by Debra Kayn
"You've got skills, Dr. Conner," she said.
His chest expanded. No, he had a family, and the two girls who depended on him owned his heart.
Epilogue
Twenty-seven years from the day they met—
Race turned the page of the Health Psychology Journal from his chair in the living room. Katie approached him from behind and leaned over, putting her arms around his neck. He'd waited patiently for her to finish on the phone, trying to finalize a counteroffer on one of her listings.
He took off his glasses and set them on the arm of the chair, closing his book. "Finished?"
She kissed his cheek. "Yes. The rest of the day is ours."
He pushed out of the chair and reached for her hand. She slipped her fingers into his palm and walked with him out the sliding door. It was their goal to walk the path every other day, but with both their busy schedules, they were fortunate to make it three times a week.
The clouds above shadowed the surface of the pool. Linking her fingers with Race, she could remember when the swimming pool was full of teenagers. Callie had brought the girls and boys swim teams from Astoria High School over to swim when they weren't busy with practice or traveling for meets. The kids had called the house their second home, and she and Race loved having them here.
These days, the house was quiet with their daughter attending the University of Pennsylvania, Race's alma mater, with plans to go to UCLA for grad school and follow her father's footsteps into becoming a psychologist.
Callie's inquisitive nature and natural curiosity about the behaviors of addictive personalities showed up last year, and she'd changed her major, hitting the books hard.
"It'll be nice to have Callie home for the holidays." She hugged his arm, never letting go of his hand.
"Have you talked to her today?" Race ducked under a low-lying branch, guiding her along the path in the woods.
She straightened and stepped onto the asphalted walking path that ran the length of Sherwood Community. "No, not since Monday. She was studying for her test, so I wanted to give her a few days of uninterrupted time with no distractions."
"Which way do you want to go?" Race's gaze softened.
"Right." She set off on their walk.
Her answer was always the same. She preferred going by the stream and sitting on the bench. While the break defeated the purpose of exercising, it was the most scenic route. The older she got, the more she enjoyed the downtime rather than the fast pace of coordinating both their schedules. Their walks were something she could count on and gave her time with Race alone without any interruptions.
The wind rustled through the leaves. Soon, the trees would be bare from the change of seasons.
Pine needles littered the path, creating a spongy crunch with each step. The slight sound caused the squirrels to chatter deeper in the woods.
"Let's talk." Race continued walking.
Her body warmed against the chill in the air. Not a day went by without Race asking her questions. It was Race. His personality. His interest.
It took her a while to learn that he wasn't always playing the doctor when he suggested they talk. His questions weren't judging her choices or trying to change her feelings. He was genuinely interested in getting to know a deeper part of herself that she wasn't even conscious of.
Whatever he saw in her answers was for his pleasure and comfort.
"How's the new development going?" he asked.
With his help, she'd purchased thirty acres east of the gated community up higher on the hill. Almost a mirror of where they lived but with plans to develop it into providing more amenities. There would be a pool house for everyone to have access to, a private golf club, and with a recent vote from the county, the walking path would continue along the backside, making the five-mile walkway into ten miles for the community.
"They break ground next month." Energy boosted her step, and she half turned to continue. "I've officially named the new development."
He cocked his brow. "I thought you were going with Meadow Park Community."
"Too blah and common. It sounds like an old folks' home." She bit her lip, wondering how he'd take the news.
"Nothing you do is ever blah or common." He chuckled. "So, what did you decide?"
She stopped, needing to see his face. "The Conner Estates."
His gaze intensified, and her name slipped from his lips. She kissed him lightly and dropped back on her heels. Everything she loved centered around Race. He'd given her a life, a daughter, a home, and all the love that she could ever ask for.
"Do you like?" She studied him.
"Very much." His eyes softened. "We might have to move down the street."
She laughed. "No way. I love our house, and there are no cottages behind any of the planned houses in the Conner Estates for your office."
He tucked her against his side. She walked, matching each of his steps. Her big jump into buying the land and overseeing the development with the contractor wouldn't have been possible without his encouragement, and monetarily backing her in case she failed.
The old wrought-iron bench came into view. Though the walk wasn't far and both of them could go the full distance and then some on the path, Race led her off to the side. She sat down. Thigh to thigh with him. Shoulder to shoulder.
She stroked his upper leg with her hand and gazed at the stream. The water was higher in the fall with all the rain that had hit the coast lately. The trillium no longer bloomed, and sword ferns took over the bank.
The breeze picked up. She pulled the edges of her long sweater in front of her and hugged her middle.
"Cold?" Race pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her.
She tilted her head, gazing up at him. "A good cold."
He grunted in response, used to her contradictions. "It's nice."
"Yes," she whispered, the wind stealing her reply.
The trunks of the trees groaned, bending with the air. The sturdy wood, year after year, surviving the harshness of their long lives.
