by Stacy Finz
“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally breaking the spell.
“I bought a ticket,” he said, out of breath, like he’d run the whole way. It explained how he’d managed to get through security.
He pulled her out of line and near one of the big windows that looked out onto the runway. That’s when she noticed that his face was covered in sweat. “God, Colin, you okay?”
“I screwed up,” he uttered. His eyes, pleading and flooded with emotion, met hers. “I love you. I always have. Don’t go. But if you have to go, let me come with you.”
Through her peripheral vision, she could see her group boarding. “What are you saying? You’ll come with me to Seattle?”
“I’ll go with you to the moon, if you’ll take me back. Give me a second chance.” He looked about ready to pass out.
She glanced around the terminal. It seemed as if the number of people had swelled in the last forty minutes. “I’ll miss my flight, but do you want to go outside?”
“Say you’ll take me back, first. The last week has been freakin’ miserable, Harlee.” Colin rested his forehead against the glass. “Do you still love me? Darla says you do.”
She nodded, becoming teary eyed. “I do.” Despite his deceit, she’d never stopped. “But—”
“My history’s a deal breaker, right?” he said, staring out past the airplanes, past the runway, into the Nevada desert, looking beaten. “Goddamn Al.”
“Your history was never an issue.”
“Then come back to me,” he said.
She looked away, afraid to meet his eyes. “You’re the one who sent me away, Colin. The whole time we were together you never seemed all in. Right off the bat you tried to sabotage us by keeping the truth from me.” He’d made her doubt her judgment and worst of all, he’d lost her trust.
“Not intentionally, Harlee. I was scared. I didn’t feel worthy. But I’m all in now. One hundred percent. No more secrets. Not ever again. Please, give me a second chance.”
“Why?” Harlee demanded, absently finding a tissue in her purse and blotting Colin’s face with it. From the start, all she’d ever wanted him to do was put this right and rebuild her faith in him. Make her believe again. “Why now?”
“Because you make me feel worthy. For the first time since I got out of Donovan, you made me the man I want to be . . . the man who, given even half a chance, will love you forever. I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning, Harlee. But I was so damned ashamed.”
“Colin, you have nothing to be ashamed of. And you have always been worthy.”
“I know it’s selfish,” he said. “I know that living down my past and my phobias will be a struggle—for both of us. But I’ve had time to think about it and I know, if you let me, I can make you happy, Harlee. Really, really happy.”
“You did make me happy.” The happiest she’d ever been.
He regarded her with such hope that it made Harlee long for the life they could have together. “Does that mean we’re gonna do this? You and me?”
She didn’t answer, just walked into his arms and held him tight. “I love you.”
And there, in the middle of Reno-Tahoe International, standing amid the crowds, as groups of travelers zigzagged around them, stopping to check flight statuses, find gates, or readjust luggage straps, as the constant cacophonous buzz of conversation permeated the terminal like a symphony of bees, he kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, stopping just long enough to say, “Let’s get out of here . . . figure out a game plan.”
The only game plan Harlee cared about was spending her life with Colin. He grabbed her hand, and with single-minded determination, followed the overhead signs to the exit.
“Colin?” She raced to keep up with his long-legged strides. “Who’s Al?”
“Who?” He looked at her, confused.
“Al. You said something about goddamn Al.”
“Oh, that Al. He’s my parole officer.” He continued to maneuver them through the throngs of people.
But she forced him to stop and cocked her head in surprise. “You told your parole officer about us?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
“What did he say?”
“To man up and stop acting like a wuss.”
“He actually said that?” Harlee asked.
“Yeah.” Colin chuckled. “He’s kind of a dick.”
“He sounds smart to me.”
Colin shrugged. “He’s a pain in my ass, but at least he made me realize that I was trying too hard to protect you. That you’re a tough woman, capable of making your own decisions.”
“I’m pretty sure I told you that myself,” Harlee said, trying not to roll her eyes.
