by Tara Randel
Grace’s stomach flipped. Mr. Franks had told her she’d be the next in line to assist in a big case. “Congratulations.” She paused. “But I’m curious why he didn’t talk to me.”
“I happened to be in his office going over a brief when he found out about the case. I’ve been working lots of overtime, making myself available to the firm. I guess since you just got back and need to get up to speed, he decided to ask me instead.”
How had Grace forgotten how competitive working in a large firm could be? Obviously, Stacy was going to take advantage of Grace’s absence. As associates, it was in their best interest to put in long hours and do as much as possible to impress the partners. And Stacy was ambitious...
“I even got my own office down the hall from the partners. Granted, it’s small, but it’s a step up.”
That news didn’t sit well. This open-concept desk space didn’t work for Grace.
Stacy glanced at Grace’s desk. “I see the files I passed off to one of the new hires were returned to your desk.”
Those and a few more, Grace was sure. “I should have come back sooner.”
Stacy waved off her concern. “Don’t worry so much. I’m sure another big client will come your way. Just pick up where you left off and see what happens.”
If only it was that easy.
Glancing around the room, Stacy said, “I’d love to chat, Grace, but I have to start researching right away.”
“Maybe we can grab dinner and you can fill me in on what’s been going on.”
“Sure. I’ll probably need a break after the long hours I see myself spending here.” She pulled the files closer to her chest and practically danced in glee. “Take care.”
Grace’s stomach churned. She could have had that opportunity, yet she chose to take care of her family. She’d never get assigned to special cases if she didn’t spend endless hours working to get ahead. Taking every deposition thrown her way, writing up as many motions as she could reasonably manage. She felt like she was starting from scratch, proving to the partners she was committed after the time she’d taken off.
Having a seat at her desk, she let her gaze stray from the files to the window. The sky was a pure, cerulean blue, not a cloud as far as the eye could see. A bird flew by, wings wide with freedom. And here she was, holed up in the office on a beautiful summer day when thoughts of hiking to Crystalline Falls seemed so much more pleasurable.
Did she want to spend her days buried in the law library at the firm, looking up precedents and finding ways to acquit clients instead of actually working with people to better their lives? Where was the excitement she’d experienced when she first started working here? The surge of adrenaline when presented with a new case?
More than once the fleeting idea of opening a small practice in Golden had crossed her mind. She’d laughed it off, thought perhaps if she was home, she could keep a closer watch on her family. But could it be more? There were plenty of people in Golden who could benefit from her services. Could she do it? Leave the firm of her dreams and open her own practice? She couldn’t ignore the nagging sense that her life was at a crossroads.
She needed an antacid. Her hunt through her desk drawer was interrupted when her cell rang. Closing the drawer with a slam, she felt her heart pick up when she read the caller ID. Uncle Roy.
“Where have you been?” she asked her uncle.
“Enjoying my life, which is more than I can say for you,” came his raspy reply.
“And how would you even know what I’ve been doing? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“That’s what happens when you fall in love.”
She held back an eye roll because, sure, she’d had her chance, blown it and didn’t need her uncle rubbing it in.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Just peachy.”
“Then why are you calling me during work hours?”
“Just wanted to let you know your boy is movin’ out of the cabin. Gave me his notice today.”
“Deke? Why?”
“Didn’t say. Gave your mama his notice, too.”
Stunned, she leaned back heavily against the chair. What did you expect him to do, Grace? Hang around Golden waiting for you forever? “Mama will be heartbroken. She was thrilled when Deke agreed to stay on. Why did he change his mind?”
“Didn’t say.”
So this was it. She and Deke were truly over.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Uncle Roy pestered.
“Do? It’s his decision.”
“Come on there, Gracie. You’re a bunch smarter than that.”
Indignation made her voice squeak. “He’s leaving because of me?”
“I got eyes. Boy doesn’t say much, but I can read between the lines.”
“So what do you think I can do about it?”
Her uncle chuckled. “I’d say use that big ole brain of yours and figure it out.”
After the call, Grace still held the phone to her ear. The sounds in the office suddenly diminished. Movement blurred as if in slow motion. And Grace finally knew what she had to do. Even if it backfired on her big-time.
* * *
DRESSED IN SHORTS, a pale blue T-shirt and sneakers, Grace jogged through the woods the next day to the lake. The shady trees enveloped her in a comfortable sense of serenity. She inhaled the scent of damp earth as she neared the water’s edge. Guests staying in the cabins were out and about, roaming the paths through the woods or hanging out by the water’s edge. She waved and said hello. In the distance, boats zigzagged on the lake as folks were making the best of the sweltering summer day by escaping to the cool water.
