PRAISE FOR JENNIFER PROBST
"For a sexy, fun-filled, warmhearted read, look no further than Jennifer Probst!"
--Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author "Jennifer Probst is an absolute auto-buy author for me."
--J. Kenner, New York Times bestselling author "Jennifer Probst knows how to bring the swoons and the sexy."
--Amy E. Reichert, author of The Coincidence of Coconut Cake "As always, Jennifer Probst never fails to deliver romance that sizzles and has a way of tugging those emotional heartstrings."
--Four Chicks Flipping Pages
"Jennifer Probst's books remind me of delicious chocolate cake. Bursting with flavor, decadently rich . . . very satisfying."
--Love Affair with an e-Reader
OTHER BOOKS BY JENNIFER PROBST
Nonfiction
Write Naked: A Bestseller's Secrets to Writing Romance & Navigating the Path to Success The Billionaire Builders Series
Everywhere and Every Way Any Time, Any Place Somehow, Some Way All or Nothing at All The Searching for . . . Series
Searching for Someday Searching for Perfect Searching for Beautiful Searching for Always Searching for You Searching for Mine Searching for Disaster The Billionaire Marriage Series
The Marriage Bargain The Marriage Trap The Marriage Mistake The Marriage Merger The Book of Spells The Steele Brothers Series Catch Me
Play Me
Dare Me
Beg Me
Reveal Me
Sex on the Beach Series
Beyond Me
Chasing Me
The Hot in the Hamptons Series
Summer Sins
Stand-Alone Novels
Dante's Fire
Executive Seduction All the Way
The Holiday Hoax The Grinch of Starlight Bend
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright (c) 2018 by Triple J. Publishing Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503901858
ISBN-10: 1503901858
Cover design by Shasti O'Leary Soudant
For you, Dad.
I loved how you told everyone you met that your daughter was a famous writer and tried to get them to buy my books. I loved how you taught me to bet on horses like a pro and play a mean game of poker, and how you challenged me at every turn during our Scrabble tournaments. The world is just not the same without you in it.
I miss you every day.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
"But why had he always felt so strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought so much about it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if it did not matter, and if this little town, and the immortal hills around it, was not the only home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that one day men come home again."
--Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again
His feet knew the road ahead like a long-lost memory, but this time, Ethan Bishop had to pause halfway to rest. The nagging ache throbbed behind his knee like a deeply ingrained splinter, slowly trying to drive him mad, but he packaged the pain into a box and shoved it down deep, along with the hot flare of shame.
He was the lucky one.
The mantra had been repeated regularly for the last sixty-two days yet still felt like words recited in a play to someone he was pretending to be. No matter. Eventually, he may believe them.
He shifted his weight and stared at the sprawling blue-and-white farmhouse hidden behind the storybook white fence and framed by the majestic Shawangunk Mountains. His heart stopped, stuttered, then began beating again. Gardiner may be a small town in upstate New York, but its beauty and quirky charm made it a favorite for visitors. He'd forgotten how long he'd been away from home. A rush of memories washed over him like a tide of warm water, reminding him of that laughing, free-spirited young kid tearing his way around the farm with big dreams that his small upstate town could never hold. After years of hard work and chasing those elusive ambitions, he thought he'd finally succeeded.
He'd been so wrong.
Gritting his teeth, he resumed walking, taking in the extensive updates with approval. His sisters had invested a large chunk of money to not only renovate the actual house but also freshen up the visual curb appeal of the bed-and-breakfast. The new ROBIN'S NEST B & B sign welcomed visitors from the gate in blinding white and robin's-egg blue, matching the shutters and bold-blue door. As he approached the wraparound porch, he noticed the creative touches Ophelia must have spearheaded--the clay pots of colored mums, the tea cart filled with pitchers of sweet tea and sugar cookies, the wind chimes tinkling in the soft summer breeze. The rockers and footstools were charmingly mismatched in various wicker, and large coffee-table books with glossy pictures were casually thrown about.
Yes, they'd finally claimed their heritage just as he'd run from it. Mom would have been proud.
The familiar bark rose to his ears, and he turned in astonishment, dropping his bag. The black Lab tore across the lawn--ears pinned back, mouth turned up in a joyous doggy grin--and barreled into his arms.
"Wheezy!" The dog stuck a wet nose in his crotch, and a laugh exploded in the air. It took him a while to realize it had come from him, the sound rusty from disuse. Ethan ran his fingers over now whitish fur that wriggled in delight, the dog's belly rounded with the extra weight of middle age. "I missed you, boy. God, how old are you now, buddy? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Sixteen. And in better shape than all of us. Welcome home, Ethan."
