by Taylor Hart
Only her.
Silence reigned for a few moments.
Brad let out a long exhale. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. He was your first love, wasn’t he?”
Unable to reply, the hurt still so fresh, all she could do was nod.
He stood. “Then go after him! Go!”
Shaken, she met Brad’s eyes.
He grinned. “Lily, I know very little about you, even after all the years I’ve spent painfully trying to pry information out of you. What I do know is that you had a rough upbringing.”
She had mentioned little things to Brad.
“But that’s not you. That’s not—” He broke off, pointing to the front of the building. “That’s not L.R. Gold, attorney-at-law. The woman I’ve seen in the courtroom eats the opposing side’s lunch and then grins and gets asked out at the end of the trial.”
“My name’s on the door because you were all paid to put it there,” she said pitifully, realizing how much it bugged her.
Brad scoffed. “Lily, you can think whatever you want, but the partners wouldn’t have put your name next to theirs if you weren’t good. If you weren’t on partnership track anyway. Believe me, they would have promoted you for money, but they’re arrogant enough and pompous enough they wouldn’t have their name next to an imbecile.”
It hit her. He was right. Lawyers liked money, but most of them really liked reputation and power.
Brad pounded a hand on her desk. “So quit sitting on your hands, and do something!”
His vigor awakened her.
“You’re L.R. Gold. You act. You do!”
She stood, energy filling her.
He grinned and started humming the Rocky soundtrack.
She laughed. He was right. She knew exactly what she needed to do. Running around the desk, she threw her arms around Brad’s neck. “Thank you!”
He held her for a second, then let her go and grinned. “That’s it! I see ideas forming in that beautiful head of yours.”
She threw her hands up. “I don’t know what to say.”
Brad grinned. “Lily, I know you don’t believe this, but you deserve to be happy. I can’t say I’m not upset I wasn’t your guy, but you deserve the guy you love. Go get him!”
She frowned. “I’m sorry for—”
“Go!”
Feeling elated and disoriented, she grabbed her purse and yelled for Charity.
The door flew open. “You rang, buttercup?”
“Do you think you could help me scale a mountain?”
“Seriously?” She looked skeptical.
Lily grinned. “C’mon, let’s play hooky.”
* * *
A half an hour later, she was cruising down the highway in her Camry on her way to Devil’s Tower.
Charity sat next to her, wearing pink sunglasses, lipstick to match, and a big grin on her face. “This is what I’m talking about.”
“So, you’re sure you can climb it? And help me climb it too?”
“Heck yeah.” Charity nodded confidently. “I told you. I was a guide.”
Since Springs Hollow was on the way to Devil’s Tower, Lily made a quick stop over at Cindy and Frank’s house.
As she got closer to Springs Hollow, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a motorcycle whiz past her. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was that Montana?
When she pulled up to Cindy and Frank’s, a whole construction crew was busy working on the house from top to bottom. Cindy and Frank stood outside talking to a construction worker.
When she got to them, Cindy hugged her.
“What’s happening?”
Tears misted into Cindy’s eyes. “Montana called yesterday and said he’d hired a crew to do whatever I needed done around the house. He said he’d even buy us a new house if that’s what we wanted.” She smiled and blinked. “I told him this was our home, the place we raised our boys. This is where we wanted to stay.” She let out a light laugh. “But I can’t say I’m upset it’s getting a facelift.”
“Wow.” She grinned. Then she held out the bottle of shells she’d brought back from Hawaii. “You always said you wanted seashells.”
Cindy put her hand to her mouth and gasped. “Jason said he’d get me shells one day. I guess he did.” She shook her head. “On his birthday, no less.” She let out a light laugh. “Thank you.”
Lily hugged her.
Pulling back, Cindy pulled an envelope out of her pocket. “Montana told me if you showed up today, I should give you this.”
Her heart thudded inside her chest, and she didn’t know what to do. Her hand shook as she accepted the envelope.
Cindy grinned. “Don’t fret, sweetie.”
The fluttering had started in the center of her chest. It also filled the lower part of her gut, and her palms were clammy.
When Lily got back in her car, she looked at the writing. Montana’s writing.
“Are ya gonna open it or not?” Charity asked.
Lily felt like she would have a panic attack.
Charity eyed it. “Don’t back down now.”
Montana had known she would come.
Nervously, she opened the letter.
The words.
Meet me at the fort.
29
When Montana saw her climbing up the hill, his heart went from hopeful to over-the-moon excited.
She’d come.
After the way things had ended, all his hopes of ever making her his wife had been dashed. He’d sat in that hotel, awake all night, going over every piece of information he’d learned. He’d pulled the past out in his mind like old paintings in an attic he hadn’t examined for a very long time. By the time morning had come, he’d made one decision—he wanted her. More than ever.
The decision had been the easy part.
