“The ring’s not for an actual proposal—it’s for my mom and dad’s anniversary, which is—”

  “Tomorrow!” Sadie’s face lit with pleasure. “They were telling me at the wedding.”

  “My dad never got my mom an engagement ring. I guess he decided to surprise her for their thirty-fifth.”

  Sadie gave a wistful smile. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

  “We should take it to him now though. He called Michael this afternoon and found out the ring was missing. He’s probably about to tear his hair out. He’ll be at the shop for another hour or so, and we’d better catch him before he goes home.”

  “Oh, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see the look on his face. I’ll run and get the book.”

  “Meet me at the truck.”

  Though Sam would’ve loved a shower, he didn’t take time for one. Sadie met him at the truck a minute later and they headed toward the shop. Afternoon traffic had picked up, so the trip was taking a little longer than usual.

  Sadie fairly vibrated with excitement as she clenched the book in her lap. “I can’t believe it belongs to your dad.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when Michael rattled off Dad’s number.”

  “And it ended up in my library. How in the world? Are we almost there?”

  He tossed her a grin. “We’re five minutes closer than the last time you asked.”

  “I can’t help it. We’ve waited so long and your poor dad is probably—Oh! We’re here.”

  He pulled into the gravel lot at the back where the extra trailers were parked. “Good, it looks like we caught him alone. Mom sometimes comes in to work on the books.”

  Sadie tucked the book in her purse as Sam came around to help her out. As they walked toward the back of the building, he took her hand.

  She surveyed the old brick building, formerly a hardware store. “So this is where you work. It’s bigger than I expected.”

  “We hope to eventually rent and sell lawn-care equipment. Although Dad says he doesn’t have the energy for that. He wants Tag and me to handle the expansion.” He pulled open the door and ushered her inside. The familiar smells of gasoline and motor oil filled his nostrils.

  They found his dad in the front, pacing the small lobby. Since he’d hurt his back last year, he spent more time in the office answering calls and pushing papers than he did mowing lawns.

  Dad glanced over at their arrival. “Sam, Sadie. This is a nice surprise.”

  They greeted him, and his dad offered them coffee.

  “Don’t do it,” Sam muttered to Sadie. “It was brewed hours ago and it wasn’t that great fresh.”

  Dad scowled at him. “I was going to make her fresh.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ford, but I don’t need any more caffeine at the moment.”

  “Well, okay.” Dad put his hands on his hips. “What brings you by? You have a problem on a job, Son?”

  “No, Dad, everything’s fine. Can we sit and chat for a minute?”

  “Sure.” His dad took a seat in the lobby, and Sam and Sadie sat opposite him.

  Sam glanced at Sadie, who was about to levitate off her chair. He nudged her. “Why don’t you tell my dad why we’re here.”

  “We found your book!”

  Dad’s gaze toggled between them. “You what now?”

  Beaming, Sadie pulled the novel from her purse and handed it over.

  Dad’s face lit up as he received the hardcover. “My book!” He took it and opened it up. Removed the jewelry box from the compartment and snapped open the box. Upon sight of the ring, he sank back into his chair. “Oh, thank God. I was afraid it was gone forever.” His gaze sharpened on them. “How did you get this? Did Michael give it to you?”

  “Nope.” Sam nudged Sadie. “Go ahead, tell him how you found it.”

  “Your book’s been on quite the journey, Mr. Ford. It seems your friend Michael stashed it in the desk of his furnished apartment. But then he had to move suddenly, and in his rush he forgot about it. The new tenant, Aaron, moved in and found the novel. He handed it off to his mom, thinking she might like to read it. But it wasn’t her genre, so when she was cleaning out her late mother’s bookshelves, she added it to a box of books to be donated to her dad’s church library. Your church, incidentally.”

  “Moss Creek?” he asked.

  “Exactly. Ms. Stapleton received the box of books, but she already had several copies of the novel in the church library, so she sold it at the church’s rummage sale.”

  “Good grief,” Mr. Ford said. “That was weeks ago. It’s been missing that long?”

  “It’s certainly made the rounds. Some tourist probably bought the book at the rummage sale and must not have had the chance to read it because she left it in the Little Free Library I set up on the beach.”

  He shook his head. “Little Free Library?”

  Sam stepped in. “One of those small structures that are popping up on roadsides to house books.”

  “I put one up beside our house on the beach-access path.”

  “And the book ended up there?”

  Sadie laughed. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “I’m sure glad I didn’t know how long it was missing. I didn’t realize until this afternoon, and I’ve been a nervous wreck thinking the ring had been stolen or was permanently lost.” He gazed down at the beautiful ring. “But you found it.”

  “And just in time for your anniversary.”

  Mr. Ford’s face split into a wide grin. “Just in the nick of time.”

  “Mom’s going to love it, Dad. It’s a beautiful ring.” And then, because he knew Sadie was probably dying to know, he asked, “Is there a story behind that particular book? I don’t remember Mom ever talking about it. It’s not her favorite novel.” That would be Little Women.

