by Elise Faber
Haley gasped, probably because that had been rude as fuck, but Sam found he didn’t give a damn, not when after days of doctors and visitors and gossipmongers—hello, Esther—he finally had his woman alone.
“Hi,” she said when he crossed back over to her. “Gonna kick me out now, too?”
He rolled his eyes, gathered her into his arms. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“You mean the ‘mine and always and forever’ stuff?” She shrugged. “I thought that was just a ploy to get Dan to leave.”
For a moment, she seemed so uncertain and sad that Sam almost rushed to reassure her. But then he saw the twinkle in her blue eyes, the twitching of her lips.
“Not funny.”
“Too much?” she asked.
“Never,” he told her. “You’ll never be too much for me.” He paused. “But also, yes, I want you for forever, and no, it’s not a joke or a ploy. I love you, sweetheart and . . .”
She yawned, snuggled close. “And insert romantic words here?”
“Yes, exactly that,” he teased and kissed the top of her head. “Pretend I just recited all the best romantic lines and that you fell madly in love with me.”
“Too late,” she said with another yawn. “I was already madly in love with you. Also—”
She curled into his side when he lay down on the couch, and when she didn’t add anything further he asked, “You also what?”
“I want the always and forever.”
He grinned.
“With Henry,” she added with a smirk. “Because his banana cream pie might be even better than Melissa’s.”
Sam growled, and she burst into chuckles, and he couldn’t resist following suit, not when he loved the sound of her laughter and her smile and even her terrible—truly terrible—attempts at humor.
He brushed a lock of her hair off her forehead and said, “You’ll always keep me on my toes, won’t you?”
Her laughter cut off, serious blue eyes meeting his. “Why do you say that like it’s a good thing?”
“Because it is, sweetheart.”
“Even though I’m a pain in the ass?”
He kissed her. “But you’re my pain in the ass.”
Haley grinned. “Such romance.”
“You’re my beautiful pain in the ass?”
“Better,” she said, laughter in her words.
“I’ll keep working on it,” he quipped.
She cupped his cheeks. “I love you, Sam Johnson. Don’t ever change.”
And he knew the one thing that would never change was how much he loved this woman.
“Now”—she tried to affect a stern expression and failed miserably—"go get me that banana pie from the fridge.”
He kissed that laughing mouth . . . and got up to get the pie.
Epilogue
Henry
* * *
Henry wiped down the final table, beyond ready to go home and crash after a busy Sunday evening cooking at the diner.
He’d already flicked off the “Open” sign and dimmed the lights. The kitchen had been scrubbed and reset for the next morning’s breakfast rush. He’d sent Tilly off about an hour before—she’d had a date and he didn’t mind sweeping up or stocking the tables with all of the necessities for the next day.
Paper napkins, ketchup, salt and pepper, sugar. They weren’t what had been on the tables in the Michelin-starred restaurant he’d cooked at while living in New York City several years before, but they were his childhood.
His way of feeling close to his dad.
God, he missed his dad.
The bell hanging on the front door rang, and he mentally cursed at having forgotten to lock it.
Talk about a beginner mistake.
He’d worked half his childhood in the diner, had closed it down more times than he could count.
And somehow, he’d forgotten to lock the front door.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” he said and reached to straighten a saltshaker that was askew.
“So, this is your place, is it?” The softly accented voice made him freeze.
Italian. Warm Tuscan sunlight, softly rolling hills through wine country. Cheese and pasta and pizza and . . . her.
He accidentally knocked the shaker to the floor. It didn’t break because this was a family place and they’d learned long ago that plastic was safer with the kiddos, but Henry watched in slow horror as the lid popped off and salt spread out on the tile.
Though his horror didn’t come from the spilled salt.
No. It came from the fact that she was there.
He turned. Saw he hadn’t been mistaken.
She was there.
Isabella Mariano was in Darlington, Utah. Inside his diner.
“Buona notte, Henry.”
He’d last seen her as she’d gotten on a plane heading the opposite direction from where he’d needed her, flying away when he’d asked her to come with him, bolting when his heart had been shattering.
“Isabella,” he said coldly.
If she noticed his tone, then she didn’t comment on it.
Then again, she was good at that.
“What are you doing here?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything further.
She swept through, more beautiful than ever, brown hair falling in perfect waves, killer body in sleek designer clothes, huge diamond on her left ring finger sparkling in the dim light.
Diamond ring.
On her left hand.
He processed that, but her words still hit him like a two-by-four to the temple.
“I want you to cater my wedding.”
—Regret at Roosevelt Ranch coming August 4th—get your copy at www.books2read.com/RARR
Did you miss any of the other Roosevelt Ranch books? Check out excerpts from the series below or find the full series here: (www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Q8VRK9Y)
* * *
Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch
Book One
(www.books2read.com/DARR)
CHAPTER ONE
I had never thought of a plus sign as a bad thing.
