More Than Cookies (The Maple Leaf Series) (3 page)

After tossing two handfuls of water at his face, he slicked his hair back and pushed to his feet again. Climbing the small hill on the other side of the brook proved to be a monumental task that sapped what little strength he had left. Somehow, though, he reached the back porch of Cressen’s place and was psyched to find the door there unlocked.

Good old Vermont trust in humans.

Too bad he was betraying that trust by breaking and entering, but the police would understand. He’d come back and clean that blood off the hickory wood floor where he shuffled across. He passed through what appeared to be a sitting room with furniture covered with sheets. He stumbled past a bathroom, and tripped into a bedroom with a bed frame but no mattress and two matching nightstands.

Though his vision was getting spotty again, he managed to find a cordless phone on one of the nightstands. He picked up the handset and hit the talk button.

Nothing happened.

Groaning, he continued through the house to a living room and found another cordless phone. No dial tone there either.

Cressen’s house had been for sale for a few weeks and they must have shut off the phone service.

Fuck.

The closest house was his own, but he couldn’t make it that far. No way.

Maybe if I rest for a few minutes…

He lowered to one of the two couches in the living room and brought his legs up. More blood spilled out of the wound.

I’ll replace the couch too.

Tired. He was suddenly so tired. Just a little rest, and he’d think of a new plan. Right now, all he could think about was closing his eyes. As he did so, an image of Myah came into his mind. She was smiling like she did every time she saw him. He could look at that smile forever.

He’d go find her… right after this quick nap. Her image wavered, then everything went black.   

Chapter Three

“Are you sure about this, Sage?” Hope sat in the passenger seat of Sage’s orange Subaru Crosstrek—The Pumpkinmobile they all called it—as they drove up a bumpy dirt driveway.

“When do I ever do anything I’m not sure about?” Sage parked next to a white SUV and closed the sunroof.

“Like never, but moving out of Mom’s place? Really?” Hope slurped up the rest of her iced coffee and jiggled the ice around.

“It’s time, Hope. I know Mom would let me stay indefinitely, but I need my own space. I need to be a grown-up. We’re over thirty, you know.”

Hope grunted, but looking through the windshield at the farmhouse made Sage positive she was doing the right thing. The wraparound porch alone was a huge selling point. She absolutely loved to be outside whether it was working in a garden like her mother, just sitting around reading a book, dreaming up new recipes for her catering clients, or hiking in the woods. This farmhouse and the surrounding twenty-five acres called to her.

As she gazed at the house, a tall brunette appeared at the front door and waved.

“There’s Danielle Fayette,” Sage said. “Do you remember her from school?”

Hope narrowed her brown eyes as she looked at Danielle. “Didn’t she date that kid who played the tuba in the high school band?”

“Yeah, that’s her. She works for New England Realty now.” Sage got out of the car and Hope followed.

“What happened to the tuba player?” Hope asked as they neared the front steps.

“He married the quarterback and they live in Boston.”

“I see. So I’ll not mention it to Danielle?” Hope hoisted her purse onto her shoulder as she removed her sunglasses.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Sage climbed the steps and opened her arms to hug Danielle. “So nice to see you again. You remember Hope, right?”

“Of course. Great to see both of you. You look wonderful.” Danielle offered them a pleasant, welcoming smile. “Shall we take a look around outside first?”

“Sure.” Sage followed Danielle around to the back porch with Hope close behind.

“Quite a view.” Hope pointed to a string of mountains all purpled in the late afternoon shadows.

“That’s one of the best things about this place,” Danielle said. “That and the view out the living room windows. Wait until you see it.” She gave Sage’s forearm a light squeeze.

Danielle spent the next thirty minutes showing Sage and Hope all the outdoor features—a hot tub, a patio, a fire pit, and a tractor shed, along with trails coursing through the woods that surrounded the house. Everything was just as it had looked online when Sage had requested more information and an appointment to see the property. Right after she’d filled out a profile on Soul2Soul.com, hoping to find a match in the man department as well.

