“I APPRECIATE YOU playing chauffeur,” Laurel said when Mitch pulled into his narrow garage in Second Chance. And holding her hand during her office visit. Not that she was going to bring that up. “I would’ve been a nervous wreck driving on that road.” Or sitting in the exam room alone.
They hadn’t spoken much on the ride back. Laurel had a bag of information at her feet and a ball of anxiety near those babies she was carrying.
What did she know about motherhood? She’d had years to perfect a sewing stitch, who knew how long to master knitting, but only a few months to learn how to be a good mom. To twins!
“It wasn’t like I was tricked into driving.” Mitch, the man who’d been her rock all day, sounded as if he was teasing her.
“There was that,” she said weakly. “I’m sorry about Shane.”
He waved her apology aside. “And then there’s the issue of dressing up my daughter.”
“I know I apologized for that.” Multiple times.
Mitch nodded. “Which leads us to the end of the road.” He pressed the remote to close the garage door, plunging them into near darkness. The snow covered half the windows on either side.
“The end of the road?”
“You got your medical clearance.” He turned to face her. “You’re leaving Second Chance.”
The ball in Laurel’s stomach dropped. “Yes.” She had to go back to Hollywood.
“The roads will remain open the next few days.” He rested his head against the glass, casting his face in shadow. “You have time to help Sophie look for that da Vinci she’s hoping for in the trading post and time to be honest with yourself.”
She was honest with herself, all right. He had no idea the number of truths she kept inside.
“Laurel, the truth is you didn’t call anyone to gush over your happy news,” he said simply, surprising her. “And now you’re going to drag yourself upstairs as if this pregnancy is the end of the world because you’re worried about every little thing in everyone else’s life.”
She scoffed. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you were. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” He tapped his chest. “You’ve got your husband here.”
She smirked, but the fact remained. He was right. “I was going to mope around my room. But not forever. People won’t like me much when the truth comes out about my pregnancy.” And that included the conservative single dad sitting next to her.
Mitch tsk-tsked. “You need to set aside the family drama you’re dealing with and think about how you’d feel if things were different. What if you had a caring dad for your baby?”
Laurel’s breath hitched.
Him, the babies whispered. We want him.
“What if you had a better relationship with your mother and sister? In an ideal world, wouldn’t you be ecstatic to know you were going to be a mom?” Mitch didn’t sugarcoat her situation. He simply challenged Laurel to set everything other than the babies aside.
And then he took her hand and waited.
Truth pressed down on Laurel, on her shoulders and her tear ducts. “Yes, I’m happy.” Yes, that gave her a twinge of guilt for her responsibilities back in Hollywood. “But I’m also a realist. What am I going to do for money when my savings run out? Where am I going to go? I’m not sure I could get another job as a costume designer in Hollywood, but even if I did the cost of living is huge and the hours are brutal.”
“You’ll figure it out. The same way you figured out that pink dress.” He squeezed her hand, barely smiling. “Go inside and make some calls. Have the hard discussions. And then find the joy your babies deserve. Find that joy and hold on tight.”
Mitch Kincaid was unlike other men she’d met. He didn’t have a charming facade. He didn’t have eyes that lit with calculation the moment she walked into a room. He didn’t rely on smooth words and expensive automobiles to impress. He just showed up, said his piece and then left you to it.
Silence wrapped around them. Silence drew them close. Although neither one of them had moved.
Silence waited patiently. Expectantly. And yet without demands.
If Laurel chose not to speak, there’d be no judgment. No disappointment.
There would just be Mitch and his strong hand circling hers.
And in that hush, something warm circled her chest. Something safe and comforting and unfamiliar.
“It sounds like you’ve always put Ashley first, ahead of what you want and need. It’s time to be Laurel Monroe, to embrace being a mother, to be proud of what you’ve done so far and to take the time to dream about what you want in the future.”
The babies swooned, making the world tilt.
I could lean on those sturdy shoulders.
“You missed your calling, Counselor. You should have been a support nurse for pregnant women.” Laurel leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, drawing back when she wouldn’t have minded moving her lips to his. “Not that you’d see many pregnant women in need of advice living in an oversize log cabin.” He might want her gone, but at least they’d found common ground.
Mitch smiled. “I like the inn. It has history and character and substance.”
