Chapter One

Samuel Ellis settled into the rocking chair and stared out into the inky black woods. With summer more than a month away, the evenings still held a coolness to them.

He set his tumbler of whiskey down and closed his eyes. Twelve months of running a company he was never supposed to run weighed on his limbs and his heart. Even with the help of his three brothers and baby sister, things seemed impossible to conquer. His assistant jumping ship six weeks ago meant he was taking on water faster than he could bail.

“Hey, we’re headed to Monsoon’s, you wanna come?”

Sam glanced back to see his youngest brother, Caleb, leaning out the patio doors, his sister, Becky, and brother Lucas visible behind him.

“No. Need to go over the notes for the interviews on Monday. Maybe another time.” He glanced back at the woods only to turn around. “Hey, do you have the projections for the latest movie intakes? I need to make sure the bottom lines are matching.”

Caleb huffed and shut the door, crossing over to him. “It’s Friday night. The workday is done, take a break. The company will not fail in one day or even one night. Hell, probably even a month. Twelve months of nonstop gives a guy a Friday night. You’ve more than earned it.” He crossed his arms, his broad chest heaving on a breath. “And leave the horses and stud out of your crazy. Lucas and I have it well in hand, as always. The bottom lines are fine. And look.” He waved back at their other siblings. “We are capable of letting loose and working. It’s not an either-or, my brother.”

Sam bit back the harsh words on the tip of his tongue. Caleb meant well. He was worried—the evidence written on his face. The stress made him want to lash out, but the regret would follow in its wake. They needed to be close, not bickering. And he was right about the stud. Lucas and he ran the place with perfect precision. Why couldn’t he feel as confident as his brothers?

That one is flighty.

He waved the memory of his father’s words away. “I will take a break. Soon. I promise. Once I have this new assistant marketer hired, things should lighten a bit. And Eli’s helping, too. I think we’re finally getting a handle on everything.”

Caleb snorted. “I wouldn’t count too much on Eli. With him wrapped up in Tabby’s arms and the twins six months old, I imagine he will be more distracted than not. But distracted is better than nothing.” Caleb placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve had a handle on things for months.”

Sam took another deep breath and forced a smile to his face. “Go. Have fun and keep an eye on Becky. Liam Wallace has been sniffing around.”

Caleb narrowed his gaze. “Sniffing how?”

“Two flower arrangements and an assortment of goodies from Sugar Grin’s.”

Caleb glanced back at their baby sister who was applying lipstick using the French doors as a mirror. “How did I miss this development?”

Sam laughed. “Probably because you see more of a horse’s ass than a human these days.”

“Maybe I should introduce Liam to the manure pile,” Caleb suggested.

Sam stood and clapped his brother on the back. “Let Becky handle it. Be the big brother backup, in case she needs it.”

They walked back into The Lodge, their family home. He waved them off and headed to his office where a stack of résumés and notes sat in the center of his desk. Ten interviews on Monday, culled from more than three hundred applicants. His family business was respected, the job was well sought-after, but he didn’t need just anyone. He needed someone who was efficient, intuitive, and well-versed in all aspects of the company. Someone who would uphold the values and foundation Ellis Industries was built on. Someone who wasn’t afraid of long hours.

Most of all, Sam needed someone he could trust.

He opened the quarterly statement for the Cape Stars amusement park. The new coaster would launch in less than a month, and he needed to be onsite to ensure everything was proceeding smoothly, efficiently, and most of all, safely. Ellis Amusement Industries had a stellar safety record and he would be damned if they lost it under his watch.

The numbers ran together, and nothing made sense. Contractor grids blended with marketing budgets until one large black circle centered on the screen. How much sleep had he gotten last night? Three, maybe four hours. Pretty much par for the course.

Snapping the laptop shut, he rubbed his eyes. While his sight might be a little impaired, his brain ran fifty miles an hour. He needed to wind down, or at least his brain did. Maybe he should join his brothers and sister at Monsoon’s. Prove to them he could play and work. Then maybe they would stop staring at him with concerned looks on their faces.

Ignoring the memory of his father’s words, Sam ordered a ride—not trusting himself with the fatigue and mountain roads—and ran upstairs to change.

…

Whitney Carroll stepped through the door to Monsoon’s. A quick glance showed that nothing much had changed since her last visit five years ago.

Nothing fancy or slick or over-exaggerated. Wide planked floors, dusty and sticky, wood walls covered in ropes, saddles, and mason jar lamps. A string of white Christmas lights ran around all four corners, and little round tables were sprinkled liberally throughout the low-level bar. A live band strummed out a current hit.

