Don't Fight It
Hazard Falls Book 1
Samantha A. Cole
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Other Books By Samantha A. Cole
About the Author
To the Sexy Six-Pack’s Sirens
Chapter One
“What’s up, cuz?” Shane Wilson asked as he leaned back in his office chair, his cell phone to his ear. He was grateful for the excuse to take a breather from reviewing the current week’s accounting that sat on his desk. It was the one thing he hated about running the twenty-seven-hundred-acre cattle ranch he owned with his husband, Tucker. Shane would rather be outside, doing manual labor, instead of crunching numbers. With Tuck’s dyslexia, though, dealing with all the invoices was ten times more difficult for him, so Shane took care of the business end of things. But he only had to go through the stacks of paperwork on Monday and Thursday mornings. Thanks to their office staff, Shane labored alongside Tuck and the ranch hands for the rest of the week and loved every minute of it.
“Hey, Shane,” his cousin, Quinn Alexander, responded from somewhere in San Francisco. “Did you replace your housekeeper yet?”
That was just another thing on Shane’s ever-growing “shit I gotta do” list. Hannah Gilman, the ranch’s seventy-year-old housekeeper—actually, house manager was a better description—had begun to feel the effects of her advancing age. She’d reluctantly retired, recently, after two and a half years working in the three-thousand-square-foot, main house on the Red River Ranch in Hazard Falls, Kansas. Rheumatoid arthritis had started making routine tasks difficult for her, and she’d finally agreed to move in with her daughter’s family in Oklahoma. While Tuck and Shane were definitely missing the older woman, the one who seemed to be suffering the most was the men’s six-year-old daughter, Arianna. The little girl was still reeling from the death of her mother a little over twenty-six months ago, and, now, she’d lost the woman who’d been like a grandmother to her. At least Hannah was able to call Arianna several times a week just to chat.
As odd as it was to some, Tuck, Shane, and Arianna’s mother, Sarah, had been in love with each other—as in a three-way relationship. Shane and Tuck had both fallen for the beautiful brunette who’d captured their hearts, but they’d also fallen for each other. Hazard Falls was a small town, and there’d been some obnoxious gossipers who’d ridiculed their unconventional marriage, at first, but over time that had lessened as people had gotten used to the idea. There were others, though, who still referred to them as “those perverts,” among other things, however, Shane, Tuck, and Sarah had learned to ignore them. While the three hadn’t been able to make their ménage union legal, they’d found a way around the laws. Shane and Sarah had gotten married before the local magistrate, then they’d had a separate ceremony which had included exchanging vows with Tuck. Both Sarah Edelman and Tucker Jones had willingly taken Shane’s last name. After that, they’d had a lawyer draw up their wills, powers of attorney, and other paperwork to make sure, if something happened to one of them, the other two would be taken care of financially and have full say in any medical decisions. Unfortunately, a time had come where the latter had been necessary.
The threesome had had six years of marital bliss—and one adorable child—before Sarah had been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It’d been so advanced and aggressive that by the time it had been discovered, Sarah succumbed to the disease only seven weeks later, leaving behind two devastated widowers and an almost-five-year-old little girl.
Propping his feet up on the corner of the desk, Shane answered Quinn. “No, we didn’t. We’ve had a couple of inquiries, even hired one for a few days, but they weren’t right for the job for one reason or another. Not many women have the experience to help run a ranch with fifteen workers to feed two or three times a day, plus keep the house clean, and watch Arianna when she’s not in school. A few had been more interested in getting into mine and Tuck’s bed, and that’s not gonna happen. Why?”
“Well, I’ve got a client who’s looking to make a fresh start where no one knows her.”
Shane’s brow furrowed. Quinn was a US Marshal with the Witness Security Program—or as most people called it, the Witness Protection Program. He relocated people who had to start their lives over after testifying in court or helping law enforcement investigate someone they knew—someone who’d probably want them dead. Quinn found them new places to live and gave them new identities. “I’d love to help, cuz, but I can’t have a woman hiding out here and possibly have someone show up looking to kill her—not with Arianna here.”
“I would never put your daughter in danger, Shane—I’m not a thoughtless ass.” He could almost hear Quinn’s eye roll through the phone. “Paige no longer has anyone after her other than the fucking press. Her husband was found guilty of running a multi-million-dollar Ponzi scheme and sentenced to twenty-five years last week. He committed suicide the next day by hanging himself in his cell. All their assets have been frozen while the courts figure out the awards to his victims. Paige knew nothing about what he was up to. When she did find out, she went straight to the feds. Without her, it might’ve been a few years and dozens more victims before he got caught. She filed for divorce after his arrest and wants all his victims to be reimbursed before she sees a cent of what might be left over—which won’t be much at all. Anyway, she wants to get out of San Francisco and start over in a place where no one knows her and isn’t looking at her like she’s to blame for what the rat-bastard did. Like I said, the only people who might try to track her down are a few jackass reporters and even they’ll forget about her after the next big scandal hits.”
