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Coming Home To You
M. K. Stelmack
She wants a temporary fake romanceCan he make it real…and forever?Driving across the country in an RV with her terminally ill godmother was not Daphne Merlotte’s idea. Nor was crashing the RV into a small-town coffee shop, nearly hitting local good guy Mel Greene. Now Daphne will do anything to keep her godmother from continuing the trip—even asking Mel to be her fake boyfriend. But there’s nothing fake about Mel’s intentions—he wants a real romance!
She wants a temporary fake romance
Can he make it real...and forever?
Driving across the country in an RV with her terminally ill godmother was not Daphne Merlotte’s idea. Nor was crashing the RV into a small-town coffee shop, nearly hitting local good guy Mel Greene. Now Daphne will do anything to keep her godmother from continuing the trip—even asking Mel to be her fake boyfriend. But there’s nothing fake about Mel’s intentions—he wants a real romance!
M. K. STELMACK writes contemporary romances set in Spirit Lake, which is closely based on the small town in Alberta, Canada, where she lives with pets who outnumber the humans two to one, and with dust bunnies the size of rodents—because that’s what happens when everyone in the household prefers to live in their imagination or outdoors—but she can also be found on social media, where you can share your comments on her stories or her breathless one-sentence bio on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/moirastelmack) or at mkstelmackauthor.com (http://mkstelmackauthor.com).
Also By M. K. Stelmack (#uaaced10c-f733-52e4-b648-a8363022897d)
A True North Hero
A Roof Over Their Heads
Building a Family
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Coming Home to You
M. K. Stelmack
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08610-3
COMING HOME TO YOU
© 2018 S. M. Stelmack
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You two have met,” Daphne’s godmother said.
“I drove Daphne home from the hospital the day of your accident. I appreciated her company,” Mel said.
Fran brightened, then smiled.
Later, Daphne attributed her next move to a fear for Fran and to the warmth in Mel’s gaze.
She walked over to Mel and sat beside him. “Yes,” she said. “There’s something you should know, Fran. Mel and I have had some very, very good...talks.”
She slid her hand over his knee and applied gentle pressure. He froze.
He turned to Daphne, tense. He was about to reject her. She knew that look well enough.
So she closed the distance and kissed him.
“That,” Fran said, breathless, “was great.” She clapped her hands. “You, Mel, are moving on to the next round. We’re staying.”
Dear Reader (#uaaced10c-f733-52e4-b648-a8363022897d),
When Victoria Curran, my original editor, said that she wanted to hear Mel’s story, my first thought was “Mel’s too old to have a story of his own.” I mean, my gosh, he’s fifty! Oh, wait, that’ll be my age when this book is released. Do I feel too old to deserve a happily-ever-after? No. Well, then...time to give Mel his own, too.
Desperately seeking a wife and family all his adult years, Mel has been unlucky in love. I think we all know somebody—man or woman—who fits that description. You know the kind—that good-hearted soul who cares for others and prospers in the world just fine, but is ultimately alone.
Daphne is also battling loneliness. Single all her life, too, she must soon say a final goodbye to her terminally ill godmother and substitute parent. Strong for so many, Mel is there to help her, but in Daphne, he has found someone to help him deal with his own hidden and sorrowful past.
Together, Daphne and Mel prove that love is for all time and all ages!
I’d love to hear from you! Drop me a note at mkstelmackauthor.com (http://mkstelmackauthor.com) or on my Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/moirastelmack) page.
Thank you all and best,
M. K.
To Victoria Curran—here it is!
Contents
Cover (#u9a6b024a-5acb-5554-9f26-0a44dec05a6e)
Back Cover Text (#uae132f79-c48e-52de-a8f3-995c0a06206d)
About the Author (#u3247edf1-fab8-5d29-97b6-afd1367e7965)
Booklist (#ubaf7d33f-22a8-564a-9d73-440be8164eb0)
Title Page (#u731c956e-59aa-5706-92fb-8f372777a116)
Copyright (#u1b68d624-113f-54fa-97af-91a493ea2218)
Introduction (#u57185fa8-510a-52c6-aa78-84133e4ac160)
Dear Reader (#u55ac8706-c126-5da9-95fd-b1f0c162e616)
Dedication (#u30acd5c1-69d0-5e4c-ae52-3fdaf2b3c127)
CHAPTER ONE (#u0fadf278-5ec2-59d7-8e62-9c63dec2a15c)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9e970cb9-2fce-53cb-9579-357bf9dbb881)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6aa4196f-ef46-53e9-ada3-64bed8060115)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u39e6b8ce-3b35-527c-a6ca-5a9df347196c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uaaced10c-f733-52e4-b648-a8363022897d)
MEL GREENE WATCHED through the plate-glass window of the Tim Hortons coffee shop at a traffic accident about to happen a couple hundred feet away. A motor home had stopped on the highway and signaled to enter the side street leading to Spirit Lake’s top shop for caffeine addicts.
