Harlequin Heartwarming April 2018 Box Set

by Amy Vastine

  Justin whistled, grudgingly admiring Cole’s culinary style. “Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme mixture, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I rub it on chicken then brush the pieces with olive oil before grilling.”

  Cole nodded slowly. “Good to know.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Brielle asked as she joined them. Her blond ponytail gleamed beneath the cloudless sky, emphasizing her square jaw and high cheekbones. Her face was strong. Beautiful. Magnetic. It stirred Justin’s heart. A week had passed since their kiss in the church, seven days since they’d agreed to delay a relationship until his discharge, one hundred and sixty-eight hours of longing for the woman who’d captured his heart. “Boring manly stuff like sports, I bet.”

  Cole cleared his throat, and Justin muttered, “Yeah. Go Broncos.”

  “Great game last night,” Cole added, scuffing the brown grass with his boots.

  Brielle cocked her head, swinging her ponytail. “Thought they were playing tonight.”

  Justin and Cole swapped conspiratorial looks. “Right,” Justin blurted. “That’s what he meant.”

  She eyed them suspiciously then wandered off with a plate of deviled eggs.

  Cole guffawed. “That was pathetic.”

  “Think she bought it?”

  “Nah. Speaking of sports, are you riding in the motor cross race day after tomorrow? Saw your name listed but didn’t know if you’d chicken out.”

  “Why would I do that? Should be an easy win.”

  Cole flashed Justin an irritable look. “I’m riding in that race.”

  Justin grinned. “Exactly.”

  He shoved down his unease about telling Brielle he intended to race his bike, something he’d been postponing since his brother called last night to remind him about the annual benefit event for the local VFW. He didn’t want to worry her or, worse, trigger her PTSD. She had a thing for protecting her patients, saw it as her obligation to keep them safe and free of harm. Him riding his bike at ninety miles an hour across a rutted dirt track was far from what she’d consider safe. On the other hand, he couldn’t tiptoe through life like she did.

  “Guess we’ll see, then.” Cole shrugged. “And I heard from Maverick. He agreed to compete against you at the open house rodeo next weekend. Called it a grudge match since you bested him at the junior championships before you quit the circuit. Now he can even the score.”

  “Maverick Loveland’s coming here?” Paul exclaimed, sidling close. “Watched him win the PBR world championship last January. What a rider.”

  “He’s the best,” Cole affirmed in ringing tones of pride.

  Would any of Justin’s siblings ever speak of him this way? Not with pity or anger or regret, but with straight up admiration? In this morning’s session with Dr. Sheldon, they’d discussed how Justin’s anger at Jesse turned inward. He couldn’t hate his deceased brother, so he’d hated himself instead. Now he needed to love himself, Dr. Sheldon insisted—a concept Justin struggled to accept. Was he lovable?

  His eyes flitted to Brielle as she poured cups of coffee and chatted with her patients. Since publicly opening up about her struggles, she’d seemed more at ease with them and herself. Could a strong, principled woman like Brielle love him?

  One thing was certain. He was head over heels for her.

  Thankfully Paul hadn’t fallen during the Halloween parade, but Justin had tumbled hard. When he’d heard Brielle’s courageous story, witnessed her strength in confessing her mistakes as she worked to save Paul, Justin’s heart had ripped loose and cleaved to her.

  If Fresh Start’s open house failed to convince the locals to keep its charter, she’d leave, taking his heart with him. He didn’t have much experience with women, not like reformed lady-killer Jared. Yet Justin always knew if he ever fell in love, it’d only be once. And it’d be forever.

  “You two used to be rivals?” Paul asked, looking healthier and steadier after his release, yesterday, from his weeklong hospital stay.

  “Bitter rivals,” Cole clarified.

  “Never saw Maverick as competition.” Justin raised the grill lid and speared each steak, turning them. Brown juice ran off the seared tops. With an exasperated sigh, he prodded Cole’s potatoes, rolling them to ensure they cooked evenly, too.