Another sweep of the current occupants and she didn’t notice anyone who looked familiar enough to warrant a hello. Five years meant the locals were on a rotation. Her generation more likely home with families and kids than out at the bar on a Friday night.

She’d been on the path to a family. Before her husband had gone and spread his seed around.

Walking up to the bar, she ordered a whiskey and plopped onto an empty stool. The female bartender slid a tumbler on top of a napkin her way. Whitney wrapped both hands around it and inhaled. It had been a long week of humbleness, and tonight she would forget about starting over and her lack of a job, or a home, or really anything a twenty-nine-year-old woman might have by now. She sipped the golden nectar, and her eyebrows practically flew to the ceiling.

“Excuse me, what brand is this?”

The lady shook her head. “You’re not a local, are you?” Another quick glance at Whitney and she nodded to herself. “Nope, you’re not, at least not a current one. That’s a Brodie select. We get test batches before they’re shipped out. Made just up the mountain from here.”

She knew of the Brodie distillery and the mark they’d been making in the whiskey world, but her pockets leaned toward less pricey spirits. Whitney took another sip and sighed in appreciation of local support. “Thanks.”

Turning around, she absorbed the room. When she’d left the mountains five years ago, she’d traded a small mountain town for a small coastal one, but most small towns operated the same, especially if they relied heavily on tourist dollars as Gatlinburg did. Her prior home, though, had remained small and quaint. Had being the operative word.

Another sip and the Brodie whiskey washed away the pain of loss. Both physical and material. Memories of her failed marriage slid in and out of focus, replaced by an even heavier loss recalling the death of her father. Two years later, and it still punched her gut. Sucking in a breath that filled only half her chest, she refocused on the now. She was with family again, although extended, and she would get back on her feet. Starting with a job, then a place. The fire of the whiskey burned away, and a slight mellowness glided in. She’d never been a huge drinker. She’d witnessed enough outbursts and faux paus with her family to make sure she never stumbled through a doorway in her adult life, but a drink here and there always allayed whatever concern had driven her to the bar in the first place.

Tonight, she needed a break from her current reality. And she had promised her cousin she would meet him here.

The door opened, bringing with it a crush of people. The entire bar froze for the barest of a second, then people engulfed the trio who’d come in, handing them drinks. Whitney stretched to her right to see who’d caused such an uproar, and when the dark hair and charismatic smiles came into focus, she swore and shrunk back in her seat. She may have been gone for the better part of a decade but everyone here—hell, even across the country—knew the Ellises. Plus, her extended family and theirs had sort of been at odds for almost a half a century. The specific details were sketchy, but it boiled down to a land deal gone bad and Ruth Tate choosing Sean Ellis over Charlie Winston.

Lord, could it get any more cliché than that?

Silly really. After all, the Tate-Ellis union had been a beautiful love story, as far as she could tell. Still it was probably better not to interact. She had a fine suspicion of a family that claimed to do so much good. They practically wore their halos everywhere they went. No one was really that nice of a person, especially when they carried that much money in their bank account.

She wasn’t shocked the Ellises were in a local hangout, even if she imagined they were used to hanging at much swankier places, but it was disconcerting that they were being treated like gods and goddesses.

Whitney watched the group making its way toward the dance floor, on a collision course with some wall of muscle. He looked vaguely familiar, possibly a former classmate. The lone female Ellis broke to the front and stopped him. The noise in the bar lowered. Not a complete silence but definitely hush tones, as no local worth their salt was going to miss whatever gossip was about to be thrown down.

Gossip.

Lord, she hated it. If it hadn’t been for gossip, she might still be married. Her fingers tightened around the tumbler. No, that was stupid. She wouldn’t have wanted to be married to a man who thought sleeping with half the college population was acceptable, but some days, when the pain and hurt swelled to tsunami proportions, she did wonder if she would have been better off oblivious. She finished her whiskey and spun around, watching the staring match.

“Did you get my flowers?” Muscleman said.

“Yes, and thank you, Liam, but as I said, I’m not really looking to see anyone right now. We’re all still grieving, and I want some family time.” The sister turned to go but muscleman Liam stopped her. Fiery eyes turned back and stared at the beefy hands on her wrist, and Whitney itched to move toward the young woman and lend support, should she need it. They might not know each other from Adam, but women supported women. A quick glance around showed about five other women looking to jump in as well.

“Get. Your hands. Off. Me.”

Goose bumps erupted along Whitney’s neck and another glance at the sister she thought was named Rebecca slayed any doubts that this slim young thing couldn’t handle herself. Just then the people behind her parted and two Ellis brothers came up behind their sister.

