Sweet Harmony (22 page)

Don’t miss the next novel in

LuAnn McLane’s charming Cricket Creek series,

WALKING ON SUNSHINE

Available in May 2015 from Signet
Eclipse.

“R
USTY, GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!” MATTIE shouted at her brother’s Irish setter, but he bolted from the kitchen with the slab of country ham dangling from his chops. “I mean it!”

Mattie rushed after Rusty, knowing full well that the dog wasn’t about to stop. Although the ham could no longer be served to her customers, Mattie felt the need to scold the naughty dog and deprive him of his prize. She also felt the need to scold her brother Mason for leaving Rusty with her again while he went fishing. Apparently, Rusty, who used to be quite the docile dog while riding in Mason’s bass boat, now had the odd urge to jump into the water without warning.

“I swear I’m never saving you a bone
ever
again!” Fuming, Mattie dodged tables and chairs while chasing Rusty around the dining room, glad that the restaurant wasn’t open for breakfast just yet. For an old dog, Rusty still managed some impressive speed and agility, but this was the second ham heist this week, making Mattie determined to catch him. Country ham and biscuits was a popular item
on the breakfast menu! When Rusty headed toward the big booth in the back of the dining room, Mattie threw caution to the wind and did a half dive, half slide across the hardwood floor, hoping to snag him around his haunches and bring him to the justice he so richly deserved. . . .

And she came up with nothing but air.

With a groan, Mattie pounded her fists on the floor. She pictured Rusty doing a wheezy doggy laugh while munching on the salty slab of ham. “I’m gonna tell on you!” Mattie threatened with a bit more fist pounding. After another moment, she started pushing up to her feet, then looked ahead and spotted shoes. Yeah, shoes, not boots. Kinda fancy shoes at that . . .

“Excuse me. Are you . . . are you . . . quite all right?” asked an unusual male voice that made her pause, leaving her in a Pilates plank position.

Two things immediately went through Mattie’s head. Number one was that the question held a measure of concern at her plight rather than the amusement that was usually dealt her way; and number two was that his accent was a distinctively clipped British one rather than a slow, Southern drawl. Mattie quickly scooted to her knees, apparently just as he squatted, because suddenly they were eye to—oh . . . very blue eyes. She swallowed, staring. The man was simply gorgeous.

“Um . . .” He tilted his shaggy blond head to the side. “Is something amiss?”

“No, I . . . uh . . .” What did he just ask? Her brain suddenly left the building. “Oh, a . . . ham,” she managed, and then realized it sounded is if she were clearing her throat. “H-Ham. I was running after the ham.”

“You were chasing after a ham?” He shoved his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. Mattie had the urge to reach over and smooth it back into its beautiful style. There was something vaguely familiar about him that she couldn’t quite place. “So the ham ran away, did it?”

“Yes . . . Well, no. It was a dog.”

“A dog named Ham? Now it makes sense.”

“What? No . . .” Mattie shook her head hard, making her ponytail swing back and forth.

“Are you quite certain you’re all right?”

“Yes. Why do you keep asking that?”

“Well, mainly because you
were
facedown while pounding your fists on the floor when I walked in. Cause for some concern, I’d say.”

Mattie looked down at her fists. “Oh, right. I guess I was.”

“Early in the day to be so unsettled, don’t you think?” he asked gently. “Is there anything I can do? Search for the runaway ham perhaps?”

“I . . .” it was
hard to think
when he looked so cute and sounded so, well, so damned sexy. Mattie suddenly felt silly for having been caught in her fit of frustration on the floor like some kind of crazy person. Should she admit that she was trying to tackle a dog? Would that be better or worse than chasing a ham? “I . . . I was having a . . . moment.”

“Ah.” He gave her a crooked grin, which made a fluttery thing happen in her stomach. Must be hunger pangs. “Haven’t had your coffee yet? I can sympathize. You’d best serve me up a cup, or I’ll be joining you in your fist-pounding moment.” He stood up and then reached down to help her to her feet.

Mattie took his offered hand, finding his warm, firm grasp to be so pleasant that she felt reluctant to let go. Realizing that she was clinging to his hand, she made a shaking motion that masked her lingering hold with an introduction. “I’m Mattie Mayfield, by the way. Welcome to Breakfast, Books, and Bait . . . or BBB for short.” She gave his hand a firm squeeze like her daddy had taught her.

