by Lisa Jackson
Once behind the wheel, she took a deep breath, then jabbed her key into the ignition and prayed that she hadn’t let the one man in the world she needed slip through her fingers.
* * *
Luke, pounding nails that had worked their way out of the stable’s old siding, raised his hammer again and heard the Jeep before it rounded the corner of the lane. He half hoped it would be Katie driving out to see him, but told himself he was being a fool. Whatever they’d shared was over. Somehow he’d have to get used to living in the same town with her and knowing they’d never be together.
“Tough,” he muttered to himself and slammed the hammerhead into the siding so hard as to leave a dent. A whirlpool kicked up dust in the corral, spinning a few dried leaves and blades of grass in a crazy dance. Overhead a hawk circled lazily.
Katie’s Jeep appeared, and for a moment Luke thought he was seeing things. What could she possibly want? Probably another story—now that the Isaac Wells mystery was cleared up she’d need another topic. Maybe she wanted to do a piece on this place. The concrete foundation had been poured; in less than six months he hoped to be open for operation.
He slid his hammer into a loop on his jeans and walked across the gravel lot to the spot where she’d ground to a stop. She hopped out of the cab and marched up to him.
“Do you have anything to say to me?” she demanded.
“Such as?”
“I just got a call from Ralph Sorenson.”
“And—?”
“He seems to think he’s going to send Josh some money for a trust fund.” She threw up one hand, and he couldn’t tell if she was furious or pleased. “I think this has something to do with you.”
“I told Ralph I was out of it.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Gates,” she argued, her eyes crackling like green lightning. “You’re in it big-time.”
“How’s that?”
She drew in a long breath, and he braced himself. Her cheeks were rosy, the pulse at the base of her throat beating erratically. The fingers of one hand opened and closed as if she was so nervous as to be tongue-tied, and the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils. Damn, but she was beautiful. And she didn’t seem to know it. “Because I want you to be,” she said, her voice a little softer.
“You do?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips, and he found the movement ridiculously provocative. “I—I want you in my life, Luke.” She seemed embarrassed but held his gaze. “I love you.”
He didn’t move, didn’t feel the wind play with the tails of his shirt or ruffle his hair. “What?”
“I said, ‘I love you.’”
He couldn’t believe it, and before he could respond, she started to turn. “Wait.”
“Why?” She was halfway to the Jeep, when it finally hit him. He caught up with her before she reached for the door handle.
“Katie—”
She shook her head, and disappointment darkened her eyes. “Look, just let me go, okay? I’ve embarrassed myself enough as it is, and—”
“I love you.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Really.”
His fingers tightened over her arms. “I love you, Katie Kinkaid, and I’ve known it for weeks.” All the words that he’d bottled up started tumbling out of his mouth as he tried to convince her of the truth. “It’s just that I felt like such a heel because of the Ralph Sorenson thing.”
“No—”
“Believe me.”
“No, I—”
“Katie, will you marry me?”
The world seemed to stop. The breeze died, and the hawk disappeared. It was as if they were entirely alone in the universe with that one simple question hanging precariously between them. “Wh-what?”
“Katie Kinkaid, I want you to be my wife.” He reached for her then, and drew her close. “You’re not going to make me get down on my knees and beg you, are you?”
She laughed. “No…but…it would be a nice vision.” Swallowing hard, she stared up at him, and in her eyes he saw his future. “Of course I will,” she said with a grin, “but just tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“What took you so long to ask?”
EPILOGUE
The preacher smiled as he looked at Luke and Katie. “You may kiss the bride,” he said, then turned to J.D. and Tiffany, “And you, too, may kiss the bride.”
The guests filling the hundred-year-old church whispered and chuckled, and Katie leaned forward as Luke lifted her veil and kissed her as if she were the only woman on earth.
This double ceremony had been Katie’s idea, and now, as she felt her heart flutter and broke off the embrace, she grinned broadly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the preacher announced, “I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Luke Gates and Mr. and Mrs. J.D. Santini.”
Katie slid a glance in Tiffany’s direction and was rewarded with a smile. This is the way it should always be, she thought, with Bliss as their maid of honor, Christina as their flower girl, and their sons, as well as John Cawthorne, giving them away.
She’d thought Luke would balk at the idea when she’d first suggested it, but he’d agreed, happy to finally be part of a family. Even Tiffany, at first resistant, had gotten caught up in the extravaganza. As the organist began to play, Katie, holding Luke’s arm, walked down the aisle. Between the sprays of flowers and the candles, she saw the faces of the townspeople she’d known all her life. Her mother was crying, of course, and John Cawthorne was sniffing loudly. Octavia, Tiffany’s grandmother, beamed. She’d been reunited with her cat—the result of a woman, who’d bought the Persian years ago, reading Katie’s article on the Nesbitt burglary, which was picked up by a paper in Portland. Brynnie and John were considering moving into the apartment house, while Katie, Luke and Josh would take up residence at Luke’s ranch.
