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The Bachelor's Unexpected Family
Lisa Carter
Second Chance FamilyYoung widow Kristina Montgomery moves to Kiptohanock, Virginia, hoping it will give her and her teenage son, Gray, a fresh start. She longs for the peace and quiet only a small town can give. But her plans are thwarted by her new neighbor, Canyon Collier, an ex-Coast Guard pilot and a crop duster. Gray is instantly drawn to the pilot and his teenage niece, Jade—and Kristina’s not far behind. They’re soon bonding over parenting their charges and their spark becomes undeniable. Could it be that the spirited pilot is just what Kristina needs to teach her heart to soar again?
Second Chance Family
Young widow Kristina Montgomery moves to Kiptohanock, Virginia, hoping it will give her and her teenage son, Gray, a fresh start. She longs for the peace and quiet only a small town can provide. But her plans are thwarted by her new neighbor, Canyon Collier, a former Coast Guard pilot and a crop duster. Gray is instantly drawn to the pilot and his teenage niece, Jade—and Kristina’s not far behind. She and Canyon are soon bonding over parenting their charges and their spark becomes undeniable. Could it be that the spirited pilot is just what Kristina needs to teach her heart to soar again?
“Maybe single parents like us ought to team up?”
He turned so quickly at her words, he felt a crick in his neck. “What?”
She bit her lip. “Combine skill sets. Conserve our resources. Divide and conquer.”
His heart hammered. What was she suggesting?
“The care and feeding of adolescents, remember? We can help each other.” Kristina blushed. “You’re helping me with my fear of flying. I can help you with your fear of parenting.”
When he didn’t say anything—he wasn’t sure what to say—she fretted at the hem of her sweater. “Gray told me most of your dusting takes place in the early morning. I could do morning car pool, and you could do afternoon pickup.”
“Share the load?”
“Exactly. Besides, Gray is hungry for a positive male influence.”
Canyon wasn’t sure he qualified for that title. On the other hand, did he need a reason to justify wanting to spend more time with the intriguing widow? If he did, she’d offered him one on a silver platter.
Only a fool would refuse such an opportunity.
Dear Reader (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b),
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always had a hard time letting go. Letting go of the past. Letting go of those I’ve loved. Letting go of dreams.
It’s not hard for me to let go of the bad. My challenge often comes in letting go of that which has been good, fruitful and purpose driven in my life. I tend to cling to the past good, unable and unwilling to move forward because of a fear that the new will not prove as wonderful and satisfying as the old.
This book was written during a season of change for me. A time of transition after the death of my father, for whom I’d spent the majority of the last two years caring. A season of approaching empty nest, with one child already in college and the youngest in her senior year of high school. A change in ministry focus. In other words, a lot of change in almost every aspect of my life.
I hate change. But as Kristina discovers, it is impossible to remain in the past. To refuse to move forward is to stagnate and die—mentally, spiritually and emotionally. When we refuse to fully cross over the threshold of God’s open door, we are in effect saying we don’t trust Him to have our best interests at heart. And what I’ve learned in this season of great change in my life is that God always keeps His children close to His heart.
I hope you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, Canyon and Kristina. I would love to hear from you. You may email me at lisa@lisacarterauthor.com or visit www.lisacarterauthor.com (http://www.lisacarterauthor.com).
Wishing you fair winds and following seas,
Lisa Carter
LISA CARTER and her family make their home in North Carolina. In addition to her Love Inspired novels, she writes romantic suspense for Abingdon Press. When she isn’t writing, Lisa enjoys traveling to romantic locales, teaching writing workshops and researching her next exotic adventure. She has strong opinions on barbecue and ACC basketball. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Lisa at lisacarterauthor.com (http://www.lisacarterauthor.com).
The Bachelor’s Unexpected Family
Lisa Carter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
—Philippians 3:13–14
Dedicated to the memory of my late stepfather,
Thomas W. Fulghum. Thank you
for being my mother’s second chance at love.
And thank you for giving your heart
to a Jade like me. I miss you still.
Contents
Cover (#u38ca906f-4c1f-5b88-bb00-34717045b8a4)
Back Cover Text (#uf7c51a2e-1afb-50b4-9475-8ba8109040dc)
Introduction (#u0dde4bd4-74c6-5a6c-935c-0142d76e67ec)
Dear Reader (#ub8360b74-9a2d-5536-86a9-bf34bbc5984a)
About the Author (#u3a2c6765-fc0e-5cee-9cfb-df02a3dfa252)
Title Page (#uedd86d62-c18b-5b0d-99a0-45c69ffd4ce8)
Bible Verse (#u4ab9ca51-0338-5126-9931-216094c6d66f)
Dedication (#ub72177cb-3973-5560-acfa-7b4ebc7cb674)
Chapter One (#ue1cb9661-f951-5ce7-a08c-3c968191cbea)
Chapter Two (#u6d8cf304-8b57-50fb-9101-8d6183b8e694)
Chapter Three (#u52b94b3e-7816-59f9-a702-866894a75108)
Chapter Four (#uce43b3ff-8c9a-523b-b182-bc56f695a53d)
Chapter Five (#u8ccf19c4-39dd-597c-904d-b3545d0efff1)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u459b1624-ae75-5a9f-ba04-1b5a2727e64b)
There it was again. Kristina Montgomery frowned at the faint whining noise above the treetops. Same as yesterday.
