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Falling For The Hometown Hero
Mindy Obenhaus


The Soldier’s Second ChanceAfter returning home wounded from an IED attack, former soldier Kaleb Palmer is hailed as a hero. But survivor’s guilt makes him feel like a fraud. He hopes setting up a new business in Ouray, Colorado, will give him a new purpose and help him forget. But his new office manager has her own plans. Grace McAllen brings light and hope wherever she goes, and she’s getting Kaleb to open up. As she helps him make Mountain View Jeep Tours a success, Kaleb realizes a happy ending is in reach, if he can convince Grace to stay in town—and his life—forever.







The Soldier’s Second Chance

After returning home wounded from an IED attack, former soldier Kaleb Palmer is hailed as a hero. But survivor’s guilt makes him feel like a fraud. He hopes setting up a business in Ouray, Colorado, will give him a purpose and help him forget. But his new office manager has her own plans. Grace McAllen brings light and hope wherever she goes, and she’s getting Kaleb to open up. As she helps him make Mountain View Jeep Tours a success, Kaleb realizes a happy ending is in reach, if he can convince Grace to stay in town—and his life—forever.


“Are you sure you’re all right, Grace?”

Kaleb was the kind of guy who would listen attentively and do his best to comfort her. And the comforting was what worried Grace. It would be so easy to fall into his strong arms and believe that all was right with the world.

So, for her boss’s sake as much as her own, she’d just have to fake it. “Yeah. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“I hope you’re not getting sick.” He moved toward her, his concern mounting.

“I’m fine. I just…” Tell him. Give the guy a chance. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” No fibbing there.

Wiping his hands on a shop rag, he continued to study her. “That would explain the bags under your eyes.”

Did he just…? “Bags? What do you mean?”

He laughed. “There’s the spitfire we all know and love.”

Love?

Still laughing, he closed the distance and gave her a hug. “Sleep well, Grace.” He smelled of fresh air and masculinity. She missed him as soon as he stepped away. “And remember, I’m always here if you need me.”


It took MINDY OBENHAUS forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find more at mindyobenhaus.com (http://www.mindyobenhaus.com).


Falling for the Hometown Hero

Mindy Obenhaus




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

—Psalms 147:3


To all of our wounded warriors.

May God bless you richly.


Acknowledgments (#ulink_e1e29241-c355-508a-8ad8-f7449c008e93)

For Your glory, Lord.

To my amazing husband, Richard. I am so blessed to have you in my life. Your support carries me through the toughest of times. Thank you for countless brainstorming lunches and for your desire to help me achieve my goals.

To my guys, Ryan and Michael: y’all endured countless leftovers, pizza and pot pies and had to forego many a homemade treat for this one. Thanks for allowing me to do what I do.

Thanks to Lisa Jordan for stepping in the gap and allowing me the privilege of being your “Rachel.”

To Becky Yauger: missed you, girl. So glad you’re back.

Thank you Robert and Mary Ellen Bolton, motorcycle couple extraordinaire, for enlightening me on the world of motorcycle travel.

Many thanks to Vanessa Villanueva, LVN, and Yvonne Brefo, RN, for the medical info.

To Brandy Ross for rockin’ the pink shirt and putting up with the silliest of questions.

To Ted and Betty Wolfe for your friendship and guidance.

To Noah Galloway: I knew nothing about you when I started this book, but seeing you on Dancing with the Stars gave me so much more insight. You are an inspiration to all of us.


Contents

Cover (#u1bdc83c6-0acf-5906-bef5-dc1c9da5c8aa)

Back Cover Text (#u8d04b9bb-4e77-56b5-bfaa-95c9f3431ca1)

Introduction (#u54e107da-baf8-5480-b46c-5d821d4426c1)

About the Author (#u3763b4c2-7c0a-587e-b373-da31d078f8da)

Title Page (#ub9de84d7-d80a-5d90-89fc-f14fd81fea53)

Bible Verse (#u1641e997-21b6-53a4-b9d9-def1f7e30d29)

Dedication (#u51992034-0c52-5594-a727-563973c4d650)

Acknowledgments (#u73e5a4b9-d06f-5649-9b7e-82674c79bcb7)

Chapter One (#uac42b3df-9514-55fa-a20b-fb7f0e9bebb8)

Chapter Two (#ua5802042-2114-5b4b-a4d1-3c4e19affabe)

Chapter Three (#ud7b26bbc-ed72-5769-bb7b-45e15ca8a626)

Chapter Four (#uf910b7e0-5f85-5c8f-90df-08cbd85764ea)

Chapter Five (#ubc98425f-9641-5822-bcfa-0fc73f27115e)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_ac198ccd-98fd-55ad-8fa2-d5cbe13612dd)

His dream had come true.

As a kid growing up in Ouray, Colorado, Kaleb Palmer dreamed of owning a Jeep tour company. Of sharing the history and beauty of the San Juan Mountains with others. That dream had kept him going during the darkest time of his life and, finally, it had become a reality.

The online reviews said Mountain View Tours had terrible service.

The whispered words of a passerby echoed through his mind as he leaned the freshly painted wooden sign that read Under New Ownership beside the entrance. If they only knew. He’d had plenty of experience overcoming adversity.

Returning to the open bay of the garage, Kaleb tugged a shop rag from the back pocket of his jeans and rubbed the smudges of red paint from his fingers.

Excitement coursed through his veins, as it had so many times since purchasing Mountain View Tours a few months ago. It would take time to rebuild the company’s tarnished reputation. And with the Jeeping season lasting less than five months, time wasn’t exactly on Kaleb’s side. There were loans to be paid, and he would not let his investors down. How could he when they’d given him the courage and financial backing to follow his dream?

The late afternoon sun had him rolling up the sleeves of his tan work shirt as he looked out over Main Street, surveying Ouray’s colorful Victorian buildings. Now that May had arrived, businesses that had closed for the winter were primping for the upcoming high season. All over town, folks were painting, planting flowers and sprucing up in preparation for the thousands of people who would flock to the Switzerland of America over the next few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black motorcycle easing alongside the curb in front of his business. A potential customer, perhaps. Either way, his pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t just any motorcycle. It was a sleek BMW K 100 LT, a touring motorcycle that put all other motorcycles to shame in his book.

As a teenager, he yearned for the day he’d own one and had even contemplated purchasing that very model once he left the army. How he’d longed to conquer the Million Dollar Highway that wound its way through the mountains south of town, leaning the machine into every hairpin curve.

Of course, that was back when he had two legs.

Absently rubbing his left thigh, where his stump and prosthetic met, he watched the leather-clad, undeniably female figure dismount the bike that was bigger than her. Was she traveling alone or waiting for someone to join her?

The woman removed her helmet then, allowing her dark hair to tumble halfway down her back.

Kaleb’s breath left him. He swallowed hard, the reaction taking him by surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had that kind of effect on him. Especially one he’d never met.

She looked up and down the street, allowing him a glimpse of her face. Much younger than he would have expected. And while he couldn’t put his finger on it, there was something about her that intrigued him. The determined square of her shoulders, the confidence in her stance.

Again wiping his hands, he pretended not to notice as she left her helmet on the bike and started in the direction of Mountain View Tours’ front office. Maybe this was the day he’d book his first tour.

Leaving his fanciful thoughts in the shop along with his rag, he slid past one of his new tour trucks—bright blue and specially outfitted with open-air seating for nine—opened the office door and went inside.

“Afternoon.” He moved behind the crude particleboard reception counter. “Welcome to Mountain View Tours.”

“Hi.” The woman unzipped her black leather jacket, her smile wide as she took in the front office. “I’m looking for Kaleb Palmer.”

A dozen scenarios sprang to his mind as to why a beautiful motorcycle-driving woman would be looking for him. A relative of one of the men who’d been with him that fateful day in the Afghan desert, perhaps?

“I’m Kaleb. What can I do for you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it without saying a word, her expression seemingly perplexed. Her hazel eyes fell to the concrete floor, before bouncing back to his. “Sorry. I guess I expected someone older.” Pink tinged her cheeks as she held out her hand. “I’m Grace McAllen.”

Her firm grip wasn’t the only thing that surprised him. Granted, he’d shared only one phone call and a couple of emails with Grace, but with her husky voice, military background and no-nonsense approach to business, he never imagined his new office manager would be so...pretty.

Scratching his head, he glanced at the calendar on the wall. “I must be mixed up on my days. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“No. You’re correct.” She took a step back. “I just pulled into town and thought I’d drop by before checking in at the campground.”

“You’re staying at the campground?” Not something he would have expected from a single woman.

“Why not? I have a camper.”

He peered out the window, noting the low-profile trailer hitched to the back of her motorcycle.