“Well, thank you for the rather odd but warm welcome, Mattie Mayfield. I am duly charmed and also rather fascinated by the wide range of seemingly unrelated
items you have to offer here at BBB.” He looked over at the bags of fishing bait shelved on the far wall. “Are the worms all dead, then?”

Mattie nodded. “Well, no, I mean, not
dead
. Artificial—you know—plastic, mostly used for bass fishing.”

“Ah, and the fish fall for that, do they?” he asked with another boyishly cute grin.

“Oddly, yes.”

He chuckled. “It must be quite the letdown to be lured in by a silly piece of plastic instead of a tasty worm. I’d spit it out straightaway.”

Mattie had to laugh. “Yes, but there’s that tiny complication called the hook.”

“Oh . . . true enough.” He winced. “Ouch. Adding insult to injury and then ending up in a frying pan.”

“No, no . . .
no
.” Mattie scrunched up her nose. “You really don’t want to consume anything caught in the Ohio River.” She waved a hand in the direction of the bait. “This is all mostly for catch and release, for sport and tournaments we host.”

“We?”

Mattie jabbed her thumb toward the window that overlooked the dock. “My family owns Mayfield Marina,” she answered with a measure of pride. For some reason, she felt it important that he think she was more accomplished than someone who simply slung hash and baked biscuits was, not that there was anything wrong with an honest day’s work. “So, what can I get for you?” she asked a bit crisply.

He looked past the bait toward the rear of the shop, where Mattie kept her selection of books. “I think I’ll pass on the bait, but breakfast sounds lovely. And perhaps a book later.”

“Have a seat, and I’ll bring you a menu.”

“All right, then.”

Mattie thought he’d opt for a booth, but he followed her to the counter lined with old-fashioned round swivel
stools in deep red. Mattie had been serving breakfast for several years, and her melt-in-your-mouth biscuits were raved about, but she suddenly found herself feeling a bit nervous. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

“So, are you just passing through Cricket Creek and happened to stop down here by the marina?” Mattie asked while pouring strong coffee into a sturdy mug. She was usually a bit on the quiet side, but when hit with a fit of nerves, Mattie tended to chatter.

He reached for a little plastic tub of cream from the dish she’d put in front of him. “No. Actually I just bought the A-frame cabin right next door.”

“You did?” From his blue polo shirt to his fancy shoes, he didn’t seem the type to settle down in Cricket Creek, but then again, the little town had had quite a few unexpected people move there over the past few years. “Wow.” Wait. There really was something familiar about him. Where had she seen him before?

“I’m sorry. I neglected to introduce myself. I’m Garret Ruleman.”

“Oh!” Mattie nearly dropped the menu she’d been about to hand to him. She had seen him, all right—on the cover of tabloids at the check-out line at the grocery story. “You are?”

“Last time I looked at my license,” he said while pouring cream into his coffee.

Feeling a bit silly because of her question, Mattie decided to add a little sass. “Maybe you should check just to be sure.”

“All right, then, I’ll have a look.” He reached around for his wallet, then flipped it open. “Yes, I’m still Garret Ruleman. Damn the luck,” he added with an arch of an eyebrow and a slight grin.

“So you moved to Cricket Creek to live near your father?” Rick Ruleman, famous rock star, owned My Way Records, which was located just a few miles away
from the marina. It was well-known that Garret and his father shared a rocky relationship, and Mattie suddenly wished she’d kept her doggone mouth shut.

“No. Actually I’m back in town to rekindle my relationship with Addison Monroe.” He calmly took a sip of his coffee and peered at her over the rim of the mug.

Mattie couldn’t hold back her gasp. Garret and Addison’s broken engagement had been splashed all over the tabloids and was the reason Addison had ended up opening a bridal shop, of all things, in Cricket Creek. Garret looked familiar because she’d seen his face in print so many times—and usually not in a flattering situation. “Addison is, um, married to Reid Greenfield now,” Mattie informed him in a hesitant stage whisper.

“You don’t say. . . . Well, bollocks, that throws a monkey wrench into my plans.” When his mouth twitched, Mattie knew he’d been messing with her. He took a sip of coffee and then added more cream. “This stuff is going to make my hair stand on end.”

“It’s already standing on end, but maybe that will offset the fact that your nose is going to grow from fibbing,” Mattie grumbled.

