Also by HelenKay Dimon
No Turning Back
A Simple Twist of Fate
Long Way Home
Too Far Gone
Too Far Gone
HelenKay Dimon
InterMix Books, New York
INTERMIX BOOKS
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TOO FAR GONE
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / December 2014
Copyright © 2014 by HelenKay Dimon.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-15761-3
INTERMIX
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For Renee Reeser Zelnick—the friend who supports you, loves you no matter what and isn’t afraid to tell you those pants aren’t flattering. In other words, the perfect inspiration for Mallory. This one is for you, my dear friend.
Contents
Also by HelenKay Dimon
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
About the Author
Chapter One
Showdown time.
Mallory Able stood at the cash register and looked out the front windows of her shop to the main street beyond. An hour passed and still she waited . . . and waited. Customers came in and out all day but she stood watch for one in particular. Not even a customer, really. The guy who slept with her, made her believe then slinked away before the sheets cooled.
Walker Reeves, all buttoned up and proper in his dark business suits. All hot and naughty underneath. A gigantic jackass.
If the rumors were true he’d walked back into town the night before. Not that he called her or anything. But she’d been engaged in a mental countdown to their inevitable meeting ever since. The plan was simple: spot him then punch him. Some of the gnawing in her gut subsided whenever she visualized following through on that.
But so far the only people in the store belonged there. Female customers sat around the long table that ran the length of the open middle area of Gossamer, her arts and crafts shop. Thanks to the scrapbooking class, supplies covered every inch of the scarred wood top. The chatter rose and fell along with the laughter and exchange of gossip. The women passed a coffeepot around and told stories. Others mingled in the book aisles.
On any other day Mallory would have loved the activity, sat back and enjoyed the warmth and welcoming atmosphere she’d created. After a lifetime of living on the fringes and feeling left out, Gossamer gave her a purpose. A home.
Thinking about Walker gave her a headache. Conjuring up the memories of those months together caused a few others parts of her to hurt, too. She refused to let that pain swamp her.
He wanted out of whatever they had together, fine. But he should have walked out like a man, telling her it was over and saving her some dignity. Instead, he went with hiding and failing to return her calls for a month.
The chimes at the top of the door signaled a newcomer. Mallory held her breath as her gaze zipped to the entrance. Maybe he’d finally crawled back . . . but no.
A breeze ushered in Grace Pruitt, Mallory’s newest friend and one of Sweetwater, Oregon’s most recent residents. And a constant reminder of Walker. They’d once worked together at the FBI and shared a bond. After he left town so abruptly, Grace had stood up for Walker and apologized for his behavior. But as the days passed without a word even she stopped trying to defend him. Which was good, because Mallory’s patience for hearing about what a good guy he was had run out on about day three after his departure.
The bright sunshine warmed the cool nip of the early fall wind and put a rosy glow on Grace’s cheeks. So did nearly five months of pregnancy.
Mallory was half surprised Grace wandered in alone. These days Callen Hanover, her boyfriend and the baby’s father, stuck close. The overprotective thing wasn’t new for the guy but even Mallory, who shared a difficult history with Callen, had to admit seeing him all twisted up and rushing around to watch over Grace at every turn was kind of cute.
So was the thing where he proposed to Grace and she told him “not yet.” Mallory loved that part. Sure, Callen had lived through a lot of crap thanks to Charlie Hanover, his con-man father, but the guy tended to get all bossy. Seeing him brought to his knees by Grace . . . well, that was just about the only thing that made Mallory smile these days.
Grace stripped off her scarf as she walked. Her long auburn hair bounced around her shoulders and her skin shined all pink and healthy, likely from a severe case of happiness. She was tall and beautiful. Except for an adorable belly bulge that looked like she swallowed a basketball, she looked long and lean. Enough to turn more than one male head in Sweetwater. Something else Mallory found amusing since Callen did not.
The thin jacket stayed on and Grace rubbed her hands together as if it were ten degrees outside. Probably had more to do with the fact she wore a skirt and cowboy boots than the fifty-degree temps.
“Half of Sweetwater is in here.” Grace smiled as she dumped her bag on the counter and rested her palms on either side of it.
“The female half.” Moving here after college had been a risk but it had paid off. Mallory owned a business and slowly, month by month, year after year, more people in town and the surrounding county viewed Gossamer as a comfortable place to gather. Finally, Mallory fit in somewhere.
