Lakeside Hero (Men Of Millbrook Lake Book 1) (2 page)

Charlie had performed a heroic last deed. He’d died on the stretcher a few minutes after Marla had arrived at the scene. She’d been five minutes too late.

Five minutes. She often thought if she’d just been there sooner, Gabby would have been with her and on the way home.

Or, as her parents had stated, always trying to reassure her, she could have walked in on the whole thing and Gabby could have lost both her parents.

Marla leaned her head against the steering wheel. She’d never told anyone, but the marriage had been over long before her husband died. She’d told him as much the day before he’d been killed. Now the guilt of knowing that, coupled with her guilt regarding her daughter’s trauma, was destroying her piece by piece. At least the robbery perpetrators had been apprehended and sent to jail for the rest of their lives.

Her phone rang, startling her out of the dark thoughts that caused her to stay awake at night.

She grabbed her phone and saw her mother’s name. “Hey, Mom,” she said after hitting the answer tab. “I’m at the shop. I’ve got a few things to put away and then I’ll be there.”

“No, hurry, honey,” her mother replied. “Gabby wants to tell you about how she and her pawpaw are out back playing golf—with Gabby’s miniature set.”

“Okay.”

She heard giggles and then Gabby’s voice. “Mommy, I wuv that golf car.”

“You do? Are you and Pawpaw having a good time?”

“Uh-huh. When will you be here? You can ride with me.”

“I’d like that. I’m on my way. About thirty minutes or so, all right?”

“Aw-wight. Here’s Memaw.” And her daughter was off again.

Coming home had been the right thing. Gabby had improved so much since they’d moved back to Millbrook.

Marla had to smile at the image of Gabby and Pawpaw riding around the complex. Her father had learned to play golf after they’d moved to the retirement village and now he loved the sport. Gabby liked watching out the patio door to see if Pawpaw would ride by in his funny little “car.” So Daddy had found her a cute pink-and-green golf set. Marla’s father was the only male Gabby would get near and even that had taken months to accomplish.

“He’ll probably find her a nice pint-size golf cart next,” she said to her mom, laughing.

“He’s already on that one,” Mom replied. “Why don’t you rest up and then come for dinner? I’m making lasagna.”

“Hmmm, that does sound good.” Mom made the best lasagna. “Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“That’ll work,” Mom replied. “See you then—and you can tell me all about that Alvanetti wedding.”

Marla laughed, ended the call and got out of the van to unload. Most of the time, she’d slice up the cake on-site and wrap it up to give to the family members, but today, in such a big place with so many plastered but skinny society girls, no one would dare ask for a piece of wedding cake to take home. And Mrs. Alvanetti and the groom’s mother had both taken big slices and had saved the top layer for the couple’s first anniversary, but had insisted on Marla taking the rest.

“Give it to a homeless shelter,” Mrs. A had said with a Lady Bountiful smile.

“I just might do that,” Marla had replied. But she’d take a couple of pieces for her parents and Gabby, too.

Then she thought about Alec Caldwell. He’d probably have his slice with a big glass of milk. With that close-cropped blondish-brown hair and those hazel eyes, he did look like the all-American type. The gung-ho all-around-good-guy type.

But not her type—at least not anymore. He might be out of the military, but his kind always looked for adventure. Plus, he had obviously been an upper-crust preppy, from what she could remember from hearing his name and background. So had her late husband. Charlie had been spoiled and pampered all of his life so he’d expected things to come easily to him. But he had saved Gabby and his employee.

Marla thanked God for that sacrifice. But she was afraid of moving on, afraid of getting involved with any man so soon after losing Charlie. Like her frightened daughter, she had been traumatized. Both by her husband’s horrible death and by how horrible they’d both made their once-happy marriage.

But who was she to judge? She’d had a decent enough life growing up in Millbrook. Her college days in Tallahassee had been full of friends, and she’d been with Charlie, so it hadn’t been all bad between them. At least Charlie had left a trust fund in his will for Gabby’s future.

Marla shook her head and came back to the present again. What Alec Caldwell had done or did now was none of her business. She’d probably never have another encounter with the man anyway.

