Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (30 page)

"Oh, so sorry!" she said as the man she'd rammed into grabbed her arm to steady her. Her breath froze in her chest.

Holy major hotness.

"Omigod. I'm so sorry," she apologized again as she swiped at the coffee he'd spilled down his shirt. The wet cotton was plastered to his hot body. Omigod. And she was petting him now instead of swiping. She yanked back her hand and tried to ignore his amused expression. What was with her today? First crushing on the canoe guy and now petting a total stranger? Stress did very bad things to her brain. Very, very bad.

"It's all right," he said, laughing it off.

Oh, my. That was hot. A man who could laugh off spilled coffee. Coffee was precious. Precious, precious.

And that laugh. Such a great laugh.

"I should buy you a new coffee." She turned to The Diner, where he'd just exited.

"They're closing up," he said. "Everyone's in an evacuation panic." He waved a hand, his lips curved in a half frown. It was like he saw smoke choking out towns every day and knew this wasn't anything major. Which was what Jen's gut was trying to tell her—when her mind wasn't freaking out all over the place. Therefore, she liked this guy. A lot.

She sized him up. There was something familiar about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was like they'd met, however she was certain she'd remember that cute face and those bright, inquisitive eyes. He wasn't local, but he was close. His barely worn jeans clung in all the right places and he wore old work boots. He kind of felt like a local man who'd been away in the city for a while. Well, wherever he came from, and wherever he'd roamed, he'd definitely been active. He had a good set of well-used muscles underneath that t-shirt. This man was more than intriguing.

Her quick assessment left her with more questions than answers. Especially since he didn't seem to mind being sized up. In fact, he was doing the same to her. She could see his gaze flicking from her long blond ponytail with the purple streak to her nose ring to her generous German curves she'd inherited from her grandmother to her fit, firm legs in short cutoffs to her beat up hikers. And instead of discounting her like some men did, he seemed pleased with what he saw.

Hello, heart crush!

She studied his shirt. It definitely needed help. She chewed on her bottom lip and dreamt up a plan. "We need to do something about that shirt."

He pulled the wet shirt away from his body. That was a very large coffee—the largest Jodi served.

"Come with me," Jen said, over her shoulder, confident he'd follow her to Wally's, where she could replace his shirt. It was the least she could do—and no, of course she wasn't putting off facing what had to be angry crowds of soon-to-be homeless Blueberry Springs residents. Or hoping he would strip off the wet shirt in the middle of the store, giving her a sight for her sore, tired eyes.

She let them into Wally's store with her key, inhaling the aroma of new hiking shoes as she led him to the shirt section. On her way, she lightly touched the smooth, wooden paddles as a mother might touch the head of a child. She loved everything in this store.

She flicked through a rack of shirts before holding one up in front of him.

He held out his hands, his empty coffee cup waving at her. "No, really. You don't need to."

"Blue?" she asked, switching shirts. The light blue would look amazing on him. She held the blue one out to him. Yep. Brought out the lovely brightness of his eyes and contrasted with his dark hair. Major Hotness, come to mama.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You're, uh, staring."

She blinked and stepped back, shaking her head, muttering, "Nothing."

Damn. She was out of practice drooling over hotties. Which was odd, seeing as there were so many around. Problem was, those smoke jumper hotties were used to adrenalin and craziness and they wore her right out after two dates—meaning she usually avoided them. There was something about leaping out of airplanes to put out forest fires—like hers—that upped their intensity.

Her fire.

Oh, hell.

She grabbed a shirt off the end of the rack, feeling slightly woozy as she waggled it at him. "Maybe this one?" It had a stick man running from a stick moose and said Running Wild in Blueberry Springs.

He broke out one of those lovely big smiles of his and nodded. "I like it."

The man had a sense of humor. Very nice. She liked it. Liked him.

And obviously needed to get a life, judging from the way her heart was tapping out a beat for this stranger. "I designed it myself," she said, blushing. "Hence the stick man and stick moose. I'm not what you'd call an artist."

"Are you kidding?" He held out the shirt for another look. "You draw a mean stick person."

She tried not to act embarrassed and mumbled a thank you.

"You realize I have to buy it now? How much is it?" he asked, reaching for the tag.

She snatched the shirt out of his reach and carefully plucked off the tag before handing him the shirt. "My apology."

"That's not necessary..."

"I know. But I want to." She led him to the change room, even though she secretly hoped he'd do like some guys did and whip off his shirt right in front of her. God, she was pathetic.

He entered the change room and closed the door.

His loss. He didn't realize what he was giving up. An exclusive opportunity to have her hands roaming all over his torso wasn't an everyday kind of an occurrence. Not that she would have succumbed. Of course not. Well, maybe just a little.

She checked her reflection in the mirror outside the change room. She needed lip gloss. She eyed the path to her office—a miniature storeroom Wally had outfitted with a desk when she started her excursions. Maybe she could slip in there and grab her gloss and write a note about that guy who called earlier for the canoe trip. Oh damn, what was his name again? It was probably still on her caller ID. She pulled out her phone to check.

"So, do you always give away merchandise?" His Holy Major Hotness asked through the closed door. His wet t-shirt hit the floor with a thump and she paused, staring at it beside his worn work boots. She forced herself to remember to breathe. Both in and then out again.

She pocketed her phone, unable to remember what she was doing.

"Um. No, not always!" she chirped.

"Well, it is really kind of you. I appreciate it. And on top of it all, I get a souvenir of Blueberry Springs."