“Don’t let appearances fool you.” She’d obviously caught his stare. “It’s a pop-up. Much bigger than it looks.”

That was good, because it still looked pretty small to him. However, he was six-three and liked his space.

“Cool.” He turned his attention back to Grace. “So would you like to start working tomorrow, then? Or would you prefer a day to familiarize yourself with the town?”

“Tomorrow is fine.”

“Good.” He rounded the counter to join her in the open space that was flanked by a vintage Coke machine and a particleboard brochure rack that matched the desk. “The faster we can get you up to speed, the better I’ll feel. And I figure the best way to start is with a couple of informal tours. I’ll give you a firsthand look at what we do and, in turn, better equip you to assist customers.”

“Sounds reasonable.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked him in the eye. “I haven’t been to Ouray before, but if the drive up here is any indication, I can hardly wait.”

“I like your enthusiasm.” Kaleb had prayed long and hard that God would lead him to the right employees. Those who would share his love for this area and pass that zeal on to customers. “Most of the passes are still closed, but we can make a run up to Yankee Boy Basin. Which also happens to be one of the area’s most popular destinations.”

“What time should I be here?”

“Eight o’clock too early?”

“Not at all.”

Nodding, he leaned an elbow against the counter and tried not to stare at his newest employee. The way her silky brown hair spilled over her shoulders and the hint of a dimple in her right cheek.

He cleared his throat. “The front office here is where you’ll spend most of your time. That’s my office there.” He motioned to the small room at his left.

Her brow puckered as she scrutinized the area. “It has promise. A few simple cosmetic changes could brighten this space considerably.”

“Cosmetic changes?” What was she talking about? “The place is perfectly fine. A bit rustic, but in some circles, the rustic look is all the rage. I put my money where it really mattered. Upgrading the rental Jeeps and tour trucks.”

His former boss, Mountain View Tours’ previous owner, had been a notorious cheapskate, barely putting any money into his vehicles and, in turn, ruining the company’s once-glowing reputation. A reputation Kaleb was determined to restore.

Grace smiled politely. “Okay, then—”

“I got a lollipop!” The announcement came from Kaleb’s four-year-old nephew, Jack, as he barreled through the front door in cowboy boots and shorts, lips bright red from the candy he proudly held in his hand.

“Is that for me?” He scooped the child into his arms before sticky fingers could make contact with anything or anyone.

“No.” Jack squirmed and giggled, his brown eyes alight with amusement. “You hafta get a haircut to get one.”

“Jackson Kaleb, you are supposed to wait for Mommy.” Sami, Kaleb’s sister, looked fit to be tied as she strode into the office, fists clenched at her sides, her blond ponytail escaping its confines. “What if there had been a car coming?”

Kaleb glared at his nephew. “Jack...? Did you run across the street by yourself?”

“But I wanted to show you.” The sincerity of Jack’s words settled into Kaleb’s heart.

After falling prey to an IED in Afghanistan, Kaleb had returned to Ouray just before Jack was born. He soon discovered that holding Jack and spending time with him was the best medicine Kaleb could have asked for, taking his focus off of his inabilities and forging a special bond. A bond Kaleb hoped to one day share with a child of his own.

He softened his expression. “Safety first, soldier. You know that.” He regarded his new employee. “Jack, this is Grace. She’s going to be working here this summer, so you’ll probably see a lot of her.”

“Hi, Gwace.” Jack popped his lollipop into his mouth.

“How’s it going, Jack?” Smiling, she waved and Kaleb saw a spark in her eyes that had him suspecting she liked kids. Yet as quick as it came to life, it was gone.

Suddenly shy, Jack laid his head against Kaleb’s shoulder.

“Hi, Grace.” His sister extended her hand. “I’m Sami, Kaleb’s sister, part-time helper around here and mom to this little mischief maker.” She poked a thumb toward Jack.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Grace just got into town.” Kaleb smoothed a hand across his nephew’s back, the sweet smell of strawberry enveloping them both.

“Welcome to Ouray.” Sami gave Grace her full attention. “This your first time to visit us?”

“Yes.” Grace’s eyes drifted to the window. “And it’s even prettier than I imagined.”

“That it is.” Sami let go a contented sigh, before addressing Grace again. “Where are you from?”

“All over.” Grace faced his sister. “I grew up a military brat then joined the navy right out of high school.”

“Wow!” Sami’s dark brown eyes flashed with excitement. For all of her contentment, Kaleb knew his sister longed to travel. “I bet you’ve been to some exotic places.”

“I suppose. But few as beautiful as what I saw driving in today.” Grace hesitated, a puzzled expression on her face. “I’m sorry—have I said that already?” She looked from Sami to Kaleb. “It really is true, though.” The conviction in Grace’s voice was hard to miss. And precisely what Kaleb needed to set Mountain View Tours on the road to becoming a thriving business once again.

Anticipation flooded through him as he set Jack on the floor. “Grace, you haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg. Just wait till you find out what’s in store for you.”

* * *

Grace, you are such a goober.

Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she backed her bike into the tree-canopied campsite that butted against the jagged sandstone surface of the mountainside.

When she’d talked with Kaleb Palmer on the telephone, his deep voice had her envisioning him to be somewhere upwards of fifty years old, with a moderate paunch around his midsection, wearing an old trucker hat and coveralls. Instead, he was only a few years older than her twenty-eight years, well built, with biceps bigger than her thighs. Not to mention those gray-green eyes that had her gushing like a schoolgirl.

She cringed, recalling how many times she’d used the word beautiful or some variation thereof. Even if she had meant it, she probably came across as phony.

Much like her ex-husband. It’s all right, Grace. We’ve got each other, and that’s all we need. Over the two years that Grace had tried unsuccessfully to conceive, Aaron had uttered those words month after stinking month. She’d even started to believe him. Until he left her for his pregnant girlfriend.

Annoyed that she’d allowed her mind to wander down that depressing path, she killed the engine, dropped the kickstand and got off her motorcycle. After removing her helmet, she surveyed the place that would be her home for the next few months.

The showers weren’t too far away, so that was a bonus. Across the way, a large motor home was parked at an angle. Several sites down from her, there was a silver Airstream trailer and a few more RVs dotted the campground. Aside from that, the place was empty. Something she was certain would change as they moved into summer.

Focusing on her own campsite, she noted the picnic table and a small fire pit that doubled as a grill. A water spigot and electrical box. Lifting her gaze, she studied the mountains, many still topped with snow. Definitely something she wasn’t used to seeing from the deck of an aircraft carrier. Or from the screened-in porch at her home in Jacksonville, Florida.

She shook away the unwanted memories, dropped her helmet and jacket atop the picnic table then tugged the phone from her back pocket and sent a text to her sister, letting her know she’d arrived safely. Thirty seconds later, the phone rang and Lucy’s name appeared on the screen.

Grace should have known her little sister wouldn’t be satisfied with a text.

“Hey, Luce.”

“I told you to call me when you got there. Not text.”

“Just trying to save time.” Grace sat down at the table. “I haven’t even set up camp yet.”

“In that case, I’ll cut you some slack. So... What do you think of Ouray?” Excitement laced Lucy’s tone.

Her sister and mother had spent the summer after Dad’s death up here and Lucy had fallen in love with the town. If only things had been that simple with their mother.

“In a word? Gorgeous. The pictures you showed me didn’t even begin to do it justice.”

“See? Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did.” Something she was certain Lucy would never let her forget.

“I think the change of scenery will do wonders for you, Grace. At the end of the summer, you’ll feel like a new woman, refreshed and ready to conquer the world.”

Conquering the world was exactly what Grace planned to do. Unfortunately, the ship the cruise line had assigned her to was in dry dock, undergoing renovations, and she wouldn’t be setting sail as an excursions manager until late September. So, at Lucy’s relentless urging, Grace reluctantly accepted a summer job in Ouray.

Using her finger, she traced the heart someone had carved into the wooden tabletop. “I hope so.” After her divorce last year, she finished out her enlistment then discharged from the navy, eager to flee Jacksonville and start a new life. A life lived on her terms, not those of a God who’d turned His back on her.

“Have you been to see Mama yet?”

Grace’s whole being sagged. That was the one aspect of this summer she was divided on. She knew she needed to reconnect with her mother, at least on some level, before heading out to sea. But seeing her mother meant she would also have to see him.

“No. Like I said, I have to set up camp.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t stay with Mama and Roger.”

“You know why.”

“Come on, Grace. They’ve been married for three years. Don’t you think it’s time you gave Roger a chance?”

“Not particularly.” That would be like turning her back on her father.

“He’s a good guy, Grace. He makes Mama happy.”

“Perhaps.” But how her mother could move on only a year after Daddy’s death was something Grace would never understand. “Hey, look, I need to get things going here, so I’ll talk to you later, Luce.”

