contentment. The trained dog could fetch anything Wilcox needed, help him remember to take his medication and even alert him and calm him when an attack of posttraumatic stress was about to hit.

Now it was time for dinner and a short devotional.

Preacher walked up and nodded toward Alec while Wilcox trailed behind, still letting people pet Rocket. “I’ve heard only good things about you tonight.” He waved to several others as they headed toward the food line. “You’re using your resources to help others in need.”

Alec glanced back at Wilcox. “Did you see the way Rocket protects him when anyone gets too close? He can bring Wilcox just about anything from a soda to his medicine. I want that for any veteran who needs it.”

Preacher grinned and looked like a fresh-faced kid again. “Now you see what this networking stuff is all about. Like leading troops, but into a very different battle.”

“I sure understand that,” Alec replied. “Just hope I can keep fighting for the veterans who can’t fight for themselves.”

When Preacher got called away, he turned to search for Marla. She’d been pretty busy all night, too. Her display table was almost bare, and Alec didn’t see her. Maybe she’d taken some empty trays out to her car.

“This was kind of fun,” he said to Preacher when he returned. “Hey, where’d you find all these single people, anyway?”

“They’re not all single.” Preacher chuckled but his smile was triumphant. “But I did invite a lot of available people from other gatherings—the baseball park, the grocery store, the soup kitchen. I talk a lot, and single people volunteer a lot.”

Alec shook his head. Rory Sanderson had his dream job. He’d seen death and war, but he’d always kept a positive, faithful attitude.

Alec wasn’t so sure about himself however. “Does that make us generous or pathetic?”

Rory frowned. “Hey—nothing pathetic in lending a helping hand. But from what I’ve seen, when people are on their own too much they get lonely sometimes. It helps to find other people and do something good to contribute to the world around you.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Alec said. “I like volunteering, but I really need to focus on the foundation.” At the look in Rory’s eyes, Alec held up his hand. “I’m not saying I won’t try to get out more, but I have to hit my stride, so to speak.”

Preacher glanced toward Marla’s table. “You might check with Marla about trying to hit that stride. She’s always looking for help around her bakery, especially delivery-truck drivers.” He crossed his arms over his chest and did that calm-and-relaxed thing Alec wished he could mimic. “You might have to get a special driver’s license to make deliveries, but that’s easy enough to do. And if you volunteer, you’ll be helping her without making it look like charity.”

Alec glanced heavenward. Was God trying to tell him something? Or was his friend trying to force him into something Alec wasn’t ready for yet? “I’d have to think about that, Preacher.”

Preacher caught on to his hesitation. “Your therapy seems to be working. The limp is less noticeable these days. The scar is improving every day, too.”

“Yeah, the Florida sun makes the scar more pronounced but also helps it to heal, as long as I wear sunscreen,” Alec replied, his hand automatically moving down the jagged edges of his wound. “I only remember it when I smile.”

Rory punched him on the arm. “If you smile more often, you’ll forget it’s even there.”

Alec doubted he’d ever forget this scar. Shrapnel right in the side of his face. He could still remember the intense, searing pain before he’d blacked out. His broken leg was healing but he’d always have this facial scar.

“Just smile,” Preacher said. “I find a smile can put anyone at ease.”

“I’ll remember that, sunshine,” Alec quipped. “Thanks, though, for being my spiritual advisor.” They walked up to the buffet table. “I’m sorry I haven’t been attending services much. I’ve been on the road a lot and I’m playing catch-up with all the board members and the foundation. I think it’s called putting out fires.”

Preacher waved to some people up ahead. “I know where your heart is, Alec. God does, too. Fellowship can help, but only if you’re willing to let it help.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Alec asked, wishing Preacher wouldn’t do so much preaching right now.

Oblivious to Alec’s discomfort, Rory glanced toward Marla. “Listen, I saw you talking to Marla earlier after I sent you in with her trays, so I guess you two hit it off okay.”

Alec didn’t lie. “Yeah, we actually met briefly this weekend at the Alvanetti estate. She baked the wedding cake.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot she baked the cake for the big wedding out there.” Rory shrugged. “They used another minister for the wedding, but I’m cool with that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So...you met Marla—something you neglected to tell us at the pizza place.”

“I purposely didn’t mention her the other night. Didn’t want to be grilled about it.”

