Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Cowboy for Hire, by Victoria James
Always a Bridesmaid, by Cindi Madsen
Never an Amish Bride, by Ophelia London
Great and Precious Things, by Rebecca Yarros
Also by Sasha Summers
Blood Moon Brotherhood series
Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby
Rescued by the Wolf
Protecting the Wolf’s Mate
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Sasha Summers. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Preview of Cowboy for Hire copyright © 2020
by Victoria James.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Road
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Candace Havens
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover art by
Vitali Pechkurou/GettyImages
Alexlukin/GettyImages
Interior design by Toni Kerr
Print ISBN 978-1-68281-474-1
ebook ISBN 978-1-64063-864-8
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition June 2020
To Candace and Liz -
Thanks for making
me part of your family!
Chapter One
Today was always going to be a life changer, Felicity knew that. Watching her firstborn walk across the graduation stage, smiling ear to ear, was one of those slow-motion moments, a blur of happy times, milestones, and pride. Her daughter, Honor, was done. Eighteen. A high-school graduate, ready to spend the night celebrating with her friends.
Which was exactly as it should be.
This, now, leading her two kids into the emergency room, was not.
“How serious was the accident?” Honor asked, holding tightly to her hand.
“Honor,” Nick, her sixteen-year-old, snapped. “You heard as much as she did.”
It had been one of those times she’d wished her phone wasn’t synced to her car. How could she have known the hospital was calling? How could she have known Matt, her ex—the kids’ father—had been in an accident? A serious accident. They’d all just assumed Matt had ditched, as was the trend.
“Hold my hand, Nickie,” Honor mumbled thickly, reaching for her little brother’s hand.
Nick didn’t say a word, but Honor didn’t have to ask again.
The way her kids relied on each other was one good thing to come out of her messy divorce. They weren’t just siblings anymore. They were best friends. Best friends who had no idea what was happening. It was possible Matt’s replacement family was here—in the waiting room—families did that when things like this happened.
Coming face-to-face with his fiancée, Amber; her megawatt smile; and her killer legs wasn’t going to make this any easier. Neither was meeting Matt’s son, Jack—the baby Nick blamed for destroying their happy family. As much as she’d like to think Nick could keep it together, there were no guarantees. When it came to his father, Nick was equal parts hostility and resentment. The potential for reality-television drama in the hospital waiting room was a real concern.
But if the last two years had taught her anything, it was that a smile was normally the best accessory. Even when the last thing she felt like doing was smiling. Like now.
“Is that Dr. Murphy?” Nick asked.
Felicity glanced at the man at the nurses’ station. At well over six feet, Graham Murphy stood out. Seeing his tall, broad back encased in green hospital scrubs was a relief. While the two of them hadn’t been close the last few years, Graham and Matt had been best friends through med school and partners when Matt still had his OB/GYN practice here in Pecan Valley. “Graham?”
“Yes?” Graham Murphy turned to face them, instant recognition easing his features—briefly. His brown gaze searched hers. “Felicity.” That was all. Her name, without a hint of emotion.
But he was having a hard time making eye contact with the kids, and that said so much. If Matt was okay, he’d say so. Wouldn’t he? He’d offer some sort of reassurance. A smile. Something. The shock of the phone call was quickly turning into something substantial—and cold.
“I got a phone call? About Matt.” Maybe he didn’t know anything. Maybe—
“I’ll take you to him.” He cleared his throat, drew in a deep breath, and spoke. “He’s going to surgery. His jaw is broken, so talking isn’t comfortable. He’s in bad shape, a lot of pain, but he held on to see you. Keep it positive—good thoughts, that sort of thing, okay?”
Honor was nodding, tears streaming down her face. Felicity wiped them away, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Nick. Poor Nick. She hugged him close, his tall frame rigid and unyielding in her arms. Since the divorce, Nick’s anger had grown every time Matt missed a game, concert, birthday, or holiday. While she understood, she worried Nick’s fury would consume whatever affection he still felt for his father.
Graham looked at her, then nodded, leading them past the nurses’ station and into the emergency room. He stopped beside the last door off the hall.
“What’s best for him? One at a time? All together?” Honor asked.
“Together.” The word was all Nick could manage.
Graham squeezed Nick’s shoulder and went inside. “They’re here, Matt.”
Felicity went first, doing her best not to react to her ex-husband’s appearance. But it was hard. His face was swollen and misshapen, a white gauze ice pack taped to his jaw. He was covered with several blankets, one looked like an inflated packing sheet, and each breath he took was labored and watery. He looked wrecked, in every sense of the word.
Honor immediately headed to her father, but Nick hung back.
“No crying,” Matt said, the words slurred. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So beautiful. S-sorry…missed it. Graduated. I’m so proud. And I love you, baby girl.”
