Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Unexpectedly Mine

  A Birch Crossing Novel

  Stephanie Rowe

  SBD Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Sneak Peek: Accidentally Mine

  Sneak Peek: Unintentionally Mine

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Says No

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss

  Books By Stephanie Rowe

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  UNEXPECTEDLY MINE (Birch Crossing #1). Copyright © 2012 by Stephanie Rowe. Previously released under the title No Knight Needed, as part of the Ever After series.

  ISBN 13: 978-0-9886566-0-4

  ISBN 10: 0-9886566-0-4

  Cover design © 2016 by Kelli Ann Morgan, Inspire Creative Services.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews.

  Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist.

  For further information, please contact Stephanie@stephanierowe.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9886566-0-4

  Chapter 1

  Clare Gray knew it wasn't the same as that night fifteen years ago.

  It wouldn't happen again.

  It couldn't happen again.

  But as she inched her car along the twisting mountain road, staying as far as she could from the washed-out edge, she couldn't help but remember the night she'd become an eighteen-year-old widow. The awful night she'd lost a husband, and her tiny daughter had lost a father.

  It had been a night, a storm, and a road just like this one.

  Her tires slipped on rain-slicked pebbles, and the car slid several feet down toward the edge. "Oh, God, no—"

  The rubber caught, and the car stopped. She clenched the steering wheel, her hands shaking as she tried to calm herself. Her heart was hammering frantically, her chest so tight she felt like a vise was crushing her ribs. She couldn’t catch her breath, her mouth so dry she couldn't swallow.

  The wipers hammered as they fought the onslaught of rain. The thundering of the rain on the roof was nearly deafening, and all Clare could see in her headlights were sheets of water cascading across the dirt and gravel road.

  Her phone rang, the shrill sound making her jump. Her daughter's ringtone. Clare set the emergency brake, then grabbed the phone. "Katie? Are you all right?" All she could hear was crackling. "If you can hear me, I'm on my way. Just stay where you are, okay?"

  The connection went dead.

  Damn it! Clare checked the phone. No reception. Her body shaking with frustration and anxiety, she jammed the phone into the console so she could reach it if Katie called back.

  She'd had it with the untainted quality of life that was so important to her town. She was bringing up the cell phone reception issue at the next town meeting, and she wasn't going to let it die this time. This was why they needed a cell phone tower in Birch Crossing. Even charming Maine towns had teenage children who went camping and got stranded in storms.

  Dear God. It had been almost two hours since Katie had called, asking for help. Two hours in that freezing rain, stranded in the woods—

  The phone rang again, and Clare lunged for it. "Katie?"

  "Mom?" Her daughter's voice was barely audible over the interference. "Where are you? We're so cold!"

  "I'm on my way, sweetheart." Clare desperately eyed the muddy water streaming over the road, like an insidious threat trying to keep her from her daughter. "Another twenty minutes." God, she hoped she could get there that soon, that the road wouldn't betray her.

  "What?" The phone crackled again. "Mom? Can you hear me?"

  "Katie!" Clare shouted, frantic to be heard over the static. "Stay where you are. Don't try to find a dry place. Just wait for me. I'm coming! Don't go anywhere!"

  "If you can hear me, bring blankets." Katie's voice was thin and fragile, and Clare gripped the phone tighter, clutching it so tightly she felt like her hand was going to snap. "And food. Our stuff went over a cliff into a river after Jeremy fell in."

  After Jeremy fell in? Clare's stomach dropped. "Is everyone okay? Did he get out?"

  "Mom? I can't hear you!"

  "Katie! Is everyone all right?"

  The phone disconnected again. "No!" Screaming with frustration, Clare bowed her head and pressed her hands to her forehead, fighting desperately to maintain her composure, to stay focused enough to navigate the mountain road and make it to her daughter. Please, God, take care of them until I can get there.

  She took a deep breath, then raised her head, staring grimly through the windshield at the sheets of rain that had turned the mountain road into a muddy river.

  If she screwed up and crashed tonight, what would happen to Katie? Who would take care of her? Her daughter had already lost a father. What if she lost a mother too? Katie would be all alone. Terrified. Clare's heart started to hammer, and panic hit—

  "No!" Clare spoke the denial out loud. "Tonight is not the night for any of us to die. Everything is going to be fine." She had all-wheel drive. New tires. And a very smart fifteen-year old-daughter who would stay put until Clare got there.

  It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. She was going to make it okay.

  Clare set the phone in her lap in case Katie got through again. Then she shook out her shoulders, released the emergency brake and carefully, precisely, eased her foot onto the gas and the car began to creep forward again.

  Griffin Friesé liked the rain.

