by Lisa Carter
Second Chance Family
Young widow Kristina Montgomery moves to Kiptohanock, Virginia, hoping it will give her and her teenage son, Gray, a fresh start. She longs for the peace and quiet only a small town can provide. But her plans are thwarted by her new neighbor, Canyon Collier, a former Coast Guard pilot and a crop duster. Gray is instantly drawn to the pilot and his teenage niece, Jade—and Kristina’s not far behind. She and Canyon are soon bonding over parenting their charges and their spark becomes undeniable. Could it be that the spirited pilot is just what Kristina needs to teach her heart to soar again?
“Maybe single parents like us ought to team up?”
He turned so quickly at her words, he felt a crick in his neck. “What?”
She bit her lip. “Combine skill sets. Conserve our resources. Divide and conquer.”
His heart hammered. What was she suggesting?
“The care and feeding of adolescents, remember? We can help each other.” Kristina blushed. “You’re helping me with my fear of flying. I can help you with your fear of parenting.”
When he didn’t say anything—he wasn’t sure what to say—she fretted at the hem of her sweater. “Gray told me most of your dusting takes place in the early morning. I could do morning car pool, and you could do afternoon pickup.”
“Share the load?”
“Exactly. Besides, Gray is hungry for a positive male influence.”
Canyon wasn’t sure he qualified for that title. On the other hand, did he need a reason to justify wanting to spend more time with the intriguing widow? If he did, she’d offered him one on a silver platter.
Only a fool would refuse such an opportunity.
Lisa Carter and her family make their home in North Carolina. In addition to her Love Inspired novels, she writes romantic suspense for Abingdon Press. When she isn’t writing, Lisa enjoys traveling to romantic locales, teaching writing workshops and researching her next exotic adventure. She has strong opinions on barbecue and ACC basketball. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Lisa at lisacarterauthor.com.
Books by Lisa Carter
Love Inspired
Coast Guard Courtship
Coast Guard Sweetheart
Falling for the Single Dad
The Deputy’s Perfect Match
The Bachelor’s Unexpected Family
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THE BACHELOR’S
UNEXPECTED
FAMILY
Lisa Carter
Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
—Philippians 3:13–14
Dedicated to the memory of my late stepfather,
Thomas W. Fulghum. Thank you
for being my mother’s second chance at love.
And thank you for giving your heart
to a Jade like me. I miss you still.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Healing His Widowed Heart by Annie Hemby
Chapter One
There it was again. Kristina Montgomery frowned at the faint whining noise above the treetops. Same as yesterday.
Leaning over the sink at the kitchen window, her gaze shifted to the sky. A small plane hovered above the tree line rimming her property. The yellow wings floated like a bright golden bird in the morning sunlight.
A robin called a cheery greeting from the winter-stark branches of a nearby oak. The droning of bees filled the air above the overgrown bushes, heirloom roses, which would burst into fragrant bloom come spring.
Provided spring ever came. Since her husband died two years ago, she’d felt trapped in her own stark winter of grief.
She’d bought the 1930s Arts and Crafts bungalow because of those rosebushes. And for the neglected garden.
Why? Maybe because of the inherent promise of new beginnings the garden held for her and her son. She and Gray had desperately needed a new beginning.
She scowled at the mechanical bird, a painful reminder of everything she’d lost. If she’d known the property adjoined a private airfield, she would’ve never purchased the run-down place.
In the twenty-six months since Pax’s death, she’d ridden a roller coaster of extreme emotion. She was caught somehow between overwhelming grief and a paralyzing fear of how she was going to raise their son alone.
At the edge of the woods separating her peaceful sanctuary from the airstrip, she spotted her son’s bike. She blew out a breath. How many times had she told him not to go over there? The airplane dipped one wing before disappearing beyond the forested horizon.
Gray had promised—she’d made him promise—to stay away from the airfield. But she should’ve recognized the stubborn glint in his brown eyes. The same glint her husband used to get every time he got into a cockpit.
Until above a windswept Afghan mountain, a rocket-propelled grenade had slammed into his plane. Hurling Pax and his fighter jet into a thousand pieces of jagged, burning metal—
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against the images that played in her dreams every night. Her hand tightened around the dangling chain of her husband’s dog tags. She had to stop doing this. She had to move on, for Gray’s sake. Mired in the past, she was no good to her son.
Her head throbbed. She rubbed her temples. Like father, like son? Her eyes flew open.
She refused to allow history to repeat itself. Not with her son. Not with the only person she had left.
Tucking the dog tags inside the collar of her pink shirt, she thrust open the screen door. The hinges screeched. She dashed down the concrete steps. The door slammed behind her. In dress flats for her morning meeting, she stalked across the grass toward the trees.
