Returning Pride

Returning Pride

Everything seems to be going Iian’s way, he has a successful restaurant, a beautiful home, family, and friends. He’s even overcome the loss of his hearing, but why does he still feels like something is missing.

Allison has worked hard to make a name for herself in the art world, now all she wants is peace and quiet to work on her passion. But, with her mother overtaken by illness, she has less time than ever. When everything is stripped away in one tragic blow, and she’s being stalked by a mad-man, she’ll need the help of her hometown and an old flame, to turn everything around and find what she’s been looking for.

Returning Pride is book three of the Pride Series Romance Novels, a sexy contemporary romance series by Jill Sanders.

Other titles by Jill Sanders

Finding Pride
– Pride Series #1

Discovering Pride
– Pride Series #2

Returning Pride
– Pride Series #3

Lasting Pride
– Pride Series #4

Serving Pride
– Prequel to Pride Series #5

Red Hot Christmas
– A Pride Christmas #6

Secret Seduction
– Secret Series #1

Secret Pleasure
– Secret Series #2

Secret Guardian
– Secret Series #3

Secret Passions
– Secret Series #4

Secret Identity
– Secret Series #5

Secret Obsession
– Secret Series #6

Secret Demands
– Secret Series #7

Secret Sauce
– Secret Series #8

Cowgirls Ride Harder
– Book one Cowgirls Series

Cowgirls Ride Faster
– Book two
Cowgirls Series

Cowgirls Ride Longer
– Book three Cowgirls Series

Returning Pride

Jill Sanders

RETURNING PRIDE

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.

ISBN:
1484949285

Copyright 
© 2012 Jill Sanders

Edited by Erica Ellis – http://ericaellisfreelance.com

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

To my brothers & sisters

without whom,

I would have been a

very lonely child.

O
verlooking the water, Iian watched as the waves crashed violently on the rocks below the cliffs. Winter was almost over, yet the cold seemed to hang in the air. Low dark clouds hovered over the dark horizon as mist clung all around him. The rain had stopped an hour earlier, leaving a lingering scent in the breeze that hit his face. This was his home; he belonged here and just knew it. He could see the lights from fishing boats, they were scattered along the shoreline.
Though unable to hear, he knew fog horns would be sounding, signaling their warning of the jagged shore.

It had been over ten years since his accident, which had left him without his father, and without his hearing. The nightmares of that day still haunted him. He couldn’t remember all the details, but his memories played like a broken record in his head.

It took him almost a year to get over his physical wounds. Learning a new language had been hard for him, even harder on his brother and sister, Todd and Lacey. Sign language was now something he did without thinking. The pain of losing their father, however, had taken a lot longer for them to get over.

Their father had been the glue that had held their family together, after the loss of their mother at Iian’s birth. His father had worked hard at the restaurant that had been his parents’ dream, making enough to start his own business, Jordan Shipping, which Iian’s brother Todd now ran. After their father’s death, his sister Lacey had stepped in and taken over the role of holding everyone together.

After losing his hearing, Iian started noticing a few things happening to him. He noticed his eyesight, his sense of smell, and his taste had sharpened immensely. These enhancements had helped with his career as a chef, but lowered his ability to deal with other people.

He knew what everyone saw in him. He was tall, standing a little over six-and-a-half feet. He had been rail thin until about the ninth grade, when he’d hit his last growing spurt. He worked out regularly and since his youth had added to his bulk with lean muscles, which he was proud of. His dark hair and light crystal eyes were a family trait, as well as the small cleft in his chin.

As he pushed his hair out of his eyes, he stood on the small cliff and looked around. To his left, columns of smoke rose from houses in the small tight-knit community of Pride, Oregon. He could just make out the green roof of The Golden Oar, his restaurant, his life. The larger, old building sat on the waterfront, just off the main street in town. The place had been his sole focus since his accident. He’d been raised working in the kitchen or the dining halls, it had been in his blood. Handed down from several generations, now the place was his, coming to him on his twenty-fifth birthday. It was a good thing that cooking was in his blood, it just happened to be a bonus that it was his passion as well.

He could think of only one other thing he’d felt this way about, and he was wondering when she’d come back into town.

Allison was home, there was no doubt about it. She’d missed the old place; it had never looked so inviting. The house was dark except for the tall lamps on either side of the cement path that lead to the bright blue front door. The cool evening rain was washing the sidewalk and streets, making them shine and look new.

She remembered when her father was alive, the house had been in pristine shape. Shortly after his death, money was short and they had a harder time taking care of everything. Well, the house had been the last thing on their minds then.

