by Rye Hart
“Nice! Way to go, man. I knew you’d finally come around to the whole doctor thing again. You were too good at it in the Navy. How’s Whitney doing with her stuff?”
“Well, she decided to stay with her original specialization and it paid off. Apparently, a lot of the tourist attractions around here couldn’t afford the regular salary for an in-house lawyer. But because I got the buildings at such a good price, Whitney was able to really bottom out her rates and still turn a profit with basic hourly work. She marketed her services to some of the tourist attractions in town and she’s got most of them on her roster.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s some fucking awesome shit right there. She’s not, like, in an office on the grounds or something, right?”
“No, no. She’s at her office in the building next to mine. If they need her, she travels to them. She’s not completely in-house counsel because they don’t employ her full-time. But when they need something, she bills them hours and she gets it done. I’m really proud of her.”
“She settling into the cabin nicely?” he asked.
“For a little while there, we were talking about moving, but the cabin’s enough for us for now,” I said.
“It won’t be if you guys wanna have kids.”
“Let’s get through tonight and see how that goes,” I said, grinning. “Got any advice for me?”
“Hell no, man. I’ve never done this shit before. I just wanted to come hug your neck and check in on you before you try to pull this off tonight.”
“You think it’ll go okay?” I asked.
“I think the two of you have been through enough this past year. If she can tolerate you that long, you don’t have a problem.”
“Thanks. I think.”
I clapped Paxton on the back one last time and held him a little longer than I’d intended. He was the best friend I’d ever known and, the moment I knew I wanted to do this, he was the first person I contacted. It took me traveling into town during all sorts of odd hours to get a video call out to him on the ship he had been stationed on, but I knew I couldn’t do this without his approval.
“Go get her,” he said.
“I will.”
“Call me when she says yes,” he said. “So, I can tell you that I told you so.”
“You’re a dick,” I said, chuckling.
“And you’re gonna be amazing tonight.”
I saw Paxton out, then began setting everything out for tonight. I cooked up a wonderful dinner she could come home to because I knew it would be a long day for her today. Even though the winter months were the slowest for tourism, there was always paperwork to be done with some of the smaller businesses she’d taken on. She ran a full schedule Monday through Friday and, while I knew she could get overwhelmed at times, I knew she loved every second of it.
I set the sizzling filet mignon onto the table along with a bottle of wine. Then I lit the candles and waited for her to get home.
When she pulled up into the driveway, I was waiting on the doorstep with her glass of wine in my hand. She took it from me and kissed me, allowing her taste to linger on the tip of my tongue. I could feel her melting into me, which was always her reaction after she’d put in long hours at her office.
I ushered her in with my arm around her and carried her over to the table.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she said.
“I made us dinner. Filet mignon, medium rare, with garlic green beans and buttered mashed potatoes. There’s also a cherry pie I got from the store because I can’t bake.”
“And glorious red wine to wash it all down with,” she said. “These candles smell phenomenal. Sweetheart, you really outdid yourself tonight.”
“Just you wait,” I said. “There’s another surprise coming.”
I pulled out her chair so she could sit down but I didn’t make my way back to my seat. She closed her eyes and downed her first glass of wine so I filled it up before I placed the bottle back on the table.
Then, I got down on one knee and took her hand in mine.
“Liam, what are you doing?” she asked.
“I’ve been waiting for you all day and I can’t stand it any longer,” I said.
I rummaged around in my pocket for the ring I’d picked out for her months ago. I held it up for her to see as a gasp fell from her lips. Her eyes glazed over with tears and I could see her body beginning to tremble. All at once, the words came tumbling from my lips.
“Whitney, you came into my life tumbling down a hill and practically breaking your ankle. You were clumsy, you were talkative, and you knew just how to press all the right buttons.”
She giggled breathlessly as her watery eyes met my stare.
“You found me when I was broken and battered. I’d convinced myself that the world was better off without me. I convinced myself that I had betrayed my country and somehow done wrong by those I swore to protect and defend, but you changed all that. With your smile and your touch and your honesty. You blew into my life on the outskirts of a winter storm and, by the time the storm was finished, I didn’t want you to leave. And now you’ve built this incredible business and I’ve finally finished my last year of rotation. We’ve accomplished so much together and it’s been an honor standing by your side through it all.”
“Oh, Liam,” she whispered.
“I was trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to show you how much I loved you. I racked my brain trying to come up with a way to prove to you that I was in this for the long haul. And as I was walking by a jewelry store three months ago, this ring was staring back at me and I knew. I knew then and there that I wanted to ask you to be my wife.”
Tears were streaming down her face and I had to admit that I was trying to control mine as well.
“Whitney Hollis, professional businesswoman and love of my life, will you do me the honor of allowing me to bask in the light of your life for the rest of mine?”
Throwing her arms around me, she tackled me to the ground. Her lips pressed kiss after kiss into mine, her arms threading around my neck as I slowly sat us up. I smiled into her skin and she plucked the ring from my fingers, sliding it onto her hand while it glistened in the wintry sun.
