by Kathy Altman
She’s changed. But will he believe her?
Kerry Endicott has a lot of apologizing to do. Still, returning to a community that sees her as a thief is harder than she expected. How can she find an apartment, let alone a job in Castle Creek if nobody trusts her? That’s why it’s such a relief when, finally, someone looks at her with something other than suspicion. It might just be lust, but Gil Cooper really seems to see Kerry. And the sexy nerd thing he has going on doesn’t hurt. But her reputation here runs deep, and Gil might not be as immune to it as he seems...
“I need your hands on me,” Gil said and dropped his mouth to hers.
Finally.
He kissed her deeply, earnestly, stealing her breath along with coherent thought. He tasted like malt and smelled like early morning on the lake and every last one of her nerve endings writhed with need.
And warning.
Kerry ripped her mouth away from his and took deep, gulping inhales. “Are we really doing this?”
Gil shuddered as he fought to catch his own breath. He swallowed then rested his chin on the crown of her head.
“Yes?” he said hopefully.
Her nerves jangled with anticipation. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He ran a hand through his hair and it gave her pause. He looked younger without his glasses. Or maybe she was feeling older. Having a sense of adventure used to be so much more appealing.
A year ago she’d learned how terrifying the consequences could be.
Dear Reader,
I’m thrilled to welcome you back to Castle Creek! At long last I give hardware store owner Gil Cooper his happy-ever-after, but of course I make him work for it. When Gil meets enigmatic bartender Kerry Endicott, who’s only in town long enough to make things right with her estranged father, they instantly hit it off. Then Gil discovers Kerry is a former felon, and he has a hard time seeing the good-hearted person behind the mistakes. There’s nothing I enjoy more than showing a hero how wrong he is, and I’ve always had a soft spot for stubborn heroines. I hope you find something in Kerry and Gil’s story that resonates with you, too!
I have to say, this was a tough book to finish. It’s the final book in my Castle Creek series, and it’s also my final Superromance, since the line will be discontinued in June 2018. I’ll miss Superromance like mad, not only because of all the amazing books I’ve enjoyed over the years, but because of the brilliant editing team who dedicated their whole hearts to the line. They’re incredibly clever and creative, and so very generous with their story savvy. On top of that, they’re truly lovely people. I wish Victoria Curran, Megan Long, Karen Reid, Piya Campana and Birgit Davis-Todd the absolute, very best. Writing romance will not be the same without them.
Here’s to Happy-Ever-Afters.
Hugs,
Kathy
KATHY
ALTMAN
Making It Right
Kathy Altman writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense and the occasional ode to chocolate. She’s also a regular contributor to USATODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog. Kathy prefers her chocolate with nuts, her Friday afternoons with wine and her love stories with happy-ever-afters. Find Kathy online at www.kathyaltman.com. She’d enjoy hearing from you!
Books by Kathy Altman
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
A Castle Creek Romance
Tempting the Sheriff
A Family After All
Staying at Joe’s
The Other Soldier
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To Suzanne Cox, Barbara Kopsic and Dolores Minter, a super-sweet, super-supportive trio of reader friends. Many thanks, you gorgeous girls, for all the trips you’ve taken to Castle Creek!
Acknowledgments
Heartfelt thanks go to critique partners Toni Anderson and Robin Allen, whom I cherish for many reasons but mostly because they inspire me to do better; to my editor Claire Caldwell, who is staggeringly clever and gracious; to the treasured readers who value happy-ever-afters as much as I do; and to my family, who couldn’t be more supportive if they tried. (Well, my mother could—how about letting me win a Scrabble game every now and then, Mom, hmm?)
Much love to you all!
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
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE BILLIONAIRE'S SON BY SHARON HARTLEY
CHAPTER ONE
“THAT’S FAR ENOUGH.”
Kerry Endicott lifted her gaze from the graveled path and stared into the scowling face of the man she’d traveled five hundred miles to see.
“You need to leave,” he continued, his tone curt. “Now.”
The man who obviously had no interest in seeing her.
Even after all this time.
After all she’d been through.
A cold, quiet curl of hurt lodged in her chest. But what did she expect, after what she’d done?
Kerry drew in a slow breath and gazed mutely over his shoulder, at a trio of Quonset huts. Shadowed rows of hanging baskets inside each plastic-wrapped structure accounted for the rich odor of damp earth delivered by a teasing April breeze. Weathered outbuildings and shrubs with spindly arms bowed by the weight of sunshine-yellow blooms dotted the property around the huts. To the right of the driveway, at the crest of a long, gentle slope, sat a two-story farmhouse, its plain white exterior brightened by apricot shutters. To the left, the backdrop of feathery pines gave way to vivid green Pennsylvania farmland and a horizontal strip of blue that had to be Lake Erie.
