Second Chance on Cypress Lane--Includes a Bonus Novella Read online

  “Land sakes, Sinclair, what on earth is all this noise about?”

  Dakota stepped out from behind Sin’s truck. “Hey, Dad.”

  She searched his face, older and more tired than she remembered it. He’d always been her big, strong father. North of six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. Built like a Mack truck. But today he looked a few inches shorter and frail. Like he needed a good meal.

  “Dakota?” His hands trembled as he inched toward the edge of the porch. As if he didn’t trust his vision.

  “Yes, sir.” She stepped closer, barely able to see through the tears that had formed the instant she’d seen him. He was much slimmer than he’d been when he’d come to New York to spend Christmas with her six months ago. “It’s me.”

  “It’s so good to see you, baby girl!” He stepped down from the porch carefully, limping a little and holding on to the railing. He opened his arms wide.

  Dakota rushed into her father’s arms, her tears wetting his shirt. He smelled of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice aftershave.

  At least that hasn’t changed.

  “Why are you limping, Dad?” Dakota asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “My right knee has been a little gimpy. Just part of old age. Nothing to worry about.” Her father held her at arm’s length, his eyes glistening. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve fixed us some dinner and spruced up the place.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.” She sniffled. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is!” He hugged her to him again. “I hope you plan on staying more than a day or two this time.”

  “Actually, I thought I might stay for a few weeks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “The station made some cutbacks, and I lost my job. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang out here until I figure things out.”

  “These big companies are cutting their workforces everywhere you look,” he grumbled, his wiry salt-and-pepper eyebrows gathering. His devastating layoff was still a sore subject for her father. “I’m sorry, Dakota. I know how much you loved that job.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  It was a gracious thing for her father to say since he’d never wanted her to move so far away or to go into television. He’d spent the majority of his life in their small town. His distrust of big cities had been solidified by his older sister’s death at the hands of a mugger a few years after she’d moved to Detroit. And he’d been worried about Dakota going into a male-dominated industry that relied so heavily upon one’s looks.

  “Doesn’t matter what brought you here, Dakota. I’m just glad you’re home.”

  “Ahem.” Sin cleared her throat as she lugged the large suitcase behind her with one arm and toted the heavy picnic basket with the other.

  “Sorry, Sin.” Dakota grabbed the picnic basket, while her father grabbed her luggage.

  He chuckled when he discovered how heavy it was. “Guess you weren’t joshing about staying for a while.” He turned to Sin and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. “Thank you for bringing my girl home. Best surprise I’ve had in a mighty long time.”

  “I told you we’d get her back here eventually,” Sinclair whispered loudly.

  “I can hear you two. You know that, right?” Dakota called over her shoulder as she climbed the porch stairs.

  “Umm-hmm. And we don’t even care,” Sin taunted.

  “Are those your famous fried pork chops and prize-winning blackberry cobbler I smell?” Oliver nodded toward the basket.

  “The very same, sir,” Sin said proudly. “And I made Dakota’s favorite, too. Lemon meringue pie.”

  “Then I hope you plan on staying to help us eat it.”

  Dakota’s cheeks tightened in a big, genuine smile that she could feel all the way down to her toes. She exhaled, drinking in the sense of comfort that settled over her and eased the tension in her shoulders for the first time since her world had imploded three months earlier.

  Her heart wasn’t racing and her teeth weren’t clenched. She felt centered and calm as she stood on the wraparound porch of the home where she’d grown up, despite the gentle teasing of her father and her childhood best friend.

  She couldn’t hide out here forever, and she had no intention of giving up her dream of being the lead news anchor in a major market. But maybe spending a few weeks back on Holly Grove Island wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

  Chapter Two

  Dakota’s eyes fluttered open as the sun warmed her face. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and danced around the room. She surveyed the space for a moment before it registered that she was back home in her old bedroom.

  It was a separate suite on the third floor of the large Victorian home. Larger than her cozy little prewar apartment with original floors in the East Village that she’d been forced to sublet. The apartment had barely been as big as a postcard. But it had been all hers, and she’d adored it. Letting go of the place had broken Dakota’s heart.

  An additional insult to the growing list of injuries.

  She stretched and kicked one foot out from beneath the covers. At thirty-four she was living back home with her father, her career in shambles and her love life a complete disaster.

  Terrific. She was really going places. Dakota sifted through her luggage, grabbed her toiletries and some fresh clothes, then headed for the bathroom.

  After her shower, she took a half hour to check her LinkedIn profile and review the job alerts she’d set up on various career boards. Something she’d done nearly every morning since losing her job three months ago. A task that took much longer given the turtle speed of her father’s internet service. Then she made her way downstairs in a T-shirt, a pair of old shorts, and her bare feet. The smell of coffee, blueberry pancakes, and bacon wafted throughout the house. She smiled as she crossed the kitchen and kissed her father on the cheek.

  “Everything looks good. Smells good, too. Since when do you cook?” The words struck her as soon as they’d left her mouth, and a pained look crinkled her father’s eyes. Her mother had done all of the cooking. What choice did her father have but to learn to cook for himself now that she was gone? “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s okay, baby girl.” Oliver smiled at her warmly. “I know what you meant. Go on and have a seat. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  Dakota slid onto the kitchen chair, her cheeks stinging with heat as an uncomfortable silence settled around them.