Staring at the ceiling, Shane let out a sigh. “I don’t want to sound like . . . I don’t know . . . a reverse snob, I guess, but it seems like you want to send us a high-society, city chick who’s used to having her own maids and chefs, Quinn. We need a cook, housekeeper, and part-time babysitter, not someone who’ll want to call in a delivery order for every meal, need to ask how to use a vacuum, and pull her hair out when Arianna starts playing twenty questions.”
A horn blasting made Shane realize Quinn was driving somewhere. “I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t think you all would be a good fit. She’s from a small town in Nebraska, so she knows what it’s like to drive an hour to the closest Walmart. She went to college on a full scholarship, otherwise she and her parents would never have been able to afford it. That’s where she met her husband. She’s got a bachelor’s degree in business and had her own interior design company. Unfortunately, her husband’s name was on the paperwork, since he’d fronted the startup money, so that was seized too. I’m telling you, Shane, she’s a nice woman. Her folks are dead, and she doesn’t want to return to her hometown in disgrace. Paige just wants to find someplace where she’s not front-page news anymore, so she can figure out where to go from here. You can set it up
on a trial basis. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll help her move on.”
Again, Shane’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t on the clock, is it?” As far as he knew, Quinn wasn’t taking on any new cases. After fourteen years with the US Marshals, he was going into the private sector where there would be far less stress. It hadn’t been a decision made lightly, since he’d needed six more years to get his full pension, but he’d been afraid the job would kill him before that rolled around.
“Not anymore. I had her in protective custody until she testified against him. The FBI was worried he’d try to put a hit out on her. Once he was found guilty, then killed himself, she no longer needed to be in the program. I’m just trying to help her out, and after our conversation the other day, I thought if I sent her to you, it would solve everyone’s problems.”
Shane mulled it over for a few moments. His trust in his cousin was what finally swayed him. “All right—on a trial basis, though. I’ll tell Tuck about her later. How soon can she be here?”
“Is tomorrow afternoon too soon?”
He snorted. “You bastard—you knew I was going to say yes, didn’t you?”
A hearty chuckle came over the line. “I wasn’t a hundred percent certain, but pretty damn close, yeah.”
Dropping his feet to the floor again, Shane sat up. “What’s her last name? I’m going to Google her and find out what you’re getting Tuck and me into.”
“Merritt—two Rs and two Ts. First name is P-A-I-G-E. She’s thirty-five. And don’t hold her husband’s crimes against her. Like I said, she knew nothing about what he was into and turned him in as soon as she did.”
He jotted down the name and age as he heard the front door open and slam shut. Seconds later, a blonde-haired, dark-eyed tornado came racing into his office. “Daddy! Look what I drew in art class,” Arianna exclaimed, holding up a piece of white paper with a multi-colored drawing on it.
Seconds later, Tuck’s sister, Lila stuck her head around the door jamb, saw Shane, and mouthed, “I have to run.”
He nodded, and she disappeared again. Holding up a finger, he smiled at his daughter. “Hang on, sweetie. I’m talking to Uncle Quinn.”
“Hi, Uncle Quinn,” the little pipsqueak shouted, causing both men to chuckle.
“I gotta go,” Shane said into the phone. “As you obviously heard, Arianna just got home from school. Tell Carson we said hi.” Carson Matthews was Quinn’s fiancé.
“I will. I’ll also talk to Paige and let you know what time to expect her—I’ll get her on a flight tomorrow and one of you can pick her up at the airport. Once you all are sure she’s staying, she’ll send for the rest of her stuff. Say hi to Tucker and give Arianna a hug for me. And, Shane . . . thanks.”
“You owe me.”
Disconnecting the call, Shane pushed his chair back from the desk and pulled Arianna into his lap as she began to chat about her day. She was the spitting image of her mother, and he was so grateful to have her in their lives. She was Sarah’s legacy. They didn’t know if her paternal DNA had come from Shane or Tuck, and neither man felt the need to find out. As far as they were concerned, she belonged to both of them, just as they belonged to each other.
Chapter Two
Paige Merritt finished packing the two suitcases she was taking to Kansas and set them on the floor by the door. Kansas. In one way it was weird heading back to small town life after living in San Francisco for the past seventeen years ever since she’d left Nebraska for college and never looked back. On the other hand, though, she was kind of looking forward to it. Anything to get away from the press dogging her every move, trying to get an exclusive, and the dirty looks she got practically everywhere she went. Some were from those who thought she’d known what her husband had been doing and had been turning a blind eye to his crimes, while others looked upon her like she’d been a rat for turning her husband in to the feds.
All Paige wanted to do now was go where no one knew her or what her husband had done. It was one of the reasons she’d taken back her maiden name. It didn’t stand out as much as Winthrope did—as in California Governor Kyle Winthrope, Myles’s uncle, although the older man had managed to distance himself from his brother’s family years ago. Kyle and Peyton, Myles’s father, had had a falling out in their twenties and had rarely spoken since. Even though Myles loved to exploit the fact he was a blood relative of the governor, Kyle had barely acknowledged the relationship, especially after his nephew’s arrest.
