Brambleberry Shores: The Daddy Makeover / His Second-Chance Family. RaeAnne ThayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
before heading to work. She couldn’t leave this girl alone here, not when she apparently didn’t have the first clue how to find her way home.
She shrugged out of her hooded sweatshirt and tucked it around Chloe’s small shoulders, immediately shivering herself as the cool ocean breeze danced over her perspiration-dampened skin.
“Come on. I’ll help you find where you’re staying. Your dad will be worried.”
Conan barked—whether in agreement with the plan or skepticism about the level of concern of Chloe’s father, she wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, the dog led the way up the beach toward downtown with more enthusiasm than he’d shown for the ocean-side run. Chloe and Sage followed with the girl chatting the entire way.
In no time, Sage knew all about Chloe’s best friend, Henry, her favorite TV show and her distant, work-obsessed father. She had also helped Chloe find a half-dozen pristine sand dollars the gulls hadn’t picked at yet, as well as a couple of pieces of driftwood and a gorgeous piece of translucent orange agate.
“How do you know so much about shells and birds and stuff?” Chloe asked after Sage pointed out a surf scoter and a grebe.
She smiled at Chloe’s obvious awe. “It’s my job to know it. I’m a naturalist. Do you know what that is?”
“Somebody who studies nature?”
“Excellent! That’s exactly what I do. I work for an organization that teaches people more about the world around them. When I’m not working on research, I get to show people the plants and animals that live here on the Oregon Coast. I even teach classes to kids. In fact, our first nature camp of the summer starts today. That’s how I know so many of the local children, because most of them have been my campers at some time or another.”
“Really? That’s so cool!”
She smiled back, charmed by the funny little creature. “Yeah, I think so, too.”
“Can I come to your camp?” The girl didn’t wait for an answer. “My dad has another hotel in Carmel. That’s in California, too, like San Francisco where we live. Once I went with him there and my nanny took me to see the tide pools. We saw starfish and anemones and everything. It was supercool.”
Her nanny, again. Did the girl’s father even acknowledge she existed?
“Did you at least tell your nanny where you were going this morning?” she asked.
Chloe stopped to pick up a chipped shell to add to the burgeoning collection in her nightgown pockets. “Don’t have one. Señora Marcos quit two days ago. That’s why my dad had to bring me here, too, to Cannon Beach, because he didn’t know what else to do with me and it was too late for him to cancel his trip. But Señora Marcos wasn’t the nanny that who took me to see the tide pools anyway. That was Jamie. She quit, too. And the one after that was Ms. Ludwig. She had bad breath and eyes like a mean pig. You know what? I was glad when she said she couldn’t stand another minute of me. I didn’t like her, either.”
She said this with such nonchalance the words nearly broke Sage’s heart. It sounded like a very lonely existence—a self-involved father and a string of humorless nannies unwilling to exert any effort to reach one energetic little girl.
The story had a bitterly familiar ring to it, one that left her with sick anger balled up in her stomach.
None of her business, she reminded herself. She was a stranger and didn’t know the dynamics between Chloe and her father. Her own experience was apropos of nothing.
“Does any of this look familiar?” she asked. “Do you think your beach house is close by?”
The girl frowned. “I’m not sure. It’s a brown house made out of wood. I remember that.”
Sage sighed. Brown and made of wood might be helpful information if it didn’t describe most of the houses in Cannon Beach. The town had strict zoning laws dictating the style and aesthetics of all construction, ensuring the beachside charm remained.
They walked a little farther, past weathered cedar houses and shops. Sage was beginning to wonder if perhaps she ought to call in Bill Rich, the local police chief, when Chloe suddenly squealed with excitement, which prompted Conan to answer with a bark.
“There it is! Right there.” Chloe pointed to a house with an unobstructed view of the ocean and the sea stacks. Sage had always loved the place, with its quaint widow’s walk and steep gables.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Chloe nodded. “I remember the fish windchimes. I heard them when I was going to sleep and it sounded like angels singing. And I remember the house next door had those big balls that look like ginormous Christmas ornaments.”
Sage shifted her gaze to take in the collection of Japanese glass fishing floats that adorned Blair and Kristine Saunders’ landscape.
“Do you have a key?” she asked the girl.
Chloe held tight to Conan’s collar. “No. My dad didn’t give me one. But I climbed out the window of my room. I can just go back that way.”
Sage was tempted to let her. A quick glance at her watch told her it was now twenty minutes to seven and she had exactly forty minutes to change and make it in to work. Her life would certainly be easier if she let Chloe sneak into her rental house, but it wouldn’t be right, she knew. She needed to make sure the girl’s father knew what Chloe had been up to.
“We’d better make sure your dad knows you’re safe.”
“I bet he didn’t even know I was gone,” Chloe muttered. “He’s going to be mad when he finds out.”
“You can’t just sneak out on your own, Chloe. It’s not safe. Anything could have happened to you out on the beach by yourself. I have to tell your dad. I’m sorry.”
She rang the doorbell, then felt like the worst sort of weasel when Chloe glared at her.
Before she could defend her action, the door opened and she forgot everything she intended to say—as well as her own name and how to put two words together.
Chloe neglected to mention the little fact that her father was gorgeous. Sage swallowed hard. The odd trembling in her thighs had nothing to do with her earlier run.
He had rugged, commanding features, with high cheekbones, a square, firm jaw and green eyes a shade darker than his daughter’s. It was obvious he’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was wet, his chest bare and he wore only a pair of gray trousers and an unbuttoned blue dress shirt.
Sage swallowed again. Why did she have to meet a man like him today when she smelled like wet dog and four miles of sweat? And she already disliked him, she reminded herself.
“Can I help you?” he asked. She didn’t mistake the shadow of irritation on those rugged features.
She blinked and tugged Chloe forward.
“Chloe?” he stared at his daughter, baffled concern replacing annoyance. “What’s going on? I thought you were still sound asleep in your bed. What are you doing out here in your nightgown?”
She didn’t answer for a moment then she shrugged. “Nothing. I just went for a walk to get some more sand dollars. I found a ton. Well, Sage helped me. Look.” She thrust her armload at her father.
He didn’t take them, gazing at his daughter’s hard-won treasure with little visible reaction. Or so Sage thought, until she happened to catch the storm clouds scudding across his green eyes like a winter squall stirring up seafoam.
“What do you mean, you went for a walk? It’s barely six-thirty in the morning!”
Chloe shrugged. “I woke up early but you were still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you up. I was just going to be gone for a minute, but…then I couldn’t remember how to get back.”
“You