Several minutes passed. She leaned her head on Race's shoulder. They needed more days like this where they could just enjoy the moment and each other. The practice was busy and constant for Race. Business was growing every day since becoming the owner of the formerly named Seashore Realty.
Now, officially named The Sandbar Realty, she focused on new housing developments.
Callie was happy and maturing away from home, going after her dreams. It was a new stage of life for her and Race as empty nesters.
"Katie?" Race squeezed her. "Look."
She opened her eyes and gazed in front of her. A deer stepped toward the stream, eyeing them carefully.
Sitting up straighter, warmth filled her chest. They were peaceful, majestic animals. Leery, yet graceful.
The brush moved, and two smaller deer walked out of the woods to join their mother. "Fawns," she whispered.
Transported through her memories, she shared a smile with Race. Not a year went by that he hadn't taken pictures of the deer and sent them to her. Even the five years she'd lived apart from him, he'd taken and saved every picture.
Race slowly slipped his hand into his pocket and removed his phone. She held still, not wanting to disrupt the family of deer.
He took a few pictures. Without asking, she knew he'd send them to her.
"Send one to Callie's email, too. It'll make her smile," she whispered.
"I just did." Race put his phone back in his pocket.
The fawns, knowing it was safe, pranced around their mother. Watching them interact, Katie leaned against Race again. She wondered if the deer were from a long line of descendants from the first momma and babies that Race had told her about many, many years ago, that had started her fascination with the deer by the stream.
Above them, the sky crackled with thunder. Katie jolted. The deer jumped back into the thick of the woods. She looked up at the sky at the same moment, lightning flashed. The bolt of light was quite a di
stance away yet.
"We should start walking back. The rain will be here soon." He stood from the bench.
She slipped her hand into his. Already the cloud cover grew darker.
Walking beside her, Race studied her. "Okay?"
She nodded, knowing he would understand when she preferred not to verbally answer his question.
Her daughter was safe. Race was with her. The storm couldn't hurt her.
Dear readers —
Thank you so much for reading The Sandbar saga.
I hope you enjoyed the three-part saga and spending time in Katie's point of view, then Dr. Conner's point of view, before feeling the love shared between both of them in the third part of the novel. With age-gap romances, it's so important to know where both characters are coming from and how an impossibly possible love happens.
I had such a blast incorporating the Megler Bridge and sandbar into the story. The Megler Bridge connecting Astoria, Oregon, to Washington is a real bridge I've been over many, many times. People either love it or hate it. It's high and then dips down to the water's surface. As it often happens in the NW, it storms. A lot. Many times, I've driven across it when it's storming, and when the tide is in. The waves literally splash onto the bridge. Coupled with high winds that seem to move the bridge as you drive, the experience of crossing the steel cantilever through truss bridge can be somewhat frightening, or in my case, an exciting ride.
Where the bridge is at its lowest, there are sandbars. When the tide is out, people walk out on the sandbars. The best advice: Never turn your back on the tide!
If you'd like to keep up on my book releases, chat with me, and see pictures of my life in the Bitterroot Mountains, I would love to have you follow me on social media. I'm on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and have a website with links to a huge backlist of books.
Love,
Debra
Author Bio
Debra Kayn is published by Grand Central Publishing, Simon & Schuster Publishing, Carina Press - Harlequin Enterprises Limited, and repped by agent, Stephany Evans of FinePrint Literary Management.
Believing everyone deserves to love and be loved, she takes the most unlikely characters and turns them into heroes and heroines.
She lives with her family in the Bitterroot Mountains of beautiful North Idaho where she enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and the wild animals that gather in her yard.
Website: www.debrakayn.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/DebraKayn
Facebook: www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage
Instagram: www.instagram.com/DebraKayn
Debra Kayn's Backlist
The Sandbar saga
Slag Motorcycle Club series
Roar & Lizzy – A Forever Kind of Love
Brage & Dinah – A Perfectly Captive Love
Elling & Brage – A War of Forbidden Love
Peer & Coco – A Runaway For Love
Escape to the Bitterroot Mountains series
Every Little Piece of Him
Every Girl Needs a Hero
Every Second in his Arms
A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga series
Chief
Jett
Olin
Thorn
Notus Motorcycle Club series
Hard Reality
Hard Mistake
Hard Drifter
Hard Escape
Hard Proof
The Higher You Fly
Ronacks Motorcycle Club series
...or something
Don't Say It
Rather Be Wrong
Can't Stop Fate
Red Light: Silver Girls series
Blow Softly
Touch Slowly
Fall Gently
Moroad Motorcycle Club series
Wrapped Around Him
For Life
His Crime
Time Owed
Falling For Crazy
Chasing Down Changes
Bantorus Motorcycle Club series
Breathing His Air
Aching To Exhale
Soothing His Madness
Grasping for Freedom
Fighting To Ride
Struggling For Justice
Starving For Vengeance
Living A Beautiful War
Melt My Heart - Anthology
Laying Down His Colors – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
A Hard Body Novel series
Archer
Weston
The Chromes and Wheels Gang series
Biker Babe in Black
Ride Free
Healing Trace
Playing For Hearts series
Wildly
Seductively
Conveniently
Secretly
Surprisingly
Modern Love – Anthology
The Sisters of McDougal Ranch series
Chantilly's Cowboy
Val's Rancher
Margot's Lawman
Florentine's Hero
Suite Cowboy
Hijinks
Resurrecting Charlie's Girl
Betraying the Prince
Love Rescued Me
Double Agent
Breaking Fire Code
Available Now
Book 1 of the Escape to the Bitterroot Mountains series
Every Little Piece of Him
Prologue
THE SOUND OF BARKING dogs outside the cinder-block walls caused tension in the room. Anders wrapped a short piece of rope around the knuckles of his hand, made a fist, and held his arm out for Will to tie the ends.
