Come Home with Me Page 4

  When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Let me finish. I look different now, but inside I’m still kind of a mess. I’m trying to straighten myself out, but it’s hard. And I don’t want to inflict that on anyone else.” The words were true and as far as she was prepared to go. She wasn’t about to tell him that something about him called to her in a way she wasn’t comfortable with, tempting her to reveal secrets and vulnerabilities.

  Gripping the door handle, she added, “I’m sorry.” Then she squared her shoulders and went into the shop, leaving him out on the street in the cold.

  * * *

  A couple of weeks after he’d had coffee with Miranda, Luke was still thinking about her.

  Sitting at his desk in the office of his veterinary clinic on a Tuesday morning after dropping the twins at daycare, with half an hour free before the clinic opened, he was supposed to be researching acromegaly. He had diagnosed the rare disease, a growth hormone overproduction, in one of his feline patients and needed to update his knowledge of treatment options. But, staring at the computer screen, the image of Miranda’s face filled his mind. Particularly, those sad, hurting, blue denim eyes as she’d told him she was sorry.

  Wounded animals reacted in two very different ways. Some crawled away to suffer alone. He wondered if that was what Miranda was doing when she cut off conversations that edged too far into the personal.

  Other animals struck out when they were in pain. As a teen, Miranda had been abrasive and rude. Her favorite word started with F and she used it in all its variations. Including the oft-expressed “fuck off and die.” At the time he’d taken her for a bad girl rebelling against a too-conservative world. Now he guessed maybe he’d been wrong, and she’d been hurting.

  Hurting back then. And today, perhaps still nursing those wounds along with fresh ones suffered over the past decade. Like those inflicted by Ariana’s father.

  Luke was a healer. The evidence of it surrounded him: files, research manuals, and drawings and photographs of animals presented to him by grateful island kids and adults.

  When he was nine and his father was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Luke had done everything he could to help, from going to the library to get mystery novels for his dad to learning how to make what his father called “proper English tea.” None of it worked, though. He couldn’t cure his dad’s cancer. Nor could he heal his mom’s pain at losing her life partner at the age of forty. It had taken Forbes Blake to do that. But in the two years before Forbes came along, Luke’s mother was a bit of a zombie, stumbling through life on antidepressant medication. She’d barely noticed her son’s efforts to look after her and cheer her up.

  When Luke was twelve, he stopped trying because she met and fell madly in love with Forbes. Luke had resented the interloper; no one could replace his dad. He’d also resented that his mom had time for Forbes but not for him. Thank heavens for Candace, her parents, and his other friends.

  But then one day something amazing had happened. Riding his bike home from school, he’d come across a cat being attacked by a raccoon. He managed to chase off the raccoon, and then wrapped the wounded cat in his jacket, bundled it into his backpack, and bicycled as fast as he could to this very building, which had then housed Viola Cruickshank’s veterinary practice. She’d asked him to stroke the cat while she treated it. She’d said he had a healing spirit, which was as important as any medicine.

  It might have only been a kind thing to say to a distraught kid, though gruff Viola, who’d lived alone all her life, had always denied that. She said she was kind to animals, not to people. Whatever her motivation, when he’d asked her to let him help out at her practice, she’d agreed. She had never wanted to hear about his personal issues, but she’d mentored him so effectively that when he went to the Western College of Veterinary Medicine in Saskatchewan, he’d come out top of the class. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he’d inherited his mom’s interest in, and aptitude for, sciences. But academic honors didn’t matter to Luke. What counted was that he healed countless living creatures. As he’d told Miranda, animals were easier than people. He didn’t know how to heal people. It was merely a perk of his job that, often when he healed a sick or injured animal, he also helped its owner.

  Miranda Gabriel was a wounded creature. She said she was messed up as a teen, and was messed up now.

  He didn’t do well at fixing human beings. Besides, he didn’t need a messed-up woman in his life, and he didn’t need to reprise his crazy high-school infatuation. Particularly with a woman who had a less-than-stable lifestyle, and seemed determined to return to Vancouver.