He’d taken a chance today. He was hopeful.
Seeing her come toward him, all the vulnerability and raw emotion on her face, he loved her even more.
She eyed him as she got to the fort, and he could see she was trembling.
“Hi.”
Lily didn’t answer, just got to the top and stood next to him.
“Lil.”
She held his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked, and her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry too.”
He wanted to pull her into him, kiss her, love her. But she was that baby bird again. Fragile. He couldn’t press her. “I’ve always been afraid of how I’d end up. The kind of father I’d be. The other day, it felt like it was happening all over again. Like I was losing everything.”
A tear fell down her cheek. “I shouldn’t have left you the other night.”
He took her hand. “I never should have left you in the first place.”
“Really? Even though …”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you for finding her the kind of parents she deserved.” He squeezed her hand. “No matter what has happened, I love you, Lil. I never stopped. I was so stupid, thinking I could forget the past. I can’t. You’re part of it. I realize that I don’t want almost everything anymore. I want everything. And everything is you. Just you, Lily Ray.” He wiped at a stray tear. “And when our little girl comes to find us, which I’m hoping she will, I want us to tell her how much we love her. How she was conceived in beauty and love. How we made mistakes, but we made up for it.” Tears burned down his cheeks. “I want to tell her about her Uncle Jason and all he did for her. I want to have her meet her brothers and sisters.”
Lily let out a little laugh through the crying. “You do?”
He nodded and got down onto one knee, pulling out a ring. “Will you marry me? And give us both a second chance?”
Nodding, she laughed. “Yes.”
Standing, he slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Pulling back, Lily smiled at him, and he thought his heart would burst.
She winked at him. “You want everything, huh? How ab
out scaling a mountain today? I brought Charity. She says she’s a guide.”
He laughed. “Actually, I took a chance and bought you an early wedding gift.”
Narrowing her eyes, she smiled. “You did?”
“I booked a motel by Devil’s Tower. I hired a crew to help guide us up.”
She shook her head. “You billionaires.”
They kissed again. It was tender and passionate, everything it always had been between them.
Pulling back, another tear went down her cheek.
“Are you sad?”
“No. I was just thinking, ‘Happy birthday, Jason.’”
Montana nodded and blinked. “You think he’s happy?”
She grinned. “I know he is.”
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ALSO BY TAYLOR HART
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The Rookie
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Excerpt
The screens mounted around the room flashed to commercial, and the spotlights dimmed. Ty Epperson ground his teeth.
“Thanks, Ty,” host Ginelle Beckett turned her dazzling white smile on him. “We appreciate you coming all this way.”
“No problem,” Ty tried to return her smile. The interview had been a disaster, he didn’t need to see Ginelle’s strained smile or read the trepidation in the camera operator’s eyes to know that.
He stood and made his way off the raised platform, across the black painted floor, and between the huge cameras that perched like a couple of prehistoric birds, their rounded lenses seeming to stare at him accusingly.
The studio floor buzzed with people—directors, producers, lighting and sound techs, camera operators—and a bunch of other people who were there for reasons he didn’t know. An upcoming guest was surrounded by an entourage in one corner, it looked like she was reciting some kind of tongue twister, while a short woman with bright purple hair dabbed makeup on her nose.
Ty hadn’t even thought to bring a makeup person; hell, he didn’t even have a makeup person. He’d assumed the show would have that handled. Thank goodness his sister, Misty, had a small bottle of hairspray and a tiny pot of some kind of powder in her purse to take the shine off his face. He probably looked like a ghost up there next to Ginelle, but at least his nose wasn’t shiny.
Ty glanced back at the set for Wake UP LA, a homey looking arrangement of easy chairs, end tables stacked with books, rugs, and tall fake plants. He supposed the decor was designed to make viewers feel comfortable but it had done the exact opposite for him. Ginelle was still in her easy chair, her eyes focused on her tablet—probably prepping for her next guest.
“We’re back in two,” someone yelled, and the noise level in the room decreased considerably.
Ty dodged a tangle of extension cords behind the cameras as a producer shuffled the next guest forward, the woman with the entourage. She flipped her bright red hair as she settled into the easy chair he’d just vacated. She looked a heck of a lot more comfortable than he’d felt.
He reached the line of folding chairs at the back of the studio and extended his hand to help Misty stand up. At seven months pregnant, his little sister wasn’t looking so little at the moment. “That was great,” she said, keeping an iron grip on his hand as he pulled her to her feet.
“Yeah, right. Were we at the same show?”
“It was fine,” Misty rolled her eyes. “You worry too much.”
By Ty knew better. The studio crew hurried about their jobs, but he wasn’t imagining their sideways glances, a discreet look of pity mixed with antipathy. In this world, he’d committed the ultimate sin—not being good on TV.
“Ty, thanks for coming.” Rudy, one of the producers, came toward him with his hand outstretched.