The blue shutters on the windows still hung strong, they just needed some paint. Actually, the whole house could use a fresh coat, for that matter. The inside had always been kept in tip-top shape. Her mother had always been somewhat of a perfectionist, especially when it came to her house.

Thinking of her mother, she turned off her car and realized that she’d always had more of a partnership rather than a mother-daughter relationship. Especially after her sister, Abby, had died.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her car door and made a run for the front door through the pouring rain, her keys and overnight bag on-hand.

She had expected her mother to be asleep at this late hour; she’d left Los Angeles a little later than planned due to traffic, which had slowed her trip by a good two hours.

When she opened the front door, she had to jerk it open. She turned on the lights and what she found scared her. One of the couch cushions was on the floor; there was a large pile of dirty clothes in the corner by the television set, which was still on. There were dishes sitting on the coffee table that looked like they’d been there for weeks. Turning on lights, she ran into the back and was even more shocked by what she saw the kitchen. Something was definitely not right! Things were thrown around in there as well. Rushing to the back of the small house, she knocked on her mother’s door as she pushed it open.

“Mom? Can I come in? Mom, is everything okay?” She shoved the door, pushing clothes that had piled up behind it.

Allison saw a small lump in the bed and quickly switched on the light. Her mother’s face was pale and thin. She must have lost at least ten pounds since she’d seen her around six months ago. Her curly, black hair was streaked with silver and stuck straight up, giving her an
“I’ve just seen a ghost,”
look. It was her mother’s eyes that worried her the most. They were red-rimmed and staring blankly and looked completely empty as her mother looked at her. Teresa Adams was in her mid-sixties, and had been alone for almost a third of her life.

“Abby. Oh, your back! Did you forget your umbrella?” She attempted to sit up in bed.

“
No Mama, it’s me, Allison,” Allison sat next to her mother and felt her forehead, checking for a fever. Her mother’s head was hot and she could see her was shaking with a fever.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. Mommy was just taking a quick nap and you know how your father gets when you forget your umbrella. Better run and get it or you’ll be late for school.” Teresa started to lie back down.

“Oh, Mom,” Allison leaned over. Picking up the phone, she dialed the local doctor’s number from memory.

“Hello?” The voice sounded younger than the eighty-year-old man who was the normal doctor in town.

“I… I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong number,” she started to hang up.

“This is Dr. Stevens. Are you looking for a doctor?”

“Yes, this is Allison Adams. My mother is running a high fever and she isn’t coherent. Can you come quickly?”

“Yes, Miss Adams, I can be there in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Allison hung up and went into the adjoining bath to get a cold cloth for her mother.

Aaron watched as his wife, Lacey, rolled over and asked, “Mrs. Adams? Is something wrong?”

“She’s running a fever, her daughter called. It shouldn’t take me long to deal with this. Go back to bed.” He looked over at his wife, as he pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a warm sweater.

It had been three years since he’d taken over his grandfather’s medical practice in Pride. Two years since his marriage to the woman who now carried their first child. He smiled down at her small form in the bed.

“Allison called? I didn’t know she was back in town,” Lacey said slowly sitting up. “I should go with you, see if there’s something I can do,” she started to rise.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he rushed over to place his hands on her shoulders. “If you start going on all my house calls, who’s going to stay home and take care of our children?” He smiled down at her glowing face and gently laid a hand on her small, but growing belly. “Besides, it’s wet and cold out there. You should keep my side of the bed warm for when I come back.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I should be back soon.”

He was gone before she could say another word. When exactly had she lost control? Oh yeah, the day she’d bumped into him. She smiled into the pillow and remembered that wonderful hot day and quickly fell back asleep.

Allison had turned on every light while she waited for the doctor. She had just started to clean the front room when there was a quick knock on the door. She rushed over and opened the door quickly for the doctor.

“Thank God. She’s just back--” she dropped off as a very tall, very wet male started to step into the light.
 

Taking a large step back she grabbed the only thing handy, one of her mother’s favorite crystal candle sticks.

“Who are you?” She demanded holding the candle stick like a batter ready to hit a home run.

“Allison, it’s me, Aaron Stevens, remember we met before,” he stepped into the doorway farther, the light finally hit his face. “You were expecting my grandfather, remember, he retired,” he smiled down at her. “I’d hate to go back to my wife and explain why I have stitches in my head,” he said holding out his hands.

Then she remembered that he’d married Lacey. She’d even attended their wedding when they’d been married on the beach a few years back. It must be that she was tired from the long trip and maybe the worry of her mother was warping her brain. Quickly setting down her weapon, she wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans.