Hometown Hope: A Small Town Romance Anthology

by Zoe York

  “I have a solution for them, but they’re too stubborn to agree to it,” Sophie said.

  “Sophie, don’t,” Zane said.

  Sophie smiled her twenty-one-year-old smile, so innocent and hopeful. “You guys all tell one another everything. Maybe we should run it by your friends and see what they think.”

  “It’s not a good time,” Zane said. “This is not a subject for dinner conversation.”

  “Why?” Sophie asked, somewhat petulantly. “I want so desperately to help. Now is the perfect time in my life to do so.”

  Tense silence was as pregnant as Maggie and Violet.

  It was Zane’s turn to stare down at his plate. Honor opened her mouth to speak but seemed to decide against it and drank from her wineglass instead.

  “I want to be their surrogate,” Sophie said. “A donor egg from a stranger, of course, with Zane’s sperm, implanted in me.”

  More awkward silence.

  “Sophie, I asked you not to say anything,” Zane said.

  “Well, she did, so we may as well talk about it,” Honor said with a wink at Sophie.

  “You want to be their surrogate?” Brody asked.

  “Yes, it’s the perfect solution. I’ll present my case,” Sophie said. “I’m just the incubator, so it’s not weird when you really think about it. The egg and sperm will have already been merged into an embryo by the time it’s implanted into my uterus. Furthermore, they can trust me. I’m family. I’m not going to decide I want to keep it or something weird like that. And, it’s my way to pay homage to Hugh, who sacrificed so much for me to have a good life.”

  Honor teared up at the mention of Hugh. “Zane and I initially reacted with a strong no.”

  “Not to sound like a prude, but it’s weird, right?” Zane asked.

  “Anyone want to weigh in?” Sophie asked.

  “I think it’s lovely,” Mary said.

  Mary thought it was lovely. He hadn’t seen that coming.

  “What greater gift can you give someone than a child?” Mary continued. “And I agree, it’s the least risky solution if you’re considering going the surrogate route.”

  “As a medical professional, I have to agree that Sophie is only the vessel in which the baby grows. It’s not a matter of anything incestual,” Jackson said. “As a friend, I can’t imagine anything better for you guys. And Sophie, wow, I’m amazed at your generosity. It’s incredibly sweet.”

  “I agree,” Maggie said. “I’m all for it. Sophie, what a gift you would give them.”

  Sophie ducked her head before speaking, sounding less matter of fact and more emotional. “If you guys could read Hugh’s journal—the one he kept for me—you’d be inspired to do something for someone else too. He was such a remarkably generous man. It’s changed my whole life to read his words, to be a witness to someone doing the unimaginable and letting his child grow up without him to make sure she was safe. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s made me want to be a better person.”

  “He would be bowled over by you,” Honor said.

  “Yes, he would,” Maggie said.

  “I agree about the medical assessment,” Kara said. “As the practical one in the group, it’s a practical solution.”

  “But you think it’s weird?” Honor asked.

  “A little. But not enough that I would advocate against doing it,” Kara said. “We’re in the twenty-first century. Science allows us to do things we couldn’t even imagine a hundred years ago.”

  Brody looked over at Honor, his usually stoic expression—or what the Dogs called his resting douche face—was replaced by one of sympathy. “You should think about it, seriously. You both want to grow your family.” He glanced at Zane. “You hate to ask for help and I understand that, but this is different.”

  “I’m not ready to decide,” Zane said. “We’ve had a lot of changes already. To add this on top might be enough to break us.”

  “I get that,” Violet said.

  “What about you, Violet?” Sophie asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

  Violet tilted her head as she looked over at Honor. “I want my best friend to have whatever she wants. She deserves to be happy. But it has to feel right, both the timing and the mechanism. For both of you.”

  “Well, we don’t have to figure it out tonight,” Honor said. “For now, I’ll revel in the fact that I can still have wine. So, you two pregnant ladies can stop pretending like you’re drinking yours and pass it on down.”

