Her Unexpected Hero--A Clean Romance

by Cheryl Harper

  Winter’s immediate panicked reaction, complete with shaking her head so hard her frizzy hair whizzed in front of her face, had them all fighting back grins, until Astrid drawled, “Okay, crossing that off the list.”

  “I like to tell stories. Kids love stories.” Winter balled up her napkin. “That doesn’t make me a teacher. Teachers mold young minds and keep them in their seats. Storytellers waltz in, capture their attention and waltz back out. Me? In front of a classroom all day long? I’d either arrange them into military formation or take cover under my desk. Either way, it would end in tears for one of us.”

  “Not teaching. Not the reserve. How are you with food orders?” Christina asked. “The campground is staffed, but this place could use some help.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your tips would be better if you could fix your hair, though.”

  “I was a hostess at a restaurant in Knoxville all the way through college.” Winter studied the beat-up interior of The Branch. Surely she could manage drink orders and the limited menu here. “How different could it be?”

  As she glanced back at her companions, no one seemed convinced. Before she could argue that she’d discovered quickly how to suggest appetizers and the perfect pairing of wine, Leanne leaned forward. “The skills are different here, hon. Are you good with your hands?”

  “Like, writing?” Winter mimed holding a pen and scribbling on a small notepad.

  “That and often picking up broken things.” Leanne motioned at the big, noisy crowd of fishermen that had come in.

  Sweetwater depended on the tourists attracted to the area by the nature reserve’s trails, campground and lake. During the busy summer season, the main street through town enjoyed a steady stream of families shopping for souvenirs and breakfast, lunch and dinner. Late February was slow on Otter Lake, but there were still groups of folks that visited the campground for a weekend away. Since this was the only place in town serving beer, The Branch was must-see Sweetwater for nightlife.

  “Have you searched for jobs in Knoxville or Nashville?” Macy asked. “I know your parents want you here, but the options open up in the city.”

  She had, but Knoxville was too close to Whit, and Nashville wasn’t close enough to Otter Lake. Moving there might open up a spot for her on Richard Duncan’s campaign team, since she clearly had the insider info on Whit Callaway, but there was no safety net in Nashville. No Otter Lake, either.

  On the other hand, in Nashville, she wouldn’t have to worry about every person she passed on the sidewalk, neighbors who’d known her for her whole life, wondering how she’d messed up everything so spectacularly.

  “I’d like to find something here. For now. Later...” Winter let the sentence trail off. If she managed to win a spot on the governor’s team, Nashville would have to work. Until then, she’d stay home. She loved this place—the reserve’s beauty, the stories of the people who grew up there—and all she’d ever wanted to do was teach other people to love it, too. Working for the reserve and plotting Whit’s race to win the state capital had been a solid plan. “I can wait tables. I’ve always been a good multitasker.”

  “You could pick it up, for sure. And the tips are decent. Unfortunately, the urge to drink them all away means no working here, not for me.” Leanne turned her root beer in a slow circle. “I could talk to Janet. She mentioned finding a part-time salesperson for the art gallery she’s opening next to the souvenir shop.”

  When everyone nodded and pointed in relief, as if they’d been certain she’d be a failure at waiting tables, Winter tried not to take it personally. She’d once taken success as a guarantee, but right now she was riding a wave of disappointment. All things considered, the art gallery was a better alternative for her than delivering burgers and beer.

  “Better to have two chances than one. I’ll ask Sharon on the way out if she needs any help waiting tables.” Winter nodded at the fake smiles surrounding her. “And I’ll call Janet on Monday to find out if she’s hiring. I need more than one option in this job market. I handled a lot before. I can do both of these things.” They nodded, so she did, too.

  And she immediately felt better. Having a plan had always soothed her concerns.

  To do anything more, she had to smooth out her life. Winter tugged her fingers out of her tangled hair, resolved to get herself together.

