Always the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 2) (The Meadowview Series Book 6) (Meadowview Heat)

by Rochelle French

  The boy had moved in with her and Remy after his dad decided to stay in a long-term rehabilitation program. In a week, Jacob would graduate, and by the end of summer, he’d be at Stanford, starting his adult life. She’d miss him. So very much.

  “I can’t imagine anyone better,” she said. When a gigantic smile flashed over the kid’s face, her heart did the melty, drippy thing once again.

  “Okay, then,” he said, straightening himself. “Let’s get a move on. Visada,” he addressed the horse, who nibbled at the boy’s white tux, “don’t do the whole racetrack thing. Keep it like we practiced. Nice and slow.”

  As Visada carried Coraleen through the meadow, led by Jacob, she caught sight of Remy at the altar. He took her breath away. She tugged on the reins and pulled Visada to a halt.

  “You can remove the lead rope now,” she whispered.

  Jacob unclipped the rope and patted her knee. “Go get ’em, Coraleen,” he said. Visada nickered.

  Remy looked up then. His dark brown eyes caught hers and held…

  And hope filled every inch of her body, her heart, her mind and her soul. She had a home, a community, a career. A horse and a kitten. Friends. And most importantly, she had a man who loved her. She was complete.

  She tipped her head up to the sky and whispered, “Thank you, Pop. Thank you for everything.”

  And then she gripped tight, nudged Visada with her heels, and let him fly free across the rest of the meadow’s expanse, straight to the man who’d always loved her.

  * Thanks for reading Always the One. I hope you enjoyed following along as Remy and Coraleen learn that love is worth waiting for. If you had fun during your stay in Meadowview and think others should learn about this quaint and quirky town, please consider taking a moment to leave an honest review, even if it’s just a few words, by going here.

  * Join my mailing list to keep up on all the latest releases and news—and have a chance at some freebies!

  Up next in Meadowview…

  No one could ever call Peter Leary a natural born charmer—no matter what, he always says the wrong thing. Down-to-earth Neva Tipton isn't happy when it seems the gorgeous Peter is after her prissy twin. But after Neva pretends to be her twin, both Peter and Neva discover things about themselves that change everything. Charming the One, the next book in the Meadowview series, is now available. Keep turning the pages to read an excerpt!

  Meadowview: The Meadowview Heroes Series: The quirky town of Meadowview finds itself wrapped up in a whole heap of happy when a few sexy newcomers arrive to challenge the status quo of a by-the-books sheriff, a reluctant artist, and a firefighter headed for destinations unknown. A thieving goat, a missing horse, and a porcupine with a tendency for trouble help make for a rocky and oh so fun path to love.

  Also by Rochelle French

  (by town)

  MEADOWVIEW

  The Meadowview Heat Series

  When friends (and enemies) return to the same small town where they grew up, sparks fly! Meet three best friends and their younger sisters (and the girl the boys once protected) and discover what happens when the past becomes the present. The little town of Meadowview will never be the same when love takes center stage!

  Forever the One (Ethan and Sadie)

  Trusting the One (Lia and Jack)

  Claiming the One (Hunter and Liz)

  Tempting the One (Theo and Chessie)

  The Meadowview Heroes Series

  The quirky town of Meadowview finds itself wrapped up in a whole heap of happy when a few sexy newcomers arrive to challenge the status quo of a by-the-books sheriff, a reluctant artist, and a firefighter headed for destinations unknown. A thieving goat, a missing horse, and a porcupine with a tendency for trouble help make for a rocky and oh so fun path to love.

  Finding the One (Mac and Trudy)

  Always the One (Remy and Coraleen)

  Charming the One (Peter and Neva)

  Treasure the One (coming soon!)

  VINEYARD SPRINGS

  The Vineyard Springs Series

  Welcome to Vineyard Springs, a town where love is always in the air! Sometimes it’s about knowing when NOT to do something, as the heroes and heroines learn in this contemporary romance series.