“Yes,” she said. “It would be an honor to marry you, Liam Canter.”
I wrapped my arms around her and smiled into her skin. I planted kisses into the crook of her neck while her silken tresses covered my face. I breathed in the scent of her, taking in the moment that would be forever etched in my memory.
“I love you so much, Liam,” she said.
“And I love you, Whitney.”
The End
THE MOUNTAIN MAN’S SECOND CHANCE
CHAPTER ONE
SYDNEY
“Oooh, where are you going?” Allison asks, her voice a little tinny sounding over the phone.
“Peter won't say,” I reply. “He says it's supposed to be a surprise.”
I push a strand of auburn hair behind my ear and glance at myself in the mirror. As I look at my hair, I realize I desperately need a trim. My formerly chin-length bob is touching my shoulders now, the ends curling ever so slightly upward. Most people probably wouldn't even give it a second thought, but to me, it looks like a wooly mop.
My gaze remains fixed on the mirror and, in particular, at the green eyes that stare back at me. They're my eyes, of course, but as I look closely, my face is that of a stranger to me. Dark eyeliner is drawn across each lid, forming a perfectly stylish cat eye – something that's taken me months to get right. A vibrant red lipstick paints my lips. Golden eyeshadow that's a bit shinier than I'd normally wear adorns my eyes. I personally think it's a little bit too gaudy, but for some reason, Peter likes me in gold.
He told me to look my best when we spoke last, which in Peter-ese, meant wear makeup and dress fancy. Which I have.
My best friend sighs wistfully as if I've just told her the most romantic tale of all time. It's true, Peter is incredibly romantic and he's everything mo
st women want in a man. Rich. Successful. Handsome. Romantic. The list of his positive attributes goes on and on.
“You're so lucky, girly,” Allison says. “I hope to find someone like Peter one day.”
My faint smile can't be seen through the phone, and thankfully so. My parents have already lectured me about how perfect Peter is, and how I would be a fool to screw it up – I didn't need to hear it from my best friend too.
“Yeah, well, I have to get packing,” I say. “Just wanted to let you know why I couldn't make it to Monica's surprise party. I guess I have a surprise party of my own to attend”
“It's all good,” she says brightly. “Monica will understand.”
Hanging up the phone, I stare down at the clothes on my bed, gripped by a feeling of consternation. Not knowing where we we're going makes it hard to know what to pack. A month ago, it was Key Largo on a whim. Today? Who knows. Peter's family owns a private jet, meaning he can literally fly me anywhere in the world he wants to go at the drop of a hat.
My phone rings again and I pick it up, checking the number on the display screen.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter to myself as I punch the button and connect the call.
“Hello there, beautiful,” Peter coos. “Almost ready?”
“Almost,” I say. “Can you give me some idea of what I should pack? A swimsuit, winter clothes?”
“All the above,” he says. “We're going on an adventure. Excited?”
Not really. “More curious than anything at this moment.”
An adventure. Uh huh. That tells me nothing. I toss a bikini and a few summer dresses on top of the jacket and thick, woolen socks already in my bag. Without any idea of where we're going or what we'll be doing once we get there, I'm just trying to be as prepared as I can.
“How'd the meeting at work go?” I ask.
“Boring, as usual,” Peter says. “Dad is taking his dear, sweet time making the transition.”
“Yeah, it's got to be tough for him to let go after all this time,” I say.
I sit down on the bed and close my eyes, listening to Peter go on and on about the business. McDowell Pharmaceuticals is his dad's company, but his father is retiring and leaving everything to him. Peter is, of course, in a hurry to get things going so he can take over and start putting his stamp on the company.
His father though, as it turns out, isn't so keen on letting go. Instead of spending his days on the golf course, or at the country club, he keeps coming in and looking over Peter’s shoulder, which is driving my boyfriend absolutely mad.
Boyfriend. Huh. First time I've ever called him that, even though it's obvious that's what he is. It still feels weird to me to think the word, let alone say it out loud, though. Things still feel somewhat distant between us, even though we've been seeing each other constantly for the past four months.
Our relationship has been a whirlwind from the day my dad – a doctor who works with Peter's father on some clinical drug trials – introduced us at a gala. From that day forward, Peter has called me at least once a day, and insisted we see each other no less than four times a week. The trips started a month ago, with him taking me to Key Largo for no reason other than he thought it would be fun.
It was definitely fun, and I enjoyed myself, but, he promised me there is so much more to come. If I'm being honest, I'm not even sure if there's a future ahead of us. I'm not really thinking that far ahead right now. Peter, however, is talking about going to Europe once the transition is complete and he's gotten himself on steady footing as the man in charge. He's talked a lot about maybe spending the summer together in Santorini.
Summer. That's still several months from now. Honestly, I'm not sure where I'm going to be next month, much less almost half a year away.
“Sydney, are you listening to me?”
Peter's voice cuts into my thoughts and pulls me back to the here and now. I'd apparently zoned out – tuning him out completely.
“Uh yeah,” I lie. “I'm listening.”
