Chanel Houston tossed her keys in her purse and reached into the back seat of her sister’s 2002 Honda Civic to grab one of the boxes of books. She had packed a couple of medium boxes, intending to use her unexpected “vacation” to catch up on some reading.
She closed the door, already missing her Chevy Trailblazer, and made her way up the three rickety steps of the place she had spent a few summers as a teen. Brushing her hands across her gray hooded sweater and jean shorts, Chanel stood before the entrance of her grandparents’ home—a nineteenth-century historical landmark boasting six bedrooms, three baths, a wraparound porch, a vegetable garden and a small pond—and shook her head.
The things you do for your sister. Your identical twin sister.
Things like switching places when you’re a grown woman. Her sister, Cara, a detective at the Hawk’s Landing Police Department, was working with the FBI on a secret case and needed the people of her small hometown in Delaware to believe she was still here. So of course she had called her convenient stand-in to switch with her until Christmas. Chanel and Cara had met up in Sussex County to switch cars, clothes and keys. It was more than a coincidence that Chanel had just resigned from her job as a librarian in Newport News, Virginia.
She stopped at the top of the stairs and groaned. Oh no. She had thrown the key ring holding the house and car keys in her black hole of a purse... Placing the box on the ground, Chanel rummaged around in her bag for the keys.
While she searched, an odd sensation of being watched crawled up her spine. She turned but saw nothing in the dim lighting.
Scolding her overactive imagination, Chanel plopped the bag on the floor and stooped to conduct a more thorough search. Great. After a four-hour ride, she was sweaty and could use a drink of water.
She felt a small, wet imprint on the back of her leg. Followed by heavy breathing. Panting.
Her body tensed. That didn’t sound like a deer.
Grabbing a travel-sized umbrella out of her bag, Chanel whipped around, her bottom landing hard on the wooden porch. She yelped and met the blue-eyed gaze of a Siberian husky, taking in his white fur and hanging tongue. Her eyes went wide.
He snarled, watching her but otherwise standing still.
Realizing he was a puppy and had no intentions of harming her, Chanel reached out to ruffle his right ear, her other hand actively feeling around in her bag for the keys.
“Hey, boy.” She giggled and touched her chest. “You gave me quite a scare. Don’t you know better than to creep up on people like that? Huh?”
The animal moved closer to rub his nose against her arm before settling beside her. His shiny coat was soft. She could see the pup was well-groomed; someone was definitely missing their pet. She pushed her box of books into a corner and stretched her legs. Cocking her head, Chanel asked, “Where’s your owner, big guy?”
A throat cleared. “He’s right here.”
Chantal lifted her head to meet another blue-eyed gaze. This one belonged to a lean man a couple inches over six feet, with ash-blond hair and keen eyes filled with skepticism and wariness. He was dressed in a green polo and tan khakis, and not a single strand of hair was out of place. For a split second, she lost her voice, which was fine because the stranger continued.
“Go ahead. Let me have it.” He arched a brow, crossed his arms and waited.
Have what? Chanel racked her brain wondering who this might be. Cara hadn’t described this handsome stranger when she’d mentioned who Chanel might encounter. If she had, Chanel would have remembered him. However, it was obvious this man expected her to know his identity, so she willed her tongue to move. The man held out a hand, an unspoken offer to help her get on her feet.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She dusted off her shorts, particles making her cough. The dog closed his eyes as if bored with the conversation swirling around him. “I was just messing around with your dog.” She struggled to get to her feet on her own before accepting his help.
His larger hands gripped hers. A faint electricity passed between them. Chanel broke contact as soon as she was steady.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised to see you get close to Wolf. I’m even more surprised that you’re capable of talking without yelling.” He gave a chuckle filled with a mix of suspicion and humor.
At those words, the hair on her arms rose. Chanel knew who this was. This must be her sister’s surly, grumpy neighbor, Ryder Frost, who had moved in six months ago. She looked at the pup sprawled on the floor. And this must be the vicious terror who is always coming into Cara’s yard. Cara had expressly warned Chanel to stay away from them both. Menaces, she’d called them.
Chanel eyed the beautiful dog, who was staring at her with pleading eyes. She didn’t know how she was going to resist their pull. Even now, her fingers itched to play in his glossy mane. Chanel was a dog lover, and trying to stay away would be torture. But somehow, she must. Cara had been bitten by dogs twice, and that had sealed her dislike for life. Because of that, Chanel had never owned one. But her first job had been in a pet store as a groomer in the next town, so she had been given many opportunities to play with other people’s dogs.
She licked her dry lips, tugged on a tendril of her shoulder-length curls and then shot back. “Well, goes to show that you might not always know a person.” Inside her chest, her heart raced. She hoped he bought her flippant response; otherwise her ruse might be up before it began. Like a tennis player, she waited for him to serve his comeback.
