Wild Heart Summer

by Jenny B. Jones

  I know where this is headed before Elizabeth even finishes.

  “That was a long time ago,” she says, “and Mitchell hasn’t found his renters yet.”

  My heart folds in half, and I have to take a step back from Elizabeth. She’s standing too close. Everything I feel—it’s much too close.

  “Why?” I ask hoarsely. “Why would Mitchell do that?”

  “Because Owen asked him to. It’s an incredible gift Mitchell’s given us, but we’re just one of many of his recipients.”

  I blink back the moisture in my eyes. “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Elizabeth asks. “You want to know why Owen never said anything to you about Mitchell’s meddling in your life? Avery, he feels like he owes him. Mitchell takes care of us—for Owen’s sake. And the man took Owen under his wing, gave him a job when he was too young to be working, trained him to run a ranch. Gave Owen his own cabin when he graduated from high school, so he’d have a place to live while juggling work and college.”

  “But Owen owed me the truth. They both did.”

  “We’d all do anything for Mitchell Crawford. Anything. My daddy has the best care in the country. I work a job that lets me set my own hours and pays more than I need.” Elizabeth rests her hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re hurt, and you have a right to be. But maybe Mitchell never knew how to approach you. What he knows is how to help, how to use his money to do good. That man isn’t famous around here for his big ranch. He’s famous for his big generosity. He obviously made some serious mistakes in the past, but do you know what I think?”

  I numbly shake my head.

  “If you’re going to judge Mitchell, judge his entire past. And that includes what he did for me, for my dad, for Owen, for every family that comes to his land with a sick child, and for countless other folks who’ve benefitted from the owner of the Shadow Ranch.”

  A tornado of thoughts spin in my head until I’m dizzy with it all. “He completely manipulated my life. I don’t know that I can just let that go.” My sigh comes from the depths of my weariness. “There are so many things I still don’t understand.”

  “Then maybe you ask Mitchell.” Elizabeth grabs a tissue box from her desk and offers it to me. “And as for Owen, he’s crazy about you, Avery. I’ve known him most of my life, and I’ve never seen him like this about anyone.”

  She might be wise beyond her seventeen years, but this part she definitely didn’t understand. “How can I just trust him?” I pull out a tissue and blow my nose. “Every guy I’ve ever dated has lied to me. I really thought Owen was different.”

  “He is different.” Elizabeth looks at her bulletin board before returning her winsome gaze to me. “And that’s exactly why you adore him.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  That night I find Mitchell in his office, sitting in his leather chair at his desk and staring at his laptop screen. He takes a drink from a nearby glass and sits it back down with a thud.

  “Did you ever wonder why I called this place Shadow Ranch?” He swivels in his chair and faces me, as I stand in the doorway.

  He knew I was standing there. The man misses nothing.

  I take a few steps inside. “Tell me.”

  He eyes me warily as he leans back. “It was my pet name for your mother.” The amber liquid in the glass draws his focus, and he seems to go somewhere else for a moment. “From the very beginning, your momma was my girl. Her mother loved her something fierce, but Courtney was just a daddy’s girl. She’d go everywhere with me—on the tractor, to the race track, the feed store. She was my little shadow. I was crazy about her. Her momma said I spoiled her. Now I realize she was right, and it was the last thing she needed.”

  I ease into the high back chair in front of his desk and wait for him to continue.

  “I was at her funeral. No power in hell could’ve kept me from going.” He looks away, his eyes glistening. “I stood in the back. Owen went with me. I cried like a baby all the way home, and he never said a word. He just drove the truck and played that twangy music of his.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me?” My throat is raw from all the talking, all the tears. “I was so alone.” I can still feel the weight of that pain, that isolation.

  “You had a group of friends around you. I told myself you were better off with them than with me. I knew your momma had told you all about me—her version anyway—and I didn’t want to upset you any more. I told myself I’d contact you when things settled down.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t. I guess you’re not the only one scared of a little heartbreak. If I visited you and you wanted nothing to do with me—well, I don’t think I could’ve taken it.”

  “So you found a way to get me here. Found a reason for me to need you.”

  Mitchell runs a hand over his face. “You have every reason to be mad about that, Avery. What you said was right—it was manipulative. I guess desperate people do desperate things.” He splays his hands. “I’ve got all this and nobody to share it with. And there you were struggling all by yourself. It just seemed to me like we should get to know one another.” He chokes out a small laugh. “I hoped if you got to know me, you might like me.”

  “I do like you.” The words come from a place that’s been kept under lock and key. But they’re true. “And I have been so alone.” All the nights I cried myself to sleep, praying for God to send me some help. And here was Mitchell, waiting for me. “But you can’t treat me like my mother. You can’t orchestrate my life and just step in and take over. I had an amazing internship lined up for this summer. It could’ve really opened doors for me.”

  “I can open doors for you.”

  “I want to make it on my own. I don’t want your money to make opportunities happen. I’ve got to know I’ve accomplished everything on my own abilities.”

  “Well, of course you will. You’re smart like me. And a wonderful cook like your grandma Clare.” His voice warms. “And spirited like your mother.”

