Kissing Kelsey
Triple H Brides
Lacy Williams
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Dear Reader
Courting Carrie sneak peek
Also by Lacy Williams
Chapter 1
Sergeant Matt Hale. Matt.
Seated in the economy class on a cross-country flight, the man repeated his name silently, trying to impress it on his mind. His head pounded. The military doctors told him the constant headache was caused by the roadside bombing, but he thought maybe the pain was a result of trying to make anything stick to the whirling blackness inside his brain.
Amnesia.
He stared out the window into the darkness and wished he could see more than occasional lights miles below, something to focus on besides the seat in front of his and the fact that he'd lost his memory, his sense of self. At least the landscape had some flickering lights. Inside his brain, there was hardly that.
The docs hadn't been able to tell him when his memory would return. He got snatches of things. Two young boys laughing wildly atop a huge round hay bale. Himself? Then who was the other boy?
Another time, he'd seen an image of a young girl hugging a kitten, tears standing in her eyes. He had no idea who she was.
The military was sending him home to north Texas. The Triple H Ranch. HHH. Hale Hale Hale?
Other than the doctors, there'd been little traffic to his private hospital room. He'd only been visited by one soldier who had seemed to be a friend, a guy in fatigues about his own age. How old was that, anyway? Mid-twenties? Jimmy had told him he had a sister and brother back home, but not much more. The docs had interrupted the meeting, and at the time, Matt hadn't minded a bit. It had been everything he could do to stay awake through the pounding pain.
He should have asked Jimmy more questions.
Home. He didn't know what that felt like, not with the yawning emptiness inside him. Did he have a girlfriend? A house? A dog?
The airplane shuddered and groaned, and the man's anxiety spiked. His stomach was a tight ball of nerves, but did he hate flying? Or was this feeling simply a result of not knowing anything about himself, not knowing where he was going, not knowing what he was walking into?
He made himself look at his reflection in the scratched safety plastic of the oval window. Who was he? The dark hair, cut military-short, the dark eyes, the crags in his face, the scruff at his jaw. None of his features gave any answers. He didn't recognize the guy he saw in the reflection.
His ears popped as the plane descended. Everything happened too fast. He felt unprepared as the plane landed, as they taxied to a terminal, as the other passengers debarked. He didn't mind waiting. He didn't know what he was going to face when he got off the plane.
He was the last one off, nodding his thanks to the tired-looking stewardess waiting near the door.
The terminal was quiet. Many of the storefronts and restaurants had closed for the night. Only the bar had a few patrons. As he passed it, the blaring TVs and fluorescent lights gave his brain a twang like out-of-tune guitar strings. He saw stars in his vision.
Dread pressed in on him until he couldn't breathe. He sidled to the terminal wall and bent, resting his hands on his knees and panting through the pain in his head and the flashing stars.
An eternity.
Finally, it passed.
The man straightened, thankful that there was no one around to witness his mini-breakdown. The people in the bar seemed totally focused on their drinks and whatever game was on the TVs overhead. All the other passengers had gone.
He had no sense of direction, though he must've flown in and out of this airport numerous times before. He watched the signs, followed them toward the baggage claim, though he hadn't shipped any bags. The olive-green duffel over his shoulder was all he'd traveled with. He'd been told that someone would meet him here to take him home. His sister, maybe? He couldn't remember. The information had flitted away in his exhaustion and overwhelm.
He just wanted to sleep. It wouldn't help his memory. He'd discovered that after waking up so many times wishing to know...more. Just more. But at least sleep would help with the physical exhaustion that drained every atom in his body.
He welcomed the escalator that took him down several flights. It was a moment he didn't have to walk. He passed a huge sign that read Welcome to Texas! and an ad for some kind of jeans that featured a pretty dark-haired model. He got a flash of memory, a split-second of a brown-haired teen girl with a soft smile.
He blinked, and the vision disappeared.
Just in time, too, because the escalator dumped him off at the bottom, and he almost tripped on the solid ground. He clutched the straps of his duffel to keep it from sliding off his shoulder.
The baggage claim area had a few more people than the terminal upstairs. Folks were clustered in small groups. Some hugged. One woman had her hands on her hips, grousing at her teenaged son. The luggage carousel chugged with a steady hum and carried the occasional bag.
He stood rooted in place, looking for anybody he recognized. Which was crazy because he couldn't even recognize himself. How could he know his sister, or whoever had come for him?
His stomach pitched and dipped as he scanned the room. And then someone rushed through the outside doors, letting in a gust of warm, dusty wind.
Her dark hair had blown into her face and obscured her features. He could see her frustration in the impatient flick of her hand to clear the locks away.
Her caramel eyes came to rest on him, and it seemed as if his brain seized up. Pain winged through his cranium, and he couldn't help wincing as something inside connected.
Kelsey Whitley.
Kelsey.
His heart pounded, and he felt heat flush up his neck and into his face as he stared at her. Memories slid into place like marbles pouring into a bucket.