But the turn was too sharp. Not much shorter than a railroad car, the unit would flip in the ditch or, worse, collect vehicles in the oncoming lane.
No one else had noticed. The other customers drank and ate, or stood in line. Coming up on seven o’clock on a sunny July morning, it was rush hour at the Tim’s—a couple dozen vehicles were likely funneling through the drive-thru at that moment.
“Mel.” Linda, his as-of-five-minutes-ago ex-girlfriend, sat across from him, her voice soft and confidential. “Are you listening?”
The motor home switched to the right-turn signal. Mel relaxed. Right led to a street of businesses for light manufacturing, and a minimal risk of injury or death, if the motor home crashed.
The unit swerved into the oncoming lane—empty at this hour—veered the other way before straightening and then trundled down a street that made no sense for it to go on.
Mel dragged his attention back to Linda and to the end of yet another relationship. His seventh, to be precise.
He managed a belated nod because it hurt too much to talk right now. Still, to show he was taking their breakup with grace, he sipped from his coffee with its swirl of whipped cream.
Linda tapped her upper lip, and he wiped the froth off his mouth. A routine exchange honed over the last eight months of starting most days with a simple forty-minute coffee together.
Not anymore.
“You’re a good man, Mel,” Linda said.
Not the first time he’d heard that. His third girlfriend had been the first to use that line when she’d dumped him for a guy who’d been arrested for stealing antifreeze at a convenience store.
After the fifth breakup, he figured he might be a good man, but also an unlucky one. He’d been engaged to that girlfriend. She’d had three kids from a previous relationship, and an instant family was convenient and predictable. Then she’d become pregnant with another man’s child.
“But—” Linda started.
Mel disliked the word but. It undid everything good just said. Nice try but... I see what you’re saying but... Thanks for applying but... You’re a good man but...
“—but I feel...I feel you want to be with someone, anyone, and you’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
He would do whatever it took. Marrying a good woman was what he’d wanted pretty much all his fifty years, and Linda was a good catch. A retired nurse with a good pension. A full-time volunteer and grandmother. A widow with a good head on her shoulders and beautiful blond hair, which she did up, even this early in the morning.
She straightened, establishing more space between them and said, “And I refuse to settle. I know what it is to love. I want it again. And...and so should you.”
He was willing to spend the rest of his life with her. If that wasn’t love, what was?
“I wasn’t settling,” he mumbled to his coffee, finally speaking.
“You’re taking it awfully well, then,” Linda said. “I mean, look at you. Even now, I’m breaking up with you and you don’t seem to care. You’re staring at your coffee, or out the window at traffic.”
He forced himself to make eye contact with Linda. He’d probably often looked away from her throughout their relationship, giving her the impression he didn’t care. In reality, he was afraid if he gazed too long, if he fixed too much attention on her, she’d get scared and leave. Maybe he’d done that in all his relationships: wanted, yet hid his wanting. In the end, they’d all left, anyway. And it was always the women who broke things off because he’d neither the heart nor the guts for it himself.
“It’s not that,” he tried to explain. “It’s... I do care,” he finished lamely. “I’m sorry I didn’t show it right.”
Whatever the right way was.
Linda ripped at her coffee lid, the soft brown plastic whitening before giving way. “I suppose I can hardly blame you for not being emotional. Tim Hortons is hardly the place—” she waved a hand over the crumpled wrappers and bags on the table between them “—for this. I didn’t intend to say this to you today. It just sort of...spilled out. I’d been thinking about Craig. I guess after Craig died... I guess I just wanted someone to fill the space. We’d been together for thirty-six years, after all.”
So. She wasn’t over Craig. As usual, he’d missed the signs. He wasn’t even sure what the signs were. Shorter kisses? A few less dates?
