by Cora Seton
A tear spilled down Addison’s cheek.
“She didn’t come home. And there was nothing left. I don’t know how many days she was gone. I broke the rules—” Kai’s voice cracked, and Addison longed to pull him into her arms. “I opened the door—just to see if she was coming. Someone saw me.”
He paced away suddenly, his fists clenched by his sides. “They called Child Protective Services.”
“Thank God.”
He swung around, and the anguish on his face struck Addison dumb. “I was supposed to wait,” he told her. “If I’d just held in there—”
“You could have died,” Addison cried. “Grace could have died. What your mother did was wrong!”
“We got scooped up, put in foster care. They found my mom. Tried to get her into a program. She could have had us back.”
“Jesus!” Anger coursed through Addison. “She didn’t deserve you back!”
“She was my mother.” Addison watched him pull himself under control. “She was my mother. But she didn’t want us back. She said they could keep us. When the Ledbetters asked to adopt us, she signed us over just like that.”
“Because she knew she couldn’t raise you,” Addison said. “Not because you opened the door.”
He opened his mouth to say something, lifted his hands and suddenly strode away.
This time Addison didn’t pursue him. She knew a man like Kai wasn’t going to succumb to emotion where she could see him. She knew he needed a chance to let those feelings out. She hugged her arms to her chest as a chill wind sprang up, lifting leaves to dance in billowing circles. She watched one land in the creek and slide away.
How the past could haunt a person, she mused. How one small action—one short sentence—could change a life. Kai had opened a door. She’d closed a figurative one once in her life and always wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t. Fate had turned a corner, and life had marched on. Neither of them could guess where they’d be today if they’d chosen differently.
The thing was, she wanted to be right here, Addison realized. Here with Kai, ready to listen to him, talk to him, hold him—whatever he needed once he’d confronted his pain on his own.
She turned when footsteps approached, surprised to see him coming back.
“I don’t want to walk away from this—from you,” he said simply. “I don’t want to be like her.”
“You’re not. And Kai—you yourself said she was young. An addict. I think—I think at some point you’re going to have to forgive her.” She closed her eyes. “Wow. I’m a hypocrite. Forget it—don’t listen to me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He took her hand and waited for her to open her eyes again. “Why are you a hypocrite? Do you owe someone forgiveness?”
Addison wasn’t sure. “She’s still doing it,” she began, then started over. “My mother. And it’s such a small thing it doesn’t bear mentioning after what you’ve said.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She had a feeling he was relieved they weren’t talking about his past anymore. Maybe she should push him to talk more, but instinctively she knew he’d said enough for one day. They’d revisit it another time, when his emotions weren’t so raw. Maybe it would be kind to distract him with her far more petty problems. Although they weren’t petty to Felicity. She was moving halfway across the world to make a change.
“I began competing in beauty pageants before Felicity was even born,” she said. They’d reached the creek, and she sat down on the bank. Kai sat down beside her. “My mother loved dressing me up for them, teaching me to sing, all that primping and fussing.”
“Did you like it?”
“I liked the attention—especially all the attention I got from her. It was something we did together. I was a bit of a show-off. Liked to belt out a tune.”
He chuckled, and she was grateful to see he’d relaxed.
“Then Felicity joined in. I wasn’t as pleased with that. At first, she was in the baby categories, and that was okay, but when we got a little older, it became very clear Felicity was pageant gold. And I wasn’t.”
“That must have hurt.”
“I stuck it out for a while. I’d get third place now and then. Felicity won every category every time. And Mom focused on her.” Addison shrugged. “Which makes perfect sense.”
“But not to a little girl.” Kai was frowning now. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
“Not to a little girl,” she echoed. “One day I’d had enough. I confronted her. Said maybe I should just quit—”
Addison swallowed, unprepared for how sharp her pain still was when she thought of it.
Kai’s lips pinched together. “Let me guess; she agreed with you?”
Addison nodded. “It hurt. Bad. My dad stepped in. Did his best. Got me into sports. I actually went to school on a softball scholarship at first. Injured my arm and that was that.”
Kai touched her arm. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine for everyday life. Just not for throwing fastballs.” She stared at the water. “I let those old pageants make me feel second best, and that’s not fair to me or Felicity. I’m glad I came here. I don’t think I’d ever really have realized how much I was living in the past if I hadn’t.”
“How about your sister?”
“Felicity? She’s a supermodel now. Has a beautiful penthouse in New York City. A wonderful husband. But my mother—” Addison shook her head. “It’s like she’s trying to suck the lifeblood out of her. She’s so obsessed with Felicity’s career. My sister is moving to Rome.” Tears pricked her eyes. “I’m going to miss her so much.”
“She’s moving to break free from your mom?”
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong; she loves Mom. We both do. She’s not a monster.”
“She’s just not operating with your best interests at heart.”
“I think Felicity and I both wonder if we’re lovable.” She’d never put it so starkly, and saying it took her breath away, but it was freeing, too. It explained so much.
