Chapter One
Showdown time.
Mallory Able stood at the cash register and looked out the front windows of her shop to the main street beyond. An hour passed and still she waited . . . and waited. Customers came in and out all day but she stood watch for one in particular. Not even a customer, really. The guy who slept with her, made her believe then slinked away before the sheets cooled.
Walker Reeves, all buttoned up and proper in his dark business suits. All hot and naughty underneath. A gigantic jackass.
If the rumors were true he’d walked back into town the night before. Not that he called her or anything. But she’d been engaged in a mental countdown to their inevitable meeting ever since. The plan was simple: spot him then punch him. Some of the gnawing in her gut subsided whenever she visualized following through on that.
But so far the only people in the store belonged there. Female customers sat around the long table that ran the length of the open middle area of Gossamer, her arts and crafts shop. Thanks to the scrapbooking class, supplies covered every inch of the scarred wood top. The chatter rose and fell along with the laughter and exchange of gossip. The women passed a coffeepot around and told stories. Others mingled in the book aisles.
On any other day Mallory would have loved the activity, sat back and enjoyed the warmth and welcoming atmosphere she’d created. After a lifetime of living on the fringes and feeling left out, Gossamer gave her a purpose. A home.
Thinking about Walker gave her a headache. Conjuring up the memories of those months together caused a few others parts of her to hurt, too. She refused to let that pain swamp her.
He wanted out of whatever they had together, fine. But he should have walked out like a man, telling her it was over and saving her some dignity. Instead, he went with hiding and failing to return her calls for a month.
The chimes at the top of the door signaled a newcomer. Mallory held her breath as her gaze zipped to the entrance. Maybe he’d finally crawled back . . . but no.
A breeze ushered in Grace Pruitt, Mallory’s newest friend and one of Sweetwater, Oregon’s most recent residents. And a constant reminder of Walker. They’d once worked together at the FBI and shared a bond. After he left town so abruptly, Grace had stood up for Walker and apologized for his behavior. But as the days passed without a word even she stopped trying to defend him. Which was good, because Mallory’s patience for hearing about what a good guy he was had run out on about day three after his departure.
The bright sunshine warmed the cool nip of the early fall wind and put a rosy glow on Grace’s cheeks. So did nearly five months of pregnancy.
Mallory was half surprised Grace wandered in alone. These days Callen Hanover, her boyfriend and the baby’s father, stuck close. The overprotective thing wasn’t new for the guy but even Mallory, who shared a difficult history with Callen, had to admit seeing him all twisted up and rushing around to watch over Grace at every turn was kind of cute.
So was the thing where he proposed to Grace and she told him “not yet.” Mallory loved that part. Sure, Callen had lived through a lot of crap thanks to Charlie Hanover, his con-man father, but the guy tended to get all bossy. Seeing him brought to his knees by Grace . . . well, that was just about the only thing that made Mallory smile these days.
Grace stripped off her scarf as she walked. Her long auburn hair bounced around her shoulders and her skin shined all pink and healthy, likely from a severe case of happiness. She was tall and beautiful. Except for an adorable belly bulge that looked like she swallowed a basketball, she looked long and lean. Enough to turn more than one male head in Sweetwater. Something else Mallory found amusing since Callen did not.
The thin jacket stayed on and Grace rubbed her hands together as if it were ten degrees outside. Probably had more to do with the fact she wore a skirt and cowboy boots than the fifty-degree temps.
“Half of Sweetwater is in here.” Grace smiled as she dumped her bag on the counter and rested her palms on either side of it.
“The female half.” Moving here after college had been a risk but it had paid off. Mallory owned a business and slowly, month by month, year after year, more people in town and the surrounding county viewed Gossamer as a comfortable place to gather. Finally, Mallory fit in somewhere.
Grace waved to two older women sitting at the end of the long table. The same two women who spent most of their afternoons hanging out in Gossamer, listening to conversations and buying something here and there.
“I don’t know a lot of men around here who like to scrapbook,” she said.
“But they are as good at gossiping as any woman I know.” As far as Mallory could tell that affliction was going around. “Which is why you’re here, I’m guessing.”
“I’m here because Callen turned in time to see my boot slip on the bottom step at the house this morning and threatened to carry me everywhere for the next four months.” Grace shook her head as she pointed to the tea collection on the coffee and snack counter behind Mallory. “The man is going to coddle me to death.”
If any man could do it, it would be Callen Hanover. Mallory would put money on that.
She grabbed the canister of loose peach tea, Grace’s favorite, and put it all together. Filled the French press and let it steep before pressing the plunger down. “He’s an interesting mix of bossy and caring.”