So Marla unloaded her supplies and finished tidying up around the bakery. Her two other employees had already gone home for the day, so she set the alarm and locked things up until Monday morning. Then she got in her van and headed southeast toward her parents’ house. “Sorry, Soldier Boy. You’re adorable and interesting, but I need to forget I ever almost ran into you.”

Just as well. He probably had a society darling in his life anyway.

Chapter Two

A
lec saw his friends sitting at a round table in the corner of the Back Bay Pizza House. Waving, he headed for the table, thoughts of Wedding Cake Girl as fresh as buttercream icing in his mind. He’d enjoyed that nice slab of cake she’d given him yesterday, but a good meal with these characters would cure him of any sugary feelings he might have. That, and the workout his physical therapist had just put him through an hour ago. He’d do anything to lessen the limp that slowed him down on a daily basis.

He didn’t intend to mention that he’d met Marla Hamilton. His buddies were all bachelors, but lately they’d singled him out for blind dates and matchmaker testing. He didn’t want to be the first one to cave.

“About time you got here,” Detective Blain Kent said when Alec slid into a chunky wooden chair. “We’re about to order.”

“And he’ll have a fully loaded meat-and-cheese, right?” Rory Sanderson, once an army chaplain and now a minister, said with a grin. “Am I right, Alec?”

The Back Bay Pizza House was famous for fat pizzas that oozed with plenty of cheese and meat—or veggies, if you liked eating produce with pizza dough, which Alec did not.

“Right as rain,” Alec replied with a grin. “And I don’t plan on sharing.”

Hunter Lawson, as always, didn’t have much to say beyond a greeting that consisted of lifting a hand in the air. Former special ops, Hunter came and went so fast, half the time no one even knew he was around. A native of Oklahoma, Hunter hadn’t decided if he liked Florida yet or not. He liked to wander around and sleep on couches. Definitely commitment-shy.

“So how’d it go with Mama Alvanetti?” Blain, a former Marine MP, asked after they’d ordered three loaded pizzas and their drinks.

Knowing that Blain’s detective brain was always in overdrive, especially when it came to the slightly-on-the-right-side-of-shady Alvanetti family, Alec tried to tread lightly. “I finally got a chance to talk to her—after the big wedding yesterday.”

Blain’s blue eyes went dark. “It’s always hard to pin down an Alvanetti. Did she agree to help fund Caldwell Canines?”

Alec nodded and waited for the waitress to pass their drinks around. “She did, but she was just finishing up with her niece’s wedding and right after that, about to turn around and leave town for a while. I grabbed her generous check and got out of there.”

They all laughed and moved on to other topics, catching up with baseball stats and anything sports-related. The four of them had formed a bond right here at the pizza house during a fierce game of darts, and after serving in the military, they’d migrated back to Millbrook Lake. They’d made friendships that would last forever; these weekly meals and the occasional fishing weekend out at the camp house they’d all bought together suited Alec just fine.

That bond extended to their faith, too. When they were about to leave, Rory, often called Preacher, turned to Alec.

“Hey, we’re having this dinner at church Wednesday night. Kind of a singles thing, but more of a business thing. Thought I’d extend an invitation to you—but not for the obvious reason. The theme this week is local businesses and organizations.”

“I certainly fill that bill,” Alec replied, wondering what the catch was.

Rory grinned his boyish smile. “Thought you might bring some of your Caldwell Canines business cards and host a booth with your brochures, maybe even bring one of your service dogs. Good networking opportunities. A lot of other locals from all over the area will be there, and since we have a lot of returning vets around here...”

Alec mock-frowned but realized these kinds of events could help his cause. Plus, he hadn’t been to church in weeks, and he missed the time spent with friends—even if his scar did scare some of the younger children.

“Let me check my busy calendar,” he said. Then he laughed. “Sure, why not? I’m working the rounds right now, trying to drum up support, so it stands to reason that I need to attend an event that will bring Caldwell Canines more exposure.”

“How are you doing?” Rory asked, with the concern only a pastor could exhibit. “You’ve missed a couple of fishing trips recently.”

“I’m doing fine,” Alec replied, glad to have Rory on his side. “It’s been a process readjusting, but the foundation work is keeping me too busy to feel sorry for myself.”

