RAISED: The Mountain Man’s Babies

by Love, Frankie

  RAISED

  The Mountain Man’s Babies

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  About

  1. Tanner

  2. Virginia

  3. Tanner

  4. Virginia

  5. Tanner

  6. Virginia

  7. Tanner

  8. Virginia

  9. Tanner

  10. Virginia

  11. Tanner

  12. Virginia

  13. Tanner

  14. Virginia

  15. Tanner

  16. Virginia

  17. Virginia

  18. Tanner

  19. Virginia

  Epilogue

  Preview

  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  About

  RAISED

  The Mountain Man’s Babies Book 9

  By Frankie Love

  I came to this mountain to move on.

  I’ve been through enough, and so have my six kids.

  They deserve a Christmas with new memories.

  When I find a rental house that’s big enough for my brood, that comes with a live in cook, it feels too good to be true.

  It’s an undertaking, but the owner Virginia doesn’t flinch. She’s a beautiful woman who’s seen hard times.. With a gentle ease about her and a depth I long to reach — I know I’ve found more than my equal.

  I’ve found my Christmas miracle.

  But when my oldest daughter takes her teenage rebellion one step too far, it threatens an avalanche on this mountain.

  Dear Reader,

  No need to put on your mittens and parka. We’re not hiking up the snow-capped peaks this Christmas. Just open that kindle and let the newest man on Miracle Mountain decide if you’ve been naughty or nice.

  xo, frankie

  Chapter One

  Tanner

  I roll down the window of the SUV and take in a long, deep breath of the mountain air. It’s freezing as fuck, but it clears my mind. Maybe it was a crazy idea, heading to the middle of nowhere this time of year but after Thanksgiving, I knew we couldn’t spend another holiday in that house.

  And now — breathing in the air filled with wood smoke and pine trees — I know I made a good call.

  The kids knew it was coming, although I told them it was just a break we’d be taking until after the New Year. Five weeks in the mountains will do us all some good. When we head back to Nashville after the holidays, maybe we’ll all have our heads on straight.

  Still, not all the kids are on board with my plan.

  I look in my rearview mirror, eyeing my children. Faith, the oldest is in the passenger seat and the other five are either sleeping or wearing headphones, zoned out. It’s been a long few days. Well, really, it’s been a long year.

  “This is a terrible idea, Dad.” Faith is looking down at her phone, judging me in the way only an eighteen-year-old daughter can do. “I mean, it’s been a year of terrible ideas — but this is the worst one yet.”

  “What did I do this time?” I run a hand over my beard and look at my eldest girl.

  “There isn’t even a Starbucks in this town.”

  “I think there might be one a town over. Eagle Crest, maybe?”

  “All I can find on the map is a diner called Rosie’s. But it looks old-fashioned and like, ancient.”

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Dad, you are such a cliché.”

  “Hey,” I laugh, not offended. Getting a reaction from her sometimes is worth the cheesy lines. The kids and I have had a hell of a year, and Faith has felt it just as hard as anyone. “The reviews are what matters. Are they any good?”

  “Actually, everyone says you can’t beat the coffee or the pie.”

  “See, my plan wasn’t too terrible. This town has unbeatable pie.”

  “The littles are gonna love it. I bet you’ll have a heck of a time wrangling them into doing their schoolwork,” Faith says wistfully. “They are going to be so excited to play in the snow and go sledding. But Levi and I are too old for that. We’ll be bored out of our minds. I just wish we could have stayed home.”

  I scoff. “Too old to make a snowman? Come on, Faith, no one’s ever too old for that.” I turn on the radio and Faith instantly reaches for the volume, turning it up.

  “Dad, it’s your song,” she says, smiling now, and in the backseat Lily and Willa perk up, singing along.

  “The lyrics, at least. When I wrote this I never expected—”

  She cuts me off. “I know, you never thought a pop star would be singing it. You want old guys in Nashville with dusty guitars to sing your stuff.”

  “So, what? You saying I have old man taste, Faith?”

  She laughs, pointing to the road on the left where I need to turn. She turns down the music. “You aren’t that old, Dad. You’re thirty-six.”

  My large SUV with a trailer hitched to the back, loaded with suitcases and boxes, rumbles down the long country road and in the heart of the mountain valley, sits the house we’ve rented for the next five weeks.

  “Mom would have loved it here, look at the wraparound porch with swings, it’s so sweet,” Faith breathes, and I reach for my daughter's arm, squeezing it. Losing Savvy this past year nearly broke us all, but here we are—still standing. Savvy always said what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I hated the sentiment, but damn, there’s some truth in it.

  “She would have,” I agree. Savannah was a country girl at heart. She never sang, but she wore cowboy boots and bandana in her hair.

  “I miss her so much,” Faith says softly.

  “I know, sweetheart. We all do.”

  I’ve been a widower just over a year, the kids without a mother. But it feels longer than that. Savvy was so sick for so long that, in the end, it was a relief to finally know she wasn’t in any more pain.

