by Box Set
He'd texted and left her a couple of voice messages since yesterday, which she hadn't yet listened to because it was too difficult to hear his voice. She missed him with every beat of her heart, which was exactly what scared her. What if she'd once again given her heart to a man who didn't deserve it?
"He'll be here in a minute," her mother said breezily. "Help me with these last boxes of water purifiers." She and her mom had spent the past hour unpacking new merchandise.
"Mom, I really don't understand why you're handling stock for the store. You always leave that to the store clerks."
"It's a family business," her mom answered. "We pitch in where we need to."
The storeroom door opened and her father peeked in. "Okay, Janice, we're ready."
Her mom immediately shoved the boxes she'd been holding onto one of the shelves and turned, the look in her eyes almost...guilty.
"What's going on?" Hailey looked from her mother to the end of the aisle, where her father now stood. "Seriously?"
"Come and find out," her father suggested, beckoning her with one hand.
She followed him out into the main store and gasped. Racks of merchandise had been moved to the side to create a makeshift stage in the midst of backpacks, coolers and outerwear. A crowd of people, much larger than what they'd usually see on a Tuesday morning, stood in clusters, including several holding microphones or cameras. She assumed they were reporters.
Her father put an arm around her shoulder and led her forward. "What is this, Dad? Why are--" She broke off as Travis appeared in front of the crowd.
All of the breath whooshed out of her lungs at the sight of him. Instead of his normal suit and tie, he wore a dark flannel shirt and tan pants that made him look rugged and totally at home in the midst of the outdoors gear surrounding him.
"Thank you all for coming today," he said, his voice clear and strong. The crowd quieted and everyone turned to watch him. He scanned the faces, and one side of his mouth curved when he met her gaze. It was a hint of a smile, but his eyes were unsure and...almost vulnerable. Was that possible?
"It feels like Big Sky Outfitters is the right place for this announcement, since my grandfather, Mel Jackson, had the vision for the company he'd created right here in this store over thirty years ago."
He gestured to the displays surrounding him. "Mel's was built in partnership with local retailers around the country. You hear a lot of talk about bigger being better, but that's not what my grandfather believed. He believed better is better, and working with people who understood the needs of the American outdoorsman was important to his legacy."
He paused, took a breath then added, "His continued legacy. Which is why I'm pleased to announce that Mel's Outdoor Adventures will be continuing our relationships with local retailers for the next decade. We look forward to working in conjunction with locally run shops, like Big Sky, to bring to market the best, most innovative gear. We want everyone to enjoy the wild parts of our great country and the world."
"What is he doing?" Hailey asked her father, starting to step forward. Her dad held her back. "He can't just change things at the last minute, can he? The decision about the contracts has been made. His father--"
"Isn't the CEO," her dad whispered. "Travis is and he's as much Mel Jackson's grandson as he is Dominic's son. He's made this choice, Hailey. He's taking a stand for what he thinks is right."
Pride filled her at the same time a wave of guilt washed over her, dimming a bit of her happiness. Travis was standing up to his father, but she hadn't stood by him when he needed her. Now she realized the mistake she'd made ignoring his messages.
There was a round of overwhelming applause and a few cheers. She lost sight of Travis in the mass of people surrounding him after he finished his speech. But a moment later, the crowded parted and Hailey watched, her heart pounding, as he moved toward her.
"Hey," he whispered when he was only a few feet in front of her.
"Nice speech," she murmured around the lump of emotion clogging her throat.
"It was for you," he said, and she immediately shook her head.
"You did this," she told him. "I don't know how and I don't know why, but you made it happen, Travis. Your grandfather would be proud."
"You don't know why?" He stepped closer, so close that the tips of his boots touched the toes of hers. "You're the reason, Hailey. You made me see that I can be more than who my father expects me to be. I can be the man I want, and I hope..." He laced his fingers with hers. "I hope I can become the man you deserve." He looked at her, his dark eyes intense, and he didn't try to hide anything. All the things she'd wanted to see were there in his gaze. "I think I fell in love with you that first morning in the coffee shop, and I know I don't want to ever let you go. If you give me another chance, I won't give you a reason to ever let me go."
"I won't," she whispered, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck when he lifted her into his arms. "I love you, Travis."
"I love you, Hailey," he said into her hair, and another burst of applause surrounded him.
She felt a blush color her cheeks. "Oh my gosh. I can't believe we just did that in the middle of the store."
"This is the place Mel's began, so it's only right that we start our future here." He shifted so that he could claim her mouth with a kiss that promised everything she wanted in life.
It was all here in this moment. She was going to hold on tight to it, and to Travis, forever.
***
"Thank you for coming with me," Travis said as the scenery slowly changed from the mountains surrounding Bozeman to the prairie of western Montana.
Hailey smiled. "There's no place else I'd rather be."
They'd left Bozeman the morning after his announcement about the company. He needed to get back to Minnesota, but they were taking an extra day to drive to Saddle Creek, specifically to Mercy General Hospital so that he could visit John Stone. Travis had been receiving updates from some of the guys who were already in town.
