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Home To Family
Ann Evans
Family means everything…To Leslie Meadows, the warm, close-knit D'Angelo family is everything a family should be. Everything her own family wasn't.But the D'Angelos are facing difficult times, and when Dr. Matt D'Angelo comes home for Christmas, Leslie hardly recognizes the troubled man who'd been her best friend since he'd defended her in the sixth grade. Suddenly Leslie feels like an outsider….Then Matt uncovers a secret about her that his father has kept for decades. Once again, he's there to help her deal with the truth. Only, this time they're becoming more than best friends. And the rest of the D'Angelos are looking forward to making her an official member of the family.
“This should never have happened to you, Matt.”
He felt a sweet sense of expansion in his chest…and a piercing sense of alarm at the same time.
At that moment she lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m so sorry, Matt.” He saw the pity in her eyes. The one thing he didn’t want. From anyone. But especially not from Leslie.
He pulled his hand out of her grasp and somehow managed to shrug. “It shouldn’t happen to anyone, but I’m sure I’ll adjust,” he said. “Pity doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Matt, I wasn’t—”
“I should go,” he said, stepping away from her. “You should go inside, too. There’s no point in standing out here in the cold. It’s been good to see you again, Les.”
He knew that inside the house friends and family were waiting, full of questions and curiosity. There would be whispers in quiet corners and surreptitious looks. He would have to listen to well-meaning but unrealistic predictions about his future.
But how bad could any of that be compared to what he’d just seen in Leslie’s eyes?
Dear Reader,
When I first set out to write the HEART OF THE ROCKIES series, I was pretty certain about the stories I wanted to share for Nick, Rafe and Addy. Matt, however, presented a bit of a problem.
As the middle brother, his personality was a mystery to me, and no clear-cut vision of who he really was developed as I started to flesh out his character. He seemed to have no problems, no axes to grind, no points to prove, not a single roadblock standing in his way to happiness. An easygoing charmer, Matt seemed to be the “golden boy” in the D’Angelo family, the one the gods seem to love and look out for, the fellow who never has to work very hard for anything. A woman would love to find a man like that. But the problem is, who wants to read about a man who’s that perfect? Not very interesting, if you ask me.
But that’s the great thing about being a writer. Characters can morph into anything you need them to be. In short, I decided to rock Matt’s world. Because of one small twist of fate on a snowy winter night, he’s forced to discover that not everything comes easily in life. That eventually even the luckiest people in the world have to face adversity and find new ways to triumph.
Of course, he doesn’t take this journey willingly. Or alone. It takes a woman from his past, Leslie Meadows, to help him see that he’s still the same man she fell in love with years ago, and he doesn’t have to be perfect to be the man for her. Most of all, she helps him see that together they can overcome any trouble that comes their way.
I hope you enjoy Matt and Leslie’s story, and that you’re finding the D’Angelo family as much fun to read about as I had writing them. I love to hear from readers. Visit me at www.aboutannevans.com or e-mail me at aboutannevans@yahoo.com.
Best wishes,
Ann Evans
Home to Family
Ann Evans
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For fellow critique partner Lori Harris.
Thank you for years of encouragement, and the occasional, much-needed kick in the pants.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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
PROLOGUE
“I HAVE TO STOP for a coffee,” Matt D’Angelo said.
Beside him in the passenger seat, Shayla shook her head. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Just a quick one. If I don’t, I’ll never make it.”
Shayla swung a look in his direction. He could see she was about to object again, so he gave her one of his most winning smiles. They’d been dating only three months, but he knew Shayla was crazy about him, and he wasn’t above using that knowledge to his benefit.
As he expected, she gave him a playful, censuring scowl. “You’re completely addicted,” she told him. “You know that, don’t you? And we’re already late. Your folks are going to worry.”
“Mom and Pop know what the traffic is like this time of year. They won’t look for us until after dark.”
This was true. It was December twentieth and the usual delays of Christmas travel and snowy weather had put them behind since early this morning. They’d had to de-ice the plane in Chicago before take-off, and by the time the bumpy, overcrowded flight made it into Stapleton in Denver, the swill in Matt’s stomach—a cup of weak decaf from an airport kiosk—had long soured. Now the Eisenhower Tunnel along the Interstate-70 corridor would be slow-going, crowded with skiers heading for the slopes and families making their way to holiday reunions with friends and family.
Matt took his hand off the steering wheel and reached across the front seat to rub his fingers along the back of Shayla’s neck. “Come on, Shay. How can you be so cruel to someone you’re crazy about?”
That got the reaction he expected. She gave him a sharpened look, eyes wide. “You’re way too full of yourself. I’m not that crazy about you.”
He grinned. “Let me stop and get my coffee fix, and when we get to Lightning River tonight I’ll show you all the reasons you should be.”
“Under your parents’ roof?” she said with a small gasp. “I don’t think so. For the week we’re staying with them, there’ll be none of that sort of thing, Matt D’Angelo.”
He laughed. “I know a dozen places in the lodge where we can find privacy. I was very inventive when I was a horny teenager.”
“Well, you’re an adult now. At least you’re supposed to be. Abstinence will give us something to look forward to when it’s time to go home.”
He faked a miserable look. “I’ll have a bluuuue…Christmas without youuuu…,” he warbled.
She put her hands over her ears. “Stop! You may be a great surgeon, but you’re completely tone-deaf.” She nudged his arm lightly. “Get your cup of coffee, but then let’s get going.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. That had been easier than he’d expected.
He took a turn off the highway that ran through the outskirts of Denver, following a road swept clean by the snow crews. Somewhere along here, there had to be a place they could make a quick stop.
