No Place Like Home (2 page)

“Hey, Dottie, here it is,” the teen yelled, interrupting him. She was waving excitedly from across the street where she'd trotted while they were talking.

Dottie smiled, turning slightly toward the girl. Brady's gaze snagged on her smile, captivated by it and the measureless depth of her gaze. There was something about the way she watched things.

“Just look at it, Dottie,” Cassie exclaimed.

“What,” Dottie laughed, and even in the dying light her eyes twinkled like sunlight reflecting off cool water.

Brady knew the
it
was the hot-pink salon the kid was standing in front of.

“It's Lacy Brown's Heavenly Inspirations,” she called. “It's just like in the articles.”

She plastered her face to the glass and peered into the window like a two-year-old. It was a now-familiar sight to Brady and the other Mule Hollow residents. Over the last few months when women came to town after hours and Lacy had gone home for the night, there was much peering through the glass. The ads had started it, but Molly's articles about Lacy and Mule Hollow had garnered widespread fame. It was bafflement to him and most days a headache.

“She really loves this place.” Dottie turned to him.

“Mule Hollow and Lacy's place seem to have that effect on some people. The residents are banking on it. Just wait until this weekend when everyone starts
getting here. There'll be more smears on that window than just Cassie's.”

“I noticed you said I was the first. It sounds like you're expecting a lot of people this weekend?”

Brady chuckled and stuck a hand in his back pocket. “You could say that. I've become a believer, and when the ladies say there will be a crowd, I trust that they know what they're talking about. Hang on—I'll get somebody out here to help get you off the road and set up. We weren't expecting anybody until the day after tomorrow, but this'll work. You just sit tight and I'll be right back.”

Dottie watched the good sheriff stride away. She'd nearly passed out! She hated when that happened. And in front of the sheriff—the totally breathtaking, giant of a man—

“Where's the sheriff going?” Cassie asked, jogging up beside her. Her energy reminded Dottie of her own before the accident. Oh, how she missed the health she'd so taken for granted. Watching Cassie, she was all the more determined to regain every bit of herself that she'd had before the accident. She was twenty-eight years old and used to love jogging every day. She just needed to be patient and keep up her workouts and she'd grow strong again.

“Yoo-hoo, anybody in there?” Cassie waved her hand in front of Dottie's eyes, jolting her back to the present.

“Sorry,” she said. “He went to get help to move us off the street.”

Cassie spun around and stared after Brady. “Do you think he's going to get some hunky cowboys? That'd be great. Really great.”

Looking at the open adulation beaming from Cassie's eyes, Dottie felt it was probably best to try and rein her in a bit.

“Cassie, maybe it would be good if you didn't throw yourself at these guys.”

Her eyes widened. “Who's throwing themselves? Anyway, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Right? Wow! Would ya look at that!”

A huge black truck was lumbering around the corner, efficiently cutting off Dottie's thoughts. The thing was, like, five feet off the ground with bumpers the size of a cattle guard and big ol' lights sticking up on top of the cab like bulging frog eyes. My oh my—
it's a monster!
Wow…she was as poleaxed by it as Cassie.

And that was saying something, because Cassie went speechless gaping at the thing.

When the driver hopped to the ground Cassie took a step back and studied at the young man. He was dressed in rumpled jeans, boots and a weathered T-shirt. He'd hopped from behind the steering wheel looking like a guy ready to take on any adventure that came his way. He looked like he was ready to have a good time.

Then Sheriff Brady stepped down from the passenger's seat, looking every bit the man ready to take charge of this little misadventure. Dottie had to fight her own impulse to step back and gasp. The man was breathtak
ing. It was enough to make a girl on a mission that was far, far away from Mule Hollow sick to her fluttering stomach.
Get a grip, girl.

She shook herself mentally at her ridiculous reaction and focused on the younger man.
Ignore the sheriff.
She didn't need the distraction.

The cowboy tipped his hat at her and then at Cassie at whom he also flashed a one-hundred-watt, crooked smile. “Looks like y'all could use a hand. Give me a sec and I'll have you ladies set up.”

He began pulling chains from the bed of his truck and then practically dived beneath the front of Dottie's motor home. Not before she saw him sneak another look at Cassie, who was catching flies with her open mouth.

The sheriff sauntered over and stood next to Dottie and she had to fight the urge to walk away. She wasn't a rude person and it bothered her, this odd rankling of her nerves. “He knows what he's doing, doesn't he?” she asked, dismayed that it sounded as if she was questioning his good sense.

