Her Maine Attraction: A Small Town Romance (Pine Cove Book 1) Read online

“Yes, and yes.” I smile. “I love you, mom.”

  “I love you more.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Of course.” She smiles, her eyes watery.

  Blinking away my own unshed tears, I get in my car, not wanting her to see how nervous I am. Taking a deep breath, I smile and wave back to her as I drive off – my body buzzing with the feeling of something new that’s just around the corner.

  * * * *

  A few hours, and many coffee stops later, I’m finally here. WELCOME TO MAINE – VACATIONLAND. The sign along the highway is a welcoming sight.

  I roll my windows down and take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with fresh air and the sweet scent of pine trees. I’m still a little over an hour away from Pine Cove, but just being in Maine sends a jolt of excitement through me.

  Everything I pass is beautiful. Even the highway is beautiful, with massive pine trees lining both sides, creating a wall of green all around me. The sky is a bright, light blue, with wispy white clouds painted across in strokes of perfection.

  When it’s time for me to take the exit off the highway that will bring me to my new home, goosebumps break out on my arms.

  I made it.

  Driving along a small side road for a few minutes, I come to a stop sign that directs me to go left for Freeport, and right for Pine Cove. Turning right, I drive for a few miles before I come upon Main Street, and I sit up a little straighter. It’s so cute!

  Both sides of the street are lined with small shops and businesses that all have colorful awnings and signs, and overflowing flower pots out front. Bikes lean against lamp posts, people walk hand in hand down the sidewalks carrying shopping bags, and everyone looks happy. It really does look like a scene straight out of a Hallmark movie.

  Slowing, I roll my windows down and try to read all of the different signs. There are a few clothing boutiques, a restaurant, a café/bakery, a bookstore, an antiques shop, a hardware store, and a hair and nail salon. There are a few others as well, including lawyer, doctor, and dentist office’s, but I can’t catch any others as I drive past.

  At the end of Main Street, I turn left, and drive on for another few minutes. Looking to the right, I see a wall of pine trees lining the side of the road, and I catch glimpses of water between the trunks of the trees. Curious, I pull over onto the shoulder.

  When I get out of the car, I look around, hoping that there aren’t any bears, moose, or wild animals hiding, ready to jump out at me. That’d be such a great welcoming for the girl whose only wildlife experience is knowing how to dodge a deer while driving.

  When I’ve discerned that there’s nothing life threatening around, I take a short walk through the tree line and my jaw drops.

  The afternoon sun glints off the surface of a huge lake – the glare casting a hazy hue over the surrounding land. It’s stunning.

  Across the way, two large mansions sit along the banks, making a statement with their grandeur. But while they’re nice, it’s the home in between them that really catches my eye. A big, beautiful, modern log cabin sits nestled amongst the trees, looking like it’s meant to be a part of the land. Each has a dock extending out into the water, but only the log cabin house has a boat attached – gently rocking in the breeze.

  I would love to sit out there and read a book. Being near water has always calmed me.

  I take in the view for another minute, and head back to my car. Driving on, the air coming through my open windows starts to smell deliciously salty, and I breathe it in, knowing the ocean is near.

  When I come to a stop sign, I make the right onto my new street – Peach Place. Driving slowly, I notice that none of the houses are visible from the road. The only indication that there even are any somewhere back in the trees, are mailboxes at the end of each gravel drive.

  Seeing number 25 painted on the next one, I turn off my radio and into the driveway. The gravel path leads me through tall, lush pine trees for about a quarter of a mile before it opens up into a clearing where an adorable little blue cottage sits.

  It’s like a Thomas Kinkade painting come to life, and I laugh at the quaintness of it all.

  My eyes are immediately drawn to the flowers that seem to be coming from everywhere. The sills of the two front windows boast overflowing flower boxes, the three steps up to the porch are lined with flower pots on both sides, and there are hanging fern baskets in the arches of the porch’s roof. Garden beds flank either side of the steps, and are filled with a vibrant variety of flowers in every color.

