Just Maybe (Home In You Book 3)

by Crystal Walton

  Just

  Maybe

  Home In You Series

  Book Three

  Crystal Walton

  Impact Editions, LLC

  Chesapeake, VA

  Copyright © 2017 by Crystal Walton.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Published by Impact Editions, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design © 2017 Victorine Lieske

  Author Photo by Charity Mack

  Just Maybe/Crystal Walton.

  Contents

  Just Maybe

  Contents

  Foreward

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Epilogue

  Want a Free Book?

  Behind The Scenes

  Books By Crystal Walton

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Foreward

  Crystal’s giving away a free book, along with exclusive bonuses from the heart-melting stories you love. Tap the image to grab your copy of Your Story Matters and enjoy more behind-the-scenes content: crystal-walton.com.

  Prologue

  Escape

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The speed, the distance—it should’ve been enough, should’ve let him outrace the regret.

  Like an echo, Cooper Anderson’s legs throbbed each time a distant red light flashed from somewhere above him. Thunder raged through the ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t silence the words he’d lost his chance to say.

  Fragmented memories from only hours ago pulsed in and out of focus: a canopy of black umbrellas failing to shield them from tears, his five-year-old niece needing arms of comfort he couldn’t offer her. Not today.

  Cooper squeezed his eyes tighter and strained to breathe against the weight crushing his sternum as fiercely as it had at the funeral. He’d stood beside the open earth like a glued-together statue. Cold, unfeeling. So shattered, one breath of wind would’ve crumbled him into the grave that’d stolen his father from him too soon.

  It all closed in. The faces, the voices. “From ashes to ashes.”

  No. He jerked his head to the side. Wet, ragged gravel pressed into his cheek, but his limbs wouldn’t move. Without ceasing, memories stormed over a body trapped by the car wreckage pinning it to the grainy pavement.

  Another flicker. Another scene. At the edge of the cemetery, his brother had grasped Cooper’s shoulder before letting him get into his Audi. “Be safe.”

  Safe. The word had burrowed inside him and rebounded off his need to soar across uncaring pavement. To screech around curves and lose all connection with the loss haunting him.

  Clipped memories struck him again. An oncoming car, a jerk of the wheel, sounds exploding from every direction. Aches had racked his body. One blink, one breath, and the windshield had shattered to pieces the way his world already had.

  Time slowed until another roar of thunder brought him from the brink of unconsciousness.

  Sirens broke through the fog blocking his ears while fast, heavy footsteps pounded the pavement. Lights flashed. Voices rang. Someone’s knees hit the ground beside him, a second pair close behind.

  A battle of relief and anger warred inside as he watched the escape he’d chased outrun him one more time. Helpless to stop it, all Cooper could do was lay on that stretch of dark highway and promise nothing would leave him this undone again.

  Chapter One

  Change

  Six Years Later

  Thirty seconds. That’s all it took for Cooper Anderson to reach his date across the gala floor. He cupped her arm. “Is everything all right?”

  Tanya set her empty glass on a waiter’s tray. “You should’ve heard what that man just asked me about us.”

  Cooper caught a glimpse of the guy’s wet face and dress shirt before he skirted into the men’s room. If it was bad enough for her to toss her glass of wine in his face, Cooper wasn’t inclined to let it slide.

  Grabbing his sleeve, she stopped him mid-stride. “I already handled it.”

  When his gaze jumped back to Tanya’s, his irritation gave way to a grin. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “Luckily for you, you always know the right thing to say.” She looped her arm around his, and remorse doused him in a splash of its own.

  He knew that look in her eyes. Had seen it more times than any single guy should. She wanted this to go somewhere it wasn’t—past a second date to a relationship he couldn’t offer her.

  Holding a smile in place for her sake, Cooper nodded to the door. “How about we get out of here. I think I’ve had enough hobnobbing for one evening.” After two hours of making the rounds with business contacts and potential clients, he was more than ready for a secluded night alone back at his lake house.

  She tilted her head, lips to the side. “You read my mind.”

  If only he knew how to change it so he wouldn’t hurt her.

  At the door, Mitch from Schroeder Financials intercepted them before they could pass. “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.”

  Cooper tugged his ear. “Considering it’s your fundraiser, I’d hardly say that.”

  “Considering you’re the one up for Top Entrepreneur this year, I’d say you’re rather modest.”

  Tanya pressed closer to him as if enamored by the title, and Cooper cringed at the whole scenario.

  “I’d reckon more conversations revolved around you and your . . . ambitious international plans than around any of the auction pieces tonight.” Mitch slipped a stem glass off a waiter’s tray and motioned for Cooper to take his own.

