Edited by: Pat
The bravest thing you'll ever do is love again.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 1
That sure smelled like smoke.
Steve McAllister backed out from his crouched position under the sink and laid down the wrench. Hopefully, the patch on the pipe would work. "Laura! Are you cooking something?"
He clomped over to the industrial oven. Cool to the touch. He peeked inside, just in case. Empty.
The inn had ten guest bedrooms, and eight of the rooms had their own fireplaces. It was summer and there was no reason to use them. Steve sniffed the air and turned in a circle. The smell didn't come from upstairs. Out the window over the kitchen sink, Steve spotted one of the inn managers, Laura Wittmore, working in the garden. It wasn't like her to ignore town code and burn something out in the yard.
He yanked open the back door. "Laura. Are you burning something? Leaves, maybe?"
Laura rolled her eyes at Steve, her hands on her hips. Her baby girl was walking not far from her.
"Burning leaves at the end of summer? We have months yet for that. Don't tell me you hit your head in there, Steve."
Steve laughed. "No, I didn't. Something is burning."
Laura frowned.
He went through the back door and his eyes landed on the door that led to the basement. "
Of course,"
Stevethought
.
These old mansions came complete with ancient and terrible wiring. The whole place could go up in a heap of smoke if he didn't act fast.
Steve hurtled down the stairs. The sight that met him made him freeze for a moment.
A woman he'd never seen before hunched over a metal tub in the middle of the floor. Her copper hair splayed across her face and blocked him from seeing her expression. Pieces of paper fanned out in all directions around her.
He took a step forward. She didn't look up. Steve scooped up one of the papers. It was a handwritten letter. "
Dear Diana..."
Her shoulders trembled. She muttered, "Never again."
Diana tossed a stack of folded papers onto the small fire burning in the tub. Flames licked the edge of the bin as the papers started to curl and turn black. Next, she grabbed a mound of white fabric from beside her. If she tossed that wispy bunch of cloth into the small tub, the fire would get out of control. Not to mention smell awful.
Steve crossed to where she was. Almost in a daze, Diana lifted her arms, ready to stuff the white pile of fabric into the fire.
Steve caught her wrists. "Are you crazy? Don't do that." He tugged what was now registered in his head as a dress out of her clutches.
Diana slammed her hands onto her hips. "Give that back."
Steve tossed it out of her reach. She moved to go after the dress, but he grabbed her slender shoulders, and she finally looked at him. He knew enough about women to know only one thing could cause those huge raccoon marks on her face. She'd been crying. Not just crying, sobbing. But even the running mascara couldn't mask her simple beauty. The splash of freckles across her cheeks, delicate nose, and pursed lips as she exhaled... everything about her screamed
protect me
.
Steve shook that thought away. He'd had the opportunity to protect more than one person he cared about and failed miserably. He didn't deserve another chance.
A thin breath rattled out of her, and she shrank away from him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing..." Diana looked like a scared animal begging a hunter not to shoot her. "Can you please hand me my wedding dress?"
"Your...?" His eyes darted to the white pool of fabric he'd thrown to the corner of the basement. The girl was going to shove a wedding dress into the fire? What could have happened to her? "You can't burn that in here. It's not safe. Besides, a wedding dress is something to keep forever."
"Forever. Ha, ha, ha. Forever doesn't exist." Diana ran the back of her hand under her eyes. Brushing past him, she scooped up the dress. "Give me my dress back."
Steve tugged the dress away from her. "You're going to burn the inn down."
He strode past her to the sink near the washer and dryer and filled a pitcher with water. Walking back to the small metal tub, he doused the fire inside. The flames hissed as they died.
"You had no right." She crossed her arms over her chest and her foot tapped on the concrete floor.
"And you have no right trying to burn down the inn," Steve repeated.
"I wasn't going to..." She yanked a hair tie off her wrist and pulled her hair into a quick, messy bun. "I'm sorry."
He took a step closer. Despite her obvious grief and the bad lighting in the basement, Diana's features were stunning even in her present state of distress. Her green eyes were deep with locked secrets.
Her lips quivered. "Can I just have my dress back? Please?"
"Not if you're going to try to do something crazy with it again." He moved his hands behind his back.
She balled her fists up at her sides. "I'm so tired of people telling me what I can and can't do." She marched toward him.
Steve stood still.
"It's just... I can't believe it..." She dissolved into a mess of tears and ragged breaths. Hands covering her face as her shoulders hunched, her knees began to buckle.
No man in the world could handle a woman when she cried like that. He didn't even know her and her tears were making his heart bunch into a knot.
Steve dropped the dress and caught her elbows before she hit the ground. She wasn't even trying to stand anymore. He had to press her to his chest and wrap his arms around her just to keep her upright. "Hey! Don't pass out on me!"
He tightened his hold a bit. "Did someone harm you? Are you in any sort of danger?"
One of her fists pounded against his shoulder three times before her fingers worked open and bunched the fabric of his flannel shirt front. "How could he? I loved him. I was ready.... Everything was already planned.... How could he?" She sniveled into his shirt right next to his heart.
"Whatever happened, I'm sorry you had to go through it." Steve patted her back.
Diana rested her forehead against his chest and took a few rattling breaths. How long had it been since he held a woman in his arms?
Two painful years.
The washing machine along the south wall clicked and started whirling. The tiny legs of the machine clattered against the cement with a high-pitched scratching sound.
The sound snapped Diana back to attention.
She pushed out of his arms. "Oh. I'm so sorry. How stupid of me. You must think that I..."
"You don't have to explain." He handed her the wedding dress.
