A Sweet Romance Charity Anthology Filled with Family, Friends & Faith

Sweet Romance

 

Date Published: October 19, 2021

 

Family Ever After

Longing hearts, loving homes, and lively holidays combine in this Romantique Treasury. This warm-hearted anthology combines friends, families, and faith as hope blossoms in the lives of orphaned children.

ADOPTED IN ARKANSAS

Socialite Emily Simpson feels out of place. So, when Emily consults her aunt, Lachele suggests she use Matchrimony to find a husband. For farmer Derrick Bobo, he hopes an arranged marriage will give him a better chance of gaining custody of his autistic nephew, Zach. Can Emily adjust to a farm wife’s lifestyle? And more importantly, how will she deal with a boy on the spectrum?

A HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Madeline Collier finds solace in charity work and fundraising for a local children’s home. Peter Townsend moves west from Philadelphia to escape his past and begin a new life. When an idea is planted for an orphan’s possible future, Madeline realizes she needs help. Can Maddie persuade Peter to commit to a marriage of convenience and, in so doing, help her give a child a forever home?

A NEW FAMILY

Eliot Graveney fought his entire life to be seen as the equal of those around him, but a flash of fire enters his world in the shape of heiress Marianne Daltrey. And Eliot’s life will never be the same. Can Eliot outsmart a wealthy man to help Marianne get her inheritance? Will he lose his heart in the process?

FOREVER FAMILY

Susan Vuichard is committed to making sure no child is forgotten in the foster system, which means opening her family farm to three sisters that have nowhere else to go. Richard Petra still suffers from a tragic loss, but sparks fly when he finds his high school sweetheart. Can this group somehow become a forever family?

JUST LIKE CHRISTMAS MORNING

Anna Beckett has a soulless job at Gallagher Industries. When she becomes a volunteer cuddler, holding the sickest babies in the neonatal unit, Anna begins to realize there’s more to life than work. Thrust into a Santa Claus suit at the children’s hospital, Jack Gallagher is surprised to recognize the accountant from work. Can they overcome their misguided perceptions to form a lasting bond?

KANDIE KISSES

Frazzled by a hectic lifestyle, Rachel Boulton has no choice but to rearrange her priorities when a surprise gift is left for her at work. With the help of her secret crush, Mick Polenz, can Rachel meet the overwhelming needs of this special delivery, or will she lose the greatest joy she’s ever known to the demands of unfulfilled ambitions?

LONG TO BELONG

Mark Diamond has never had a family of his own, but being on the spectrum makes relationships extra complicated – until Katie Reed, owner of the Bountiful Blueberry Coffee Shop, stole his heart faster than an underpriced IPO offering. For Katie, her shy beau has been as yummy as a dandelion-cocoa latte, but can they handle each other’s situation, or will their dreams be thrown out like yesterday’s brew?

MACY’S GIFT

Macy Williams loves her career as a photojournalist, but when her brother and sister-in-law die, Macy is drawn back to her small hometown to handle their estate. Cord Adams is surprised by his deceased friend’s choice of guardian. He only met Macy once, and the meeting was anything but cordial. Can two strong-willed individuals set aside their differences for the good of two young girls?

NOT PART OF OUR EVENING PLANS

As one of the couples who found love at River’s End Ranch, Jace and Dinky Cunningham struggle with the loss of their dreams for a family; but, circumstances can shift in a split second. Dare they hope this change of plans will bring them everything their hearts desire?

Proceeds from this collection of inspiring stories will benefit special-needs adoption grants through Reece’s Rainbow.

EXCERPT

Spirit of Romance:  Kandie Kisses

Hope for the Heart Series – Book 1

 

Michele Pollock Dalton

 

Kandie Kisses Copyright © 2021 Michele Pollock Dalton. All Rights Reserved.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the e-mail address below.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

Unless marked, all scriptures are taken from the New International Version (NIV): Scripture is taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION ®. Copyright© 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™.

 

Royalty-Free Stock Photography by Shutterstock and affiliates.

Cover Design & Formatting by Michele Pollock Dalton of Barr26 Creative Services  |  www.Barr26CreativeServices.com

 

Michele Pollock Dalton
Visit my website at www.MichelePollockDalton.com 
Contact at: author@MichelePollockDalton.com

Printed in the United States of America 
First Printing: October 2021

 

Chapter 1

 

The packed bar along the backshore of Lake Superior was stuffed to the gills and stifling hot as Mick Polenz set up his Bose sound system. Despite the governor’s “half capacity” orders, the Down Low Bar & Grill still hosted a wall-to-wall crowd every weekend. And Mick certainly didn’t mind. The tips he earned from the gig always put him in a better frame of mind.

Although music was his first love, Mick’s job as a first responder for the township paid the bills. The area that comprised Magellan was essentially Michigan’s last outpost before the land gave way to Lake Superior, but the quaint village was a welcome change from the hectic pace of Lansing. 

