The Airman's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek Book 5) (3 page)

Back then her guilt had nearly overwhelmed her. How could she cast off one brother for another? Austin had always been loyal to her and she didn’t know how to break up with him in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, but when he took her out for a special dinner and announced that he’d filled in the paperwork to start the enlistment process, Heather knew she’d waited too long.

“I don’t want to go out with you anymore,” she’d blurted.

Austin had turned pale. Neither of them had known what to say next. Fifteen minutes later he dropped her off at her home and she’d cried all night. Heather had never found out whether Austin had brought a ring to that dinner, but her gut told her he did. It still made her wince to think about it. Afterwards, she resolved to have nothing to do with the Hall men.

Her resolve only lasted three weeks. Without Austin’s daily presence in her life, Colt consumed her thoughts and dreams. She’d hadn’t told any of her friends what she was feeling because she’d known it was wrong. So wrong.

Still, when Colt came calling and asked her out, she said yes.

“And you didn’t get in touch with Colt when you figured out you were pregnant?” Camila asked.

“I was going to. Then I thought about what that would do to him and his brothers. They’d just lost their father. How could I turn Austin against Colt? What would Mason and Zane do, choose sides? I couldn’t bear the thought of them fighting about what Colt and I had done. I felt guilty enough already.”

“I understand. I’m sure Colt will too,” Regan said.

“Really? Would you understand if you were him? If you found you’d missed the first twelve years of your child’s life?” Thirteen, now. Richard had recently had a birthday. Heather’s heart squeezed. She knew Colt too well to even hope for understanding. He was proud and stubborn and he took things to heart, no matter the tough exterior he turned to the world.

Regan considered this. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but you promised to answer his ad. It’s the only reason Mason and the others haven’t told him about Richard.”

Colt’s brothers had been shocked and angry when they found out she’d hidden Richard from all of them so long. She’d had to beg them to let her tell Colt about his son in her own way. “Maybe this is a huge mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” Regan said. Heather scanned the store again, glad it was nearly empty, although that reflected problems of a different kind. If sales didn’t pick up quickly she was going to be in trouble.

“He was here in June. It would have been easy for him to look me up.”

She was careful to hide how much it hurt that he hadn’t. It was for the best, after all. She’d known the minute Mason had returned to Chance Creek last April she was in trouble and she’d been grateful for the reprieve, although it only lasted a few months. When Mason and Regan set their wedding for June, Heather knew the rest of the family would come and she wasn’t sure what to do. She remembered the way she’d been torn between hope and fear the entire time Colt was in town for the wedding. Hope that he would come and find her. Fear that when he realized she’d hidden Richard he’d hate her and leave again.

She needn’t have worried; he hadn’t come after her at all and before she knew it he was gone again. Once again she’d waited too long for him to make the first move and bitterly regretted it later. It was Richard who finally spilled the beans to Austin when Austin left the Army and came back to Chance Creek to stay in the summer. She’d never told her son who his father was, but he’d looked through her scrapbooks from when she was younger, seen all the photos of her and Austin together, and come to his own conclusions. He’d confronted Austin and Austin had confronted Heather. She hadn’t known what to do. Paralyzed by what would happen if the truth was known, she’d said nothing at first. Austin had thought Richard was right—that Richard was his—and she’d managed to make things even worse than before.

When the truth had finally come out both Richard and Austin were devastated, but time had begun to heal those wounds, thank goodness. All of the Halls had agreed to let her tell Colt in her own way as soon as she was able to contact him. Unfortunately he’d left on a mission last summer that didn’t allow for any communication. She knew Colt’s brothers were worried; it wasn’t normal for him to be off the grid so long. She’d been worried, too, and she’d prayed for his safety every night before she went to sleep. Now that he’d put up an ad, at least she knew he was still alive.

She wanted another chance with Colt, and Richard was dying to meet his father. Meanwhile, Austin had stepped up in his role as uncle, as had Mason and Zane.

“He didn’t know about Richard in June,” Regan pointed out.

“He still doesn’t, and I don’t want him to be with me because he feels like he has to be. I probably don’t want to be with him at all. I’m not the same person. Why should I assume he is?”

Camila picked out several brushes and added them to her basket. “You think you’ve changed that much since he’s been gone?”

“I know I have.” She heard the bitterness in her voice. “Look at me—I’m an old, boring woman who owns a home décor store.”

Camila stopped. “First of all, you’re not old. Second of all, if you feel that way it’s your own fault. Look at you! I have no idea why you think that owning this store means you have to dress like Renfree used to. I mean, when you worked at the bar you dressed hot!”

“I dressed like a bartender is supposed to dress. Now I own a store. I have to look the part.”

“You have to look like a cat lady?”

“She doesn’t look like a cat lady!” Regan, ever the peace-maker, intervened.

“Yes she does. You’re veering awfully close to polyester pantsuits, woman. Please don’t tell me you threw out your real people clothes.”

“These are real people clothes!” She looked down at the no-nonsense pants and blue sweater she wore. Camila was right: she’d adopted Renfree’s style when she took over the store. And it wasn’t attractive.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Camila pointed at Heather’s pants. “If you have any self-respect you’ll burn those tonight and tomorrow you’ll wear something from the twenty-first century.”

