Free Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) by Michele Summers Page A

hand, while the other hand held the leash to what looked to be a brown, shaggy mongrel with a floppy purple bow tied around its neck. Keith gave his head a violent shake, wondering if this was another bad dream disturbing his sleep since moving to Pleasantville. He hadn’t seen Bertie in two days, since she had left him in a huff at the bar. He’d secretly hoped maybe, if he laid low for a couple days, this whole debacle would disappear…like Bertie would leave town as planned and his aunt would come to her senses and call off this ridiculous bride-in-a-bag search.
    “Hey,” he croaked. No one heard him over the commotion. Keith cleared his throat. “Hey!” Still, no one paid him any mind. Shoving his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, he let out a shrill whistle. Bertie’s head jerked in his direction at the same time the mongrel beast tore across the yard at full speed, pulling Bertie behind him.
    “ Sweeet Teeea! ” Bertie yelled, still holding the leash. Hair flying, short skirt lifted, Bertie squealed as she fell out of her colorful clogs and landed headfirst into a pile of mulch Keith had delivered the other day for ground cover. The dropped leash trailed across the grass as the barking mongrel bolted around the corner of the house.
    “ Dios mio! ” One of the painters charged over to Bertie. “Ms. Bertie, are you okay?” he asked in a heavy accent, bending down to help her up.
    Bertie scrambled to straighten her short, flared skirt and extended her hand to the painter to help her up. Keith ambled over to assist…hoping to get a look at the goods underneath. Even better, Bertie brushed mulch from the long sleeves of her tie-dyed lace tunic, unaware that the string closure at the top had come undone, showcasing the tops of her creamy breasts. Keith gave a sigh of pure appreciation. Bertie looked up and locked gazes with him. His lips twitched, trying to hide his smile.
    “Well, isn’t this a beautiful morning?” he said as he reached and picked a piece of mulch from her tangled hair.
    Bertie stumbled back, and her brow furrowed, as if she couldn’t understand why he’d be standing in his own backyard. She almost lost her balance again between the pile of mulch and the foolish bushy mongrel who decided to return to the scene of the crime and bump the side of her leg. Keith grabbed her elbow to keep her upright. When he was certain she was steady, he pulled her with him toward the house, scooping up her clogs along the way.
    “Okay, here’s the thing,” Bertie said as she skipped to keep up. “Julio, please grab Sweet Tea’s leash and put him back in my car. Windows are cracked,” she called to one of the workers.
    Keith couldn’t believe that shaggy beast of a dog wearing a stupid purple bow was Sweet Tea. Poor dog. Man, Dottie Duncan of the Toot-N-Tell won serious points for small-town weirdness. Keith opened the screen door to the porch, keeping a firm grip on Bertie’s elbow. Dropping her clogs on the wood floor, he led her to the kitchen. “Sit,” he commanded, pointing to one of the two ladder-back chairs next to an old farm table.
    “Let me explain—”
    “Sit.” He pushed her into a chair and headed for the coffeemaker next to the old farm sink. He made quick work of measuring out scoops of coffee and setting the carafe on the burner. He couldn’t deal with any more drama without his caffeine fix. The rich aroma permeated the not-so-still morning air. Keith pulled down two mismatched mugs from the upper cabinet and set them next to the coffeemaker. He leaned against the cabinets and crossed his arms, fixing Bertie with his famous Morgan glare, the one he used to stare down an opponent on the other side of the net. But watching Bertie squirm as she curled her pink-painted toes around the rung of the chair made him feel like laughing, not fighting.
    “Explain,” he said, struggling to keep the edge in his voice as he stared at her tangled hair with bits of mulch peeking