Fools Rush In: Smitten Series, #2

By Susan V. Vaughn

All her life, Cree Robertson only had two dreams: to dance professionally, and to build a relationship with her father in America. When a career ending injury took her out of the dance game for good, Cree left everything she knew in Canada behind to be with her father. But her new life in Lexington, Michigan is far from what she had envisioned. And so is working for the handsome and rich, Henry Gates. A man used to getting his way.

A man determined to steal her heart….

 

As a boy, Henry Gates never envisioned taking over his father's business and raising his little sister, Tara. But a family tragedy sealed his fate. Now he must live a life he never wanted for the sake of a little girl he has no idea how to raise. When Henry hires a beautiful and vivacious dance teacher for Tara, he wonders if his luck had finally turned around. Cree Robertson might just be the solution to his sister's unhappiness.

 

She might just be the solution to his unhappiness…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949931655

Book preview

Susan V. Vaughn

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

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Fools Rush In

Copyright © 2020 Susan V. Vaughn

All rights reserved.

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ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-949931-65-5

(print) 978-1-949931-66-2

Inkspell Publishing

207 Moonglow Circle #101

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

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Edited By Yezanira Yenecia

Cover art By Najla Qamber

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Chapter 1

The only thing worse than cleaning a vacation rental after a college frat party was doing it with all the windows closed due to a sudden downpour. But a little rain wasn’t going to ruin Cree Robertson’s day. She was determined to stay positive and grateful. She had successfully moved from Canada to the United States to reunite with her father after twenty long years, and had even found a decent job...

Well, sort of. Cabin maintenance wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. At least she got to do it in a beautiful place—Lexington, Michigan. A Lakeside town about twenty minutes from the Blue Water Bridge. A place that had a lot to offer someone looking for a new start. Its downtown was cute, with lots of shops, restaurants, and things to see and do. There were several walking trails and places to swim and escape. Even some of her favorite Canadian radio stations came in while she drove. But when she stood on the edge of the long pier in town and stared out into the depths of Lake Huron, she could just make out the Canadian shoreline, and it made her heart ache. The scenic appeal of Lexington was just not enough to make Michigan feel like home.

Not yet.

Cree sighed and pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket. While she nudged yet another empty beer can with the edge of her black converse, she searched through her contacts and dialed her mom.

How many times had she called her mother since moving to Michigan? More times than she was proud of. And yet less than was normal as she usually talked to her mother once, if not twice, a day. Donna raised Cree as a single parent and was more than a mother, she was a best friend, and the one person in her life that understood her.

Donna picked up after only one ring. Hey, baby. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?

I’m at work. Cree pulled the can of scrubbing bubble cleaner out of her apron pocket and walked over to the small round window at the end of the hallway. There appeared to be some sticky, foreign substance on the glass.

Disgusting!

She shook the can several times before placing the nozzle across the glass and pressing down the on button. The foam cleaner sprayed out in a satisfying stream of white. She smiled and used the foam to write her name.

What is that sound? her mother wondered. Are you cleaning?

Yeah, so? Why did Donna sound so surprised? She knew Cree worked as a cleaner, even if that fact was initially shocking considering her borderline hoarder tendencies. Foam cleaner can be used on glass, right?.

Only if it says glass cleaner.

Cree glanced at the can in her hand and read the word bathroom cleaner. Then looked at the glass she had sprayed, which was now covered in blotchy white streaks. There’s glass in bathrooms, she pointed out defensively.

So, it’s not glass cleaner but you used it on glass. Her mother sounded amused. Oh boy. I really should have taught you how to clean.

No kidding. She wasn’t exactly killing it as a cabin cleaner. She had been warned, by the lady who hired her, several times already to follow the cleaning list. Well, she couldn’t follow the list! It was too regimented, and she was the type of person who enjoyed going with the flow.

Something she had inherited from her mother by the way.

I didn’t call you to get a lecture about cleaning, she told Donna, using a rag to wipe up the mess on the glass. Only as soon as the rag touched the surface it got stuck in the goo and wouldn’t budge. Was this foam cleaner or glue? I called you to talk about Conner.

