One Hundred Wishes Read online

  Nearly three hours later, she pulled into the tiny town of Aspen Cove. Everything was dark except the diner where a group of people seemed to be celebrating. If it weren’t so late and she weren’t so tired, she’d consider crashing their party. She had a lot to celebrate, too.

  She pulled into the driveway of 7 Lake Circle and took in a deep breath. This was it. She danced her way to the front door. Under the mat, like Deanna said, was the key. She slid it into the lock and opened the door to a whole different world.

  Chapter Two

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” Dalton Black stood in the center of Maisey’s Diner and let out a whistle that could be heard across the lake. “We’re here to celebrate a lot of things.” He picked up the glass of wine in front of him. “First, I want to thank Cannon and Bowie for supplying the alcohol.”

  The raucous group yipped and hollered. Everyone loved free booze.

  “Second, I wanted to say I love you to my mom, who made this diner possible along with the help and support of Doc Parker and the community.” He shuddered to think where their lives would be if the people of Aspen Cove hadn’t protected and cared for them. That was the best thing about living here. Everyone was family.

  When Dalton was a teen and his mom was beaten and bruised, Doc Parker offered up the building for their future. Although her outer shell had recovered, Dalton knew even as a teen the internal scars from years of abuse would take the longest to heal.

  Despite it all, Maisey Black moved forward. She’d made the diner a success and paid back the note owed to Doc in record time. Maisey’s Diner belonged to his mom, though she insisted he was a full partner.

  “I want to welcome my new brothers, Cannon and Bowie, to my family. I want to give my new dad a hug.” He pulled Ben Bishop to his side and gave him a squeeze. If Ben, who spent years drunk and pining for his dead wife could turn himself around and make Maisey Black fall in love with him, anything was possible.

  “In a matter of moments, I went from being an only child to one of three sons.” He looked at Bowie and Cannon, his new stepbrothers and longtime friends. Next to Bowie stood his wife Katie cradling their newborn daughter Sahara. “I also became an uncle.” He found Cannon in the crowd and gave him a knowing look. “I have one more thing to say, and then I’m done.” He glanced between the two sets of newlyweds in the room, Ben and Maisey and Bowie and Katie. “Stop with this love shit. It’s like a virus in this town, and I don’t want to catch it.” He lifted his glass and said, “Cheers!”

  Dalton shook his head at his friends who were all laughing and enjoying a night of friendship and camaraderie.

  Ben had carted his mom Maisey to Denver last week and married her at the county courthouse. He could have tied the knot here where Doc would have been happy to officiate, but Ben wanted it to be special, so he sprung for a weekend at the Brown Palace Hotel.

  Dalton had never seen his mother so happy, but tonight was about something else altogether, and his part in the charade was to make it seem like it was Maisey and Ben’s night to celebrate—again. Since they’d been celebrating every night since they returned, no one would be the wiser.

  Cannon brought Sage to the center of the crowd. “I have a few things to say myself.” He nodded to Dalton, which was his cue to get Sage’s sister, Lydia, who’d been hiding in the kitchen for almost an hour. It was a good thing she was hungry when she arrived because he didn’t know what to do with the woman besides feed her. Dalton had a soft spot for Sage, but her sister was a whole other beast. Never had he seen two people come from the same set of parents and be so different. Sage had flaming red hair, while her sister was blonde. Sage had green eyes, while her sister’s were blue. Sage was no bigger than four stacked milk crates, while Lydia came to his chin, which meant she had to be five-foot-six or seven. Sage was always happy, but her sister spent most of her time crying over pie. Dalton didn’t do well with teary-eyed women.

  He snuck into the kitchen and said, “It’s time.” Lydia scooped another bite of Maisey’s famous cherry pie into her mouth and followed him out.

  As soon as Cannon saw Lydia, he dropped to a knee in front of Sage. She looked at him like he’d had a stroke and fell to her knees in front of him.