  He had enough on his hands with his sons and his busy practice. Miranda had blown him off. He should accept that. But for some reason Miranda, the old version with the piercings and the attitude and the new one with the wounded eyes and the TTT kid, got to him.

  “Oh hell, man,” he muttered. “It’s not just the eyes and the kid. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve seen in years.” His twenty-eight-year old body had almost forgotten what sex was like, yet the thought of Miranda made it stir. “Which is not a good reason to see her again.” He wasn’t that kind of guy, one who got into a relationship for the sex. Not that he actually knew what kind of guy he was when it came to dating and sex, since there’d only ever been Candace.

  Luke picked up the phone. And put it down. If he called, she’d turn him down. Which was her right. She was a grown woman. Twenty-seven, he figured. With a two-year-old, a job, and a career plan. He knew her brother, Aaron. He was a good guy. No doubt he offered his sister all the support she needed.

  Except hadn’t he heard that Aaron was engaged to a woman from Ontario, who’d moved here with her entire family? Which meant Aaron had other things on his mind than searching his sister’s eyes to see if there was something more going on with her than the kid, job, and career plan.

  Luke was no schemer. He was a straightforward guy, not the least bit devious. So why did he find himself searching for an excuse to see Miranda again? Aha! Wasn’t there a birthday party coming up for one of the kids in Caleb and Brandon’s daycare? He needed to go gift-shopping. Checking his schedule, he saw a break in the early afternoon.

  Miranda only worked part-time at Blowing Bubbles. In the past months he’d been in the store several times and he’d never run into her until that afternoon three weeks ago. What were the chances?

  Maybe this was the test. If she wasn’t there, he’d leave her alone. If she was, it was a sign that . . . what?

  * * *

  The shriek that assaulted his ears as he opened the door of Blowing Bubbles made Luke smile. Ariana had a distinctive wail. And if she was here, likely so was Miranda.

  Yes, she was at the counter, looking frazzled as she talked to Penelope Abercrombie, a woman in her late sixties who didn’t have the sweetest of dispositions. Glancing around, Luke didn’t see Kara, so it seemed Miranda was on her own.

  He ambled toward the red-faced toddler who sat in the middle of the fenced play enclosure, ignoring the dolls and stuffed animals scattered around her, registering her displeasure in ear-piercing wails. He couldn’t possibly make her screech any louder than she already was, so he squatted outside a green plastic-mesh panel and said, “Hey there, pretty girl. It’s me. Remember? I came to visit you again, because you’re so darned irresistible.”

  Dark eyes squinted at him and tear trails gleamed on her cheeks, but the wails receded to hiccupy sobs. It seemed that, like most females, she appreciated compliments.

  “You like being the center of attention, don’t you, princess?”

  She clambered to her feet and plodded over. “Up,” she demanded, lifting her arms.

  Hoping Miranda wouldn’t mind, Luke stood and reached over the two-foot-high panel to hoist her into his arms. “Hey, Ariana. My name’s Luke. I went to school with your mommy.” This reminded him of holding the boys when they were younger, except that this child smelled sweeter than the twins ever had, even after their baths. Her s
cent was flowery and innocent, a little like wild roses.

  “School?” she said, her head tipped up toward him.

  “A long time ago.”

  “Mommy go school. On puter.”

  Computer, he figured. “Yes, I know. She told me about that.” Experience suggested that a two-year-old’s interest in anyone but herself was limited, so he said, “But how about you? What do you like to do?” He gestured toward the discarded cloth dolls, which wore fancy costumes. “Do you like princesses?”

  She babbled a string of syllables from which he recognized the words, “Fairies! With wings!”

  Now he noticed the wings, more bedraggled than perky, telling him these were much-loved dolls. “Yeah, fairies are much better than princesses. They can fly!”

  “Fly! Unc Aaron flies.”

  “I know he does. But he isn’t a fairy, is he?”

  The girl giggled. “He’s pi-lot.” She said the word carefully. “He flies air-planes. With wings!”

  “Yes, planes sure do have wings.”