His Kelsey.
Finally, one thing in his life made sense.
He strode toward her and, although she’d frozen in place, he had some sense that she was glad to see him.
He reached for her, pulled her into his arms. "Kelsey." Her name was barely a breath. And then he kissed her.
Kelsey Whitley might be a world traveler, but nothing had prepared her for this trip to the Dallas airport.
She was in Matt's arms again. Nearly a decade after they'd broken up.
Other than a tinge of desperation, his kiss was the same as always. Sweet, tender. He tasted like Red Hots candy.
And it freaked her out. Her heart banged against her sternum, and her feet itched, like she was crouching in the blocks, waiting for the gun to go off.
She contained it. Barely.
She pushed off his chest, gently, because his sister Carrie had stressed the magnitude of his injuries during their brief phone conversation. Amnesia. He almost died, was lucky to be alive.
Kelsey didn't believe in luck.
Matt loosened his grip slightly, though one hand stayed clasped on her waist. The way he looked down at her... The intensity of his warm gaze made that itch to run so much worse.
"Kelsey." Her name was reverent on his lips, just like the way he'd whispered her name before he'd lowered his mouth to hers. "I remember you." But his eyebrows remained slightly pinched, as if he were trying to put a puz
zle together without success.
Pulse thudding in her temples, all she could think to do was whisper back, "Is that a good thing?"
He smiled a lopsided, almost sad smile. "Considering I don't remember anything else, heck yeah."
He remembered her, but the proprietary hold on her waist meant he didn't remember everything. He obviously didn't remember that she'd left.
She needed some distance. Couldn't hurt him, not with how fragile Carrie said he still was, so she disentangled herself gently. "Do you have any luggage?"
He reached down to the floor where a duffel bag rested at his feet. Had he dropped it just before he pulled her into his arms? She hadn’t noticed. “Just this.”
She jerked her thumb toward the door. "Then let’s get out of here. We've still got a couple hours to get you home."
He followed her out the doors and toward short-term parking. That act alone unnerved her—Matt Hale usually strode through life in the leadership position, confident in his command—but then he clasped her hand in his as they navigated the echoing, quiet parking garage. Her nose crinkled at the scents of oil and tire rubber.
"I'm glad you came, but I was told to expect Carrie. Or I thought maybe Gideon or Uncle Pat would pick me up."
Her heart dropped at the evidence of huge holes in his memory. His uncle had died six years ago. Mama and Katie had both called her in Houston with the news.
How could she tell him that, when he'd just arrived? She couldn't. So she settled for the easier thing.
"Gideon is overseas with his wife, a princess."
He turned to face her as she slowed near her sporty blue coup, one she'd been gifted by a car dealership after her Olympic silver medal. His face crumpled, and he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
"I knew that. Gideon came to see me in the military hospital. Stayed several days, until I was out of the woods." He dropped his hand, revealing the distress in his expression. "I still can't figure out what happened to the SEALs. He was supposed to be a lifer. And now he's married?"
She and Matt had been dating back in high school when Gideon had gone into the military. But she'd been gone these last years when the princess had arrived in town, so she didn't know all the circumstances surrounding the marriage. She definitely didn't have an in with the family. The only reason Carrie had asked her to come tonight was because the woman had been desperate when she'd called. She'd been trying to reach Katie, but she was working a late-night shift at the café, so Carrie hadn't had any other options.
Kelsey shrugged helplessly. She tilted her head to the car, and he climbed in.
She sat beside him. "I'm sure Carrie can fill in some of the gaps." She cranked the key and the engine turned over with a quiet purr. "She was planning to come tonight, but Scarlett had a bad asthma attack, and they ended up at the ER."
"Who's Scarlett?"
"Your niece. Carrie's daughter...?" When his silence went on for two beats too long, she glanced at him long enough to get a glimpse of his face. His open-mouthed expression showed his shock.
"Carrie has a daughter," he whispered. Then, "Do we have any kids?"
He was so far off that it should've been comical, but there was nothing funny in the catch in his voice.
"Exactly how much do you remember?" she asked carefully.
He shook his head, rubbed his forehead with long, blunt fingers. "Not enough. When I saw you, some things just sort of... clicked into place."
That was scary.
"I remember a lot of our childhood. Fishing at the pond." With this, he sent her a genuine, sideways smile. Then, "And I remember your senior prom."
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Matt was a year older, and she'd been proud to be on his arm. A college guy.
He'd kissed her in the moonlight—though he'd been careful not to go too far—and she'd said she loved him for the first time.
She could still remember the strength of his arms around her, the feeling of soaring because Matt Hale loved her. He'd said, "When we get married..." and her joy had turned to fear. She'd hidden it then, and hidden it well, though prom night had been the beginning of the end.
"I can't remember your high school graduation, and I can't remember why I don't have a ring on your finger by now, but we were rock solid back then, and I can't imagine that changing."
Oh, Matt.
