Whispers of a Miracle Excerpt

Hugh’s Cottage 
May 1 
7:30 p.m.

Hugh’s housewarming party was in full swing by the time Eric worked his way to the food. He filled his plate with a variety of appetizers and slid into a seat in the back corner of the yard. Shortly after, Gabe joined him, bringing a plate of food and a bottle of Tabasco sauce.

“Not spicy enough for you?” he quipped when Gabe opened the bottle.

Gabe laughed. “You northeasterners and your delicate tongues.” He nodded at Eric’s plate. “Come on, man, live a little. A few drops of heat might even put some hair on that bald chest of yours.”

Eric reached for another chip. “Now, that’s just mean. You’re jealous because yours isn’t bald.”

“No, it’s definitely not,” Gabe quipped. “Mine has just enough hair to be sexy.

Eric snickered. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He took a bite of the ale-bacon-cheddar dip with a crispy tortilla. The flavors spread across his tongue, reminding him of what an amazing cook Hugh’s sister Yvette was.

“I might have a delicate tongue,” Eric returned. “But I bet my palate is more discerning than yours. Too much of that spice will stunt your taste buds.”

“Not true,” Gabe denied. He scooped a generous bite of the dip and let it linger before nodding. “See, that’s maple-smoked bacon—not regular—and I bet Yvette cooked it in a cast iron skillet with a little bacon grease and olive oil to keep it crispy.” He took another taste. “Sharp white cheddar, probably Cabot, blended with a mild yellow. And that ale … King’s Amber, right? Three tablespoons, give or take.”

Eric’s mouth fell open. “How …? I’ve eaten this dip a dozen times, and there’s no way in hell I could have called that. How did you know?”

Gabe’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I could taste the maple and the cheddar blend,” he admitted. “But the bottle of King’s Amber, and the recipe for the dip were still on the counter.”

“You’re such an ass.” Eric tossed a chip, which Gabe promptly caught, and scooped up another bite. “Had me going, though.”

Gabe smirked. “Sometimes, you’re just too easy.”

“That probably comes from having two older brothers and Hugh giving me a hard time throughout my youth.”

“Big brothers can be jerks.”

Eric studied the other man for a few minutes, waiting to see if he’d say more about his older brother. What he knew about Tino, he’d learned from Lee. Tino had been involved with a New York gang and had been violently killed four or five years ago. He’d been one of those individuals trouble found easily. His behavior seemingly the opposite of Gabe’s

“Why are you sitting in the corner with me instead of with your groupies?” Gabe asked.

“My groupies?” Eric lifted a brow. “That’s not me—at one time it was Hugh. Back at you, though. Why are you over here with me instead of sitting with one of the lovely ladies here tonight? I understand Tia’s free.”

Gabe winced.

“Oh? Is there a story I don’t know? Did you date Tia?”

“A few times last year. It was nothing.”

“Hmm.”

“Really. I thought she was dating Hugh.”

Eric shrugged. “Maybe once or twice. Now, though, he’s only interested in Brianna.”

“Leaving us as the only single men in this group.” Gabe glanced around the backyard. “Although unless I want to encroach on one of your women, I’m out of luck.”

“They’re not my women,” Eric tossed back.

“And the other three,” Gabe continued. “Are they even legal?”

“Family,” Eric murmured. “And yes, they’re legal … barely.”

“What’s with you and Sam? You arrived with her, didn’t you?”

“Sam’s okay. She’s been through a tough few months.”

“Because of the fiancé?” Gabe guessed.

“Yeah, but I think there’s more.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Amy said something the other night.” Eric shrugged. “She said Sam is treating her differently than before she moved back to town.”

“That happens. People grow apart.”

“Speaking from experience?”

A corner of Gabe’s mouth curled up. “Maybe. If you had asked me fifteen years ago what I saw for myself, it would have been a whole other life.”

“How so?”

“I’d be married to pretty little Theresa with a kid or two, working on a LA task force.”

Eric whistled. “And look at you now. You’re living just about as far from LA as you can, and still be in the States. No wife. No kids. Do you ever wish …?”

“That I hadn’t joined The Agency?” Gabe glanced up, his attention on something only he could see, before once again meeting Eric’s gaze. “I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

“You’re sounding more and more like a Swan Harborite,” Eric teased. “But your love of spice … now, that’s just wrong.”

