by Codi Gary
“What do you mean, I can’t sit up there? I always sit up there!”
“Caroline and I are sitting up here. No boys allowed, even brothers.”
Caroline had laughed and agreed. “Yeah, girls only.”
Now, Gabe stood up and looked down at them, his eyes a little shiny as he cleared his throat. “Honey, Caroline and I have to leave.”
“No!” Honey said, wrapping her arms around Caroline’s waist.
“But we’ve got a long drive home, baby girl,” Gabe said patiently.
“You can stay here,” Honey said, her voice muffled.
Caroline held up her hand, and Gabe closed his mouth.
“Hey, Honey, did Gabe tell you about our kittens?”
Honey sat up quickly and shook her head. “You have kittens?”
“Two of them. Your brother saved them. He did this thing with his hands—”
“Like the puppy!” Honey cried, clapping her hands.
Caroline looked up at Gabe questioningly.
“I tried it on a stillborn puppy our dog had,” he said modestly.
“He learned it from 101 Dalmatians,” Honey said.
“I see,” Caroline said, pulling out her cell phone. “Here are some pictures of Googlie and Possum when they’re eating.” She swiped her finger across the screen. “And this is when they really started moving around.”
Honey reached out and started swiping her finger over the screen, searching through the pictures, and Caroline said, “How about the next time we come to visit, I bring a bunch of pictures, just for you?”
Honey nodded vigorously, still staring hard at the images. “I love animals.”
Caroline stood up, and Sharla stepped forward. “Honey, it’s time for you to see Dr. Hamilton.”
Sharla touched Honey’s shoulder, and she finally acknowledged her. Caroline waited and watched as Honey stopped to give Gabe a hard bear hug. Gabe kissed the side of her head and said, “You take care now, baby girl.”
“You too, Gabey,” Honey said, moving on to Caroline. When she hugged her, Honey whispered in her ear, “Take care of him.” When she pulled away, Honey was smiling at her, sweetly. “Bye.”
Caroline let Gabe take her hand and lead her out of the room. Gabe was walking so fast, she could hardly keep up.
“Gabe, slow down. Did I do something wrong?” she asked as they passed through the main reception area.
“No,” Gabe said as he dragged her around the side of the building and pressed her back against the wall.
“What—”
Gabe’s mouth slammed down on hers, his hands all over her as he kissed her. She turned to mush as his passion washed over her, pressing her into the building as he made love to her mouth. It was different from every other kiss they’d ever had, almost desperate.
When he pulled away, his hand was tangled in her hair, and neither of them could catch their breath.
Her breathing finally started to slow, and she laughed huskily. “Well, that was definitely new.”
His shoulders heaved under her hands, and she realized Gabe wasn’t just trying to catch his breath.
He was crying.
“Hey, Gabe,” she said, ducking her head to look at his face. He pulled away and wiped at his eyes with his T-shirt.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Caroline stood there, unsure of what she was supposed to do, but finally reached out for him. Pulling him back into her arms, she stroked her hands over his back and kissed his chest. She didn’t say anything as she held him, waiting for him to collect himself.
After a minute, he lifted his head and cupped her face. “You are amazing.”
Caroline’s own eyes stung as she covered his hands with hers. “I didn’t do anything.”
Gabe dropped his forehead to hers. “Yes, you did.” He kissed her softly, tenderly. “I want to take you home,” he said, releasing her face and reaching into his pocket for his keys.
“Okay.”
But instead of a ring with several keys, he pulled out a single key with a wine-bottle charm attached.
“No, I want to take you back to our home,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s not the same there without you.”
Sniffling, she took the key from him and laughed wetly. “We’ll have to rescue Possum and Googlie.”
“Of course, but first,” he said, pulling her into his arms, “I want to take you home and show you how much you mean to me.”
“Yeah? So . . .”
“You should probably call your sister and tell her she’s cat-sitting for the night.”