  Her father set her plate on the table and handed her a fork and knife. After he’d set down his own plate and silverware, he placed the blueberry maple syrup in front of her and a bottle of sugar-free syrup near his plate.

  He sat down and nodded toward her still untouched food. “What, you don’t trust your old man’s culinary abilities?”

  “Of course I do.” Dakota snickered, picking up her fork. She cut into the light, fluffy pancakes, and took a bite. The pancakes melted in her mouth, and a hint of lemon melded with the fresh blueberries. “Dad, this is really good. Like…”

  “Mom’s?” Her father chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly the highest compliment I could hope for. Especially since your mom spent the months immediately following her diagnosis teaching me to cook. She insisted that a man living alone needed to be able to cook for himself. I think she was afraid I’d marry the first woman who showed up on my steps with a hot meal if I couldn’t.”

  “Sounds like Mom. Determined to control things, even from the great beyond.”

  Oliver laughed. “Your mother was a very organized and determined woman. That’s for sure. It’s one of the things I loved most about her. It’s one of the things I love most about you, too.” He winked at her.

  “I thought my stubbornness drove you crazy.” Dakota recalled their last big argument.

  He’d rented a U-Haul to collect her things from her college dorm and drive her home after her graduation ceremony. That was when she told him she’d landed a paid int
ernship at a television station in New York, so she wouldn’t be returning home. She was moving into a tiny apartment with four roommates—two of whom were male. It was the angriest she’d ever seen her father. Still, she’d stuck to her resolve.

  “Sometimes,” he acknowledged. “But even then I admired the trait. I was proud of you for making your own decisions. For your conviction and tenacity. I still am.”

  Dakota bit her lip and her belly burned. If her father only knew what a mess she’d made of her life and career, it’d break his heart. She would have to tell him eventually, but it didn’t need to be today. She watched, one brow raised, as he poured the syrup on his pancakes. “Sugar free? That’s not like you.”

  “Watching my figure.” He patted his belly, now practically gone, and chuckled. There was something concerning behind the smile, and his laughter felt forced. Besides, her father had always despised diet and sugar-free anything.

  She was all for her father living a healthier lifestyle, but why the sudden change?

  “You’re sure everything is okay?” she asked, unconvinced.

  “Peachy.” He set the bottle down and sliced into his pancakes.

  Dakota poured more blueberry syrup on her plate. Something was definitely going on with her father. And she would make it her business to find out what it was.

  “Looking forward to the Fourth of July Festival?” He seemed eager to change the subject.

  Dakota shrugged, her muscles tense. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be paraded around town. I thought I’d hang out here. Decompress. Do some job hunting.”

  “But you’ve always loved the Fourth of July Festival. And it isn’t small-potatoes stuff anymore. The town goes all out. You should see it.”

  Dakota could remember everything about the last Fourth of July Festival she’d attended on Holly Grove Island. The heat had been unbearable, and it was sticky and humid. But none of that had mattered to her because she and Dexter had been together. And she’d been head over heels in love with him.

  In her head, she’d already mapped out their future together. They’d both go to Texas A&M and get married after she graduated. But they’d hold off on having children until they were both established in their careers. Him as a pro football player and her as a nightly news anchor.

  Back then everything had seemed simple. She’d been so sure of what lay ahead for them. But here she was, seventeen years later, decidedly single and with no clue what her future held in store.

  “I don’t know, Dad.”

  “Look at it this way,” he said. “The festival will give you a chance to get all of those awkward hellos out of the way in a single day. If you don’t, you know what’ll happen.”

  She did. If she didn’t make an appearance, everyone in town would eventually stop by. One by one.

  “You’re right. I should get it over with.” She shoveled more pancakes into her mouth. They really were delicious. Her mother would be proud.

  “That’s my girl.” Her father settled his big brown eyes on hers and grinned. “Now that you’re going to the festival…Lila Gayle has a favor to ask of you.”

  “How’d Ms. Lila know I was…” Dakota shook her head and laughed. “Never mind. For a moment I forgot where I was.” Word of mouth traveled faster here than the high-speed internet she was already beginning to miss. “What’s the favor?”

  “She was asked to sponsor and judge an event at the festival. But she needs someone to help cover the café booth during the event. She’ll have a cook there,” he added quickly, likely in response to the look of alarm on her face. “But she’s short waitstaff. She just needs you to take the orders, pour coffee. Stuff like that. Should be a walk in the park since you’ve worked the festival booth for her before.”

  Dakota had been a server at Lila’s Café on weekends and during summers while in high school. So she’d also worked the booth during the Fourth of July Festival.

  “She’d pay you, of course.”

  Dakota waved off that bit of information. “I’m happy to help Ms. Lila out, Dad.”

  “I’ll let her know.” Her father munched on a crispy piece of bacon triumphantly.

  She had always liked Ms. Lila. It would be good to see her again. Besides, working the booth would ensure that any prying conversations remained short and sweet.

