by Liz Isaacson
More of his tension bled out, and he managed to put a smile on his face. She grinned back at him, and she was so beautiful in the pale yellow bridesmaid dress that all the women wore. She wore flowers in her hair too, and just the right amount of pink lip gloss to make Gray want to be alone with her.
Finally, he pushed away all of the anger and annoyance and was able to enjoy the wedding.
Just in time too, because Ames’s dogs started down the aisle, completely unassisted.
Rosco led the way, completely decked out in a tuxedo coat and a matching bow tie. She seemed to know exactly when to step to be in time to the music, and she never tried to run to Ames.
He held out his palm, and the dog sat. Florence came next, and Gray wanted to give Hutch to him to get the dog trained up right. Elise loved the silver doodle, and Gray did too. Hutch just needed a firmer hand, and Gray worked the farm a lot while she was home with Jane.
She spent a lot of time with his mother and father too, and Gray tried to keep his finger on the pulse of how Elise was doing with regards to that, because he didn’t want her to feel like she had to entertain his parents.
They’d started talking about having another baby, though Jane wasn’t even two yet. Honestly, Gray wasn’t sure he could handle another baby right now. His fifteen-year-old was going to be the death of him.
He looked at Hunter, and his son looked so…happy. Gray wished Hunter would look at him so Gray could somehow telepathically apologize for how he’d been acting.
He’d tell him afterward.
In that moment, Hunter looked at him, and Gray reached up and touched his palm to his heart. It said everything he needed to say, and Hunter did the same.
Relief filled Gray, and he was so grateful for his son. He’d been blessed beyond measure when that boy had come into his life, and Gray clapped with everyone else as the last dog joined the wedding party at the altar.
He looked to the end of the aisle, and Sophia stood there, on the arm of Cy, and Gray’s gaze flew to her father. He was facing away from Gray, so he couldn’t judge how the man felt.
No matter what, Gray didn’t want to miss out on a single moment of his children’s lives, and while he knew family relationships could be complicated, he silently vowed right then and there to forgive—himself and others—so that he could have the family unit that shared everything.
Cy Hammond felt a bit foolish walking down the aisle for a second time, but both Sophia and Ames had asked him to be her escort, and he hadn’t known how to say no.
He’d been so angry with Ames, but things changed at Christmastime. His brother had done his best. He’d apologized. He’d made things right.
Cy was still working on that, and he hated with everything inside him that Patsy had apologized to him. They’d talked about it several times since, and Cy was still talking to his therapist about it too.
He wished he’d been stronger—the way Ames had been when Sophia had tried to apologize to him—so that Patsy hadn’t felt like anything that had happened between them was her fault.
She’d told him to stop obsessing over it. They’d been married for a year now, and he needed to let it go.
He was trying, but sometimes things took a long time to let go of.
He walked steadily toward Ames and the four dogs, smiling for all he was worth. He finally reached the altar and passed Sophia to his twin, then retook his spot between Hunter and Colton.
Ames had said something to Sophia, and he straightened so they could face the pastor together.
Cy couldn’t help watching Patsy, who’d already started crying. She was doing that a lot more lately, because her hormones were all out of whack. She was due with their first baby in February, and they hadn’t told anyone yet.
Not his parents. Not hers. No one.
Cy loved the little secret between them, and he couldn’t wait to see what a child of theirs would look like. She was blonde and blue-eyed, and he was as far from that as someone could get.
“We gather here today,” Pastor Michaels said. “To celebrate the love and lives of Sophia Dawn Cooke and Ames Bryce Hammond.”
Cy listened to the ceremony, thrilled he’d been able to play some small part of it.
He was glad he’d landed in Coral Canyon, and thrilled Ames had finally accepted it as where he was supposed to be too.
God is good, Cy thought, and that idea had helped him through some of the darkest times of his life in the past couple of years.
Ames Hammond heard the words coming from the preacher’s mouth, but they honestly blended all together.
He finally said, “You can kiss your bride, Ames.”
He turned to Sophia, who was laughing and smiling. He drew her into his arms and held her tight before leaning down to kiss her.
“Speak,” Hunter said, and the dogs started barking.
The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ames couldn’t help laughing too. Sophia held onto his shoulders, and he loved the way she made him feel strong and powerful. She made him feel necessary, and he craved that more than anything else.
He turned toward the crowd that had gathered in Coral Canyon that day—mostly people she knew from the lodge and his family—and raised their joined hands.
“We’re having dinner and dancing in the ballroom,” he called above the scattered applause still moving through the room. “Thank you all for coming.”
He was instantly surrounded by his brothers. He hugged them all while Sophia stepped over to her mother to embrace her. Patsy brought the women over, and they hugged and congratulated Sophia.
Ames hugged his mother and said, “I love you.” He embraced his father, and said the same thing to him. He was grateful they made the trip to Coral Canyon as often as they did, and he couldn’t wait to start building his family with Sophia.
Wyatt and Marcy Walker came forward to congratulate them, and Ames really liked the two of them. They’d been back in town for at least a month, and they’d found a different nanny for that summer.
