Homeward Read online

  HOMEWARD

  The Mountain Man’s Babies

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  About

  1. Colton

  2. Laila

  3. Colton

  4. Laila

  5. Colton

  6. Laila

  7. Colton

  8. Laila

  9. Colton

  10. Laila

  11. Colton

  12. Laila

  13. Colton

  14. Laila

  15. Colton

  16. Epilogue 1

  17. Epilogue 2

  Preview

  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  About

  HOMEWARD

  The Mountain Man’s Babies Book 8

  Idaho is the last place a man like me would ever expect to find the woman of his dreams.

  But there she is, running a Bed & Breakfast, with her heart-shaped face and magnetic smile.

  And she has no idea who I am.

  Just like me, there is more to Laila than meets the eye—this girl has been broken more times than she can count. She's lost all faith in a man ever helping her piece together her shattered dreams.

  But she's never met a mountain man like me.

  The distance between her heart and mine may seem wide, but I refuse to give up because she deserves happiness more than any woman I’ve ever known.

  I may be stuck in the middle of nowhere, but in her arms, I feel like I’ve come home.

  Dear Reader,

  HOMEWARD features hidden identities, secret babies, and a few stalkers who aren’t going to stop until they take what they want.

  Don’t worry, no one is gonna mess with the babies on Miracle Mountain, I can guarantee you that!

  This story is steamy, sweet, and sure to make you want to fall into the arms of the closest bearded-hottie.

  Enjoy!

  xo, frankie

  Chapter One

  Colton

  I knew I needed to leave. That if I had to spend one more day dealing with Rozzy, and her brother Rick… I’d lose my shit. One date with Rozzy was all it took; now she thinks we’re meant to be.

  But I know she’s meant to be out of my life.

  Unable to shake either of them, I left L.A., knowing a long-ass road trip was one way to avoid the pair of gold-diggers. Sure, I could have gotten a restraining order--and maybe I should have--but I didn’t want to get my name in any paper. I’d gotten so sick of the bullshit of this town over the past year that all I wanted to do is keep my head down--Rozzy was just the last straw.

  Now, after driving for a month on a trip to clear my head, I’m lost.

  Literally and figuratively, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way back home.

  Do I even know where that is anymore?

  I can’t get a cell signal, and who would I call anyway? I don’t want to talk to anyone in L.A. Not right now -- not until I absolutely have to. Which, according to my calendar, is in two days’ time, when I’m supposed to step foot on the set of my new movie.

  But that seems ages away right now. Maybe because I have no fucking clue how I’m gonna get from here to there. Doesn’t help that I don’t even know where here is.

  The air conditioning is busted--and a few months ago, that fact would have grated on me. Back then, if anything didn’t go my way, I’d pay to get what I want.

  But I didn’t like the man I’d become.

  So, when I got word that the movie was shooting in the middle of nowhere, Washington State, I knew I needed to take a long-ass drive and spend some time figuring my shit out.

  Now, with the windows down, the wind rustling through my hair, a hand running over the thick beard I’ve been growing for this movie, I feel myself relax. The sun may be beating down on me, but I’m feeling alive for the first time in years.

  This fresh mountain air is good for the goddamn soul, I figure.

  But getting lost in the mountains of Idaho when the sun is starting to set? Not so much.

  After driving a few hours through miles and miles of dusty mountains and empty highways, I see a diner on the side of the road. I pull over, hoping like hell there will be somewhere close by where I can get some sleep tonight.

  Inside, there’s a guy sitting at the table who introduces himself as Jonah.

  I tell him I’m Cole Mills -- the alias I’ve been using the last four weeks. No one needs to know I’m Colton Miller. In fact, part of me wishes I could leave that entire life behind.

  When I ask where I am, Jonah tells me I’m ten miles shy of the town of Eagle Crest.

  He’s wearing Carhartt’s and a trucker hat, has shaggy hair, and a sleeve of tattoos on his arms. He offers me a genuine smile--something those hipsters in L.A. would never give a stranger.

  “Never heard of the place,” I say as a waitress comes over and refills Jonah’s coffee.

  “Well, there are about two thousand people in the town of Eagle Crest,” he tells me, “but we’ve got families all over these mountains, lots of good folks around these parts.”

  “Can I get you something, sweetheart?” she asks. Her name tag reads Rosie.

  “I’m good, thanks. Just looking for a hotel.”

  “Oh sure,” Rosie says. “Laila and Virginia have a little hotel.”

  “Yeah, and it’s the best bed and breakfast in the state,” Jonah says.

  Rosie rolls her eyes. “It’s only a few miles away, in Eagle Crest.”

  Relief floods my face. “Thank God. I was thinking I might have to sleep in my car.”

  Jonah laughs. “Hell, we’d have found some place for you to stay.”

  “So, what town is this?” I ask.

  Rosie smiles warmly. “We like to call it Miracle Mountain,” she says.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Lots of supernatural mysteries take place here?”

  She and Jonah share a look. “You could say that,” she says. “When people come here, they seem to stick around is all.”

