by Nicole Helm
“Sam.” She exhaled loudly as he began to walk away. “We need your help.”
He didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t even hesitate. “No, you don’t,” he returned, and kept on walking.
* * *
When Sam woke up the next morning, he scowled. Something was off. He knew the typical sounds of the small clearing high on the mountain where he’d built his cabin, and something wasn’t right.
The stillness of the air up here had been interrupted by something. The usual summer chatter of birds and animals had stopped. Sam blinked at the darkness outside his window. It was too early for much of anything to be an interruption.
Apparently the ambush had come to call.
He swung off the tiny mattress that was shoved into the corner of the big square room that was his home. The only other room in the cabin was a small bathroom off to the back.
He didn’t live primarily off the grid for any moral reasons, any grand desire to save the environment or live some authentic simple life that would bring him closer to spiritual enlightenment. He did it because it felt necessary, and because it kept people away, and probably for a few other reasons he refused to spend any time considering.
Pulling on a T-shirt, Sam grumbled to himself. He shoved his feet into his boots, and when he stepped outside into the pearly dawn of a summer morning, he swore. Loudly.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Will Evans greeted cheerfully. He and Brandon stood leaning casually against Will’s Jeep in the middle of Sam’s yard.
Though the Evans brothers were twins, and looked remarkably alike, especially when sporting beards, the brothers were nothing short of opposites. Which Sam had always supposed kept them from killing each other.
Once upon a time, Sam had been the instigator of trouble in their little group, Will always the willing follower, Brandon frequently the voice of reason. But things had changed for Sam, and he’d only agreed to return to Colorado and start this business with his friends because Will and Brandon had accepted those changes.
“Go away,” Sam grumbled, running his hands through his sleep-tangled hair. He needed a haircut, and a shave, but his unkempt appearance kept people at bay. Customers he guided tended not to ask too many questions of the hairy, grumpy yeti. A description that bothered him not at all.
“Stop being a coward, Sam. We’ve got a favor to ask.” Brandon’s reasonable tone scraped against the peaceful quiet of dawn.
“I don’t do favors.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, we know. You’re very gruff and scary. Now stop being so damn difficult and hear us out.”
“Why should I waste your time and mine? I’ve got things to do.” Which wasn’t a lie. He had a schedule, living primarily off the grid meant anytime he wasn’t working at Mile High he was working at the complex task of living stripped of most modern conveniences.
He had laundry to do by hand, firewood to chop for heat, and a mind to keep occupied in solitary, physical pursuits.
“You owe us. You know you do.” Brandon’s voice was quiet but tense and brooked no argument.
Sam gritted his teeth, hating to be reminded of just how much he owed the Evans brothers. They’d saved him, he had no doubt of that. He was just more than a little shocked they’d stoop so low as to use it against him. “Didn’t expect that one to be thrown in my face.”
“We didn’t expect you to be such a dick about something so important, before you even know what it is,” Will returned, a relaxed ease to his tone.
“You’re alive because of us, Sam.” Brandon was all edge and fury, a direct opposite to his brother.
“Who says I wanted to be kept alive?” he grumbled.
“Yourself,” Will replied simply. “You’d be dead if you wanted to be.”
Just because it was the truth didn’t mean Sam particularly wanted it pointed out to him. “Fine. Talk. But I’ve got work to do.” He stomped toward the back, any reference to a past he’d rather forget poking at every angry, ungenerous, destructive impulse he’d ever had.
He’d had a hell of a lot of those.
Brandon and Will followed him, and despite Will’s calm demeanor, tension and stress radiated off both men.
“We need you to act as intermediary,” Brandon said, wasting no time, as much because he wasn’t a man to prevaricate as because Sam wouldn’t stick around for any fluff.
“Between what and what?”
“We want to offer Hayley a position with Mile High,” Will stated, obviously taking the role of explainer so Brandon’s head didn’t explode from trying not to demand something. “She refuses to talk with us. She’s barred any attempt to speak with her. But she’s still here, in Gracely. That’s got to mean something.”
“What the hell do I have to do with your family drama?”
“We need an intermediary,” Brandon repeated, the way he was grinding his teeth audible across the yard as Sam picked up an armload of wood that he’d take inside to heat his stove. God knew he’d need coffee after this.
“Between you and your half sister? I’m the last man to ask.”
“No. You’re the only man to ask. You’re our partner.”
“Silent partner.” Sam stalked back to the cabin’s entrance. He had no time for this, no patience for this. Brandon and Will should know better than to try to manipulate him into anything that had to do with family let alone sisters—even if the mysterious Hayley Winthrop was only their sister by half.
“You can be as silent as you want. After you offer her a job,” Brandon said as if it were a foregone conclusion.
“And train her. If she takes it.”
Sam whirled on them, and he knew the sizzling anger wasn’t appropriate for the situation, but they’d poked at every sore spot he had, far before he’d been ready to let it roll off his shoulders. What he owed, how he’d been saved, and worst of all family. “No.” He wasn’t sure if he yelled it or if he growled it.