The atmosphere at the Down Low pulsed through the heavily timbered room and spiked Mick’s enthusiasm for his upcoming show. Still, the nerves that lingered before each performance set his foot to tapping as he waited for one of the waitresses to deliver his water bottle. “Thanks, Chel,” he commented when the harried woman handed off his beverage.

Rachel Boulton paused for a moment and gave the shy man an equally bashful smile before turning to hurry away. “Heaven’s above!” she whispered to herself, wishing she had a hand free to fan her face. One simple brush of the burly firefighter’s calloused fingertips made Rachel think of things a good girl would never admit.

Tamping down her runaway hormones, Chel pressed through the rabble rousers to greet the next group of diners. “How many?” she called above raucous laughter and the opening song of Mick’s first set.

After leading the trio of suggestively clad women toward the last table, Rachel scanned the crowded bar room adjacent to the dining area. Intrigued, the busy waitress caught a glimpse of her favorite musician on the low-slung stage. 

Alone under the weak spotlight, Mick’s rich baritone belted out Waylon Jennings’ “Good ‘ole Boys” then quickly segued into Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” Always a fan favorite, wooden train whistles “tooted” in all the appropriate places while he played. 

At the end of the song, he turned a lopsided, boyish grin to the boisterous group hamming it up at the front table. Self-named “Mick’s Clique,” the rowdy bunch cheered and hollered out song suggestions as the evening wore on, but the affable musician was always glad to have their support. Their energy fed his, and Mick played his heart and soul out.

When the dining room closed down several hours later, Rachel rushed through the evening clean-up, so she could get home and begin her preparations for the following morning. Run ragged between her job at the Down Low and the supplemental work she picked up by baking sweet treats for the Merry Hollow Tree Farm; the weary woman wondered how long she’d be able to keep pace.

As Chel exited the back door off the prep kitchen, she gave a perplexed glance at her vehicle. The hatch of her older SUV was aloft. “Well, what the heck?” she mused in consternation as she approached the mismatched Santa Fe. After a recent fender bender, the predominantly black car now sported a red front quarter panel and driver’s side door.  “Must have hit the button,” the buxom brunette mumbled as she pulled the key fob from the front pocket of her faded jeans.

Exhausted by long hours on her feet, Rachel climbed into the cold vehicle and got the defrost going. Despite the warmth of the day, as soon as the sun set, the September winds turned cold. And it seemed like the U.P. was in for an early winter if the blazing colors of the hardwoods were any indication.

Sipping from a travel mug of hot chocolate while the Santa Fe warmed up, Rachel stilled and listened. The noise of the bar crowd, still in full swing, along with the sound of wind and waves coming from the shoreline, carried a strange whine. The worried woman growled at the car, “Oh no, you don’t! I just had you in the shop for a tune-up, you overpriced lemon! So, just settle down and idle right!” Banging on the steering wheel in frustration, Rachel jolted in shock as the back hatch smoothly slid open. “Is this dang car possessed?” she wondered before hopping out and rounding the back.

As she lifted her arm to slam the bedeviled door, tiny eyes opened and glowed against the blackness of Chel’s cargo area. Frigid little fingers curled around the gray nylon netting that kept things from sliding about, and Rachel’s heart constricted.

 

* * * * *

 

Mick stepped out onto the back patio for a break and a bit of fresh air. The heavy scent of bodies, perfumes, and frying food inside the bar gave him a pounding headache. So, he dropped onto a wooden bench away from the hubbub and took several deep, cleansing breaths of the chilly night air. 

When he heard a startled cry, his body instantly went rigid, and instinct kicked in. Bolting across the dark parking lot toward a line of parked vehicles, Mick yelled, “You alright?” to the curvy waitress who turned bashful gazes on him whenever he played at the Down Low.

Bending low to untangle the toddler’s fingers, Rachel lifted the frightened little girl and hugged the child to her chest. Whimpers from an infant tucked further into the recesses of the cargo hold drew the anxious woman’s attention. So, when her handsome crush leaned in close to reach for the baby, Chel sucked in the heady scent of him and forcefully resisted the urge to press closer to his warmth.

Scowling at the fresh-faced woman, Mick ominously rumbled, “Why do you have KIDS in your trunk?” The first responder examined the little one before tucking the blanket tightly around the baby boy.

Injured by the brusque tone and awful assumption that she left small children unattended in the cold, Rachel stammered, “There is one more.”

Furious, Mick freed a hand and reached back under the tonneau cover that concealed the cargo area. Locating another infant, he gently pulled the child forward. “What is going on here?” he angrily questioned, blue eyes snapping with fury.

Chagrined and confused, Rachel tried to console the itty bitty toddler in her arms. Although she wanted to shout right back at the presumptive dolt, Chel whispered, “I don’t know.”