Of course, I’d never had one show up on a stick I’d peed on. Kudos to me, that changed today.
My knees wobbled, and the idiotic white piece of plastic rattled as I set it on the scarred Formica countertop.
Brown eyes—mine—stared back at me accusingly in the mirror. “You’ve done it now.”
A baby.
My hand found my stomach. Still flat, still the same.
Even though so much had changed.
The bathroom door rattled as a fist slammed against the thin plank of wood. “Move it, Kel! Food’s up and your tables are restless.”
“Coming!” I called as I wrapped the test in a paper towel before shoving it deep into my purse.
I couldn’t leave it here. Not where anyone—where Henry—might see it. He would get his back up, storm out to the ranch where he-who-must-not-be-named lived, and drag the no-good, low down piece of crap into town for a proper whooping.
And I might just want to let him.
With a sigh, I washed my hands and left the bathroom.
It was my own fault. I knew the type of man Rex was.
I’d fallen into his bed anyway.
“Regret never fails to burn like a mother,” I muttered as I swept into the kitchen, grabbed the plates from the pass, and started hustling toward my table.
“What was that?” Henry asked as he flipped a burger.
“Nothing.” I hefted the tray filled with six plates and various food accessories—ketchup, extra dressing, and napkins—with practiced ease.
Oh, God. I was going to be huge and pregnant and . . . waiting tables.
Good luck to the customers, because I lacked the sincerity and cheerfulness that seemed to come naturally to most waitresses on a normal day. I could only imagine what was going to happen when my hormones raged.
Using my back, I pushed through the swinging door and promptly stumbled to a stop.
He was here. Rex was here.
Stupidly, my heart raced. He’d changed his mind. He’d—
The man’s eyes flicked to mine, completely unrecognizing and indifferent. My momentary burst of hope disintegrated.
He was going to pretend not to know me? To not recognize me?
The jerk! The rotten—
Except . . . there was something off about him. I squinted, trying to discern the change, but the tray was taking its toll on my arms. I tore my gaze away from Rex to practically hurl the dishes at my customers.
“Anything else?” I asked, and was thankful when there weren’t any requests.
Two seconds later, I was in front of Rex.
Who wasn’t actually Rex.
Oh, he was the right height and had the same square jaw and the same gorgeous, sun-kissed skin, but this man wasn’t the one I’d slept with.
“Hi,” he said, his green eyes warm. They were a brilliant emerald and just as inviting as they’d been in the picture I’d seen on Rex’s desk. “Can I just sit anywhere?”
My nod was jerky. “I’ll get you a menu.”
Fingers brushed my arm—calloused fingers that felt both familiar and different.
“You okay?”
I forced a smile, my stomach churning. This could not be happening. “Just perfect—”
And that was the moment I puked all over Rex’s twin’s shoes.
—Get your copy at www.books2read.com/DARR.
* * *
Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch
Book Two
(www.books2read.com/HARR)
CHAPTER ONE
I straightened from putting the last plate into the dishwasher and stretched for a towel to wipe my hands. I was exhausted after twenty-four straight hours with the kids, and Rob still wasn’t home. Not to mention, I needed to make cupcakes for Max’s school—and somehow do it without sugar.
So the ensuing crash upstairs was not welcome.
Dropping the towel, I whisper-sprinted up to the second floor—running on tiptoes while hopping, leaping, and skipping over every toy obstacle, creaky floorboard, and rogue crayon along the way.
The light was on in Max’s room, and considering that I had made this trek a half dozen times in the last hour, I was out of patience.
“You need to go to sleep,” I growled, throwing open the door, my fierce mom glare already in place.
Except the devil child was asleep.
He’d fallen out of bed, crashed onto an entire village of Legos—scattering them to hell and back—and was dead asleep.
My heart gave a little squeeze even as the logical part of me recognized the giant mess I’d be picking up tomorrow.
It was just that face.
A cupid’s bow of bright pink lips, slightly parted, rosy cheeks, and mussed hair. The boy was cute, and it was hard to believe he was part of me, that he’d come from my body.
I clucked my tongue at myself, knowing I was being ridiculous and romantic and Melissa-like because I’d spent the day with Kelly and her toddler, Abby.
My baby sister had a baby. And a man. And was all grown up—
Oh God. There I went with the tears again.
Swiping a finger under each eye, I navigated the minefield of toys as I made my way over to Max. I gave an internal grunt as I lifted the little—or not so little, anymore—monkey and tucked him back into bed.
One hastily constructed barrier of pillows and blankets and stuffed Minecraft toys later, and I was heading back out of the room.
I flicked the light off, started to leave—
“Too dark, Mommy,” he murmured.
A sigh. Back on it went. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Night.”
This time I made it to the top of the stairs before a sound stopped me.
It wasn’t the kids. No. This was more like . . . buzzing?
I cocked my head and listened, then made my way to my bedroom, a growing pile of toys in my arms as I went.
