Ford caught it with his fingers and wiped it away before pressing a lingering kiss against the corner of my mouth. “It’s a risk worth taking.”

  Epilogue

  Ford

  Naked branches bent and swayed in the breeze as I led Summer up what had become a well-worn path. Good thing I’d had her wear a jacket. The calendar might say spring, but the bite in the afternoon air said otherwise.

  “Are we almost there?” she called from behind me.

  I looked back and grinned. “Almost. And no peeking,” I added when her free hand came up to adjust the blindfold I’d tied on before we left. Using our interlocked hands, I guided her around a stump before continuing on.

  A few minutes later we emerged from the wooded path into the open air of the hillside. Our hillside. Without the trees to block it, the wind intensified. It cut across my cheeks and along my neck, raising goose bumps. Or maybe those were a result of the anticipation.

  I’d spent months planning this moment. I didn’t want to screw it up. Or give it away too quickly. Not when I’d gone to such great lengths to surprise her. Even her family was in on it, a fact that I hoped wouldn’t piss her off. I knew Summer hated being the last to know something, but in this case, I hoped her excitement would trump everything else. I hoped her feelings for me would trump it all.

  I’d spent the last five months making up for the first five. Or at least that’s what I told Summer. Anytime I said that, she’d just laugh and say, “There is no making up left to do. Those first five were magical. So is every day since.”

  I had to agree, but I still wanted to prove to her that I would never change my mind about her. Leaving wasn’t even something that crossed my mind. Unless it meant we’d do it together. I’d mentioned flying out to see my parents after this year’s harvest season ended. Summer seemed to like that idea. My parents were chomping at the bit to meet the girl who’d made me stay. I couldn’t wait to show her off. And to tell my dad in person that he’d been right all along.

  It’d been a hard thing to admit, but it was true. Dreams changed. You had to change with them or risk losing it all. It was essentially what Casey had been telling me before I left. Even Dean had been able to see it. I’d just been too stubborn to listen at the time. Thankfully, I’d come around.

  And now I was standing in the best spot I’d found across thirteen states, in Grayson County with the girl of my dreams—with a question on my tongue that made my knees rattle.

  “Now?” she asked as we came to a standstill.

  With a hand on each of her shoulders, I made sure she faced the angle with the best view.

  “Okay, now,” I said.

  I watched as she reached up and slid the blindfold down her face, letting it rest around her throat like a scarf. She blinked against the sunlight and looked around, first in wonder and then in confusion. “Ford,” she said, her brows wrinkling as she took in the familiar skyline with even more familiar landmarks dotting the distance. “Sorry to be such a downer, but this isn’t much of a surprise. We’ve been here a million times.”

  “True,” I said, finding it harder and harder to bite back the grin that threatened to give away my secret. “But you’re seeing it from a new angle today.”

  She turned in a circle, inspecting all directions. “Which angle is that?”

  “The angle of our future bedroom window.”

  “Our future …? What are you talking about?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to give her the speech I’d rehearsed in my mind, but at the sight of her standing there my mind went suddenly blank. What the hell would I do if she said no? I couldn’t walk away from her again. Nothing in the past few months had given me reason to doubt her feelings, but suddenly, I was scared out of my head. Did proposals normally do that? I supposed when you loved someone this much…

  “Um.”

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  Nerves hit me like a freight train, and I swallowed back a bout of nausea. How did men, century after century, get through something like this? I toed the dirt as I finally answered, “I checked it out a while back. This hill we’re standing on is city owned, you know.”

  “I think you told me that once. What does that have to do with a window?”

  I would’ve swallowed but my throat wouldn’t cooperate. I forced myself to meet her gaze. Something in the way she looked at me—with the tiniest of smiles—gave me the courage to forge on. I slipped my hand into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the velvet box I’d hidden there. “I made some calls. It’s not officially listed for sale but everything is available for the right price.” I paused and then gave her the punch line. “I bought the hill.”

  She stared at me, mouth ajar, clearly dumbstruck. “You bought the hill?” she repeated.

  “Your mom helped.”

  “My mom … You’re serious.”

  “Yeah. We close in sixty days.”

  “You … You’re going to build a house?” Clearly, she’d not been expecting this. That made me grin. I’d made a plan—a ginormous monster of a plan—and I’d taken her off-guard. Seeing her speechless made all the preparations and nerves worth it.

  “No. We’re going to build a house,” I corrected.

  “What—?”

  “Summer, shut up for a second,” I said, stepping close to her with a grin wide enough to chase away all the panic I’d felt a moment ago. This was Summer. This was my girl. No question. No doubts.

  She closed her mouth and gave me a wry look, one brow raised. I loved that sarcastic expression of hers. Something deep inside my chest did a flip. I pressed on, talking faster. “These last months with you have been amazing. You’re amazing. Every single day I’m blown away by you—your beauty and passion and the way you see the world. You make me happy. And I want to spend the rest of my life right here making you happy too.”