Kai cupped her chin and turned her to look at him. “Yes, you are. I can guarantee that.”
When he kissed her, something shifted inside Addison, as if a giant boulder slid away from her heart so there was room to let him in. She clung to him, suddenly needing him close.
“You are lovable, Addison Jones,” Kai said when he pulled back. “And I want to marry you. For real. Not because of the show. Not because of anything except I want to spend my life with you. Would you… be my wife?”
Once again Addison pictured herself on the edge of a cliff—Kai down below waiting to catch her. This time Felicity wasn’t pushing her. She was on her own. She had to make her own decision.
It was surprisingly easy. In her mind, Addison stepped back, took a deep breath and seized a running head start.
Leaped off the cliff into the abyss—
“Yes.”
Chapter Nine
‡
What a difference a day made, Kai thought as he and Addison worked in tandem to get breakfast ready for everyone else the following morning. The rest of the camp was so tense you’d have thought they were in danger of imminent starvation, while he and Addison were cocooned in a bubble of mutual love.
She’d said yes. Kai still couldn’t believe it. He knew their time by the creek last night would stand out in his mind as one of the moments that changed everything. Life with Addison would be different from anything he’d ever experienced. He’d have a true ally, a woman of integrity by his side.
They’d had to return to camp soon after his proposal, and when they did they found the meeting had broken up.
“Everyone’s cranky, but we’ll be okay,” Boone said when Kai caught up with him. Kai wondered if Boone, too, blamed him for not canning part of their harvest, but he was the kind of man who looked forward, not back.
All Kai could do was look forward, too. He’d apologize when people had simmered down, bu
t for now all his attention was taken by Addison. When he’d joined her in her tent last night, they’d made love then whispered plans about their future until the wee hours.
Today, he found every excuse he could to touch her. He couldn’t believe she was real.
She was his.
The meal was a quick one, with only the men and Sam eating it. The rest of the women, except Addison, were seeing off their guests at the manor.
Kai and Addison were working on the dishes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands on a towel and pulled it out. “Hello?”
“Hold for David Linkley.”
David Linkley. This should be interesting.
Kai leaned against the counter. This time he wasn’t half as nervous as he’d been the last time he’d talked to the producer.
“Kai—how’s Montana treating you?” Linkley boomed when he came on the line.
“Just fine. How are you?” He was pleased to note he was handling this far better than his last conversation.
“Good, excellent. Just letting you know I’ll be sending some paperwork your way. We want to get this thing rolling. Next week sound good for you?”
“Of course.”
“Now, a couple of details. First of all, we’ve changed the name of the show. A SEAL’s Meals is just a little… well… childish, we thought. We’re going with Feed Your Army. What do you say about that?”
“Uh… I served in the Navy,” Kai pointed out.
“We thought of that, tested out a few different versions, but let’s cut to the chase—our test audience didn’t score Navy as high as Army. Army sounds wholesome. Active. Navy—well, there are connotations.”
Was he serious? Kai had a sinking feeling he was.
“But, sir, I can’t go on a show and pretend I was in the Army—”
“Of course not. We won’t be talking about your military history in anything but a general way. Don’t want to upset anyone or make the show political. You know what I mean.”
Kai wasn’t at all sure what he meant. Sustainability was a political topic no matter how you sliced it. He didn’t care if he offended anyone—
“We’re going to make this a family show. Something Dad will relate to. Barbecue. Hearty fare. Good ol’ hamburgers, meatloaf. That kind of thing.”
“I don’t use a lot of beef in my cooking,” Kai told him. “We can talk about bison, but like I tried to tell you last time, my philosophy of food—”
“Kai, let’s get one thing straight here.” Linkley’s voice changed. “Your philosophy of food is whatever our biggest sponsor tells you it is, and that sponsor is going to be the beef industry, so don’t tell me you don’t cook with beef.” Linkley let that sink in. “I think you’ll find that show business is a team industry. You know how to be a team player, don’t you, Green?”
“Uh… yes, sir.” He’d spent thirteen years in the service being a team player.
This was different, though.
“I’ll send that paperwork over, and you get it back to me ASAP, you hear? We’ll get this ball rolling and get you on your way to being a star. What do you say about that?”
“Uh… that sounds great, sir.”
Great.
He was back to sounding like an idiot. Feeling like one, too, he thought as he cut the call and pocketed the phone.
“What was that about?” Addison asked, tugging at the side of her dress. It was the second time he’d seen her do that, and normally he’d ask what was the matter, but not now.
“Selling out to the man. Be back later. I need some air.”
Addison prepared to head up to the manor, not taking Kai’s sudden departure personally. He’d obviously gotten some disappointing news. She hoped his show hadn’t been cancelled, but by the sound of things that wasn’t the issue. Instead, it sounded like that big-shot director was trying to push Kai around.