She let out a light laugh. "I suppose you do. How long are you in town for?" Please say you are moving here and would like to marry me so I can awaken to the most beautiful sight in the world every morning.

"A few days. A few weeks. Depends on work."

Fire jumper. She knew it. That was why the smoke and threat to evacuate hadn't fazed him. And why he seemed familiar, too. They'd probably met him in Brew Babies or something. But that face...she'd have remembered that face.

"So, do you know a good place to hike around here?"

"What kind of hike?"

"Oh, just an hour or two when I have down time. Do you hike?" he asked through the door.

Did she hike. Did bears eat blueberries?

"Sure do. If you want"—she couldn't believe she was about to say this—"I could take you out on a hike." There was a slight pause on the other side of the door and she babbled on. "I could grab prize-winning brownies from Mandy who owns the wrap place in town and we could make a date of it." Oh, hell. She'd asked him out. She wasn't supposed to do that—at least not in an obvious, easy-to-turn-down way. "Um, if the town doesn't burn down first."

Another pause. "I'd like that," he said quietly. God, she wished she could see his face right now. To judge for herself whether his quiet voice was due to a reluctant acceptance or unexpected pleasure. The problem was, he seemed like a polite guy, which meant...

She turned as the store's front door opened.

"Oh, thank goodness you're open!" Mandy came rushing over. "Frankie says we need one of those big water jugs and a water purifier and flashlights and a first aid kit and..." She paused to check her list.

"What are you guys doing?" It really wasn't a good time for Mandy and Frankie to go on an off-road camping adventure.

"Evacuating."

Jen tried not to look amused. "You won't need those things, Mandy. Just follow the highway to safety and stay in a hotel or with friends or something. You'll be fine."

"Okay. Well." Mandy paused, looking around. Her eyes caught the shirt bunched up under the change room door and her eyes opened a little wider. She mouthed, Hot?

Jen grinned and nodded. She mouthed back, I asked him out!

Mandy scrunched her face in confusion and Jen waved her off. "I'll tell you later," she whispered.

"I think I'd better at least get the knife and the water jug thing to placate Frankie," Mandy said, consulting her list again.

Jen grabbed the items and brought them to the counter as His Holy Major Hotness exited the change room, adjusting his new shirt. Man, he had nice eyes.

Trying to look away, she rang up Mandy's order as HHMH wandered to toward them.

Mandy grabbed the items and, shooting Jen a wink, scurried out.

"She, uh, makes the brownies I was mentioning," Jen said.

HHMH nodded and smiled, not looking like a man trying to get out of a date. At least not yet.

"The town's in quite the uproar, huh?" he asked, leaning on the glass counter.

She nodded.

"It'll die down."

She shrugged. She'd love to be as optimistic as this guy. She leaned away. "Easy for you to say."

"Why's that?" he asked, leaning closer.

"You aren't the one who started it."

"And you did?" His eyebrows raised. Suddenly, the man was on high alert in a way she didn't like.

She gave a tense shrug. "That's what Scott thinks—he's the local police force and stand-in forest ranger until we find a replacement for the guy who just retired. He says nobody else was registered in the park the weekend the fire started." She gave another tight shrug and clenched her jaw so no emotion would show. "So..."

"Huh." He studied her for a long moment. "You wouldn't happen to be Jen Kulak, would you?"

She quickly pushed away her surprise. "Read the paper, huh?" That's half the reason she didn't introduce herself to newcomers these days. They all knew who she was—and it wasn't because she was an awesome nature guide. She turned away, grabbing a bag for his wet shirt. Those damn newspapers. The city reporters were like hound dogs, grabbing any hint of a rumor and running with it. Even if the rumors were pretty substantiated.

He plopped his shirt in the bag and took it by its handles. "I'm Rob Raine." He shook her hand. "I'm the investigator sent to check out your forest fire."

* End of
sneak peek
. *

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Did you read Champagne and Lemon Drops, book one in the Blueberry Springs series?
It's a free download
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One woman. Two men. One meddling small town.
 

Raised by her older sister in the small town of Blueberry Springs, all Beth Wilkinson wants is to create a family so big she'll never be alone. Things are going great until her accountant fiancé, Oz, experiences a family trauma, forcing him to rethink everything from his own career to their nuptial plans—leaving Beth alone.
 

As Beth works to rediscover her former bold and independent self in hopes of reattracting Oz, she catches the eye of the charming new city doctor, Nash. Not only does he see her as she'd like to be seen, but he knows exactly what he wants from life—and that includes Beth.
 

Torn between the two men, as well as two versions of herself, Beth discovers that love and dreams are much more complicated than they seem.
 

A chick lit contemporary romance that will have readers wondering who the heck Beth should choose.

Download your copy now!

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Chasing Justice: A Piper Anderson Novel

Prologue

The world is full of terrible people. I'm sure you've heard that before, maybe even said it yourself. But when you say the "world" you don't mean
your
world. You're not thinking about your supermarket, your children's school, the place you work. You're thinking about those big cities with those big problems, not your neighborhood.

This kind of talk makes me sound paranoid, and maybe I am. But I'm also right. I know the pedophile blurs into the role of coach. The violent sex offenders deliver your mail or bag your groceries. So often we find out too late the laws that are meant to protect the innocent instead shield the offenders. There was a small window of time in my life when I thought I could be one of the "good guys," and I use the term lightly as I happen to be a woman. I believed I could follow the letter of the law and still take part in cleaning this world up a little. But I was wrong. You can't do things the right way and still win when the villains have no code. The only way to get anything done is to be just as wicked, but with righteous intentions.