Chapter One
In closing . . .
Zack turned his notes over and straightened in his seat. He didn’t need to run through his closing argument one last time—he had this. He was ready to go.
In minutes, the case would be wrapped up, and Avery Butler would be a verdict away from free.
He took in his surroundings as he waited for the judge to return to the bench. The two-hundred-year-old courtroom was packed, as it had been for the last three weeks. Only this time there was an added buzz of excitement that filled the room. It spread out, climbing the high walls until it hovered like a thick cloud of chatter in the air above them.
An excited cloud.
The entire case was down to two arguments. Then it would be in the jurors’ hands.
What they didn’t know was that he was about to wipe the floor with the prosecutor.
He was about to make partner.
Cecil Lansing, founding partner of Lansing, Lansing, and Smythe, and longtime friend of the Winston family, sat beside him. Cecil had never given Zack an inch he didn’t deserve, but they both knew that when he handed this case over with the bow he was about to tie on top of it, he would deserve everything he’d get.
A rectangle of light beamed onto the aisle of the gallery as the doors at the back of the room swung quietly inward. Two dark-haired boys tiptoed in. They weren’t twins, but they looked so much alike they could be.
Which made Zack think of the two men who’d shown up in his life two months ago. Men who’d refused to exit his mind no matter how many times he’d tried to shove them out.
He had never expected to meet his brothers.
And he certainly hadn’t expected them to leave without asking for a handout.
No one wants you. Not me. Not your brothers. Don’t you think they’d let you know if they did? They only want your money.
Zack ripped his biological mother’s words from his head and refocused on the boys now heading up the carpeted aisle. Behind them came a well-dressed but somber-eyed young mother. Her gaze was locked on the man to Zack’s right. The tension on her face added a good ten years to her overall appearance.
She was Mr. Butler’s administrative assistant. And those were his boys.
The three of them squeezed onto the pew directly behind his client’s wife.
Mr. Butler had likely treated his mistress and sons as callously over the years as he’d treated everyone else. With little to no regard for their personal well-being.
At least he was only on trial at this time for the mistreatment of his employees.
“Mr. Winston?”
Zack jerked around, realizing the judge had returned. He sat peering over his bifocals at him. “Problem?” the judge asked.
Closing arguments. Shit. It was time.
Only . . . fuck. He looked down at the table before him, his speech gone from his mind. He couldn’t pull out one thing he’d intended to say. His palms grew clammy as he glanced at the jury box. Then the prosecutor.
He took in Butler’s two boys again, and suddenly imagined his brothers when they’d been younger. According to the most recent PI he’d hired, their story had been true. They’d both grown up like him, thinking they were only children.
Yet after all this time, they’d managed to find each other and form a relationship.
And now they said they wanted one with him. Not his money.
But could they be trusted?
Clearly Pam Dalton had lied with everything she’d told him. From what Zack’s guy had found out, Nick hadn’t even seen his mother since he was eighteen.
Cody hadn’t seen her since he’d been two.
All of this had wound in and out of Zack’s head for the last two months. His adoptive mother hadn’t helped the situation. The minute she’d learned that Nick and Cody had come to Atlanta, she’d chewed him up and spit him out for the way he’d sent them away.
When he’d gotten the report back from the investigator, he’d been afraid his mother would call them up herself.
Yet he didn’t need brothers in his life. No matter what his mother thought. He was a grown man. Putting his neck on the line for a half-assed relationship that would be pulled out from under him at the first bump was not what he was looking for.
Plus, they already had each other.
“Mr. Winston?”
Notes. There were notes he could read from.
He reached for them, his fingers seeming to have gone numb, and watched as one of the papers fluttered silently to the floor. Then Cecil Lansing put his hand down on top of Zack’s.
As if he were having an out-of-body experience, Zack saw his boss nod to a colleague sitting at the opposite end of the table. The colleague stood. And then he proceeded to give Zack’s closing argument.
Son of a bitch.
This was his case.
His partnership.
Now flushed down the fucking toilet.
Fury built inside him as he sat there doing nothing. He had never floundered like that before. For anything. Not through college, law school. Not even as a kid.
Yet one glance at a pair of young brothers with dark hair and he’d frozen. Pathetic.
Cecil slid a yellow legal pad across the heavy oak table, leaving it in front of Zack, while never taking his eyes from the proceedings before them.
Zack looked down. On the paper was one line of text, written in a heavy, bold scrawl.
See me in my office.
His hands curled into fists. He did not need the trouble he’d just bought himself. They wouldn’t offer a partnership to someone who couldn’t close out his case.