Grace ended the call, eager to be done with any and all talk of Roger, grabbed work gloves from her saddlebag and unhitched her trailer from her bike. With a firm grip on the tongue of the trailer, she maneuvered it back and to the right, a position that would afford her a nice view, as well as some privacy.

Forty-five minutes later, both her trailer and a separate canopy she’d use as a lounge/kitchen area were ready to go. Sure it was small, but compared to her cramped quarters on the aircraft carrier, it was the Taj Mahal.

She giggled then, remembering that was exactly what her father used to call it. When he was alive, he would take a monthlong road trip on his motorcycle every summer. Sometimes he’d go to bike rallies or visit her if she wasn’t at sea. Wherever he went, though, this camper was his home away from home.

A tear spilled onto her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. If only he could be here now. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so alone. So vacant. He’d wrap her in one of his famous bear hugs and help her make sense of her life.

I miss you, Daddy.

She ducked under the canopy and collapsed in her favorite lawn chair, suddenly exhausted. The sun had barely risen when she pulled away from her sister’s house in Flagstaff this morning. Lifting the lid on the cooler beside her, she snagged a Diet Dr Pepper and was just about to kick off her riding boots when she noticed the back tire on her motorcycle was flat.

“Are you kidding me?” She groaned, setting the unopened can on the cooler, and went to investigate. Once she removed the saddlebags, it didn’t take her long to find the nail lodged into the tread. Thankfully, it would be an easy repair.

After pulling her hair into a quick ponytail, she opened the first saddlebag and dug through it, searching for a plug kit. Coming up empty-handed, she moved on to the next one. “Where are you?” She always carried at least two plug kits.

“Aha!” She pulled out the orange box and opened its lid.

Her heart dropped. Everything was there. The tools, the rubber cement... But no plugs.

She looked at her watch. Five thirty. What time did stores close around here anyway? She’d spotted a hardware store on her way in. Hopefully, they’d not only be open, but have what she needed, as well.

She tucked her saddlebags inside the tent, then briskly walked the six blocks to the hardware store.

“I’m sorry, but we’re temporarily out of both the plugs and plug kits.” The clerk’s apologetic smile did little to comfort her. “But you could check with one of the Jeep tour places. They might be able to help you.”

Seriously? A Jeep place?

Okay, so they had a lot of tires to worry about, but she was only familiar with one Jeep place and the idea of going back there again today didn’t settle well. What if Kaleb thought she was one of those women who was merely looking for an excuse to return?

You could check with your mother.

Definitely not. Besides, she was planning to walk to work tomorrow.

What if there’s an emergency, and you need your bike?

She blew out a frustrated breath. Logic left so much to be desired.

Trekking across the street, she swallowed her pride and walked into the somewhat dingy office of Mountain View Tours. A gallon or two of paint would do wonders for this place.

Kaleb stood behind the desk, his back to her. “Be right with you.” The overhead fluorescent bulbs highlighted a bit of blond in his short sandy-brown hair.

She waited in silence, her anxiety building.

“Grace?” His smile was easy and he appeared almost happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a flat on my bike. By any chance do you sell tire plugs?”

“No, we do not.”

In that instant, her tire wasn’t the only thing that was deflated. Oh, well. At least she was within walking distance of work. She’d just have to wait for the hardware store to replenish their stock. Or check with one of those other Jeep places the clerk had mentioned.

“But I’d be happy to give you one.”

Her gaze jerked to Kaleb’s. “Really?”

“Mountain View Tours always takes care of their customers.”

“I’m not a—”

“And their employees.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks grew warm and she turned her head to hide the reaction.

“I’ll be right back.” He rounded the counter and disappeared through the door that led to the garage. A minute later, he reappeared. “Here you go.” He handed her a bag with three plugs. “You need any tools?”

“Those I have, so no—” she dared to look at him “—thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He glanced at the generic round wall clock behind the desk. “I’m about to lock up. I could give you a lift and help with that tire, if you like.”

“Oh, that won’t be—”

“Grace, a gentleman does not let an unaccompanied female fix her own flat tire.”

“But—”

“No matter how capable she might be.”

Again she felt herself blush. Totally weird since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed. Still, she didn’t need or want Kaleb’s help. She didn’t like to rely on other people. She could take care of herself.

“Look, this wouldn’t be the first plug I’ve done.” No, it would be the second. “I can have it fixed—”

“Grace.” The look he gave her left no room for question. Much like her commanding officer. “I’m coming to help you, and that’s all there is to it.”

Great. So her boss thought her a damsel in distress.

She’d just have to prove him wrong.


Chapter Two (#ulink_6b6dfb0e-6bdb-583f-b080-8010d00b4206)

Kaleb held the passenger door of his Jeep open as Grace, now sporting a ponytail and a plain gray T-shirt, reluctantly climbed inside. Clearly, she was a strong, independent woman, evidenced by the fact that she drove a motorcycle and was staying alone at the campground. Still, he preferred to make sure things were done and done right.

“This really isn’t necessary, you know.” Grace’s tone held a hint of annoyance, which he chose to ignore.

“So you’ve said.” He tossed the door closed, continued around to the driver’s side and hopped in. “But given that you’re new in town, it’s only logical that I should offer my newest employee a hand. People helping people. That’s how we are in Ouray.”

While she stared out the window, he started the vehicle, crossed Main Street and headed down Seventh Avenue.

Grace jerked her head in his direction. “How do you know which way to go?”

“Easy.” He eyed the cross streets for traffic. “There are only two RV parks within walking distance of Main Street. I saw you coming up Seventh before turning into the hardware store.” He shrugged. “Simple process of elimination.”

She didn’t say anything, but her narrowed eyes told him she wasn’t necessarily pleased with his observation. Not that he cared. War had taught him to pay attention to detail.

He made a right onto Oak Street, gravel crunching beneath the Jeep’s heavy-duty tires. “I’ll have to rely on you to direct me to your campsite, though. Either that or drive around until I see your motorcycle.”

“Wouldn’t take you long. I’m just a few sites into the campground.”

Sure enough. Once they’d passed the office on the right and showers to their left, he spotted her motorcycle and camper.

Grace was halfway out the door before he even brought the Jeep to a stop in front of her campsite. She moved around the vehicle and continued straight on to her tent.

Women. He hoped she wasn’t going to be this stubborn about everything.

She had a tire that needed fixing, though, and he intended to do just that.

He stepped out of the Jeep and retrieved his toolbox from the backseat. When he turned around, Grace reappeared—carrying a toolbox.

Uh-oh. Tread lightly, Palmer.

“For the record—” he set his toolbox on the ground beside her motorcycle “—I’m not a chauvinist or anything. I just like to make sure things are done correctly.”

She set her toolbox down with a thud, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t think I can do it correctly?”

“I didn’t say that.” He eyeballed the flat tire, spotting the nail right away. “It’ll just make me feel better, that’s all.”

Kneeling on his good knee, he lifted the lid on his toolbox and reached for a pair of pliers. “Do you have a compressor or something to inflate the tire once it’s repaired?”

She continued to glare at him. “Wouldn’t take a road trip without one.”

“Glad to hear it.” Using the pliers, he pulled the nail from the tire. “You said you had a plug tool?”

Her brow shot up. “You mean you don’t have one?”

He pondered the spitfire staring down at him. “Actually...” He dug through his toolbox until he found his own plug kit tucked in the bottom. “Yep.” He held it up.

Threading the thick rubbery plug through the eye of the tool that was best described as a giant needle with a handle, he glanced over his shoulder.

“That’s an interesting setup you’ve got there.” Definitely not like the campers he was used to seeing. Instead of the pop-up going up and out on both ends, it went up and then out on one side, making it look like a tent sitting on a wagon.

“Thanks.” Arms still crossed, she watched as he jammed the tool into the tire. “It belonged to my dad.”

Melancholy wove its way through her last statement, telling him far more than her words.

“I take it he’s no longer with us?”

“Cancer.” She scraped a booted foot across the gravel. “Four years ago.”

Even with the distance of time, her grief was evident.

“He must have been a young man.” Kaleb pulled the tool back out then grabbed a pair of cutters to trim the excess plug.

“Fifty-six.”

That had to be difficult. Losing someone who, by all counts, was in the prime of their life. He knew what that was like. Tossing his tools back into the box, he stood and looked at her, his annoyance fading. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” Despite a momentary chink, her armor was back in place. “I’ll get that compressor.”

She turned and again headed for her tent, but not before he noticed the sadness in her hazel eyes. Beyond the striking mix of green, brown and gold, there lurked something that intrigued him all the more.

For all of Grace’s toughness, it seemed her heart was as tender as the wildflowers that blanketed the mountains in late July. Those that endured the harshest of winters only to flourish and grow more beautiful.