  I give him a watery smile. He made us sound like a family. One I could belong to and a lineage I could proudly claim as my own.

  My mother had chosen to cut ties with her father forever, and it changed our lives.

  Tonight I was choosing to return to Mitchell Crawford like the prodigal she could’ve been.

  And lives would change once again.

  “I’m going to need some time,” I say. “I still have a lot of questions. And I’m not sure I’m through being mad.”

  Relief lights his face. “You let me know when you’re done. I’ll be here.” His smile lifts his cheeks. “I’ll always be here, Avery.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Owen wasn’t in his cabin.

  He didn’t answer his phone.

  And he wasn’t in any of the barns.

  So Dolly Parton and I make the jostling, bumpy trek down a few more dirt roads until I see Owen’s truck pulled to the side.

  I know exactly where he is.

  With my phone as a flashlight, I walk through a field, stubbing my toe twice on invisible rocks and nearly falling on my face when I trip over a squishy mound of something I’m afraid to inspect. But when I finally get to that hill, my breath catches and my heart whispers one solitary word.

  Owen.

  Holding a lantern, he stands with his back to me and his face turned up to the sky. One rugged, beautiful man against the backdrop of the land he loves.

  He slowly turns to face me. “If you’ve come to yell at me some more, I’m fresh out of fighting words.”

  “Good.” I walk to him, the grass swishing against my legs. “Because you can just listen.”

  It’s not so dark that I don’t make out the resignation on his face.

  “You lied to me,” I say.

  “I think we’ve established—”

  “I said I would do the talking.” I see that dark brow lift, and I plod on. “You knew important information about me, abo
ut my life, and about my mother. I needed to know that. I realize you love Mitchell like a grandfather, and you were in the middle. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing. I don’t know. Because I’ve never had someone pour into my life like Mitchell has with you. And tonight I met Ben. And I know, Owen. I know all about the money you left for them when you were just a little boy.” My word, I love him for that. I want to take that twelve-year old boy and just hug him until he squeals.

  “I’m not going to talk about Elizabeth and her dad.”

  “Of course you’re not. Because Mitchell raised you by his example. But Elizabeth told me what you did for her family, and I happen to think you’re incredible. And I know you were at my mother’s funeral.”

  Owen’s eyes briefly close. “You’ve talked to Mitchell.”

  I nod my head. “All this time, my anger at my grandfather was all I had left of my mom. I was raised on that venom, and I thought if I let it go, I’d lose a part of her.” It’s still such an unsettled thing in my heart. “I don’t know why my mom never forgave him and never came back home. But I don’t want to live like that.”

  A warm breeze blows, ruffling Owen’s hair. “What are you saying, Avery?”

  I inhale deeply, ignoring the humidity teasing my skin, the bugs biting my bare legs, and the fear roaring like a caged lion. “I lied, too.” I take his hand, letting my fingers slide over that familiar rough skin. “The night you first brought me here, a star shot across that dark sky. And you asked me if I’d made a wish.”

  His fingers wrap around mine. “And you said no.”

  “I made a wish. I watched that star shimmy over me, and I closed my eyes and gave it the desire of my heart.”

  Owen tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me what you wished for.”

  The word sticks to the tip of my tongue, but I push it out. “Love. I wished for love. I wasn’t sure what I was even asking for. All I knew was that I was alone. And then I got to know you. And my grandfather.” The grass dances around our legs as I step closer. “People have let me down. They’ve rejected me, cheated on me, and gone away. But I can’t live on all that disappointment. You once said we can miss the best things when our expectations are low.” I reach a hesitant hand out and cup Owen’s cheek. “I don’t want to miss one more thing. Even if it’s hard and complicated and messy.”

  Owen’s pause stretches painfully long. But then he turns toward my hand and presses a kiss right in the center. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Mostly. Pretty much. Minus a few areas of doubt. But the good kind. So, back to yes. Absolutely. At least ninety-percent.”

  Owen snakes his arm around me until my body is flush with his. “Let’s go with yes.”

  My laughter bubbles over. “Why don’t we?”

  “I love you, Avery.” His smiling face lowers, and his lips find mine.

  “Never stop saying that.” I slide my hands around his neck and kiss Owen with a reverence and freedom I’ve never felt.

  I would be going back to New York. And even though Owen and Mitchell won’t be there, I’m no longer alone.

  My mom might not have had enough to come back to.

  But I certainly do.

  I have a grandfather. And a boyfriend who’s stolen my heart.

  And more wishing stars than one girl can count.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Wild Heart Summer! This story was a lot of fun to write, and there are many more books set in Sugar Creek to come. This town is so near and dear to my heart. I love small town life and am so excited to finally write about this unique corner of Arkansas. Please check out A Sugar Creek Christmas and meet Sylvie Sutton, a retired C.I.A senior citizen who won’t be content until all her grandchildren are happily wedded. But we all know sometimes love goes astray and just needs a little meddling nudge. Come on back to Sugar Creek, where folks say hello, life moves a little slower, and sometimes love just needs a little mystery.

