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Prologue
Springtime, Montana
Nash Westbrook flinched. That sucker punch caught him every time. The one to it, but he thanked the universe every day that he wasn’t; that he knew he never would be. And after experiencing that jolt almost daily for the past year—specifically every time he locked eyes on Joanna Halligan—he’d never once doubted those instincts.
He’d slipped quietly up onto the ranch house porch, more than happy to snatch time to just watch her unobserved, to soak up every nuance of her, every graceful movement. Storing images, building memories to hold close.
Settled against a near post, he’d pushed back his hat—appreciating the view—and the crushing heaviness in his heart momentarily abated.
Only momentarily.
Because there was nothing on this earth that could completely distract him from the note in his jacket pocket. The message. A flimsy piece of paper, yet he could have been carrying bricks and the load would have felt lighter.
Her back now to him, she was fussing with some outsized ceramic tubs she’d had him place along the edge of the porch. Huge, glossy bright red ones that, come summer in a month or so, would be home to an abundance of yellow-eyed daisies.
They’d be a sight.
But not as beautiful as the sight before him.
The flowers would be amazing, just as she’d described, and it was a pity he wouldn’t be here to see them. She, however, was breathtaking.
Poetic notions weren’t his strength, as attested by the fact he’d never even known how to describe the color of her hair—now pulled up into a bouncy ponytail that trailed over one slender shoulder. Not black, not brown exactly. Maybe somewhere between the two, but then those streaks of gold? Sunkissed? The thought almost made him smile. Maybe he was more poetic than he’d credited himself.
Since the moment they’d met, he’d been determined to prove he was the man for her, and every subsequent day he’d pinched himself that she’d agreed—that he could be so lucky. Joanna Halligan. His sweet Joey. Sassy, strong, opinionated, kind, generous. So many parts of her—and he loved and cherished every one.
She suddenly shifted. From squatting she was now leaning over, right forward, those close-fitting jeans perfectly outlining her perky little butt currently offering a saucy wriggle—and a grin he hadn’t felt capable of just moments before he’d arrived, now spread wide.
She knew he was there.
“Enjoying the view?”
The words floated over to him, and they were all it had taken to propel him into motion. In three strides he had his arms around her, turning her to him, smiling down into the dark eyes sparkling back up at him with mischief.
“Every show needs an audience, darlin’.”
Her eyes continued to dance. “A show, huh? You think I was putting on a show? For you?”
“You know it.”
“Now, why would I do that?” Raising one cheeky eyebrow, she tilted her head back further, and he watched that sassy mischief morph into something else. Her eyes softened, darkened, as they held his gaze. She wound her arms up over his shoulders, curled her hands behind his neck, her fingers teasing the hair at his nape and his body tightened. “Though maybe I know the answer to that…”
The words had been little more than a brush of air fluttering between them. An invitation and promise issued in those few words. And Lord help him, they were almost his undoing.
He closed his eyes, pulling Joey tighter to him, his hand gently caressing her nape as she nestled her face against his chest, seemingly content to be just in this moment with him.
He’d never expected this. Never believed he’d feel a love like this. Never hoped to have it returned so fiercely. Never believed this kind of happiness existed. But that, he’d learned, was Joey Halligan—she may not ever be a pushover, but when she gave, she gave her all.
He’d marveled over that piece of good fortune so many times. Never expected when he’d moseyed into Marietta to check out a couple of potential ranches for sale that he’d find everything he’d ever want or need in that pretty little town.
He’d meant to stay a couple of days. He’d stayed more than a year and a half. Now, in light of recent events, perhaps he’d stayed too long. Now his presence could only hurt her.
Before that shadow had darkened their lives, he’d long ago accepted that even if everything else hadn’t fallen into place, finding Joanna Halligan would always have been enough.
That one word was another twist to his gut. Always. They’d both said it. Both meant it, felt it…
Nash had been about to formalize it; ask her to marry him.
Ask her to be with him, beside him forever. Always…
She would have said yes.
And now? Now he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. He loved her too much. Part of him railed against what he needed to do; argued that he was giving in to the enemy—something he’d never been guilty of in his life. But this time was different; this time it was about Joey.
He would not put her in danger. Could not risk that.
The lump now clogging his throat tightened. Bitterness at the injustice of what was happening traced an acidic trail right through his chest.
Mail Fraud. Illegally procuring money from innocent people. Something any decent person would find deplorable—a cowardly, cruel, and sinister act. That he’d somehow been suspected of something so lowly still sickened him.