Oh boy, my favorite subject.

Donna’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Cree. Bringing up her father to her mother was touchy. It always had been. Her parents divorced when she was only five. That’s when her father, an American, packed up his bags and left his only child in the care of her mother. Cree watched him go with a heavy heart, his parting words making her chest ache, I’ll be just on the other side of Blue Water Bridge. If you ever want to come to America, my door’s always open.

Conner Robertson was a man of few words, but he was always honest. A trait they had in common. One of the only ones, unfortunately. Cree took after Donna. They shared the same brown unruly hair, freckled round face, green eyes, and the same curvy backside. However, the similarities didn’t end with their looks. She had her mother’s outgoing personality, her urgency to fill every dull moment with laughter, and her fiery temper. A temper that had already gotten her in trouble with her stepmother.

I’m not getting along with Conner or Penelope, she complained, yanking the rag back from the window, listening to it rip in two.

At least half of it was free!

Dad is always at work, and his spoiled, bratty wife is always trying to start issues between us when he’s home. It’s enough to make me want to scream!

Watch your temper, baby, her mother warned. Your father is not like us. He is a serious man who is serious about his job. In fact, he lives for it, and his new wife lives for the money he brings home. If I were you, I would stay out of their way and keep to yourself.

She knew her mother was right. Her father was always on time with paying child support, but when it came to visiting Cree in Canada, or attending any of her dance recitals, he was too busy building a reputation for his construction business. And because of all that hard work, Robertson Lakeside Construction had a great reputation. Conner Robertson was a very wealthy businessman. Too bad his reputation as a father sucked!

I’ve tried staying out of their way, but it is impossible. When Conner’s around I want to get to know him. I’m dying to build a real relationship between us. She didn’t know why this instantly put a lump in her throat. And my stepmother is a witch. We have nothing in common. All Penelope cares about is money, recognition, and using people. And when she’s not worrying about herself, she is complaining about me to dad. She took a breath ready to mock her stepmother’s whiny voice. Cree doesn’t clean up after herself. She isn’t grateful. She left her dirty work shoes on our new bearskin rug!

Most of Penelope’s complaints were justified. Cree enjoyed torturing her stepmother in little ways, like leaving her dirty socks in the bathroom sink, or parking her old Pontiac Sunfire in Penelope’s spot in the garage. She also had the tendency of telling her stepmother when her eyes looked puffy, or her hair was out of place. Only when it was true, of course.

She wasn’t normally so mean, but Penelope was playing dirty trying to get between Cree and her father. She had been dreaming of living with her dad for years. Didn’t Penelope understand how important this was to her?

I was afraid this would happen. Donna sounded almost as angry as Cree felt. A nice reminder that there was at least one parent in her corner. Not that she wanted to pin her parents against each other. She was striving for them both to be in her life. What does Conner say when Penelope talks about you this way?

He sides with his wife every time, she complained. He tells me to be more respectful and to mind my manners. As if he had the right to discipline her like a parent. He hadn’t earned that right. And she was a twenty-five-year-old woman, not a child!

Okay, she had been acting like a child with her stepmother. But the woman had aggravated her to no end with her biting side comments and selfish motives. Penelope supplied Cree every chance she got with the unfortunate truth. Her father was not interested in having this wonderful relationship with his long-lost daughter.

You’re right, Mom, she continued. Conner lives to work, and when he’s not working, he’s busy supplying Penelope with whatever she needs.

Even if those needs hurt his only child, Donna added angrily.

Cree felt the pain of that truth down to her toes!

She nudged her sneaker against another beer until it was in swinging position. Allowing the disappointment and frustration from her fatherless childhood build, she swung her foot back and took a large kick forward. The can went sailing high in the air and landed in the garbage can in the corner of the hallway.

Goal!

Thomas would be proud. At the thought of her handsome hockey- fanatic boyfriend, her chest began to ache. When she left Canada, she not only left behind all her friends, and her amazing mother, but also her boyfriend of five years.

Now you’re playing sports? her mother wondered with obvious amusement. What kind of cleaning job is this?