She’d uploaded a picture of herself taken at Rick and Lily’s wedding and within ten minutes had fourteen hits on her profile with twelve emails requesting contact. She’d reviewed the profiles from the twelve emails and narrowed it down to two possibilities. After tossing a coin, she’d picked Scott Henrison, a St. Jamesbury police officer who liked hiking and cookies of all kinds. Seemed like a perfect match for her. She loved hiking, and cookies were her specialty. They’d chatted online and had set up a date for tonight.

Sage didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she had a good feeling about Scott. He seemed… different than the men she usually dated. More serious, more mature, more ready for a serious relationship. The last guy she’d dated she had met at Black Wolf Tavern in town. He’d been hot, fun to play pool with, and an awesome kisser. Beyond that, however, he didn’t have what it took to maintain an adult relationship.

Scott, on the other hand, was a cop. He had to be a grown-up if they let him carry a gun, right? Besides, he was damn cute in his profile picture.

“Want to see the inside now?” Danielle jingled the keys in front of Sage.

“Absolutely.” Sage gestured to the door and hooked her armed around Hope’s. “What do you think so far, dear sister?”

“The outside is beautiful. I already have at least a dozen ideas for improvements.” Hope squeezed Sage’s arm then released her to step inside the farmhouse after Danielle.

Sage took a moment to survey the front yard from the door. Two big clay pots rested in the shade on either side of her on the porch. Filled only with browned stalks of whatever had been planted there, the pots called for her help. They’d look fabulous with hot pink impatiens bursting with color inside them. Hanging baskets of purple petunias would add interest all along the sunny porch from front to back. Catmint in big bunches at the base of the front porch would do well to fill in the empty beds. If Sage knew her sister, Hope was thinking the exact same things.

Sage stepped across the threshold to catch up with Danielle and Hope. She found them in the kitchen looking at the gas stove and ohhing and ahhing about the center burners that turned into a griddle for making pancakes and such. A wonderful kitchen for a caterer.

She wandered farther into the house, running her hand along the freshly painted, copper-colored walls of the kitchen. Crossing a threshold bordered by rough-hewn pine boards, she stopped to inhale the smell of wood.

What is that other smell?

While she definitely smelled pine, her nose detected another odor as well. “Do you guys smell that?” she asked.

Hope and Danielle joined her at the doorway to what appeared to be a living room. Both women stuck their heads into the room and inhaled deeply.

“Ugh, what is that?” Hope asked.

“I was just here last week,” Danielle said, “and it didn’t smell like this then.”

“Smells like sweat and…” Sage closed her eyes and inhaled again. “Sweat and blood. You know? Kind of metallic.”

Hope and Danielle both nodded as Sage stepped deeper into the room. Two couches sat in the center back to back. One faced a fantastic woodstove with a wall of stone behind it. The other faced a built-in entertainment center with bookcases on either side and a spot for a big-screen TV.

Kneeling on the couch facing the woodstove, Sage rested her elbows on the back of it and drew in another deep breath. “I’d swear it was coming from…” She bent her head down and looked on the other couch. “Oh. My. God.”

She hopped off the couch and ran around to the other one. Hope and Danielle joined her, but both stopped short when they saw what Sage had already seen.

“Is he… is he dead?” Hope asked.

Sage lowered to the floor beside the couch and took in the full picture of the dark-haired man occupying the cushions. His eyes were closed and his hands—spectacular man hands with a funny-looking pinkie finger—rested on his bare stomach. A stomach bunched with muscles leading up to a well-defined chest. He took up much of the couch, his feet hanging off the armrest at one end and his head—one sporting a rather beautiful face with dark brows, a regal nose, and full, parted lips—laid on the opposite armrest.

“He’s breathing,” Sage finally said once she was able to tear her eyes from the light scruff of a dark beard surrounding his impressive mouth.

“He’s also bleeding.” Danielle pointed to his right thigh where a red wetness glistened in the fading light on a shirt tied around his leg. “I’m calling 911. See if you can find out who he is.”

Sage poked at the pockets of his cargo shorts until she came to a full pocket. She reached into that pocket and pulled out a wallet. She was about to open it when the hand with that funky pinkie finger closed around her wrist.