“Jake can pull anything out of anywhere.”

“How does he know how to do that?” The moment the question was out she wanted it back. Why, the sheriff looked at her like she'd lost her mind!

“He's not much more than a kid,” he said in an even tone, hiding laughter. He might have tried to hide it but she could see it. His lips were positively quivering.
And
his eyes had crinkled at the edges.

“And don't you see the
size
of the wheels on that
truck,” he continued. “Jake and his friends spend the better part of every other night mudding across half this county. Believe me when I say he can pull anything.”

Well, yes, she could see all of that. But still—

“That should do it.” Jake scooted from beneath her vehicle, sprang to his feet and walked jauntily over and attached the chain to the ball of his truck. Dottie heard an audible sigh from Cassie as he hurried to the RV's open door, leaned in and adjusted the gearshift. By the time he slammed the door and jogged back toward them, Dottie had forgotten her trepidations and was on board with the whole “he can pull anything” campaign. He certainly seemed competent.

“Can I give you a lift over to the site?” he asked.

“Yeah! I mean, sure!” Cassie gushed.

Miss Tough Girl had turned into a breathless shambles. Dottie nearly fell over when the girl practically skipped to the huge truck and hoisted herself up into the high seat!

And then, just like that, Dottie found herself alone with Sheriff Brady. Not at
all
a situation she was comfortable with.

“Shall we?” he drawled, sweeping his hand to follow the truck.

Dottie hesitated in the dying light, then fell into step beside him.

Dark was nearly upon them as they walked down the road together. Through the shadows she stole a glance at the handsome man. He overpowered everything around
him…including her good sense. He made her aware of every step they took. And she didn't like it. Not one bit!

Out of nowhere her heart trembled and sparked.
No!
She almost tripped in her surprise—

“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping her elbow to steady her.

“F-fine,” she stuttered, pulling away. This was not good. She was here in this adorable town because of Cassie.
Cassie
was the one window-shopping for a man. As for her, Dottie Marie “Fickle” Hart, her life was complicated.

She gave the sheriff her best nonchalant glance. It didn't matter how good-looking a man he was, or how crazy her pulse was jigging at his nearness. It didn't matter how kind he appeared to be. And it truly, certainly didn't matter if he made her feel as weak on the inside as her body felt on the outside.

Sheriff Brady Cannon seemed like a great guy, who had no wedding ring on his finger. But none of these facts mattered. And that was the way it would remain. She had an agenda that left no room for infatuations of the personal kind.

Period. She wasn't that fickle.

She had an agenda of the heavenly sort, a payback for a life changed. And that thought was all it took to get her head on straight again.

 

Too late, Brady realized he hadn't been thinking straight when he'd suggested they walk. Dottie seemed
a little unsteady. She was obviously weak, a woman didn't pass out without a reason. What a buffoon he was! And now here they were, walking along and she was limping—stumbling even, and trying hard to hide it. He slowed his pace to match hers, causing her to glance at him, her eyes wide.

“I needed the exercise,” she blurted out as if reading his mind, as if not wanting to admit a weakness. Her words were breathless. “I, well…I get a little stove up when I ride long distances all at once.”

He nodded, noticing how she moved away from him. “You came far?” He glanced at her, curious about her but trying not to be intrusive, a hard thing for a cop.

She nodded but didn't look at him. “Yes.”

Single-word answers were not what he was looking for. Though his beat was different here in his tiny hometown, his previous life as a cop on the streets of Houston still imprinted everything he did. He wanted details and suddenly he was full of questions. “How far? Where are you from?”
Smooth, Brady.

“I started out in Florida five days ago.”

“Ouch! That is a long way.”

“Oh, yes, but most people would've made it here in three days. I hurt my hip in an accident and can only travel so far before I'm forced to stop for the day. That is
if
I want to be able to move the next day.”

“What kind of accident?”
What are you doing, Brady?

She locked her arms and looked into the distance, as if she really didn't want to elaborate, then focused back
on him. “I was bullheaded enough to think I could protect my home from a hurricane.”

“Ohhh.”

She grimaced. “Sounds stupid, I know, believe me, and the house collapsed on me, despite my personal efforts at holding it up under category-three winds.”

He could tell, though she gave a quick smile, there was nothing funny about her ordeal. However, he knew only too well in his line of work that sometimes humor took the edge off.