Ryder held up a hand. “Easy now, Cara. I’m not about to engage in another shouting match with you because of Wolf.” Hearing him call her by her sister’s name gave Chanel a jolt. She stuck her tongue between her teeth to keep from correcting him. And, oh, how she wanted to. Instead, she kept up her search for the keys.
“I’ll be getting on my way.” Ryder gave a shrill whistle. Wolf opened his eyes, then turned his head and closed them. Ryder’s face reddened. He took a tentative step. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go.”
Wolf gave a growl and hunkered down on the front door mat.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Ryder said.
“Yes, you do,” she accused, taking on Cara’s attitude. “He does this all the time.” Well, she hoped he did. Her mind raced to recall. The only thing that truly registered in this moment was that she needed to suggest Cara check her vision. The man before her was not a beast.
Aha! Success. Her fingers curled around the keys.
Ryder looked away, his hair falling into his face. “I don’t know what it is about your porch or yard that draws him over here. I’ve tried keeping him away.”
“Yes, well. Do more than try and keep him away from my vegetable garden,” Chanel said, remembering Cara’s chief complaint. She opened the front door, knowing she had to get away from these two before she confessed. What she wanted to do was offer the dog some water or a snack. Chanel stepped behind the screen and into the house, then turned, intending to close the door.
Ryder bent over and scooped the dog into his arms, his muscles bulging. Chanel admired his strength. Ryder Frost was in great physical shape.
Then she saw a small figure approach. One that turned her legs into concrete.
“Daddy, I was looking for you,” the little girl said in a booming voice with a slight lisp. She looked to be about five years old and wore a sunflower dress, white cardigan, white frilly socks and black Mary Janes. Her blond hair had been pulled into a neat bun, and she wore a headband with a sunflower. Then she pinned Chanel with eyes similar to Ryder’s before lifting her head to ask her father, “Daddy, did Wolf get out again?”
She racked her brain to remember if Cara had mentioned her neighbor had a daughter. She touched her chest. The familiar ache returned for the child she would never have. All that had been buried along with her husband.
Ryder must have nodded, because Chanel heard her say, “Bad doggy. You need to stay over at our house.” That earnest face was a shock to Chanel’s system, bringing a hope she thought dead alive. The screen was a poor shield against the cute package mere feet away.
“We’re sorry to bother you,” Ryder said, turning to leave. He gestured toward the little girl. “Let’s go, Gabby.”
Her name was Gabby. Short for Gabrielle, maybe?
“Wait,” Chanel breathed out and pointed to the dog. She found she wasn’t ready for this family to leave. That was strange because she had lived on her own for years and hadn’t had a problem being alone. Maybe it was coming back to this house. This place. The first question that jumped into her mind popped out. “What made you decide to call him Wolf?”
“I named him that,” Gabby said in a loud voice, stepping close to the screen door. “Cause he’s a cousin of the wolf family. Daddy got him for me.”
Chanel felt her lips twitch, and she tried to keep up Cara’s persona. Her mother had said there was no such thing as a stranger with Chanel. She made friends quick and easy, always ready for a conversation. Unlike Cara, who was more reserved and suspicious—traits well suited for her career. Cara wouldn’t be smiling right now. She would go into inquisition mode. But at this moment, Chanel took over, did what she wanted to do. And what Chanel wanted to do was smile.
Her smile was electrifying. It evened out the sharp planes of her face and softened her look, making her countenance shine. Ryder Frost clamped his jaw shut and cuddled Wolf closer to his chest. He hadn’t known Cara Shelton was capable of smiling, but he knew better than to say so. Cara always had a frown or smirk on her face when dealing with him. He took in her widened lips and white teeth, then dared to explore further.
Since he had moved to Hawk’s Landing, he had never engaged in a good conversation with his neighbor. The fact that, as a white man, he had purchased a plot of land once belonging to slave-owners had been a sore point for Cara and others in town—but for Ryder, it was about the architecture.
And forget about his dog. Her lips curled every time she saw Wolf. The dog preferred her place to his: her porch, her yard, her vegetables.
Ryder had been in his kitchen, putting the finishing touches on his dinner—baked chicken breast with roasted brussels sprouts—when he realized Wolf wasn’t in the house. Shoving the pans into the oven and setting a timer on his watch, Ryder had rushed across the lawn to Cara’s yard, mentally preparing himself for another battle.
Yet here she was smiling, her beautiful white teeth on display.
His brows rose. Answered prayer? He had asked God on many occasions to give him patience when it came to Cara Shelton.
She flicked the switch to turn on both the inside and outside lights. Wolf jumped out of Ryder’s arms, rubbing his body against the screen door, and Gabby moved to pet him. “Good dog. Good dog.” Then she wagged her finger. “You need to listen to me and Daddy.”
Since Cara was only a few inches shorter than he was, and in his line of sight, Ryder took in her beautiful brown skin, the light freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, her high cheekbones and honey-colored eyes surrounded by thick, long lashes. He acknowledged his neighbor’s physical attractiveness. Every time he had seen her, she had her hair in a bun or ponytail. Today, she had it loose and flowing. Ryder liked it. However, for him it was all about a woman’s substance and inner beauty. He cleared his throat. Not that he was interested in dating. He had his research and Gabby to fill his days. Ryder backed up. It was time for him to go home.
