A Jackson Hole Homecoming

by Cindy Kirk

  “Let me refresh your memory. The Stockdale Paradox. It’s all about retaining unwavering faith that you can and will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties.”

  “Tripp,” she interrupted.

  “We’ve had our difficulties.” He took a sip of wine. “Because of me.”

  “There’s no point in reliving the past. We—”

  “The Hedgehog Concept. It’s all about what lights your fire. Where do your passions lie? That one’s easy. My passion is you. I love you, Anna.”

  She inhaled sharply, her heart fluttering in her throat. How she had yearned to hear those words from his lips. The moment was bittersweet. “But not as much as you loved Gayle.”

  “I loved Gayle.” His eyes clouded with memories before he blinked them away and his gaze cleared. “But there has always been something between us.”

  At her protest, he waved a hand. “No, hear me out. You remember that time when I helped you carry those branches out to the street? You were fifteen.”

  “Fourteen.” Even though Anna’s heart had stopped beating, she still somehow managed to speak.

  “It was like you’d touched my soul.” He gave a nervous laugh and took a big sip of wine. “I felt a connection to you. I thought you were extremely beautiful. Inside and out.”

  “I was an ugly duckling.”

  “Not to me.” His voice softened and deepened and when he reached for her hand she didn’t pull away. “When Collins talks about The Flywheel in his book, he says in building greatness, there is no single defining action, no miracle moment.”

  “You’re saying that was when our eyes met?” she managed to stammer.

  “That was when the attraction sparked. But that wasn’t our time. This is our time. Or it was, until I got scared and blew it.” He expelled a harsh breath, raking his hand through his hair.

  “I was frightened you’d never love me as much as Gayle,” she admitted. “And never care for me in that same way.”

  Placing his glass on the coffee table, he reached over and gently cupped her face. “I was scared of losing you. I already cared so deeply. What if you died? How could I bear it?”

  “You’re not scared anymore?” The words came out in a whisper as Anna leaned against his hand.

  “I’m terrified.” He flashed a quick grin. “But more terrified of not being with you and not sharing a life with you.”

  Her heart melted to lie in a puddle at her feet. She didn’t want to bring up Gayle again, didn’t want her to share this moment, but she had to know. “You told your sister Gayle was your soul mate.”

  He frowned. “I did not.”

  “You did.” She put her own glass down and faced him head-on. “I was standing outside your office and overheard the two of you talking.”

  His brows furrowed in puzzlement.

  “Hailey had been at the hospital for a second interview and—”

  “I remember now. When I asked Hailey if she believed in soul mates—” his eyes were clear and very blue “—I was thinking about you, not Gayle.”

  “Oh.” Anna blinked before a flood of warmth infused her entire body.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, Anna. So much.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his. “I love you, too.”

  “I have unwavering faith we’ll be together forever.”

  She sat back and smiled. “Another Good to Great principle?”

  “Stockdale Paradox.”

  She laughed, giddy with relief and love. “Shut up and kiss me, Tripp Randall. Make it great.”

  And he did.

  Epilogue

  “There’s some kind of mix-up,” Anna said to Kate Dennes, a local pediatrician and coordinator of this year’s Fall Fashion Festival. “I wasn’t supposed to wear the wedding dress.”

  Sponsored by the hospital auxiliary to raise money for new high-tech orthopedic equipment, the black-tie event held at the Spring Gulch Country Club was one of the must-attend social events in Jackson Hole. Some came to see the fashions. Most came because, instead of professional models, the latest fall fashions were showcased by members of the medical community.

  Kate lifted her hands, palms up. “The length is too long for Mary Karen, but perfect for someone of your height and stature. It’s a necessary change.”

  There was no way Anna could argue with that logic. As she stepped into the strapless dress, Anna had to agree Kate had made a wise choice. This gown wouldn’t have suited anyone as petite and busty as Mary Karen. The sheath, made of chiffon and charmeuse, hugged her body like a silk glove. It was simple, elegant and unforgiving. Anna loved it on sight.

  The backstage hairdresser had pulled Anna’s dark strands into a low chignon set off by intricate fishtail twists and sweeping layers.

  “Anna,” Kate called out just as she slipped on the silver shoes, “you’re up.”

  The gasps from the crowd as she strode out on the stage pleased her almost as much as seeing Tripp’s parents and sister beaming at her from the front row. She knew their joy wasn’t so much from seeing her as it was from Frank’s recent medical report. The new chemotherapy regimen had worked its magic and his cancer was in remission.

  She heard Tripp announce her name and relay basic information about the dress to the crowd. Without looking at her, he absently motioned for her to start down the runway. As the emcee of the event, his job was to keep the show moving.

  That was why she was surprised when he moved, quick and sleek as a panther in his black tux, from his position to catch her hand when she passed by him.

