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Homecoming Heartbreaker
by Joss Wood
One
Well, he was back.
Mack Holloway raked his hand through his black hair and rubbed his stubbled jaw, steering his Benz into the turnoff to the old logging road, a mile or so from the stone gates of Moonlight Ridge, the exclusive inn and resort owned by his adopted father, Jameson Holloway. This time he wasn’t home for a one-night stay or a flying visit on his way to another city; he was here for a couple of months. And yeah, the thought made him grind his teeth and his throat tighten.
Mack cut the engine and pushed open his door, exiting his low-slung, stupidly expensive sports car. Slapping the door closed, he forced himself to look over the roof of the Benz to the thick forest of yellow pines. He swallowed, panic crawling up his throat. He didn’t want to make the short walk up the road, to look at the place where his life had changed. He’d lost so much that night, his family, stability, Molly…everything that mattered.
Jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants, he forced his feet to move, feeling the cold fingers of a light mist touching his face. He didn’t want to look at the scene of the accident but if he was going to be living here for the foreseeable future, then confront it he must.
Mack walked on and the mild spring wind lifted his hair and plastered his shirt against his chest and stomach. After a few minutes he stopped and looked around, realizing he was standing at the exact spot where the truck had left the road, and he swallowed, trying to ease his suddenly tight throat.
But instead of reliving that night from start to finish, as he expected to, he only recalled the screams, heard the high whine of the engine as the truck rolled.
He’d lost control of the truck and his temper. He’d failed to look after his brothers, Grey and Travis. He was the oldest and they had been his responsibility.
It was one night, fifteen years ago, but it had had enormous ramifications. He’d thought himself invincible, they all had, but that night taught him that actions sometimes had massive consequences. As a result, he was rarely spontaneous and never made quick decisions. And keeping calm, rational and controlled was vitally important to Mack. It was his guiding principle, his compass point.
He couldn’t change the past and the stupid decisions he made but he could control the present and plan for the future. To do that he needed to push the past aside and focus on the here and now…
On what he could control…
He was back in Asheville, temporarily returning to Moonlight Ridge because Jameson—the man who’d rescued him from the system shortly before his eighth birthday—recently spent a week in the critical care unit in Asheville’s premier hospital after experiencing a brain episode.
They’d operated, Jameson was home, but the next few months would be critical to his long-term health. His adopted father’s recovery was contingent on keeping his stress levels at a manageable level.
And Moonlight Ridge was the source of most of his stress…
On his way back to where he’d parked his car, Mack glanced to his right, knowing the boundary to Jameson’s super luxurious resort, a smaller and more exclusive version of their neighbor, the famous Biltmore, was just a few miles to the north. Both properties were institutions in Asheville, North Carolina, and over the past seventy-five years Moonlight Ridge had been the retreat of kings and politicians, ultra-reclusive Hollywood celebrities and international billionaires.
And Jameson, as the owner and operator of the stunning stone-and-wood inn, had been the face of Moonlight Ridge for decades. He lived to work, and the luxurious resort where he’d raised them was his world. People energized him and he knew every guest by name.
But Jameson’s individual attention to their guests was going to be, for the next six months at least, impossible.
After many tense and terse arguments with his brothers, and with Jameson himself, they’d finally come to a compromise: each of Jameson’s sons would temporarily relocate to Moonlight Ridge. Mack, because he was the oldest—and despite knowing how hard it would be face Molly again—volunteered to take the first shift. It was the least he could do to try to atone for the devastation he’d caused…
Mack knew that complete atonement was impossible, but he had to make the effort.
But God, how he wished Molly wasn’t still working as Moonlight Ridge’s manager and living on site.
Mack placed his butt against the side panel of his car and stretched out his long legs, rolling his head to relieve the knots in his neck.
He met Molly even before he met Grey and Travis, his adopted brothers. He’d been eight and she, the daughter of Jameson’s accountant, seven. He’d been entranced by her corkscrew blond curls, olive complexion and her fascinating light green-blue eyes.
Molly’s complete lack of fear of Jameson, a big, burly, dark-skinned man—so different from his slightly built, mean-as-hell Korean biological father—helped him become accustomed to his new dad and his many rules and regs. With Molly’s help, he soon realized that Jameson was all bark and no bite. Over the next few months, he started to relax and then to thrive.
He had Jameson, he had Molly and he felt, finally, loved and secure.
Six months later Grey joined their little family and two months after him, Travis. They might not look the same, Jameson told them—Jameson and Travis were African American, Grey was white and Mack’s father was of South Korean descent—but taking his name made them his, they were Holloways and they were a family. Diversity was strength, Jameson had told them; differences were to be celebrated and skin color was irrelevant.
Jameson, as he’d found out later, always wanted kids but never found the right woman to give him any. On hearing how difficult it was for older kids to find a forever home, Jameson scooped up Mack, a kid who lost his mother at childbirth and was abandoned by his dad when he was seven.
Mack knew how lucky he was. And, he figured, he couldn’t have been that bad because Jameson went on to adopt two more boys close to his age.