Grace rolled her eyes as she sat on the stool on the opposite side of the counter. “He’s lost his mind.”
Love did that to a man, or so Mallory heard. “That, too.”
Tall, handsome, devoted, and up until a month ago as broken a man as Mallory had ever seen. Callen spent most of his childhood being dragged around by his idiot father, separated from the woman he thought was his mother and from his brothers, Declan and Beckett, who everyone referred to as Beck. The life put a chip on Callen’s shoulder that they’d all been taking shots at ever since he landed in Sweetwater to claim the falling-down mansion of a house he and his brothers inherited from their paternal grandmother.
Now that Mallory knew Callen’s big secret, that he and Walker were also brothers, that they shared the same birth parents even though they never shared a life or knew about each other growing up, the pieces fell together in Mallory’s head. Everything made sense even though she had to hear the news from third parties since Callen hadn’t known and Walker never bothered to tell her.
Yeah, no doubt about it. Callen and Walker were two controlling and mysterious peas in a dysfunctional pod.
Lucky her for getting mixed up with this family. That would teach her to get reeled in by dark hair, dark brown eyes and a dark, brooding personality. Walker Reeves . . . just thinking about him made her hands curl into fists.
Rather than come out hitting, Mallory poured Grace’s tea and pushed the mug in front of her. Grace sat quietly and stared. Wore one of those knowing smiles that had Mallory bracing for battle. She sensed the next few minutes could get tense and frustrating.
Grace stirred her tea. Made a big show of banging the spoon on the side of her mug after adding a little honey. “While we’re talking about Walker—”
Here we go. “We’re not.”
“He’s back.”
“I know. Leah told me.” Leah Baron, Mallory’s best friend since college and the sole reason Mallory had gotten tied up with the Hanover clan and, by extension, Walker. She wondered if it would be easier to move than try to separate from the weird family dynamic happening at Shadow Hill, the Hanovers’ inherited house.
She also made a mental note never to get mixed up with a family that owned a house with a name. Because, really, who named a house? That would be like her calling the mobile home she once lived in ‘Stella.’ Just plain weird.
“Nobody has actually seen Walker. Leah heard from someone at the grocery store who heard from someone at Rosie’s Diner.” Grace described the chain in a singsongy voice. “And the list goes on.”
Including the ten customers who came into the store and dropped annoying hints in Mallory’s lap. “The Sweetwater grapevine at work. Gotta love small towns.”
“So . . . ?” Grace took a sip of tea.
With her friend pregnant or not, Mallory was not playing this game. “No.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
Since Grace once worked as an FBI agent and Walker still supposedly did, Mallory would not take the bait. Entering into a question-and-answer game with this crowd would only lead to trouble, and she’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
“I refuse to talk about him, think about him. Wait for him.” When Grace smiled Mallory worried she’d oversold her case. “What’s with that face?”
“Is that why you’re dressed like that?” Grace asked the question while peeking over the rim of the mug.
Mallory made a show of looking down, but she already knew what she wore today. Knew because she’d tried on approximately half of her closet before settling on the V-neck purple sweater, black skirt and leggings. The outfit hugged her frame but managed to hide her lifetime love affair with french fries. Sucking in her stomach helped with that, too.
She tried to play it cool. Smoothed a hand over her hair and stopped when her bangle bracelets clanked in her ear. “It’s just a shirt.”
“Honey, that sweater is hot and we both know it.” Grace a waved a hand in front of her. “It shows off those amazing boobs and your tiny waist.”
Tiny? Not a word Mallory would ever use to describe her body. Chunky and in a battle to the death with gravity, but not small. She’d always been described as having a pretty face, which she took to mean the rest of her needed some work.
“I think pregnancy is making you horny,” she mumbled half under her breath as two women came in and passed close to the counter before heading for the knitting section.
“No question about that.” Grace lowered the mug and it thudded against the counter. “Poor Callen.”
Mallory recognized that smile. Leah wore it when she started sleeping with Declan, Callen’s middle brother. Hell, Mallory saw it on her own face in the mirror after her first night with Walker . . . the dumbass.
Still, she had barely recovered from Callen’s tendency to force people to do what he wanted. Last thing she needed was a mental image of him naked. Good-looking or not, that guy didn’t light her fire, and besides, she would never poach. “I’m begging you to never tell me about your sex life with Callen.”
“He loves you, too.”