He opened his mouth to say his farewell when he saw Chanel watching Gabby with a tender expression. She placed a hand over her abdomen. In that unguarded moment, a sadness and yearning filled her eyes before she shuttered it with her lashes.
Without taking her gaze off Gabby and Wolf, she asked, “How old is she?”
“She’s five,” he said.
“Where’s her mom?” she asked, then put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Ryder shook his head. “It’s all right,” he said, dabbing at his brow and ignoring the rumble of his stomach. He needed to eat, but his stomach could wait while he discovered what it was like to exchange pleasantries with his neighbor.
“Naw. I need to learn to mind my business,” she said, flailing a hand. “Forget I asked. My mother always told me that my mouth was not my own.”
The screen door creaked, and she returned outside to slink into one of the wooden rocking chairs. Gabby and Wolf ran down the steps to frolic in the high grass. It needed to be cut. It had been raining a lot over the past several days, causing more growth. Ryder had passed over his lawn with the riding mower early that morning and was tempted to do the same for Cara. But he’d refrained, not sure if his good deed would be welcomed or appreciated.
Gabby began doing backflips while Wolf ran beside her. Ryder walked over to the other rocking chair and sat. He and Cara sat watching Gabby’s and Wolf’s antics for a few minutes before he decided to answer Cara’s question. He felt comfortable sharing because, as his neighbor, she would have noted he was alone when he’d first moved next door in May.
“Four months ago, my doorbell rang, and I opened the door to see the sister of an old colleague, a fellow researcher.” He jutted his chin toward Gabby. “Her mother. With her.” Then he coughed, feeling a tickle in his throat.
“Do you want something to drink?” Cara asked, jumping to her feet.
His eyes went wide. “Yeah, uh, sure.” He coughed again, placing his hand over his mouth.
“Hang on,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
Ryder twisted his body to watch her bounce through the door, and he scrunched his nose. It felt like he was talking to a completely different person, because Cara was being so—well, neighborly. He laughed at his paranoia and shook his head.
A couple minutes later, Cara returned, carrying a tray. “I could use a little help here,” she said in singsong voice.
Ryder held the screen door open, battling a feeling of surrealness. Cara had placed two tall glasses and a smaller glass of lemonade and an old bowl filled with water on the tray. He was taken aback at her thoughtfulness in including Wolf. He thanked her for the drink and watched as she served his daughter and dog.
“Say thank you to Ms. Cara,” Ryder prompted.
“Thank you,” Gabby said, sitting on the top step with Wolf lapping away next to her.
After taking a few sips, Gabby returned to play, taking advantage of the little sunlight that was left. Fanning herself, Cara returned to the rocking chair. It creaked with her movements.
“So, I take it her mother left her with you?” she asked, laying her head back.
“Yes, Brittany—that’s her mother’s name—had an opportunity to go to Egypt to study the pyramids and decided it was time I met my daughter. She told me it would be for a few weeks, but as you see, it has turned into months. Not that I mind.” He spoke those words with wry humor, although he had had a different reaction that day. He’d been sucker punched. Speechless. And scared.
Cara leaned forward, her mouth dropping open. “This is better than any novel I’ve ever read. You had a secret love child?”
He patted his brow. “I don’t know if I would call what we had...love. Before I accepted God in my life, Brittany and I had a brief...encounter. She had accompanied my coworker to a convention we were both attending. We spent hours talking about my research and her studies in Egyptology. After that one weekend, we parted ways.”
She chuckled, then said in a dry tone, “The encounter might have been brief, but the repercussions are lasting.”
“Yes. Well.” Ryder gave a dismissive wave to cover his embarrassment. “In the four months Gabby has been here, I can honestly say I have no regrets. But I didn’t know anything about children. I was an only child of parents who were also only children. YouTube is a divine gift. It has saved me on many occasions. It’s my go-to for everything from combing her hair to coordinating her clothes. Being a parent is more challenging than my first dissertation.”
“But I’m sure it’s rewarding.” She gazed at Gabby, her eyes bright. “From what I see, she seems happy, so you must be doing something right.” This time, there was no mistaking the yearning in her tone. She smirked. “Although I reserve the right to be wrong. Just giving my first—um, my overall impression.”
“I’m glad I didn’t mess up,” he said, not quite sure what to do about the fact that his neighbor was giving him a compliment instead of her usual criticism.
“Some of us would have loved the chance...to mess up,” Cara said before lowering her lashes and sipping her lemonade.
Ryder scooted forward, searching for the courage to ask if she had children. He hadn’t seen any, but the papers said she had been a cop for close to 14 years. Cara was probably in early forties and could have grown children in college. Just as he opened his mouth, his timer went off.
Copyright © 2022 by Michelle Z. Jackson