FIVE⁕MORE⁕MINUTES
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FIVE*MORE*MINUTES
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♦ THE ♦SISTERS ♦QUARTET ♦CHRISTMAS ♦
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MARY J. WILLIAMS
© 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Mary J. Williams.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the Copyright owner and publisher of this book.
First E-book Printing, 2018
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Writing isn't easy. But I love every second. A blank screen isn't the enemy. It is an opportunity to create new friends and take them on amazing adventures and life-changing journeys. I feel blessed to spend my days weaving tales that are unique—because I made them.
Billionaires. Songwriters. Artists. Actors. Directors. Stuntmen. Football players. They fill the pages and become dear friends I hope you will want to revisit again and again.
Thank you for jumping into my books and coming along for the journey.
HOW TO GET IN TOUCH
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Please visit me at these sites, sign up for my newsletter or leave a message.
http://www.maryjwilliams.net/
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-j-williams
https://www.facebook.com/maryjwilliamsauthor/?ref=hl
https://twitter.com/maryjwilliams05
https://www.pinterest.com/maryj0675/
https://www.instagram.com/2015romance/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5648619.Mary_J_Williams
MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS
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Harper Falls Series
If I Loved You
If Tomorrow Never Comes
If You Only Knew
If I Had You (Christmas in Harper Falls)
Hollywood Legends Series
Dreaming With a Broken Heart
Dreaming With My Eyes Wide Open
Dreaming Again
Dreaming of a White Christmas
(Caleb and Callie's story)
One Pass Away Series
After the Rain
After All These Years
After the Fire
Hart of Rock and Roll
Flowers on the Wall
Flowers and Cages
Flowers are Red
Flowers for Zoe
Flowers in Winter
WITH ONE MORE LOOK AT YOU
One Strike Away
For a Little While
For Another Day
For All We Know
For the First Time
The Sisters Quartet
One Way or Another
Two of a Kind
Three Wishes
Four Simple Words
Coming in 2019
Six Days (The Sisters Quartet Wedding)
Almost Paradise
ROCK AND ROLL FOREVER BOOK ONE
(A Hart of Rock and Roll Spin-Off Series)
May the love and joy of the holidays stay in your heart all year long.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HOW TO GET IN TOUCH
MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
PROLOGUE
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SNOW FELL FROM the darkening sky in thick, white sheets.
Cold, wet, and close to tears, Olivia Shore realized she made a mistake. A huge, glaring, no going back misfire of mistake.
She wasn't dressed for the cold. Wrong coat, no gloves, no hat and shoes better suited for a hike up a well-worn mountain path than a trek through a forest blanketed by over a foot of powdery flakes of frozen water.
A smart person would have stayed in the safety of her vehicle when the car slid into a ditch. On the other hand, a smart person with little experience behind the wheel never would have been on the icy road in the first place.
Funny how someone with a superhuman I.Q. could let anger and stubborn pride override something as simple as common sense.
Olivia slapped her hands together and came to a halt, eyes wide, when she felt nothing. She wiggled her fingers, snapped them several times. Numb. No, if her guess was right, they were close to lifeless. Worse, her feet were in the same condition.
She might not know from personal experience how hypothermia felt, but she knew the symptoms. The book she once read on medical maladies was etched into her perfect, photographic memory. For once, Olivia wished for the comfort of ignorance.
Soon, the numbness would travel up her arms and legs until her body's temperature matched the frigid cold around her. She would fall, unable to move. Snow would cover her inert body as something like sleep overcame her. By the time someone found her—around the first spring thaw—she would be long dead.
Go back, the still-vibrant voice in Olivia's head urged. Great advice if she could figure out which way was back. Disoriented, she turned in a slow circle. Visibility was down to almost nothing. If she squinted, she could see the nose on her face but just barely.
The world had turned into a white nothingness. Olivia would have given in to despair if she hadn't been too tired to cry or chastise herself further. A city girl to her core, she had little outdoor experience save one less-than-enjoyable trip to summer camp. Other than how to make a birdhouse from used popsicle sticks, the only thing she learned was that moss mostly grew on the north side of a tree—if located in the northern hemisphere—and to always check for ticks before going to bed.
Neither bit of wisdom did her a bit of good in blizzard conditions.
Olivia wasn't a fly by the seat of her pants kind of person. She was a plan maker, a list follower, a pros and cons debater. If she didn't have a solid set of reasons why she should follow a course of action, she didn't. Logic and research always ruled the day.
Taking a breath, Olivia willed her racing thoughts to settle. She didn't have a computer filled with copious notes to consult. For once, all she could do was let instinct take over.
Keep moving. Obvious, yes. Easy, not so much. Olivia wasn't a fighter by nature. However, if today was the day she died, she refused to give in without throwing at least one last punch.