  When the Callaways were faced with opposition to their plans to build at the reserve, they had targeted her brother as the villain of the story. Because of them, Ash had faced public criticism and the potential loss of his job as head ranger.

  Even though they’d had no real proof of his guilt.

  And after she’d spent years at Whit Callaway, Jr.’s side. Their engagement hadn’t stopped the drive to punish Ash.

  Winter might have expected that from Senior, who valued the family’s standing above almost anything. That was business. Her anonymous release of the environmental-impact plan to the governor had been the same. Just business.

  But the fact that her fiancé had gone along with his father’s efforts to hurt Ash? That’s where the pain came in.

  Her best revenge would be to get so stinking happy that Whit Callaway gnashed his teeth when he remembered her. To do that, she had to get out of her parents’ house. Obviously.

  She had a life to rebuild.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CALEB CALLAWAY WAS certain no man his age should still be summoned to the dinner table like a rebellious teenager. Living in Nashville meant he could come and go as he pleased most of the time. Until a few months ago, he’d dropped in at the family manse whenever the mood hit. His mother celebrated every visit. His stepfather disapproved of his choices, and his brother turned everything into a competition. Going home was work. Holidays were a requirement. Every other day of the year, he lived well and visited the Knoxville Callaways when it was convenient.

  Then Winter Kingfisher had barged into his office, tilted his world sideways with her passion for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and her own family, and convinced him to be some kind of hero. At that point, the Callaway family welcome mat had been rolled up and locked away.

  Not even Christmas had brought about a thaw in the standoff. He’d spent it in Hawaii. Alone. The less-crowded beaches had been nice. Realizing that he was traditional enough to want cold and snow and fireplaces and Christmas ham served at his mother’s table had been surprising.

  The discovery that all the acquaintances who liked to eat out on his reputation and credit dried up like snow in Waikiki the minute Callaway money disappeared had surprised him more than it should have.

  Getting caught in the mess between the Kingfishers and the Callaways hadn’t been his idea, and being drafted to run the lodge project had seemed a long shot.

  His stepfather, Whitney Callaway, Sr. ran Callaway Construction. Always had, always would, and the two of them got along better with miles separating them.

  The longer his family’s silence had dragged, the more Caleb had been convinced Senior had realized the error of his decision to make building the lodge his stepson’s penance for interference. Senior liked control. He wouldn’t give that away.

  But something had changed and his stepfather had made a personal call to tell him to come for dinner. Tell, not ask. Senior never had been much for asking. That was most of their problem: communication.

  The fact that he was parked next to a fountain complete with a spitting fish, the centerpiece of his parents’ ornate oval driveway, uncertain of his welcome for the first time in his life, was Winter’s fault.

  Well, hers and his own uncharacteristic generous streak that had made it impossible to tell her no when she’d asked for the favor that had gotten him in this mess.

  Irritation that he’d been shoved into the middle of Callaway drama threatened to boil over until Caleb had thrown on the brakes. He’d made his own choices. Were they heavily influenced by a beautiful woma
n? Sure. And if he ever met Winter again, he’d make sure she understood how she’d upended his life.

  For now, dinner.

  “Come on, man. The sooner this begins, the quicker it’s all over, and life goes on, right back on the road to Nashville,” he muttered to himself. Caleb ran a hand down the silk tie he’d added at the last minute, then grabbed his suit coat off the hanger in the back seat. Showing up to his mother’s house for dinner without a jacket would lead to Extreme Displeasure, Caleb’s nickname for the tight-lipped frown Senior often gave him. His stepfather was committed to upholding the family’s stature, and that required dressing for dinner like Victorian royalty.

  Dinner was going to be rough, but the only way back to normal was through the fire. Senior would say he’d changed his mind and could trust no one else with the completion of The Aerie lodge. Caleb would nod in serious understanding while sighing inwardly in relief, and life would go on.

  Before he slid out of the SUV, Caleb judged the distance between his parking spot and the gates at the street. “One minute or less. I could be free.”