“Like I’m doing right now,” Preacher said with a nod. “Okay, I’ll back off. Anyway, since you two know each other already, would you mind sitting with her at dinner? She’s kind of new to the church and...she’s had it rough lately.”

“How’s that?” Alec asked, glancing over at Marla. She looked cute with her wheat-and-strawberry-colored hair up in a haphazard ponytail, and she seemed content in her own skin. But she did appear a bit standoffish and shy when her green-eyed gaze stared at the floor, instead of at him. Was she fighting her own battle?

“Not for me to tell,” Preacher replied. “But she could use a friend.”

“Are you setting me up?” Alec asked, resentment warring with gratitude in his mind. He didn’t have time to explore a new relationship. Wasn’t even sure he wanted to be in any sort of dating situation. So why was his best friend keeping after him? “You invited me here for more than just networking, didn’t you?”

Preacher made a face and then lifted his hands, palms up. “Me? Never.”

Alec wondered about that, but he couldn’t turn down the request to sit with Marla at dinner. That would be rude—and besides, he did like Marla, whether she liked him back or not. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but...it was just a few minutes eating a meal in a crowded room. Maybe if he sat with his scar away from her, she’d be more relaxed around him.

Taking a small leap of faith and sending a prayer after it, Alec excused himself from the food line and strolled over to where Marla stood tidying her table. He’d keep things light and friendly in spite of the unfamiliar sensations tickling at his consciousness. No use in scaring her away, since nothing could come of this anyway.

“Hi,” he said, his gaze moving over her cute blue button-up sweater and floral skirt. “How’d it go over here?”

“Good,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think I drummed up some new clients. A wedding cake, a birthday party and an order of cupcakes and cookies for an entire kindergarten class. Plus, dessert for the Rotary Club meeting next week.”

He liked seeing her smile. “Your treats will draw in a lot of people. I had a great night, too. I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll sit with me at dinner.”

* * *

Marla looked around and then lifted her gaze to Alec. Did she want to eat dinner with him? Or did she want to bolt out the door? She glanced at the door and the buffet line before lifting her chin toward him.

Looking defeated, he gave her an out. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

She noticed the disappointment in his eyes, so she made her decision. She wouldn’t be rude or give him the wrong idea, no matter what negative words came out of her mouth. No matter how her breath seemed to catch in her throat every time she was around him. “I’d be happy to eat dinner with you.”

“Good,” he said with what sounded like relief. “I don’t know a lot of people here, since I... I’ve kind of fallen back on coming to church.”

“Why?” she asked while they walked toward the serving line.

The scents of chicken spaghetti and garlic bread made her mouth water while the nearness of Alec Caldwell made her heart go a little crazy. Which was crazy. She didn’t react this way to men. She tried not to react to men.

“I shouldn’t have asked that,” she said, a hand going over her mouth. “I need to think before I speak.”

He guided her into the line, his hand on her elbow. “I don’t have any good excuses.” He leaned close. “Except the obvious one. Sometimes, I scare little girls.”

She glanced at his scar, her mind on Gabby. Would he scare her daughter? To keep things light, she asked, “Do you also scare big girls?”

His tiger eyes held hers. “Are you scared of me?”

Marla wanted to look away but not for the reason he’d stated. And besides, she gathered that question was a test. So she gave him a direct, sure glance. “No. I mean, that scar doesn’t bother me. But...where you’ve been does.”

“What do you mean?”

“War. Battle. Hidden scars. All the traits of a gung-ho man. Those things scare me.”

He looked confused and shocked. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I like being direct and honest,” she replied, her hand on the food spatula. Her appetite was suddenly gone. Since she didn’t expect him to hang around too long anyway, she gave it her all. “I...was married to a real thrill seeker.”

“You were married?”

Now it was her turn to be shocked and confused. “Yes. It happens.”

He looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I’m not that kind of man. I mean, not the kind who pries and certainly not a thrill seeker. I was a good marine and I wanted to serve my country. Now I want to settle down and have a nice quiet life. No war, no battles, no underlying scars or regrets.” He stopped in the line. “Wait, since we’re being honest, I do have some regrets. But we don’t have to go into that tonight.”

Marla took the salad a volunteer handed her and found a table. She’d brought enough cupcakes to put one at every place setting—her contribution to the meal. She sank down and wished she’d kept her issues to herself. She was the scary one—blurting out the wrong things to a man she’d known for about five minutes. She was so not ready to date again.