Head down, Olivia willed her legs to move. Help might be miles away—or right around the next tree. Either way, she wouldn't quit. One step in front of the other. Then one more.
Teeth chattering, her right foot shuffled through the virgin snow but found nothing to land on. The ground beneath her disappeared into thin air. Olivia let out a scream of surprise and seconds later, she tumbled down a hill. Over and over she fell, unable to control the momentum.
Finally, she stopped, not with a gentle oomph, but a sickening thud as her head crashed into a rock.
Hand shaking, Olivia touched her head. Wet she expected, but when her fingers encountered a sticky warmth, she grimaced. Would the scent of blood draw wild animals in the vicinity? Cursing her vivid imagination, her hand fell to the snow.
I'm about to become wolf-chow. An inexplicable, almost happy, smile formed on Olivia's lips as her foggy brain formed one last thought before she lost consciousness.
Funny. I always thought I'd die of boredom.
CHAPTER ONE
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THE CLOCK ON the wall read quarter after three. Too early for the sun to set
even in late December. As always, the weather didn't care about the time. The blizzard began just before mid-day, turning the light through the cabin windows to little more than a trickle.
Trey Stanton grumbled as he pulled on his boots. All he wanted to do was sit by the roaring fire, feet up, with a steaming mug liberally doused with enough whiskey to turn the coffee Irish. A good book to pass the time would be a bright, juicy cherry on top of his perfect afternoon.
Unfortunately, Carmichael had other ideas.
"No doubt who runs the household," Trey sighed as his gaze met a pair of big brown eyes. "Can't decide if our meeting was the best or worst day of my life."
The coal-black, hundred-and twenty-five-pound dog with a mix of breeds only his parents could testify to, tipped his head to one side as if to tell Trey they both knew the answer to his question.
Until Carmichael came along, Trey was happy with his mostly solitary life. As a man in charge of over two thousand acres of national park land, he was boss to thirty rangers. However, other than their monthly mandatory meetings, unless an emergency came up, he handled business by text or email.
Days could pass without seeing or conversing with another human being, a fact Trey embraced wholeheartedly. He considered getting a pet, but until the morning he found the badly beaten, half-starved dog on his porch, he never acted on the impulse.
Since no one was stupid enough to come forward to claim the abused animal, Trey figured he would nurse the creature back to health before he found the poor guy a proper home.
By the time the dog's wounds healed and he gained back a good fifty pounds, he wasn't going anywhere except the specially built, brand-spanking-new, backyard doghouse.
Not that the newly named Carmichael appreciated his new digs. He decided early on that he preferred to live inside, plain and simple. Trey knew he should have put his foot down, but what was the point? From day one, the dog wrapped his master around his paw.
Luckily, Trey's new friend turned out to be the perfect roommate. Carmichael never hogged the bathroom, he ate whatever was put in front of him, and slept in the mudroom, never on Trey's bed.
Most of the time, Trey was happy to let Carmichael out on his own. He could count on the dog to do his business well away from the house and never wander off. Blizzard conditions were different. If something happened and he wasn't around to help, he would never forgive himself.
Trey took a black knit cap from the top drawer of his dresser. Rubbing his freshly shaved chin, he glanced in the mirror. He peered closer, still not used to his new look. Or rather, his old look, newly returned.
For over a decade, he hid behind a full beard, his hair shaggy, shoulder-length, and dyed a nondescript brown. Though the need for anonymity was long over, he kept the look more out of habit than necessity.
The reason for the change was right in front of him.
Smiling, his dark eyes moved from the mirror to the row of framed photographs that lined the top of the solid but worn bureau. For an only child who grew up with a gentle, easily cowed mother, and a verbally abusive father, he somehow managed, through no fault of his own, to acquire a big, unwieldy, wonderfully loving family.
Loud, and unabashedly Irish, the Stanton clan took him in when he needed them most. They gave him a place to heal, a place to grow, a place to call home. They treated him as one of their own. For the first time in his life, Trey felt accepted for who he was, instead of pressured to be the type of man his father expected.
When Trey decided to become a park ranger, a solitary existence far away in the relative wilds of Washington State, they didn't try to change his mind. If he was happy, they were happy. Any wonder, when given the chance, he turned his back on the name he was born with and became, heart and soul, a Stanton?
The need to change his years of status quo didn't happen overnight. However, Trey could pinpoint with absolute certainty the moment he began to journey outside his self-imposed cocoon. Though he couldn't know at the time, the day he met the Benedict sisters, there was no going back.
Trey's smile widened to a grin as his gaze shifted from his family across the ocean to the one across the country.
