Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) Read online

  Animal Prints

  A Michigan Moonlight Romance

  May Williams

  Los Angeles, California

  ALSO BY MAY WILLIAMS

  Snow Prints (book 2)

  Finger Prints (book 3)

  This edition published by

  Penner Publishing

  Post Office Box 57914

  Los Angeles, California 91413

  www.pennerpublishing.com

  Copyright © 2015 by May Williams

  eISBN 13: 978-1-940811-26-0

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940811-27-7

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Designer: Christa Holland, Paper & Sage Designs

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  To my family for being quiet when I’m writing and traveling with me to the beautiful places that inspire my stories.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank my critique partner, Amie Denman, for her willingness to share a glass of wine and read yet another version of my manuscript. I’d also like to thank my editor, Thalia Sutton, for reminding me to continuously ask the important question—“How does that situation make the character feel?”

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Snow Prints, Book Two

  Finger Prints, Book Three

  Bonus Content Chapter One Snow Prints

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Sometimes pictures tell the story. Sometimes they don’t.

  His photographer’s eye absorbed every detail in a second: blond hair, medium height, slender with a hint of curves. Oval face, high cheek bones, full mouth with a small crease in the middle of her bottom lip, finely arched brows over bright blue eyes. All details suggesting a delicate woman, but her constant movement and interaction with various animals said vibrant and caring. A greyhound the size and color of a fawn rubbed against her legs as she talked to the owner of a black, floppy-eared rabbit.

  This was Colette Peterson, the veterinarian he’d come to Grand Island to meet.

  As she stood beneath the sunshade, she bore only a slight resemblance to her image on the Petoskey Animal Clinic’s Facebook page, which meant that whoever took the Facebook picture was one lousy photographer. He knew exactly how he’d frame a shot of her, and the setting here was ideal. He could use the rolling hills and fir trees of the Island as a backdrop or put the blue waters of Lake Superior behind her. It would be a tough choice that wouldn’t matter anyway because, the way he saw it, her face and figure would make the beauty of the scene irrelevant.

  But he wasn’t here to take her picture as he had so often done for others. This was business. Mostly. He snapped a wide angle shot of the small park where the temporary animal clinic was set up, making sure Colette was in the frame. He might be here to talk real estate business with her, but photos were his business. His father would have to forgive him for combining the two. The trip wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.

  The owner of the rabbit walked away, and for the first time in an hour, his mark didn’t have a lineup of people toting animals of some variety. He wasn’t letting this chance slip by.

  “Hello,” he called, approaching the small, green and white striped tent and sticking out his hand. He considered scooping up a few wildflower blossoms that grew at his feet in the dense green landscape to offer her, but he reminded himself, this was business. The greyhound slipped behind her as he neared, twisting its neck questioningly around the side of her leg.

  “Hi.” She glanced up from her clipboard. Tucking the pen in her pocket, she shook his hand. “I’m Colette Peterson, and this is Romeo.” When the dog whined, she dropped her hand to rub his ears.

  “Ian Kroft.” He gingerly stuck out his hand for the dog to sniff, but the animal pulled behind Colette, distrustful of him. “Sad name for such a beautiful dog.”

  She smiled at him now, adding a glow to her eyes and skin. He wanted to capture exactly that look with a photo. Complimenting her pet was definitely the way to get on her good side. He’d remember that.

  “He’s seen some tragedy, but I’m hoping for a happier ending for this Romeo.” She stroked the dog’s head as she spoke. Romeo turned his head into her hand to gather all her attention. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kroft? You don’t appear to have an animal with you.”

  “Animal? No, I’m just on the island for the day and wondered what was going on.”

  “We call it the round-up. The island residents bring their pets for a checkup and vaccines.”

  “So you’re the island’s veterinarian?” He already knew the answer to that through a combination of internet searches and Facebook lurking, but the point of today was to get her comfortable with him. And that was no hardship; it was probably the easiest thing his father had ever asked him to do. Hell, it was the only thing his father had asked of him in years, and it seemed so simple: buy the Peterson land near Petoskey, along the shores of Lake Michigan. Just a straight-forward, land-buying business transaction with owners who needed a little personal persuasion, his father promised. No complications.

  “Not exactly. My family has a cottage on the island, but we’re only up here occasionally. I live in Petoskey.” She pointed to the words embroidered on her shirt. “The real animal clinic’s there.”

  “From what I’ve seen today, this is a great place to visit.”

  “And to photograph?”

  She must have noticed him earlier. He wouldn’t have bet on that considering the way she’d stayed focused on the menagerie of animals traipsing through the tent during the afternoon, but it left a little flurry of feeling in him.

