Accidental Homecoming

by Sabrina York

  “Danny has a big day tomorrow. He has to go to the hospital,” Lizzie reminded their daughter.

  “But we’re going with him,” Emma said. “Just like you always take me when I have tests, Mommy.”

  “Thank you,” Danny said, eyeing Lizzie’s hesitant expression. “I am a little nervous.”

  “Don’t you worry,” said Emma. “We’ll be right there with you. If you like, you can hold my hand. It makes it better when someone holds your hand.”

  Such a solemn offering, it made Lizzie want to cry. Emma had been through too much at her age, and it broke her heart to see how deeply her daughter could understand the potential for pain in someone else—but it also made her proud. Holding back her emotions, she gave her daughter a kiss and slipped from the bed. “Sleep well, Emma.”

  “You too, Mom.” She reached for Danny for a kiss, as well.

  He only hesitated for a second before he gave her a long hug and a quick peck on the forehead. “I’m...” He cleared his throat. “I’m so happy to know you, Emma.”

  Her eyes glinted. “I’m glad you’re my dad. And I am so happy you are here to help me, too.”

  And with that, she rendered him speechless.

  * * *

  THE STIRLING RANCH:

  Where home—and love—await you...

  Dear Reader,

  I can’t tell you how excited I am about this story, my first book for Harlequin Special Edition. Not just because I fell in love with the characters and want to jump into their world, but because writing a book for Harlequin has been a long-held dream of mine. I have to say, when I picked up my first Harlequin novel, I never would have dreamed that I would one day actually write one. All I knew was that I wanted more, more, more! Fortunately, I could have more.

  It was summer in Stuttgart (where my father was stationed while I was in college) and we had one English TV station (American Forces Radio and Television Service—AFRTS). I had time on my hands and little to do, so I turned to the Harlequin bookshelf at the base library. I’d borrow three books on one day and return them for three more on the next. When I ran out of books, which I eventually did, I played at writing my own. This led to a decades-long affair with romance and writing.

  When I was finally published in 2011, I was thrilled and humbled that people actually loved my books as much as I had loved others’ books. How delicious is it that now, on the tenth anniversary of my first release, my very first Harlequin story is being published?

  I hope you enjoy your visit to Butterscotch Ridge with Danny, Lizzie, Emma and the whole Stirling family. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Check out all my books and contests on sabrinayork.com, and if you want to get updates about future books and tiara giveaways—and snag a free book—sign up for my newsletter at sabrinayork.com/gift.

  Happy reading, my darlings!

  Sabrina York

  Accidental Homecoming

  Sabrina York

  Sabrina York is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of hot, humorous romance. She loves to explore contemporary, historical and paranormal genres, and her books range from sweet and sexy to scorching romance. Her awards include the 2018 HOLT Medallion and the National Excellence in Romantic Fiction Award, and she was also a 2017 RITA® Award nominee for Historical Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of thirty-plus years and a very drooly Rottweiler.

  Visit her website at sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

  Books by Sabrina York

  Harlequin Special Edition

  The Stirling Ranch

  Accidental Homecoming

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  To Susan Litman for extraordinary patience and for making this dream come true.

  Contents

  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

  Excerpt from Love Blooms by Jo McNally

  Excerpt from For His Daughter’s Sake by Stella Bagwell

  Chapter One

  Of all the reckless things Danny Diem had done in his life, this was by far the most reckless—driving nine hundred miles to the middle of nowhere based on a scrap of a letter, a whisper of hope. But when a guy was as desperate as he was, sometimes reckless was the only option.

  Now, here he was, smack-dab in the middle of the most alien landscape he’d ever experienced. And for a guy born and raised in Las Vegas that was saying a lot.

  Everywhere he looked—left, right, forward, back—there was nothing. Rolling hills of hay-colored grasses as far as the eye could see. No structures. No towns. No living creatures. Just...emptiness. The cloudless sky arched overhead in what seemed like an endless bowl of blue.

  It would have been pretty, he supposed, if wide-open spaces didn’t make him a little twitchy. He was used to the thrum of the city, the glare of neon lights and street noise. Police sirens, boisterous crowds, all-night bacchanals...

  There was no noise out here, other than the whistling of the wind.

  It was downright eerie.

  The only thing that felt familiar to him was the sweltering early September heat as summer refused to quit.

  His GPS told him he was only twenty miles or so from his destination, but he had the sneaking suspicion it was lying. That he would never reach civilization again. That he’d be driving through this barren countryside forever. Hopefully, this whole scenario wasn’t God’s way of making a joke.

  Hot air blew in through his open windows as he zoomed down the deserted two-lane highway that, in parts, didn’t even bother with lane markers. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and trickled between his shoulder blades. The sun baked the exposed side of his face. He reached for his water bottle and then grimaced as he realized it was empty. He resisted the urge to try the air-conditioning again, because he knew damn well it had conked out somewhere in Idaho.