  Dad stared at the cover, a pensive expression coming over his face. “There is a story, actually. Your mom was in the middle of reading this book when I asked her to marry me.” He offered Sam a droll look. “And I mean she was literally reading the book in her living room when I blurted out, ‘Hey, you think we should get married?’ I didn’t figure out until much later what a disappointment my proposal had been. I was an idiot kid, what can I say?”

  Sam chuckled at the thought of his dad, young and ignorant of a woman’s wishes. “Why have I never heard that story before?”

  “It wasn’t exactly my finest hour. To add insult to injury, I didn’t get her an engagement ring. I had some money put back, but we decided to use it as a down payment on a house instead.” He shook his head. “I should’ve gotten her one years ago, but since I didn’t, I wanted to do it up right.”

  “Boy, did you. That ring is gorgeous, and the thought you put into it is so sweet, Mr. Ford. She’s going to love that you remembered which book she was reading at the time.”

  “She never even grumbled about that lame proposal . . . Your ma’s never been one to complain.”

  “That’s true.”

  “She has no idea about the ring. We agreed to have our master bathroom renovated for our anniversary.”

  “She’ll be so surprised,” Sadie said.

  “And thanks to you kids, she’ll be getting the proposal she deserved the first time—even if it has been thirty-five years in coming.”

  Sadie palmed her heart. “She’ll be so touched by your thoughtfulness.”

  Sam suspected Sadie was exactly right.

  They headed out shortly after. Not even the drizzle that started on the way home could dampen Sadie’s spirits. She couldn’t stop talking about his dad’s romantic streak and making Sam promise to tell her how the anniversary surprise went over.

  He was flying high himself. What a great day. The ring had been returned—to his dad of all people—and Sadie was so happy to have solved the mystery. He enjoyed every mile of her bright chatter on the way home. The rain picked up, the wipers keeping time to the music on the radio. A boom of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of lightning.

  A while later he pulled into the drive. “Why don’t you come over for supper? I need a shower first, but I have steaks I can grill out under the overhang.”

  “I’m going to grab a shower too.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “But I should rescue Rio first. She’s probably hiding from the storm under my bed.”

  “Bring her with you.”

  Sadie exited the truck and darted through the rain. But before she could reach her stoop, he caught her around the waist, suddenly loath to part ways even for a few minutes.

  She shrieked. “I’m getting soaked!”

  He laughed. “So what? You’re about to get in the shower.”

  “Good point.”

  He turned her in his arms and gazed down at her. Her hair already hung in wet strands around her face. Water trickled like tears down her temples, making her makeup run.

  And she’d never looked more beautiful.

  He brushed a gentle kiss across her wet lips, savoring her soft, compliant mouth. Her arms came around his waist, and she pressed herself to him. When her lips parted on a breath, he deepened the kiss.

  The storm carried on inside him, the feelings swelling like an ocean wave. He wanted to hold on to her like this forever. The thought surprised him. Delighted him. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather be with.

  When they parted, their breaths mingled between them. “Don’t be too long,” he said.

  “I won’t.”

  He watched her scurry through the rain and dash up the steps. She tossed a smile over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

  He headed up the steps and into his own apartment. As he closed the door the storm quieted. He pulled off his wet shoes and grabbed a hand towel from the half bath. He was still wearing a dopey grin as he passed through the living room on his way to the stairs.

  His eyes caught on the stack of paper sitting in the printer’s tray. Sadie’s manuscript. In all her excitement about returning the ring, she’d forgotten about it. He headed that way and gathered the pages, tapping their edges on the table to line them up for her.

  And since her story was right there in his hands, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek. The first page drew him right in, the taut writing pulling him along. He was a few pages in when he realized the heroine’s problem was somewhat autobiographical—she had to write a romance novel but struggled with the concept because she’d never been in love. Surely that wasn’t true of Sadie. She’d mentioned previous relationships. Not that they’d talked specifically about love. He’d just assumed.

  He read on, beginning to skim now. There was an offer of a beach cottage. A steady diet of romance novels. A stumble down the front porch steps, and a grumpy neighbor living next door for the summer.

  Him.

  He was uncertain if he should be flattered or insulted. He continued skimming, his heart on high alert, vibrating in his chest like a tuning fork. There were differences in the manuscript. It wasn’t set on Tucker Island but on some Caribbean beach. The characters’ conversations weren’t recitations of Sadie’s and his. The hero seemed gruffer than he’d presented himself to be. The heroine was an English teacher, and her physical attributes differed from Sadie’s.

  But the similarities were obvious. The hero had Sam’s appearance and some of his mannerisms. There was a Little Free Library and a book with a hidden compartment—including an engagement ring. The couple in the novel made the same bargain. Skipping ahead, he found that the couple’s relationship developed as they searched for the novel’s owner.

  The heroine’s struggle to write a romance novel was all too familiar. The protagonist was hoping the upcoming wedding would bring the much-needed inspiration she was desperate for.

  Just as desperate as Sadie had been.

  For the first time since he’d picked up the manuscript, his gaze wandered away from the words on the page. Darted unseeing around the room. The unsettled feeling inside him grew stronger as warnings wailed in his head.

