by Mandy Baggot
Praise for
Mandy Baggot
“Once again, Mandy Baggot has created a cast of characters that you can not only imagine but feel as though you know personally. Her writing style is here to withstand the test of time.”
-Lindsay Gentles, Turning The Pages ~ Taking Charge
“One thing that we can always count on from Mandy Baggot and that is to provide us with a mouth wateringly handsome man, but she goes one step further in this book and provides us with a whole team of them! This is definitely one to look out for and Mandy Baggot is becoming an author to watch out for. A down to earth day to day storyline with dreamy romance and testosterone dripping from every page!”
-Rea Sinfield, Rea’s Book Review ~ Taking Charge
“Robyn Matthers might be the most courageous and confident romantic heroine I have ever come across. For women readers who prefer their female heroines with a bit of get up and go, then this book is for you!”
-Rose McClelland, Judging Covers ~ Taking Charge
“I've just read your book and thought it was excellent! It had a real ‘feel good’ factor about it.”
-L. Lev ~ Excess All Areas
“I was entertained by the book from beginning to end and when I finished reading it, I felt the same satisfied feeling I have after watching a good film.”
–M. Leese ~ Breaking the Ice
“The book takes a thorough look at relationships, love, commitment and honesty and all the complicated baggage that comes with the territory. It is chick-lit to its fingertips!”
-Cyprus Well ~ Knowing Me Knowing You
Taking Charge
Mandy Baggot
Copyright 2012 Mandy Baggot
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.
Sapphire Star Publishing
www.sapphirestarpublishing.com
Smashwords Edition
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-1-938404-07-8
Cover Design by Jane Dixon-Smith
www.jd-smith-design.co.uk
www.sapphirestarpublishing.com/mandybaggot
About the Author
Mandy lives in leafy Wiltshire and has Sting as a neighbor. She lives with her husband, two daughters and two cats (Kravitz and Springsteen). When she isn’t writing she loves to sing and do Lady Gaga impressions (check out YouTube). She will soon be working on her sixth novel—if she can stay off Twitter for long enough.
Dedication
To Dad, for introducing me to Portage, Michigan and for passing me your firm values, your worldly wisdom and not forgetting the bad ass attitude!
Acknowledgements
First of all, I have to say a big thank you to all my family and friends in Portage, Michigan. Dad, Mum, Cindy, Iain, Taylor, Tessa, Bob, Mary, Beth, Gerry, and Bradley. You all made us feel so welcome when we stayed for twenty-one nights instead of ten! Thank you Icelandic volcano, too! This family reunion/holiday turned into research, and I want to thank you for providing help and inspiration for the novel without even realising it!
Thank you to the Kalamazoo Wings who are the inspiration behind the Portage Panthers in this book. Go Slappy! Go Wings!
Thank you to Special Guest, who is a real band. Mr. Big and I saw them at Logan’s Roadhouse in Portage. You rock guys and I hope to see you again someday!
Thank you to the amazing country music artist Sean Patrick McGraw who has spent time Tweeting with me and provided me with a backing track for Git Yer Cowboy On so Hard Drive can perform this at a launch celebration!
Thank you to my Loveahappyending.com associate readers and authors, especially Team Baggot. You are all amazing, and I really appreciate all your hard work on my behalf xx.
Thank you to the rest of my friends and family for their support, patience, emails, love, and childcare!
But thank you most of all to the team at Sapphire Star Publishing who have taken me on and given me this incredible opportunity. They fell in love with Robyn’s story from the beginning, and I hope all my readers will too!
Playlist
Set the mood for Taking Charge with this suggested playlist!
Keep Your Hands To Yourself – The Georgia Satellites
Old Time Rock ‘n Roll – Bob Seger
Johnny B Goode – Chuck Berry
Jump – Van Halen
Tush – ZZ Top
Rockin’ In The Free World – Neil Young
Red House – Jimi Hendrix
Summer Of ‘69 – Bryan Adams
All Summer Long – Kid Rock
Sweet Home Alabama – Lynyrd Skynrd
Light The Fuse Up – Raintown
Need You Now – Lady Antebellum
Guitar Man – Bread
Coward Of The County – Kenny Rogers
Too Rock For Country Too Country For Rock ‘n Roll – Lonnie Mack
I’m Gonna Love You Through It – Martina McBride
Long Hot Summer – Keith Urban
Girly Girl – Courtenay Conway
Just A Kiss – Lady Antebellum
Still Under The Weather – Shania Twain
Play Something Country – Brooks and Dunn
Honky Tonk Stomp – Brooks and Dunn
Git Yer Cowboy On – Sean Patrick McGraw
Good One – Blackberry Smoke
A Quarter To Three – Shy Blakeman
Wonderful Tonight – Eric Clapton
One Night – Martina McBride
Beer Drinkin’ Girl – Sean Patrick McGraw
Explanatory Terms
Roadhouse - local inn or restaurant the “roadhouse” or “road house” commonly serves meals, especially in the evenings, has a bar serving beer or hard liquor, and features music and dancing for entertainment.