As he sat there, watching his colleague finish the work Zack had put months of time and effort into, he also had to be honest with himself. This wasn’t the first mistake he’d made in the last couple of months. Cecil was aware of that.
It was merely the largest.
Sugar Springs had never looked so green.
That was the thought running through Holly Marshall’s mind as she passed the WELCOME TO SUGAR SPRINGS sign for the small East Tennessee town. She’d been gone to Chicago for six weeks, and at times it had felt as if all she’d seen had been metal and glass. And people moving fast.
Everyone had always been in a hurry.
It had also been stifling there.
Granted, it had been an unseasonably warm May all around, but mugginess had seemed to seep into every corner. The tower her cousin lived in, no matter how hard they’d run the air, had remained just this side of oppressive, and every time Holly had stepped from Megan’s building, heat had risen up from the concrete to close around her. She’d felt sticky and damp all the time.
She rolled her window down now, letting the warm air flow in to mix with the cooler stream blowing from the car vents. It was hot here too, and though also on the muggy side, Holly knew it wouldn’t be the same. Not like in Chicago.
There were no skyscrapers. Nothing to block out the purity of nature.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that, but she was most definitely looking forward to stepping foot on her family’s land. She wanted to breathe the air in. To enjoy the picture the Smoky Mountains made rising up from the other side of the river.
She also just wanted to chill. Her stress level had climbed to an all-time high.
She’d honestly thought she’d love everything about the city. It had been her plan to live there for years. As well as to find success there.
Both dreams had been shot down. Brutally.
Bert Wheeler, the clerk at the pharmacy, lifted his hand in a wave as she entered the town square. Bert was sitting on a bench in front of the store, his white hair its normal puffy mess on top of his head. It was late Saturday afternoon, and though there were still people buzzing about, Bert was not letting that impact his relaxed state. He was on his break.
He always took breaks on the outside bench. It was easier to people watch.
Holly waved through her passenger-side window and gave him a wide smile. It was good to see Bert.
And the diner, and the cupcake store. Also the statue in the middle of the square. Something about the lone man standing there, tall and proud, always comforted her. As if the founding father was welcoming her home.
Even though she hadn’t actually planned to come back home.
Now she never intended to leave.
Having both her dreams and her pride crushed into tiny shards could do that to a person.
She forced herself to keep smiling through the thought as she glanced over at the consignment store before exiting the square. At least she still had that.
Unless she gave it up too.
At this point she wasn’t sure what she should do. After weeks of being told she was a nobody, that she couldn’t possibly have a product worthy of their uppity stores, her confidence had failed.
There were a few miles remaining between her and her parents’ bed-and-breakfast so she reached for her iPod and pressed play. Katy Perry belted out “Firework” through her speakers, and Holly once again felt a real smile reach her face. She cranked up the volume and pushed the gas pedal harder.
She might be coming home with her tail tucked between her legs, but she refused to allow that to keep her down. What she needed was a new plan. A new goal.
One that included remaining in Sugar Springs.
Only, there wasn’t so much to offer here.
She sighed. There was the diner. The B&B. And the horse tour and river-rafting company.
Her family owned all three businesses—with rental cabins being added on the property this summer—and over the years she’d become a professional drifter between each. Whichever location needed her to fill in, she showed up to. Most of her time was spent at the diner. She and her four older brothers owned it, with Brian managing the majority of the day-to-day operation.
At thirty-six, Brian was eleven years older than her, and though there were two brothers in between, they’d always been close. He’d taught her the ropes of the restaurant business during her teen years. Back when her granny and pa had still been alive and running the place.
Brian was another thing she’d missed more than she’d expected.
Though she’d never admit that to him.
What she hadn’t missed was her nonexistent place in her family. As the only girl, and with eight years between her and her youngest brother, Sean, she’d never really been taken seriously. Instead, she’d just been the little sister.
If she needed something, one of her brothers did it for her.
If she came up with a new idea, it had probably already been tried.
If she stood out in the middle of the road naked and screeching at the top of her lungs, one of her family members simply patted her on the head and told her to stop being silly.
It was frustrating. She was somebody too. She had dreams and aspirations just like everyone else.
She knew her family loved her, but sometimes she needed more. Sometimes, she needed them to see that she was her own person. She had a purpose.
Only . . . she couldn’t show them that because she’d failed and she was back.
Again, she let out a grumpy sigh and slumped in her seat. Sometimes life sure had a way of knocking the wind out of a person.
