Chapter One
Harper stared out the window of the plane, taking in the snow-capped mountains below.
The vastness of the landscape and the never-ending clear blue sky made her feel as though she was already back in Montana.
They couldn't be there yet — there was still an hour and a half to go — and once she arrived, she'd be under the big sky rather than zipping through it like this.
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Her trip back to New York had been brief but useful.
Her friends had been glad to see her; she'd been glad to see them.
When she'd left the city all those months ago, she'd thought she was only going to Montana for a few weeks — a month at most — to visit Shelley.
But with the way things had worked out, she'd decided to stay.
She was grateful to her friends for keeping an eye on her apartment, and she was going to have to make some decisions about it at some point. She could keep it, if she wanted to, but it didn't make much sense if Montana was going to be home.
She sighed. She thought she wanted to make it home. But she didn't have to decide right now.
Her New York friends thought she was crazy to even consider it.
Of course they were biased — they wanted her back.
And there were parts of her life in the city that she did miss.
She'd been to the symphony in Bozeman, and it was good.
Good for a small city out west, as her friends had pointedly reminded her after their evening at Carnegie Hall last week.
They didn't understand. She wouldn't have understood herself if she hadn't spent the last few months in Montana — hadn't experienced life out there.
Of course, it was a whole different world from what she was used to.
A different culture, different values, a pace that was glacial compared to New York.
But the people — the people were something else.
Hardworking, honest, straight-shooting, decent.
Not that there weren't plenty of those in New York, but it was almost like comparing two different planets.
She adored her city friends. But her very best friend in the world was now in Montana, and the two of them hadn't lived in the same place for far too many years.
And she'd made other friends there too. Jim Sheridan, who'd rented her his cottage. The whole MacFarland clan. Shelley's new friends, mostly women like them, who’d moved out there for one reason or another. Shelley’s man, Trip, and his group of friends — most of them former Navy SEALs who'd grown up together in Paradise Valley, gone off to serve, and come home again.
Good men. Not men she could imagine fitting into her life in the city.
She turned to stare out the window again.
And then there was Emmett.
Emmett was one of that group of former SEALs but he was so much more than that. He was a widower. He was a single dad to Tanya and Alana — thirteen and fifteen — who he’d raised by himself since their mom passed.
The rest of that group of men were good-looking, no question, and rugged with it. But Emmett was something else. Competent, capable, a good father who'd put his girls and their needs ahead of everything else since the day he lost Emily.
She made a face. He was damn good at it; he just shut the rest of the world out while he did it.
She hadn't known that when she first started helping out with the girls — driving them to rehearsals, picking them up from school, filling in wherever they needed her.
She'd done what she always did: spotted a problem that needed solving and got on with it.
And things had been going well. Until the night she'd opened her mouth and said too much.
As she so often did.
She probably would have gotten away with calling him out on his self-reliance — he knew it himself, owned it even.
But she hadn't been able to stop there. She'd gone further and implied — or maybe come right out and said, she wasn't entirely sure which — that in shutting the world out, he was shutting the girls out, too.
She couldn't remember exactly what she'd said to him, but she'd never forget the look on his face when she left. He'd been furious at first, and that was fine. Well, maybe not fine, but — she could understand it, and she could deal with it.
But she'd done something worse than make him angry. She'd made it sound as though she was on the girls' side and he wasn't. And as far as she was concerned, that was unforgivable.
It was the way she'd said it — the way she'd turned to the girls, made it an us, made him the outsider in his own kitchen.
In his own family. She hadn't meant to do that.
She'd just been angry and the words had come out the way they always did, faster than her better judgment.
But the result was the same whether she'd meant it or not.
She'd stood in his home and implied that she and his daughters were a team — and that he wasn't on it.
The girls were his world.
She hadn't apologized since — not because she didn't want to, but because she knew that bringing it up would mean wading back through what she'd said and what she'd meant.