“You . . . don’t know?!” Mick retorted, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Watching the waitress struggle to soothe the tiny girl, he released a cleansing breath and flatly acknowledged. “You don’t know.”

Gently rocking back and forth, the overwhelmed woman chattered, “I thought my lift gate was malfunctioning. It kept opening on its own. But, I guess this little one was pushing the button.”

Pivoting, Rachel looked around the parking lot. The outdoor crowd had thinned considerably as the hour edged toward midnight. And the over-packed, boat-sized sedan she was looking for was gone. “I think they’ve been . . . abandoned.”

“Say again.”

“Abandoned, Mick,” she sighed. “Their mother came to the back door around closing time looking for any leftovers we were going to throw away. But now, her car is gone.”

 

* * * * *

 

Arranging the twin boys in his arms, Mick waited while the reluctant woman gathered a worn quilted handbag and slipped it over her shoulder. “I’ll have to call the Sheriff,” he thought out loud.

“What? No! Their mother might come back! Let’s …well, let’s just give her a few minutes. Please?”

Huffing, the man looked down at the tiny bits of humanity. “We need to get them warm,” he replied, tempering the agitation in his voice.

Grasping the musician’s muscled forearm, Rachel walked backward toward the passenger side of the vehicle. She juggled the toddler to one side and wrestled with the ratty diaper bag before she managed to get the car door open.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Mick awkwardly slid across the seat, carefully balancing his precious cargo. As soon as he was safely shut inside, the first responder gently laid the infants in his lap.

The dome light went out when his unexpected partner in crime shut the back hatch, and Mick waited for the bashful lady to slip into the car beside him. “Now what?” he grumbled as Rachel settled the whimpering girl in her lap.

Reaching up to flick the button that would restore light to the interior, Chel jostled the lumpy bag that had been left behind. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here that might give us a clue,” she sheepishly suggested.

“You met the person who left them here?”

“Like I said, she came to the back door looking for food.”

While the worried woman shuffled through the contents of the oversize purse, Mick unwrapped the first boy and gave him a quick exam before swaddling him more tightly. Sliding a large hand over the downy softness of the baby’s dark hair, he considered the newborn carefully before moving on to his brother.

“Found something,” he mumbled as the second blanket fell away to reveal a green and white dining check. “I saw what you did,” had been written in tiny letters under the meal total. 

Looking up, Rachel pushed the hair out of her eyes and glanced at Mick. “What is it?”

Lifting the order stub closer to the light, the musician read the message out loud for her benefit: “I saw what you did when you took the money from your apron pocket and put it in the cash drawer for our meal. And I know you gave Kandie an extra big glass of milk with her mac & cheese. I also heard you say that someone in the bar worked for the local fire department. I couldn’t find the station, so I am asking you to please let the police know I tried to follow the Safe Haven law. Miss, I’m counting on your kindness and generosity to take care of them for me. My babies mean the world to me, but I just can’t do it anymore. Tell them I love them. Always.”

Rachel gazed down at the blonde girl in her lap, then closed her eyes. Bowing her head, she touched her forehead to the child’s and whispered, “I’m so sorry, little one.”

Pudgy fingers awkwardly brushed her cheek, and Rachel leaned into the featherlight touch. But her eyes blinked open when a very wet, sloppy kiss landed on the underside of her chin. “Oh! Oh my,” she giggled. “That left quite a spit spot.”

Scrunching up his face, Mick wrinkled his nose and expelled a disgruntled “ewwww” as Chel turned her head and wiped her chin against the shoulder of her t-shirt. “Guess I don’t mind my damp lap quite as much anymore,” he mumbled.

Rachel snorted in laughter and snuggled the little girl closer. “Hey, a kiss is a kiss,” she teased before sobering. “So, what do we do, Mick? How would you handle it if they’d been dropped off at the fire station?”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but we have to call the Sheriff. The babies are probably only a week old, so their relinquishment could fall under the Safe Haven laws. But your little ‘puppy’ there? She doesn’t. So, there will be a criminal case opened against, ah, Sally…crud. I can’t read the last name.”

Mick tipped the ticket toward the light and then to its side, trying to make out the last few squiggles. “Still can’t read the last name. But there is a ‘P.S.’ here. Um, let’s see… I can’t bear. Ah, I can’t bear … the thought! The thought of what, um, what… well crap. This writing is too small. I just can’t read it,” he huffed.

Reaching for the piece of paper she’d torn from her order pad a few hours earlier, Rachel tried to make out the words that wrapped up the long edge. When she finally figured out the message, she glanced down at the little girl one more time. Unable to hold back her roiling emotions any longer, a tear slipped free. She whispered, “P.S. I can’t bear the thought of what they will do with Kandie. Please don’t let them send her to an institution.”