A couple more waves were exchanged as she sped down the road. One little old lady who was sweeping her front sidewalk even stopped and shook her finger at Holly in censure for how fast she was going. This made Holly grin once more. No one had bothered paying attention to how fast she’d driven in Chicago. The finger wagging was a pleasant welcome home.
She turned into the long drive leading to the house she’d grown up in, and took in the two-story white structure with the wraparound porch. It called to her. The porch sported rockers and overflowing pots of greenery, along with swings and hanging baskets. It was one of the most comforting sights she’d seen in weeks.
After her brothers had moved out, their parents had added on to the house and had opened the bed-and-breakfast. Her mom loved running it, and Holly loved living in her old room. It gave her the chance to chat with tourists every day. She liked talking to people.
Which was why she’d thought she would love a bigger city.
She parked, but instead of dragging her suitcase from the backseat of her SUV, or even getting out of the car, she took a moment to simply breathe. Life was what it was. She knew that. And she had a position here in her family. Clearly she wasn’t yet meant for more. Which sucked. But at least she did have this.
Taking another deep breath, she stepped from her car and slammed the door. Then she bounded up the front steps. She was suddenly anxious to get inside.
The moment she stepped through the front door, though, she came to an abrupt halt. Her parents’ luggage sat there as if waiting to be whisked away. And she knew her parents hadn’t been anywhere recently. They’d been here taking care of the B&B.
No one was around, but she could hear voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. She glanced up the stairs, then around the door into the living room. Both were empty. She reached for one of the suitcases, grunting when she picked it up. The thing was loaded down.
“Holly!”
Holly dropped the suitcase and took hurried steps forward. “Hi, Mom,” she said with a gush of emotion. It really was great to be home.
She let her mother pull her into a much-needed hug.
When she found it necessary to lick her wounds, it was always nice to have her mom around for comfort. Over her mother’s shoulder, she saw her oldest brother, Patrick; his wife, Jillian; and Brian all come out of the kitchen. Patrick’s three boys came running up from the basement. They tumbled into the hallway in a loud clatter, the oldest two shoving each other in a race to be first, and were followed by Holly’s dad, her brother Rodney, and Rodney’s wife and daughter, Erika and Kyndall.
Holly pulled back from her mother in shock. “What’s everyone doing here?” she asked. Everyone but Sean. But Sean lived in South Carolina.
Sylvia Marshall pointed toward the dining room. “It’s a welcome home party.”
Love and longing swelled inside Holly. She hadn’t expected that. She stepped farther into the house and peeked into the room to her right. There was even a WELCOME HOME banner strung above the large table.
Then everyone took turns hugging her.
“This is so nice.” She wiped a stray tear from the corner of one eye as her niece hugged her tight around the waist.
“I missed you, Aunt Holly,” Kyndall whispered.
“I missed you too, sweetie.” Holly stroked her hand over her niece’s straight hair and caught Brian’s wink. She gave him one in return. It was nice to know she’d been missed. It went a long way toward soothing the heartbreak of disappointment.
Then it was Brian’s turn to give her a hug. Instead, he locked his arm around her neck and knuckled the top of her head. “Good to have you home, sis. I’m tired of handling everything by myself.”
Holly’s smile faltered. She knew he was just joking, trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be missed simply because she hadn’t been around to fit into whichever job was needed.
“And I’m more than ready to hand back over the books,” Patrick tossed out as he came forward from the pack. Holly did the books for the horse and rafting tours.
She forced a curve back to her lips. “Surely you guys missed me for more than that.”
“I did,” Kyndall said. She’d remained by Holly’s side, and was currently tracing the tip of a finger over one of the appliqué daisies Holly had stitched to her maxi dress. Kyndall was ten and reminded Holly of herself more than anyone else in the family.
“Thank you, Kyndall.” Holly gave the girl’s cheek a kiss. “I missed you the most.”
Kyndall’s smile could have lit the room. “Will you put eye shadow on me?” She bit her lip with excitement. “Mom wouldn’t do it the whole time you were gone.”
Holly tapped one of Kyndall’s bare eyelids and winked, knowing her metallic gold shadow flashed with the move. “I’ll fix you up to match me just as soon as we party.”
Kyndall giggled, and everyone moved into the dining room, where her mother had a massive spread of appetizers and desserts waiting. Holly knew it wasn’t solely for her. Maybe the intent was for her, but with guests coming and going at all hours of the day, they couldn’t have snacks out without including extras for them. But she didn’t mind. The gesture was nice.
“We were hoping to do a welcome back dinner at Patrick’s,” her mother began as she grabbed a plate and passed it to Holly, “but you came home a couple days later than we anticipated.”