Like him.
She should get inside. She had calls to make. And yet she lingered. “I can’t say the inn is perfect. It has closet rods that are several inches too short.”
“No one’s perfect.” That smile. It was contagious. It didn’t make fun—how could it with those kind eyes?
No. That smile said, Life doesn’t always go as planned, but it can still be a good thing.
It said, There’s more to life than careers and name making.
It said, I see you, Laurel Monroe. You’re a good person.
That smile. It made her feel...special.
But that smile. It’d disappear the moment he learned the truth about her.
LAUREL MONROE WAS a surprise.
That, in itself, was surprising.
Mitch prided himself on being a good judge of character. He’d misjudged Laurel.
Despite her high-heeled boots, shiny black leggings and thin, sparkly sweaters, she wasn’t a style chaser, more concerned with appearances than substance. She wasn’t a spoiled little rich girl. If he looked beyond her outward features he’d find an intelligent, interesting, vulnerable woman. He wanted to take her to dinner and talk until the wee hours of the morning. He wanted to hold her in his arms, learn more of her secrets and perhaps share some deep, soul-baring kisses.
If only she wasn’t a Monroe. Because he couldn’t tell her anything. He’d signed a legally binding document. He’d given Harlan his word.
He followed Laurel toward the inn, walking at a much slower pace, letting the frigid wind cool him down. She’d received the medical all clear to leave town. There would be no more intimate discussions. No more riding together in companionable silence. No more featherlight kisses pressed to his cheek.
“Mitch!” Roy darted out of the Bent Nickel, scarecrow limbs pumping in his haste to reach him. “Hey! Hey, Mitch!”
“What’s up, Roy?” Mitch asked, watching Laurel disappear inside the inn.
“We got big trouble.” Panting, Roy pressed a hand to his breastbone as if he had heartburn. He needed to stay away from Ivy’s chili. “It’s Shane. He had a Realtor up here today. Or maybe an appraiser.” He waved a hand between them. “Somebody was here.”
Mitch’s blood pressure spiked. Somehow, he kept from howling. In addition to not hearing so well, Roy didn’t see too well, either. Details. Mitch needed details. “Which was it? A Realtor or an appraiser?”
Roy shrugged. “He parked over there on the other side of Shane’s Humdinger.”
Mitch glared at the offending Hummer. “Did anyone ask his name? Or get his card?”
“I was inside the diner and couldn’t see what the sign said on his truck. Ivy was upstairs with her kids and by the time she came back down he was gone.” Roy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “What does it mean?”
Mitch was afraid to guess. But he knew where the answers were—with Shane. “It’s okay, Roy. I’ll take care of this.”
Mitch marched to the inn, feet crunching the thin layer of snow on the ground.
“You,” he said when he found Shane in the common room talking to Laurel and Zeke. He pinned the cowboy with a significant look as he tossed his jacket aside. “This could get ugly. No one’s going to fault you if you retreat to your room.”
“Free entertainment?” Zeke grinned, repositioning his wheelchair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Shane sat in the corner of the couch nearest Zeke, looking the part of the sinister corporate man in his khakis and expensive leather shoes. His gaze hardened, but he said nothing.
Mitch came to stand opposite him, back to the hearth and a small fire that did little to warm him. “You succeeded in getting me out of town. And now you can tell me why.”
A smile flirted on Shane’s lips. “Kincaid, you lack finesse.”
Mitch’s hands fisted. “I’m not asking you to talk about whatever grand master plan you have regarding Second Chance.” Although that would be nice. “I’m asking you, the owner of this town, to tell me, the mayor of this town, who you met with today. I was under the impression you couldn’t drive your cousin to her doctor’s appointment because you had a job interview.”
“Let’s try to keep things civil.” Laurel moved to stand next to Mitch.
“I take full responsibility for misleading you.” Shane was serious, for once. “But Kincaid, lighten up. You see conspiracy in everything.”
“And you don’t see the value of transparency and teamwork.” Anger spit out of Mitch in short, sharp syllables. “You think you alone can decide what’s good for this town? You couldn’t run this inn, much less Second Chance. It’d be a ghost town under your watch.”
“Is that a dare?” Shane’s gaze narrowed. “Would you like to place a bet?”