“He tolerates me.” And he was starting to grow on her. Mallory no longer saw him as a guy who always had to get his way and would do anything to be right. Now she viewed him as a guy desperate to hold on to his family. Not an easy feat when secret after secret kept getting dumped at his feet, including the one that sent Walker scurrying away.
Grace reached for a second shot of honey. “Callen has threatened to beat up Walker on your behalf.”
“They’re brothers now.” That piece was part of the nightmarish mess that kept unraveling.
“Technically they always were but that doesn’t seem to change Callen’s mind one bit. He’s ticked-off that Walker left town without talking with you.”
Okay, that was kind of . . . sweet. Also a little upsetting. “How does Callen know Walker left without a word?”
Grace bit her lower lip. “Um . . .”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The whole damn town knew she’d been dumped by Walker on his way out of town. Mallory hated that. She didn’t understand the broadcast of information either, since they’d kept their relationship quiet for a long time and it only got out around the time Walker left town. One more request from him that she’d honored back then and it bit her in the ass now as she became the topic of gossip and sympathetic stares.
The man made her stupid. Hot, bothered, lonely and stupid.
“Walker is probably staying at the Severn Motel.” More clanging as Grace kept stirring that damn spoon.
Mallory thought about grabbing the mug but figured manhandling a pregnant woman was not exactly a great image for the owner of Gossamer. “Maybe.”
“You’re not going over?”
Her temper flared up out of nowhere. One minute she drew in deep breaths, staying calm and refusing to take the bait. The next her brain felt like it was on fire. “To beg him to come back?”
Grace snorted. “To kick his ass.”
And like that, the heat in Mallory’s cheeks vanished and the breath of indignation left her lungs. Leave it to Grace to put the world back into perspective. “Tough talk from the pregnant lady.”
“I love Walker but that man is in need of a serious ass-kicking.”
No question about that. “Agreed.”
“And I think you’re just the woman to do it.”
A second round of agreement caught in Mallory’s throat. No, she knew that tone. Grace could lead a person right to where she wanted them. Mallory blamed all that damn FBI training.
Time for a reality check. “Sounds like you’re matchmaking. You’re not saying it but I sense it lingering inside you somewhere.”
Grace shook her head. Made a face. Even adding in a pfft. “Never.”
Okay, yeah. The act wasn’t even a little believable. Grace’s voice went too high and her eye contact faltered.
Looked like the last stab at a reality check wasn’t strong enough, so Mallory tried again. “Good, because we’re over. There is no Walker and Mallory happy ending here.”
“Of course.”
Yet Mallory sensed she hadn’t won that round at all. “I need you to hear me. I’m done with the Hanovers.”
Grace nodded. “Right.”
Despite the words coming out of Grace’s mouth, this was not going well. Mallory put her hands on the counter and leaned in close, keeping her voice low so her customers couldn’t hear. Not easy since several women were openly staring now. “Stop that, Grace.”
She had a two-fisted grip on the mug that should have cracked the ceramic in two. “My only advice would be—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” But part of her did, and Mallory hated herself for that.
“Hanover men aren’t easy to walk away from.”
Mallory forced her hands to loosen their death grip on the edge of the counter. It took another second to stop digging her fingernails into the already scarred wood. “Walker isn’t a Hanover.”
Grace made a face. One that said “get real” without actually using the words. “From everything I’ve seen—the stubbornness, the hotness, the unresolved emotional issues—that man is all Hanover.”
Those traits did sound familiar. “None of what you just described is a plus in my book.”
“Yeah, well. Enjoy the ride.”
“I’m not riding Walker Reeves.” Mallory didn’t realize she’d yelled that until the entire store turned to face her. She spied some skeptical looks, including one from Grace. “Well, I’m not riding him anymore.”
And with that she tripled her embarrassment. Mallory decided to blame Walker for that, too.
Chapter Two
Walker Reeves looked up from his seat in the back booth of Rosie’s Diner, the one hidden in the corner and blocked from the view of most of the restaurant, and did a double take. Two men he did not want to face right now headed straight toward him.
It was as if he had a homing beacon in his ass. There was just no other explanation for the Hanover brothers tracking him down so easily. Except possibly the fact Walker had the worst fucking luck of any human alive.
Before he could get up and stalk out, which was exactly what he planned to do, Declan and Callen pinned him down. Callen slid into the booth across from Walker. In the next second, Walker got shoved further into the corner by Declan who took the seat next to him in the fake leather booth.
“Hello.” Declan offered the greeting as he scanned Walker’s plate of half-eaten food.
Wanting to be clear on his position and how much he hated their company, Walker went with jaw-clenched threatening. Even slammed his open palm against the tabletop and watched the water glass jump.