This place—Castle Creek Growers—was much nicer than he’d described. Then again, that last mention had been more than two years ago. They’d talked only once after that, when she’d begged him to visit her. He hadn’t even hemmed and hawed. Just offered a naked no.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said.
He took a hesitant step forward. Kerry held her breath. Then a woman called his name from inside one of the huts and he pushed out his chin and widened his stance, as if prepping to protect the owner of the voice.
From Kerry.
She tightened her grip on the keys in her right hand and a sudden staccato blare made her jump. Her heart flung itself into a slam dance. Car alarm. Chill. Stones skittered as she whirled toward the driveway and fumbled to press the panic button again on her fob.
Finally, silence. An echo pulsed in her ears, but it wasn’t the rhythmic shriek of the alarm.
“You need to leave,” he’d said.
Slowly she turned back to face him. “Dad,” she croaked, half greeting, half protest. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” No response. Her cheeks heated and her eyes burned. “I’ve been driving all day,” she said thickly.
His gray-blue eyes had gone hard. “No one asked you to.”
God. She’d known this would be tough. She just hadn’t expected it to be this tough.
A door slammed. A girl in jeans and a pink sweatshirt clomped down the porch steps. His boss’s daughter? Nicole? No. Natalie.
As she jogged around the side of the house, she aimed a curious glance at Kerry.
“You’re late” came the gruff words from Kerry’s father.
The girl’s gaze moved to the older man. “Can’t help it. Mom made muffins. Growing bones and all that. Banana chocolate chip. Too bad I didn’t save you any.” With a smart-alecky grin and one last glance at Kerry, she took off across the yard, toward the nearest Quonset hut, brown hair bouncing on her shoulders.
Harris Briggs’s snort bore more affection than pique. “If she thinks she’s going to eat all the muffins and get out of snail duty, too, she has another think coming.”
“What’s snail duty?”
The indulgence on his face dimmed and his gaze dipped to Kerry’s ankles. He wouldn’t be able to see anything, since the hem of her dark gray pants reached nearly to the toes of her high-heeled boots.
“Been six months already?” he asked, almost idly.
“All things considered, time went a little slower for me.”
He grunted. “I have to get back to work. Anyways, the answer is no.”
She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her light wool jacket to keep from yanking at her hair. “I haven’t asked a question.”
“You didn’t come all this way just to show off your bare ankle. You should have saved your gas money. I’m done opening my wallet for you.”
“I didn’t come to borrow money. I came to return it.”
Her father, a former marine with more hair in his eyebrows than on his head, folded his brawny arms across his chest and waited. Good grief, he looked even more intimidating than she remembered. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore.
She felt like one, though.
Kerry licked her lips. “I mean, I don’t have the money now. But as soon as I get a job, I’ll be able to pay you back.”
“And you think I can help with that.” His thick brows lowered. “If you’re countin’ on me getting you a job here with the Macfarlands, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Reid’s been through enough, and his wife, Parker? Don’t know what I would do without her. She’s like the—” He stopped.
“The daughter you never had?” Kerry swallowed. This was worse, so much worse than she’d expected. But at least he was talking to her.
Heat swept her cheeks, but she had to ask. “Would it be possible to stay with you? Just until I find my own place.”
“If you’re bent on stayin’, there’s a motel down the road a ways.”
She bit back a sigh. A motel it would be, though she couldn’t afford more than a couple of nights. She’d better find a job quick, or she’d be sleeping in her car.
“But it’d be a hell of a lot easier on everyone concerned,” he continued, “if you just headed on back home and forgot about writin’ a check I won’t ever be able to cash.”
She tipped up her chin. “Easy got me into this mess. I’m not going anywhere.”
Approval was too much to hope for, but anything other than the stark disbelief on his face would have been welcome.
“You got you into this mess. Anyways, what kind of job you thinkin’ you can get in Castle Creek that’d pay enough to get you out of debt?”
She was tempted to tell him she’d be dealing drugs, but he’d probably believe her. “Any job that’s available.”
His face said that yeah, he’d believe her. “Dad.” He flinched yet again. She’d have to find something else to call him. “I’m not the same person I was. That’s why I’m here. To prove that to you.”
“I’m not interested in your money, and I’m sure as hell not interested in your promises.”
“Eugenia, too. I want you to know she’ll get every penny back.”
He paled, and his thick arms dropped to his sides.
Oh, no. “You two aren’t together?”
“Not anymore.”
So it was more than the return of the prodigal daughter that had him looking so miserable. “May I ask what happened?”
His expression soured. “She wanted to invite you to the wedding.”
Kerry sucked in a breath. This wasn’t going to work. Why had she thought this would work? She stumbled in a half circle and started back to the driveway. She’d managed two steps when the voice she’d heard calling her father stopped her.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
Kerry hesitated, then turned slowly back around as the woman added, “Harris? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
A tall, striking redhead in overalls and a long-sleeved plaid shirt almost identical to the one Harris was wearing stood sandwiched between him and the girl who’d run out of the house earlier.
