Chapter One
As Haven slipped through the farmers' market crowd, the side-eyed glances scrawled decades-old Haviland family gossip across her skin. She should've grown used to it, but these days it felt far more personal. And after all she'd done to help them. Or tried to help them, anyway. That was over now, though, thanks to her foolishness.
"Just like her mother," Mrs. Vermillion whispered loud enough to reach Haven's ears.
"All those Haviland kids are, in one way or another." Sandy Hugh, her mother's onetime best friend, tsked and shook her head. "Their poor father."
Haven fidgeted with the neckline of her blouse. Despite the heat, she tugged it up to her clavicle.
"Don't mind them, Haven. They only think they know our family." Her sister Rarity adjusted the scarf tying up her ebony tresses. With her capris and halter top, today's look made her appear as an extra on a sixties teen beach movie. Rarity handed each woman a three-by-five flyer advertising her vintage dress shop. "Ladies, bring this card into Fringe and Lace for thirty percent off your purchases." Unlike Haven, Rarity welcomed the attention-good and bad-and was determined to make a living off it. Rarity linked her arm through their brother's. "Daniel doesn't let the whispers bother him, do you, bro?"
"What was that?" Daniel kept his eyes laser-focused on a petite blonde selling honey from a tent directly beneath the grossly outdated Welcome to Whisper Canyon: Arrive a Stranger, Stay a Friend sign.
Haven's stomach clenched. Leave it to her twin brother to find the one girl on Main Street he hadn't already dated. On second thought, dated wasn't the right word. At least Haven wouldn't be seeing this one on her office couch in a few weeks. Maybe if she'd heeded the term conflict of interest before, she could've saved herself a whole lot of heartache. Haven blew out a breath and gathered her chocolate-brown hair in front of her right shoulder. Colorado shouldn't be this hot in early August, especially not in the mountains.
Rarity combed the loose strands with a gentle touch. "Everyone's just curious why their favorite counselor closed her practice. You've been the confidante for everyone in town as long as I can remember."
"Haven, you know what you need?" Daniel's voice was as smooth as his perfectly coiffed waves of hair. Her brother was too good-looking for his own good. "A date. One nice forget-your-troubles good time with a guy you'll never lay eyes on again."
Haven allowed herself two blinks before she opened her mouth, making sure her judgment didn't stretch across her face. "A man is the last thing I need right now."
"And your advice stinks worse than your cologne." Rarity turned her focus back to Haven. "You can talk to me, you know. Whatever you're carrying, you don't have to do it alone."
Just as she had her entire twenty-seven years, Haven molded her lips into a pleasant smile. Her family had been through the wringer. They certainly didn't need to fret over her. "I'm fine. Really."
"If you say so. I think I'll find some flowers for Mom's grave. Anyone want to join me?"
Nearby, two dogs barked a greeting to each other as their owners mingled over soy candles-a welcome distraction as Rarity's question hung awkwardly among the three of them.
Daniel looked over his shoulder toward the blonde. "I think I'll go sample the local honey."
Was there any point in trying to dissuade him these days? "Be careful, Daniel."
Her brother neared and kissed Haven's cheek. "You know me." Then he was gone.
"What about you, Haven?" Rarity asked.
A welcome breeze dipped into the canyon, cooling Haven's face. She and Daniel had taken after their mother in appearance. Their skin bronzed quickly in the sun. Still, at this altitude, Haven shouldn't risk it. "I need some of that sunscreen Delaney sells. I'm sure whatever you pick out will look great. I'll go with you to the cemetery, okay?" Haven put steps between them quickly, lest she give in. Those women were right. Nina Haviland had passed more down to Haven than just her skin tone, and Haven didn't feel much like memorializing her mother for it.
Half the town seemed to fill Main Street, just like every Saturday morning in summertime. And as always, the crowd split in two. On the east side of the street, where the high-end boutiques sold the finest apparel, jewelry, and handbags, the weekenders meandered with their fat wallets and designer sunglasses. On the west side, local artists hawked their paintings and goods while a group of young folks-probably drifters-sat on the pavement in front of a man who wore his blond hair in locs and picked a folk tune on his guitar. Haven walked straight down the center line, keeping her chin steady despite the stares from both sides.