  He liked the way his tires spun out as he shot up the dirt road. He liked to feel his truck strain beneath him as it fought the earth for survival. Truck versus nature. Someday, maybe, nature might win, but she'd have to put forth a hell of a show, because his truck had a winning streak that had never been seriously challenged.

  He hadn't thought about nature since he'd left home at age seventeen to head to the city and make a life for himself that didn't involve the carpentry, deep woods and logging that had consumed his existence as a kid and driven his parents into an early grave from hard work and financial stress. But being back in the Maine woods was making him remember how much fun it could be to challenge nature head-on and come out the victor. He'd always had an infallible instinct about how far he could push it and still come out on top, and it felt good to know he hadn't lost his touch.

  The trees were bowing and lashing in the wind, dodging in and out of his headlights. Pine branches still
loaded with needles littered the sodden road in front of him. The truck bounced and jagged across the debris, as if it were waltzing with the great Mother Earth herself.

  Griffin hit the off button on his radio, silencing the satellite broadcast of Beethoven's Fifth. The truck immediately filled with the howl of the wind, the drumroll of rain, the splash of puddles, and the roar of his engine.

  He rolled down his window and breathed in the freshness of the air. The rain pelted his face and dripped down his neck, bringing life and vitality into the vehicle that had spent too many hours in his condo's parking garage and on paved streets. Mail he'd collected just before driving out of Boston flew around the interior of the truck, sticking to the damp windows.

  Instinctively, he swore and grabbed for the papers...then he saw what was in his hand. An ad for a Neiman Marcus sale addressed to his ex-wife.

  Griffin usually dealt with more critical documents than two top level executive assistants could handle, but there was nothing important in the mail for him right now. Next week, life would resume. But today, not a damned thing.

  It had been a week since he'd sold his company. Seven days to wrap up the business that had been his life for the last fifteen years, pack his truck with critical necessities, and haul ass up to the mountains to reclaim what was his.

  He let the flyer drop and watched the white scrap flutter around the cab of his truck like a dove in its final stages of death.

  Maybe it was time he let certain things die.

  But as he punched the accelerator and made the truck leap forward, he knew he wouldn't.

  Griffin rounded the bend in the road and saw the red taillights of a car stopped directly in front of him. He instantly realized he had no time to stop on the wet dirt, so he jerked the wheel and swerved to the left. His front bumper barely missed the rear of the stopped vehicle as he bounced up the side of the embankment. His tires skidded across the muddy hillside, and the truck fish-tailed several times before finally coming to a stop at an angle that would have been fun as hell in his younger days.

  Today, it was just an impediment to his forward progress.

  A massive tree was down across the road. The roots were still wedged high up on the hillside, and the branches were hanging down over a ravine on the other side of the road. Headlights from the stopped car were illuminating the obstacle, and a small figure was attempting to shimmy precariously over the trunk. A woman? Or a teenager?

  What did she think she was doing? She was going to get herself killed.

  Griffin backed his truck off the ridge and turned his floodlights onto the tree. The climber raised an arm to block the light, and the hood fell back.

  A soggy reddish-brown ponytail and fine cheekbones made it clear that it was woman, definitely not a teenager. Sudden, shocking awareness hit Griffin, a rush of heat so intense he forgot to breathe. Her face was pale, stripped by the rainy cold, but there was a fierce set to her delicate jaw that burned with a courage he rarely saw. Her shoulders were narrow, her legs slim in those dark jeans, but he could practically feel the determination coursing through her body.

  A need to protect surged over him, a nearly insurmountable instinct to haul his ass across the wet road and hurl himself between her and that damned tree, shielding her from the lethal risk he knew it presented.

  Griffin threw open the door of his truck and stepped out into the downpour. His high-tech jacket and boots kept him dry, but his jeans were soaked through within a few seconds. "Hey!" he shouted into the roar of the wind. "Get off the tree!"

  She waved at him and yelled something back, but he couldn't hear her. But when she grabbed a branch and braced her foot, he realized she was still going to climb over it. Screw that. No one got to die when he was around.

  Griffin sprinted across the rain-soaked road, latched his arm around the woman's waist and hauled her off. "That thing could come loose any moment," he shouted over the storm. "Get off it!"

  "Hey!" She twisted around in his arms, shoving hard at him to let her go.

  Heat leapt through Griffin as his hands slid over her curves when she turned in his grasp. She was all woman, this petite firestorm in his arms, and that realization was like a spark, igniting a fire that had been dead inside him for so long. He was shocked by the bolt of desire rushing through him, jolting him with an awareness long forgotten.

  Apparently oblivious to the lust she'd ignited in him, the woman glared at him, her blue eyes vibrant in the glare of his floodlights as she struggled to get free of his grip. "Why did you do that?" she demanded. She was furious, but there was a vulnerability in her voice that got his attention in a hurry. "I was almost over!"

