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The Bachelor's Unexpected Family
Lisa Carter


Second Chance FamilyYoung widow Kristina Montgomery moves to Kiptohanock, Virginia, hoping it will give her and her teenage son, Gray, a fresh start. She longs for the peace and quiet only a small town can give. But her plans are thwarted by her new neighbor, Canyon Collier, an ex-Coast Guard pilot and a crop duster. Gray is instantly drawn to the pilot and his teenage niece, Jade—and Kristina’s not far behind. They’re soon bonding over parenting their charges and their spark becomes undeniable. Could it be that the spirited pilot is just what Kristina needs to teach her heart to soar again?







Second Chance Family

Young widow Kristina Montgomery moves to Kiptohanock, Virginia, hoping it will give her and her teenage son, Gray, a fresh start. She longs for the peace and quiet only a small town can provide. But her plans are thwarted by her new neighbor, Canyon Collier, a former Coast Guard pilot and a crop duster. Gray is instantly drawn to the pilot and his teenage niece, Jade—and Kristina’s not far behind. She and Canyon are soon bonding over parenting their charges and their spark becomes undeniable. Could it be that the spirited pilot is just what Kristina needs to teach her heart to soar again?


“Maybe single parents like us ought to team up?”

He turned so quickly at her words, he felt a crick in his neck. “What?”

She bit her lip. “Combine skill sets. Conserve our resources. Divide and conquer.”

His heart hammered. What was she suggesting?

“The care and feeding of adolescents, remember? We can help each other.” Kristina blushed. “You’re helping me with my fear of flying. I can help you with your fear of parenting.”

When he didn’t say anything—he wasn’t sure what to say—she fretted at the hem of her sweater. “Gray told me most of your dusting takes place in the early morning. I could do morning car pool, and you could do afternoon pickup.”

“Share the load?”

“Exactly. Besides, Gray is hungry for a positive male influence.”

Canyon wasn’t sure he qualified for that title. On the other hand, did he need a reason to justify wanting to spend more time with the intriguing widow? If he did, she’d offered him one on a silver platter.

Only a fool would refuse such an opportunity.


Dear Reader (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b),

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always had a hard time letting go. Letting go of the past. Letting go of those I’ve loved. Letting go of dreams.

It’s not hard for me to let go of the bad. My challenge often comes in letting go of that which has been good, fruitful and purpose driven in my life. I tend to cling to the past good, unable and unwilling to move forward because of a fear that the new will not prove as wonderful and satisfying as the old.

This book was written during a season of change for me. A time of transition after the death of my father, for whom I’d spent the majority of the last two years caring. A season of approaching empty nest, with one child already in college and the youngest in her senior year of high school. A change in ministry focus. In other words, a lot of change in almost every aspect of my life.

I hate change. But as Kristina discovers, it is impossible to remain in the past. To refuse to move forward is to stagnate and die—mentally, spiritually and emotionally. When we refuse to fully cross over the threshold of God’s open door, we are in effect saying we don’t trust Him to have our best interests at heart. And what I’ve learned in this season of great change in my life is that God always keeps His children close to His heart.

I hope you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, Canyon and Kristina. I would love to hear from you. You may email me at lisa@lisacarterauthor.com or visit www.lisacarterauthor.com (http://www.lisacarterauthor.com).

Wishing you fair winds and following seas,

Lisa Carter


LISA CARTER and her family make their home in North Carolina. In addition to her Love Inspired novels, she writes romantic suspense for Abingdon Press. When she isn’t writing, Lisa enjoys traveling to romantic locales, teaching writing workshops and researching her next exotic adventure. She has strong opinions on barbecue and ACC basketball. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Lisa at lisacarterauthor.com (http://www.lisacarterauthor.com).


The Bachelor’s Unexpected Family

Lisa Carter






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


Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

—Philippians 3:13–14


Dedicated to the memory of my late stepfather,

Thomas W. Fulghum. Thank you

for being my mother’s second chance at love.

And thank you for giving your heart

to a Jade like me. I miss you still.


Contents

Cover (#u38ca906f-4c1f-5b88-bb00-34717045b8a4)

Back Cover Text (#uf7c51a2e-1afb-50b4-9475-8ba8109040dc)

Introduction (#u0dde4bd4-74c6-5a6c-935c-0142d76e67ec)

Dear Reader (#ub8360b74-9a2d-5536-86a9-bf34bbc5984a)

About the Author (#u3a2c6765-fc0e-5cee-9cfb-df02a3dfa252)

Title Page (#uedd86d62-c18b-5b0d-99a0-45c69ffd4ce8)

Bible Verse (#u4ab9ca51-0338-5126-9931-216094c6d66f)

Dedication (#ub72177cb-3973-5560-acfa-7b4ebc7cb674)

Chapter One (#ue1cb9661-f951-5ce7-a08c-3c968191cbea)

Chapter Two (#u6d8cf304-8b57-50fb-9101-8d6183b8e694)

Chapter Three (#u52b94b3e-7816-59f9-a702-866894a75108)

Chapter Four (#uce43b3ff-8c9a-523b-b182-bc56f695a53d)

Chapter Five (#u8ccf19c4-39dd-597c-904d-b3545d0efff1)

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)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)

There it was again. Kristina Montgomery frowned at the faint whining noise above the treetops. Same as yesterday.

Leaning over the sink at the kitchen window, her gaze shifted to the sky. A small plane hovered above the tree line rimming her property. The yellow wings floated like a bright golden bird in the morning sunlight.

A robin called a cheery greeting from the winter-stark branches of a nearby oak. The droning of bees filled the air above the overgrown bushes, heirloom roses, which would burst into fragrant bloom come spring.

Provided spring ever came. Since her husband died two years ago, she’d felt trapped in her own stark winter of grief.

She’d bought the 1930s Arts and Crafts bungalow because of those rosebushes. And for the neglected garden.

Why? Maybe because of the inherent promise of new beginnings the garden held for her and her son. She and Gray had desperately needed a new beginning.

She scowled at the mechanical bird, a painful reminder of everything she’d lost. If she’d known the property adjoined a private airfield, she would’ve never purchased the run-down place.

In the twenty-six months since Pax’s death, she’d ridden a roller coaster of extreme emotion. She was caught somehow between overwhelming grief and a paralyzing fear of how she was going to raise their son alone.

At the edge of the woods separating her peaceful sanctuary from the airstrip, she spotted her son’s bike. She blew out a breath. How many times had she told him not to go over there? The airplane dipped one wing before disappearing beyond the forested horizon.

Gray had promised—she’d made him promise—to stay away from the airfield. But she should’ve recognized the stubborn glint in his brown eyes. The same glint her husband used to get every time he got into a cockpit.

Until above a windswept Afghan mountain, a rocket-propelled grenade had slammed into his plane. Hurling Pax and his fighter jet into a thousand pieces of jagged, burning metal—

She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against the images that played in her dreams every night. Her hand tightened around the dangling chain of her husband’s dog tags. She had to stop doing this. She had to move on, for Gray’s sake. Mired in the past, she was no good to her son.

Her head throbbed. She rubbed her temples. Like father, like son? Her eyes flew open.

She refused to allow history to repeat itself. Not with her son. Not with the only person she had left.

Tucking the dog tags inside the collar of her pink shirt, she thrust open the screen door. The hinges screeched. She dashed down the concrete steps. The door slammed behind her. In dress flats for her morning meeting, she stalked across the grass toward the trees.

Sidestepping the bike, she followed a faded trail toward their very unwelcome neighbor. The overhanging tree canopy blocked most of the sunlight. She shivered and wrapped the open ends of her brown cardigan around herself.

February on the Eastern Shore of Virginia was much too cold to go outside without a coat. Knowing Gray, he was most likely in shirtsleeves.

She picked her way across the pine-needled footpath and emerged into a paved clearing to find the plane, wheels down, at the end of the runway. Engine roaring and propellers whirring, the pilot taxied the golden-yellow plane toward the terminal.

A metallic, tin-roofed hangar and a small brick building anchored the beginning of the runway. Beside the hangar, a sign—Wallace & Collier Crop Aviation Specialists.

Great. Just great. Somehow of all the houses for sale on the Delmarva Peninsula, she’d managed to buy the one next door to a barnstorming, daredevil crop duster.

Her teenage son waved at the plane as it rolled forward. But when he caught sight of her, his hand quickly dropped to his side.

“You got that right, buster. You’re in big trouble,” she muttered under her breath. And without stopping to think, she charged across the runway toward him. Gray’s eyes widened.

“Mom! Watch out. Get out of the way!”

Too late, she realized she’d stepped into the path of the oncoming plane. She froze. The sound of the propeller filled her ears.

Gray raced across the runway. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her out of the way. The pilot braked and swerved. The plane skidded as the wheels struggled for traction before finally shuddering to a stop.

Falling onto the grassy area, Gray took the brunt of the impact. But with the resilience of youth, he sprang to his feet.

She rose slowly, feeling every bit of her thirty-eight years. “Gray, honey, are you—”

“What were you thinking, Mom?” Hands on his skinny hips, he gestured to the plane. “Walking in front of a moving aircraft? Seriously?”