Although there was nothing new to report on Stone's condition, Travis needed to see the man. He wanted to thank his mentor in person for taking an interest in a lost, lonely teenage boy in the midst of all the others Saddle Creek Ranch had saved. Without John Stone's influence, Travis wasn't sure he'd have had the guts to defy his father and renew the contracts with the Mel's retailers. But he had no doubt that following the rule of not tearing others down to build himself up was the right thing to do. Both for the company and for him.
He wouldn't deserve to call Hailey his if he hadn't become the man his mentor had believed him to be. He covered her hand with his and laced their fingers together, resting his arm on the console between the two seats of their rented Suburban.
Kiwi barked once, annoyed at being woken from her nap. The dog turned a circle in Hailey's lap then curled into a ball and went back to sleep.
"My sister owes you big time. You care for that mutt like she's your baby."
Hailey sniffed and petted Kiwi's head with her free hand. "Don't you listen to him calling you a mutt," she whispered to the dog before glancing at Travis. "I think Clara owes you even more. Everyone at Mel's does."
"It's you and John Stone they owe," he told her, lifting her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "You showed me that I don't have to turn into my father."
"You knew that was true already," she said. "John Stone made sure of it. I just reminded you."
"Keep reminding me," he said softly.
"I will."
"I love you, Hailey." He turned her hand to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist. "So much."
She sighed then smiled. "I love you, too."
Travis never understood how much those three words could mean to him until Hailey. He had every intention of proving that he was worthy of hearing them every day for the rest of his life.
About the Author
Michelle Major is the award-winning author of over a dozen sexy and sweet contemporary romances. She loves second-chanc
es love stories, smart heroines and strong heroes. A Midwesterner at heart, she's made the Rocky Mountains her home for over twenty years and is thrilled to share her books with readers.
Connect with her at
@michelle_major1
MichelleMajorBooks
www.michellemajor.com
Tutoring the Heartbreaker to Love
by Hayson Manning
Edited by Mary-Theresa Hussey from Good Stories, Well Told
Tutoring the Heartbreaker to Love
Successful businessman Walker is back in town for two weeks. He crosses the line with feisty Savannah, the girl he let slip away, by paying off her debt to her douche ex. The sophisticated guy who never sticks with a relationship has a fake plan. If Savannah teaches him to be domesticated – something he’ll never be, the debt will be wiped and he’ll walk away with a clear conscience. But living with Savannah is testing him. Her curves, her attitude, her smile make him want her…bad.
Savannah has a fresh start on her horizon. She’s selling her diner and escaping Saddle Creek. She agrees to sexy Walker’s plan with one rule – Gentlemen don’t touch the hired help. But she didn’t anticipate wanting to be plastered against him, or his scent that makes her want to pant and the way he makes her feel alive.
With heat building between them, they engage in a sexy, no-strings relationship. But bending the rules threatens their goals. One wants a shot at love, one wants freedom. Will they fight for their second chance or will they walk away?
Dedicated to the Heartbreakers and Heroes Facebook team. You guys are the best!
Rule #12 A real man doesn’t touch the hired help.
Chapter 1
“Coming,” Savannah Williams yelled in the direction of the tinkling bell that welcomed people into her diner.
Please, please, please be the real estate guy before anyone else comes in.
She wanted to get free of her hometown, Saddle Creek in Montana, and start a new life in Hawaii with as few people knowing the better.
She ran a hand over her head knowing it would look like ravens had battled, then buried their dead in her hair. On a sigh, she twisted her hair into a messy bun.
She should be out front greeting customers. Unfortunately, her cook, Billy-Bob, had called her at four a.m. He’d come down with yet another head cold, which translated to he hadn’t made it home. So she’d dragged her sorry ass out of bed, and made it to the diner before five, now realizing she resembled something a yak had hacked up.
Savannah pushed through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the seating area with a smile that her former nanny, Miss Hattie, said was stolen from an angel. To be fair, Miss Hattie only said this at Christmas when she was hitting the sherry. Savannah had checked, and her smile was nothing special.
She stopped dead.
Not the real estate guy.
One man sat in profile, reading the laminated menu.
The air in her throat lodged into a tight, painful ball and her stomach cramped.
She recognized that slant to his jaw; remembered that his mocha skin tasted like salted caramel. Remembered how those amazing eyes used to hold her gaze when they’d made love.
Damn it.
After eight years it shouldn’t hurt, but the slash to her heart at seeing her first love surprised her.
She smoothed her slightly trembling hands along her jeans, now wishing she’d worn her best pair—the ones that kind of made her ass passable, if viewed from a certain angle, in the dark. She plucked at the cotton of her T-shirt, wishing it didn’t hug so tight because the only free time she had was between two a.m. and four a.m. and she preferred sleep over exercise. She kept a welcoming smile on her face, even though her cheeks were starting to ache, and walked toward the man who’d tossed her away like a candy wrapper.
“What can I get you?” she said in the voice she used to welcome people to her diner and watched in fascination as Walker Hammond jerked. His chin shot up and his gaze flew to her and he blinked. Then he smiled, and the sun dimmed.
She swallowed heavily.
“Savannah…” His bourbon-dipped voice rumbled through her.