  “The rest of your life is a long time,” she said.

  “Not if he pisses you off enough.”

  At the sound of Casey’s voice, Summer whirled. One by one, Casey, Dean, Cathy, and Mazie appeared from the trailhead. Summer turned back to me slowly, eyes wide. “Ford … what exactly are you saying?”

  I pulled the velvet box from my pocket and began to lower myself to one knee in the dirt in front of her. “I’m asking you to marry—”

  “Yes!”

  I was halfway between standing and kneeling when she threw her arms around me. Her momentum knocked me backwards, and I barely managed to hang on to her as I tumbled to my back with her above me.

  Summer laughed and looked down at me, her eyes shining with joy so bright my breath caught.

  “You didn’t even let me finish asking the question,” I said.

  “You’ve been asking the question since the day we met,” she said. “My answer’s always been the same.”

  Our lips locked to the sound of her family hooting and cheering behind us. In that moment, risk didn’t exist. Doubt and fear and uncertainty were no longer part of my vocabulary. I had found my new dream. And I was living it.

  *.*.*

  Keep reading for book 3, Casey’s story!

  Copyright ©2013

  Heather Hildenbrand

  A Risk Worth Taking, book 3

  (A Bet Worth Making)

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

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Editing by Kristina Circelli

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  Chapter One

  Jordan

  Two horses were too many for this town.

  That’s what my dad would have said if he’d been alive to see me driving through this tiny little mountain town in western Virginia. One of a thousand country adages he used so regularly that, even though I’d grown up in New England, I could spew like any southerner.

  Between the old-style clapboard storefronts and the raised wooden sidewalks, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see an honest-to-goodness tumbleweed blow across the road. The steam pouring from underneath the hood of my old Nissan was probably obscuring the view.

  I huffed out at a breath, letting the bangs left over from my last salon trip ruffle and settle. At the same time I felt them fall over my brows—time to get a cut—the engine gave a final wheeze and died.

  “Dammit all to kingdom come,” I muttered. Another of Daddy’s favorites. I blinked back the sting of tears, shoving all that aside in favor of the problem at hand.

  I managed to coast the old beater to the shoulder before it finally came to what I had a feeling would be its final resting place—especially if the burnt smell was any indication. I thought back to the last sign I’d seen on the county route I’d exited. Grayson. I was on the outskirts of a tiny little town called Grayson County.

  I double checked the map I’d brought—a paper map, which the gas station clerk had offered when he’d pointed out how horrible cell reception was out here. Glad I’d listened. I was still about ten miles out from my initial destination where I’d meet with a client tomorrow. Another fifteen after that from my second—and real—reason for leaving my home in Connecticut for this tiny little hick town in the middle of nowhere and … well, I hadn’t really intended to go there today.

  In fact, if I could’ve avoided John and Sharon DeWalter forever I would do so gladly. But I’d made a promise. To the one person I knew I could never let down. Still, I didn’t intend to make the rest of the trip on foot.

  I re-folded the map.

  “Close enough,” I said on another sigh. Seemed I was destined to do a lot of heavy breathing on this trip.

  I got out of the car, trying my best to ignore the oppressive sunshine that seemed way too hot for May and way too concentrated for the northern tip of the south and popped my hood for a look at anything salvageable. It would’ve been a better idea had I known what I was staring at.

  Steam rose, escaping in thin tufts between cracks until the moment I pulled the sheet of metal upward. The heavy cloud thickened and encased me like the aftermath of a mini-bomb. Or, at least that’s what it felt like as I coughed and hacked the smoke back out of my lungs.

  “You okay?”

  I whirled and found a guy around my own age, broad-shouldered and jean-clad, watching me with concern. He was a few years older than me, good-looking in a quiet sort of way, with kind eyes. His smile was easygoing and straightforward with no trace of flirting, and for that I was glad. I’d had enough of that at various stops along the road.

  He was simply friendly.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I managed as the haze of smoke rolling off my engine finally cleared.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  I faltered. According to my parents who’d grown up here, people in these towns tended to know their neighbors, and I wasn’t quite ready for a homecoming just yet.

  “Jordan. I—just Jordan. And you are…?”

  “Ford O’Neal.”

  If he was put off by my awkward introduction, he didn’t show it. “I was coming out of the hardware store and saw your engine trouble.” He gestured first to a clapboard shop on the corner with blue peeling paint and then back to my deceased Nissan.

  Back home in New England, the sight of a guy showing up roadside unannounced would make me wary. But here, and underneath the brilliance of the sun and his open smile, I felt relaxed. Either that or Small Town Syndrome was kicking in. Something in me wanted to trust people.

  I kicked at the car. “Yeah. I think it’s finally breathed its last.”