  The raised voice that now claimed his attention wasn’t the child’s but Mrs. Abercrombie’s, saying, “Yes, the very first time Tedward played with it! The tail just came off in his hand.”

  He turned to see the woman glaring at Miranda, who said, “I told you we’d replace the dog, ma’am. But if I might suggest—”

  “But it’s wrong! You stupid girl, you’re not listening to me. You shouldn’t sell defective merchandise!”

  Luke was an even-tempered guy, but anger stirred inside him. How dare she use that tone and call Miranda stupid? Not to mention, it was Kara who ordered merchandise. Still holding Ariana, he walked over to the women, noting the stuffed dog on the counter and wincing at the obviously yanked-off tail. His boys, particularly Brandon, could be tough on toys, too. “Mrs. Abercrombie, there’s no need—”

  “Luke,” Miranda said sharply. “I’m serving this customer. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Her narrowed eyes, steely gray rather than blue, warned him not to interfere.

  Clenching his teeth, he rubbed Ariana’s back, hoping the girl didn’t pick up on the tension in his body and in the atmosphere.

  “Mrs. Abercrombie,” Miranda said, all politeness now, “perhaps rather than another stuffed animal, Tedward might prefer a toy truck? They’re very sturdy. Great toys for strong, active kids. What do you think?”

  Luke thought of saying that his boys were big fans of toy trucks. But he figured Miranda had the situation under control and he’d obey her unspoken request that he butt out.

  “Hmm.” The older woman seemed to have calmed down, and was considering the suggestion. “Perhaps you’re right. Stuffed animals are more a toy for little children, aren’t they? And girls, of course.”

  “Why don’t I show you what we have?” As Miranda led the woman away, she shot Luke a quick smile. “Thanks for looking after Ariana, Luke.”

  Her eyes were denim blue again and that smile, though brief, warmed him. The child in his arms was a cozy bundle, relaxed now in the boneless way that told him she was dozing off. He rocked her lightly, simulating the motion of a cradle, and listened with amusement as Miranda’s sales efforts resulted in Mrs. Abercrombie not only getting a free truck to replace the returned stuffed dog, but also purchasing a second truck.

  When the woman, toting a big bag, had left the shop, Miranda came over to him. In a scoop-necked blue cotton tee and nicely faded jeans, wearing dangly sea-glass earrings, she was beautiful in such a natural way. It was funny, but Candace, who was crazy about clothes and makeup, had looked more city-girl than Miranda. Whether or not Miranda was ready to believe it, she belonged here in Blue Moon Harbor.

  “Whew.” She drew her hand across her brow, grinned at him, and reached out for her sleeping child.

  He passed Ariana over, finding he missed the warm weight. Watching Miranda cuddle her daughter, he felt a pang of sorrow. Candace, with her loving nature, would have been a fabulous mom. Life could be so damned unfair.

  After a final hug, Miranda carefully set her daughter back down in the play area.

  Luke got control of his emotions and said, “That woman was awful. I’m surprised you kept your temper.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I’ve done all my life? Waited tables and sales-clerked. I can be polite to anyone in any circumstance.”

  That was so unlike the old Miranda, who was blunt and abrasive. He wondered how tough it had been for her to learn to put on a polite face. He also hoped that, with him, she could be genuine. “You handled her really well. I gather Tedward ripped the tail off that poor stuffed dog?”

  “It’s not the first time we’ve had a return on something that was given to Tedward.”

  “That was a good idea, suggesting trucks. My boys have them, and they’re almost indestructible.”

  “Maybe it’ll keep Tedward from getting the idea that it’s okay to torture animals,” she said, her tone dead serious.

  “That would be a very good thing.”

  She tilted her chin. “Working in this store has been enlightening. When you see how kids play, you get an idea of their personalities. When parents shop and talk about their children, you gain insights into how those children are being raised. Kara says she can make a good guess how most of the island kids are going to turn out when they grow up.”

  “Huh. That’s perceptive.” And made him wonder what Kara thought about Caleb and Brandon, and his own parenting skills.

