Tangled Love on Pelican Point (Island County Series Book 3) (29 page)

Four Months Later

“Is the sky always this blue here?” I asked Anthony, blocking the sunshine with my hand. I was sitting lazily in a chaise on his deck in Malibu, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

“And the water,” Anthony said, taking a seat next to me, “always sparkles.”

“I’m amazed at the sandy beaches. They’re so different from the rocky ones on Fireweed.” He handed me a pair of sunglasses that I immediately slipped on. It didn’t even occur to me to pack a pair. Traveling the world wasn’t exactly something I was used to. Okay, not the world. Just California.

But same difference.

“Are you glad I made you come to Malibu?” he asked, his voice the same sultry melody I’d fallen in love with many times over.

“Completely.” I sighed and let the warmth penetrate my bones.

“Natty said it snowed on Fireweed this morning.” I sighed again. “Is this what relaxing is like? I can sigh as many times as I want?”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe.” He smiled and took my hand in his. “But this is long overdue.”

“Well, I’m a complicated woman,” I teased. “But I feel very confident with the staff I have in place to take care of all the orders while I’m away. That’s the only reason you pulled me away.”

“You’re a complex woman full of everything I’ve ever wanted.” The look in his eyes intensified, and I felt a rush of need wash over me. Even after four months of almost living together, all it took was a sly look from him, and I was his all over again. It was like the first day I’d met him, minus the overwhelming nausea that led me to insult his music while being over-intoxicated. I knew those sparks had meant something back then, but the promise they held scared me. I let out one last sigh, and Anthony chuckled.

“What’s got you smiling?” he asked, touching my chin with his thumb.

“Just thinking how we first met at Natty and Cole’s.”

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“It feels like I’ve known you forever, Sophie. You’ve just become a part of me that I can’t live without.”

“Maybe it’s because we kind of bumped into each other off and on when we were kids.”

Anthony looked out over the ocean and took a deep breath in. “I think it’s beyond that. I think this was designed.”

“Designed?”

He smiled and reached into the pocket of his jeans. Before I knew what was happening, Anthony dropped to one knee.

“Sophie Bristol, you are the best thing to have ever happened to me. You’ve brightened my world and shown me what it’s like to love hard. You saved me on so many levels, and you didn’t even know it. Sophie, will you spend the rest of your life with me in Fireweed and Malibu?” His eyes glinted with the familiar vulnerability, and my chest tightened with unimaginable happiness.

“You’ve made my dreams come true, Anthony Hill. You are my dream come true, and I will absolutely spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more each day.”

“I love you,” Anthony said, sliding the ring onto my finger and pressing his forehead to mine. “And I think you’re the first woman in the history of proposals to not look at the ring.”

I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, flashing my hand in front of me.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, admiring the simple solitaire. “Absolutely perfect.”

“I hope I made your dream come true,” he murmured.

“Even better. You gave me dreams I never knew I had.”

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Moving back to Fireweed Island was the best thing I’d ever done. Well, next to divorcing Rich—my ex-husband and all around nasty man—but no point in thinking about him and getting riled up. I’d spent far too many sleepless nights over that guy. I had more important things to do, like finish reading the last chapter of the book I’d been clutching all morning.

I pulled out the patio chair and sank into the cushion, feeling the warm morning sunlight kiss my skin as I sipped my coffee. I relished this kind of morning. Relaxation washed over me, coffee energized me, and words were at the ready to coat my soul, all before starting my day at the library.

I took in a deep breath and opened the book, preparing to say a final goodbye to the characters and story I’d fallen in love with over the last few days. I could do this. I could let them all go and begin it again with another.

As my finger curled over the first page of the last chapter, a blood-curdling scream shot over my fence from my neighbor, Mrs. Coleville. I jumped from the chair, spilling scalding coffee on my lap while scrambling to the gate to get to my front yard.

Before popping up the latch on the gate, I grabbed a shovel to arm myself for what might await me on the other side. As I thrust open the gate with a monstrous heave, the silence of the morning was held hostage by more screams. I searched every crevice of Mrs. Coleville’s yard. Her tidy pink roses lined the front of her house and daisies quivered in the flowerbed a few feet away but all was clear.

I slinked along the rhododendrons at a cautious pace, my pulse hammering in my chest with uncertainty, knowing only a shrub separated me from whatever monster was causing Mrs. Coleville’s distress.

But her front yard was empty.

I scanned the windows and front door of her house—all appeared tightly locked—when another sob erupted from the far side of the house. I took off running with my shovel to find Mrs. Coleville staring into a large maple tree, her hands waving frantically into the air.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my fingers throbbing from gripping the handle so tightly.

“Oh, Jewels. It was awful. Just awful.” Her eyes didn’t sway from the tree. “Coco was doing her business in the backyard, and out of nowhere, a coyote came and snatched her. I screamed, jumped off the deck, and ran toward the coyote. By the grace of God, the coyote dropped Coco in the front yard, but Coco ran up the tree. I’m sure she’s hurt, but she won’t come down.”

“Where’d the coyote go?” I asked nervously, glancing behind me.

