Nestled into his arm, Lauren didn’t feel anything but warmth. “I love you, Brock.”

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “Dad, it looks like snow.” Tabitha let go of Brock’s hand and ran down Acorn Street with her arms outstretched, the petals from the cherry trees floating lazily in the air around her like a pink-themed snow globe. She ran back to him and stopped to scoop up a handful of the silky pink petals.

  “It does look like snow,” he agreed. The air was full of the swirling petals and he brushed one off his shoulder. “It smells a lot nicer though,” he added.

  Tabitha buried her nose in the petals, nodded, then tossed them into the air and slid her hand back into Brock’s. They turned onto Main Street and Tabitha started to skip, jostling Brock’s hand. Never in a million years did he think he’d find such joy in the small things. The feel of a little palm holding onto his, the smell of spring, and the sense of belonging to a community. He had only lived in Chance Rapids for six months, but he’d never felt more at home.

  “Brock,” Charlie shouted as he and Tabitha stepped onto the construction site. “Back here.”

  “Careful, Tabby,” Brock said. He plunked a pink hard hat, one that he’d special ordered, onto her head. They made their way to the back of the soon-to-be brewery, stepping around piles of sawdust and electrical supplies.

  There had been some growing pains when Brock first moved into Lauren’s house. The biggest challenge had been explaining why he’d been absent from Tabitha’s life for the first ten years. They had decided to go with the truth. He didn’t know and he couldn’t be found. He worried that she might be angry with him, but the girl didn’t have a resentful bone in her body. Maybe if they had waited until she was a teenager, she would’ve been dramatic about the whole thing, but all Tabitha wanted was a father in her life and he was happy to step into that role.

  A loud miter saw screamed at the same time as a drill started up and Brock handed Tabitha an ear protection headset. “Really, Dad?” She rolled her eyes. He grabbed a second pair from the hook on the wall and put them on his own ears; teaching by example. Freddie was pulling wire through the steel studs and waved to the duo as they walked by.

  Charlie was in the back office, a makeshift space with a folding table and a couple of worn leather chairs.

  From the first taste of Charlie’s brew, Brock knew that it was a winner, and he decided to give Charlie a loan to start his still to be named Brewpub.

  Brock jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see the beautiful smile of his fiancée. “Hi, baby.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. He didn’t think there would ever be a day that he would tire of kissing Lauren.

  “Ewww.” Tabitha wrinkled her nose and ran off to tour the brewhouse with Charlie.

  Lauren and Brock were both early risers, and with a kid in the house, had adapted to making love sweetly and quietly in the hours before dawn. This morning he had been having an amazing dream about sky diving, something he’d always wanted to do. The adrenaline had been surging through his body, and sky diving felt like the most amazing thing he’d ever done. He had slowly been roused from his dream to realize that his fiancée’s lips around his cock had provided the sensation for his dream, and the excitement of sky diving paled in comparison to the reality of coming hard and fast with Lauren’s brown eyes staring up at him. He had practically ripped the post of her bed in half holding in his groan as his cock twitched between her lips. She had kissed him and left him panting in bed.

  “Thanks for this morning,” he whispered in her ear.

  She smacked him on the arm and pulled one of the earmuffs from his head, “You’re yelling.” Her face was flushed red. Lauren presented as a prude, and Brock loved the fact that only he knew what a wildcat she was in the bedroom. He pulled her back in tightly and nipped her ear. “I’ll get you back later.” He looked around and then slapped her ass. She shot him a look, but he knew that she loved it. He let his hand rest on the curve of her lower back. “Did you see the article?”

  “I did,” she said. She took the paper from his hand and folded it in half.

  “Wait, I didn’t get the chance to read it,” he said.

  “No need. It just said the usual stuff.” She shoved the paper into her overflowing leather briefcase and bit her lower lip. That’s when Brock knew that she was hiding something from him. He snatched the paper out of her bag. The front page featured the article about the brewery, no big deal there. He opened the paper and saw his name in the headline of a story on the second page: Caldwell fights back. His eyes scanned the article, it wasn’t about him. It was about his father. Caldwell International’s application had been defeated, but somehow his father had managed to escape the racketeering charges.