Shoving open the cockpit door, the pilot emerged. In jeans and work boots, his flannel shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, he clambered out and dropped to the asphalt.

A baseball cap obscured the upper portion of his face. But there was no mistaking the taut anger whipstitching his mouth, nor his jutting jaw as he advanced. “What kind of idiot walks into the path of an airplane?” he yelled.

She bristled. Pilots, the same the world over. Civilian or military, lords of the universe. Or so they believed.

Gray’s mouth went mulish. “Thanks a lot, Mom. Now Canyon’s going to kick me out of here for good.”

“You have no business being here.” She wagged her finger in his face. “Not after we talked. We agreed.”

Why was Pax not here to help her parent Gray during the rebellious teen years?

Gray crossed his arms over his seen-better-days T-shirt. “You talked, Mom. I agreed to nothing.”

He widened his stance to hip width. An airman’s stance. Her breath hitched at the uncanny resemblance to his late father.

Kristina’s heart pounded at the memory of the last time she’d seen Pax—not knowing she’d never see him again. This couldn’t happen to Gray. Not to her only child.

“You don’t belong here, Gray.”

The infuriated pilot arrived at the tail end of her words. “You want to talk about having no business here, lady?”

She stiffened. “A mother has a right to keep her child out of harm’s way.”

“Only one in harm’s way today was me.” The pilot lifted the ball cap off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “After you almost crashed my plane.”

She took her first good look at her unwanted neighbor.

Late thirties. Classic, high cheekbones. A long Roman nose. His jaw dark with beard stubble. A strong brow. Curly brown hair.

His eyes flashed. An electric blue, in a face tanned by the sun and wind. Something fluttered like a swirl of butterfly wings in the pit of her stomach. Something she hadn’t experienced since meeting another brash young airman during a long-ago church softball game.

With a sense of betraying that now dead young man, remorse blanketed her. Her hand automatically drifted to the chain underneath her shirt collar. And she stuffed the unwelcome feelings into a dark corner of her heart. For good measure, she glowered at the Eastern Shore pilot.

At the motion of her hand, he narrowed his eyes. Lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. Lines that probably feathered when he smiled. Which he wasn’t doing now.

Handsome by anyone’s definition. And from his body language, as arrogant and cocky as they came. She ought to know.

Once upon a time, she’d married one.

* * *

Canyon didn’t miss the scorn on her face. Welcome to Kiptohanock to you, too, neighbor.

Not seeing a car in the office parking space, he figured she’d walked over through the woods from next door. Gray must take after his father. The boy’s dark features didn’t resemble the woman. She could’ve been a cover model for a Scandinavian travel brochure.

Or considering her frosty demeanor, Icelandic. Although, if he remembered rightly, Greenland was the one with most of the glaciers.

“Which one are you?” She flicked her hand toward the sign. “Wallace or Collier?”

“Collier.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of her house. “And which one are you?”

Her chin came up. “I’m the woman who would’ve never bought this property if I knew we were in the flight path of your crop duster.”

One of those genteel, upper-crust Southern voices. Not the nowhere accent of Northern Virginia. Nor the twang of the Blue Ridge. Probably from central Virginia or the Carolinas.

He tightened his jaw. “I’m an aerial application specialist. And I’ve been careful to not fly over your house.”

“Mom...” Gray tugged at her sleeve. “Stop embarrassing me. Canyon is my boss.”

She planted one hand on her jeans-clad hip. “As if I’d ever allow you to work for a sky jockey like him.”

Canyon’s eyebrows rose. Interesting turn of phrase. He hadn’t heard that one since his Coast Guard days.

“Especially after what happened to your father.”

Without meaning to, Canyon’s eyes cut to the bare space on her left hand. A widow? A silver chain half-hidden in the folds of her collar glinted. Had Gray’s father been an airline fatality?

As for his first impression of Gray’s mother? Tall, a willowy five foot eight, Canyon estimated, to his six-foot height. Long, wavy blond hair spilled over her thin shoulders. Classic oval features. Fair skinned. And her eyes?

Her eyes gave Canyon pause. His grandmother would’ve called her eyes china blue. Like the blue in a field of cornflowers.

Those eyes sent an inexplicable pang through his heart. A yearning for something to which he’d believed himself immune.

According to the real estate papers he’d signed at closing, this must be K. Montgomery. Since the attorney had handled everything, he’d assumed the new owner was a man and that Gray, who’d started hanging out at the airfield a few weeks ago, the man’s son. But the disturbing, angry woman was definitely not a man.

Canyon folded his arms across his chest. He’d sold his grandmother’s house to buy the Air Tractor 802 he just landed. Landed safely, no thanks to K. Montgomery. His misfortune to sell what little remained of his family heritage to an aircraft hater.

He shrugged. “I invited Gray to help me out on the repair of an engine. The boy likes to tinker.”

K. Montgomery’s china-blue eyes became chips of sapphire. “The boy is my fifteen-year-old son. He doesn’t have my permission to work here. An airfield is dangerous. I ought to report you for child endangerment.”

“My mistake, lady.” When would he learn? In his experience, no good deed ever went unpunished. “The boy looks sixteen. Won’t happen again.”

Gray inserted himself between them. “Canyon was doing me a favor. Teaching me how to repair engines. I like being here.”

The woman squared her shoulders. “I absolutely will not allow you to put your life at risk.”

Gray went rigid. “Moving here was supposed to be about making a new start for both of us. But since Dad died, all you care about is making me miserable. As miserable as you.”

“I’m not—” She pursed her lips. “Being around airplanes will only make you feel worse, Gray.”

Gray held his ground. “Just because you’re afraid of airplanes doesn’t mean I have to hate them, too. It makes me happy to remember Dad here. You’re the one who makes me feel sad.”

Canyon angled toward Gray’s mother. “Your son’s a really good kid. Your husband would be proud. And I’d never put Gray in harm’s way. He’s good company.”

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

Canyon scrubbed his hand over his face. Bothered—strangely—that he’d forgotten to shave this morning. Bothered, too, that he was fighting so hard to keep the boy working at the airfield.

She faced Gray. “Go back to the house. I won’t risk losing you the way we lost your father.” She glared at Canyon. “And I’m not afraid of airplanes.”

Gray snorted. “You’re afraid of everything since Dad died. Afraid to laugh. Afraid to live. And I’m sick of living in the grave with you.”

Hurt flitted across her features.

An unusual—and unwelcome—sensation of protectiveness rose in Canyon’s chest. “Just a minute, Gray...”

Gray’s brown eyes darkened. “You don’t know what it’s like. She won’t let me do anything because she’s afraid I’ll get hurt.” His shoulders hunched. “Stop treating me like a baby, Mom.”

“Then stop acting like one, Gray,” Canyon growled.

Gray flushed.

Canyon sighed. How had he gotten entangled in this quicksand? Since leaving the Coast Guard, he’d spent the last three years making sure he stayed out of other people’s business and that people stayed out of his.

He took a breath. “What does the K stand for?”

“Kristina.” Gray kicked a loose stone on the concrete. “I like working with motors, Mom. And Canyon needs my help.” Gray leaned forward. “Tell her, Canyon. Tell her how much you need my help.”

Kristina Montgomery’s lovely face hardened. “Your only job is school, Gray.”

Gray clenched his hands. “Since you don’t have a job, I figure maybe I better.”

Canyon’s brow puckered. “I didn’t realize you were looking for work. What do you do?”

She opened her mouth, but once again Gray beat her to the punch.

“Mom cuts great triangle sandwiches.” Gray’s mouth twisted. “She has a green thumb. And can clean a toilet like nobody’s business.”

She quivered at his sarcasm.

Canyon had had enough of the attitude. “Let’s you and me get one thing straight right now, Grayson Montgomery. I will not tolerate disrespect to any woman, much less your mother.”

Gray’s and his mother’s gazes swung to Canyon’s.

“She cares about you or she wouldn’t have come looking for you. Good mothers don’t grow on trees. I should know.”

Canyon grimaced. What on earth had possessed him to share that little tidbit from his less-than-stellar childhood?

Her cheeks heated. “I apologize for my son’s extreme rudeness.” She swallowed. “And to answer your question, I have an accounting degree from the University of Richmond that I’ve never used.”

Canyon recalled only one other person on the Eastern Shore originally from Richmond. “Any relation to Weston Clark? The ex-Coast Guard commander who remodeled the old lighthouse on the Neck?”

“He’s my brother.”

Canyon noted the likeness then. Weston Clark had been married for not quite a year to one of the Duer girls—Caroline. Those girls had been a few years behind Canyon in high school. Closer to Beech’s age.

The thought of his brother put Canyon’s stomach in knots. He didn’t have time for this altercation with Kristina Montgomery. He still had a ton of stuff to get done before he met Jade and the social worker at the bus depot in Exmore.

He crimped the brim of his cap. “I can’t allow you to work here without your mom’s permission.”

Gray sputtered. “B-but she’s being unfair.”

