Romance Me (Boxed Set) (29 page)

THE END

Spring in Sweetwater County (Sweetwater County series, Book 2)

Forty years after the death of her true love, Judy Gaylord discovers he’s alive. With the guilt of her falling into the arms of his cousin to console her grief, she now must face the man she betrayed.

Dr. James Benjamin has dedicated his life to helping people deal with their post-traumatic stress disorder in hopes of forgetting about his own trauma. Not wanting to risk the safety of others, he’s spent decades alone, but when he sees the woman he never forgot from before the war, his heart awakens.

When circumstances force Judy and James to work together, they soon discover old feelings never faded. Judy must forgive herself and James will have to face his fear or they will miss their second chance.

About the Author

Ciara Knight

CIARA KNIGHT
writes to ‘Defy the Dark’ with her fantasy and paranormal books.

Her debut novel, The Curse of Gremdon, was released to acclaimed reviews, securing a Night Owl Top Pick and five stars from the Paranormal Romance Guild. Also, released in 2012 is her young adult series, Battle for Souls. Book I, Rise From Darkness, won July Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews.

Ciara’s newest young adult/new adult Amazon #1 bestselling series, The Neumarian Chronicles, launched in 2013, causing an “uprising” of attention from fans and reviewers.

Her first love, besides her family, reading, and writing, is travel. She’s backpacked through Europe, visited orphanages in China, and landed in a helicopter on a glacier in Alaska.

Ciara is extremely sociable and can be found at
Facebook
,
Twitter
,
Goodreads
,
Pinterest
,
Instagram
and her
blog
.

Titles by Ciara Knight

Winter in Sweetwater County

Spring in Sweetwater County

Summer in Sweetwater County

Fall in Sweetwater County

Christmas in Sweetwater County

Battle for Souls Series

Rise From Darkness

Fall From Grace

Ascension of Evil

Beautifully Unnatural

The Neumarian Chronicles

Weighted

Escapement

Pendulum

Balance

Forever the One

by

Rochelle French

Chapter One

Sometimes life just stinks. Sucks, actually, Sadie Courant thought as she stared in her bathroom mirror. Leaning forward on the marble vanity, she gazed, blurry-eyed, at her frazzled reflection.
Hideous
. Alone in her big empty house, with no one around to see her acting like she was twelve again, she stuck her tongue out at the mess staring back at her. “Damn it,” she muttered, irritated at the world and at life in general.

There was no way around it—she’d need to spend a good half hour blow drying and then taking the flat iron to the mass of froth on her head. No way could she go out looking like this. Thank God for her flat iron, God’s second-greatest gift to the world.

Ethan Sawyer, of course, was God’s
first
greatest gift to the world. The man was a blessing from the Great Divine. Or Mother Earth, or whatever entity gave out such delicious presents. Ever since Sadie was eleven, no boy—or later, when she grew up, no
man
—could ever measure up to Ethan. Yeah, sure, fantasy probably played into her perception of him, but still, even through the years he’d been…amazing. Awesome. Beyond desirable.

Still looking in her bathroom mirror, she turned sideways and groaned. The dress she wore did nothing for her figure. It fell too close to her knees, meant for someone shorter than her five feet, ten inches, and was meant for someone with a much nicer rear. Then again, her pancake butt remained
flat
no matter what she wore.

“It’s just Ethan, you idiot,” she whispered to her image in the mirror.

But it wasn’t
just
Ethan. It never had been
just
Ethan.

This was supposed to be a glorious day. The day she’d see Ethan again after twelve long and fantasy-filled years. Ethan, the man of her dreams, her unfinished business. She was going to be gorgeous—perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied makeup, perfectly fitting dress—and he would be rendered speechless when he saw her. She wasn’t the scrawny twerp he’d last seen. She was all woman now, and wow—did she ever want to knock his socks off.

Instead, she looked like a mess. She’d been an hour late getting back home to Meadowview due to her flight home from LA being delayed. Her luggage had somehow been sent to Denver, and she’d had problems with a recalcitrant rental convertible—a car that had decided on its own she needed the top down—in the rain. She’d already texted Ethan to cancel their pre-auction dinner, hating every word she’d typed in. He’d been fine about being stood up and had texted back that he was excited to see her at the bachelor auction.

Not as excited as she was. To say her nerves were jangled would be a gross understatement—they were fried. She had hoped to be calm when she saw Ethan, to present herself as a cool and collected woman and not as an overly anxious puppy dog, hyperventilating the minute she laid eyes on him. But her stomach wouldn’t stop doing the tango. Or maybe it was the cha-cha.
Disco
?