Epilogue
“As I am tasked with reporting all the gossip, I should like to be the first to inform you that two years from the day of her return to Rock Canyon, Miss Caroline Willis became Mrs. Gabe Moriarty in a small-but-tasteful ceremony.”
—Miss Know It All
GABE MORIARTY HAD never expected to fall in love, get married, or live out his dream in a small town in Idaho, but here he was, coming home from a ten-hour day to find his wife asleep on the couch.
Although they no longer lived in the little two-bedroom apartment above Chloe’s Book Nook, the furniture still looked the same—with the addition of a brown La-Z-Boy chair Caroline had bought him for their one-year anniversary. All of it fit nicely in their three-bedroom house off Oak Avenue, with a quarter-acre lot and a two-car garage. The house was affordable without straining their finances.
Gabe washed his hands at the sink and came back to hover over his wife, who was being guarded by their cats, Googlie and Possum, each fifteen pounds and both lazy as hell. Gabe pulled out his phone and took a picture of Caroline, mouth hanging open, with the cats curled up on her chest and stomach.
Coming around the front of the couch, he shooed the cats off and lifted her into his arms, careful of her stomach. The baby bump was just starting to show, and Caroline had been obsessed with getting a picture of it every day, just to show how much it had grown. He’d tried to tell her they could do it once a month and the change would be more dramatic, but she ignored him.
Cradling her against his chest, he leaned over to kiss her forehead. One of his favorite things about his wife was how soundly she slept, even when he jostled her.
As he carried her back to their master bedroom, he peeked in on the nursery Caroline had been working on over the last month, despite the fact that they still had five to go. He took in the lemon yellow walls covered with pictures of zoo animals and smiled at the progress she’d been making. “Good job, princess.”
She mumbled something softly, and he continued on into their room, where he could lay her down on the bed. Covering her with a blanket, he started to leave, but Caroline grabbed his hand sleepily.
“Stay with me?”
As he climbed in behind her, he placed his mouth beside her ear and whispered, “Always.”
Acknowledgments
WRITING A BOOK can sometimes take a village, and my village rocks! Thank you first to my husband, for his support. My family for cheering me on. My editor, Chelsey, as always, for her feedback and suggestions. The newest team member, my agent, Sarah; how did I live without you? The entire staff at Avon for your savvy style and for keeping us informed. All of the authors from Avon for being such a wonderful support system. For my friends Ellie Macdonald, Candis Terry, Nicole Flockton, and Tina Klinesmith; I adore you! To the ladies of my review crew, for squealing along with me. And thank you to the baristas at my favorite coffee shop, Broadway Java, for keeping me caffeinated on Sundays.
The love doesn’t end here!
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Codi Gary’s next Rock Canyon romance
BAD FOR ME
Coming April 2015 from Avon Impulse
An Excerpt from
BAD FOR ME
“AND THAT WAS John Michael Montgomery, with ‘I Swear,’ ” Callie Jacobsen said into the microphone. “For all you Little Big Town lovers, this one’s for you.”
Turning on the next trac
k, Callie stretched her arms above her head and yawned. As the morning DJ for Kat Country 106.1, she was at work from four in the morning until noon, even eating while on air. The small radio station had three on-air DJs during the week, and two part-time on the weekends. Although it might have been nice to sleep in and take the afternoon shift, Callie enjoyed the early morning callers.
Okay, well, one caller in particular. He went by Rhett, which probably wasn’t his real name, but who cared? He had been calling in for over a year now, the same time every day, but what had started out as simple song requests had ended up striking a chord in her every time. Mostly because every one of the songs he’d chosen had been a favorite of hers.
Okay, he also had an amazing voice. A rough, deep rumble that made her toes curl every time she heard him on the line. It reminded her of Deacon Clayborne’s voice from Nashville, her favorite show, and maybe that was what made her so infatuated with him.