“You think so?”

“Hell, yes. I’ll go for a medium-heat salsa, but anything beyond … no thank you.”

“No scorpion or habanero peppers for you?”

“Just hearing their names makes my tongue tingle.”

Gabe laughed. “My abuela would say, it’s not dinner unless your tongue tingles a little.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eric muttered. “I like my taste buds.”

“Now that I’m settled in my house, and all my furniture has arrived from my DC apartment, I’ll cook for you sometime. You’ll see what I’m talking about—food is better with a little flavor.”

Eric hummed. “If you say so.”

“Diablo Shrimp, Chipotle Chicken, Spicy Italian Sausage and Peppers.” Gabe smacked his lips a few times as if he were tasting the food he’d just named. “I’m getting hungry just thinking of it.”

“Sounds spicy.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of milk on hand to cool your tongue if need be.”

Eric laughed, but a movement to his right diverted his attention for a moment. Across the yard, Brandy had settled beside his cousin, Piper. He glanced back at his plate as if it held the answers.

Gabe cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Fine, why?”

“You know why.”

A sliver of uneasiness raced through him, as he slowly lifted his head and met Gabe’s gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me the other night,” Gabe hummed. “My observation skills are spot-on.”

When he calmly resumed eating, it gave Eric a few moments to ponder.

Was his friend referring to what he thought he saw in me? Or was Gabe thinking of himself?

She’s just a friend. Just a friend.

                                                                            * * *

Brandy nibbled on a chip and tried to get comfortable. She was nervous. That was the only excuse for all the food she’d eaten since she’d arrived. Although it could also be because the food was so good. Yvette Simpson knew her way around the kitchen.

“Let me see your necklace.” Piper leaned closer and lifted the pendant she rarely took off. “It’s beautiful, Brandy.” She pointed to the ring on her right hand. “It’s similar in color to my May birthstone, but so much more unique. Those threads are just …”

“Freaky?” Brandy grinned, sliding her finger down her chain to grab hold of the gold open heart with a light green stone in the center—moss agate.

Piper laughed. “I was going to say unique. Have you had it a long time?”

The tightness in her chest, followed by a lump that climbed into her throat, appeared as it always did when someone asked that question. She slowly blew out her breath, working to relax her muscles. The need to toss out another question was strong, but she refused to be rude.

“I got it for my sixteenth birthday,” Brandy murmured huskily. “It was the last thing my father gave me before he …”

“Oh, Brandy,” Piper exclaimed. “I didn’t mean …”

“It’s okay.” Brandy swallowed forcefully. “It’s been almost fifteen years.”

“But you still miss him.”

“Of course. Tell me about your birthstone.” Brandy touched Piper’s ring. “I’ve never seen an emerald that color.”

Piper glanced down at the ring and touched it almost reverently.

“It was my grandmother’s.”

“Cora?”

“Oh, no, my Grandmother Montgomery gave it to me.” A smile flitted across her face. “I know there’s a story, but …” She shrugged.

“Your grandmother never told you.”

“No,” Piper sighed. “It was one of those things I pushed off because I was too busy.”

Brandy squeezed the young woman’s hand, as she understood where she was coming from. “Maybe it’s like everything else in Swan Harbor.”

“Oh, you mean, we’ll know when we’re meant to know.” Piper giggled. “My mother used to tell me I wasn’t quite as sassy as Swan Harbor.”

Brandy laughed. “That sounds like something my granny would say. She reminds me of Captain Jack—always giving advice in a way that goes right over my head, but makes sense later.”

Piper nodded. “That sounds like Captain Jack.”

“Have you tasted this dip?” Brandy moved the conversation in another direction. “I think I need the recipe.”

“Once or twice,” Piper murmured. “It is good. In fact …” She looked around, ostensibly to make sure they were still alone. “I saw the recipe on the kitchen counter.”

“Really?” Brandy glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back then.”

Piper laughed. “Go for it.”

“Need anything?”

“A cookie,” Piper decided. “One of those chocolate chip ones.”

On her way inside, Brandy tossed her plate in the trash and stopped by the drink table. Almost unconsciously, she grabbed some napkins, wiped up the mess, and took the daiquiri mix with her.

She found Yvette in the kitchen taking out a pan of fresh cookies.

“Looks like I came in at the right time.”