  “Are the steaks almost done?” Maya stuck her hands above the heated air wafting off the grill. She’d replaced her usual black nail polish with blue, Justin noted, and her complexion looked brighter, too, her cheeks rosy and filled out slightly. She’d put on a few pounds. Last night, Paul had challenged her to take a bite of his pineapple and jalapeño pizza, and she’d gone one better and polished off an entire slice.

  “Five minutes,” Cole said.

  “Six,” countered Justin. No one called time on grilled steaks except him. “There’s sweet and spicy pickles on the table if you’re hungry. My ma brought them over. It’s a family specialty.”

  “I’ll try them.” She jogged back to the picnic table and snatched a pickle from one of the bowls. Satisfaction filled Justin to see the strides she’d made…the progress they’d all been achieving, even him, who’d thought he needed it least of all.

  Fresh Start could not close. The work here was too important. Brielle’s smile caught his eye as she accepted a pickle from Maya. Brielle was too important…to him… If she left town, would he follow? It’d mean abandoning his brother, but Dr. Sheldon insisted Justin needed to let go of Jesse to find his own happiness.

  Crazy psychobabble.

  But darn if it wasn’t working on him.

  “You think I’m ready to rope at the open house rodeo?” Paul fidgeted with his ball cap, shaping the brim, lifting, lowering and turning it.

  “I wouldn’t let you ride if you weren’t.” The grill lid thudded shut again.

  “Thanks, Justin.” Paul stared up at the bright sky for a long moment. “You taught me a lot. And not just about ranching. About myself and what I can do.”

  “Go on, now,” Justin protested, never comfortable with praise, especially when he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

  “Paul!” Maya yelled from the tables. “Try these pickles. Some of them are hot!”

  “It’s true, dude. I owe you and Ms. Thompson everything.” Paul strode off, leaving Justin to stare after him, openmouthed.

  “Hey, appreciated you talking about Jesse at Al-Anon last night,” Cole said quietly.

  Justin shrugged and stared at a group of wild turkeys pecking in a distant field. Behind them, scarlet maples glowed, brilliant beside golden-leafed birches and orange-shaded oaks. Piles of leaves heaped beneath their trunks. “Helped me more than them.”

  “Not true.” Cole lifted the grill lid and transferred the potatoes back onto his plate. Puffs of fragrant stream rose from their charred foil wrappers. “You’re a role model—people look up to you,” he added, then strode away.

  “What about you?” Justin called after Cole. “Do you look up to me?”

  “I’ve got you by five inches. It’d be impossible.”

  “Jerk.” Justin laughed under his breath, his respect for Cole rising.

  Was he starting to like a Loveland?

  “He’s right, you know.” Brielle arrived bearing a large platter for the steaks.

  “About?” Justin poked the thickest steak, noting the color of its juice with an expert eye. Another minute…

  “You’ve inspired the patients. Like it or not, you’re a role model.” Her lips tipped up sadly. “I wish you’d reconsider being baby Jesse’s godfather. Your brother would want you to do it, for his namesake.”

  “Don’t do that, Brielle,” Justin said, his voice low and urgent.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Guilt-trip me.”

  “I’m trying to talk sense into you!” Her eyes sparked with
a won’t-back-down challenge.

  “Don’t hold back on my account,” he said drily.

  “Hold back? I’d hit you over the head with a blunt object if I could,” she huffed.

  He choked on a laugh. “You beat all, darlin’. Shouldn’t you be praying for me instead of threatening violence?”

  “I’m doing both, and you’re the only one I’d like to beat some sense into—you and Brent Jarvis,” she amended, then laughed along with him. “Cole mentioned his brother Maverick participating in our rodeo.”

  Justin poked the steaks one last time, then transferred them to the platter. “We’re lucky he has a break in his schedule. His star power will draw a big crowd, exactly what we need after Halloween.”

  Brielle’s eyes swerved to Paul. Worry etched faint lines around her mouth. “There’ve been a lot of letters to the editor about it.”

  “I know.” He stabbed a rib eye clear through and had to shake the fork twice to release it. “It spooked them, but they’ll come around once they meet the patients…see them in a different way.”