Not at all like Gina, his ex-fiancée. She’d wilted as soon as the storm clouds rolled in.

The hum of an electric engine drew his attention. Looking up the road, he spotted Luann Carter zooming toward him in her signature red golf cart, her grin as wide as ever.

She slowed to stop in front of him. “I thought that was you, Kaleb.” She hopped out, scurried around the cart and greeted him with a hug. “It’s always a joy to see you.”

“How’s it going?” He released the sixty-some-year-old redhead and peered down at her. Luann was a short one all right. Not even reaching five feet tall. But what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in spirit.

“Just wonderful. And how ’bout yourself? I’m sure you’re so busy you’re havin’ to turn away customers.”

“I wish things were that good, Luann. But I’m hoping they’ll pick up after Memorial Day.”

“That reminds me. ” She wagged a finger his way. “Make sure you bring me some brochures. I want to have plenty on hand so I can tell everyone about the new Mountain View Tours.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Seemed the whole town had rallied around him, willing him to bring this fledgling company back from the brink of disaster. He was determined to show that their faith in him wasn’t unfounded.

“I’ll be sure and do that just as soon as I get them printed.” Of course, before he could do that, he had to have someone design them. Add that to the long list of things he had yet to do.

“Well, hello there.” Luann’s attention shifted to somewhere behind him.

He turned to find Grace, compressor in hand. “Luann, I’d like you to meet my new office manager. Grace McAllen, this is Luann Carter. She and her husband, Bud, own the campground.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Grace smiled at the older woman. “I think I met your husband when I checked in.”

Luann waved a hand. “Probably. I’ve been out running errands most of the afternoon.” Her assessing gaze skimmed over Grace. “So you’ll be working with Kaleb?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, let me tell you, sugar, this is probably one of the finest young men you could ever work for.” Luann rested a hand on his arm. “He is kind, generous, respectful...” She hesitated a moment, then forged on. “Ol’ Bud and I were having some car trouble back this winter and, well, things were a little tight financially.” She gently squeezed his arm. “So Kaleb here fixed it for us and didn’t charge us a thing, ’cept for the parts.”

Warmth crept up Kaleb’s neck as Grace’s focus shifted to him.

“Poor fella spent two days in that freezing-cold garage and never asked for anything more than one of my coconut cream pies.”

He cleared his throat. “Grace, if you ever have one of Luann’s coconut pies, you’ll understand that it was a very fair trade.”

Luann playfully swatted him, her own cheeks turning pink. “Oh, stop, you.”

Grace watched the two of them, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “You have a lovely campground, Luann.”

“Thank you, sugar.” Luann’s phone whistled. She tugged it from the clip attached to the pocket of her cargo pants and looked at the screen. “Looks like Bud needs me. Gettin’ close to dinnertime, you know.” She winked at Kaleb before turning her attention back to Grace. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

Luann hugged both of them before hurrying back to her golf cart. “Catch ya later.” She waved as she sped off.

Kaleb looked at Grace and they both cracked up.

“You won’t find many people with a bigger heart than Luann,” he said.

Grace lifted a shoulder. “According to her, you’ll give her a pretty good run for her money.”

“Yeah, well. She tends to exaggerate.” He toed at the dirt. “Hey, look, about the tire. I’m sorry if I was a little pushy.”

“A little?” There went that perfectly arched brow again.

“Okay, so one of the first things you should probably know about me is that I like to be in control.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Does that mean you’ll constantly be looking over my shoulder at work? Questioning my abilities?”

“Not at all. Your job entails things I won’t even pretend to know about. But I do appreciate an attention to detail and, based on our earlier conversations, I think you bring that to the table.”

She nodded, her lips pursed. “And just so you’ll know, I’m...not usually so stubborn. My mother taught me to play well with others.”

He chuckled.

“Speaking of my mother, can you tell me how to get to Fifth Street?”

“Sure.” He pointed toward the southeast corner of town. “Simply head up Seventh Avenue and make a right onto Fifth.” He faced her again. “Donna and Roger will be happy to see you.”

Her smile evaporated, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know who my mother is?”

His stomach muscles tightened. She didn’t know. “Uh, Roger. He’s one of my guides. Matter of fact, he’s the one who convinced me I should buy Mountain View Tours.” Even going so far as to provide some financial backing. But she didn’t need to know that. Nor did she need to know that, after learning Grace was one of the applicants for the office-manager position, Roger was the one who’d recommended her for the job.

“One of your guides?”

“I’m surprised they didn’t say anything to you.”

“I’m not.” The words were mumbled, so he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.

“What?”

“I mean, they probably thought I already knew.” She shifted the compressor to her other hand and proceeded to unroll the electrical cord. “So, it looks like Roger and I will be working together, huh?”

“To a point, yeah. I mean, he’s a guide, so it’s not like he’ll be hanging around the office all day or anything.” Lowering his head, he tried to read her expression. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

She continued with the cord, seemingly taking forever. When her eyes finally met his, her smile appeared a little too forced. “No. No problem at all.”

Then why did he suddenly get the feeling it was going to be a big problem?

* * *

With her tire fixed and Kaleb gone, Grace swapped her traveling clothes for a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved tunic top and grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading to her mother’s. She hadn’t planned to visit until tomorrow evening. However, after learning that Roger worked for Kaleb, she decided she’d better put in an appearance tonight or else face the possibility of an even more awkward scene tomorrow at work.

Why hadn’t Mama said something—anything—when Grace told her where she’d be working? Instead, her email said simply, Can’t wait to see you.

Now, as Grace plodded up Seventh Avenue, hesitation plagued each step, her roast beef sandwich souring in her stomach. She and her mother had never had the kind of close relationship Grace had shared with her father. No, while her mother and Lucy bonded over clothes and shoes, Grace and her father bonded over motorcycles.

Then, suddenly, Daddy was gone and Mama married someone else. Leaving Grace drifting aimlessly, without a compass or anything to hold on to. Not even her husband.

Seemed she didn’t fit in anywhere.

Turning onto Fifth Street, she continued a couple more blocks. Moving past the rows of mostly older homes, some well kept, some not so much, she could feel the weight of anxiety settling in her chest. Then she spotted the slate-blue-and-white Queen Anne style two-story.

Her heart pounded against her rib cage. How could she do this? Set foot inside his house? Not her mother’s, not one they’d purchased together, but the house Roger had grown up in, according to her mother.

You’re simply going to visit your mother.

She drew in a deep breath. That was right. Maybe he wouldn’t even be there. She eyed the white wicker chairs and love seat on the porch. Perhaps she wouldn’t even have to go inside.

Picking up the pace, she marched up the front walk, climbed the two white wooden steps and rang the doorbell.

A minute later, the door swung open, and Roger stood before her. His silver hair still had that tousled appearance, and the medium blue Henley he wore seemed to match the color of his eyes. If he were anyone else, she’d think him a fairly handsome man.

“Grace!” Though his smile was quick, his brow puckered in confusion as he pushed open the screen door. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. Come on in.”

The aroma of lavender and vanilla wafted outside, stirring fond memories of every military house Grace had ever lived in. No matter where in the world they were, Mama’s favorite fragrance made it feel like home.

Shaking off the recollection, she kept her feet planted on the porch. “Um...is my mother here?”

“’Fraid not. They’re having a VBS planning meeting at the church tonight.”

Of course, her mother would be there. She had taken an active role in every vacation Bible school at every church they’d ever attended.

Apparently her love for Grace’s father was the only thing that didn’t transcend time.

Roger held the door wider. “You’re welcome to come in and wait on her, though.”

“No. Thank you.” Grace squared her shoulders. “I hear you’re a guide at Mountain View Tours.”

“Going into my fourth year.”

She nodded. “And nobody felt the need to share this information with me?”

He moved out onto the porch in his white sock feet. “We weren’t trying to deceive you, Grace. We were afraid that if you knew I worked there, too, you might not come. Your mother’s looking forward to seeing you.”

Looking everywhere but at Roger—the wooden floorboards, the neighbor’s house, the hanging flower basket swaying in the breeze—Grace fought to keep her breathing even as the words seeped in. While her knee-jerk reaction was to reject the notion, she knew deep inside that Roger was probably right.

“In that case—” she started down the steps “—I guess I’ll see you around. Tell my mother I stopped by.”

“I’ll do that. And, Grace?”

As much as she hated to, she halted her retreat and turned.

“You’re welcome here anytime.” His smile was sincere, the lines around his eyes indicating it was something he did a lot.

Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. But Grace wouldn’t betray her father.

Her gaze drifted to the ground before bouncing back to Roger. “Good night.”

