Promise Me Forever (Debbie Macomber Classics) Read Free Page B

supplies. She gathered what she thought she’d need in a large shopping bag, found some tough garden gloves, and hurried out of the room.
    “You headed for a fire?” Clara asked, as Joy scurried through the kitchen a second time.
    “No. I found an injured seagull. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    “But, Miss …” Clara called after her.
    With the wind beating against her face, Joy returned to her newfound feathered friend.
    A half-hour later her back ached and her fingers felt swollen and numb with the continued effort of trying to help the bird while not being cut by his powerful beak. As far as she could tell, the wing hadn’t been broken, only injured. After carefully applying some antibiotic cream and binding it to his body with a strip of gauze, Joy felt confident the gull would heal.
    Long John didn’t look pleased when she picked him up and carefully placed him in the sack. A movement out of the corner of her eye captured her attention. She straightened and placed a hand above her eyes to shield them from the glaring sun. She saw that Sloan was on the veranda, watching her. Even from this distance she could see that he was displeased.
    “His bark is worse than his bite,” Joy informed the bird, who stuck his head out of the sack and looked around. “Don’t worry. I know a safe place for you.”

    Her hair was wet from the shower when Joy came out of her room and closed the door.
    “What were you doing this morning?” The question came at her like an arrogant challenge.
    “Running,” she replied, and rotated to face Sloan.
    He glared at her. “I saw you working on something.”
    “I found an injured seagull. His wing,” she added. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
    Sloan’s gaze hardened and shifted to her eyes. “You like to play the role of the rescuer, don’t you? Birds, animals, people. Well, get this straight, Little Miss Miracle Worker. I don’t need you, and furthermore, I don’t want you. So get out of my life and stay out.”
    “My, my, we’re in a fine mood this morning,” Joy said cheerfully. “How do you want your coffee? Lukewarm and in your lap, or perhaps over your head?”
    In return she saw a hint of a smile. “Would it be too much to ask for it in a cup?”
    “That depends entirely upon you,” she said softly. “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”
    A few minutes later she brought in his breakfast tray. “You’ll be pleased to know I ate in the kitchen,” she said, a mocking reminder of his earlier statement.
    Again a near-smile came over him.
    “I thought that would please you,” she said.
    On Joy’s instructions, Clara had prepared a much lighter meal this morning. A warm croissant was served with butter and homemade strawberry jam. She poured his coffee and set the pot to the side.
    “I’ll be back in a few minutes with Paul.”
    “I don’t need him this morning,” Sloan said stiffly.
    “Are you already in your suit?”
    “My suit?”
    “We’re going swimming, remember?”
    Sloan laughed coldly. “Not likely.”
    “It’ll probably hurt, so prepare yourself.”
    “Miss Nielsen,” he muttered grimly, “there’s no way on God’s green earth that you’re going to get me in that pool, so kindly accept that and save us both a lot of trouble.”
    “We’ll see,” she returned lightly.
    The grooves around his mouth deepened with defiance. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn bi—”
    “I do find such language unnecessary.” She effectively cut him off by pivoting and walking away.
    An hour later, dressed in her one-piece turquoise swimsuit, Joy dived into the deep end of the pool. Her slim body sliced through the water. She surfaced and did a couple laps, enjoying the feel of the cool water against her skin.
    When she paused, she found Paul standing outside the pool, looking ill at ease and uncertain.
    “Whittaker isn’t pleased about this.”
    “I don’t imagine he is. If necessary, bring him down here naked. He’s