  What NOT to Do in Bed (Cooper and Victory)

  How NOT to Fake a Fiancé (Oliver and Juliet—2016)

  How NOT to Tame a Bad Boy (Sean and Anise—2016)

  How NOT to Resist a Rebel (Delphine and Wilder—2016)

  For exclusive content, news about upcoming releases, and chances to win goodies or even free books, sign up for my newsletter.

  About the Author

  Rochelle French is a bestselling romance novelist and the author of the Meadowview series and the Vineyard Springs series. Her books feature contemporary characters falling in love in small town settings. She currently lives in Northern California in the same small town where she grew up, where she now spends her days writing, hiking in the woods, or swimming in the river.

  I love hearing from my readers!

  @RochelleFrench

  AuthorRochelleFrench

  www.rochellefrench.com

  Excerpt, Charming the One

  Meadowview Heroes, Book 3

  No one could ever call Peter Leary a natural born charmer—no matter what, he always says the wrong thing. Down-to-earth Neva Tipton isn't happy when it seems the gorgeous Peter is after her prissy twin. But after Neva pretends to be her twin, both Peter and Neva discover things about themselves that change everything.

  Charming the One

  Meadowview: Meadowview Heroes 3

  Rochelle French

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ready to collapse from exhaustion, Peter Leary instead stared through binoculars, shocked to see his new neighbor stealing his water on the other side of the orchard. Oddly, all he could think was that the blonde should model for a jeans commercial. Because for a thief, she had one smoking hot body. Now what was he supposed to do—haul ass across the orchard and order her off his property?

  Almost too tired to stand (but not too tired to notice a sexy woman) he hitched a hip against the porch railing and adjusted the focus to highlight the woman’s curves as she wrestled with the water lock-box on the agricultural irrigation canal. He frowned, knowing he should focus on the theft aspect. Water in these parts was something of value. Plus, one simply did not steal water from one’s neighbor, especially in such a close-knit town as Meadowview.

  Even if one did have an amazing backside.

  And even if one was sexy enough to capture his attention when he desperately needed a meal, a hot shower, and a soft bed. His bones ached and he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d arrived home only minutes earlier, coming straight from a five-thousand acre forest fire he’d been fighting alongside his crew over the last three days, only to spot someone messing around with his irrigation system.

  An odd grunting sound behind him caught his attention right before a foul stench filled the air. He pulled the binoculars away from his face and tiredly cast a glance down at a juvenile porcupine scrabbling at his bootlaces. Not just any porcupine, either.

  Brat had shown up. Again.

  Peter gave the critter a tired smile, but resisted reaching down to pet Brat’s face. The little guy needed to stay wild and not become dependent on humans or he might get himself trapped. Or worse. The thought made Peter shudder.

  “I’m not petting you. Or feeding you. You’re wild, so you need to fend for yourself. Go eat an

  apple from the orchard.” Peter gave the critter the same message he’d said before. Too bad the juvenile porcupine didn’t speak English. He motioned with his hand.

  Brat grunted.

  “You are not my new roommate. Move along now. Head on over to the orchard.”

  The animal looked up at him, grunted again, but kept toying with his laces. A few weeks ago, the teenaged quill-fest had shown up on Peter’s porch, mumbling like an old man and finding Peter’s boots oddly compell
ing. No matter that Peter had done nothing to encourage the relationship—he’d repeatedly (and carefully) tried to chase the porcupine off—the little dude had somehow gotten it into his prickly head they were best buds. The porcupine was mistaken.

  “Seriously, dude. Look at this place.” He gestured with the binoculars in the general direction of the orchard. “You have everything you could ever want right there. Food, shelter…maybe even a girl porcupine, if you pay enough attention. Just open your eyes.”

  Brat ignored him.