 

Chapter 2

 

Mick packed away the rest of his gear and let out a frustrated sigh. Cupping the back of his neck, the tired man rubbed at the sore muscles.

“That was some show, Michelob!” one of his rowdies shouted on his way past, emphasizing the nickname Mick earned by his drink of choice.

“Yeah!? Thanks, man! Glad you could make it!” As soon as the merrymakers were out of sight, Mick wiggled the phone from the pocket of his faded jeans and dialed his buddy in dispatch. “Hey, Stevie? You got any word on what happened at the Down Low tonight?”

“That’s Officer Cade to you, man.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just tell me what’s goin’ on with the kids, officer.”

Ignoring the sarcastic tone, the dispatcher clicked through several screens and read through the comments in the system. “Not much here. Emergency foster care placement. Statements taken. No leads on the bio mom at the moment. That’s about it.”

“Anything about the waitress who found them?” Mick grunted. The clickety-clack of the keyboard filtered through the connection while he hopped into his CR-V and waited for the windows to clear.

“Nope. Nothing but her statement . . . oh, wait,” Officer Cade paused as he read through the call report. “Rachel Boulton has temporary placement of the children until Social Services can run a search and make arrangements with suitable family members.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Who on earth could that be?” Rachel yawned as she juggled an infant in one arm and a mug of coffee in the other. The tiny duplex she called home was half of a trailer house, and, at the moment, it was overflowing with the chaotic little bodies of hungry babies and one very clingy little girl.

Pulling open the exterior door, the frazzled woman poked her nose through the opening left by the chain lock and got an eye-popping gander at the impressive chest of her favorite fireman. Stretched tight over prime male flesh, the deep blue t-shirt clung to Mick’s frame, and Rachel wondered if drooling was considered an attractive trait. Cause, man, her mouth was watering!

“Ah, mind if I come in?” he asked again.

“Huh?” she blurted, then reconnoitered. “Wait. What?”

“Let me in,” Mick calmly asserted. “Before Mrs. Hawthorne sends her husband after me.”

“Jeff? Why would Lisa send Jeff after you?” Rachel mumbled in confusion.

Huffing out his impatience, Mick slowly and evenly replied, “Because I showed up on their doorstep at 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning looking for you? Or maybe because she wondered why I’m toting a bag full of diapers and formula. Your pick.”

“Diapers! Really?! You brought diapers? Oh, thank you!” she enthused as she quickly shimmied back through the door, unlatched the chain, and threw the barrier wide open. With a happy little wiggle, Rachel hurriedly put her coffee mug down on an end table and grabbed one of the bags from the Supercenter. “I ran out of clean dishtowels about two hours ago. You’re my freaking hero, Mick Polenz! I think I love you!” she joyfully announced as she unearthed a package of wipes along with the diapers.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Mick sheepishly waved to the landlady who was eavesdropping and gawking from her back porch. “Might want to keep it down. Otherwise, half of Magellan will be wrangling an invitation to your bridal shower at church today,” he quietly advised as he stepped over the threshold into domestic disorder.

Wide-eyed, Rachel’s jaw dropped open, and a blush bloomed over her cheeks. “I . . . oh, . . . I,” the woman gulped in embarrassment. “I just meant ‘thank you,” she timidly whispered, cursing the silliness that overtook her whenever she was overtired. “BB2 is having trouble keeping anything down, and everything runs right through BB1.”

“BB?” he asked, quirking a dark eyebrow in question.

“Baby boy,” Rachel offered with a shy Mona-Lisa smile. “Sally’s letter didn’t give their names, so for now, I’m just calling them BB1 and BB2.”

Glancing around the tiny space, Mick surveyed the grass-green shag carpet and darkly paneled walls of the combination living and dining room. An ivory floral love seat sat on the wall near the front door. On the opposite wall were a small drop-leaf table and two spindle chairs. Aside from that, there was a tall bookcase on his left between the bedroom doors. A narrow curved front dresser sat on his right between the compact kitchen and nearly non-existent bathroom.

“Okay. BB 1 and 2 it is, but where are you going to put them? This place isn’t even big enough for you.” 

Taken aback, Rachel blinked, then scowled. “It’s affordable.”

Holding up his palms in a gesture of peace, Mick softly reassured, “Listen, I know you want to help out, but these kids were too much for their mother to handle alone. How will it be any different for you?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not living in a car,” Rachel snapped before reigning in her temper – which was another ugly side effect of sleep deprivation. “And besides that, I’ll have the Hawthorne girls to help out after school when I need a babysitter.”

“Are you sure they are a good choice? They were pretty traumatized when their brother died a few months ago. And the youngest one? Is she even old enough to babysit?” Mick gently questioned before lifting the fussy little girl from her place near Rachel’s leg.

For a moment, Rachel just stared at the stoic man. Then she turned and laid BB2 on the kitchen table. She finished changing the infant before she formulated her answer. “I think you mean well, Mick. But you know why I have to do this . . . why I have to make it work.”

