by Mignon Mykel
William chuckles and shrugs. “I had a pretty strong hunch that your father was involved in some shady things after that incident. I kept tabs on you. When I heard the local vo-tech school had a program for future farmers, I put in the request. Made contact with your uncle and arranged to bring you here. At the time, your uncle seemed to think it was a good idea not to bring up the accident since you’d been doing so well. And to be honest with you, it never crossed my mind again. But Garrett, we meant what we said - we didn’t bring you here because you owe us anything. I wanted you here so that I knew you were taken care of and away from whatever it was your father was into.”
“I’m not really sure what to say,” I admit. I want to believe what William’s just said, but I’ve been blaming myself for twenty-six years, that’s a hard thing to just turn off.
“You don’t have to say a thing. Go on up to the house and get yourself a bite to eat if you want, then take the day for yourself. Christ knows you’ve earned it.” Neville tells me.
“I can’t do that. We do need to talk about my paycheck for this week, though. See, someone’s been doing some of my work. She needs to be paid for it.” Instead of worrying about me, I change the subject to Lindsey.
“You think I don’t already know that? There’s not much that happens around here that I don’t know about,” Neville chuckles. “She’s earning a paycheck too, and no, I’m not docking yours. Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the other stuff you’ve been doing around here with the few extra minutes Lindsey’s mucking stalls has afforded you.”
“Speaking of Lindsey,” William nudges me. “Was there something else you wanted to tell us? Maybe about those donations you made to her sponsorship.”
“We all donated,” I quickly defend.
“Yeah, everyone did. That’s not what I’m asking.”
I look between the two men and contemplate my next sentence.
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Kevin busts open the office door and waltzes in. “Put the damn man out of his misery already. Garrett, they already know about you and Lindsey. They’re not the least bit surprised either. Are you?” He looks at his father and grandfather.
Neville and William both burst into laughter.
“I swear I planned to talk with both of you. I wanted to tell you both straight up how I felt for her. I was going to vow to stay away from Lindsey if you didn’t approve, though since we’re all being honest - I don’t know that I can. I’m in love with her.”
“I knew it!” Neville whoops.
William smirks. “Son, you just cost me $20.”
“What is it with you people? Y’all took a bet on me?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“We all knew Lindsey had feelings for you, and then you went and looked at her like she hung the moon. We just wondered how long it would take you to come to us. How far she’d push you before you gave in.” William says through his laughter.
“Meanwhile, I was worried you two would kill me,” I grumble.
“Treat her right and don’t give us a reason to,” Nevile adds.
“Christ, the three of you are all the same.” I look at Kevin, who shrugs back at me.
Neville stands and taps on the desk. “What do you say we go see what the ladies have cooked up this morning?”
“I should have taken that vacation day.”
“Too late now, Garrett. You’ve got work to do,” William claps me on the back.
“From here on out, you tell us if you need something. No more bullshit. Christ knows I can’t take Harriet being pissed at me for being an insensitive jerk.” Neville says before shaking my hand. “And Goddamnit, don’t you dare call me, Sir.”
Epilogue
Lindsey
“Do you believe me now?” I ask Garrett while resting my head on his chest.
We’re sitting under the stars and listening to the crickets chirp while the fire crackles in the firepit at the creek.
“Linds, I never expected anyone to be so calm about any of this. Hell, I haven’t been calm about it.”
I poke his side and pull the blanket tighter around me. “Maybe we are the ones who aren’t who you thought we were and not the other way around. Seems to me like we knew the real you all along.”
“It’s not like that. I swear. I know your family is good people. I do.”
“I know. The mind is a funny thing. It can convince us of a lot of things and they’re not all pretty.”
“But you are,” he smiles down at me.
“Good one,” I lean up and kiss his lips.
“So, are you still going to Georgia and New York next week?”
Olivia Pheonix and her husband sound like the real deal. They invited me to visit both locations of the therapy centers that Olivia oversees. We both thought it was vital for me to see first hand what her vision was and how the space was laid out.
“I am. I’m pretty excited.”
“What do you think about taking a plus one? I’ll cover my expenses, of course.”
I shift in his lap. “You want to come with me and check things out?”
“Sure. Why not? I’ll understand if this is something you want to do on your own. Totally.”
“No. I’d love it if you came with me. I won’t be busy every day and we can have a little time for ourselves. To really catch up and get to know one another as Lindsey and Garrett, without my family pushing us together,” I giggle.
Now that things are out in the open, I’m pretty sure Grams is already planning our wedding.
“I like that idea.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Are you going to be able to take this on and keep up training for Team USA?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I could hire people to help out and run things when I’m not around, especially if we have revenue coming in. Besides, it’s going to take time to get this off the ground, so I suppose I’ve got time. This meeting with Olivia and Jameson isn’t a done deal sort of thing. It’s just the next step right now. I’m not really sure Team USA is really right for me anyway.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean? It’s a pretty big deal, Miss Gold Medalist.”