“I guess I needed to hear it from a third party.”
She looked around the crowded terminal. Although perspiration still beaded Colin’s forehead and his breathing seemed erratic and his color looked paler than usual, he wasn’t the chalk white he’d been at the restaurant. She pointed to the masses surrounding them. “You okay with this?”
His lips quirked up into a giant grin that made his whole face glow. “Now that I have you, I am, but I wouldn’t mind getting out of here. Like soon.”
By the time they made it home, Harlee knew exactly what she planned to do. One look at the town’s welcome sign, proclaiming Nugget The “Pride of the West,” and she teared up. At the sight of the square, where she’d made so many memories, Harlee melted. But it was Colin’s house, with its thick log walls that he’d stacked by hand, that made the decision final.
“We’re not going to Seattle,” Harlee told Colin.
“We’re not?” He seemed surprised. “What about Jerry and the newspaper?”
“I love being a reporter. But I love you and this town more.”
He gathered her up in his arms and once again kissed her breathless. Max, who’d been lying by the hearth, sensed something monumental and joined their huddle, dancing around them, swinging his tail like a maniac.
“There’s always the Nugget Tribune,” Colin joked, and folded her against the back of the couch.
“I thought the Addisons bought it.”
“Nope,” he said. “Lila Stone won’t sell it to them. Word is they’d planned to turn it into some kind of circular and that pissed her off.”
“Good for her.” Harlee started for his office.
“Where you going?” Colin called after her.
“First to call Lila, then Jerry.”
“Come here.” He pulled her gently by the arm and cleared his throat. “Harlee, you think you’d want to marry me?”
She froze. “Seriously?”
“You don’t have to answer right now. Just think about it.”
“I don’t have to think about it. Yes! Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck and held him as tight as she could, because she was never letting him go.
“Colin,” she said. “Uh, that parole officer . . . Al. You know we’re inviting him to the wedding, right?”
“Unfortunately,” he murmured, and began kissing her all over again. “Nothing can keep him away.”
Epilogue
“We’ve gotta tear up the front page,” Harlee told her new webmaster. “Ten minutes ago, Maddy Shepard gave birth to a baby girl. We’re putting the story above the fold.”
There was no fold.
Since taking ownership of the Nugget Tribune, Harlee had gone completely digital. But old newspaper lingo had been burned, like hot lead type, into her lexicon. The town had overwhelmingly endorsed the idea of an online newspaper, and as a promotion to celebrate the new format Harlee had given away e-readers to the first twenty subscribers. At only ten bucks a year, she’d had no trouble selling subscriptions. So far, advertisers had also embraced the online format. She’d already increased revenue 15 percent from Lila’s previous year.
Clay had offered to do a monthly ranching column, which appealed to the local cattlemen. And Po
rtia Cane, who owned a Nugget adventure-tour company, wrote the fish and game report. Harlee had even found a former world champion bronc rider to cover rodeo season, a big pastime in Plumas County. In early summer, Virgil Ross, the hometown historian, was going to do a five-part series on the Donner Party, which would coincide with a new documentary about the tragedy, debuting in Nugget. And next week, Emily planned to run a few recipes from her upcoming Sierra cookbook.
Harlee was still trying to persuade Colin to tell his story, but so far he wanted to keep it private. She suspected that besides Rhys and Darla, there were some in town who already knew but were keeping it on the QT.
Jerry blew a gasket when he found out she wasn’t coming to Seattle. “Legs, I went to the mat for you.”
After he’d had a while to calm down, he gave his blessing to Harlee’s buying the Trib. “Hold me a job there,” he’d said. “No telling what’ll happen here the way the industry is going. They’ll probably hire someone from the state mental hospital to run this place.”
“Hey, you hear about Maddy?” Darla waltzed into Harlee’s storefront newsroom, sporting a lime-green wig. While Wyatt still grappled with the many shades of Darla’s hair, the couple had come to terms with what happened all those years ago and were going hot and heavy.