Sidestepping the bike, she followed a faded trail toward their very unwelcome neighbor. The overhanging tree canopy blocked most of the sunlight. She shivered and wrapped the open ends of her brown cardigan around herself.
February on the Eastern Shore of Virginia was much too cold to go outside without a coat. Knowing Gray, he was most likely in shirtsleeves.
She picked her way across the pine-needled footpath and emerged into a paved clearing to find the plane, wheels down, at the end of the runway. Engine roaring and propellers whirring, the pilot taxied the golden-yellow plane toward the terminal.
A metallic, tin-roofed hangar and a small brick building anchored the beginning of the runway. Beside the hangar, a sign—Wallace & Collier Crop Aviation Specialists.
Great. Just great. Somehow of all the hous
es for sale on the Delmarva Peninsula, she’d managed to buy the one next door to a barnstorming, daredevil crop duster.
Her teenage son waved at the plane as it rolled forward. But when he caught sight of her, his hand quickly dropped to his side.
“You got that right, buster. You’re in big trouble,” she muttered under her breath. And without stopping to think, she charged across the runway toward him. Gray’s eyes widened.
“Mom! Watch out. Get out of the way!”
Too late, she realized she’d stepped into the path of the oncoming plane. She froze. The sound of the propeller filled her ears.
Gray raced across the runway. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her out of the way. The pilot braked and swerved. The plane skidded as the wheels struggled for traction before finally shuddering to a stop.
Falling onto the grassy area, Gray took the brunt of the impact. But with the resilience of youth, he sprang to his feet.
She rose slowly, feeling every bit of her thirty-eight years. “Gray, honey, are you—”
“What were you thinking, Mom?” Hands on his skinny hips, he gestured to the plane. “Walking in front of a moving aircraft? Seriously?”
Shoving open the cockpit door, the pilot emerged. In jeans and work boots, his flannel shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, he clambered out and dropped to the asphalt.
A baseball cap obscured the upper portion of his face. But there was no mistaking the taut anger whipstitching his mouth, nor his jutting jaw as he advanced. “What kind of idiot walks into the path of an airplane?” he yelled.
She bristled. Pilots, the same the world over. Civilian or military, lords of the universe. Or so they believed.
Gray’s mouth went mulish. “Thanks a lot, Mom. Now Canyon’s going to kick me out of here for good.”
“You have no business being here.” She wagged her finger in his face. “Not after we talked. We agreed.”
Why was Pax not here to help her parent Gray during the rebellious teen years?
Gray crossed his arms over his seen-better-days T-shirt. “You talked, Mom. I agreed to nothing.”
He widened his stance to hip width. An airman’s stance. Her breath hitched at the uncanny resemblance to his late father.
Kristina’s heart pounded at the memory of the last time she’d seen Pax—not knowing she’d never see him again. This couldn’t happen to Gray. Not to her only child.
“You don’t belong here, Gray.”
The infuriated pilot arrived at the tail end of her words. “You want to talk about having no business here, lady?”
She stiffened. “A mother has a right to keep her child out of harm’s way.”
“Only one in harm’s way today was me.” The pilot lifted the ball cap off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “After you almost crashed my plane.”
She took her first good look at her unwanted neighbor.
Late thirties. Classic, high cheekbones. A long Roman nose. His jaw dark with beard stubble. A strong brow. Curly brown hair.
His eyes flashed. An electric blue, in a face tanned by the sun and wind. Something fluttered like a swirl of butterfly wings in the pit of her stomach. Something she hadn’t experienced since meeting another brash young airman during a long-ago church softball game.
With a sense of betraying that now dead young man, remorse blanketed her. Her hand automatically drifted to the chain underneath her shirt collar. And she stuffed the unwelcome feelings into a dark corner of her heart. For good measure, she glowered at the Eastern Shore pilot.
At the motion of her hand, he narrowed his eyes. Lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. Lines that probably feathered when he smiled. Which he wasn’t doing now.
Handsome by anyone’s definition. And from his body language, as arrogant and cocky as they came. She ought to know.
Once upon a time, she’d married one.
* * *
Canyon didn’t miss the scorn on her face. Welcome to Kiptohanock to you, too, neighbor.
Not seeing a car in the office parking space, he figured she’d walked over through the woods from next door. Gray must take after his father. The boy’s dark features didn’t resemble the woman. She could’ve been a cover model for a Scandinavian travel brochure.
Or considering her frosty demeanor, Icelandic. Although, if he remembered rightly, Greenland was the one with most of the glaciers.
“Which one are you?” She flicked her hand toward the sign. “Wallace or Collier?”
“Collier.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of her house. “And which one are you?”
Her chin came up. “I’m the woman who would’ve never bought this property if I knew we were in the flight path of your crop duster.”
