A Promise to Keep

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “Just look at you,” he said. “A little more casual and down-to-earth than when you arrived, but as professionally dressed as ever.”

  He’d meant it as a compliment, but she never seemed to be sure about him or his true intentions, so it didn’t surprise him when she rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Under the circumstances, it’s the best I could do.”

  “Nicely done, then.”

  “Thank you,” she said, “but let’s go.”

  At that, she took off, walking past him while he locked up and leaving him to catch an intriguing hint of her citrus-blossom scent.

  After slipping the keys into his jeans pocket, he followed her, enjoying the sway of her hips and the way her long, dark hair swished across her back—a very nice change. She really ought to wear it down more often.

  He shook off his thoughts and caught up with her.

  In spite of a slight limp the pair of gym shoes couldn’t mask, she never broke stride.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Like I said, they’ll wait.”

  She let out a huff. “That’s not the point.”

  They stopped by her car long enough for her to toss her gym bag into the back seat, the hasty effort a sign of her inner frustration.

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling you don’t like me?” he asked.

  At that, her movements finally stilled. “I don’t have any reason to dislike you. It’s just that the changes you and your brothers have been making in Rambling Rose aren’t helping the community at large. And it’s clear that you don’t know the townspeople well enough to give a damn what they want.”

  “You’re wrong. My brothers and I care about the residents of Rambling Rose.”

  Ellie chuffed. “You only care about the newcomers. Now that the homes in Rambling Rose Estates have gone on the market, we’ve had an influx of millionaires move in. And the longtime residents feel pushed out. Unappreciated.”

  “The locals might not like the idea of new residents moving in—wealthy or not. But you can’t blame Fortune Brothers Construction for the hard feelings.”

  She didn’t respond in words, but her arched brow clearly said, Oh no? Who else is to blame?

  “When Bradley Industries came in with big dreams and then went belly-up, my brother and I picked up the pieces and finished projects in record time. I’d think you’d be happy that someone was able to complete them.”

  She didn’t comment. But what could she say?

  The way Steven saw it, Fortune Brothers Construction had stepped in and made the community a better place. “You have to admit that our recent renovations of the pediatric center and the animal clinic will benefit everyone in Rambling Rose.”

  “Maybe so.” She nodded toward the elegant, two-story glass-front entrance to the Shoppes. “But what about this? Just look at this place.”

  “What’s wrong with it? It looks great.” And hell, why wouldn’t he think that? He’d helped design it.

  She slapped her hands on her hips. “The people who live in Rambling Rose, the ones who were born and raised here, aren’t that fancy. They don’t shop in stores like this. Nor do they appreciate the fact that, thanks to all the wealthy newcomers, the owners stand to turn a big enough profit to allow them to afford the rent in a luxurious setting. And that will create larger social and economic divisions in our communities, something we’ve never had before, which is my point.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty to your constituents and your desire to keep things the way they’ve always been, but the world is changing, Ellie. The technology-savvy millennials prefer specialty shops over department stores—or else they’re shopping online.”

  The attractive mayor, Ms. Perfection, practically snorted. “I’m a millennial, Steven. And I’m not impressed by fancy buildings and expensive specialty shops.”

  He merely studied her. He admired her passion for the town as it used to be. And he found her more than a little intriguing. He wasn’t exactly sure how old she was—late twenties, he assumed. Either way, she seemed too young to be a mayor, even of a small town like Rambling Rose.

  When he didn’t respond right away, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put us at odds before the ceremony.”

  “No worries. I’m not the least bit offended.” In spite of their difference of opinion, he actually enjoyed their banter.

  He’d grown up as the oldest son of a very wealthy man, and while he and his siblings were all accomplished, the brothers had built the construction company to the point that they’d each become financially successful in their own rights. So Steven was used to being catered to, flirted with and pursued by attractive women.

  But that wasn’t the case with Ellie, and he found that refreshing. She intrigued him. Yet it was more than her spunky attitude he found appealing. He’d always been attracted to brunettes, and this one had caught his interest the very first time he’d laid eyes her.

  “We can talk later,” she said. “We need to climb up on that stage and get this event over with.” And with that, she was off once again.

  A car door slammed shut, and Steven glanced across the parking lot, where several men and women had gathered around a white SUV, its rear door lifted high. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the vehicle, but there was something out of sync about the people.

  When one guy reached into the back and began to hand out signs, Steven realized why.

  Protesters. That’s all they needed.

  Had Ellie spotted them? Apparently not, since she continued toward the makeshift dais, where a red ribbon stretched across the front of the glass doors.

  Then again, maybe she had inside information and had known they’d be here. If she didn’t have to attend the grand opening in an official capacity, she might have held one of the protest signs herself. She clearly shared their sentiments. But if there was one thing Steven had come to know about Ellie Hernandez, it was that she took her job as mayor seriously.

  That being the case, would she go so far as to shut down the protesters or call in law enforcement?

  Another car door slammed, and three more people joined the first group. He suspected all hell was about to break loose. Steven and his brothers could handle anything they might throw their way. But how was the pretty young mayor of Rambling Rose going to respond, especially if things were to blow sky-high and a fight broke out?

