Lakeside Hero. Lenora Worth

      “Hi.” She shook his extended hand, again feeling the warmth that tingled against her nerve endings. “I’m Wedding... I mean Cupcake Girl, at least tonight. Marla Hamilton.”

      “Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.

      “So nice to meet you—again,” she said, hoping they could be civil now.

      He let go of her hand but kept his eyes on her. “Oh, and by the way, that cake was a-m-mazing. A-plus amazing. I might have to get married just to have that cake at the wedding.”

      She grinned at that comment and put images of him waiting at the altar for some happy woman out of her head. “I’m glad you liked it.”

      He gave her a thumbs-up and glanced around the room. “Do you think we’re all single? I mean, it is singles night,” he said. “All joking aside, are there a lot of single people in Millbrook?”

      “Single-and-social night,” she amended, wishing he didn’t make her so nervous. Her skin tingled with awareness while her nerves seemed to want to dance. “Networking with a spiritual twist—single or not.”

      “Then it is divine intervention.”

      Marla glanced around and noticed a lot of people. “I think you might be right.” She lifted her hand toward a cute little older woman wearing a full skirt and pretty spring jacket. “Mrs. Braxton looks like a real cougar.”

      He laughed at that one. “She’s got her own booth—showing off crocheted stuff from the Courthouse Collectibles. Lots of baby booties and a few nice feminine hats.”

      “Some men find that fascinating.”

      He shook his head but smiled. “And I guess that gray-haired man over there with the lovely seascape paintings would be just right for her?”

      “Boston Bob? Of course. She can crochet him a good fishing cap and he can paint her sitting in the window, gazing out toward the sea.”

      Alec laughed out loud. “You have a vivid imagination. But you do have a romantic job.”

      “And you seem to want to go with the conspiracy-theory thing. What’s involved with running the Caldwell Foundation, anyway?”

      He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Right now I’m trying to raise money for our Caldwell Canines Service Dog Association. We train and supply rescued dogs as service dogs for disabled veterans.”

      “Oh, that’s amazing. I mean really amazing.”

      “Hey, that’s my word. Find one of your own.”

      “Incredible,” she quickly amended.

      “You mean you never would have thought a rich-man type like me had a noble bone in my body?”

      “I mean—” She stopped and looked at her shoes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, or maybe thought, but not anymore. I’m not doing very well at this networking thing, am I?”

      He laughed and glanced around. “At least you’re honest. That’s refreshing.” He nodded toward the other booths. “I guess I should mingle, huh?”

      Marla warred with that notion. “I guess so.” Relaxing a little bit, she glanced around. “Where’s your table?”

      He pointed two tables over behind her. “Right there. I’d better go finish setting up. Come over and see me when you have a minute. I have a vet coming with his service dog to show people exactly what we can do.”

      “I’ll try,” she replied, hoping she wouldn’t have a minute, hoping she’d stay so busy she’d forget Soldier Boy. She didn’t want to like Alec but something about his shyness and his wit made her want to get to know him. When she watched him walk away, his back straight in spite of that slight limp, Marla felt her heart turn as soft as marshmallow icing.

      She could deal with the visible scars, but what if that handsome marine had the kind of scars that only came out when he was in a dark mood? And what if being around her brought out the worst in him, in the same way as it had her late husband?

      She couldn’t risk Gabby being scared into even more trauma.

      And Gabby would always come before Marla’s love life.

       Chapter Three

      Two hours later, Alec was exhausted but also glad that he’d come to the single-and-social event. He’d handed out a lot of business cards and had fielded a lot of questions about Caldwell Canines. His friend Wilcox had shown up with his service dog—a beautiful Labrador retriever named Rocket—right by his wheelchair. They’d both talked to the people walking around while Rocket stood by and did his job. People asked to pet him and Wilcox let them, but carefully explained how service dogs worked while they got to know Rocket.

      “We got some donations, bro,” Wilcox said once the line moved on. “You need to tell them about the school you want to build, too.”

      “Working on that,” Alec replied. “Baby steps, Wilcox.”

      “I’m too impatient,” his buddy grumbled. “And I’m ready for a good meal.”

      “I think it’s about time to eat,” Alec replied, his own stomach grumbling. But he did feel a tremendous satisfaction in seeing Wilcox so content after the turmoil of losing both his legs in battle. Rocket had been a big part of that contentment. The trained dog could fetch anything Wilcox needed, help him remember to take his medication and even alert him and calm him when an attack of posttraumatic stress was about to hit.

      Now it was time for dinner and a short devotional.

      Preacher walked up and nodded toward Alec while Wilcox trailed behind, still letting people pet Rocket. “I’ve heard only good things about you tonight.” He waved to several others as they headed toward the food line. “You’re using your resources to help others in need.”

      Alec glanced back at Wilcox. “Did you see the way Rocket protects him when anyone gets too close? He can bring Wilcox just about anything from a soda to his medicine. I want that for any veteran who needs it.”

      Preacher grinned and looked like a fresh-faced kid again. “Now you see what this networking stuff is all about. Like leading troops, but into a very different battle.”

      “I sure understand that,” Alec replied. “Just hope I can keep fighting for the veterans who can’t fight for themselves.”

      When Preacher got called away, he turned to search for Marla. She’d been pretty busy all night, too. Her display table was almost bare, and Alec didn’t see her. Maybe she’d taken some empty trays out to her car.

      “This was kind of fun,” he said to Preacher when he returned. “Hey, where’d you find all these single people, anyway?”

      “They’re not all single.” Preacher chuckled but his smile was triumphant. “But I did invite a lot of available people from other gatherings—the baseball park, the grocery store, the soup kitchen. I talk a lot, and single people volunteer a lot.”

      Alec shook his head. Rory Sanderson had his dream job. He’d seen death and war, but he’d always kept a positive, faithful attitude.

      Alec wasn’t so sure about himself however. “Does that make us generous or pathetic?”

      Rory frowned. “Hey—nothing pathetic in lending a helping hand. But from what I’ve seen, when people are on their own too much they get lonely sometimes. It helps to find other people and do something good to contribute to the world around you.”

      “I guess I can’t argue with that,” Alec said. “I like volunteering, but I really need to focus on the foundation.” At the look in Rory’s eyes, Alec held up his hand. “I’m not saying I won’t try to get out more, but