“DR. CARLISLE?” SHANE stood outside the clinic door in Ketchum with a twitchy Roy. They’d been waiting forty-five minutes in the cold for Laurel’s doctor to emerge.
Forty-five minutes was enough time to get cold feet, literally and figuratively. Shane hoped he wouldn’t be arrested tomorrow for kidnapping.
“Yes?” The woman blinked tired eyes at the two of them.
Shane swallowed his fears and introduced himself and Roy. “We had an appointment to talk about the job opening in Second Chance.”
The doctor was tall, blonde and in her midthirties. She would’ve been a stunner had she been rested, bothered with some makeup, not been wearing black nerd glasses and not have a figure hidden behind a navy blue stadium jacket. She seemed a trifle bewildered as if she didn’t remember agreeing to meet.
“We want to take you to dinner.” Roy hooked his arm through hers and steered her toward Mitch’s black Hummer parked at the curb.
“Coffee.” Dr. Carlisle checked her phone. “I agreed to coffee.”
“I know you’ve just finished a long shift,” Shane said smoothly, falling into step beside her. “I bet you could use a good meal. Salad. Steak. Vegetables. A decadent dessert.” A slam dunk unless she was a vegetarian or gluten-free.
There were so many ways this could go wrong.
Why did I let Roy talk me into this?
“Coffee.” Dr. Carlisle freed her arm. She had big blue eyes, but she wasn’t naive. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not looking for a new job. I like my work and... Frankly, I don’t think Second Chance could afford me.”
Shane named a figure that gave Dr. Carlisle pause.
“That can’t be right.” Her forehead creased. “Could you repeat that?”
Shane did, rocking back on his heels and staring down at his leather loafers, trying to look the epitome of innocence. Inside, his stomach lurched.
Roy propelled the doctor toward the Hummer again, which in typical kidnapper fashion had the motor running. “We have top-of-the-line facilities in Second Chance.”
“We have facilities,” Shane said under his breath, adding in a much louder voice, “and the last physician we employed treated about one person a day.”
She glanced at Shane over her shoulder. “What did he do with the rest of his time?”
“Noah read a lot of books and enjoyed the view.” Roy opened the back door, revealing Zeke in the backseat.
Dr. Carlisle’s brow furrowed.
Not that Shane blamed her. She’d been expecting one man. Now she had three. “We brought Zeke in for his checkup.”
“I graduated to a walking brace today.” Zeke patted the seat next to him. He had the kind of features people tended to trust—ginger hair, lightly freckled, friendly smile. At first glance, no one would take him for a kidnapper.
“Achilles injury?” the doctor guessed, not budging from the sidewalk. She wasn’t gullible. She’d gone to med school in New York City after all.
Shane had checked her credentials. He should have checked his own sanity.
“Tibia fracture. Broke through the skin and hurt like... Doc—” Zeke flashed his I’m-a-cowboy-you-can-trust-me grin. “Doc was our last physician in Second Chance. Anyway...he saved my life.”
Dr. Carlisle grinned back at him. “I don’t doubt it.”
“So, you’ll go to dinner with us?” Roy crowded behind her, trying to herd the poor woman into the vehicle.
Once more, Dr. Carlisle didn’t budge.
Shane gritted his teeth. Roy was going to blow the whole thing with his strange vibe. Shane dragged the town handyman back a foot and repeated the salary figure.
“I...might be open to talking about this.” Dr. Carlisle glanced at her phone. “Is dinner really necessary? I’m afraid I won’t be a good conversationalist after an eighteen-hour shift. I delivered three babies today and I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Dinner. Please.” Zeke looked sorrowful. “Take pity on me. I’m dying of hunger.”
Shane winced. He’d fallen in with a bunch of con artists. Was this what his grandfather had intended for him when he left him a share in Second Chance?
Forget Grandpa. Do this for Laurel. And Sophie. And the twins. Keep them safe.
Girded, Shane resisted the urge to bolt.
“Bones need good food to heal.” Dr. Carlisle relented and climbed into the backseat beside Zeke.
Now it was Shane who didn’t budge. He couldn’t go through with it. “On second thought, Dr. Carlisle—”
“Settle in.” Roy elbowed Shane aside, sensing he was losing his nerve. “It’ll be our pleasure to treat you, Doc.” Roy closed the Hummer door behind her and glared at Shane.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Shane whispered.
“That’s funny considering we’re at a maternity clinic.” Roy chuckled. “People’ll think you’re pregnant.”
Shane scowled. “No. They won’t.”
“That was a joke, boy. Man up.” Roy moved closer and whispered, “She’s in the car. It’s time to make our getaway.”
Shane had taken risks in his life, but he’d never committed a felony. At some point Dr. Carlisle would realize they were driving her to Second Chance, not a restaurant in Ketchum.
“Use that phone of yours to tell Zeke not to talk much.” Roy nudged Shane toward the driver’s door, still whispering, “She’s exhausted and the way this thing rides, she’ll be rocked to sleep in no time.”
“WOULD YOUR BABY daddy be jealous of my dad?”