“Six pounds, seven ounces,” Harlee called, as she wrote a headline to plunk on top of the baby story.
“Awesome, right! You guys book the Lumber Baron for the wedding yet?”
“August,” Harlee said. In the meantime, Emily and Clay’s big day was just two months away. “Sam’s my wedding consultant and Sophie and Mariah are hosting us a shower at their new house.”
“Okay, but I’m doing your hair.” Darla looked up at the clock on the wall. “Shoot, I’ve got a hair straightening in five minutes and two cuts after that. Happy hour?”
“As long as no news breaks, I’m good to go. Let’s invite Griff.”
“He might be busy. He won’t say, but I think he’s seeing someone.”
“No kidding?” Harlee looked up from her computer. “That’s great.”
“Anything that will help him get over Lina.” Darla raised her head to the heavens in mock prayer. “I better get back to the barbershop. See you later.”
As Darla walked out, Colin walked in.
“You hear about Maddy?” Harlee hopped up and kissed him.
“Yep. Just saw Donna.” He looked over her shoulder at the article on the screen. “You better get that up before the mouth of the Sierra scoops you on the story.”
“Spoken like the true fiancé of a newswoman.” She clicked a few buttons and within seconds the Maddy article led the Nugget Tribune ’s homepage.
“Bix called,” Colin said. “He still wants you to consult on DataDate. He says he’ll be here in a couple of weeks for a fishing trip and wants to take us to dinner. He also wants three of my rockers.”
She looked up to fill her eyes with the hunk of man who would soon be her husband. God, she loved every inch of him. “I guess he really fell for the place. But then who can resist? Any chance you’d be up for happy hour at the Ponderosa with Darla and me?”
“I could be persuaded.”
They’d been working on getting Colin to overcome his fear of crowds. He’d begun seeing a therapist in Sacramento who specialized in demophobia and had helped Colin make significant strides. The panic attacks were less extreme and fewer and far between. They hoped that by their wedding, he’d be ready to stand in the receiving line.
She’d already moved into his place so her family could use the cabin again. Every day seemed like a dream—waking up to Colin. As much as she loved the Sierra and all the wonderful friends she’d made here, he was the best part of her life. Solid and true. And to think that she had almost lost him.
All she could say was thank goodness for second chances.
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Chapter 1
Nate shielded his eyes against the flashing red lights and followed the ambulance into the Lumber Baron parking lot and up to the front door. At least someone had the good sense to kill the siren. No need waking the entire inn. Not at this hour, when they had a house full of paying guests.
He wondered if Samantha had already arrived and kind of hoped she hadn’t. His sister Maddy, while still on maternity leave, had been the one to hire the inept socialite to handle the everyday running of the Lumber Baron. Why? He had no idea. Samantha Dunsbury had more money than brain cells and wasn’t exactly reliable. Just four months ago she’d left her fiancé at the altar without so much as a goodbye phone text, got in her car and drove west from New York City. Given that the Dunsburys were old Greenwich, Connecticut money and there had been bogus reports that Samantha had been kidnapped for ransom, the fiasco wedding made national headlines. Folks in Nugget couldn’t stop talking about it. Of course, it didn’t take a whole lot to get the local residents running their mouths. Pretty much anything remotely titillating got broadcast through the California town’s expansive grapevine like political fodder on the cable news networks.
Here, Samantha Dunsbury may as well have been Paris Hilton. And the mystery of why she’d dumped her groom-to-be, a wealthy Wall Street tycoon, in the eleventh hour only added to the woman’s mystique.
Nate didn’t care what the reason she had for leaving her fiancé standing in a Manhattan church looking like the world’s biggest chump. His only concern was making sure she didn’t treat the Lumber Baron with the same indifference. He suspected that the spoiled heiress would have no qualms leaving them in the lurch when she got bored of playing innkeeper.