  Also if you enjoyed Avery’s story, definitely check out Just One Summer so you can read about her best friends Joss, Sydney, and Darby.

  Happy reading to you!

  Jenny

  For updates on future releases in the Sugar Creek series, join my newsletter for the latest information.

  http://www.jennybjones.com/news/

  A Sugar Creek Christmas

  Sometimes all love needs is a second chance.

  Morning television show darling Emma Sutton has just been fired. The only way to get her job back is to find a holiday story to warm the coldest heart. So when her hometown of Sugar Creek, Arkansas, needs a Christmas event planner, Emma moves back, sure her story lies in the town’s desire to become a tourist’s holiday wonderland. The plan is perfect—until Emma meets her new boss.

  Charming, handsome Noah Kincaid isn’t just Sugar Creek’s newest mayor. He’s also Emma’s ex-fiancé. Ten years ago Emma left Noah her ring and a goodbye note, but it’s haunted her ever since. The last thing Noah wants to do is work with the woman who broke his heart, but Emma’s desperate to prove to him that her bah-humbug ways won’t interfere with her work.

  Emma finds it’s more than the mistletoe drawing her back to Noah. Whatever they had is clearly not over, but Noah’s kisses can’t protect Emma from a past that won’t leave her alone. As the snow falls and the trees glisten, love will come to Sugar Creek. But will it come in time to make all of Emma’s Christmas dreams come true?

  Chapter One

  “Emma, you’re fired.”

  Three days after Thanksgiving, Emma Sutton sat in the executive offices of America’s favorite morning news program.

  “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Mr. Peterson.” She tilted her head to her other ear because surely she had not heard correctly. Not that she had a bad ear. But at thirty, perhaps she was entering that phase where things started falling apart. Like her auditory abilities. “Because it sounded like you said—”

  “I’m firing you.”

  “But news anchors make on-air gaffes all the time. Yesterday’s blunder was a grave mistake, but it was just that—a mistake. Yesterday’s error, tomorrow’s YouTube gold, right?” A bead of sweat tracked down her chest beneath her tailored blazer. It was miserably hot in this office. A bit of air and some water would’ve been nice. And the ability to click her heels and do yesterday all over.

  “You told America you hated Christmas.”

  “I did do that, sir. But I’ve apologized a hundred times.”

  “You said you hated Christmas.” Her boss repeated the statement slowly, as if Emma hadn’t gotten it the first time. As if she didn’t understand the enormity of her holiday-bashing remark.

  “If I may speak freely—”

  “I don’t recommend it,” he drawled. “I’ve had so many phone calls in protest of your on-air declaration, it briefly shut down our system. And that’s just from the local affiliates. Then there are the emails from viewers and a virtual hate storm on social media.” Mr. Peterson rested his elbows on his dark oak desk and laced his fingers. The eyes looking at Emma over rimless glasses did not hold their usual paternal kindness.

  The darn tears clouded Emma’s vision yet again, and she worried she would soon lose her ability to speak without choking on a blubbering sob. Last night she had sat with her laptop in bed and read thousands upon thousands of hateful sentiments online, viewers demanding Emma’s job. She’d been too upset to answer phone calls from her family and friends. She hadn’t even been able to choke down two bites of Chunky Monkey. The Chunk was always there for her.

  “Sir, I think if you’d let me resume my duties as soon as possible and let me apologize to our viewers, it could begin the mending process. We have such loyal fans. They’re not going to be okay with Tevyn in my place.” That little twerp had wanted her job forever. Tevyn, of the cutesie name, Victoria’s Secret model face, and a voice any female broadcast journalist would commit petty crimes to have. She filled in when Emma was on assignment, and the twiggy
waif had been gunning for Emma’s seat as a regular on the Sunrise News couch.

  “I’ve been part of the show’s family for three years,” Emma said. “I’m one of the team. Who will read the entertainment report? The Royals went to Australia yesterday. Nobody can report that like me. Does Tevyn have contacts in Buckingham palace like I do? Does she have any idea whose dress a certain princess wore yesterday? There’s a major impending Hollywood divorce brewing and—”

  “Emma, you’ve left me with no choice.”

  “But I’m on the fast track here; we both know this. You said I might be co-anchoring within five years. I’m ready to do that. I’m ready to cut my hair into a sensible bob, brush up on my foreign policy, and be that star for you. Just let me look right into that camera, admit my mistake, and beg forgiveness.”

  “It’s not that easy. With all this global unrest, this country can count on the beauty of only a few things, and one of them is Christmas.”

  “The biggest retail event of the year?”

  Mr. Peterson’s hand slammed on his legal pad. “The season of love! Tidings of great joy!”

  Emma blinked and tried not to shrink further into her seat. “Right. I knew that. Yes, Christmas is awesome. Peace on earth, good will to man. All of that. Indeed.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What you may or may not believe about the holiday season is not the issue. Our viewers do not want to hear their morning sweetheart tell them”—he held his notebook at arm’s length and peered through his glasses— “Christmas is stupid and promoted by a society of naive lemmings.”