He's No Prince Charming (3 page)

Maybe that’s what you need
slid into his brain, but he shoved it right back out.

Stay away from her
, he told himself, but as he walked up on the dock toward his office, he couldn’t resist casting a glance up the hill to her cabin. Sure enough, Dakota was standing there on the steps, but turned away quickly as if she didn’t want him to know she was watching, and lost her balance. With a little squeal, she grabbed the banister to keep from falling. Trace shook his head and felt an odd sensation, and then realized it was because he was actually smiling. He rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “As quiet as a church mouse,” he mumbled.
“Right.”
Dakota Dunn was going to be trouble in spades; he just damned well knew it.

Based on her recent klutziness, no one would ever believe she had been a part of the hip L.A. scene, even rubbing elbows with some pretty famous people in her bubblegum glory days. But then again, no one had ever thrown her for a loop like Trace Coleman did.
Must be stress or maybe PMS
, she told herself. Or perhaps her love life, or lack thereof, could have something to do with her reaction to a hard-bodied male sporting a wicked bad-boy attitude. Of course, she had other, more pressing things on her mind lately, like her shrinking finances and her failed career, and she reminded herself she had to keep focused.

After placing a steadying hand on her chest and the other on the banister, she made her way up the steps to the porch. Dakota paused, imagining some colorful potted plants, a couple of rocking chairs, and perhaps a grapevine wreath on the front door. She assured herself that with a little bit of sprucing up, the cabin could be clean and comfortable while providing the serenity she needed to compose her songs.

Dakota smiled softly when she remembered that she had written her very first lyrics while sitting on this porch way back when she was still in pigtails. She used to wander around the property with a pen and tattered journal, writing poetry and often falling asleep in the oddest of places, frightening her poor mother half to death. While smiling at the memory, she suddenly longed to grab her guitar and start strumming away, but she needed to get the cabin in order first. With that in mind, she took a deep breath and turned back toward the entrance.

“Time to get started,” she said with determination. But when the door opened with an eerie creak, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and cautiously crept into the room, careful to avoid another cobweb incident. “Don’t even think about the mice,” she mumbled, and then of course thought about them. Having the lights on helped, but the musty smell of loneliness clung to the air. With a wince, Dakota hurried over and opened the windows in the living room, and then stood in the center of the cabin and took a good look around.

“So much in my life has changed since the last time I was here,” she whispered, but then swallowed the sudden lump stuck in her throat when memories of past visits filtered into her brain like a slide show. She closed her eyes and could almost hear the soft tinkle of her mother ’s laughter and her father ’s booming voice. Although she had lived in a modest home in town with her parents, her father had spent a great deal of time up here at Pine Hollow Lake as a fishing guide, and as often as they could, she and her mother would join him. It had been one of her proudest moments when she had been able to purchase the marina and camp, saving it from being torn down and turned into a housing development with expensive lots overlooking the lake, unlike the small cabins that were tucked into the hillside, preserving the landscape.

Dakota walked over and gazed out of the front window. A gentle breeze filtered through the screen, bringing the scents of pine, earth, and water. Inhaling deeply, she looked out over the pristine lake that served as a haven for the hardworking folks of Tall Rock and the surrounding farming community. Dakota was well aware of the fact that she could have sold the marina and kept her home in L.A., but as she soaked in the beauty of the blue water shimmering in the late-day sun, she smiled, knowing she had made the right decision.

Her smile faded, though, when she reminded herself that she couldn’t continue to fund her father’s retirement and live off of revenue from the marina for much longer. Trace might think she was clueless, but she was well aware that gas prices and a slow economy were taking its toll on the profit margin. In fact, Dakota wondered just how he had managed to keep the marina in the black during these tough times. After a long sigh, Dakota turned away from the window.

She knew she should start cleaning, but the lure of a long walk along the lake suddenly seemed too enticing to pass up, and so she decided to go outdoors for some fresh air while it was still light out. She located her now daisyless flip-flop, and then hastily turned her shirt around before stepping outside onto the porch. After skipping down the steps, Dakota lifted her face to the warmth of the sunshine and smiled, barely resisting the urge to spin in a circle like Julie Andrews in
The Sound of Music.
Then she laughed out loud while thinking that fatigue was probably making her a little slaphappy. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of purpose and hope.

