Never in my life did I think I’d wager in my head whether to sleep with Chicago Grizzlies wide receiver, Damon Siska.
He’s the perfect package—hot body, killer smile, and flirts like he earned a doctorate in it. But anyone who reads gossip blogs knows he is looking for one amazing night and nothing more.
I’m not the usual type of woman he beds. I’m a middle school teacher who cherishes her quiet nights in, drinking wine, and watching romantic comedies, dreaming I’m the heroine. I’m not embarrassed to admit—I want the fairy tale.
But Damon caught me at a weak moment. Fresh off a break-up and feeling lousy about myself, I gave into temptation and left the next morning like every other woman he’d slept with.
Except I walked away with more than just the memories when three weeks later the little white stick glowed with two pink lines.
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I think that if you haven’t read Something Like Hate you’re probably going to be a little confused about Damon. Everyone is referencing how he is this playboy who sleeps around but since this book starts when he finds out about Adeline’s pregnancy we don’t see it. Instead he shows himself to be an amazingly caring, responsible, and giving guy. Going by just what you see here, he’s so very easy to fall in love with. Which of course Adeline does, complicating their co-parenting situation.
I’m not a fan of hiding and teasing a main character’s reason for doing things. We know there is something in Damon’s past that causes him to be afraid to commit but it isn’t until basically the end that we find out what it was. And for me it wasn’t developed quite enough to be a satisfying issue/resolution. But since the rest of their relationship was so dang adorable and I really like them together, I’m not letting it affect my satisfaction with the rest of their story.
Maybe not my favorite of Rayne’s stories, but definitely a good read and maybe one of my favorite male leads on their’s. I love Damon as the reforming rake fighting his feelings and he’s beyond adorable as the doting dad. Adeline is a good match for him. She’s down-to-earth but feisty and won’t let anyone walk all over her when it comes to her child and what she feels is best. But she also understands Damon’s position and is willing to work with him. It creates minimal drama but a whole lot of sweetness and fun.
*****
Author Info:
Piper Rayne is a USA Today Bestselling Author duo who write “heartwarming humor with a side of sizzle” about families, whether that be blood or found. They both have e-readers full of one-clickable books, they’re married to husbands who drive them to drink, and they’re both chauffeurs to their kids. Most of all, they love hot heroes and quirky heroines who make them laugh, and they hope you do, too!
From ex-con to self-made millionaire, there’s no challenge too tough for Cash Sweeney to conquer. So why has he spent twelve years pining for his best friend instead of doing something about it? Because losing Nick would be like existing with half of his heart. Is it better to settle for what he can have or battle for what he wants?
Banged up and burned out, FBI Agent Nick Scott arrives at Redemption Ridge with a trunkful of luggage and a yearning heart. Cash is easy to love but hard to read, and Nick fears his epiphany has come too late. Does he tuck his tail and run or fight for the man who’s become his home?
Tender gestures and heartfelt conversations lead to thrilling revelations neither man can ignore. No more what-ifs or maybes. Cash and Nick are all in. And they’ll need each other more than ever when a devious enemy emerges from the shadows to put their promising future at risk. With the stakes so high, will the guys double down or fold to pressure?
Saints Like Him is book three in the Redemption Ridge series. Though each story features a different couple, reading the series in order is essential. Saints Like Him contains mature themes and is intended for adults.
Content Warning: homophobia, abuse, and conversion therapy are briefly discussed in this book, though no graphic descriptions are used.
Cash pursed his lips while studying the chip selection at the grocery store in Last Chance Creek. What snack was most suitable for a forty-nine-year-old man while bingeing the newest season of Heartstopper? Cash wasn’t one to use his age as a reason to avoid many things, but he wasn’t proud of his obsession with the series about queer teenagers and their first loves. Their vitality and innocence sometimes made him feel older than dirt, but mostly it made him grateful that a new generation could see themselves in the characters.
It was unlikely Cash’s life would’ve turned out differently if he’d had positive representation as a teen. He’d lost his mom to poverty and drugs and had gone to live with strangers at a time when he was figuring things out about himself. Cash hadn’t felt comfortable coming out, or letting others in, until he was thirty. He’d rebuilt his life from the ashes of his past and had been tired of living a lie. The penniless dirt track racer had to pretend, but the successful technology inventor did not. Cash had thought his newly gained wealth would insulate him from scrutiny and scorn, but it only perpetuated the narrative that he was an outsider who didn’t belong. But those closed doors and snubs didn’t deter him; they fueled the perpetual fire in his soul and made him richer.
He couldn’t think of a single hard knock he’d change because they’d all led him to this point. Well, maybe not to standing in a grocery store staring at the same bag of Fritos for a solid ten minutes. He meant his ranch, his people, and the journey he’d taken to have them in his life. Contentment didn’t negate his few regrets or warm his bed, but the one man who could fix both problems was across the country. Who the hell was he kidding? It wouldn’t have mattered if Nick was at Quantico, on Mars, or standing beside Cash. He was off-limits. Cash just needed to convince his foolish heart of that fact—a feat he hadn’t accomplished in twelve years. But had he really tried that hard?
A warm, masculine chuckle invaded his thoughts, and Cash jerked his head to find Seth Burke approaching him. He bit back a snort. Burke didn’t approach; he swaggered with big dick energy. The sheriff was a good five inches taller, a few years younger, and had the persistence of a bloodhound when it came to Cash. Burke’s uniform consisted of a pressed khaki shirt, dark denim jeans, boots, and a white Stetson hat. Cash wasn’t sure what shone brighter in the store’s overhead lights—the shiny sheriff star pinned to Burke’s shirt or his white, toothy grin. Damn, but the man was fine as hell with jet-black hair, gray eyes, and sun-kissed skin. No matter the time of day, that superhero square jaw was clean-shaven to show off his magnificent bone structure. Why the hell couldn’t Cash return the man’s interest? He could trade heartache for the kind of twinges and stings that left a man smiling instead of moping.
“What’d that bag of chips do to you?” Burke asked when he reached Cash. His voice was jovial, pure good ole boy, but the tension around Burke’s mouth betrayed him.
Cash snorted and faced his friend. “I was just lost in thought.” He glanced down and saw Burke had already placed several items in his basket. “I didn’t see your truck in the parking lot.”
A dark brow arched. “Or you would’ve kept driving?”
Cash sighed. “Of course not. I was just making conversation.”
“The inane kind you make when you’ve been avoiding your friend?” Burke pressed.
Were they friends? They met for lunch regularly at the diner and texted often, so definitely more friendly than acquaintances.
*****
Review:
This series has not been stand alone stories and the latest is no different. Someone else mentioned it felt like an extended epilogue and I think I can agree with that. We find out why Salvation Anew has been causing trouble for Redemption Ridge and get to see Cash & Nick finally decide to stop dancing around each other. It’s satisfying from an overall story perspective but may leave some readers wanting for something more robust.
I love Cash – how level headed, caring, and strong he is. He obviously cares about his guys and his community, willing to do just about anything to help them and to right any wrongs he can. We’ve known since the beginning that there was something going on between him and Nick but we didn’t know exactly what. And we finally find out. I can’t decide how I feel about Cash with Nick though. For someone who has come across as so put together for so long, it’s a bit of a disconnect to see him so unsure and vulnerable. On one hand it’s reassuring to know that he has a weakness for someone so important to him but it’s also a little discomforting. Kinda like life.
We also find out a lot more about Nick & his feelings about Cash and we get small glimpses of their time together. The connection they have is strong enough to survive 12 years of separation and the hardships that life gave them. But those long years of only being friends also means that when they finally decide to chance their friendship for what their hearts have been craving they slide right into being a couple. There’s very little drama but a whole lot of sweetness as they show each other how much they care with special gestures, small and large.