Grace waved to two older
women sitting at the end of the long table. The same two women who spent most of their afternoons hanging out in Gossamer, listening to conversations and buying something here and there.
“I don’t know a lot of men around here who like to scrapbook,” she said.
“But they are as good at gossiping as any woman I know.” As far as Mallory could tell that affliction was going around. “Which is why you’re here, I’m guessing.”
“I’m here because Callen turned in time to see my boot slip on the bottom step at the house this morning and threatened to carry me everywhere for the next four months.” Grace shook her head as she pointed to the tea collection on the coffee and snack counter behind Mallory. “The man is going to coddle me to death.”
If any man could do it, it would be Callen Hanover. Mallory would put money on that.
She grabbed the canister of loose peach tea, Grace’s favorite, and put it all together. Filled the French press and let it steep before pressing the plunger down. “He’s an interesting mix of bossy and caring.”
Grace rolled her eyes as she sat on the stool on the opposite side of the counter. “He’s lost his mind.”
Love did that to a man, or so Mallory heard. “That, too.”
Tall, handsome, devoted, and up until a month ago as broken a man as Mallory had ever seen. Callen spent most of his childhood being dragged around by his idiot father, separated from the woman he thought was his mother and from his brothers, Declan and Beckett, who everyone referred to as Beck. The life put a chip on Callen’s shoulder that they’d all been taking shots at ever since he landed in Sweetwater to claim the falling-down mansion of a house he and his brothers inherited from their paternal grandmother.
Now that Mallory knew Callen’s big secret, that he and Walker were also brothers, that they shared the same birth parents even though they never shared a life or knew about each other growing up, the pieces fell together in Mallory’s head. Everything made sense even though she had to hear the news from third parties since Callen hadn’t known and Walker never bothered to tell her.
Yeah, no doubt about it. Callen and Walker were two controlling and mysterious peas in a dysfunctional pod.
Lucky her for getting mixed up with this family. That would teach her to get reeled in by dark hair, dark brown eyes and a dark, brooding personality. Walker Reeves . . . just thinking about him made her hands curl into fists.
Rather than come out hitting, Mallory poured Grace’s tea and pushed the mug in front of her. Grace sat quietly and stared. Wore one of those knowing smiles that had Mallory bracing for battle. She sensed the next few minutes could get tense and frustrating.
Grace stirred her tea. Made a big show of banging the spoon on the side of her mug after adding a little honey. “While we’re talking about Walker—”
Here we go. “We’re not.”
“He’s back.”
“I know. Leah told me.” Leah Baron, Mallory’s best friend since college and the sole reason Mallory had gotten tied up with the Hanover clan and, by extension, Walker. She wondered if it would be easier to move than try to separate from the weird family dynamic happening at Shadow Hill, the Hanovers’ inherited house.
She also made a mental note never to get mixed up with a family that owned a house with a name. Because, really, who named a house? That would be like her calling the mobile home she once lived in ‘Stella.’ Just plain weird.
“Nobody has actually seen Walker. Leah heard from someone at the grocery store who heard from someone at Rosie’s Diner.” Grace described the chain in a singsongy voice. “And the list goes on.”
Including the ten customers who came into the store and dropped annoying hints in Mallory’s lap. “The Sweetwater grapevine at work. Gotta love small towns.”
“So . . . ?” Grace took a sip of tea.
With her friend pregnant or not, Mallory was not playing this game. “No.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
Since Grace once worked as an FBI agent and Walker still supposedly did, Mallory would not take the bait. Entering into a question-and-answer game with this crowd would only lead to trouble, and she’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
“I refuse to talk about him, think about him. Wait for him.” When Grace smiled Mallory worried she’d oversold her case. “What’s with that face?”
“Is that why you’re dressed like that?” Grace asked the question while peeking over the rim of the mug.
Mallory made a show of looking down, but she already knew what she wore today. Knew because she’d tried on approximately half of her closet before settling on the V-neck purple sweater, black skirt and leggings. The outfit hugged her frame but managed to hide her lifetime love affair with french fries. Sucking in her stomach helped with that, too.
She tried to play it cool. Smoothed a hand over her hair and stopped when her bangle bracelets clanked in her ear. “It’s just a shirt.”
“Honey, that sweater is hot and we both know it.” Grace a waved a hand in front of her. “It shows off those amazing boobs and your tiny waist.”