“I spent three months in the hospital. I was a mess. Not a vacation I'd recommend at all, as you can imagine. I spent several months rehabilitating. I'm doing great, considering everything. I can't run a marathon yet, though.”

She met his gaze, her expression blank and unreadable but entirely captivating with the intensity of her words. How much pain and suffering must she have endured? It was obvious Dottie still hurt. He could see it. As a cop he'd learned to read people pretty well. And Dottie was a book that had to be read slowly. Carefully.

“But I will.” She smiled.

He stopped. They'd made the fifty-yard walk to the corner. Though she hadn't voiced any of it, he had a vivid picture of this fragile woman in pain unlike any he'd ever experienced. Looking into her eyes, he searched harder this time. He glimpsed a shadow of…anger, despite the smile. He'd seen it before…but suddenly he wondered if she even knew it was there. “I
bet you will,” he said. “You impress me as a person who can do anything she sets her mind to.”

To his surprise she shook her head, and her eyes misted with tears.

“Only by the grace of God.” She lifted her chin and blinked away the mist. “You can't imagine how many times I felt like quitting. But that verse! It kept popping into my head, forcing me on, reminding me that God was there, right beside me. The truth is—until I was so low I couldn't get any lower, I never really understood that I can really do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Her earnest expression melted into another smile. “That's what got me through grueling rehab, through days that I couldn't take on my own. God's faithful. He can take the worst of times and make something good. If we let Him.”

Brady was in trouble.

He knew it the moment she smiled at him again.

He knew the moment she lifted her eyes to the sky and winked, like she and God had a secret. It was as if she was defying the tears and the anger to grasp the joy.

Oh yeah, Brady was in trouble all right, because although he'd only known Dottie Hart for less than thirty minutes, he knew he wanted in on her secret.

M
ule Hollow was getting ready for a pretty big day. Even in the dusky light Dottie could see there were spots sectioned off in the field for booths and trailers. They'd even set up electrical services for vendors, which she wasn't. But how coincidental that she was both a baker and a candy maker on her way to California, who just happened to find Cassie on the side of the road, which brought her to Mule Hollow where her motor home happened to die. She smiled, reminded of the song about the old woman who swallowed the fly.

It had dawned on her just now talking to Sheriff Brady—Mule Hollow seemed like a safe place to be stranded. God had protected her. Even before she knew she needed protecting.
How sweet was that?

He'd even given her a way of saving her money for California. At least most of it. Instead of dipping into her bank account she now had a way to pay for the
repairs to her RV…she could make and sell some simple candy and baked goods over the weekend and have a little extra money to help pay the mechanic. She wouldn't have to tap into her insurance.

Everything was fine, except for the time factor. But that was what had her winking toward heaven a moment ago. She was on God's time schedule, so she was going to try and relax. Try not to worry. Really…why should she? She'd prayed for a safe trip to California—never had she envisioned God would take her a hundred miles out of her way to get her there safely. But the reality was that if she'd been on the highway when the engine burst into flames—she hated to think about it. For one, she may not have been able to stop the fire; two, she'd have become a hitchhiker herself.

And three, she might have lost everything.

Again.

Not that much meant anything to her anyway. When a person lay dying beneath all her worldly stuff, stuff accumulated over a lifetime, it changed a person's perspective. But she had to admit that her RV mattered to her. It had belonged to her granddad and there was a host of memories inside the poor-looking thing.

Besides, it had been beat up and banged up during the same storm that beat her up…she and her prehistoric monstrosity were survivors.

Sheriff Brady pushed his hat back a bit and looked down at her, and she realized with a start that he'd said
something. He probably thought she was crazy since not everyone winked at heaven and grinned like a goofball.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” she asked, focusing on him.

“I said, the rest of the vendors will start trickling in tomorrow afternoon, but the actual event won't start until Friday.” He paused, touching her shoulder with his finger, halting her. “Are you okay?”

His touch was gentle and Dottie tried to ignore the warmth that seemed to radiate from it. “Yes, I get kinda weird sometimes, thinking about how good God is, that's all.”

He smiled. “I have to say I've never seen anyone wink at God.”

“Get outta here.” Dottie shoved his arm. “You're telling me you never winked at God.”

He laughed. “I'd have to say that'd be an affirmative. But it was cute.”

She laughed and their gazes locked.

The laugh died in her throat. His face was shadowed, his eyes shimmered, in the disappearing light. Suddenly it felt like a pebble dance across her stomach, instantly sending ripples radiating through her solar plexus.
Oh my!