It was crazy, really, but each time she heard his voice over the line, the butterflies he woke in her stomach fluttered like crazy. And it had been a long time since she’d had butterflies. Not since high school.
Not since Tristan.
Callie rubbed her chest and felt the bumps and ridges of the scars under her plain T-shirt, a constant reminder of how good love could go bad. Really bad.
Which was why she usually stayed clear of romantic entanglements. It was hard enough to trust anyone, let alone someone looking to get into her pants. She’d had a few stress-relief partners over the years, but she’d never gone back to their places.
And they were never truly alone—not when her dog never left her side.
Kicking off her shoes, she rubbed her feet over Ratchet’s belly. The 130-pound Anatolian Shepard went everywhere with her but usually found that sleeping under her DJ table was the best place to get belly rubs. She’d jokingly called him “Killer” to a few folks when she’d first moved to town five years ago, and word had spread pretty quickly that there was a crazy new girl in Rock Canyon with a vicious beast of a dog. She had a few close friends who knew how nice Ratchet really was, but to the rest of the world, her dog’s size was enough of a deterrent to keep people from messing with her. And Callie liked it that way.
Little Big Town’s latest hit came to an end, and Callie leaned forward to speak into the mic. “Coming up next we’ll be taking requests for our ‘Crack of Dawn’ hour, so all you early birds can listen to your favorite hits as you start your daily grind.” She smiled then as their station intern, Dalton, held up a cup in the window with the Local Bean Coffee Shop’s logo on the side. “And speaking of grind, try waking up at three thirty and still being as entertaining as me. Let me tell you, it takes work and a lot of coffee, so we’re going to take a commercial break. Callie Jay will get herself a little java pick-me-up, and you stick around for more of today’s hottest country on the Kat.”
Turning off the mic, she waved Dalton in. The kid was a big improvement to the little bastard the University of Southern Idaho had sent her last semester. The intern had been into punk rock and had had an attitude about everything, from the music to the people who came into the station. Despite the fact that he knew what kind of station he had signed up for, instead of putting his whole heart into the job, he had blanched at every task. Callie had sent him packing within a week, after making a call to his professor, stating that he needed a work ethic before being placed in another internship.
Dalton was a complete one-eighty, a good ole boy, just turned eighteen and eager to learn. He had only been there a month, but he’d jump into the next job without her even having to ask. She couldn’t have asked for better.
Plus, he was pretty to look at, with a tall, rangy frame and sweet smile. Sure, he was just this side of jail-bait, but Callie would have to be dead not to notice that he was a cutie.
As he came in through the door, Ratchet stood up to say hi. Most of the staff still gave him a wide berth, but Dalton had never been nervous around the big dog. He’d told Callie that he’d grown up on a sheep ranch outside of Shoshone around Great Pyrenees dogs, which were similar to Anatolians but hairier.
“Here’s your coffee, Callie,” Dalton said. He handed her the cup before kneeling down to pet Ratchet. “Hey, big guy, you gotta go handle your business?” Dalton took Ratchet’s leash from the desk and asked, “That okay if I take him outside to go to the bathroom?”
“Thanks, Dalton, you’re a godsend,” Callie said before taking a small sip of the hot liquid. Sweet spices filled her mouth, and she sighed. “Man, that is good.”
Dave, her producer, signaled her for the countdown, and she set her coffee on the desk. When he pointed at her, she flicked the mic back on and said, “And we’re back with our all-request hour. So get to your phones and call 208-333-3KAT—unless you’re driving or eating. No one wants to hear you talk around a mouthful of bagel, and we all want you to make it safely to wherever you’re going.”
Her tech held up his finger, and she hit the line-one button.
“First caller, what can I do you for?”
“Hi, I’d like to hear ‘Teardrops on My Guitar’ by Taylor Swift,” a young female voice said over the line.
“Sure, honey, what’s your name? And is there anyone specific you want this going out to?”
