“I...might be open to talking about this.” Dr. Carlisle glanced at her phone. “Is dinner really necessary? I’m afraid I won’t be a good conversationalist after an eighteen-hour shift. I delivered three babies today and I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Dinner. Please.” Zeke looked sorrowful. “Take pity on me. I’m dying of hunger.”
Shane winced. He’d fallen in with a bunch of con artists. Was this what his grandfather had intended for him when he left him a share in Second Chance?
Forget Grandpa. Do this for Laurel. And Sophie. And the twins. Keep them safe.
Girded, Shane resisted the urge to bolt.
“Bones need good food to heal.” Dr. Carlisle relented and climbed into the backseat beside Zeke.
Now it was Shane who didn’t budge. He couldn’t go through with it. “On second thought, Dr. Carlisle—”
“Settle in.” Roy elbowed Shane aside, sensing he was losing his nerve. “It’ll be our pleasure to treat you, Doc.” Roy closed the Hummer door behind her and glared at Shane.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Shane whispered.
“That’s funny considering we’re at a maternity clinic.” Roy chuckled. “People’ll think you’re pregnant.”
Shane scowled. “No. They won’t.”
“That was a joke, boy. Man up.” Roy moved closer and whispered, “She’s in the car. It’s time to make our getaway.”
Shane had taken risks in his life, but he’d never committed a felony. At some point Dr. Carlisle would realize they were driving her to Second Chance, not a restaurant in Ketchum.
“Use that phone of yours to tell Zeke not to talk much.” Roy nudged Shane toward the driver’s door, still whispering, “She’s exhausted and the way this thing rides, she’ll be rocked to sleep in no time.”
* * *
“WOULD YOUR BABY daddy be jealous of my dad?”
Laurel nearly dropped her knitting needles. Her latest stitch slipped. She pulled the coppery yarn and the silver thread she’d been using, unraveling a few stitches.
It took her a moment to rearrange her yarn and needles. Only then did she look up at Gabby, sitting across the couch from her in the common room at the inn. Mitch had invited the Monroes to dinner. They were just waiting for Shane to return from his trip to Ketchum to eat.
“Gabby,” Laurel said quietly. “You shouldn’t ask people personal questions like that.”
Gabby’s knitting sat forgotten in her lap. She was frowning, an expression that looked fierce given her purplish-red bruises. “I’m only asking for my dad.”
Laurel raised her eyebrows, challenging that defense.
“You know, to protect him.” Gabby leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Because you’re practically famous. If your baby daddy is a famous person, too, and he showed up here, you’d choose him over my dad.”
The needles slid out of Laurel’s hands. “Isn’t that undervaluing your father?”
“Get real.” Gabby raised her fingers to her nose as if gauging how swollen it was. “Why would you stay here with my dad if you had a chance to be with someone really rich and really talented?”
“Hang on. Your dad is great.” It was true. “But that doesn’t mean he and I are...will...”
“That’s just stupid.” Gabby’s knitting fell to the floor. “I saw you kissing. I’ve seen movies. I know lots of kissing means forever is in your future. At least, until someone better comes along.”
Laurel covered Gabby’s hand with her own. “Kissing doesn’t mean forever.” If it did, she’d have a forever with Wyatt, which would have meant she’d never have Mitch in her life. Or Gabby. She’d never have found inspiration in a sparkle. Or planned to open a boutique featuring local artisans, who at this point were all women.
There’s an angle. Her inner voice sounded a lot like Grandpa Harlan.
“But...” Gabby frowned. “You love my dad, don’t you?”
Laurel fell back on the couch cushion. Love?
“What’s wrong with your face, Gabby?” Alexander asked, saving Laurel from answering. “Is that a mask?”
Love? She’d known she was falling, but... Did she love Mitch?
Laurel felt comfortable with him and excited at the same time. When he was near, he was never near enough. She made excuses to touch him, to brush her hand over his. That was all physical stuff.
And emotionally?
