Page 8 of Embracing Hope

“So why are you here? Barefoot?” Lanah skipped her gaze down Hope. “Oh?!” The realization came to her with a wide-eyed expression, quickly followed by a knowing grin. “I see. Don’t worry yourself, Hope. Your secret’s safe with me.” She winked conspiratorially.

“I appreciate that, Lanah. It was nice seeing you but I must run.” Hope was already to her car.

“Ta-ta. Enjoy your day!” Lanah waved and flitted off toward the office in a cloud of perfume.

Once she was in the driver’s seat, Hope wasted no time in starting the engine and getting onto the road leading to Sagebrush Rose, leaving the fact that she’d run into the rumor queen of Sagebrush Pine in her rearview mirror. Hope had never seen eye-to-eye with Lanah, but she had compassion for the woman’s situation. Being single and pregnant would be hard enough, but carrying the child of a man who kidnapped and used Lanah in his sinister plot to hurt people would be horrific. Hope didn’t doubt that Lanah could put history aside and be a wonderful mother.

Pulling down the visor and the neckline of her shirt, Hope touched the bruised welt on her chest. It wasn’t as if he took a bite from her, and there were no teeth marks. She vaguely remembered begging him to bite harder.

With a sigh, she slammed the visor into place.

She’d never been into flings or one-night stands. She’d been in a two-year-long relationship until they hit an invisible wall. He was a nice guy who’d probably make a great husband but she needed…what?

A man more like Isaac? Rough and tumble. Daring and mysterious.

Her gaze instinctively fell to her wrist. The red marks had disappeared, but the lingering awareness of his touch remained. When he pushed her back onto the bed, he wore a distant expression, as if she had interrupted something he didn’t like to talk about.

Her cell rang, drawing her away from her thoughts. Celine Kartfelt’s name appeared on the screen, and Hope hit “decline.” It was too early to talk with the editor. However, in true Celine fashion, she swiftly called again. Hope knew she had no choice but to face the woman.

Hope clicked the screen and said, “Celine, don’t you think it’s a bit early for a call, especially coming from a high-powered New Yorker?”

“You didn’t return my call last night, Hope,” she said with a sigh that rattled the line.

“I was otherwise occupied.” Isaac’s naked body flashed in Hope’s mind.

“I need that signed contract. You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

In truth, Hope wasn’t getting cold feet because she’d had them all along. She’d had reservations since she sent the manuscript to the publishing house six months ago for consideration. She never would have expected she’d get an offer to publish her novel that was loosely based on her family and the small town. “Of course not. Isn’t it every day an author writes a book revealing the good, the bad, and the very ugly truth about her family who will kill her when they find out?”

“Come now, dear. Let’s leave the dramatics for the story. It’s a well-written, intriguing piece that’ll have readers clamoring for a second novel. But we can’t give them a second story until the first one is published. Stop dragging your feet and stalling.”

“I’m not stalling.”

“Then what do you call it?”

Hope could hear the drumming of the woman’s talon-like nails. From what Hope knew of the thirty-year veteran in the publishing industry, she didn’t take kindly to her time being wasted.

“I haven’t told my family yet,” she admitted.

“Tell them and sign that contract ASAP. Otherwise, I’ll find a more ambitious author.” Celine clicked off.

Hope couldn’t be annoyed with the editor. In all fairness, she was right. How many new writers would take Hope’s place? A first-time author being published by a reputable publishing house would have anyone feeling on top of the world.

When she started writing down all her thoughts three years ago, it had been more for therapeutic purposes, and it hadn’t crossed her mind that she would have it published one day. She was standing at a crossroads between excitement and feeling like she should run for the hills. Her family would not be happy that she was exploiting their lives in a semi-tell-all book. The book was told in a humorous tone, making light of all their trials and tribulations.

Hope rubbed her temple where she had a gnawing headache encroaching on her consciousness.

When she pulled up to the farmhouse, the ranch was bustling with activity. Hands were feeding livestock, inspecting fences, tending to the newborn animals, and mucking out stalls. Billy and Robbie were riding out to survey the land, and as she passed, they threw up their hands in greeting. She was glad to see the seasoned hand, Robbie McMillon, back on the ranch after he’d been recovering for six months from an injury. He’d been an employee of Sagebrush Rose since Hope and her sisters were little and he felt more like family. He always told the best stories about his days in the rodeo circuit.

She parked in the garage and practically jogged up to the farmhouse. Like she’d done at least a hundred times as a teenager, she quietly opened the door and slipped inside, pausing to listen if anyone was awake.

The house was quiet.

“What are you doing?”

Hope nearly jumped out of her skin at Dolly’s question. She swung around on the woman who’d been the cook at the farmhouse for as long as Robbie had been a hand. Hope pressed her palm over her chest, where her heart was beating fast. “Dolly! You scared the life out of me.”

The silver-haired woman with round, rosy cheeks and slanted grey eyes snorted. “Why are you sneaking around like a church mouse?”

---