Defending Hearts

Praise for

Under the Lights

“Great story! Shannon Stacey always takes readers on a compelling journey to happiness by writing the kind of characters you want to be best friends with and the types of places you want to call home. With humor, emotion, and captivating characters,
Under the Lights
will make you believe in love, second chances, and happily ever after. Take the journey to love with Shannon Stacey and enjoy the ride—you won’t be disappointed.”

—Jaci Burton,
New York Times
Bestselling Author

Praise for the novels of Shannon Stacey

“A sexy, comical, feel-good read that left me impatient for the next installment.”

—
USA Today

“Deeply satisfying.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Books like this are why I read romance.”

—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

“Funny, sexy, and loving.”

—Dear Author

“[A] perfect contemporary romance!”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Stacey is an author who knows how to write fun, relevant dialogue within the world of romance.”

—Harlequin Junkie

“Stacey writes such fun, warm characters with the backdrop of a great small town, that I was totally engrossed.”

—Smexy Books

“One of the best contemporary romance series . . . Very realistic.”

—Fiction Vixen

“If you’re a fan of big families, cute romances, and friends-to-lovers stories, then this book is definitely for you.”

—Under the Covers Book Blog

Jove titles by Shannon Stacey

UNDER THE LIGHTS

DEFENDING HEARTS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

DEFENDING HEARTS

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2015 by Shannon Stacey.

Excerpt from
Homecoming
copyright © 2015 by Shannon Stacey.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

JOVE® is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

The “J” design is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information, visit
penguin.com
.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18933-1

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Jove mass-market edition / November 2015

Cover illustration by Danny O’Leary.

Cover design by Judith Lagerman.

Cover photograph of football and field © David Lee / Shutterstock.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Aja. Sometimes you’re the most like me and sometimes you’re the least like me, but we are undeniably sisters, for which I’m grateful every day. Your love of being outside and your quiet, steady work ethic inspired me while writing Gretchen’s character, though she can’t rock an amazing pair of heels like you can. I was fifteen when you came into the world, and I’ve loved you every single day since then.

D
odging bullets had a way of making a man realize he wasn’t young anymore. Dodging them for no good reason made the realization a lot harder to shove to the back of his mind.

Alex Murphy sat on the thin mattress in his shitty motel room and looked at the photo on his phone’s screen again. It wasn’t one of the many he’d taken during his week in the volatile region, using instincts and years of experience to capture on film a population on the brink of revolution. It was one some random passerby had taken with his cell phone and it had gone viral. It was the photo the world would remember.

Alex would still sell his pictures. They told the story in a way one viral camera shot couldn’t. But times and technology were constantly changing, and sometimes he felt like a dinosaur.
Photojournalismasaurus.

Burnout. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, a decade of freelancing and travel—only to be scooped by a teenager with a cell phone and an Instagram account—had taken its toll, and it might be time to take a break. The idea of going back to Rhode Island didn’t appeal to him, though. The apartment in Providence was a place to keep his stuff, but it had never felt like a home.

Using his thumb, Alex navigated to a recent photo album he’d set up on his phone, titled
Stewart Mills, NH.
After almost a decade and a half away, he’d recently spent about ten days there and, when it was time to leave, he’d found himself wishing he could stay a little longer.

He flicked through the photos, pausing over each one. Not with a technical eye, but to gauge his emotional response. Old friends laughing. People he’d known most of his life, but who were practically strangers. A town that had once been his entire world. And Coach McDonnell, who had taken the ragtag group of boys making up the Stewart Mills Eagles football team and made them men.

Alex had been on the first Stewart Mills Eagles football team to win the championship back in the day and, when the town cut the football team’s funding, he’d been one of the alumni players who returned to help out with a fund-raising drive to save it. He’d gone out of love for Coach McDonnell, but rediscovering his hometown had also reminded him of how nice it could be to have roots. He hadn’t felt grounded to any one place in a very long time.

He wanted to go back.

The plan was taking shape in his mind even as he closed out the photo app and pulled up his contacts. Calculating
time zones was second nature to him at this point, so he knew it was safe to call Kelly McDonnell, the coach’s daughter and a police officer for the town. She’d given him her cell number when he was in town, and he tapped it.

She answered on the third ring. “Hey, Alex.”

“Are you busy right now?”

“Nope. I’m actually sitting in my cruiser, making sure everybody slows down and doesn’t hit the power company guys replacing a transformer. What’s up? Did you forget something?”

He laughed. “Nope. How are things in Stewart Mills?”

“Pretty good. Everybody’s still on a bit of a high from Eagles Fest, for which I can never thank you enough.”

“The Eagles are why I’m calling, actually,” he said. “I was looking through the photographs I took while I was there, and the story’s unfinished. I’m thinking about coming back for a while and following at least the opening of the team’s season.”

