Cindy Kirk - Jackson Hole Valentine

“Can I count on you to help me?”

“Yes, sir.” Charlie nodded vigorously up and down then slanted a glance at Meg before turning back to Cole. “You can count on both of us.”

“Is that right, Meg?” Cole lifted a sardonic brow. “Can I count on you… this time?”

The words stung as much as if he’d slapped her. Yet, for Charlie’s sake, she managed to keep a smile on her lips.

The nerve of the man. He acted as if it was she who’d let him down all those years ago rather than the other way around.

Snapping the last piece of equipment into place, Meg scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to him. She met his gaze. “Of course you can trust me, Cole. Every bit as much as I can trust you.”

Dear Reader,

When my daughter was small, I worried what would happen to her if her father and I both died before she was grown. Luckily we had some wonderful relatives who agreed to step in and raise her if that happened. I had no doubt they would love her as their own.

In Jackson Hole Valentine, Charlie’s parents are killed in a car accident. But in their will, instead of specifying a couple to take and raise their child, they name two single friends! On the surface that decision makes no sense. As Margaret says, it’s as if they handed over custody of their precious son to a divorced couple!

Thankfully, in this book set in beautiful Jackson Hole, not only do Meg and Cole get their happy ending (thanks to being brought back together by the provisions in the will) but little Charlie gets his, as well.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy reading!

Cindy Kirk

CINDY KIRKhas loved to read for as long as she can remember. In first grade she received an award for reading one hundred books. Growing up, summers were her favorite time of year. Nothing beat going to the library, then coming home and curling up in front of the window air conditioner with a good book. Often the novels she read would spur ideas, and she’d make up her own story (always with a happy ending). When she’d go to bed at night, instead of counting sheep, she’d make up more stories in her head. Since selling her first story to Mills & Boon in 1999, Cindy has been forced to juggle her love of reading with her passion for creating stories of her own… but she doesn’t mind. Writing for Mills & Boon ®Cherish ™is a dream come true. She only hopes you have as much fun reading her books as she has writing them!

Cindy invites you to visit her website at www.cindykirk.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my fabulous critique partner and friend,

author Renee Ryan. This one’s for you!

Margaret Fisher glanced around the attorney’s waiting room, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird on steroids. Too nervous to concentrate on the magazine in her lap, she took a couple of deep breaths and let her gaze linger on her surroundings.

The random-width plank floor made from exotic woods added visual appeal while the muted tan-colored walls provided the perfect foil for the “artwork” in the room. Like many businesses in Jackson Hole, the designer had carried the cowboy theme a bit too far for her liking. Ryan Harcourt’s rodeo awards were featured prominently on the wall and a well-oiled saddle sat on display in one corner.

Despite Ryan having graduated from a prestigious east coast law school, there was not a diploma in sight. Margaret assumed there would be one in his office. It didn’t surprise her to see him focus on his roots in the outer waiting area. In Jackson Hole, the majority of his clients would relate better to his rodeo background than to his Ivy League education.

The young attorney—and former champion bull rider—was well-known to Margaret. He’d been a classmate of hers at Jackson Hole High School as well as a close friend of Margaret’s boyfriend, Cole Lassiter. Not boyfriend, she corrected herself. Cole was simply the jerk who acted as if he loved her, took her virginity and then unceremoniously dumped her, all without taking her on a single date.

It had been years since she’d seen Cole. She’d half expected their paths to cross at the funeral. After all, growing up, he and Joy had been next-door neighbors. Margaret had also heard he stopped in to see Joy and Ty whenever he was in town. But then, Cole hadn’t bothered to come to her parents’ funeral so it hadn’t surprised her when he didn’t show. Respect didn’t seem to be a word in his vocabulary.

“Charlie, would you like to play with these?” Lexi Delacourt, the social worker seated to Margaret’s right, opened the large colorful bag and let the child she’d brought with her peer inside.

Margaret smiled as the boy’s eyes brightened, and she pushed aside the old memories. There were more important things to think about today. Cole was the past. Today was about her future. Just like it had been when she’d sat in the attorney’s office on her seventeenth birthday. That day she’d been with her seven siblings. The normal laughter and joking that always occurred when they were all in the same room had been noticeably absent.

It was understandable, of course. They’d been stressed and grieving. Anxious about what was going to happen to them now that their parents had died. She wondered if Charlie had that same sick feeling in the pit of his stomach she’d had back then.

She cast a sideways glance at the little boy who was now lining up plastic dinosaurs on the rough-hewn top of the wooden trunk coffee table. The six-year-old was the son of Margaret’s childhood friend, Joy, and her husband, Ty.

Now they were both gone, killed in an accident only weeks before Christmas near Brown’s Curve on Route 22. The same stretch of Jackson Hole roadway where her folks had died.

It’s not fair.

Tears stung the back of Margaret’s eyes. Though she hadn’t seen as much of her friend as she’d have liked since leaving Wyoming fifteen years ago, thanks to the internet and cell phones, she and Joy had remained close confidantes and friends.

Without warning, Charlie jumped up from the brown-and-white cowhide sofa, his boots making a loud thud on the floor.

“I’m gonna look at the fish,” he announced to Lexi when she cast him a questioning look.

He crossed the room looking adorable in his blue chambray shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He’d been wearing something similar in the picture Joy had emailed Margaret last summer, the one taken at the Lil’ Buckeroo Rodeo in Pinedale.

Charlie had been a much-loved child. Her friend had embraced motherhood and Ty had doted on his son. Both wanted more children, but for some reason Joy had been unable to get pregnant again. They’d been trying since Charlie turned two and this past year had started expensive fertility treatments.

Margaret could understand why her friends had wanted more children. She’d fallen under Charlie’s sweet spell when she’d returned to Jackson Hole last Christmas for the christening of her brother’s twin babies. She’d been thrilled for Travis and at the same time envious of the way his life had so happily fallen into place. Before leaving town she’d stopped and spent time with Joy and her family.