“Good to hear,” Rory said, slapping Alec on the back. “You haven’t been to church in a while, either. Maybe this will get you more involved again.”

Alec rubbed a hand across his scar. “I scare people, Preacher. Especially children.”

“No children at this event. Adults only.” Then Rory leaned close. “I’m not judging, and I’m not trying to force you into anything uncomfortable. I really want you to share your philanthropic work with a few other people.”

Alec thought about that. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to show people what I want to accomplish by placing disabled vets with service dogs. After all, that is the point.”

Rory’s grin widened. “So you’ll come? Setup is around five. We’ll do a reception type thing, with tables and booths for the vendors, and then we’ll have a good home-cooked meal.”

“I’ll be there,” Alec replied. “Just don’t try to set me up with any women.”

Preacher shot him a pained glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

* * *

Marla walked into the fellowship hall of the eclectic Millbrook Lake Church and started setting up the many platters and cake dishes she used to display and serve her cupcakes. Pastor Sanderson had called her last week to ask her about showing and selling some of her baked goods at Wednesday’s single-and-social
business-night get-together.

“You’re not trying to set me up with anyone, are you?” she’d asked through a grin.

“Nah, just trying to get some networking going. Word of mouth is the best form of advertising and with your cupcakes, I’d say we’ll give new meaning to that phrase. People will be talking with their mouths full.”

“You are such a cutup, Preacher,” she’d replied. “I’ll be there. Thanks for inviting me. And this batch will be on me.”

After unloading her serving trays and tiered plates she went back to the van to bring the first tray of cookies and cupcakes to the table where a placard read Marla’s Marvelous Desserts. She and her staff had made around five dozen luscious little muffins in flavors ranging from Red Velvet Reality to Vanilla Velocity and Cinnamon Cream Cheese Calamity. She liked to name her concoctions to get attention. She’d even made a batch for Pastor Rory: Preachin’ It Pecan Praline.

“Need some help?”

Marla turned from the creamy beige tablecloth to find Pastor Rory heading her way. The tall, relaxed minister was about as enticing as her cupcakes. He had shaggy sunshine-bleached blond hair, a boyish grin and blue-gray eyes that were always laughing. Most would think he surfed all day but this man did a lot of his surfing in the Bible. He was the best minister in the world. He’d sure helped Marla through some rough patches, but they were just good friends. Preacher liked tending to his sheep as much as she loved tending to her bakery items.

She nodded. “I have three more of these big covered pans out in the van. If you help, I’ll give you a cupcake, no charge.”

“I will accept that offer,” he said, already walking backward toward the open door into the fellowship hall. “Even though I know you’re giving them all out for free anyway.”

She laughed and went back to her work, setting up her cupcakes on the platters and cake stands she’d brought in earlier and marking the flavors with cards one of her employees had printed out. Humming to herself, Marla got lost in arranging her presentation. She liked this part of her job almost as much as she enjoyed baking.

“Where do you want these?”

The deep voice behind her caused her to whip around so fast she almost knocked the whole table over. The man standing there holding a huge plastic-covered container was not Pastor Rory Sanderson.

Alec Caldwell smiled at her over the huge pan of sweets.

“Hello, Cupcake Girl.”

So now she was Cupcake Girl?

Marla regained her equilibrium and smoothed the already-smooth tablecloth before she returned his smile. He really was a good-looking man, and that scar just made him mysterious and...intriguing. “Uh, hi, Soldier Boy.”

He lifted the pan higher.

“Oh, just set it on the end of the table.”

Alec did as she asked, then turned toward her, the clean scent of soap reminding her of wind and water. She noticed his slight limp and wondered if his leg gave him trouble. “So we meet again.”

Alec glanced around the long room. “Yes. Small world.”

Looking uncomfortable, he eyed the grinning pastor standing at another table. “Preacher seemed mighty keen on me bringing this in to you. Right after he told me you’re single and that you’re a good cook. Think we’ve been set up?”

Marla hoped the heat rising up her throat didn’t show. “I don’t know. Are you single and a good cook, too?”

He rubbed a hand down his scar. “Single, yes. Is that important?”

“You tell me, since you look so frightened.”