Andi, Calder, Bryce, and Destry. Alone, they were forces of nature. Together, they were like a tidal wave, and he, an unsuspecting island. Over the last year, they pulled him into their orbit until he was well and truly trapped in their velvet web. Not that he wanted to get away. Only a fool would complain when the web was woven by four such beautiful, charming women.
Trey might be a recluse, but he was not a fool.
"Arf."
Carmichael's bark and sound as his tail whopped an impatient beat on the hardwood floor pulled Trey from his reverie.
"You remember when Destry and Liam visited last summer?"
The big dog's tail increased its loud tattoo. Liam always brought a treat and knew the exact spot to scratch behind Carmichael's floppy ears. He couldn't know the bond between his master and the other man ran deep. Roommates at an exclusive East Coast boarding school, they became friends before they became brothers. When Trey hit rock bottom, Liam saved his life—literally.
As for Destry, the love of Liam's life, the curvy brunette made a lasting impression. On Trey and his dog.
"She invited us to spend New Year's Eve in New York at the Benedict family mansion." Trey laughed when Carmichael whined his approval. "Sure. You love to go visiting. Me, not so much."
Trey knelt, smoothing the hair away from the dog's eyes.
"Liam will send his private jet, so you wouldn't have to endure a long commercial flight trapped in a crate." The idea made Trey shudder for his unsuspecting canine friend. "You'll be fine. Not sure about myself."
New York was Trey's hometown, born and raised. He couldn't say the city was filled with warm and fuzzy memories, just the opposite. However, he was past the point where he placed blame. No longer a weak—physically and mentally—easily intimidated boy, he was a man who found a way to put the past behind him. But he refused to forget.
Trey knew how important memories were, both good and bad. He reached a place where he could look back without rancor—mostly—while he enjoyed the present and looked with interest toward the future.
"New Year's in New York. Think we should go?" Sagely, Carmichael seemed to nod. Trey let out a bark of laughter. "No offense, but something tells me I need to spend a little more time around some two-footed mammals. Any day now, you'll start to talk, and the men in white coats will lock me away in a padded cell."
After he tossed another log on the fire and closed the protective glass and metal doors as a precaution against wayward sparks, Trey zipped his jacket and pulled on a pair of insulated gloves.
The snow was still coming down hard—harder if he were any judge. Worst winter storm in twenty years according to the local television station. Well before his time, Trey thought as he opened the front door and stood aside for an excited Carmichael. The black dog jumped off the porch in one leaping bound and disappeared into a bank of white.
Unconcerned, Trey leaned against a hand-hewn post, arms crossed and waited. A few seconds later, Carmichael reappeared, not the least bit fazed. Snow clung to his furry face, his tongue lolled to one side, while his bark—loud and deep—called for Trey to join in the fun.
"Thirty minutes," Trey warned. "Run and play to your heart's content. But in a half hour, if you haven't taken care of your bathroom business, you'll have to cross your legs until morning."
Trey snorted, partly because his nostrils were plugged with snow, mostly because he knew the warning was nothing but hot air. They had an agreement. Carmichael never peed or pooped in the house, and Trey never made him wait when nature called—even at three in the morning on the coldest night of the year.
"Laugh all you want," Trey groused. "My balls aren't protected by a layer of fur."
Carmichael shot him an accusatory look.
"Fine," Trey conceded as side by side, they plowed th
rough the snow-laden driveway toward the forest. "I'm the only one who still has his balls. But the principle is the same. Cold is cold, my friend, testicles or no testicles."
Absolute quiet surrounded them—if he didn't count the sound of Carmichael snuffling as he used his nose to burrow through every interesting mound he came upon. Trey tuned out the dog and let himself enjoy the sensation that he was the only person left in the world.
The elements had a way of humbling a man—or woman.
Earthquakes could level whole cities, tsunamis could do the same. In minutes, a torrential rainstorm could flood a previously drought-stricken area. And, like now, record amounts of snow could tumble buildings and knock out cell phone service.
Technology, no matter how advanced, was no match when Mother Nature decided to even the playing field.
Not so long ago, Trey welcomed the solitude of winter. His job didn't require much of him in the months when bears hibernated, and plants lay dormant. Lately, he felt a restlessness, a need deep inside for more.
Trey needed a change. What and how—the exact details—were something he would have to spend the rest of the season thinking about. Come spring, he was determined to have the answer.
Stopping, Trey realized because of his musings, he and Carmichael were farther from the cabin than he intended to go. Though he knew every inch of the forest like the back of his hand, in whiteout conditions, even the most experienced outdoorsman could lose his way and quickly become disoriented.
For now, Trey could still see his footprints. In a few minutes, the path would be obliterated by the rapidly falling snow. He'd learned many things during his years as a park ranger. Number one on the list? Always err on the side of caution.