  Steven hated to admit it, but he couldn’t wait to find out.

  Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Magnolia Sisters by Michelle Major.

  The Magnolia Sisters

  by Michelle Major

  CHAPTER ONE

  HOW DID ANY sane person survive the South’s oppressive humidity?

  As Avery Keller surveyed the landscape surrounding the gas station just outside Magnolia, North Carolina, she tried to draw in a deep breath. It felt like sucking air from a hot oven. Thick forest bordered the concrete parking lot, the trees more the pine variety than the town’s namesake. She glanced up at the water tower looming in the distance, the word Magnolia emblazoned on it in thick block letters. The bold designation mocked her, a lofty reminder that her past had been here waiting, even if she’d known nothing of it until a few days prior.

  Almost a week now. One late-August week to process that the story of her life had been a lie because the truth was too callous, even for her aloof and ambitious mother. Avery had struggled with her identity as the daughter of a single mom, whose reckless decision had left her pregnant from a one-night stand with a nameless, random hookup.

  Or not so random after all. As it turned out, Avery’s father knew about her, at least enough to leave her an inheritance after he died.

  Maybe the humidity wasn’t to blame for the prickly heat crawling under her skin. M
ore likely the bitterness that had festered like an open sore on her cross-country trek for the reading of the will. She would have preferred to ignore the summons, to remain unaffected by the news that she wasn’t the fatherless, unwanted girl she’d thought herself to be.

  Fatherless, no. Unwanted, most definitely.

  She shoved the gas pump nozzle into the tank of her Lexus sedan and stalked toward the convenience store, needing caffeine and chocolate in equal measure.

  The stale air inside the shop carried the scent of hot dogs and processed nacho cheese, but it was blessedly cool. She reached for a water but changed her mind at the last moment and pulled a Diet Mountain Dew from the commercial refrigerator at the back of the store, immediately shoving the bottle under her shirt. She gasped at the bite of cold plastic against her skin.

  “Normally people drink that stuff,” a deep voice said from a few feet away. “Although, the color’s too reminiscent of antifreeze for my taste.”

  She rolled her head to glare at whoever was offering an unwanted opinion and stifled another gasp. Over six feet of gorgeous man stared back at her. As if the thick brown hair, piercing green eyes and rock-hard body weren’t enough, he was wearing the crisp blue uniform of a firefighter. Avery had always been a sucker for a man in uniform, although she wasn’t about to admit that now.

  Apparently she didn’t need to because one side of his sexy mouth pulled up, like his effect on the fairer sex was a given. No doubt, which only fueled Avery’s irritation. She’d spent the past two and a half days on the road, steaming asphalt and satellite radio her only companions. She’d given up the guise of healthy choices midway across Missouri, and she wasn’t in the mood to take crap from anyone.

  She made a show of studying the slim container of beef jerky dangling between his fingers. “Those who live in meat-stick houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

  His half smile widened into a full grin. “Now, darlin’,” he drawled, “I don’t even know your name. Seems a bit premature for you to be discussing my meat stick.”

  She felt her cheeks flame at the blatant innuendo but managed only a lame “in your dreams” as a response.

  He chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t get out much anymore.”

  “Shocker,” she muttered before heading for the cash register. She added a pack of M&M’s—the peanut variety for protein—and paid the gum-smacking attendant. Halfway to her car, Mr. Beef Jerky caught up with her.

  “I really am sorry for the lousy joke,” he said, matching his stride to hers. His voice was gravelly, the vowels drawn out in typical Southern fashion, and she fought the immediate prick of attraction skittering along her skin at the unnecessary apology for some silly teasing.

  The unsolicited bit of kindness didn’t make him a decent guy and shouldn’t matter either way. She was here to discover why the father she never knew had reached out to her now when he’d never bothered to during his life. And collect her inheritance and put this tiny dot on the map in her rearview mirror.

  Too bad she had no plan for what came next. She’d essentially blown apart her entire life a month ago with her stupid choices. One particular choice involving one specific man.

  Avery wanted to believe she hadn’t inherited her mom’s self-destructive streak when it came to men. The facts—and the lives ruined in her wake—told a different story. She wasn’t about to take a chance again, even for a moment of harmless flirting.

  She stopped next to her car and turned to face him. “Listen, Jim-Bob or Billy-Bob or Bubba or whatever your redneck name is,” she began, loosening the reins on the anger, irritation and misplaced grief she’d been tamping down for days, “you might be hot but I’m not interested in some good ol’ boy who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

  He cocked a thick brow, but she continued before he could speak. “So why don’t you just saunter off to whatever god-awful watering hole this town has to offer and ply your tired charms on a woman who’s too drunk to care whether this—” she wagged a finger up and down in front of him “—is all you have to offer.”

  When his eyes flashed with something that looked like pain before narrowing, she sucked in a ragged breath. Oh, no. She’d just ripped into a perfect stranger who didn’t deserve her unbridled animosity. Talk about kicking the dog. Shame and regret bubbled up inside her, as familiar as a worn pair of shoes. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he held up a hand.