He understood the woman’s firm insistence, and as Mick looked into Kandie’s beautiful almond shaped eyes, he felt the same pull. It was why he spent an hour driving each way to the Supercenter after bar close. It’s why he was on a near stranger’s doorstep at the butt crack of dawn with shopping bags full of baby supplies.

Chapter 3

 

“Go ahead and crash for a little while, Chel. You look like you’re ready to drop,” Mick advised through a yawn. He wasn’t doing much better, but he was well used to working around the clock when he was on shift. Magellan might be a sleepy little township, but Lansing had been a different story.

“Once they are fed and changed, I think they’ll nap for a while,” she ruminated while measuring dry powder into the new bottles Mick thoughtfully provided. When Rachel turned with two bottles and a sippy cup in hand, her tired face morphed into sweet delight. Her rather brusque fireman was settled in the corner of the loveseat, the newborns laid over his heart. And the tiny little slobber puss was stretched out next to him with her head pillowed on Mick’s leg.

Slowly the poor man’s head dropped toward his chest, and a snore rumbled from him loudly enough that Mick startled himself awake. “Best get going,” he mumbled.

“Don’t you dare, Mick,” Rachel gasped. “You’re too tired to be behind the steering wheel right now. I’ll make up the hide-a-bed for Kandie and me. You can take my room.”

“Uh, you sure about that?”

With a brisk nod, Rachel settled the question and pointed toward two laundry baskets that sat in front of her back door. “Let’s get the BBs settled; then we can all have a good sleep.”

Mick quirked an eyebrow, and a slow, lopsided grin turned up one corner of his mouth. “Interesting sleeping arrangements,” he teased.

“Hey, it was either that or dresser drawers. And I was afraid Kandie would try sliding the drawers shut. She doesn’t walk yet, but she has this odd little bottom-scoot-crawl thing that gets her around lickety-split.”

A chuckle escaped, and the weary man looked down at the affectionate child. “She’s certainly a cuddler.” Studying the distinctive features that loudly proclaimed the little girl’s disability, Mick cocked his head. The white-blonde curls, ivory skin, rosy cheeks, button nose, bright almond-shaped eyes, and long lashes made Kandie look like a porcelain doll.

Timidly, Rachel lifted BB1 from Mick’s chest and tried to ignore the tingles that raced up her arm from the brief contact. Heat blossomed along her cheekbones, and Chel all but threw a bottle at the poor man in her effort to retreat before she started to slobber.

Settled across the room on one of the dining chairs, Rachel watched as Kandie wiggled under the gorgeous firefighter’s arm and snuggled into his side. Content with her sippy cup of milk and a warm, human pillow, the child cooed her contentment.

Mentally scolding herself for being jealous of the little girl’s proximity to her secret crush, Rachel kept her eyes on the ravenous baby in her arms instead.

“Fed, diapered, and dead to the world,” Mick announced in relief a short while later.

“Mine too,” Rachel whispered. “BB1 goes in with the colors, and BB2 goes in with the whites.”

“Excuse me?”

Freeing a hand, Rachel pointed to the neat labels on the side of each basket. Devoid of laundry, she’d lined the bottom of each container with one of her memory foam pillows. They were soft enough to support the newborns comfortably, and firm enough to eliminate any danger.

Mick glanced at the neatly labeled baskets and chuckled. “I see.” And he did. One container was suitably dressed out with a white mattress, and the other with a navy blue one. “Guess you belong in this one, little fellow,” Mick quietly advised as he lowered the child into the basket labeled “whites.”

He wasn’t going to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. “How did you decide who went where?”

“Diarrhea.”

Crinkling his nose, Mick shook his head and grunted, “Sorry I asked.”

Rachel giggled, handed BB1 into Mick’s waiting arms, and gathered the empty bottles. “I’ll never get that nasty green stuff out of a white pillowcase,” she tittered, silliness making an inauspicious appearance.

After everyone was tucked in, Rachel tried to get comfortable on the hide-a-bed. The loveseat only accommodated a twin-size bed in its depths, so it was a bit of a challenge to keep the metal crossbar out of her back and still leave room for Kandie beside her.

Whatever the case, sleep was elusive. Tantalizing thoughts of the man in her bed wandered through Rachel’s brain without the censoring of her rational mind or spiritual convictions. “Sweet dreams,” she softly sighed before falling into the well of slumber.

And they were. They really, really were.

 

* * * * *

 

In an echoing refrain of early, Rachel groused, “Who on earth could that be?”

“Got it,” Mick softly announced as he stepped out of the bathroom. Since the doors were at adjacent angles, he managed to answer before another knock sounded.

