Angel Smits - Seeking Shelter

A place to belong

For Amy Grey, home has always been Rattlesnake Bend, Arizona, population 423. It’s a safe place to raise her daughter, Katie. Then free spirit Jace Holmes rides his motorcycle down Main Street, rumbling through Amy’s carefully ordered life with news about the father she never knew and stirring up questions about her family’s past. The best thing for all would be if Jace kept on riding.

Too bad Katie immediately tags Jace as a potential daddy. Sure, there’s no denying the attraction between Amy and Jace, but her life is here and his, well, isn’t. Yet the longer Jace is in town, the more her visions of tomorrow match Katie’s. But can Amy open herself up again? Because opening herself to change is the one way to convince Jace to stay.

“I feel like I know you.”

Jace moved closer, carefully. He reached out and took a lock of Amy’s hair between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing gently before letting go so the strands could curl down her back.

“You’ve raised a beautiful little girl.” His gaze burned into hers and she couldn’t look away. “What do you do for yourself, Amy?”

Nothing, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue. He’d never believe her. No one was that altruistic, and certainly not her. So many people did so much for her.

How could she ever be selfish and think only of herself?

But looking at Jace right now, feeling the heat of his body reach out and engulf her, she knew she wanted this, wanted to touch him. For so long she’d kept herself shut away and distant. For once she needed to do something just because she wanted to.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Seeking Shelter. I hope you enjoy meeting Jace and Amy as much as I did.

Jace is the younger brother of Linc Holmes, the hero in my previous Harlequin Superromance, A Message for Julia. He was the only blood relative Linc had left to worry about, but Jace himself didn’t have much of a story. Then a short while after that book’s release, I saw a music video set in the southwest desert and I knew I was seeing and hearing Jace. He was no longer simply a younger brother. He was a man who needed a home. And a man whose story needed to be told.

But Jace wouldn’t fit in just any place. He needed someone as troubled as he was to understand and heal him. Amy Grey fits that bill, and needs her own safe place to land. What a time they’ve shown me as I discovered their story.

I love to hear from readers and fans; you can contact me via email at angel@angelsmits.com or postal mail at P.O. Box 63202, Colorado Springs, CO 80962. You can also find me on Twitter as Angelwrite and on Facebook as AngelSmitsAuthor.

Happy reading,

Angel Smits

Seeking Shelter

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angel Smits lives in Colorado with her husband and a constantly changing mixture of family and pets. She thought winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award was the highlight of her writing career, but seeing her first Harlequin book on the shelves topped that. Her background as a social worker helped fill her head with ideas that now inspire the characters in her books.

Books by Angel Smits

HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

1679—A MESSAGE FOR JULIA

Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

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This book is dedicated to all the amazing people who have helped me in so many ways. Pam, Karen, Donnell, Jodi, Sharon and Jude...my amazing critique group. And Judy and Bonnie, my improv partners. Thank you all for reading, listening and reading some more. You’re the best.

And as always...to Ron.

Contents

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

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

AMY GREY SMACKED THE SIDE of the ancient adding machine. “Print, damn it.” The machine revolted and the decimal key stuck—again. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be paying a bill that equaled the national debt. Decimal points were important.

It was quite pathetic, really, that one of the things she hoped someone would get her for her birthday was a new calculator. She shoved away the image of the computer she’d seen at the Best Buy in Phoenix on her last trip. Nope. Not even a possibility.

She rubbed her eyes and knew she should go to bed. There wasn’t much more she could do tonight, and her six-year-old daughter, Katie, would be up early tomorrow.

A cool evening breeze wafted across the nape of Amy’s neck. It felt good to rub her stiff shoulders. She’d locked up the store hours ago, but left the back door open.

She could hear the sounds of the small town shutting down. Traffic was sparse. The old streetlight buzzed and there were a few hollers of excitement from playing kids. Soon, the desert animals would wake and begin their scurrying.

Peace. This was what she craved.

Another sound caught her attention and made her listen more carefully. Even footfalls on the sidewalk, accompanied by the soft snick of a cane tip, told her Hank Benton was headed this way. With a tired smile, she went to meet him at the door.

He emerged from the shadows and into the yard light. His heavy work boots clapped on the broken cement. Worn jeans and the leather vest he wore over his cotton shirt looked the same as they did every day.

She’d seen pictures of him and her mother when they’d been young. His brown hair had hung well down the back of that leather vest. Now, what was left of it was cropped close to his scalp and tended to show more silver than brown.

Once the foreman on the ranch where she’d grown up, Hank had always been a part of Amy’s life. She’d heard stories of his wild past, but he’d always been good to her.

“May I come in?” At her nod, Hank stepped through the old screen door and she returned to her miniscule office. He leaned on the door frame in a familiar pose. “Problems?” He was several feet away, but Amy felt as if he were standing right behind her chair. She needed a bigger office, too. Sending up a silent prayer to the office fairy, she started putting everything away.

“Nope.” She answered his spoken question instead of the real issue she saw lurking in his eyes. She cleared the machine’s readout. “Just this silly decimal key. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Hank was the closest thing Amy had to a father. He’d stepped in when her mom had grown too sick to take care of herself and a fifteen-year-old girl. Amy knew she’d never have made it through the past nine years without him. Hank was one of the few people she dared to trust.

“But thanks for asking.” She switched off the desk light and stood. “Want a cup?” Without waiting for his reply, she shut the office door and led the way through the closed store. The single lamp up front cast little light, but they knew the layout well enough to pass through without problems. Hank’s footsteps were slower than hers, and loud, thanks to his boots, on the old wood floor.

Walking down the main aisle of her small general store, Amy let her hands trail over the merchandise. She loved this ancient building. It had been built back in the 1890s during the copper boom that had created the town. And it hadn’t changed much in the past hundred years.