She moved down the street at a much faster pace than when she’d arrived, ready to put this day behind her. Despite her long sleeves, the cool evening air sent chill bumps skittering down her arms, making her wish she’d brought her jacket. All she wanted to do now was get back to her camp, crawl into bed and hope tomorrow wasn’t as convoluted as today.

Coming to Ouray was supposed to rejuvenate her. Instead, it felt more like a chore. That cruise ship was sounding better and better all the time.

Rubbing her arms, she surveyed the surrounding mountains. Though the town lay bathed in shadows, the sun’s fading rays radiated from behind the western slope. Glancing eastward, her breath caught in her throat. The gray, volcanic-looking mountains that seemed to hug the town were now painted the most beautiful, yet indescribable color. Shades of orange, rose and yellow blended into one harmonious hue that was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

“Grace?”

Turning, she saw Kaleb coming up the block. Couldn’t she go anywhere in this town without running into him?

Gravel crunched beneath each step as he continued toward her, looking annoyingly handsome. “Enjoying the alpenglow?”

“The what?”

Hands on his hips, he nodded in the direction of the colorful mountain. “Alpenglow. It’s a phenomenon that often happens this time of night.”

She readily focused on nature’s beauty. “What causes it?”

He shrugged. “Something about the sun reflecting off particles in the atmosphere. I tend not to question it. I simply enjoy it.”

“I can see why.” It had that same captivating quality as a rainbow. A supernatural splendor that commanded one’s attention.

“Were you visiting your mom?”

The colors had begun to fade by the time she faced Kaleb. “That was my intention, but she wasn’t home. Roger said something about a vacation Bible school meeting.”

“Yeah, that was tonight.” He dragged the toe of his work boot over the dirt road. “Did you and Roger have a nice visit?”

Visit? They barely conversed. But getting the impression that Kaleb was rather fond of Roger, she said, “I suppose. Yeah.”

“He’s a good man. A fellow vet, too. But then, I suppose you already knew that.”

She did not, but was too exhausted to offer anything more than a nod.

“Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back to camp. New job tomorrow.” She had to make herself smile. “Gotta get a good night’s rest so I can make a good impression on my boss.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” His grin set off a strange and unwanted fluttering in her midsection. “Don’t forget to make sure any food you’ve got at your campsite is secured inside a cooler or something with a latch. Bears like to wander down the mountain at night and help themselves.”

She puffed out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

His smile evaporated. “Not at all. I’m surprised Bud didn’t say something to you when you checked in.”

The fluttering morphed into a whirlwind. “Let me get this straight. While I’m asleep, bears are going to be roaming around my campsite?”

“Possibly.”

She surveyed the rapidly darkening sky, sweat suddenly beading her brow. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Despite the fatigue nipping at her heels, she broke into a jog.

Controlling bosses, working with her stepfather and now bears. With all that on her mind, she’d never get any sleep.

At this rate, Ouray was turning out to be the worst idea her sister ever had.


Chapter Three (#ulink_73836508-d23d-5363-97be-9a3ded6bc2e7)

Kaleb pulled his Jeep into a parking spot alongside Mountain View Tours shortly after noon the next day. As promised, he’d taken Grace on her first tour to Yankee Boy Basin and, so far, it had been a fantastic day. “My goal is to create a memorable experience for each of our guests. One they’ll talk about for the rest of their lives.”

And judging by Grace’s reaction, he’d achieved just that. The look of unequivocal reverence as she took in the snow-covered peaks that stretched as far as the eye could see was something he’d never forget. Her genuine interest and appreciation for every little thing, from the old mines to the cascading waterfalls to a grosbeak’s sweet song, reinforced his belief that he’d made the right decision in hiring her.

Now he shifted the vehicle into Park, glancing toward her in the passenger seat. “Unfortunately, the previous owner didn’t feel the same way, so I’ve got an uphill battle.”

“Which is why we need to appeal to folks from the moment they walk into Mountain View Tours, if not before.” She gathered her things and exited the vehicle.

He climbed out, liking the way she used the word we, as if they were one, focused on the same common goal. Yes, the sooner he could bring Grace up to speed and put her to work, the better off his business would be. Memorial weekend, the unofficial kickoff of the high season, was only a few weeks away, and there was still much to do.

Meeting her at the front of the Jeep, he stared down at her. “And how do we do that?”

“I have a few ideas, though you may not like them.” She wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze. As though issuing a challenge.

Like he’d back down from a challenge. “Try me.”

“Okay. You said you want to create a memorable experience for your guests.”

“Yes.”

“What if we added a tagline?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “Something like, ‘Mountain View Tours... Memories in the making.’”

He let the phrase tumble through his brain. “Okay. Yeah. I’m kinda liking that. Tells people exactly what our goal is.”

“Just like a tagline is supposed to.”

“That would look good on my new brochures, too.” Rubbing his chin, he took a step back. “Which reminds me. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about designing brochures, would you?”

“Sure. I’m pretty good with websites, too.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. “Grace, you may just be the best thing that ever happened to Mountain View Tours. So what other suggestions have you got?”

Clasping her notepad and camera against her chest, she took a deep breath. “I think you need to consider sprucing up the front office. Something as simple as a fresh coat of—”

“No.”

“Why no—”

“We discussed this yesterday. The rustic look stays.”

She took a step closer, her gaze narrowing. “For your information, it’s industrial, not rustic. And it only works if it’s done right.” She pointed toward the building. “That’s not it.”

Hands on his hips, he put himself toe-to-toe with her. “So what? My building, my business, my decor.”

After a momentary staredown, she took a step back. “You asked for my input.”

Something he’d think twice about next time.

Exasperation mounting, he started toward the building and pushed through the front door, the heels of his work boots hammering against the concrete floor. “Sami, would you please tell Grace the office looks perfectly fine.”

Sami glanced up from behind the counter. “Grace, the office looks perfectly fine. If you like drab and uninviting.”

Behind him, Grace choked back a laugh.

He glared at his sister.

“I’m serious, Kaleb.” Sami rounded the counter. “This place is about as lackluster as you can get. I about fell asleep while you were gone. You need to liven things up. Make Mountain View Tours a place people want to be.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” Tapping a finger to her lips, Grace pretended not to look at him. A move that only served to further annoy him.

Sami stepped between them, her dark brown gaze fixed on Kaleb. “Mom and I were talking about this just a little while ago. You know that we all want Mountain View Tours to be a success. However, we also know that you have some huge hurdles to overcome.”

He couldn’t argue with her so far. No matter how much he might want to.

“Which means you need to do whatever you can to overcome some of those hurdles.”

“Like replacing all of the tour trucks and rental fleet? I’ve already done that.”

Sami jammed a fist into her hip. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” She strode to the counter, spread out a swath of papers then stabbed them with her finger. “This is what I’m talking about. Just look at these before and after photos I found online.”

He didn’t want to look at them. But curiosity got the best of him.

Easing toward the desk, he cast his sister a wary eye. “Those are some pretty dramatic changes.” Not to mention costly.

“Yep. All with little more than paint.”

Grace sidled up beside Sami, no doubt pleased to have someone else in her corner. “I like how they incorporated the brick wall into the design of this one.” She pointed from the picture to the brick wall behind his reception counter. “With the right color paint, some rustic elements, you could really make that stand out.”

“Though they don’t look like much right now, Kaleb’s got some great pieces around here he could use.” Sami turned. “Like that old Coke machine.” She pointed across the room. “That thing is too cool to be hidden in a corner.”

Grace strolled over to the vintage machine. “It’s not often you find a soda machine that offers glass bottles. Does it work?”

“Yes,” said Kaleb.

“Sami’s right, then.” She faced them again. “You need to move this someplace more prominent. Keep it stocked and you’ve got another source of income.”

Kaleb tried to hide his annoyance. Not only due to the bossy women in front of him, but the fact that he hadn’t given more consideration to the Coke machine.

“So what do you say, Kaleb?” Sami looked like a kid begging to open just one gift before Christmas. “We’re only talking about the cost of materials. Mom and I are both willing to paint.”

“Me, too.” Grace thrust her arm in the air like a second grader. “It’d be fun. As a matter of fact—” She waved a hand then dropped it to her side. “Ah, never mind.” Her narrowed gaze drifted to Kaleb. “I’ve learned to keep my suggestions to myself.”

“Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easy.” Sami inched toward her. “Out with it, Grace.”

Grace looked from him to Sami, as if deliberating whether or not to divulge her secret. “What if you had a grand opening? Something that invited people to come in and check out the new Mountain View Tours.”