“It is a big deal, but I always felt like I didn’t belong there. It’s...too big, for me if that makes sense. It takes a lot to chase that dream and while I’ll forever be thankful for the opportunity, I’m not sure it’s really my dream. This, helping others, being here, this is what I want.”
“I only want you to do what makes you happy.”
“Right now, going back to your place would make me really happy.” I give him a kiss, making my intentions crystal clear.
Garrett stands quickly, almost dropping me and laughs. “Well, then let’s go!”
He slides me onto the seat of the four-wheeler and I pull him in for another. “Hey, Garrett.”
“Hm.”
“I love you.”
He grins and kisses me back. “I love you, too, Pony Princess.”
To be continued...
Thank you so much for reading Making the Leap! I hope you loved the beginning of Garrett and Lindsey’s story and their happy for now. Stay tuned for their happily ever after in the full-length novel (Still To Be Titled) in the Addington Ranch Series, coming this fall.
If you’d love to get to know Olivia and Jameson - check out Love Under Construction, part of the reader favorite, 425 Madison Series!
About Aubree Valentine
Aubree Valentine began her book world career back in 2016 as a virtual assistant for a friend/author and as a book blogger. While working with authors, PR companies and fellow bloggers, she fell even more in love with the Indie community and decided to launch her own small scale PR company where she continued to hone her skills as a virtual assistant to several authors and studied the ins and outs of what it takes to help succeed in the industry.
In early 2019, during an intense strategy session with one of her favorite author friends, they decided to join forces and take over the world. Or at least combine their know-how a
nd strengths when it comes to all things publishing, for the greater good, and therefore launched Forever Write PR, LLC.
Aubree doesn't always hang out behind the scenes, though and has put her business knowledge to good use for herself as well. Her first book, Take Back My Heart, released in the fall of 2016, with its follow up - Come Back to Me launching a year later.
When she's not working with her partner in crime, you can find her penning fun and flirty stories about all of her imaginary and very smexy alphas. This includes her current and most popular series, Too Hot To Handle.
Aubree has a degree in sarcasm and resides in Pennsylvania. She enjoys reading, chasing after her twins and her three furbabies, cuddling with her husband, and coming up with new project ideas that often involve power tools.
She's usually always online via Facebook or Instagram @authoraubreevalentine.
www.aubreevalentine.org
Also by Aubree Valentine
Too Hot to Handle Series
Hot Cop
Cop Tease
Strip Search
Cop Blocked
Covert Affair – Coming Soon
Wild Fire – Coming Soon
425 Madison Series
Love Under Construction
Love Under Protection
Love Under Discretion - Coming Soon
Susan Stoker’s Badge of Honor World
Justice for Danielle
Anthologies
Rocked to the Core
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Long Shot
Jennifer Bonds
Wes
Why the hell did I ever agree to this? I rake a hand through my hair and scan the tiny art studio. There aren’t a lot of guys in the class and I’m clearly the only one without a date. Which makes sense, because, not to be sexist or whatever, but how many twenty-three-year-old dudes sign up for Spritz & Splatter solo?
Just the one, asshole.
Right. At least I was able to get a seat in the back. Just me and my wineglass living la vida loca.
My gaze settles on the canvas propped up at the front of the room and I cringe when I see the sample painting for tonight’s workshop. If my teammates find out about this, I’ll never live it down. Because tonight, instead of scaling Anarchy Wall, I’m staring down a glass mason jar surrounded by tall grass and fireflies.
Fucking fireflies.
Not that it really matters since I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. It could be paint by number and I’d probably screw it up. Climbing is the only thing I’ve ever been good at and if it weren’t for my mother strong-arming me into this class, that’s what I’d be doing right now.
Restless energy barrels through my limbs and I flex my fingers instinctively.
The class hasn’t even started and I’m already jonesing for the adrenaline rush that comes from working through a technical climb or solving an intense boulder problem. I’d bail if I could get away with it, but Beaumont’s a small town. If I duck out now, my mom will hear about it before her head hits the pillow tonight. For all I know, she’s got spies in the class watching me.
So, yeah. I’m stuck. Stuck in this class. Stuck in Beaumont.
For the summer, anyway.
A summer I’d planned to spend halfway around the world, competing for glory in Tokyo and bringing home the gold for Team USA. Instead, I’ve got another twelve months standing between me and my dream. Which is probably why Mom thought this whole Indie Week thing was a good idea.
But it’s not like I’m crying in my Cheerios. I’m fine. Totally chill.
It sucks balls the Summer Games have been postponed, but now I’ve got twelve extra months to sharpen my skills. I’ll be a well-rounded triple threat by the time I touch down in Tokyo.
I rub my chest, a familiar itch taking root. I know my parents are worried about me putting my life on hold for another year, but this is my dream and I’ll go full-send to make it come true. Because when I’m climbing? It’s just me and the rock. It’s all about handholds and angles and pushing myself to be the best.