  “It’s ten in the morning and I’m on duty,” he said, his tone stony. The Southern drawl sounded even more pronounced when laced with temper. “But I sure do appreciate the advice and I’ll keep it in mind for later, darlin’. This was just the reminder I needed of why women like you are a bad bet.”

  Women like her.

  Ouch. She didn’t understand the exact meaning of his words, but they were obviously an insult of the highest order. And one she deserved more than he could realize.

  Which was why she didn’t go after him when he stalked toward the hulking black truck parked near the front of the building, even though guilt ate at her insides. Let him believe she was a raving bitch. Most people from her old life did.

  She glanced at her watch and stifled a groan. She was late for the meeting at the attorney’s office. After her outburst with the hottie firefighter, she had half a mind to skip the reading of the will. With the maelstrom of emotions rioting through her, there was no telling what kind of trouble she’d get into next.

  She put away the gas nozzle, then climbed into the car, leaning into the dash as the air from the vents turned cool once again. Blond hair clung to her sticky neck, and she took the elastic band off her wrist and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She’d woken today at a hotel in Raleigh and gotten ready like she was heading to the most important business meeting of her life.

  She’d ruthlessly straightened her hair, although she quickly realized how much of a waste of time that had been. No amount of product was going to beat the impact of the late-August heat and humidity. The Calvin Klein pantsuit that normally made her feel confident now seemed like overkill, especially as sweat beaded at the backs of her knees and trickled between her shoulder blades.

  She turned out of the service station parking lot, following the route programmed into the car’s GPS. She’d done her research on Niall Reed. He was commercially successful, critically eviscerated and not man enough to claim his bastard daughter while he was alive.

  Her stomach twisted as she pulled to the curb in front of a brick building near the center of downtown Magnolia. Although the town was picturesque, with colorful flowers bursting from planter boxes along the sidewalk and a predominance of Greek Revival architecture that showcased the area’s history, the streets seemed almost deserted.

  Avery didn’t bother to fix her messy ponytail or reapply makeup. At this point, what did it matter? She took another swig of Mountain Dew and walked toward the redbrick building, clutching the Italian leather portfolio she’d splurged on after her first promotion. The knots in her stomach tightened with each step.

  An older woman with a cotton-ball head of hair looked up from her desk as Avery entered. The receptionist gave her a long once-over, then pointed to a closed office door. “They’re waiting for you.”

  “I’m Avery Keller,” Avery told her automatically.

  “Yes, dear,” the woman agreed. “I know who you are.”

  Of course she did. Avery stared at the door like it was a portal to hell. She was being ridiculous. Her life had already been smashed to bits. One meeting wasn’t going to change things that much. Maybe she’d get money. Maybe a painting or two. Perhaps her father left a letter for her, something that would explain why—

  “They’re waiting,” the receptionist repeated. “Mr. Damon has to be at the courthouse at eleven.”

  “Right.” Avery straightened her shoulders and moved forward, entering the office as quietly as p
ossible. Not that it mattered. Three sets of eyes turned to her.

  Douglas Damon sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, files piled high on the credenza behind him. He was roughly sixty years old, with a meaty build and salt-and-pepper hair. He stood, pulling a pair of reading glasses from his nose. “You must be Avery.”

  She nodded.

  “Have a seat,” he told her, indicating the empty chair in front of his desk. Avery had never been sent to the principal’s office growing up, but she imagined it felt very much like this moment. Why was she so nervous? She’d done nothing wrong.

  Maybe it was the two women glaring at her from where they sat on either side of the unoccupied chair. But why were there two?

  She recognized Carrie Reed from her photos on the internet. Based on Avery’s research, Niall’s legitimate daughter had served as his assistant and the manager of his art gallery here in Magnolia. Carrie was her half sister. It felt odd...even though Avery had always wanted a sibling. She wasn’t what she’d pictured, a woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair and a pinched mouth who clearly wanted this meeting as much as Avery did. Had Carrie known about her father’s other daughter?

  Who was the third woman? Unlike Avery in her stifling suit and Carrie, who wore a flowing, flowery skirt and soft peasant blouse, the petite brunette wasn’t dressed up for this meeting. On the contrary, her rumpled T-shirt, jeans and heavy-duty work boots seemed like a thumb of the nose to the formality of Douglas Damon’s office. Avery hadn’t discovered anything about a third sister but got the impression that Carrie and the other woman weren’t complete strangers. So what was going on?

  She could feel each of the women throwing some wicked side-eye as she lowered herself into the chair. Her skin itched like it was suddenly a size too small for her body, as if she were shrinking under the weight of the critical stares from these two strangers.

  But Avery wasn’t about to show weakness. Not now. Not when she’d held her head high through the scandal in San Francisco. Through Tony’s wife confronting her in the office, hurling vile accusations. Through the public humiliation of being reprimanded in front of her entire risk assessment department at Pierce and Chambers, the financial firm where she’d been so proud to work. Through the tragedy of what came next.