Sami’s eyes grew wide. “That’s an outstanding idea.” She whirled toward Kaleb. “We could do it Memorial Day weekend. You could have your new trucks on display, offer discounts on tours... We could have cookies, balloons—”

He held up a palm, cutting off his sister. “No. I appreciate the suggestion. However, something like that involves a lot of work. I think we best focus our energies on bringing in business.”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do.” Returning her fist to her hip, Sami scowled at him. “Besides, wasn’t it just the other day I heard you say that you were looking for a way to separate the new Mountain View Tours from the old?”

He hated it when she used his own words against him. “Yes. But a party wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Then what did you have in mind?” His sister’s smug grin only served to irritate him.

He didn’t have a response. All he knew was that painting and parties took time. Time that he didn’t have.

“Kaleb,” Sami continued, “you’ve said a million times how important this first season is going to be. Why not do it right?”

Grace cleared her throat. “All you’d really have to do for a grand opening is set up shop outside. Go to the people instead of waiting for them to come to you.” She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “We’re talking very little time and effort. However, the payoff could be worth it.”

His sister’s expression softened. “So what do you say, big brother? You going to go big or go home?”

He definitely didn’t want to go home. Not only would he be letting his investors down, he’d be lost. He’d been working toward this goal for years.

Scanning the bare-bones office, he could see where it might seem a little cold.

We need to appeal to folks from the moment they walk into Mountain View Tours, if not before.

Of course, the more appealing things were, the more likely people were to be drawn in.

He eyed his sister. “You and Mom will do all the work?”

“And Grace.” Hope lit Sami’s dark eyes. “When she’s not doing things for you, that is.”

“And you’ll get the work done quickly?”

“As quick as we can. After all, Memorial Day is right around the corner.”

He lowered his arms to his sides. Even though he was ready to say yes, he paused for effect. “Okay, you can redecorate. So long as I approve all ideas and colors first. Got it?”

“Got it.” Sami’s grin was so big, he thought she might burst. “And what about the grand opening? Scott and I would be happy to help out. I’m sure Mom and Dad would, too.”

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Though he didn’t have to let his sister or Grace know.

“We can probably work something out.”

“Yes!” Sami charged him then and hugged his neck so tight he could barely breathe. “Okay.” Letting go, she began her retreat. “I’m going to run over to the hardware store to look at some paint chips.” After a final scan of the place, she continued. “I can’t wait.” She yanked open the door. “Oh! Hello, Donna.” She held the door for Grace’s mother.

“Hello, Sami.” The woman in her late fifties continued inside, looking as well dressed as ever in her tan slacks and flowing blue shirt. “Kaleb, I hope you don’t mind me dropping by to see my daughter.”

“Not at all.” He could use a break. Being ganged up on by two headstrong women was enough to do any man in. “This’ll give me a chance to run and pick us up some lunch before we get down to business.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Donna embraced her daughter. Her short auburn hair was a contrast to Grace’s long dark brown. However, they shared the same hazel eyes.

“Hi, Mama.” Grace’s hug seemed a bit more tentative. Even awkward.

Perhaps because he was there.

“Grace? Burger or sandwich?”

Her mother released her.

“Burger’s fine. With everything, please.”

“Done.” He started for the door. “See you later, Donna.” Outside, he crossed the street and headed toward Granny’s Kitchen.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let go a sigh. Talk of redecorating and a grand opening, while both great ideas, also added to his angst. There was so much to do and so little time in which to do it. Could they really pull it off?

God, I want to get this right.

Honestly, he really liked the ideas Grace and Sami proposed. And if everything went according to plan...

On the flip side—

No. He wasn’t going to go there. Because for as much as he hated to admit it, Grace just might be the key to his success.

* * *

Grace did not want to do this now.

She hadn’t seen her mother since Lucy’s wedding last year. Right after Grace had returned from deployment and learned that her own marriage was over. So why on earth would Mama come to Mountain View Tours—a public place—for their first encounter? What if the place had been filled with customers?

Unless her mother was trying to protect herself, thinking Grace wouldn’t call her out if someone else was around. But now that Kaleb was gone...

“Why didn’t you tell me Roger worked here?”

Mama squared her shoulders in a defiant manner.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight, Mama. The news just kind of blindsided me, that’s all. I wish you would have told me.”

Lifting her chin, her mother said, “If I had, though, would you have taken the job?”

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Though resignation laced Grace’s tone, she made sure there was no accusation.

“Grace, you’re my daughter. I miss you. And I’d like to have a relationship with you.”

“Like you do with Lucy.” The two of them were always chatting up a storm about the latest fashion trends, celebrities and such. Things Grace didn’t have a clue about. Especially after spending ten months at sea.

Mama shrugged. “It’s easier with Lucy. She lets me in.”

“I tell you things.”

Her mother chuckled. “Only when I ask. Even then, you only give me enough to get me to stop with the questions. Yet you never had any problem talking to your father.” Mama looked away. “I always envied that.”

Envy? Seriously? Grace’s gut churned with the shock of Mama’s revelation, leaving any words she might have said stuck inside.

She glanced out the window. “Kaleb will be back soon.” And she didn’t know how to continue this conversation with her mother. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“See what I mean. Instead of allowing anyone in, you avoid whatever makes you uncomfortable.”

She let Aaron in. And look how that turned out.

“This isn’t about being uncomfortable. This is reality. And reality dictates that I have a job, which means I have a boss. A boss who will be back any moment, expecting me to work.” She took a deep breath, contemplating her next offer. “I can stop by tonight...if you like.”

Mama’s expression turned hopeful. “For dinner? I’ll make your favorite.”

Grace’s spirits lifted a notch. “Nonna Gigi’s lasagna?”

“Of course.”

Grace’s mouth watered just thinking about it. Nonna Gigi’s lasagna was the ultimate in comfort food. One Grace had not had the pleasure of indulging in for years.

Mama sure knew how to dangle the carrot.

“I don’t get off work until six.”

“That’s all right. We typically don’t eat until six thirty or seven.”

“One burger with everything.” Kaleb blew through the door. “Along with some of the freshest French fries in Ouray.”

She caught a whiff of the enticing aroma as he walked past. If they tasted half as good as they smelled...

Her mother eased toward the door. “I’ll get out of your hair so you two can get back to work.”

Kaleb set the white paper bag on the counter and turned to face them. “Did Grace tell you we’re going to be doing some redecorating in here?” He gestured his hand about the office.

“She did not.” Mama paused, her hand on the doorknob, a smile at the corners of her mouth.

Evidently, now that he’d had time to think, Kaleb decided the suggestion had been a good one.

“Looks like we’ll be doing some painting and who knows what else to get the place in shape.”

“Oh, I’d love to help.” Having transformed many a bland military house into a warm and inviting home, Mama not only loved, but had lots of experience with decorating.

Working alongside her, though?

Slinking toward the desk and the tantalizing aromas, Grace spotted the local newspaper on the corner of the counter.

“That’d be great, Donna. Like my grandmother always said, many hands make light work.”

Try as she might, Grace couldn’t share Kaleb’s enthusiasm. Too many memories to be objective, she supposed.

“What’s Roger up to today?”

“He’s substitute teaching at the school.”

Talk of Roger had Grace wishing she were already on that cruise ship. She picked up the newspaper and thumbed through the pages. Maybe there was another job in Ouray that she might enjoy. One that didn’t involve working with her stepfather.

“Grace?”

“Hmm...?” She looked at Kaleb first, then her mother.

“I’ll see you for dinner, then?”

She closed the paper. Folded it. “Just as soon as I get off work.”

With her mother gone, Kaleb opened the bags and sorted out the food.

Grace accepted her burger. “Sorry my mother interrupted us like that. I’m sure she won’t make a habit of dropping in.”

“Don’t worry about it. After missing you last night, she was probably eager to see you. I understand.” He passed her a small bag of fries. Thin-cut, just the way she liked them. “Pull up a stool.” He pointed behind the desk.

While he unwrapped his burger and took a bite, she grabbed the basic wooden stool and sat down, her appetite waning.

“Something wrong with your burger?”

“No. Just thinking about this evening.”

Kaleb jerked his head up, a blob of mayo clinging to his bottom lip. “Problem?”

He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth.

She picked up a fry, rolling it between her forefinger and thumb. “I just don’t know how I’m going to handle spending an entire evening with Roger.”

“Why? He’s a great guy.”

“So people keep telling me. But what kind of guy goes after a woman whose husband has been dead less than a year?”

Kaleb settled his sandwich on top of the flattened bag. “Did you know Roger lost his wife to cancer, too?”

“I knew he was married.” But beyond that...

“For thirty-five years.” Kaleb wiped his hands. “Everyone around here worried about him after Camille died. My mom said he looked like a dead man walking. Until he met your mother.”

Grace tossed the fry she’d been holding back into the bag. “Sometimes life really stinks.”

“Yep. The buffet line of life is notorious for throwing stuff on our plates that we don’t necessarily like.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean they’re not good for us, though. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?”