Yvette grinned. “If you like warm chocolate chip cookies.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Is there something else you need?” Yvette pointed to the bottle she held. “Daiquiri syrup?”

“Any chance Hugh has a blender? I thought maybe frozen …”

A grin slowly spread across Yvette’s face. “What about strawberry daiquiris?”

Brandy’s mouth watered. “My favorite. How can I help?”

“Grab the frozen fruit out of the fridge, while I search for the blender. Do you want to add rum or let everyone add their own?”

“They can add their own,” Brandy decided.

“That works.”

For the next few minutes, it was quiet while they went about their tasks. Then while Yvette was mixing everything together, Brandy searched the counters for the dip recipe.

“Looking for something?” Yvette asked, one brow raised in question.

Brandy laughed self-consciously. “Okay, you caught me. Piper told me the dip recipe was in here.”

“You like my dip?” Yvette’s eyes flared.

“I love your dip. Will you share?”

Yvette’s dark eyes sparkled. “On one condition.”

Brandy frowned. “Only one?”

“Yes. Can you help me convince Brianna to sell me loaves of her bread for my catering business?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll help with that,” Brandy laughed. “You should drop by her cabin on a Friday morning. The smell is heavenly.”

“If Brianna agrees, I’ll owe you one,” Yvette said, dumping the frozen fruit in the pitcher.

“Do you need ice?”

Yvette tipped the pitcher in her direction. “Frozen strawberries mean we can skip the ice—trust me.”

“You’re the Queen of the Kitchen.”

“And don’t forget it,” Yvette teased. “No stealing recipes when I’ll gladly give them to you.”

When she pushed the recipe closer, Brandy felt heat climbing into her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she muttered, then quickly took a photo.

Yvette chuckled and passed her the blender pitcher. “Let me know if you need more.”

“Will do.”

Brandy took the frozen daiquiri mix outside, poured several ounces into her cup, and added rum. When it splashed a little too generously, she hissed.

“Damn.”

A husky chuckle from behind her caused a chill to zip up her spine. Damn him. He still had the power to affect her.

In a far more calm manner than she felt inside, Brandy set the rum bottle down, and used a straw to stir her drink.

“You know what that drink does to you, don’t you?” Eric murmured, standing close enough behind her, she could feel his heat.

“Does to me?” Brandy schooled her expression into a neutral one and slowly turned to face him. “What are you talking about? It’s just a strawberry daiquiri.”

Eric took another step toward her, invading her space. And darned if it didn’t kick up her pulse even more.

“With an extra dollop of rum,” he reminded her. “Are you driving?”

“No,” she frowned. “Why?”

He visibly relaxed and took a step backward. “Don’t make me have to arrest you.”

She squinted. “You wouldn’t?”

When Eric traced a finger down one cheek and along her jawline, her breath caught.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Then before she could respond, he sauntered toward the circle of people she’d been sitting with. It took several seconds to collect her thoughts and slip into the seat next to Piper.

“Here’s your cookie.”

Piper grabbed the cookie so quickly, you’d have thought someone was trying to steal it.

“Thanks! What are you drinking?”

“Strawberry daiquiri. If you hurry …”

Her comment died when Piper jumped up and started toward the drink table. She’d just taken a sip when there was a rumble, and the ground erupted, water raining down on them, drenching her completely.

                                                                      * * *

A gasp to his right pulled Eric’s attention to Brandy. What he saw nearly caused his heart to stop.

The sprinklers had drenched her hair, clothes, and drink. Which seemed to be her biggest concern.

For him, it was an entirely different matter. She’d arrived wearing a butter-yellow T-shirt that fit her like a glove and gave her complexion a golden glow. Now, it clung to her thin frame, showcasing way too much for his peace of mind.

It molded her firm breasts, showing twin hard peaks that made his mouth water. Before his thoughts traveled too far in directions they shouldn’t, his protective instinct kicked in, drowning out the rest.

He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it toward her.

“Put that on,” he bit out.

A flash of hurt zipped across her face, then quickly disappeared, making him wonder if he’d seen what he thought.

“Please,” he added, although his tone was still grumpy.

Eric heard Justin yell, “Hugh, the sprinklers are on. It’s Amy’s fault,” and turned his attention to how to shut them down.

“Check the timer,” Hugh growled, coming from the house. “It’s on the wall next to the water spigot.”