She held his gaze and prayed the tremor in her heart didn’t make it into her voice. “Walker, nice to see you.”
Thank you heart.
Something flashed across his face too fast for her to read.
“I heard about John,” she said, in a gentle voice. “Is that why you’re back in Montana?”
He nodded, his mouth tight.
“He’s a good man. We’re all hoping he’ll pull through.”
“Yeah,” he said with a long breath.
She sneaked another peek. Walker was all grown up.
He looked nothing like the cocky twenty-two-year-old who’d strutted into her life and claimed her as his. He’d always had confidence, but his seemed the quiet confidence of a successful man.
I thought I knew him. Turns out I didn’t.
Thick forearm muscles flexed under his skin. The cotton of the T-shirt pulled tight against his powerful frame. Denim fitted his thighs in a way that would make any woman’s mouth water. A fancy gold watch glittered in the sunlight. Expensive frames were perched on his closely-cropped head and out of the corner of her eye a brand spanking new four-wheel-drive with a rental logo on the side sat next to her beat up Corolla. Life had been good to Walker.
Her, not so much.
On that cheery thought, she tapped her pencil against the pad. “Now, what can I get you?”
He rattled off a list which she scrawled down, her heart sinking. The only thing she could do well was coffee.
He opened his mouth, but she shot him a fake sunny smile, turned on her heel, and headed to the kitchen, spine straight, shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Her body fizzing like she’d overdosed on coffee.
Of all the days. Of all the freaking days Billy-Bob didn’t show up, Walker had strolled into her little diner looking hotter than her favorite Turkish Delight candy bar when she was on a diet.
You can do this.
Yes, she would do this.
She’d serve his food and pray he didn’t get food poisoning. He’d then pay his bill and strut out of her diner and her life.
Again.
Twenty minutes later, she looked around in dismay. “That’s bad even for me,” she said to the plate.
She’d forgotten to keep an eye on the bacon because she’d forgotten the eggs because she couldn’t find where Billy-Bob stocked the waffle mix in the fridge. She’d scraped most of the burned edges from the bacon – silently apologizing to the poor animal she’d killed all over again. Walker would be taking his eggs well done and not sunny-side up and even though she’d covered the edges of the waffles in whipped cream they resembled a wilted birthday cake without any happy candles.
Child, God knows you like to fix things, but some things can’t be fixed. Miss Hattie’s words drifted into her head on a Nivea-scented memory. The woman had become a permanent fixture in her life when her mom died when Savannah was two.
She pressed her lips together to keep in the emotion.
She missed having her favorite person in the world being nearby, but Miss Hattie had moved to Florida a couple of weeks ago—both to look after her sister and to bask in the Miami sunshine that was kinder to her aged bones. And with that last link to her hometown gone, Savannah was finally…free.
To go to Hawaii.
For a new job. A new life. A new everything.
She stared down at the plate
Unfortunately, Miss Hattie was right. This culinary disaster could not be fixed.
Burned toast popped up on cue. Savannah walked into the diner balancing plates of overcooked everything, slid the plates onto the table in front of Walker, pointed to the condiments, turned, and headed to the safety of the kitchen.
“Savvy.”
She jolted to a halt but didn’t turn, knowing a spasm had rippled across her face. She’d learned to hide her emotions and, at t
hirty, she could outwit everyone except Miss Hattie. Walker would not know the quick, unexpected hit to the heart she experienced when her nickname rolled off his tongue. The word felt warm and fuzzy around the edges but still packed a power-punch even after all these years.
She stared at a nearby clean but scarred table, the wood worn with age. Glossy white butcher paper she’d laid out this morning served as a placemat and doubled as a scrawling sheet for toddlers. A bunch of flowers from her garden sat proudly in a small white vase. Warm spring sun spilled through the windows, casting pools of amber across the swept, wooden floor.
“Yep.” She still faced away, holding her breath until her lungs started sending urgent messages to her brain.
“I didn’t get the coffee.”
She whooshed out the breath. “Coming right up,” she said in her cheeriest voice and weaved amongst a dozen identical tables, each with a bunch of wildflowers, laminated menus in a rack against the wall. Mustard, sauce, ketchup, and salt and pepper lined up by size against the menus.
Savannah could not cook to save her life, or anyone else’s, which made her current career choice a predicament, but she could make coffee and her cakes always received requests for second and third helpings. A year ago she’d hocked all but a kidney to get the top of the line espresso machine. The plan being, between her coffee and cakes and Billy-Bob’s cooking they’d keep butts on seats.
Turned out dreams didn’t always come true.
Hence the real estate man.
Where is he anyway?
Walker hadn’t said how he took his coffee, so she made it hot and strong in a fancy- schmancy white porcelain cup, adding a dash of full cream. If he was one of those almond, coconut, soy, not-milk guys, then he was out of luck. She frothed the cream in a silver jug, then free-poured it into the coffee creating her design. She walked directly to his table, slid the cup before him where it rattled on the saucer—her design being a perfect love heart. With her face on fire, she did not pause for idle chatter like she normally would. Instead, she headed once more for the kitchen to write up the bill, so he could pay and leave.