Canyon shook his head. “Nevertheless, she’s your mother, and she gets to call the shots.”

“I have an appointment in Kiptohanock.” Kristina Montgomery swept a curtain of blond hair out of her face. “And I meant what I said, Gray. Go home.”

The boy’s countenance fell. “But—”

“Do what your mother says, Gray.”

Gray threw his mother and Canyon an angry look before he stomped toward the wooded path. Kristina Montgomery remained rooted in place, watching her son.

“I run a clean, safe enterprise, Mrs. Montgomery. Let me take you on a short flight and give you a bird’s eye view of the Shore.”

Canyon bit the inside of his cheek. Where had that come from?

Her forehead creased. Gray’s mother didn’t appear to smile much. Maybe she hadn’t had a reason to smile in a long while.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t trust airplanes.” She moved to follow her son.

“Nor pilots, either, from the sound of it.”

She stopped.

“One word of advice, Mrs. Montgomery?”

She crossed her arms but waited to hear him out.

“If you refuse to let Gray pursue an interest he obviously loves, you might be the one risking everything.”

Her mouth flattened. “What are you talking about, Mr. Collier?”

“My name’s Canyon. And I’m talking about risking your relationship with your son. You could lose him for good.”

She tilted her head. “And you, I assume, are an expert on parenting? Why do you care?”

“Just being neighborly, ma’am.”

Which was so not true. He must be lonelier than he’d believed. Though after Jade arrived today, loneliness was sure to be less of a factor.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Canyon Collier.” She jabbed her index finger in the space between them. “Mind your own business.”

Exactly what he thought he’d been doing. Until a certain blonde widow walked into the path of his incoming plane.

Pivoting on her heel, she trudged toward the woods without giving him a backward glance. And, discomfited, Canyon couldn’t for the life of him figure what had gotten into him.


Chapter Two (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)

The tangy scent of sea salt filled Kristina’s nostrils as she rolled down the car window. In the sky above the rocky point of the lighthouse beach, a gull screeched and performed an acrobatic figure eight.

Weston emerged from the keeper’s cottage and sauntered to the car. “Hey, big sis. How’s life treating you?”

His elder by a mere eighteen months, her mouth quirked. “Where’s your beautiful wife?”

As if on cue, the door opened. Caroline and ten-year-old Izzie spilled out into the milky sunshine of the late February morning.

Married life looked good on her brother. After a disastrous first marriage to a woman who deserted her brother and baby Izzie, Weston had found a new life and love on Virginia’s Eastern Shore.

Kristina fought a stab of envy. She’d never begrudge her brother his hard-won happiness, but that didn’t stop her from longing for a new life of her own. As for love?

She’d buried her chance for love when they lowered Pax’s coffin into the earth at Arlington National Cemetery.

Weston propped his elbows on the window. “Thanks for taking Caroline into Kiptohanock. The completion of the marine animal rescue center is at a critical juncture, and with her car on the fritz...”

“No problem. Opening day still set for May?”

He grinned. “If my beloved aquatic veterinarian wife has anything to say about it, then yes.”

Redheaded Izzie launched herself at the open window. “Hey, Aunt Kristina.”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite niece.” Kristina winked. “Hey, yourself.”

Izzie giggled. “I’m your only niece, Aunt Kristina.”

Auburn-haired Caroline nudged aside her husband with her hip. “I hate to further impose, but could we drop off Izz at my sister Amelia’s house? With today being a teacher workday...”

Weston made a face. “And I’m on deadline with an engineering project for a Baltimore client.”

Kristina held up her hand. “Say no more. Gray’s moping at my house, too.”

Of course, he hadn’t moped until she grounded him for sneaking over to the airfield.

“You need me to bring them home, Wes?”

Weston rapped a beat with his palms on the car door. “I’ll finish in time to bring my girls home.”

His girls. Kristina bit back a sigh. She’d been loved like that once.

Izzie hugged her dad goodbye. “Maybe Gray could come play with Max and me.”

Max—Caroline’s nephew and all-around Kiptohanock mischief maker. Gray would consider being left with a bunch of ten-year-olds nothing short of babysitting.

Caroline smoothed a strand of Izzie’s hair. “I’m sure Gray has high school stuff to do, ladybug.”

The little girl chattered nonstop until they dropped her off at the Dutch-roof farmhouse Max’s dad, Braeden Scott—commander of the Kiptohanock Coast Guard station—had recently purchased for his growing family.

Kristina’s hands tightened on the wheel. With Gray usually at school, time moved in slow motion for her. Too often leaving her feeling without purpose and alone.

She cleared her throat. “You’ve made my brother and Izzie so happy, Caroline. Thank you.”

“My pleasure entirely.” A sweet smile curved Caroline’s lips. “They’ve made me so happy.”

Happiness seemed forever out of reach for Kristina.

“There’ve been adjustments.” Caroline stashed her purse on the floorboard beside her foot. “A good marriage requires work.” She raised her gaze to meet Kristina’s. “You know how it is. Letting go of the past with its fears and building something new together. Hard, but good work.”

Letting go of the fear... Kristina’s problem in a clamshell.

She slowed the car as they approached the town limits of oceanside Kiptohanock. “Including throwing my lovable but high-energy niece into the equation, too.”

Caroline smiled. “Life is never dull with Izzie. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing worth keeping is ever easy. But in the long run, a risk so worth taking.”

Relationships. Risk. Was that arrogant crop duster—aerial application specialist—correct? Was Kristina risking her relationship with her son because of fear?

She steered the vehicle toward the waterfront. The town librarian passed the gazebo on the village green. Caroline threw out her hand in greeting.

“Evy Pruitt,” Caroline added by way of explanation. “Newly married to Deputy Sheriff Charlie Pruitt.”

After years of moving from one base to the next, Kristina loved the small-town friendliness. “Evy’s also Sawyer Kole’s sister, right? And therefore your other sister Honey’s sister-in-law. Got it.”

Which in the hospitable South made the young librarian not only kin by marriage to Caroline, but in a weirdly, endearing kind of way kin to Kristina, too.

Bypassing the Sandpiper Café and the Coast Guard station, Kristina nosed the car into a parking space along the seawall outside the former seafood-processing building. Power tools buzzed as the renovations on the aquatic center neared completion.

Caroline opened the door. “Thanks, Kristina.”

“Before you go...”

Caroline paused, one foot on the ground.

Kristina took a breath. “I wondered if you might have heard anything about the crop—” She moistened her lips. “I mean, the aerial application specialist out my way. Canyon Collier.”

Caroline’s brown eyes narrowed. “What has he done? Is he bothering you? If so, Weston will—”

“It’s not that. Collier offered Gray a part-time job at the airfield, and I wanted to find out more before I agreed.”

“He and his brother were ahead of me by a few grades in high school.” Caroline’s eyes dropped to her shoes. “And we didn’t run in the same circles.”

Kristina’s lips tightened. “By your tone, I’m sensing their circles ran toward trouble.”

Caroline let out a breath. “I’m the last person in the world to cast stones, but one of the Colliers got into big trouble back then. I don’t remember which brother.”

Kristina’s heart thumped. “You mean trouble with the law?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember which brother. They left the Shore soon after. By force or choice, I don’t know. One went into the Coast Guard, though.”

Kristina assumed that would be Canyon Collier. Maybe where he acquired his aviation skills.

“I don’t know much about the one who returned.” Caroline cocked her head. “Given my own history of being a black sheep prodigal, I’m inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Whether he deserves it or not?”

Caroline nodded. “Whether he deserves it or not. But by all accounts, this Collier has built a solid agribusiness with the local farmers. A good pilot, I’ve heard. A trustworthy businessman.”

“But what about Gray working there?” Kristina bit her lip. “This job and this guy have become important to Gray.”

Uncomfortably important to her son. But if she were honest, she was equally disturbed by the fluttery feeling the man had evoked in her as well.

Caroline turned toward the whine of a drill inside the building. “You should talk to Evy’s brother, Sawyer. He’s the general contractor on the renovation. I’ve seen him and Collier hanging out at the Sandpiper over Long John doughnuts.”

Or maybe it would also be wise to talk to Evy Pruitt’s deputy sheriff husband.

Caroline unfolded from the car. “And of course, you must pray about what to do.”

Kristina’s gaze skittered to the white clapboard church whose steeple brushed the sky above the harbor. How could she tell her sister-in-law that since Pax died, her prayers felt as if they bounced off a Teflon ceiling?

Where was God when Pax was killed? Had God been off duty when she was widowed? What kind of Father would leave Gray without a father?

But she couldn’t say those things to Caroline, whose own rediscovered faith had been wrested from a dark abyss of despair. Kristina fidgeted in her seat at her blasphemous thoughts. She’d been raised to put her trust and hope in God.

Which was exactly the problem. Her trust had been shattered and her hope as lost as Pax’s plane. Even worse, she didn’t know how to get them back. And she wasn’t unaware that her faith had ebbed at the same rate the fear had taken hold.

Caroline closed the car door with a soft click. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Kristina. I’m so thankful God gave me a do-over, despite the bad choices I made in the past.”