Holly wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything. Saturday nights were the norm for family dinners. They could just as easily be having dinner tonight. She took the plate and plucked one of her mom’s chocolate petits fours from the serving tray, but before popping it into her mouth, reminded them, “Until a couple days ago, I didn’t even plan to come home. Remember?”
That wasn’t entirely true. She’d seen the writing on the wall weeks ago. She’d just delayed informing anyone of her imminent return. Especially given that they didn’t know what she’d gone to Chicago to do. They’d thought she’d had some kind of wild hair she needed to work out. Sow some oats or something.
They had no idea she’d actually been chasing her dream.
She shoved the dessert in her mouth, all in one bite, to keep from feeling sorry for herself.
“Oh, Holly.” Her mother patted Holly’s bulging cheek as Holly chewed the sugary treat. Cramming too much food in her mouth was one of the habits that drove her mother crazy. “Of course we knew you’d be back,” Sylvia cooed. “You aren’t cut out for a big city.”
The muscles in Holly’s throat closed, threatening to keep her from swallowing the treat. Apparently everyone had believed that about her. A little support would have been nice, though. Even if they hadn’t known the full reason behind her trip.
“Well,” she said when she had her mouth clear. “I’m back now.” The words came out much more chipper than she felt.
“And it’s a good thing,” Patrick added. He grabbed a plate while his three sons, ages five to twelve, filed in behind him. All three boys were spitting images of their father, and they mimicked his actions, taking a sampling of every dish on the table. “Mom and Dad are leaving tonight,” Patrick informed her. “Jilly and I were getting worried that we’d have to juggle both the tours and the guests’ breakfasts if you didn’t get back today.”
Holly swiveled her head to the front door where the luggage sat. Her heart was suddenly thudding in her chest. “You’re leaving?” She looked at her mom and dad. “Tonight?”
Hank Marshall nodded. “Just for a week. Your mom wanted an anniversary trip.” He gave Sylvia a slow wink. “I’m taking her to a hot spring over in Arkansas. It’s gonna be romantic.”
Every Marshall child in the room groaned. No one wanted to hear about their parents’ love life.
“But Mom,” Holly began. She knew she sounded whiny. She couldn’t help it. “I just got home.”
“I know, sweetie, but you’ll be here when we get back. And this is the best time. Before we get too busy with the Firefly Festival.”
The annual Firefly Festival was in three weeks. Every room at the B&B, as well as at the hotels in town, would be booked for at least the week leading up to it, probably for longer. People came from far and wide to see the synchronous fireflies that were native only to the Smoky Mountains. The picture the tiny insects made, all glowing and dancing about together, turned a normal hillside into a magical fairyland. Children and adults alike walked away amazed.
To capitalize on the event, Sugar Springs made a day of it one Saturday each June when the fireflies should be at their peak. The whole town would take part in the festival, as would thousands of out-of-towners.
“So . . .” Holly started. She was exhausted from the drive, and now confused on top of it. She looked around at the faces watching her, then to her parents’ bulging luggage. Gloom settled inside her. She hadn’t wanted to be automatically thrust back into cleanup position. “I guess I’m in charge of breakfasts until you’re back?” she finally asked.
She’d been hoping to have a few days to relax. To figure out what she wanted to do next.
“Right,” her mom said. Her brown, football helmet–style haircut didn’t move as she nodded her head. Her mother was the only brunette in the family. Everyone else was blond. “I also left a list of chores for the week,” her mother added. “The paper’s on the fridge.”
When Holly only stared at her mother and still didn’t fill her plate, Sylvia took it from her to do herself.
“What?” her mother asked as she piled sausage wontons and little bites of turtle cheesecake on the stoneware plate. “You know we have to be ready for the festival or the week will get out of control before it starts.”
Exactly. And that’s what she was good for. Handling a list of chores.
As everyone nibbled on the snacks, Holly became aware that not one of them had asked her how her trip had been. Of course, she had talked to each of them several times over the weeks, telling them about the fun she and Megan had hanging out together. She’d embellished a lot. She loved her cousin, but Holly had been there to work. Megan had had a busy schedule as well.
But still, it would be nice if someone asked something about the trip. Did you have a good time? What happened that you decided not to stay?
Maybe even, how was the freaking drive home?
It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They just sometimes . . . forgot. To look beyond the surface.
Or so it had always seemed.
She pulled in a deep breath and fought the urge to stomp her foot like a child.
Her mom handed her back the plate, now loaded down with food, and patted her cheek again. “And when we get back, I have a nice surprise for you.”