  The porch holds a table and two wicker rocking chairs, and a swing hangs on the far right. I’ve always wanted a front porch like this. One where I can sit and enjoy a cup of coffee while reading and listening to the rain.

  Parking, I turn my car off, and the front door swings open. A cute elderly woman with curly white hair, white sneakers, pink capris, and a pink and white floral blouse steps out onto the porch, waiving jovially at me. Dottie is adorable.

  Climbing out of my car, I smile and wave back. “Hi, Dottie.”

  “Hello, dearie. How was the drive up?”

  “It was good. Once I hit Maine, everything was just so beautiful that time didn’t seem to matter.” Walking towards her, she goes in for a big hug that feels like a grandma welcoming home her granddaughter after a long journey.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, honey. I didn’t want to rent my home to just anyone, and I had a feeling about you right away,” she says, taking my arm. “Come, let me show you around. We’ll have tea and pie out back after a little tour.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  The scent of fresh pie hits my nose the second we step into the house. “Oh my, what is that heavenly smell?”

  “That would be my award-winning blueberry pie, dear. I’m famous for it around here,” she tells me, the ring of pride evident in her voice.

  “Sounds, and smells, amazing. I love blueberry pie.”

  “Well, we’re known for blueberries here, so get used to the flavor.”

  “You won’t see me turn anything blueberry away,” I tell her with a laugh.

  I take a look around the living room, and I can see that Dottie’s love of flowers flows from the outside, in. But where the outside is bright and vibrant, the inside is all muted pastels and shades of white.

  A pastel pink, cream, and lavender floral crochet knit blanket is draped over the back of a beige couch. White lamps with rose patterns on the bases sit on either side of the couch atop whitewashed wooden accent tables. The matching coffee table in front holds a spread of Home and Garden magazines and a fresh vase of tulips. The area rug beneath is sand in color, with a rose pattern throughout that’s similar to the lamps.

  A large TV sits on top of an electric fire place that rests against the wall next to the front door, a wooden floor lamp sits in the corner next to a large comfy recliner with a fur throw pillow and a cream and pink flowered crochet blanket, and bookshelves line the wall next to it.

  “I packed away most of my books, so you have plenty of space to put anything you have out on the shelves. Feel free to make personal touches anywhere if you’d like, too.”

  I smile warmly at her. “Thank you, Dottie. I did bring a few things with me.”

  “Okay, come along. I’ll show you the bedrooms next.”

  Following her down a short hallway, I notice the floors are a beautiful medium shaded hardwood throughout that contrasts nicely with the light colors she chose to decorate with.

  When Dottie opens the first bedroom door on the left, all I see is pink. Pink walls with paintings of pink flowers, pink sheets and a pink floral comforter on a queen-sized bed, and a pink floral area rug.

  “This is so beautiful, Dottie.”

  “Let me show you the other one, and then you can choose which you prefer.” She opens the door to the bedroom across the hall, and I step into a mirror of the other, this one being purple themed.

  Leading me down the rest of the short hallway, Dottie points at the las
t door for me to open. The bathroom is on the smaller side, but it has everything I’ll need. The walls are painted a dusty rose color, and the floors are a white tile that matches the tub and shower walls. There’s a pink and red rose patterned shower curtain, and fluffy pink rugs lay in front of the tub, toilet, and sink.

  “If you haven’t noticed, I love pink.” Dottie smiles.

  “I did.” I laugh. “But I do too, so it’s perfect.”

  Walking into the kitchen at the back of the house, I can tell it’s where Dottie has spent many hours cooking and baking. It has a well-loved, homey feeling to it.

  On the left side, there’s a small, round wooden table with four chairs and a vase of tulips in the center. On the right, is the stove, oven, and fridge. A farmhouse sink and dishwasher are against the back wall, and an “L” shaped countertop wraps around from the sink to the oven. Cabinets line above and below the counter, and a small window sits above the sink.