Emotionally, she enjoyed his company, she valued his opinion, she trusted him with details of her life she’d never told anyone else. He had a way of looking into her eyes that seemed like he saw to her very soul. And she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind one bit. Because she loved him.
“It’s not a mask, Alexander. I ran into a wall, remember?” Gabby rolled her eyes. “Note to self, little man. Watch where you’re going at all times.”
Love. Laurel hugged the thought closer.
Love. She loved Mitch.
She sat up taller, wanting to see Mitch, wanting to tell Mitch, because she was suddenly sure he felt the same way.
A vehicle pulled up outside. Doors opened and closed. Voices murmured and got louder. Someone climbed the porch steps.
Laurel turned, eager to see how Shane had fared on his doctor hunt, interested to hear an update on Zeke’s leg.
“This can’t possibly be it.” Her mother’s voice spilled into the room as she opened the inn’s door. And then she was standing there, staring at Laurel wearing a gray wool A-line skirt, a white silk blouse, boots and pearls. Her short red hair was perfectly coifed. “Or I could be wrong.”
Laurel got to her feet so fast she experienced a head rush. She willed herself not to sway, not to back down, not to pass out in shock. “Mom?”
“Are you...knitting?” Her mother couldn’t have sounded more disgusted if Laurel had been caught shoplifting at Nieman’s.
“Mom.” Laurel set her knitting on the coffee table. “You should have told me you were coming.”
“Look at yourself. It’s worse than I thought.” Her mother leaned out the door and encouraged someone to get inside quickly.
Ashley?
A man’s heavy tread came up the stairs. Broad shoulders appeared behind her mother.
Wyatt?
Laurel’s knees buckled. She leaned on the arm of the couch.
The man moved past her mother and came inside, shutting the door behind him.
Not Wyatt.
“Cousin Holden?” Laurel couldn’t believe it.
In a true indicator of Holden’s popularity in the Monroe family, Alexander and Andrew didn’t greet him. They exchanged silent glances instead.
“Where’s Shane?” Holden surveyed the inn with a frown. He wore an expensive puffy jacket, blue jeans, an oatmeal-colored knit sweater and mukluks—sensible mountain attire that would put Shane’s city clothes to shame. Had he gone gray since the funeral? Silver streaked his temples. “This town is worse than we thought, Aunt Genevieve. I mean, log cabins?”
“Where’s Ashley?” Laurel demanded when it was clear no one else was coming through that door.
“She’s shooting a guest spot on a sitcom.” Mom surveyed Laurel the way horse trainers surveyed racing prospects. “Have you gained weight?”
Holden approached the check-in desk and rang the service bell.
Ding-ding-ding.
The door to the apartment was closed. Mitch and Sophie were in the kitchen, cooking a special meal to celebrate the reopening of the mercantile and trading post.
The bell grated on Laurel’s frayed nerves. “Shane should be here any minute.”
Holden reached for the bell to ring it again when Gabby snatched it away.
“Can I help you?” Gabby said with preteen scorn.
Holden stared down his nose at Gabby much the same way Shane had stared down his nose at Gabby a
nd Mitch the day they’d first arrived.
“Is he hard of hearing?” Gabby asked Laurel when her cousin didn’t answer. She turned back to Holden and raised her voice. “Do you want a room?”
“We won’t be staying the night.” Mom marched over to Laurel, skirt swaying with purpose. “We’re all leaving.” She took hold of Laurel’s arm. “Pack your things. We have lives to lead and contracts to sign.”
“No?” Laurel would have liked her refusal to come out like she meant it. Instead, she sounded indecisive.
The babies practiced kickboxing in her stomach. Which, in reality, was an overstatement, but Laurel imagined they were upset at their grandmother treating her like a spineless rag doll.
“What happened to your face? Were you in some sort of accident?” Holden scowled at Gabby. “Is the labor pool here so weak Shane has to hire kids?”
“Hey! Mr. Monroe,” Gabby called, waving her hands at him, “my dad and I own this place, okay?”
