by Sabrina York
“Roni—”
“Mark. Don’t.” She had to stop him. She had to stop him before he asked her for something she couldn’t give. Before he demanded the truth. “What we have is perfect.” She even leaned in and kissed him, to make her point.
“Is it?”
It was perfect for her. She was blissfully happy for the first time in her life. She didn’t want this to end.
She knew it wasn’t perfect for him. She’d known for a while. She’d sensed it. But she wasn’t ready to have this conversation. Not today. So she pulled her hand from his, smiled and said, “It’s getting late. I have to get to work, and so do you.”
His stark expression crumpled into a wash of emotion. There was frustration in there. She could see it. “To hell with work, Roni,” he growled. “Nothing is as important to me as you are. Do you understand that? I love you. I want to be with you.”
“You are with me.” She cupped her hands around his face. “We’re together nearly every night.”
He shook his head. “I want more. Don’t you want more, Roni? Don’t you want a happy-ever-after?”
Dear Reader,
I am very happy to welcome you to the second Stirling Ranch adventure. This story comes from a very emotional corner of my heart. Though the subject matter is difficult for many, what I hope to share in this glimpse of renewal is that we can heal from hurt. And we can help heal each other. We need to.
In Recipe for a Homecoming, our heroine steps into the story having survived an abusive marriage. She is determined to be her own woman. She’s not at all interested in having an intimate relationship with a man ever again. Mark is, therefore, effectively friend-zoned. The question is, can he prove to her that she can be her own woman and his at the same time?
INSIDE PEEK: Okay, confession time. Veronica, our heroine—or Roni, as Mark calls her—has a passion for baking. “Dang it, Sabrina,” you say. “Why do you have so many bakers in your books?” I’m sure you can guess. The truth is, I like writing about pastries and éclairs and molasses cookies. Things I am not allowed to eat. Sigh.
At any rate, I hope you enjoy reading about how Mark and Veronica make their way back to love.
And for those of you who relate to Roni’s story more than you’d like to, I’m sending you peace and love and, most of all, the strength to forgive and move on. It’s your story now. Own it.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Check out all my books and contests at sabrinayork.com, and if you want to get updates about future books and tiara giveaways—and snag a free book—sign up for my newsletter at sabrinayork.com/gift.
Happy reading, my darlings!
Sabrina York
Recipe for a Homecoming
Sabrina York
Sabrina York is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of hot, humorous romance. She loves to explore contemporary, historical and paranormal genres, and her books range from sweet and sexy to scorching romance. Her awards include the 2018 HOLT Medallion and the National Excellence in Romantic Fiction Award, and she was also a 2017 RITA® Award nominee for Historical Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of thirty-plus years and a very drooly Rottweiler.
Visit her website at sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.
Books by Sabrina York
Harlequin Special Edition
The Stirling Ranch
Accidental Homecoming
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
This book is dedicated to all my readers who choose to look for the light.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Excerpt from Sleigh Bells Ring by RaeAnne Thayne
Excerpt from A Rancher’s Touch by Allison Leigh
Chapter One
“Well, it’s official. You’re the last man standing,” Cole Taylor said, lifting his beer in Mark Stirling’s direction. Laughter rounded the small living room of Mark’s cabin, causing the dogs to start howling, too.
Mark loved the “puppers” he fostered until a forever home came along, but they were very easily led into howling. Especially when his boisterous friends came over to hang out for an evening.
Granted, they weren’t as boisterous as they used to be, since Adam Scott owned a business, Ben Nadler was the bank manager and Cole was the deputy sheriff. Still, they managed to have a little bit of fun, even though it was limited to these poker games and the occasional volunteer firefighter trainings.
Adam shook his head as he shuffled the cards. “Who’da thunk it, back in high school? That Nadler would be engaged before Mark Stirling?”
“Hey!” Nadler exclaimed, shoving his glasses back up his nose.
But Adam was right. It was kind of unbelievable that Nadler found his person before him. Mark had always been the guy with a girlfriend—any girlfriend. But now... He blew out a breath and shook his head. Here he was, pushing thirty, available—and all his buddies were coupled up.
“Then again...” Adam chuckled. “It makes perfect sense. All the women in this town know you.” The fact that the others laughed, too, made something sour swirl in his belly.
“Maybe I don’t want to get married,” he finally muttered, but that made them all collapse into more laughter. Seriously? “What’s so funny?”
“Of course you don’t want to get married.” Adam pushed away from the table and headed for the fridge for another round of beers.
“Why would you?” Cole asked, as he popped open his brewski against the tabletop. “Aren’t you living your best life? Why change?”
Nadler used the bottle opener, which Mark appreciated. The table wasn’t fancy, but it deserved better than such abuse. “Face it, Stirling,” he said. “The ladies love you.”