“Shane.” Laurel stepped between the two men. “You can’t keep everyone in the dark the way Grandpa Harlan did.”
“Hear, hear.” Zeke applauded.
Shane frowned at each of them in turn. “Let me handle this my way.”
“No.” Laurel put her hands on her hips, her tone as fiery as her hair. “As part owner of this town, I demand to know what you’re up to.”
“Start with telling everyone who you met with today,” Zeke clarified, proving he’d witnessed Shane with someone. Not surprising since his regular spot in the common room put him on the south side of Shane’s Hummer, opposite the diner. “Or I will. He had a big sign painted on his truck door.”
Shane’s chin came up. “Stay out of this, cowboy.”
Just when Mitch was ready to jump back in the fray, Laurel beat him to it. “I call in my favor, Shane.”
What?
“Laurel.” Shane’s frown deepened.
Mitch’s temples pounded. “Am I such a big threat to you? Are you afraid I might throw a wrench in your plans?”
“Stop. Both of you.” Laurel held up a hand. “You promised me a favor, Shane. Don’t break your word and upset my babies.”
“Babies?” Sophie and her twins practically tumbled into the room from the stairs. “Oh, my gosh. Aunt Laurel is having twins, boys!” She and her kids ran over to surround Laurel. “Wait until Ashley hears about this.”
“Hang on, Sophie.” Laurel gently disentangled herself from the group hug. “I’m trying to claim my favor from Shane.”
“Don’t waste your favor on him,” Shane cautioned, pointing at Mitch. “Kincaid won’t believe a word I say.”
Mitch smirked. He was right about that.
“But I’ll believe you,” Laurel said firmly, taking hold of Mitch’s hand.
Righting her red glasses, Sophie noticed the hand-holding and grinned from ear to ear.
“I’m so glad I didn’t leave.” Zeke leaned forward in his wheelchair. “The acoustics are horrible in my room.”
Shane jabbed a thumb in the cowboy’s direction. “Does he have to hear, too?”
“Yes,” said Mitch.
“Yes,” said Laurel.
“Heck, yeah,” said Zeke.
The twins giggled, hopping around like bunnies on a warm spring day.
Shane rubbed his forehead and looked to his sister.
“I’ll go with the crowd and say yes.” Sophie hadn’t stop grinning. “Not that I have any idea what’s going on.”
“Unbelievable.” Shane shook his head. “There’s a reason good managers hold their cards close to their chest. Too many cooks spoil the soup.”
“Dish out your soup, brother dear.” Sophie lifted one of her boys to her hip. “Without any more mixed metaphors.”
Sophie’s other son, the one with the cowlick, lifted his hands, requesting to be picked up, too. Laurel picked him up instead, releasing Mitch’s hand to do so.
Immediately, Mitch’s hand felt empty.
I’m going to miss her when she leaves.
Mitch pressed his palm to his thigh, holding on to Laurel’s warmth and support, hoping she had someone to lean on when her twins arrived.
“Is Uncle Shane in trouble?” asked the boy in Sophie’s arms. Mitch thought he might be Andrew.
“Not if he tells the truth.” Sophie gave her brother a significant look. “Because that’s what good boys and responsible adults do.”
Both boys stared at their uncle expectantly.
“Okay, okay.” Shane gave in. “I hired a real estate consultant. That’s my big secret. Are you happy?”
Unhappy, Mitch groaned. “Does this mean you’re selling?”
“I’m one vote in twelve, Kincaid.” Shane smirked. “I can’t answer that question.”
Mitch kept forgetting about that. To him, Shane was the face of his predicament. More Monroes? He gritted his teeth.
“So what’s this consultant for if not to sell the town?” Zeke’s normally good-natured smile had vanished.
Shane spared his sister a pained look before answering. “This guy specializes in evaluating small towns like Second Chance with the purpose of making recommendations for investors and—”
“Investors?” Zeke groaned. “Now I’m not happy. Next thing you know, there’ll be a big-box store selling cases of toilet paper where the church used to be.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Shane stared at Sophie. “You see what happens when you relinquish control? No one lets you finish.”
Mitch’s temples felt like they were being battered with hockey pucks. “Do you have more to say?”