Sometimes, Ames felt guilty for all that Sophia had given up to be with him. When he’d asked her about it, she’d said, “I didn’t give up anything but my pride.”
He loved her beyond comprehension, and he hoped he could be the kind of man she deserved—and wanted.
He couldn’t wait to be done with the celebration. Done with the tuxedo. Done with the people. Then he’d get to be alone with his wife, and there was nothing more enticing to him than that.
He went through all of the motions—the dinner, the cake-cutting, and the first dance. As he swayed with her in his arms, he gazed down at her and said, “I’m the luckiest man in the world. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Ames,” she said, closing her eyes. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, his love and gratitude for her rivaling that which he held for God.
He knew without a shadow of a doubt that God had led Sophia to that drugstore in Three Rivers, over a year ago.
They were simply meant to be, and he kissed her again, beyond grateful that she was now his wife.
Read on for a sneak peek of the Ivory Peaks series, which starts 10 years after this book ends with your favorite Hammond child…Hunter!
That’s right! You can see Hunter and Molly’s forever romance in HIS FIRST LOVE, coming to Kindle Unlimited soon!
THEN, keep reading on for a sneak peek of THE MECHANICS OF MISTLETOE, which begins my next family saga romance series of cowboys - which takes place back in beloved Three Rivers at Shiloh Ridge Ranch.
Remember Bear from the Seven Sons Ranch series? It’s his journey to happily-ever-after! Preorder THE MECHANICS OF MISTLETOE on any retailer now!
I’m so happy Ames and Sophia were able to find their happily-ever-after - with dogs! If you are too please leave a review for it now.
Join Liz’s newsletter for deals, sneak peeks, and more.
Sneak Peek! HIS FIRST LOVE Chapter Two
Hunter Hammond sat down on the bench, the beautiful org
an music filling the chapel, and rested his forearms on his knees. His head bowed, he tried to clear his mind and push all the achy-ness from his muscles.
He closed his eyes and prayed, letting his thoughts move wherever they were wont to go.
“You okay, Hunt?” his dad whispered from down the pew, and Hunter just nodded. He just wanted to sit for a minute. Ponder, and try to rejuvenate before he started full-time at Hammond Manufacturing Company in the morning.
Am I in the right place, Lord? he asked, and the answer came instantly.
Tingles ran down his shoulders and into his fingers, sliding down his spine and all the way to his toes.
Yes, he was in the right place.
Exhaling the last of the tension out of his back, he raised his head and looked up to the pulpit. He’d missed coming to church here for the past seven years as he’d been off at MIT, learning and working and trying anything he thought he wanted to try.
He’d earned his master’s degree in Bioinformatics, which blended computer science with genetics, molecular biology, math, database creation, and operating systems. He loved computers almost as much as he loved crossword puzzles, and as he’d progressed through high school, he’d realized how very good at math and science he was.
The horses and goats on the family farm where he’d grown up and worked until he’d left for college hadn’t cared about his skills with numbers and formulas, but MIT had. He’d earned a full scholarship there that he only came close to losing once.
He glanced down the row, over the tops of three children’s heads. His half-siblings. Really, they felt like his full siblings, and he grinned at the youngest of them, Deacon, a cute five-year-old that finally looked like a Hammond.
“Hunt, look,” the little boy said, and Hunter pulled the dark-haired child onto his lap to look at what he’d been writing.
“It’s your name,” he whispered. “Remember, we have to talk quiet at church.”
“Shh,” Deacon whispered back. “How do you spell your name, Hunter?”
Hunter started to spell it for him, pleased when Deacon knew all the letters and got them all about lined up in a row. “Good job, buddy,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the boy’s head.
“Good morning, friends,” a man said, and Hunter looked up to the pulpit again, where Pastor Benson stood. He’d definitely aged since Hunter had attended church here for the last time, and he had plenty of gray hair now, with wrinkled laugh lines around his eyes.
Hunter loved Pastor Benson—and not just as a pastor. He’d spent a lot of time at the Benson’s house, as he’d dated their oldest daughter for years.
His father hadn’t been pleased with Hunter and Molly’s relationship. Looking back, Hunter could see his dad’s point of view, and he knew that twelve was way too young to start dating.
At the same time, he’d been devastated when Molly had finally ended things between them completely the week before his sophomore year started. Hunter had disappeared for a while that year, and he’d discovered his tenacity and talent for science and math while he hunkered down and tried to figure out who he was.
“We have a lot of visitors today,” Pastor Benson said. “It’s nice to see all the young people home from college.” He beamed out at the congregation, and added, “Let’s stand and sing hymn forty-two.”
Hunter set Deacon on his feet and picked up a hymn book as he stood too. He didn’t count himself as one of the “young people home from college.” He was twenty-five years old and had been living in Massachusetts for years now. He’d graduated a year ago but stayed back East to finish a project he’d founded during his collegiate career.
He’d gotten his two billion dollars on his twenty-first birthday, and he’d done something with it already. Now, he was set to start at HMC in the biometric lab, and his voice scratched on the first note. He recognized the nerves, though his dad had been telling him not to worry. Everyone at HMC knew him; he’d be fine.