  Still, the thought of seeing everyone in town made her a little queasy. In the months before she’d left for NYU to pursue a degree in journalism, her mother had cornered anyone who would listen and compared Dakota to icons like Ida B. Wells and Gwen Ifill, proclaiming that her baby girl was headed off into the world to “make a name for herself.” The scandal with Marcello had certainly accomplished that. Just not in the way her mother had hoped. If just one person discovered the truth, the entire town would know within hours what a failure she was, making her humiliation complete.

  Her father’s place felt safe and comfortable. Outside these doors she’d be a nervous wreck, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Chapter Three

  Dexter Roberts had attended the annual Fourth of July picnic at Holly Grove Island Park nearly every year of his life, except the summers he’d worked during college. Yet he was more nervous than he’d been while awaiting the results of the surgery to repair the devastating knee injury that ended his football career.

  A salty morning breeze blew off the Atlantic Ocean, rustling the canvas tents in the Food Alley section of the festival. Dexter hovered between the booths where Ms. Lupita was already preparing all manner of mouthwatering Mexican dishes and Ms. Louise and her daughters were setting out their delectable, handmade fudge and taffy. He tugged down his baseball cap and tried to be inconspicuous as he scanned the early crowd through his dark shades.

  “You look as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Dexter Roberts.” His mother jabbed his side, surprising him. “Skulking around here looking for—”

  “I’m not skulking, Mama. And I’m not…exactly…looking for anyone. I’m just—”

  “Dakota Jones! How wonderful to see you, love.” Lila Gayle Eriksson, owner of Lila’s Café, had as thick a British accent now as she’d had the day she’d arrived in town nearly thirty years ago. “I can’t thank you enough for popping ’round to help me out.”

  His attention snapped to the two women the moment he heard Dakota’s name. It’d been a long time since he’d seen her. Longer still since they’d spoken.

  She wore a simple sleeveless denim shift that hinted at the curvy frame hidden beneath. The midthigh length of the dress revealed miles of smooth mahogany brown skin and toned thighs and calves.

  A curtain of glossy, tousled chestnut-brown waves shielded her face from view. But then she tucked her hair behind her ear, making half of her face visible.

  She was even more stunning than he remembered.

  “You wanna tell me again how you’re not looking for anyone in particular.” His mother stood with her arms folded and one brow hiked. “Nearly got whiplash turning to see Dakota the moment Lila Gayle called her name.”

  Dexter rubbed his neck, turning his attention to his mother. There was no fooling Marilyn Roberts. It was foolish of him to try. But that hadn’t ever stopped him and his younger brothers from trying to pull one over on her, just the same.

  “So I wanted to see Dakota. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged. “We were friends. There’s nothing unusual about that.”

  His mother’s expression softened. She rubbed his arm. “I think it’s safe to say you two were more than just friends, honey. And no, there’s nothing unusual about you being nervous to see her again.”

  “I didn’t say I was nervous,” he interjected.

  “No, you didn’t.” She grabbed his hand. “But those sweaty palms, your rapid breathing, and the way you keep rubbing the back of your neck are telling the story loud and clear.”

  “It’s ninety-two degrees out here. Everyone has sweaty palms.” Dexter pulled his hand from hers, wiping them both on his bo
ard shorts. He swallowed hard, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart, his dry mouth, and the quivering in his gut.

  “You should’ve taken my advice and gone over to Oliver’s to see her. Gotten all of the awkwardness of that first meeting out of the way—without the entire town’s prying eyes.” She glanced around before returning her attention to him. “In a town the size of a postage stamp, you two were bound to run into each other eventually.”

  Dexter sighed, not acknowledging his mother’s I-told-you-so. But she was absolutely right. According to the town gossip chain, Dakota had been back nearly a week. Plenty of time for him to stop by and say hello. But he hadn’t. And so here he was, preparing himself for public castigation by the woman who’d once meant everything to him.

  “Dex, honey, don’t let this opportunity to reconnect with Dakota pass you by. She means too much to you.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Dexter frowned. “We’re different people now.”

  “Yet your feelings for her don’t seem to have changed.” His mother offered an encouraging smile. “Perhaps she feels the same. Only one way to find out.”

  He glanced at the spot where the two women had stood. They were gone.

  Another missed opportunity.

  “They stepped inside Lila Gayle’s booth,” his mother offered, as if she’d read his thoughts. “I believe Dakota is helping her out, like old times.” She grinned. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, have you?”

  “No, ma’am.” Dexter shook his head.

  “Now seems like as good a time as any.” His mother winked, then checked her watch. “I’m headed over to the first aid tent to start my shift.” She called over her shoulder, “Give Dakota my regards.”

  Dexter took a deep breath, readjusted the brim of his baseball hat, and leaned against the light pole a stone’s throw away from the Lila’s Café booth. His heart thudded in his chest and his pulse raced at the thought of reconnecting with Dakota. He’d blown it with her. He couldn’t change that. But that hadn’t stopped him from wishing he could go back in time and handle things between them differently. Or from wanting her in his life again. If not as lovers, then at least as friends.