It seemed fitting, somehow, that Josh would live in the very spot where his father had lived.
Outside, the late-October sun was gilding trees already starting to turn with the coming winter. Katie imagined being snowbound with Luke at the ranch, sleeping in the room with the river-rock fireplace, watching as his dream unfolded, and the ranch was up and running. She would still write, of course, but she thrilled at the thought of spending her days and nights with the man she loved.
The two brides and grooms formed a reception line, and Katie accepted kisses, hugs and handshakes from friends, neighbors and relatives. Ralph and Loretta Sorenson had met Josh and had stayed for the nuptials. Even Rose Nesbitt had stood proudly and watched Tiffany marry, though, Katie decided, it would be a cold day in Hades before Rose would ever say a kind word to John Cawthorne.
But time could take care of a lot of the pain.
“It was a great wedding,” Bliss said as the line dwindled, and she stood between her two half sisters.
“The best,” Dee Dee said.
“Oh, I can think of a better one.” Mason winked at his wife.
J.D. laughed and kissed Tiffany again. Luke’s arm surrounded Katie’s waist. “I wouldn’t trade this one for the world,” he whispered into her ear. “Now, can we go somewhere private?”
“Soon,” Katie whispered back.
“Not good enough, wife.” Not waiting for another second, Luke pulled her behind a thick laurel hedge, and, holding her face between his two callused hands, he looked deep into her eyes, then kissed her as if he never intended to stop. Because he didn’t.
* * * * *
NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author
SUSAN MALLERY
brings you these great titles from her charming Fool’s Gold series!
Marry Me at Christmas
Thrill Me
Kiss Me
Hold Me
Yours for Christmas (novella)
Until We Touch
Before We Kiss
When We Met
Christmas on 4th Street
Three Little Words
Two of a Kind
Just
One Kiss
Halfway There (novella)
A Fool’s Gold Christmas
All Summer Long
Summer Nights
Summer Days
Almost Summer (novella)
A Christmas Bride
Only Us (novella)
Only His
Only Yours
Only Mine
Finding Perfect
Almost Perfect
Chasing Perfect
Love. Laughter. Happily Ever After.
Available wherever ebooks are sold.
"[A] classic blend of lighthearted humor, intense emotional conflict, and a setting so real and appealing readers will want to start scoping out real estate."
—Library Journal on Until We Touch
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Read on for an exciting excerpt of Susan Mallery’s #1 New York Times bestseller, THRILL ME!
Maya Farlow learned the hard way to depend only on herself, so when she fell too deeply for the bad-boy charms of Del Mitchell, she did the only thing she could—she ran. Stunned, Del left Fool’s Gold to make his name and fortune in extreme sports. Now, ten years later, Maya’s been hired to promote her hometown’s new slogan, The Destination for Romance, but the campaign’s celebrity spokesman is none other than Del, the man she left but never forgot…
MAYA HAD HOPED that hanging out with her friend would be enough to chase all the Del from her mind. But she’d been wrong. The night had been an uncomfortable experience of being awake more than asleep. And when she finally did doze, it was only to dream of Del. Not current, sexy, stubbly Del, but the twenty-year-old who had stolen her heart.
She woke exhausted and with memory hangover. Funny how, until she’d seen him, she’d been able to forget him. But now that he was back, she was trapped in a past-present rip in the space-time continuum.
Or she was simply dealing with some unfinished business, she thought as she stepped into the shower. Because as much as she might like to think the universe revolved around her, truth was, it didn’t.
Thirty minutes later she was reasonably presentable. She knew the only thing that would make her day livable was lots and lots of coffee. So she left her tiny rental house, pausing to give her newly planted flowers a quick watering before heading to Brew-haha.
Fool’s Gold had grown in the ten years she’d been away. Giving walking tours of the city as a part-time job in high school meant she was familiar with the history and layout. She had a feeling the schedule of festivals she’d once memorized still existed in her brain. Probably stored next to all the words to Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.”
The thought made her smile and, humming the song, she walked into Brew-haha.
The coffee place had been decorated simply, with bright colors and lots of places to sit. There was a long counter up front, a display of tempting, high-calorie pastries and a tall, broad-shouldered man at the front of a six-person line.
Maya froze, half in, half out of the store. Now what? She was going to have to face Del at some point. Thanks to Mayor Marsha, they would be working together. But she hadn’t thought she would have to deal with him precoffee.
The downside to an otherwise perfectly lovely town, she thought, sucking up her doubts and joining the line.
As Del finished placing his order, whatever he’d said had the cashier laughing. He moved over to wait for his order and immediately started talking to the barista.
Had he always been so friendly, Maya wondered, watching him, while trying to appear as if she wasn’t paying attention at all. A trick that had her still-slightly sleepy self struggling to keep up.
