Restless Heart (6 page)

“Cut it out,” Destiny said, her voice more urgent than teasing now. “I don’t want your kisses. Just go on and
go
. Hurry!”

Seth frowned, wondering if everything was okay.

“Mike! Come on! You’re going to get me in trouble!”

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Seth rounded the side of the building with his fists cocked, ready to teach this Mike character a thing or two.

S
ara Hart drifted through the empty house, wishing her daughter Grace would come back from her latest round of job hunting so that she wouldn’t feel so alone.

She couldn’t help but remember the old days, when they were a bustling family of four—Grace and Destiny, Sara and John. The picture-perfect family she’d always wanted.

You still have them
, she reminded herself, settling on the couch and idly picking up one of Grace’s magazines.
Everyone is just busy doing their own thing, that’s all. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

She opened the magazine, trying not to be startled by photos of cleavage and headlines about sex.

This was no
Good Housekeeping
, that was for darned sure.

She was about toss it aside when a quiz caught her eye: Does Your Relationship with Your Mate Have Sizzle or Fizzle?

Sara decided to take it. It was silly, but what else did she have to do?

She answered all twenty questions honestly, then tallied up her answers and turned to the results page to check her score.

If you answered mostly B’s and C’s,
she read,
your sizzle has definitely fizzled. In fact, if you were a sparkler you’d now be nothing more than a charred stick ready to crumble. But fear not! You can get your groove back! The question is, do you want to—or are you ready to move on?

Move on
?

The thought was shocking . . .

Not, however, so shocking that Sara was ready to swap the magazine for one of her issues of
Good Housekeeping
that were stacked neatly on the end table.

She narrowed her eyes in determination and flipped back to the sidebar that had ten ways to get the spark back . . .

By the time she got to number five, Sara was blushing. She doubted she’d ever dare use any of the creative ways to jump-start her man . . . or would she?

Maybe not now . . . but once upon a time . . .

Her husband had been her high school sweetheart. Brash and rough around the edges, John Hart had made Sara’s pulse pound from the moment she first spotted him, roaring into the high school parking lot in his souped-up Firebird.

He was the new kid in town, the bad boy with a black leather jacket and an attitude that made all the girls sigh and the boys move out of the way.

The first time Sara saw him close-up, in the hallway at school, he’d given her such a probing once-over that she immediately felt silly in her broom-stick skirt and peasant blouse. She had turned her back on him quickly, but remembered feeling his gaze on her as she walked away.

The next time they connected, though, it was for good. John was failing English and needed the credit to graduate; the teacher asked Sara, her prize pupil, to tutor him. It didn’t take her long to discover that beneath John’s surly attitude was a sharp brain.

Abandoned by his mother and raised by his mad-at-the-world father, John was a classic chip-on-his-shoulder underachiever. They’d been such opposites, she and John—Sara’s free-spirited love of poetry, music, and literature in sharp contrast with John’s hard-edged lifestyle.

And yet they fell madly in love.

When his trouble-making ways landed him in hot water one too many times, John’s father finally kicked him out of the house. Out of nowhere, in a last-ditch effort to change his life and make something of himself—mostly for Sara’s sake—he’d signed up for the air force. To everyone’s surprise—particularly his own—he’d embraced the military lifestyle. It instilled discipline, gave him direction and a sense of pride in himself and his country. He shed his bad-boy ways and a year later, they were married.

It had been idyllic at first. But as John climbed the ranks in the air force, he became more regimented, squashing his wife’s free spirit little by little. Wanting to be the perfect wife, she had allowed it to happen without even realizing it.

After twenty-five years of marriage, Sara knew Colonel John Hart like a book.

And maybe, she decided, it was about high time they started a brand-new chapter.

 

 

 

C
rouched on the fire escape, hearing heavy footsteps coming around from the alley, Destiny frantically waved at Mike, who angled his furry head at her in doggie confusion from the ground below.

Terrific. Of all the moments for an impromptu visit from her landlord, probably here looking for this month’s late rent . . .

Kenny Tabor didn’t allow animals in the building, but the furry freeloader who had scratched Destiny’s back door on a cold, rainy evening had appeared as forlorn as she’d felt that particular night. Destiny couldn’t resist letting him in for just one night.

That was several months ago, and Kenny had yet to figure out that she’d adopted a canine roommate. But apparently, all that was about to change.

“Mike, get over here!” she called in a loud whisper.

Too late. A figure emerged from the shadows and into her back door spotlight. She couldn’t see his face, but she immediately knew it wasn’t her short-of-stature landlord, Kenny Tabor.

No . . . it happened to be the one and only Seth Caldwell.

So he hadn’t left town without saying good-bye.

“Seth!” she called brightly—and immediately regretted it. Did she really want him to see her like this?

Thanks to the evening humidity, her hair had taken on a life of its own the moment she’d removed the ponytail holder. Her face was well scrubbed. She had changed into baggy gray sweatpants and a large white T-shirt that was printed with an
I
, followed by half of a smeared red heart and then
Nashville
—yet another of her downstairs neighbor Nessie’s flawed inventory castoffs.

Seth looked up. “Oh . . . hi. Sorry to just show up . . . I, uh, would have called, but my phone died.”

“No problem,” Destiny assured him, tucking a wayward lock behind her ear as she tried to come up with something clever to say.

Mike beat her to it, emitting a couple of decidedly cranky barks.

“Stop that!”

As usual, he paid no attention to Destiny’s command, instead growling in a surprisingly menacing tone for a creature who looked more like a cartoon character than a guard dog.

