Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set (91 page)

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, it's late, and I'm going to turn in.”

“Me, too.” CJ stood and stretched. “I'm spending the night in the stable so I can keep an eye on that mare.”

After they were gone, Emily helped Annie clear off the table.

“What about Jack?” her sister asked.

“What about him?”

“He and I talked earlier tonight, and he's completely devastated about this.”

“I know.”

“He told me he's in love with you.”

“He told me, too.”

“And?”

Emily sighed. “I told him I wasn't ready to hear it.”

“Emily! The poor guy. How long are you going to make him suffer?”

She smiled at that. “Not long.”

“Good. You've been waiting for this for a long time. It must be nice to have one of your wishes come true.”

Annie was right. She collected her bag off the table. “I hope it's okay if I stay here tonight.”

“Of course.” Annie smiled.

As soon as Emily was settled in her old room upstairs, she would send Jack a text message. She wasn't sure yet what she would tell him, but she owed him something.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A
FTER
BREAKFAST
the next morning, Emily still wasn't ready to go back into town. Instead, she dug a pen and a leather-bound journal out of her old desk and carried them both, plus a thermos of decaf coffee, to the gazebo by the river. She hadn't brought a change of clothes, so she had borrowed a flowy mint-green sundress from Annie and a pearl-pink cardigan, which she draped over her shoulders.

After she'd crawled into bed the night before, she had sent a text message to Jack.

I'm staying at the farm tomorrow. Will you come out so we can talk?

Seconds later, she'd received his response.

Nothing could keep me away.

He hadn't said when he would arrive, but she knew he would come, and that was enough for now.

She filled the thermos cup with coffee and opened her notebook.

Dear Hearts,

I am happy to share with you the news that the Great Garden Gnome Caper has drawn to a close.

Emily still wasn't sure how much of the story she would actually share on her blog, but she would write it all down and decide what to cut later. For several minutes, her attention was focused on outlining the unexpected and appalling experience of being alone in a jail cell until she heard footsteps behind her.

Jack climbed the steps of the gazebo. The sight of him literally took her breath away. He wore black dress pants and a dark green cotton pullover with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

He smiled down at her. “Good morning.”

“Hi. I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad you asked me.”

“Thank you for coming.” The exchange sounded ridiculously formal. “Here, come sit.” She set the journal and pen aside, and patted the bench next to her.

He sat close enough to touch her, but kept his hands to himself.

She flipped the journal closed. “My family and I had a long talk last night.”

“How did that go?”

“My dad and Annie convinced me to give Rose a chance, get to know her, and maybe she can tell me what my mother—
our
mother—was like. My dad says there's good stuff along with the bad.”

“I am truly sorry things turned out the way they did. You have no idea how much I wanted Scarlett Finnegan and Scarlett Daniels to be two different people. I'm sorry you found out about your mother the way you did. I wanted you to hear it from me. I should have told you right away, even before I knew for sure.”

“It wouldn't have changed anything. None of this is your fault.”

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” He reached for her hand. “I love you, Emily.”

She could hardly breathe, and the lump that formed in her throat stopped her from talking. He was waiting for her to say it back. She wanted to. She truly did. Was Annie right? Was this one wish that really was coming true?

Jack plucked a daisy from one of the hanging baskets, held the stem between his thumb and forefinger, twirled it back and forth. Then the spin of the flower stopped as quickly as it started. He studied it, thoughtfully it seemed, and then abruptly tugged off one of the petals and dropped it. It reminded her of their picnic and how she had recited the lines of the childish game.
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me!

“She loves me.” Jack's words were quieter than her thoughts and far more startling.

He looked up and locked gazes with her. Oh, those eyes. Her heart thawed, just a little. Then his smile melted it a little more.

Another petal fluttered to the ground.

“She loves me not.”

Not possible. Never possible. She had always loved him.

“She loves you.” Emily took the flower and tossed it aside. “Now stop torturing that poor thing and kiss me.”

He leaned in and touched his lips to hers, letting them linger, making her more breathless than she already was.

“One more thing,” Jack said, “and this time I'm not taking no for an answer.”

“The answer is yes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I haven't asked the question yet.”

“Okay, fine, ask away.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet, reaching into his pocket as he did.

“Emily Finnegan, will you please do me the honor of being my wife...and making an honest man out of me?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Finally.” He grinned. “Annie told me that having you locked up last night was an interesting way to catch a wife.”

“I like this way better,” Emily said.

And then he slid a dazzling diamond ring on her finger and sealed the deal with a kiss.

EPILOGUE

Three weeks later...