Brandon cursed and stalked to Will’s Jeep, and Sam should have been relieved. He should have been happy it hadn’t come to blows, but he found himself itching for a fight. Mostly because of this whole thing, but at least a little partly because of the edgy feeling that had been dogging him for weeks.
There wasn’t enough work to keep his mind engaged lately, which didn’t make any sense because it was the same work there always was, and summer was high season. He was busy and challenged and yet something had been under his skin like a splinter for a while.
Yeah, a fight would have been nice. He wouldn’t have had to think about that.
So he glared at Will, but Will only shook his head sadly.
“It’s beneath you, Sam. All of this.”
“Right back at you, Will.” He didn’t even have to give Will a meaningful look for that barb to hit. No matter how close the three of them had once been, they all had their secrets. And they all had their no-go zones.
This “favor” was Sam’s “no-go zone” and Brandon and Will had both known it before they’d even set up this ambush. They shouldn’t be pissed that Sam had been an ass. They had to have known this would happen.
But no matter how much Sam tried to convince himself of that, he went through the rest of the day feeling like a complete and utter tool.
* * *
The tool feeling didn’t magically dissipate all through the afternoon. Sam guided a kayaking group, got irrationally irritated any time he had to repeat an instruction, and just narrowly missed exploding at an idiot who overturned his kayak.
Normally, despite his lack of charm or cheer, he was a helpful and informative—if disinterested—guide. Calmness and distance had become something of Sam’s hallmark. Oh, he was gruff and grumpy on occasion, but the kind that caused people to give him nicknames and develop an elaborate, tragic backstory about him.
He was 99 percent certain the customers on this expedition just thought he was an arrogant prick. Which was bad business and simply not the man he’d turned himself into.
&
nbsp; He had to shake this dogged wrong feeling, and the only way he knew how to do that was with physical activity. Since he had to get his shit straight with Brandon and Will, that could only mean one thing.
Once he returned from the kayak excursion and cleaned up, Sam collected three sets of climbing gear. It’d be nearly sunset even if they did one of the easier climbs, but he needed this edgy, destructive feeling inside of him gone.
So he strode into the office of Mile High Adventures. Skeet, the old man who acted as something between troll and receptionist, greeted him with a grunt and Sam returned it, but he didn’t pause. He headed straight for the back, and luckily Brandon, Will, and Lilly were huddled in the main room looking over brochures or pictures or something.
It was a cozy, homey place, full of dark woods and thick rugs. Even before Lilly had stamped her presence on everything, the walls had been decorated with mountain prints and cheerful sayings about the outdoors.
The furniture in the main room was all dark brown leather couches, situated around a giant fireplace that dominated the room. It wasn’t lit today in the middle of summer, and Lilly had covered the entrance with a large bouquet of wildflowers and greenery.
Brandon, Will, and Lilly looked like the picture-perfect family or group of friends, and Sam ignored the familiar pang that hadn’t dogged him in a while.
He dropped the climbing equipment in front of the twins, waiting till three pairs of eyes were on him. “If you can both beat me to the top, you win.”
Will and Brandon exchanged a look while Lilly stared at Sam as if he’d lost his mind. “Beat you to the top of what?” she asked.
“So we both have to beat you?” Brandon demanded, always one to get the rules lined up before they did anything.
“Both of you.”
“And who’s the judge if it’s close?”
“If it’s that close, I’ll forfeit.” Because while Will and Brandon were adept climbers, Sam was usually the one to lead those expeditions, which gave him more practice and more skill.
Brandon and Will began to stand, and Lilly all but spluttered. “What on earth . . . Explain this to me.”
“Rock climbing. We’ll just do, what, the south cliff face?” At Sam’s nod, Brandon looked back toward his girlfriend. “No big deal.”
“No big deal?” Lilly’s eyebrows drew together in two angry points. “You’re not actually going to agree to that!”
Will and Brandon shrugged in tandem, and Lilly turned her glare to Sam. “You’re going to risk your neck trying to climb the rock face of a mountain the fastest, instead of just do this favor like a good friend?”
Sam didn’t say anything to Lilly’s glare or accusation. He found that silence was almost always the most effective answer when it came to the force of nature that was Lilly.
“Bran . . .”
“It’s tradition,” Brandon replied before Lilly could argue further. “Rock climbing races have solved many an argument. It’s perfectly safe.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before collecting one set of gear Sam had dropped. “We should be back by dark.”
“We’ll wear headlamps just in case,” Will joked, which helped Lilly’s outrage not at all.
“You’re going now?” she all but screeched, hopping to her feet. “Of all the pseudo-macho, irresponsible, foolish—”
“Just think, it’ll give you carte blanche on finalizing the new brochures,” Brandon offered.
Lilly whirled. “It’ll give me carte blanche on your corpse,” she said stalking down the hallway and then slamming the door to her office.
“I’m going to pay for that.”
Will made an unmistakable whip sound and just narrowly ducked out of Brandon’s reach and a punch to the gut.
“I’m going to kick both your asses,” Brandon said.
“Side wagers, then?” Will asked cheerfully. He and Brandon argued about a side bet while they loaded up Sam’s Jeep with the climbing equipment and drove to the south cliff face where they held most of their rock climbing training. It was an easy to moderate climb, good for teaching people on.