He craned his neck around. Ophelia stood on the porch, her lips curved in a soft smile. She was dressed in an ankle-length floral skirt, sandals, and a yellow, gauzy tank top, showing off her willowy form. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail. She'd always reminded him of a fairy, with her pointed chin, too-large eyes, and petite build. Of course, his sister had an inner strength and thirst for life like no other he'd ever known, hidden beneath a Tinker Bell surface. Once, he'd imagined she'd be bigger than the singer Adele, with her giant voice that mesmerized anyone in her vicinity, but it seemed she'd decided to settle for running the family bed-and-breakfast.
"Tink. You l
ook good."
She groaned, taking the few steps down to close the distance. "Don't call me that! It was torturous enough when we were kids--I refuse to accept it as an adult."
He grabbed her, enjoying her laugh as he spun her around and Wheezy barked. "I can still make you fly," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And older brothers have a responsibility to annoy their younger siblings."
"Fine. Have I told you I put your room next to Mr. and Mrs. Alders? They're in their seventies and celebrating their anniversary." Her blue eyes danced. "Very loudly. Every night."
He shuddered. "You fight dirty, Tink. No way am I staying in a house full of strangers. I told you I'm setting up in the bungalow."
"I was hoping I'd change your mind," she said lightly. "The bungalow doesn't have a full working kitchen. The place is run-down and needs a bunch of updates. No one's been in there for years."
"Doesn't bother me as long as there's a bed or a couch."
"It's isolated. Plus, it's a long walk to the main house."
He narrowed his gaze, getting closer to the truth. She shifted her weight and fussed with her skirt. "You worried about something else?"
At least she didn't lie to him. "I'm worried about leaving you alone."
The words fell between them and lay there like broken glass. His gut clenched with familiar shame, but he ignored it, making sure to keep his voice firm. "I came back so I could be alone for a bit. Need to get my shit together. Can't think of a better job than fixing up the bungalow and spending some time helping you out."
She seemed to mull over his words to figure out if he was lying. Then, she nodded. "Okay. Does it hurt?"
"Not much. Just need to continue some PT."
"Counseling?"
The corner of his lip lifted. Ever since the incident, not many people asked direct questions that may embarrass them or him. His muscles relaxed a bit, glad his sister wouldn't treat him any differently. "Did my mandated time. If I feel like I need more, I'll find someone."
"Good enough for me. But be careful about telling Harper you have free time. She'll have you working with the horses nonstop so she can rescue more."
"Still saving the world one animal at a time?"
"She's the Angelina Jolie of rescues and pissing off more people than I can count."
"Where is she?"
"At the auction. She'll be home for dinner. In the meantime, why don't you get settled in, and I can show you around. We've done a lot of improvements." She eyed the duffel bag at his feet. "Is that all you have?"
"I learned to travel light. Do we have to eat with your guests?"
She grinned. "Not tonight. But we have quite a crew for the week. I think you're going to like them."
"I'm not up for much social interaction, Tink. Especially with strangers. Better to keep my distance."
Her face softened. "Understood. But now's a good time to begin easing your way back in. You've always charmed everyone in your path." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And, as Mom used to say, 'a happy guest is a returning guest.' Part of your job here is to make the guests happy. Better start getting used to it."
He groaned, but she only shot him a wink and disappeared back into the house. Yeah, his sister never candy-coated anything.
Ethan stood in the hot sun, thinking about the life he'd run far away from for something bigger and better. He'd finally come full circle--back in the place he started, trying to heal all the broken pieces life had thrown at him. So fucking ironic.
As if Wheezy knew exactly what he was thinking, the dog regarded him with serious, soulful eyes.
Then he lifted his leg and peed on Ethan's bag.
Welcome home.
Chapter Two
Mia Thrush grabbed her skinny vanilla latte from the Starbucks counter and squeezed herself into a corner table. She spoke into the wireless earpiece. "Bernard, I told you I don't bluff. If you don't endorse Jonathan Lake as mayor, good luck getting reelected. The public will never believe you want to lock up the bad guys, and my PR team will personally make that fact known."
She didn't interrupt the blistering array of profanity on the other end. Why did judges have the worst tempers of all?
Mia pried the plastic lid off her organic Greek yogurt with five blueberries. She popped one perfect spoonful into her mouth, then chewed slowly to savor the firm tartness of the fruit. She wasn't allowed to eat again for another four hours, so she had to relish breakfast. She'd shed those last pesky ten pounds with sheer grit and torturous intent, even if it made her grumpy.
The judge paused to take a breath, and she cut in. "Lake is already the front-runner in the polls. Do you want to get on board the winning train or be left at the station? He's got one of the best records in the DA's office. This isn't personal. Be smart."