  Caleb pulled the keys out of the ignition, stretched out the kinks and slipped on the jacket. Then he noticed the mud on his boots.

  He’d stopped on the way out of Nashville to tour a land parcel with Mitch Yarborough, luxury home developer and father to Caleb’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Melissa. Caleb could still feel the hard thump of his heart when Mitch had offered him the chance to be the builder of every lot in the gated community. The key words were state of the art, high end and best of the best.

  “Four months.” He had that long to add to his crews in order to be launched into Nashville’s big-time home-construction firms. Was it too soon to tell his stepfather?

  This was the challenge he’d been dreaming of for years. His right hand, Carlos Lopez, was ready to lead his own crew, but meeting payroll after doubling his team would be tough in the beginning. Summit Builders would struggle under the bills. A loan of Callaway cash would make it all easier.

  Tonight wasn’t the right time to ask for money, but it was tempting to spread his good news.

  After a hurried dig through the back seat, Caleb found a brush and did his best to knock the mud off his boots. Would it escape their notice? No way, but at least he wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.

  “Good enough.” Caleb tossed the brush back onto the floorboard and slammed the door. As he rounded the bumper, the front door to the Georgian-style family mansion swung open. Instead of a maid, his mother was framed beautifully by the glowing fanlight and transom windows.

  “I wondered if you were going to come inside or make a break for it.” His mother kissed his cheek as he paused in front of her. The familiar scent of her perfume would always carry him home.

  “Me, too. It was touch and go.” Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets, aware all over again of how he didn’t belong here. “Thank you for the dinner invitation.”

  With a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him close. In his mother’s arms, he might as well be nine years old again, brokenhearted after striking out in the last inning of the game. Whatever was wrong, his mother had always been able to make right.

  “It’s been too long, son. Don’t stay away so long.” His mother’s pointed stare at his feet was accompanied by an almost inaudible sigh. “You came from work. The tie is nice, but it does not go with this jacket.” She wiggled her arm through his and pulled him inside.

  “I didn’t sign up for a fashion show, Mom.” Caleb smoothed a hand down the tie again, glad to have it, even if it didn’t go with the jacket. Flannel and denim. That was his dress code. If Summit hit the big-time, maybe he’d transition to khakis and golf shirts with logos.

  “Thank you for observing the bare minimum,” she said mildly before moving along. “Your brother and father are in the office, no doubt plotting world domination. Please tell them dinner will be served in ten minutes.” She gave him a gentle shove toward Senior’s stuffy office and then disappeared behind the swinging door leading to the butler’s pantry.

  “I should stand right here for nine minutes and thirty seconds,” Caleb muttered. He’d expected more emotion from his mother. In a battle between him and the other Callaways, she’d always landed in the middle, a disputed territory until they negotiated a surrender. Her face had been serene, nothing but happiness showing. “Maybe Senior has forgiven me.”

  At some point, he’d stop squirming like a kid at his stepfather’s displeasure. He should be immune to the unease.

  Today was not that day, but he’d learned a long time ago not to show nerves.

  Senior had inherited power and wealth, but what he’d built through guts, determination and solid planning was a lot to live up to.

  Caleb straightened his shoulders and marched into the oppressively dark room lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes no one in the house had ever read. This was an office, a study, an important room; it should have nice, expensive things, according to Senior. He was enthroned behind a grand desk, while Caleb’s younger brother, Whit, paced in front of the fireplace. Before Caleb could say anything, Whit tossed the newspaper he’d been reading into the fire.

  “Mom says dinner in T minus ten.” Caleb paused in front of the desk. He remembered his spot on stage well. When they both turned toward him, it was impossible to ignore the overwhelming vibe in the room. Anger. Neither of them had forgiven him his part in stopping the lodge at the reserve.

  “Good. Time enough to cover business and keep your mother happy with a nice family dinner.” His stepfather braced his elbows on his desk. “You’ve dragged your feet long enough on the reserve’s lodge project, Caleb. The new plans have been approved. Get your crews to Sweetwater. The sooner this is finished, the sooner we can all get past this...distraction.”