After Alec slipped into a chair beside her, she turned to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let my preconceived notions affect getting to know you. I’m sure you’re a very nice person.”

“Ouch,” he said on a wry smile. “A very nice person is usually a person about to get the brush-off.”

She should brush him off. She should get up and run screaming toward the door. But honestly, she couldn’t see this man going off on her in a rage of anger or putting his fist through a wall to make a point. She couldn’t picture Alec Caldwell falling in with a bad crowd just to make himself feel better, either. He was a friend of Rory Sanderson, and that alone was the best endorsement she could want.

“I’m only being cautious,” she finally said, a fork in her hand. “My husband and I had a volatile relationship. I can’t put my daughter through that again.”

“You have a daughter?”

Marla cringed and wondered why she’d bothered. Why was she telling Alec all the intimate details of her life? He probably didn’t really want to settle down, and she surely didn’t want to give him the impression that she was fishing for that very thing. She already had a bad history with men and she had a child, too. That child would always come first. Besides, he probably had some snobbish socialite to keep him company all the time.

She was used to seeing somewhat-interested men turn and walk away at this point, but Marla didn’t want to put Alec in that category.

She reminded herself again that this was just dinner at a church function, not a first date. She could be honest with Alec and get it all out there, since nothing would come of this once they walked out the door.

“Yes, I have a child,” she finally said. “Gabby. She’s four years old and...special. My parents take care of her when I’m working or out doing things like this.”

He took a quick sip of his tea and glanced back over at her. “If she’s as cute as you, I’d like to meet her.”

Marla almost choked on her chicken spaghetti. “What?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Cupcake Girl. I like children. I actually used to be one.”

Marla’s shock turned to admiration. Alec made her laugh. That was certainly new and refreshing. But she couldn’t let him near Gabby. So she pretended in order to hide the clop, clop of her beating heart. “I’m thinking you might still be one, at that.”

He smiled and winked at her. “Want me to show you my spaghetti face?”

He moved to go for a handful of spaghetti, but she stopped him by grapping his wrist. “Don’t you dare. I believe you.”

But she couldn’t believe he wanted to meet Gabby. He was obviously just being polite. Her daughter was adorable and well-loved, so Marla could handle most men walking away, but she wasn’t ready to subject Gabby to anything too sudden, either.

While hearing this from Alec made her want to grab him and hug him, she had to push away that notion for Gabby’s sake. Her daughter was still too fragile for a new man in her mother’s life. Or in her life.

He leaned close, his eyes going smoky amber. “Well then, if you believe I’m still a kid at heart, can you believe that not all warriors are hard-core and full of rage?”

She swallowed and took a breath. “I’d like to believe that, but this is the part where most men get up and never come back.”

He chuckled and pointed to his face. “This and my bad leg are usually the reasons most women never give me a second glance.”

She took a sip of her tea. “I’m not good at believing things I can’t trust. It’s one of my biggest flaws.”

“You can count on the truth from me,” he said, his gaze holding her with a warm regard. “I’m my own man, and while I still have scars, I’m healing each and every day—even on my worst days. I just want the rest of the world to give me a chance. I want you to give me a chance.”

Still not sure, Marla lowered her head and whispered, “What kind of chance?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Just to be your friend, okay? So I can get free cupcakes and big slices of wedding cake, of course.”

After that remark, he grabbed his fork and started eating his meal, his golden eyes twinkling.

Marla didn’t know what to say to that eloquent declaration. She toyed with her tea glass and wondered what to do. Should she take a chance? Should she give Alec a chance—as a friend at least? He’d been nothing but kind to her, and he sure didn’t fit the wounded-warrior stereotype, even with his visible scars still fresh. Maybe she should reach out to him—to help him on those worst days he’d mentioned.

Dear Lord, don’t let me mess this up. She couldn’t rush headlong into anything. She wasn’t ready for that. But she could get to know him better, a little bit at a time. A friendship never hurt anyone. He was nice and he was working hard for a good cause. Wasn’t that the best kind of friend to have?

“I’m willing to give you a chance, yes. But I need something from you in return.”

“Name it.”

“I need you to be patient while we become friends. I’m a widow with a little girl. We only just met, so I need to get to know you a little better before I can let you meet Gabby. I have to take things slow and be very sure of what I’m doing. She’s been through a lot and...she’s sometimes afraid of strangers.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her for what seemed like a long time. “I’m so sorry to hear you’re a widow. Sorry for your loss, but happy to get to know you.” Then he nodded. “No hurry. I’m not ready to dive right in to anything else, either. I’ve got all the time in the world, Marla. For you and especially for Gabby.”