As she crossed the gravel road, Dakota couldn’t resist looking over at Trace’s cabin, hoping she might catch a glimpse of the cranky cowboy. Her heart thumped harder when she spotted him walking, bare-chested and wearing low-slung board shorts, across his back deck. His halting gait reminded her of his leg injury, and she realized he was going for a soak in a large hot tub visible from the road. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Trace suddenly looked her way. Like a shy school-girl, Dakota averted her gaze and quickly entered the wooded trail that led down to the shoreline.

“He’s just a guy. Stop being so silly,” she grumbled to herself as she walked down a well-worn path, but then smiled when the glistening blue lake suddenly came into view.

With an excited intake of breath, she hurried forward but then tripped over an exposed root. She let out an alarmed cry as she thrust her arms forward in anticipation of landing hard, and fell in a puddle of mud from a recent storm. She stood up, but winced when her rubber soles sank in the muck. Something weird was on her tongue and she spit it out, dearly hoping it was a leaf. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she stood there for a minute and willed her heartbeat to slow down.
So much for a leisurely stroll
, she thought.

“Are you okay?”

Startled at the sound of the deep voice, Dakota staggered backward, but her flip-flops stayed suctioned in the mud, and she landed on her butt. She looked up at Trace as he took a step closer and frowned down at her.

“Dakota, what exactly are you doing?”

“Thought I’d do a little frog gigging,” she answered breezily, while attempting to wipe the mud off of her hands. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Really?” he asked incredulously.

“No!” she answered with a chuckle, and waited for him to join in, but he only frowned. “I fell, okay? I’m not normally this clumsy, but I’m a bit out of my element.”

He nodded as if in agreement.

Dakota tried to shake the mud off her hands, but managed to fling some onto Trace’s bare chest, which she noticed was very nicely defined. As were his abs. She cleared her throat and said, “How in the world did you get down here so fast?”

Trace jammed a thumb over his head. “There is a direct path from the back of my deck. I heard you yell.” He crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge as big as softballs, and gave her an annoyed sigh. “Then I thought I’d better see what happened. Again.”

Okay, that did it. She lifted her chin a notch. “I’m fine. You can go now.”

He extended his hand but failed to smile. “Come on. My path is easier.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” she muttered. Briefly, Dakota thought about refusing his offer, but didn’t want to appear petulant, so she allowed him to help her up.

“Follow me,” he said, but quickly released her hand and turned around before she could refuse.

A little irritated at his attitude, Dakota felt like rushing past him, but in mud-caked flip-flops and wet jeans, it was all she could do to keep up. She also knew that her attention should be fixed on the lumpy path, but she couldn’t quite tear her gaze away from a butt you could bounce quarters off of. That’s when she tripped on another pesky root and thrust her hands out in anticipation of falling, just as Trace came to an abrupt halt on the hill.

She was saved from falling by grabbing his butt, which felt as firm as it looked.

Dakota quickly righted herself as he pivoted to face her. “Sorry!” She blinked up at him, but suddenly found the situation unbearably funny. “Really,” she continued, while laughter bubbled up in her throat, but she somehow managed to control herself. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I almost believe you,” he replied in a deep deadpan tone, making Dakota wonder if he possessed a sense of humor at all. Her smile faded, and she decided to make it her goal to squeeze a smile out of him somehow, some way as she followed him up the path to his deck.

“Sorry to have interrupted,” Dakota said with a glance at the hot tub. The steaming water looked inviting, but when he didn’t make any offer for her to join him, she said, “I’ll, um, be going now.”

“Okay,” he answered with a guarded expression that for some inexplicable reason made Dakota want to reach out to him. But of course she didn’t, and when he turned around, she hesitated, searching for something to say, but then walked away.

When she reached the porch, she kicked off her muddy flip-flops, and after locating her toiletries, headed straight for the shower. She suddenly felt too exhausted to even think about spiders and mice, and even though it was still early, she ate a bag of pretzels for dinner and then headed for bed, hoping she would get a good night’s sleep.