When she reached the clearing before the dock, she stared out over the water. The scenery here was magnificent. She’d let her past experiences cause her to look through jaded eyes. A shame, really, but also a hard truth. It had made her more determined to stay away from Golden.
No more.
Deke stood at the end of the dock, the golden light of the sun burnishing his dark hair. Tall, shoulders broad and steady, he remained stock-still. Taking in the view for one final time? His hands were shoved in his shorts pockets as he surveyed the lake spread out before him. He belonged here, she realized. Had since the day he walked into the office asking about the outdoor guide position.
She knew he hadn’t left when she pulled up the lane and saw his Jeep still parked beside the cabin. Took it as a sign of a second chance.
Suddenly nervous, she hesitated. What if he wouldn’t hear her out? Had decided she was too much trouble? That he was much more suited to the solitary life? What would she do then?
He turned. Took a step, saw her and froze.
Taking a huge breath, she pressed a hand against her stomach and powered forward. It was now or never to change her future. Their future, if he’d listen.
A flash of surprise lit his eyes. “Grace. What’re you doing here?”
“I had to get out of Atlanta for a while.”
One dark brow arched. “Problems?”
“Clarity.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest, legs planted in a wide stance. “You’ll have to explain.”
She licked her lips. “Uncle Roy called. Told me you were leaving.”
Shrugging, he looked away. “There’s really nothing here for me now.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong.”
His eyes swung back and pierced hers. “Enlighten me.”
She took a step closer. Inhaled his familiar scent. Didn’t want to go a day without him in her life ever again. “I’ve been under the misguided impression that I’m in control of the universe. It took one brave man to point out how totally outlandish and mistaken I was.”
His lips curved just the slightest bit.
“Being at a big firm was the dream
, Deke. Until I realized that some dreams are really excuses.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I needed an excuse to leave Golden because if I didn’t have one, I’d never go. I’d never try. I’d never see what was out there. It wasn’t about the job, although I do love my career. It was about being away from Golden, so that I could fully realize how much I’d miss it.”
“You miss Golden?”
“Every day.” She stepped around him and waved her hand in the air, the gesture encompassing the lake and mountains. “It didn’t click until you reminded me just how beautiful my home really is. How there’s a simplicity in being in tune with nature.” She turned to look at him. “You also made me see I’m not the boss of everyone, and to be truthful, I don’t want to be.”
Arms still crossed tight, he asked, “So what are you suggesting?”
“That we both stay in Golden. See where the relationship I made a mess of takes us.” She reached out. Touched his strong arm and felt the resulting quiver beneath her fingers. “I love you, Deke. And honestly, if Golden isn’t for you, that’s fine. If we give us another chance, I’ll be happy wherever we go.”
He tilted his head. Studied her for so long her knees grew weak. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I don’t want to be your second choice, Grace. Equal partners or nothing.”
“I’m ready.”
He ran a hand over his chin. “I’ll be honest. I haven’t decided if I’ll go back into law enforcement.”
“So we’ll figure it out together. As you once told me, we make a good team. There’s no rush.” She grinned. “Well, except that I need to know what you’re thinking right now.”
His smile spread, revealing the dimples she loved. He took a step closer, circled his arms around her waist. “I’m thinking there’s only one Grace Harper and I’d be happy to continue this journey with her.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. “I love you.”
She rested her hands on his chest, relief sweeping over her. “Then here’s to discovering what life has in store for us. Together.”
* * *
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Winning the Cowboy’s Heart
by Karen Rock
CHAPTER ONE
“THANK YOU FOR coming out tonight, Carbondale!” Heath Loveland shouted into the mic at Silver Spurs, the town honky-tonk. A drumroll behind him, followed by a cymbal crash, punctuated his closing set’s final remark. His bass player, Clint, hammered a quick, throbbing beat.
Heath loosened his sweaty grip on his Fender and peered into the throng of country-western-dressed locals, searching out his MIA fiancée. No surprise she hadn’t shown. In fact, it would have been a surprise if she had, seeing as she disapproved of his gigging. “We hope you had a good time tonight.”
Raucous hoots and hollers rose to the exposed-beam rafters in answer. Stamping feet vibrated the dusty wooden floor. Water streamed down condensation-covered windows while overhead fans stirred humid air reeking of beer, body odor and peanuts. Beneath Heath’s Wranglers and black muscle shirt, sweat slicked his body.
A wide smile creased his face as he absorbed the room’s electric energy. Playing for hyped crowds was like a hit of pure sunshine; it lit him up with the force of a solar blast. Hardworking folks watched his band, Outlaw Cowboys, to forget about life for a while, and he gave them that amnesia: a hat-raising, boot-stomping, tail-swishing night out.