That first year, with all three boys trying to find their feet and their place in their new family, was unbelievably tough. They all had trust issues, a fear of being disappointed, preferring to keep themselves to themselves. But Jameson kept a firm hand on the wheel and steered them through the storm, frequently reminding them that they were a family, and they’d better get used to the idea.
They listened and, despite not sharing a drop of blood nor a strand of DNA, became brothers in every sense of the word. For almost a decade he had a father and two brothers who, he believed, would go to war for him.
And he had Molly, his north star.
He supposed it was inevitable, given how close they were, that his and Molly’s relationship would turn romantic, and those last four months they’d spent together had been the best of his life. They’d laughed, loved and explored their sexuality, convinced that they’d spend the rest of their lives together.
Then the accident ripped apart his family and lost him his oldest friend and his new lover…
After the accident, believing that he wasn’t deserving of his family, of any type of love—Molly’s included—he’d left Asheville and everything he adored behind, cutting all ties with surgical precision. It was his way to punish himself and he’d been stunningly successful in doing just that.
For years he’d been a walking, talking emotional bruise.
Mack scrubbed his face with his hands, reluctantly admitting that, sometime after college, he could’ve approached her, made some effort to be, at the very least, polite. But no, because he was stubborn and stupid and, yeah, scared, he let the years fly by without contact and now he felt as alienated from her as he was from his brothers. If he’d reached out sooner, made the effort to connect earlier, their upcoming meeting would not be a fraction as awkward as it was bound to be.
&nb
sp; Moonlight Ridge was Molly’s home, probably more than it was ever his. She’d lived on the property as a child, worked for Jameson in her teens and was his father’s favorite-ever girl, the daughter he’d never had.
And she was now the manager of Moonlight Ridge and, because he was going to assume Jameson’s duties at the resort, he would be working closely with his ex-friend and ex-lover. The woman he’d thought he’d make his wife, the mother of the children he’d once wanted.
Completely fabulous.
Mack slid into his car, punched the start button on his dashboard, but instead of pulling away, he stared at the emblem on the end of his hood, feeling edgy, tense and very unlike the supercool, controlled businessman he normally was. All he wanted to do was to return to Nashville.
Asheville, Moonlight Ridge, Jameson and Molly were all agents of change and he didn’t want variations; he’d designed his life and liked it exactly as it was.
But he owed Jameson. He’d do anything for the man who gave him stability and love, security and a family, when he needed them the most.
But his past and present were about to collide…
More than ever, Mack needed to stay in control.
Molly Haskell stood at the window of her third-floor office, her eyes on the long driveway. She’d had a brief message from Mack, telling her he’d arrive this morning, and she cursed her elevated heart rate and dry mouth.
He’d left fifteen years ago; surely, she should be over him by now. Molly, frowning at the thought, gave herself a mental head slap. She was over him; of course she was. She refused to be anything but over him.
But Mack’s return to Moonlight Ridge as Jameson’s stand-in was going to complicate her business life—she refused to let him affect her or her emotions!—and put a hitch in her plans to revitalize the resort.
Just before he fell ill, Jameson promised to listen to her proposals to make the resort the premier destination in the South, but before they could meet, he collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, unconscious. His brain episode—another word for his narrowly avoiding an aneurysm—scared her senseless and all she’d been able to focus on was whether he’d recover or not. Now that he was out of danger, she could give her attention to Jameson’s beloved business.
He was her mentor, her second father, the man she adored, loved and trusted and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, including reviving his resort.
But as Moonlight Ridge’s manager, she’d didn’t have the authority, financial or otherwise, to make dramatic and sweeping changes. She’d now have to—ugh—get permission to implement her plans from, according to Forbes, one of the country’s most brilliant young businessmen, Jameson’s oldest son, Mack Holloway.
And Mack, because he was a leader not a follower, a visionary who liked to forge his own path, was bound to poke many holes in her plans.
Molly released a low growl, then a hard sigh. She was already annoyed with him and he hadn’t yet arrived.
No, that wasn’t true; being annoyed with Mack was her default setting. She was simply more annoyed with him than usual.
“I will not let him stand in my way.”
“Talking to yourself again, Mol?”
Molly turned to see her best friend stepping into her small office. They’d met when they were ten or eleven, when Autumn’s wealthy family vacationed at the resort two years in a row. When she didn’t return for the third year, they exchanged postcards until their friendship faded in their early teens. Two years ago, a scandal involving Autumn’s father—a famous Hollywood producer—chased her out of LA and she landed at Moonlight Ridge as their independent wedding planner.
Their friendship sparked again and these days Autumn ran all their weddings and events on a shared profit basis, and also arranged functions throughout Asheville as an independent contractor.
Autumn pushed her black glasses up her nose and joined Molly at the window, placing a hand between her shoulders. “Are you okay?” she quietly asked.
Of course she was. Maybe.