  Brielle blew out a long shaky breath. If she weren’t holding the laden tray, he’d pull her in his arms and reassure her properly.

  Although his thoughts, when it came to Brielle, were seldom entirely proper…

  A reformed bad boy was never going to be completely good. At least, not all the time. His thoughts veered to the upcoming motor cross race, and guilt pinched him hard for keeping his participation in it from her. He’d wait a little while longer to fill her in rather than risk ruining the festive afternoon.

  “It’s tough staying positive. What if Fresh Start shuts down?”

  Their eyes met and the unspoken question—what would happen to them—wavered between them.

  “It won’t. Maverick’s competing and so’s Amberley, both big names in rodeo.”

  “Barrel racing’s fine, but you and Maverick bull riding? Too dangerous. What if someone gets hurt?” The thread of desperate worry in her voice confirmed his decision to hold off on mentioning the motor cross race.

  “It’s a possibility.” He snapped off the burners, tucked a bottle of steak sauce under his arm and relieved her of the tray.

  “We can’t risk that,” she said, but her lips barely moved as they strolled to the picnic tables.

  “We or you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People risking their lives, getting injured, are triggers for your PTSD.”

  “I don’t know what’ll happen to me if I see someone hurt.” She said it so quietly he barely heard the words. “Especially someone I care about.”

  Touched by her admission, he moved closer, wishing for privacy. “I’ll be there. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

  “What if you get hurt?”

  “Could happen.” He wanted to put her mind at ease, but he wouldn’t lie to her. Though, technically, postponing the news about the motor cross race was a lie of omission…one he’d rectify soon. “But I used to be the best bull rider in the state and never got more than a busted rib. Why do you think a PBR world champion’s willing to come home to compete against me?”

  “A good cause?”

  “That, too,” Justin agreed, one side of his mouth hitching up. Brielle never tiptoed around his ego. “We’re doing everything we can to keep Fresh Start open. Don’t block our best chance of drawing a crowd to support us.”

  Brielle stopped and turned to stare at him, lips pursed, green eyes considering. “How about this. I’ll agree to the bull riding if you’ll agree to be Jesse’s godfather.”

  He shook his head, stunned. She never stopped surprising, challenging or pushing him, and he supposed he did the same for her. At least, he hoped he did.

  “Well?” she prompted, hands on her trim hips, her lips stretched into a gotcha smile.

  Oh, she had him all right…

  He had to grin back. Brielle’s smile was infectious. “It’s a deal if you’ll go to the christening with me.”

  “Deal.” And without another word, she walked away, swishing her legs under her dress and dissolving into the sunlight streaming in from the west.

  He settled the steaks in the center of the picnic table and backed away from the descending, ravenous pack.

  Now that he wanted a life, he wanted a person to live it with, and only one would do: Brielle.

  He’d never believed in himself much, but he believed in them.

  The open house rodeo had to go off without a hitch.

  His life—his heart—depended on it.

  * * *

  JUSTIN SPLASHED STINGING aftershave on his clean-shaven jaw then faced himself in the bathroom mirror. In a black suit and a deep blue tie against a crisp white shirt, borrowed for today’s christening, he hardly recognized this spiffed-up version of himself. His first shave since he’d learned his twin had died.

  “Hello, Jesse,” he said, and his brother’s wide-open, easy smile twinkled back at him, his hazel eyes swirling with anticipation and hope. It’d been a long time since he’d seen his brother content…since he’d felt at peace…

  So, this is what happiness feels like.

  Hope I do you proud today, brother.

  And just like that, his anger at Jesse, his war on life, evaporated, the weight in his heart gone. He still hadn’t told Brielle about the motor cross race, but he found that worry dissipating, too.

  A knock rattled the bathroom door.

  “Chop-chop, sweet cheeks,” Doreen called. “Ms. Thompson’s waiting on you.”

  He yanked open the door, and Doreen stumbled back, her hands rising to her face. Her lids snapped up, revealing the whites of her bulging eyes.