“We love you!” a pair of cowgirls in Daisy Dukes screamed from the front row.
He tipped his black cowboy hat, earning him another earsplitting screech, and ignored Clint’s eye roll. Not a night went by that Clint didn’t gripe about renaming their band the Heath Loveland Fan Club. Heck. Wasn’t like Heath could do anything about it. They followed him from show to show. What’s more, he’d never get involved with groupies, even if he wasn’t already spoken for...though he supposed their attention figured into Kelsey’s demand he quit gigging and “grow up,” as she put it...
...and set a date for their wedding.
A heaviness clamped around his chest. He slid a finger along his damp T-shirt collar, stretching it from his steaming neck. She’d be fit to be tied if he told her about this morning’s call from Nashville. And she’d never agree...
“Marry me, Heath!” an unfamiliar female voice hollered.
With a wink, he strummed a quick open-string scale, then cranked a tuning peg to sharpen his G, sending his hovering female fans into a tizzy of squeals and shrieks. “How about a little Johnny Cash to finish us out?”
“Yeah!” roared a pack of men near the bar. They raised their overflowing mugs.
Heath strummed the opening notes of “Folsom Prison Blues” and caught his bandmates’ surprised expressions from the corner of his eye as they scrambled to catch up. Usually they closed with one of the band’s originals. Yet this cover popped in his head and shot straight to his fingertips before he’d given it conscious thought.
He played close to the bridge for added twang as he growled out the opening verse. The gravelly words were dredged from a dark well inside him. Low and deep. He was stuck, trapped, he crooned, listening to the train going by without him. His chest ached. His eyes stung. Like every tune he performed, he experienced the song’s pain, loss, regret, becoming the music, the notes pouring from him like an open wound.
He grabbed his Fender’s headstock and bent it back, strumming low on the E string so the notes arced as they flew. When he hit the bridge, his foot stomped on his Boss compressor to give it lots of swells. Behind him, Remmy, his drummer, pounded a driving beat while Clint thrummed the deep bow-wow-wow bass line that vibrated your body, your organs, your cells even.
His gaze swept the stomping crowd as he sang and stopped dead on a pair of luminous brown eyes. It wasn’t so much the shape that caught his attention, though they were enormous in her freckled face or the thick fringe of lashes surrounding them—it was their ferocious expression. A fierce hunger and an aching vulnerability directed not so much at him but at his music...which was him...the person few really saw.
Jewel Cade.
His new stepsister.
His fingers stumbled and missed the eight fret
when he changed chords. Heat swamped his face. He tore his attention from Jewel and muted the strings with the side of his hand for the next seven bars before risking another glance.
Her magnetic eyes lifted from his guitar and clicked with his and in that moment, a strange sense of connection, a recognition, jolted through him. Despite the dim light, he spied her rapt expression. It softened her lean face, parted her full lips. She wasn’t just listening to music, she was breathing it in, was sustained by it, just like him.
Music was his life support. Once taken off it, would he survive?
He ripped into his guitar solo, hammering the B7 chord, adding extra flourishes as he kicked up the tempo.
“Where’s the fire?” Clint muttered close to Heath’s ear, jamming beside him, but Heath only played harder.
He shredded the notes, alternating octaves, grabbing the horn of the guitar and pulling the top into his stomach to bend them. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and his muscle shirt clung to his torso. His fingers slid along the neck from one fret to the next. He toggled while he plucked up one note, then stroked down another, fast and tight, picking like a madman. One, two...eight phrases later, and he peered up from his guitar in Jewel’s direction. Was she impressed?
And why did he care about his new stepsister’s opinion?
Disappointment washed over him. She was gone. He kept strumming, continued singing, but his earlier excitement faded. A few minutes later, he ended the song with a rowdy flourish to roof-raising applause. Heath and the rest of the band broke down their equipment, loaded it in Remmy’s van and then sauntered back into Silver Spurs for some tall cool ones.
Clint signaled the bartender and ordered beer. “Who are you looking for?”
Heath quit craning his neck. “No one,” he lied. He sought out Jewel’s fire-engine red hair for no good reason except the connection sparking between them. Had he just imagined it?
Not that he’d pursue her, even if he weren’t already engaged. She wasn’t even his type. He liked gals who wore makeup and nail polish, who fixed their hair pretty and smelled like flowers. Soft and sweet. Jewel, on the other hand, was scrawny and hard-edged, a prickly tomboy cowgirl who preferred horses to people and was as approachable as a cactus. Not to mention they were now family, and he was engaged to a woman he was supposed to love forever.