She stopped at Delaney's skin care booth to peruse the product-filled tables. Reality burned brighter than the Rocky Mountain sun when Haven spied the sticker on the sunscreen. The bottle was smaller, and the price was higher. Too high for someone three months unemployed.
Something brushed Haven's hip. On her right, a tall man peered down at her. And while his smile was friendly, his eyes seemed to be canvassing her figure. Again, his hand swept against her side, not accidentally.
As gooseflesh rippled over Haven's arms, a woman on his right turned. When she noticed the person on whom her husband's unflinching gaze was focused, she dropped the lotion she'd been holding.
Haven swallowed hard, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. "Mrs. Singleton, how are you?"
Ramona Singleton brushed her bangs to the side as the man excused himself. "Hello, Haven. Pardon my husband. He's not himself today. It's the heat, I think."
"Perfectly understandable. It's getting to a lot of people, it seems." Haven gripped the strap of her purse tightly as she pondered what to say next. "I've been hoping-"
"I meant to call-"
Haven and Ramona exchanged awkward grins. "Go ahead," Ramona said.
"I've been hoping to hear back from you about the job at the preschool."
"Yes, about that . . . I have someone else in mind for the position. I'm sorry."
"Oh." Haven breathed in deep. "You've already filled it?"
"Not quite." Ramona backed out from under the tent. Her gaze darted nervously about the crowd.
Haven followed. "Is it my lack of teaching experience? My salary expectations? I'm willing to work hourly-"
"It's not that." Ramona sighed. "Some parents heard you were interviewing and . . ."
Haven nodded for her to continue.
"The mothers were nervous about you teaching their children. They've heard rumors. No one wants their husbands, well, you know . . . I can't say I blame them. I'm sorry." Ramona patted Haven's shoulder. "Some risks simply aren't worth taking."
She was a risk? And one not worth taking? Before Ramona could see the tears forming in her eyes, she slinked past her until a teenager stepped in her path.
"You look like a gal who loves adventure." The boy shoved a paper in Haven's hand. Pictures of crystals, stalactites, and stalagmites surrounded the words Whisper Canyon Caverns and Cave Tours. He must be a college kid working with Bo Radford for the summer. Whisper Canyon was ideal for that sort of thing, with its hot springs, outdoor sports, and adventures.
"You've pegged me wrong."
"You can't know a town until you know what's beneath the surface. We've got hour-long tours and half-day excursions." This guy was selling it well. Bo would be happy.
"No, thank you."
When Haven moved aside, the boy followed with promises of experienced guides and the highest safety precautions.
"I'm not interested." Haven thrust the advertisement into his chest and then ducked into a fully curtained booth. The smell of pine replaced the kettle corn from outside, and an artificial light cast a glow across the space. Two men negotiated prices in the corner, but Haven's focus went to the chirping little fluffballs hopping around a baby pool lined with wood shavings. Five of the chicks gathered on the far side, leaving one all alone nearest to Haven.
She kneeled to get a closer look. "Hello there. Aren't you sweet?"
The chick peeped.
A glance over her shoulder assured the men weren't paying her any mind, so Haven scooped up the solitary little chick, sheltering it between her hands and stroking its baby-fine feathers. "You are darling."
The chick kicked her feet, but something was off. On one foot, the toes stretched wide, forming a star shape, but on the other, the toes curled in on themselves. "Oh, sweetheart, is that why you're over here all by your lonesome? Have they cast you out? Poor thing. I think you're perfect. In fact, you are so perfect that I dub you Audrey."
"Excuse me, miss. I have a question for you. Are you planning to buy that Ameraucana?"
Instinctively, Haven drew the chick close, holding her against her chest. The other chicks now peeked out of a cardboard box, their heads bopping about in time with their chirps. Beyond the box, a pair of legs donning work boots and jeans rose vertically until the light over the baby pool washed out the rest.
"Because if you aren't, I'd like to." The voice was masculine enough to stir up a few flutters in her belly. Then the owner of the voice bent down into a crouch. The light caught the striking lines of his face. A strong jaw and straight nose played against the tuft of sandy hair peeking out from his backward baseball cap, creating a playful combo of boyish and manly. He wasn't from around here. Haven would remember him.