  “Do you think he’ll try again?” Lauren asked.

  Brock shook his head. “I don’t know. But if that son a bitch tries anything, he’ll have to go through me.”

  Since severing ties with Caldwell International, Brock had only communicated with his father through his solicitor, Barry Birkner. He had been prepared to walk away from everything for Lauren, and she was willing to take his sorry broke ass, just the way he was. They had both been shocked when they found out that Brock’s mom had out-savvied his dad, and that half of Caldwell’s billion-dollar fortune was Brock’s. That week the Conservation Authority received an anonymous million-dollar donation and the idea for the craft brewery and restaurant was born.

  Lauren took the paper from his hands and reached around to grab his ass in both of her hands, pulling his hips to hers. Instant hard-on. She squeezed. Raging hard-on. She winked at him, “You know it gets me turned on when you talk like that.” She slapped his ass and then stepped away. “Got to get to work,” she grinned.

  “You…” He adjusted himself in his pants and rubbed the stinging spot on his butt. He pursed his lips at the little tease.

  She started to walk away but turned as if she’d forgotten something. “Did you see that they’ve started renovating the shop next door?”

  “I saw that there was paper on the windows. Do you know what’s going in there?” he asked.

  Charlie and Tabitha returned to the office. “Going in where?” Charlie asked.

  “The space next door. Lauren said that they’ve started renovations.”

  “Better not be a brewery,” Charlie muttered.

  The drilling paused. “Flower shop,” Freddie yelled.

  “Come on, really?” Charlie laughed. “A flower shop? That will last five minutes.”

  “Hopefully, at least ten,” a soft voice said. Everyone turned to look at the front door. A petite blond woman had opened the door and stood halfway inside the building. “I was just coming to introduce myself.”

  Charlie sucked in his breath and Brock raised his eyebrows at him. He had never seen Charlie be anything but calm and collected.

  “I’m Emma.” The woman gave a wave from the doorway.

  “Nice to meet you, Emma,” Freddie said and continued pulling wire.

  Emma clasped her hands in front of her as if she didn’t know what to do next.

  “Come on in, Emma.” Brock gave an exaggerated wave. As she approached, Brock stuck out his hand. “I’m Brock and this is my daughter, Tabitha.” Emma smiled and shook both of their hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  “And this is my business partner.” He turned to introduce Charlie, but he had disappeared. “Charlie…” his voice petered out. “I guess he had to go.”

  “I just wanted to introduce myself,” she said. “I’m new to town.”

  “Welcome,” Brock said. “Most people here are friendly.” He couldn’t believe that Charlie had just fucked off. It was very out of character. The man had been nothing but professional up until that very moment.

  “Thanks,” Emma smiled. “Anyway, I should go. I have to meet my realtor.”

  “Is it my auntie Charlotte?” Tabitha asked.

  “Is your auntie’s last name O’Hare?” the woman smiled. Tabitha nodded enthusiastically. “Then yes, I’m on my way to meet your aunt.”

  “You’re in good hands,” Brock said. “Hey, by any chance do you have a business card?”

  The woman smiled sheepishly, “Not yet.”

  “You’ll get it all sorted out soon enough.” He smiled warmly. “I’ll tell my fiancée to come and see you, last I heard, we still needed flowers.”

  Their wedding was on hold until the brewery was finished. It was going to be the first big event held in the new space. “I’d be happy to meet with her,” Emma smiled. “I’m working from home until my shop is done. Which, fingers crossed, should be ready in a month but I’ve heard that might be optimistic.”

  “The local tradespeople are notoriously slow. Especially the electrical guy,” Brock said.

  “Hey,” Freddie laughed.

  “Just checking to see if you’re listening in to everything we’re saying,” Brock laughed.