Kai didn’t strike her as the type to put up with that for the most part, but everyone did strange things where their dreams were concerned. She’d talk it through with him later. She was due at the manor to help clean up after the guests who had departed. Besides, she desperately needed to find Riley or someone else who could help her retie her corset. Riley had done it this morning and tugged it one jerk too tight, but she’d asked if it was all right, and Addison, stupidly, had said yes, even if there wasn’t a camera filming her. She’d gotten so used to the automatic answer, and she was paying for it dearly.
Now her corset was cutting into her side with every move she made. She’d been about to ask Kai to give her a hand—he had proved quite good at getting her out of it last night, even if she still had to ask one of the other women to put her back into it this morning. Now she’d have to find someone else.
The camera crew that had filmed them this morning had followed Kai out the door, so she was alone when she washed down the counters for a final time, undid her apron, hung it up and entered the main room of the bunkhouse to head out the front door.
Avery was standing near a large wooden desk in one corner that Boone mostly used to organize Base Camp paperwork. She jumped and spun around when she heard Addison approach. “Oh, my goodness, you scared me to death. I didn’t think anyone was still here.”
She had a single cameraman with her. A young man named Byron. He’d jumped, too. He steadied the camera he was lugging on his shoulder and pointed it at Addison.
“What were you doing?” Addison asked them.
“Just… you know…”
“No, I don’t actually.” Addison had expected Avery to say she was looking for a pen, but she looked so guilty, Addison was curious now.
“Can you keep a secret?” Avery approached her.
“Ye—es.”
“You know I want to be an actress, right? And that I’m working on a screenplay?”
Addison nodded.
“Well, this is part of that. Byron is helping me put together little skits and film them to put online. I need to showcase what I can do—and what I can write. We thought the bunkhouse was empty, so we were working on one.”
“And you needed Boone’s desk.”
“Exactly. It’s for the skit.”
That made sense. “Why is it a secret?”
“Because everyone will want to see them if they know we’re making movies. I’m not ready for that. I need a little time. Can you keep this a secret? Please?” Avery looked so desperate, Addison felt for her. She was right; everyone was in everyone else’s business here at Base Camp. It was hard to get a moment to yourself.
“Of course I can,” Addison assured her.
Avery looked relieved. “You’re a lifesaver, Addison. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She walked out the door, realizing too late she should have asked Avery to help with her corset. Then she remembered Byron and his camera, and decided to find a more discreet way to get help with her underthings.
“You have to start somewhere,” Kai’s sister Celia told him when he called her later that morning. “One step at a time, right? If you try, you can make something of the situation, build your career and eventually you’ll get to the place where you’re calling the shots, don’t you think?”
There was that Ledbetter practicality, Kai thought. If he called his mom or dad, they’d say the same thing. When life handed you an opportunity, you took it and made the most of it.
It was sound advice, but it wasn’t satisfying.
“I don’t see how I can be on one show that’s dedicated to sustainability and be on another show that pushes unsustainable products.”
“Isn’t there any way beef can be raised sustainably? Push that,” Celia said.
Kai sighed. There was, but that wasn’t the point. The point was he could already tell he would clash with Linkley on every part of the show. Even if he made sure the beef he cooked was organic and sustainable, he’d have no control over the brands pushed during the commercial breaks.
“You can’t change the world all at once,” Celia said. “I
t sounds like an amazing opportunity. Just what you said you wanted to do.”
“I’ve got to run. Thanks for listening,” Kai said. He got off the phone as frustrated as he’d been when he’d dialed her number.
He needed to talk to someone else. When Addison came to mind, he shook his head. He’d unloaded enough on her last night. He’d never told anyone outside his family about his early days. Not even any of the men he’d served with. Describing those times to Addison made them too real. He’d never treat his own children like that.
Would he and Addison have kids?
The thought had him stuffing his hands in his pockets. They hadn’t talked about that. There was still so much to sort out.
He didn’t have much time, though. Neither of them had been ready to announce their engagement this morning; it was still too new. But he’d take her to get a ring soon, and they’d share their news. They needed to set a wedding date. They had a deadline to beat, after all.
But they’d beat it, and that was one less problem to solve.
They had plenty of others left over.
He decided to find Angus or Boone—someone who understood the ins and outs of sustainable food and might have ideas about how to salvage his cooking show.
Feed Your Army.
Hell, no.
Was the price of success really turning his back on everything important to him?
If she didn’t get this corset fixed, she was going to scream, Addison thought as she made her way down from the manor at a quarter to five. When she’d arrived there earlier, she’d stepped into pure chaos. The women were trying to clean up from one set of guests and prepare for another set who were due the following day. Riley had tripped and spilled a pot of coffee all over the kitchen floor. Addison had helped clean it up and then gone straight from one chore to another all day. She hadn’t had a moment to slip away and fix her corset. Now she was late to help Kai with dinner, but for the first time that day she had a minute to spare—and she’d lost her camera crew. Scanning the encampment, she huffed out a frustrated breath. There was no one around to help her—