“Thanks for having me,” Ty muttered as they shook hands. “Sorry it wasn’t a great interview.”
He waited for Rudy’s meaningless assurances, but instead, the producer gave a helpless shrug. “Well, not everyone is cut out for TV.”
Ouch.
Ty leaned in, keeping his voice low. “Uh, hey, I’ve got three more of these booked. Do you have any tips that could help me do a little better?”
Rudy’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? When?”
Ty nodded bitterly. “One on Friday and two next week.” He should cancel them, he knew it, but he couldn’t. For the first time in his life, he had a chance to impact something that really mattered to him, and now he was blowing it.
Rudy’s black curls bounced against his forehead as he blew out his breath in thought. “Well, you could hire someone to represent you; Los Angeles is full of actors.”
“Do I have to use a talent agent or something for that?” Ty felt a headache coming on; he massaged the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I can email you a couple of people we use,” Rudy said. “Or, if you want to do it yourself, I’ve got some referrals to a couple of image consultants. They could ... you know, maybe coach you a little bit, help you feel more comfortable on camera.”
Yeah right. Like Ty would ever feel comfortable staring into that big, gaping lens.
Rudy was obviously anxious to get back to work. “That sounds great,” Ty said. “Can you send me names for agents and also a couple of those image consultant people?”
“Sure, I’ll email them to you when the show wraps.” Rudy clapped him on the shoulder as he turned to head back to the set. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.” Ty said. He’d need it.
* * *
Holland Morrissey leaned toward the mirrored panels of the elevator and examined her eyes. Still red, but not so puffy, thanks to a freezing cold washcloth and some artfully applied concealer.
The elevator dinged as it reached her floor, and Holland stepped away from the wall and adjusted her heavy bag on her shoulder.
“Where have you been?” Angelete demanded as soon as Holland entered the office. Angelete sat at the huge, curved reception desk made of glass and wood. Over her head the company name, Enlighten Images, was painted on the wall.
“Sorry,” Holland replied. “Lost track of the time.” No need to let the world know she’s spent her lunch hour crying in her car.
Angelete wasn’t fooled. “Your one o’clock is waiting in your office,” she said with a sympathetic look.
“I don’t have a one o’clock,” Holland objected. “I checked my schedule right before I left and I’m free until two.”
“It’s a last minute; he said it was urgent. You were the only one with an opening today.”
Holland bit the inside of her cheek. Unless they asked for someone specific, new clients were assigned to whomever was available. Since she’d never been very good at networking and selling her skills, cold clients were always a blessing. “Okay, thanks,” she told Angelete. “Did they get a beverage?”
Angelete gave her a look. Of course they got a beverage. Angelete was a professional and did not appreciate the challenge.
“Sorry, forget it,” Holland backpedaled. She hurried d
own the hall and pushed open the door of her office.
As a junior image consultant, Holland’s office was tiny, barely room for a desk, two chairs, and a small filing cabinet. But it was a huge improvement from the cubicle where she’d spent her first eighteen months at Enlighten as an assistant consultant. At least now she had a window ... and a door.
A man and woman sat in the client chairs, their knees almost touching the desk. Or at least the man’s knees were. How tall was this guy anyway?
He turned, and Holland stopped in the doorway as their eyes met. His eyes ... bedroom eyes, some would call them—deep brown and luscious, like pools of melted chocolate. Her stomach flipped as she took in the rest of him. Brown hair with a glint of red, freshly trimmed but in desperate need of some product. His long sideburns gave way to a somewhat scraggly beard that was coming in a touch redder than his hair and framed a pair of generous lips. He wore a green plaid shirt, untucked over jeans and a battered pair of gym shoes.
Holland’s gaze moved to the woman sitting beside him ... the very pregnant woman sitting beside him, and her hormones took the fast track back to normal. He was married. Bummer.
“I’m Holland Morrissey,” she said. She started toward her desk with a brisk, confident stride, but stopped again as the man got to his feet, completely blocking her path in the narrow space. She was in four inch heels and he towered over her.
“Ty Epperson,” he said, his voice deep and a little hesitant. “This is my sister, Misty.”
Holland’s hormones picked up again, and she turned a bright smile on not-his-wife Misty.
Which one of them needed the makeover? With her creamy skin and pale blue eyes, Misty could be a stunner. But with minimal makeup and her auburn hair scraped into a ponytail, she definitely wasn’t taking advantage of her looks. Her blue maternity top stretched tightly over her protruding stomach and heavy breasts and her denim capris and black flats were dated and worn.
There was definitely potential for both of them.
“Nice to meet you both,” Holland said, taking a seat at her desk. “Ty Epperson ... that name sounds so familiar.” Come to think of it, he looked kind of familiar too, in a weird, do we ride the same bus kind of way.