I don’t know if this is another of those times when the fact that I’m a straight female means that I ask “is that sexy” or “do people really say that” more than once. I don’t think I did that in the first two stories (and I didn’t mention it in eitherreview) but I did notice it in an unrelated book I read by this author. It may be the way Walker writes or it may just be me 🙂
Steamy and emotional, Walker brings her readers the resolution to this couple that they have been waiting for. And sets up future stories wonderfully – I can’t wait to see what trouble Rue can cause or what makes Owen & Tyler finally get their act together. Looking forward to more of the men from Redemption Ridge.
*****
Author Info:
Ever since she was a little girl, Aimee Nicole Walker entertained herself with stories that popped into her head. Now she gets paid to tell those stories to other people. She wears many titles—wife, mom, and animal lover are just a few of them. Her absolute favorite title is champion of the happily ever after. Love inspires everything she does, music keeps her sane, and coffee is the magic elixir that fuels her day.
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Easton Hayes has been my knight in shining hockey skates since he saved my life.
This devastatingly handsome grump may be everyone’s favorite goalie, but to me, he’s my strength when demons haunt my dreams. And okay—so maybe he’s also the only man I’ve ever loved. But he doesn’t need to know that.
We’re friends.
It works for us.
At least, it did. Until I wake up with his ring on my finger and the hangover from hell. But what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas when he refuses to give me an annulment and follows me across the country instead.
Now our families are furious.
Our friends are playing matchmaker.
I’m getting goosebumps each time I hear the words “my wife.”
And I think my husband might be in love with me.
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Bella Matthews is a USA Today & Amazon Top 50 Bestselling author. She is married to her very own Alpha Male and raising three little ones. You can typically find her running from one sporting event to another. When she is home, she is usually hiding in her home office with the only other female in her house, her rescue dog Tinker Bell by her side. She likes to write swoon-worthy heroes and sassy, smart heroines. Sarcasm is her love language and big family dynamics are her favorite thing to add to each story.
He’s the cocky, pro hockey player that tried to get my number during a game. Now he’s sidelined with an injury and I’m his new nurse.
The first time I met Ash Kelly, he stripped off his jersey and gave it to a little girl in the crowd, charming an arena full of fans in the process. Then he tossed me a puck and asked for my number. I was with my jerk ex-boyfriend, who was less than impressed with the whole thing.
The second time he crashes into my life it’s as my patient. There’s no way he should remember me, but he does. Being Ash’s nurse is torture. He’s stubborn and frustrating, and he won’t stop flirting with me now that he knows I’m single. He’s even recruited the entire hospital to help him win me over. And it’s working.
The more time I spend taking care of him, the more he breaks down my defenses. He’s kind and considerate, and he makes my heart race.
But I’ve sworn off dating and getting involved with a charming, handsome hockey player like Ash feels like a terrible idea. We go our separate ways again, despite our undeniable connection.
I should have known it wouldn’t be the last time. For some reason, the universe keeps throwing us together.
I’m finally ready to give him a chance, but there’s one little problem. My ex-boyfriend just got a new job as the assistant GM of the Wildcats. And the only thing he wants more than me is to screw over the man I’m falling for.
In Your Wildest Dreams is a hockey romance with a cocky, cinnamon roll hero, spice, banter, and a happily ever after. It’s the fourth book in the Wildcat Hockey series and can be enjoyed as a standalone.
Rebecca Jenshak is a USA Today bestselling author of new adult and sports romance. She writes sexy, feel-good stories with lots of swoon-worthy moments.
Rebecca lives in Arizona. When she isn’t writing, you can find her cheering on local sports teams, hanging out with friends and family, or curled up with a good book.
What could possibly go wrong fake dating the gorgeous single dad in a small town?
The answer, you fall for him.
It started out perfect. Grady Whitlock needed a plus one for his business meetings, and I needed a date for a wedding.
We had a plan. It was a good one.
Until it wasn’t.
I was not supposed to have feelings for him. I was not going to let my heart race when his soulful blue eyes stared into mine. No way should I have noticed his smile or the dimple on his right cheek or his strong arms when he held me close. I especially wasn’t going to melt when I saw him play with my daughter.
Most of all I was not going to sleep with him.
Nope. None of that was supposed to happen, but it does.
Now I find myself dreaming of him every night. Wishing we were really a couple because the way he kisses me doesn’t feel as if it’s pretend.
But we’ve both watched our dreams shatter, and I can’t handle another broken heart.
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Corinne Michaels is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of romance novels. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love, and she enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak before finding a way to heal them through their struggles.
Corinne is a former Navy wife and happily married to the man of her dreams. She began her writing career after spending months away from her husband while he was deployed–reading and writing were her escapes from the loneliness. Corinne now lives in Virginia with her husband and is the emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun-loving mom of two beautiful children.
Kareem spent his teen years fighting his growing desires for his sister’s best friend, Amy. Now, he’s taking part in a charity bachelor auction and his sister wins the bid… for her bestie. Readers who love holiday romances with bachelor auctions will enjoy Coming Down Her Chimney by Imani Jay, a steamy, small town, sister’s best friend, second chance romance.
Coming Down Her Chimney
Candy Cane Key
Man of the Month: December
by Imani Jay
Blurb:
Amy My bestie dragged me to the lovely beach town where her parents retired. What she failed to mention is her brother, superstar basketball player (and my lifelong crush…), Kareem, is also here…
Kareem I spent my teens fighting my growing desires for my sister’s best friend. And seeing Amy again after all this time? She looks even better. And she’s still the sweet, funny, smart girl I could never forget…
What happens when Kareem takes part in the local Charity Bachelor Auction and his sister wins the bid… for her bestie.
Tag along for a safe, steamy, second chance romance with no cheating, no cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA!
I push open the heavy glass door of our office building, the cold, San Francisco December air hitting my cheeks. I hurry inside, my heels clicking on the polished marble floors. As I make my way past the rows of cubicles, I catch a glimpse of myself in the dark computer screens – my curly hair bouncing around my shoulders, my brown eyes peering out from under thick lashes.
I plop down at my desk, setting my coffee, purse and laptop bag down. I boot up my computer, the screen lighting up. Numbers, always numbers. Sometimes I dream in debits and credits.
As I open up the latest expense reports, my mind drifts to the coming holidays. While my coworkers chat about their ski trips and what parties they’ll attend, I’ll be spending Christmas in the real cold with my sister and her family in Virginia. The thought of the frigid winter depresses me. I crave sunshine on my skin, sand between my toes. But my traitor parents left the city for a Caribbean cruise, so it’s whether a solo holiday in my apartment or family time on the East Coast.
I’m interrupted from my daydream by the ringing of my phone. I smile when I see the name flash on the screen.
“Hey Lisa!” I answer.
My best friend’s bubbly voice comes through the receiver. “Ami! How’s my favorite girl?”
We chat about life, work. As always, her law firm is keeping her busy. Then Lisa asks me about my holiday plans, and I sigh.
“Pfff, my parents went on their cruise. So it’s Virginia with my sister or just me, takeout, and Netflix. I’ll live vicariously through your tropical vacation pictures.”
Lisa gasps. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I didn’t think to invite you sooner. Come down to my parents’ beach house with us!”
My eyes go wide. THE beach house? In Florida? That sounds like a dream. But imposing on their family holiday…
“Are you sure that’s okay?” I ask hesitantly.
Lisa scoffs. “Of course! You know Mom and Dad love you. And I could really use my bestie to help with all the holiday activities’ organization.”
I chew on my bottom lip, considering. A warm beach vacation with Lisa and her awesome family does sound amazing. Way better than sitting alone in my apartment or going to freeze my butt at Marie’s.
“Alright, I’m in!” I finally say. Lisa squeals in excitement. And as we discuss travel plans, I can’t keep the grin off my face. No snow for me this Christmas – I’m heading for sunshine and sand!
Lisa fills me in on the details – I’ll fly into Tampa next week and drive down to the Keys to meet them.
“And we can talk about you and my brother,” she teases.
I feel my cheeks heat. Lisa laughs.
I suck my teeth. “Girl, leave me alone.”