“Um . . . do I have to say?” the girl asked nervously.
Callie smiled. Poor kid. “No, of course not. I’ll get that on the air for you right now.”
“Thanks.” The line went dead, and Callie flipped on the track, taking the next call. By the time six twenty rolled around, both lines were blinking, and she had half an hour of music to play.
And Rhett had missed his call-in.
He’d been calling every morning at six thirteen for months and hadn’t missed a morning yet. The calls had started off like any other, but lately, they had been getting friendlier and friendlier. Even her friends and coworkers had started to tease her about it, but she swore up and down, there was nothing to it. It’s not like she’d ever meet him or anything.
He’s just a caller. Stop being a freak about it.
Besides, if he’d had romantic notions about her, he would probably have dropped a hint or two about meeting in person, especially after she started taking their calls off air when their conversations went on too long. But no, he’d never asked, and when she started getting angry waves from her producer and she’d have to go, he’d always just say, “Have a nice day, Callie Jay.”
Unlike some of the other citizens of Rock Canyon, Idaho, he didn’t call up to bitch and moan about politics or what was wrong with modern country music. In fact, just yesterday, he’d called and brought up the fact that he loved October because it was when all the fall drinks and colors started showing up. She was more of a spring person, but when Dalton had made a coffee run this morning, the pumpkin-spiced latte she’d ordered had been in Rhett’s honor.
Suddenly, her cell started blaring “Wildflower” by the JaneDear Girls, and she silenced it quickly, picking it up with a hiss.
“I am not going, so stop calling.”
“Oh, come on, it will be fine!” Caroline Willis said. “You go to Buck’s and Hank’s, so what’s wrong with this?”
Callie shook her head. When Callie had met Caroline back in April, she had been drawn to the other woman because—for lack of a less “romantic” explanation—she’d sensed someone she could relate to. Someone who had her own demons and was fighting her own past, and she’d been right. Yet in all the time since and as the two of them grew closer, Caroline had never questioned Callie or asked about her past. She’d just taken her for who she was now.
Even though Callie loved her for trying to bring her “out of the army tank you’ve climbed into”—Caroline’s words, not hers—Callie had no desire to go to Caroline’s sister’s bachelorette party.
“I already agreed I would DJ the damn wedding, but I have no desire to go out with a group of obnoxious women and watch some greasy dudes gyrate to ‘It’s
Raining Men,’ ” Callie said, catching Dave’s frown as he waved the phone at her, letting her know she had more requests waiting. “This whole thing can wait until I see you this afternoon, right?”
“Fine, but I’m not through with you! If you think I’m going to this thing with just my sisters and their crazy friends, you are dreaming!”
“Good-bye, Caroline.”
Dave held up his finger, and Callie picked up line one. “You’re on the Kat. What can I play for ya?”
“I was thinking a little Blake Shelton, actually,” a deep voice said. The caller’s smile was evident, even over the phone.
Rhett.
Turning off the “record” button, Callie tried to ignore the giddy butterflies fluttering through her stomach. “You’re late.”
“You noticed.”
“Well, you’ve been almost OCD about the time you call for seven months, so it’s a little hard not to.” Callie bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I overslept this morning. Can I just say I’m actually flattered? Were you counting down the minutes?”
Callie’s face burned, and even though he couldn’t see her, she rubbed her cheeks with one hand. “Actually, it’s just because you’re the only person who calls in with any taste.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she said, turning around in her chair so she couldn’t see Dave and her tech, Sam, making kissy faces at her. “Now, what Blake song do you want to hear?”
“Uh-oh, did I get you in trouble with the boss?”
“No, I just . . . There are just a lot of calls coming in, so I can’t talk as long.”
“I understand,” he said, and there was a pause on the line before he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could talk more later? Off air?”
Callie’s heart pounded. Was he asking for her number?
Real names and numbers made it real. What if he was dangerous? What if she gave him her number and he tracked her down—