The kind where I slave away all day missing my boyfriend, she said dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. And my beautiful mother too, of course.

Of course. And I miss you too, baby, Donna said with tenderness. But I’m not sure you should be missing Thomas. All he cares about is his hockey career.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed by her mother’s views on her relationship. She was not surprised; Donna had never been a big fan of Cree and Thomas dating. She never bought into their love story.

Cree wasn’t sure why.

She and Thomas had grown up together. Their childhood homes sat side by side on the same street. Cree was a carefree child, always outdoors, always looking for the next adventure. Thomas was always outdoors too, either picking up worms, climbing trees, or hitting his plastic hockey puck against his parents’ garage. They were natural playmates. Then they grew up and developed different passions—Thomas for hockey, Cree for dance. After dating briefly in high school, their lives took different directions. Cree was accepted to the Canadian College of Performing Arts in Woodbridge. Thomas was offered a scholarship to play hockey for the University of Toronto.

For years they didn’t talk, too busy living their lives. And then fate intervened, both she and Thomas sustained injuries that forced them to come home and recoup for a while—his was a broken collarbone and hers a hip stress fracture in the femoral neck. They bonded again, this time over having to take classes online at home away from their friends. Love out of mutual understanding blossomed between them, and suddenly, all those years of separation disappeared.

Eventually Thomas recovered and received an opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to play for the Toronto Marlies, a minor league hockey team affiliated with the Toronto Maple Leafs, and a shot to start his career path toward the NHL. She was happy for him. Genuinely. She understood why he didn’t hesitate to join the Marlies. Even as her own recovery took a turn for the worse. Her hip fracture ended up leading into hip osteonecrosis, a problem with the blood supply to the bone of her hip joint. A very uncommon health issue for someone so young. Unless that someone danced their whole life! Her diagnosis led to a total hip replacement, and unfortunately, the end of her dreams to dance professionally.

Thomas should care about his hockey career, she told her mother adamantly, even as her heart felt broken. His dream is within his reach. He needs to go for it.

I would if I could.

All her life she had only wanted one thing, to dance contemporary ballet for the Ballet BC Company in Vancouver. She had spent hours training, years dancing, and decades working on her nutrition in order to achieve her dreams. Then she got hurt, and just like that, her dance career was over.

At first it didn’t seem real. Cree limped back to college, finished her educational classes, and watched her friends dance and train, all with a smile on her face. She ignored her friends’ looks of pity because she believed that she would one day dance again. The hip replacement was only a minor setback. But then she graduated college and watched her friends go on with their dance career, while she went back home, unable to sleep or feel anything but numb. That’s when the reality of her injury finally set in. She was never going to dance again, and the best she could do, with her Bachelor in Arts degree, was teach. https://d.adroll.com/cm/index/out https://d.adroll.com/cm/n/out https://d.adroll.com/cm/pubmatic/out https://d.adroll.com/cm/taboola/out

Cree was no teacher. She was a doer.

I’m happy for Thomas and his dreams, Donna said. What I am not happy with is the way he is treating my daughter.

And how is he treating me so bad? she challenged. Her mother might not buy into their love story, but she couldn’t paint Thomas as a bad guy, because he wasn’t.

He’s not there for you, baby, Donna said softly. He hasn’t been there for you since he joined the Marlies.

He’s busy.

He’s neglectful, her mother corrected. Where was Thomas when you packed all of your dance things in a box and threw them away?

She bit on her bottom lip. She didn’t just throw that box away, she set it on fire. The memory made her sick inside.

Where was Thomas when you spent months waiting tables at the local pub only to come home to cry yourself to sleep?

Oh God, she didn’t want to relive that time! She couldn’t believe Donna wanted to either. Her mother worried about her constantly during those months after she moved home, although she said nothing. Neither of them talked about Cree’s decision to burn her dance stuff, nor did they address the fact that Cree refused to use her degree. Her mother was not the type of person to intervene with Cree’s decisions, but the unspoken tension wore on their relationship. Until finally, Donna said, I think you should go visit your father for a while, get to know him. You always said you wanted to cross Blue Water Bridge. Why not now?