  “Well, sorry to say, I’m just here for the night,” I tell them. “I’m headed to Washington tomorrow, to the town of Linesworth. You ever heard of it?”

  “A little tourist town, right?” Rosie says. “I’ve been begging my husband, Buck, to take me there for a weekend away.”

  “I’ve never been there myself,” I tell them. “But I hear it’s really pretty this time of year.”

  “I hear it’s a cool place any time of year,” Jonah says. “Lots of skiing there in the winter, and apparently, they have some world-famous cinnamon rolls.”

  Rosie slaps Jonah’s shoulder playfully. “And what’s wrong with my cinnamon rolls?”

  Jonah laughs, then gives me the address of the hotel, and even draws me a little map when I tell him my phone doesn’t get reception.

  “Come back if you get lost, okay?” Rosie says. Jonah shakes my hand as if we’re long lost buddies.

  I thank them, then get back in my car, driving away as the sun sets, glad I grew out this beard. Back home, I couldn’t leave the house without being recognized; without the fucking paparazzi on my ass. As I’ve been on my month-long road trip, traveling through Wyoming, Montana, and now Idaho, no one seems to give a fuck about what films I’ve starred in, they don’t seem to care that I have an Oscar on my mantel. They look me in the eyes when we talk and assume the best.

  It makes me wonder why in the hell I’ve spent so much time with people I don’t really like all that much.

  Following Jonah’s directions, I drive a few miles, make a few turns, and find myself in a low valley, right outside of the Eagle Crest Bed and Breakfast. There are only a few cars in the parking lot, but the house is beautiful.

  It’s an old farmhouse, a sweeping porch with rocking chairs out front, and even
though it’s getting dark out, the silhouette of the mountains surrounds us.

  I grab my suitcase from my trunk, knowing how badly I could use a shower after driving in the heat all day. My stomach growls and I wonder why I didn’t sit down at Rosie’s Diner and order a slice of pie.

  I pull open the door to the B&B and the quiet wraps around me.

  “Hello?” I ask. But no one answers. I set down my suitcase, and call out another hello, but still nothing. Past the foyer, there is a sitting room, and opposite it, there’s a dining room with half a dozen tables. Past the room, French doors are slightly open and I see someone sitting in an Adirondack chair, reading.

  I move towards the doors, pausing before stepping out.

  Sitting there, reading in the moonlight, is a woman who stops me in my tracks. She has soft brown hair and full pink lips. An upturned nose and thick black lashes and a petite body curled up in that chair. She’s looking at the Kindle in her hands and completely wrapped up in whatever book is on the screen. I lick my lips, knowing what I want. Her.

  “Hello?” I call again, this time, her chin lifts, her eyes find mine and a smile fills her heart-shaped face.

  All day long, I’ve been lost on the road.

  But one look at her and I know I’ve been found.

  Chapter Two

  Laila

  It’s been a long day of cleaning rooms, washing sheets, and restocking toiletries. I do the beds and Virginia does the breakfasts. It’s not exactly glamorous, but the job is ours; we’re our own bosses, and it’s a life I can take pride in.

  It’s something I didn’t know I’d ever be lucky enough to find.

  I wouldn’t say I’m exactly happy, though; not yet. Most people I’ve gotten to know here always comment that I have a sad look in my eyes. I still have a long way to go to get to a place where I am genuinely at peace. Not surprise after everything I’ve been through. But Virginia and I have been here in Eagle Crest for a year now and I’m beginning to make a few friends, to trust the people I’ve gotten to know.

  Virginia has already left the B&B for the night, though she didn’t have to go far. We have a shared apartment over the detached garage, and so walking home from work only requires going twenty yards.

  But I’m not ready for bed. Dusk is my favorite time of day. After our guests have retired for the evening, I like to come out here to the patio where I light the citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes at bay. I drape a blanket over my knees to keep me warm and sit with my Kindle to keep me company. It’s a simple life, but it’s on my terms -- no one else’s.

  I’m just settling in with a glass of white wine, engrossed in my book when a voice startles me. I look up, realizing I have company.

  “Oh, hello,” I say, setting down my Kindle on the side table next to my wine. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, walking onto the patio. He has a thick brown beard that causes a wave of desire to roll through me, but it’s his eyes that really reel me in. They are the kind of clear blue that you could get lost in. That you could drown in.

  He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and his bicep muscles stretch out his T-shirt sleeves. His arms are free of tattoos, but he’s tan as if he’s been driving for miles on end with his arm out the unrolled window, the sun beating down on him.

  “I’m not scared, are you looking for a room?” I ask.

  He nods. “I am, do you have any available?”

  “A few,” I say with a smile. “Are you looking to stay a while or just one night?”

  “Just one night.”

  “How did you hear about us?” I ask, standing up from my chair.

  “I got lost and my cell reception is shot. Stopped at a little diner a while back and they told me to come here.”

  “You must have been at Rosie’s.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “And you didn’t bring me any of her famous pie?” I tease.

  “Man, I wish. I pulled up here thinking about that pie.”