  Before we park the vehicle, there is one more thing I want to say to my daughter. It’s the reason I wanted her to ride up front with me for the last stretch of the drive. “Faith, you’re done with high school, so I don’t expect you to stick around your old man forever. You said you wanted to come on this trip with us — but if at any time you want to spread your wings, don’t be scared to ask. I want to help my girl fly, okay?”

  Faith smiles and I know she heard me. Still, she’s her mother’s daughter and likes to defuse hard times with jokes. “Dad,” she teases, “stop being so sentimental. You live in the mountains now. You need to get tough.”

  “I grew out this beard,” I say, running a hand over my jaw. As I park the car, we both laugh.

  “It’s a start. Maybe chop us down a Christmas tree, okay?”

  The moment I kill the engine, the back doors open, and my children begin to tumble out.

  Willa, who is twelve, argues with Lily, who is ten. They’re bickering over a pair of gloves. Behind them, the eight-year-old twins, Clover and Cash, immediately reach to the ground, make snowballs, and begin chasing one another around the yard. Levi, my sixteen-year-old, lifts his arms to the sky as he stretches after the long drive, and Faith is in the trunk grabbing her backpack.

  “I want a bedroom with a bathroom,” Faith declares.

  “No, I want one like that!” Lily cries, forgetting the argument over the gloves.

  “There will be plenty of room, I promise,” I say, reaching for bags in the open truck. I hand everyone something to carry before heading toward the farmhouse. “Let’s go meet the owner.”

  “I hope she can cook,” Cash mumbles. “I haven’t had a real meal in ages.”

  “Is that a dig at me or Faith?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Both.�
��

  Faith shoots him dagger eyes and it shuts him up. “I hate cooking, I don’t know why everyone always expects me to do it.”

  “You’re the oldest, that’s why,” Clover moans. “No one trusts me to make anything.”

  “Remember the eggs you made?” Willa laughs, and I can’t keep a straight face, remembering the fire alarm that went off as my youngest daughter attempted to flip fried eggs on a gas stove.

  “I’m a work in progress,” Clover sighs dramatically. “Maybe this owner will let me help her in the kitchen.”

  “How do you know it’s a she?” Levi asks.

  “Well, look at her,” Clover says, pointing straight ahead.

  I look to where she’s pointing and practically trip over my own two feet. On the front porch of the farmhouse stands a woman in her mid-twenties with a messy blonde bun on the top of her head, wisps of hair falling in her eyes. She wears a pink apron that is covered in flour and a bright smile. Her eyes are as blue and as bright as the sky and she lifts her hand on greeting. Her cheeks are rosy as if she’s been running a marathon, and the closer I get the more frazzled she seems.

  “You made it,” she says, taking us in with her eyes. “And you’re early.” I can only imagine the motley crew we must appear to be.

  “We did, and I hope that’s not a problem,” I say, stepping up onto the porch, ahead of my family.

  “No problem, I was just running around trying to finish everything up for your arrival.”

  “We don’t need much,” I say, wanting to put her at ease.

  “Right, it’s just seven people moving in, that’s all. With a few days’ notice.”

  Faith pipes up. “Don’t worry, we are probably as surprised as you are.”

  Ignoring my daughter, I turn my attention to the woman before me. “I’m Tanner Bay.” I offer her my hand and she takes it. Her skin is soft and smooth and my heart stirs at the touch. It’s not just a woman’s touch. It’s her touch.

  “I’m Virginia Sutton, welcome to the house.”

  “This whole house is yours?” Lily asks. Virginia nods. “And you live here by yourself?” Virginia nods again. “But it’s so big for one person.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re here.” She smiles brightly. “Now how many of you are there?”

  The kids introduce themselves, one after the other. I notice Virginia’s eyes widen as she tries to remember everyone’s names.

  “I didn’t make up all the beds yet, but I did just pull out a pan of cinnamon rolls. Interested?”

  The kids all accept her offer and she tells them their noses will lead them to the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” I say before we step into the house.

  “For what?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

  “For taking us in on such short notice.”

  She bites the side of her lip. “You said there were seven of you in the family. Is this everyone then?” She cranes her neck as if trying to conjure one more person from the cars.

  I’m guessing she’s looking for my children’s mother.

  “Just us. My kids and me.”

  She nods, not asking anymore, and for that I’m relieved. “Do you have a sweet tooth?” she asks.

  “Very much so.”

  Virginia smiles. “Me too. I think we should get inside before the kids finish that pan.”

  “It’s like you already know how to handle a houseful.”

  She laughs, a sound like spun sugar and I follow her inside, my heart pounding, feeling like I just came home.

  Chapter Two

  Virginia

  It’s not what I expected.

  Or at least he isn’t. I was expecting some dad with a wife and a bunch of kids — instead, the person who offers me his hand is an extremely handsome man. A finely trimmed beard, dark hair, and eyes, and a body both fit and capable. He is a man, not some guy still figuring out who he is. His handshake is solid, and my heart skips a beat at his touch.