“I’ve got it.” Eric opened the case and flashed his phone light. “It’s not Amy’s fault.”

“Well, I should hope not,” Amy retorted. “I didn’t touch it.”

“What is it?” Hugh leaned in to see the dial. “Well, hell!”

When Eric saw the problem, he snickered. “Are you sure you didn’t change the timer so it would come on at 10:00 p.m., instead of 10:00 a.m.?”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Hugh grumbled.

“Your subconscious wanted us to leave so you could be alone with Bri.”

“She left,” Hugh sighed, his frustration clear. “Brandy was drenched. Was that your shirt?”

“Yeah,” was all he offered.

“Atta boy,” he thought Hugh said.

In his head, the image of Brandy’s wet body lingered—heat, shock, and guilt tangled together. Maybe he shouldn’t have looked, but he was a man, and she was beautiful. He hated to admit it, but it was getting harder not to react every time he saw her, especially when he caught her talking to other men.

It felt suspiciously like jealousy. Which couldn’t be. They were friends. Just friends.

Except the image of her body behind the wet shirt was forever burned on his brain.

While Hugh dealt with the levers, Eric helped clean up. It wasn’t long before Sam was standing nearby, bouncing from foot to foot.

“You look pretty dry.”

She pointed to her legs and feet. “Think again. But what about you? Where’s your shirt?”

“I gave it to someone who was sitting almost on top of a sprinkler, “Eric offered, deciding not to give a name.

“That’s nice. Can we go?”

“Sure.”

They said their goodbyes and started home.

“Heater?”

“Yes, please.”

The drive was an easy one, and when he pulled into the parking lot at Camelot Arms Apartments, he couldn’t help but notice Brandy’s car wasn’t in its usual place. He powered down and side-eyed Sam.

She hadn’t said much on the way home, and while he felt like he should ask her if everything was okay, he didn’t. His thoughts were too full of Brandy …

Friends. Just friends.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

“Oh, sorry.” Eric climbed from the car and ran around to open Sam’s door.

“You okay?” she asked as soon as they started up the stairs to her third floor apartment.

“A little cool, but other than that …” He shrugged.

When they reached Sam’s apartment, she stepped into his space and placed her hand flat in the center of his chest.

“Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Eric stopped breathing for a half-second, and then his reflexes kicked in. He grabbed both her hands and took a step backward. His thoughts traveled to his brother’s words.

“Don’t lead her on,” Lee murmured. “You don’t want to be the rebound guy.”

“What’s going on, Sam? When have I ever …?”

“Given me the idea you wanted me?”

“Well, yes.”

She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I just thought …”

“You thought wrong,” he hastily assured her. “We’re friends. Good friends, but you’ve always been—”

Sam placed her finger over his mouth. “Don’t say like your sister,” she snapped. “I’m not like Amy.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I want to be your friend.”

“That’s all?”

He tipped his chin. “Is that enough?”

She pressed her lips together, and a shiver raced through her.

“Sam, you’re freezing. You should go inside.” Eric plucked the key from her hand and unlocked her door. “Go take a hot shower.”

“Is it Brandy?” she asked seemingly out of nowhere.

“Why would you think that?”

“There’s something between you two. It’s strong … almost palpable.”

Eric forced out a laugh. “You have a vivid imagination. We’re friends.”

Sam hummed and stepped completely inside. Just before the door shut, he heard her say, “It’s enough—for now.”

He hesitated a second, thinking about her comment, and then continued to his car. Since it was still early, Eric returned to Hugh’s. The noise would keep his mind busy for a while longer.

When he pulled up in front of Hugh’s cottage, only Gabe and Yvette’s cars remained.

Eric knocked once and walked in to find Yvette packing away the leftovers.

“Can just anyone get a to-go bag?” he teased.

Yvette glanced up and, for a split-second, Eric recognized the look on her face. It was the same one he saw each morning … and evening. She was tired of being alone.

“You’re just in time. I was packing up …”

“You’re not giving him my leftovers, are you?” Gabe asked, coming in the back door. “I thought we had a deal.”

Eric glanced from Yvette to Gabe, and then back. Were they flirting? That didn’t fit.

“There’s plenty to go around,” she assured them. “Show me what you want.”

Eric didn’t hold back. He grabbed a bag and started filling it. If he were lucky, he wouldn’t have to cook for a few days.

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