“I’m Parker Macfarland and this is my daughter, Natalie. When Harris here isn’t home practicing his grump face, he’s pretending to help my husband and me run this place. And you are?”
She already knew. Kerry could tell by the chirp in her voice.
“No need to be pokin’ your nose in the pepper patch,” Harris said stiffly.
Parker offered him a lofty eyebrow. “If you’d followed that same advice, I wouldn’t be about to celebrate my second wedding anniversary, now, would I?”
“And I wouldn’t be getting a little brother,” Natalie added.
Kerry’s gaze dropped to Parker’s stomach, but there was no telling what she was hiding behind those baggy overalls.
Parker laughed. “I’m about four months along. Overalls aren’t the most flattering thing to wear, I know, but they’re comfortable. Practical, too. The other night I walked out of the house with a roast beef sub and a dozen chocolate chip cookies stashed behind this bib, and no one had a clue.”
“We knew,” said Natalie smugly.
“You did?”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “You were looking a little lumpy, Mom. I dared Dad to go up and give you a big, squeezy hug, but he said we shouldn’t keep you from your picnic with The Munchkin.”
Her mother’s eyes went soft. “I see.” She smiled at Kerry and patted her belly. “That’s what we’re calling this little guy until we can agree on something more permanent.” Her gaze sharpened. “And speaking of names...”
Kerry forced her lips into a curve. “I’m Kerry.” She couldn’t manage any more than that. Couldn’t bear to see her father flinch again. “I’m glad to meet you. Congratulations on the baby. And on your home. It’s lovely here.”
“Thank you,” Parker said. “It’s about time you introduced us to your daughter, Harris Briggs.”
“Wait, what?” Natalie swept her bangs out of her eyes and passed a frown from the older man to Kerry and back again. Parker made a sound that was half warning, half distress, but the oblivious teen shook her head in confusion. “You never said anything about a daughter.”
* * *
STARING DOWN THE invoice for sixty seconds straight hadn’t scared it into dropping any zeroes, so Gil Cooper slammed it on top of the stack in the accounts payable tray, also known as IOU oblivion. His elbow jostled his coffee cup and tepid black liquid sloshed onto the arm of his shirt, his open package of peanut butter crackers and the fresh stack of bills he hadn’t had the balls to open yet.
Damn it, he’d already rolled his sleeves up as far as they would go to hide the orange juice stain he’d created that morning. Good thing denim could disguise a lot. Since he took his coffee black, at least he wouldn’t be smelling like French vanilla or butter pecan all damned day. Still, maybe he should consider giving up coffee, like he’d given up his beloved sports channels and his Friday night sirloin. He could avoid stains and save a few more bucks at the grocery store.
Screw that. He picked up his Cap’n Crunch mug and tossed back the rest of the not-so-fresh brew inside. If he gave up coffee he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on scrambling an egg, let alone finding a way to keep Cooper
’s Hardware open.
His jaw started to ache and he unlocked his molars.
Besides, he’d only find something else to spill.
Gil picked up the carton he’d just signed for, carried it out front and set it on the counter between items that hadn’t changed since his grandfather opened the shop eighty years ago. Aside from the cash register, which Gil had replaced with a digital version, praise God, it was all the same. Friendly Village china creamer with a chipped handle that did a damned fine job as a pen holder. Wicker basket of fresh apples and walnuts still in the shell, complete with nutcracker. Glass jar of stick candies that for some unnatural reason saw less action than the fruit basket.
The smell of the place hadn’t changed, either—at least, not since Gil was a kid. Still a mingling of machine oil, fresh sap, paint thinner and rubber. What would he do if he couldn’t breathe it in anymore?
He swallowed a hot, useless surge of anger and methodically emptied the carton. Smaller boxes of screws, nails, wing nuts, washers. He tossed the outer box aside, picked up a container of nails and headed for the galvanized metal bins against the back wall.
Five steps away from the counter, he tripped over an uneven joint in the aged hardwood floor and lost his grip on the container. A jangling thud as three thousand plastic cap roofing nails hit the floor. Bits of bright orange skittered under the counter and beneath the shelving, like prisoners eager to escape their cage.
He could relate.
He could also see a lot of time on his hands and knees in the near future.
With a sweep of his foot, Gil shoved the nearest band of fugitives aside and assumed the position. An unseen nail bit into his kneecap and he swore.
And got smacked upside the head.
“What the—?” He twisted around.
Seventy-something Audrey Tweedy stood over him, legs braced, eyes righteous, her puke-green monstrosity of a purse cradled in both hands. He jumped to his feet before she could strike again.
“Audrey.” He dusted off his hands and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What can I do for you?”