“Don’t talk, Dad.” Honor kissed his cheek. “Mom recorded it all. You can be bored with it later—when you’re better.”
Matt nodded, the movement stiff. “Good.” He was hurting; she could hear it, see it. “Nick?” The word a plea.
Nick crossed the room, hands shoved in pockets, jaw muscle working. “I’m here, Dad.”
Matt reached up, his hand shaking so bad that Nick had no choice but to cradle it in both of his.
Felicity saw her boy’s chin quiver, saw him wrinkle up his nose,
the way his breathing hitched. He’d held on to his resentment for so long, he wasn’t about to lose control now. But seeing him struggle hurt—so much.
“I love you, son.” Matt spoke clearly, enunciating carefully. “I love you both so much.”
“We love you, too, Dad,” Honor said, kissing him again. “You just concentrate on healing thoughts. Good stuff. Fast cars and ice cream and puppies and—”
A nurse came in, effectively shooing the kids away while pulling the rails up on his bed. “It’s time, Dr. Buchanan.”
“One second,” Matt said. “Felicity.”
Felicity jumped. “Yes?”
Matt waited until they were alone before speaking. His gaze pinned hers, and his voice wavered. “Amber’s dead. Jack.” His face crumpled. “And Jack…”
Her heart stopped. “Matt, I—”
“He’s alone, Felicity.” His blue eyes bore into hers. “Please…” He pressed his head back into his pillows, closing his eyes. “Take him.” It was a gruff whisper. “Love him.”
She stepped closer, hating the crush of air from her lungs. “He needs you, Matt.” She leaned over him. “You’re his father.”
His gaze burned. “I’m a doctor; I know what’s happening. This is it.” He spoke calmly, even as his eyes glistened. “I’m asking you to care for my son.”
“Matt…” Felicity stared at him through horrible, painful tears. “Fight. You hear me?”
“Please, Filly.” He grabbed her arm. “Please.”
She squeezed his hand. “I promise I will. You promise you’ll fight.”
He nodded once, relaxing against the mattress.
“We’re going now, Dr. Buchanan.” The nurse brushed past her, kicking off the brake on the hospital bed.
Felicity trailed behind, numb.
“He will be okay,” Honor said, taking her hand. “He’s so fit and healthy. He’s going to be fine.”
Felicity squeezed her hand, unable to shake the dread seeping into her bones. She wanted to believe that was true. But the look on Matt’s face… “How long will the surgery take?” she asked Graham.
“It depends. A while.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I can call you if you want to go home?”
Honor shook her head. “We’re staying, right, Mom?”
She nodded. “Nick?”
Nick was still staring at the doors they’d wheeled Matt through. “We can stay.”
“Want to see Jack?” Graham asked.
“Jack?” Felicity frowned. “He’s here? Matt said they were leaving him home with a babysitter.” This wasn’t a place for a baby. Especially now. Her heart ached for the little boy. For Amber. And for Matt.
Graham stared at her. “Jack…he was in the car, too.”
Felicity stared at Graham, sinking further into despair. “He was?”
“Oh my God.” Honor covered her mouth, bursting into tears then. “Is Amber with him? Poor little guy’s got to be freaking out.”
Graham looked at her but didn’t say a word.
“Is he hurt?” Felicity asked.
“He’s in a coma—sustained some head trauma,” Graham said. “His right femur is broken and there’s a lot of scrapes and bruises. But children are amazingly resilient.”
“Amber can sit with him.” Nick shoved his hands into his pockets, shooting a look at Honor.
“No, she can’t.” Felicity shook her head.
“Yes, she can,” Nick argued. “He’s her kid. Her problem. Not yours.”
“Nick, he’s your brother,” Honor argued.
“No, he’s not,” Nick shot back.
“Nick.” Felicity faced her son. “He is your half brother.” She touched Nick’s cheek. “And he needs us right now. Amber died in the crash.” She pulled Honor close, trying to hug them both—but Nick stayed stiff. “That little boy has no one in the world except your dad. And us.”
Nick stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head.
“I could use some coffee,” Graham said. “Anyone else?”
“Yes, please, Graham. Thank you.” Felicity looked at the man who’d once been one of her closest friends. “And thank you for being here.”
“Jack’s around the corner.” Graham nodded. “Nick, walk with me?”
“Come on, Mom.” Honor held her hand out. On her daughter’s face she saw everything that was churning inside of her. Fear, determination, sadness, and the need to do something so the horror of the night wouldn’t bring her to her knees.
…
Graham glanced at his daughter, Diana, sitting in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. The thick black eye makeup she wore ran in tracks down her cheeks, her chin rested on her knees, and her earbuds were—as always—plugged in. She was mad at him—as always. This time, he’d been the asshole who was stopping her from having a life. Meaning he wasn’t letting her drive five hours away with a bunch of kids he didn’t know to listen to a band called Broken Souls.
