Page 45 of Seaside Cowboy's Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Twelve

“PLEASE EACH MOVE TOthe opposite sides of the door. Just as a precaution.”

When Rachel gestured as they climbed the stairs to a porch that evening for the meeting with the video’s creator, Kennedy suppressed a grimace. Yet she obliged, and so did Austin. Rachel was just doing her job. Kennedy studied the place. Mme. Lavigne’s house wasn’t what Kennedy was used to or expected.

Flower beds with bright pansies surrounded the cute Tyrolean-style dwelling, its chocolate-brown beams and cutwork trim accentuating the white facing. One of the cheerful canary-yellow curtains behind an arched window moved, so someone was home. Above the massive oak front door, also arched, the brown awning looked like an eyebrow raised in surprise. The miniature house could serve as a gingerbread-house inspiration—or a fairy-tale setting.

But as Kennedy knocked and stared at the incredible man by her side, she remained lost in their conversation at the café. Their gazes met and held, and she didn’t want to look away.

In her life, he was an ocean breeze, refreshing and tender, but also a prelude to the winds of change. Instead of cowering and avoiding that change, could she welcome it?

As bright and cheerful as the flowers surrounding the house, he was so different from the tidy hedge of men she’d been surrounded by. Unlike them—and yes, herself—Austin never seemed to care about keeping up an image, saying the right thing, doing admirable gestures, or striving for a higher income. He was fine with being goofy and even awkward while he changed the world one pet at a time, including unwanted ones.

Her lips kicked up just from seeing the smile on his handsome face. She had to shove her hands into the pockets of her summer dress to keep from reaching out and touching the reddish stubble on his face or running her hands through his hair with those tints of autumn maple leaves.

There was more to it than his eternal optimism or authenticity. Though she’d soaked them in because, in her life, both came in even smaller portions than the coffee at the local café.

She wasn’t just discovering a new town or a man who was still new to her, despite their marital status. She was discoveringherself, and for the first time in her life, she was excited to get to know that someone. He looked at her as if she were the most amazing and kindest human being in the world, and as she stared into those admiring blue eyes, it would be so easy to believe she was such a person.

Her heart stirred as she shifted closer to him. Then she remembered Rachel’s words and moved back. He filled her with joy and often laughter, and she liked the hope-filled, relaxed person she was with him way more than the uptight, sad, and lonely one she’d been before him.

But a hard-earned caution dampened all that joy. After all, that breeze could become a storm. If she allowed herself to hope too much, to love too much, she could lose the object of her affection. Because it had always happened that way.

Wasn’t that why she was here? She winced as the door opened.

Huh. The video’s creator wasn’t what Kennedy expected, causing her a slight sting of guilt for stereotyping.

“Hello. You must be Kennedy and Austin Crawford.” A petite lady with long white hair, wrinkled, liver-spotted hands, and an engaging smile waved at them.

Unlike Kennedy’s family tradition, Mme. Lavigne didn’t wear any diamonds or pearls. Instead, she sported heart-shaped earrings carved from oak and a matching bracelet. Her daffodil-hued cardigan paired with a long oatmeal skirt didn’t look expensive. Yet Kennedy’s heart warmed as if the woman was the grandma she’d never gotten a chance to meet.

“Yes. Great to meet you, Mme. Lavigne. And this is our friend, Rachel. Thank you very much for agreeing to see me.” Kennedy returned the smile. She kept it in place even as something—apprehension?—tightened the crow’s-feet surrounding the hostess’s faded light-blue eyes.

Whatever it was, it disappeared fast, and Mme. Lavigne waved them inside. “Nice to meet you all. Come on in.”

Rachel stepped inside first, probably to neutralize any unexpected threat. While Kennedy grew to admire Rachel, Kennedy would never be able to do the kind of job Rachel did. Mme. Lavigne shuffled after them in bubblegum-pink slippers.

Inside, textured wallpaper with rows of wheat-colored braids beckoned inspection, and Kennedy didn’t resist the urge to touch the walls. The hardwood floors had suffered many grooves and a few scratches, so they might’ve been the originals. And that made the room even cozier as it beckoned one to imagine the years of happy living that had occurred within.

Mme. Lavigne led them to a cozy living room where souvenirs filled the built-in shelves and gestured to the sofa with its pattern of tiny forget-me-not-style blue flowers. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

Austin and Kennedy sat there while Rachel opted for the armchair. But when Mme. Lavigne offered refreshments, Rachel spoke fast. “I’m good, but thank you.”

Which reminded Kennedy she didn’t know whether they could trust this person. “Same here,” Kennedy said with a tinge of regret. “Though I appreciate the offer.”

Austin also politely declined.

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