  “Anyhow, you’ve been waiting a while. What can I help you with?” She smiled. “You aren’t carrying anything, so I take it you’re not here to return one of those birthday gifts?”

  “Nope, no returns. There’s a birthday party for a four-year-old girl, Katie Dvorak. I have no idea what she likes but I bet Kara’s magic computer system can tell me.”

  “I’d bet on it.” She walked away, toward the desk.

  The woman had a fantastic butt, he thought as he followed her. And once she gave Destiny Island more of a chance, there was no way she’d move back to Vancouver. Besides, while her lifestyle might have been unstable in the past, and she’d confessed to being kind of messed up, she was clearly on the path to pulling it all together. So it wasn’t crazy for him to want to ask her out.

  He stood on the customer side of the counter while she, on the other side, clicked away at the computer.

  “At first, I thought this database was a bit scary,” she said. “You know, all ‘big brother is watching.’ But it does make a lot of sense. We’re the only kids’ store on the island and we want to keep our customers happy.” She added dryly, “And keep them from shopping online, or over in Victoria or Vancouver.”

  Watching her slender fingers deftly click keys, he imagined those fingers on his body, a healthy male body that hadn’t felt a woman’s caress in years. Yeah, his sex drive had reawakened with a vengeance. Trying to sound like a logical adult rather than a horny teen, he commented, “You’re the only kids’ store, but you don’t carry books.”

  “No. Kara told me it’s a longtime agreement with Dreamspinner. They carry children’s books and we carry everything else.”

  “That’s typical Blue Moon Harbor.” He seized the opportunity for a low-key sales pitch. “Businesses cooperating rather than competing.”

  She glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s not a bad place.” Then she gazed at the screen. “Katie collects the Maplelea Girls, a set of dolls from different parts of Canada. They’re great toys because they’re fun for little kids to play with, and they have backstories that interest the child as she gets older. Katie doesn’t have Jenna from the East Coast or Saila from Nunavut.”

  “Let’s go with the Inuit one.”

  “Great. I’ll log it into the computer so no one else will buy her the same thing.” She clicked a few more keys, and then went to the shelves and selected a box containing a brown-skinned, black-haired doll in outdoor clothing and mukluks.

  She processed the sale, he
paid, and she said, “Gift-wrap?”

  “That’d be great.” When he was operating on an animal, his fingers knew exactly what to do. When it came to tasks like wrapping presents, he tended toward clumsiness. He guessed that, when it came to asking a woman out, he’d be even more awkward.

  From a rack with rolls of wrapping paper, she selected one that had puppies and kittens scattered over it. “This?”

  “Good guess. For me, anyhow. But does Katie . . . ?” About to ask whether the girl liked animals, he remembered her last name and made the association. “Dvorak. They have a two-year-old Persian cat named Emerald because of her big green eyes.”

  “If it had been Emerald’s birthday, you’d have known exactly what to buy,” Miranda teased.

  “Most cats and dogs are easy,” he agreed. “The ones that are finicky, I know about it. Sometimes it’s due to allergies or other health conditions, but mostly it’s because the owners spoil them. They think they’re being nice to the animal, but in fact they’re screwing with its health.” And he was lecturing, which probably wasn’t the way to persuade her to date him.

  And yet mischief sparkled in her blue eyes and she teased, “You, of course, never spoil your boys, right?”

  “Uh, well . . .” Mischief looked so much better on her than sadness. “Mostly I’m pretty good.” Okay, this was an opportunity, so he seized it. “But there’s a place in everyone’s life for a little ice cream, don’t you think?”

  “Especially if it’s chocolate,” she agreed promptly.

  “Bring Ariana over on Sunday afternoon. We’ll build sundaes. I’ll make sure there’s chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and some fruit and nuts just for some token healthy stuff.”

  She made herself busy wrapping the present, her head down, ignoring him.

  “Sprinkles?” he offered. “Chocolate chips?”

  As she fussed with a froth of curly, multi-colored ribbon that was so much prettier than the plain old bow he’d have tied, he said, “Miranda?”