by Lia Riley
The back door opened and loud footsteps moved through the kitchen. Before she could turn around, two big hands braced her hips, and hiked her backward.
“Archer,” she squealed. “Put me down.”
“How’d you know it’s me?”
“I’d know those hands anywhere,” she whispered low enough that Margot wouldn’t hear. Turning around, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for leaving the ranch to come hear this. I know you are so busy.”
“Anything for you. And, Freckles, you got to eat more of your pies. You’re running so much that soon you’ll weigh as little as a feather.”
“The half-marathon is in forty-eight hours. I know it’s the same day as your Grandma gets moved to the rehab center so it’s fine to miss it. Hopefully I’ll live to pavement pound another day.”
Outside, the town clocked struck twelve.
“Wish me luck,” she said, taking his hand. “Outside of Quincy and Marigold, you are the only person in the know.”
“And it makes me feel so proud of you I might burst.”
“You really don’t mind? It’s a lot of money. Money that could go to the ranch.”
“Hidden Rock will carry on the same way as it always has. Through hard work. What you are proposing to do is something I have never seen. Giving back to a town you barely know.”
“I hope it’s the town I’ll grow old in,” Edie said simply. “I really love it here.”
“Okay, okay, I can see you are raring to get the show on the road, but first, one kiss for good luck.”
She crooked her lips. “As if I can turn that offer down.”
He slanted his mouth over hers, and not for the first time did she marvel at the perfect way that they fit together. She parted and let him tease her tongue with his, just a hint of promise, that tonight, and tomorrow, and every other day would be theirs, full of kisses that made her blood quicken and limbs heat. He started to pull away but she sunk her fingers into his hair and held him firm, pushing her breasts against his hard chest, loving the way her softness fit against his hardness.
And he was hard in other places.
“Oops,” she said with a wicked giggle.
“You aren’t the least bit sorry,” he said with his easy grin. “Now I’ll have to think about baseball or accounting software or—”
“Leeches?” she batted innocent eyes.
“Done and done. That does the trick. Almost. As good as this whole shop smells, your vanilla scent drives me wild, Freckles.”
She cupped a hand over his ear, whispering, “I bought some honey vanilla bubble bath from Bab’s Boutique. I’m thinking you and me and a bath for two later.”
He groaned. “Shit. Leeches won’t cut it.”
“Thank you,” she said, lacing her fingers with his. “I feel less nervous.”
“You’ve got me standing beside you always.”
She squeezed his hand. “I know. Thank you.”
Archer let Edie lead him out of the front of the shop to where a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk. In the front, Marigold stood, her features as strained as Edie’s. Both women were clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight. Still, this was their moment so he took a step away, but Edie gripped his hand. Making it impossible to move far.
“Marigold, would you mind joining me up here?” Edie asked. Marigold stepped forward and turned to face the crowd, wiping her hands on her dark jeans. Quincy was there alongside them.
“As you may have gathered—” Edie began quietly.
“Speak up, we can’t hear in the back,” someone shouted.
“Marigold and I aren’t here for a public bake off at high noon,” Eddie said louder. “While we have had our differences over the past few months, we have also learned that we both have things in common too. Just like anyone. Isn’t that part of what makes living in a small town special? We can drive each other crazy but then be there to lend a helping hand. That’s what I’m learning at least. I come from New York and it’s very different, but I’m finding my way, and appreciate the fact so many of you have opened you hearts to support the shop and make me feel at home.
“This leads me to an exciting announcement.” She turned to Quincy. “Bankcroft Media will be facilitating a large anonymous donation to the Brightwater School District. There are many opportunities for young people in the valley for life skills and job training, but to date the resources are not matching the need. This donation will see a state-of-the art media lab installed at Brightwater High School, plus work-study opportunities throughout the town, including The Baker’s Dozen. The bakery will be closing shortly and reopening as an affiliate of Haute Coffee where students will be allowed to study culinary arts and gain valuable customer service skills. Doing is the best teaching, and we look forward to providing young people with opportunities normally only offered in large population centers.