After a restless night of tossing and turning, Dakota woke up to the sound of birds chirping. While rubbing her eyes and yawning, she considered staying in bed longer for some much-needed sleep, but wanted to get started on cleaning the place up. Although still shaken by her unusual encounters with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody, she felt measurably better about her current situation, which, unfortunately, still wasn’t what one would call
good
.

After changing into denim shorts and a yellow T-shirt, she scrounged around in her purse for something to eat since she didn’t want to go to the marina kitchen just yet. “Yes!” She smiled when she located a slightly mangled but edible oatmeal granola bar, and gobbled it up. The need for coffee was almost too dire to ignore, but Dakota made do with a can of Diet Coke left over from her drive.

“Okay, then,” While dusting her hands together, she took a look around. The furniture was old but sturdy and had a certain rustic charm, and with some buffing the hardwood floor could gleam and shine. The plaid curtains her mother had sewn years ago were faded and needed a good washing, but complemented the cozy furnishings.

To the rear of the living room was a breakfast nook with a round oak dining table and four high-backed chairs. Dakota smiled at the plaid cushions that matched the curtain fabric, and remembered her mother humming as she sewed. Dakota had helped her tie them to the chair rungs with neat little bows, and then proudly showed them off to her daddy after he returned from fishing. The soft cotton had gone from bright red to muted rose, but only added to the charm of the cabin.

The colorful, soft touch of her mother’s hand was everywhere, and Dakota suddenly missed her so much that it felt like a deep ache in her chest. It wasn’t the first time that she wondered if the few years of fame had been worth the cost. In fact, she had entered the Miss Teen pageant on a whim, never really expecting to win, much less to become a singing sensation. Luckily, her mother had traveled with her early on, and instead of being a momager terror, she had protected Dakota from being exploited. Later, when Dakota had been advised to move permanently to L.A., her mother had returned home because of her father’s heart issues.

Oh, how she had worried about her father and had missed her mother. She had desperately wanted to come home, but her parents had insisted that she stay and not give up what they thought was her dream. “Oh, boy,” Dakota muttered as she leaned against a chair, shaking her head and chuckling without humor. Now she was faced with reinventing herself and returning to the road, or risk having to sell Willow Creek Marina. But the mere thought of bulldozers touching the pristine property had her pushing away from the chair. “No way!”

Dakota bit her bottom lip and massaged her fingertips to her temples, wishing she had gotten a better night’s sleep. Swallowing hard, she pivoted to the right and entered into a galley-style kitchen. Knotty pine cabinets flanked a small sink with a window above overlooking a deck built by her daddy years ago.

A sloped backyard abutted tall trees that offered lush green shade in the summer, but that turned to burnt orange, deep red, and bright yellow in the fall, Dakota’s favorite season and one she had sorely missed while in sunny California. Winters in Tennessee were generally mild, but not without an occasional ice or snowstorm that brought stark beauty to the lake. Although trips to the cabin in harsh weather had been few, memories of hot chocolate, games of Scrabble, and crackling wood in the fireplace brought another smile to her face.

And then an unexpected vision of Trace snuggled up with her in front of the hearth snuck into her brain. Frustrated, she turned away to explore the rest of the cabin, checking out the bathroom and closets while making mental notes of items to purchase. But when she entered the master bedroom and eyed the rumpled covers on the big brass bed, another vision of Trace had her putting fingertips to her lips.

“Ohmigod, just stop!” While grabbing the bedpost, she closed her eyes and then told herself once again that she had best stay far away from testy Mr. Temptation. She was here on a mission, and the last thing she needed was to be sidetracked. She rested her warm forehead against the cool brass and groaned, “Mmmmm.”

“So, there you are,” Trace said behind her.

Startled, Dakota spun around so fast that she lost her balance, and in an effort to regain it, squeezed the bedpost hard. But her hands slid on the slippery brass and she fell to her butt with a thump on the hardwood floor.
Dear God! Not again!
She’d fallen more in the past two days than she cared to remember, and it was always in front of Trace. He certainly had an effect on her sense of balance. “Ouch!”