The popular family circuit judge had a ridiculous prior beef with her client, and it was affecting his final endorsement, which was crucial in tying up a segment of voters. The occasional petty social media rants made her nervous. Mia intended to shut the negative publicity down before it escalated. She sweetened the deal, sensing victory close.
"I know Jonathan will be grateful for your support. Very grateful."
Politics were all about veiled promises with no proof, but Mia also knew Jonathan was different from the others. The man didn't hold grudges and would be truly grateful to the judge. Another reason Mia worked day and night to make sure he won this election.
His reluctant surrender rang in her ears. On impulse, she spooned up two blueberries at once in pure celebration. "A wise choice, sir. Jonathan will be proud to announce your support and how well the both of you will work together in the future. Thank you."
She tapped the button and ended the call. Adrenaline bubbled in her veins like a frothy glass of champagne. God, she loved her job. Besides being a constant challenge, it never bored her, and she got to fight for the good guys. And since Jonathan had signed on to her publicity firm, her client list and profits had begun to skyrocket.
She bit into her last blueberry, already mourning the end of her meager meal. Maybe she could throw an extra olive into her salad later. A small one. She had to look up the calories. That Gucci dress she had her eye on was completely unforgiving.
Holding back a sigh, she threw out her empty yogurt container, grabbed her coffee, and strode back out into the streets. The June morning was muggy, and the stale Manhattan air clung to her skin and clogged her lungs. Her nude Prada heels clicked steadily over the pavement while she pushed her way through the crowds milling around busy street corners crammed with food trucks, her mind furiously working on the next step of her plan.
She needed to focus on building more social-friendly media posts. Lake's work as district attorney was heavy on reducing crime, but he lacked the well-rounded family dynamics of his competitor. Because he was a widower, the public was more sympathetic, but eventually they'd want to see his softer side, especially with his daughter. At least summer was close. Chloe would be home for two months from college, and Mia could plan some family time to remind the public Jonathan Lake believed in core values. Nothing was better than the city watching his teen daughter stand by his side. Mia was already planning a bunch of events that piggybacked on his stellar record of convictions. At this point in the campaign, barring a sex scandal, she was poised to get Lake elected.
Her private phone beeped in her ear. She hit the button without pause. Only four people had her secure line: her assistant, her parents, and her personal trainer. The latter had bullied her into giving up the number after she'd missed an appointment, which he'd made her pay for dearly. Puking between sets had not been her idea of fun. But damned if she'd ever missed an appointment again.
She prayed it was anyone other than her mother. "Yes?"
"We have a problem."
Her assistant's voice held the musical lilt of a southern accent tempered with a hard-nosed New York attitude. Mia tamped down a frustrated growl. She wanted one perfect day. Just one,
where there were no scandals, or lit embers to extinguish, and everyone was ecstatically happy. Of course, Gabby would immediately tell her that would put both of them out of a job. "I already took care of the judge."
"Good. Now we have another issue to deal with."
Her heart thundered. "Please don't tell me it has to do with a prostitute. Oh, please. Please, please--"
"It's not a prostitute."
"Then we can handle it."
"It's Lake's daughter. I can't tell you over the phone. How close are you to the office?"
"Give me ten."
Mia made it in seven using her famous technique of bob and weave. Kind of like driving recklessly without the car or highway. Navigating a packed city street took skill, precision, and no small amount of courage, especially in four-inch heels. She pushed through the frosted glass doors with the bold-red sign, STRATEGY SOLUTIONS PR, and headed straight to Gabby's desk. Waving a greeting to her receptionist and part-time file clerk, she flicked a gaze quickly over the office, making sure everything looked perfect. Moving her office from an old warehouse stinking of stale cigarettes to a fancy street off Broadway enforced she was in a whole new league. She was the first to realize appearances were everything, and her office screamed creativity with the sense of security new clients needed.
Decorated in bold red and steel gray, the furniture was sleek and modern but gentled with gorgeous silver-beaded pillows, brightly colored landscape paintings on the walls, and a knockout crystal chandelier that brought all the elements together. The large green ferns banking the window added necessary warmth. Mia knew exactly what she wanted her company to reflect, and she'd finally reached her goal. The hefty rent was completely worth it.
Her team was small so she could always be in control. Most clients enjoyed the personal touch rather than the big pricey firms where only large conglomerates got the needed attention.
As usual, Gabby was perched on her chair, barely visible behind the piles of papers, folders, and boxes. Her short, bright-red curls were the only beacon to help Mia find her in the chaos that made up Gabby's desk. Mia had learned long ago, though, not to mess with her mojo. Once, the cleaning lady had tried to organize her pens and sticky notes, and Gabby spent the whole day moaning about her inability to focus.
Mia had solved it by dumping out the pens and scattering the notes all over so her assistant could get back to work.