“Now I have spoken a lot, I’m going to pause and open it up for questions.”
Annie raised her hand. “Marigold, where will you go if the bakery closes?”
Marigold cleared her throat. “I will still own the space and am not releasing that interest. My mother loved that bakery and was proud of it. I think she’ll be more than gratified to know that her legacy is living on. As for me, I plan for Brightwater to always be my home. It’s where I was born and where I expect to live my final days, hopefully far far in the future. For now, I’m off to do a little traveling. I’ve never left the United States and would love to travel to Europe—see Ireland, go to Italy or France. Maybe all three, who knows?”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Where did the money come from?” someone piped up in the back of the crowd.
“An anonymous donation,” Quincy said. “I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to disclose any information about the donor.”
“What about the bake off?” someone else called out.
Marigold and Edie traded glances. “Do you want to tell them?” Edie asked.
“No, you go ahead,” Marigold answered with a giggle.
“To celebrate this recent turn of events, both The Baker’s Dozen and Haute Coffee are going to be offering complimentary pie and coffee for the next hour. Please stop by both locations. Plans for the bakery remodel will be on display at The Dozen, including a look at the new classroom space.”
People split into two groups, each pouring into the shops eager for the free pie and fellowship. Archer hugged Edie to him. “I am so proud of you. That went off without a hitch—you did fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Edie replied. “I was nervous someone would say something about the—”
“Doesn’t concern you,” Quincy said, stepping beside her. “The best revenge you can have is to never let the image you weren’t in enter your head again.”
“Reggie is up to his neck in trouble,” Archer reassured her, smoothing away the worry lines on her forehead. “All you need to do now is figure out how fast you can serve the people in there. Margot must be sweating bullets.”
“Oh dear, I should get to her,” Edie said as Annie approached.
“I do have one more question,” Annie said with a grin.
“Tell you what,” Archer said. “You talk to Annie and I’ll go and serve the pies.”
“The question is more for the two of you.”
“What’s that?” Archer asked, pulling up short.
“Are you really a couple now?”
“As real as real can be,” Archer replied right as Edie said, “Oh yes.”
Annie clapped her hands. “I am so thrilled. Welcome to the family.”
“Whoa now, I am not officially in the family yet or anything.”
“Oh sure you are,” Annie said waving her hand against inconsequential details. “In all the ways that matter at least. Sawyer and I are still living in sin. Who knows, maybe we can have a double wedding.”
Edie glanced shyly at Archer who felt his ears burn. “We haven’t talked about any of that yet.”
&nbs
p; Annie slapped her forehead. “And here I am putting my big mouth into it. I’ll let you get to work and will invite you all up to the cabin soon for dinner.”
“That sounds great,” Edie said.
“Now all you guys have to do is find your brother,” Annie continued. “Have you had any luck getting him on your phone?”
Archer shook his head, trying to hide his unease.
Annie pushed back her short bangs. “Same with Sawyer. He’s starting to get really worried.”
“There’s got to be a reasonable explanation,” Archer said. But shit, the facts were, Wilder hadn’t returned a single message and with Grandma in the hospital, something wasn’t passing the smell test.
Annie waved them both to the shop. “I can’t wait to write this story up for my first feature. As for Wilder, Sawyer will give the smoke jumper office a call later today. Figure out what’s going on.”
They watched her walk away. He took Edie’s hand. How had he ever lived for so many years without her touch? “I love you,” he said.
She glanced up, surprised. “What’s the occasion?”
“You’re alive. The fact it’s a Tuesday. Because I’m the luckiest guy in the world. Are those good enough reasons?”
Her eyes danced. “Works for me.”