“Sweetheart, I own this place.” Holden winked at her. “And from where I’m standing, it’s a teardown.”
Mitch came out of his apartment. He took stock of the room. He took stock of Laurel’s face. His dark eyes took stock of her mother’s hand on her arm. “Now, that just won’t do.” He gestured to Laurel’s arm, but he didn’t come to her rescue, because...
Because he’d been encouraging her to take charge of her life for days. Because he knew she could stand up to her mother. Not for Ashley’s sake, but for her own.
“Mom, I’m not leaving.” There. That sounded believable.
“What’s in the water here that would make you want to stay?” Mom’s fingers squeezed Laurel’s arm. She looked at Laurel’s waist, hidden behind a loose tunic sweater. She looked at Laurel’s knitting, made from soft coppery yarn. She released Laurel as if she’d been scalded. “Don’t tell me. You’re pregnant. You’ve figured another way to ruin everything for us.”
Reality Check Number One. Forget wondering if Mom would be happy to learn she was going to be a grandmother.
“Yes, I’m pregnant.” Laurel stepped back. “With twins.”
Mom clutched her pearls.
Mitch looked Holden up and down. “Would you like a room? It’s getting late and the mountain roads are treacherous at night, especially during a snowstorm. We take all forms of credit and cash.”
“You want me to pay for a room?” Holden was jerkier than Shane at his jerkiest. “Have you looked at this place? You should be paying me to stay here.”
“Holden.” Sophie stepped in before Laurel could, coming out of the kitchen and pushing up her glasses. “The people in this town lease their businesses from us. That means nothing is comped. So get out your wallet if you want to stay.”
Holden turned on his heel and left.
“Was it him?” Mom jabbed a finger in Mitch’s direction. “Is this the man who got you pregnant?” She marched over to the desk and rose up into Mitch’s face. “Are you going to make an honest woman of my daughter?”
“That’s entirely up to your daughter.” Mitch’s gaze met Laurel’s. The shock was, he might have been serious.
He wants to marry me?
The babies cheered.
Reality Check Number Two. If this was a proposal, it was sadly lacking.
She’d always dreamed of candlelight and roses.
“If this guy didn’t do it, who did?” Mom circled back around to Laurel.
“Mom, I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Laurel sat on the arm of the couch and gripped her knees, because she had to hold on to something. “It’s never happened on a date before. And it goes without saying it won’t happen again because I can’t be Ashley’s double anymore.” She hoped Ashley would forgive her for that.
“Are you saying... Wyatt?” Mom shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Those are Wyatt Halford’s babies? But...he had a date with Ashley!”
“And therein lies the problem.” Laurel slid off the couch arm to the couch cushion, wishing she could slide out of sight.
“Wyatt Halford? The sexiest man alive?” Gabby jumped up and fist pumped the air.
“Gabby, go to your room.” Mitch didn’t look happy. And he didn’t look at Laurel. “This isn’t funny, nor is it behavior I want you to model.”
Mitch’s reaction clawed at Laurel’s insides. It was all she could do to keep herself upright. Her chest ached and tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. He’d told her he’d stand by her side when the knots unraveled.
He doesn’t love me.
“Oh, Dad. Reality check.” Gabby took hold of his arm. “There’s no way Laurel will pick you over the sexiest man alive.”
He can’t even look at me.
“You were supposed to date him as Ashley, not...” Mom’s hand waved in the air as if she held a wand. “I can’t believe you told him who you were.”
Oh, boy. “Mom.”
“I can’t believe you told him our secret.”
Oh, man. “Mom.”
“What do you think Wyatt’s going to do with that information?”
“Mom!” Laurel shouted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment because now everyone knew who’d gotten her pregnant and under what circumstances. “I didn’t tell Wyatt who I was.”
“But that means... He still thinks you were Ashley.” Mom collapsed on the couch next to Laurel, ashen. “As soon as we tell him, we’re ruined.”