Surprised that he kept glancing at the door, Marla shook her head and made a note of that panicked look in his amber-gold eyes. “I agreed to this event last week, but I never considered you might be here. And I haven’t mentioned anything about being set up to anyone.” Turning back to her table, she added, “Relax, Soldier Boy, you’re safe with me.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said with a shrug and a sheepish expression. “Just a bad joke. Never mind.”

She felt the heat now rising on her cheeks, the same kind of flush she got when she opened the door of a hot oven. “I mean, why would I mention you to anyone?” Then because that had sounded so very bad, she hastily added, “Not that I would mind mentioning you to anyone. I’ve just been busy. I mean, you’re not on my mind.”

Alec’s brow twitched upward while his frown hardened. “Hmmm. I didn’t tell anyone about our close encounter of the sugary kind, either, so let’s both relax, Sweet Cakes. Preacher told me about this event on Sunday night, but he did remind me a lot of single people would be here.”

Marla wished she could hide underneath the tablecloth. “So the preacher didn’t know we’d already met. We can’t blame him for us running into each other again.”

“Technically, no,” Alec replied. “But you never know what runs through Preacher’s mind. He just wants everyone to be happy.”

“I’m such a ditz,” she replied, wishing she wouldn’t jump to the wrong conclusions all the time. “I’m sorry.”

Alec stood back on booted heels, looking completely out of place with all the daintiness surrounding him. The trace of confusion in his eyes changed into something else...hope? “Maybe it was divine intervention.”

Marla didn’t know how to respond to that. She just stared at him for a moment or two and then said, “Or maybe because we both have kind of unique occupations, he honestly wanted to showcase our endeavors.”

Alec glanced around. “Yep, lots of interesting artists and vendors here tonight. The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker—”

She added her own nursery rhyme. “And rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.”

The smile on his face died a quick death. “I get your point.”

Marla was definitely going to hide under the table. “That didn’t come out right. I never was very good at nursery rhymes.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug but the darkness in his eyes told her it wasn’t okay. “I get that this town thinks I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But I’m trying to honor my family’s legacy. My mother’s legacy, really.”

“I’m such an idiot,” Marla said. “Forgive me. I’m kind of nervous about this whole affair.”

“I don’t think you should call yourself names.” He stole a cookie off one of her trays. “You are neither a ditz nor an idiot, as far as I can tell. We’re both nervous, but that doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other.”

“I do need to lighten up.” She shook out her hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to scare away any customers.”

He relaxed at that, his hand moving over the scar on his face, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of having. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I just did,” she said. “But not in a very nice way. Can we start over?”

He grinned at her sharp retort but held out his hand. “I could use a do-over,” he said. “Hi, I’m Alec Caldwell, Soldier Boy.”

“Hi.” She shook his extended hand, again feeling the warmth that tingled against her nerve endings. “I’m Wedding... I mean Cupcake Girl, at least tonight. Marla Hamilton.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.

“So nice to meet you—again,” she said, hoping they could be civil now.

He let go of her hand but kept his eyes on her. “Oh, and by the way, that cake was a-m-mazing. A-plus amazing. I might have to get married just to have that cake at the wedding.”

She grinned at that comment and put images of him waiting at the altar for some happy woman out of her head. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and glanced around the room. “Do you think we’re all single? I mean, it is singles night,” he said. “All joking aside, are there a lot of single people in Millbrook?”

“Single-and-social night,” she amended, wishing he didn’t make her so nervous. Her skin tingled with awareness while her nerves seemed to want to dance. “Networking with a spiritual twist—single or not.”

“Then it
is
divine intervention.”

Marla glanced around and noticed a lot of people. “I think you might be right.” She lifted her hand toward a cute little older woman wearing a full skirt and pretty spring jacket. “Mrs. Braxton looks like a real cougar.”

He laughed at that one. “She’s got her own booth—showing off crocheted stuff from the Courthouse Collectibles. Lots of baby booties and a few nice feminine hats.”

“Some men find that fascinating.”

He shook his head but smiled. “And I guess that gray-haired man over there with the lovely seascape paintings would be just right for her?”

“Boston Bob? Of course. She can crochet him a good fishing cap and he can paint her sitting in the window, gazing out toward the sea.”