by Glynna Kaye
“You know Tori’s too good for you, don’t you?” Ray continued. “I hope you’re getting down on your knees each night and thanking God that love is blind—to many things.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.” Sawyer’s eyes smiled into hers. “You sure won’t catch me taking this little lady for granted. Ever.”
“Keep that promise, boy, and you’ll have a long and happy marriage.”
Sawyer’s arm tightened around her waist. “That’s the plan.”
“Shhh.” A woman behind Sawyer motioned them to silence. “They’re about to cut the cake.”
As always at this climactic moment of a wedding reception, Tori watched with bated breath as together the couple sliced the tiered white cake. A laughing Garrett grasped a thickly frosted slice and lifted it slowly to Jodi’s lips. Then he drew it back again, leaving her momentarily open mouthed like a baby bird waiting to be fed. He cocked his head in question at those waiting to see what he’d do next.
He was such a tease. But please, oh, please, don’t let him cram it into her mouth and smoosh it across her face as had become a practice at too many wedding receptions Tori had attended.
“Come on, buddy, let her have it,” Sawyer whispered in Tori’s ear, knowing how she loathed the custom.
She elbowed him, and he laughed softly.
On edge, she watched as the ever-playful Garrett leaned in to briefly touch his lips to Jodi’s, then, with a melodramatic pause and a bit of eyebrow-waggling at their guests, he carefully slipped a small piece of the cake into her mouth. Kissed her again. A cheer rose from the crowded room.
“He had you going, didn’t he?” Sawyer’s eyes danced at her obvious relief.
“All I can say is you’d better not plan any cake-smooshing high jinks at our reception, buster. Not unless you plan to spend your honeymoon on the sofa by your lonely self.”
His eyes widened. “You’d do that to me?”
“Your choice.”
“I’d listen to her, Sawyer,” Ray interrupted as Therese took her place by his side. “When Tori lays down the law to the twins, she doesn’t back down. I wouldn’t take any chances.”
His wife looped her arm through Ray’s. “Is your fiancée having to lay down the law to you, Sawyer? Already?”
“Sure sounds like it.” He winked at Tori.
“We’re merely establishing a few ground rules before signing on the dotted line.” She teasingly gazed up at her fiancé. Oh, how she loved him. “Just so there won’t be any surprises.”
The older woman laughed. “Honey, surprises are half the fun of being married.”
Sawyer nudged her. “Hear that?”
“Well, if you smoosh cake in my face on our wedding day, you may get more surprises than you’re counting on.”
“That’s the spirit.” A grinning Ray nodded approvingly. “Stand your ground. The less he gets away with at the start, the shorter his training period will be.”
Therese muffled a laugh. “Like even after over fifty years of marriage I’ve gotten you trained? In my dreams.”
“Grandma! Grandma!” Voices of two soon-to-be-kindergartners heralded the arrival of the twins.
Landon tugged on Therese’s hand. “Is it time to go now? We’re tired of these ties.”
“You said,” Cubby stated solemnly, “that we could leave after they cut the cake and go get ice cream.”
“You did say that.” Ray exchanged a reminding look with his wife, then turned to the twins. “So give Sawyer and Tori a hug and we’ll be on our way.”
He didn’t have to prompt them twice, and immediately Tori had her arms filled with little boys who almost squeezed the life out of her. Then gazing into two pairs of eyes as blue as their older brother’s, she brushed back their unruly blond hair.
“I love you, Tori,” Cubby whispered.
Not to be outdone, Landon hugged her again. “I love you more.”
Cubby frowned. “No, you don’t.”
“Do, too.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Now, boys—” Sawyer crouched next to them. “We can all love her the same, can’t we? Hmm?”
After a long, glaring pause, they gave grudging nods. Then each grasping the hand of a grandparent and waving goodbye, they headed toward one of the fellowship hall’s exits.
“So how about you? Are you ready to go?” Sawyer rose to his feet, a raised brow reminding her that he’d promised a long woodland walk once they’d changed from their dress clothes. “Or are you holding out for cake and punch?”
“Actually, I had my eye on those pink-and-white mints.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “The pink-and-white ones, huh?”
She nodded.
“While I don’t want to deprive you, I think I can make it worth your while to sacrifice the mints.” His gaze lingered wistfully on her lips.
Warmth crept into her cheeks at the prospect of a long, leisurely walk sprinkled with his kisses. What a way to celebrate the first weekend in May. “You think so, do you?”