J
ACK
HAD
NEVER
been to New York City,
let alone sat in the front row of the audience of a national celebrity talk
show. But here he was, watching the love of his life chat with one of America's
most talked-about TV hosts. For a self-professed small-town girl, Emily was a
natural. She'd had a brief episode of nerves in the dressing room, but on stage
she was so poised and professional, so beautiful she took his breath away. She
wanted to be a writer—she was a writer, and a brilliant one, too—but she could
as easily have been a television personality.

The interview had opened with questions about her blog, why she
started it and how long she'd been blogging. The next question surprised him but
Emily took it in stride.

“The title of your blog is
Small Town, Big
Hearts
. Can you tell us, Emily, why you decided to create a blog
about life in a small town. I mean, it's not exactly exciting.”

She bestowed a megawatt smile on the live audience, paused
briefly for the camera, then turned to the host to answer his question. “There's
an honesty and a sense of realism in small towns that you don't find in big
cities. No pretense. Most people have known each other all their lives. They
might not always see eye to eye but when push comes to shove, everyone rallies
around to help and give support.”

The host waited for the applause to quiet down before posing
another question.

“Tell us about your recent series of posts. I think you called
it ‘The Great Garden Gnome Caper.'” A photograph of a gnome-inhabited garden
filled the big screens on either side of the stage.

If Emily was bothered by the wave of laughter that rolled
through the audience, it didn't show. Instead, she gave a brief but animated
summary of the puzzling disappearances and how her readership had gradually
increased as she wrote about them.

“In one of your final posts, you mentioned that a certain Mrs.
P. and her dog were at the center of this so-called caper.”

“That's right. I didn't want to identify her, although most
people in Riverton know who she is. She was alone and elderly and kept the dog
for company, but I'm happy to say she's no longer on her own. Her daughter is
moving back to town to live with her. They've given me permission to share their
story because they want the world to know that people in small towns really do
have big hearts.”

And, Jack thought, because everyone liked to be part of a huge
success story like Emily's. He sure was proud to be part of it.

“Now that the country's buzzing about
Small Town, Big Hearts
, you're being compared to a new generation's
Garrison Keillor. How do you feel about that?”

Jack connected with Emily's brief gaze, felt the warmth of her
smile. “He's an amazing writer, so I couldn't be more honored, or flattered. I
try to write stories that have a broad appeal to young and old alike, and if
I've accomplished that in some small measure, then mission accomplished.”

There were times Jack wanted her to flaunt her accomplishments
to the world, but it wasn't her style. The audience's vigorous applause showed
they appreciated her humility as genuine rather than the false modesty of so
many celebrities.

“So,” the host continued, “what's next for Emily Finnegan?”

Jack watched the excitement light up her beautiful brown
eyes.

“Thanks to my readers, the last post in my garden gnome series
actually went viral. Somehow it caught the attention of an editor at a New York
publishing house. She contacted me and offered a book deal.”

Jack would always remember the day she burst into his office,
barely coherent and excitedly waving an email printout.

“Impressive,” the host said, speaking over the applause this
time. “Can you tell us about the story that went viral?”

Emily's blush was visible in spite of a heavy layer of stage
makeup. To the audience's surprise and delight, she described how she wanted to
save Mrs. P from the embarrassment of admitting her dog was the thief, so she
had set out under cover of darkness to return the stolen items. Instead she
ended up being the suspect and locked in a cell at the local police station.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. The audience was eating this
up.

There had been a time when he'd been sure that digging in his
heels and insisting Emily move to Chicago was the right thing for both of them.
Finally he'd come around to seeing that he was the one who needed to compromise.
But from where he sat right now, he could see he hadn't sacrificed anything. Not
a single thing. His career had taken a giant leap forward, he was going to be a
father, and this talented and beautiful woman had agreed to marry him.

“Emily, what would you like the audience to know about the man
who had you arrested?”

“His name is Jack Evans and he is Riverton's Chief of Police.
After I was released,” she said, playing along with the embellished arrest, “he
asked me to marry him.” She flashed another smile at the camera, then at the
audience. “I said yes.”

The applause was thunderous.

“I believe Chief Evans is here with you tonight.”

Jack's pulse sped up when Emily made eye contact. “Right there
in the front row.”

His image appeared on the monitors as he mouthed the words
I love you
, and then the cameras panned to Emily
as she blew him a kiss and whispered, “You, too.”

The talk-show host beamed as though he alone was responsible
for the wild hand clapping, wolf whistles and catcalls. “Remind us, Emily,” he
finally interjected, “what the title of your blog post was.”

“I called it ‘How to Catch a Wife.'”

That brought the house down.

Watching her laugh with the audience, Jack knew he'd caught
more than a wife. He'd captured a life.

* * * * *

Be sure to look for the next book in Lee McKenzie's
THE FINNEGAN SISTERS
trilogy, coming soon.

Keep reading for an excerpt from
THROUGH THE STORM
by Rula Sinara.

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