  “Whatever.” He yawned, startling the porcupine. Maybe he should skip the meal and head straight to the shower. His bed beckoned, but his mind was still on his new neighbor and her nutty actions at the ditch. He raised the binoculars back up to find her again. “City folk,” he snorted. Another newbie, getting herself into trouble. “Very sexy city folk,” he couldn’t help but adding.

  The facts he already knew of his new neighbor were few but weighty.

  One: she was one of those organic farming hipsters out to make a living off the land (according to Garston Stanley, the local Realtor).

  Two: she was single and super hot (according to Jacob, the new counter clerk at Delilah’s Diner, who had a bad case of teenage hormones and thought anyone with boobs under the age of thirty-five was hot).

  Three: she was a lacto-ovo-vegetarian into her own looks and had an unrealistic view of romance

  (this particular information came from Sandie Maddox, the checker at Camden’s Grocery, who said the woman had bought hummus, eggs, cheese, milk, a woman’s fashion magazine, a romance paperback, and fingernail polish remover).

  He’d have to add “water thief” to that list. Not that the blonde was actually stealing his water. Technically, it was his aunt’s water since he was watching Maude’s place for her. Also, if the blonde did release the water from his lockbox, it would go straight into his irrigation system, not hers.

  Most likely, she’d made an incorrect assumption that her water box was on the north side of her property instead of the south side. The water conveyance ditch, one of hundreds throughout Deloro County, brought water down from the Sierra Nevada Mountains to provide agricultural irrigation. Someone from Deloro Water District should have come out and unlocked the blonde’s water box when she moved in, but obviously his sexy neighbor didn’t know to wait. Or which lockbox was hers.

  She turned and he again caught sight of her luscious—

  No. He should not be checking out his neighbor’s ass. But a magnetic pull drew him to stare at her some more. A couple of months ago he’d have been into asking her out. Now, though? He wasn’t about to embark on another fling—been there, done that. Multiple times, in fact.

  Although, his aunt had been bugging him to settle down and make her a great-great aunt. She’d casually suggested he abandon his plans to travel the world and instead find a woman who could fill his empty heart and aching soul (Aunt Maude’s melodramatic words, not his).

  He didn’t much think his heart was empty or his soul aching, although he had grown tired of the constant bed-hopping. But as for settling down… Nah. Not for him. Not now, at any rate. And definitely not in the small town of Meadowview. He’d always planned to travel the world when the time was right, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  Only fourteen days remained before he took off for parts unknown—leaving the town of Meadowview, his coworkers, his career as a firefighter, and the whole works behind as he finally heading

  out on his grand adventure, as he’d titled the plan he’d formed in back high school. He had a half million dollars—a trust set up from his mother before she’d died—sitting in his bank account, ready and waiting to support him as he traveled the world. He’d been disallowed to touch the funds until he’d turned twenty-five, two years ago.

  He would have flown off into the sunset right then and there, but before he could, his great-aunt Maude had called in a favor: take care of the family farm in Meadowview for two years while she served on a volunteer mission in Brazil. His dear aunt meant the world to him, so he couldn’t say no.

  The clock on that favor was about to expire. He’d done right by Maude, willingly, and now it was his turn to follow his dreams.

  In two weeks, he’d be free.

  So he saw no harm in looking through his binoculars one last time.

  Neva twisted off the emerald ring she always wore and set it down on the dry grass. She lowered herself to her knees. Not to pray (although that wouldn’t have been a bad idea) but to grapple with the grey metal box that stuck out of the irrigation canal. She’d finally managed to pick the lock with a bobby pin and now had to figure out where the release valve was.

  Water. She needed water, and fast.

  Without water, she’d lose her crop. Without her crop, she’d lose the big contract with a Sacramento restaurateur for produce that had come with the purchase of the farm. And without that contract, she’d lose her income. She’d put all she had into buying this property, so without any income, well...yep, she’d lose the farm.

  Literally.

  Because she’d gone and bought a farm. An actual, as-God-is-my-witness farm.

