She shook her head. “I can’t, Graham.”
“Nick gave me the ticket.” Another step nearer. It knocked the air from her lungs. “For us.”
“He did?” She’d seen them talking earlier. No matter how Nick felt about her and Graham’s relationship, she’d hoped he’d consider Graham an ally. He needed a man in his life. And she couldn’t think of a better role model for her son than Graham. But she’d never in a million years thought they’d been talking about her.
“How about it?” he asked.
Her gaze darted around, searching for any excuse to turn him down. She needed one, desperately. Because she really wanted to go with him.
“I’ve got the fire,” Charity called out. “Honor’s got Jack—and Owen, too, from the looks of it.”
“Diana? Nick?” she asked, combing the shop fronts.
“Getting their faces painted.” Graham stared at the ticket. “You can say no, Felicity. It’s a choice.”
Her heart pounded wildly when she faced him. “I don’t want to say no, Graham. I want to go with you. I want to spend time with you. I want…” She could touch him now; his heat and scent surrounded her. She wanted to touch him—but she didn’t.
“What do you want, Felicity?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I made Nick a promise. After everything he’s been through, I can’t break it. No matter what happened between us—or what I want.”
He was smiling broadly.
“Why are you smiling?” What was there to smile about? She was in love with the one man she’d sworn off.
“Your unwavering loyalty to your family.” His hand cupped her cheek, sending an alarming shudder down her spine. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
She blinked, his words jarring her. “What?”
Both hands now, cradling her face. “I love you.”
“Graham.” Her breath hitched, hard. “You can’t say that.”
“I just did.” His thumb ran along her cheek. “And since Nick has given me his blessing, I’m going to say it again. And again.” He tilted her face back. “Whenever and wherever I feel like it.”
With each word, her hope grew. Nick had changed his mind? Graham loved her? Here, in front of everyone—and she knew everyone was watching—he loved her.
“I love you,” he whispered again. “And even though the kids think you love me, too, I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you said something right now.”
He was worried. Here he was, baring his heart to her, a heart that had been just as broken as hers. Still, he put himself out there—for her—and she hadn’t said a word.
The words came rushing out. “I love you, too.”
He was kissing her then. He didn’t care what sort of gossip followed. It would be worth it. He smiled, resting his forehead against hers and breathing hard.
“You scared me,” he confessed.
“I’m a little shell-shocked myself.” She slid her arms around his waist.
They stood there, wrapped up in each other. Content.
“Hate to break this up,” Nick said, running toward them. “But if you’re not going to use this, Di and I are.”
Graham let go of her long enough to give Nick the ticket.
“We’re good?” Nick asked. “You two, I mean? I was right, Graham? It looks like I was right.” He was all smiles.
“You were right,” Graham agreed.
“Aren’t you glad we booked the bus now, Dad?” Diana yelled from the sidewalk. “Come on, Nick.” She waved him over.
“Better go before we lose the slot.” Nick shook his head and ran to Di, the two of them racing down the sidewalk to the pier and the paddleboats.
“Bus?” she asked.
“To drive to the beach house.” He smoothed the hair from her forehead. “She wanted the big one—in case you changed your mind.”
“I’m glad. I’ve changed my mind.” Her smile demanded her kiss her again.
He did, pausing between kisses to ask, “You’re sure? I don’t want to rush this—”
“How big?” she asked, distracted by the curve of his lips.
“Big enough for all of us. Charity—probably a couch for Owen somewhere, if you think it’s safe?” he asked, casting a concerned glance at the young couple.
“I don’t know if there’s anything safe about love.” Burying her face in his chest felt right. “Besides, he’s leaving in a week. If they want to spend every second of that together, I’m not going to stop them—they’re good kids. Smart kids. I trust them.”
His arms tightened around her. “Okay.”
“When do we leave?” she asked.
He sighed. “After the adoption party? If you want to go?”
She rested her chin on his chest and smiled up at him. In two days, they’d take their first family vacation. The first of many. Whatever life threw at her, at them, they’d face it together. “I want. There’s nothing I want more.”
Epilogue
Owen had this way of looking at her that made her feel beautiful. He said it, too, a lot, but sometimes—when he looked at her—she was beautiful. Tomorrow they would leave for the coast, all of them. Her mom hadn’t bothered asking her if she wanted Owen along. She’d just invited him. It was like her mother knew how important he was and how little time they had left.
“Isn’t that adorable?” Grams asked, holding up the tiny baseball mitt and glove someone had brought for Jack.
Nick eyed the baseball gear with contempt. “He’s going to play soccer.”
“He can play more than one sport,” Mimi argued.
Owen spoke up. “I played baseball for a while.”
“And ran track. And played football.” She shook her head. “You’re what they call an overachiever.”
“But you love me anyway.” He caught her hand in his.
“I do.” She squeezed his hand. Knowing he was leaving soon scared the crap out of her. It wasn’t like he was taking a semester abroad or going on safari.
He was joining the Marines—the front line.