She saw him, saw Nick, and wiped her cheeks. His first instinct was to go to her, to hug her, to comfort her. But she’d already told him what he could do with his instincts. Nothing like hearing your daughter tell you to screw off to warm the cockles of your heart.
“Coffee?” he asked Nick.
Nick shook his head, pacing back and forth while Graham fed coins into the coffee machine.
“Soda?” he asked.
Nick shook his head again, rolling his shoulders.
“Candy bar?”
Nick stopped, leveling him with a hard look. “I’m good.”
He doubted that. And while the boy had every right to be upset, something told Graham it went deeper. Before his wife had died, before Matt had deserted his family, before his and Matt’s practice had disintegrated, he’d known Nick well. Holidays, birthdays, summer cookouts, vacations—the Murphys and Buchanans had been close. And then life had taken a rapid nosedive, his world splintering into pieces so small there was nothing recognizable left. He glanced at Diana again, her too-skinny frame turned away from them as she held on to this latest grief with every fiber of her being.
She believed she was a ‘magnet for bad-luck’. From her grandparents to her pets to her mother, Diana’s life did appear to be one long strand of miserable pearls. And now, tonight.
She didn’t care about Matt Buchanan. In fact, she thought the “cheating sack of shit deserved what he got.” Di was very good at lashing out when she was angry—using words like a machine gun. But his daughter’s temper fit tonight had nothing to do with Matt and everything to do with Graham’s attempt at parenting. According to her, he was intentionally trying to sabotage her relationship with some boy who was also going to the concert. Until she’d thrown that in his face, he hadn’t even known the kid existed. But once he had, he’d dragged her to the hospital with him so she couldn’t sneak out and go anyway. He had enough to worry about without her pulling a disappearing act.
Nick paced in front of him, his sigh of frustration so heavy and sharp, Graham could almost feel it. He didn’t know what to say. Diana had taught him he wasn’t very good at talking. Or listening. But she was a teenage girl. And teenage boys were an altogether different sort of animal. “Ready?” he asked, holding Felicity’s coffee in one hand, his in the other.
Nick looked at him, rolling his shoulders again. Clearly, he was not ready.
“You’re going to be a junior next year?” Graham asked, sipping on his coffee.
Nick nodded.
“Still playing football?”
“Sucking at it, but yeah.”
Graham smiled, assessing the boy. He was tall, over six feet, and spare—more long-distance runner than linebacker. Imagining Nick buried beneath kids bigger and bulkier made Graham wince mentally. “I doubt that,” he said.
Nick shot him a look. “Come to a game next fall. See for yours
elf.”
“Okay,” Graham agreed.
Nick glanced around the room. “That Diana?”
Graham nodded.
“She okay?”
Graham shrugged. “She’s having a rough night.” Considering what Nick was facing, his daughter’s hysterics and drama over not getting her way were embarrassing. She was upset over a concert. Nick was upset over the possible death of his father.
Nick’s laugh was hard, forced, and angry. “Seems to be going around.”
“She’s going to be at Pecan Valley High School this fall.” She’d been kicked out of St. Thomas Catholic school for smoking in the bathroom. Pot. Because smoking cigarettes wasn’t edgy enough.
“Freshman?”
“Sophomore,” he murmured, staring at his daughter.
“I always thought she was way younger than me,” Nick said. “Maybe I will get a soda.”
Graham fed some change into the soda machine.
“She’s into the whole goth-grunge thing, huh?” Nick asked. “That’s new.”
Graham didn’t argue. It was new for Nick. But Diana had been wearing smudged eyeshadow, poking holes in her lip, and listening to music that sounded like animals being disemboweled for almost two years now. “I’m hoping it’s a phase.”
Nick took the soda. “Thanks.”
Graham smiled. “I should get this coffee to your mom. You don’t have to come—”
“I do,” Nick argued. “She’s acting all strong, but I know she’s not. Dad’s made a career out of pulverizing her heart into mush for a while now.”
Personally, Graham agreed 100 percent. But Matt Buchanan was fighting for his life right now, so it didn’t seem like the right time to say as much. “Here.” He handed the extra cup of coffee to the boy.
Nick peered into the cup. “She likes cream.”
Graham glanced around the stark, institutional cafeteria. The serving line was closed, no sign of cream or sugar packets to be found. “Well, that sucks.”
“She’ll probably drink it,” Nick said.
Graham glanced at Diana again, but she stayed as she was, facing away from him, so he followed Nick from the cafeteria and back to the ER to be informed that Jack had been moved to the ICU.
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