  “Yeah.” He lifted the camera strapped around his neck, suddenly self conscious of the Canon. “I tend to take a lot of pictures.”

  “So I saw,” she said, arching a brow at him. Was she mocking him?

  He grinned at her. “If I have a camera in my hands, I’m going to start clicking away, especially when everything here is so photogenic.” He found himself unable to take his eyes off her face.

  “Lots of photographers and artists come here. They all rave about the light.” She turned her face to the sun. The filtered light of the sunshade made her skin a warm, peachy color. “Is that what you see, too?”

  “The light’s exceptional. Bright, without being harsh, but with a golden hue that makes everything
stand out distinctly.” He turned to where the park sloped down toward the ferry dock. Along the edges of the park, pine trees gave way to rocky shoreline and blue water. Across the water, the sandstone cliffs of the mainland reflected light back toward the island. “It’s one of the most amazing places I’ve seen.”

  “Have you been to the far side of the island? It’s more rugged and wild there, but just as picturesque.” Romeo inched around Colette’s leg while they talked. Ian put out his hand again and tried to focus on making friends with the dog, but her slender, jean-clad leg kept distracting him. The dog gave his fingers a sniff and retreated.

  He shook his head. “Too much to see here. I’ve walked a couple of the trails along the lakeshore and taken a few hundred pictures, but I’ll have to come another day to see the whole island.” He thought he’d like to see a lot more of her too, and not for business reasons. But that would complicate the hell out of the business transaction and may be grounds for legal challenges if things didn’t stay good after. And he couldn’t have that; he wanted what this transaction could do for him. No, he corrected himself while pretending to study the shoreline, he needed it. “Are you headed to the mainland tonight?”

  “No, I…” She focused on a path that emerged from the trees. “Here comes my last patient of the day. Oh, boy. I see Mrs. Connelly has her grandson’s dog as well.” Colette pointed to an older woman on a bicycle slowly moving toward them on a dirt path. She had a Yorkie tucked in a baby carrier strapped to her chest while an Irish setter ran alongside on a long tether.

  “Which is the grandson’s?”

  “The setter. He’s only about a year old and pretty rambunctious.” The dog ran in front of the bicycle, nearly toppling Mrs. Connelly and the little dog.

  Ian started forward to help the woman, but she got the animal under control. ”The grandson or the dog?” He asked, keeping an eye on their progress.

  “The dog.” Colette laughed, then sobered. “Her grandson shipped out to Afghanistan last month. I don’t know how she’s going to manage Semper Fi for a year.”

  “Nice of her to try,” Ian commented. Deployed marines deserved as much support as they could get both now and when they returned. Wasn’t that why he was here? So he could get the capital to publish his book and tell the stories of his fellow veterans? “I’m guessing her grandson’s a U.S. Marine?”

  “Uh-huh. How did you know?”

  “The name’s a giveaway. You know—always faithful.”

  “Mrs. Connelly pretty much raised her grandson,” she said. “I don’t think she was too thrilled when he enlisted, but she’s trying to support his decision. For now, that means keeping Semper.”

  “Her grandson’s lucky to have her.” Luckier than he’d been when he’d joined the army a decade ago. His father refused to acknowledge him for years. Until recently, that was, when the old man gave him the chance to negotiate this deal with the Petersons. A nagging suspicion of his father’s motives tugged at him, but what the hell. For once, his father’s plans and his were in agreement; he wanted the commission from the deal to start his post-army life. If he could reconcile with his father in the process, that was a bonus.

  “I see Semper’s in a mood to cause trouble today,” Colette said as the trio slowed just outside the tent. Romeo slunk behind Colette taking refuge under her temporary exam table as Semper ran circles around the now stopped bicycle, wrapping Mrs. Connelly and the Yorkie in the long leash.

  “Semper. Semper, stop. Sit,” Mrs. Connelly commanded the red dog, but he continued to dance around her, further entangling her in the leash. Colette moved forward to nab the setter. Before she could reach him, Semper made a sudden leap, unseating Mrs. Connelly and making the Yorkie yip wildly. The setter bounded into the nearest stand of trees, dragging his leash behind him. The bike crashed to the ground.

  Ian shrugged out of his backpack, put his camera on top of his gear and dashed after the dog. As he ran past Mrs. Connelly, Colette was helping the older woman to her feet. He thought he heard Colette call to him, but he had a visual on Semper and didn’t want to hesitate. He’d hate to see some kid in the marines lose his dog while he was overseas.