  He gestured with a nod. “Frank’s place is on the hill. Best garage around. Maybe they can revive it.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” I agreed. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Can I give you a lift?”

  “Uh, no, I’ve got it. I think my legs could use a stretch anyway, thanks.” I moved away, already walking so he couldn’t insist. Good-looking or not, girls didn’t get into strange trucks with guys. I could practically hear my mother lecturing about that one.

  “Straight up that way. And good luck,” Ford said, nodding up the gravel hill before heading to a vintage Chevy truck. I watched as he fired it up, backed out. He waved one last time. I raised my hand to return the gesture and watched him drive off, spitting a cloud of dust. His vehicle ran, dammit.

  Resigned and determined not to sigh any more today, I swiped my bangs aside and started up the hill. Then I doubled back and grabbed my phone and my bag before resuming my trek. While I walked, I dialed Gavin.

  “Hello?” a male voice said.

  “Fourth ring. I thought I had you that time,” I said.

  “I told you I’ll always answer for you. What’s up? Did you find the place where your client lives?”

  “Yeah, I found it,” I told him, already breathless halfway up the hill. Damn, it was hot. “Or, the town anyway.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s small. Like, miniscule.” The phone was already sweaty against my ear.

  “One horse?” he asked.

  I snorted. “Half a horse.”

  Gavin chuckled. “I’ve always wondered what half a horse looked like.”

  I didn’t bother responding. I was too busy focusing on not passing out. Since when was May in Virginia the seventh circle of hell?

  “You okay?” he asked. “You sound winded.”

  “The Nissan might’ve gone to sedan heaven. I’m walking to the local mechanic to get a second opinion.”

  “Well, shit, sis … You loved that car.”

  I kicked at a rock, hating how the loss of my car brought up other feelings of loss. Like losing Dad six months ago to cancer. How did a car possibly compare? And why did I always want to cry at the worst times? “I know,” I mumbled, not trusting my voice.

  “Too bad you build houses, not cars, or you could fix it yourself.” Someone stirred on Gavin’s end of the line, decidedly female, but Gavin shushed her. “You need me to come there?”

  I ignored Gavin’s companion, too used to it by now. “No. It’s fine. We’d already decided this is for me. It just puts me here a little longer, maybe, but it doesn’t change the facts. I’m here to work and to see Sharon and John and … put it to rest.” At the top of the hill I sucked in a deep gulp of air and resisted the urge to bend at the waist or wheeze. “I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

  Gavin hesitated. “All right, but keep me posted. You know if you need me, I’ll put in leave and be there before you can say ‘your favorite brother.’”

  “Gav, you’re my only brother.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not the best.” I rolled my eyes at that but Gavin lowered his voice to add, “Seriously, just stay in touch, okay?”

  “Okay.” My stomach cramped at the thought of doing this alone, but I shoved it aside like I’d been doing. I was here—to see a family that hadn’t wanted me to begin with. And I was doing it alone because that’s what Dad had wanted.

  “No matter what, I love you. Don’t forget it.”

  “Ditto.” I disconnected and squared my shoulders, determined not to be beaten by the weather—at least on day one. I wasn’t sure if global warming had suddenly taken a bad turn or if this kind of humidity was normal out here.

  Nearing the top of the hill, I spotted the sign that advertised Frank’s. I regarded the garage critically and decided that, although he might be a nice guy, Ford O’Neal definitely used the term “garage” loosely. This place was one windstorm away from a pile of lumber.

  The roof sagged but only in the middle, like the weight of the center was too much and had bowed it into a pathetic half-moon shape. The red paint—now faded to a not unpleasant shade of rust—was peeling and, from the looks of it, had been applied directly to untreated wood nailed to the front as a finishing layer. A couple of small windows, too murky to see anything through, were cut into the front on either side of the doorway, which was barred only by a thin screen on hinges. Was “summer camp” the architectural theme in Grayson County?

  A bay door was open around the corner, but I couldn’t see inside from where I stood. And I probably didn’t need to. No way was I letting this place anywhere near my car, deceased or not.

  Banging sounded from inside the garage followed closely by the whir of a power tool of some kind. I flinched at the sudden noise cutting through the silence of midday. Damn, it was even too hot for insects and birds to disturb the air.

  And where were the townspeople? Didn’t places like this have a lot of pedestrians out and about? Where were the nosy old ladies and men chewing on hay or whatever?

  My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, scolding me for that last one. But I couldn’t help it. All of the small town stereotypes I’d ever seen in movies were already coming true and I hadn’t been here ten minutes.

  The power tool went suddenly silent and I caught the sound of a low buzzing coming from the other end of the shack. I searched and my eyes lit up. A window AC unit hung from a sad wooden frame, the glass propped open by the boxed machine itself. A steady drip-drip of water fell from the bottom where the condensation gathered.