And that would be like poking the bear. She let out a short laugh at that.
She and the girls had taken to calling him Papa Bear — she'd christened him with it, and Tanya and Alana had gleefully adopted it. The irony wasn't lost on her.
She could handle him being angry at her. What she didn't want was to make him face what she'd implied. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the man.
So she'd managed to keep hanging out with the girls, taking care of logistics whenever she was needed.
Shelley and Trip and the others were all taking turns picking Alana up from her theater rehearsals, too — it wasn't as though she was the only one showing up for them.
But for all the time she spent with the girls, she'd still managed to avoid spending even a moment alone with Emmett since that night.
Which was unfortunate, really. Because in many respects, there was nothing she'd rather do.
She took her phone out of her purse. She’d deal with the Emmett situation when she had to – and not a moment before. In the meantime, the rest of her life in Paradise Valley was something she was looking forward to getting back to.
She opened her phone and smiled as she scrolled through her texts. She hadn't messaged with Shelley since yesterday morning, but her friend had promised she'd be there waiting when Harper landed. Harper was looking forward to seeing her.
The two of them had met and become close friends in college, and their friendship had stayed solid ever since.
Harper had based herself in New York, working as an editor for one of the big publishing houses, while Shelley had gone on to law school and worked for a firm out of Pittsburgh.
They'd seen each other through marriages, divorces, and worse, and the distance had never made any difference.
At least, Harper hadn't thought so. But having lived so close to Shelley these last few months — having been part of each other's everyday lives — she now understood that there was an added closeness that came with that.
She loved it. And as much as she loved New York, she didn't want to give this up.
She smiled as she re-read a message from Jim Sheridan.
Jim: Looking forward to having you home. It's been quiet around here without you. Banner and his brothers will be here for a cookout Sunday afternoon. Hope you'll join us.
Harper: Of course. I'll be there.
She still hadn't decided whether she should try and put together a bunch of side dishes that would pair well with whatever massive hunks of meat Banner and his brothers would no doubt throw on the grill, or whether she should just admit defeat on that front and focus on baking dessert instead.
She’d brought back gifts for Jim and Banner too, but she’d have to choose her moment to give those – and it wouldn’t be at the cookout.
Next up was the group text with the women — Shelley's friends, the wives and girlfriends of Trip's buddies. Warm contentment settled over her when she acknowledged to herself that they weren't just Shelley's friends anymore; they were her friends, too.
She was looking forward to getting together with them all on Thursday evening.
Ari: Hey ladies, it's time for a night out. Can anyone — or everyone — do Thursday? I was thinking dinner at the Valley Lodge.
Candy: You should probably count me out on Thursday. I'll have to be at the bakery even earlier than usual on Friday morning. You know what my Fridays are like.
Ari: I knew you'd say that, so I already talked to Spider and Rocket. You have next Friday off.
Libby: You can't argue with that, Candy — and even if you wanted to, you wouldn't win an argument with Ari. She's a lawyer.
Retta: I'm free on Thursday. I'd love to go.
Ari: You don't mind, do you, Candy? I didn't think you would.
Candy: I don't mind, no. And since the boys will probably bring Bree in to do most of the baking, I doubt the customers will mind either. She could probably take over from me — she's good.
Shelley: She's good, but she's not that good.
Libby: Shelley's right. Bree can assist you, Candy, but there'd be a revolt in the valley if you said you weren't baking anymore.
Ari: Awesome, Retta. And what about you, Libby? You haven't answered yet.
Libby: I should be good, but I'll let you know.
Shelley: I'll be there. I'll touch base with Harper — but I'm guessing she will, too. She'll be back from New York by then.
Retta: Is she having a good time?
Harper: Having a great time, thanks — but I'm looking forward to being back. If I don't see you before, I'll see you all Thursday night.
Shelley: Do you want us to pick you up and give you a ride home afterward, Libby?
Libby: I'll figure something out. Thanks.