"I . . ." Haven started, peering down at the chick in her hands. "I hadn't thought about it." She had no coop. She had no house, either. At least not one of her own. With all Dad had going on, the last thing he needed to worry about was a pet chicken. "I guess not."
The cute guy watched her for a long moment. If he was in a rush, he wasn't showing it.
The chick wiggled against her palms.
"She has an injured foot."
His brow furrowed, and his lips dipped into a frown. He rose, then stepped around the pool to join Haven. When she stood, the man towered a good half foot above her. For some reason, she thought of the hickory armoire in her childhood bedroom at her dad's house. "It's sturdy," Dad had said the day he gifted it to her. Now as she stood in a darkened tent with this handsome stranger, all she could think about was that dumb piece of furniture.
"Sturdy."
"What?" he asked.
"Um, the chick. I don't know how sturdy she'll be as she grows." Haven opened her hands to give him a view of the animal.
Yet the man waited two feet away. "May I?"
It took a second for Haven to realize what he wanted permission for. A gentleman? Now she was sure he wasn't from Whisper Canyon. Haven gave a quick nod, and he moved in to inspect the chick. He allowed the warped toes to wrap his fingertip. He was gentle as he thumbed the tiny bones and talons. With his other hand, he stroked the chick's head. With each movement, he brushed Haven's hand, forcing her to train her thoughts on the animal-not the man whose ocean-clean scent threatened to buckle her knees.
No wedding ring. So much for training those thoughts. But she'd learned that was the most attractive trait a man could exhibit. Well, that and a habit of honesty, which was rare these days.
"I can try to splint those." His voice dove to a deep, lulling timbre. Was he trying to soothe the bird? Or her? "Hopefully, it's only cosmetic. If so, she'll still be plenty useful to me."
Haven closed her hands and twisted away from him. "Are you planning to eat her?"
His smile cracked. "Ameraucanas aren't meat birds. But I do plan to eat her eggs. Is that all right with you?"
The panic eased out on a breath. "I suppose."
He held out his hands. They were calloused but clean, and Haven liked the look of them. Sturdy.
Again, with that word. Haven placed the chick in his hands, his rough skin catching slightly on hers. Following her father's advice, she looked the man straight in the eye to let him know she could hold her own. Not that the guidance had worked for her so far. Here she was, unemployed with no job prospects, covered in salmonella, and debating custody arrangements for a chicken.
"Thanks, miss. I'll take good care of her."
"Audrey."
His forehead wrinkled. "Thanks, Audrey."
"No, I'm not Audrey. The chick is Audrey. Hepburn."
Confusion turned to amusement. "How about Audrey Henburn?" His eyes pierced hers. She couldn't tell their color in this light, but they crinkled at the corners and warmed her straight through. An image of the two of them sitting beneath a tree as the chicks hopped around their legs appeared in her head, but she quickly dismissed it. Her judgment, or lack thereof, was troublesome these days. A man, especially one like this, was the last thing she needed.
"That'll do." She stepped away from him and searched for words as he loaded Audrey into the box with the others. "Make sure the others are nice to her."
"I have a strict no-bullying policy in my coop. I even have a friend that knits sweaters for them. Audrey will get the nicest one."
The reality of his words jabbed Haven right in the gut. "Tell your friend to make Audrey a pretty black one. Maybe add a string of pearls."
"Will do." He had a great smile.
Haven spun on her heels and ducked out of the tent before she made more of a mess in her life.
Chapter Two
Jace Daring placed the box of chicks in the back of his pickup truck next to the potted rosebush and the wooden tractor toy for Elijah. That's who he needed to think of. Elijah. Rosalie. Jillian. Sonny. Not the brunette in the chick tent. He didn't come to Whisper Canyon to flirt with pretty girls. He had a job to do. Once he'd accomplished that, he'd shake this town's dust off his boots and never return. At least he hadn't been dumb enough to get her name. It was bad enough that he'd remember her whenever he saw Audrey Henburn. To think he had to promise to take care of her. As if he didn't have enough people relying on him to keep them safe. Now he had to add a chicken with a bum leg. He stared down at the peeping box, then brought it to the cab of the truck with him. He set it on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The engine roared to a start, and Jace fussed with the air conditioner so it wouldn't blast Audrey and friends.
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