The door was open, and I walked inside, dumping the pile on the coverlet before stopping to pinpoint the sound.
I felt my pockets for my cell. Not even two days before, I’d scoured the house for my phone, it somehow having fallen out of my pocket, ending up under the dresser. It had taken darn near fifty calls and a search of the entire house before I’d found it.
Those locating apps were all well and good, but they couldn’t tell a person which room in a house their phone was. Which meant the app, for my day-to-day exploits, was pretty much useless.
I hardly left home at all except for the kids’ activities and school pickup or drop off.
Or if Rob needed something down at the station.
And that was fine. My place was at home. The kids needed me, Rob needed me. It was just that sometimes . . .
No. Don’t get sidetracked.
My phone was in my pocket. The sound wasn’t coming from beneath the dresser.
It was coming from the bed.
I peered under, saw nothing, and I was reaching for Rob’s flashlight in his nightstand when I realized where exactly the noise was originating from.
My hand slid between the mattress and box spring, jumping a little when the object buzzed against my fingers.
“What—?” I pulled it out, saw it was an older-looking iPhone. Why was there—
Then I saw the texts. An entire screen worth of them.
And my heart froze solid.
I’m heading to the hotel.
Where are you?
Don’t keep me waiting, honey.
I need you.
The question wasn’t why Rob had hidden a phone under his side of the mattress. It was why someone named Celeste was calling him honey and telling my husband that she needed him.
Downstairs, I heard the garage door rumble open and close, the clink of Rob’s keys on the kitchen counter. “Miss?” he called softly up the stairs.
My voice was gone, my throat tight. My eyes burned, and still, I held the phone. It wasn’t until I heard him walking down the hall to the bedroom that I sprang into motion.
I shoved the phone back under the mattress and scooped up the toys.
Rob stopped short in the doorway. “Oh.” He smiled. “I called you.”
“Sorry, I was cleaning.”
He touched my cheek, slid past me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my job,” I said brightly, and if it was too bright then what did it matter anyway?
My husband was moving toward the bathroom, already unbuttoning his shirt. “Is there a plate for me?”
I turned, saw he’d paused, and forced a smile. “Yup. I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Thanks, love.”
“Of course.” I walked out of the bedroom but didn’t go downstairs.
Instead, I hesitated in the hall, silent and waiting.
And my gut tied itself into knots when I heard Rob’s footfalls across the carpet, the slide of his hand beneath the mattress as he pulled out the phone.
—Get your copy at www.books2read.com/HARR.
Acknowledgments
This is always the point in every book that I’m reminded of exactly how many people it takes to turn my books into something that you as readers can enjoy! I quite literally could not do it without you, KC. Thank you for looking at dozens of cover options and potential titles and snorting along with my inner teenage boy. I also want to send a big thank you out to Julie, Kay, and Christine who shape my books into something palpable. And Jena! Thank you for the fabulous covers. Always. Also, thank you Tiffany for snapping the pic of the Hubs and me that’s on the front cover of this book. When I saw it, I knew it was perfect for this series, so thanks for letting me use it! Last, to the Hubs and my little (or not so little anymore) munchkins, I love you guys. Thanks for helping me along with this crazy endeavor.
And thank YOU for reading Collision at Roosevelt Ranch! I loved being able to jump back into Darlington and all things Roosevelt Ranch and hor
ses and Melissa and Kelly! If you’d like to catch up on all my other releases, please check out my website: www.elisefaber.com. There you can sign up for my newsletter (with monthly bookish giveaways, woohoo!), check out my other books (everything from hockey romance to contemporary stand alones), and get to know more about my dorky self (hockey, chocolate, Star Wars . . . okay, I’m pretty boring ).
You can also find me on Facebook (@elisefaberauthor), via my FB fan group (www.facebook.com/group/fabinators), or Instagram (@elisefaber). I look forward to talking with you soon!
Love you guys!
—XOXO,
E
Also by Elise Faber
(see a full listing and descriptions at www.elisefaber.com)
* * *
Roosevelt Ranch Series (all stand alone)
Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch
Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch
Collision at Roosevelt Ranch
Regret at Roosevelt Ranch (August 4th, 2019)
* * *
Billionaire’s Club (all stand alone)
Bad Night Stand
Bad Breakup
Bad Husband
Bad Hookup
Bad Divorce
Bad Boyfriend (Oct 2019)
* * *
Gold Hockey (all stand alone)
Blocked
Backhand
Boarding
Benched
* * *
Life Sucks Series (all stand alone)
Train Wreck
* * *
Phoenix Series (rereleasing soon-read in order)
Phoenix Rising
Dark Phoenix
Phoenix Freed
* * *
Phoenix: LexTal Chronicles (rereleasing soon, stand alone, Phoenix world)
From Ashes
* * *
KTS Series
Fire and Ice (Hurt Anthology, stand alone)