Leaning over the sink at the kitchen window, her gaze shifted to the sky. A small plane hovered above the tree line rimming her property. The yellow wings floated like a bright golden bird in the morning sunlight.
A robin called a cheery greeting from the winter-stark branches of a nearby oak. The droning of bees filled the air above the overgrown bushes, heirloom roses, which would burst into fragrant bloom come spring.
Provided spring ever came. Since her husband died two years ago, she’d felt trapped in her own stark winter of grief.
She’d bought the 1930s Arts and Crafts bungalow because of those rosebushes. And for the neglected garden.
Why? Maybe because of the inherent promise of new beginnings the garden held for her and her son. She and Gray had desperately needed a new beginning.
She scowled at the mechanical bird, a painful reminder of everything she’d lost. If she’d known the property adjoined a private airfield, she would’ve never purchased the run-down place.
In the twenty-six months since Pax’s death, she’d ridden a roller coaster of extreme emotion. She was caught somehow between overwhelming grief and a paralyzing fear of how she was going to raise their son alone.
At the edge of the woods separating her peaceful sanctuary from the airstrip, she spotted her son’s bike. She blew out a breath. How many times had she told him not to go over there? The airplane dipped one wing before disappearing beyond the forested horizon.
Gray had promised—she’d made him promise—to stay away from the airfield. But she should’ve recognized the stubborn glint in his brown eyes. The same glint her husband used to get every time he got into a cockpit.
Until above a windswept Afghan mountain, a rocket-propelled grenade had slammed into his plane. Hurling Pax and his fighter jet into a thousand pieces of jagged, burning metal—
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against the images that played in her dreams every night. Her hand tightened around the dangling chain of her husband’s dog tags. She had to stop doing this. She had to move on, for Gray’s sake. Mired in the past, she was no good to her son.
Her head throbbed. She rubbed her temples. Like father, like son? Her eyes flew open.
She refused to allow history to repeat itself. Not with her son. Not with the only person she had left.
Tucking the dog tags inside the collar of her pink shirt, she thrust open the screen door. The hinges screeched. She dashed down the concrete steps. The door slammed behind her. In dress flats for her morning meeting, she stalked across the grass toward the trees.
Sidestepping the bike, she followed a faded trail toward their very unwelcome neighbor. The overhanging tree canopy blocked most of the sunlight. She shivered and wrapped the open ends of her brown cardigan around herself.
February on the Eastern Shore of Virginia was much too cold to go outside without a coat. Knowing Gray, he was most likely in shirtsleeves.
She picked her way across the pine-needled footpath and emerged into a paved clearing to find the plane, wheels down, at the end of the runway. Engine roaring and propellers whirring, the pilot taxied the golden-yellow plane toward the terminal.
A metallic, tin-roofed hangar and a small brick building anchored the beginning of the runway. Beside the hangar, a sign—Wallace & Collier Crop Aviation Specialists.
Great. Just great. Somehow of all the houses for sale on the Delmarva Peninsula, she’d managed to buy the one next door to a barnstorming, daredevil crop duster.
Her teenage son waved at the plane as it rolled forward. But when he caught sight of her, his hand quickly dropped to his side.
“You got that right, buster. You’re in big trouble,” she muttered under her breath. And without stopping to think, she charged across the runway toward him. Gray’s eyes widened.
“Mom! Watch out. Get out of the way!”
Too late, she realized she’d stepped into the path of the oncoming plane. She froze. The sound of the propeller filled her ears.
Gray raced across the runway. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her out of the way. The pilot braked and swerved. The plane skidded as the wheels struggled for traction before finally shuddering to a stop.
Falling onto the grassy area, Gray took the brunt of the impact. But with the resilience of youth, he sprang to his feet.
She rose slowly, feeling every bit of her thirty-eight years. “Gray, honey, are you—”
“What were you thinking, Mom?” Hands on his skinny hips, he gestured to the plane. “Walking in front of a moving aircraft? Seriously?”
Shoving open the cockpit door, the pilot emerged. In jeans and work boots, his flannel shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, he clambered out and dropped to the asphalt.
A baseball cap obscured the upper portion of his face. But there was no mistaking the taut anger whipstitching his mouth, nor his jutting jaw as he advanced. “What kind of idiot walks into the path of an airplane?” he yelled.
She bristled. Pilots, the same the world over. Civilian or military, lords of the universe. Or so they believed.
Gray’s mouth went mulish. “Thanks a lot, Mom. Now Canyon’s going to kick me out of here for good.”
“You have no business being here.” She wagged her finger in his face. “Not after we talked. We agreed.”
Why was Pax not here to help her parent Gray during the rebellious teen years?
Gray crossed his arms over his seen-better-days T-shirt. “You talked, Mom. I agreed to nothing.”