Staring at her handsome boss, who seemed to have the world at his feet, she puffed out a disbelieving laugh. “What could you possibly know about it?”

He narrowed his gaze on her, as though contemplating his response. “Far more than you might think.” He rounded the counter then, his expression intense, and lifted the left leg of his cargo pants.

“What are you—” At the sight of his prosthetic leg, her words and her heart skidded to a halt. “Oh, my.” She continued to look at the metal-and-hard-plastic contraption that went all the way above his knee. “I—I never would have guessed.”

She looked at him now. “What—”

“IED. Cost me four of my buddies and my leg.” He let the pant leg drop. “So don’t go acting like you’re the only one who’s been handed a raw deal. Because, sweetheart, I do know a little something about it.”


Chapter Four (#ulink_c32b80b0-f7f8-55b0-80a1-3791561ca662)

Grace would love nothing more than to go back to her campsite and lick her wounds. Next time, she needed to think twice before inviting someone else to her pity party.

In one swift, stealthy strike, her boss had put an end to her sulking. And yes, despite her strong desire to turn tail and run, Kaleb was still her boss. Despite their disagreements, she felt as though she could make a difference at Mountain View Tours.

Of course, that also meant she’d still be working with Roger, so she supposed she should put aside her preconceived notions and, at least, give the guy a chance.

Now here she stood in Mama and Roger’s cottage-style kitchen, feeling like a bit of a jerk. She hadn’t realized he’d lost his wife of thirty-five years. Probably because she never took the time to listen to anything her mother—or anyone else—had to say about him.

“What can I do to help, Mama?” She pushed up the long sleeves of her purple T-shirt and headed toward the farmhouse sink under the window to wash her hands.

“Why don’t you set the table while I finish with this salad.” Her mother rested the knife on the marble-topped island and wiped her hands on a dish towel before opening one of the white cupboards behind her.

“Silverware?”

“First drawer on the right.” Mama pointed with her elbow while pulling out a stack of plates. She set them on the counter. “We’ll eat in the dining room tonight.”

“Okay.” Eating utensils clasped in one hand, Grace reached for plain white plates with her other. “I think you gave me one too many.”

“No, I didn’t. The fourth one is for Kaleb. Roger thought it would be nice to invite him for dinner, too.”

Grace simply stood there, uncertain what to make of her mother’s sudden announcement. After all the head-butting she and Kaleb had done today.

“Oh, and place mats and napkins are in the drawer in the hutch.” Mama picked up her knife and continued slicing tomatoes. “Let’s go with the turquoise ones. Add a little color.”

Good thing Grace’s workday had ended on a positive note. Otherwise, seeing Kaleb tonight could prove to be even more awkward.

She moved into the dining room and set the plates and silverware on the table before searching for the linens. Not that it would be difficult. Mama always kept them in the right-hand drawer.

Turning toward the wall at the far end of the room, she vaguely recognized the tall piece of furniture whose glass case held Mama’s collection of pastel-colored Depression glass. The style of the piece was similar to the one Grace remembered growing up, except instead of the honey oak finish, this one was white.

She pulled the crystal knob to open the drawer on the right and gasped. It was the same piece. While the outside of the hutch had been painted, the inside of the drawer still bore hers and Lucy’s names. Names they’d written in permanent marker along the inside of the drawer. A move that had earned them both a stern scolding and a lengthy time-out.

Stepping back, she stared at the furniture piece, a bittersweet feeling leaching into her heart. She remembered the look of pure delight on her mother’s face the Christmas Daddy presented it to her. “You need a special place to display your collection,” he’d told her.

Grace thought it was the most beautiful, if not ginormous, thing she’d ever seen. Yet as she stared at it now, the hutch looked prettier than ever. Like a better version of itself.

A noise in the kitchen interrupted her reverie and stole her attention.

“Smells delicious.” Roger closed the door behind him, wiping his booted feet on the rug before making his way into the room. His arm snaked around her mother’s waist as he set a plastic grocery sack on the counter. He said something, though the words were too soft for Grace to hear. Whatever it was, though, made her mother giggle and had a blush creeping into her cheeks.

“Love words” were what she and Lucy used to call it when Daddy would whisper sweet nothings into Mama’s ear. Sometimes she would blush, sometimes not, but either way, Grace and Lucy knew it was an intimate conversation, meant only for Mama and Daddy.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Grace grabbed the place mats and napkins and returned her focus to the table.

“Hello, Grace.” Roger stood just on the other side of the doorway between the two rooms. “Glad you could make it.” Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he seemed to look everywhere but at her.

Just like she did when she was uncomfortable.

Could it be that Roger was as nervous about tonight as she was?

“Thank you for having me.” Hands shaking, she finished laying out the silverware, realizing she’d forgotten to grab another set. “You have a lovely home.”

“Yeah.” He moved closer, just enough to admire the dining room and adjoining living room. Both had that same cottage feel, lots of white furniture against dark hardwood floors and pale blue-gray walls. “Your mother’s quite the decorator.”

He’d let her mother redecorate? But this was his house.

“She managed to fuse our former lives and our new life into something fresh and different.”

Much like the old hutch.

All of Lucy’s words about Roger being a good guy flooded her memory. Grace had chosen to ignore her sister. Now her emotions warred within.

Perhaps her mother wasn’t quite so eager to forget the past after all.

The doorbell rang then.

“That would be Kaleb.” Moving along the opposite side of the table, Roger headed toward the door.

Feeling as though she still had egg on her face when it came to her boss, Grace took the opportunity to retrieve that fourth set of utensils.

Inside the kitchen, her mother was removing a large baking dish from the oven. The aromas of meat, cheeses and whatever other secret ingredients made up Nonna Gigi’s famous lasagna wafted throughout the room, reminding Grace of simpler times.

She inhaled deeply, wishing she could find a way to capture the scent for those times when life got rough. “That smells amazing.”

“Always does.” Mama set the pan atop the stainless-steel stove, then grabbed a sheet pan that held a split loaf of French bread spread with garlic butter and sprinkled with cheese. “Now all I have to do is get this garlic bread baked.” She set the pan in the oven and adjusted the heat.

Hearing Kaleb’s voice in the other room, Grace opened the drawer and took out another knife, fork and spoon. “Mama?”

“Yes, baby.” Leaning her hip against the island, she gave Grace her full attention.

Grace pushed the drawer closed. “Did you know Kaleb was injured in the army?” His revelation had stunned, if not shamed, her. Sure she’d noticed that something was a little off in his gait on occasion, but she thought maybe he had a bad knee. Boy, was she wrong.

“Oh, yes. He doesn’t hide it. In fact, he’s an inspiration to everyone here, sharing his story at area schools and churches. He’s our own real-life hero.”

A hero whose title had come at a great price. Yet he didn’t seem bitter or angry, and she wondered how that could be.

“Good evening, ladies.”

Both Grace and her mother turned at the sound of Kaleb’s deep voice.

“Hello there, Kaleb.” Mama tossed her potholders on the island. “We’re so happy you could join us.”

“Are you kidding? After hearing Grace talk about her grandmother’s lasagna all afternoon, I was thrilled when Roger extended the invitation.”

His attention shifted to Grace then, his smile reaching across the room, wrapping around her heart like a warm blanket on a cold night.

She couldn’t help noticing that while she’d come directly from work, he’d changed into a pair of dark wash jeans and a tailored red-and-white button-down that hugged his muscular torso. His hair was also damp, indicating he’d likely showered.

Nothing like being shown up by a guy. Especially one who’d suddenly garnered a great deal of her respect.

Making dinner with Mama and Roger seem like a cakewalk compared to spending the evening with a guy whose character and outlook on life had her taking a long, hard look at herself...and not liking what she saw.

* * *

Kaleb had hoped for a relaxing evening and, so far, it had been just that. While there was no question that he wanted to support Roger by being here for him, he feared things could be a little tense. After the way he shut Grace down today... And even though they’d patched things up, one never knew how well that patch might hold.

Sitting in Roger and Donna’s dining room, next to Grace, no less, Kaleb finished his last bite of lasagna. “Donna, your grandmother’s lasagna has a new fan.” He set his fork atop his empty plate. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.” It was the perfect balance of meat, cheese and pasta. And those seasonings. Just the right kick, without overpowering the other flavors.

Grace’s mother dabbed the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin. “That’s the response this recipe usually gets.”

“I only wish she’d make it more often.” Roger nudged his wife’s elbow with his own, sending her a playful grin.

Donna blushed, returning her napkin to her lap. “Kaleb, I can’t tell you how excited I am about the Hometown Heroes exhibit at the museum.”

His chest tightened. The way it always did when his name and the word hero were used in the same sentence. He was no hero.