“Yes!” Shane shouted, bringing Gabby from the apartment and making his nephews cover their ears. “He’s not a listing agent. He presents alternatives based on the town’s character, its resources, its potential to be something more or to remain something...”
“Less,” Mitch finished for him. “You were going to say less. I take offense to that.”
“I was going to say more. As in, more charming.” Shane pushed his dark, wavy hair off his forehead. “If I could just finish.”
“Let’s hear him out.” Laurel snuggled her nephew closer in her arms and glanced up at Mitch.
It was on the tip of Mitch’s tongue to say no, that he’d heard enough bad news for one day, but there were her big blue eyes and—
Shane continued, “What you all seem to forget is that we’re in this together. I can’t speak for my siblings or my cousins, but I have no desire to evict people and no desire to tear down the town where my grandfather was born. What if I destroy the cabin he grew up in?” Shane ran one hand around the back of his neck. “I take offense to the town’s attitude toward me. I’m not the enemy.”
“He’s not,” the boy in Laurel’s arms said. “He’s Uncle Shane and we love him.”
“That’s right,” seconded the boy in Sophie’s arms.
In the ensuing silence, Mitch sank to the hearth seat, not knowing what to believe.
“This is a surprising change of events,” Zeke said, looking as shell-shocked as Mitch felt. “Is Shane a good guy now? Black hat exchanged for white?”
“Save us the cowboy humor,” Shane grumbled, his face still flushed.
Laurel set the boy she held on the floor and then hugged her cousin. She was always the first Monroe to try to mend fences.
“What’s that for?” Shane held himself stiffly.
Laurel patted his shoulder. “Because you surprised me and I’m proud of you.”
“I’m just trying to do what’s right without everyone getting in my way.” Shane pointed at Mitch. “In the hospitality industry that’s called efficiency. And yes, I could run this inn all by myself, and the town, too.”
“If he could just learn to shut up and quit while he’s ahead.” Zeke tsk-tsked, earning another frown from Shane.
But the cowboy’s words unlocked one of Mitch’s memories.
“You lawyers...” Harlan Monroe had shifted in his chair on the back deck of the inn and grinned. “You try to be so clinical, pretending you have no heart. But good lawyers are good because they care, they risk, they hurt.” He gestured with his beer bottle to Mitch. “Which case got to you?”
Mitch had sat silent, clutching his beer bottle as if it were the lock on his past.
“That many, huh?” Harlan sobered. “Well, I suppose being taciturn keeps all that disappointment inside. Unlike my grandson Shane. Now, he’s a man who doesn’t know when to shut up. The gift of gab makes him darn good working with people, though. Darn good. If you can stomach all those words.”
Mitch got back to his feet. “I’ll take that bet, Shane.”
“To run the inn?” Shane laughed.
“To run the town.” Mitch felt a smile coming on. This man had the power to change the town for the better or to destroy it. His opinion mattered to the rest of the Monroes or they wouldn’t have put him in charge. “You can be an honorary town councilman, like your grandfather was.”
There was a moment of silence as that knowledge sank in.
“Like my grandfather was,” Shane echoed. “If I do this, will you trust me to make the right recommendations for the town’s future?”
No one spoke.
Everyone waited for Mitch’s response, including Gabby.
“If your actions prove to be sincere, then yes,” Mitch said, for both Shane’s benefit and his daughter’s. “I’ll trust you.” His gaze drifted to Laurel’s.
Her eyes were shining with approval.
Selfishly, he wanted her to stay. Despite her grandfather’s wishes. Despite her dreams. Despite her need to watch over her twin sister.
Because when Laurel had his back, Mitch could face anything.
But now he wondered...
Who watched out for Laurel?
“HERE GOES NOTHING.” After helping broker a truce between Mitch and Shane, Laurel knew it was time to make things right with her family.
With her door closed and the do-not-disturb sign hanging on the doorknob, Laurel sent a video chat request to her mother and sister.
On the bed next to her, Sophie squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here.”
“Mom. Ashley.” They showed up in the same frame on her mother’s line, white kitchen cabinets in the background. Laurel swallowed thickly and tried to keep a smile on her face.
I’m pregnant. Joy, I should be feeling joy.
Laurel held the phone in front of her face. “I...have some...wonderful news.”
Gah! She sounded like a caught fish gasping on a dry dock.