“Following them professionally, you mean? Like for a story?”

“If I can get releases from everybody, I’d like to do a story, yes. Or maybe even a book. There are a lot of towns going through what Stewart Mills has faced, and what you all did is pretty inspirational. And I’d like to broaden the angle, too. Make it about the entire town and not just the team, though that’s the core story, of course.”

“Wow.” There were a few seconds of silence while she digested what he’d said. “That sounds really great, as long as you respect privacy where it’s requested and recognize there are some things people wouldn’t want shared.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Officer McDonnell. I won’t hurt anybody and I won’t share anything people don’t want shared.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

“Perfect. I called you because I’m hoping, since you know the community in and out, that you could recommend a place to stay. I know the motel’s closed up, but maybe somebody is willing to rent an apartment or even a house on a month-to-month, short-term basis?”

“With so many people losing their homes, the rental market’s incredibly tight right now.” She sighed and he gave her a moment to think. “You know, Gretchen was talking to me about renting a room at the farm. She hasn’t because she’s nervous about having a stranger living with her grandmother, but renting to a friend can end badly when there’s money involved.”

“I’m not a stranger, but I’m not exactly a friend, either.” He remembered Gretchen Walker from school and he’d had a chance to talk to her a few times during Eagles Fest. She was an attractive woman, but she was definitely a closed book. “All I need is a place to sleep and it wouldn’t be long-term, so maybe I’m a good opportunity for a trial run.”

“That’s what I was thinking. The room has its own bathroom and you’d have access to the kitchen, not that her grandmother would let you go hungry. I’ll talk to Gretchen and have her get back to you. She’ll have to talk it over with Gram, too. Can she call you at this number?”

“The time zones will be a horror show for the next few days, so email’s the best bet.” When she said she was ready, he gave her his email address. “It sounds perfect on my end, so I’ll look forward to hearing from her.”

Once he hung up with Kelly, Alex flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the peeling ceiling. Maybe it was the professional version of a midlife crisis, but he needed a break, and Stewart Mills seemed like the perfect place to regroup and make a plan for his future.

Chronicling the current state of his hometown and the Eagles while rediscovering his roots would simply be a bonus.

—

“Y
ou have to stop trying to sit on Gram’s lap,” Gretchen Walker told the sixty-pound chocolate Lab looking up at her with adoring eyes. “You’re not good for the circulation in her legs.”

Cocoa tilted her head sideways and blinked before raising her paw for a high five. Gretchen sighed and gave her one. It seemed to be the only trick the newest member of the Walker family knew, so it was her answer to everything.

It had been the nurse at her grandmother’s doctor’s office who suggested a dog might be good company for Gram, since Gretchen had her hands full trying to work the farm, and Gram had immediately agreed. Gretchen had driven her to the shelter in the city, anticipating a fluffy little lapdog who would be content to curl up with Gram and watch her knit the days away.

Instead, Gram had fallen in love with a big Lab the color of rich hot chocolate, and Gretchen had to admit she felt an immediate connection with the dog, too. The entire household budget had to be recalculated to accommodate the beast’s food costs, but it was nice to get a high five every once in a while. And Cocoa seemed to love the sound of Gram’s voice, so everybody was happy.

“My rocking chair isn’t big enough for both of us,” Gram pointed out. “Maybe we should trade it for one of those leather love seats with the double recliner ends and the built-in cup holders.”

Sure they should. What furniture store wouldn’t want to trade a fancy leather love seat for a decades-old glider rocker with a cushion perfectly molded to Gram’s skinny behind? “We’ll see.”

“You sound just like your grandfather when you say that.
We’ll see
means we can’t afford it and you don’t want to flat out tell me no.”

Gretchen didn’t bother denying it. “For now, you need to train her to curl up next to your feet on the floor. She’s too heavy to be on your lap. It’s not good for you.”

“Go wash up,” Gram said without making any promises. “Breakfast is ready.”

With a sigh, Gretchen went to the sink and washed her hands. She’d already gathered eggs from the chickens and fed the three horses they boarded for a family that lived in the southern part of the state. She’d have to clean their stalls and work in the gardens later, but at the moment she was starving.

“Maybe we can afford a new love seat, since the Murphy boy’s going to be living here,” Gram said while Gretchen took a seat at the table and took a scalding swallow of the coffee waiting for her.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” It had seemed like a great idea when Kelly brought it to her and through multiple emails with Alex over the last two weeks but, now that it was actually going to happen, she couldn’t help but have second thoughts.

Gram set a plate of biscuits and sausage gravy in front of her. “Wouldn’t be fair to change your mind at this point. He’ll be here in a few hours.”