Uncle Zach’s letters were few and far between. They hadn’t seen him in years. She didn’t want that for Owen—she’d miss him too much. And the fear of things like guns and explosions and injuries was enough to give her nightmares. Every time she thought of Owen out there dealing with that, it hurt—enough that tears kicked in before she could stop them.
And it could happen at any time. Like right now. “Be right back,” she said, needing an escape before the crying started.
She hurried up the stairs and into Jack’s nursery, taking deep breaths and shaking her hands. It was supposed to calm you down, according to Diana. She had a whole arsenal of ways to “calm down” and “decompress” and not all of them included smoking pot.
“What’s up?” Owen had followed her.
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. He’d know. And as bad as it was for her, she knew it was eating him up, too.
“Talk to me.” He caught her hand and pulled her against him. “Talk.” He kissed her nose. “To.” Her forehead. “Me.” Her lips. He clung long enough for her to sway into him. “Did I do something?”
“No.” She gripped his T-shirt, holding on tight. “No. You’re here.”
He nodded, instantly understanding. “I’m coming back.”
“You promise?” she whispered, hoarse.
“I promise. I’ll write. I’ll call when I can.” He smiled. “You’ll be so busy at school, you probably won’t have time to miss me.”
“Don’t, Owen.” She frowned. “You know that’s not me. Thinking about next week—” Her voice broke.
“Then don’t.” His hands tightened. “Right now, it’s all about us. You and me.”
She nodded. “You and me.”
“I’m c
oming back.” He kissed her with everything he had.
…
Braden Martinez was a man of few words. Charity had taken to spouting off random bits of trivia just to see what reaction she could get from him. Not much. He remained ever aloof but ever present. And currently, he carried several large trays of finger foods into the dining room.
“Does he know about your condition?” her mother asked, watching the silent sheriff place the trays on the table, then straighten them before stepping back.
She nodded.
“Does he?” Her mother glanced back and forth between them. “You be careful, Charity Ann.”
“It’s not like he can get me pregnant, Mom,” she teased.
Her mother swatted her shoulder. “I wasn’t talking about you. And that wasn’t funny. Not in the least.”
Charity popped a powdered-sugar-covered wedding cookie in her mouth. “Who were you talking about?”
“Sheriff Martinez.” She sighed, exasperated. “He’s seen his fair share of hurting. Now you’re back and he’s just as smitten as ever.”
“What are you talking about?” Charity knew her mother had a flare for the dramatic, but she was being ridiculous.
“You were so determined to get out of Pecan Valley, you never stopped to look around you. That boy followed you around since grade school, not that you ever noticed.” Her tone was sharp.
“Mom, we dated…sort of. I was never mean to him.” Was she? She hoped not. She’d never have intentionally hurt him.
Her mother’s look was disapproving. “You left; he moved on. Married, settled down, and expecting.”
Charity stopped eating. Braden? Married? A father? “What?”
“Not anymore. Sad story, really. Too sad for today.” She paused, shaking her head. “I think we’ve had enough sadness for now, don’t you?”
“Mom, you can’t start to tell me something like that, then stop.” Besides, she needed to start breathing again.
“They died, honey.” She sighed. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Charity stared at the man talking with her father. “How long ago?” she asked.
“Six years? Eight?” Her mother shrugged. “He hasn’t shown a bit of interest in a woman until now.” Her mother tipped her chin up, her gaze brutal. “Now you’re back, pregnant and alone, and he’s still following you around. I’m not worried about you, Charity—you’ve got us. I am worried about him. He’s lost enough. You be careful with him, you hear me?”
A hard, jagged knot settled in Charity’s throat. Poor Braden. Her hands skimmed over her stomach, imagining the bump and flutters going away forever. It hurt too much to imagine. Braden had lost that and more. Children and his wife? Her stomach rolled, and she sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs.
Braden was up before she could stop him, offering her a glass of lemonade. “Charity?”
“Thank you.” She took a small sip before she smiled up at him.
But there it was, just like her mother said. A flash of warmth, concern—tenderness even. Then it was gone. She’d never have suspected he cared about her if her mother hadn’t said something. She was pregnant, after all. Wasn’t that sort of a huge deterrent for a single guy? A too-hot-to-be-single guy… Then again, her mother loved to read between the lines and extract what she wanted to see. But, if there was the slightest chance her mother was right she’d be extra careful with Braden. Besides, she could use some friends that weren’t related to her. And she got the feeling Braden could use a friend, too.
…
Felicity pulled a package of clear plastic plates from the pantry. When Widow Rainey said a few people were coming for a quiet gathering, she’d believed her. Instead, most of Pecan Valley was here. Now she was scavenging for cutlery and food and working her refrigerator’s ice machine overtime.
“Need a hand?” Charity asked. “I brought reinforcements.”
Braden Martinez was there, looking as uncomfortable as ever.
But Graham slipped in behind them, and her tension melted away. His smile did that. And, boy, was he smiling.