Hooking - in ice hockey the act of impeding or obstructing an opponent's progress by placing the shaft or blade of the stick on the midsection of the opposing player and pulling him or her back. Hooking is illegal and normally results in a minor penalty being assessed to the offending player.
Roughing - an offense and penalty in ice hockey when two players are in a minor altercation. The incident would have to be minor for either player to be categorized as such an offense such as:
A player striking another opponent
A goalie using their equipment to punch an opponent
NHL - National Hockey League (ice hockey)
Yankees - New York Yankees (baseball team)
Red Wings - Detroit Red Wings are an ice hockey team in the NHL
Power play - in ice hockey a team is said to be on a “power play” when at least one opposing player is serving a penalty, and the team has a numerical advantage on the ice.
Enforcer - is an unofficial role in ice hockey. The term is sometimes used synonymously with “fighter,” “tough guy,” or “goon.”
Chapter One
Robyn could feel the sweat trickling down her back. It was pooling at the waistband of her jeans, and she also had underarm issues that no amount of Mitchum roll-on was going to cure. She heaved her backpack further up her shoulder and hurried on. There wasn’t time to stop and worry about how rank she felt. The backpack was digging into her shoulder bone and, if she didn’t keep up the pace, she would miss her connecting flight to Kalamazoo, Michigan and be stranded in Chicago for the night.
She’d already spent eight hours on a plane from London and hadn’t slept a
wink. The guy on her left, who was in a business suit, but obviously not wealthy enough for a seat in business class, had spent the whole flight on his laptop, loudly tapping at the keys and saying “hmm” every twentieth tap—she’d counted. The guy on her right, balding, yet bearded, had the flu, probably swine or avian or maybe a lethal mixture of the two. He’d gone through a box of tissues in the time it took to cross the Atlantic, and now she could feel the beginnings of a sore throat. Illness was inevitable when you were trapped in the equivalent of a tin can with so many people.
She checked her watch again and, seeing time was slipping away, she quickened her step. The small jet that would take her back would begin boarding in little more than five minutes.
As she broke into a jog and maneuvered past other passengers, the strap on her bag gave way, and the backpack fell to the floor, almost pulling her over with it.
“Shit!” Robyn cursed as some of her things fell onto the airport floor.
That was all she needed.
“Stupid, pathetic bag!” she screamed out loud, giving it a kick and letting out an exasperated hiss.
“Hey, need some help?” a male voice asked.
Robyn looked up at the man who had appeared at her side, ready to tell him where to get off. She opened her mouth and then paused, taking in the dark hair, inky eyes and broad shoulders.
“I could tie a knot in it,” he suggested, picking up her backpack and inspecting the damage.
“No thanks. I haven’t got far to go. It’ll be fine,” Robyn answered, rescuing her baseball cap and a Haynes motor manual.
“This is a heavy carry-on. Where you headed?” the man asked, helping put her things back into the bag.
“Terminal three,” Robyn said, observing him again.
He was as tall as he was broad and she gauged he was probably in his early twenties. She couldn’t remember seeing anyone looking so good for quite some time. It was also unusual that she’d noticed.
“I’m terminal three bound too. Let me carry it for you,” he offered, effortlessly throwing the sack over his shoulder.
“No, that’s okay, I can do it. I mean, it isn’t that far now,” Robyn started, taking hold of the corner of her bag.
“Hey, I promise I’m not a stalker or an axe murderer, and I don’t have my mother embalmed in the basement,” the man told her with a smile.
“But you’re at an airport, heading out of town, and that’s exactly what an obsessed son with a mother in the basement would do, and he would definitely make a joke about it. Don’t you watch The Mentalist?” Robyn asked.
She stared at him, as if hoping to find the truth in his eyes. They were nice eyes, she decided, but whether they were honest eyes she wasn’t sure. You needed to share at least ten minutes with someone before you knew that.
The man let out a laugh and nodded.
“Listen, I’m headed to Portage. Apparently, it’s something close to Hicksville. Let me help you with your bag and I promise you’ll never see me again.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. I’m heading there too. And if I was you, I wouldn’t let the locals hear you call it Hicksville. They sacrifice visitors they take a dislike to,” Robyn said, applying a poker face.
“You’re kidding right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Robyn asked him.
“Shit.”
“You can carry the bag, but any more cheap shots about my town and I’ll ask the pilot to drop you off in the lake. The water can be pretty unpredictable this time of year,” she told him as she started to walk in the direction of the other terminal.
“Sure, no problem. I’m Cole, by the way. Cole Ryan,” he said, hurrying after her.
“Robyn Matthers.”
“So, I guess you’re not on vacation,” Cole spoke, catching up to her.
