All for You

by Moore, Heather B.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  All for You

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  About Heather B. Moore

  Copyright © 2019 by Heather B. Moore

  E-book edition

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Interior design by Cora Johnson

  Edited by Kelsey Down and Lisa Shepherd

  Cover design by Rachael Anderson

  Cover image credit: Deposit Photos #73479323, Belchonock

  Published by Mirror Press, LLC

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  Heather

  Pine Valley Series

  Worth the Risk

  Where I Belong

  Say You Love Me

  Waiting for You

  Finding Us

  Until We Kissed

  Let’s Begin Again

  All for You

  ALL FOR YOU

  Life has always been about the game for pro hockey player Tyler Nelson, but when he meets attorney Lindsey Gerber, Tyler discovers his feelings for Lindsey are anything but a game.

  Crash and burn pretty much describes Lindsey Gerber’s last six months at her law firm, where she hoped to make partner. Now, every goal she’s made is suddenly out the window. She moves to Pine Valley, looking for a new start. On day one, she meets pro hockey player Tyler Nelson, who’s recovering from an injury and in a physical therapy program that includes nature things like hiking the ski resort, which he makes no secret of hating. He also makes no secret of his interest in Lindsey. Their lives are two worlds apart, though, and it will take one of them changing everything to make a relationship work.

  “I don’t know, Dawson,” Lindsey Gerber said into the phone as she gazed at the San Francisco morning fog three stories below her corner office. “Pine Valley is like another world. And rumor is that you’re the big man in town.”

  Dawson Harris chuckled in that low, warm tone of his.

  Lindsey sighed at the sound of his laugh. One, because it was good to talk to a friend. Two, because it reminded her that she hadn’t laughed or enjoyed much of anything for a very long time. Six months and three days, to be exact, since starting at Perkins & Gunner.

  She and Dawson had been in law school together. He’d had her back when one of their professors hit on her during their first year. She’d helped him avoid a crazy stalker ex-girlfriend during their second year. Despite Dawson being unarguably the best-looking man in law school, they’d never dated. He was like the brother she’d never had.

  And Dawson said that Lindsey was one of the few people he could be himself around, although “being himself” was still pretty much twenty steps ahead of everyone else. If there was any phrase to describe Dawson Harris, it was “the golden touch.” And now he was trying to convince her to quit her firm, move to the mountain-resort town of Pine Valley, lease his extra office space, and set up her own law practice. In theory, she could pick up and move. She didn’t have any family in the area. Her elderly father lived in San Diego.

  “Are estate-planning lawyers in demand in Pine Valley?” Lindsey asked.

  “You’ve helped out more than one of my clients, long distance,” Dawson said. “You know you can do a lot with email and FedEx.”

  Lindsey rubbed at the back of her sore neck. Yep. It was seven thirty in the morning, and she was already tired and achy. Might have something to do with the fact that she’d been working on a case until one in the morning, then she woke up at five and couldn’t get back to sleep. She’d gotten on the BART carrying her second cup of coffee and a laptop full of endless work and knowing she’d be in board meetings all afternoon with the partners of the company. One of whom had been texting her at odd hours, getting more and more personal. She hadn’t told Dawson about Paul because she knew he’d come unglued.

  When Dawson had called a few minutes ago, Lindsey almost hadn’t answered the phone. She didn’t want her current mood to clue Dawson in on how miserable she was. She hated to complain, and she was a firm believer in having control over one’s happiness. But Dawson’s call had come in a moment of great weakness, because his offer was sounding very tempting. She had to stay strong, though. Partner at a major law firm had been her goal since she started her undergraduate degree.

  “I’m on track to make partner here,” she continued. “Mr. Gunner pretty much told me it’s in the bag—a few more months at the most.” But even as she tried to put a cheerful note in her voice, her stomach felt tight.

  Dawson didn’t hesitate before answering. “You’ll make partner, Lindsey. You’re amazing.”

  She wanted to smile at the confidence in his voice, let it buoy her up. But she only felt more miserable. “Thanks,” she said, her throat sounding thick. She had to get off with him in case the burning in her eyes turned into actual tears. “I gotta go. Good luck selling that lease.”

  When she hung up with Dawson, she didn’t move for a few moments as she stared across the gray murkiness that covered the bay. She’d been to Pine Valley a couple of times to attend the attorney retreats Dawson had put together. The retreats were collaboration events where lawyers from different specialties would interact, listen to presentations, and discuss new laws, and in the end, most of them would end up referring clients to each other.

  Dawson was always in the know, always networking, always looking out for others, including Lindsey.

  A text buzzed, and Lindsey looked down at her phone.

  Hey, Lind, want anything from Einstein’s?

  Paul Locker. His attentions were getting more and more intrusive.