Truth is, I’ve had the biggest crush on Kareem Mason forever. The first time Lisa invited me to her house back when we were in high school and became inseparable. But he’s always been older, cooler, waaayyy out of my league. And now, he’s a successful, rich and famous basketball player. I’m just me – no way he’d ever look at me as more than his little sister’s best friend.
The thought of him makes my pulse quicken. I push that to the far corners my mind.
“I’m just looking forward to sunshine and piña coladas,” I say breezily.
“Uh huh, sure,” Lisa teases. “Well, I better get back to it. I have no intention of taking any work with me, and
I hope you do the same. Get ready for the best holiday ever, bestie!”
We say our goodbyes and I set the phone down, shaking my head with amusement. A week lounging on the beach sounds like heaven.
I start mentally packing my bikinis and sunscreen, daydreaming about crystal blue waves.
Copyright 2023 Imani Jay
*****
Author Info:
Imani loves reading romances with curvy queens who find their HEA with alpha hunks, so that’s what she writes! If you enjoy sweet and spicy stories filled with fun, heat and all the feels, you’re in the right place!
Thor meets Tony Hawk in this comedic, low-angst/high spice MM romance about a serious hockey goalie who is drawn out of his shell by a bratty skateboarder, a dare involving cake, and a lesson in how to use joysticks-for video games of course.
Bad Pucking Influence
Colorado Bulldogs #2
by Michele Lenard
Blurb:
On the surface, I’ve got it all. I’m the starting goalie and Captain of the Colorado Bulldogs hockey team. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. I can count an entire team of elite athletes as my friends. And according to the pundits, I’m an eligible bachelor.
That’s the image everyone sees, but it’s just a role I play. A part dictated by my career. I have to be just as perfect off the ice as I am on it since everything I do reflects on my team in some way or another. So, those questions I have about why I don’t crave sexual contact the way my teammates do–questions I’m afraid to ask with the world watching… I decided a long time ago it didn’t make sense to look for answers until after I retire.
Then I ran into him.
Tripp is loud, obnoxious, and full of confidence. Some people find his sass off-putting, but not me. I find it intriguing, and I admire his ability to be himself, consequences be damned. Apparently, I also admire the way he looks, since my eyes seem to linger on him longer than they should, and when he sets his sights on me…
Waiting for retirement to explore who I am seems like too big a sacrifice, so when Tripp offers to help me answer some of those questions about myself, I jump.
I’m tired of pretending to be Mr. Perfect… Tripp and his playboy antics might be just the thing I need to figure out who I am outside of hockey. The only problem is, everyone–including our mutual friends–see him as a bad pucking influence.
Bad Pucking Influence is a low-angst, high-spice MM romance featuring a hockey player and a brat, not a hockey book featuring a romance. Fans of bratty playboys and gentle giants will enjoy this light-hearted, steamy yet touching love story.
Since I first saw Tripp at a team barbeque Xander dragged him to last summer, I’ve found myself noticing him more and more. In my defense, it’s hard not to. Standing at six feet, with perfectly mussed bleached-blond hair and dark stubble that’s hard to miss since the contrast is so stark, it’s the mischievous tilt of his lips that really captures my attention. I often find myself wondering what’s going on in his mind, particularly since he’s a professional at giving people the shock-and-awe treatment. His antics amuse me more than they should, even when they involve silly excuses to measure my biceps with his hands.
Between his loud looks and even louder personality, he doesn’t exactly fade into the background, and if I’m being honest, I find his brash nature freeing. I sort of like that he’s become a bit of a regular fixture in our social circle. What’s confusing to me is that it’s not just his personality that catches my attention. His appearance fascinates me, especially now, with him skating around shirtless.
Tall and lean, every muscle is on display, showing off a smattering of tattoos that would otherwise be hidden. They’re kind of mesmerizing to watch as they ripple under his skin. So is the youthful gleam in his eye. It’s not arousing exactly, but it’s something. Something I’ve yet to put a label on, but I only seem to experience it around him. Which might mean sitting here watching him is a bad idea, at least until I sort out some of my confusion.
If only I could look away.
*****
Review:
I liked the characters – Noah is a big, ol’ teddy bear and Tripp is as in-your-face as you can get – but there’s definitely something more lurking beneath the surface of both. We get an understanding of Noah’s pretty early on, and Tripp is definitely all in for helping him explore his sexuality, which means he also brings his own baggage into their situation. There’s a reason he’s not willing to get involved with people and it takes a while to share it with us. I don’t know that everyone is willing to put in the time needed to go from casual sex to Tripp opening up & spilling all his secrets but I found it a satisfying resolution to their relationship.
While it isn’t necessary to have read the first book, Bad Pucking Timing, I do think it will help with how quickly Noah and Tripp fall into a sexual relationship together. It also gives a better look at the fun, & supportive, side of Tripp and how he & Noah have gotten to this point. While the beginning is oh-so-steamy, I think that foundation may be needed so that Tripp’s bratty side is better understood and to help readers get through the slower transition of their relationship.
*****
Author Info:
Michele is a tomboy who writes contemporary romance (usually sports themed) that is both sweet and steamy. Her goal is to make you fan your face as you wipe a tear from your eye. Her books are part of a series but there are no cliffhangers so each can be read as a standalone. When she isn’t reading or writing she enjoys the outdoors, something that pops up in her books from time to time.
She’s not here to make friends. She’s here to make trouble.
With her piercings, tattoos and spiky blond hair, Ellen Truesdale doesn’t quite fit in with the other folks in Coyote Canyon—and that’s just fine with her. She’s only here to put her father out of business, as payback for abandoning her when she was young.
Or is she more interested in finally proving that she was worth keeping?
Either way, she’s struggling to keep her rival well-drilling company afloat. And being a single woman in a male-dominated field has started to take a toll. So when Hendrix Durrant steps in to help, Ellen has no choice but to let him—even though he happens to be her father’s business partner and therefore her enemy. But the closer she works with him, the more she sees what she’s been missing…in life and love. And once she lets go of her anger long enough to learn the truth about her past, she might just find the family she’s always wanted.
Hendrix Durrant eyed his longtime neighbor, speaking with a hard-edged frustration he didn’t bother to conceal. “You’re hiring Ellen? Really, Jay? You’ve been talking to me about getting this well dug for the past eight months. You’ve had me meet you out here two or three times for details on where to drill, how deep to go, what size pump you’ll need to get enough water, what we’ll do if we encounter sand, and on and on. And now you’re going with my competitor?”
Jay Haslem, a forty-something mechanic who was finally getting the chance to build a nicer home outside the small town of Coyote Canyon, Montana, where Hendrix had lived since he was eleven and Jay had lived his whole life, shoved his hands in the pockets of his grease-stained overalls and stared down at the dirt. “Well, she’s not really your competitor, is she?”
Hendrix rested his hands on his hips. “She does the same thing I do, but her business is completely separate from mine. Wouldn’t you call that competition?”
“Yeah, but…she’s Stuart’s daughter. And he’s married to your aunt Lynn. I know you’re not related, but you’re sort of…connected, right?” He offered Hendrix a weak grin, which Hendrix immediately wiped from his face with a heated retort.
“Not only are we not related, I barely know her and hate that she moved to town two and a half years ago, because ever since then, she’s made a concerted effort to become a major pain in my ass.”
“It’s just that…her dad’s married to your aunt,” Jay said again.
Lynn had raised Hendrix from the first year she married Stuart, after his mother died of breast cancer. Everyone knew he’d been taken in out of the goodness of her heart, that he would’ve gone into the foster care system otherwise. It wasn’t as if he had a father, like most other kids. His mother, Angie, who’d lived and worked as a venture capital analyst in San Francisco, where attitudes were more liberal in general, had been so determined to have a child on her own terms she’d used a sperm bank, never imagining what might happen to him if she wasn’t around. That meant, once she was gone, he’d been lucky to have extended family who would give him a home. “I don’t care. That doesn’t change anything.”
Jay winced as he pulled on his beard. “My wife likes her, Hendrix. Thea’s the one who promised her the job. Not me. Ellen’s a tough little thing, a go-getter. We… I don’t know, we admire that kind of gumption, I guess. After all, there aren’t many women in your field.”