When the cool morning breeze whooshed through the open door and across the hide-a-bed, Rachel tugged the covers over her chest and the little girl curled into the crook of her arm. The child’s hot breath created a steam bath against Chel’s neck, but it was the puddle of drool leaking into her hair that left the tired woman disgruntled.

Her landlady, Lisa Hawthorne, gazed at Mick’s bare chest and gave a disconcerted, “Ooh. Oh, my. I . . . well, I wasn’t expecting, ah, erm, . . . company?”

With a steady gaze, Mick cocked his head and issued a calm challenge to the gobsmacked woman. “What were you expecting?”

Flustered, Lisa retreated. “Huh? Oh, nothing, of course. Nothing!” she reiterated as she backtracked down the deck steps. “Um, Rachel just doesn’t, ah, you know . . .”

Mick propped his athletic physique against the door frame and replied. “No. I don’t know.”

“Guests!” Lisa all but shouted before she stammered, “Guests. Rachel doesn’t, um, entertain . . . guests.”

Mortified, Rachel pulled the covers up over her head and hid the telltale blush that suffused her fair skin. “Way to go, Lisa,” she mutinously thought. “Might as well just hang a sign around my neck that says ‘Thirty-Year-Old Virgin.’”

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Mick caught Rachel’s embarrassed retreat and couldn’t help the cocky grin that stretched his cheeks. Turning back, he fixed his denim blue gaze on the nosy lady and nodded sagely. “I know. That’s what I like about her.”

Blinking rapidly, Lisa dropped her eyes from the glorious expanse of male flesh and mumbled, “Tell her I’ll stop by later.”

“As soon as she wakes up,” Mick promised. “We were very . . . busy last night. But I’ll send her up to your place later.”

“Sure! Absolutely,” Lisa agreed in a flurry of head bobbing as she rushed away.

As soon as Mick closed the door, Rachel flipped back the covers and shot him an annoyed look. “You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he innocently asked, the devilish twinkle in his eyes belying the serious tone. After scanning the curves that dimpled the quilt into shapely hills and valleys, Mick finally locked gazes with the sweet woman, flushed with sleep – all warm and soft.

The breath hitched in Chel’s lungs as Mick’s heated glance trailed over her from head to toe. “You.”

“Yes?”

Uncertainty laced her soft voice when Rachel said, “You let Lisa think something is going on.”

“Isn’t there?” he quietly questioned.

 

Chapter 4

 

“The apple turnovers have been a fantastic hit,” Ruth Merry exclaimed when Rachel trudged into the quaint gift shop at The Merry Hollow Tree Farm several weeks later. Taking an infant carrier from the overwhelmed woman, Ruth cooed at the scrap of feisty humanity inside, as feet and fists flew in happy abandon. “Which one is this?”

“BB2. You can tell them apart by their ears,” Rachel explained as she carefully wheeled the stroller through the packed space. 

Lifting the tiny girl with Down syndrome from the double stroller, Ruth peppered the adorable face with kisses and accepted those returned with grace. “Guess a bit of spit never hurt anyone,” the older woman teased as she tickled the child’s dripping chin.

“How are you doing on inventory? I have two more bushels of the Gala apples you sent back with me on Tuesday. I could do apple cinnamon bread or make some muffins for the café if you’d like.”

Ruth shook her head and cuddled Kandie closer. The girl’s joyful acceptance of affection and exuberant return of the same always brought a smile to the honorary grandmother’s face. “Whatever works best for you,” she advised, taking note of the dark circles under Rachel’s eyes. “I’m not sure how you are keeping up with three small children, your waitressing job, and baking for the store; but, I’m thankful all the same.”

Tucking loose strands of sable hair behind her ears, Rachel grimaced. “Without Mick’s help, I’d be lost,” she agreed.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Ruth chuckled, giving the vexed lady a wink.

“Oh, no! Not you too!” Rachel groaned. “I’ve got every trollop in the township giving me the evil eye because they think Mick is ‘off the market.’ But we’re friends. Just friends.”

“Oh?” Ruth laughed in utter disbelief.

Distracted, Rachel pulled the cake pans from the hood of the stroller and lined them on the counter behind the bakery display case. “There are three dozen turnovers and two dozen apple fritters. That should be enough to see you through the weekend, right?”

“Cookies?”

Rachel stopped and tipped her head to the side, as if the idea was a new notion. “Yup. I remembered to load them. Can you keep an eye on the little people while I run back out to the car?” she hurriedly questioned on her way past.

Ruth didn’t bother to answer as the busy woman was already gone. Instead, she touched a fingertip to the wiggly child’s nose and grinned. “I think your foster mama protests just a little too much, Kandace. Friends, indeed!”

Rushing through on the return trip, Rachel lifted the stacked cookie sheets in a victorious gesture and celebrated, “I managed to save four and a half dozen.”

“Save?”

Rolling her brilliant blue eyes, Rachel snorted. “Taste testers. Mick and Kandie have a rigid approval process before baked goods are allowed to leave my kitchen.”