His calm confidence that they were still together shook her. She tried not to show it, firmed her grip on the steering wheel to stop her hands from trembling.
"You made it to the Olympics, right? Gold medal?"
That confidence in her had been magic when she was eighteen. When no one else in her life, not even her sister Katie, had believed in her.
Somehow, even though it was now undeserved, it still brought a hot knot to her throat. "Silver," she whispered.
In the dark, there was a slight reflection on the windshield and she saw a flash of white—his teeth—as he grinned.
He'd known she could make it to the Olympics, believed she could earn gold.
But he couldn't imagine a scenario where they didn't end up together.
She'd come tonight as a favor for Carrie, but what had she gotten herself into?
Carrie Hale sat at her daughter Scarlett's bedside in the quiet hospital room. The antiseptic smell burned her nose, and the quiet hum of machines and muted footsteps from the hallway had her restless.
Scarlett was sleeping, breathing more easily thanks to the oxygen they'd administered in the ER earlier. Her doctor had wanted to hospitalize the girl overnight for observation, just to make sure Scarlett didn't have another episode.
Carrie was glad for it. Maybe it was her imagination, but she was sure she could hear the faintest rattle in her daughter's chest.
Scarlett is all right. Maybe if Carrie repeated the words to herself enough times, she'd believe them.
So far, the awful panic she'd felt when Scarlett had been gasping for breath hadn't abated, even though Scarlett's color had come back, a beautiful peach-pink against the white hospital sheets and bed that dwarfed her tiny frame.
So many days, she knew she wasn't cut out for single parenting.
And then other days, she remembered why she hadn't been cut out for marriage, either.
Tonight, she was just plain exhausted. She'd been coming off an early morning bridal updo, several hours of trims and dyes, and one perm, all while Scarlett was at school. Carrie hadn't been expecting the cold snap, and she'd sent Scarlett to school with only a sweatshirt. And they'd had outside PE. And several of Scarlett's friends had colds. She was always careful to have Scarlett bulk up on vitamin C, but germs...
When she'd picked up her daughter from the babysitter, she'd known something was wrong. By the time they'd arrived at home, Scarlett's breathing had been labored, and it had been too late to administer an inhaler—though she'd tried.
Today’s had not been her most stellar performance as a parent.
Her phone rang, distracting her from the whirl of awful thoughts. She didn't recognize the number but stepped away from the bed to the corner of the room and answered it anyway.
"Carrie? This is Kelsey. Kelsey Whitley."
As if she wouldn't know which Kelsey would be calling her. She'd been in such a panic earlier, on the way to the hospital with Scarlett, that she'd barely even registered that it had been Kelsey and not her friend Katie, Kelsey's older sister, who'd answered their home phone. If she'd had any choice at all, she never would've sent the girl who'd broken her brother's heart to pick him up from the airport. But she'd been desperate, and Kelsey had been available.
"How is he?" she asked.
"He's sleeping in the front seat of my car." Kelsey's voice wasn’t accompanied by road noise. In fact, Carrie though she could make out the low of a cow. Had they already arrived back at the Triple H?
"He looks fine," Kelsey went on. "Fit and tan. He's still got some bruising at his hairline, and...he remembered me. Oh, hold on—"
&n
bsp; He remembered. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Her brother might kill her for sending Kelsey. No, he’d understand. He doted on Scarlett.
She'd been so worried about her brother since Gideon's call ten days ago from the military hospital overseas. It was a blessing that Gideon had been able to be with him, but Gideon had been called back to Glorvaird and wasn’t able to fly home with Matt.
She had known that head injuries were dangerous, of course, but hadn't realized how much so until she'd started researching online. It had to be good that Matt remembered some things, right?
"He remembered the high school me. He thinks...well, he's got this wild idea that we're still together. He only seems to remember things up through senior prom. I...didn't have the heart to correct him."
What a nightmare. Poor Matt. "Don't. At least, not until I can get out there." To pick up the pieces.
Gideon had been overseas when Kelsey left. At that time, Carrie had been involved with the man who would become Scarlett's father. As star struck as she’d been, she could still remember the hollow look in Matt’s eyes, the depression that had followed him around for months. If he had to relive all of that, she'd needed to be on hand.
"The doctors said his emotions might be fragile due to the head trauma, and I don't want anything..." To hurt him. Like Kelsey had before.
"Okay, I..." Kelsey's voice trailed off.
Carrie didn't know what to say either. She'd liked the girl when she and Matt had dated back in high school. Katie was still her friend. But she hated that Kelsey had hurt her brother, and she still felt a little Mama Bear about it all.
"Do you want me to stay with him tonight?"
No! Somehow, Carrie managed to modulate her voice. "No, thanks. Just grab one of the hands, they can help him inside."
Although, if he didn't remember the cowboys, that might make a bad situation worse. Hopefully Kelsey could smooth things over, because Carrie didn't have any more energy to take care of another human being.
Kissing Kelsey: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 1) Page 1