Jay’s, either. Not too many female mechanics around… But Hendrix was too focused on other things to point that out. “You admire her gumption,” he echoed, chuckling humorlessly. “You’re giving her the job because she’s—” he used air quotes “—a tough little thing.”
Once again, Jay shifted uncomfortably. “That and…she’s saving us a few bucks, of course.”
“Of course,” Hendrix echoed flatly. Ellen had been undercutting him and Stuart since she moved to town. “How much is a few bucks?”
“She said—” He stopped and cleared his throat before finishing in a mumble, “She said she’d do it for a thousand less than whatever you bid.”
“Excuse me?” Hendrix had heard him fine, but he wanted to make his neighbor state, clearly, the reason he’d chosen Ellen. This wasn’t about supporting a female-owned company in a largely male-dominated field, as Jay had tried to claim a few minutes ago. This was nothing more than pure self-interest. Ellen had been working day and night since she moved to Coyote Canyon, just to best him and Stuart, her father. Hendrix knew that was true because, in some cases, she was—had to be—drilling wells and replacing and repairing pumps for next to no profit, other than the pleasure of taking jobs that would otherwise have gone to them.
“She said she didn’t have the time to come out and bid, but she’d do it for a thousand less than what you said you’d do it for,” Jay repeated. “All we had to do was give her the paperwork you left with us.”
“You handed over my bid? Now she can order the supplies and get you on her schedule without spending any of the time I’ve invested in assessing your needs.”
Jay hung his head. “I’m sorry. You know I don’t have a lot of money. Thea and I have held on to this property for several years, hoping to save enough to start improving it, or…or I would’ve gone with you no matter what.”
Drawing a deep breath, which he immediately blew out, Hendrix stared over Jay’s shoulder at the rugged Montana terrain that constituted his neighbor’s five-acre dream parcel. Ever since Ellen Truesdale came to town, he’d made a point of avoiding her. If he ran into her by accident—in a population of only three thousand it was impossible not to encounter each other every once in a while—he nodded politely, so she wouldn’t know how much it bothered him to have her around. But she never responded. She just gave him that unflinching, steely-eyed gaze of hers that let him know she was gunning for him.
Despite that, he’d remained determined not to let her get to him. But as time wore on, and she stole more business from him and Stuart, she was harder and harder to ignore.
Why couldn’t she have sold the place her grandparents had given her here in town and remained in Anaconda, where she’d been born and raised? Anaconda was twice the size of Coyote Canyon; there had to be more people in that part of the state who were looking to drill a water well. Actually, he knew that to be true because he and Stuart occasionally drilled a well or helped with a pump out that way—Fetterman Well Services ranged over the whole state and even went into Utah and Nevada. And if Ellen had stayed in Anaconda, which was almost two hours from Coyote Canyon, their paths would most likely never have crossed.
But Hendrix knew her decision had very little to do with where she could make the most money—or even where she might be happiest. She had a vendetta against her father, who’d left her mother when Ellen was only ten to marry Hendrix’s aunt, and she was determined to make him pay for walking out on them. Hendrix and his cousin, Leo, whom he considered as close as a brother, were just the visible representation of all she resented.
“No problem,” he told his neighbor as he started back to his truck. “Here’s hoping she does a decent job for you.”
“Are you saying she might not?” Jay called after him, sounding alarmed.
Hendrix didn’t acknowledge the question, let alone answer it. Undermining Jay’s trust in Ellen was a cheap shot—beneath him, really. Ellen knew what she was doing. In many ways, she ran her business better than Stuart ran the one Hendrix had helped him build since he was brought from San Francisco. She didn’t have the resources or the experience they did, but she was a quick study. From what he’d heard, she was also detail-oriented—stayed right on top of everything—and since Fetterman had two crews consisting of three employees each, and covered a much bigger area, he had no doubt she was operating with far less overhead, so she could be nimble.
Although Stuart insisted they didn’t have anything to worry about when it came to Ellen—that she’d give up trying to get back at him and eventually move on—Hendrix was beginning to realize that wasn’t true. Stuart was just avoiding the problem because he felt guilty about the past. And the more he avoided it, the worse it got.
When Ellen Truesdale heard a vehicle pull up, she assumed it was Ben Anderson, her only employee. She’d finally sent him out to grab some lunch. Since breakfast early this morning, they’d been too busy to eat, and she was starving. He had to be, too; it was almost three. At twenty-one, he seemed to consume twice his body weight in food each day. But when she finished welding the steel casing they were putting down the well and flipped up her helmet, she saw that it wasn’t Ben. Hendrix Durrant had just parked next to her older and much less expensive pickup.
Since Hendrix hadn’t actually spoken to her since she came to town, she was more than a little surprised he’d driven out to her jobsite. That meant he was here with a very specific intention.
Setting her torch aside, she removed her helmet entirely and shoved up the long sleeves of her shirt. She had no idea what he wanted, but whatever it was…she couldn’t imagine she was going to like it.
Instead of approaching her right away, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and studied her GEFCO rotary drilling rig. Maybe he’d assumed she couldn’t afford a top-head drive, which enabled her to advance the casing that blocked off the sand and gravel as she drilled, and was shocked to see it. She could understand why that might be true. A rig like hers cost almost a million dollars, and she’d never had the luxury of being able to ride on her father’s coattails. If she hadn’t been able to take out a loan against the house and property her paternal grandparents had passed on to her, she wouldn’t have had the down payment necessary to purchase it. And if she’d had to settle for an older rig, it would’ve made her job much more difficult.
As it was, her payments were almost ten thousand a month, and that didn’t include the water truck she’d also had to buy. Fortunately, it wasn’t nearly as expensive as the rig. She’d managed to find a used one in Moab, Utah, for only fifty thousand. But it all added up. She had a lot on the line, which was why she worked so damn hard.
“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, tensing in spite of all the self-talk that insisted there was no reason to be nervous. She didn’t care if she had a confrontation with her father and those connected to him. She’d been spoiling for a fight with them almost as far back as she could remember. Except for Leo, of course. Leo was harmless. Everyone knew that.
Hendrix turned to face her. She hadn’t moved toward him, hadn’t closed one inch of the gap between them. If he wanted to speak to her, he was going to have to cross that distance himself—which he did, reluctantly from what she could tell.
“You’ve been in town for two and a half years now,” he said.
She wiped the sweat from her face before giving him a smirk. “I didn’t realize you’d been counting.”
His eyebrows slid up. “I’ve only been counting because you’ve been doing everything you possibly can to make me notice you—and now I have.”
She barked a laugh. “Am I supposed to be excited about that?” She had to admit most women would be. With sandy-blond hair, smooth golden skin and wide, sky blue eyes, he reminded her of Brad Pitt in Troy—mostly because of the structure of his face but also his build. She couldn’t claim he was hard to look at.
“I was hoping to convince you to come over and talk to your father,” he said. “Scream and yell, say whatever you want, but quit trying to punish him by ruining our business.”
She removed her leather gloves and slapped them against her thigh, which made him take a step back to avoid breathing in the resulting cloud of dust. “I have nothing to say to my father.”
“Obviously you do, or you wouldn’t be living here.”
“In case you’re not aware of it, my grandparents gave me their house, and it happens to be here. I guess you didn’t quite manage to replace me in their affections.”
“I didn’t try to replace you at all. I’m sorry if you feel I did. But just so you know, your grandpa and grandma Fetterman have been good to me, too.”
She shrugged off his words. “Only because they’re nice to everyone.”
“Maybe so, but just because you got their house doesn’t mean you have to live in it. You could sell if you wanted to…”
“That’s the thing.” It took effort, but she brightened her smile for his benefit. “I like it here.”
“Come on,” he said. “Be honest. You’re only staying because you think it bugs your father.”
“That’s not all,” she said with a taunting grin. “I’m staying because it bugs you, too.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“Happier,” she clarified.