He lifted up the Give Chocolate a Chance cupcake by his plate. “Even your cupcake seems to be in on this little discussion. Everything in life involves either taking a chance or relying on our faith to see us through. As Preacher would say, it’s the excitement of what’s next that keeps us alive.”

“Are you excited about...me?” she asked, too caught up in his words to care. “I mean about making a new friend?”

“I sure am. My new best friend is an amazing cook.”

Then he bit into his cupcake and sent her a chocolate-covered smile that melted her heart.


Chapter Four (#ulink_cf563710-5ac7-5555-8f12-d2a57d2d3aa6)

Two days later, Alec sat in his office inside the Caldwell house and finished up the last tasks of a long tempting spring day. Taking in the dark teakwood cabinets and matching desk, he reminded himself that this house had once belonged to his parents and their parents before them. His father had spent his childhood here and after his death, Vivian and Alec had stayed here with Grandfather.

Alec remembered his mother and grandfather had both grieved the loss of his dad, to the point that Alec was neglected and left to his own devices. But Aunt Hattie had taken charge and hired a housekeeper to cook and clean and help look after Alec. Because during some of those early days, his mother had refused to get out of bed.

He didn’t like these memories, so he brought his mind back to the here and now.

The bay window off to the left gave him a perfect view of the big lake that fed into the Millbrook River. The river flowed south all the way into Escambia Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Lots of fishermen and tourists came through here: some on their way home from having fun on the bay and some heading out to explore the balmy waters that poured out into the ocean.

But here, on the big oval lake that sat in the center of town, life moved at a slower current. The old umbrella-shaped live oaks and thick-trunked, waxy-leafed magnolia trees that circled the water made a nice shade for the blossoming hot pink azaleas and the thick clusters of gardenia bushes and hydrangeas that colored the manicured grass. White benches sat underneath the trees and along the trails that wound around the water. Ducks and geese quacked and cackled down near the lush orange and white daylilies growing near the shoreline. Occasionally out by the long pier, a fat mullet or a sleek catfish would jump up and make a lone splash in the dark water.

Alec got up and went to stand at the window—something he did on a regular basis every day since he’d come home. His loyal border collie, Angus, jumped up from his spot on the burgundy-colored Aubusson area rug and came to nuzzle Alec’s hand. He patted the shaggy dog’s head and nodded. “Okay, okay. I know it’s time for our walk. Give me a few more minutes.”

They had to wait until the sun began to set. His scar didn’t stand out as much in the shadows of dusk.

Watching the ducks crossing the lake, Alec remembered paddleboats and picnics, racing boats and water-skiing all weekend long and so many other things that now seemed like sunny dreams. He’d had a good life. A life without a father, of course, but his grandfather had tried to make up for that.

He turned from the big lace-curtained window to stare up at the family portrait over the marble-encased mantel. His grandfather, Alexander Garrison Caldwell, stood dressed in a dark suit behind a high-back chair where Alec and his mother, Vivian, sat. Grandfather Alexander had insisted on having the portrait done only a year or so after Alec’s father had been killed. Vivian pouted and fumed but she’d finally given in. Alec was around five and he was laughing up at his smiling mother. His mother’s smile seemed frantic and forced while his grandfather’s expression was full of indulgence and pride.

“We are a prideful lot,” he said out loud.

“Talking to yourself again?”

Alec turned to find his Aunt Hattie standing at the pocket doors, her green eyes bright even if she did have cataracts.

“You caught me.” He rushed to help her with the coffee tray. “Are we taking a break?”

“You’re taking a break,” she replied, ever the fussy hen. “I baked a pound cake and I have fresh strawberries from the Millbrook Market.”

Alec did a mock glance at his watch. “I do believe I could use a break, even if it is near quitting time.” He winked at Angus. “Sorry, fellow, our walk will have to wait.”

“You’ll need a walk. This might spoil your dinner.”

“You’re spoiling my dinner,” he retorted but he sat down with her and took the chunk of buttery cake she offered him. “These strawberries look pretty tasty.”