“Took off toward the gully.”

I nodded and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and immediately wished I hadn’t moved the fabric against my skin. Apparently, the adrenaline flooding my veins had hidden how painful my coffee burns were. The sting of freshly burned skin roared to life as I attempted to spot Coco in the tree.

“I’ll call the fire department,” I assured, her patting her tiny shoulders with my left hand while I scrolled through my address book with my right. I didn’t think this warranted a 9-1-1 call, but maybe it did. In my world it did. We had an eight-pound Coco to save.

“Where is she?” I bent over still trying to spot her in the tree.

“She’s on the far branch. The tip of her ear is sticking out over the top of that maple leaf,” Mrs. Coleville said, pointing frantically.

I followed her finger and spotted a tuft of Coco’s fur just as the Fire Department answered.

“Hello, we have a Yorkie stuck in a maple tree. She was attacked by a coyote, and we’re not sure how badly she’s injured, but we have no safe way to get her out of the tree. My ladder won’t reach. Is that something you can help with?”

I listened carefully to the department’s instructions as Mrs. Coleville wandered closer to the tree and stretched her hands out toward the limb, but the ball of fur wasn’t budging. I hung up the phone and saw a twitch of the leaf.

“Coco, stay,” I called into the quivering leaves.

“I didn’t teach her that command,” Mrs. Coleville said.

“They said the call is a low priority, and they’re already on a high-priority call at the far end of the island,” I relayed. “They don’t generally handle cat-in-the-tree calls very often, but since she might be injured they’re willing to give it a go. The volunteer station down south might be able to come our way, but there is no guarantee.”

Coco’s whimper sounded above, tears filled Mrs. Coleville’s eyes, and I knew things were about to get real tricky, real fast.

“Coco is no feline. She’s a mighty Yorkie, and she could be injured. By the time they get here, it could be too late.” She sniffed in.

I knew what I had to do. I was Coco’s only hope. But I was also deathly afraid of heights ever since I tumbled out of a tree fort at the age of eight. The thought of heaving myself into the canopy above made my knees wiggle and jiggle like raspberry J-E-L-L-O.

But I had to do it.

“I’ll go get my ladder. Don’t take your eyes off Coco.”

“Your ladder won’t reach.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “And she might jump.”

“We’ll come up with something. If we want to get to her in a timely manner, it’s our only option.” I handed her my phone ready and waiting to dial the vet. All she had to do was push the button. “Call Island Vet and let them know what to expect.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded weak and defeated.

I must not be displaying the air of confidence I’d hoped, which wasn’t too unusual. I ran to my garage and pressed in the code, willing the door to roll up faster.

“Hurry,” Mrs. Coleville hollered. “The leaf is shaking.”

And so were my knees.

I lifted the ladder off the hooks with a grunt. The metal scraped on the garage floor with every step forward as I hauled it outside. This definitely wouldn’t be tall enough to reach Coco, but it was all I had. Carrying the ladder across my yard and over to hers, took less than a minute, but by the time I arrived, Coco was letting out horrified barks and yips.

Disaster was about to strike. I could feel the tension in the air with each quiver of the giant maple leaf surrounding Coco.

“Can you grab some towels?” I asked calmly, not feeling an ounce of it as I gauged where best to lean the ladder. Wherever I propped it, Coco might get spooked into jumping, and that would be the end of Coco. The weight of Mrs. Coleville’s world balanced on my too slender shoulders and my nearly buckling knees.

She nodded and headed toward the front door. The leaf fluttered, and I focused on the surrounding area, searching for evidence of blood—or anything really—to gauge Coco’s injuries. She’d quieted some so I didn’t want to circle around the tree for fear I’d scare her, and she’d fall off the limb. She wasn’t a cat. There would be no springing back to life after that tumble.

As I waited for Mrs. Coleville, my mind drifted to BlznBookie. I wondered what he’d do in this situation. He always seemed adventurous and filled to the brim with good ideas and fixes. Whether he was rock climbing in Arizona or hiking the Pacific Coast trail, he had a solution for whatever problem arose. I should know because I stalked his blog daily.

BlznBookie also happened to be a faceless being who I’d only met through my book blog so the fact that he even popped into my head showed what a bizarre turn of events my social life had become since my divorce.

But seriously, I wondered what he’d do in this situation.

Mrs. Coleville came hurrying back outside and stood next to me with a stack of towels taller than she was.

I kept secretly hoping that sirens would sound in the distance, and I wouldn’t have to tangle myself in the limbs and leaves.

“I’m going to prop the ladder on this side of the tree and climb onto the limb across from Coco. It looks pretty solid, and I should be able to reach her from there, but if she gets scared and jumps, I want you standing below ready to catch her.”

“I always let Coco out on a leash. This is my fault . . . completely my fault. I never should have let her out this morning without me,” she mumbled into the towels.

“It’s nobody’s fault,” I said, staring at the tree and praying the fire department would show up in the next thirty seconds. This Yorkie was everything to Mrs. Coleville and if she didn’t make it . . . “We need to stay focused on the task at hand, which is to get Coco out of the tree and to the vet.”