Everyone deserved a second chance. Until they didn’t. Kristina backed out of the parking space. Did that include her, too?

* * *

Canyon wrapped his hands around the steering wheel of the Jeep Cherokee. The tension was palpable enough to cut with a propeller. He shot a furtive look at the sixteen-year-old girl beside him.

Shoulders hunched, Jade stared out the window at the passing scenery. She was no longer the little girl he remembered. But then, he’d last laid eyes on her almost a decade ago.

He should’ve tried harder. With a mother like Jade’s, he should’ve kept in touch. But keeping in touch meant entangling complications. Cords binding him to a past he’d rather forget. Snares he thought he’d left behind when he ditched the Shore after high school and enlisted in the Coast Guard.

Canyon rubbed his hand over his face. Jade swiveled. They locked eyes for a moment.

The vulnerability in her green eyes punched him in the gut. The fear in her gaze, however, was swiftly replaced by the all too familiar anger Jade wore like a cloak around her thin shoulders. For Canyon, guilt surged anew.

How had he let himself get talked into the guardianship of a belligerent adolescent he barely recognized? Kristina Montgomery had hit the nail on the head earlier—what did he know about parenting?

Especially parenting a teenage girl. This was going to be a disaster. None of this ought to be his responsibility. He let out a sigh.

“This isn’t something either you or I wanted.” Jade waved her hand. “Take me to the ferry. I’ll go to the mainland. Child Protective Services will be none the wiser.”

He gripped the wheel. “And exactly how do you think you’d survive alone over there?”

“Just like I fended for myself before getting nabbed by the police.”

“You were arrested because you broke the law by shoplifting, Jade.”

Those green eyes of hers smoldered. “It was a pack of beef jerky.”

“Why did you do it, Jade? To prove you could? For a dare?”

“I—I...” She turned to the window. “I was hungry. Brandi had spent her paycheck, and I hadn’t seen her in a week.”

Another punch to his solar plexus. He could only imagine how Brandi—Jade’s so-called mother—had spent the meager salary she earned at the Gas and Go Quick Stop. At the image of Jade on the streets alone, something inside him twisted.

Far too reminiscent of what had happened to him and Jade’s father, Beech, before their mom dropped them off at their grandma’s in Kiptohanock and did everyone a favor by never coming back.

“I guarantee you won’t go hungry.” His voice was gruff. “But like it or not, you’re stuck with me, kid.”

From the set expression on her face, he concluded she liked it about as much as him. Still, he was supposed to be the grown-up.

“It’s going to be all right, Jade.”

She snorted. “Since when has anything ever been right for Colliers?”

And that—he heaved another sigh—was the long and short of it.

When he pulled off the highway onto Seaside Road, he gave her the ten-cent tour of town. Circling the square with the gazebo, he pointed out all-important landmarks like the library.

She tossed her long black, magenta-streaked hair over her shoulder. “I don’t read.”

“You mean you don’t like to read.”

Rounding one side of the square, he gestured to the church.

Prompting a churlish sneer from Jade. “So not happening.”

He felt a surge of churlishness coming on himself. “You’ll do what I tell you to do, Jade.”

Which was about as effective as when his grandmother used to lay down the law for him and Beech. His grandmother had been right about church, though. It hadn’t hurt him.

“It’s a good way to get to know others your age in the community.”

Jade gave him a nice view of her back and didn’t bother to reply.

Fighting for patience, he pointed out the Coast Guard station, where flags fluttered. Recreational and commercial fishing boats bobbed in the harbor. He pulled into an empty space in front of the Sandpiper Café and cut the engine.

“Why are we stopping?”

“For the famous Long John doughnuts. They’re the best.”

She glared. “I repeat, why are we stopping?”

He reminded himself for the hundredth time since the social worker had called last week, he was the adult. And he needed to act like one.

Canyon rested his arms on the steering wheel. “This is where the locals hang out. This is where you get to redefine yourself, Jade. It’s a pretty little town. With lots of great people.”

“The same people who ran you and Beech out of town.”

He’d never once heard Jade call Beech father. Canyon knew enough to realize his feckless younger sibling had never earned the title.

“I came back because it’s a good place to live.” He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It’s the closest to home this Collier could find.”

Again, Jade curled her lip. “And courtesy of the Accomack County Sheriff’s Department, Beech found his new home in prison.”

“That was Beech’s own doing, Jade. I wouldn’t like to see you travel the same path. Kiptohanock is your chance for a new beginning.”

“Since when does anybody give Colliers like us second chances?”

Hardheadedness apparently being an unfortunate Collier family trait.

Canyon raked his hand over his head. “That’s exactly what I’m giving you, Jade. A chance to start over. You can be anything you want to be. Choose to be smarter than the rest of us sooner. How about doughnuts and a Coca-Cola float?”

He had it on good authority—his friend Sawyer Kole, ex-Coastie and now happily married father of five-month-old Daisy—that all kids loved ice cream and sugar.

But Jade refused to get out of the Jeep.

He gritted his teeth. Sawyer better enjoy his precious baby girl, because Canyon had news for him—parenting promised to only get rockier from there.

Exasperated, he swung open the car door. “More for me then.”

If this was a sign of things to come, it was going to be a long two years until she turned eighteen.

He moved toward the glass-fronted diner. Who was he kidding? He and Jade would be fortunate to survive together till Easter.

And his eyes flickered toward the cross atop the steeple. Jade—not the Coast Guard or flying airplanes—might make a praying man out of him yet.


Chapter Three (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)

Hands folded in her lap, Kristina glanced around the ladies’ parlor at the members of the church altar guild. She wasn’t sure why she’d come to the Easter planning meeting this morning. But while living the vagabond life of a military wife, she’d often longed for a place to establish roots.

Especially for Gray. He hadn’t been the type of child who adjusted well to a new school every few years. Bookish, a video geek, he didn’t make friends easily.

Nor did she. It was simpler not to reach out. Or face the inevitable sorrow of parting with friends when Pax was restationed.

But this time she wanted things to be different. This was a new start for them. Kiptohanock, a place to make a real home. After Pax died, she’d moved across the country to the Shore to be near Weston.

The Eastern Shore of Virginia was a narrow peninsula separating the Chesapeake Bay from the Atlantic Ocean. Isolated. Not as readily accessible to the rest of the continental United States.

Her grandfather had been the last lighthouse keeper before the Coast Guard decommissioned the lighthouse in the 1950s. But her family had returned each summer. She possessed fond memories of those idyllic beach days and wanted Gray to know the same.

Small-town life. A caring community. After a lifetime of following Pax around the world.

Here, Gray had a chance to know what it meant to be part of a close-knit family. To watch summer fireflies. To clam. To fish. Before he left her forever.

So when she read the announcement in the church bulletin inviting anyone interested in serving on the altar guild to attend a planning meeting, she’d decided to give it a try. To make new friends. To get involved in community life.

Now she wasn’t so sure. The encounter with Canyon Collier had left her feeling oddly exposed. She shrugged off the vague feelings of vulnerability. Anyone would be shaken after almost being run over by an airplane. And she pushed the incident to the nether regions of her mind.

Her gaze traveled over the ladies at the meeting. Sixtysomething Mrs. Davenport held court in a brocade armchair strategically placed at the unofficial head of the room. According to Caroline, Mrs. Davenport was a social force to be reckoned with in Kiptohanock.

Librarian Evy Pruitt perched in a nearby chair. The pastor’s wife, Agnes Parks, smiled at Kristina while Mrs. Davenport waxed on about Lenten altar cloths. And there was also Caroline’s sister, Honey Kole. She owned the Duer Fisherman’s Lodge. Her darling baby daughter dozed in her car seat on the carpet at Honey’s feet.

Kristina bit off a sigh. She’d always wanted more children. But Pax had been deployed so often that he thought after Gray was born, one child was enough.

Honey played with the pearls at her throat. “What about breakfast after the Easter sunrise service?”

The other ladies hid their smiles behind teacups. And Kristina got the distinct impression if anyone was likely to challenge Mrs. Davenport’s leadership, Honey Duer Kole might be the one to do it.

Which was fine. Kristina had no social aspirations. By nature, she was more worker bee than queen bee.

An officer’s wife learned early to tune in to the fine nuances of base politics. It was how you furthered your husband’s career, kept your family intact and survived the long deployments with fellow military wives.

Finally, the discussion shifted to the topic Kristina was interested in—the altar flowers. Bending, Honey smoothed the pink blanket tucked around her daughter. “It’s so inconvenient to have to travel out of town for floral arrangements.”

Mrs. Davenport peered over the top of her purple reading glasses. “And considering the expense, it behooves us to find another solution.”

Behooves? Mrs. Davenport reminded Kristina of the high-society clients with whom she’d worked as a part-time floral assistant during her college days in Richmond.

“The inn’s garden won’t be at its best till May.” Honey’s lips pursed. “What about your garden?”

Mrs. Davenport—the only one in casual, coastal Kiptohanock to wear purple tweed—lifted her chin. “Inglenook will also not be in full bloom until Garden Week in May.”

