Jayden’s Hope: MacKenzies of Montana

by Hart, Liliana

  “They’re not,” he said. “They’re staring at you. Can’t say I blame them.”

  “Do you have an evil twin or something?” she asked. “You are the same Jayden MacKenzie I met three days ago? The one with the perpetual scowl and pension for making people feel welcome?”

  He smiled unrepentantly and she wished she didn’t find it so charming. He looked like a little kid who’d gotten his hand stuck in the cookie jar.

  “I told you,” he said. “You interrupted my work. I’m over it. I’ve been working non-stop the last couple of days. I’ve been incredibly productive.”

  “Congratulations,” she said. “I’ve basically slept the entire time since I saw you last.”

  “I figured you would,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how much longer you would be able to stay upright.”

  “I just needed to catch up,” she said. “I woke up this morning refreshed and ready to shop. I was going to check out the sporting goods store while I was out. I’m supposed to start next week.”

  “I can take you by,” he said. “You’ve got a good staff, and they’re all very knowledgeable. They’ve been unpacking inventory and getting things set up. October is a big bass fishing month, and then deer season starts in November. Then it’ll be time for all the skiers to come in. You’re going to be very busy. Do you know anything about sporting goods?”

  “No,” she said. “But I know a lot about business. If I’ve got good employees, then I only need for them to know a lot about it. But I’m sure I’ll pick up things along the way. Why do people keep telling me they’ve heard about me on the network? What is that?”

  Mac brought out their plates, and her mouth watered at the sight of the loaded burger and homemade fries.

  “The MacKenzie network,” Mac said, not even pretending to not have overheard the question. “The name is just a family joke. When Jayden told his parents about you it started the chain. They called and talked to Declan, Declan talked to his wife, Sophia talked to my mom, and so on and so on. It keeps going until eventually the whole family gets the news. See, the MacKenzie Network.”

  “A bunch of gossips,” Jayden said, shoving a fry into his mouth.

  “It’s not gossip if its news,” Mac said. “And Holly is news. How’d you know she was in town today?”

  “Yeah,” Holly said, narrowing her eyes. “How did you know?”

  Color rose in Jayden’s cheeks, but he focused wholly on pouring ketchup on his plate. “Because Aunt Annabeth called my mom the second you left her store. And then my cousin Jillian called her mom when you left the bookstore. And that’s pretty much all it took. I had five voicemails by the time I got off the boat this morning.”

  “You told your parents about me?” Holly asked.

  Mac raised her eyebrows and then made a quick exit from the table.

  “Sure,” he said. “I went over to see them after I dropped you at the lake house. They told me to find out when you’re free so they can plan a family dinner. MacKenzies are very big on family dinners.”

  She saw him shudder. “You don’t like family dinners?”

  “I love my family,” he said. “But there are a lot of them. And by a lot, I mean it’s ridiculous. And while I love my family, crowds are not my forte. There’s no privacy, everyone is always talking at once, and someone always ends up getting tossed in the lake. It’s exhausting.”

  “And you love every minute of it,” she said. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

  “Yeah, well, I go from time to time. When I’m not working.”

  “How often are you not working?” she said.

  He shrugged and said, “It’s been a pretty hectic year. I’ve had seven major shows all over the world to get ready for. I pop in when I can.”

  There was more there than he was saying. It was obvious he loved his family, but it was also obvious he was keeping his distance. She decided there was no point in pressing. He had a stubborn set to his mouth that told her he was done talking on the subject.

  “You said you saw my art in New York,” he said.

  She froze, fear taking hold of her, and the food she was trying to swallow seemed like it was swelling and almost impossible to swallow.

  “No I didn’t,” she said, taking a drink.

  “Right before you went to sleep,” he said. His voice was steady. There was no condemnation or accusation. “You told me you knew who I was. I’m assuming you put it together after you saw the painting in my guest bedroom. And you mentioned New York when you said you’d been to the MacKenzie Security offices there. Is that where you’re from?”

  “Yes,” she said. Stay as close to the truth as possible.

  “Surrender takes care of its own,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “It means you’re safe here.”

  She didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything.

  “You’ve moved a long way,” he said. “You’re on your own, but whether you like it or not, you’ve been adopted into the nosiest family you’ll ever meet,” he said, grinning. “You can trust us. Any of us. I’m going to be honest with you and tell you two things, and I want you to promise me something in return.”

  “What’s that?” she asked cautiously.

  “That when you’re ready, you’ll come to me with the truth. But only when you’re ready.”

  Could she trust this man she’d just met? Her gut told her yes, but her gut had been wrong before. She’d once thought Derek was a good man.

  She finally nodded in agreement. It was on her terms, after all.

  “Good,” he said.

  “What are the two things you’re going to tell me?” she asked.

  “The first is that I want you to sit for me for a painting,” he said. “And hear me out before you say no.”