  He’d been foolishly optimistic to think his old ’Vette could make the long trip from Vegas unscathed. But then, when you had few options, it was easy to convince yourself that optimism was realistic. And the letter he’d received had seemed like a lifeline. One he’d never expected. One that made this trip a gamble he couldn’t afford to pass up.

  He glanced at the official-looking document on the passenger seat under his duffle bag, the edges riffling in the wind, and once again, his thoughts returned to his father. That big, looming shadow in his life.

  Whoever he’d been, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with his son, or the woman who had produced him. Strange that now, at the lowest point in Danny’s life, this man might actually come to his rescue.

  No one had ever come to Danny’s rescue before. Other than an on-again, off-again mother and one far-too-short love affair, he’d always been utterly on his own. It had always been up to him to find a way, any way, to wriggle out of his problems. This time, it seemed there was no way out.

  And then the letter had come.

  As legal documents went, it was frustratingly vague. All it said was that Danny was included in the will of a man named Daniel Stirling I, and he was to present himself at the offices of William Watney, Esquire, in the town of Butterscotch Ridge in eastern Washington State. It didn’t specify how much the inheritance was, or why Danny
was included. He could only imagine that the deceased was his deadbeat father, the man his mother had cursed since Danny was small. But even that was conjecture. Hell, everything to do with that part of his past was conjecture, considering he knew practically nothing about the man.

  Well, hell. In all likelihood, his inheritance was something useless. Like a grandfather clock or a packet of old love letters. This whole thing was probably a waste of time, but in his dire straits, it was a necessary one.

  His life could hardly get any worse. Could it?

  A huge ker-chunk shook his car and a plume of steam roiled up from under the hood. The car sputtered and jerked, then slowly rolled to a stop on the side of the road.

  Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

  He sighed and reached down to pop the hood, which let out a great gasp of vapor. Awesome. He checked his cell phone, but as he expected, out here there was no reception. He was stranded. In the middle of nowhere, in a hellish summer heat wave.

  Great. Another disaster. He seemed doomed to find them.

  Danny hadn’t seen another car since he’d left the Tri-Cities, and while he’d spotted a solar-powered call box, he couldn’t say how many miles back it had been. He had no idea how far it was to the next town. Too far to walk with no water, for sure.

  The car was fast becoming too hot to sit in, as it soaked up the blistering sunshine, so Danny grabbed his baseball cap, which he hoped would protect him from the heat, propped open the hood in the hopes the engine would cool, then settled down in a slender shady spot on the far side of the car and prayed for someone to come along.

  If he had to, he’d wait until nightfall and then start the long walk to civilization—a gas station, a far-flung country motel, something. Hopefully it would be cooler by then.

  As he settled down to wait, one thought buzzed through his brain. Where on earth had he gotten the idea that Washington State was cold and rainy?

  He must have dozed off, because he woke with a start from a familiar dream when he heard the roar of an approaching engine. The dream was alluring—it was the one he had often, where he and Lizzie were together in each other’s arms. His lips sliding over her skin, tasting her. Her scent engulfing him. The sound of her moan in his ears so vivid it seemed she was right there beside him... The dream came to him so often and felt so real that it was hard to shake. It still clung to him as he leaped to his feet and frantically waved his arms.

  An enormous crew cab slowed and pulled to the shoulder in front of Danny’s Corvette, and the driver stepped out. His boots were dusty and well-worn, but it was the Stetson that made clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Danny had landed in cowboy country.

  The man was about his age, maybe a few years older. His face was weathered and his chin sported an auburn bristle. His eyes were gray and he had a friendly smile.

  “Hey there, fella. You need some help?” he asked in a deep, smoker’s rasp.

  “Yeah. If you don’t mind.” Danny gestured at his sad little car. “Engine conked out.”

  The cowboy sauntered over and gave the ’Vette’s engine a quick glance. “Probably the heat. Did you try adding coolant to the radiator?”

  “Uh, I don’t have any.”

  “Water, then?”

  A rush of heat rose on Danny’s face. He’d never felt more stupid. “I’m out of water.” He’d brought plenty—he’d thought—but apparently not enough. He hadn’t realized he’d be traveling through this searing terrain. In rainy Washington State. In September.

  The cowboy didn’t smirk or make a rude comment about city boys. He just nodded, tipped back his hat with a finger and said, “Well, let’s have a look.”

  He bent over the engine and fiddled with this or that—Danny had no idea, because, honestly, he knew little to nothing about mechanical things—and then the fellow grunted. “Well, water won’t help. Looks like your whole radiator’s blown. You’re gonna need a tow. Can I give you a ride to town?”

  Danny blew out a sigh of relief, took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow. “That would be great.” He turned to the cowboy with a grin, only to discover that the guy was staring at him.

  As soon as he realized that Danny had noticed his sharp attention, he averted his gaze. “I’m Chase McGruder, by the way,” he said, thrusting out his hand.

  “Danny. Danny Diem.”

  Chase narrowed his eyes. “Have we met?”

  “Ever been to Vegas?”

