Honeysuckle Bride. Tara Randel
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his wife and children to his obsession over his career. Now that obsession included Jenna.
The final straw came when he camped in his SUV outside the office building where Jenna and the girls met a counselor for grief therapy. His exploits were already invasive enough, but this time he chased after them in the SUV as they hurried to their parked car. In their haste to get away, Abby had darted out into the road and was nearly run down by Rod as he tried to snap pictures.
His actions were a clear sign to Jenna. She couldn’t let anything like this happen again so she filed for, and won, a temporary restraining order. The girls were so badly shaken up, it was days before they would venture outside again. If Jenna hadn’t needed to get to work, she would have stayed inside with them but instead called a sitter to watch them while she went to the studio.
The situation got worse when Rod drove by her apartment after receiving the legal order. Jenna was getting into her car when she noticed the SUV. She squared her shoulders, not about to let Rod see how much he’d upset her life, and glared at him.
To her dismay, he merely smiled, even as she read the anger in his eyes. “This isn’t over,” he’d threatened, then peeled out of the complex. Jenna sank against the car, her knees like jelly.
Her mind was so caught up in reliving that terrifying final encounter with Rod that she almost didn’t notice two seagulls steadily making their way toward the bag of carrots. “Shoo.” She waved her hands at the birds, startling them into flight while she tucked the food away.
After that incident with Rod, Jenna called Nealy to vent. Her friend had moved away from LA, and Jenna missed not being able to drop in on her. At some point in the conversation, Nealy suggested Jenna pack up the girls and come to Florida during the hiatus from filming her cooking show. Nealy had spoken fondly about her hometown, and gone so far as producing a list of pros in favor of moving.
Why not, Jenna thought. A change would benefit the girls greatly, and once away from LA, Jenna could decide where their future lay. If they liked Cypress Pointe enough, maybe they’d stay here for good. Within two weeks, she’d packed up and moved to the other side of the country, hoping she’d made the right choice. Jenna smiled, watching the girls dance carefree in the surf, their dark braids, so like Carrie’s long, brunette hair, swinging over their shoulders. Even their smiles reminded Jenna of her best friend, adding a touch of mischief to their play. They were so like their mother when she was having a good time. This was just what they needed, to play like the children they were, not two daughters who grieved their mother who’d been killed in a freeway crash. Yes, there would still be many sorrowful days ahead, but Jenna would gladly do all the worrying and heavy emotional lifting for her best friend’s children.
The girls waved at her before continuing to splash each other. Jenna laughed and waved back, getting comfortable again as she watched the girls play.
Out of the corner of her eye, a solitary figure, followed closely by a golden retriever, strolled into view. A man with his hands shoved in his shorts pockets. The breeze blew against his T-shirt, a baseball cap obscured his face. She wondered if he too had grown stir-crazy and longed to be outside. He stopped to pick something up from the sand and tossed it into the churning water. The object, a shell or rock maybe, arced high into the air and splashed with a plink. When the dog started into the water to retrieve the item, the man called out a sharp command. The dog barked and ran circles in the surf.
Seeing this man all alone struck a chord in Jenna. Probably because she’d spent most of her childhood by herself. She’d survived the foster system, but memories of missing her mother and wishing for a permanent home had never left her.
She shook off the negative thoughts. Today was all about getting away from sadness and enjoying themselves for a little while. Seeing the girls happy, she shoved her cares aside and gave her imagination free rein to conjure up a life for the man standing in the surf, staring into the horizon. Usually pragmatic and focused, she gave in to her fanciful musings.
Since he came from the direction of the marina, he might be a boat captain, his first day back from a round-the-world cruise. He had no family since he traveled extensively. And he had a thing for petite blonde women.
She shook her head at the flight of fancy. Right. It had been way too long since she’d been on a date. Even before she gained custody of the girls, she’d been too busy with her career for a social life. Made the mistake of falling for a man who claimed he’d loved her, only to dump her as easily as he said those three words. A mystery man held more appeal than men she met in real life.
Taking another cleansing breath, she savored the briny air and the feel of the cool sand between her toes. Calm settled over her and she closed her eyes for a moment.
Until she heard a scream. Eyes wide, she jumped up, spotting Abby at the shoreline, pointing to the water. Bridget was nowhere in sight. Freezing momentarily, Jenna came to her senses when Abby cried out again. She scrambled forward, the sand shooting out from under her feet as she sped toward the area Abby indicated. She’d just reached the little girl when a man streaked past her, running through the surf before diving into deeper water.
Jenna headed toward the waves, ready to wade, or swim, or whatever, to get to Bridget, when the mystery man emerged from the water, a coughing child in his arms. He floated to a shallower area, then stood and trudged toward land. Abby remained rigid by Jenna’s side, her small hand gripping Jenna’s like a vise.
The dog jumped and barked like crazy, following his master.
“Is she okay?” Jenna croaked through the fear lodged in her throat.
When the man nodded, her limbs went shaky as relief swept over her. He spoke to Bridget in a quiet voice, but Jenna couldn’t make out his words. Wrapping an arm around Abby, she hugged her close before following the man to dry sand. Once there, he set Bridget down on Jenna’s abandoned blanket in a gentle motion, told the dog to hush, and crouched beside her, his hands resting on small shoulders as he murmured in a low, but firm, voice. The coughing stopped, and within seconds, Bridget’s whimpers turned into racking sobs.
Jenna tried to push him aside to get to the little girl, but Bridget wouldn’t release her hold of the man’s hand. He sent Jenna a sharp warning glance before turning his attention back to Bridget. Infuriated, she moved closer. Who was he, a stranger, to keep her from Bridget?
Only the man who saved her life, an accusing voice taunted. Angry with herself for losing sight of Bridget in the first place, she bent down to pick up the man’s ball cap. Shaking off the sand, she took a step closer, intending to return it to him and take over the job of comforting Bridget. But before she could intervene, the little girl rose and launched herself into the stranger’s arms.
The man fell backward to the ground, taking the brunt of the fall while he protected Bridget. As the dog began to bark again, he glanced up at her and Jenna’s gaze tangled with the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. A slight frown marred his forehead, but it didn’t detract from his handsome face.
Abby, in tears, ran over to hug her sister. Bridget let go of the man to return her sister’s hug. He rose, swiping sand from the seat of his drenched shorts before reassuring his anxious pet with a vigorous rub.
“I don’t know what to say.” Unnerved by the events, Jenna’s voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, Mr....?”
“Wyatt Hamilton.”
She handed him his cap, which he settled on his head. An accusatory glare hardened his eyes.
Jenna felt an unwelcome flush warm her cheeks. “I would have gotten to her in time, but you moved much faster,” she said, pushing past the tightness in her chest.
Wyatt looked down at the girls, then back to Jenna.
“Make sure swimming conditions are safe next time you bring the girls here,” he said, his voice husky, as if seldom used. Anger punctuated his tone. “Next time you might not be so lucky.” He turned on his heel, whistled for the dog and headed back in the direction of the marina.
Jenna’s mouth fell open.