  She was already shaking her head. She’d known he would bring it up again. And her answer was still the same.

  “Jayden, I can’t,” she said.

  “Because he’ll find you?” he asked.

  The blood drained from her face, and if she hadn’t been sitting she would’ve ended up on her knees.

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Hey,” he whispered. “Take a deep breath. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. Remember, this is on your terms. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

  Her breathing started to slow and her hand was unsteady as she reached for her drink.

  “That was the last thing you told me before you fell asleep. You were so tired, I knew it had to be true.”

  “Then you understand why I can’t let you paint me,” she said. “You’re too well known.”

  “I’ll make you a promise,” he said. “Anything I create with your likeness will never go in a show. It’ll never be sold. And no one will ever see it but you and me.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

  “Because my work isn’t about the money,” he said.

  She could see the fierce passion in his eyes as he talked about his love. “I paint because I have to. Because there’s a vision or a story that has to get out of me or I’ll explode. I don’t have a choice in what I do. It’s a beautiful gift at times, and sometimes it’s a curse. But I can’t stop it. Something takes over and the need gets louder and louder until it’s screaming in my head unless I do something about it. So I paint. And the visions in my head come to life on canvas.”

  She nodded. She could see it so clearly. And because she could see it, she could understand it.

  “I saw a painting of yours once,” she said. “It was so beautiful. A little boy, no more than a few years old was sitting on a stool staring at the rain through his bedroom window. It was as if I could have reached out and touched the window pane, it was so clear, and as if I could have felt the wetness of the raindrops on my fingers. But it was one of the saddest things I’d ever seen.”

  “Boy on a Stool,” he said, remembering it well. “It went to the New York gallery.”


  She nodded.

  “Why was it sad?” he asked.

  “You might look at it on the surface and think he’s sad because it’s raining and he’d rather be outside playing. Or you might expand the imagination a little more and think maybe he’d been sent to his room as punishment. But there were little touches, so subtle they made my breath catch. The hem of his pajamas were frayed. There was a button missing. His feet were dirty. There was a crack in one of the window panes, just a sliver that was hard to see at first because it looked like a raindrop had smeared across the surface.

  “And then there was the smudge on his face. At least, I’d thought it a smudge at first. But then I realized it was a bruise. And there was a look of such hopelessness in his eyes I wanted to yank him right off the canvas and pull him into my arms. You’re so very talented. It’s an incredible gift you’ve been given.”

  He stared at her for several seconds and then he took her hand and squeezed it. “If that painting hadn’t sold I’d get it back for you so you could have it.”

  “Y’all really need to stop giving stuff away,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “MacKenzies are eccentric, and we pretty much do what we want. It’s a family trait. Do you understand why I have to paint you now? If you can see what it does to me to give life to these stories, then you know I’ve got to do the same with you. I wanted to paint you the second you fell into my arms. Before I knew your name. Before I knew anything about you.”

  “And no one will ever see them?” she asked.

  “No one,” he promised.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it. You said there was a second honest thing you were going to tell me.”

  “Yeah,” he said, blowing out a breath. “But I’m thinking it might ought to wait for another day. This has been a pretty intense lunch.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, a smile stretching across her face. “You promised me two things. I want both of them. If you can get me to agree to let you paint me then this one should be a piece of cake.”

  “If you say so,” he said. “Okay, here goes. I don’t believe there are coincidences in life. Everything happens for a reason. You know Declan for a reason. He was able to help you because of that. Cause and effect. You’re here in Surrender for a reason. And sitting across the table from me because you stumbled through my doorstep. Mine and not anyone else’s. No coincidences,” he repeated.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’m not crazy,” he said, smiling. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. I just know what I feel, and when I’m close to you I can feel something click into place, like a piece of me was missing before. You feel the connection too.”

  He stopped and looked at her, his gaze boring into her own as if he could see every secret inside of her.

  “I think you were brought here because you’re going to be my wife someday.”

  Chapter 10

  Three weeks passed and he didn’t see Holly.

  After he’d dropped his bombshell, he thought he might have to revive her when the color drained out of her face, but she’d recovered quickly enough, paid her portion of the check and told him thank you for the lunch. He hadn’t seen her since, though not for lack of trying.

  He could see how a declaration like that might be alarming, but it was like his mom had said, when you know you know. And if you know, you might as well start the process of fitting the missing pieces together. He’d only told her what was in his heart. He didn’t say they had to get married tomorrow. Or next year for that matter. There was still the question of whether or not she’d like Surrender a year down the road.

  He wasn’t a patient man. And his parents had told them patience was necessary when it came to love. But for this—for Holly—he could be patient. He would get to know her, let her get to know him and his family. They had all the time in the world. She just needed some time to get used to the idea.