  “How do I look?”

  Doreen swallowed hard. “Like a god.”

  His lips twisted sardonically at her exaggeration. “Not a devil, then?” he asked, half seriously. It’d been a long time since he’d looked and felt human. He no longer wanted to scare anyone off, not baby Jesse, not his family and especially not Brielle. Although he had to give it to his scrappy sparring partner—she didn’t back down, and she didn’t take any of his guff.

  And he liked—no, loved—that about Brielle.

  Loved her.

  “Is he ready, Doreen?” Footsteps clattered up the stairs then stopped on the landing. “We’ll be late.”

  A thrill jumped through him at the sight of Brielle. A tangible, head-to-toe current singeing his nerves, searing across his skin and snaking along the seams of his fitted shirt. Wearing a gray sweaterdress that darkened her eyes and brightened her upswept golden hair, her beauty, her presence, walloped his chest and stopped his heart. Everything receded around her like a camera trick.

  “Can I help you?”

  He quarter turned to face Brielle fully. “You already have.”

  Brielle’s pretty mouth dropped open, and Doreen rushed to her side, steering her faltering boss from the stair’s edge.

  “Breathe, Ms. Thompson, and don’t look at him directly, not for too long. It’ll stun your brain. My retinas are still burning.”

  “Justin?”

  He closed the space between them in two strides. “Hey.” His greeting seemed inadequate given all he’d been thinking and feeling about her in the last few days, but one look at her had scattered his thoughts.

  Rendered him breathless.

  “Should I leave?” Doreen asked while he held Brielle’s wondering gaze, hoping she liked what she saw…this new man she’d created.

  Brielle touched his face, as if not trusting her eyes.

  “Yeah,” Doreen murmured to herself. “I’ll just be going now.”

  “You look so different,” Brielle marveled as Doreen’s steps receded.

  He raked a hand through his newly shorn hair. Pam—a salon stylist, it turned out—had clipped it after breakfast.
It’d take him a while to get used to the cool rush of air around his neck and ears. “Different good?”

  “I just didn’t know…” Brielle hesitated.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Know?”

  “You were this handsome.”

  Shameful heat stung his cheeks. He wasn’t a pretty boy like his brother Jared, and he’d never paid his looks any mind before. Now he was absurdly pleased at the compliment. How much had changed.

  “Should I start humming the Beauty and the Beast song?” he joked, relishing his proximity to her body while he ate up her presence with his eyes.

  Her fuzzy gaze sharpened. Then her mouth twitched into a smile. She biffed him on the shoulder and he knew, in that instant, everything was going to be all right today—and maybe, if he was lucky, forever, too.

  “You look beautiful.” His husky voice rasped in his tight throat.

  She glided closer and her intoxicating berry scent made him want to bury his nose in her shoulder, taste and explore every inch of her mouth. Her forehead brushed his chin as she angled her face up to his. “So do you.”

  Electric emotion crackled between them and heated the very air around them. His hands reached for her, skimming her slim waist through the knit of her dress. “We’re going to make people talk.”

  She rose on the balls of her feet and brought them nose to nose. “Let them,” she teased, knowing, as he did, everyone except Doreen was in the kitchen completing a cooking lesson. Then she pressed her soft mouth to his and the gentle caress ignited his wild, hungry need for her.

  He hauled her close and captured her lips fully, savoring their minty flavor, their silken texture. His pulse sprinted to every corner of his body, and his breath grew ragged. “I didn’t know how hungry I was until I tasted you,” he whispered into her mouth.

  From their first kiss at Miracle Point, she’d stirred a longing in him that hadn’t come close to being quenched. He suspected he’d never get enough of Brielle. His tongue stroked a path along the curve of her full lower lip, his blood simmering in his veins, every nerve ending jumping to life.

  He smoothed his palms down her spine, pressing her closer one vertebra at a time, her body molding to his. His heart pounded so hard he could feel the pulse leap at the bottom of his throat. Her soft, feminine sigh filled him with satisfaction, sharp and sweet.