Callen rolled his eyes. “Are you done being dramatic?”
Not even close. Walker was just getting started. “How is it possible I’ve been in town less than a day and I run into you two?”
Declan shrugged. “Luck.”
“About eight people live in this town, so the odds were good,” Callen said at the same time.
Declan reached over and took one of the forgotten chips off Walker’s plate. After two seconds of munching, he continued his annoying conversation with Callen. “More like a thousand people live here, but it does have the feel of a small hunting party sometimes.”
They didn’t need him for this talk and Walker wanted to be anywhere else right now, so he jumped to the point. “What do you two want?”
Declan stretched an arm in front of Walker and grabbed a napkin out of the holder on the far inside end of the table. “Now that we’re related—”
“Don’t do that.” Walker hated that phrase and the openness with which they accepted his biological connection to them, or seemed to.
Being a Hanover by blood but not in name had haunted Walker’s entire life and here these two sat, taking the news in stride. The reaction wasn’t normal. Kind of ticked Walker off, too.
“As your brothers we thought we’d help you,” Callen said.
This topic—anything relating to their idiot father or bloodlines—needed to stop. Walker had known the truth for years. He was the first-born son of Charlie Hanover, not Callen. He and Callen shared two parents and Beck and Declan were their half-brothers. As far as gene pools went, theirs qualified more as a cesspool.
The bottom-line reality had hit Walker long ago and colored every choice he ever made. He was the one son Charlie refused to acknowledge or claim. The one they all left behind and ignored.
Now it was his turn to shove people off. “Go away.”
“That’s not going to work.” Declan rolled his used napkin into a ball and threw it on Walker’s plate.
He hated to ask, but it wasn’t in Walker’s nature to let information sit out there without charging after it. “I give up. What?”
“This.” Declan waved his hand between Walker and Callen. “The ducking and grumbling. That’s Cal’s thing. You’ll have to find something else.”
“Thanks, man,” Callen mumbled under his breath.
They talked and Walker’s confusion grew. They should hate him. That he could handle. Mutual hatred. But this, the ongoing chatter and act where they had some sort of connection, didn’t compute for him at all. “What are you two talking about?”
Declan stared at another chip but didn’t pick it up. “You’re in trouble.”
No kidding. “Want to be more specific?”
Callen shot Walker a stop-being-an-asshole glare. “Women.”
“You lost me.” But they actually hadn’t. They’d hunted him down at the diner for whatever reason and now they were moving in for the kill. Thanks to the seating arrangement, Walker couldn’t escape unless he planned to climb under the table. A tempting thought.
At least if he got out of there he could find the one person in this town he did want to talk to. Mallory, the woman he pictured every time he closed his eyes. Curvy and hot with long black hair and big green eyes. She was full of life and energy, all artsy and sexy in those short skirts and motorcycle boots. She didn’t back down or take his shit. She liked to push him around even as she met him touch for touch in the bedroom.
He wanted her until he could taste it and that driving need sent him into a panic. That was his only excuse for fucking it all up. That and practice. He tended to fuck things up in his private life far too often.
As if he read Walker’s mind, Callen launched into the new topic. “You were sleeping with Mallory then left town.”
“How is that your business?” Walker craved privacy. Mallory had honored that but these two appeared ready to bulldoze over every firm wall he’d set up to keep people out.
“Leah is going to kill you. Since I’m her boyfriend I’ll be obligated to help and then clean up the aftermath.” Declan made a tsk-tsking sound. “I’m really not in the mood to bury your body.”
“And Sophie and Grace plan to help Mallory. I think even Mom would join in.” Callen leaned in closer. “That should scare the hell out of you, by the way.”
Mom. Not his mom. Not really Callen’s either, but Walker didn’t drop that reminder. Regardless of the gene-pool confusion this was not his problem. “I’m not afraid of your women.”
Callen shook his head. “Oh, you poor dumb bastard.”
A part of Walker did wonder if he could take on all of the women and win. More than once he’d walked into Gossamer and gotten backed down by a group of females hovering around the room. FBI training taught him to plan for every contingency, but nothing had prepared him for Mallory or the way she fought. Add in her friends and a man did have a hell of a climb.
Not that he’d admit that out loud. No, he chose the pontificating asshole route instead. “Mallory will understand what I did and why.”
“So, you’re going to play the role of the stupid Hanover brother.” Callen motioned for the waitress. “Interesting choice.”
Okay, that went too far. “Excuse me?”