Cree knew it took a lot for her mother to say this. Donna never supported the idea of her visiting the United States. She wanted her daughter close to her always. Canada was where Cree belonged. And part of Cree did feel that way, but there was another part of her that had always wanted to be with her dad and get to know her American family. And why not do it now? There was nothing else going on in her life.

So, Cree made plans to cross Blue Water Bridge, and suddenly she had hope again. She would live with her father. Form a real bond with him. Reinvent herself in a new place. Make new friends. Experience new adventures. She would discover a new direction for her life. Moving to Michigan would be the fantasy she had dreamed up when she was five.

God had she been naïve!

She actually thought she would drive up to her father’s big house and he would be standing on the front porch, waving, with tears in his eyes. They would embrace for the first time in sixteen years, and he would tell her how much he loved her. How proud he was to have her by his side. ...

In reality she drove up to the big black gates of her father’s home and pressed the buzzer several hundred times waiting to be let in. When the gates finally did open, it was her stepmother, Penelope, who greeted her at the steps. Not much of a greeting. There was a scowl on her thin face that required effort due to a recent Botox injection.

Cree felt her eyes water and knew it was time to stop going down memory lane. Mom, I don’t want to talk about Thomas anymore! Or my injury. Or the time after.

Her mother paused, seeming to understand both Cree’s spoken and unspoken desperation. Okay. Then what should we talk about?

Darla. Her one-eyed, black, fluffy, perfect cat.

Darla is good, Donna said, sounding as if she were smiling. She misses you.

I miss her. She could use the comforting presence of her kitty in Conner’s home while her stepmother ruined her life. I just wish Conner would let me bring her to Michigan.

Maybe he will, her mother said in a hopeful tone. Just give him time to warm up to the idea.

And to me, she thought bitterly.

I think you need to give your father time to warm up in general, Donna added, reading her mind. Avoid poking the bear so to speak. Allow the bear to come out of his emotional hibernation.

That was easier said than done with how expressive Cree was. But good advice all the same. I’ll try, Mom. Promise.

I know you will, baby. You always do.

Did she? She could still smell the ribbons of her dance shoes burning as she set her entire dance career on fire. She closed the door to the dance world forever and never tried to envision using her degree to teach.

I need to go back to work, she told Donna, feeling depressed. I love you.

I love you too, baby. Call me whenever you need.

I will.

She hung up the phone. And her heart sank because she was alone again. Alone in her new life. Alone with her memories, her pain, her regrets.

She kicked another beer can down the hallway; this one bounced off the wall hard and came sailing back toward her face. In one graceful movement, she spun out of the way and landed in a demi-plié in fifth position.

All the breath left her chest at once. This was the first dance-related move she had done since her hip replacement surgery three years prior.

Holy cow!

She assessed her body. Her arms tingled. Her feet ached with familiar awareness. Her new hip felt strange, out of place, stiff. Her other hip was a bit sore, compensating for the foreign limb. Still, she stayed in plié. Then deepened it. Hands shaking with adrenaline. She waited for something to pop in her body, to break. Nothing happened, just a bit more of that familiar soreness.

She smiled. Her heart began to pound. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

I should really stop before I break something.

But how could she? The old familiar ballet position was breathing new life into her. Suddenly, her problems with her father disappeared. This was what dance did to her. It brought her into the moment, made it so nothing else mattered. Just her arms, her feet, her legs. The sound of the beat taking over.

Unchained Melody began to play in her mind. She straightened from plié and slowly waltzed from one foot to another. Back and forth. Her foreign hip felt uncoordinated and strange, the other hip screamed in protest, but her heart sang with adrenaline and life. Lifting her arms gracefully, she closed her eyes and quickened her feet. Each step bringing her closer to coordination and flow.

Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Eventually, the pain was gone. Her eyes fluttered open, focusing on her outstretched fingers. In a daring move, she placed one leg behind the other, preparing for a pirouette.

She really shouldn’t turn. She really shouldn’t press her luck. But she had to. The music called for it. It just felt right.

With a deep breath, she pushed up on