  The response was a snort.

  “Then, no. I don’t think so.”

  Chase peered at him for a few more seconds and then shook his head. “Huh. You look familiar, but I just can’t place it. Ah, it’ll come to me. Well, we better get movin’. Need to get you out of this heat, I reckon.” He paused and pointed back to Danny’s car. “You may want to bring your things, though. George has the only shop in town, and he tends to start drinking early on the weekends, so he may not get out here for a while.”

  Danny chuckled. “Ah...it’s Thursday.”

  Chase’s grin was wry. “Exactly.”

  Danny nodded and headed back to grab the letter and his duffel bag. Everything he owned was in that duffle. So pathetic. But that was what happened, he supposed, when your dear, sweet mother cleaned out your bank account, then cleaned out your apartment and pawned anything of value before disappearing into the wind.

  He could have used those resources—any resources—about now. He was in debt to Mikey Gerardo, Vegas’s roughest loan shark, with interest mounting and another payment looming—all thanks to dear old Mom.

  Thrusting all those dark thoughts from his mind, he hooked the bag over his shoulder and followed Chase to the crew cab. He had to wait while his new buddy cleared the passenger seat of empty juice boxes and toys, tossing them into the back. He shot Danny a wry grin. “You have kids?”

  “Nope,” he said. All throughout his life, that was a message his mother had pounded into his brain. Children ruin your life. He’d certainly ruined hers. She’d made that more than clear. Naturally, he’d long ago vowed to avoid such a disaster. But then, he thought with a bitter twist in his gut, he’d managed to ruin his life all on his own. With a sigh, he hoisted himself up onto the step and into the truck.

  “Married?” Chase asked as Danny joined him in the cab.

  “Nope.” He had no idea why Lizzie sprang to mind just then—he had no idea why he still bothered to think about her anymore—but when Chase turned over the engine and the air-conditioning kicked on, he let all thoughts of her waft away in a frigid blast.

  “Well, be warned. As soon as you’re married, your truck’ll never be your own again.” Chase chuckled, reached into a cooler behind the seat and handed Danny a cold bottle of water.

  He grabbed it with gusto. Damn. Plain old water had never looked so good. He downed the bottle in two gulps, which made Chase chuckle again and hand him another. It occurred to Danny that Chase was a pretty happy guy, judging by how often he chuckled. But why wouldn’t he be happy? He had air-conditioning and a cooler filled with water bottles.

  “Thanks,” Danny said after he took a deep draw of the second bottle. “For the water. And the ride.”

  “No problem.” Chase set the truck in gear and headed down the lonely road. “We don’t get a lot of visitors in Butterscotch Ridge.”

  Danny gave him the side-eye. “How do you know I’m going to Butterscotch Ridge?”

  Chase shrugged. “Few folks take this road to go anywhere else. BR is a real small town. Small enough, I s’pose, that the locals figure it doesn’t even deserve all those syllables.”

  Danny aimed the AC vent to blow directly on his face. “How does a town get a name like Butterscotch Ridge, anyway?” He didn’t care, but he figured he owed this guy conversation at least.

  “Easy.” Chase shot him a wink. “The town founder’s wife thought the grasses looked li
ke butterscotch in the dry season.”

  Danny glanced out the window at the passing range—which was, in a word, brown—and shook his head. Whatever worked, he supposed.

  “So what’s the town like?” he asked.

  Chase shrugged. “Nice. Quiet. Though it can get rowdy at my place on a Saturday night.” He waggled his eyebrows. “See, I own the only bar in town.”

  Danny huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure we’ll meet again, then.”

  “Yup. In a town like this, gossip is better than gold. On that note...why are you here, anyway?”

  Danny turned back to the window. Watched butterscotch-colored weeds flick by. “Need to meet with William Watney.” What else was there to say? He didn’t know much else.

  “Bill? You in some kinda trouble?”

  “No.” He hoped not. “It’s a legal matter. I’ll get more details when I see him.”

  “Yeah. Bill can be vague. But he’s a good lawyer. I’m sure he’ll take good care of you, whatever it is.”

  “Yeah.”

  They rode for a while in silence and then they passed an enormous gate that made Danny’s heart hiccup. The wood-burned sign swinging above read Stirling Ranch. Seeing the name from the letter made something in his belly curl. “Hey,” he said as casually as he could. “What’s that place?”

  Chase grunted. “That’s where the Stirling family lives. Local royalty. Family’s been here forever. They own a successful beef ranch. In fact, they own about half of the town, too.”

  A strange feeling needled Danny. It was all he could do to stay focused on the conversation. He jokingly asked, “Who owns the other half?”

  Chase didn’t seem amused. His lip curled. “The Cages.” He glanced at Danny. “Just a heads-up, by the way. There’s a huge feud between the Stirlings and the Cages.”

  “A feud? Over what?” And who are the Cages? What kind of town is this, anyway?

  Chase barked a laugh. “Who the hell even remembers? But it’s been going on for decades.”