Recipe for Eagle Cove

Chapter 1-2

Harry yelped more in surprise than pain as someone tromped on the toes of his Oxfords. The kitchen was so noisy with a dozen simultaneous conversations that no one particularly noticed his cry. It took him a moment to spot his attacker, but when he looked down he discovered an astonishing sight.

The first thing he noticed was the impressive swell of exposed breasts. It wasn’t that they were all that uncovered, they were just very…impressive. Ah yes, his lawyerly finesse with words. Sad. But it was hard to be completely coherent when faced with such an exceptional view. Then he forced himself to focus on the owner’s face.

“Becky!” He ignored her smirk that said she knew exactly where his attention had first landed and gave her quick hug that she returned after a moment. “It’s like old home week.” Everyone had turned out for his little brother’s wedding. The fact that Greggie was marrying, had married, the first woman Harry had ever kissed didn’t bother him…too much. He and Jess had been almost done before they started during freshman year. Wasn’t it just backward justice that Greg was the one who’d always had the big crush on her without ever admitting to it.

“Old home week only to you foreign types.” Becky Billings smirk had shifted to tease, something he recalled her excelling at. Her light brown eyes practically twinkled with delight. He also recalled that among other things, she’d absolutely ruled every class debate in high school. He might have ruled the soccer field, but her quick mind and quicker tongue had ruled the verbal playing field.

“Foreign as in a hundred yards down the road,” he gave it his best shot. His family’s homestead was the other grand Victorian of the town. The two old houses stood at the head of the beach and commanded the best views in Eagle Cove.

“Foreign as in you live in New Orleans and are just here slumming.”

“Care to do a little slumming with me?”

“You call that a pickup line?” Becky snorted out a laugh and slapped him hard enough on the arm to send him ricocheting off Cal Mason Jr. who bumped into Cal Mason Sr. in earnest conversation with Jessica’s father. Cal Sr. shoved Jr. back into him and the two of them ended up tangled together against the stove, both struggling not to spill their beers all over each other.

“Sorry, Cal, Becky just—” he pointed, but the spot where she’d been was empty. Cal gave him a look as if checking his mental capacity: low, after the view of Becky’s chest had drained the blood out of his brain.

He looked around and caught occasional glimpses of the top of her head as she moved through the tight-packed kitchen crowd, her liquid-oak hair floating lightly behind her. The crowd parted just enough to offer him a full view as she stepped out the far door and onto the sunlit porch.

She might be short, barely up to his chin, but her industrial-grade curves and trim waist looked damn good on her. And that dress. Holy wow! Spaghetti shoulder straps, clinging material, and a flirty flare high enough on her thighs to reveal that there was no excess load on that frame. She was no runner, couldn’t be with that body, but they were damned amazing legs. Then with a exuberant “Yip!” of excited greeting, loud enough that he could hear it over the music and the overlapping chatter, she raced out into the sunlight and was gone.

Harry rubbed his shoulder where she’d hit him. He’d forgotten how strong she was. He’d have to remember that the next time he caught up with her. And the way she looked, he definitely had some catching up to do. But he didn’t want to appear overeager either. So, he leaned back against the stove with Cal. They’d been the forward strikers on the soccer team back at Puffin High, finishing the season ten-and-two, a new pinnacle for the Pufflings. Cal Sr. and his own father, Judge Slater, had chosen the ridiculous baby seabird as the school mascot most of half a century before. He’d never found out quite why, so he and Cal Jr. worked on their beers and rehashed it some for old times’ sake.

But what he really wanted to talk about was Becky Billings and the way that woman looked in a clinging black dress with chili pepper red cowboy boots.