  Caleb stared at his brother. As usual, Whit was a member of the audience. Before Whit came along, Caleb and Senior had formed an uneasy relationship, but with the birth of his younger brother, the balance had changed. Whit was the favored son, even if Caleb reaped plenty of Callaway benefits. The urge to argue with Senior, or tell him the whole truth about Winter’s role, was strong, but taking the credit for wrinkling the lodge plans was still the right thing to do.

  Confessing that she’d been the one to alert the governor might change Senior’s feelings a bit, but he’d still stepped in to save Ash’s job.

  And he’d made Winter a promise to keep the secret. A little family drama was no reason to break that promise.

  Meeting Senior’s stare was difficult. He’d always been a man to respect, at least until this drive to push Whit into the capital had taken over. Having his stepfather refuse to take his calls had shaken Caleb. He’d shove his way back inside this small crack.

  “It’s time to focus on rehabilitating the family image. The reserve is what caused the breakdown, so this lodge matters more than ever.” His stepfather inhaled slowly. “What we need now is a way to save some face, make some money and regain the ground we’ve lost in this political race.” He pointed at Caleb. “You did all this. Stop stalling and fix it.”

  He was responsible for all of it? No way. If either of them had listened to reason to begin with...

  It didn’t matter. They hadn’t, but Caleb hadn’t been much better. Sitting on all the boards required by the Callaway fortune was an obligation he did his best to shirk. Thanks to Winter Kingfisher’s insistence, he now knew more about the nature reserve and his brother’s election plans than he wanted to.

  “He doesn’t have anything to say to that.” Whit shook his head and crossed his arms in a tight knot over his chest. The disgruntled grimace on his face hadn’t changed much since he was twelve, but they’d outgrown the ability to wrestle away their grievances.

  The tension between them was always there. Being an adopted Callaway meant Caleb had a later start th
an his younger brother on getting everything he wanted. Before his mother’s marriage to Senior, they’d lived in an apartment and spent Sunday afternoons clipping coupons. At five, he’d loved scissors, and she’d always been smart enough to capitalize on the blessings that came her way.

  “I’m waiting to hear the plan. I know you have one.” Caleb pivoted to face his father. “Dad has a plan, I mean. Junior follows it. As always.” He couldn’t go for a headlock, so he’d use his words.

  Whit scoffed. “Unlike Caleb, who doesn’t need any help from anyone, ever. Right? Forget about the loans that started your business, the family connections that keep it afloat and the fact that you’re never here.” Whatever else he meant to say was swallowed whole, as his lips clamped tightly shut.

  Why had he stopped? He was absolutely right.

  Being unable to argue knocked Caleb off balance.

  “I’d first like to hear some kind of explanation about why you’d foul up the plan we had in place,” his brother snapped.

  Caleb shook his head. “It was the right thing to do. That lodge, if we’d built it at The Aerie, would have destroyed so much of what makes the reserve important. Habitat, old growth forest, the history of the land there.” He motioned widely, hoping they’d fill in the blanks. He didn’t have a firm grasp of the importance of the land protected by the reserve, but Winter had convinced him saving it mattered. “You’ve always taken such pride in donating that land to the people of Tennessee. What I don’t get is how you could have ever believed building there was worth everything you’d lose.”

  “I was in a hurry.” His stepfather checked the clock, the lines around his eyes convincing Caleb he was exhausted. “Time is short. The election is many months away. We want the lodge story laid to rest. Ash Kingfisher has been working with the same firm that did the first environmental-impact study to evaluate the spot over by the old weather station. The board is pleased with the results. The architect’s drawings have been modified to meet the demands of the report and the new elevation. We need this lodge finished, Caleb. I’ll divert a Callaway Construction crew to join yours to speed things up. Whit will officially announce his run for governor there, but to do so, this project has to be fast-tracked. Now.”