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  “DEAR LORD. SOUNDS LIKE HALF THE ROOF JUST CAME DOWN THE CHIMNEY INTO THE DINING ROOM FIREPLACE.”

  Hannah turned and headed straight back through the door to the veranda, to the set of open French doors, where she was immediately grabbed by both arms and tugged sideways, pinned between the open door and a warm, damp, and very hard chest.

  “Watch out,” came a deep voice next to her ear, followed a split second later by the sound of heavy debris rolling off the roof and bouncing into the yard just a dozen feet away.

  “Oh!” she said, jumping at the loud sound it made, the word muffled against the hard, T-shirt-clad shoulder as he instinctively jerked her closer and turned to shield her from the falling stone, brick, and other debris. Her body reacted instantly—and quite favorably—to the sudden, full-body contact. It took her mind a few seconds longer to catch up. Will McCall, he of her rooftop fantasies, had her pinned to her own French door. So she could be excused for being a little muddled.

  Also by Bestselling Author Donna Kauffman

  The Blue Hollow Falls Series

  “Christmas in Blue Hollow Falls” in A SEASON TO CELEBRATE

  BLUE HOLLOW FALLS

  THE INN AT BLUE HOLLOW FALLS (eBook novella)

  BLUESTONE & VINE

  The Brides of Blueberry Cove Series

  SEA GLASS SUNRISE

  SNOWFLAKE BAY

  STARFISH MOON

  The Bachelors of Blueberry Cove Series

  PELICAN POINT

  HALF MOON HARBOR

  SANDPIPER ISLAND

  The Cupcake Club Series

  SUGAR RUSH

  SWEET STUFF

  BABYCAKES

  HONEY PIE

  The Hot Scot Trilogy

  SOME LIKE IT SCOT

  OFF KILTER

  “Santa in a Kilt” in UNWRAPPED

  The Hamilton Series

  “Unleashed” in TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT

  “Lock, Stock & Jingle Bells” in KISSING SANTA CLAUS

  “Naughty But Nice” in THE NAUGHTY LIST

  The Unholy Trinity Series

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE PRINCESS

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE HIDDEN BEAUTY

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE ENGLISH ROSE

  The Chisholm Brothers Series

  BAD BOYS IN KILTS

  THE GREAT SCOT

  The Men of Rogues Hollow Series

  “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” in JINGLE BELL ROCK

  “Exposed” in BAD BOYS, NEXT EXIT

  CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

  “Making Waves” in MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY

  Standalone Titles

  THE SUGAR COOKIE SWEETHEART SWAP

  HERE COMES TROUBLE

  A GREAT KISSER

  LET ME IN

  BAD BOYS ON BOARD

  I LOVE BAD BOYS

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Lavender Blue

  DONNA KAUFFMAN

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  “DEAR LORD. SOUNDS LIKE HALF THE ROOF JUST CAME DOWN THE CHIMNEY INTO THE DINING ROOM FIREPLACE.”

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  About the Author

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Donna Kauffman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4549-6

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4549-5

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4550-2 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4550-9 (eBook)

  For those Moran fellas . . .

  John, Austin, & Will.

  Thank you for the joy you bring to my world, every day.

  Chapter One

  It wasn’t every day Hannah Montgomery got to pick lavender and watch a half-naked man rebuild her bluestone fireplace. Four fireplaces, actually. Be still, my heart. “But I’ll take all of those I can get,” she murmured as she walked from the fields toward what was once known as March House. Now it was the Lavender Blue Farmhouse & Tea Room. Or soon-to-be tearoom, she thought, a happy, satisfied smile curving her lips.

  Hannah swore she wouldn’t stare this time. He was up on the roof again today, under a blazing, late May sun, restoring the stone chimneys to those four beautiful fireplaces. Well, they would be beautiful. As would the rest of the place. All in due time, she thought, surprised at how serene she felt about the whole thing, this monstrously enormous task that she and her three closest friends had undertaken.

  She had goals now. Clear, direct-line-to-the-finish goals. It felt good and a little terrifying all at the same time. But even the fear of the risk she’d taken by selling her home in Alexandria, along with most of her worldly possessions, to move lock, stock, and paintbrushes to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia felt good. Taking the risk made her feel alive. And that had been precisely why she’d done it.

  He didn’t look up—or down, as the case might be—as she drew near the four sets of French doors that lined the south-facing side of the sprawling farmhouse. Originally built during the Civil War, the house had been renovated, restored, and refurbished many times. There had been several additions built onto it, including the deep veranda. When the four sets of French doors that lined the exterior wall of the enclosed veranda were all opened and latched against the house, it turned the space into a porch, with an unparalleled view of the lavender fields and the mountains beyond. The veranda would be the setting for their tearoom. Eventually.