  Plus, capturing the dog gave him a chance to talk to Colette more. Something he both needed and wanted to do, even if he had to run down a fast moving dog to accomplish his mission.

  Colette glanced toward the woods where Ian disappeared while she examined the Yorkie. The little guy was still breathing heavily from the incident. She smoothed her fingers over his head, calming him. She felt jittery herself, but not from the same source. She stole another look in the direction Ian had disappeared. So far, no Ian and no Semper. The dog would come back eventually. She was more concerned about the man. Concerned might be the wrong word. Interested was better.

  Of course, in her experience, good men always ran off. At least Ian looked good while running. It was the bad ones who stuck around, caused trouble, then took off anyway.

  She gave the little dog a treat after his shots and returned him to Mrs. Connelly, who sat in a lawn chair in the late afternoon sun, recovering from her fall.

  “Not from around here?” Mrs. Connelly ruffled the dog’s fur.

  “Who?”

  “The young man chasing Semper. Anyone from the island would know that he’ll come back.”

  “Visiting for the day he said.” Too bad, but she was only here for the weekend herself. Late tomorrow, she’d take the three hour drive home to Petoskey. What was she thinking? Had it been that long since she’d talked to an attractive man? Yes, she admitted to herself, way too long.

  “He’s going to get a souvenir from Grand Island.”

  “You giving him Semper?” Colette sat down in the chair next to Mrs. Connelly.

  “Tempting, but no. He’s going to have a terrible case of poison ivy. I saw it when I was walking though those woods the other day.” The ferry horn blasted from the dock at the bottom of the slope, and the boat pulled into Lake Superior for the short ride to the mainland. “And that’s the last ferry of the day. He’s going to be stuck and itchy.”

  Out of habit, Colette checked her watch, but she knew Mrs. Connelly was right about the ferry. If Ian had come to the island as a day tourist, now he was stranded. Grand Island was a great place to visit, but it didn’t offer much in the way of amenities for visitors. No hotels, no accommodations for overnight stays of any kind. He seemed like the type of man who could fend for himself when necessary, but she hated to see anyone in such a tight spot.

  “Maybe someone on the island can put him up. I’ll make some calls.” Colette pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. The least she could do was find him a place to stay for the night.

  The setter’s bark alerted them a second before Ian came out of the woods with Semper on the leash. His running shorts revealed muscular legs that quivered with each stride, making her experience a little burst of lust. Ian ruffled the dog’s ears as they walked along. When he saw Colette, he flashed her a smile and pointed at the dog.

  “I’d invite him to my place, but I’m still in the middle of that kitchen re-do,” Mrs. Connelly said. “I have a microwave and a mini-fridge. Man like that needs a better meal. You should give him a place to stay at your cottage. Might liven up your weekend.” The older lady nudged Colette with her elbow.

  “I don’t think so.” Colette scanned through her contacts looking for an island resident who might take a houseguest on short notice. Her family’s cottage could house twenty people, but taking in a stranger wasn’t in her plans for the weekend. Even if he was above average handsome. She rolled her eyes thinking about what her family would say if she offered to take him in.

  “I thought you might be on the market for a man. Your sister’s been married almost ten years now, hasn’t she?”

  “Lexy’s five years older than I am,” Colette said in a light tone, but Mrs. Connelly’s teasing struck a nerve. She wasn’t jealous of her sister, but in a lot of ways she wanted what her sister had—
a husband and kids in a happy home. She had a beautiful home, but no one to share it.

  “I guess that means you’re five years behind. Besides I’ve never known you to pass up a stray of any kind. And he’s definitely better looking than that mangy cat you used to haul everywhere when you were a kid.”

  “You could say that.” With his dark, slightly tousled hair, cool gray eyes and the rangy, muscular build accentuated by the tight-fitting t-shirt, he was definitely better looking than Inky, her multi-colored scrawny cat from long ago. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a guest for the night, especially one who appeared to be an animal lover. Without thinking, she found herself giving him a welcoming smile as he approached the sunshade, the cell phone in her hand forgotten when he caught her eye and grinned.

  “Thank you, young man, for chasing my runaway.” Mrs. Connelly reached out to pet the dog’s head. “Semper can be naughty, but I promised my grandson I’d care for him.”

  “Dr. Peterson here said your grandson’s just deployed to Afghanistan.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her mouth twitched down, her petting hesitant.

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “I’ve talked to him a couple times on Facebook. I still miss him like hell.”

  “I bet he misses you too. It can be tough over there.” Ian put his hands on his hips, his voice suddenly a notch deeper, authoritative.