  “You okay? Are you sick? Too much wine?” She lifted her hand to his head and felt him for fever. The nurse in her never took a break.

  He laughed. “I am sick, and I’ll never recover,” he said with dramatic flair. “I caught the bug Dalton talked about.”

  She tilted her head the way her three-legged dog Otis did when he was confused. Then she looked behind Cannon to see her sister. Sage jumped to her feet and ran past him to Lydia. Poor Cannon might never get those four words he wanted to ask out.

  Sage threw her arms around Lydia’s neck. “You’re here.” She stepped back with a look of concern. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  Dalton thought it was funny how everything around him had changed so fast. How his two friends who were sworn bachelors had fallen hard and fast.

  When Sage and Katie arrived in town, nothing stayed the same.

  He looked across the darkened street to Bea’s bakery and thought about the old woman responsible for this love fest. How her gifts of the bed and breakfast to Sage and the bakery to Katie brought the town together. Her act of selflessness had healed so many hurts.

  Lydia wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m here because…” She nodded her head toward Cannon, who was still on one knee but facing no one. “Go to your man, he has something to ask you.” Lydia widened her eyes and made a face.

  “Oh my God.” Sage looked at all the nodding heads and raced back to stand in front of Cannon. “I’m sorry. You have my full attention.”

  Cannon chuckled. “I’ll take whatever piece of you I can get, even if it’s your short attention span.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and reached into his pocket to pull out a small white box, then he cleared his throat.

  Dalton wasn’t sure if Cannon was trying to gain his composure or get the attention of everyone in the room. Either way, all eyes were on him.

  “Sage, I wanted to do this on Valentine’s Day, but I heard it was a cliché. Then I wanted to do it last week on lucky St. Patrick’s Day, but Dad beat me to it by marrying Maisey. So, today is it, sweetheart.” He reached for her hand and held it to his heart. “I loved you the day I met you. Well, I hated you in my head, but I loved you in my heart.”

  The room erupted in laughter. Dalton hadn’t been present that day, but rumor said they had a doozy of a first meeting.

  Sage pulled back and looked down at him. “Cannon Bishop, if this is the way you’re going to propose, I’ll walk out of here with what’s in the box, but you’ll walk out with a black eye.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “You can do better. Give me the best you’ve got.”

  Doc Parker walked up and placed his hand on Cannon’s shoulder. “You’re screwing this up, son.” He looked at Sage. His white brows arched toward the ceiling. “The boy loves you. He wants to marry you. What do you say, young lady?”

  “Thanks, Doc, I got this.” Cannon turned back to Sage. “I do love you. I can’t imagine a life without you. I want to marry you so I can love you forever.” He opened the box to reveal a gold band imbedded with tiny diamonds. Cannon’s attention drifted to Katie and then back to Sage. “A certain blonde baker told me a gold band was all you wanted, but it wasn’t enough. You need a little sparkle in your life. Sage Nichols, will you marry me?”

  Her sister Lydia burst into tears. Dalton wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or sad tears. He was betting they were a little of both.

  Sage dropped to her knees in front of Cannon and threw her arms around his neck, sending the box and ring flying into the air. Dalton caught it mid-flight and hoped it wasn’t like catching the bouquet at a wedding. He needed a woman like he needed another six years in prison.

  “You’re the only sparkle I need, Cannon Bishop,” Sage said. “Yes, I’
ll marry you.”

  Dalton tossed the box back to Cannon. “Get the ring on her finger before she comes to her senses and changes her mind.”

  Cannon slipped the band on Sage’s finger. The crowd lifted their wine glasses to toast.

  This time, it was Sheriff Cooper who had something to say. He pointed at all the Bishops in the house. There were six now that Katie, Maisey, and baby Sahara took the last name. “We’re being taken over by Bishops.” He looked to Bobby Williams, who stood in the corner with his wife Louise. “Dude, they’re giving you a run for your money.”

  Bobby gave everyone a sly smile and placed his hand on his wife’s stomach. “Number eight is cooking.”