With her parents gone, no siblings or children, Paige had no familial ties left—Myles’s family hated her for turning him in—so she had nothing keeping her in San Francisco. Nor did she have any reason to go back to Nebraska. The “friends” she’d thought she had in California had turned their backs on her, with the exception of Marcella Hartford, who’d worked for Paige the last few years.
Paige had felt awful when the FBI had seized her interior design business along with all the other assets she’d shared with Myles, because her twelve dedicated employees had suddenly been without jobs. Thankfully her name had still carried some weight before the whole sordid story about the Ponzi scheme had hit the papers, and she’d been able to help most of them find jobs within the same field. Marcella had been with Paige from the day she’d opened the doors of Zen Spaces, and the two had become fast friends. She’d been Paige’s moral support throughout the whole trial, having been worried sick while Paige had been incommunicado during her time in protective custody. At least she had one friend who’d stuck by her. Two, if she counted Quinn Alexander, the US Marshal who’d been in charge of her protective detail.
Talk about sin on two legs. Too bad Quinn was gay and in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend—not that Paige had been interested in getting involved with another man after what she’d gone through with Myles. Nope. Celibacy was in her immediate future, until she found somewhere to settle down and get past the insane zoo that had become her life over the past eighteen months. Even though Paige no longer was in the Witness Security Program, Quinn had helped her out once again, going above and beyond the call of duty. After stopping by Marcella’s condo, where Paige had been staying while trying to figure out the next stage of her life, to check on her yesterday morning, he’d called her several hours later with a job offer. His cousin’s cattle ranch in Kansas was in need of a house manager/cook/nanny. Shane Wilson and his husband, Tucker, were the parents of a six-year-old girl, and the woman who’d helped take care of them had resigned for health issues, and they hadn’t been able to find someone to replace her yet. Paige would be looking after the little girl during the day when she wasn’t in school, while the men tended to their ranching duties. The job gave Paige the weekends off, although, she wasn’t sure what she’d do with herself in the small town of Hazard Falls, population 3821 according to the latest census reports she’d found online. It was actually bigger than the town she’d grown up in. Johnsonville, Nebraska, had about fifteen-hundred people living there as of the last census. Paige had been surprised the Wilsons wanted her to start tomorrow, but there wasn’t anything holding her back from getting on a plane in the morning. Since she didn’t have many options and couldn’t afford to live in San Francisco much longer, she’d jumped at the offer, although she and her new employers had never even met, or, much less, spoken over the phone.
A knock on the spare bedroom door had Paige looking up to see Marcella. “All packed I see.” When Paige nodded, the other woman continued. “Are you sure you want to do this? You know you can stay here as long as you like.”
Standing, Paige closed the distance between them and hugged her friend tightly. “I know. But I think it’s best for me to leave California . . . at least, for a little while. Maybe when the press stops knocking on your door, I’ll come back, but for now, I need to get out of here.” Somehow, several reporters had figured out where she was staying, and they’d been hounding her for an interview following Myles’s conviction and suicide. She was still in shock he’d hanged himself in his
prison cell using some pieces of a shirt he’d ripped and tied together. But she also wasn’t surprised. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Myles had thought he’d be found innocent or, at the most, receive a slap on the wrist—parole with time served during the trial. Mentally, he never would have survived a twenty-five-year sentence, even in the cushy federal prison he’d been sent to.
Leaning back far enough to look Paige in the face, Marcella smiled. “Well, then, since it’s our last night together for who knows how long, lets break out a few bottles of merlot and french kiss the pillows.”
Paige threw her head back and laughed. “You’re on. It’s the most action these lips are going to see for a long time.”
Arm in arm, the two women walked out to the living room to toast their friendship, and Paige couldn’t help but wonder if it was the last time they’d ever do so.
Chapter Three
“Night, Papa.” Arianna kissed Tuck’s cheek, after he’d squatted down for her.
He hugged her tightly before releasing her. “Night, pumpkin. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“I won’t.”
Tuck watched her skip out of the extra-large kitchen and head for the stairs, before turning back to the dirty dishes piled up in the sink and on the counter. It was his night to clean them, while Shane read Arianna a few bedtime stories, and Tuck would rather be doing anything else but the dishes. The two men had been swapping the cooking and cleaning chores since Hannah had left for Oklahoma two weeks ago, and Tuck hoped his husband found someone to replace her soon. For the past fifteen days, breakfasts on the ranch had consisted of cold cereal, followed by fried bologna or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and steak or chicken and baked potatoes on the grill for dinner. That was the extent of the culinary talents of any of the men who lived and worked on the Red River Ranch. The one woman they’d hired to replace their elderly housekeeper had lied about her cooking skills, which they’d discovered during the first meal she’d attempted to prepare. Tuck had thought the fried pork chops she’d made couldn’t get any worse than looking like burnt hockey pucks, until everyone tasted them. Apparently, she’d mistaken a bag of powdered sugar for flour. That, topped off with raw potatoes, which she’d forgotten to turn the oven on for, had been the dinner from hell. Needless to say, she was fired, but not before she’d come on to both Tuck and Shane.
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