Hunter sang the hymn, using the music and the message to once again relieve his rising anxiety. He’d been seeing a therapist for over a decade, and he was glad to be back in the Denver area so he could see Lucy in person. She’d been amazing over the past several years, and he’d been able to do video counseling with her to keep himself mentally strong.
He glanced down as Deacon stepped on his foot, and found his next oldest sibling trying to wrench the pen away from the five-year-old. “Tucker,” Hunter said quietly, and the seven-year-old looked up at him. Hunter shook his head and nodded his cowboy hat toward the front.
Tucker was the middle child of Dad and Elise, and he looked like it. He was half dark and half light, with blonde hair that came from Elise and brown eyes that came from Dad. Beside him stood Jane, a ten-year-old that looked like Dad hadn’t had any part in her creation. She had Elise’s blue eyes and blonde hair, though if Hunter looked further than surface colors, he’d find the Hammond chin and nose on Jane’s face.
She looked at him and smiled, and Hunt smiled back. He’d loved these kids as he’d grown up. He’d left for MIT only a week after Tucker had been born, and he’d come home to hold Deacon for a whole weekend before he had to return to Massachusetts.
The song ended, and Hunter sat down. He reached over and took the pen from Tucker and gave it back to Deacon. Tucker glared at him, and Hunt reached into his breast pocket and pulled out another pen.
He lifted his eyebrows at Tucker, who softened and nodded. Hunter looked at Deacon, his message clear. Tucker leaned over and said, “Sorry, Deac,” and Hunter handed Tucker the pen.
When he looked up, he met his father’s eyes, and Hunter saw so much of himself in his dad. Gray Hammond had grayed too, but he still radiated power from his broad shoulders and strength from his eyes. Dad had been a corporate lawyer for the first twelve years of Hunter’s life, and he’d been his absolute best friend forever.
Hunter hated disappointing him, and he’d worked as hard as he knew how to make sure he upheld the Hammond legacy and made something of the money his father had given him. Extreme gratitude flowed through him as he continued to hold his father’s gaze, and finally Dad grinned and whispered, “We need to go fishing.”
Hunter nodded, his chest tight. He missed fishing with his father terribly. He missed hugging Elise. He missed laying on the floor while the littles crawled all over him, trying-but-not-really-trying to get away from him as he tickled them.
He’d missed Ivory Peaks and his life here with a force he hadn’t even recognized until now.
You’re back, he told himself as Pastor Benson got behind the mic again and began his sermon.
Hunter refused to look around and find the rest of the Benson family. He and Molly had managed to stay friends through the rest of high school, but Hunter hadn’t kept in touch with her over the past several years. She’d earned some money to a university in Denver, and as far as he knew, she’d gone, graduated, gotten married, moved on.
Hunter had tried to do that too. He’d taken his uncles’ advice and kissed a lot of girls. Uncle Colton had said there was nothing wrong with kissing, and after a rocky start, Hunter found he sure did like it.
His senior year, he took a different girl to every available school dance, and he’d kissed them all. In college, he asked out anyone who caught his eye, and he kissed all of those women too. He’d met a girl named Abby, and he’d started to fall for her. They’d dated for a year before he finally had to accept that they were on two different paths.
His had always been coming back to Colorado and Ivory Peaks. Always. He loved the farm with every cell in his body, and he loved his grandparents more than that. He knew he’d use his degree at the family company, and he’d known Abby had her own family obligations.
When she’d finished her bachelor’s degree at MIT, she’d returned to New York to work in that family business, and they’d broken up.
Hunter could still hear her voice sometimes, if he held very still and blocked out all other noise. He missed her too, but
it had been a couple of years since that relationship had ended, and he’d once again taken some time to find himself before he asked anyone else out.
For the past year, he’d dated only casually, and that had been enough for him.
Looking down the row of children to his dad, he thought he might like to get started on a family earlier than Dad had. He’d just turned fifty-five, and he had a five-year-old. Elise was much younger than Dad, but they’d stopped with three kids, because Dad didn’t want to be eighty when they graduated from high school.
The sermon ended, and Hunter started helping Deacon and Tucker to pack up their notebooks, books, and pens. “Come on, guys,” he said. “You can ride with me if you don’t dawdle.”
“Can I, Dad?” Tucker asked, spinning to their father. “Hunt says we can ride with him.”
“Are you going back to the farm?” Dad asked, handing Jane something she’d dropped. “I thought you might stay for the luncheon.”
Hunter shook his head, unable to come up with a reason why he’d do that. Why did Dad think he would?
Deacon slipped his hand into Hunter’s. “I’m ready, Hunt. No dawdling.”
“Good boy,” Hunter said, smiling down at a carbon copy of himself. In that moment, he realized that Deacon could be his son. If he’d met someone and fallen in love and they’d had a baby when he was just twenty years old….
Hunter looked up and away from the thought. “I’ll take the boys,” he said. “Maybe I’ll stop by the store and get ice cream on the way out.”
“We have plenty of ice cream,” Elise said with a smile as she leaned around Dad. Hunter loved her too, because she’d first loved him when he was an awkward and unsure teenager. She’d loved his father through everything imaginable, and that made her a saint in Hunter’s eyes.