Nate glanced at his watch, let out a frustrated breath and hopped out of his car. By the time he got inside the inn, the paramedics were rushing up the staircase to room 206. He trailed behind them, not wanting to get in the way, only to find that Samantha had indeed beaten him to the inn.
“Take deep breaths, Mrs. Abernathy.” Sam held the guest’s hand. Nate didn’t know why Sam wanted her to focus on her breathing. According to Maddy, Mrs. Abernathy was having stomach problems, not a baby. “Maybe it’s just one of those 24-hour flus.”
“Sam, dear, I’m an emergency-room nurse,” Mrs. Abernathy said, her face mottled in pain. “It’s appendicitis and I want the damn thing out.”
Sam looked up from Mrs. Abernathy and made eye contact with Nate. “What are you doing here?”
The woman clearly thought she was the goddamned lady of the manor and Nate wanted very much to set her straight. Not the time or the place, he told himself. “Maddy called me.”
“Oh,” was all she said as one of the medics jostled her aside.
“You need help, Mr. Abernathy?” Samantha called to a man Nate presumed was Mrs. Abernathy’s husband. He’d been hurrying around the room, gathering up assorted personal items and stuffing them into a suitcase.
“I think I got everything,” he said, his brows knitted as he watched the paramedics check Mrs. Abernathy’s vital signs and move her onto a gurney. “How you doing, Alice?”
“I’ve been better,” she responded, and Mr. Abernathy stopped packing to gently squeeze her foot, the only part of her he could get to while the medics worked.
“If you leave anything, don’t worry,” Samantha told him. “I’ll mail it to you. Let me take you to the hospital, Mr. Abernathy. I hate for you to drive when you’re stressed out like this. I could drive your car and Nate could follow. Or maybe you would prefer to go in the ambulance?”
“You’ve gone to enough trouble,” Mr. Abernathy said, patting Sam on the back. “We appreciate everything you’ve done and hope we didn’t wake the entire inn.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m just sorry Mrs. Abernathy is sick and that you’ll miss your bird-watching tour. I know how much the both of you were looking forward to it.”
Nate had to keep from rolling his eyes. Sam pour
ed it on a little thick. He moved out of the doorway so the paramedics could get through with the stretcher. As they lifted Mrs. Abernathy out of the room and down the staircase, her husband reached for the suitcase. Before Sam could help him with it, Nate grabbed the handle out of her hand and joined the procession to the main floor.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you?” Sam asked the husband again.
“I’m fine, dear.” Mr. Abernathy pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Alice is one tough cookie. Aren’t you, Alice?” He winked at his wife, who responded with a faint nod.
“I’ll live,” she said, and reached for her husband’s hand.
Mr. Abernathy turned to Sam. “You have my credit card number, so we’re square, right?”
“No charge, Mr. Abernathy,” Samantha said, and Nate stiffened. “You just come back and see us when Mrs. Abernathy is better.”
“We will certainly do that. And thank you, Sam. For everything.” Mr. Abernathy quickly headed to the back of the ambulance, told his wife he’d be right behind her and kissed her on the forehead before the paramedics closed the door.
Afterward, Nate helped him load the luggage into the couple’s Honda Accord and went back inside to find Samantha on the computer behind the check-in desk. She was probably voiding the couple’s credit card transaction.
“Hey, Little Miss Sunshine, next time you decide to give away three nights in one of our best rooms, check with me first,” he told her. “We have a forty-eight-hour cancelation policy.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Abernathy didn’t know two days ago that she’d be coming down with appendicitis or she would have canceled,” Samantha said, her green eyes narrowing.
Nate didn’t appreciate the attitude. “Those are the rules,” he said. “I’m sorry she got sick. I really am. But while this may be a hobby to you, it’s a for-profit business for the rest of us.”
“Why do you always talk to me like that?” She raised her chin above the computer and stared him straight in the face. Still, he detected a slight tremble in her voice.
Here come the tears. It was nearly two in the morning and he didn’t have the patience for any more drama. He wanted to go home and back to bed.