He spotted it in the middle of the block. One of those old dining cars from the railroad days. Duffy’s, the modest sign proclaimed. He pulled into the parking lot, found a spot and killed the engine.
As soon as the heater died, Shayla tucked her fingers into the pockets of her coat, already looking displeased.
“Two minutes,” Matt promised. “Want anything?”
“No.”
He leaned over, fingering a stray lock of Shayla’s blond hair behind her ear so that he could skim a kiss across her cool cheek.
She swung a look in his direction. “Are you kissing me because you got your way?” she asked with a skeptically raised eyebrow.
“No,” he replied honestly. “I’m kissing you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’m a lucky guy, and I know I don’t say that often enough.”
She looked surprised at the unexpected compliment. He laughed as she practically pushed him out of the car.
A blast of frigid air hit him as he got out, and he hurriedly buttoned his coat against it. The snow had let up, but the wind was as bone-chilling as the worst winters they got in Chicago.
Carefully he made his way up the steps of the diner. He’d never hear the end of it if he slipped and broke something now. The red light from the neon sign in the window glowed like a spill of blood across the pretty snow mounded on the bushes near the door.
The place was small, a single counter with stools and a few booths along one end. Nobody looked up as he came in, though there were four or five people who had obviously sought shelter against the inhospitable weather.
There was a man seated on the end stool, nearest the door. A young woman with sallow skin but pretty blond hair stood behind the cash register. At the opposite end of the counter, a barrel-chested guy in a spotty apron— Duffy?—nodded curtly at Matt.
In half a dozen strides, Matt reached the counter. “Hi,” he said to the waitress. “Can I get a cup of coffee to go? Black, please.”
She didn’t say a word, just turned around and started to fill the order. Little white bag, napkin, stir stick. Matt blew on his hands to warm them while he waited. The man beside him looked up and gave him a tight smile. Matt nodded.
The service was slow. The blonde turned at last, coffee now hidden away in the bag. Matt could smell it—strong and heavenly, and he could almost feel it warming his insides already.
And then he heard something strange. Bells. Very faint and delicate-sounding. He thought it might be coming from the jukebox at the opposite side of the room—Christmas tunes would be the order of the day—but that couldn’t be. The colored arch along the top of the machine was dark, like a dead rainbow.
He realized the sound was coming from the waitress. He caught a name badge over her right breast. Jill. Her hand was clutched on the take-out bag, and it was then Matt noticed that she wore a bracelet. A concession to the Christmas season—small linked jingle bells covered her wrist.
They were shaking. Hard. So was her hand.
In fact, when Matt looked back at her name badge, he could see her heart pumping wildly, moving the plastic back and forth.
“Are you all right?” he asked with a frown.
The girl went white as new snow. Unexpectedly, the man on the stool next to him rose and quickly went around the end of the counter. He hugged Jill to his side, then smiled at Matt.
“Not a problem, man,” he said. “Jill’s my lady, and we just had a little spat. But everything’s okay now. Ain’t that right, Jill?”
Jill nodded, trance-like, but nothing in her stiff posture indicated smooth sailing ahead for this couple. Must have been one heck of a spat, Matt thought.
And then, in that moment, in one split, God-awful moment of understanding, it hit him. He knew precisely what he was witnessing here, and it wasn’t an embarrassingly public lover’s quarrel.
The nearly deserted street outside. The unnatural, still silence of the other diners. Jill’s barely controlled panic. The tense, wary way in which the man who held her smiled at him.
In that same instant, the older employee at the opposite end of the counter took several steps in their direction. “Turn her loose,” he growled, his eyes wild and burning.
The man holding Jill lifted one arm, and Matt saw the gun in his hand for the first time. “Back off, old man,” he snapped. “You don’t want my kind of trouble.”
He pointed the gun at Matt when the employee stopped dead in his tracks. “You. Just stand right there. If you’re smart, you won’t move.”
Matt did as he was told. The robber was short, but he had a bully’s jaw and the harsh, fierce eyes of a sewer rat. Matt watched as the man let go of Jill and came around the counter to stand in front of him. With the end of his gun, he motioned toward the counterman. “Finish opening the safe.” Jill had begun to cry now, and the robber barked at her, “Shut the hell up!” For good measure, he reached across the Formica, yanked her close with a twisting grip on her blouse, and slapped her.
Matt flinched inwardly, but remained still. He knew enough to keep from escalating this any further with a foolish show of bravado. The robber would take the cash and make a run for it. There wasn’t any need for anyone to get badly hurt.
Jill bit down on her bloodless lips and went silent.
“Harley!” the sewer rat shouted down the length of the room. “What’s taking you so long? Hustle up!”
For the first time Matt realized that a second robber had begun rounding up prizes from the other diners—wallets and rings and anything that looked remotely valuable and portable. He was tall, with long hair that made him look young and oddly innocent.
While Harley worked quickly at the other end of the diner, the first robber kept his gun trained on Matt. A demented grin snaked across the man’s face.
He thumped Matt lightly on the chest with the barrel of his weapon. “Nice coat. Got anything else under there I might like?”
Matt unbuttoned his coat, withdrew his wallet and handed it over.
The man glanced at Jill and made an impatient gesture with his fingers. “Get that ring off.”
Unexpectedly, the girl showed a sudden spark of life. “No,” she said. “It’s my engagement ring.”
The guy didn’t like that. “I don’t care if you inherited it from your dear departed mother. Take it off.”
He started to lean over the counter, but Matt took a step in front of him. “You don’t have to hurt her,” he said, desperate to keep the situation calm and his thoughts coherent. “Go easy. She’ll give it up. Won’t you, Jill?”