  She didn’t want to see him today, but there was no way she could get out of the board meeting, not if she wanted to make partner. And if she didn’t find a way to shake off Paul, he’d be showing up in her office in about twenty minutes.

  No, thanks. I’ve eaten, and I’m trying to get through a review before lunch. She hit SEND, then groaned when he wrote right back.

  That’s my girl. Always working. I’m impressed.

  She wasn’t a girl, and her name wasn’t Lind. If anyone else talked to her this way, she probably wouldn’t be so annoyed, but everything that Paul did bothered her. He was just so fake, smooth, like a villain in a cartoon. It would be comical, if it weren’t happening to her.

  Lindsey moved away from the window and sat down at her desk. Picking up a thick file, she began to leaf through her notes. Mrs. Grady had only been married to her software-mogul husband for three months, but his will clearly indicated that she was to receive the estate. Other holdings went to his three adult children. Mr. Grady had died in a small plane crash, and now
the children from his first marriage were trying to run Mrs. Grady off the estate.

  The law was the law, and the will had been drawn. Even if the ink hadn’t been dry, the legality still held up. Lindsey would make sure everyone understood that Mrs. Grady was the new owner of the estate and that the harassment needed to stop. Lindsey spent the next few hours working on the case and fielding several phone calls.

  Someone tapped on her door, then opened it. The prickles running along her neck told her who it was before she saw him.

  “I brought you lunch,” Paul said in that smooth tone of his.

  Lindsey looked up, blinking against the headache that had concentrated itself behind her left temple. A quick glance at the ornate clock on the wall told her that it was indeed lunch time.

  Paul wore one of his signature bow ties today, along with a suit in a herringbone pattern. Lindsey supposed the look might be attractive to some women, but not her. Yes, his blonde hair and bright-blue eyes were appealing. But the white flash of his teeth and his regular trips to the tanning salon brought out the photoshopped, fake look.

  “Before you say you’re too busy to eat, I brought your favorite.”

  Lindsey could smell the Japanese food a mile away, and she almost smiled. Because now that she smelled the food, she realized she was starving. But . . . Paul . . .

  He grinned and pulled a chair close to her desk, so they were sitting opposite of each other. Then with a practiced flourish, he pulled out three cartons of food from a large delivery sack, then a couple of chilled water bottles that he’d probably snagged from the break room, and finally napkins and chopsticks.

  “Thanks, Paul,” she said, grabbing her purse from the shelf behind her. “What do I owe you?”

  He chuckled. It wasn’t the warm chuckle of Dawson. More of a suggestive chuckle. Was that a thing?

  “I like the way you think, Lind.” Paul unwrapped his chopsticks. “Let’s just say that you never have to pay me for anything.”

  Lindsey felt the prickle again. She reached for the wallet in her purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, grateful she had cash. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “Thanks again.”

  Paul reached out his hand, but instead of taking the money, he wrapped his fingers over hers. “Lind, come on. Lunch is on me. And anything else you want to be on me.”

  She blinked, because she wasn’t quite sure he was saying . . .

  Paul’s fingers tightened over hers, and his gaze moved from her face to her neck, then lower. She was wearing a V-neck blouse, fitted but perfectly modest. But by the way Paul was scanning her, she didn’t feel so covered up.

  “I love that necklace on you,” he said.

  Her other hand went to her throat. She was wearing one of her mom’s necklaces. And Paul was still holding her hand. She pulled away, but his grip only tightened.

  “Wait, Lind,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

  She tugged harder. He didn’t need to hold her hand to tell her something. He let go, but there was triumph in his eyes, as if he knew how much he’d affected her. He just didn’t know it was in the wrong way.

  Her skin felt flushed, and her heart rate was zooming. She didn’t know whether to chew him out or leave the office. She swallowed, but before she could speak, he said, “I think we’d be good together,” he said. “You’re ambitious, and I’m a partner.”

  “Paul, I hope you’re not going to say what I think you are.” She hated that her voice was trembling.

  He arched one of his tweezed brows. Yep. He tweezed. Had told her about it once. “I want to say a lot of things,” he said in a smooth voice, “but we don’t spend nearly enough time together for me to get them all out. And that’s what I’m proposing we change.”

  Lindsey gripped the edges of her desk. The scent of the Japanese food no longer made her hungry; it made her nauseated.

  “Have you ever heard of the proverbial good ole boys’ club?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  His smile was back. Magazine ready. “You know how the legal world is. Men on top, women on bottom. But we can change that, for you, at least.”

  “With hard work and successful cases?” Lindsey said. The trembling was replaced by rising anger. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed this man to even walk into her office.

  “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘You rub my back, I’ll rub yours’?” Paul winked.

  She stood. “You need to leave now.”

  Paul didn’t even seem surprised at her request, which only irked her more. “Chill, Lind. We’re only having lunch and discussing office politics.”