  They’d talked about this book. He’d offered to be a sounding board. She’d had plenty of opportunity to tell him she was basically writing their story. That she’d neglected to mention this did nothing to assuage his suspicions. Did nothing to quiet his qualms. He wished he could read the entire manuscript now because he needed to know more. He needed to see where this story was heading.

  He needed to know what happened at the wedding from the heroine’s point of view.

  What inspired that first kiss? Did the heroine enter the relationship with the hidden agenda of advancing her career?

  Had Sadie? The thought was like a fist tightening around his heart.

  Thirty-Five

  Everybody wants to be kind and caring, but you must not go easy on your protagonist.

  —Romance Writing 101

  After her shower Sadie took the time to blow-dry her hair and salvage her makeup. Not an easy task with that perma-smile etched on her face. She basked in the wonder of returning Mr. Ford’s anniversary gift. Not to mention that passionate kiss in the rain—she’d have to write that into her novel. Whew! Who knew thunderstorms could be so sexy?

  When she finished touching up her face, a peal of thunder rattled the windows. She gathered a quivering Rio in her arms. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy will protect you from the mean ol’ storm. Wanna go next door and see Sam? You do? Well, let’s go!”

  On her way out she grabbed the plate of cookies from the stove top. She wished she had more to contribute to dinner, but she’d been too busy this week to get groceries. Oh well, she’d make him dinner tomorrow night. Something nice, maybe spaghetti carbonara or seared scallops with a nice lemon herb sauce. She’d ask him what he’d like.

  Hoping to stay dry she slipped out the back and dashed for Sam’s door under the overhang. He had yet to touch the grill, but then, she hadn’t been gone that long.

  Holding both Rio and the cookies, she struggled to slide open the door. She slipped inside and pushed it closed. “Oh man, it’s a downpour out there. I brought cookies. I would’ve brought a side dish but—”

  She stopped at the strange expression on Sam’s face. He stood in the dining room, still in his wet work clothes, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “Why haven’t you—?”

  She noticed the sheaf of papers in his hand. It took a second to recognize those pages. And realize what he’d been doing the past thirty minutes or so. Her heart gave an unsettling wobble. “Oh, I left my manuscript . . .”

  There was more she should say. She just couldn’t figure out what that should be. The foreboding expression on his face stole the words from her mind before they could find their way to her tongue.

  He set the pages on the table. “Your story seems very familiar.” His deadened tone did nothing to allay her fears.

  “Yes, I know, I . . .” She thought her way through the story, trying to see it from Sam’s point of view. The similarities were obvious despite her efforts to deviate from real life as much as possible.

  He waited for her to continue, still watching her but detached somehow. There might as well have been a cement wall between them.

  “I was desperate for an idea—you know that. And then I had the thought of using the book with the secret compartment and it all just started clicking.”

  “Because most of it actually happened.”

  She winced. “Yes, that’s true. And I should’ve told you what I was doing, I see that now.”

  “Yes, you should’ve. Because now I’m wondering how much of this”—he waved his hand between them—“is real and how much is fiction.”

  “No, Sam.” She took a few steps closer.

  Eyes wary, Sam stiffened.

  “It’s not—I meant everything I’ve said and done. I care about you very much.”

  “Have you ever been in love? Or are you like your heroine? Is that why you were so nervous about writing this book?”

  Clearly not the time to profess her love for him—he might not even believe her at this point. Anyway, he was talking about earlier on, about her fears of writing an emotion with which she’d had no experience. “Yes, that’s why I was afraid to write it.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “So I have to know . . . when we talked about giving this relationship a try, did this story factor into your decision?”

  She opened her mouth, an emphatic denial on her tongue. But wait. She had considered that the relationship would be an inspiration. She specifically remembered thinking in terms of research. She grimaced.

  His expression closed as he looked away. “Right.”

  “That was just a small part of—that wasn’t the main factor at all, Sam. I was going to tell you about the similarities in the story, but—”

  “Similarities? It’s practically autobiographical.”

  Rio wriggled in her arms and Sadie loosened her grip. “Yes, you’re right. To be perfectly honest—”

  “That would be refreshing.”

  “—it was earlier in our relationship, and I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and I was getting stressed, and I guess I figured it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” She squeezed her eyes in a wince. “That sounds so awful. It was wrong. I should’ve been up front with you about it. I should’ve asked if you were comfortable with the idea.”

  He crossed his arms. Somehow that barrier seemed bigger and thicker than the cement wall she’d imagined before. “It’s not that you used our story for your book. I wouldn’t have minded that—you were desperate for an idea and I would’ve been happy to help. What bothers me is that you didn’t tell me what you were doing. You hid it from me and now I feel used. Now I wonder about your motives.”

  Her eyes burned. This was bad. Swallowed-by-a-big-fish bad. She was getting the terrible feeling she couldn’t talk her way out of this one. “I totally get where you’re coming from. You’re right. I should’ve asked you before I ever started writing that proposal.”

  He shifted. Scratched his neck. “I told you about my last relationship, Sadie. You knew that trusting someone again would be difficult for me.”