Laurel nearly dropped her knitting needles. Her latest stitch slipped. She pulled the coppery yarn and the silver thread she’d been using, unraveling a few stitches.
It took her a moment to rearrange her yarn and needles. Only then did she look up at Gabby, sitting across the couch from her in the common room at the inn. Mitch had invited the Monroes to dinner. They were just waiting for Shane to return from his trip to Ketchum to eat.
“Gabby,” Laurel said quietly. “You shouldn’t ask people personal questions like that.”
Gabby’s knitting sat forgotten in her lap. She was frowning, an expression that looked fierce given her purplish-red bruises. “I’m only asking for my dad.”
Laurel raised her eyebrows, challenging that defense.
“You know, to protect him.” Gabby leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Because you’re practically famous. If your baby daddy is a famous person, too, and he showed up here, you’d choose him over my dad.”
The needles slid out of Laurel’s hands. “Isn’t that undervaluing your father?”
“Get real.” Gabby raised her fingers to her nose as if gauging how swollen it was. “Why would you stay here with my dad if you had a chance to be with someone really rich and really talented?”
“Hang on. Your dad is great.” It was true. “But that doesn’t mean he and I are...will...”
“That’s just stupid.” Gabby’s knitting fell to the floor. “I saw you kissing. I’ve seen movies. I know lots of kissing means forever is in your future. At least, until someone better comes along.”
Laurel covered Gabby’s hand with her own. “Kissing doesn’t mean forever.” If it did, she’d have a forever with Wyatt, which would have meant she’d never have Mitch in her life. Or Gabby. She’d never have found inspiration in a sparkle. Or planned to open a boutique featuring local artisans, who at this point were all women.
There’s an angle. Her inner voice sounded a lot like Grandpa Harlan.
“But...” Gabby frowned. “You love my dad, don’t you?”
Laurel fell back on the couch cushion. Love?
“What’s wrong with your face, Gabby?” Alexander asked, saving Laurel from answering. “Is that a mask?”
Love? She’d known she was falling, but... Did she love Mitch?
Laurel felt comfortable with him and excited at the same time. When he was near, he was never near enough. She made excuses to touch him, to brush her hand over his. That was all physical stuff.
And emotionally?
Emotionally, she enjoyed his company, she valued his opinion, she trusted him with details of her life she’d never told anyone else. He had a way of looking into her eyes that seemed like he saw to her very soul. And she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind one bit. Because she loved him.
“It’s not a mask, Alexander. I ran into a wall, remember?” Gabby rolled her eyes. “Note to self, little man. Watch where you’re going at all times.”
Love. Laurel hugged the thought closer.
Love. She loved Mitch.
She sat up taller, wanting to see Mitch, wanting to tell Mitch, because she was suddenly sure he felt the same way.
A vehicle pulled up outside. Doors opened and closed. Voices murmured and got louder. Someone climbed the porch steps.
Laurel turned, eager to see how Shane had fared on his doctor hunt, interested to hear an update on Zeke’s leg.
“This can’t possibly be it.” Her mother’s voice spilled into the room as she opened the inn’s door. And then she was standing there, staring at Laurel wearing a gray wool A-line skirt, a white silk blouse, boots and pearls. Her short red hair was perfectly coifed. “Or I could be wrong.”
Laurel got to her feet so fast she experienced a head rush. She willed herself not to sway, not to back down, not to pass out in shock. “Mom?”
“Are you...knitting?” Her mother couldn’t have sounded more disgusted if Laurel had been caught shoplifting at Nieman’s.
“Mom.” Laurel set her knitting on the coffee table. “You should have told me you were coming.”
“Look at yourself. It’s worse than I thought.” Her mother leaned out the door and encouraged someone to get inside quickly.
Ashley?
A man’s heavy tread came up the stairs. Broad shoulders appeared behind her mother.
Wyatt?
Laurel’s knees buckled. She leaned on the arm of the couch.
The man moved past her mother and came inside, shutting the door behind him.
Not Wyatt.
“Cousin Holden?” Laurel couldn’t believe it.
In a true indicator of Holden’s popularity in the Monroe family, Alexander and Andrew didn’t greet him. They exchanged silent glances instead.
“Where’s Shane?” Holden surveyed the inn with a frown. He wore an expensive puffy jacket, blue jeans, an oatmeal-colored knit sweater and mukluks—sensible mountain attire that would put Shane’s city clothes to shame. Had he gone gray since the funeral? Silver streaked his temples. “This town is worse than we thought, Aunt Genevieve. I mean, log cabins?”
“Where’s Ashley?” Laurel demanded when it was clear no one else was coming through that door.
“She’s shooting a guest spot on a sitcom.” Mom surveyed Laurel the way horse trainers surveyed racing prospects. “Have you gained weight?”
Holden approached the check-in desk and rang the service bell.
Ding-ding-ding.
The door to the apartment was closed. Mitch and Sophie were in the kitchen, cooking a special meal to celebrate the reopening of the mercantile and trading post.
The bell grated on Laurel’s frayed nerves. “Shane should be here any minute.”