  Doc Parker groaned. “We know what causes that.”

  After everyone closed their open mouths, the group went wild. If there was one thing the Williamses did well, it was breed. They had the cutest kids, but Dalton couldn’t imagine having one child, nonetheless eight.

  One more look at Bowie and Katie, and he erased the thought. Sahara was a miracle baby born to a mother with the biggest heart he knew. It was a donor heart of a woman he’d grown up with. Looking at Bowie, he knew the man was one lucky bastard to have fallen in love with the same heart twice. Dalton would be lucky to find love once. Who’d fall in love with a man like him?

  Katie handed Sahara off to Bowie and picked up the cake she’d baked for the occasion. She brought it to Sage and Cannon. “I did it. I mastered high-altitude cake baking.” She handed Sage the pan, then jumped up and down like she’d discovered the cure for cancer. “It’s even—I didn’t have to balance it out with extra frosting!”

  Bowie came up behind his wife and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I loved my lopsided cake.” Bowie’s homecoming cake had an extra quart of frosting on one side to cover up Katie’s baking inexperience.

  “You loved me,” Katie reminded.

  Dalton groaned. “It’s getting far too thick and sweet in here.” He gave his new dad a test. “Hey, Pops,” he called to Ben. “I’m outta here. Can you lock up when everyone is finished?”

  “Sure thing, son,” Ben replied.

  Dalton walked toward the door with a smile on his face. It wasn’t the life he’d envisioned for himself all those years ago, but it was his life, and somehow it seemed to work.

  Sheriff Cooper caught up to him. “Keep your eyes open on the way home. I think the kids suspected of burning down the house across the lake are from Copper Creek. Arsonists rarely stop with one. If you see anything, don’t act on it, call me.”

  Dalton gave him an I’m-not-an-idiot look. “It’s all good. I’ll call you if I see anything.” He walked outside into the chill of the March night. The sky was clear, and a million stars guided him toward home.

  The sheriff needn’t worry. Dalton took no chances with his freedom these days. If he had a drink, he walked home or got a ride. If he saw a fight, he stepped aside. Six years in prison for killing someone was enough for him.

  Although life seemed to throw him a lot of curve balls, family and friends remained a consistent source of comfort. He looked over his shoulder at the crowd he left at the diner. Those were the people who mattered most in his life.

  As he walked the mile up Main Street to Lake Circle, he thought about his future. There would be no falling in love. No engagement. No wedding. No babies. Dalton’s life was fine the way it was, he liked the status quo. He liked the peacefulness of living in a town where he wasn’t judged. In Aspen Cove, he was safe and invisible.

  He rounded the corner and walked to his back porch. There were lights on in the cabin next door. Odd because it had been vacant for over two years. There had been no mention of anyone moving in. Cannon told him he thought an investment banker bought it for future development. Dalton would have ignored the light in the window and walked inside his cabin if it weren’t for the smoke billowing from under the back door.

  Chapter Three

  She expected rustic, but Samantha never expected Little House on the Prairie. The place was cold, damp and dull. She pulled her knit cap tighter over her head and zipped up the hoodie all the way to her neck. She found the thermostat on the wall and cranked it to high, but nothing happened.

  Several years of vacancy and neglect showed. There wasn’t an ounce of homeyness to the cabin except for the flowers Deanna left on the new coffee table she had delivered.

  It wasn’t as if Samantha was used to homey since she spent most of her life in hotel rooms and tour buses, but she liked heat. Right now if she could get warm, she’d be happy to skip homey altogether.

  Feeling the chill of the cold mountain air in her bones, she zeroed in on the fireplace already set up to burn with logs stacked in the opening and a few cones of newspaper peeking out between the chopped wood. On the mantel sat a box of wooden matches. Thank you, Deanna.

  She hurried over and grabbed them hoping she could get a blaze started before she unpacked her car or froze to death. There was nothing worse than being exhausted except being cold and exhausted. Her stomach rumbled, and she experienced a new worst. Being tired, cold and hungry was a trifecta.