“Good crop this year, according to Delton Fisher,” Aunt Hattie said, looking younger than her seventy years. Delton Fisher owned a large produce farm and he also managed a big farmer’s market on the edge of town. He and Aunt Hattie, both widowed for years, were considered “good friends” around town. She shot Alec an inquiring smile. “Now tell me all about your day.”

Alec grinned and refrained from teasing her about Delton. His aunt had lived here all her life. She’d married a local banker and lived down the street in a big two-story Georgian house until her husband had died six years ago. After that, she’d sold the house and traveled some before she’d returned to a smaller house across town.

When her sister Vivian had died last year, Alec had asked her if she’d like to move in with him, reasoning to himself that this house was too large and rambling for one person and that she was lonely and isolated on the other side of town. She agreed on the stipulation that he’d allow her to cook and clean the house.

“Cook, yes, and only when you’re in the mood,” he’d told her. “But I have a maid who comes twice a week to clean the house.”

And so they’d settled in nicely together. His aunt didn’t have a problem staying active. He rarely saw her most days. But on ones such as this, she’d take a few minutes to come into his office and check on him. He kept her apprised of Caldwell business and she kept him informed on the local gossip.

Now she sat back with her tea and smiled over at him. “You are a paradox, you know.”

He took a big bite of strawberry-soaked cake and then gave her a questioning look. “Oh, and how is that?”

“Watching you now, I’d never know you were a hardened marine. You might be more comfortable in desert fatigues than you are here, but you were born to the manor, so to speak.”

Alec had to wonder if he was truly suited for this duty. Sometimes he thought about what he’d like to do with his life, but for now he was focused on Caldwell Canines. “So are you saying I’m going soft on you, Aunt Hattie?”

She laughed at that question and reached across the side table to pat his bicep through his button-up shirt. “Are you?”

He waved a hand toward the stack of documents on the desk. “I’m fighting a different kind of battle these days.”

“But the foundation is solid, right?”

He nodded to alleviate the worry on her beautifully wrinkled face. “Solid, yes. But I want to do more.”

“You’re still determined to build your training school? For the service dogs?”

“Yes, ma’am. It takes a lot of money to provide a service dog to an injured vet and most can’t afford that cost. I want to be able to help any wounded warrior who can’t afford to buy a service animal. And I’ve had several good contributions to match the foundation funding.”

Aunt Hattie leaned back and crossed her hands in her lap. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He put down his plate of cake and sipped at the coffee. He couldn’t explain something he didn’t quite understand himself. But this restlessness had to stem from one thing. “I...I met someone—”

Aunt Hattie clapped her hands together. “Oh, how lovely.”

He held up a hand at that feminine glee. “We’re just friends, as per an agreement.”

Aunt Hattie frowned and touched on her soft gray curls. “An agreement? That’s not very romantic.”

“I met someone,” he began again. “She owns a bakery—”

“Marla’s Marvelous Desserts?” Aunt Hattie’s glee went into overdrive. “Marla is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. Her parents are a joy, too. And that cute little daughter of hers—”

“You know her?”

“Of course. I know everyone in Millbrook.”

That was the truth.

His aunt leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands together. “How did you meet?”

He told her about the wedding and the dinner at church. “Her desserts are...addictive.”

“And she’s a pretty woman.” That knowing smile again.

Alec had to be careful here. “She’s attractive, yes.”

Like, cute-as-a-button attractive.

Aunt Hattie slapped a bejeweled hand against her lap. “I have a confession to make.”

Alec shook his head. “You already knew all of this, right?”

His cagey aunt had plied him with cake and strawberries, hoping to get the real story. She, of all people, knew he had a major sweet tooth.

Giving him an innocent smile, she said, “Well, I might have heard a rumor that you two ate together at the singles dinner the other night. I would have been there, but Delton took me to see a play in Pensacola.”

“Single-and-social,” he countered. “Networking.”

“Oh, is that what they call it these days?”

“It was a great networking opportunity. I’ve received several donations from that one dinner and I’ve had several calls from interested people.”

“And you’ve found a new friend.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t. And please, I don’t want you talking about it with all your church friends, either.” He patted her hand. “I meet people all the time but Marla is...different. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

“Okay, then. All in due time.” His aunt took another nibble of cake. “But I’m so glad you’re making new friends.”

Bless her. She made it sound as if he was back in middle school, but Aunt Hattie would honor his wishes because she’d been raised to be polite and discreet. Even when she “shared” information with the other matrons in town.