Kristina had never actually known anyone whose house had a name.

Honey gave Mrs. Davenport a measured look. “Which, of course, works out perfectly for you.”

Mrs. Davenport sniffed. “Inglenook has taken the Garden of the Year award for the last five years.”

“Perhaps not this year.” Honey batted her lashes. “It’s probably best not to count your trophies before they bloom.”

Kristina’s mouth twitched. Garden divas. Got it. Stay out of the fray.

Mrs. Parks shook her head. “Ladies, let’s get back to decorating the sanctuary of the Lord this Sunday.”

As if taking on a life of its own, Kristina lifted her hand. “What about an arrangement of sasanqua camellia? I have several bushes in bloom right now...” Horrified, she dropped her hand into her lap.

What on earth had possessed her to violate her personal policy of always flying under the radar? Rule one in navigating tricky social hierarchies—keep a low profile.

Evy leaned forward, her trademark heels planted on the pine floor. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Her ponytail swished as she angled toward Mrs. Davenport. “Don’t you, Margaret?”

Mrs. Davenport stared at Kristina. “Do I know you?”

“Kristina Montgomery,” she whispered and knotted her fingers in her lap. “My son, Gray, and I just moved to Kiptohanock.”

Margaret Davenport’s nose wrinkled. “A ‘come here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She was whispering again. “Weston Clark’s sister.”

“Which makes you related to the Duers.” Mrs. Davenport pinched her lips together. “By marriage.”

Already she’d fallen afoul of village politics. Blacklisted by association.

Honey bristled. “As is Evy.”

Margaret Davenport, also known as the Kiptohanock grapevine, had a soft spot for the young librarian. Behind her fashionable horn-rimmed glasses, Evy’s blue eyes sparkled.

Honey placed her palms on the armrests. “Which makes Evy my sister, too.” She threw Mrs. Davenport a small smile. “By marriage.”

Kristina should’ve asked Caroline, her sister by marriage, to draw Kiptohanock family trees to avoid any genealogical land mines.

Mrs. Davenport steepled her hands under her chin. “And where exactly do you live, Kristina Montgomery?”

“Outside town. Toward Locustville. I bought the Collier house.”

Mrs. Davenport fluttered her hand. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Eileen Collier’s garden used to be a showplace.” Her lip curled. “Before that no-good grandson of hers made her a recluse.”

Canyon Collier, the no-good grandson? Despite how she appreciated him taking Gray to task regarding his attitude, unease needled Kristina. She needed to find out more about her attractive pilot neighbor. For Gray’s sake, of course.

“The camellias sound lovely.” The reverend’s wife smiled. “What about the other Sundays of Lent leading to Easter, ladies?”

Kristina raised her hand again. “I have a garden border, mostly of fragrant old-fashioned violets.”

Her eyes widened. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

Yet she held her hands in front of herself to demonstrate. “We could place the violets in tiny frogs and group them around the base of the cross—”

“Purple violets would match the altar cloth.” Mrs. Davenport uncoiled a smidgen. “And in my considerable experience, anyone who knows about a floral frog can’t be all bad.”

Not a ringing endorsement, but nevertheless...

Evy swiveled. “What’s a frog?”

Mrs. Davenport motioned for Kristina to continue.

She took a breath. “Frogs are used in the bottom of vases and bowls to hold flowers upright in an arrangement. The frogs are usually made in a woven grid of wire spikes. Or a frog can be a round glass disk with holes. Popular in the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s.” She flushed and fell silent.

Honey nodded. “Do you have any frogs we could use for the altar arrangement?”

Kristina didn’t usually talk so much. She was far more comfortable fading into the background. But flowers were a passion of hers. “I have my grandmother’s collection of vintage frogs. Colored Depression glass.”

“Depression glass?” Mrs. Davenport’s eyes lit. “I love Depression glass.” She waved a beringed hand. “In fact, I collect those myself.”

The baby stirred in her car seat. Honey lifted Daisy and cuddled the child in her arms. “Sounds wonderful. Anything else blooming in your garden, Kristina?”

Kristina tilted her head, thinking out loud. “I have white and mauve Lenten roses. Some blooming daphne also.”

Mrs. Davenport’s steely gaze softened. “Lenten roses for the Good Friday service. What could be more appropriate?” A frown creased her brow. “But with my work at the library, I’m not sure I could get to your house and put together a bouquet this week.”

Evy patted Mrs. Davenport’s arm. “You’re always saying how you’re too busy because of social obligations. Why not put Kristina in charge of the altar flowers this Lenten season?”

The newlywed librarian winked at Kristina. “Anyone who knows the Latin name for a camellia probably can be trusted to arrange the flowers.”

Agnes Parks straightened. “An excellent idea. After all, you promised to help me run the Easter egg hunt on the square, Margaret.”

Mrs. Davenport’s eyes narrowed as if she suspected an attempted coup. “That is true.” She scowled at Kristina. “We have high standards here in Kiptohanock, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Kristina gulped. “I’ll do my best not to let you down, Mrs. Davenport.”

Mrs. Davenport became brisk. “Then that item on today’s agenda is settled.” As she shuffled the pages in her lap, her eyes took on a gleam. “I have some ideas to make this year’s pancake supper at the firehouse even more successful than last year. But it will require every hand on deck.”

Filled with sudden self-doubt, Kristina wondered what she’d done. She wasn’t a professional florist. Gray’s sarcastic remarks about her competence, or lack thereof, replayed in her head. But she loved flowers and always felt most at ease in a garden.

Like Gray loved tinkering with airplanes? Was she making a mistake in trying to keep him from what he loved?

Kristina winced at the memory of the scorn in his voice. Was that how he viewed his mother? Fearful, unskilled and worst of all, boring?

Shell-shocked at Pax’s sudden death, she’d retreated like a turtle into its protective cover. And she’d dragged Gray—against his will—in there with her.

Was it already too late? She’d been disturbed by the anger in Gray’s voice. At his bitterness—toward her.

In trying too hard to keep Gray safe, had she already lost her son? Would Pax recognize the woman she’d become? Did she even like the woman she’d become?

She was tired of waking each morning to the all-consuming fear of what the new day could bring. She was drowning them both with her fears. She’d had such dreams before she married Pax.

Dreams she’d surrendered gladly as they pursued Pax’s career. Dreams sublimated as the demands of being a wife and mother slowly eroded everything she used to be. Was it time to reach for those dreams again?

Could she recapture the joyful young woman Pax had fallen in love with? Didn’t she owe it to Pax’s memory, to Gray and to herself to try?

Perhaps she’d taken the first step out of her safety zone by joining the altar guild. As for Gray’s job with Canyon Collier?

When the committee meeting adjourned, she detoured to the aquatic center work site before heading home. After a probing conversation with Sawyer Kole, she came to a decision.

She was determined to face her fears. And to take back her life.

* * *

Fortified with a takeout bag stuffed with Long Johns, Canyon steered the Jeep toward one of the side streets, which meandered from the town square like spokes on a wheel. Heading north on Seaside Road, he blew past the entrance to the Duer inn.

Past Pauline Crockett’s—she’d been the first farmer to give his business a chance. An old friend of his grandmother’s, and a true friend, word of mouth being everything in his business.

He also bypassed the causeway leading out to Weston Clark’s renovated lighthouse. Bringing Kristina Montgomery to mind. And the inexplicable contempt she bore Canyon.

Maybe not so inexplicable. Perhaps Jade was right. The Collier reputation continued to precede him. Always would.

So when he pulled into the airfield and spotted Kristina and Gray on his doorstep, his gut sank. His hands throttled the wheel. If not Jade, then Kristina Montgomery might drive him to his knees. Or an early grave.

“Who’s that?”

Parking beside the Subaru, Canyon sat in the Jeep with Jade for a moment. “Next-door neighbors.”

Might as well get this over with. He didn’t like how his heart thumped at the sight of the widow. Best to keep her at arm’s length.

“She’s pretty.”

Not a news flash, but at Jade’s wistful tone, he glanced at his niece. She could’ve benefited from someone like Kristina Montgomery in her life. Instead, she’d gotten Beech and Brandi.

And now him. No wonder the kid was screwed up. A recurring theme in the Collier family tree.

“Who’s the goofy boy?”

Canyon shoved out of the Jeep. “His name’s Grayson. He’s not goofy. He’s a nice kid. Good with motors.” He grabbed Jade’s duffel from the backseat.

She got out more slowly. “A geek, you mean.”

Across the Jeep roof, he frowned at her. “Seeing as you’re not exactly drowning with friends, it wouldn’t hurt you to be nice. He could show you the ropes at school on Monday.”

Her mouth flattened. “Who says I’m going to school on Monday?”

Canyon slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “Me and Child Protective Services, that’s who.”

She slammed the passenger door. “Like I’d hang out with a loser like him. Get real.”

Her cynicism reminded Canyon of himself and Beech at that age. A defense mechanism. Or so he hoped.

Despite her name, he prayed she wasn’t too jaded to be reached. That somehow Jade could yet be saved from the destructive path she was on. Although as he’d proven with her father, Canyon was the last one on earth who should mount a rescue.