  He held up a palm. “We’re actually on our way out.”

  The guy who’d offended Tanya earlier stepped out of the bathroom, still dabbing his wet shirt with a paper towel. He scanned the room until he locked gazes with Cooper. Visibly on a mission, he started toward them.

  “Always in a hurry,” Mitch droned on. “No one should be surprised it took you a mere year to reach the financial status many of us have spent a lifetime building.”

  Heat waves from outside poured into the air-conditioned room as someone passed through the door, and Cooper adjusted his tux collar. “I guess hard work still pays off these days. That and a little luck.” He prodded Tanya forward. “Listen, we really should be—”


  “Mm.” Mitch swallowed a sip of champagne. “I’ll agree with the first part. The second?” He shook his head. “I only believe in things I can put my hands on.” His gaze flitted to Tanya for the briefest moment before retracting to Cooper. “Which is why I’d love to get my hands on a partnership with you. Between the two of us, imagine what we could turn Schroeder Financials into.”

  And there it was. The same pitch half the men in the room had tried to slip his way tonight.

  He sent a glance toward the restrooms. Though the guy still had his focus trained on them, he’d gotten held up by another fast-talking businessman.

  Cooper redirected his attention to Mitch and worked his stiff jaw. “I appreciate the offer, but my investment overseas is already a done deal. Plane ticket’s bought, house is up for sale, the shop’s grand opening is already set and publicized.” He reached for the drink he’d declined a minute ago and raised it in a toast. “Three more weeks, and I’ll be on the shores of Indonesia.”

  “Until you change your mind.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lowering his near-empty glass to his side, Mitch brandished a look of superiority. “A start-up business in a foreign country? We’re talking about more than just tying up your resources, Cooper. The demands will consume every part of your life and leave no room for . . .” His eyes drifted to Tanya again. “Other interests.”

  The insinuation and assumptions about his lifestyle sank into Cooper’s stomach and soured. He returned his untouched drink to the tray. “I think I’m more than prepared for that.” He stayed unattached from relationships for a reason. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

  “If you change your mind . . .” Mitch called behind them.

  Doubtful.

  Outside, the fresh air he needed coated him in a thick layer of humidity instead.

  Tanya flittered in front of him. “It’s not a bad idea, you know.”

  Cooper’s shoulders slumped at the meaning embedded in her words. “Actually, all of this is. Tanya, listen—”

  “Mr. Anderson?” The guy who’d been trying to get to them flung a voice recorder in his face while weaseling Tanya out of his way.

  She backed into the brick edging behind her, snagged her heel, and fell to the concrete.

  The guy blocked Cooper’s path to her. “Can you give us a statement about your decision to move out of the country so quickly? Does this have anything to do with the recent allegations against Shore Corporation?”

  A reporter. He should’ve known. Ever since this Top Entrepreneur of the Year nomination put him on the radar, the media had been prying into his personal life and hounding him for interviews he wasn’t about to start giving now.

  The thought of whatever intrusive questions he’d asked Tanya earlier burned in his chest. He grabbed the reporter’s shirt. “If you ever knock a woman to the ground again, I’ll have your credentials stripped from you before you can so much as turn your recorder on.” He released his shirt with a shove. “You want a statement? Stay away from me and the people in my life.”

  Cooper got Tanya in his Audi and gunned away from the curb before he did more than merely push the guy out of the way.

  A good five miles passed before he’d calmed enough to look across the console. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled it away. “The price of fame, right?”

  A price he wasn’t willing to put anyone else through. As soon as he got her home, he’d make sure she understood this was their last date.

  A flash from beside him brought a black Impala into view with a telephoto lens pointed at him from the passenger seat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Tanya leaned around him. “Wow, that creep doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “Different guys.” Cooper changed gears and soared up the road. He shouldn’t be surprised the media would be prowling nearby after catching wind he’d be attending tonight’s function.

  The Impala edged closer, driving Tanya’s side of the car dangerously close to the guard rail. She braced a hand against her door panel and scooted in his direction. “Cooper.”

  “I see it.” After a quick glance to make sure her seat belt was fastened, he slammed on the brake, fell back, and switched positions with the Impala.

  The other driver didn’t lose speed. Side by side, both cars flew down the pavement, straight toward a divider.

  Tanya darted her other hand to the dashboard. “Tell me you see that, too, right?”

  “Hang on.” Cooper jerked the emergency brake up at the same time he circled the wheel, fanning the car to one side to force the Impala off the exit.

  Sideways, his Audi skidded to a stop in the middle of a cloud of burnt rubber and smoke. “Are you all right?”