Besides, I’ve got plenty of time to figure out the rest of my life—after I climb the Olympic podium.
I can already picture the gold medal, feel the weight of it around my neck, hear the opening chords of the national anthem.
Cocky? Maybe. But I learned a long time ago that the key to success—and climbing—is visualization. You’ve got to know where you’re going and how you’re going to get there.
And me? I want to be the best. I won’t settle for anything less.
The bells above the studio door jangle and a blonde sails in, her yellow sundress billowing around her. Everyone in the room turns to stare, myself included, as a crimson flush spreads over her cheeks. She ducks her head and gives the instructor a hurried apology as her gaze sweeps the room. She stares longingly at the front row, which filled up nearly twenty minutes ago, and heaves a resigned sigh.
I smirk. A proper overachiever knows you have to show up early to score a front row seat.
“Perfect! Now that we’re all here, we can get started,” the instructor says, slipping a paint-splattered apron over her head. She gestures for the newcomer to take a seat, pointing to the only empty stool, which happens to be at the back of the studio, directly to my left.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
The blonde squares her shoulders and plows forward like she’s on a mission. She makes it two steps before she loses her footing and stumbles ass over teakettle. At the last second, her hands shoot out, breaking her fall, and she lands on the hardwood floor with a thud.
The room falls silent.
We all watch as she blinks slowly and runs her hands over the floorboards, realizing too late her flowy skirt is bunched around her waist. I avert my eyes, but apparently the asshole in the front row doesn’t offer the same courtesy and his date savagely elbows him in the ribs. The instructor rushes over to help, but before she can so much as ask if the late arrival is okay, the blonde has climbed to her feet and straightened her skirt. She forces a megawatt smile and starts down the aisle like this sort of thing happens every day.
Shit. For all I know, maybe it does.
“Welcome to Spritz & Splatter,” the instructor says, projecting her voice over the whispers spreading like wildfire through the small space. Typical Beaumont. “I’m Autumn and this is my studio. Before we get started, I want to thank each of you for supporting Indie Week and small business owners like myself.”
She goes on to explain the project, but I’m only half listening. I’m more interested in the woman sashaying toward me, eyes fixed straight ahead, hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves. She passes under the bright lights of the studio, her sandstone hair shimmering like the Fountain at sunrise, and God help me, I can’t help but notice the way her tits bounce a little with each step. She’s hot, no doubt about it, and totally my type.
If you ignore the fact that she’s out of my league.
Everything about her—the neatly styled hair, the prim little cardigan, the perfectly manicured nails—suggests she enjoys serious relationships, meeting the parents, and a little thing called stability.
It’s just as well since I need to stay focused on my training. I haven’t had a girlfriend pretty much ever—too distracting—but it’s not like I’m afraid of commitment. I’m totally committed…to climbing.
“Is this seat taken?” the blonde asks as she reaches the back row. Her eyes rake over me, assessing. They’re blue, like a summer sky, and up close, I can see the light dusting of freckles that spread over the bridge of her pert little nose.
I flash h
er a cocky grin, because why the hell not? “It’s all yours.”
She rolls her eyes and slides onto the stool, using the bottom rung to boost herself up. “How magnanimous of you.”
Magnani-wha?
Who the hell talks like that? No one in the climbing world, that’s for damn sure. I give her another quick once-over. And sure enough, despite the fact that she sounds like a Boomer, we’re about the same age. Further proof she’s out of my league, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.
After all, for the next two hours, we’re stuck with each other.
Skylar
Welcome to Beaumont, a small town with a big heart! (And even bigger gossips.)
I climb onto my stool like a cat scaling a damn tree and silently curse furniture made for giants, the douche in the front row who tried to look at my ass, and the universe for giving me yet another taste of small-town humiliation. Seriously. I must’ve been a bad bitch in a previous life because what the actual fuck just happened?
Aside from flashing half the class your hot pink thong?
I glare down at the broken heel of my left sandal—the one that snapped and sent me sprawling—and drag in a steadying breath as the instructor explains the piece we’ll be painting.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
Not exactly my best entrance, but like my gram always said, what’s done is done. It’s not the first time this town has whispered about the Jones family and I doubt it’ll be the last. As for the shoe, I can probably superglue it later. Money’s tight and I don’t have the luxury of a disposable wardrobe, but even if I did, they’re my favorite sandals. One way or another, I’ll find a way to salvage them.
Later.
Tonight I’ve got bigger mountains to climb, like ensuring Indie Week gets off to a good start. The event is my brainchild—my first solo project since joining the Chamber of Commerce—and it has to be a rousing success. Not only to boost sales for Beaumont’s small business owners, who’ve had an especially challenging year, but to prove to the ladies at the COC they made the right decision hiring me. Because despite the fact that I’ve been working my ass off for the last six months, they still have lingering doubts.