He headed toward mother and son, waiting on the steps of his office and living quarters. Leaving Jade to follow or not. Because not only could you not force a horse to drink, it was futile to lead them to water unless they were thirsty.

But what did he know? He’d failed to save Beech from himself, and he’d probably fail Beech’s daughter, too. He’d never been anyone’s hero. Nor was he likely to be.

Gray threw up his hand. “Hey, Canyon.”

His mother’s lips thinned. At least Gray was pleased to see him.

“Mom said she wanted to talk to you.”

That sounded ominous. Probably to announce she’d reported him to the FAA.

“And—” Gray smiled, looking beyond Canyon “—I wanted to say hello to Jade.”

Kristina Montgomery shifted as she caught sight of his niece. He was aware of the impression Jade created. An impression he suspected she cultivated.

The skinny black jeans. Beneath the leather jacket, the too-tight shirt exposing her midriff. An eyebrow ring. The magenta-streaked hair. Oh, and the five studs piercing one ear.

Battle armor. He remembered it well. Donned to shock. Before the Guard had gotten hold of him.

Gray’s mother stiffened as she got a good look. And something in his chest thundered. Was this the kind of reception Jade would receive from the rest of Kiptohanock?

He positioned himself between Jade and the Montgomerys. Kristina’s gaze flitted to his. No one was more surprised by his sudden protectiveness than Canyon.

Gray extended his hand. “I’m Gray. You’re Jade?”

Probably without realizing it, Jade inched closer to Canyon. An unfamiliar pang shot through his chest. He broadened his shoulders.

But Jade was nothing if not plucky on the uptake. “Only name I got. Try not to wear it out.”

Gray smiled and let his hand drop, unoffended. “You were a little girl in the picture on Canyon’s desk.” His brown eyes shone with frank admiration. “You’ve grown up.”

Kristina’s eyes ping-ponged between her son and Jade. No way she’d allow her precious offspring within ten feet of somebody like Jade. Or him.

Disappointment dropped into his stomach like a lead weight. Though why he’d expected—hoped—for better from Kristina Montgomery, he didn’t know. Fact was, he didn’t know the widow at all.

Nobody was going to give Jade a chance to remake herself.

He ought to have realized that. Twenty years ago, he’d had to go off-Shore to receive his own fresh start. And for the first time, he regretted coming back to Kiptohanock. For Jade’s sake.

Gray—bless him—wasn’t put off by his mother’s caution, nor repelled by Jade’s tough-girl persona. He reached for the duffel slung over Canyon’s shoulder. “Can I help? I’d love to tell Jade about school.”

Jade stuck out her skinny hip. “I’m not going...” With one look at Canyon’s expression, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She marched up the steps to the office.

At the door, she pivoted on her boot heel. “Are you coming or not, Gray?”

Jade’s green eyes glinted at Gray’s mother. He gave his niece full credit for reading people. With a mother like Brandi, perhaps that was how she’d survived.

But Jade needed to realize she wasn’t alone anymore. For better or worse—probably worse—she had Canyon. And he had her back.

Gray grinned. “Sure.” He started after her until his mother took hold of his arm.

Canyon clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t allow this woman to hurt Jade. Jade had already experienced more rejection in her short life than anyone should.

But Kristina Montgomery surprised him.

“I’m going to allow Gray to work for you after school, Mr. Collier.”

Gray threw his arms around his mother. “Oh, Mom. Thank—”

“Hear me out.” She held up her palm. “On one condition. I’d like to accept your offer of an airplane ride.” She arched her eyebrow. “Before I agree to let Gray work here.”

Canyon got a quivery feeling in his chest. There went his vow to avoid her. He fought against an irrational surge of gladness. “Sounds fair. I promise you won’t regret it.”

He swallowed. Real question—would he?


Chapter Four (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)

Standing outside the airfield office with her son, Kristina hadn’t expected the teenage girl in goth attire. And from the puppy-dog looks Gray sent Jade Collier, he’d never agree to remain on their side of the property line. Especially not if someone his age—and female—lived next door.

Her “good fences make good neighbors” philosophy took a nosedive. So she decided to try a new approach. Time to add a few more strategies to her solo-parenting tool kit. And according to Sawyer Kole, Canyon was not the brother with the criminal record.

She smiled at the Colliers. “Have either of you eaten lunch?”

Behind the heavy black eyeliner, some of the glare dimmed from the girl’s remarkable green eyes. Despite the affected air of boredom, the child was as attractive as her father.

He didn’t wear a wedding ring. As for the duffel bag? Maybe weekend custody. Or had he become a full-time single parent like her?

Canyon squinted. “Lunch?”

If Gray was determined to spend time at the airfield, Kristina needed to get to know Canyon and his daughter better.

Jade propped her hands on her skinny hips. “What’re you offering?”

“Don’t be rude, Jade.” Canyon’s gaze flickered toward Kristina. “We haven’t had lunch, but we wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition. My invitation.”

For the first time in a long while, Gray smiled at his mother. “That’s a great idea, Mom. Real neighborly. Can we have pimento cheese?”

Canyon cleared his throat. “We don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Gray winked at her. “Mom keeps pimento cheese in the refrigerator. Cuts those great triangle sandwiches, remember?” He laughed.

“No crusts?” Jade wrapped her arms around herself. “I saw that on TV once.” She glanced at Canyon. “Unless you’re too busy.”

Kristina was touched by the expression on Canyon’s face when he looked at his daughter. Hope mixed with a healthy dose of fear. A new emotion for the cocky pilot?

“I’m not too busy,” he grunted.

From their awkward demeanor with each other, she wondered if Canyon and Jade had spent much time together. Pimento cheese sandwiches seemed an easy gesture to help them ease into their new situation.

She climbed the porch steps. “Let’s get Jade settled and then we can meet at my house for lunch.”

Canyon unlocked the door. “I didn’t get much notice Jade was coming.”

At his gesture, Kristina stepped inside. “I didn’t realize you lived at the airfield, Mr. Collier.”

He motioned the children inside, too. “It’s Canyon.”

Gray took Jade’s duffel bag. “Canyon started living here after he sold his grandma’s house to build his business.”

Kristina’s eyes darted to Canyon. His grandma’s house, now her home?

She followed Gray down the front hall. Disconcerted to discover her bookish child sporting an interest in girls. Another reminder Gray was growing up. Too soon, she’d be utterly alone. A shaft of the familiar fear clawed at her insides.

Through the open door to the right of the hall, she caught a quick glimpse of a desk overflowing with paperwork.

Canyon flushed. “Business is slow until planting season. I was figuring to catch up, but then the Wildlife Commission hired me to do a migratory bird count on the barrier islands and...” He shrugged.

The hall led to a tiny galley kitchen and an eat-in dining area overlooking the hangar and airstrip. The counter was spotless, and dishes sat drying on the drain board. Other than his desk, Canyon kept his living quarters neat and tidy.

Canyon moved past Jade. “I didn’t have time to clean my bedroom or I would’ve put you there.” He threw open an adjacent door. “So I inflated the mattress and—”

At Jade’s quick inhalation, Kristina peeked over Gray’s shoulder. An air mattress lay in front of a washer and dryer in the utility room.

Canyon shuffled his feet. “It’s temporary, I promise.”

The wrong thing to say. Jade stiffened, and if anything, the chip she wore appeared to grow.

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant, Jade. As soon as I clear out my stuff, we’ll trade places.”

Jade’s gaze cut to the Barbie poster on the wall.

Kristina’s eyes widened. “Barbie?”

Canyon stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “Jade likes Barbie.”

“When I was six.” However, her eyes glistened. “But thanks for remembering Canyon.”

Jade called her father Canyon? And he hadn’t seen Jade since she was six? What in the world?

Not Kristina’s business. Still, he’d tried. And his effort tugged at Kristina’s heart. “I have an idea.”

Gray, Jade and Canyon angled.

“There’s an extra bedroom Jade can use at our house until you get your living arrangements sorted.”

“We couldn’t—”

“I don’t need—”

“Great idea, Mom.” Gray hugged her.

The second time her son had voluntarily hugged her. Progress?

Canyon rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but—”

“Do you have any food in the kitchen?” Kristina crossed her arms.

He shook his head.

She tapped her foot. “Extra sheets, a pillow and a blanket for the mattress?”

He bit his lip.

Men.

“Unless you’d rather not, Jade.” Kristina dropped her arms. “We’re strangers, after all.”

Jade Collier seemed to be one of those slow-to-warm creatures. Perhaps Kristina shouldn’t have said anything. Like with a gun-shy horse, maybe it was better not to rush things.

“We’re still in the process of getting settled ourselves.” She made an expansive gesture. “It’s not much. But it’s a bed and your own bathroom. If you want it.”

Jade’s startling eyes dropped to half-mast. “More than what I’m used to.” She patted Canyon’s arm. “Though I do appreciate the Barbie attempt.” Her mouth curved. “Coming from a confirmed bachelor like yourself.”