He shook his head. “There’s something wrong with you. What’re you trying to do? Prove you can build the same business we’ve built on your own?”
“And do it even better,” she said with apparent satisfaction. That had been her goal for a long time, ever since she’d finished college at Montana State with a degree in business and returned to Anaconda to help her mother make ends meet. After seeing her father become successful drilling water wells, she’d decided to do the same thing. She knew she didn’t want to get stuck waiting tables forever, and Anaconda didn’t offer a great deal of opportunity.
But it hadn’t been easy to get started. If she hadn’t managed to convince Ross Moore, a successful driller in Anaconda, to hire her, she wouldn’t have had the chance. But she’d needed only two years of experience, drilling fifteen wells under a licensed contractor, in order to get her own license. So Ross had eventually agreed—just to be a nice guy, she thought—and wound up being so happy with her work he’d kept her as his business expanded until her grandparents gave her their house in Coyote Canyon two and a half years ago, and she decided to go out on her own.
Hendrix’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been pleasant so far, haven’t lifted a finger to stop you. I don’t want to—” he spread out his hands “—do anything that would harm you, even financially.”
“If there was anything you could do to me financially, you would’ve done it already,” she pointed out, which only seemed to enrage him further.
“Our company’s bigger than yours,” he said with a hard set to his jaw.
Our company. She was Stuart’s daughter. Hendrix was only his second wife’s nephew. He stood to take over the business when Stuart died, since Leo wasn’t capable, but he wasn’t even considered a true partner at this point. As she understood it, he was only on salary. And yet, when Hendrix lost his mother to breast cancer, her father had not only allowed Lynn to take him into their home, he’d chosen Hendrix over her in every regard. No doubt Stuart assumed Hendrix was stronger and more capable than she was, but she was bound and determined to prove he’d significantly underestimated her abilities. “That’s obvious.” She gave him the once-over. “But bigger isn’t always better.”
He stepped closer, too close for comfort, which was probably his intent, and glared down his nose at her. “It is in this case. Don’t make me put you out of business.”
He turned on his heel to stalk back to his truck, but she called after him. “You couldn’t put me out of business if you tried!”
He stopped before opening his door. “We have deeper pockets than you do, Ellen. We can play the price game, too. What if I were to go around to all your jobs and offer to drill cheaper? You’re saying I couldn’t steal your next six months of work from you?”
“You’ll be taking a heavy loss if you do!”
He studied her for several seconds. “I’m beginning to think it would be worth it.”
The size of her monthly bills—the payment she had to make on her rig alone—sent a tremor of foreboding through her. She couldn’t withstand a full-on battle with her father and Hendrix. Not one that went on for very long, at least. She needed to back off. But she couldn’t. “You don’t scare me!” she yelled. “I’ll take you on. I’ll take on both you sons of bitches!”
His tires spun dirt and gravel as he backed up and nearly hit Ben, who was just coming back in his Jeep.
Ben slammed on his brakes in the nick of time and waited for Hendrix to swerve around him. Then he got out, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and walked over to where Ellen stood at the rig. “That was Hendrix Durrant, wasn’t it?” he said. “I told you he wouldn’t like what we’ve been doing. He confronted you about it, didn’t he? What’d he say?”
“Nothing,” she retorted. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that the resentment driving her might have caused her to sign the death warrant on her fledgling business—the only thing that was currently keeping a roof over both their heads.
Damn her! What’s wrong with her? Hendrix fumed as he drove, probably a little too recklessly, to Lynn and Stuart’s. At thirty-one, he no longer lived with them, but his house wasn’t far away, and he was at their place a lot to see his cousin, Leo, who had Down Syndrome. The office for the drilling business was in one section of the barn, too, and most of their drilling equipment was parked on the property.
Leo was in the wide front yard wearing a snowsuit—even though it was the end of March and edging toward spring and there were only little patches of white in the shadows—playing with his dog, Zeus. He lit up like a Christmas tree the second he saw Hendrix turn in, and came running to the truck.
“Hi, Hendrix!” he said, waving enthusiastically as Hendrix got out. “I been waitin’ for ya. I knew you’d come!”
Because Hendrix came almost every day. He typically brought Leo a donut or other treat, and he would’ve again today, except Lynn had told him he had to stop. Leo was gaining too much weight. It was hard for Hendrix to disappoint him, but he had no other choice. “I know you’re probably hoping I’ve got a donut for you, bud, but I couldn’t get over there in time to buy one. I’m sorry.”
Leo’s shoulders slumped, and the corners of his mouth turned down, which made Hendrix feel terrible. But in typical Leo style, he perked up right away. “That’s okay, Hendrix,” he said as they started to walk, with Zeus, toward the office. “You’ll bring me one tomorrow, right? I like the chocolate with sprinkles. It’s my favorite. I bet that’s the one you’ll buy me. You’ll bring me the chocolate one tomorrow, won’t you, Hendrix?”
Hendrix eyed his thickening middle and offered to take him on a walk instead, but Leo was having none of it.
“After I eat my donut?” he asked.
“Yeah, after you eat your donut,” Hendrix said, finally relenting. He couldn’t refuse, despite Leo’s weight.
He’d just have to take Leo somewhere else to eat it so Lynn wouldn’t catch them. He hated to contribute to the problem when she’d asked him not to, but he couldn’t deny his cousin the few simple pleasures he enjoyed so much. Maybe the walk after would zero it out.
“Thank you, Hendrix. I can’t wait!” He rubbed his hands in anticipation as they reached the office. “What are you doing today?” he asked before Hendrix could open the door. “Are you drilling another well? Can I get my steel-toed boots and my hard hat and go with you?”
It was Friday, Hendrix’s day for picking up parts, fixing broken equipment, giving estimates and helping catch up on any paperwork Lynn was holding back because of questions she had. She helped in the office while they did the drilling, but she must be in the house or getting her hair done or something else today, because Hendrix didn’t see her when he swung open the door. “For the next little while, I’m mostly hanging out here with Stuart, okay, bud?” he said. “But if I have to run an errand or two, you can come along.”
Leo smiled widely—something he did almost all the time. “Maybe we could buy a candy bar while we’re out!”
“No treats, Leo,” he said. “They aren’t good for you, remember?”
Leo’s shoulders rounded again, until he thought of the donut. “But you’ll bring me a donut tomorrow?”
Hendrix barely refrained from groaning. He’d never known anyone with such a sweet tooth. Leo was at him for candy, soda and other junk food all the time. “Yes,” Hendrix told him. “I said I would.”
“I love you, Hendrix,” he said. “You’re the best!”
It was hard to remain angry about anything in the face of his childlike exuberance. “I love you, too,” Hendrix said with a chuckle.
But when he walked into the office and Stuart glanced up, he remembered why he’d come skidding into the driveway of their house in the first place.
“You need to do something about Ellen,” he said bluntly.
“Ellen Truesdale?” Leo piped up before Stuart, who was sitting at his desk, could respond.
Hendrix wasn’t surprised Leo knew who Ellen was. With her bleached blond hair, cut in a short, jagged style, nose ring and ear piercings, together with the tattoo sleeve that covered one arm, she stood out in the ultraconservative community in which he’d been raised. Not only had she been a hot topic around town, she’d come up in plenty of conversations between Stuart and Lynn.
Hendrix was surprised, however, that Leo remembered her last name. It wasn’t as if they knew any other Truesdales. As soon as she’d turned eighteen, Ellen had legally changed her last name to her mother’s maiden name—another of her many attempts to get back at Stuart. Leo’s father had been an alcoholic who’d raised and sold hunting dogs—before he shot himself when Lynn left him. Stuart adopted Leo when he and Lynn married three years later, so Leo went by Fetterman. And since Hendrix’s father was found in a tube of sperm cells in a lab somewhere, he’d retained his mother’s last name and went by Durrant.
“Yes, Ellen Truesdale,” Hendrix told him.
Stuart sighed as he rocked back in his chair. “What’s she done this time?”
“Took the Haslem job from us.”
His father looked startled. “I thought we had that one in the bag. Isn’t Jay your neighbor?”