Callen waited until the waitress delivered glasses of water and menus. “Beck is the lawyer with the big brain. Declan is the rational one who people listen to and generally like for some reason.”
Having compiled thick files on every member of the family, Walker thought those tags sounded about right. Still . . . “What are you?”
“Cal here? He’s the dictatorial pain in the ass who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone else.” Declan suggested as he paged through the plastic-coated menu.
“That’s probably not that far off.” Callen didn’t bother with food. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned on the table. “But we should get back to the main topic. Do you think Mallory Able is going to welcome you back into her bed without making you crawl first?”
Just thinking about Mallory in bed had Walker sweating. “Let’s pretend I’m willing to talk about this, which I’m not.”
Declan kept flipping pages. “Uh-huh.”
“Mallory and I had an understanding . . .” Walker’s confidence faltered. “Stop shaking your head at me, Callen. I am three seconds away from smashing my fist into your skull.”
Declan finally looked up. “He has that effect on everyone, your girlfriend Mallory especially.”
The amusement in Declan’s voice had Walker jumping on the defensive. “She’s not my—”
Callen snorted. “Well, she’s not now. You fucked that up.”
“That’s not true.” Walker refused to let that be true. Yes, he didn’t handle Mallory as well as he should have. He’d admit to that, but he did have something with her and there was no way he would let that slip away without a fight.
“Dude, she usually hates me, and right now there is no question I rank above you,” Callen said.
“I had to leave town for a few days.” Walker justified and explained even though the words rang hollow inside him.
Declan finally lowered the menu. “Twenty-eight.”
Walker had no idea what question Declan was answering. “What?”
“You were gone twenty-eight days.”
“We can count.” Callen winked. “Unfortunately for you, big man, so can Mallory.”
Before Walker could catch his breath, Declan was off again. “Did you call her while you were gone?”
Anxiety started whirling in Walker’s gut. He went from worrying about Mallory’s reaction to dreading it. She was not a woman you crossed, and he’d done it more than once.
Well, shit. “Again, not your business.”
“So, no.” Callen shook his head. “Douche move.”
“Yeah, she is going to make you pay for that,” Declan said while staring off into space.
Walker took the opportunity to make a point. The one where he was done talking and certainly had no intention of discussing his personal life with these two. “We didn’t have anything serious between us.”
Declan closed one eye and made a face that looked a lot like a pained wince. “Does she know that?”
“I do now.” Mallory’s voice vibrated with fury. So did her body as she stood at the end of the booth and glared the males and half the diner into a startled silence.
Damn it. She came out of nowhere. He’d been so focused on staying on his game with Declan and Callen that Walker missed her sneaking in the diner. Talk about an FBI training misfire. No wonder some people thought he’d become too obsessed with the Hanovers and should hand in his badge.
He tried to stand up then remembered his position smashed in the corner of the booth made that impossible. “Mallory.”
Callen’s eyes bulged. “Sweet damn.”
“I almost feel bad for him,” Declan said.
Mallory’s hand sliced through the air and those sexy bracelets of hers jingled. “Don’t.”
Okay, corner or not he had to move. Scrambling on the seat to get out, Walker ran right into a solid wall of Declan. He pushed and shoved and tried to move the guy out of the way.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Declan said in a low, barely audible voice.
Rather than fight it, Walker sat back with a harsh exhale and stared up at Mallory. “We need to talk.”
“You need to go to hell.”
Even the waitress openly gawked now. She stood a few feet behind Mallory and eyed Walker up with a “you’re dead” smirk. The low rumble of diner conversation had stopped and more than one head turned to watch the showdown.
“Don’t do this. Not here.” Not quite ready to give up on privacy, Walker lowered his voice and pointed at Declan and Callen. “Not in front of them.”
Declan snorted. “As if we’re the problem.”
Callen shook his head as he shot Walker a mixed look of disappointment and disbelief. “You can’t be this much of an idiot.”
“Have we established that? Because he really seems to suck at this.” Declan’s gaze switched from Walker to Callen. “Like, worse than you.”
If he didn’t put a stop to it, the annoying banter would keep going round and round, and Walker couldn’t tolerate that. Because nothing they said washed the grim expression off Mallory’s usually sunny face.
“Again, go the fuck away,” he said, wondering what words he should use to show just how serious he was about the order.
Before they could move Mallory jumped in. “They can stay.”
“See? She likes us,” Declan said.
That could not be true. Walker refused to believe it. “God, why?”
He’d barely talked about the Hanover brothers with her, though he’d been tempted. She had intel but he honored that line and did not cr
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