  “Dottie, everything is so beautiful. I love it.”

  “Thank you, dear. Since my husband passed a few years ago, I have been doing little updates every so often. That’s why it’s so feminine.” She laughs. “Now, let me show you the best part of living here. We’ll just have to get the pie and tea first.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “You can fill the tea kettle if you don’t mind. I’ll cut us each a slice of pie and meet you out back.”

  “No problem.”

  I wait for the kettle to whistle, and then I grab it with a pot holder and carefully carry it outside. I’m so focused on not spilling or dropping the kettle, that when I place it on the small garden table and look up, my jaw drops.

  “Dottie, wow, I can’t believe this.” The yard is lined on either side with pine trees and wildflowers, and then grass stretches out for a hundred feet or so before it drops off into the ocean.

  Fishing and sail boats dot the water in the distance, and islands rise up into view even farther out. Four white Adirondack chairs sit near the edge of the lawn, and they look like the perfect place to spend an afternoon or watch the sunrise.

  I’m honestly speechless. No words can describe the picture perfectness of this view. When I tear my eyes away, I find Dottie smiling at me. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “It’s the best,” she sighs.

  I sit down in the wicker chair next to her. The back porch looks very similar to the front with large overflowing flower pots lining the stairs down to the yard and vibrant flower beds all around the base of the porch. There are no hanging ferns, though. Just a clear view of the Atlantic.

  “It’s magnificent. I don’t know how you could leave.”

  “Well, it’s not by choice, dearie. It’s harder on my own then it used to be, and my daughter wants me to come live with her and my grandbabies about an hour north of here. They live on the water too, though, so it won’t be a total loss. But you’re right, it’s hard leaving my home. However”–she pats my knee–“this is your home now, Allyson. Just because you’re renting from me, I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to come one day and take it back. Treat it like your own. Give it your personal touch. I love this cottage, this town, and the people here. And I want you to love it as well. I already told everyone I know–which is everyone in Pine Cove–that you were moving in. So don’t be shy when you’re out and about, and do expect folks to just come up and say hello. We’re a friendly bunch.”

  “Looking forward to it.” I smile, pouring us each a cup of tea.

  “We’re family here in Pine Cove. I’m glad you chose us.”

  “Me too.”

  As we eat our pie and drink our tea, Dottie tells me more about the town, its residents, and the local gossip. I can just picture a group of little old ladies, all like Dottie, gathering after church on Sundays to trade the week’s newest scandals.

  “I left the number of a man you can call if you need anything at all. I always call him when something needs fixing,” she tells me, a gleam in her eyes. “Jake’s a very nice man. If anything happens, just call him.”

  “Thanks so much. That’s so thoughtful.”

  “No problem at all, dearie.” She smiles, finishing her tea. “Okay, I better be off. I left my number on the fridge as well. Please don’t hesitate to call me with any questions or concerns. I’m just a short drive away, and I wouldn’t mind chatting with you again either.”

  “I will, thank you. And your pie is delicious. I know why it’s award-winning.”

  “I can teach you to make it if you’d like. That’s usually how I pay Jake when he comes around.”

  “I’d love that. Thank you.”

  “Good. And remember, don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions, and then we can set up a date to make some pie.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Smiling, I walk with Dottie through the house and see her off. When the sound of her car crunching on the gravel starts to fade the farther she drives, I can’t help but notice how quiet it is here.

  A gentle breeze rustles the trees and a few birds sing to one another, but other than that, nothing.

  It’s peaceful.

  I never found true silence back home. There was always the sound of cars or people nearby. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in, letting the purity of the air cleanse my body. I know this place will be good for me.

  Glancing at my car, I decide I should probably start bringing some of my stuff in, and so I go and grab my keys.

  I spend an hour going back and forth from my car to inside, and I’m exhausted. I’m definitely not unpacking any of it yet. I don’t have the energy. I’d rather sit outside and enjoy the view while there’s still light left in the day.