  She did glance up again. One last time. Aside from being aware he was the only stonemason in Blue Hollow Falls, Hannah didn’t know much about Wilson McCall. Well, other than that he did amazing things to a sweat-soaked, white T-shirt. He lifted a large, flat piece of bluestone from the chimney and balanced it carefully on the roof. The motion had her glance turning into a protracted and very appreciative gaze. My, my, my.

  Vivi had been the one to hire him and he certainly seemed to have a good work ethic. Unlike most of the folks Hannah had met since moving to the Falls, Will wasn’t the chatty type. Or the talk-a
t-all type, really.

  She climbed the steps to the veranda, then turned to look back out over the fields. She could feel her heart swell inside her chest at the panoramic view of the Blue Ridge Mountains, laid out before her. Their timeworn, ancient tumble, the endless rippling of granite and slate, pine and cedar, never ceased to move her. In the months since she’d moved in, she’d watched in awe as the fields that spread out before her began to regain their color with the advent of spring. That awe deepened further as the proof-of-life green had slowly marched its way up into the hills, higher and higher in elevation as spring moved toward summer. Around boulders, into every fold, through every nook and cranny, color bloomed, bright and bold, cheerful and happy, as new shoots reached for the sun. If that hadn’t been a sign of hope and proof of the resilience of the life she’d come to champion, she didn’t know what was.

  She actually laid a hand over her heart, feeling the thumping beat of it. She’d lived in the newly christened Lavender Blue Farmhouse for five months now, and she already knew she’d never, not ever, take that view, that confirmation of life, for granted. “Look at it, Liam,” she whispered. “Look what we’re doing here. Can you believe it?”

  “You going to bring those stalks into the house or do I have to wait until you quit mooning over those hills?”

  Hannah laughed and turned to find her friend, fellow life warrior, and new business partner, Vivienne Baudin, standing in the doorway that led from the broad veranda into the biggest kitchen Hannah had ever seen in her life. Born in New Orleans, Vivienne had known early on she was destined for the bright lights of Broadway, where she’d happily spent more than forty of her sixty-seven years. A former Broadway showgirl turned costume designer, now lavender farmer, she tackled every part of her life with gusto. One only had to glance at the wild swirl of carefully arranged, lavender-hued, silver curls piled up on top of her head like a showgirl headpiece to know that while the showgirl might have left New York, she would never quite be leaving Vivi. And Hannah wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “I tried to pick the ones that were just opening, like Avery’s chart showed,” Hannah said, handing the big basket over to Vivi. “Let me know if I’m not getting the right ones.”

  Vivi grinned. “Honey, like I could tell the difference.” She took the basket and leaned down to breathe in their scent. “We’ll do something with you, my pretties,” she said, closing her eyes in momentary appreciation. Then she straightened and let out that marvelous, smoky, infectious laugh of hers as she added, “Even if it’s wrong, we’ll have fun figuring out how to make it right.” And that, Hannah thought, pretty much summed up Vivi’s entire worldview, which was why they’d become such fast, if unlikely friends.

  Hannah—thirty years Vivi’s junior—was a painter, a former children’s book illustrator, and now, too, a lavender farmer. As recently as Christmas, neither of them could have told anyone a thing about how to make tea, soap, essential oils, or anything else from stalks of lavender.

  But they could now.

  Time would tell if the end result was anything worth crowing about. Much less packaging up and selling. But that didn’t matter. Not yet. Now was the time for building and restoring, for repairing and learning. The time for opening their doors, their lavender fields, their tearoom, and welcoming the world into their new home would come soon enough. Hannah didn’t want to rush any of it.

  A loud crash on the roof above made both women jump and look up. A moment later a rumbling reverberation came from the dining room that made the black-and-white tiled floor of the kitchen vibrate beneath their feet. “What in the world?” Hannah said, pressing her hand over her racing heart.

  “Dear Lord. Sounds like half the roof just came down the chimney into the dining room fireplace,” Vivi said, her hands also clasped against her chest. “I’ll go that way,” she said, motioning toward the door to the dining room. “You go on out there and find out what on earth is happening.”

  Hannah nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events. “Be careful,” she told Vivi. She turned and headed straight back through the door to the veranda, to the set of open French doors, where she was immediately grabbed by both arms and tugged sideways, pinned between the open door and a warm, damp, and very hard chest.

  “Watch out,” came a deep voice next to her ear, followed a split second later by the sound of heavy debris rolling off the roof and bouncing into the yard just a dozen feet away.