“That tray, please.” Felicity nodded at the tray piled high with fresh chopped veggies and a homemade dip. “Can you take that one, too? With the sweets? But tell Nick to stay away from this one; it has pecans.” She put the tray with candies and cookies in Braden’s hand.
“Right. The whole allergic thing.” Charity laughed. “It is a good way to get out of eating stuff, I guess.”
Graham stood back, his warm brown gaze watching her. The sooner she shooed her sister and Braden out of the kitchen, the better.
“Anything else?” Braden asked.
“This, too?” she asked, adding a package of cutlery and plates. “Got it?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go, Sheriff. But try not to drop anything,” Charity said, pushing open the kitchen door and shooting him a cheeky grin as he led the way. “Hey, I got you away from Widow Rainey. You can thank me later.” The door swung shut.
She grabbed Graham. “I was wondering when you were going to get here.”
“Diana.” He kissed her. “She wanted to dress up.” He kissed her again. “An actual dress.”
Felicity pushed off him. “Really?”
He nodded, pulling her in for another kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I woke up.”
Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, pulling a full-bodied shiver from him. “Some things are worth waiting for.”
He pressed her against the counter, his hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “I’m not a fan of waiting.” His lips traveled to her neck—as the kitchen door swung wide.
“Felicity, Charity needs—” Widow Rainey stood, staring.
Graham stopped kissing her, but he didn’t let her go.
Widow Rainey kept staring.
“What can I get you?” Felicity asked, trying, and failing, to wiggle free of Graham’s hold.
“Uh-huh. I heard rumor of something happening between you two. I’m assuming Felicity is the woman you told Miss Takahashi about?” Widow Rainey asked, smiling.
Graham nodded. “She is.”
“And I’m assuming from the goings-on in this kitchen that nuptials are soon to follow?” she asked, brows high.
“We haven’t gotten around to discussing nuptials yet. We’re still very involved in the wooing and, what did you call it? Goings-on?” Graham’s smile was mischievous.
Widow Rainey’s brows shot higher, but she disappeared from the doorway without another word.
“Everyone in Pecan Valley will know we’re an item now, Dr. Murphy.” Felicity shook her head.
He sighed, brushing her hair from her shoulder. “That was the plan.” He smiled her favorite smile. “Now, about the nuptials…”
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Acknowledgments
I am blessed to have the love and support of so many talented and nurturing people.
To Allison Collins, Jolene Navarro, Joni Hahn, Storm Navarro, and Marilyn Tucker, for being the first to welcome the Otto-Buchanan family onto the page.
Thank you Teri Wilson, Julia London, K.L. White, Frances Trilone, and Maria Rodriguez for suffering through early drafts and loving me anyway.
I am thankful for my wonderful, strange, unique family—by blood or by choice. Thanks for always having my back!
To my Cowboy and my kids - I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for giving me the chance to chase my dreams and cheering me along the way!
About the Author
Sasha Summers grew up surrounded by books. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance, and travel—passions she’s used to write more than twenty romance novels and novellas. Now a bestselling and award-winning author, Sasha continues to fall a little in love with
each hero she writes. From easy-on-the-eyes cowboys or sexy alpha-male werewolves to heroes of truly mythic proportions, she believes that everyone should have their happy ending—in fiction and in real life.
Sasha lives in the suburbs of the Texas Hill Country with her amazing and supportive family and her beloved grumpy cat, Gerard, The Feline Overlord. She looks forward to hearing from fans and hopes you’ll visit her online:
sashasummers.com
Turn the page to start reading the latest heartfelt, small town romance from New York Times bestselling author Victoria James.
Chapter One
“Stop! You can’t go out there!”
Sarah Turner jolted back from the door, sending her coffee swishing over the rim of the mug as her housekeeper, Edna Casey, burst into the office. The older woman was panting, clutching a folded newspaper to her small frame, her eyes as wide as the antique wagon wheels leaning against the barn.
Sarah glanced around, half expecting a herd of angry cattle to be barreling their way, but the area was clear of immediate danger. “What’s wrong?”
Mrs. Casey shoved the newspaper at her. “There’s been a horrible mistake.”
Frowning, Sarah took the paper. “Is there a problem with the ad I placed?”
Mrs. Casey made a strangled noise and nodded, her eyes still wide.
Dread pooled in Sarah’s stomach. She’d checked the online version of the ad, and it had been perfect. So perfect, she’d already received quite a few calls about the new ranch foreman position. It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning, and she had a dozen interviews ahead of her. This time tomorrow, she’d be able to hire a new foreman and get the family ranch up and running again.
She inhaled sharply as she read the only ad that boasted the ranch’s phone number. The ad that Edna must be referring to. The ad she never, ever, in a million years would have placed.
A bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades, and she put her coffee mug down with a thud on the desk. Squeezing her eyes shut, she said a quick prayer that maybe when she opened them again, the ad would be correct. She opened one eye, and a wave of nausea hit. Nope. The “horrible mistake” was still there.
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