  Good old Honor. Tough as nails no matter what the situation.

  Chapter 20

  Violet

  * * *

  WITH MOLLIE ON her lap, Violet sat in a chair on the front patio watching Kyle teach Dakota how to ride his new bicycle. The sky had cleared, and the subdued winter sun shone down on the yard. They’d chosen a spot on the grass. If he fell a forgiving cushion would save him from harm. They’d been at it for fifteen minutes. Each time Kyle had let go, Dakota had fallen shortly thereafter. But her little man didn’t care. He was right back up trying again. Now, Kyle held onto the back as Dakota’s legs pumped. After he was going, Kyle let go. This time he stayed up, riding across the grass yelling.

  “Dad, Dad, I’m doing it.”

  Dad.

  Kyle’s gift had arrived.

  Did you hear that, he mouthed?

  She nodded and placed her hand over her heart. She looked down at Mollie who was burbling and kicking her arms and legs. Dressed in a fuzzy bunny suit, only her precious face showed. Her blue eyes that were so like Kyle’s investigated Violet’s. “I love you, sweet Mollie.”

  Mollie smiled and touched Violet’s cheek with her chubby fingers.

  Dakota continued to ride back and forth across the lawn. He didn’t know how to turn yet, so he would leap off the bike and face it the other direction when he wanted to ride to the other side. Kyle joined her on the patio. He sat back and closed his eyes with his face turned toward the sun.

  “How did I get this lucky, Lettie?”

  “It started with a dance.”

  “A super-hot dance with the world’s sexiest woman.” His eyes were still closed as a sleepy smile settled on his face.

  “Then a picket sign.”

  “Then a baby,” Kyle said.

  “And an Edwardian ring.”

  “And a pregnancy test.”

  “And soon a house of our own with a white picket fence.”

  Violet touched her flat stomach. A baby grew inside her at this very moment. Kyle’s baby. Their baby.

  He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. “You and me. Forever and ever.”

  She kissed him on the mouth, lingering for a second or two.

  “You’ve made me so happy, Lettie.”

  Holding hands, they turned to watch Dakota. He shouted with glee every time he crossed the lawn. Mollie cooed, focused on the sparkle of Violet’s earring. Sunlight filtered through the tall pines and fat sycamores. Out on the ocean, the sun paired with the sea to paint the horizon blue. The slight breeze brought the scent of salt water and marine life and the winter soil.

  Are you happy? This was always the question people asked when they hadn’t seen you for a while. Violet had always thought it impossible to answer correctly. What did it even mean to be happy? Surely it was impossible to answer. Life was too complicated to describe in such a generic way. But here, right now, she knew. Happy was the sun and the sea and her son’s jubilant shouts and the cooing of the baby and the little peanut that grew inside her and the bulk of the man that held her hand in his. This was happy.

  “Kyle, this is it. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You’ve made every dream come true.”

  “I didn’t even know what my dreams were until you arrived. But this, this is it. Family.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and memorized every detail of this moment. One day it would be one of many memories she shared with her children about how their family came to be.

  It started
when an angel named Mollie Blue arrived in the lobby of your daddy’s hotel.

  * * *

  The End.

  I hope you love Kyle and Violet as much as I loved writing this enemy-to-lovers story. I love to hear from you. Don’t hesitate to write me at tess@tthompsonwrites.com or join my newsletter and download a free copy of my holiday novella “The Santa Trial” at https://tesswrites.com/.

  Much love and happy reading,

  Tess

  XO

  Part XI

  A Hero’s Honor

  by Tessa Layne

  About This Book

  Police Chief Travis Kincaid Has Rules….

  * * *

  · Never leave the door unlocked

  · Never mix work and pleasure

  · And Never, Never kiss the object of your affection

  * * *

  Years ago, the former Navy SEAL learned the hard way that breaking the rules only leads to disaster. Since then, he’s followed strict rules to stay focused on his career and keep his heart locked away where it won’t cloud his judgment.