Aunt Hattie didn’t pursue the subject of Marla Hamilton, thankfully, and soon they were talking about the weather, his plans for the rest of the week and her upcoming doctor’s appointment. Angus woofed and yawned and glanced longingly toward the window.

His aunt got up after they’d finished their cake. Alec stood, too. Aunt Hattie came around the coffee table and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see you later at dinner. We’ll keep it light—just fresh sliced tomatoes and cucumbers and some cheese and crackers.”

Then she glanced out the window and turned him around on his heels. “Oh, and by the way, your new friend is out there taking a stroll around the lake with her little girl.”

Alec gave his aunt a frown but he moved toward the window in a flash, with Angus right behind him.

“You should go out there and visit with them,” Aunt Hattie said, the hope in her voice shouting at him.

“I’d rather not,” Alec admitted. “Not right now. Not yet.”

“She’s seen your scars, Alec,” his aunt said on a soft note. “And Marla is the kind of woman who can deal with any scars you might have.”

“Yes, she’s seen my wound.” He touched a hand to his face. “But her daughter hasn’t. And she won’t. Not until Marla thinks she’s ready.”

“I hope that’s soon, then,” Aunt Hattie replied before leaving him alone.

He turned back to the window and watched as Marla walked behind a bright pink-and-white miniature bike with training wheels attached. The little girl on the bike could be a tiny version of her mother from what he could see of her long reddish blonde hair. The sight of them together, laughing and having fun, tore at Alec in a way that nothing else had in recent days.

And made him ache for something unattainable, something unexpected.

Gabby looked adorable.

And so was her mother. Marla wore a flared floral skirt and a simple blue T-shirt. But her long hair spilled out around her shoulders in bright hues of gold and red.

Alec almost headed out with Angus, but he’d promised her he wouldn’t push. And he didn’t want to scare Gabby before they’d been properly introduced.

So he waited until they’d circled the park and when he didn’t see them coming back around, he finally took his dog out for a lonely walk. For now, that would have to be enough.

* * *

Marla and Gabby left the park and headed back to Lake Street, but she couldn’t help but think about the big white Victorian house that stood on a prime piece of real estate right across from the lake. Caldwell House had always been a fixture of Millbrook Lake, and she’d been by the old house many times through the years. But back then, she’d never connected the house with the man she’d recently met.

Funny how their paths had never crossed when they were younger—but then, Marla had lived outside of town on a farm and attended a different school from him.

Alec Caldwell had lived up there, in that wedding cake of a house, growing up. And now he was back as a grown man. A marine who’d served his country and was now trying to help wounded veterans have better lives.

What about his own wounds?

While Gabby had fed the fussy ducks, Marla had ventured a glance toward the rambling white house with the dainty scrollwork on the porch posts and the big bay windows on each floor.

And she’d wondered if Alec was in there, working hard at making his dream become a reality. Had he inherited a lot of money? Did he want the responsibility of running a massive charitable foundation? What had made him go from being a soldier to becoming a local businessman? Did he have another dream that he’d put on hold?

So many questions that she wanted to ask and so many questions that she needed to leave alone. Checking on Gabby, she watched her daughter and smiled. Gabby loved riding her bike through the park but she always stopped and waited for Marla if she saw any men approaching. Knowing that her only child was frightened of grown men broke Marla’s heart, but as a mother, she stood between her little girl and any imagined dangers. Gabby was improving, though her therapist had told Marla it might take a while before Gabby got over her fears.

Which meant that Marla couldn’t think about Alec Caldwell in any way other than as an acquaintance.

Because how could she bring together a man with a noticeable scar on his face and a child who had hidden scars that held her back? And how could Marla heal her own scars enough to even get up the courage to try?

She had to think of her child right now, and if that meant she couldn’t go on a friendly date, then so be it.

After all, she wasn’t ready for anything too heavy. She had Gabby and she had her work and she had friends and family to help her through. For now, that would have to be enough.


Chapter Five (#ulink_7c13c215-2029-5569-8383-3fd317d67474)

Marla brushed at her hairnet and checked the fifty cupcakes she had baking for a birthday party out on the lake: twenty-five yellow-cake-flavored and twenty-five chocolate-flavored that she would turn into Suzie Sunflower Lemon and Cocoa Marshmallow Crème for a ten-year-old named Susan, who just happened to love sunflowers, chocolate and marshmallows.