  “Well, you’ll have to get yourself a slice on your way out of town.”

  “Will do,” he says, looking around the patio as if taking in every detail. “So, are you Virginia or Laila?”

  “Gosh, sounds like Rosie was chatty tonight.”

  He laughs. “Well, a guy was there, too, Jonah, and he only had good things to say about this place.”

  I smile. “Oh, I’m sure he did. He has a thing for Virginia.”

  “So, you’re Laila?” He looks me in the eye when he asks and as I nod, I feel my heart go thump-thump-thump. Which is something it hasn’t done in a very long time.

  Not since before the Badlands. And that seems like it was forever ago. A different lifetime.

  But this man stirs something in me. Muscle memory maybe, the desire to be held and touched and wanted. To be something more than the broken girl who was used and abused.

  I swallow, hard, biting past the emotions of my past, and he reaches out his hand to introduce himself. “I’m Cole Mills.”

  I nod. “Laila Adams.”

  “You work here long?”

  I shake my head, thinking that Cole seems chatty. Maybe he’s been lost and driving in circles for too many days. “Would you like to sit and have a glass of wine?” I ask, pointing to the open bottle.

  He lifts his eyebrows. “You sure?”

  I nod. “I’d love company. Just give me a sec.” I step inside the French doors and head to the kitchen. Once there, I grab the lemon cake I made this afternoon, two forks, and a wine glass. Then I head back to the patio.

  Cole takes the wine glass from my hand and eyes the two-layer lemon cake.

  “Why would I want to go to Rosie’s for pie when I can eat cake here?”

  I smile. “Well, some people are pie people, some are cake people--”

  He cuts in, “And some people are both.”

  Laughing, I offer him a fork, then pour him a glass of Riesling.

  “I like you already, Cole,” I say playfully, appreciating his warmth. I haven’t felt this kind of attention from a man in a really long time. Maybe ever.

  “You’ve lived here awhile?” he asks and I remember his question from a few minutes ago.

  “Actually, Virginia and I just moved here and opened the hotel a year ago. We’ve been best friends for a long time and decided to go into business together. We’d been through a rough couple of years, but when we got an unexpected settlement, we took the money and opened the B&B. It was kind of our restart button.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” Cole says, listening intently as we both sit in Adirondack chairs. “So, now you’re living in this place I hear is called Miracle Mountain?”

  I laugh -- Jonah and Rosie really must have given him an earful. “Well, it isn’t technically Miracle Mountain. The B&B is in Eagle Crest proper. The mountain range they are referring to is just north of the diner.”

  Cole nods. “They say when people come there, they never seem to leave.”

  I lift a forkful of cake to my mouth. “That’s what I’ve heard. Lots of romance is in the air over there.”

  “But not here?” he asks, looking at me, and I know what he’s getting at.

  “Not here.” Then I give him a wistful smile, pointing to my Kindle. “Though I love to read about other people’s happily ever after.”

  “Not sure you believe that you’ll find one yourself?”

  “Not likely. But that’s part of why I wanted the B&B, something I can call my own. So even if life beats me down, I know this place is waiting for me.”

  “You’re quite a cynic for someone so young, and so damn beautiful...” He stops himself, probably realizing I’ve dropped my eyes to the ground; how my body almost curls in on itself. “What did I say?” he asks softly.

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Bullshit. What did I say?”

  I shake my head again, waving a hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter, Cole.”

>   “Of course, it does.”

  “Truthfully?” He nods and so I continue. “I’ve just been hurt by a lot of men who wanted me because of the way I looked. They saw me as an object, not as a person. And it kinda...” I let out a long breath, then bite the side of my lip and shrug. “It messed me up pretty badly.”

  Cole nods slowly as if understanding. “Right, so my leading with how pretty you are doesn’t exactly bring warm, cozy memories to the surface, is that it?”

  I nod, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “Sorry to put my baggage on you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Cole snorts. “Laila, I never meet women like you.”

  I lift my eyes. “Like what?”

  “You’re honest; it’s refreshing. We all have shit, right? But most people spend all their time trying to cover it up. Pretend it isn’t there. Like it’s a dirty secret instead of the truth.”

  “And what’s the truth?” I ask, wanting to know how clearly this stranger actually sees me.

  “The truth is our history isn’t something to be ashamed of--it doesn’t have to define us, but it sure as hell makes us who we are.”

  “And who are you?” I ask him, this mountain man who rolled up here tonight, dusty from a long day’s drive, sun-kissed from the Idaho summer, with eyes that seem to see straight through me.

  He leans in, and at that moment, the mountain air stills and it’s like anything is possible.

  “I think I’m a man hoping for a miracle of my own,” he says with a voice that is so gentle, yet so masculine, so absolutely concrete, that I realize I feel safe with a man for the first time in my entire life.

  “Then it looks like you came to the right place,” I whisper, smiling despite my fears and my inhibitions and my baggage and my pain. I smile, not knowing what comes next, but hoping that for tonight I can swim in his eyes and drown in his arms.