  Buying an organic farm in the middle of the worst drought California had seen in a hundred years had to be one of the craziest decisions she’d ever make. But at the same time, owning the land was the most thrilling adventure of her life. A dream come true. She grimaced. Well, unless her crop died, that is, then it would be a dream gone bust.

  She squared her shoulders. She had to do anything it took to make sure that didn’t happen. This was her dream, and she’d worked hard to earn it. And it was up to her to solve this problem. She pulled a face. Not like she had anyone else to help her. Not with both her parents long gone and buried, and her twin… Her chest tightened. Well, who knew where Carla was at the moment? Besides, she didn’t want or need help.

  “A Tipton never asks for help,” she said, repeating her father’s mantra under her breath. Then she bit her lip to keep from crying. Neva Tipton did not cry.

  Less than a week ago, she’d signed the final bank papers on the farm. Then, when she’d called Deloro Water District to set up a water account the way her Realtor had told her to, the woman on the District phone told her about the conveyance ditch on the far side of her property and how a lock-box would be opened. What she called a “miner’s inch” of water would be released into Neva’s irrigation system.

  “It’s easy,” she’d said.

  “So simple,” she’d said.

  “I’ll send someone out tomorrow,” she’d said.

  That woman had flat-out lied, because that conversation had been five days ago and still no one had come out to unlock her water box, despite her repeated calls.

  Wind suddenly brushed over her, and she glanced upward. Heavy rainclouds overhead had covered the sky for days, trapping smoke from a nearby forest fire. The clouds held precious water, but

  the rain wasn’t expected to drop more than a half-inch overnight. That miniscule amount was nowhere near enough to keep her wilting crops from dying.

  Water rushed by in the canal below, a soft whisper filling the air. She stared back down at the contraption, hoping to find an on/off switch or a spigot to turn. Instead, spider webs greeted her. “Well now, this isn’t good,” she muttered.

  Could there be a release valve down under the water? The canal was a good twenty feet wide and eight feet deep with the metal box tucked down into the bank. She sat back on her heels. Sheesh. All she wanted was a bit of water so her crops didn’t die. Was that so much to ask?

  Apparently so. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  The irrigation district people must have some sort of long device used to release the lever, she figured. Maybe she could hang onto the metal box and lower herself down, feeling with her foot to see if she could find a release valve.

  Doubt crept up her spine. In her mind’s eye, her crops withered and died on the vine. She snorted at her fears. “
You’re no wimp, Neva,” she muttered, repeating the words her father, the Senator, used to tell her before he’d up and died in a car crash.

  “Leave the girlie stuff to your sister,” he’d said.

  “Toughen up,” he’d said.

  “Prove to me you’re strong,” he’d said.

  Neva had followed his advice, becoming the tomboy to her twin’s beauty queen.

  She was no wimp—good decision or not, she’d bought this farm. She’d make it work.

  Peter was too tired to move, but he focused the binoculars to focus on his neighbor’s face. Damn.

  The distance was too great to make her out clearly. The woman seemed pretty (albeit blurry—he definitely needed better binoculars than his old pair from his Boy Scout days), and he couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like up close and personal. There was something about the way she moved, too—a gentle familiarity in how she gave a slight sway to her hips and hitched her shoulders as she moved about. Sexy.

  He yawned again, the action causing the binoculars to sweep the north side of his property. Before he swung his sights back, something caught his attention. “Damn.” One of his neighbors must have lowered the wooden footbridge back over the canal. He’d need to go crank the footbridge over to his side. He’d fix it soon, but not today. At least Brat was moving away, waddling slowly off the porch and heading toward the orchard. As an act of graciousness, Brat left his foul odor behind.

  “Use deodorant. And eat the apples, not the trees, dude,” Peter called out to the porcupine.

  He’d done his due diligence and searched “porcupine” on the Internet after his first encounter with Brat. The quilled beasts liked salt (probably why he was after leather boots and laces), fruit, and tree bark, among other yummies.