1
MORGAN
Morgan Sullivan couldn’t think of a time in all of her twenty-six years when she’d been so furious with her father. Sure, she’d had her share of teenage angst and feeling smothered by his overprotective nature, but they’d always been close and shared almost everything. Her dad had raised her as a single parent after her mother walked out on them in the middle of the night when Morgan was only six years old. It had been just the two of them since then.
While normally even-tempered, at the moment her heart was pounding in her ears and heat coursed through her veins.Dear old dadwas keeping a secret from her. A huge one. A life-altering one. Had he been lying to her all these years? Keeping information about her mother from her?What the hell?
But why? She couldn’t think of a single logical explanation for the envelope from the Lee County Chancery Court that she’d just stumbled across hidden in his desk. The seal of the envelope remained intact, so she knew he hadn’t opened it, although he must be aware of what was inside. And the postmark was dated only a little over six months ago. The chancery court granted divorces. Why had her father only recently received a divorce decree from the wife who’d left him—left them—over two decades earlier?
That burning question now had her head pounding as loudly as her heart, throbbing in pain, as her brain was bombarded with conflicting images and emotions. The wordwhykept playing over and over in her head like a broken record. Why had he kept this information from her? The only answer that came to mind was a cold harsh truth that chilled her to the core. Her own mother hadn’t wanted her.
* * *
The next morning, Morgan entered the kitchen where her father Sean was sitting at the table with his coffee, while his fiancée, Angela, was busy making pancakes at the stove. Together, they presented a perfect picture of domestic bliss. Thankfully, her blinding headache from yesterday had subsided, but her emotions were still a mess. As upset as she’d been with her dad the day before, after sleeping on it, she realized he’d probably been trying to protect her from the hurt and rejection she’d experienced so long ago as a little girl, the memories of which had faded over the years. Her father had been her protector for as long as she could remember. He’d been devoted to her and had sacrificed so many things for most of his adult life, putting her first always.
She was truly happy he’d finally found the woman of his dreams after so many years alone. And she was beyond grateful to Angela for being the special person who’d been able to break down the barriers he’d erected around his heart ever since her mother had left. Morgan looked at her with affection, aspiring to demonstrate the strength and resilience the older woman embodied. If only she’d come into their life earlier, Angela could have been her mother, since the woman who’d given birth to her obviously hadn’t wanted to be.
But still, as much as she tried to tamp it down, the tiny voice of resentment kept whispering in her ear. Dad was keeping a secret from her, and to be honest, it was tearing her apart, eating away at her gut like acid. Plus, now that he’d found happiness, she should be free to move on with her own life, right? She was twenty-six. Way too old to still be living with her father. Andherlove life? Non-existent, thanks to his well-known reputation as an overprotective parent. Most of the guys she knew had given up on trying to date her long ago.
Maybe things could be different now. What was that saying?Two’s company, three’s a crowd. Now Dad had Angela, and he’d finally been able to put the past behind him, emotionally, and after yesterday’s discovery, she now knew legally as well. But couldshe? She could barely remember her mother, and had gotten over the loss a long time ago. Children were resilient that way. Yet now that she was an adult, the discovery of an envelope from the court brought that loss, and the pain associated with it, back to the forefront. She now recalled crying for her mother during many sleepless nights as a young child. And last night, she’d had the most vivid nightmare of a beautiful blonde vision, whose face was too blurry for her to recognize, kissing her on the forehead as she lay sleeping, and then fading away when she opened her eyes.
She understood her father wanting to spare her any further pain, but he couldn’t protect her forever. All the more reason why it was time for her to make her way in the real world and get out from under her father’s smothering arms.
“Mornin’, Dad.”
“Hey, Peanut. How’s my baby girl this morning?”
She couldn’t help but bristle at his use of the term “baby girl” and the nickname he’d given her when she was little. “Your baby girl is all grown up and getting ready to go to her job.”
Sean chuckled, apparently oblivious to her irritation and the underlying tension. “You’ll always be my baby girl.”
Since she didn’t want to spoil the mood in the room, or let on to her internal turmoil, she changed the subject. “What’s on your agenda for today?”
“The usual. Still workin’ on things for the therapy ranch and lookin’ for a foreman.”