  Tanya transferred her death grip to her seat belt and nodded. “Where’d you learn to drive like that?”

  “I’ve had practice.” Not wasting any leverage, Cooper released the brake, let up on the clutch, and spun in the opposite direction.

  “I thought we were going back to my place.”

  This close, it’d be too easy for someone to follow them. “Change of plans.” He’d take the long route to his lake house, ensure no one tailed them, and call her a cab from there instead.

  “Amy was right,” Tanya said once they were almost to his home.

  “About?”

  “You being an adrenaline lover.” She shifted in her seat. “That’s part of why you never go on more than two dates with the same girl, isn’t it?”

  Exhaling, he slowed the car as he turned onto his street. “Tanya, you’re a sweet girl, but—”

  “I get it.”

  After tonight, she should understand it didn’t have as much to do with adrenaline as she might’ve once thought.

  She reached for the door handle when he pulled into the driveway.

  “Wait.” Cooper stretched across her seat and tugged the door shut. “Stay put for a minute.” In his rearview mirror, the sight of an old Camry parked along the curb caused his pulse to rise. The media might be able to catch him at a publicized business function, but they shouldn’t know where he lived. He’d worked hard to keep it that way.

  Shoulders drawn back, he got out of his car the same time a middle-aged man and woman exited the Camry.

  “Mr. Cooper Anderson?” he asked.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You’re one tough man to track down.” He flashed some kind of identification at him. “Dillan Miller. My coworker, Julie. We’re from Social Services. Did you know a woman by the name of Megan Neilson?”

  Megan? His heart rate doubled without explanation. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in almost two years. “Briefly. What’s this about? Is she all right?”

  At the look of sympathy on Dillan’s face, the word “did” finally registered. His stomach twisted. “She’s . . . ?”

  “Car accident.” He lowered his gaze to the driveway. “I’m sorry.”

  Cooper clenched his jaw and raked both sets of fingers through his hair. “When?”

  “Just earlier this week.”

  The familiar sting of regret seared into him. He should’ve fought harder when she cut ties with him after that summer they’d shared together. Should’ve tried to change her mind about them, or at least about staying in touch. Something.

  The sound of a car door opening joined a series of cries that turned Cooper back around. Julie stood beside the car, bobbing a baby in her arms.

  Dillan cleared his throat while opening a manila folder. “Miss Neilson left you as the sole guardian of . . .” He slid on a pair of reading glasses and shuffled through the file. “Brayden Ryan Neilson. We’ll have to take care of some paperwork, of course, but—”

  “I’m sorry.” Cooper blinked, swallowed. The trees in the background slanted, the air too thick to breathe. He looked from the boy back to Dillan and strained to make sense of what he’d just said. “Are you trying to say he’s—?”

  “Your son.”

  Chapt
er Two

  Elusive

  Why here? A self-made billionaire could have a villa on the coast, a secluded beach house anywhere in the Outer Banks. Shoot, a guy like Cooper Anderson could own a private bungalow on an island if he wanted. Instead, he’d holed up in Littleton, NC. Population: 625.

  And he wanted people to believe there wasn’t a story under all this? Please. Maybe one that most journalists didn’t have the skills to shake out, but Quinn Thompson wasn’t about to be lumped in with the others who’d walked away empty-handed. She had too much riding on this feature.

  A flicker of dread passed through her at the sight of the quaint lake homes streaming by the window. Squelching it, Quinn tilted the A/C vent toward her face.

  So what if this lead meant going back to her hometown after four years? It was just a quick interview. In and out. She’d be back in Cape Hatteras by tomorrow afternoon. Sunday at the latest, if Cooper wanted to be extra difficult. It’d be fine. She’d be fine.

  Yeah, if fine meant being as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  Quinn almost flinched at the phrase springing to mind out of nowhere—in Mama’s country drawl, no less. She cringed. She hadn’t even turned her car off yet, and her roots were already trying to strangle her. As if the blazing July heat weren’t doing a good enough job as it was.

  She leaned forward in her seat to air out the back of her blouse. A lot of good it did. A drip of sweat careened down her spine straight into her underwear. She sighed. Welcome home.

  Alongside the curb, a layer of acorns crunched under her Altima’s wheels like a giant sheet of bubble wrap. She shifted into park, looked from the sticky note on the center of the steering wheel to the house matching the address, and breathed in.

  One lead story. That was all she needed. Just one solid push to show her boss she had the journalistic instincts to hack it as executive editor. Then she’d at least have access to Cruella’s ear every day. Could maybe even convince her to stop being a tyrant micromanager before she drove their magazine into the ground. She was running out of time.