“You’re a mom?” Noah said
Not that he couldn’t see Janey as a mom. He could think of no one who loved children more or would be better at raising them than Janey. It was simply that in his mind she was still seventeen, still carefree and single, not a grown woman with a kid around eight or nine years old.…
Jessie turned around right then and Noah found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, the kind of green eyes he’d seen every morning of his life, staring back at him from his own mirror. His gaze rose, slowly, to meet Janey’s, suspicion oozing into the tiny part of his brain that shock hadn’t paralyzed.
Janey pulled her daughter against her, wrapping her arms around the thin shoulders. The truth Noah saw in her eyes slid into uncertainty, then misery when he didn’t speak.
Jessie glanced up at her mom, then simply and confidently stepped out of the shelter of Janey’s arms. She stopped halfway between the two adults, fixed Noah with a stare that was almost too direct to return and said, “I’m Jessie. Are you my dad?”
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Erskine, Montana, where the streets roll up promptly at 6:00 p.m., neighbors still come together to lend a hand in times of need, and gossip is as much a way of life as baseball and apple pie. Erskine’s not perfect by a long shot, but Janey Walters loves it just the way it is.
She grew up there, she fell in love with Noah Bryant there and she had her daughter, Jessie, there. Noah is Jessie’s father, but he left town before he knew Jessie was on the way. That was ten years ago. He’s back now, but he isn’t the only one who’s getting a surprise. He has big plans for the little town that Janey loves and he couldn’t wait to leave.
The townspeople are like a large, eccentric, extended family to Janey and Jessie, and Erskine is their home. But as Noah becomes a part of his daughter’s life and earns himself a place in Janey’s heart again, is she willing to trade the town she’s always loved for the real family she and Jessie have always wanted?
Reunion stories are some of my favorites. I hope you truly enjoy Janey, Noah and Jessie’s story.
Penny McCusker
Noah and the Stork
Penny McCusker
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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For my husband, Michael, and my kids, Mike, Erin and Ian. Because you put up with me.
Books by Penny McCusker
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1063—MAD ABOUT MAX
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Men were generally a pain in the neck, Janey Walters thought, but there were times when they came in handy. Like when your house needed a paint job, or your kitchen floor could use refinishing, or your car was being powered by what sounded like a drunk tap dancer with a thirst for motor oil.
Or when you woke in the middle of the night, alone and aching with needs that went way beyond physical, into realms best left to Hallmark and American Greetings. Whoever wrote those cards managed to say everything there was to say about love in a line or two. Janey didn’t even like to think about the subject anymore. Thinking about it made her yearn, yearning made her hopeful, and hope, considering her track record with the opposite sex, was a waste of energy.
She set her paintbrush on top of the can and climbed to her feet. She’d been sitting on the front porch for the past hour, slapping paint on the railings, wondering if the petty violence of it might exorcise the sense of futility that had settled over her as of late. All she’d managed to do was polka-dot everything in the vicinity—the lawn and rosebushes, the porch floor and herself—which only made more work for her and did nothing to solve the real problems.
And boy, did she have problems. No more than any other single mom who lived in a house that was a century old, with barely enough money to keep up with what absolutely had to be fixed, never mind preventive maintenance. And thankfully, Jessie was a normal nine-year-old girl—at least she seemed well-adjusted, despite the fact that her father had never been, and probably never would be, a part of her life.
It only seemed worse to Janey now that her best friend had gotten married. But then, Sara had been waiting six years for Max to figure out he loved her, and Janey would never have wished for a different outcome. She and Sara still worked together, and talked nearly every day, so it wasn’t as if anything had really changed in Janey’s life. It just felt…emptier somehow.
She put both hands on the small of her aching back and stretched, letting her head fall back and breathing deeply, in and out, until she felt some of the frustration and loneliness begin to fade away.
“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes.”
Janey gasped, straightening so fast she all but gave herself whiplash. That voice…Heat moved through her, but the cold chill that snaked down her spine won hands down. It couldn’t be him, she told herself. He couldn’t simply show up at her house with no warning, no time to prepare.
“The best scenery in town was always on this street.”
She peeked over her shoulder, and the snappy comebacks she was famous for deserted her. So did the unsnappy come-backs and all the questions she should’ve been asking. She couldn’t have strung a coherent sentence together if the moment had come with subtitles. She was too busy staring at the man standing on the other side of her wrought-iron fence.
His voice had changed some; it was deeper, with a gravelly edge that seemed to rasp along her nerve endings. But there was no mistaking that face, not when it had haunted her memories—good and bad—for more than a decade. “Noah Bryant,” Janey muttered, giving him a nice, slow once-over.
He was taller than she remembered, and had a solid, substantial look to him now. In high school he’d been lanky, slim but wide-shouldered with a bad-boy gleam in his sharp green eyes that made every female heart within range tumble just a little. Except hers, Janey recalled. Her heart had taken the whole long, irrevocable fall the first time she’d laid eyes on him. That would’ve been the fourth grade. And she’d stayed madly in love with him, right up to the moment he’d blasted out of town without so much as a backward glance.
Ten years ago, that had been. She hadn’t seen him since, but all the times she’d imagined this scene, it had never gone down like this, with him in a suit that probably cost more than she made in a month, while she was decked out in the latest in janitor chic. She reached up to pull the bandanna from her head, then decided against it; flat hair would only complete the fashion statement. “You swore you’d never come back to Erskine.”
And there was the grin that went along with the gleam. “Things change.”
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