He kissed the side of her forehead. “And you better get used to hearing me tell you, because I’ll never get sick of saying it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
EDIE’S LEGS WERE leaden. The rest of her didn’t feel anything at all, except for a vague stinging sensation from her eyes as sweat dripped off her forehead. “Almost there. Almost there,” she chanted. This last mile turned out to be a killer, but head down; soon she’d be able to say she’d run a half-marathon. This sport couldn’t be simpler, all she needed was her two feet, and it couldn’t be harder, all she needed was sheer will—the unwavering faith to push through pain, doubt, and the overwhelming need to stop, lie in the soft grass, and devour an entire tray of brownies.
It was a conscious choice, to keep moving when you didn’t have to, when you didn’t even want to. Keep going. Break through. She’d run from her old life, and now she ran toward her new life, one where she was in control, not weighed down by rules and expectations, but free to be who and what she needed to be.
With such a truth behind her it was a wonder she didn’t fly.
“You run fast. Didn’t think I’d ever catch up.”
Edie glanced over her shoulder and nearly tripped. “Archer? What are you doing here?”
He was dressed in a pair of black athletic shorts and . . . that’s all. His bare chest was slicked with a sheen of sweat and his abs bunched and flexed as he pulled alongside her.
“Got to say, Freckles, my brain feels about to burst and I can still think of twenty things more fun to do than run. You’re a masochist.”
She laughed as they rounded the final bend, the finish line ahead.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”
“Grandma had a good night. That tough old bird will live to peck us all another day,” he said with obvious affection. “But Annie agreed to stay with her for the move to rehab so I could come here. She and Grandma have a tense relationship, but they’ll figure it out. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s not every day my girl completes her first half-marathon.”
Sudden tears burned Edie’s eyes. Mount Oh-Be-Joyful was doused in morning light and the air held a crisp tang, hinting of the coming autumn. Ahead would be cozy autumn nights, drinking hot apple cider and cuddling before a bright fire with this amazing man beside her.
Almost there. Her legs were officially aching. All she wanted was to give Archer a big kiss, and pound a Gatorade, in that exact order. The crowd let out a cheer as the runners came down the final pipeline, the announcer broadcasting runners’ names and hometowns. In another minute it would be her turn, and she’d be Edie Banks from Brightwater. She was also still Eden Bankcroft-Kew, and would always love that girl she’d been. She was also Freckles, who loved the man beside her, body and soul.
“Here we go,” she whispered.
“Hey, hold up.” Archer grabbed her elbow and she halted.
“What’s the matter? Let’s go!” The finish line was calling her name. They were right there. So close.
“Edie Banks.”
She glanced, startled as the loudspeakers boomed her name.
“Edie Banks, this man beside you has a very important question to ask.”
“What’s going on . . .” Her voice trailed off as she turned to Archer who wasn’t standing. No. He knelt.
“There are so many ways to have fun in life,” he said. “But I’ve never had more fun than since I met you. I promise, no one, no one, will ever work harder to make all your dreams come true.” He pulled out a small box from his shorts, and opened it, the diamond catching the sun. It wasn’t two carats, but it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“Oh my, oh, oh my God,” she whispered, as he reached out and gently took her hand.
“This is the Hidden Rock ring. I want you to wear it, to have the ranch, and to have my name. Everything that is mine is yours, especially my heart. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Despite the cheers exploding from the sidelines, her world shrank down to her and Archer, even as her heart grew bigger and more expansive than the surrounding landscape.
He slid the ring on her finger and pulled her in for a soft, thorough kiss. “Did I mess up your finish? I know how hard you’ve trained.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said, laughing and crying. “This is the exact right moment.” She laced her fingers through his. “Let’s cross together, Cowboy.”
Hand in hand, they crossed the finish line together, heading toward a bright new future.
Can’t wait to read more of Lia Riley’s Brightwater series?
The next fantastic book in the series drops in October!
BEST WORST MISTAKE
SMOKE JUMPER WILDER Kane once reveled in the rush he got from putting out dangerous wildfires. But after a tragic accident changed his life, he’s cut himself off from the world, refusing to leave his isolated cabin. When a headstrong beauty bursts in, Wilder finds himself craving the fire she ignites in him, but letting anyone near his darkness would be a mistake.
