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when I asked this question, he turned his eyes to me and I had to take a steadying breath. “A burger sounds great, Miranda. Fries and maybe some coleslaw?”

I nodded, the force of his gaze and his deep voice combining to render me incapable of speech.

“Same here,” Sam said, pulling my gaze his way. Where Chance was all suave sophistication—as much as that was possible covered in dust—Sam was just Sam. Sure, he was every bit as searingly sexy as Chance, but didn’t matter because it seemed like every time I made a misstep, Sam was there to point it out, and that made me like him a lot less. I was on my guard with Sam—off balance. He was quick with a snarky comment, and honestly, I never could tell what his angle was. I wasn’t sure if he really was an asshole, because it really seemed like he was only that way with me, but either way, it put me on edge.

Chance had been three years ahead of us in school. I’d only ever really known him as a distant icon of everything that was masculine. When we were freshmen, Chance was a senior, and he had been ridiculously handsome even then, long before Sam had grown into his looks. But Chance had never looked at me in school. And the one time I thought maybe the heavens had opened and somehow Chance had noticed me, it had turned out to be a cruel joke, which was part of why I couldn’t trust Sam, because of the part he’d played in it.

And then Chance had gone away to college. I figured a guy like Chance would never return to Kings Grove. He had way too much going for him. But family is a strong draw, I guess, and when his dad got sick and couldn’t run the business, Chance returned to do it. He had a newly minted MBA when he got back.

“I’ll go put in your order,” I told them, and spun around. I had the distinct feeling Sam’s eyes were still on me as I walked away. I glanced back over my shoulder to see, and ran directly into my father, who’d just walked in with Mom.

“Steady there,” he chuckled, grabbing me by the shoulders and keeping me on my feet.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile for him as I gathered my senses together post-collision. He’d cleaned up and he smelled like soap and home.

“Any time,” he said. “Can you grab us some Cokes?” He and Mom sat down at the long counter and I went to put in the Palmers’ order, hoping that they hadn’t been watching when I’d run right into Dad.

The place was packed, so I didn’t have much time to chat with my parents, and it took all of my focus to get from one place to another without incident. When the food was up for the Palmers, I checked to be sure my path was clear before loading up with plates. Once they were successfully delivered, I let myself relax a bit as I stood next to their table.

“You planning to stay up here, Miranda?” Chance’s eyes were on my face.

Oh God, he was gorgeous.

My brain stopped working and words refused to come as the blood rushed into my face. His hair was a light brown, perfectly tousled, and he had a quarter-inch scruff over his jaw that made me want to run my fingers over it. Or maybe my tongue. His teeth were straight and white, and his broad chest was challenging the plaid work shirt he wore as his muscles bulged beneath it.

Say something. “I … I don’t know,” I managed. Brilliant.

“Well,” Chance put a fry in his mouth and tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “You’re way too smart to waitress for the rest of your life.”

I nodded, then stopped myself. Agreeing with him was arrogant. I tried to keep my head still and look like I was listening and not hanging on every delicious word from his lips. His very full, perfectly proportioned lips.

“We’re looking to hire an admin assistant,” Chance continued. “Part time. Nothing big, but we need kind of a problem solver.”

“We need someone to answer the phone,” Sam said, his voice flat.

I swung my gaze to Sam and narrowed my eyes at him.

“She doesn’t want to do that,” Sam finished, looking at his brother.

“I can totally do that.” The words were out before my brain had engaged. For as long as I could remember I’d conditioned myself to say ‘yes’ to Chance Palmer, and to hold my own with his brother if I felt like he was putting me down in some way. It turned out not to matter what Chance was asking.

Chance smiled and shook his head. “No, I meant, I thought you might know someone … your age?”

My face undoubtedly fell as my heart sank. My age? He saw me as a kid.

“Uh, hello? She’s my age,” Sam said to his brother. “Don’t make it sound like it’s a disease just ‘cuz you’re getting all old and withered.” So it turned out Sam’s attitude wasn’t reserved only for me. That was good to know, at least.

Still, this was not going well at all. And what the hell was Sam doing jumping to my defense? It was confusing.

“I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head,” I said. “I’ll keep my eyes open though.”

Chance wasn’t asking me after all. He was hoping for someone else. I didn’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

“Thanks Miranda,” Chance said, putting another fry in his mouth. He was always so calm, so confident. I envied him as much as I wanted him. He’d go on about his day, having no idea that this simple conversation would have me stressing out and rethinking every word I’d uttered for weeks. I was hopeless.

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Acknowledgments

This book has such a long story behind it. Part of it is the story of my childhood—the cabin where I grew up in Sequoia National Forest, surrounded by ancient giants that stood watch over me just as they’d stood watch for millennia. The same trees that watch over my sons when we visit my cabin in the summers now. Part of the story is about my family, about how those mountains and that location are a common thread running between people who otherwise would not see one another. It’s about legacy—the story of men lost at war whose voices can still be heard echoing between the rutted hillsides and over rocky trails in the Sierra Nevada.

And in a lot of ways, this book is about my mother, because those stories I just talked about are hers more than anyone’s.

But it’s also about my heart and my voice, and this book might be the first one that speaks authentically about me, about who I am.

I wrote this book as Love Rebuilt in 2017. But I think the version you have in your hands today is a better book, and I’m proud to present it to you again in its new incarnation.

Thanks so much to my mother, for giving me the mountains. Thanks to Kelly, my faithful friend, for keeping my head on straight and being a voice of sanity. Thanks to my advanced reader group - you guys are amazing and a fundamental part of my publishing journey with every single book. And thanks to every reader who has helped me share my stories. Thank you for reading.

Also by Delancey Stewart

Want more? Get early releases, sneak peeks and freebies! Join my mailing list here or scan the QR code and get a free story!

The Singletree Series:

Happily Ever His

Happily Ever Hers

Shaking the Sleigh

Second Chance Spring

Falling Into Forever

The Digital Dating Series (with Marika Ray):

Texting with the Enemy

While You Were Texting

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