  It took a dozen strikes of the match to get it lit. Her icy cold fingers shook as she held the flame to the newspaper. Pure joy raced through her as the tiny flicker turned into a flame and built into an inferno. Her joy was short-lived when rolling clouds of gray and black smoke filled the room.

  Not knowing what to do, Samantha took the metal poker leaning against the stone fireplace and shifted the wood. Her thought was it needed to be pushed deeper into the opening, but the action caused a wall of black smoke to rush at her.

  “Great, just great.” She looked around the cabin, hoping for an answer to her problem. The only solution was to put the fire out and open the door. Her moment of success turned into a crushing defeat when she realized the only heat she’d feel was from the flames threatening to burn down her secret retreat.

  Without further deliberation, she grabbed the vase on the table and poured the water and flowers onto the flames. The hiss and sizzle brought with it another burst of smoke that burned her throat and threatened to choke her.

  Sorely in need of fresh air, she ran for the door. As she reached for the knob, the door swung open with force. The power behind it sent her flying across the room to land flat on her ass.

  A hulk of a man raced inside. Samantha was certain he was a kidnapper, or worse, a murderer. If the angry look on his face was any sign of his intent, she’d go with a murderer.

  “Who the hell are you?” Over six feet of solid muscle stalked toward her like a bobcat closing in on its prey.

  She spider-crawled backward until the wall stopped her progress. She was good and trapped.

  He loomed over her big and scary while he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

  She tried to stand up, but he gave her a look that flattened her back to the floor. “I live here,” she whispered.

  “Right.” He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Coop. I’m at the vacant next to mine. I’ve got your arsonist.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “I’m no—”

  Her words halted when he raised his hand.

  “Some scrawny little boy. Can’t be over sixteen.” He pointed to her and mouthed the words “Stay,” then stepped back and rubbed his beard. “I haven’t touched him—yet.” Steely blue eyes held her in place.

  He ended the call and shoved his phone inside his pocket. “Sheriff’s on his way.”

  “Good,” she said. She sat up taller and pulled the cap from her head, letting her blue hair tumble across her shoulders. “I’m not a scrawny little boy, you idiot. I’m a full-grown woman. Who the hell are you?”

  Though his eyes gave way to surprise, his voice didn’t waver. “Neighborhood watch.”

  He gave her a black look while his eyes traveled up and down her body.

  She could see why he thought she was a little boy. Dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie, her shape was s
traight and boxy. When her long hair was tucked inside a gray cap, there was nothing about her that screamed woman.

  “Girl? Maybe. Woman? Doubtful. Arsonist? Most likely.”

  Samantha pulled her knees to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not an arsonist. I own this cabin. I was trying to get warm.”

  He nodded. “Right. Tell your story to the sheriff.” He backed his big body toward the door and leaned against the frame like a sentry on duty.

  A breeze whipped through the room and wrapped around her like an icy cloak. Teeth chattering, she asked, “C-c-can you at least shut the d-d-door?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nope.”

  She saw the flashing lights reflect off the window. “Great. All I wanted was a warm place to camp out for a few weeks, and now my mug shot will be posted everywhere.” She buried her head against her knees. “Perfect.”

  “You picked the wrong neighborhood—and the wrong neighbor.”

  Seconds later, a big man dressed in beige and brown entered the cabin. Mr. Neighborhood Watch nodded toward him. “Hey, Coop. This little waif said she was looking for a place to squat for a few weeks.”

  Samantha scrambled to her feet and pressed her body to the wooden wall. “I said no such thing.”

  “You can add liar to her list of infractions.”

  She wasn't sure if it was him or the cold that got her moving, but she knew one thing for certain. She was no longer freezing. In fact, she was hotter than a cinder. She’d been called many things, but liar wasn’t one.

  “My name is Samantha White, and I own this damn cabin.” She stomped forward until the sheriff placed his hand on his pistol. Then she stopped dead still like road kill.