“L-look,” she managed to say. “I have to explain something.”

“What's that?” He dropped his chin and raised an eyebrow.

What in the world was happening to her? She was tired—it had been a long, a very long, hard day. “I didn't
come here to be a vendor in the trade show.” She rattled out the words so fast that he stepped back, head cocked back a notch.

“You didn't?” He looked over his shoulder at the motor home being set up in the vending spot. The motor home that looked exactly like it wasn't out of place in a setting like this.

“Actually…” She snapped the words out. Ignoring—well, trying to focus on what had brought her here in the first place. “I picked Cassie up on the road. She was hitchhiking about a hundred miles away. I just couldn't stand seeing that young girl out there on the road, so I broke my ‘no hitchhiker' rule.” She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “I picked her up. When she started telling me where she was going I couldn't just drop her off somewhere along the way and hope someone else brought her safely here—I had to bring her.”

Brady removed his Stetson and scrubbed his hand through his short brown hair.

And Dottie, drat her fickle brain, forgot everything for a moment. The man was gorgeous—even with the hat crease running across his forehead.

“You're telling me you went a
hundred
miles out of your way to bring a hitchhiker to Mule Hollow?”

She nodded, hearing the disbelief edging his words, understanding it completely. It was her reaction to him that she didn't have a clue about! “Not any hitchhiker.
Cassie.
Oh, wait—is hitchhiking against the law?”

The corners of Brady's lips curved engagingly and her stomach did a double backflip!

“Nope. Least not the last time I checked. Though it could possibly be bad for your health.”

“Funny.” She scrunched her face at him before she could stop herself. “I didn't want to get Cassie in trouble,” she continued, regaining some composure. “I can't help feeling like I need to watch out for her. She knows everything about this town and has talked nonstop all the way here about finding herself a husband. It's like she's obsessed with getting a husband and getting him
yesterday.
”

“She wouldn't be the first woman looking for a husband—hold on just a minute. How old is she?”

“Bingo! I honestly don't know. I thought she was really young, too, but I don't think she's as young as I first believed. She wouldn't tell me earlier when I asked, claiming a lady doesn't tell her age.”

He was instantly all law enforcement. A gleam lit his eyes and she could very nearly see his brain rolling. “I think I need to do some checking on Cassie. She could be in some kind of trouble.”

“Please do, and thank you. Only, I don't want to scare her. I don't think it would be a good idea to let her know you're checking into her background. Is that possible? If she's a runaway she might get scared and run again if she's spooked.”

“I agree,” he answered. “It's a good thing you're going to be around for a while to keep an eye on her.”

Dottie couldn't agree more. She'd have to talk to her brother Todd, let him know what was going on. Once he heard all the facts, he'd agree that looking out for Cassie was important. There wasn't too much she could do at the moment anyway in California, at least nothing until they heard whether they were going to keep the lease…she said a quick prayer that God would step in and save No Place Like Home. It was inconceivable to think that a place that was doing such wonderful work would have so many sudden problems. She forced away the worry, certain everything would be okay. God was taking care of her, surely He would take care of the women's shelter.

 

“Did you ever in your entire life see such a dreamy guy?” Cassie paused, filling her glass with water, and sighed.

Plumping her houseguest's pillow, Dottie tossed it up onto the bed above the RV's driving compartment, then picked up another one. Cassie had been beaming ever since Jake had driven up to help them. Dottie fully expected to see the girl float to her bunk at any moment.

A far cry from the hard-edged kid she'd picked up on the highway.

Dottie paused, mid-plump. “He's a dreamboat. But, Cassie, he can't be much more than twenty.” It was a weak argument but all she had to try and slow Cassie down.

“And what's wrong with that?”

“Well, nothing. He just seemed…well, young.” Dottie felt older than her twenty-eight years looking into Cassie's youthful face as she plopped into the table booth, and stared up at her, her chin in hand. Her bright gaze sent Dottie to check her cupboard. She really was uncomfortable giving advice, and she…well, she needed to see what supplies she had so she could start baking in the morning.

No, she needed to try and talk some sense into Cassie.

“How old are you, Dottie?”

“Hey, you're the girl who wouldn't tell me her age earlier this afternoon. Remember?”

“Well, that was before I knew you. Before I trusted you.”

Trust.

Dottie's stomach soured thinking about how Brady was going to check on Cassie's background. Trust. “I'm twenty-eight. How old are you?”