“Sounds like you have your hands full with those two,” Ruth playfully acknowledged, her teasing lighting a flame of embarrassment on Rachel’s cheeks.

Although the bustling baker was well pleased by the growing camaraderie with the handsome firefighter, she ignored the other woman’s light banter as she carefully unloaded all of the intricately decorated, apple-shaped sugar cookies into sealed containers. 

Her romantic notions of loving declarations and happily-ever-afters just didn’t fit with Mick’s personality or goals. So, she guarded her enamored heart and tsked anyone who brought the subject up. 

“Okay. That should do it! Gotta run!” Rachel deflected as she gathered up her brood. “Give me a call on Monday and let me know what you’ll need for next week.”

 

* * * * *

 

Snugging the infant carriers tighter to her chest, Rachel prepared for the evening gauntlet. “Laundry, dinner, work,” she singsonged as she psyched herself up for the marathon ahead. Leaning down, she caught Kandie’s hands and pulled the toddler to her feet. “Okay, you. Let’s see how your new shoes work,” Chel enthused. 

Although everything she bought the children was second-hand from thrift shops or garage sales, they didn’t seem to mind. And the new-to-her shoes seemed to intrigue Kandie with their flashing lights.

Rachel encouraged the toddler’s slow, plodding steps toward the dining cove and cheered when Kandie made it all the way. Lifting the little girl into the vintage highchair, the harried woman handed over a few Duplo blocks and began dinner preparations.

Thankful for Mick’s easygoing willingness to share his kitchen space, Rachel moved around the efficient galley styled kitchen as she prepped enough meals to last them all weekend long. When the stackable washer dinged, she was off and running in that direction as well, shuffling loads of laundry in and out. 

With a whimsical smile, she kicked one of the laundry baskets aside and stroked the babies’ heads. “Don’t think you’d even fit in those things anymore,” she acknowledged, grateful for the borrowed Pack-n-Plays that took up residence in her living room.

BB1 shoved an entire fist in his mouth and slurped away while his brother gnawed on a fist full of Rachel’s curly hair. “Good thing you’re cute,” she laughed as she freed the slimy strands, “’cause that’s just gross.”

Not to be deterred, BB2 latched onto his brother’s ear instead.

“That’s gross,” Mick corrected when he spotted the tiny cannibal chowing down on his sibling’s floppy lobe.

Startled, Rachel jumped in surprise and banged her head on the door to the dryer. Smacking her palm against the sore spot, she eyed the sweaty, dirty man. “Good grief! It’s a good thing you know C.P.R if you plan on sneaking up on people like that.”

“There’s no sneaking here,” Mick corrected as he slid Rachel’s hand away from her forehead. “A marching band could come through here, and you’d never know the difference,” he chuckled.

With a rueful grin, Rachel’s gaze slipped past him and caught Kandie’s ebullient abandon as she pounded the blocks against the metal tray of her highchair. “True enough.”

Pressing his lips to the red spot that marred her porcelain skin, Mick stepped back and cupped Rachel’s chin. Gently tipping her head from side to side, he grinned. “I think you’ll survive.”

Frozen, Rachel finally blinked when he turned and sauntered away – the long stride and slim hips making his finely toned backside a vision to behold. As soon as Mick was out of sight, Chel waved both hands in front of her hot cheeks and tried not to think about the man’s state of undress when the shower came on.

Chapter 5

 

After a day of chopping firebreaks at the county park, Mick was exhausted by the time he got home. But the delicious smells wafting through the house added some pep to his step. Racket aside, it was a nice change of pace to show up and be welcomed by something more than four walls.

He received plenty of ribbing from his buddies about the odd state of affairs – the strange shuffle between his home and Rachel’s, plus the unofficial co-parenting duties that gave a particularly pretty lady the support she needed to keep going.

As he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, Mick put away his musings and let his thoughts unfurl until there was nothing left but the soothing spray that eased aches and pains. 

But when he pushed the shower curtain open five minutes later, the disgruntled fellow realized his predicament. “Well, crap,” he muttered in irritation. “Now what?”

 

* * * * *

 

In a race against time, Rachel moved all the prepared meals into their appropriate containers and packed the refrigerator with her culinary efforts. Bobbling a casserole dish when Mick hollered her name, Chel barely managed to keep the scalloped potatoes and ham from landing upside down on the freshly mopped floor.

“You got my towel?” Mick shouted from the bathroom.

Swinging her head toward the laundry closet, Rachel sighed in exasperation when she spotted the tower of bath linens that never made it back to the cabinet. “Dang it! I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” she fussed to herself as she quickly shifted gears. “Hold on! Be right there, Mick.”

Excited by the loud voices, Kandie happily began to scream along in imitation of the conversation: “Bah thar, ick. Bah thar!!”