“Nope. I’m heading home,” Robyn informed him.
“Been away long?”
“Just about nine years,” Robyn said with a heavy sigh.
It always surprised her when she said those words. It felt like a lifetime and, in a lot of respects, it was. She was nine years older on the outside, an adult with a life in a different country, but inside nothing had changed.
“So why now?” Cole asked her.
“My dad’s sick.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I think I am too. Not quite sure yet. I might want to give him a hug; I might want to rip his drip out,” Robyn said with half a smile.
Her relationship with her father had never been straightforward. She loved him, but she found it quite hard to like him. He made most people feel that way with his strong opinions and megaphone-styled voice.
Cole looked at her, seeming uncertain whether she was serious. Robyn laughed out loud at his bewildered look.
“We have a complicated relationship. Gum?” she offered, taking the packet from the pocket of her jeans.
“No thanks,” Cole replied.
“So, you know why I’m here…why are you going to Hicksville?” Robyn asked in a whisper.
“I got a job there,” Cole informed.
“Really? So you must be able to repair boats.”
“No.”
“Cars?”
“No.”
“You’re not a cop, are you?”
“No.”
“Then you must be a realtor or a bartender, because that’s all that’s left,” Robyn answered with a confident nod.
“Not exactly,” Cole answered.
“Can you work a bar?”
“Sure.”
“Then I might need your mobile number.”
“What?” Cole asked, confused.
“Sorry, I mean cell phone number. Nine years in England and all my terminology is up the shoot,” Robyn told him.
“I thought you had kind of a weird accent thing going on,” Cole admitted.
“Yeah, this is what half English half American sounds like. I need to practice getting my pronunciation of ‘water’ sounding right or no one is going to understand a word I say,” Robyn said.
“So, why would you need a bartender?”
“My dad owns a roadhouse, and things aren’t going so well. Pam…she’s my auntie…says there’s three regulars and a goat in there most nights at the moment. I can’t see three people drinking enough to pay the bills, and I don’t know enough about the drinking habits of goats to comment on him…or her. I guess it could be a her.” Robyn shrugged.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Cole inquired.
“I’m going to take charge, of course. Just need to get a team together I can trust and get rid of the deadwood. Apparently she goes by the name of Nancy, and has a tattoo on her navel…hi there, here’s my ID and my ticket,” Robyn said as they approached the American Airlines desk.
“Thank you, Ma’am…here’s your boarding pass, you’re all set.”
“Thanks.”
Robyn turned her attention back to Cole. “Here, let me take that. I’ll save you a seat,” she said, as she hauled her backpack from Cole’s shoulder and headed off toward the boarding gate.
“It’s over three hours by car, you know. Three long hours. A thirty-minute plane hop like this is so much more civilized, don’t you think?” Robyn said, sipping from her can of Coke.
She was so close to home now, it was both unnerving and exciting. Half of her couldn’t wait to see Portage and all the places she had missed. The other half of her was concerned being there again would bring back memories of the past, and not all of them were good.
“I don’t know. I like seeing new places. You know, little towns along the way you would never normally see,” Cole replied.
“Three hours on I-94 and you’d change your mind. And there aren’t any little towns on that route, just gas stations and branches of Bob Evans’ diners,” Robyn answered.
“You’ve done it before?”
“Yeah, when we left,” Robyn replied as her mind traveled back.
Her dad had driven her and her mot
her to Chicago O’Hare airport. Her parents had yelled at each other most of the way, and the rest of the time Country Drive FM was on at full volume.
“He shouted a lot and sang Kenny Rogers,” Robyn said, thinking out loud.
“He sounds like quite a character,” Cole answered.
“Sorry, I’m rabbiting on, aren’t I? You don’t want to hear all about my messed up family.”
“Rabbiting?” Cole queried.
“Going on, talking too much, hind leg, donkey,” Robyn replied.
“Maybe you’re nervous,” Cole suggested to her.
“Nervous? Me! What do I have to be nervous about?” Robyn exclaimed, taken aback by his suggestion.
Scared to death was probably closer to the truth, but she didn’t want a stranger getting perceptive. Even a good-looking stranger.
“Seeing your dad again? Taking control of the roadhouse?” Cole prodded.
“No, piece of cake! Now the ice hockey team, that might be more of a challenge,” Robyn answered, finishing her drink.
“Hockey?”
“Yeah, my dad manages the local team, the Portage Panthers. My dad’s friend, Grant, has been looking after things while Dad’s been ill and results have taken a real nosedive. I haven’t been able to do that much checking up in England, but Pam taped a couple of games and sent them to me. They were dire,” Robyn informed.
Dire was actually verging on the optimistic side. It was so awful, she’d sat in her flat at home, viewing the game through her hands. The team seemed to have forgotten how to play. They lost the puck constantly, couldn’t seem to stand up to the slightest challenge, and as for actually netting anything—well it seemed beyond them.