“I know so. Because—” he leaned in close, his voice lowered to a husky rasp “—I happen to know for a fact which of the three Banks boys...loves you the most.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss these other HEARTS OF HUNTER RIDGE stories from Glynna Kaye:
REKINDLING THE WIDOWER’S HEART
CLAIMING THE SINGLE MOM’S HEART
THE PASTOR’S CHRISTMAS COURTSHIP
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE DAD NEXT DOOR by Stephanie Dees.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
Dear Reader,
Is there something in your past that you need to let go of so God can bless your future?
That’s a question facing Sawyer and Tori on their rocky road to love. Sawyer is burdened by a guilty conscience, and disappointment from a previous relationship leaves Tori fearful of entering into a new one. Or is the true issue standing in the way of finding love in each other’s arms the simple fact that they need to grow in their trust of God? That they need to learn to accept by faith that He cares for them and has a good plan for their lives. Just like a little boy who doesn’t know he’s lost, sometimes we don’t recognize that we’ve wandered far from where we should be until God comes to find us.
I hope you enjoyed returning to the Arizona mountain town of Hunter Ridge as much as I did when writing Sawyer and Tori’s journey to a happily-ever-after!
You can contact me via email at [email protected] or Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007. Please visit my website at glynnakaye.com—and stop by loveinspiredauthors.com, seekerville.net, and seekerville.blogspot.com!
Glynna Kaye
Join Harlequin My Rewards & Instantly earn a FREE ebook of your choice.
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever & whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Register Today & Earn a FREE BOOK*
*New members who join before December 31st, 2017 will receive 2000 points redeemable for eligible titles.
Click here to register
Or visit us online to register at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.
; Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
The Dad Next Door
by Stephanie Dees
Chapter One
Claire Conley stood on the overgrown lawn—the Alabama humidity wilting her hair, flies circling—as she confronted her legacy. The antebellum plantation house she’d inherited from her father looked nothing like the pictures the lawyer had sent her. Well, to be fair, there was a porch. And it did have huge columns. But that was where the similarity ended. What had looked like pristine white paint in the photo was gray and peeling. The yard was a tangle of weeds.
Tears stung in her eyes. She’d sold everything she owned and driven fourteen hours on coffee and adrenaline, dreams buzzing in her head. For this?
This worn-out, falling-down piece of...history?
She tried to push the long, shaking sob back to where it came from and failed. She didn’t know what she’d been hoping. Her biological father had never given her a thing. This was just more of the same.
She didn’t hear the truck coming up the drive until the door slammed behind her. She spun around.
He looked hard. Hard muscles, hard expression, head shaved military style, a shadow of stubble along his jaw. A hint of a dimple creased his face, but she couldn’t see his eyes.
Those were covered with silver aviator glasses.
She was suddenly, painfully, aware of the fact that she’d chosen to stay on the road instead of stopping to eat in Somewhere, Georgia, and had the evidence of it smeared on her comfiest—threadbare—jeans.
“I’m looking for Claire Conley.” He didn’t raise his voice, but still, it carried.
She nodded, not sure she could speak around the lump in her throat. “That would be me.”
“I’m Joe Sheehan.” The guy walked closer and dug into his jeans pocket, coming up with a key. “Your father’s attorney asked me to give this to you. He’s out of town for a few weeks.”
She narrowed her eyes, big-city self-preservation kicking in. “You local law enforcement?”
“I’m a cop, but not in Red Hill Springs. My mom owns the diner and the attorney asked me to meet you.”
“You sure he didn’t skip town because he was afraid to face me?”
“I’m sorry?” The hand holding the key dropped a bit and the look on his face changed from friendly to concerned. “Is everything okay?”
She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out. The internet told her cleansing breaths were supposed to be calming. Not so much. “Yes, it’s fine. I’m fine. I was just expecting the house to be in a little better condition. I’m opening... I have plans for this place.”
Joe looked skeptical. “Yeah? Bed-and-breakfast?”
“Kind of. You know, my pastor back in North Carolina tells me brokenness is a good thing.” She stared at the house, her voice trailing off. If that was true, she was golden. She’d been wrecked when her fiancé ditched her, but thought she could get past it. Her mother’s death from cancer had gutted her. And when her job with the county ended, she figured God was trying to tell her something.
Joe rubbed his shoulder. “I’m not sure about it being a good thing, but I think things that are broken can be fixed. At least I hope so.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe this old place could be renovated. She didn’t know if there was enough glue in the world to hold her life together, but she was going to give it a try. Her hard-won optimism resurfaced, at least briefly.
Claire mentally calculated what remained in her bank account, and...the moment of optimism was gone. “I don’t know if I can do this. I have six months of living expenses and what’s left of my mom’s life insurance to get this place running.”
Joe stepped closer. “Maybe you should go inside?”
She closed her eyes, realizing she’d been spilling her guts to a literal stranger. And why? Because she got the sense that he understood what rebuilding a home—a life—would cost her?