Rolling his eyes, the shivering fireman snuck the bathroom door open a few inches and popped his head out. The happy little girl squealed in glee when she spotted her favorite fellow – rivulets streaming from his hair, down his chin, and dripping onto his broad chest.

“Bat, bat, bat,” the water imp implored, her Duplo blocks banging in time with the chant.

“No bath,” Rachel corrected the child on her way past. 

Discombobulated by the beautiful expanse of perfect pecs and bulky biceps that took up every inch of her vision, Chel dropped her gaze and jerkily handed over the missing items. “Sorry about that. Got distracted by little people.”

“Just one.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll need both hands to take the whole stack,” Mick said, indicating the door he had propped closed for decency’s sake.

It took a minute for his meaning to compute, and when it did, scarlet roses blossomed on the woman’s cheeks, adding to her already flushed countenance. The combination of her bashful glances one minute and stolen, sultry stares the next prompted Mick to tease, “Unless you’re ready to see what’s behind door number one?”

Sapphire eyes widened, going almost violet, as Rachel’s breath caught. Rattled by the racy suggestion, she launched the pile of clean laundry at the virile man’s chest and fled the scene before she did something stupid like shout, “Oh! YES!”

Mick caught one of the towels as they floated to the floor, and a quiet chuckle escaped. His shy sweetheart had a bit of the sexy siren in her after all, he silently mused in masculine appreciation. “Soon,” he lowly rumbled as he shut the door and let his vivid imagination take flight.

 

* * * * *

 

With less than thirty seconds to spare, Rachel tied her apron strings with shaking hands. The thumping in her head kept time with the beat of the music in the bar, and the frazzled woman wished for a few minutes to collect herself before the shift began. But, prep work waited for no man – or woman, as the case may be.

When the fresh, tantalizing fragrance of Versace’s Dylan Blue enamored her senses, Rachel looked up into the baby blues that haunted her dreams and made her wish for all sorts of happily-ever-after things. “Everything okay with the munchkins?”

Mick nodded and brushed a strand of sable hair away from Rachel’s face. “No bump,” he observed before letting the silky curl slip through his fingers. “How’s your head feeling?”

Lingering in his gaze, Rachel brushed her fingertips across the tender spot and softly confessed, “I’d rather be home with a bottle of aspirin, but that won’t get the light bill paid.”

Concern mushroomed behind Mick’s sternum. He knew the stubbornly self-sufficient woman wasn’t one to concede defeat, but the lack of sleep and hectic schedule shadowed her normal glow with fatigue. “I thought the county was supposed to be getting you set up with some help while you are taking care of the kids.”

“Sssh!” Rachel implored, mortified by the need for government assistance. Leaning closer, she went to tiptoes and whispered against Mick’s neck, “Please, don’t say anything. I’m already getting looks from people . . . like I’m some loose woman with a revolving bedroom door, a houseful of kids, and not a man in sight.”

Sitting his water bottle down on the prep counter, Mick placed a comforting hand on Rachel’s back and drew her closer so the other wait staff wouldn’t overhear. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

Hoisting an eyebrow, Chel tipped her head back and caught a fleeting glimpse of something tender in Mick’s regard. Laying a hand along his shoulder, she traced a featherlight touch to his elbow. “No. You’re amazing,” she quietly confessed.

“Boulton!! Quit dilly-dallying around and get the salad bar set-up!” the cook bellowed when he came out of the walk-in cooler. “Michelob knows where to find the ice machine. He doesn’t need your help.”

“Aw, can it, Robbie,” Mick retorted before grabbing his ever-present water bottle. “If I wanted your two cents worth, I would have called the bank!”

Feeling bereft when Mick wandered away to top off his beverage, Rachel looked around at the scattered disaster left by the lunch crew and pulled up her big girl panties.

Sneaking up behind her, the nervous musician put a hand at Rachel’s waist and jested, “Time to get this show on the road, huh?” he teased.

“Pfft. Maybe for you,” she harrumphed. “Me? I’m stuck with this mess.”

Laying his lips into the crook of her neck, the frisky fellow snuck a kiss in along Rachel’s hairline. Grinning wide, he slid a cucumber into her line of sight and mischievously whispered, “think of me,” before he bolted away to finish setting up his sound system.

Face turning the brilliant shade of ripe eggplant, Rachel stared at the remarkably long, plump vegetable and made an abrupt about-face.

“Where you goin’ now?” Robbie yelped.

“Cooler!!” Rachel all but shouted as she fled the scene.

 

* * * * *

 

Finish reading this story and eight more in the

Hearts, Homes & Holidays anthology at:

www.Books2Read.com/heartshomesholidays

 

Michele Pollock Dalton

Michele Brouder

Nancy Fraser

T.C. Hester

Jean Jacobsen

Caroline Lee

Kirsten Osbourne

Rose Pearson

Christine Sterling

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