So that’s how it was with Canyon Collier. Never married. She’d seen his type before with pilots. A woman in every port—airport, in his case.

But she liked how the girl cared about her dad’s feelings. A good heart existed beneath the layers of face paint.

With chagrin, Canyon accepted her invite. And Kristina drove home alone to get a head start on lunch. Gray stayed behind to give Jade a tour of the aircraft.

As in plural. According to Gray, Canyon owned an AT 802—aka the yellow plane—a Cessna 172 and a helicopter.

Great, just great. As she drove the half mile via the road toward her bungalow, she suspected Gray had more on his mind than aircraft. Which was cute, in a first-crush sort of way.

But the very mature Jade was far too sophisticated in the ways of the world to give her late-bloomer son the time of day. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

Exiting her car, Kristina sent a quick prayer heavenward that Jade would let Gray down easy. She actually prayed. For the first time in a while.

She hurried to prepare the guest room and to set out fresh towels. Grabbing a blank piece of paper from the printer tray, she scrounged Gray’s desk for markers.

“Welcome to Kiptohanock, Jade,” she wrote with a flourish of curling vines and flowers onto the border. She taped the sign to the bedroom door.

In the kitchen, she slathered pimiento cheese on slices of white bread. Slicing the crusts from the sandwiches, she cut the bread into triangles. And smirked.

At how predictable she’d become. Although, on second thought, maybe not such a good thing. Was she as boring as Gray believed?

Plating the sandwiches, she heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Then Gray’s voice.

“The Cessna 172 is a workhorse...” The screen door squeaked as her son bounded into the kitchen. “The carburetor needs tweaking, but I think I can...” Jade followed.

Canyon’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. Jade’s gaze flitted from the vintage mint-tiled border above the countertop to the small bunch of purple crocuses on the farm table.

Gray pulled out a chair at the table. “Please take a seat, Jade.”

Kristina’s heart warmed as her son went all Southern gentleman. Jade gave Gray a suspicious look. As if she expected he’d yank the chair out from under her.

But scowling, she sat down. Mouth curved upward, Gray plopped into a chair opposite Jade. “Thanks, Mom. Looks great. As soon as Canyon and I have time, we’re going to take apart the...” He returned to his aircraft monologue.

She’d never known her son to be so talkative. Her eyes met Canyon’s.

He smiled. Which revealed two deep dimples bracketing his mouth. Her heart did a strange flip flop.

Part of Kristina resented her son’s hero worship of Canyon Collier. An adoration with which he’d only gifted his father.

After lunch, Gray volunteered to wash the dishes, the sheer novelty of his offer nearly sending Kristina into cardiac arrest. And leaving Gray to his sudden burst of helpfulness, she took Jade to her room.

Canyon hauled the duffel bag upstairs. At the sign on the door, Jade’s stance softened before she caught herself.

Kristina leaned against the door frame. “Will this work for you, Jade?”

Jade let her shoulders rise and fall in a studied show of indifference. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Canyon sighed. “Jade...”

Kristina bit back a smile. “It’s fine.”

“Teenagers. God’s little way of keeping us humble.”

She laughed. “True.”

He deposited the duffel bag on the braided rug by the bed. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took a long, slow look at the room.

Kristina turned to go. “I’ll leave you to unpack, Jade.”

Canyon joined her on the landing. “Thank you, Kristina. This goes way beyond neighborly. I’ll tackle our living situation at the airfield immediately. We won’t impose on your hospitality for more than tonight.”

“No rush. It’ll be nice having another female around.” She tilted her head. “I was always outnumbered with Gray and his father.”

Canyon’s face shadowed. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. I shouldn’t have said what I did about your relationship with Gray being in jeopardy.” His gaze shot toward the guest room. “Like you said earlier, what does a guy like me know about parenting?”

She sensed his discouragement. “Parenting teenagers is tough. I’m in no position to judge.” She had an inexplicable urge to comfort him. “You obviously care deeply about your daughter.”

“Wait. You think Jade is my—” Confusion flickered across his features. “I thought Gray explained.”

Her cheeks burned. Why was it always open mouth, insert a prop plane when it came to Canyon Collier?

She fluttered her hand. “You don’t have to explain anything.” And hastened downstairs.

He caught her in the living room. “Jade isn’t my daughter. She’s my niece.”

Kristina did an about-face. “Oh.”

Canyon’s brow creased. “Jade is my brother’s child. Beech is in prison.”

The brother with the criminal record.

Canyon gazed out the picture window overlooking the garden. “Jade’s mother is one narcotic violation away from joining him.” He inhaled. “I guess I’m all Jade has left, poor kid.”

Kristina realized despite the arrogant pilot bravado, Canyon Collier had a lot of insecurities. “How did you get involved in flying? The Guard?”

“Before the Guard, actually. Hap Wallace was an old friend of my grandmother’s. He taught me everything I know about flying.”

Kristina remembered the sign at the airfield. “The Wallace part of the business.”

“Hap started the business a long time ago. He became a father figure.” Canyon dropped his eyes. “The only father figure I ever knew. I had no idea he’d leave the place to me in his will. After my grandmother died, I finished my Coast Guard enlistment and came back.”

Kristina understood about loss. Canyon had lost his grandmother and his mentor in a short space of time.

“I returned to face the misdeeds of the past. To disprove the Collier family reputation.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I admire the kind of courage it takes to confront your fears. I wish I were more like that.”

* * *

Canyon was at a loss to understand the draw he felt toward the widow. “It takes a great deal of courage to pull up stakes after your husband’s death. To move across the country and start a new life.”

Kristina’s shoulders slumped. “We needed a new place to begin again. Without reminders of everything we’d lost. Without seeing Pax at every turn.”

Her hand groped for the chain hanging underneath her blouse. An unconscious gesture. Was her husband’s wedding ring on the end of the chain?

A habitual gesture, he suspected, for a woman who’d been unable to move beyond her grief.

Canyon’s heart felt heavy in his chest. “The airfield spoiled that for you. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. Tendrils of silky blond hair framed her face. “It’s my issue, not yours. I’m learning to live with it.” Her hand clenched around the hidden chain.

Perhaps she’d moved on physically. But emotionally? He knew better than most that you couldn’t run far enough to outdistance your problems. Though he’d certainly tried when he joined the Coast Guard.

“You’ve helped me so much already, jumping in to cover my failures with Jade.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to realize I have you and your airfield to thank for making this transition easier on my son.”

“Gray’s a special kid. He has a real gift for mechanical devices.”

“Like father, like son.” Her chin quivered. “Which is exactly what I’m most afraid of.”

As for Canyon’s greatest fear? Getting too close and getting hurt. Again.

He’d not seen this coming when he spotted the moving truck a month ago on one of his aerial forays.

The next day, the gangly boy had appeared. Always on the edge of the forest, watching him take off in the early morning. Returning when Canyon landed the plane again.

One day the boy ventured closer to the hangar. He’d offered to help Canyon secure the plane and stow his gear.

He’d thanked Gray but refused his offer. Disappointment etched itself across the boy’s features. Flushing, his eyes had dropped to his shoes.

Belatedly, Canyon remembered his own awkward phase. But Gray returned the next day and the next.

The shy, soft-spoken offer to help made each time. Hope springing eternal in his dark eyes. Until at last, after Gray waged a gentle war of attrition, Canyon surrendered to the inevitable and let the boy help out around the place.

“I appreciate your willingness to spend time with my son.” Kristina’s wistful voice drew Canyon into the present. “He’s missed that since his father’s death.”

Canyon’s eyes flicked toward her hand, pressed against her blouse. Her fingers massaged the chain at her throat. Something stirred inside him. To be loved like that...

He’d never been loved like that. But then, he’d never opened himself to be loved like that. To be loved required love in return. And despite the inherent risk in his line of work, love was the ultimate risk he wasn’t willing to take.

“Your husband sounds like he was a great guy.” He hunched his shoulders. “A great dad and husband.”

Something he’d never aspired to be. Someone he wasn’t capable of becoming. Not for the first time, the Collier family mantle hung heavy.

At the clink of dishes, she turned toward the sounds of running water in the kitchen. “Pax was wonderful.” Her face fell. “But he had a love affair with flying machines. A love that eventually took his life two years ago.”

Canyon straightened. “The air disaster in Thailand?”

“No.” Her mouth thinned. “Afghanistan.”

His lips parted. “I didn’t realize...your husband was military?”

She nodded.

An image emerged in his mind, based on other airmen he’d known. Solid guys. Intelligent. Gutsy. The kind who chose to put themselves in harm’s way when bullets were flying. Heroes.

His admiration for the dead man rose. As did his admiration for Kristina. “You’re a military widow.”

Military wives didn’t get the appreciation they deserved for their behind-the-scenes service to their country.

Her eyes clouded. “Our numbers are growing due to recent global conflicts. It’s a club no one wants to join.”

She leaned over to straighten the already tidy coffee table. As much as anything, maybe to give her hands something to do.

His heart lurched. “You were the one left to pick up the pieces. To somehow put your family together again without your husband.”