Mark shrugged. He did have a pretty long history of dating just about every single woman in the county. Trouble was, he hadn’t found anyone he wanted to be with on a more permanent basis. It wasn’t so much a physical thing. It was just that all of his encounters left him wishing for something more. Something meaningful. Something...lasting.
Something...
Of course, Mark wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for to begin with. Happiness, certainly. But peace and an easygoing relationship appealed to him, as well. It was probably unrealistic to ask for more than that. Based on his experience, the ideal of a soul mate was a fantasy made up for reality TV.
His parents hadn’t been great role models for connubial bliss. Though his mom had died when he was young, he still remembered the incessant fights between her and Pop reverberating through the house. They’d been far from lovey-dovey. And his grandfather—who’d taken on the task of raising the four Stirling kids when Pop died—had been about as romantic as a wart on a frog. So it probably made sense that none of his siblings had found true love, either. None of them knew what it looked like.
Danny, his half brother, was the only exception. He’d recently reunited with his long-lost love, Lizzie, and learned that he was a father, to an adorable munchkin named Emma, and the little family couldn’t be happier. But then, Mark’s newfound brother hadn’t grown up on the ranch. Maybe that was the secret.
What did a happy relationship even look like, anyway? More to the point, what did he want a h
appy relationship to look like? Would he even recognize it if he saw it?
Snoopy, the newest addition to his menagerie, nudged his arm and Mark responded by slipping him a pretzel, which the pup inhaled.
She’d have to love dogs. That was for certain.
“You’ll never get married, man,” Cole said as he surveyed his hand then rearranged his cards. “Why would a man settle for one woman when he can have them all?”
Mark snorted. “I hardly have them all.” They weren’t Pokémon, for pity’s sake. “I haven’t had a date in months.” Maybe longer. He tried to remember the last woman he’d asked out, then realized it didn’t matter who it was. He’d known, almost immediately, that she hadn’t been what he was looking for. None of them were. And after that realization, it didn’t make sense to continue dating at all.
It would help if he knew what he was looking for. But life was rarely that easy.
Adam sighed and slapped Mark on the back. “I guess you’ll just be our single friend forever. Especially if you don’t do anything about this pack of dogs you’ve got here.”
“Now, hold on there!” Mark liked his friends. But that was a step too far. “The dogs are staying.”
“Until they’re adopted,” Nadler reminded him. “That’s what you said, right?”
Mark’s gut lurched. The thought of having to give up his puppers—even to loving homes—and living here all alone was depressing. “Not all of them.” At that moment, Snoopy hopped up on his lap, and even though the little rascal just wanted another pretzel, it made Mark feel better. There would always be homeless dogs, he told himself. He would never be totally alone.
A sharp knock on the door reminded him of the other reason he’d never be alone. It opened before he could answer, but Mark knew who it was. Shave-and-a-haircut was his sister Sam’s trademark knock. Also, bursting in without an invitation—she was known for that, too.
While Mark chose to live in one of the cabins on the family ranch designated for crew who had families—and only a few currently had families—Sam lived up in the big house with their brother DJ, Danny and his family, Lizzie and Emma, as well as their grandma Dorthea. It wasn’t that Mark didn’t like living with his family. They didn’t like living with his dogs. So he’d moved out here and after a while, he’d just come to prefer the privacy. This option was perfect for everyone.
Sam marched in with a huge, innocent smile on her face, which was misleading. Anyone who knew her knew there was nothing innocent about her. “Oh, hey, guys! Playing poker?” she asked gustily.
Adam covered up the pot with his hands. “You can’t play.”
Her big smile faded. “Why not? Are you guys afraid to lose...again?”
Adam grumbled a bit in response, but it was true. Sam did have a tendency to come out ahead every time she played with them. They’d never figured out her poker face—they were probably tired of losing to her.
She grinned at Adam’s sulky expression. “I understand,” she said silkily. “You big strong men are afraid to play against a gal like me.” She even batted her lashes.
But these guys had known her their entire lives. They were not fooled by her ploys.
“You know,” Nadler said, scraping together what chips he had left, “I’d better be getting home. It’s late.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “You’d better get home before Suzy starts calling around. Oh, by the way,” she said, her tone turning genuine. “Congratulations, Nadler. I know you guys will be really happy together.”
“Thanks, Sam,” he said, smiling at her while collecting his things.
“I should probably get going, too,” Adam said.
Cole nodded and stood, as well. They all said their goodbyes and headed out after Nadler.
Mark turned to Sam with a frown after everyone had left. “You sure do know how to break up a party.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a gift.”
“Why did you come over?” he asked as he started cleaning up.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
He paused. Glanced at her. Something in her tone was...concerning. “Is Emma okay?” Danny’s six-year-old daughter was recovering from a serious illness and had required a bone-marrow transplant to save her life. They all still worried about her, even though she was seven months postprocedure and the resultant treatments had been a success. In fact, she seemed to have more energy nowadays than all of them put together. There were just a few more boxes to tick before she’d be fully cleared.
