Read Online The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) by Shirley Jump - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shirley Jump
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her yard? Why had she wondered about him at least a dozen times in the days since that first disastrous meeting?
Rescue the dog, get out of here, and get back to work. And stop fantasizing about the neighbor.
“Why don’t we uh, look in another room?” she said.
He cleared his throat, as if he shared the same awkward thoughts she’d been having. “Good idea.”
She waited for him to lead the way. He didn’t move. “Uh . . . which room?”
He waved down the darkened hall. “Pick one. Don’t touch anything.”
Olivia headed down the hall. No dog. She turned right—dining room. She flicked on the wall switch, flooding the room with light.
A long pale maple table centered the space, flanked by a half-dozen matching chairs. A dying fern struggled for light in the corner, beside a Cannondale bike leaning against the wall. The china cabinet held a few dishes, the buffet nothing more than a silver bowl. Except for a slight layer of dust, the room was as tight and organized as library shelves. Neat stacks of papers sat on one end of the table, anchored by a trio of small white boxes, like the kind used for jewelry.
Olivia bent down, looked under the table, and didn’t see the dog. She was about to turn and leave when those boxes aroused her curiosity. She reached out, drew her hand back, then reached again. What was Luke doing with so many boxes of jewelry?
She told herself she wasn’t going to look inside. That she didn’t care what Luke Winslow had on his dining room table or why he maintained his distance. Was it just because they were still essentially strangers? Or did he have something more to hide, like Lois and her garden?
Before she could think twice, she had pried the lid off the top box on the pile, then flipped open the blue velvet box inside.
Nestled on a soft cotton bed sat a hefty and impressive gold medal, hanging from a thick red-white-and-blue-striped ribbon. Two anchors flanked either side of a circular emblem.
United States Coast Guard.
Coast Guard? Him?
That man’s a bona fide hero.
“I told you not to touch anything.”
She wheeled around at the sharp tones. As she did, the box slipped from her grasp and landed on the tile floor with a clatter. She scrambled to pick it up, flipped the lid closed, then wrangled the white top back in place. “I’m sorry. I just . . .” What excuse did she have? “I saw the medal, and I was curious. What’s it for?”
She held out the box to him. Instead of taking it, he cursed, then turned on his heel. “Just get the damned dog and get out.”
She stood there for several long seconds, the medal box heavy in her hands. What had caused the sudden shift in mood? Was it something to do with the medal? But that didn’t make sense. Weren’t medals given for doing good things? Why would he be angry about that?
Whatever the reason, she refused to pry. Prying meant getting involved, and she had enough on her plate right now. A plate that sure as heck didn’t have room for a relationship or the messy task of straightening out someone else’s baggage. Hell, she barely had time to fix her own. So she put the medal back on the table and left the room to do what Luke had asked—get the dog and get out.
She went the opposite direction from where Luke had gone and headed into the living room. This room, like the others, was neat and tidy, but the lights were off, shades drawn. The air conditioner pumped a steady stream of cool air into the space. She flicked on a small table lamp. Her gaze swept the room and then, finally, in the corner under an end table, lay the golden.
“Hey, there you are,” Olivia said. She bent down, keeping one hand splayed, and inched her way toward the dog. The golden watched her, wary, tense, and then as Olivia closed the gap, the dog scrambled back, deeper into the shadows. Olivia retreated. Tried again. Same result. The dog’s eyes remained wide, its tail still, its breath coming in fast bursts. “Oh, puppy, I won’t
Rescue the dog, get out of here, and get back to work. And stop fantasizing about the neighbor.
“Why don’t we uh, look in another room?” she said.
He cleared his throat, as if he shared the same awkward thoughts she’d been having. “Good idea.”
She waited for him to lead the way. He didn’t move. “Uh . . . which room?”
He waved down the darkened hall. “Pick one. Don’t touch anything.”
Olivia headed down the hall. No dog. She turned right—dining room. She flicked on the wall switch, flooding the room with light.
A long pale maple table centered the space, flanked by a half-dozen matching chairs. A dying fern struggled for light in the corner, beside a Cannondale bike leaning against the wall. The china cabinet held a few dishes, the buffet nothing more than a silver bowl. Except for a slight layer of dust, the room was as tight and organized as library shelves. Neat stacks of papers sat on one end of the table, anchored by a trio of small white boxes, like the kind used for jewelry.
Olivia bent down, looked under the table, and didn’t see the dog. She was about to turn and leave when those boxes aroused her curiosity. She reached out, drew her hand back, then reached again. What was Luke doing with so many boxes of jewelry?
She told herself she wasn’t going to look inside. That she didn’t care what Luke Winslow had on his dining room table or why he maintained his distance. Was it just because they were still essentially strangers? Or did he have something more to hide, like Lois and her garden?
Before she could think twice, she had pried the lid off the top box on the pile, then flipped open the blue velvet box inside.
Nestled on a soft cotton bed sat a hefty and impressive gold medal, hanging from a thick red-white-and-blue-striped ribbon. Two anchors flanked either side of a circular emblem.
United States Coast Guard.
Coast Guard? Him?
That man’s a bona fide hero.
“I told you not to touch anything.”
She wheeled around at the sharp tones. As she did, the box slipped from her grasp and landed on the tile floor with a clatter. She scrambled to pick it up, flipped the lid closed, then wrangled the white top back in place. “I’m sorry. I just . . .” What excuse did she have? “I saw the medal, and I was curious. What’s it for?”
She held out the box to him. Instead of taking it, he cursed, then turned on his heel. “Just get the damned dog and get out.”
She stood there for several long seconds, the medal box heavy in her hands. What had caused the sudden shift in mood? Was it something to do with the medal? But that didn’t make sense. Weren’t medals given for doing good things? Why would he be angry about that?
Whatever the reason, she refused to pry. Prying meant getting involved, and she had enough on her plate right now. A plate that sure as heck didn’t have room for a relationship or the messy task of straightening out someone else’s baggage. Hell, she barely had time to fix her own. So she put the medal back on the table and left the room to do what Luke had asked—get the dog and get out.
She went the opposite direction from where Luke had gone and headed into the living room. This room, like the others, was neat and tidy, but the lights were off, shades drawn. The air conditioner pumped a steady stream of cool air into the space. She flicked on a small table lamp. Her gaze swept the room and then, finally, in the corner under an end table, lay the golden.
“Hey, there you are,” Olivia said. She bent down, keeping one hand splayed, and inched her way toward the dog. The golden watched her, wary, tense, and then as Olivia closed the gap, the dog scrambled back, deeper into the shadows. Olivia retreated. Tried again. Same result. The dog’s eyes remained wide, its tail still, its breath coming in fast bursts. “Oh, puppy, I won’t
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