“Hometown heroes? Museum?” Grace spooned another small portion of lasagna onto her plate. Her third helping, if he wasn’t mistaken. Where did she put it?

Donna addressed her daughter. “I volunteer at the historical museum here in town. We’re planning to have a whole room dedicated to those men and women from Ouray who have served our country. We’ve received a few items—everything from photos to uniforms to ration cards—dating back to the First and Second World Wars, the Korean War and Vietnam.” She smiled at Kaleb. “However, our most recent hero is going to round things out for us. Make the exhibit more personal and real by bringing it into the twenty-first century.”

Eager to deflect the unwanted attention, Kaleb motioned toward Roger. “What about Roger? I’m sure he’s got lots of items.”

“Are you kidding?” Roger draped an arm across the back of his wife’s chair. “Donna had me pulling boxes from my Vietnam days out of the attic weeks ago.”

“We’ll have the ribbon cutting on June twenty-third, a day we’re calling Hometown Heroes Day, and Kaleb here has volunteered to give a short speech, along with our other donors.”

Volunteered? More like coerced. A bunch of women ganging up on him like that, plying him with all kinds of baked goods. A fellow didn’t stand a chance.

Now he was committed.

“When do you think you’ll have your items ready for us?” Donna smiled sweetly.

“I need to finish sorting through everything.” Of course, before he could finish, he needed to actually start the process. For now, the untouched boxes were still stacked in one of his spare bedrooms, right where his parents had left them a month ago. He knew he needed to move a lever. Yet every time he thought about it, a sense of dread seemed to settle over him. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

“I can imagine.” Leaning back, Donna folded her hands in her lap. “You were in the army how many years?”

“Eight.”

Grace rested her elbow on the table, perched her chin on her palm and stared at him. “How many tours of duty?”

“Three. All in the Middle East.”

Donna gasped. “I just had an idea.”

Kaleb and Grace collectively turned to her mother.

“Grace, why don’t you help Kaleb sort through his things?”

A look of horror flashed across Grace’s face. She straightened, lowering her arm. “Mama, I don’t think that’s really appropriate. There may be some things that Kaleb doesn’t want anyone else to see.”

Donna laid a hand at the base of her neck. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She met Kaleb’s gaze. “I apologize if I was out of line, Kaleb.”

“No worries, Donna.”

“Well, so long as we have everything by June ninth, we should be okay.” Donna pushed away from the table. “Who’s interested in dessert?”

Despite his stomach being twisted in knots with guilt, Kaleb managed to down a slice of chocolate cake, another of Grace’s purported favorites, before bidding Roger and Donna farewell.

“I’m going to say good-night, too.” Grace grabbed her jacket and pack from the closet near the front door. “Thank you for dinner, Mama.” She hugged her mother, the gesture appearing more heartfelt than the one they’d shared earlier that day. “The lasagna was even better than I remembered.”

Outside, the last vestiges of daylight faded in the western sky. The night air was cool, something he was used to, but he was glad Grace had a jacket.

They strolled along Fifth Street, silent. Was she feeling as sheepish in the wake of this afternoon’s events as he was? He struggled to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

Finally, “I, uh—” Grace stepped into the void. “I’m sorry for what my mother said. About me helping you. Obviously she’s a little out of touch.”

“Ah, she’s harmless. I know there was no ill intent.”

After another pause, Grace continued. “You haven’t begun to sort through your stuff, have you?”

Wow. He wasn’t expecting that. “You figured that out, huh?”

“Yep.” Her gaze remained straight ahead.

For some odd reason, he felt relieved. As if his secret was finally out in the open. “I have every intention of meeting that deadline, you know.”

“I know.” Hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, she forged on. “But delving into your past makes you uneasy.”

“How did you know?” He’d known this woman barely twenty-four hours and yet she was able to read him so well.

She shrugged. “We all have pasts.”

He followed her around the corner at Seventh Avenue. “It’s not like I’m hiding anything.”

“I understand. You’d just prefer the past remain in the past.”

“Sort of. It’s just—”

She stopped in the middle of the street. Looked at him with eyes that seemed to cut right through him. “Just what?”

“Um— My prosthetic. Challenges. You know.” Now it was his turn to shrug.

“Memories.”

One innocuous word but, boy, did it pack a punch. “Yeah.”

Her weak smile said she understood. “They have a way of sneaking up on us, don’t they?”

Us? What memories did Grace not want to unearth?

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Kaleb. But your sacrifice deserves to be honored. People want to honor it. Why not let them?”

Because they might see that I’m a fraud. That I’m not worthy of their honor.

They crossed Main Street, the sound of the river growing louder as they approached. Much like the turmoil cutting a swath through him. Why couldn’t he go through those boxes? What was he so afraid of?

Perhaps Grace’s mother was right. Maybe he did need help. Someone to give him direction and keep him on task. After all, he had a deadline and he was a man of his word.

But who would he ask? His mother would want him to donate everything. His father was too close to the situation, too. Maybe Roger. He was military and knew how to cut to the chase. Though Kaleb hated to take him away from Donna.

Why his gaze drifted to the woman walking beside him was beyond comprehension. He barely knew her. Still, she was military. So, in a practical sense, she would know what might be best for the museum. And, now that he thought about it, not having any personal attachment to him or anyone else might actually make her the best person for the job.

But there was a lot of stuff in those boxes. Stuff that spanned his life from boyhood to manhood. Did he really want her sifting through every photo and newspaper article? From basic training to the IED that ended his career.

They rounded onto Oak Street and Kaleb realized they were almost to the RV park. He’d been so lost in thought that he not only lost track of time, but location, as well. He hadn’t intended to walk Grace home, though he supposed it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in accidents. God wanted him to walk Grace home for a reason. And as he continued to ponder the boxes in his spare room, he had a pretty good idea what that reason was.

“Grace?” He stopped in front of the empty campsite just down from hers and turned to look at her. “Would you be interested in helping me dig through my military memorabilia? I realize I’m asking a lot—I mean, you barely even know me—but I need help.”

She watched him, seemingly intrigued. “How much stuff are we talking about?”

“At least a dozen boxes.”

Her eyes widened. “No wonder you’re overwhelmed.”

He lifted a shoulder. “My mom insisted I share everything with her, and since I didn’t know what was important and what wasn’t, I had an ongoing box that I’d toss stuff into. When one got full, I’d send it to her and start on another.”

Grace smiled then. “That’s actually pretty sweet. Not many guys would be that considerate.”

“You obviously haven’t met my mother.”

Grace snickered.

“So what do you say, Grace? Would you be willing to forfeit your free time to help a poor soul?”

“Give up my free time? Boy, you really know how to sell this.”

“What if I throw in dinner?”

“Okay, now you’re speaking my language.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze narrowing. “So why do you want me to help you?”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know. I guess for the same reasons I hired you as my office manager. Military background, attention to detail...”

She nodded, yet remained silent for a moment. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Lowering her arms, she turned and took two steps toward her campsite before twisting back around. “And just so you’ll know, steak is my favorite meal.”


Chapter Five (#ulink_b9ddcbd7-a046-5f7e-b9ea-13b41596838f)

Grace wandered up Seventh Avenue three days later, surprised at how quickly Ouray had begun to take up residence in her heart, granting her a measure of tranquillity she hadn’t known in a long time. She never would have thought the fabric of small-town life would feel so good. Yet here she was, savoring every cozy thread.

The laid-back lifestyle was a pleasant change. Much different from the navy. And the cruise ship would likely keep her hopping, too. Day and night. She’d better enjoy this while she had the chance.

Diet Dr Pepper in hand, she eased onto Fourth Street as the sun drifted farther below the town’s western slope. After work, she’d gone back to her campsite and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy sweater. If she was going to spend her evening weeding through a bunch of dusty boxes, she was going to be comfortable doing it.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to help Kaleb sort through his army stuff. Didn’t they spend enough time together at work? Or was Kaleb one of the reasons she was enjoying her time in Ouray?

Her steps slowed. That had to be the most ludicrous thought she’d ever had. She was about to embark on a high-seas adventure. See places she’d only dreamed of. The last thing she needed was a man in her life.

So why was her stomach fluttering at the sight of Kaleb’s single-story bungalow?

Yellow with white trim and lots of gingerbread millwork, the house beckoned passersby to pull up a rocking chair and enjoy life on its wraparound porch. Yet for as inviting as the house was, Grace found herself with a sudden case of nerves.

What was she? Sixteen again? She was there only to help him make a dent in those boxes.

With a bolstering breath, she downed the last of her drink, nudged her anxiety out of the way and continued up the walk onto the porch and rang the bell.

A few moments later, Kaleb appeared behind the screen door wearing the same medium wash jeans and work shirt she’d grown accustomed to seeing him in.




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