  Freddie pulled the trigger on the drill, interrupting Brock, a wry smile on his face.

  Emma said goodbye and hurried out of the construction site to meet Charlotte. Brock turned to see Charlie emerge from the storage room. “Is she gone?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Tabitha said. “She’s gone.”

  Charlie’s face was white, and he looked visibly shaken.

  “What’s wrong with you, man?” Brock asked. “That was pretty rude.”

  Charlie rubbed his beard and shook his head. “I think I know her – and if I do, it’s not in a good way...”

  If you liked A Secret Chance, you’ll LOVE Reckless Chances.

  Click HERE to get Book 5 in the Chance Rapids Series.

  Reckless Chances

  Chance Rapids Book 5

  One

  Six Months Earlier

  Emma rushed to her car, her hand gripping the collar of her puffy coat to keep the biting January wind from her neck. She tossed her messenger bag on the passenger seat of her Volkswagen Golf, started the engine, and rubbed her hands together while she waited for the heater to clear the windshield enough for her to drive home.

  What a waste of the morning. She had braved the icy roads to get to her university classes, only to discover that they had both been canceled. With an unexpected free day ahead of her, she could have stayed at the university and studied, but as the ice turned to snow, she decided the best and safest place to be would be home.

  What was typically a thirty-minute drive had taken two and a half hours, and Emma sighed heavily as she pulled into the driveway. She clicked the garage door opener and was surprised to see her fiancé’s red BMW parked inside. That’s weird she thought and then smiled, hopped out of the car, and rushed inside.

  “Adam, I’m home.” She looped her keys onto their hook by the door and peeled out of her steamy down jacket. The house was silent. “Adam?” she shouted and kicked off her boots, wincing as they left muddy drops beside the tray. Her fiancé was a neat freak, and even though she wanted to rush to see him, to give him a giant hug after her harrowing drive down the interstate, she knew better than to leave what he would call a nightmarish mess, on the floor. She grabbed a couple of paper towels, swiped up the muddy drops, and wiped down the boot tray for good measure.

  “Adam?” As she ran up the carpeted stairs of their townhome, she heard the whine of the shower as the water was turned on. She glanced into Adam’s office, expecting to see piles of reports, but it looked untouched.

  Steam poured into the hallway as she cracked the door to the bathroom open. “Babe?”

  Adam pulled the white fabric shower curtain back and peered out at her. “What are you doing home so early?”

  His hair was sticking straight up like a mohawk. “Nice hair, sexy.” She smiled and stepped into the bathroom. “The highway just closed. Classes are canceled for today, and probably tomorrow.” She stepped to the side of the tub and kissed his wet lips. “Maybe I should join you.” She reached for the top button of her blouse.

  “You know I don’t like that. One of us is always cold.” He closed the curtain. She did know, she was just hoping that today he might want her in there with him. She sighed. Adam wasn’t overly affectionate; it was something she told herself she’d just have to get used to. He shouted above the water, “Are all the roads closed?” Emma bent down to pick up his clothes from the floor and then paused. He had left before she did this morning, he should know the state of the roads. She didn’t say what she was thinking but felt a sinking feeling in her gut. “The interstate was closed behind me. I’m not too sure about number four.” He traveled south to work, she north.

  As she headed to the laundry room, the rumpled sheets on their bed brought her determined march to a screeching halt. She stepped inside the room slowly. The bed had been made when she left – of that she was certain.

  She had made it.

  It was now a rumpled mess. The crisp white sheets she had meticulously flattened were bunched at the bottom of the bed and the throw cushions tossed haphazardly onto the floor. The hair went up on the back of her neck and she felt like the world shifted into slow motion.

  She leaned into the hallway to ensure that the shower was still running and then dropped the hamper beside her. What did sex smell like? She couldn’t bring herself to smell the sheets but brought her nose to the pillows and inhaled. She pursed her lips and tried again, detecting nothing out of the ordinary, they smelled like Adam’s antibacterial soap and his head and shoulders shampoo.