Destiny descended the metal fire escape steps. “Mike! I mean it! Cut it out!” His spiky hair stood up as if he had just put a paw in an electrical socket and he gave Seth a bring-it-on-baby stare.

“
That’s
Mike?” Seth gaped. “He’s a
dog
?”

“What did you think he was, an alien?”

Seth took a step toward the fire escape. “No, I thought—”

Teeth bared, Mike launched himself at Seth.

“Mike, no!” Destiny watched helplessly as Mike’s short little legs propelled him as high as they possibly could. Upon impact with Seth’s thighs, the dog bounced off like a Ping-Pong ball hitting a paddle. His deep bark turned into a high-pitched what-was-I-thinking yelp as he flew backward and hit the ground hard.

“Mike!” Destiny scrambled down the fire escape and knelt beside the pitiful pooch. “Are you okay?”

Mike looked up at her with his bulging I-must-have-some-pug-in-me eyes and gave her a weak but reassuring, “Woof.”

Seth crouched beside them. “I’m sorry, fella.”

Mike gave him an accusatory glare.

“Guess I shouldn’t have come barreling around the corner,” Seth told Destiny, “but from what you were saying I thought you were talking to some guy who was giving you a hard time.”

“You’re kidding.” She couldn’t deny a flutter of appreciation that Seth had thought he was coming to her rescue.

“Hey, you have to admit that Mike isn’t a normal name for a dog. But then again, you never did like
normal,
did you?”

“Normal is
so
overrated.”

It was almost like old times, kidding around. Their eyes met and Destiny felt that all-too-familiar pull of attraction.

“Well, at least some things never change,” Seth said casually.

“You got that right.”

If he only knew
.

When Seth’s gaze dropped to her mouth, she wondered, for a wild moment, if he was going to kiss her. The idea so unnerved her that she jerked her head back and tumbled from her knees to her butt, nearly landing on poor recovering Mike. He gave a startled bark, and she scooped him into her lap and gave him a pat on his head.

Seth cleared his throat. “So why were you upset with Mike?”

“Because he’s not supposed to be here. He showed up as a stray and pets aren’t allowed, and I know my daddy raised me not to break the rules, but I was afraid to take Mike to a shelter. He has a face only a mother could love and the thought of . . .” She shook her head. “Anyway, he came along just when I needed him most.”

Seth seemed to be contemplating that. “When things like that happen, I sometimes think there’s a little divine intervention at work.”

He pushed to his feet and then offered a warm, firm grasp to pull her up, still clutching the dog under one arm.

“Let’s be friends, okay, little guy?” He had the strong, callused hands of a hard-working athlete, she noticed, watching him scratch Mike behind the ears.

She fully expected her cranky dog to growl again, but he surprised her by nudging Seth’s hand for more.

“Guess you won him over.”

Seth grinned. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Not at all.”

Hearing a door squeak open, she turned to see a familiar figure stepping out onto the first-floor doorstep.

“What the heck is goin’ on out here?” Nessie Newberry asked in her high-pitched twang.

A mere few years older than Destiny—but infinitely wiser, as far as Destiny was concerned—Nessie was a backwoods Barbie, raised in the hills of Tennessee like her idol Dolly Parton, and darned proud of it. Her figure was the opposite of Dolly’s hourglass build, but almost everything else about her was over-the-top. Her teased blond hair was pulled back with a pink polka-dotted scarf knotted at the nape of her neck. Her lips were painted ruby red to match her long fake nails.

“Mike’s got himself all worked up as usual,” Destiny told Nessie. “I hope he didn’t wake you up.”

“At this hour? Honey, the kids are with my ex, the night is young—and so am I, although maybe not as young as you are. You, either,” Nessie added, shooting a glance at Seth, followed by a pointed one at Destiny. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“I was getting around to it. Nessie, I’d like you to meet Seth Caldwell, an old friend from high school. Seth, this is my downstairs neighbor, Nessie Newberry.”

Nessie, who was lucky to break five feet tall even in her wedge heels and big hair, tilted her head back and gave Seth her best smile. “Well, hey there, good-lookin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Seth responded politely and extended his hand gingerly, probably because of the long fingernails—or perhaps her small stature. But while Nessie looked as if a strong wind would blow her away, she was a force to be reckoned with.

So, for that matter, was Mike. He barked, looking from Seth to Nessie.

“What’s the matter, Mikey-boy? You jealous?” Nessie reached back into the house, then tossed something at the dog.

Mike happily scurried after it.

“What was that?” Destiny asked.

“A toy mouse. Just got a shipment.”

Mike pounced on it as if it were alive and a threat to the well-being of all mankind, whipping the fake rodent back and forth, showing it who was the boss. The fuzzy mouse squeaked as if in protest, and went flying into the air. It landed belly up on Seth’s outstretched arm with a defeated high-pitched wheeze.

“Oh my,” Nessie said weakly. “That must be some bicep.”

“Here you go, buddy.” Seth tossed the squeaky toy for Mike to chase down again.

“So are you just in town for a visit?” Nessie asked casually but gave Destiny a glance filled with you-go-girl.

“Actually, I was over in Brentwood for a baseball tournament. I coach the Wilmot High School Panthers.”

“Well, now, just how fun is that?”

Seth grinned. “Very. Anyway, Destiny’s sister had told me where she was working, so—”

“Grace?” The light dawned. No wonder her sister had called earlier. “I thought you just happened to be at Back in the Saddle, Seth. I didn’t realize you . . .”