  She smiled and cast him a questioning glance.

  When he simply dropped to one knee and pulled a velvet box from his pocket, her heart stopped beating.

  “Anna,” he began, his voice shaking slightly, but clearly audible because of the microphone on his lapel, “I believe God brought me back to Jackson Hole because I was meant to be with you. Your caring and compassion make me strive to be a better person. You bring light into my world and incredible joy. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I love you desperately and I’m hoping you feel the same and want to spend the rest of your life with me. Will you marry me?”

  The large ballroom was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Then Hailey burst out, “Say yes.”

  “Yes,” Anna said softly as joy sluiced through her. “Oh, yes.”

  Then the ring was on her hand, and when he got back up and swung her around, they were both laughing.

  When his lips closed over hers, the room erupted in applause and catcalls.

  “Good?” Tripp murmured when they came up for air.

  “Great.” She hugged him tight. “Definitely great.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Her New Year’s Fortune by Allison Leigh

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  Chapter One

  New Year’s Eve. A night of mystery.

  Just like she was mysterious. Beautif
ul. Exotic. And definitely mysterious.

  Dark, auburn hair spilled in waves down her back, kissing the golden spine revealed by the cut-down-to-there black cocktail dress that clung to her lithe figure. Her companion’s dark blue gaze was focused intently on her face...dropping to her lips as she took a small sip of her martini. Slightly dirty, just the way she’d ordered. She lowered the cocktail and leaned a little closer to him, feeling more than slightly naughty. Beneath the table, she slipped her foot out of her sinfully high black heels and subtly slid her toes along his ankle...

  “Excuse me, miss. Miss? Miss?”

  The fantasy spinning inside Sarah-Jane Early’s head popped like a bubble of spent soap and she focused on the tuxedo-clad man standing in front of the hostess station she was manning at Red, looking none too patient. She was there not to daydream, but to help see to the needs of every guest of the wedding reception that had commandeered the popular Mexican restaurant for the night, and she quickly smiled. “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

  The man tugged at his skewed bow tie, casting a glance off to one side. “How do I get to the Red Rock Inn?” His question was hurried, and muttered half under his breath. She could have told him he needn’t have bothered trying to be so quiet. For the past three hours, the music from the reception had made conversations nearly impossible. She leaned a little closer to give him the directions to the hotel. He nodded, and took time to thank her before moving away to hold out his hand to the woman he’d obviously been waiting for.

  In seconds, they were hurrying out the front door of the restaurant, the man’s arm wrapped possessively around the woman’s hips. It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that the couple couldn’t wait to be alone.

  She knew there was no point in envying a couple in love...or even a couple in lust, or she’d be spending her life in a constant state of envy. Still, Sarah-Jane sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Fantasizing about wearing killer heels was one thing. Actually doing it was another. She wished she’d have just worn a pair of shoes from her own closet. She had a pair of black pumps. Admittedly they were nearly ten years old, purchased by her mother who had insisted that Sarah-Jane needed to wear the modestly-heeled things for her high school graduation. But they were leather and having been worn only a few times since, were still in good condition.

  She glanced down at the shoes she was currently wearing. If she were honest, the only thing in common these shoes had with the old ones in her closet were that they were black. She twisted one foot this way and that, and sighed again, a little wistfully. The shoes that Maria Mendoza had insisted she wear were beautiful. The velvety suede was as black as midnight and certainly suited the clinging black cocktail dress she was wearing better than her sensible old pumps.

  Just thinking about the dress had Sarah-Jane’s fingertips twitching at the hem of it, as if she could eke out another few inches of cloth where there was none. The hem of the dress stayed midway down her thighs, where it had been since she’d donned the garment earlier that day. She couldn’t do anything about the hem anymore than she could do something about the diagonally-slashed cutout neckline that exposed much more of Sarah-Jane’s cleavage than she liked. If she weren’t positively devoted to Maria, who not only owned the restaurant along with her husband but also owned the knitting shop where Sarah-Jane really worked as an assistant manager, there’s no way she’d have worn something so unsuitable out in public. She was a lot more comfortable in the pullover shirts and khaki pants that she wore at The Stocking Stitch. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but at least she didn’t have to worry that people might think she believed she could carry off such a look.

  Her gaze drifted from the empty lobby area of the restaurant back toward the bar where many of the wedding guests had migrated. Most of the wedding party remained, though Emily Fortune and her brand-new husband, Max Allen, had already departed. As had many of the older guests, leaving the younger crowd to stay on and party into the night.

  There wasn’t an unsuitably-clad person in the bunch.

  What else would one expect when the bride was part of the wealthy Fortune family? To a one, every single person who’d entered the restaurant that evening had looked like they’d stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.

  Her fingertips searched for her hem and tugged.