That he was completely innocent made no difference in the court of public opinion. And so, for the lack of a real culprit, Nash was paying the price.
Joey knew about the threats; he hadn’t hidden them from her—would have been difficult to do otherwise when some of them had been in the form of graffiti and other damage to his vehicle. And really, right then she knew almost as much of the reason for them as he did, which wasn’t all that much, but still what he knew he’d shared.
This time things had to be different. This threat was different. She didn’t need those images in her head, the nightmares that would ensue.
He also wouldn’t be dragging the sheriff into this one. They’d done all they could. He’d deal with this himself. But he couldn’t fight it from here. He needed to be far away from her, both to keep her safe and to focus on clearing his name. And to do that all he needed to do was identify the guilty party.
Yeah, easy right?
The odds against fulfilling that task weighed heavily—but supported his decision to leave. Joey would be safe; her brothers would see to that.
Nash would keep digging; keep asking questions. He’d had his lawyers on it since his name had been dragged into this scandal, and they’d so far drawn blanks. They weren’t alone. The authorities hadn’t fared any better with their investigations. He had his suspicions, strong suspicions, but by God, if he was right, then this was even more dangerous, because the person ultimately responsible would love to see him nailed for this. A man whose guilt would be nigh on impossible to prove.
Initially Nash had believed the focus on himself would die away—basically through lack of solid evidence or substance. All that had changed with this note. Just one single page. That’s all it was—all that was needed to raise the stakes. It had worked.
One anonymous message left on the windshield: one threat that made all the others look like child’s play. Parked now against his chest, it burned its way through him. And the irony of it sitting right near his heart wasn’t lost on him, either.
Holding Joey close to him, he scanned the horizon. Was someone watching them? Bizarrely, that thought wasn’t near as disturbing as the message the note had contained.
Bile burned his throat as the words replayed on a loop through his rage infused haze. Words no one should have to read. Ever.
If it had merely targeted himself, he may have viewed it differently, but this time it hadn’t been just him in their sights. They, whoever they were, had accurately targeted his Achilles heel, his one vulnerable spot. Aimed for the one thing that mattered in his life. Joanna Halligan.
And the note told him exactly what they intended to do to her.
His jaw clenched. He needed to punch something, anything and his fists itched. Instead, he hauled in air, focused on breathing until he could once more see through his red-hot rage.
He’d considered one option—a wild one. One he’d wrestled ever since he’d opened that damned note, and hinged on his first instinct to get her out of here, convince her to leave. They could live wherever they wanted, and live well—be together.
But, no matter how much he wanted that, forcing her to choose between family and him wasn’t something he could do, so the option was tossed to the side even before it had grown proper legs.
No, he was the problem. Not her. Which left just one course of action.
He had to go.
He’d need to be vague; blame the threats without specifics. Joey was a fighter, she’d put up her own arguments, but his mind was made up. Tough love? Inwardly he scoffed. The term didn’t even come close.
He tipped his head back and stared at the expanse of blue Montana sky, and the fear began building within him once more.
Joey shifted, lifted up on tiptoes—even in heeled boots it was a stretch for her to reach him, and he lowered his head. Her lips were cloud soft as they pressed against his. The kiss was light and all the sweeter for it.
“I can hear your thoughts twirling. You okay?” Her voice, light, soft, so filled with concern, arrowed through him.
His response was to find her mouth again, this time deepening the kiss, pouring all his love into it, worrying instead that all the anguish inside him would flow out in to her.
But when they finally paused for air, her eyes were bright and beaming so much love back at him it stole his breath. “I love you,” she whispered, just like she did a dozen times a day when they were together.
He rested his forehead against hers, struggling to force out the words building inside of him. “I love you too, darlin’. So much it’s like I’m going to explode.” He cleared his throat. “And I need you to remember that; that I’ll always love you—that I’ll never stop.”
“Nash?” A little frown fluttered across her brow. His fingers gently traced the lines; tried to smooth it away. “Are you okay?”
He momentarily closed his eyes, unable to look into hers right then.
It’s said human hearts don’t really break. That was a fallacy. He was living proof that they did. Right then he knew—they ache, they tear, and they can feel like they’ll never be whole again. Never be put back together.
Worse, he was about to inflict the same pain on Joey.
He was about to break the heart of the one person he’d never ever wanted to hurt.
He’d go. It was the only way. He’d be the bad guy in the eyes of those who loved her, and would help her get over him. He’d wear it, do it—leave, disappear—because that would convince others that she was no target.
He’d get this fixed, no matter how long it took, and then return to her—and hope like hell she’d still want him.
End of Excerpt