Holden reached for the bell to ring it again when Gabby snatched it away.
“Can I help you?” Gabby said with preteen scorn.
Holden stared down his nose at Gabby much the same way Shane had stared down his nose at Gabby and Mitch the day they’d first arrived.
“Is he hard of hearing?” Gabby asked Laurel when her cousin didn’t answer. She turned back to Holden and raised her voice. “Do you want a room?”
“We won’t be staying the night.” Mom marched over to Laurel, skirt swaying with purpose. “We’re all leaving.” She took hold of Laurel’s arm. “Pack your things. We have lives to lead and contracts to sign.”
“No?” Laurel would have liked her refusal to come out like she meant it. Instead, she sounded indecisive.
The babies practiced kickboxing in her stomach. Which, in reality, was an overstatement, but Laurel imagined they were upset at their grandmother treating her like a spineless rag doll.
“What happened to your face? Were you in some sort of accident?” Holden scowled at Gabby. “Is the labor pool here so weak Shane has to hire kids?”
“Hey! Mr. Monroe,” Gabby called, waving her hands at him, “my dad and I own this place, okay?”
“Sweetheart, I own this place.” Holden winked at her. “And from where I’m standing, it’s a teardown.”
Mitch came out of his apartment. He took stock of the room. He took stock of Laurel’s face. His dark eyes took stock of her mother’s hand on her arm. “Now, that just won’t do.” He gestured to Laurel’s arm, but he didn’t come to her rescue, because...
Because he’d been encouraging her to take charge of her life for days. Because he knew she could stand up to her mother. Not for Ashley’s sake, but for her own.
“Mom, I’m not leaving.” There. That sounded believable.
“What’s in the water here that would make you want to stay?” Mom’s fingers squeezed Laurel’s arm. She looked at Laurel’s waist, hidden behind a loose tunic sweater. She looked at Laurel’s knitting, made from soft coppery yarn. She released Laurel as if she’d been scalded. “Don’t tell me. You’re pregnant. You’ve figured another way to ruin everything for us.”
Reality Check Number One. Forget wondering if Mom would be happy to learn she was going to be a grandmother.
“Yes, I’m pregnant.” Laurel stepped back. “With twins.”
Mom clutched her pearls.
Mitch looked Holden up and down. “Would you like a room? It’s getting late and the mountain roads are treacherous at night, especially during a snowstorm. We take all forms of credit and cash.”
“You want me to pay for a room?” Holden was jerkier than Shane at his jerkiest. “Have you looked at this place? You should be paying me to stay here.”
“Holden.” Sophie stepped in before Laurel could, coming out of the kitchen and pushing up her glasses. “The people in this town lease their businesses from us. That means nothing is comped. So get out your wallet if you want to stay.”
Holden turned on his heel and left.
“Was it him?” Mom jabbed a finger in Mitch’s direction. “Is this the man who got you pregnant?” She marched over to the desk and rose up into Mitch’s face. “Are you going to make an honest woman of my daughter?”
“That’s entirely up to your daughter.” Mitch’s gaze met Laurel’s. The shock was, he might have been serious.
He wants to marry me?
The babies cheered.
Reality Check Number Two. If this was a proposal, it was sadly lacking.
She’d always dreamed of candlelight and roses.
“If this guy didn’t do it, who did?” Mom circled back around to Laurel.
“Mom, I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Laurel sat on the arm of the couch and gripped her knees, because she had to hold on to something. “It’s never happened on a date before. And it goes without saying it won’t happen again because I can’t be Ashley’s double anymore.” She hoped Ashley would forgive her for that.
“Are you saying... Wyatt?” Mom shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Those are Wyatt Halford’s babies? But...he had a date with Ashley!”
“And therein lies the problem.” Laurel slid off the couch arm to the couch cushion, wishing she could slide out of sight.
“Wyatt Halford? The sexiest man alive?” Gabby jumped up and fist pumped the air.
“Gabby, go to your room.” Mitch didn’t look happy. And he didn’t look at Laurel. “This isn’t funny, nor is it behavior I want you to model.”
Mitch’s reaction clawed at Laurel’s insides. It was all she could do to keep herself upright. Her chest ached and tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. He’d told her he’d stand by her side when the knots unraveled.
He doesn’t love me.
“Oh, Dad. Reality check.” Gabby took hold of his arm. “There’s no way Laurel will pick you over the sexiest man alive.”
He can’t even look at me.
“You were supposed to date him as Ashley, not...” Mom’s hand waved in the air as if she held a wand. “I can’t believe you told him who you were.”
Oh, boy. “Mom.”
“I can’t believe you told him our secret.”
Oh, man. “Mom.”
“What do you think Wyatt’s going to do with that information?”
“Mom!” Laurel shouted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment because now everyone knew who’d gotten her pregnant and under what circumstances. “I didn’t tell Wyatt who I was.”
“But that means... He still thinks you were Ashley.” Mom collapsed on the couch next to Laurel, ashen. “As soon as we tell him, we’re ruined.”
Reality Check Number Three. For once, Mom was right.