  * * *

  Too bad the woman he’s fallen for was a born rule-breaker.

  * * *

  In spite of her shady past, Travis finds himself bending the rules… repeatedly, for single-mom Elaine Ryder. In the aftermath of Prairie’s devastating tornado, Travis must come to a decision about his future. And more importantly, he’ll have to decide whether breaking the rules one last time will cost him everything he holds dear… or give him his heart’s desire.

  Chapter 1

  “Uh, Travis?” The sweet feminine voice that had haunted his dreams for months spoke as a coffee pot entered his line of sight. “Did you want some more coffee?”

  He swung his gaze in the direction of her voice, finding Elaine Ryder’s big blue eyes staring at him with a hint of concern. It never stopped surprising him. How one morning she’d suddenly stopped avoiding his gaze and began meeting his eyes. As if, after two years, he’d finally passed some kind of muster.

  It still rendered him stupid.

  He grunted in reply to her offer of coffee, holding out his paper cup, missing the one Dottie used to hold for him at the diner, missing the diner. But it was gone. Demolished along with half the town in six minutes of devastation wrought by an EF4 tornado. All they had now was a food truck and a handful of picnic tables set up across the street from the rubble that used to be Dottie’s Diner.

  Elaine reached to steady his hand as she poured, a new part of their daily ritual thanks to the tornado, and one he wouldn’t complain about. Or the zing that snaked up his arm and spiraled down to his cock. Every. Single. Time.

  Across from him, his deputy chief and closest friend, Weston Tucker, made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat as soon as she left. “Real smooth, dickhead. No wonder you don’t get anywhere with the ladies. Usually, when you like someone, you engage them in conversation. Not growl at them.”

  “You know I don’t date women in town,” he gritted out. How many times had they been over this?

  “Or anyone, because of your damned rules.” Weston held up a finger. “Because there’s the age requirement,” he ticked off on another finger. “And how could I forget the education clause, and the no-sleeping-in rule?” He held up another hand. “Shall I go on? No one divorced or with kids, no one in the military or at work. And you practically have to break down a door to assure yourself it’s really locked. Maybe getting laid would help you lighten up. It would at least fix your crappy attitude.”

  “My attitude is just fine,” he snapped.

  Weston laughed, a rich belly laugh that rang across the crowded picnic tables. “Keep telling yourself that, Chief. Keep telling yourself that.” His face turned serious. “You about bit Elaine’s head off. You may be inept with the ladies, but you’re usually not an asshole. What gives?”

  How could he explain? Even to his best friend? Travis contemplated the dark liquid in his cup, as the memory of his latest bad dream shuddered through him. “It’s nothing.”

  “Let me guess. You overslept again?” Weston’s face softened briefly. “What was it this time? Up all night thinking about Elaine?” he teased gently.

  “If only. More like pulling Warren out of the rubble, except it’s not his face I see, it’s my brother’s. Or McCall. Or Hamm.”

  “When was the last time you talked to someone?”

  Travis shrugged. He’d done plenty of time on a couch, and as far as he was concerned there came a point when it was just a crutch for crybabies.

  “I know someone good.” Weston signaled Elaine for a refill.

  “I’ll let you know.” Travis took a big gulp of the still hot coffee, trying not to wince as it scalded his throat going down. It was stupid, he knew. Weak. He wanted to feel her hand against his again. His coffee consumption had quadrupled since the tornado. But he couldn’t help it. He craved her gentle touch. The innocence of it. That fleeting contact did more to ground him than any of the rules he’d imposed on himself in the years since he’d left his SEAL unit.

  “Don’t be an asshole this time,” Weston spoke low, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Use your words, big guy.”