“Emma’s fine.”
“Is it Lizzie?” Now that she was pregnant again, she’d been having morning sickness.
Sam blew out a breath that fluffed up her bangs. “Everyone is fine. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Oh, ugh. He knew that tone. Mark grimaced and flopped onto the sofa. The only girl born into a veritable herd of men, Sam had developed a strong personality and a stronger dislike for what she called the patriarchy, which, as far as he could tell, was any man doing anything she didn’t particularly like.
So I just wanted to talk to you wasn’t, generally, a welcome start to a conversation with Sam.
He frowned at her. “What?”
“Do you have any beer?”
Mark shrugged. “Check in the fridge.”
She did, focusing on the contents of his fridge as though they held the secrets of the Dead Sea Scrolls. After a full minute of surveillance, and several unappreciated ews and yucks, she grabbed a soda and came to the couch.
“You’re out of beer.” The moment she sat down, Snoopy jumped on her lap.
Traitor.
“Thanks for the update.” Mark didn’t add more, because it would be a waste of time to try to figure out what Sam wanted to say. It would also be a waste of time to ask her directly. She would take her time getting it out. She always did.
“So,” she said after a long snort on her root beer. “Nadler’s engaged.”
“Yup.”
They were silent for a moment, and then Mark added, “I’m the last man standing, I guess.”
Sam nodded. “I never imagined Nadler would fall before you, but the one that really surprises me is Cole. How on earth did he ever find a woman who would tolerate his presence on a daily basis?”
“He’s not that bad. Didn’t you date him once?”
“Once.” She rolled her eyes.
“So,” Mark said, when his patience started to wane. “How was your day?”
Her smile unfurled, reminding him of the Grinch upon spotting a stocking to steal. “I went into town.”
“Did you?” Why couldn’t she just get to the point and tell him whatever juicy gossip she’d heard? Because I went into town was code for juicy gossip. At least, in this one-horse town.
“Mmm-hmm.” She leaned back and Snoopy repositioned his long body across her lap, then rolled over, asking for a scratch. Without a thought, her fingers went to work. “I...ran into an old friend.”
“Really?” An old friend? This was Butterscotch Ridge. Every friend was an old friend. And everyone knew everything about everybody. Even the stuff you didn’t really care to know, like the fact that Gladys Henry had lumbago. And that she was having a secret affair with old Calvin Carter, who owned the pick-your-own apple orchard off the main highway.
“I did indeed.” Sam tried to look all nonchalant, which set Mark’s Spidey-senses a’tingling. “I was just wondering if you remembered her,” she said as she took another swig of root beer.
Something prickled at his nape. “Sam, just tell me who you saw.”
“Veronica James.”
He nearly dropped his beer, which would have been a shame, because, apparently, it was the last one. “V-V-Veronica James?” Did he remember her?
Red hair, heart-shaped face, blossoming dimples when she smiled, sparkling green ey
es and soft, sweet lips? And her laugh? It was contagious.
Did he remember her?
She’d been a huge part of his life when they were kids. She’d come every summer to visit her grandmother, Milly, who’d been their beloved housekeeper until she retired. They used to call her Aunt Milly. She’d practically raised them. Veronica would stay in the cabin her grandmother lived in, and come up to the main house every day to play with them. They’d had wild adventures, better than summer camp. Everything from swimming in the lake to creating elaborate cities for their Matchbox cars in the roots of the old oak in the yard, along with fishing, riding and sneaking goodies from the cooling rack in her grandmother’s kitchen.
He’d kissed her once when he was sixteen. Maybe even fallen a little bit in love with her.
It was a damn shame that she hadn’t come back the next summer. Or ever. How long had it been? More than a decade.
About four years ago, he’d seen Milly in town and while they were chatting, she told him Roni had gotten married. He’d been surprised at how much that fragment of information had hurt. But by then, it had been far too late to do anything about it. He had no one to blame but himself.
He’d had his chance, and he blew it.
But now she was back.
Married and back.
He tried to arrange his expression into something that resembled indifference. “She here for a visit?”
“She’s here to stay with Milly for a while because Max and Gwen have been worried.”
At this, he sat upright. Max and Gwen were Roni’s cousins. They lived in town and had been taking turns looking after their grandmother. “Is Milly okay?” It alarmed him that she might be ill. And he hadn’t known. Hadn’t even asked. He should visit her more often...
Sam shook her head. “She’s getting older. Max and Gwen wanted to put her into that place in Pasco.”
“That place smells like disinfectant.” He’d been to that nursing home, which was a nice old-fashioned name for what it was. He’d been there several times with his therapy dogs. He’d even convinced them to adopt some of the older animals he couldn’t place elsewhere.