  The days were getting colder, and the nights even more so, and they’d start seeing the first flurries of snow sometime in the next week. His work was coming in fits and starts, and he’d spent a lot of time outdoors, hiking and biking, to clear his head. He’d delayed going to see her. All he had to do was driving a few minutes down the road with his sketch book, knock on her door, and get her to sit still a few minutes so he could get them back on track.

  As much as he liked to live as a self-proclaimed hermit, he’d missed talking to her. She was sharp and sarcastic, and he’d known the second she started talking about his painting that she understood him in a way no one else ever had. She just didn’t realize it yet.

  He might not have seen Holly over the past three weeks, but the MacKenzie network had been in full force. It wouldn’t have been a surprise at all if carrier pigeons hadn’t started seeking him out on his hikes to deliver messages from him family about what Holly had been up to lately.

  His family had made it a point to drop by her house and lend a hand with moving furniture, painting, and whatever else she wanted done to the place. They’d introduced her to people, and she’d started work at the sporting goods store.

  Surrender Sports and Outdoors had its grand opened the past Saturday. He’d gone by as a show of support, but the place had been packed, and every employee had been up to their eyeballs in customers. But according to the network, Holly was off Sunday and Monday of every week, and he’d given her enough time to get her thoughts together.

  He packed up his sketch book, pencils and charcoals, and loaded everything into the Hummer.

  “Come on, Winston,” Jayden said. “It’s time for you to be more sociable. You don’t just ignore an invitation when someone invites you over.”

  The fact that Winston had received the invitation instead of him only smarted a little.

  Winston considered his options for a few moments and then followed Jayden to the garage, where he suffered the humiliation of being lifted into the car since he couldn’t jump in himself.

  “I know, buddy,” Jayden said. “The things we’ll do for a woman.”

  Winston didn’t have much to offer to the conversation, so Jayden rolled down the window so Winston could stick his head out. The little car was pulled under the carport when he arrived, and he parked right behind it.

  “Come on, Winston. Time to use your company manners.”

  He lifted Winston out and unloaded his stuff, and when he turned around she was standing at the kitchen door, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Bringing her image to mind day to day didn’t do her justice. Nothing compared to seeing her standing in front of him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He almost laughed. That was exactly what he’d asked her when she’d stumbled across his doorstep the first time they’d met.

  “You invited Winston for a visit,” he said. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Winston stared up at him with two parts disbelief and accusation.

  “Uh, huh,” Holly said, looking back and forth between him and Winston.

  “And I figured as long as we were here I could get started on some paintings. The light is good today, and I’ve been told you have the next two days off.”

  “MacKenzie network?” she asked.

  “It’s a powerful force,” he said.

  “You’re not going to go away, are you?” she asked.

  “If you really want me to,” he said. “But I don’t think you’d want to disappoint Winston like that. He’s very particular about his friends. And you did promise to let me paint you.”

  “Come on, Winston,” she said, holding the door open. And then she looked at Jayden. “You too.”

  * * *

  Holly must be out of her mind.

  She’d done a good job the last three weeks of putting Jayden MacKenzie out of her mind, and now here he was, standing in her living room and taking up far too much space.

  It was a lie, of course. She had
n’t done a good job of putting him out of her mind at all. His words had haunted her every day. There were no coincidences in life. She was here because she was supposed to be. Because they were supposed to meet each other.

  She felt the connection, just as he’d described. But just because he spoke the truth didn’t mean she was ready to hear the truth. And just because it was the truth didn’t make it possible. She was a married woman. Just because Declan had given her a new identity didn’t mean the slate had been wiped clean from her former life.

  Jayden had told her he would let her dictate the terms of when she felt comfortable confiding in him. That there’d be no judgment or condemnation. But she wondered if he was really capable of giving her what he’d promised once he found out the life she was living in Surrender was a lie.

  It was the life she wanted. And she’d discovered during her time there that it was a life she loved. But it was still a lie. No one in Surrender had ever heard of Holland Hamilton. They didn’t know she’d died in a fiery car crash in New York, or that her husband was the cruelest sort of man. And the people in Surrender would care about such things, not because of her past, but because she’d lied to all of them.

  The MacKenzie women had treated her like family. She’d met friends and co-workers. And she could only imagine the look on their faces if they knew the truth.

  She went to the pantry and pulled out a box that had Winston going on high alert.

  “Can he have a treat?” she asked.

  “If you didn’t give him one, he’d probably go in and get it himself. Winston is more of an ask forgiveness than permission kind of guy.”

  “Wonder where he gets that from,” said, handing Winston a dog biscuit.

  “You keep dog treats in your pantry?”

  “I like to make sure I’m prepared for visitors, no matter who they are,” she said.

  “This doesn’t even look like the same house,” he said. “You’ve got a good eye for color. I like the contrast of the pale yellow walls and the bright blue streaks of color. I’ve got a painting that would be perfect for over your mantel.”