She grabbed a few strips of bacon and plopped them on her plate. “You definitely need more help around here with the holiday season approaching and the new horse therapy program.”
The primary function of the Sullivan farm was a thriving Christmas tree business, but recently Sean had been approached by friends who wanted to establish an equine therapy program on his land. This new venture had actually brought him and Angela together, as he’d met her at a similar facility near Tampa when he was checking out the operation there. Although neither Sean or Angela had been looking for love at the time, fate had conspired to bring them together.
Angela placed a heaping pile of pancakes on the table and joined them. “He definitely needs more help. I do what I can, but the horses require more attention than I can give them after working all day.” When Angela had first arrived in Green Springs, she initially worked the night shift at a hospital in Tupelo, but she’d recently transitioned to a day job at a thriving pediatric practice.
After polishing off her bacon and a pancake drenched in syrup and butter, Morgan set off for Tegan’s Tresses, the local hair salon where she’d worked for almost eight years. Although she’d been a daddy’s girl, tomboy, and 4-H kid during her childhood, she had blossomed into a striking beauty in high school. With her long, thick auburn hair and bright green eyes, there was no doubt about the identity of her father or her Irish heritage. Since she was always experimenting with hair and makeup as a teen, she’d been thrilled to enroll in a program through which she could graduate with both her diploma and a cosmetology license, allowing her to go directly to work. She loved cutting and styling human hair, and still enjoyed grooming and braiding her horse’s mane and tail. She was hopeful that one day she could open her own salon.
As she drove toward town, she hummed along with the music playing on her car radio. Although she keenly wanted to move out and get on with her life, she was torn between her wants and needs and her father’s feelings. And the recent discovery related to her mother had thrown some long-forgotten feelings into the mix. As she pondered her dilemma, a familiar song came on the radio, echoing the discussion in her head. It seemed like her real-life issues were always the subject of a country music song. She shook her head in amazement as Lee Ann Womack crooned the words to “I Hope You Dance,” prompting Morgan to ask herself:Am I ready to make some bold adult choices? Will I live my life to the fullest, or will I settle for the same old routine?
2
TJ
TJ Juarez was on the move again, rolling down Highway 78 with the truck windows down and the radio blasting to the latest Thomas Rhett song. His farm gig in Tennessee had just ended for the season, so he was heading south, hoping to find work where it would be slightly warmer into the fall and winter. Since he preferred traveling on state highways and back roads rather than the interstate, he was hoping he’d happen upon a small town soon. He’d crossed the Mississippi line a few hours ago and was feeling the need to make a pit stop. And now he had another reason to take a break. The damncheck enginelight was lit up, glaring at him from the dashboard. Just as he was considering pulling over to give his Ford F150 a rest, a large decorative sign welcomed him to the town of Green Springs.
As he spotted a restaurant ahead on the right, his stomach rumbled in response, reminding him that it was dinner time. He slowed his truck, turning into a parking lot filled with vehicles. “Must be an okay place since the lot is practically full. Regardless, I need to stop.”
He cut the engine and sat for a moment, tilting his head from side-to-side and rolling his shoulders in an attempt at relieving tension. He needed to figure some things out fairly quickly, as he couldn’t go too long without money coming in. And now he might be looking at a truck repair bill. Seasonal work was getting old with no job security or benefits, and at thirty-two, it was time he put down roots somewhere and end the solitary life. He longed for meaningful connections—something he’d never really had except for his time in the military—but when he’d gotten out, he’d left those relationships behind as well. He took a deep breath and let it out, hoping a plan would come together once he filled his belly and found a place to stop for the night. Donning his black Stetson, he hopped out of the truck and headed for the front door of The Blackened Skillet.
Since he was alone, he walked over to the counter and seated himself on a well-worn plastic-covered stool, rather than taking up a table or booth. He took off his hat and hung it on the peg under the counter, then ran his fingers through the short curly locks to tame his jet-black hair. He needed a haircut, as he liked to keep his naturally curly hair short, but he’d worry about that later.
Once he caught the eye of the waitress behind the counter, she bustled over, giving him a once-over before speaking. “Hey, hun. What can I get ya?”