Whitney smiled. Surely the halos would come off and the little devil horns would appear. Barroom brawls were nothing new around here, and maybe the Ellises squeaky-clean image was covered up by locals who wanted their presence and money. After all, she knew firsthand that squeaky clean guys were basically cheating liars.

“Problem, sis?” The shorter and squatter of the two asked.

Tension flowed through the entire room—all eyes on the tableau. The young girl glanced over her shoulder at her brother and laughed. “Nope. I was thanking Liam and headed over to find you guys.” She faced the muscle again. “Wasn’t I?”

Liam dropped his fingers, and Whitney swore the entire room let out an audible sigh. She certainly had.

“Caleb, Lucas, nice to see you.” Liam turned and brushed by Whitney. She watched his retreating back and then returned her gaze to the family before her.

“Thank you,” the young woman said. “But you don’t need to pull that crap here. And not with Liam. He didn’t mean anything, just bruised male pride.” She punched her brothers. “You guys know all about that, don’t you?”

Whitney snorted and three sets of Ellis eyes turned to her.

The sister smiled as both brothers’ gazes turned from acknowledgment to appraisal. She returned the favor. After all, when might she ever see some of the famous Ellises up close and personal? Each sported the thick black hair, green eyes, and broad chests, although one seemed to be appraising her looks while the other seemed to be appraising her. They were handsome, no doubt, although looks told only half the story and not a very important one in her book. Not that either of their looks did anything for her. Thank God. Immunity to the charming Ellises seemed a good superpower to have.

She spun back on her stool and examined the nice wood grain pattern on the bar. The noise rose back to normal bar levels, and she ordered another whiskey. Her cousin would be here any minute. Kind of a welcome back sorta celebration. He said there might be a few people for her to make connections with about a job.

The door opened and her cousin Micah walked in. He smiled and waved to a few people then crossed over to her.

“Hey, no table?”

“I wasn’t sure how long you would be. So, I figured the bar was better.”

The band picked up in intensity, and quite a few people hopped up to dance.

“You should get out there,” Micah said, taking a drink of a beer that magically appeared.

“Nah, not really a dancer anymore.” But two of her ex’s mistresses had been. Hell, he’d even taken her to one of their performances for a date night. Her fingers tightened on the tumbler again and she fought the urge to send it flying to the floor.

He placed a hand on her arm, no doubt aware of the strained muscles. “Whitney, it’s time to start living again.” He squeezed and smiled. “Let’s go.”

“Really, Micah, I’m fine.” Her voice was less than hospitable.

“I believe the lady said she was fine. Back off, Winston.”

Whitney spun around to find another Ellis, this one taller and leaner than the other two, but sporting the coal black hair, his dark brown eyes alert and mesmerizing. He ran a quick glance over her and then refocused on her cousin. Awareness spread throughout her body, overtaking the tenseness from a moment before and leaving nerves ready to pounce. It would seem immunity did not extend to this particular Ellis.

“Sam, get the hell out of here. No one invited you,” Micah growled.

“She said no. Respect it.” Sam crossed his arms.

Whitney saw the buttons on Sam’s shirt stretch, and despite not being nearly as broad as his brothers, she had no doubt he was perfectly chiseled underneath the cotton.

“She’s none of your damn business.” Micah straightened to his full height, leaving him a couple inches shorter than Sam.

“Do you want to take this outside?” Sam asked, his tone full of boredom, as if attempting to save a damsel was in his everyday repertoire.

Well shit, she wasn’t a damsel, but now she was going to have to intervene.

Whitney stood, placing herself between the two men. Her height the shortest of the three—putting her eye level with the chest she had just been picturing. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Ellis, it’s fine. I’m fine. Micah is my cousin. He was trying to get me to loosen up.”

Sam looked at her and back to Micah. “Are you sure?”

Warmth spread across her face rapidly, something she really would examine later. “Really. But I thank you for looking out for me.”

Her cousin snorted, and she kicked his shin with her heel.

One more glance and the other Ellis nodded his head and turned, heading toward the table where she could see his siblings avidly watching the little exchange.

“You thanked an Ellis. Are you crazy? Never give them an inch. I realize you’ve been gone, Whitney, but seriously? They haven’t changed and, if anything, this generation is worse than their parents.”

Whitney let his rant wash over her as she sat back down and sipped her whiskey. She was sure Micah had some valid points, but all she could think about was how Samuel Ellis had stepped in to rescue her. She had never considered herself a damsel in distress, even with all the tragedy she’d faced the past year, but damn, did it feel good to know someone cared. Someone had looked out to a room, saw a stranger with a need, and tried to fulfill it. Sure, it was a fake need, but she couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked and seen past the tragedy to Whitney. Samuel Ellis may have just become her favorite Ellis. If one could have a favorite in a rival family.