“Are you coming home tomorrow?” Ashley’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked hopefully fragile as if she’d been on the receiving end of their mother’s sharp comments once too often recently.
“You’re coming home?” Mom moved in front of Ashley. “That’s wonderful news. We have so much to do.”
“Mom. Listen.” Laurel’s mouth was drier than Palm Springs in August. “I’m—”
“I can’t think of anything better than having you home,” Mom said in her I’m-so-sweet voice.
“I can,” Sophie murmured, elbowing Laurel.
Mom kept on talking, a trait Dad once confessed had led to their divorce. “Let me tell you what I’ve worked out regarding our pink dress.”
Our pink dress? Even the babies shuddered.
Laurel pressed on. “Can I share my news first?”
Mom talked over her. “There’s a New York designer interested in buying our fashion line.”
“She’s talking about your dress,” Sophie fumed, losing whisper volume. “Give me that phone.”
Laurel stood, facing Sophie so her mother and sister couldn’t see she wasn’t alone. “But—”
“Hear me out,” Mom said, irritation rounding her vowels. “There’s good money in it for you, too.”
“Too?” Sophie pushed her glasses higher. “How much of your dress is your money?” Clearly, Shane wasn’t the only one with business sense in that branch of the family.
“This designer wants an entire line of red-carpet gowns.” Mom’s smile was brittle, but then again it often was. “Ten. Twelve. More if possible. We’ve discovered a new revenue stream.”
Sell, sell, sell, Laurel’s worried, single-parent brain chanted. Raising kids took money and she was unemployed, living off her savings.
“Don’t you dare agree,” Sophie said, coming to her feet and reaching for the phone.
Laurel backed away. That number of dresses meant serious money. And being a red-carpet fashion designer was her dream. “Who’s interested?”
Mom walked through her living room, leaving Ashley behind. “Xuri Wu.” She gushed as if she’d designed the pink dress. “She is so avant-garde.”
Xuri Wu wants to work with me?
Laurel gulped. Xuri designed cutting-edge fashion. That was heady, impossible, dream-come-true stuff.
“She’s dominating the red carpet, Laurel.” Mom’s excitement came through her voice with more clarity than her suddenly blurring image on the small screen as she passed by a bright window.
“I know that.” But a reality check was sinking in.
Xuri used bold floral designs and sharp lines. Her style was everything Laurel’s wasn’t. Xuri was worldly, confident, risk taking. Xuri Wu would laugh if she knew Laurel was knitting.
Laurel had been silent too long.
Mom sensed an opportunity to close the deal. “So you’ll do it?”
“No!” Sophie whispered, shaking her head so vehemently her red glasses slid down her nose.
Laurel frowned. Torn. Mitch said her children should come first.
Not at the expense of who you are.
“I need to think about it.” Laurel glanced at the coppery scarf she’d begun knitting with chunky needles. It was hard to believe someone wanted her to design for their fashion house when Odette had rejected her knitting endeavors.
“At least ask to see the contract.” Sophie flopped back on the bed.
Smart. “And I need to see the contract,” Laurel added, practically slurring her words together in her haste to get them out.
“Contracts are my area of expertise.” Mom morphed into The Momager. “We can’t put them off much longer because of your Idaho hiatus. Don’t be an artiste when you haven’t got anything to back you up.”
“I have the dress,” Laurel said meekly, adding in a mumbled, “and some partially completed scarves.” Speaking of which, here was the perfect bridge to the reason for her call. “By the way, Mom, I’m—”
“And what about Wyatt?” Mom switched gears faster than a race-car driver. “Ashley can’t go out with him a second time. We have no idea what you two talked about on that first date. You have to come back and do it.”
Oh, what a disaster.
“There will be no second date with Wyatt.” Laurel placed a hand on her belly. “Dump him. Tell him there was no chemistry. Tell him—”
“That’s not for you to decide.” There was no sweetness from her mother anymore. “Get on the next plane. Ashley needs press. Since your father terminated her contract on that film, we need to rebuild.”
“I’m not giving up my dress to you. I’m not dating Wyatt Halford. And I’m not coming home tomorrow because—”
“I can’t talk to you like this.” Mom broke the connection.
“—I’m pregnant!”
But her mother hadn’t heard.