At any moment, if they were lucky, Joney would be brought back into the room after fighting the dogs, and they'd put their long-planned escape into motion.
"We have to do this now. It's our only chance." Two-crow pressed his back against the cement wall and scrambled to his feet. "The next one who gets called out will never survive. They're egging on the dogs, and they're getting thirstier for blood."
For two years, the six of them lived in the cement block room with only blankets to protect them from the roughness of their surroundings. One toilet and sink sat in the corner, no walls, no privacy. Food came twice a day—usually tortillas and beans.
The only time they were let out into the sunlight was when the men holding them captive took them to the barn to train the dogs and get them ready for the ring.
Anders had no idea where they were living. Though Quint believed the men who'd taken them out of state care delivered them to a foreign country. The men at the barn were dark haired, dark skinned, and darkly possessed. Everyone spoke a different language, only shouting the names of the men in charge in English.
Richard Parker.
Sam McCloud.
Ken Powell.
Don Durham.
Owen Roberts.
Michael Jaster.
The others remained nameless, but their faces and hands were branded in Anders' head, he'd be able to spot them out of a crowd.
Will paced the small room. "What if Joney doesn't come back?"
Mark sat on the floor and rubbed his eyes. "He's been gone a long time."
"They'll bring him back, and if they don't, we'll find him." Anders flexed his fingers, staying alert.
At seventeen years old, he had a man's body. With a lot of time stuck in the room, he exercised to build his strength and plan for the day they could escape. They all had.
"What if they sic the dogs on us?" Quint tucked in his threadbare shirt that appeared almost brown rather than white. "We'll never make it out of here."
"That's why we're going to get the boss-man first. He won't be able to alert the others," said Anders, sweeping back his hair. "We all have to attack him when he brings back Joney. If one of you bails and they get control or more come, they'll kill us."
"Where are we going to go?" Will hitched his jeans higher.
"We run to the right of the barn toward the trees. If the others come after us, we'll have to split up." He lo
oked at each of them, feeling their fear penetrating the room. "We need to pick somewhere to meet up if we go in different directions and lose each other."
"Montana," said Two-crow.
"Why there?" asked Will.
"Because no one will know us. None of us came from that state when we were kidnapped. Nobody will be looking for us. We can finally be free. The Bitterroot Mountains are there. We can hide and live off the land." Two-crow undid the knot at the bottom of his braid.
Anders studied the others, wondering if their destination was the right one or if the Louis L'Amour book that Two-crow had in his back pocket when he was taken had to do with picking Montana. "If we get split up, we'll meet there."
"The mountains are huge. Aren't they?" asked Quint.
"Don't worry, we'll find each other," said Anders.
He hadn't set foot inside a school since he was fifteen years old and was removed from the boys' home for orphans because of behavioral problems. The wilderness therapy program he was assigned to was his last chance before going to juvenile detention hall until he turned eighteen years old.
Instead of being thrown in the woods to survive and learn coping skills, he was blindfolded, handcuffed, and taken to where he was ordered to train dogs to fight inside a ring to their death. Lately, the men in charge forced him and the other boys to stay in the ring and defend themselves against the dogs when they turned on them.
He ran his hand over his chest. When the dogs got a whiff of blood, they could no longer see the difference between human and canine, and he had the scars to prove it.
"What if we're really in a different country?" whispered Quint.
More than likely, they were in Mexico or some Spanish villa in the south. Going anywhere but here was the only thing Anders cared about.
"Just remember, go to Montana if we lose track of each other. I don't care how many weeks or months it takes, we all need to get there." Anders shook his hand, making the blood go to his fingers, making him stronger.
"Sh." Two-crow held up his hand and stepped closer to the door. After several seconds, he looked back at the group of boys and nodded.