Tiny? Not a word Mallory would ever use to describe her body. Chunky and in a battle to the death with gravity, but not small. She’d always been described as having a pretty face, which she took to mean the rest of her needed some work.
“I think pregnancy is making you horny,” she mumbled half under her breath as two women came in and passed close to the counter before heading for the knitting section.
“No question about that.” Grace lowered the mug and it thudded against the counter. “Poor Callen.”
Mallory recognized that smile. Leah wore it when she started sleeping with Declan, Callen’s middle brother. Hell, Mallory saw it on her own face in the mirror after her first night with Walker . . . the dumbass.
Still, she had barely recovered from Callen’s tendency to force people to do what he wanted. Last thing she needed was a mental image of him naked. Good-looking or not, that guy didn’t light her fire, and besides, she would never poach. “I’m begging you to never tell me about your sex life with Callen.”
“He loves you, too.”
“He tolerates me.” And he was starting to grow on her. Mallory no longer saw him as a guy who always had to get his way and would do anything to be right. Now she viewed him as a guy desperate to hold on to his family. Not an easy feat when secret after secret kept getting dumped at his feet, including the one that sent Walker scurrying away.
Grace reached for a second shot of honey. “Callen has threatened to beat up Walker on your behalf.”
“They’re brothers now.” That piece was part of the nightmarish mess that kept unraveling.
“Technically they always were but that doesn’t seem to change Callen’s mind one bit. He’s ticked-off that Walker left town without talking with you.”
Okay, that was kind of . . . sweet. Also a little upsetting. “How does Callen know Walker left without a word?”
Grace bit her lower lip. “Um . . .”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The whole damn town knew she’d been dumped by Walker on his way out of town. Mallory hated that. She didn’t understand the broadcast of information either, since they’d kept their relationship quiet for a long time and it only got out around the time Walker left town. One more request from him that she’d honored back then and it bit her in the ass now as she became the topic of gossip and sympathetic stares.
The man made her stupid. Hot, bothered, lonely and stupid.
“Walker is probably staying at the Severn Motel.” More clanging as Grace kept stirring that damn spoon.
Mallory thought about grabbing the mug but figured manhandling a pregnant woman was not exactly a great image for the owner of Gossamer. “Maybe.”
“You’re not going over?”
Her temper flared up out of nowhere. One minute she drew in deep breaths, staying calm and refusing to take the bait. The next her brain felt like it was on fire. “To beg him to come back?”
>
Grace snorted. “To kick his ass.”
And like that, the heat in Mallory’s cheeks vanished and the breath of indignation left her lungs. Leave it to Grace to put the world back into perspective. “Tough talk from the pregnant lady.”
“I love Walker but that man is in need of a serious ass-kicking.”
No question about that. “Agreed.”
“And I think you’re just the woman to do it.”
A second round of agreement caught in Mallory’s throat. No, she knew that tone. Grace could lead a person right to where she wanted them. Mallory blamed all that damn FBI training.
Time for a reality check. “Sounds like you’re matchmaking. You’re not saying it but I sense it lingering inside you somewhere.”
Grace shook her head. Made a face. Even adding in a pfft. “Never.”
Okay, yeah. The act wasn’t even a little believable. Grace’s voice went too high and her eye contact faltered.
Looked like the last stab at a reality check wasn’t strong enough, so Mallory tried again. “Good, because we’re over. There is no Walker and Mallory happy ending here.”
“Of course.”
Yet Mallory sensed she hadn’t won that round at all. “I need you to hear me. I’m done with the Hanovers.”
Grace nodded. “Right.”
Despite the words coming out of Grace’s mouth, this was not going well. Mallory put her hands on the counter and leaned in close, keeping her voice low so her customers couldn’t hear. Not easy since several women were openly staring now. “Stop that, Grace.”
She had a two-fisted grip on the mug that should have cracked the ceramic in two. “My only advice would be—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” But part of her did, and Mallory hated herself for that.
“Hanover men aren’t easy to walk away from.”
Mallory forced her hands to loosen their death grip on the edge of the counter. It took another second to stop digging her fingernails into the already scarred wood. “Walker isn’t a Hanover.”
Grace made a face. One that said “get real” without actually using the words. “From everything I’ve seen—the stubbornness, the hotness, the unresolved emotional issues—that man is all Hanover.”
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