Dread knotted in the pit of Holly’s stomach when she saw Brian roll his eyes. “What surprise?” she asked carefully.
“Oh.” Her mother waved away her words. “It can wait. Let’s party right now.”
“What surprise, Mom?”
Holly looked at Brian when her mother didn’t immediately answer. His eyebrows waggled and the face that all the single women of Sugar Springs wanted to snuggle up to broke into a devilish grin. A dimple identical to hers flashed deep in one cheek. “Cheater Thompson’s son is coming home,” he said. “Mom has a date lined up for you.”
Holly gawked at her brother before shifting her attention back to her mother. Her father beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, and Patrick, Rodney, and their spouses busied themselves with seating the kids. Her mother was on her own.
Cheater was the justice of the peace, as well as the owner of the local funeral home and a wedding chapel. He was a good guy. Really, he could do no wrong in the town’s eyes. But he had earned his nickname. More than once. With each of his wives.
And the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Only, his son had yet to let himself be captured with a ring. Instead of the nickname “Cheater Jr.,” the minute he’d grown the first hair on his chest, he’d begun working on his own.
Hounddog.
Chances were good he’d someday follow in his father’s footsteps, at which point he would become Hounddog Cheater Thompson.
“Mom, no.” Holly shook her head. “I don’t want to go out with Hounddog Thompson.”
“Bobby’s a good boy, sweetheart. All he needs is a good woman and he’ll settle right down.”
Bobby was a good guy. Or he had been the last time she’d seen him. But he was also a hound dog. “And what makes you think I need him?” she asked.
Her mother’s green eyes turned to her then, and what Holly saw in them tightened the dread in her stomach. Her mother was sad. For her.
Holly gulped.
“You need someone, sweetheart,” her mom said softly. “I’m just trying to help. I thought that now that you had Chicago out of your system, you might be ready to settle down.”
Her mother thought she needed to settle down? A lump rose in her throat.
“What do you even know about him?” she managed to eke out, unsure what else to say. “Have you even seen him since he left?”
Hounddog had graduated the same year as Holly, and had blown out of town before the ink on his diploma was dry. They’d been friends as kids. He’d teased her in elementary school by pulling her hair on the bus every afternoon, but by their teens they’d hung out. When he hadn’t been busy chasing a cheerleader, that was.
But still, it wasn’t like Holly had kept in touch with him over the years.
And his nickname was still Hounddog. The people who had kept in touch with him had made that clear.
“I’ve talked to his mama,” her mother said. “She works over at the Soapbox Laundry. She assures me he’s ready for more.”
More women, most likely.
Holly swallowed and looked at the rest of her family. They all wore the same kind of sad, poor-Holly look in their eyes. Was everyone thinking she was some pathetic loser and all she needed was a man to make her happy?
What about doing something with her life? Having a career? Why had that never occurred to them?
And then something occurred to her. Were they right?
Was that what she needed?
Her heart pounded behind her breastbone. She’d just been thinking she had to find something to do. She didn’t want to be a part-time cook-slash-bookkeeper for the rest of her life. Not only that.
And she had been thinking that there was nothing really to do around here. Not anything she was qualified for, at least.
If she’d gotten a teaching degree, maybe. That was one of the true “professions” in town. Other than doctor or vet, but she was sorely underqualified for that. Plus, she preferred something a bit more creative, even if her trip to Chicago had proved she didn’t have what it took.
She thought about how she wasn’t getting any younger, and figured she needed to be more settled. Responsible. She could drive out of town to work at the casket factory, she supposed.
Only . . . she didn’t want to work at the casket factory.
And she didn’t want to go back to school so she could teach.
Was marriage and babies it, then? All she had to look forward to?
Her chest tightened, but the thought wasn’t as sour as she might have imagined. She did want to get married at some point. And yeah, she wanted babies. Several of them.
Was it time?
Her breaths grew shallow as she took in each member of her family again, including her dad, who now stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. He wore the same woe-is-Holly look as the rest of them.
She didn’t want them to think that marriage and babies was all she could do.
But then . . . she thought about the number of times she’d had the door slammed in her face in Chicago.
Maybe it was all she could do.
If she could even do that.
It wasn’t as if her dance card had been full the last few years. The men of Sugar Springs saw her more as a buddy than a potential mate. Which was her own fault. She’d acted like their buddy. The cute little Marshall girl.
Could she change it?
Did she want to?
With an inaudible groan, she lowered her eyes and dug into her food. She didn’t know what she wanted.
But she was pretty sure it wasn’t Hounddog Thompson.