“I know. It’ll be strange having a man in the house again, though.” It had been nine years since her grandfather passed away, and it had been only her and Gram since.

“At least he’ll have his own bathroom so we won’t have to worry about falling in the toilet in the middle of the night if he leaves the seat up.”

Yeah, Gretchen thought. He’d have his own bathroom. He’d have
her
bathroom, the one her grandfather had built into her room years before when he realized he was going to have a teenage girl hogging the only upstairs bathroom. And Alex would also have the bedroom she’d had since she was a little girl. But giving him his own space, except for the kitchen, made more sense than sharing a bathroom with him. Gretchen had never shared a bathroom with any man, and it seemed very intimate. Intimacy was definitely not what she was going for.

“I was thinking about making a ham tonight,” Gram continued. “And maybe my scalloped potatoes and creamed corn.”

Gretchen never turned down her grandmother’s creamed corn, but she didn’t like the way this was going, and the man hadn’t even arrived yet. “Alex isn’t going to be a guest. It’s a business arrangement.”

Gram sat across the table from her with her own bowl of biscuits and gravy. “He’s paying extra to eat meals with us. That’s what you said.”

“Normal meals. You don’t have to cook anything special for him.”

“I’ll worry about what I’m cooking. Did you finish getting his room ready?”

Gretchen nodded, shoving a forkful of gravy-soaked biscuit into her mouth. She’d moved all of her belongings into the room next to Gram’s, and everything from her bathroom into the one they’d be sharing. For Alex, they’d put on fresh bedding and placed brand-new towels and washcloths in the bathroom.

Between Cocoa and Alex Murphy, they’d shelled out a lot of cash recently. Gretchen rubbed at the back of her neck. The room and board he’d be paying would help, but things were still a little tighter than she’d like.

“You’re going to come in early, right?” Gram asked. “You should clean up before Alex gets here. Maybe take a shower. Put on a little lipstick.”

Gretchen stared across the table. “What are you talking about? I don’t even own lipstick, Gram.”

“You can borrow some of mine. Oh, Cherry Hot Pants would be a great shade on you with that dark hair of yours.”

“I am not putting
Cherry Hot Pants
on my lips.” Gretchen didn’t even know what else to say about that. “I’ll probably say hi and point him in the direction of his room, and then I’m going back to work.”

“You’re never going to find a husband.”

Gretchen pushed her chair back and carried her dishes to the sink. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. “I’m not putting on red lipstick. I’m not looking for a husband. Alex Murphy is going to be our tenant and nothing more. I mean it, Gram.”

The older woman smiled. “My great-grandmother ran a boardinghouse in London, and she took in an Irish boarder
who fell head over heels for my grandmother. It was very romantic.”

“I don’t have time for romance,” Gretchen said, shoving her feet into the barn boots she’d taken off at the back door. “I’ve got horseshit to shovel.”

—

A
lex hit the brake pedal hard, and the used Jeep Cherokee he’d owned for three days skidded to a stop. The Jeep’s nose was about three feet past the stop sign.

Now that he wasn’t an honored fund-raiser guest and therefore exempt from minor traffic mistakes, he glanced around to make sure he wasn’t about to be busted by any of Stewart Mills’ finest.

Several stop signs had been added between the time Alex and the others had graduated and gone off to college and their return for Eagles Fest, and those weren’t the only changes. The recession had hit hard, the mills had closed, and things had gotten really hard for the people of Stewart Mills. As he drove through town, he noticed again the number of empty storefronts and real estate signs. There seemed to be fewer foreclosure auction signs, though, which was hopefully a sign the worst was behind them.

He found the turnoff to the Walker farm by memory and drove slowly up the long and bumpy dirt driveway. The big white farmhouse needed a little TLC, but it was a long way from being run-down. He knew from his last visit to town that Gretchen had been running the place alone since her grandfather died, and that her grandmother had had some health issues. Nothing serious, but basically it was a one-woman show, so he’d been expecting it to be a little more rough.

He got out of the Jeep and was greeted by a chocolate Lab who immediately made it clear they were going to be the very best of friends. Behind the dog was Gretchen Walker, though her greeting was a little more reserved.

“Welcome back,” she said, giving him a tight smile.

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to spending some time here.”

She nodded, folding her arms across her chest. Gretchen was tall and lean, with long dark hair in a thick braid down her back. Old jeans tucked into even older barn boots hugged her legs, and she’d thrown a faded flannel shirt over a T-shirt.

Strong.
As the dog sat at her feet, Alex composed a mental snapshot of her, and that was the word that popped into his head. Not only did she have physical strength, but she also had an air of resolve and determination about her. He had no doubt when something—
anything
—needed doing, Gretchen would quietly step up and get it done.