  It’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone.

  Since Ricky.

  But there is so much in life I haven’t expected. Not just this family that has arrived on my doorstep, but life in general. It’s been one disaster after another for far too long and I’m tired of feeling like the mess on the mountain. Everyone else who lives here seems to have gotten their shit together a few months in — and me? I’m hanging on by a thread.

  Living here all alone isn’t helping things.

  The B&B was supposed to be a boutique hotel. Well, that was clearly not going to work in such a sleepy town without enough tourists to fill the place. Eagle Crest may be growing, and my address may technically be in that zip code, but this place is deep in the valley, putting me in between the mountain and the town.

  It’s like my house doesn’t even know where it belongs.

  The bed and breakfast has never quite been in the black. And once Laila married Colton this past summer, and got pregnant with quads, I knew there was no way I could keep the doors open now that my co-owner was stepping down.

  And I didn’t want to keep the doors open anyway. Laila’s movie star husband offered to invest in the business, but my heart wasn’t in it. The last thing I wanted to do was run it all on my own, and the deep truth is, I’m lonely here all by myself.

  Growing up in the Badlands motorcycle gang was messy in lots of ways — I was the property of the MC Gang boss, Ricky. He treated me badly, and I’m only free by the grace of God. And the help of my brother Bear.

  But there were some parts of the Badlands I liked. Living with my girlfriends was one of them. It was like a family — a dysfunctional family, sure, but aren’t most?

  Well, at least I thought most were until I moved here to this aptly named miracle mountain. Here everyone seems to find what they need; the life they’ve dreamed of, the freedom they sought — a version of happily ever after that might not make sense anywhere else. But here it does. It’s like the people who belong on this mountain end up here one way or another.

  At least that has been the case for everyone else. It hasn’t seemed to prove true to me quite yet.

  “These are so good!” the youngest boy, Cash, says as I walk into the sunny kitchen with Tanner behind me. I feel Tanner’s eyes on me as I move to the pan of cinnamon rolls and dish one up for his father and me, after making sure all the kids have their own.

  It’s a crowd, for sure, but this farmhouse was built for lots of people. There are ten bedrooms, five bathrooms, and an apartment above the garage. I lived there while Laila and I ran the place as a bed and breakfast, but since we closed up shop, I moved to one of the bedrooms on the main floor of the house.

  “The house looks just like the photos on the vacation rental site,” Tanner says looking around the kitchen, his gaze on the French doors that lead to the landscaped backyard. “Have you been renting it for long?”

  “You’re my first guests, I had only put the listing up the day you emailed,” I admit. I rinse a rag in the sink, then wipe the counters where crumbs have fallen. “I wasn’t expecting anyone until this spring when the weather changes.”

  “You okay with us crashing over the holidays?” he asks. I try to gauge the room, noticing lots of eyes have fallen with this single sentence.

  “It’s too late to say no now, Dad,” Levi says with a shrug.

  “It’s never too late,” Tanner says, his eyes meeting mine. “Honest, we can turn around if this is more than you’re up for.”

  “What?” the twins cry. “You promised snowmen and snowball fights.”

  “And snow angels,” Lily says dreamily.

  “I’m on board with plan B,” the oldest girl, Faith, says. “We can leave right now.”

  Tanner shoots his daughter a look. “Faith, please.”

  She crosses her arms, pursing her lips. “Do you want to be here, Levi?”

  Levi grins. “Yes, did you see that slope on the way in? That looks like epic sledding.”

  “We’re too old for that,”
Faith says.

  “Like heck we are. I think you’re just scared of me beating you down the hill.”

  Faith pushes her long hair behind her ears. “No, I just don’t like all this change. I want things back how they were. I never wanted to come here.”

  The kitchen stills at this and I look to Tanner, trying to read the room. The kids wear frowns and the sugary fun disappears. His mouth is set in a firm line and I can see how hard it must be to juggle so many personalities.

  I bite my bottom lip, absorbing the comments as Faith pushes away from the kitchen counter and leaves the room, tears filling her eyes. Tanner follows her, leaving me alone in the kitchen with his five other children.

  “She misses Mom,” Clover says, looking up at me. “I bet she loves the house, she just won’t admit it.”

  “Yeah, because she’s a spoiled brat,” Willa says, rolling her eyes. “I’m twelve and if I acted that way I’d get a consequence, yet she can say anything she wants and Dad never —”

  “Don’t, Willa,” Levi says. “Can we please not point fingers?”

  “Well it’s true,” Willa tosses back.

  “Hey, let’s not make this bigger than it has to be,” I say. “The house isn’t totally made up yet, I need to vacuum and make beds — but it’ll be done before bedtime. I promise. And in the meantime, why don’t you guys figure out where you’re going to sleep?”

  The kids seem to like this idea and they carry their dishes to the sink and wash their hands. I lift my eyebrows at their manners. There are a lot of kids on this mountain, and while they aren’t a bunch of rowdy hooligans, they never wash up without being told.