About four years ago, Hendrix had bought a small, two-bedroom, two-bath, log-cabin-style home on a couple of acres about five minutes away. Jay lived in the mobile home next door—until he could move to his other property, anyway. “Yeah, well, I guess loyalty doesn’t count for much when money’s involved.”
“She undercut us again?”
“Word’s getting around that she’ll beat any price we give. At least, that’s what I’m guessing. All Jay told me was that he was hiring her because it would save him some money.”
The beard growth on Stuart’s chin rasped as he rubbed it. “Drillin’s hard work. I can’t believe she’d do it that cheaply—and that she’s actually doing a decent job. She’s only about five foot four, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
“You know she has Ben Anderson to help her, right? She hired him right out of high school when she first got here.”
“I know she’s got Ben, but it has to be difficult for her even with a hired hand.”
Hearing the grudging admiration in his voice made Hendrix’s hackles rise again. “She’s trying to damage our business. You realize that.”
“She’s not going to damage it for long,” Stuart said dismissively. “I’ve been drillin’ wells and servicing pumps for forty years. We’ll reach a new equilibrium sooner or later.”
“I’m not so sure,” Hendrix argued. “Can’t you meet with her? Have a discussion? Folks talk, especially in a small town like this. If word has it that she’s the cheapest around, and she’s a good driller…” He shook his head. “It’s been two and a half years since she moved here. She’s only getting a firmer foothold as the days go by.”
“What do you want me to say to her?” his uncle asked. “She’s not doing anything wrong.”
“Purposely targeting our business isn’t doing anything wrong?”
“It’s a free market,” he said with a shrug. “There’s nothin’ to say another driller can’t move in here and compete with us. Whether it’s her or someone else…”
“I’ll talk to Ellen!” Leo volunteered. “She’s so pretty. And such a little thing. I bet I could pick her up.”
“Oh, I’d never hurt her,” Leo hurried to reassure him.
Hendrix knew he’d never hurt her intentionally. Leo would never hurt anyone intentionally. But he was a big man, and he didn’t know his own strength. Sometimes he reminded Hendrix of Lennie in Of Mice and Men, not least because he himself identified with George Milton in the role of Leo’s protector. During his teens, he’d been in more fights than he could remember trying to defend Leo from the bullies who’d tease and make fun of him. “I know you wouldn’t, bud. You just have to remember not to touch her, okay? Ever.”
“Okay,” Leo said dutifully.
“So will you talk to her?” Hendrix asked, turning back to Stuart.
Stuart blanched. “I don’t know what to say to her,” he admitted. “I mean…what can I say? I didn’t do right by her, and there’s no changing that now.”
“Then apologize,” Hendrix said, “before she makes me lose my mind.”
Stuart stared at the paperwork on his desk for several seconds before finally—and grudgingly—relenting. “If I get the opportunity, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Let me give you the opportunity,” he said. “She’s drilling the Slemboskis a well right now. Should be there another day, at least. Maybe longer.”
His uncle’s jaw had dropped as soon as he heard the name. “The Slemboskis went with her, too? Slim Slemboski’s on my bowling team!”
Hendrix threw up his hands. “See what I mean?”
Stuart winced as he went back to rubbing his jaw. “O-kay,” he said on a downbeat, as if agreeing to talk to Ellen was tantamount to walking the plank. “I’ll go over there tomorrow, see what I can do.”
Brenda Novak, a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, has penned over sixty novels. She is a five-time nominee for the RITA Award and has won the National Reader’s Choice, the Bookseller’s Best, the Bookbuyer’s Best, and many other awards. She also runs Brenda Novak for the Cure, a charity to raise money for diabetes research (her youngest son has this disease). To date, she’s raised $2.5 million. For more about Brenda, please visit http://www.brendanovak.com.
He’s Emerald Creek’s hottest cowboy—and the one man she shouldn’t want
On the surface, Egan Donnelly is hometown hero material—top gun, commanding an elite fighter training squadron and ranching royalty. Inside, he feels like a fraud, convinced he’s responsible for his best friend’s death. At least he won’t let himself succumb to the heat between him and Jack’s widow, Alana. Yet. Now that she’s making regular trips to his ranch to care for his dad, that vow is getting harder to keep.
Alana Davidson isn’t just grieving her husband’s loss, she’s feeling betrayed over his secret infidelity. Wanting Egan makes things even more complicated. As a nutritionist, she can help Egan’s dad recover from his health scare, but it’s not so easy to get her own heart back on track. Because despite shared guilt and family pressure, she’s falling fast, and Egan is right there with her…
That whole deal about bad news coming in threes? Well, it was a crock. Lieutenant Colonel Egan Don- nelly now had proof of it.
First, there’d been the unexpected visitor, AKA the messenger, who’d started the whole bad-news ball rolling. That’d teach him to open his frickin’ door before he’d even finished his frickin’ coffee.
Then, there was the so-called celebration that would stir up the worst of his past and serve it up to him on a silver platter. Or rather on a disposable paper plate, anyway.
Then, a letter from his ex, which he figured was never a good sign. Who the heck actually wanted to hear from their cheating ex? Not him, that was for sure.
Those were the three things—count them: one, two, three—that was supposed to have been the final tally of bad crap even if for only a day, but apparently the creator of that old saying had no credibility what- soever. Then again, Egan had known firsthand that bad news didn’t have limited quantities.
Or expiration dates.
Now he was faced with ironclad confirmation that
those other three things were piddly-ass drops in the proverbial bucket compared to bad-news number four.
And now, everything in his world was crashing and burning.
Again.
Thirty Minutes Earlier
In the dream, Lieutenant Colonel Egan Donnelly saved his best friend’s life. In the dream, the explosion didn’t happen. It didn’t blast through the scorched, airless night. Didn’t tear apart the transport vehicle.
Didn’t leave blood on the bleached sand.
Didn’t kill.
In the dream, Egan was the hero that so many people proclaimed he was. He made just the right decisions to save everyone, including Jack. Especially Jack.
Egan didn’t fight tooth and nail to come out of this dream—unlike the ones that were basically a blow-by-blow account of what had actually happened that god-awful night nearly three years ago. Those dreams were pits of the darkest level of hell where everything spun and bashed, stomping him down deeper and deeper into the real nightmare. Those dreams he fought.
Had to.
Because Egan had learned the hard way if he let those dreams play out, then it was a damn hard struggle to come back from them. Heck, he was still trying to come back from them.
Despite wanting to linger in this particular dream
where he got to play hero, it didn’t happen, thanks to his phone dinging with a text. He frowned, noticing that it was barely six in the morning. Texts at this hour usually were not good. Considering that all three of his siblings were on active duty, not good could be really bad.
He saw his father’s name on the screen, and the worry instantly tightened Egan’s gut. His dad had just turned sixty so while he wasn’t in the “one foot in the grave” stage, he wasn’t the proverbial spring chicken, either. Added to that, his dad still ran the day-to-day operation of Saddlebrook, the family’s ranch in Emerald Creek, Texas. The ranch that’d been in the Donnelly family for over a hundred years and had grown and grown and grown with each succeeding generation. All that growth required hours of upkeep and work.
Found this when I was going through some old photo albums, his dad had texted.
What the heck? That gut tightness eased up, some, when Egan saw it was a slightly off-center image taken in front of the main barn on the ranch. His dad had obviously used his phone to take a picture of the old photo. Emphasis on old.
It was a shot that his grandmother, Effie, had snapped thirty years ago on Egan’s eighth birthday. His brother, Cal, would have been six. His sister, Remi, a two-year-old toddler, and his other brother, Blue, was just four. Stairsteps, people called them, since they’d all been born just two years apart.
In the photo, his dad, looking lean, fit and young,
was in the center, flanked by Egan and Remi on the right, and Cal and Blue on the left. Remi and Blue were both grinning big toothy grins. Cal and Egan weren’t. Probably because they’d been old enough to understand that life as they’d known it was over.
