Harlow cruised down Main Street during her lunch hour, perusing the quaint shops and eateries in the downtown area. She was still using a rental until her Saab was repaired from the accident. There was something eye catching in every direction she looked.
She had to hand it to Mistletoe. There were loads of restaurants, coffeehouses, clothing stores, and novelty shops. If she had more time, she would sit down at the Lobster Shack and order a nice seafood lunch. Since time was short until her next appointment, Harlow ran into the Coffee Bean and grabbed a bagel with cream cheese along with a hot vanilla chai.
In typical small-town fashion, she received numerous glances in her direction. Some folks openly gawked at her. Harlow might as well wear a sign on her forehead that said in bold inkOUT-OF-TOWNER. Being stared at was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world for Harlow. Even though she knew the townsfolk were merely curious about her, Harlow couldn’t separate the stares from her childhood experiences in Chestnut Ridge.Shake it off, she told herself. Don’t go down that road. Not now!
Today was about fresh starts and making the best of life when it handed you lemons. Mistletoe was one big lemon she planned to squeeze dry over the next year. At the end of her stay, Harlow would have made the sweetest lemonade of all time. Tim Gunn’s voice buzzed in her ear, urging her toMake it work!
At least this little town was visually appealing, with an abundance of New England charm. Maybe she should buy a postcard and send it off to her mother.Or not!Deidre Jones would no doubt lecture her about small towns and the terrible things that could happen there. Although she had told her mother about moving to Mistletoe for a year, Dee probably didn’t remember. Sadly, she currently resided in a nursing home on Cape Cod due to the progression of her dementia.
Harlow and Malcolm had been raised on that negative mantra about small towns, never being allowed to forget their painful past or the grudge their mother carried against the people of Chestnut Ridge. It was understandable, considering the fact that her upstanding father had been accused of embezzlement and branded as a criminal. For that reason, a mistrust of small towns was imprinted on Harlow’s soul like a permanent tattoo. Sometimes small towns made her feel claustrophobic, as if air was being sucked from her lungs.
Stay positive.Being in Maine was far from ideal, but at least she would be able to do what she loved. Being a veterinarian had taken years of hard work and discipline, but putting in all the hours was now paying off. She loved working at Paws.
Paws, her new place of employment, was located a few blocks away from the main drag on a cute tree-lined street. Although it was within walking distance of downtown, she’d felt too lazy to walk. Plus, driving around gave her an opportunity to see all the sights.
The Free Library of Mistletoe rose up to greet her as she drove past, a stately and majestic building. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was where Stella’s sister Lucy worked as head librarian. Lucy’s husband, Dante West, a famous Hollywood actor, had recently filmed scenes from one of his movies there. That was probably as exciting as Mistletoe got. An actual A-list celebrity came back to his hometown for Christmas, fell in love with his high school sweetheart and then married her. If that wasn’t a Hallmark movie, she didn’t know what was.
Fall had graced Mistletoe with gorgeous foliage on the town green. Bursts of orange, crimson, and gold caught her eye. A quick glance at her watch confirmed she had another twenty minutes to kill before heading back to the clinic.Why not take advantage of the glorious autumn weather?She pulled into a parking spot by the town green and headed toward a nearby bench. She sat down and proceeded to eat her bagel while taking in the beautiful landscape stretched out before her.
Her eyes focused on a boy and the adult with him—maybe his father—playing fetch with a large dog. From this distance it looked like a German shepherd, but she couldn’t be certain. Harlow loved all animals, but dogs held a special place in her heart. She’d grown up with a rottweiler named Rambo, who’d instilled in her a lifelong love of dogs, as well as inspiring her career as a veterinarian. She couldn’t wait to be reunited with Bear later on this afternoon. Things just weren’t the same without him. Or Malcolm. Ever since they were kids he’d been her best friend and rock.
The little boy laughed raucously and hurled the ball in her direction. Harlow watched as the ball landed a few steps away from her. For a little kid, he had quite the throwing arm. She stood to retrieve the toy and hurl it back in the dog’s direction. When she looked back up, the German shepherd was barreling toward her with abandon. She raised her arm to throw it at him just as he attempted to grab it from her hand.
Ooof!Next thing she knew, Harlow was lying on her back on the grass with one hundred pounds of dog sitting squarely on her chest. He began licking her face and lavishing her with attention. She tried her best to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. What were they feeding this dog? Was this yet another small town annoyance?
“Zeus! No. Off,” a little voice commanded. The dog immediately got off her and sat down next to the boy, who was shaking his finger at him. “Bad dog. You need to listen. Now you’re really in for it. Here comes Dad.”
Harlow sat still for a moment, trying to catch her breath.Dang!Was this dog some type of Cujo? A hound from hell? As a veterinarian she’d come across a few over the years. Actually he looked kind of cute, but he weighed a ton. Harlow knew she should really stand up, but she still felt a bit winded.
Someone else joined them, and she registered a low adult male voice reprimanding Zeus. Harlow had a feeling she must look fairly ridiculous lying flat on her back among the leaves.
“Harlow!” For a moment confusion swirled around her. Nobody in town knew her yet, so how was her name being uttered in this deep, sexy voice? Glancing up, her eyes landed on a familiar and unforgettable face. With the sun glinting in her eyes, Harlow could have sworn there was a golden halo around his head.
“Nick!” His name flew from her lips as soon as she recognized the man who’d rescued her the other day. Was it really him?Of course it was.How many men who looked like this were walking around Mistletoe? He gave new meaning to the wordstall, dark, and handsome. In his gray pullover and dark jeans, he looked casual and sporty. And 100 percent fine.
He offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked, peering closely at her face.
She brushed dirt and leaves off her coat while trying to appear unfazed. “I-I’m fine. Just a little startled.”
Harlow felt almost as shocked to see him as the first time they’d crossed paths. If it was humanly possible, he looked even better than she remembered.Mistletoe’s finest!He had to be at least six foot two—maybe even taller—with a rugged frame that spoke of his job duties…rescuing damsels in distress from near disaster. His beautiful brown skin was flawless. Who knew the state of Maine had been hiding such a fine specimen? She could get used to this!
“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” Nick said, his beautiful mouth turning upward into a magnificent smile. Have mercy! His grin went straight to her gut, where butterflies began to wildly flutter around. This man was pure Kryptonite.
“Well, at least this time I’m not dangling over a cliff.”
“It’s time we met for real.” He held out his hand. “Nick Keegan. And this is my son, Miles.”
She reached out to shake his hand. Her palm tingled with awareness. “Harlow Jones.”Keegan.Why did that name sound so familiar? It was nagging at her, but she couldn’t figure it out. Being in Nick’s orbit made thinking straight a difficult task.
He placed a hand on his chest. Nick quirked his mouth. “I can’t apologize enough for Zeus’s behavior. He just joined our family, so we’re still sorting out some issues.”
“If it’s any comfort, he was definitely going after the toy. I just happened to be in the line of fire,” Harlow answered. She’d been around enough dogs to know aggressive types. This dog wasn’t that variety.
“Still,” Nick said, sounding annoyed, “he used to work with search and rescue. He knows better. Or at least he should. Perhaps that’s why he was cut from the program.”
Miles shrugged. “Maybe he thought she needed a rescue,” he said lamely.
Nick scowled at his son. “Or maybe he needs more training. A bit of discipline.”