  “Sarah-Jane.”

  The sound of her name had her quickly straightening and she turned to find Marcos Mendoza gesturing from near the kitchen. He managed Red, but was also married to a Fortune of his own, and since that Fortune happened to be the little sister of the bride, he’d also been part of the wedding party. She left her post at the hostess station and hurried toward him. “Yes?”

  “I think it’s safe for you to clear out,” he offered. “There’s still a little New Year’s Eve left for you to enjoy.”

  She kept her smile in place. “I arranged to be here the entire evening, Marcos.” She certainly didn’t have anything more exciting waiting for her at home. Her roommate, Felicity, was at a party, and there had never been any handsome men in Sarah-Jane’s life who were anxious to ring in anything with her, much less a new year. At least by helping out Maria, she was doing something productive. “I know Maria wanted all of you to be able to enjoy the wedding as guests rather than staff. I can still help out in the kitchen or something.”

  He smiled wryly. “Well, I’m not about to turn down willing help. But you’d be a waste in the kitchen dressed like you are.” Off duty and wedding guest or not, he was still clearly in management mode. He quickly scanned the restaurant, then nodded with decision. “Cindy’s slammed at the bar; if you don’t mind grabbing a tray and starting to collect the empties—”

  “I don’t mind,” she assured, and was glad to head that way. Being busy was always preferable to standing around letting her wandering mind conjure up silly fantasies of a faceless man who had eyes only for her.

  Ignoring her aching feet, she headed toward the bar, crossing between the crowded tables. She would have had to have been blind not to notice the line of men bellied up to the bar as she rounded it, but she kept her gaze focused on the new task at hand. Cindy, the temporary bartender that Maria had hired for the evening, did look slammed, barely glancing at Sarah-Jane when she found the trays behind the bar. She retrieved one and quickly turned back around, heading to the tables once more. In minutes, she’d filled the tray with abandoned glasses, and she aimed toward the swinging door leading to the kitchen. She had to pass by the line of men at the bar again on the way, and as she did, one of them stuck out his arm behind him.

  “Here you go, hon.” Even above the music, his voice was deep and filled with a Southern drawl. The man didn’t glance at her, and she automatically took the glass, looking away shyly when her gaze collided with the dark blond-haired man sitting next to him. “Wyatt, what the hell do you mean you’re not coming back to Atlanta?” she heard him demand.

  Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, she stacked the glass precariously inside another, and aimed for the kitchen again. The tray was too heavy to carry one handed, and she turned, using her hip to push through the swinging door.

  Her gaze couldn’t help glancing toward the men at the bar. She’d been the one to seat them at their assigned tables when they’d arrived, so she knew they were all related to the bride, though she wasn’t sure exactly how. There were five of them, all wearing similar black suits that looked as if they’d been born to them. And each one was better looking than the last. They’d arrived without women on their arms, but Sarah-Jane had a hard time believing that they’d all be leaving without one.

  At least she’d have plenty of details to give Felicity in the morning.

  As if he’d felt her attention, the blond-haired man at the end of the bar sitting next to the glass-giver looked her way. He’d pulled his silver tie loose around his throat
and looked like he couldn’t wait to get out of it altogether.

  Her breath stopped up in her chest and the door that she’d just nudged open swung back again, bumping her square on her rump. She jumped, feeling her cheeks flush.

  But the man who’d seemed to be staring right into her eyes merely lifted the shot glass he was holding and tossed back the amber contents, his focus turning again to his companions.

  He hadn’t noticed her at all.

  Feeling foolish, she backed through the swinging door and dumped off the empties with the kid manning the dishwasher. What was she thinking? Men like that didn’t give women like Sarah-Jane a second glance. Not a serious one, anyway.

  Never had. Never would.

  With that reminder firmly in her head, she took her empty tray and went out to fill it again.

  * * *

  “I mean there’s been a change of plans,” Wyatt repeated patiently, while his cousin Michael eyed him with clear impatience. “We’re staying here in Red Rock.” Wyatt looked past his cousin to his three brothers. First Asher, then Shane, then Sawyer. Willing them to nod. Back him up. They’d already made the decision, and just because his brothers had been drinking steadily since they’d hit the bar didn’t mean anything had changed.

  Not back in Atlanta, that was for damn sure.

  Asher finally nodded. Sawyer did, too. Shane’s nod was a little slower in coming. “That’s what we said,” he muttered, though he didn’t look any too happy about it.

  Wyatt loved his brothers. But if anyone was going to side with their father, it was going to be Shane.

  As if he’d heard Wyatt’s thoughts, his brother shot him a look, then gestured toward the pretty bartender with his glass. Without a word, the lanky blonde tipped the bottle of whiskey, pouring out another shot before she turned and filled several margarita glasses for a waiting cocktail waitress.