“I’ve heard it was a real showplace at one time.” Joe climbed the steps to the porch.
“That’s encouraging.” She followed him onto the wide porch and took a step forward. Her left foot went right through the wood plank.
Joe’s arm streaked out to wrap around her waist, keeping her from falling through. He was warm and solid and, just for a second, she wanted to lean into that warmth. Instead, a laugh bubbled to the surface. And then the rest of it billowed out.
He hauled her to her feet and she stared at her reflection in those silver sunglasses. Hair all wackadoo, no lipstick, a ketchup stain on her shirt. Another giggle rose to the surface and she shoved it back with a tiny little snort. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Joe slid the key in the lock. Despite the general disrepair, the key turned easily. He pushed the door open and stepped aside so she could go first.
It was like stepping into another time. The front hall had high ceilings, to combat the summer heat, and though the wallpaper was peeling, she could see that it would’ve been beautiful in its day. French doors to her right opened into a huge room, floor-to-ceiling windows sending long squares of golden light onto the wood floor. “What would this room have been used for?”
“I think it was the ballroom. The mayor and his wife had dinner parties here.” At her side, Joe pulled off the sunglasses, sliding them into his shirt pocket. There was an ugly, twisted scar streaking from the corner of his eye into his hairline.
She swallowed a gasp as he turned toward her, catching her staring. “Your eyes are blue,” she blurted.
“So are yours.”
“Right. Of course they are.”
Amusement deepened the dimple in his cheek and she glanced wildly around for a change of topic. “I can just see it, the room filled with tables covered in crisp white linen, sparkling crystal, heavy silver. What kind of food did they serve, do you think?”
Joe stepped farther into the room, a glint of humor in his eyes. “I’m not quite old enough to have come to the parties, but my mom told me about them. I think the governor was here a time or two.”
She nodded, turning slowly in the room, hearing the music that had once played. What would her life have been like if she’d grown up here with her biological family? Would she have had pretend parties with her friends in this grand room? Even thinking it made her feel guilty, like she was cheating on her real family, the family that raised her. But one day children would run and play, spin and twirl, in this room.
She turned back to him. “How in the world did they live in this place with it in this kind of shape?”
Joe’s brows drew together. “They didn’t. From what I understand, they moved to a house in town about ten years ago.”
Well, that explained a lot. And yet, there was something here, some sense of the past that was captivating. There were several rooms opening off to the right of the large hall, a parlor-type room, bedroom, bathroom. “Do you know where the kitchen is?”
“It runs along the back of the house. It used to be outside, but Mrs. Carter had one built inside the year she moved in.”
“Wait. The kitchen was still behind the house when the former mayor got married?”
“Yes, too hot in the South back in the day to have the kitchen inside.” Joe led the way to the back of the house. “Why do you call him the mayor and not your father?”
The dim corridor was cool, almost chilly, despite the heat outside, the humid air soft on her skin. “He was only my biological father. I didn’t know him. My twin sister and I were adopted by another family.”
She walked into the kitchen and stared hopelessly at the peeling linoleum and kitchen cabinets, which were painted a color that might have been fashionable about thirty years ago. All hint of laughter vanished. There was so much work to do if she was going to make this sagging place into any kind of home. She tried the deep breath thing again, and again it clogged in her throat.
Behind her, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“About my father?” She shrugged. “It’s okay. I didn’t know him. And I had a great mom. One good parent is better than two bad ones.”
“You think so?” He locked eyes with her, the blue of his startlingly clear in the shadowy room.
“Of course.” She looked away. That she didn’t need a father was something she’d told herself all through her growing-up years. The real truth was somewhere in the middle. There was a hole where a father should’ve been, yeah, but nothing compared to the gaping cavern of not having parents at all.
The one visit she and her twin sister, Jordan, had with their birth father had left her with more questions than answers about who she was. Her birth mother had died shortly after giving birth. Their dad didn’t feel like he could raise infant twin girls on his own, so he’d put them both up for adoption.
She looked back at Joe. “Kids need a constant in their life. Just showing up is half the battle.”
“I hope you’re right.” Joe pulled his phone out of his back pocket and looked at the screen. “Listen, I have to go. My daughter, Amelia, is going to be waiting for me at the school. If I don’t get there on time...well, let’s just say I need to show up.”
She smiled. “Thank you for bringing the key by. I’m sorry if I seem a little distracted. Being a homeowner is new to me.”
“No problem,” he said again. “Do you need anything?”
“No, thanks.” Her eyes filled—the traitorous truth that she did need. So much. Too much. She needed connection and roots. To build something lasting, to somehow fill the void that her mom had left, and the one that had always been where her father should have been.