Thank God he’d agreed to headline in the bachelor auction she’d set up as a fundraiser for the Modern Playwright’s Festival. Having Ethan Sawyer—former Broadway star and now famous New York director, local boy made good—as one of the bachelors agreeing to auction off a date, would bring in a sizable amount to the fundraiser. She’d been just about floored when he’d agreed to fly all the way from New York to California to be in the auction. And had just about passed out when she realized that finally, after all these years, she’d see him in person again.

“Hey, Sadie?”

She jumped. Blast. That was Theo’s voice. What was her brother doing in her house? “I’m up here,” she called out. “Getting ready. Why aren’t you at the auction?”

Several loud thumps sounded outside her room as Theo took the stairs, two at a time. A few seconds later, he burst into her room, dressed in a tuxedo. He looked great except for his missing cummerbund, unbuttoned shirt, and bow tie dangling from one hand.

Panic surged through her. “Oh, God. Why aren’t you dressed? You’re one of the bachelors who’s supposed to bring in a ton of money—you’re supposed to look nice. Besides the fact that you represent this family. And that means you represent the charity, as well.” God, her brother could drive a saint crazy.

“You’re the boss,” Theo said, working on the buttons of his shirt. “But don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard on this fundraiser? I mean, it’s not like we’re in LA. This is Meadowview we’re talking about here. Population two thousand and four. Two thousand and three when I’m in San Francisco. Maybe back off on the stress, sis.”

She glared at him, then turned her back and returned to the bathroom, intent on finding her blow dryer somewhere in the tangled nest of electrical cords she’d find in the drawer. Organization and perfection were her mother’s purview—not Sadie’s. “I won’t fail this town, Theo. I take my responsibility as the Executive Director of the Modern Playwrights Festival seriously.” Sure, she sounded like her mom, all lecture-y and stuff, but God, Theo was such a brat.

Thirty years ago, their ridiculously wealthy parents had initiated a small summer stock festival featuring new plays written by modern authors, and had set it up under the umbrella of their family’s philanthropic institution, The Courant Foundation. Within five years, the festival had grown to national importance and had put the old mining town of Meadowview on the map, re-energizing its flagging economy with the tourist dollars pouring in from festival attendees. Now, the town shimmered as the epitome of a quaint and sweet American small town, with its wooden sidewalks, two-storied brick shops, and gingerbread Victorian homes. Her parents had made the small town the success it was today, and no way would she let her community down.

“I’m just saying, you might want to chill out.”

“Chill out?” She snorted. She figured she wasn’t strung too tight, but she also didn’t have the laconic, laid-back attitude of her brother. After rummaging around in the drawer for another moment, she finally located the blow dryer and the flat iron. Plugging in the dryer, she added, “Just because we were born with a silver spoon in our mouths doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work. So you run your charitable arm of the foundation, and I’ll run mine. Now, unless you have a reason for being here, you need to get over to the theater. All the bachelors are supposed to be there”—she grabbed her cell phone, checked out the time, then gulped—“five minutes ago. Again, why are you here?”

“Ethan said you blew him off for dinner. I wanted to swing by, make sure everything was okay before heading over to the theater.”

Ethan. Just his name sent a thrill through her chest and brought her right back to grade school, drooling over just the thought of him. “I’m fine. Just had problems with the flight and now I’m late. Please, for my sake, get over to the theater and make sure everything’s going okay, would you? I trust the staff I hired, and apparently from the texts I’m getting, all’s well, but I’d feel better if a Courant was on location. And there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere with my hair looking like this.” She gestured to her wet hair, already forming wild and crazy blond corkscrews.

Theo, annoyingly, patted the top of her head and then turned to leave. “I think Ethan’s headed over there already. Want me to give him a message?”

What, like,
I adore you
?
I’ve thought about you since I was eleven
?
I’m so excited to see you I can’t stop thinking I’m going to pee
? Yeah, right. “No. I’ll be there as soon as I get this hair under control. Just make sure he’s okay.”

“No prob, sis.”

Theo’s footsteps faded into the background as she turned the hair dryer onto full volume.

Fifteen minutes later, hair now dried and straightened, Sadie twirled, checking out her image in the mirror. Maybe the dress wasn’t so bad . After all, it would have to do, since the perfect dress she’d originally selected for tonight was apparently on an airplane somewhere over the Rockies.

She plopped down on her bed. An old shoebox, decorated with tissue paper, ribbons, and lace sat next to her on the duvet, containing all things related to Ethan. Her Ethan Box. She’d been eleven the day she met him, and had promptly fallen in love with the boy four years older than her who’d handed her a dandelion and told her to make a wish. Instead of blowing away the puffy seeds, she’d run home and found an empty shoebox in the back of her mother’s closet. In it she’d placed the dandelion, then had spent hours decorating the box, dreaming of Ethan Sawyer.