Their lives hadn’t exactly gone to hell in a handbasket, but this particular shot had been taken only a couple of weeks after their mother had died from cancer. A long agonizing death that had left their dad the widower of four young kids. Still, his dad was eking out a smile in the picture, and he’d managed to gather all four of them in his outstretched arms.
Bittersweet times.
That’s when their mom’s mom, Grammy Effie, had come to Saddlebrook for what was supposed to have been a couple of months, until his dad got his footing. Effie was still living on the ranch thirty years later and had obviously put down roots as deep as his father’s.
Egan was wondering what had prompted his dad to go digging through old family albums when his phone dinged again. It was another text from his dad, another photo. It was an image that Egan also knew well, and he mentally referred to it as the start of phase two of his life.
The first phase had been with a loving mother that sadly he now couldn’t even remember. That had ended with her death. Phase two had begun when his dad had gotten remarried four years later to a young fresh-faced Captain Audrey Granger, who’d then been stationed at the very base in San Antonio
where Egan was now. It was an hour’s commute to the ranch that Audrey had diligently made.
For a while, anyway.
In this shot, his dad and new bride dressed in blue were in the center, and both were flashing giddy smiles. Ditto for Remi and Blue. Again, no smiles for Cal and Egan since they’d been ten and twelve respectively and were no doubt holding back on the glee to see how life with their stepmom would all play out.
It hadn’t played out especially well.
But then, it also hadn’t hit anywhere near the “hell in a handbasket” mark, either.
If there’d been a family photo taken just two years later, though, Audrey probably wouldn’t have been in it. By then, she’d been in Germany. Or maybe England. Instead of an hour commute, she’d come “home” to the ranch a couple of times a year. Then, as her career had blossomed, the visits had gotten further and further apart. These days, Brigadier General Audrey Donnelly only came home on Christmas. If that.
Egan sent his dad a thumbs-up emoji to let him know he’d seen the pictures, and he was considering an actual reply to ask if all was well, but his alarm went off. He got up, mentally going through his schedule for the day. As the commander of the Fighter Training Squadron at Randolph AFB, Texas, there’d be the usual paperwork, going over some stats for the pilots in training, and then in the afternoon, he’d get to do one of the things he loved most.
Fly.
Of course, it would be under the guise of a training mission in the T-38C Talon jet, not the F-16 that Egan used to pilot, but it would still give him that hit of adrenaline. Still give him the reminder of why he’d first joined the Navy and then had transferred to the Air Force so he could continue to stay in the cockpit.
Egan showered, put on his flight suit, read through his emails on his phone and was about halfway through his first cup of coffee when his doorbell rang. He had the same reaction to it as he had the earlier text. A punch of dread that something was wrong. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and hardly the time for visitors. Especially since he lived in base housing and therefore wasn’t on the traditional beaten path for friends or family to just drop by.
Frowning, he went to the door. And Egan frowned some more when he looked through the peephole at the visitor on his porch. A woman with pulled back dark blond hair and vivid green eyes. At first glance, he thought it was his ex-wife, Colleen, someone he definitely didn’t want to see, but this was a slightly younger, taller version of the woman who’d left him for another man.
Alana Davidson, Colleen’s sister.
“Yes, I know it’s early,” Alana sighed and said loud enough for him to hear while she looked directly at the peephole. “Sorry about that.”
Wondering what the heck this was all about, he opened the door and got an immediate blast of heat. Texas in June started out hot as hell and got even hotter. Today was apparently no exception. He also
got another immediate blast of concern because there was nothing about Alana’s expression that indicated this was a social visit.
Then again, Alana and he never had social visits.
Never.
Just too much old baggage, old wounds and old everything else between them. Ironic, since she’d been married to his best friend. Now, she was his dead best friend’s widow and bore that strong resemblance to his cheating ex-wife who’d left him just days before Jack’s death.
Egan was no doubt an unwelcome sight for her, too. He was the man who’d not only failed to keep her husband alive, but he was also the reason Jack had been in that transport vehicle in the first place.
So, yeah, old baggage galore.
“Sorry,” Alana repeated, looking up at him. Not looking at him for long, though. Like their avoidance of social visits, they didn’t do a lot of eye contact, either. “But I have an appointment at the base hospital in an hour, and I wanted to catch you before you went into work.”
“The hospital?” he automatically questioned.
She waved it off, clearly picking up on his concern that something might be medically wrong with her. “I’m consulting with a colleague on a chief master sergeant who’s being medically retired and moving to Emerald Creek. I’ll be working with the chief to come up with some lifestyle changes.”
Alana made that seem like her norm, and maybe it was. She was a dietitian, and because as Jack’s widow
she still had a military ID card so she wouldn’t have had any trouble getting onto the base. Added to that, Emerald Creek was a haven for retirees and veterans since it was so close to three large military installations. There were almost as many combat boots as cowboy boots in Emerald Creek.
“How’d you know where I live?” he asked.
“I got your address from your grandmother.” She glanced over her shoulder at the street of houses. “I occasionally have consults here, but it’s the first time I’ve been to this part of the base.”
Yeah, his particular house wasn’t near the hospital, commissary or base exchange store where Alana would be more apt to go. Added to that, Jack had never been stationed here, which meant Alana had never lived here, either.
“Full disclosure,” she said the moment he shut the door. “You aren’t going to like any of what I have to say.”
Now it was Egan who sighed and braced himself for Alana to finally do something he’d expected her to do for three years. Scream and yell at him for allowing Jack to die. But there was no raised voice or obvious surge of anger. Instead, she took out a piece of paper from her sizeable handbag and thrust it at him.
“It’s a mock-up of a flyer that Jack’s mom intends to have printed up and sent to everyone in her known universe,” Alana explained.
At first glance, he saw that the edges of the flyer had little pictures of barbecue grills, fireworks, the
American flag and military insignia. Egan intended to just scan it to get the gist of what it was about, but the scanning came to a stumbling slow crawl as he tried to take in what he was reading.
“Join us for a Life Celebration for Major Jack Connor Davidson, July Fourth, at the Emerald Creek City Park. It’ll be an afternoon of food, festivities and remembrance as a celebratory memorial painting for Jack will be unveiled by our own Top Gun hometown hero, Lieutenant Colonel Egan Donnelly.”
Well, hell. Both sentences were full-on gut punches and thick gobs of emotional baggage. Memorial. Life celebration. Remembrances. The icing on that gob was the last part.
Top Gun hometown hero.
Egan was, indeed, a former Top Gun. He’d won the competition a dozen years ago when he’d been a navy lieutenant flying F-16s. The hometown part was accurate, too, since he’d been born and raised in Emerald Creek, but that hero was the biggest of big-assed lies.
“I can’t go,” Egan heard himself say once he’d managed to clear the lump in his throat.
She nodded as if that were the exact answer she’d expected. “I’m guessing you’ll be on duty?”
He’d make damn sure he was, but wasn’t it ironic that the memorial celebration would fall on the one weekend of the month he usually went home to help his dad on the family ranch? Maybe Jack’s mom knew that, or maybe the woman just believed that such an event would be a good fit for the Fourth of July.
It wasn’t.
Barbecue, hot dogs, beer and such didn’t go well with the crapload of memories something like that would stir. He didn’t need a memorial or a life celebration to remember Jack. Egan remembered him daily, hourly even, and after three years, the grief and guilt hadn’t lost any steam.
“I’ll let Tilly know you can’t be there,” Alana said, referring to Jack’s mother. “She’s mentioned contacting your stepmom to see if she could be there for the unveiling.”
“Good luck with that,” he muttered, and Alana’s sound of agreement confirmed that she understood it was a long shot.
What would likely end up happening was that his brother Cal would get roped into doing the “honors.” He’d known Jack, and Cal’s need to do the right thing would have him stepping in.
“The last time I ran into Tilly, she didn’t want to discuss anything involving Jack’s death,” Egan recalled.
Alana nodded. “That’s still true. Nothing about how he died, et cetera. She only wants to chat about the things he did when he was alive.”