The line moved forward. Several other customers stopped to talk to Del, greeting him and then pausing to chat. No doubt catching up, she thought. Del had grown up here. He would know a lot of people.
A few words of the conversations drifted to her. She caught bits about his skysurfing and the business he’d sold. Because when Del had left town, he’d not only gotten involved in a new and highly risky sport, he’d designed a board, founded a company, and then sold it for a lot of money. Which was impressive. And the tiniest bit annoying.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to have done great. But maybe he didn’t have to be so good-looking at the same time as being so successful. Was a disfiguring scar too much to ask for? Something to level the playing field?
But no. With his three days’ worth of beard and easy smile, he was still movie-star handsome. She would know. She’d seen plenty of him on video and he was impressive. The camera loved him and that meant the audience did, too.
She reached the front of the line and placed her order for the largest latte they had. She thought about ordering an extra shot of espresso, then acknowledged she would be most likely returning later. Better to spread out the caffeine.
She stepped to the side to wait for her drink. Del was still talking with a couple of people. She expected him to finish his conversation and leave. Instead he headed for her.
“Morning,” she said as he approached. Her lingering sleepiness faded as odd tingles began in her toes and raced up to the top of her head. Horror replaced trepidation.
No, no, no! There couldn’t be tingles or awareness or any of that. Uh-uh. No way. Not her. She refused to be attracted to Delany Mitchell. Not after ten years and thousands of miles. The miles being metaphorical for her and literal for him. They were done. They’d moved on. Okay, technically she’d dumped him in a cruel and immature way, but regardless of her failings, it was so over as to be a relationship fossil.
Exhaustion, she told herself desperately. The tingles were the result of exhaustion. And maybe hunger. She would probably faint next and then everything would be fine.
“Morning,” he said as he stopped in front of her. “You ratted me out to my mother.”
The words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that she had trouble understanding their meaning. When the mental smoke cleared, she was able to breathe again.
“You mean I told her you were in town?”
“Yeah. You could have given me fifteen minutes to get in touch with her.”
She smiled. “You never said it was a secret. I stopped by to see a friend and told her you were back. She was surprised.”
“That’s one way to put it. She gave me an earful.”
The barista handed Maya her latte. Maya took it and started for the door. “If you’re expecting me to feel guilty about that, it’s so not happening. How could you not bother telling your mother you were coming home? I’m not the bad guy here.”
Del fell into step with her. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
He held open the door for Brew-haha. When they got to the sidewalk, he pointed to the left and she walked along with him. Because, well—why not?
“You’re saying I should have let her know I was home for the rest of the summer?”
“Speaking as your mom’s friend, yes, you should have told her you were coming. Or that you’d arrived. And if you didn’t want me to tell her, you should have said something. If she scolded you, it’s your own fault. I accept absolutely no guilt or blame on the topic.”
He surprised her by laughing. “You always did have attitude.”
Back then it had been bravado. She liked to think she now had a little experience or even substance to back it up.
They reached the lake. Del turned toward the path that led to the rental cabins on the far side. Maya went with him. The day was sunny and promised to be plenty warm. August was often the hottest part of summer in Fool’s Gold. Up in the mountains fall came early, but not in the town itself.
Along the
shores of Lake Ciara, just south of the Golden Bear Inn, was a cluster of summer cabins. They ranged from small studios to large three-bedroom structures. Each cabin had a big porch with plenty of room for sitting out and watching the lake. There was a play area for the kids, a communal fire pit and easy walking access to Fool’s Gold.
Del led the way to one of the smaller cabins. There was plenty of seating on a surprisingly large porch.
“Not a suite at Ronan’s Lodge?” she asked, taking the chair he offered.
He settled next to her. “I spend enough time in hotels when I travel. This is better.”
“But there’s no room service.”
He glanced at her, one brow raised. “You think I can’t cook?”
It had been ten years, she thought. “I guess I don’t know that much about you.” Anymore. She didn’t say the last word, but she thought it. Because there had been a time when she’d known everything about Del. Not just his hopes and dreams, but how he laughed and kissed and tasted.
First love was usually intense. For her it had been that and more. With Del, for the first time in her life she’d allowed herself to hope she might not have to go it alone. That maybe, just maybe she could believe that someone else would be there for her. To look out for her. To give a damn.
“To start with, I can cook,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “There was a last-minute cancelation so I got the cabin.”
A couple of little boys played down by the water. Their mother watched from a blanket on the grass. Their shrieks and laughter carried over to them.
“It’s going to be noisy,” she said.
“That’s okay. I like being around kids. They don’t know who I am, and if they do, they don’t care.”
Some people would care, she thought, wondering how difficult his version of fame had become.
He’d made a name for himself on the extreme sports circuit. Crazy downhill snowboarding stunts had morphed into skysurfing. He’d become the face of a growing sport with the press clamoring to know why anyone would jump out of a plane with a board attached to their feet and deliberately spin and turn the whole way down.