  “Oh!” she said, jumping at the loud sound it made, the word muffled against the hard, T-shirt-clad shoulder as he instinctively jerked her closer and turned to shield her from the falling stone, brick, and other debris. Her body reacted instantly—and quite favorably—to the sudden, full-body contact. It took her mind a few seconds longer to catch up. Will McCall, he of her rooftop fantasies, had her pinned to her own French door. So she could be excused for being a little muddled.

  “Chimney’s coming down,” he said by way of explanation, not letting her go quite yet.

  “Intentionally?” she asked, her voice still a bit high pitched, her body and mind at odds over the clamor happening on the rooftop and the one happening inside her own body. The sudden change to her previously uninhabited personal space was as jarring as the pieces of chimney thumping into the side yard. Likely because it had been a very, very long time since her personal space had been so thoroughly . . . inhabited.

  “No,” he said, as succinct as always. “Sorry for the scare. You okay?”

  “Startled, but yes, I think so,” she said, knowing she sounded a bit breathless, and perhaps not entirely due to almost being pummeled to death by falling chimney debris. “I might not have been if it wasn’t for your quick reflexes.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you.”

  Now that the immediate danger had been averted, she tried not to stare. Again. Of course, she’d been trying and failing to not stare at the man for two weeks running now, and this moment proved to be no different. But now that all of him was right up close and personal with all of her, it was kind of impossible not to. Her first thought was that he was older than she’d realized. Closer to her own age, maybe even a few years older. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, which might have come from working in the sun. Not from smiling, she thought. At least she couldn’t recall seeing him look anything other than serious and focused on his work. Green, she noted, as her gaze got hung up in his, filling in another detail she’d wondered about. Beautiful, dark, almost gemstone-rich, green eyes.

  His hair was dark—which she’d already surmised—and average in length, cut close on the sides and back, a little longer on top. But now she could see how thick it was, and just on the side of unruly, maybe because of the heat. Maybe because he raked his hands through it. Her fingers itched to do the same. He was clean shaven, though there was a hint of shadow already coming through on the hard lines of his jaw, and it wasn’t two in the afternoon yet.

  She already knew the way his T-shirt clung to every ripple and curve of the muscles in his back, chest, and shoulders. Shoulders she was now getting intimately acquainted with, given her palms were plastered to both of them. Throwing around big chunks of granite and bluestone all day long apparently did a body good. Really, really good. That led her to wonder what he’d look like with that dirty, white T-shirt stripped off and—

  “Ma’am?”

  She jerked her gaze back to his, feeling a hot flush rise to her cheeks at being caught staring. Only he didn’t look amused. Or insulted, for that matter. Just concerned. Clearly, he wasn’t experiencing the same awakening of the senses she was. The “ma’am” part should have made her feel ancient, only from him it had merely sounded polite. The kind of politeness instilled by generations of southern mamas . . . or maybe by the military, since he had no southern accent that she could discern.

  “I’m sorry—I’m fine,” she assured him, quick to smile, while trying not to get lost in those emerald-green eyes of his again. They really were something. “You—this ju
st caught me more off guard than I thought,” she said, having completely forgotten about her close brush with the falling chimney until that moment. “And it’s Hannah, please.”

  “Will,” he replied, not quite gruffly, but close. He finally, carefully set her back a step, keeping hold of her elbows, concern still clear on his face. He was taller than she’d expected, too. Though why she’d expected anything one way or the other, she couldn’t have said. He was a good three inches taller than her own five-foot-nine, which was nice. Even if it didn’t matter. At all.

  His concerned look didn’t ease, but he did turn his attention toward the side yard.

  She glanced past him and gasped at the array of broken stone and brick that littered the side yard she’d traversed less than thirty minutes ago. “What happened?” She automatically started to slide out from her spot between him and the pinned back door, only to have him hold her right where she was.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “There’s more to come down yet.” Trying hard to ignore his broad, warm palm wrapped around her bare arm, and the feeling of her chest rubbing up against his chest, and the skitter of sensations that sent through her, she shifted her gaze past his shoulder to the yard again. “We heard a loud crash and a rumbling sound in the dining room, but I had no idea what—” She broke off and her eyes widened as she looked at him again. “Wait, are you okay?” She looked him up and down, or as much as she could given the tight quarters, searching for signs of injury. “You didn’t tumble off—”

  “No,” he assured her. “I thought I could contain it, but when I realized the whole chimney was going to go, I climbed down to warn you not to go outside for a bit. Only it followed me down before I could knock on the door.”