“I'm really nineteen. Really. I know, I know, I don't look it. I hate people telling me I look younger. But if you look at me
really
close you can tell I'm not sixteen. Look, I have crow's-feet.”

Dottie busted out laughing, turning toward her just in time to see Cassie pointing at the edges of her eyes. “Oh, brother!” True, she did look nineteen on second glance. Maybe. Once more she wondered about Cassie's background.

“Okay, you look nineteen, sort of. Don't you think that's a bit young to be so gung-ho about finding a husband right away? You do know that you need to fall in love.”

“Hey, I
want
a husband and I'm gonna get one. I'll fall in love, but it's about…never mind. I'm too tired to think straight. What are you cooking tomorrow? Can I help?”

“Can you help?” Cassie had effectively changed the subject and Dottie let it slide. Tackling the subject of husband hunting with her was going to require alertness and at the moment she was worn out. “Aren't you the one who got me into this fix?”

Cassie chuckled. “That'd be me.”

“Then, yes, you're about to learn to make candy. Tomorrow. We'll just make things like fudge and brownies though. Cooking in an RV is limiting. But we can make do. And the microwave can be utilized, too. Do you like to cook?”

Cassie's smile faded. “I—I can cook some. Your average can of beans and corn.”

Something about the way she said that, despite her air of humor, made Dottie wonder if there was more to the story. There usually was.

“But—” she beamed “—I love fudge. It'll be cool learning how to make it. I wonder if Jake likes fudge. He said his boss told him to spend the next three days doing whatever Miss Norma told him to do, so he'll be around tomorrow.”

“Who's that?”

“Norma Sue Jenkins. I can't wait to meet her and Adela and Esther Mae. They're the ladies who first put out the ad that brought Lacy Brown and Sheri Marsh to
town. And then there's Molly, of course, and Sam. And Clint, and Cort and J.P. and Bob—”

“Whoa Nellie! How many people does this Molly write about?”

“Everyone…I think. I don't know though, 'cause she never wrote about Jake, and I'll tell you this—she should have. Although Bob's probably gonna be my man. Bob's special—”

“Bob? Who's Bob, and what do you mean ‘your man'?” Dottie felt queasy.

“Bob Jacobs, he's been a headliner in Molly's stories. He's the main reason I came. He's the one I'm gonna marry.”

 

Brady hopped from the cab of his tractor, his boots sending up a plume of dust from the barn floor as he landed. He needed a shower, a tall glass of iced tea and some unwinding time. Striding from the barn, he made his way across the expanse of Saint Augustine grass and flagstone separating the house and the barn. His mom and dad had outdone themselves when they'd built the huge two-story ranch house.

What a waste that he lived here alone.

He was still gnawing on that problem a short while later walking, freshly showered, from the silent house out onto the front porch. The sound of his bare footsteps echoed behind him, reminders that no single guy should have this much house all to himself.

Sinking to the top step, he relaxed against the porch
post as he'd done a thousand times in his lifetime and took a sip of his tea. Besides being the sheriff, the only official emergency responder within twenty miles, he also ran his own cattle operation. It made for a very full plate. And that helped him not think so much about how the house was too big for him.

Or about how it would never hear the steps of children…

He inhaled sharply, feeling the warm breeze, smelling the dust and grass, laced with a faint sweetness from the ancient wisteria bush growing up the trellis. It was hard to believe he'd spent most of his youth planning his escape from the quiet of the country, Mule Hollow specifically.

And his parents' hopes and dreams for him.

His parents, had they lived to see his return, would have been happy…at least in theory. Dreams didn't always turn out the way they were dreamed, but he'd adapted to the reality of his return home.

Life was about illusions. And overcoming regrets.

Dottie Hart.

The beautiful woman was special. The very essence of her being reached out and expressed the fact, he was certain, to everyone. He couldn't imagine she had this effect on him alone. It had to be momentary, though, she was just passing through. Here today, gone tomorrow—literally. So where were all these thoughts bombarding him coming from?

He took another drink of his iced tea, then studied a
pebble on the porch step as he rubbed his big toe back and forth across it. He'd accepted when he'd come back to Mule Hollow that he was damaged goods and he hadn't really cared, yet the realization of his past and what it meant to his future had hit him full force today. For the first time in six years he suddenly cared that he was never going to marry and have a family.

It was ridiculous, he'd only just met Dottie and suddenly he was reevaluating his decisions.

He rose and walked to the end of the sidewalk, feeling the cool breeze on his sweat-dampened skin.