After her glamorous LA life went up in smoke, Quinn Higsby decided to leave Tinseltown behind and returned to Brightwater to care for her ailing father. Spending her days in a small bookstore, her peaceful existence is upended by a fascinating but damaged man. Quinn is determined to not to be scared off by Wilder, not once she’s experienced the heat of his passions.
But when an arsonist targets the community and Wilder is framed for the crimes, he must confront the ghosts of his past. Will his desire for Quinn flame out or will he be able to tame the wildness inside and rekindle a hope for the future?
And keep reading for an excerpt from the amazing first novel in the series!
LAST FIRST KISS
A kiss is just the beginning. . .
PINTEREST PERFECT. OR so Annie Carson’s life appears on her popular blog. Reality is . . . messier. Especially when it lands her back in the one-cow town of Brightwater, California, and back in the path of the gorgeous six-foot-four reason she left. Sawyer Kane may fill out those Wranglers, but she won’t be distracted from her task. Annie just needs the summer to spruce up and sell her family’s farm so she and her young son can start a new life in the big city. Simple, easy, perfect.
Sawyer has always regretted letting the first girl he loved slip away. He won’t make the same mistake twice, but can he convince beautiful, wary Annie to trust her heart again when she’s been given every reason not to? And as a single kiss turns into so much more, can Annie give up her idea of perfect for a forever that’s blissfully real?
Available Now from Avon Impulse!
An Excerpt from
LAST FIRST KISS
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THE KNOCK CAME as the last ice cube melted into her scotch.
What the . . . ? Annie Carson slammed against the chair, adrenal system upgrading from zoned out to Defcon 1. The vintage pig cookie jar stared back from the Formica counter with a vaguely panicked expression. Nothing arrived after midnight except lovers and trouble.
Annie didn’t have a lover. And the biggest trouble she had tonight was trying to finish this blog post while forgetting all the reasons she fled from here in the first place. On the surface, Brightwater boasted a quaint Ye Olde West appeal. Nestled under the shadow of Mount Oh-Be-Joyful’s fourteen-thousand-foot peak, the historic main street boasted a working saddlery instead of Starbucks, the barbershop offered complimentary sideburn trims, and tractors caused the only traffic jams.
Then there were the cowboys. Some women—fine, most women—would consider the local ranchers to be six kinds of swoon-worthy, but she’d learned her lesson ten years ago.
If you meet a cute guy wearing a Stetson, run in the opposite direction.
The next knock rattled the front door’s hinges; whoever was out there meant business. Annie sneezed before drawing a shaky breath. Drinking wasn’t a personal forte, but chamomile tea didn’t do much to blunt the first-night-back-in-my-one-cow-hometown blues, even with extra honey.
Maybe if she took her time, whoever was out there would go away.
She closed her laptop’s lid, stood, and walked to the sink, setting the tumbler under the leaky tap. Water drip, drip, dripped into the brown dregs. Dad’s radio above the fridge, tuned to a Fresno classical station, piped in Mozart’s Requiem on the scratchy speakers, hopefully due to coincidence rather than cosmic foreshadowing.
More knocking.
This could very well be an innocent mistake. Someone had confused directions, taken a wrong turn, driven up a quarter-mile driveway to an out-of-the-way farmhouse . . . to where she sat wearing a Kiss Me, I’m Scottish apron with a sleeping five-year-old upstairs.
She hadn’t missed Gregor in months. Her ex-husband might be a metrosexual philosophy professor, but at least he stood higher than five feet in socks. Why, oh, why had she enrolled in yoga instead of kickboxing last summer in Portland? No way would a sun salutation cut the mustard against a crazy-eyed bunny boiler. An alarmed buzz replaced the hollow feeling in her chest. Brightwater was a sleepy, safe backwater. Had it grown more dangerous since she tore out of here on her eighteenth birthday? Meth labs? Cattle thieves? Area 51 wasn’t too far away, so throw in possible alien abduction?