“Then what did I just say?” His tone is serious.
“You were talking about work and how your dad doesn't want to hand over the reins of the company so easily – ”
“No, I'd asked you if you were ready, darling.”
His voice softens, just a bit, but it comes out sounding forced. Peter has no patience for people not listening to him. It's a trait that seems common in powerful, successful men. They expect everyone to hang on their every little word, and when you don't, they feel slighted. Insulted. In that way, he's a lot like my own father.
No wonder he likes Peter so much.
“Yeah. Almost,” I say.
I look at the mess of clothes on my bed and the mess that is my bag, realizing I'm nowhere near close to being ready.
“Good. I'll have a car pick you up in half an hour,” he says.
Half an hour? I want to ask for more time, but not because it'll take me that much longer to finish packing. I'm just not ready to leave yet. I'm still waiting to hear back from a few medical schools I've had interviews with, and I'd much rather hang out with Allie and check the mail every chance I can, not travel to God knows where with a man my parents seemed to like more than I do.
“Okay,” I say.
It's a vacation. I need a vacation before starting medical school. That's what my parents would say. It still doesn't mean I want to uproot my entire world while I wait for the acceptance letters to come. And I know they'll come, it's just a matter of where, at this point.
Thankfully, Allie will feed my cat for me, but I still hate leaving Hermes behind. I walk over to the cat bed I put in the walk-in closet for him. It's one of his favorite napping spots, and when I peek inside, I find my majestic black cat curled up in a loaf position. His golden orbs watch me as I walk over and sit down on the floor with him, scratching behind his ears.
“Don't worry, I'll be back soon, buddy,” I tell him. “I promise.”
Hermes purrs and closes his eyes, resting his head against my palm. I get so caught up in petting my cat, I completely forget about packing. My phone buzzes and I realize that the car is here, waiting for me outside.
“Shit,” I mutter, rushing to grab my bag.
I throw in a few last-minute articles of clothing before hurrying through my condo toward the front door. My heart thundering in my chest, I rush down to the elevator, and down to the main lobby. Waving at the doorman, I exit my high-rise and find the black BMW sitting out front. The driver opens up the door for me, and I climb into the back seat.
Peter is waiting for me and I feel my heart sink into my shoes. If there's one thing he likes less than not being listened to, it's being kept waiting. A look of mild annoyance flashes across his features, but he manages to stuff it down. The irritation in his eyes is gone as if it had never been.
“I thought we were meeting at the airport?” I say.
“The surprises are only just beginning, my love,” he says.
I get myself situated on the back seat and then Peter pulls me into a kiss, holding my face between his hands so I can't get away even if I want to. His lips press against mine as the car pulls away from the curb.
We can't get to the airport quickly enough for my liking.
CHAPTER TWO
JACK
“Let's move forward with the sale,” I say.
My office window overlooks the mountains beyond. They're majestic and covered in snow for as far as the eye can see. No other houses can be seen from my place, which is one reason I love it out here. It's just me and the mountains. Oh, and my dog, Gunner.
As if on cue, my chocolate lab lifts his head up and looks right at me. It's technically time for me to take him out to let him do his business, but I've been on this stupid conference call for hours. I'd much rather be out in the snow with my dog, but running a business means you have to make certain sacrifices. Even if I'm in the process of selling the business and everything to do with it.
Bronson Brothers Development
was my dad's thing. His brother wasn't even in on it, actually. The name just sounded better according to dad. Looking around at my beautiful, rustic house in the mountains, I can't complain too much. The business gives me everything money can buy and a solid sense of security and freedom, but, there comes a time in any man's life when you have to let go of the things no longer working for you.
Like my dad's business. It would probably devastate my dad to hear, but I honestly don't have the passion or the heart for it. It would probably devastate him even more to hear that the sale of his real estate empire is going to make it possible for me to retire. My father believed in hard work and an honest day's pay, day in and day out. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
At the age of thirty-three years old though, I'm going to retire to the mountains with my dog, be left alone, and be happy. Really happy.
“You sure?” my lawyer, David, asks. “Jack, I'm looking at the numbers, and you could get – ”
“I'm getting plenty,” I say. “More than I'll ever use in my lifetime.”
I've been through this with David time and time again. I want the company, my dad's legacy, to end up in good hands. Capable hands. I want somebody to buy the company who can enhance my dad's legacy and continue to build it.
I know I'm not that guy, so the price tag doesn't matter to me. I already have all I need right here, and more than enough in the bank to keep me going for the rest of my life. I'm never going to want for anything for the rest of my days.
I scratch my beard and wait for him to argue with me some more about it like he usually does. After all, a lot of the people helping me broker this deal are being paid on commission, so it makes sense that they'd try to push for every penny. I've already sold the commercial branch of the company off, and in the process, donated a nice chunk of change to the Sierra Club in the Bronson name, trying to atone for all the damage that was done to the environment as various projects were built.
This last branch is it. The final piece of the puzzle. Once it's sold off, I'll be done, and once I'm done, I can live my life on my own terms.