Page 2 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Brad clicked off his cell phone and dropped it into this shirt pocket. Satisfied, and more certain now than ever of his plan, he stepped from James Martin’s office and into the crisp mountain air of downtown Harbor Falls with a smile on his face. As he crossed the sidewalk toward his bike parked on the street, he side-stepped a kid on a skateboard whizzing by at a speed Brad didn’t even want to try to calculate.

“Spud Jones! Come back here and apologize!”

Brad glanced to his right and watched a tall woman step out of a storefront. She walked with elegance but frowned after the young teenage boy on the skateboard, who by now was two blocks down the street. “Spud!”

She sighed and looked to Brad, then said.

“I’m so sorry. That child.”

Smiling, Brad said.

“No problem. No harm done. Yours?”

“Oh good Heaven’s no. I don’t know what I would do with a child!”

Her hand went to her hair and she smoothed back the blond knot she had gathered up at the top of her head. She bit her lip.

“That sounded horrid. It’s not that I don’t like children, I do. I just don’t have any of my own. Not that I wouldn’t want one of my own, I do, eventually, but… Goodness, I’m babbling.”

Brad laughed.

“You’re fine and I understand. Me either. About having a kid, I mean.”

He pushed out his hand and chuckled.

“I guess I’m babbling too. Kids actually make me nervous but I do want one or two someday. I’m Brad Matthews.”

“Gracie Hart. Nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand, let it go, then ticked her head toward the office next door.

“So, if you have business with James does that mean you’re new in town? Or soon to be new?”

These small-town southern types get right to the point, he deduced.

“If all goes well. I am looking at some property.”

Gracie nodded.

“I see. Well, new people to Harbor Falls are always welcome. New business are more than welcome—anything to keep the economy steady around here. Some people worry about it—the economy, that is—but things are good for me. I hope you like it here, Mr. Matthews. Just watch out for flying skateboarders!”

He laughed.

“Call me Brad.”

He glanced up to the sign over the Victorian storefront door. Romantically Yours.

“Your shop?”

He wondered what kinds of things she sold.

Gracie glanced behind her.

“Oh yes. All mine.”

“I see. And you sell…?”

“Oh! Well, a little bit of everything if it has to do with being romantic—you know, things woman would like. Candles, aromatherapy products, gift baskets, lingerie…”

She eyed him.

“Do you have someone special in your life Mr. Matthews? Er, Brad? If so just let me know and I can find the perfect gift for you. So much of what I do is customized for the buyer.”

Brad’s gaze drifted behind her to the store window, where he could make out frilly things and fancy boxes and such. Shifting his weight, he thought a moment.

“Do you have flowers?”

Gracie grinned.

“I actually do. I don’t do much business in flowers but one of the local suppliers cuts a few roses for me once a week. Come on in and let’s see what we can find.”

“Wonderful.”

He glanced back at his bike.

“On second thought, the flowers might pulverize by the time I get to where I am going. Let’s see what else you have.”

She smiled and nodded, then turned for the door. Brad followed, then stopped up short.

“Wait. Did you say your name was Gracie Hart?”

She glanced back with a warm smile. “Yes.”

Pausing for a brief moment, he glanced over her features, then asked.

“Any relation to Suzie Hart?”

Her right eyebrow shot up.

“Of course. She’s my cousin. You know her?”

Of course. Small town, remember? Nodding, he replied, “I do.”

Gracie eyed him, then looked him fully up, then down. “Hm.”

Gracie said.

“Hm. Well come on in here. Let’s see what kind of damage we can do.”

****

Suzie hoisted the second twenty-five-pound bag of mulch from her wheelbarrow to the ground with a grunt, dropping it next to the stone foundation of her house. There. Ready for her to spread in the morning. The hostas were planted and weeds wouldn’t grow overnight so she’d just make the rest her Sunday morning chore—after breakfast, that is. She was pooped. Long day. She was now ready for a bubble-bath and that glass of wine.

Standing up straight, she swiped the back of her gloved hand over her forehead, then her other to her tummy. She felt a little dizzy and queasy.

“Should have eaten earlier,”

she muttered. But she’d been too busy with the plants and other outside tasks. She paused a moment, steadying herself, and allowed the feeling to pass. She’d need to eat with that wine later.

Glancing, toward the west, she watched the sun settle over the mountain, shadowing downtown Harbor Falls a half mile or so in the distance. She loved living on the edge of town, right on the lake. She liked being just so far removed from Harbor Falls’ daily hustle and bustle. If you could call it that. Downtown Harbor Falls boasted of a business district, but nothing compared to the likes of nearby Asheville or other vacation and shopping hot spots of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

But Harbor Falls was Harbor Falls, small town at its best. No big box stores. No strip malls. Just a busy little downtown. And they liked it, just the way it was.