“How we doing?” her assistant, Brandy, asked, her short hair spiked underneath her hairnet and her dangling gold earrings sparkling. “I have the yellow icing ready and I’m working on the chocolate.” She glanced down at the pattern they’d created on the iPad. “Love the flower-shaped icing.”

“About five more minutes,” Marla said in answer to her question. She glanced at the clock. Almost eleven. “Mrs. Fontaine wants these by three since the party starts at five.”

“Piece of cake,” Brandy replied with a red-lipped grin.

That term was a joke around here. Marla laughed and hurried back to the sheet cake she planned to put in the oven next, for an anniversary party Sunday night at the church. White cake with cream-cheese icing and some colorful sparkles. The couple had been married forty-two years and they had five grown children and twelve grandchildren. They wanted the sparkles since they maintained they still had some spark in their marriage.

Marla smiled at that. She loved her job because, for the most part, she was involved in a lot of happy events—weddings, parties, showers and celebrations. Once, she’d even made cupcakes for a funeral—per a woman’s three grown children.

“She loved cupcakes,” one of the sons had explained. “She’d want us to have some at her memorial dinner.”

Happy or sad, family was important. Marla was blessed to have her family nearby, but she did dream of having a special someone. Someone to hold and love, someone to make her laugh. Someone who knew she loved cookies and cupcakes.

When she thought of how those things had been sorely lacking in her own volatile marriage, she pushed away the guilt of not being a better wife and mother and went back to creating marzipan icing for the cupcakes. The mixture of sugar, almond paste and egg whites could be molded and formed into just about any shape or design. When the bell on the front door jingled, she glanced into the pass-through, expecting to see her mother with Gabby. Gabby had spent the night with her parents but was due here any minute to spend the day “helping Mommy.”

But instead of her mother and Gabby, Hattie Marshall breezed in, her short salt-and-pepper curls framing her still-smooth porcelain face. “Hello, Marla,” the older woman called with a chuckle. “It sure smells good in here.”

Marla dropped the bag of powdered sugar she’d been measuring and headed out to greet one of her best customers. Miss Hattie loved to cook but when it came to desserts for big groups, she always ordered from the bakery. Usually over the phone and usually she’d send someone to pick up her orders. Marla only knew her from seeing her at the big farmer’s market outside of town. Marla’s parents used to run a booth out there during peak vegetable season.

“What a nice surprise,” Marla said, glad for this short break. “What can I help you with today?”

Miss Hattie smiled and held a hand to her pearls. “I’m hosting the garden club this month and, since the gardens at Caldwell House are in full bloom, I thought I’d have an afternoon tea in the backyard.”

Caldwell House?

Marla tried to hide her surprise. “Uh...okay. That’s a nice idea but...” Then it hit her. “Oh, I’d completely forgotten that you and Vivian Caldwell are...were...sisters. I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

Hattie nodded, a touch of sadness in her smile. “I know, honey. You’ve been away for a few years now so you wouldn’t know the details. After my sister passed, my nephew Alec invited me to come and live with him at Caldwell House. He claimed he didn’t want me living alone anymore, but just between you and me, I think he was the one who was lonely. Since I’m a master gardener and since I love to cook, I think he also wanted a feminine touch for the gardens and that massive kitchen.” She shrugged. “You know that’s a big old house and, well, he’d just returned from serving our country.” She put a hand over her mouth. “And recovery from his injuries, at that.”

Marla absorbed all of the intimate details as she suddenly understood why Alec needed a friend closer to his age. A doting aunt would be good company some days, but not so much at other times. But she did think it was incredibly sweet of him to ask his aunt to live at Caldwell House. “Yes, I guess I can see the logic of you moving in there with him.”

Marla could also see the rather obvious reason Miss Hattie had come by to place her order in person. Nothing went unnoticed in a small town. Lately, Marla had ignored the local grapevine and focused on her work, but she needed to start paying more attention to the things happening around her.

Especially when this one particular thing seemed to involve her. In an unspoken way, of course.

Hattie Marshall took her time glancing into the glass display case. “I heard you and Alec met at that scandalous Alvanetti wedding.”

“Yes,” Marla said, checking behind her to make sure her small staff wouldn’t hear. She didn’t like gossiping about her clients. “I talked to him briefly after the wedding—”

“And gave him a piece of wedding cake,” Miss Hattie interrupted. “He sure did brag about how good that cake was.”





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