  She took a shaky breath, her stomach feeling like it was about to flip over. Crossing to the door, she opened it a few inches. “You have thirty seconds, Paul.”

  His smile faded. He carefully, slowly, set down his chopsticks, then pushed up from his chair.

  Lindsey kept her gaze on the opposite wall, not even wanting to look into his eyes. But he didn’t leave, not yet. He paused by her and leaned in. Inhaled slowly. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.” He ran his thumb along her jaw, and she jerked away.

  He merely chuckled. “You really don’t want to piss me off. So drink some of that cold water, and I’ll see you in the board room. Hopefully by the end of our meetings, you’ll be ready to apologize, if you want that partnership. Gunner and I go way back, and I’ll win out every time.”

  She opened the door wider, and when he finally stepped through, she shut the door. Then leaned against it, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. But despite her resolve, her throat felt like she’d swallowed gravel, and her hands were trembling again. She needed to report Paul. But where would that leave her? Without a job. She knew, everyone knew, there was a good ole boys’ club at most of these law firms.

  She’d file a complaint, Paul would receive a warning, her cases would start to dwindle, the money she brought into the firm would be cut in half, and by the time the end-of-year review came around, no one would vote for her. And what if, by some miracle, she was made partner? She’d have to spend every day she was in the office trying to avoid Paul. Which would be impossible. Even if he ignored her, she would feel his disdain. She’d feel cheap, worthless.

  These realizations were nothing new—had been plaguing her for weeks ever since Paul had decided that he had permission to text her outside of work hours.

  Lindsey wiped at her cheeks, then crossed to her desk. Using the Japanese takeout sack, she put in her personal effects from about the office. Then she packed up her laptop into her computer bag. Finally, she grabbed her purse. She’d email in her resignation.

  For now, she walked out of the office, past a handful of closed office doors, past the glass-walled conference room. Naomi, the firm’s receptionist, was setting out water bottles on the long oval table. Lindsey continued down the hall until she reached the elevator. She pushed the lobby button, and as the elevator descended, she texted Dawson Harris.

  Is that lease still available?

  “This is bullsh—”

  “Positivity, Nelson,” Maddy said, her singsong voice like a mother speaking to a five-year-old kid. “Our words become our thoughts, and our thoughts become our actions. When the frustration builds inside of you, remember to push out the negativity.” She swept her hands from her chest outward. “Push it out . . .”

  Tyler Nelson clenched his jaw. Not only did his body ache from trying to keep up with his physical therapist turned wellness coach, Maddy Hardy—emphasis on Hard—as she goat climbed this freaking mountain, but the playoffs were in three weeks. That meant he had to be back to his pre-injury form and on the ice in two weeks. If he couldn’t prove to Coach that he was ready to return to his goaltender spot on the Vegas Falcons, the professional hockey team, Ben would stay in.

  The Falcons were picked to win the Stanley Cup this year. But first, they had to cut a wide berth through the playoffs. And Nelson would be dam—er, darned if that happened without him. Now,
looking up the slope he was currently climbing as part of his wilderness physical therapy, Nelson grimaced at the bits of snow that still clung to the rocks and dead grass. The cold spring of Pine Valley hadn’t done anything to loosen up his joints and muscles. He missed Vegas’s warmer weather.

  He pulled out his water bottle from his backpack and took a swig.

  “You should have finished that water bottle by now,” Maddy said. “What did I tell you about drinking fluids?”

  Nelson continued to chug, finishing the thing off. “Happy?” He glanced over at Maddy.

  She smirked. The woman was all of five foot one and at least forty years old, although it was hard to know since she was one of those all-natural types. No makeup, no painted nails, no jewelry, no hair dye. Bits of gray streaked her dark hair. All Nelson really knew about her was that Coach thought she walked on water with her pseudo-natural-holistic-whatever physical therapy strategies.

  This was why he was currently hundreds of miles away from home, hiking in cold slush. Surrounded by elements of nature such as giant pine trees, dead pine needles, and rotting aspen leaves.

  Spring was definitely coming, but Nelson wouldn’t be around here long enough to see anything worth his trouble.

  “Almost there,” Maddy said. “Maybe fifty more yards. Then we’re zigzagging down so that you don’t put too much stress on your knees.”

  It was his left knee that he’d tweaked in a game last week as he collided with a three-hundred-pound forward from the Seattle Blacks hockey team. Nelson had gone down hard but had still managed to make the save. The Falcons had won two to one.

  The game was over in three more minutes, and Nelson had done everything he could to stay in the game, including nearly biting through his mouth guard. He didn’t want to tell Coach about the strain in his knee, but the guy was observant and saw him limping after he got off the ice.

  Thankfully, an MRI showed no tearing, only swelling. They’d called it a grade-one medial collateral ligament sprain. Thus the mandatory physical therapy with nature-loving Maddy.