Molly stared at the Degas print on the opposite wall. The ballerina wore a frothy tutu, was on pointe and tilting down. In her teens Molly had been a talented dancer, one with a lot of promise, but she’d lost her beloved ballet that long-ago summer, along with so much else.
“Not really,” she quietly admitted. Turning, she placed her bottom on the wooden windowsill and shrugged. “I’m hurt that, despite having worked here my entire life except for college, Jameson feels the need to bring in his sons to oversee operations.”
“Maybe Mack will be too busy with his own work to get involved,” Autumn suggested.
Hope flared in her chest. “Maybe. Maybe the brothers just told Jameson they’d stick around to get him to take it easy. You know how implacable he can be.”
Molly tipped her head up to stare at the decorative ceiling in her office, trying to make sense of her mixed emotions. She was worried about Jameson, feeling nervous to be meeting Mack again after a fifteen-year absence, irritated that she wouldn’t have free rein to manage Moonlight Ridge her way and terrified that Jameson’s long-absent son would come in and tip over her carefully arranged apple cart.
“Am I allowed to still be angry that Mack dumped me?” Molly asked Autumn because, yeah, she was.
Autumn frowned. “Molly, it’s been a long time. You were kids. Ninety percent of teenage relationships end.”
Sure, but Mack had been so much more than a teenage fling. Before he’d become her boyfriend and her first lover, he’d been her best friend. Her refuge, the one person, besides Jameson, who had her back.
His leaving, without a word or explanation, eviscerated her. The months following his departure had been the loneliest of her life and contributed to her making the worst decision of her seventeen or so years, a mistake that still haunted her today.
“Talk to me, Mol,” Autumn said.
What could she say? Autumn knew that Molly’s father was Jameson’s treacherous CFO. She knew Molly’s history with Mack. How Molly and her family were forced to leave Moonlight Ridge when she was thirteen but how this place held everything and everyone she cared about.
But Autumn did not know about her crime.
“Mack and I working together is going to be awkward, uncomfortable. Mack has been home to visit Jameson before but, despite me living and working on the property, he’s never sought me out to apologize for dropping out of my life, for not replying to the million text and email messages I sent him, the frantic voice mails I left on his phone.”
Molly would never forgive him for treating her like she was disposable, like she was an object that he’d used and no longer valued.
She had her family for that.
There was something to be said for growing up. These days she was confident, assured, assertive and ambitious. She straightened her shoulders. “But I can handle Mack Holloway.”
“Good. How?” Autumn asked.
He’d be expecting an attitude, Molly realized. He’d be prepared for a tirade. As a child and teenager, she’d expressed every thought, wore her heart on her sleeve, and Mack would expect her be as she was before.
Molly refused to be predictable. “I’m going to treat him as if he were any other employee, any other boss,” Molly told her friend. “I’m going to be polite, friendly but distant and, above all, professional.”
Autumn’s arched eyebrows lifted. “And you think you can do that?” she asked, sounding doubtful.
Sure she could. She hoped. Trying to look, and sound, confident, Molly nodded. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”
Autumn patted her shoulder. “Well, you’re about to find out, sweetie, because there’s a car coming down the driveway.”
Go time.
Molly returned Autumn’s hug, sucked in a deep breath, left her office and headed for the tight, small and prosaic servants’ staircase. The
old, sprawling mansion—with two large wings added to house many guests—sported a massive, imposing staircase, but the staff needed to be discreet and that meant flying up and down the narrow staircase at the back of the house.
Molly used one of the many secret passageways—in the 1930s the original owners ran a speakeasy for their wealthy friends and used the secret tunnels to stash their illicit booze—and slipped into the imposing hallway/lobby via a discreet door. Waving to Harry, who manned the front desk, she walked through the hall dominated by the magnificent staircase and stopped to shove a tulip back into a bountiful arrangement of fresh flowers.
Moonlight Ridge was Jameson’s, but, emotionally, it was hers, too. She came back to work for Jameson after college because she’d felt so damn guilty—she still did—but these days there was no place she’d rather be than within the walls of this thick building, with its antiques and silver, art and antiquities. She loved the luxurious rooms, the ivy covering parts of the building, the extensive, lush grounds and the gorgeous lake that was a centerpiece on the property.
Molly stepped outside and watched as the matte-black, low-slung sports car made its way up the long, tree-lined driveway. Molly scowled at the wide-shouldered shadow behind the wheel.
Mack was back…
She gulped.
She’d moved on; she had. She hadn’t spent the past fifteen years pining, for God’s sake! There had been other men, not many, but she’d dated. But no one managed to capture her heart. To be fair, she hadn’t allowed her heart to be captured. She was perfectly content to be single.
Besides, she’d rather avoid the drama men brought to her life, thank you very much.
Mack pulled to a stop and cut the growly engine to his car. Molly sucked in a deep breath and put her hands behind her back, her fingers tightly interlocked. She hoped she was portraying her polite, friendly “Welcome to Moonlight Ridge” face but she couldn’t be sure.
This was, after all, the man she still wanted to run through with a rusty pitchfork.
Good Twin Gone Country Page 17