Kristina’s mouth trembled. “Sometimes in dealing with Gray I think it would’ve been better if I’d been the one to die.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Paxton was so strong. So confident.” She sank into an armchair.

He eased onto the sofa. “I don’t believe it would’ve been better for you to die. Gray wouldn’t think so, either. He’s just in a difficult phase right now. I’ve been there.”

She shook herself. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. We’re practically strangers.”

Canyon longed to touch her hand, to reassure her. But he was afraid. Of himself and the way Kristina Montgomery made him feel. “Your son’s trying to move beyond childhood—who he’s been—toward who he wants to become.”

She ran her thumb over the small exposed portion of the chain. “Aren’t we all?”

“True enough. But I also think you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re incredibly easy to talk to, Canyon.”

Canyon’s eyebrow arched. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

She raised her chin. “Maybe what I’ve needed is an objective ear.”

He scrubbed his hand over his mouth. Objective? His objectivity when it came to Kristina and her son was decreasing by the moment. Scaring him, like he’d gone into a free fall and lost control of the aircraft.

“Maybe Gray and I are both on the threshold of becoming who we want to be. Who we were always meant to be.” She tensed. “If only I could get beyond the fear.”

“I know a surefire way to jump-start the process.” He rubbed his suddenly perspiring hands across the thighs of his jeans. “Are you ready to get a tiny glimpse of your husband’s world?”

She laid her palms flat on the armrest of the chair and studied him. “Your world, too.”

“Gives me a new perspective every time. Monday morning after the kids go to school, how about you take that trip with me into the sky?”

Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “In your airplane?”

Canyon’s lips curved. “Unless you can flap your arms fast enough, yeah.”

She gave him a shaky laugh. “So soon?”

He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Talk is cheap, Kristina Montgomery. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She squared her shoulders. “Are you daring me to go?

He cocked his head. “Consider it a leap of faith. Gaining a God-sized perspective on where you’ve been and where you want to go. And I’ll throw in a free flying lesson.”

Kristina’s mouth fell open. “Flying lessons? How did we go from an aerial tour of the Eastern Shore to me taking control of an airplane?”

He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “And here I believed taking control would be your thing.”

She sniffed. “You don’t think I’ll accept, do you?”

He pursed his lips. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to. Trouble is, getting you to believe that, too.”

She extended her hand. “All right then. You’ve got a deal.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “But I insist you let me use my accounting degree and get your books up-to-date.”

His hand closed around hers. A tingle shot up his arm. “Fair enough.” He squeezed her fingers before letting go. “0900 sharp.”

Canyon’s heart raced with a mixture of dread and excitement. So much for avoiding the Widow Montgomery. And he pondered just how much this flying lesson would cost him.


Chapter Five (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)

On Saturday, Gray set off after breakfast to work at the airfield. Kristina expected Jade to be a late riser, but the teenager soon clomped downstairs in her black combat boots. And settled in a chair at the red kitchenette table.

Kristina leaned against the countertop, sipping from her second cup of coffee.

Over a plate of crispy bacon and steaming eggs, the teenager did a studied inventory of the kitchen. “You like old stuff.”

Kristina nodded. “Old-fashioned, but I find something comforting about the tried and the true.” She took another sip. “I guess I’m hopelessly outdated.”

Jade’s gaze roamed from the vintage embroidered tea towel draped over the drain board to the red-checked gingham curtains at the window. “Not outdated. Retro. And it’s cool.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes caught Kristina’s before sliding away. “Like a real home should look.”

Despite Jade’s air of indifference, she was still such a child. Kristina’s heart ached at the grim picture Canyon had painted of Jade’s childhood.

She couldn’t understand why she felt so drawn to Jade. But she’d spent a lot of time praying last night—the second time in twelve hours—for wisdom in dealing with the raw, gaping wounds in the girl’s heart. Beneath the layers of makeup and metallic ear studs, Kristina sensed a genuine goodness in Jade. Disillusioned and guarded, yet someone badly in need of a second chance.

Not unlike Kristina herself.

The makeup and the clothing, she suspected, were a way to deflect anyone from getting too close. A mask for Jade’s low self-esteem.

Jade pushed away from the table. “Thanks for breakfast.” The chair scraped across the black checkerboard linoleum. “And for letting me spend my first night here.” She carried her plate to the sink. “I’ll wash the dishes. I owe you.”

Kristina set her cup on the counter. “You don’t owe me. Neighbors being neighborly is the Kiptohanock way.”

Jade gave her a look out of the corner of her eyes. “For real? Like Mayberry?”

Kristina laughed. “Not quite, but something like that.”

“I’m still going to wash the dishes for you.”

Jade was eminently salvageable. Infinitely worth rescuing. But as prickly as a catfish. She’d need to move carefully with her.

She laid her hand on Jade’s shoulder, squeezed and moved away before Jade could react. “You may be the best houseguest I’ve ever had. I’m not going to want you to ever leave.”

A small smile curved Jade’s mouth before she turned the smile into a frown.

“There’s something else you could help me with today.”

Jade turned on the faucet. “What’s that?”

“I’ve got to cut some flowers in my yard.”

Jade plugged the drain and squirted detergent under the spray of water. “Why?”

“For an altar arrangement at the worship service tomorrow.”

Jade’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything about flowers.” She scrubbed the plates.

“I could use your help. It’s a two-person job, especially when it comes to transporting the vases.”

“Whatever.”

Taking that as near to an affirmation as she’d get, Kristina dried while Jade finished washing the dishes. “Go get your coat. It’s cold outside.”

Jade took the stairs two at a time and returned with her coat.

Retrieving a plastic bucket from underneath the sink, Kristina filled the bucket halfway with lukewarm water. She lifted the bucket out of the sink and set it between them.

After donning her own coat, she extracted a flat, open basket from the confines of a Hoosier-style cupboard. “Tools of the trade.” She laid two orange-handled clippers inside the basket.

Jade heaved the bucket of water. “I’ll carry this for you.”

Kristina smiled. “Thank you, Jade. That’s so considerate of you.”

To illustrate how little she cared, Jade scowled.

Note to self—praise Jade more often for good work.

The basket on her arm, Kristina shoved open the door with her shoulder. Lugging the bucket, Jade sloshed into the backyard.

“Morning is the best time to cut flowers, when the stems are fully hydrated. In the heat of the day, the petals droop.”

Jade shot a scoffing look at the overcast winter sky. “What heat?”

Kristina headed toward a bright spot of pink blooming amid a profusion of dark green leaves. Placing the basket on the ground, she motioned for Jade to set the bucket alongside.

The look on Jade’s face was comical when Kristina handed her one of the clippers. “You want me to cut the flowers?”

Kristina took the other pair and opened the blades along a stem line. “Look for a branch with multiple buds. One bud should show color and another just starting to open.”

Jade reached for a higher branch. “Like this one?”

“Good eye.” Kristina positioned her clippers. “Now slice at a forty-five-degree angle about an inch from the bottom. Where it joins the main stem line.”

“I can’t.” Jade backed away. “I’ll butcher the bush.”

Flagging self-confidence. Kristina recognized the feeling all too well. And refused to be put off by Jade’s thorny demeanor.

“Just try. No harm, no foul.”

The teenager glared. “That sounds like something Canyon would say.”

Kristina tilted her head. “Even if you mess up the first time, you’ll do better the next. The flowers will grow back.”

Jade made an elaborate shrug. “It’s your bush. Don’t blame me when I kill it.”

They worked in silence. Cutting flowers was not the time to dilly-dally. It was important to immerse the cut stems immediately.

“Pruning the shrub is actually good for the long-term health of the plant.”

Jade eyed Kristina. “How’s that?”

“Master gardeners know that periodic cutting promotes future flowering. Like deadheading.”

Jade snorted. “Sounds like a zombie heavy metal band.”

“What do you mean?”

“Deadheading. You know, zombies.” Jade tapped her forehead. “Dead. Heads.”

Kristina laughed. “Did you make a joke, Jade Collier? A gardening joke?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Jade batted her long dark lashes. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

Kristina wanted to tell her she didn’t need so much mascara on those lovely eyes of hers, but instead she deposited her clippers in the basket. “I think we have enough for the arrangement.”

Jade took charge of the flower-laden bucket. “Are you a master gardener, Kristina?”

She held the door as Jade trudged inside. “No, I just like flowers. Put the bucket on the table, please.”

Kristina put away the basket and laid several sharp cutting knives on the farm table. “Can I hand you the vases?”

Stretching, she removed several vases from the top shelf of the cupboard. She passed them one at a time to Jade and then carried a third one to the table.

With her finger, Jade traced the ivy vine across the front of one of the crackled, black-footed vases. “These look old.”

“My mother’s.”

The girl sighed. “Canyon says this used to be his grandmother’s house before she died. He and Beech grew up here.”

Kristina frowned. “I didn’t realize it was a family home when I bought it.”

Which was crazy. Of course it had been some family’s home. She just hadn’t thought about it being Canyon’s family home.

It made her pulse race to think of him here. Which was ridiculous. But it was strange thinking of a younger Canyon living here.




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