“So, why do a memorial painting?” Egan wanted to know.
“I’m not sure, but it’s possible the painting will be another life celebration deal that she’ll want hung in some prominent part of town like city hall or the library. In other words, maybe the painting will have nothing to do with Jack even being in the military.
Tilly was proud of him,” she quickly added. “But she’s never fully wrapped her mind around losing him.”
That made sense. The one time he’d tried to talk to her about Jack’s death, she’d shut him down. As if not talking about his death would somehow breathe some life back into him.
“There’s one more thing,” Alana went on, and this time she took a pale yellow envelope from her purse and handed it to him. “It’s a letter from Colleen.”
Egan had already reached for it but yanked back his hand as if the envelope were a coiled rattler ready to sink its fangs into his flesh. The mention of his ex-wife tended to do that. Memories of Colleen didn’t fall into the “hell on steroids” category like Jack’s. More like the “don’t let the door hit your cheating ass” category. Colleen had obviously liked that direction just fine since she hadn’t spoken a word to him since the divorce.
He glanced at the envelope, scowled. “A letter? Is it some kind of twelve-step deal about making amends or something?” he asked.
Alana shook her head. “No, I think it’s a living will of sorts.”
That erased his scowl. “Is Colleen dying?”
“Not that I know of, but she apparently decided she wanted to make her last wishes known. She sent letters for me, our aunt and your dad. I have his if you want to give it to him.”
Egan reached out again to stop her from retrieving it, and Alana used the opportunity to put the letter for him in his hand. “I don’t want this,” he insisted.
“Totally understand. I read mine,” she admitted. “Along with spelling out her end-of-life wishes—cremation, no funeral, no headstone—she wants us to have some sister time, like a vacation or something.”
Egan had no idea how much contact Alana and Colleen had with each other these days, but it was possible when Colleen had walked out on him, she’d also walked out on Alana. He thought he detected some animosity in Alana’s tone and expression.
He went straight to the trash can in the adjoining kitchen and tossed the envelope on top of the oozing heap of the sticky chicken rice bowl that had been at least a week past its prime when he’d dumped it the night before.
“I’m not interested in wife time with her,” he muttered, knowing he sounded bitter and hating that he still was.
Unlike what he was still going through with Jack, though, his grief and anger with Colleen had trickled down to almost nothing. Almost. He now just considered her a mistake and was glad she was out of his life. Some days, he could even hope that she was happy with the Mr. Wonderful artist that she’d left him for.
When he turned back to Alana, he saw she had watched the letter trashing, and she was now combing those jeweled green eyes over his face as if trying to suss out what was going on in his head. Egan decided to diffuse that with a question that fell into
the polite small talk that would have happened had this been a normal visit.
“Uh, how are you doing?” he asked. On the surface, that didn’t seem to be a safe area of conversation since it could lead to that screaming rant over his huge part in her husband’s death. But Egan realized he would welcome the rant.
Because he deserved it.
Alana took a deep breath. “Well, despite nearly everyone in town deciding I should live out the rest of my life as a widow, I’ve started dating again.”
That got his attention. Not because he hadn’t known about the town’s feelings. And not because he believed she shouldn’t have a second chance at romance. But Egan had thought she didn’t want such a chance, that she was still as buried in the past as he was. Apparently not.
“I’m only doing virtual dating for now,” she went on, not sounding especially thrilled with that. “Last week, I had a virtual date with a guy who has six goats and eleven chickens in his one-bedroom apartment in Houston.”
Egan didn’t especially want to smile, but he did, anyway. “Sounds like a prize catch. You’d never have to buy eggs again. Or fertilizer.”
She shrugged. “He was a prize compared to the one I had the week before. Within the first minute of conversation, he wanted to know the circumference of my nipples.” Alana stopped, her eyes widening as if she hadn’t expected to share that.
Egan smiled again, but this one was forced. He
hadn’t wanted Alana to think he was shocked or offended, though he was indeed shocked. He’d never considered nipple size one way or another.
He’d especially never considered anything about Alana’s nipples.
And he hated that was now in his head. That kind of stuff could mess with things that already had a shaky status quo.
“Dating at thirty-five isn’t as much a ‘fish in the sea’ situation as it is more of a, uh, well, swamp,” Alana explained. “Think scaly critters, slithery, that sort of thing, with the potential and hope that some actual fish lingering about will eventually come out of hiding.”
That didn’t sound appealing at all, but then he hadn’t had to hit any of the dating sites. He could thank the eternal string of matchmakers for that. Unlike the widowed Alana, apparently everyone thought a divorced guy in his thirties shouldn’t be solo. Especially a guy who’d had his “heart broken” when his wife had walked out on him right before his best friend had been killed.
“How about you?” she asked, clearly aiming for a change of subject and her own shot at small talk. “Have you jumped into dating waters?”
He shook his head. “Too busy.”
She broke their unwritten rule by locking her gaze with his for a second or two. “Yeah. Busy,” she repeated. And it sounded as if that were code for a whole bunch of things. For instance, wounded. Damaged. Guarded. Guilty.
All of the above applied to him.
It was hard for Egan to think about his happiness when he’d robbed Jack of his. Busy, though, was a much safer term for it.
“Well, I gotta go,” Alana said when the silence turned awkward, as it always did between them. “I’ll let Tilly know you won’t be at the life celebration so she can find someone else to do the unveiling.”
Egan frowned when a thought occurred to him. “She won’t ask you to do it, will she?” Because he couldn’t imagine that it’d be any easier for Alana than it would be for him.
“No.” Another sigh went with that. “Tilly still has me firmly in the ‘grieving widow’ category, which apparently will preclude me from lifting a veil on a painting and doing other things such as dating or appearing too happy when I’m in public.”
He wanted to ask, Aren’t you still a grieving widow? But that would go well beyond small talk. It could lead to an actual conversation that would drag feelings and emotions to the surface. No way did he want to deal with that.
Obviously, Alana wasn’t on board for such a chat, either, because she headed for the door, giving him a forced smile and a quick glance before she left and went to her car. Egan watched her, doling out his own forced smile and what had to be a stupid-looking wave.
Since he didn’t want to stand around and think about this visit, Colleen’s trashed letter—or Alana’s nipples—he grabbed his flight cap and keys so he could go to his truck. He barely made it a step, though, before his phone dinged with another text.
Great. Another photo trip down memory lane.
But it wasn’t.
It was his father’s name on the screen, but there was no picture. Only six words that sent Egan’s heart to his knees.
USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, has sold over 125 novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. In addition, she’s had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines. You can contact the author through her webpage at http://www.deloresfossen.com
I swore I would only get married if my life depended on it. Oh, the irony.
Many things have happened over the last few weeks that I didn’t see coming. My family imploded. Our business was turned upside down. And someone threatened to harm me if I didn’t make good on my father’s promises.
But the biggest thing I didn’t see coming?
Foxx Carmichael demanding marriage.
He’s doing it out of loyalty to my brother. I know that. But I can’t help but think if, through that deliciously hot, grumpy exterior, my bodyguard doesn’t have ulterior motives.
There’s no denying the fire in his touch or the heat in his blue eyes. He protects me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. He makes me rethink many things I thought I knew for sure—like my position on marriage.
But how we dance around our fake relationship makes me wonder what part of this is pretend. None of it matters if he doesn’t admit he feels the same way.
Our sham wedding will fall apart as soon as the threat is contained. But what happens if the flames between us burn everything to the ground first?
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USA Today and Amazon Charts Bestselling author, Adriana Locke, writes contemporary romances about the two things she knows best—big families and small towns. Her stories are about ordinary people finding extraordinary love with the perfect combination of heart, heat, and humor.
She loves connecting with readers, fall weather, football, reading alpha heroes, everything pumpkin, and pretending to garden.
Hailing from a tiny town in the Midwest, Adriana spends her free time with her high school sweetheart (who she married over twenty years ago) and their four sons (who truly are her best work). Her kitchen may be a perpetual disaster, and if all else fails, there is always pizza.
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