  Travis took the opportunity to peruse her as she stood over Weston’s cup and poured. She was on the short side, no more than five-five. Slender, but with enough curves to make his mouth water. He’d only ever seen her in what she wore right now – black Converse, slim fitting jeans, and a Dottie’s Diner tee. She had three. A black one, a pink one, and his favorite because it brought out the blue in her eyes, the blue one she wore today. Even though it was slightly baggy, it didn’t disguise her high, perky breasts or cover up the luscious curve of her ass. An ass he longed to cup as he pulled her close.

  Weston cleared his throat, and Travis dragged his eyes to the sound. Weston rolled his eyes and smirked, then mouthed the word dumbass. Travis straightened and flicked a glance at Elaine.

  Shit.

  Pink splashed across her cheeks. Something he’d love if he hadn’t been caught staring, because it made her eyes sparkle. And was that the barest hint of a smile? She rounded the table and opened her hand, silently asking for his cup. “Thanks, Elaine.” He forced his voice into a normal register as he handed over his cup, embracing the zing that traveled up from his fingers when her hand brushed his.

  “How’s Dax doing?” Weston asked, finally rescuing him.

  A look of worry crossed Elaine’s face. She shrugged and gripped the coffee pot a little tighter. “As good as can be expected, I guess.”

  Her voice was so soft and sweet. It slid over Travis and enveloped him like a warm blanket.

  “Where’s he right now?”

  Leave it to Weston to keep the conversation going. Weston was right. He needed to do a better job of talking with her. It was his job, for chrissakes. But at least where Elaine was concerned, Weston had appointed himself the unofficial public relations officer.

  Elaine tilted her head toward the center of the park. “Over at the playground with a few of the boys from his class.”

  Pride surged through Travis as he glanced in the direction of the playground. In the early aftermath of the tornado, the community had determined their top priority would be rebuilding the playground so the town’s children would have a safe place to play during clean-up efforts. It had been the perfect project to bring everyone together around a common purpose, becoming a touchstone of inspiration for the long months of recovery that lay ahead.

  Say something, dumbass. Anything. He cleared his throat. “Well, ah…” Fuck. Why in the hell was he so tongue-tied?

  “You’ll have to excuse Travis, here.” Weston smiled reassuringly at Elaine. “He’s a little short on sleep. He’s not usually such a caveman.”

  She swung her baby blues to him, scrutinizing him with the same worry he’d seen on her face when he’d reunited her with Dax after the tornado. In spite of his discomfort, something in him growled to life under her attention. Made hi
m sit a little taller.

  “Do you prefer tea?” she asked in a rush. “Or water? Sometimes when I’m sleep deprived, coffee just makes it worse.”

  Her concern warmed him. And for the first time that day, a genuine smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Once she’d moved away, he scowled across the table at Weston, who sat shaking with suppressed laughter. “Smooth,” he chortled. “You’ll have to do a better job talking with the ladies if you’re going to run for county sheriff.”

  “No way. We’ve got enough to deal with here. I don’t need to run for sheriff.”

  “Have you seen who’s filed?” Weston’s voice filled with disgust.

  Travis shook his head. “Don’t care. Williams only had, what, eighteen months left? So long as the new guy follows in his footsteps and stays out of our way, we’ll be fine.”

  Weston made a disapproving noise. “This guy’s an asshat. Travis. None of the cops I’ve talked to over in Marion like him.”

  “So he’s an asshat. As long as he does his job, who cares?”

  Weston leaned forward. “Why not run? You’ve got the pedigree.”

  “You do, too.”

  “Maybe I want your job.” Weston grinned and stroked the scruff covering his chin.

  “Give me a better reason.”

  “Fine. Crime’s down since you became chief. Sense of community is up. And you need a new project.”

  Weston had him there. He did need something new. He’d been feeling itchy for months, even before the tornado hit. Like it was time to make a shift. Problem was, to what? He was settled here. And while his long-term dream was to get the ranch up and running again, he didn’t have the people or the capital tucked away to do it for a few more years. “I’ll consider it.”