He reached up and touched his nose. “Oh, wouldn’t want that to happen. Actually, Addison and I have mended our fences, and I’ve met Reid. He’s a great chap, and Addison should thank her lucky stars that she dodged a bullet and dumped the likes of me.” His grin suggested that he was joking, but there was something in his eyes that made Mattie want to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “So, I had you going, did I?”

“That little deception wasn’t one bit funny.”

“I didn’t really think you’d fall for it. I was just goofing on you.”

“Goofing?”

“English slang for
teasing
.”

“Well, you’d think that I’d wise up, but I manage to fall for nearly everything.”
I could fall for you
zinged
through her brain, but she chalked it up to the lack of coffee in her system. “I think I have
tease me
tattooed on my forehead.”

Narrowing his eyes, Garret peered at her forehead as if trying to see the tattoo. “Hmm, you do. Get that thing removed straightaway.”

“Good advice,” Mattie said, and then topped off his coffee.

“Actually, I’m a studio musician and a talent scout for My Way Records.” Garret took a sip of the steaming brew. “But yes, it’s good to live near my father,” he added, but Mattie thought his smile appeared forced, and he started studying the menu as if there would be a pop quiz afterward.

“Do you have any questions about the menu?”

“I do, in fact.” Garret looked up at her. “What in the world is redeye gravy?”

“Gravy made with coffee and the drippings from fried county ham.” She sighed. “But, unfortunately, I can’t offer redeye gravy or country ham on biscuits.”

“Ah . . . right, since the ham ran away with the dish and the spoon?”

Mattie nodded. “Something like that.”

“Pity. I was curious.”

“Well, I do make sausage gravy that will make you sigh with delight.”

“As it so happens I adore sighing with delight,” Garret informed her with a slow grin that caused the butterflies in Mattie’s stomach to take flight once again. “I’m sold.” It looked as if he was about to say more when his phone started playing “Hard Day’s Night.” Standing up, he pulled his cell from his pocket and frowned at the screen. “Excuse me.” He smiled, and then answered the call. “Hello, love,” he said, making Mattie wonder whether he was speaking to his girlfriend. “Ah, yes, darling, I can be there by noon.”

Mattie felt an expected pang of disappointment, which
took her by surprise. Feeling silly, she quickly turned away and started fussing with rolling silverware in napkins. The breakfast crowd would be arriving soon, and she’d best be thinking about getting ready rather than mooning over her sexy new neighbor.
Besides,
let’s get real,
Mattie thought to herself. Now that she knew who he was, she remembered that Garret Ruleman’s bad-boy reputation followed him like his shadow. Along with Addison Monroe, Garret had been linked to various famous actresses and models. If she remembered correctly, his mother was also some kind of celebrity. Garret might have been goofing on her, as he’d said, but Mattie was quite certain that she was as far from being his type as a girl could possibly get. With a sigh, Mattie sternly reminded herself that she was already an expert in the not-his-type field, having been ass over teacups in love with Colby Campbell since, well, ever since she could remember.

Unfortunately, there were several problems with loving Colby, starting with his being Mason’s best friend, which made Mattie off-limits because of some sort of hard-and-fast guy-code rule. In addition, the four-year age difference between them had thrown Mattie into the annoying kid-sister category as they grew up. But at twenty-six, she figured that gap surely shouldn’t matter! And, let’s face it—she was no longer a
kid
but a grown woman, not that Colby seemed to notice. And if Mattie wanted to be honest—and she didn’t—that’s also where the not-his-type part came into play. Colby always had some sort of prissy, leggy girly thing hanging on his arm, and Mattie was anything but a girly girl. Still, in spite of having the deck stacked against her, every time he walked in the door Mattie’s heart beat like a big bass drum.

Unrequited love truly sucked.

Complicating Mattie’s love life—or rather the lack thereof—was the fact that her brother Danny, two years
her junior, also adhered to the ridiculous don’t-date-my-sister rule, leaving Mattie friend-zoned by most of the eligible bachelors close to her age. Perhaps if her brothers would get married, they would get busy raising families and back off on watching her love life like doggone hawks. In fact, their parents had become so frustrated by their lack of grandchildren that they’d up and moved to Florida, vowing not to return to Cricket Creek until they had at least one grandbaby.