“If you need to update your wardrobe, go to Willow’s. Storm’s got a great selection of new clothes in. We could go together,” Regan said. Storm was Zane’s wife and she lived at Crescent Hall, too. The same aunt who’d come up with all the crazy conditions for Colt and his brothers to inherit the ranch had also given Storm an old store she’d bought for a song, along with the money to fix it up. It was her attempt to anchor Storm to Montana when it seemed likely Storm would want to return to California. The women of Chance Creek were thrilled to have a new clothing store, especially since Storm had a keen eye for up-to-date fashions. Heather knew Regan liked to drum up business for her whenever she could.

“I’ll definitely do that soon. After New Year’s when I get home from Colorado, maybe.”

“Owning Renfree’s is supposed to be your dream,” Camila said. “Why are you acting like it’s a prison sentence?”

Heather was grateful for the change of topic. Even if her store was floundering, it was safer to talk about than Colt. “I think I’m afraid of it,” she admitted, plucking a piece of lint from her sweater in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “What if I crash and burn?”

“Why would you? You know how to run this place,” Regan said.

Heather bit her lip. She lowered her voice. “I haven’t wanted to tell anyone. Sales are down from last year. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Camila narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure Renfree didn’t inflate his books when he showed them to you? Maybe he sold the store because it was going under.”

Heather couldn’t pretend the idea hadn’t occurred to her. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I worked here, remember? The store was much busier last year. I think it’s me. I think the contractors are traveling to Silver Falls instead of buying from me because I’m a woman.”

“Seriously? In this day and age?” Camila looked skeptical. “I guess that explains why you’re trying to look like a man.”

“Camila! I’m not joking. Look around you. Do you see any men in the store?”

Camila scanned the aisles that were all too empty. “I don’t see much of anyone in the store. Are you advertising?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong and something’s got to give or I’m in trouble. Maybe I’m not a businesswoman at all.” She caught Regan’s worried look and rushed to add, “Oh, I’m probably over-dramatizing things. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want her friends to worry.

“If your sales are down, you aren’t over-dramatizing.” Regan was all business. “You know I do consulting on the side. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know I was having trouble.”

“Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. Let’s meet up for coffee when you get home from your trip and brainstorm some ideas.”

“Fila and I could help, too,” Camila said. Fila was Camila’s business partner. Their fusion Afghan and Mexican restaurant in town was so successful they’d had to hire extra help.

“That would be great.” Heather felt a rush of gratitude toward both of them. She’d been so excited when she first bought the store, but now the adrenaline had worn off and the hard work of running the business for years to come pressed down on her. If anyone could help her brainstorm, they could.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook on answering Colt’s ad,” Regan said. “Do it. Tonight.”

‡

C
olt stood up
from his cramped seat and pulled his carry-on bag from the rack overhead. Twenty-four hours ago he’d completed the process that separated him from the Air Force and he’d hopped on a plane early this morning. It took several flights to reach the tiny Chance Creek Regional Airport, but he’d made his connections easily. It felt strange to know that the US military no longer directed his life. He’d jumped out of plenty of aircraft in his time, but always with a parachute—now he was free falling into civilian life and the sensation unnerved him.

He still hadn’t told his brothers he was coming home. In fact, he hadn’t answered any of their messages since the beginning of his last mission—that wild ride on the Afghan border that ended in an extended jaunt behind enemy lines. He’d meant to reconnect with his brothers and mother after he’d been shipped back stateside, but he hadn’t been able to make himself reach out to them, and they were used to him dropping out of view. He simply wasn’t ready to face the past yet and he knew he had to do so before he could build a new future. He’d pretended he was still on a mission—out of reach of any phone or Internet connection—and borrowed himself some more time.

He’d missed Christmas, but it was still two days until New Year’s—at least he’d get to celebrate that holiday in Chance Creek. As he stepped off the plane he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with cold, crisp Montana air.

Inside the airport, renting a car was a hassle as usual, but when he’d loaded his gear and pulled out of the parking lot, traffic thinned out and he had plenty of time to think. He knew he should call ahead and warn his brothers of his arrival, but he couldn’t seem to pick up the phone. Tanner was right; he wasn’t ready to go through with this. When he reached the turn off for Crescent Hall, he hit the gas instead of the brakes.

For miles he tried to force himself to turn around, but his fingers clutched the wheel like a flotation device as he tossed in the stormy seas of his guilt. Colt drove all the way to Billings to try to outrace the pain of his memories. Finally he gave up pretending he would turn back.

He needed more time.

He pulled into the parking lot of the Four Spruces motel off the main strip of Billings, hoping to find a safe haven within the anonymity of its walls. After booking himself in and taking a quick trip down the street to stock up on basic provisions, he returned to the room, took off his coat, sat down heavily on the end of the bed and pulled out his cell phone. Maybe it was best to ease back into civilian existence. He’d start with the messages that had piled up for months.

Most were junk and easily dealt with, although their sheer number meant more than an hour passed while he trashed them. With those cleared away, he started with the messages his family had sent. Some of the news surprised him. He’d known before he left on his mission that Austin had met a woman, but now he found out that they’d married and were expecting a child. Zane had married, too—to a woman named Storm, who was also expecting. He had notes from several of his brothers reminding him it was his turn next.

There was a sweet note from Regan, Mason’s wife, wishing him well and saying she hoped he came home soon. She didn’t nag him to find a wife, and he thought she honestly meant she’d be pleased to see him. Regan was one of the good ones.

After the batch of messages that had come around the time of Zane’s wedding in November the notes thinned out even more, although nearly everyone wrote in early December that they hoped he’d be home for the holidays. Everyone except Austin, that is. He hadn’t written once since August, Colt noted with a frown. Zane, however, wrote frequently throughout the period Colt was incommunicado and some of his messages were downright unnerving.