  "Those roots are loose in the soft ground." Still holding her securely, he jerked his chin toward the almost fully exposed tree base. "The tree could slide over the cliff at any time, and if you're on it, you'll be going for a ride."

  Her eyes widened, and she looked quickly at the tree. He saw her rapidly assess the situation, and she pounded his arm in frustration as she realized he was right. The fight faded from her body, and she sagged in his arms as he set her down, holding her to make sure she wasn't going to fall. He could feel her trembling, and the protective instinct he hadn't felt in so long surged even more powerfully through him.

  "Tonight isn't the night to be driving around in the mountains," he said, his grip tightening on her small waist, fighting his ridiculous caveman urge to sweep her up in his arms, toss her over his shoulder and whisk her away from this dangerous situation. "Turn your car around and come back after the storm when it's safe."

  She shook her head, and he saw anguish on her face that turned his very soul. "My daughter's up there. I have to get her."

  "Your daughter?" Instinctively, Griffin glanced up the road, into the pitch darkness of the storm and woods. Adrenaline shot through him, and every muscle in his body tensed. Shit. Daughters shouldn't be in those woods during this kind of weather. "Up where? In a car?"

  The woman whirled away from him, her boots splashing in the puddles as she paced frantically alongside the tree, searching for a way over. "She went camping with friends."

  "Camping?" The woman looked far too young to have a daughter old enough to go camping by herself. There was an innocent beauty to her, despite her tormented eyes and her storm-ravaged appearance. She was courageous, no doubt about that, but there was such desperation in those sapphire-colored eyes, such utter vulnerability that it touched his core.

  She needed him. This sodden, frantic, sensual woman needed him. Griffin knew it, and he damn well liked how it felt. It had been a long time since a female had needed anything but cash from him. "Where is she? Is she with adults?"

  "No, just friends. They got dropped off." Her expression tightened with frustration, and for a split second, he thought she was going to cry. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, her hand shaking and pale. "I didn't know she was going." She took a deep breath, as if willing herself to find the courage to cope, and then pointed to the road on the other side of the tree. "They're at Pike's Notch. It's about eight miles up the road."

  "Eight miles." Griffin swore under his breath. He felt her pain in every move of that small, determined frame, and he practically vibrated with the need to ease her anguish and relieve that soul-deep torment. "And were you planning on hiking up there after you got over the tree?"

  The woman raised her chin, her eyes flashing with anger, which was what he'd hoped would happen with his quip. Anger could be channeled into productivity. Fear and panic couldn't.

  "I can't get my car up there," she said. "So what am I going to do? Leave them?"

  That was a question that didn't need an answer. Those kids had to be retrieved. End of story. Griffin rubbed his jaw as he surveyed the washed-out road leading into the darkness, his mind working at rapid speed to figure out how he could fix the situation. "It's too far to hike up there in this weather."

  "So? I'll do it anyway." The wind caught her jacket and blew it open, an
d he caught a glimpse of a light blue sweater that managed to make a modest cut incredibly sexy as it hugged her curves. Again, wholly inappropriate desire surged through him, a heat that he hadn't felt in years. Not that he'd do anything about it, but damn, it felt good to be reminded that he was a man.

  She quickly pulled her rain jacket tighter around her and zipped it up, but he noticed that her jeans were drenched, and her boots were old and frayed. He was sure her feet were already soaked. Her skin was almost translucent in the glare of the lights. Water streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her makeup-free eyelashes. She looked young, vulnerable, and terrified. "I have to get her," she said. "I—"

  The tree shifted suddenly, and she leapt away from it with a startled yelp. Griffin caught her, yanking her away from the branches as the tree slid several feet toward the gully. He had a sudden vision of it dragging her down into the ravine, and he tucked her against him, using his body to shield her from a branch as it almost clipped her.

  But this was one damsel not in the mood to be rescued, apparently.

  "Maybe we can pull it out of the way!" She twisted out of his grip and ran over to the tree. She grabbed one of the branches and threw all her weight into it, trying frantically to continue its descent into the gully.

  "Whoa!" Griffin leapt after her, ready to yank her back if the tree shifted again.

  To his relief, the beast hadn't moved by the time he reached her, but the idea had potential, depending on how loose the tree really was.

  Griffin grabbed the branch just behind hers, putting himself between her and the cliff's edge. If the tree started to go, she'd have to go through him to fall in. "On three," he shouted.

  "Okay." Her shoulders were narrow in her oversized jacket, but her feet were braced as if she knew how to leverage the most out of her small frame.

  "One!" Griffin gripped the tree, but the bark was slippery and hard to hold. "Two!"

  She dug her boots into the gravel.