Or, in this case, good for a speed challenge.
They got out of the Jeep, Brandon and Will trading good-natured trash talk. It hit a little hard, all this . . . Well, it was very much like those “old days” that Sam did his best to forget.
“It’s been a while,” Brandon murmured as they got into their gear.
Sam didn’t meet Brandon’s discerning gaze, and he immediately regretted doing something from before, but . . .
It was an easier apology, this gesture, than an actual apology. A little competition Sam wouldn’t win would give the twins what they wanted, a nod to the old times would be an apology for not agreeing in the first place.
The Evans brothers got what they wanted, and Sam didn’t have to say much.
“All right, ready?” At everyone’s assenting nod, Will counted off, and at his “go” they each took a different path up to the top of the cliff face.
The climb was steady and challenging without being overwhelming. Sam could have pushed harder, and he had no doubt he could have beaten Brandon and Will—if not easily, definitively. But . . . he didn’t push. He was careful, overly so, and when both men reached the top before he did, he didn’t even feel a twinge at the loss.
The three of them rappelled down in silence, and when they reached the bottom they all sat on the ground for a few minutes to catch their breath.
“You let us win, didn’t you?”
Sam watched the sky above them darken, took slow breaths as stars twinkled to life. He still didn’t want to do the damn favor, sticking his nose in the tricky family business that involved the half sister the Evans brothers had recently found out about.
Sam could think of few things he wanted to do less than this. But once upon a time, he’d had nothing except rock bottom, pain, and guilt. The Evans brothers had given him the tools to climb out of rock bottom. They’d put him on that fishing boat, and then they’d brought him back to Colorado.
They couldn’t fix what was really wrong with him. No one could. But they’d kept him from complete self-destruction, and while he didn’t know Hayley Winthrop at all, he thought a sister probably deserved to know her brothers when they were men as good as Will and Brandon.
And maybe fixing one sibling relationship will—
He couldn’t let that thought go any further so he got to his feet. “Let’s head back so Lilly can relax. Then you can tell me what you need me to do.”
He didn’t wait for the brothers to come up with a response. He grabbed his gear and walked to the Jeep.
He wasn’t fixing anything. He was acting as a facilitator. Because he owed the Evans brothers. That was it. He would do what he had to, and then they would leave him in peace again.
Because peace was all he was after.
SO WRONG IT MUST BE RIGHT
Chapter One
“You’re not still emailing with that guy!”
Dinah looked up from her phone and blinked at her cousin. It took a minute to get her bearings and remember that Kayla was waiting on her to get started.
“Actually I was reading up on Trask. I found an article that might explain his reluctance to sell.”
Kayla snatched her phone away, then frowned at the screen. “It is sick that you get the same look on your face reading those pervy emails as you do reading stuff for work.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dinah replied primly. Okay, maybe she did know what Kayla meant, and maybe it was a little sick, but Gallagher’s Tap Room was Dinah’s blood. The Gallagher family had moved to St. Louis over a century ago and built a little pub on the very land beneath the concrete floor under her feet. It was everything to her, and if she got a little excited about that? It was fine.
Kayla gestured toward the back door and Dinah stood to follow. Meeting with Trask was going to be it. The moment she finally proved to Uncle Craig and the board she was ready to take over as di
rector of operations.
Being Uncle Craig’s “special assistant” had turned out to mean little more than being his bitch, and while she’d worked to be the best damn bitch she could be, she was ready for tradition to take over. From the very beginning, the eldest Gallagher in every generation took over. These days, the title was director of operations, but it was all the same. And she was the eldest Gallagher of the eldest Gallagher. She’d been told her whole life that this would be hers when her father retired, or, as it turned out to be with Dad, abandoned everyone and everything in the pursuit of his midlife crisis.
It was time. Dinah was ready, and getting some crazy urban farmer to sell his land next to Gallagher’s for the expansion was going to be the final point in her favor. No one would be able to deny she was ready.
Director of operations was everything she’d been dreaming about since she’d been old enough to understand what the job required. Long after she’d understood what Gallagher’s meant to her family, and to her.
“So you finally stopped emailing creepy Internet dude?”
Dinah walked with Kayla down the hallway to the back exit. “He’s not creepy.” The guy she’d somehow randomly started emailing with after she’d tipsily commented on his Tumblr page one night wasn’t creepy. He was kind of amazing.
“Dinah.”
“I’m sorry. No way I’m giving that guy up. It’s some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had.”
Dinah thought wistfully over how he’d ended his last email. And when you’re at the point you don’t think you can come again, I’ll make sure that you do. It might be only through a computer, but it was far superior to anything any other guy had ever said to her.
“It’s fictional.”
“So?”
“He’s probably like a sixty-year-old perv. Or a woman, if he’s really as good as you say he is.”
“As you pointed out, it’s fictional. Who cares?”
They stepped out into the lingering warmth of late September. The urban landscape around Gallagher’s was a mix of old and new, crumbling and modern. Soon, Gallagher’s was going to make sure the entire block was a testament to a city that could reinvent itself.