Reality Check Number Three. For once, Mom was right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“WE WERE SUPPOSED to go to dinner in Ketchum!” Dr. Carlisle was not as susceptible to Shane’s smile as most of the elderly women in Second Chance. She swung her big black purse at Shane, connecting with his shoulder.
“Ow.” Shane stepped out of range. It felt like she had a brick in her bag. Snow fell thick and fast around them as they stood outside the Bent Nickel. And it was so cold, the snow wasn’t melting on either one of them. “We just thought you’d give our offer more consideration if you visited the town.”
Dr. Carlisle had fallen asleep soon after they left the clinic, waking up when they reached the summit and berating them all the way down the road into Second Chance. As soon as he’d parked in front of the diner, Roy had helped Zeke out of the Hummer and left Shane to dig them all out of this hole.
Dr. Carlisle growled like a cornered cougar and swung again, missing Shane’s snowflake-frosted head by inches. “After this caper, there is no way I’m working for you people.”
“Technically, you’d be working for Second Chance, Inc.”
She swung her bag at him again.
He dodged her swing by leaping sideways, landed wrong and fell onto his hip. The pain paralyzed him. “I need a doctor.”
“Fat chance,” Dr. Carlisle shouted at him.
There is no way things could get worse.
“There you are.” The masculine voice of doom.
Things just got worse.
Cousin Holden stood near the gas pumps in front of the general store, scowling at Shane as he bore down upon him.
In his head Shane had a colorful conversation with his grandfather, who’d gotten him into this mess. But Grandpa Harlan didn’t answer back.
“Hey, Holden.” Getting slowly to his feet, trying to ignore the pain, Shane pasted on a smile and waved to his cousin. “Come on over. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He introduced Dr. Carlisle to his family nemesis. “I was just going to show Dr. Carlisle the medical clinic. She’s interested in the position of town doctor.”
“I’m not.” Dr. Carlisle swung her bag at Shane again, but it lacked the energy of her previous attempts. Perhaps due to pity. Her gaze glanced off Shane’s hip. “I was kidnapped.”
“You were invited to dinner and you accepted.”
“There was your first mistake.” Holden grinned at the doct
or, clearly enjoying this. “You accepted Shane’s invitation.”
“I was coerced.” Dr. Carlisle slung her bag to her shoulder. “It was supposed to be a coffee meeting.”
Since she’d holstered her weapon, Shane decided to show her the million-dollar view. “The clinic is over here.” He marched across the plowed, narrow highway and up the packed trail Roy had made a few days ago when the snow had stopped.
Behind him, Dr. Carlisle and Holden were bonding over their mutual dislike of Shane.
“You can’t trust a word out of his mouth,” Holden was saying, helping the attractive doctor over a rough patch of snow. “My aunt called me to accompany her here because she felt Shane was influencing her daughter to stay.”
“Despicable.”
“And the part about me is completely untrue.” Shane stepped onto the porch of the clinic and moved out of purse-striking range. “If you’ve never been to Second Chance, now’s the time to stop and smell the roses.”
The sun was setting behind them and its warm orange rays reached across the valley to light the top of the Sawtooth Mountains like a beacon.
Holden helped Dr. Carlisle to the porch. In the diminishing light, the gray at his temples looked like blond highlights, taking a good eight years off his age. And look at that! Holden had that glimmer in his eye, the one that said he had an interesting woman in his sights.
In this light, Dr. Carlisle was a striking woman. Shane suddenly appreciated her looks, including her long blond hair. Not because he preferred blondes, but because Holden did.
“It’s gorgeous,” Dr. Carlisle said.
“Beautiful,” Holden agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the view.
Shane opened the door and led them inside. “But the best thing about working here is this.” Shane came to stand to one side of the plate-glass window overlooking the valley, allowing Dr. Carlisle and Holden space. “With only a patient or two a day, you’d have plenty of time to enjoy this.”
The three of them stood in silence in front of the window, looking out on the broad, flat valley blanketed in glistening snow. Flakes drifted past slowly. Peacefully. Romantically.
Snowed in with the Single Dad Page 20