Life and business and living in her new-to-her home, were good. She marveled every single day how she’d acquired the quaint Victorian cottage. It was a dream come true. Her aunt’s passing had been unexpected and the fact that she’d left the home to Suzie was even more so. Her father’s oldest sister was the maiden aunt everyone adored, and Suzie missed her terribly. She vowed she would never take owning the home for granted and would always honor her aunt in the highest regard by keeping the home full of love and laughter and children. Aunt Donna so loved children. Since Suzie was the oldest of all of the cousins, her Aunt had doted on her more than the others and had encouraged her to chase her dreams. Still, she never expected that her aunt would leave the beautiful storybook home to her.

Every day Suzie sent up a prayer of thanks to a higher power who might have assisted in helping move her dream forward.

Sweet Hart Inn was hers. She’d worked hard to convert Aunt Donna’s home into a working bed and breakfast inn, and to renovate the kitchen for her cooking classes and catering. It was also the perfect place to work on her cookbook and write her blog.

Cliff had dumped her, yes. And her sister had done something unthinkable, yes. But secretly she thanked the two of them and held no grudges, because their decisions had forced her hand. When that happened, and when the home was literally dropped into her lap, she’d left the past behind and started making plans on how live her future.

Sweet Hart Inn was the rest of her life. She intended to stay here, run this little bed and breakfast, and do her cooking and writing thing for years to come.

Her gaze spanned the horizon and then settled on the lake. Smiling, she rubbed her hands together to rid them of some dirt and then wiped them on the thighs of her jeans. As dusk settled in, all she wanted was a quiet walk down to the lake for a few moments of silence. Then that long, hot soak in the tub.

With her first few steps, the rumble of a surly engine grew louder down the road, forcing her to turn back. A large motorcycle—one of those bad-boy types—and its rider leaned into the turn and then smoothly made its way up the curvy drive to her home. She liked how the bike thundered into her peaceful existence and she wasn’t quite sure why. It was both unexpected and welcome, and that really made no sense at all. Perhaps it provided an edge to the night, a hint of excitement the inn normally didn’t lend at this time of evening.

The rider stopped the bike and abruptly cut off the engine.

Suzie stood spellbound staring at the man and motorcycle. He wore black from head to toe—helmet, leather jacket, hip-hugging tight jeans, and boots. Yes. Bad boy. The man stood silent and unmoving, staring back at her.

She’d expected a guest this evening, a Mr. Logan, and supposed this man could be him. He hadn’t said anything about arriving on a bike—not that her guests were in the habit of indicating the type of transportation they would use to get to the inn.

She stepped forward, again wiping her dirty hands on her pants, silently wishing she’d ended her planting early and showered. She reached out, ready to shake his hand and welcome him and—

The man dismounted, stood straight up, and slipped off his helmet. Her breath caught in her throat. The steady gaze that met hers and held while he shifted the helmet to his left hip and ran five fingers through his ruffled, curly brown hair, startled her.

Her heart jack-knifed.

Icy panic shot up Suzie’s back and she sucked in a breath and held it. Buzzing filled her ears, like a thousand people talking all at once. She’d know that finger-rake mannerism anywhere.

Her head spun and Suzie felt herself go a little light-headed.

****

Brad caught Suzie’s gaze and then watched her body literally fold into itself and fall to the ground. “Shit!”

He rushed forward to grab her about the time her temple connected with a rock at the edge of a flower bed. “Suzie!”

His chest pounded. He pulled her onto his lap, fear shaking his arms.

“Suzie, darling, hell. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. Wake up sweetheart.”

He caressed her face and cooed soothing words.

Inside he was mortified that he’d caused her to fall and had hurt her.

She moaned and shifted, pushing her palms into his chest. “Wha…”

The half-word fell out of her mouth on a breath.

“What are…”

“Sh, darling. Oh, Suzette.”

Brad glanced about. Where to take her? Inside? To the hospital? He glanced about and noticed a small SUV parked near a back entrance. He supposed it was hers. Were her keys inside? Obviously he couldn’t take her to the hospital on his bike.

Should he call 9-1-1?

“We need to get you somewhere. Have that bump looked at.”

Suzie shifted and huffed out a quick breath.

“No, Brad, no…”

Then she slumped into his arms again.