  Walking out the back door, I make my way down to the Adirondack chairs, the wind picking up the closer I get to the water.

  The waves lap gently against the rocky cliff, and I gaze out at the endless sea of blue.

  I can see many afternoons spent out here sipping cocktails and tanning. It won’t be like the Jersey shore, but I think I’ll adjust.

  Chapter 3

  After the sun goes down, the beautiful silence of the day has now turned into the creepy silence of the night. Every little sound I hear is making me jump, so I go around and make sure every window and door is locked, and close all of the curtains.

  A little paranoid? Maybe. But I’ve never not lived right next to another house before. I know that if I screamed bloody murder, no one would hear me. And that is more than enough of a reason for me to be extra cautious.

  After my safety check, my stomach starts to grumble, and I suddenly realize that I’m starving. I guess I never really ate a proper meal today.

  Dottie told me she left me a penne, chicken, and broccoli casserole in the fridge, so I heat up a plate for myself. She really is the sweetest.

  I watch a little TV, but the events of the day start to catch up with me, and I know if I don’t get up now, I’ll just end up passing out on the couch and getting a huge crick in my neck.

  Digging around in my big suitcase, I pull out my toiletries and a pair of pajamas. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, the pink room is calling my name. The sheets are soft and the comforter is fluffy, and I’m out in a matter of seconds.

  * * * *

  Waking with a start, I bolt upright in bed. What in the ever-loving hell was that?!

  My heart is beating wildly in my chest and my blood is pounding in my ears, and I have to focus for a minute before I can hear anything again.

  A loud crashing sound comes again from somewhere outside, and I pull the covers tighter around me. That’s definitely what woke me up.

  A second later, I hear a growl, and I scream, biting the comforter to muffle the sound.

  What do I do?! What’s out there?!

  Oh my god, why did I move here?!

  I hear another loud growl, and I shudder, my hands shaking as they grip the comforter. I’m going to die.

  Throwing the covers off of me, I
jump out of bed and run to the kitchen. I need to find that number Dottie left me. I don’t know what’s out there, but it sounds like it’s trying to get in the house to kill me.

  I have no idea if this Jake person can help me, but I don’t know who else to call or what else to do. 9-1-1 seems like an overreaction, but I don’t know!

  Frantically searching the fridge, I find the piece of paper with his number under a moose magnet and pick up kitchen phone. Dialing quickly, I pray he can come over fast.

  It rings three times, and then a gravelly voice comes through. “Dottie? Are you okay?”

  My answer comes out panicked and rushed. “Hi, no, this is Ally. I’m renting Dottie’s house. It’s my first night here and I just woke up to loud crashing sounds and growls outside and it seems like something is trying to get in the house, or, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I’m not from here. I don’t know if it’s an animal or some creepy woodland creature or what to do. She told me to call you if I needed anything, and I don’t know what to do! Shit, oh my god, sorry, I just saw the time. It’s the middle of the night and I woke you up! I’m sorry! Never mind, I’ll just wait it out and see what happens.”

  I go to hang up with a shaky hand, feeling stupid, but then I hear his gruff voice again. “I’ll be right over.”

  “But-” I’m cut off by him hanging up on me. Staring at the phone for a second, I place it back in the cradle and cover my face with my hands. I’m so dumb.

  I go and wait on the couch for him, my knee bouncing nonstop. Ten minutes later, I hear a vehicle coming down the drive, but I stay seated. I am NOT opening the door until he knocks. The thing could still be out there just waiting for its opportunity.

  Abrupt rapping at the front door comes a few minutes later, and I jump, letting out a little scream.

  Freaking calm down, Ally! You called him! Just open the door, apologize for making him come over, and then say goodnight.

  But the second I open the door, my plan flies out of my head. The sexiest man I’ve ever seen is standing in front of me, half in the shadows of the porch light. He’s well over six feet tall, and he looks like a freaking Viking. Sweet baby Jesus, he looks like Thor.