Sunflower Lane by Jill Gregory Read Free Book Online

that wound behind it, Annabelle Harper had disappeared. The front door of the house was shut and the porch light off.
    Only the warm gleam from the first-floor windows still lit the old place.
    Tired from the long days on the road, Wes knew he’d fall dead asleep as soon as he hit the bed in the cabin—whether it had sheets on it, a blanket, pillow, or nothing at all.
    The only thing he wanted right then was to somehow stop picturing Annabelle Harper slipping naked into that bed with him.
    Because that just wasn’t going to happen.
    He was passing through. And she had a normal life. She was no doubt looking for a regular Joe, with roots and morals, and a sense of family, of community.
    He wasn’t that guy, not by a long shot, and he never would be. He’d done things he could barely stand to think about. He’d seen things women like Annabelle couldn’t begin to imagine.
    Cara could. She’d seen things, done things, too.
    But Cara was gone.
    No one else could possibly ever get him the same way. And though he hadn’t been in love with Cara, Wes knew no other woman could possibly mean as much to him as she had.
    He was passing through town briefly, then heading out. Getting involved even on a superficial level with Annabelle Harper was out of the question. He’d crossed a lot of lines in his career, but she had enough going on in her life—and that was one line he wouldn’t cross.
    So, with the total concentration and commitment that had carried him through nearly forty overseas missions, he gunned the engine and rattled over the bumpy dirt road to the Harper cabin, mentally deleting Annabelle Harper from his brain.

Chapter Four

    “We can’t be late,” Annabelle muttered to herself as she ran toward the base of the stairs.
    “Megan! Ethan! Please come down here right now!”
    “I can’t find my tap shoes.” Her eight-year-old niece sounded frantic.
    “Did you look in your dance bag?”
    “Yes, I . . . Just a minute—oh! Got ’em!”
    Annabelle sighed in relief and rushed back to the kitchen, where her other niece, Michelle, was eating Cheerios from the box, chugging chocolate milk, and reading
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
all at the same time, oblivious to everything going on around her.
    It was only the second day of summer vacation, and Annabelle was scheduled to teach her first ballet class of the season at the Lonesome Way Community Center at nine A.M . sharp. But if Megan and Ethan didn’t get a move on, allthose little ballerinas between the ages of seven and nine would be tapping their feet waiting.
    “Michelle, do you have your ballet shoes?” she asked, quickly smearing a bagel with cream cheese for Megan, who would probably have to eat it in the car if she didn’t get to the breakfast table in the next four minutes. With relief she heard Ethan racing down the stairs.
    “Mm-hmm. They’re in my dance bag, Aunt Annabelle.” Michelle, the organized, focused twin, lifted her orchid blue eyes from her book for a brief moment. “I’m glad I’ll have two hours to read later when you teach adults,” she murmured, then lapsed into silence once again, her attention morphing back to Hogwarts with lightning speed.
    Annabelle downed a final gulp of coffee and finished the last bite of her own bagel just as Ethan skidded toward his chair. Her hair was scooped up in a loose ponytail, and she wore a purple leotard under her jeans, and a scoop-necked pink tank. After Michelle’s ballet class, she’d teach Megan and Michelle’s seven- to nine-year-olds tap class; then she had an hour each of adult yoga and teen jazz, all before lunch. This afternoon she had only one more class—a ballet class for ages four through six.
    Then she’d spend an hour or two in the office helping Charlotte update all the files while they brainstormed ideas for the entertainment at the Fourth of July festivities.
    She still needed to choreograph a tap routine for the kids to perform in the square after the