One of those genteel, upper-crust Southern voices. Not the nowhere accent of Northern Virginia. Nor the twang of the Blue Ridge. Probably from central Virginia or the Carolinas.
He tightened his jaw. “I’m an aerial application specialist. And I’ve been careful to not fly over your house.”
“Mom...” Gray tugged at her sleeve. “Stop embarrassing me. Canyon is my boss.”
She planted one hand on her jeans-clad hip. “As if I’d ever allow you to work for a sky jockey like him.”
Canyon’s eyebrows rose. Interesting turn of phrase. He hadn’t heard that one since his Coast Guard days.
“Especially after what happened to your father.”
Without meaning to, Canyon’s eyes cut to the bare space on her left hand. A widow? A silver chain half-hidden in the folds of her collar glinted. Had Gray’s father been an airline fatality?
As for his first impression of Gray’s mother? Tall, a willowy five foot eight, Canyon estimated, to his six-foot height. Long, wavy blond hair spilled over her thin shoulders. Classic oval features. Fair skinned. And her eyes?
Her eyes gave Canyon pause. His grandmother would’ve called her eyes china blue. Like the blue in a field of cornflowers.
Those eyes sent an inexplicable pang through his heart. A yearning for something to which he’d believed himself immune.
According to the real estate papers he’d signed at closing, this must be K. Montgomery. Since the attorney had handled everything, he’d assumed the new owner was a man and that Gray, who’d started hanging out at the airfield a few weeks ago, the man’s son. But the disturbing, angry woman was definitely not a man.
Canyon folded his arms across his chest. He’d sold his grandmother’s house to buy the Air Tractor 802 he just landed. Landed safely, no thanks to K. Montgomery. His misfortune to sell what little remained of his family heritage to an aircraft hater.
He shrugged. “I invited Gray to help me out on the repair of an engine. The boy likes to tinker.”
K. Montgomery’s china-blue eyes became chips of sapphire. “The boy is my fifteen-year-old son. He doesn’t have my permission to work here. An airfield is dangerous. I ought to report you for child endangerment.”
“My mistake, lady.” When would he learn? In his experience, no good deed ever went unpunished. “The boy looks sixteen. Won’t happen again.”
Gray inserted himself between them. “Canyon was doing me a favor. Teaching me how to repair engines. I like being here.”
The woman squared her shoulders. “I absolutely will not allow you to put your life at risk.”
Gray went rigid. “Moving here was supposed to be about making a new start for both of us. But since Dad died, all you care about is making me miserable. As miserable as you.”
“I’m not—” She pursed her lips. “Being around airplanes will only make you feel worse, Gray.”
Gray held his ground. “Just because you’re afraid of airplanes doesn’t mean I have to hate them, too. It makes me happy to remember Dad here. You’re the one who makes me feel sad.”
Canyon angled toward Gray’s mother. “Your son’s a really good kid. Your husband would be proud. And I’d never put Gray in harm’s way. He’s good company.”
The woman blinked at him for a moment.
Canyon scrubbed his hand over his face. Bothered—strangely—that he’d forgotten to shave this morning. Bothered, too, that he was fighting so hard to keep the boy working at the airfield.
She faced Gray. “Go back to the house. I won’t risk losing you the way we lost your father.” She glared at Canyon. “And I’m not afraid of airplanes.”
Gray snorted. “You’re afraid of everything since Dad died. Afraid to laugh. Afraid to live. And I’m sick of living in the grave with you.”
Hurt flitted across her features.
An unusual—and unwelcome—sensation of protectiveness rose in Canyon’s chest. “Just a minute, Gray...”
Gray’s brown eyes darkened. “You don’t know what it’s like. She won’t let me do anything because she’s afraid I’ll get hurt.” His shoulders hunched. “Stop treating me like a baby, Mom.”
“Then stop acting like one, Gray,” Canyon growled.
Gray flushed.
Canyon sighed. How had he gotten entangled in this quicksand? Since leaving the Coast Guard, he’d spent the last three years making sure he stayed out of other people’s business and that people stayed out of his.
He took a breath. “What does the K stand for?”
“Kristina.” Gray kicked a loose stone on the concrete. “I like working with motors, Mom. And Canyon needs my help.” Gray leaned forward. “Tell her, Canyon. Tell her how much you need my help.”
Kristina Montgomery’s lovely face hardened. “Your only job is school, Gray.”
Gray clenched his hands. “Since you don’t have a job, I figure maybe I better.”
Canyon’s brow puckered. “I didn’t realize you were looking for work. What do you do?”
She opened her mouth, but once again Gray beat her to the punch.
“Mom cuts great triangle sandwiches.” Gray’s mouth twisted. “She has a green thumb. And can clean a toilet like nobody’s business.”