Love On Anchor Island: An Anchor Island Novel

the vast number of fishermen and old sailors in the area, that was saying something. And then she’d become a mom and by two years old, Pilar’s vocabulary had been disturbingly colorful for a child her age. Three years later, Sid’s language was significantly cleaner. And comical. Nearly every curse had an innocent alternative, and some were quite inventive.
“Need some help?” Roxie offered. This was her job after all. Attendee check-in.
“We’ve got it.” Sid handed the coat to Pilar. “Put that on your peg. You know which one it is.”
The four-year-old followed the order without argument, walking straight to the sixth peg from the left. Once the coat was properly hung, she returned to her mother, clasped her hands in front of her, and smiled up at Roxie. The stark contrast between hazel eyes and dark hair made her stand out in a crowd, yet the quiet demeanor said she was happy to blend in.
Though opposites in every way, and a year apart, Mary Ann and Pilar were an inseparable duo.
“Your cousin is in the big playroom,” Roxie said with a nod.
“Thank you,” she said and looked up to her mother. “Can I go?”
“Have at it, girlfriend.” Pilar skipped to the playroom. Oh, to be that carefree. “I’ve got a stubborn Yamaha outboard giving me fits,” Sid informed Roxie while adding her daughter’s name to the sign-in sheet, “and an impatient owner who wants it back. If I don’t get it done in time, Lucas will be here to pick her up.” Keys in hand, she turned and walked straight into Henri.
“Whoa,” said the blonde, gripping Sid’s arms to keep from plowing her over. “Sorry about that.”
“My fault,” Sid said as Connor dashed around her. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you ladies at Callie’s shower on Sunday. Thanks again, Roxie.”
The door clicked shut behind the boat mechanic, and Connor disappeared into the playroom, leaving Henri and Roxie alone at the check-in stand.
“So much for goodbyes,” she said, setting a small backpack and a yellow jacket along the wall with the other kids’ things. “Is that Dr. Fielding’s car I saw outside?”
“Does it look like a toy car?” Roxie asked.
“The Prius, yeah.”
“He’s here giving out flu shots.”
Henri pointed at Roxie’s arm. “I see he got you.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “His first patient was reluctant, so I took one for the team and let little Daniel see how painless it is.”
Her brows arched. “Is it?”
“Nope.”
As if his ears were burning, Alex stuck his head out of the break room. “Have you seen Helga?” he asked. “She went to get the next child and didn’t come back.”
“I’ll find her,” Roxie replied.
He lingered in the doorway with a goofy grin on his face, not taking his eyes off of her.
“Hello, Doctor,” Henri said. Alex startled as if he hadn’t noticed anyone else was in the room. “You seem a bit distracted.”
“A little,” he replied, the smile widening. “Let Helga know I’m ready when she is.”
Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, Roxie said, “Will do.”
As soon as he was out of sight, Henri leaned on the stand and said, “Spill.”
Of course, she had to witness the embarrassing exchange.
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“The most eligible bachelor on this island just gave you googly eyes. There is definitely something to spill.”
Checking her surroundings to make sure no one could overhear, she said, “We’re having dinner tonight.”
“And what happened to your man diet?”
“It’s only dinner.”
“With a man.”
“Yes.”
Henri stood and made a whistling sound. “You are so falling off the wagon.”
Roxie was doing no such thing. “I am firmly on the wagon, thank you very much. One dinner doesn’t mean anything.”
“One dinner leads to two, and before you know it, that wagon is a mattress.”
After an awkward pause, Roxie said, “Can we let this metaphor go now?”
“Yeah,” Henri agreed. “That was a step too far. Anyway, I expect to hear all the juicy details at the shower.”
“There won’t be anything to tell.” She’d learned a hard lesson in the last few months. Forgetting it would take more than a sexy smile and a minor case of butterflies.
“You never know,” she cooed as she sashayed out the door.
Roxie knew. She knew how to find trouble, and for once in her life she was going to stay the hell out of it.

Chapter Seven
Stepping onto the Dempsey’s front porch, Alex took a deep breath to allay the nerves and knocked on the door. The barking started immediately, low and menacing as always. So long as Dozer was around, this family would never need an alarm system.
Someone yelled, “Chill out, Doze,” from the other side of the door seconds before Roxie opened it. “Hi,” she said, joining him on the porch.
She wore the trademark leather jacket, but underneath was a muted pink top cut low enough at the neckline to make his heart skip a beat. The dark hair was swept to one side, and the black jeans featured several slits down the legs.
“You’re wearing color,” he said, which was not the greeting he’d planned.
Roxie glanced down and opened her jacket wide. “I own a few pieces that aren’t funeral-wear.”
If she looked this good in the rest of them, a funeral would be in order. His.
“I like it.” An understatement, but his brain wasn’t fully functioning at the moment. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Yes. That PB and J I had for lunch wore off a long time ago.”
“Good, because dinner is ready.” Alex took her hand to lead her off the porch and into his yard.
“How could the food be ready when we haven’t gotten to the restaurant yet?”
Pulling her toward his own porch, he asked, “Who said anything about a restaurant?”
She froze, tugging her hand from his grip. “You asked me out to dinner. That means out to dinner.”
Here’s where he had her on a technicality. “I asked you to have dinner with me. I never said anything about going out.”
Roxie spun on her heels. “Motherfu—”
“Hold on.” Alex cut off her path. “There are two perfectly cooked New York Strip steaks, cheesy