“Please help me,” the man rasped.

Bright blue eyes met Sage’s green ones and, for a moment, no one else existed in the world.

“We’re going to get you some help…” She opened the wallet, flipped past a few pictures she didn’t waste any time looking at, and found a driver’s license. “Mr. Orion Finley. We’ll get you some help. I promise.” She turned her hand around and took his hand. As she smoothed her thumb over his knuckles, he closed those magnificent eyes and let out a small grunt of pain.

“Thank you…” Then he was out again.

Sage instantly missed his amazing blue gaze.

“Ambulance is on the way,” Danielle said. “I’m so sorry, Sage. I can show you another house instead. I never imagined—”

“I’ll take this one.” She stood and stared down at the man, this Orion Finley. What a fantastic name.

“What?” Hope and Danielle asked at the same time.

“This house. I want it.”

She’d never been surer about anything. Ever.

****

Orion opened his eyes and blinked in the dim lighting. He turned his head to his left and saw the machines beside the bed, hisses and soft clicks sounding as his vitals were monitored. He raised his left arm, pulling slightly on a few wires and a tube.

The hospital. How did I get here?

Then he remembered the beautiful blonde woman with the sharp green eyes who had said she’d get him help. Apparently she’d been real and had done as she’d said she would.

A woman who kept promises. That’s different.

He made a move to sit up, but something didn’t feel right. His right leg. Why couldn’t he feel it? In one quick pull, he ripped off the blankets covering him from the waist down and struggled to raise himself up.

“Easy, there,” a female voice said from the doorway of the room.

Orion quickly yanked the blankets back over himself as he squinted toward the hallway, light pouring in around a lovely female silhouette.

“Sorry,” the woman said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She silently entered the room, but in the low lighting, Orion still couldn’t see her all that clearly. Her voice was familiar though.

“You’re the one who called the ambulance?” he asked.

Her hair slid over her shoulder as she shook her head, and even in the shadows, Orion could tell that hair was silky soft. Not that it mattered. His fingers weren’t going to get anywhere near that hair. No, sir. Not going to happen.

“My friend did. I was the one who found you bleeding in my new living room.” She leaned toward the wall behind the bed and pushed something that made a small light come on. Her lips were turned up in a friendly smile that appeared harmless enough, but Orion knew better. Females were never—ever—harmless.

Well, except maybe his little Myah. She was pure sweetness and he’d make sure she stayed that way.

“I’m Sage Stannard.”

She held out her hand, and he stared at it, hesitating to touch her. That was how it started. You shook a woman’s hand and the next thing you knew, you’d fallen for her. A few years later, however, while you thought everything was wonderful and everyone was happy, she’d stab you right in the heart with a blunt, rusty three-foot sword blade. And she wouldn’t stab you once either. Oh, no. Multiple stabs until your heart was Swiss cheese.

“Don’t shake hands where you come from, Mr. Finley?” Her hand was still hovering over him, her wonderfully long fingers wiggling slightly now.

“Did you say Stannard?” he asked, still regarding her hand as if it were radioactive.

“Uh-huh, and I assure you, this hand is clean. I do a lot of baking so clean hands are important to me.” She smiled again, but Orion knew it to be part of her bag of female tricks. He wasn’t falling for it. No way.

“Are you related to Rick Stannard?” Questions. Questions would keep him from touching her.

“He’s my cousin. You know him?” She finally lowered her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her flowered shorts. Shorts that led to remarkably long and toned legs. Clearly this woman did not sit on her ass all day.

“Rick built my workshop barn.”

“It must be a spectacular place to work. My Ricky’s a genius when it comes to barn building.” Her smile now radiated pride in her cousin’s craftsmanship.

“It’s my favorite place to be.”

“What kind of work do you do there?” She set a floppy-looking purse down on the end of his bed. How long did she plan to stay? And did he want her to leave?

No.

That settled it. Trouble was coming. Soon.

“I carve stuff.”

She laughed. “Not much for words are you, Mr. Finley? What kind of ‘stuff’ do you carve?” Now she sat on the small chair beside the bed and crossed those magnificent legs.