  “What’s are you doing?”

  Emma dropped the pillow and stood. “I’m going to make the bed,” she pulled at the sheet. “Or wash the sheets.” She nodded towards the hamper on the floor.

  “It’s okay. I can do it.” He smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

  Adam never did laundry.

  “Adam, what’s going on?”

  He had pulled the towel from his waist and was aggressively drying his thinning hair. “What do you mean?”

  Emma used to find his perfectly shaved body attractive, but now as he stood in front of her, milky and flaccid, he reminded her of a piece of raw chicken. “I made the bed this morning.” She tried to keep the waver out of her voice.

  “Oh.” His face went blank and then he gave her a huge perfect veneer smile. “Oh, Emma.” His smile unnerved her.

  “Why is the bed a mess?” The waver was there no matter how hard she tried to keep her voice strong.

  “I had a headache and came home to sleep it off.” He stepped toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He nuzzled into her neck, but she shrugged him away. His smile disappeared and his eyes flashed dark. “Wait, you didn’t think…”

  “I didn’t,” Emma interrupted. Adam was hot-headed, and although in the two years they’d been together he’d never lashed out physically, but he was quick to yell. She could see the redness rising from the stubble between his pecs. “I was just wondering if I was losing my mind, that’s all.” She put on a smile but knew her lips were quivering. Was it enough to placate him?

  He kissed her on the neck, and she let him. “Good. I love you, Em.”

  “I love you too,” she murmured. Maybe he was telling the truth. The man was prone to migraines, after all. Why was she being so crazy?

  A glance at the laundry basket told her that the white load was going to be too small. Might as well wash the sheets anyway, she said to herself. She balled the top sheet and tossed it into the basket, and then tugged at the fitted corners.

  “I said I’d do that.” Adam stepped out of the walk-in closet, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a cotton golf shirt, his standard casual outfit. The man didn’t own comfy clothes.

  “It’s okay. I need some more for the whites.” She tossed the sheet and pillowcases into the basket, kissed him on the lips, and he grabbed her ass as she kept walking. She usually loved it when he showed random acts of affection, but today, she stiffened.

  As she walked to the laundry room, she shook her head. She didn’t believe in women’s intuition. She was a business student, she believed in facts and numbers, so she saw the gnawing feeling in her gut as an annoyance, a weakness that she had to ignore.

  She measured the liquid detergent and started stuffing the laundry into the washing machine, cursing herself for jumping to such a rash conclusion. She and Adam were engaged, there were stacks of wedding magazines piled on her side of the nightstand. As if to remind her, the engagement ring clicked against the side of the machine as she shoved the sheets inside.

  But then a flash of pink caught her eye as a lone sock fell to the floor. She picked it up with two fingers and looked at it like she didn’t know what it was. Cute little watermelon slices with eyes stared back at her. And that was the day she started believing in intuition.

  It wasn’t her sock.

  The room started to tilt, and she grabbed onto the washing machine to steady herself.

  “Everything okay?” Adam was behind her.

  She shoved the sock into her pocket. “Everything’s fine.” She managed to speak between gritted teeth. She jabbed at the washing machine and waited to hear the hiss of the water before heading downstairs. As she passed through the kitchen, Adam’s back was to her as he made a cup of espresso. The machine whirred and clunked as she pulled her still damp jacket from the hanger and shoved her arms into its sleeves. She slipped on her heavy winter boots with the fake fur and knelt to do up the laces.

  “Where are you going?” His eyes glanced at the tread marks she was leaving on the white tile.

  “Out.”

  She waited until she had navigated her car out of the garage and down the slippery driveway before she let herself fall apart. She drove around the cul-de-sac and when she passed their townhome Adam was standing at the end of the driveway, his hands upturned, and his brow furrowed. He motioned for her to stop the car, but she didn’t. The tires spun as she stepped on the gas pedal, dirty road slush spraying out behind her as she fishtailed away from her life.