âMom, guess what?â
âWhat?â
âDeputy Alex is going to be your valentine!â
âWhat?â Several heads had turned at Emmaâs enthusiastic statement. No doubt there would be talk in the teacherâs lounge later.
âI asked, and he said he doesnât have a valentine. And you donât have one either. So you can be each otherâsâitâs perfect.â
Emmaâs innocence made Cassieâs heart squeeze. âOh, honey, itâs not quite that simple. Just because weâre both single doesnât mean weâre going to be valentines with each other.â
Emma frowned. âWhy not? Donât you like Deputy Alex?â
âOf course I do.â More than she should. âBut someday, when youâre a grown-up, youâll understand that things like valentines are more complicated than just liking someone.â
âI donât ever want to be a grown-up. It makes everything complicated.â
No kidding, kid. No kidding.
* * *
Paradise Animal Clinic: Let the loveâand fur-ever familiesâfly!
Ean, for picking up the slack and never complaining about it.
My mom and my son, Michael, for babysitting the littles when I had a deadline and needed some quiet.
My agent, Jill, for guiding me through the process.
And my editorial team, especially Carly and Jennifer, for finding my (numerous) mistakes and making me look good.
Chapter One
âGrace, you just saved my life. How can I ever repay you?â
The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes. âItâs just coffee, Dr. Marshall, not the fountain of youth. If you leave a few coins in the tip jar, weâll call it even.â
Cassie clutched the cardboard cup like a lifeline, inhaling the rich aroma. âI had an emergency call last night, ended up performing a C-section on a schnauzer at three a.m., and then was double-booked all day. So right now your caffeinated nectar is my only hope of making it through the meeting Iâm going to.â She paid for her coffee and took a cautious sip of the scalding brew. âYouâre my hero.â
âThat kind of flattery will get you the last cinnamon scone, if you want it.â
âHave I ever turned down a free baked good?â Cassie accepted the small white bag with the proffered pastry. âThanks. This ought to keep me out of trouble until I can get some dinner.â
âSpeaking of trouble, here comes that new sheriffâs deputy. Iâd be willing to break a few rules if it would get him to notice me.â Grace craned her neck to see more clearly out the curtained front window. âDonât you think he looks like a man who could handle my rebellious side?â
Cassie nearly spit out her coffee. If Grace Keville, sole proprietor of Sandcastle Bakery, had a rebellious side, sheâd kept it well hidden. Even after a full day of baking and serving customers, she looked prim and proper in a crisp pastel blouse and tailored pants. From her lacy apron to her dainty bun, she was the epitome of order and discipline. Not to mention she was happily married and the mother of three. âYouâve never rebelled a day in your life.â
Grace sniffed. âMaybe not, but that man makes me consider it. Hard.â
Rebellion wasnât all it was cracked up to be. Sheâd been there, done that, and had considerably more than a T-shirt to show for it. She started to say as much, but stopped at the jingle of the door chimes behind her. Turning at the sound, she caught her breath at the sight of the intense man heading toward her with long, ground-eating strides.
No wonder Grace was infatuated. The man looked like heâd just stepped out of a Hollywood action movie rather than the quiet streets of Paradise, Florida. Thick, dark hair framed a chiseled face with just a hint of five-oâclock shadow. His eyes were the exact color of the espresso that scented the air, and reflected a focus that only men in law enforcement seemed to have. Even without the uniform sheâd have known him for a cop. Sexy? Sure. But still a cop. And sheâd had her fill of those.
âIâm here to pick up an order. Should be under Santiago.â
Grace grabbed a large box from the top of a display case. âIâve got it right hereâan assortment of cookies, right?â
âThatâs right.â
âWhat, no doughnuts?â Uh-oh, did she say that out loud?
He gave Cassie a long look before quirking up one side of his mouth. âSorry to ruin the stereotype.â