Harlequin Special Edition May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Read online

  Harlequin Special Edition May 2021 Box Set 2 of 2

  The Last One Home

  The Twin Proposal

  The Rancher’s Forever Family

  Christine Rimmer

  Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Sasha Summers

  Table of Contents

  The Last One Home

  By Christine Rimmer

  The Twin Proposal

  By Cathy Gillen Thacker

  The Rancher’s Forever Family

  By Sasha Summers

  “What are you doing, Ian?”

  He guided a hank of hair back over her shoulder. “Bad idea, huh?”

  Agree with the man, she commanded herself. Tell him not to be foolish. Tell him that yes, absolutely, it’s a bad, bad idea. But her mouth opened, and she heard herself say softly, intimately, “You never made a move before.”

  “You’re too important to me.” He traced a line down the center of her nose, leaving a trail of longing, a sizzle of sweet heat.

  And she needed to call him on his crap. “I’m too important, you just said.”

  “That’s right. You are.”

  “And yet, tonight, you want to pretend that I’m not?”

  His forehead crinkled with a frown. “Didn’t I just say it’s not wise?”

  “But you’re doing it anyway.”

  His breathing changed, his dilated pupils sharpening, a muscle twitching at his jaw. “You’re right. I’m messed up tonight and not thinking clearly. You need to get up and go.”

  She did no such thing.

  “I need you to tell me why. Why tonight, of all nights, you want to change the rules?”

  “Ell...”

  “Just tell me why, Ian. That’s what I need to know.”

  THE BRAVOS OF VALENTINE BAY: They’re finding love—and having babies!—in the Pacific Northwest

  Dear Reader,

  Here we are at book ten of the ten-book Bravos of Valentine Bay series. If this is your first visit to Valentine Bay, I want to reassure you that I always construct each story to be read as a stand-alone. You’ll get all the great feels and the satisfaction at the end by reading The Last One Home on its own.

  Finn Bravo has been missing for two decades now. He vanished at the age of eight on a family trip to Russia. His siblings in Valentine Bay, Oregon, have never stopped looking for him—and they never will, though every promising lead so far has come to a dead end. His family is determined to bring him home someday.

  Ian McNeill, CEO and owner of a successful New York City toy company, has never known where he came from. Adopted from a Russian orphanage at around the age of ten, he considers himself a lucky man. The waking nightmare he survived in Siberia is behind him and he loved his now-deceased adoptive mother. The way he sees it, a wife and family of his own just aren’t in the cards for him, but he’s always grateful for how his life turned out.

  Single mom Ella Haralson is Ian’s colleague at work and also his friend. Her eleven-year-old daughter, Abby, considers Ian something of a second dad. But when buried memories from Ian’s past resurface, Ella will step up for him in any way he needs her. And just maybe the two of them will discover that there’s a lot more than friendship going on between them.

  I hope this story grabs you from page one, holds you right through to the end and brings home to you the enduring power of friendship, love and family.

  Happy reading, everyone,

  Christine

  The Last One Home

  Christine Rimmer

  Christine Rimmer came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at christinerimmer.com.

  Books by Christine Rimmer

  Harlequin Special Edition

  The Bravos of Valentine Bay

  Almost a Bravo

  Same Time, Next Christmas

  Switched at Birth

  A Husband She Couldn’t Forget

  The Right Reason to Marry

  Their Secret Summer Family

  Home for the Baby’s Sake

  A Temporary Christmas Arrangement

  Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

  In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

  Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers

  Her Favorite Maverick

  Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch

  A Maverick to (Re)Marry

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For MSR, always.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  “We never see the bears, Ian. I think we should.” Abby Haralson gazed up at Ian McNeill with a bright smile on her wide-eyed, lightly freckled face. The kid had been wrapping him around her pinkie finger for nine years now—ever since the age of two, when her mother, Ella, brought her to work for the first time. That day, Abby had climbed into his lap without being invited and then refused to get down.

  He’d been nineteen then, working summers and part-time during the school year while he earned his degree, determined to master every job at Patch&Pebble, the toy company he would someday inherit from the woman who had saved him and claimed him as her son.

  On that first day he met toddler Abby, she’d turned those big brown eyes on him, same as now. She’d smiled so sweetly—and peed on his brand-new suit.

  As for the bears, no. Just no. “Not today, Abby.”

  “Well, Ian, then when?” She fluttered her eyelashes, her smile turning wistful. No doubt about it, Abby was destined to break a whole bunch of hearts.

  “I don’t know. One of these days.” He and Abby had their things they did together—Yankees and Knicks games, in the good seats, down close to the action. He took her to her favorite Disney movies now and then, to see Frozen and The Lion King on Broadway, and he attended her dance recitals. A couple of times a year, on days like today when the weather was right, when he could get away and she didn’t have school, they spent an afternoon in Central Park, including a visit to the zoo. Never once in all those years had they gone to see the bears.

  And Ian had no intention of going to see them now.

  “Ian.” Abby pinched up her mouth at him. “It’s like Nike. You need to just do it. You’ll be surprised. It’s going to be fine. Betty and Veronica are really friendly grizzly bears. We read about them in class. They are so friendly that, for their own safety, Betty had to be removed from Montana and Veronica had to be taken out of Yellowstone—so Ian, come on. Don’t you want to see the friendly bears?”

  No, Ian did not.

  But there was just something about Abby. She could make him do what she wanted him to do using only her big eyes and that angelic smile. Now, she kept both trained on him expectantly as she waited for him to say yes. He almost said it.

  But bears?

  Not going to happen.

  Ian frankly acknowledged his fear of bears—even ones safely locked in fancy outdoor cages. Maybe someday he’d deal with that fear. Not today, though.

  “What about the seals?” he suggested. “You love the seals.”

  Abby planted her legs apart and braced her fists on her hips, adorably adamant. “Betty and Veronica can’t hurt you, Ian. They’re in a special bear habitat and they can’t get near the people.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Ian.” She pulled out all the stops, folding her arms, sticking out her chin and puffing up her chest. “You really need to face your fears.”

  Bemused by her absolute unwillingness to let it go, he stared down at her as she gave him a bullet-point rundown of a story she’d read during library time about a Midwestern farmer’s daughter who faced her deepest fear and jumped out of a hayloft.

  “How’d that work out for her?”

  Abby wrinkled her freckled nose at him. “Okay, she broke her leg. But it was character building, and that’s what matters.”

  Ian bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. Abby could be so stern and earnest. “I’m not that afraid of bears,” he lied. “Have you forgotten? Patch is a bear.” Patch was one of the two all-time top-selling toys manufactured by his company.

  Abby scoffed. “Patch is a stuffie.”

  “And stuffed bears are my favorite kind.”

  “But why don’t you like real bears?” As she asked the question, her glance shifted to the faded white scar that ran upward diagonally from his left temple, barely skirting his eye, to the center of his forehead. Once she’d compared it to Harry Potter’s lightning-bolt scar, though Ian’s scar was ragged, uneven and not the least
photogenic.

  “Abby, you already know why I avoid real bears.” She’d known how he got that scar since the age of eight, when she’d coaxed him into telling her how it happened—or at least, as much as he remembered of how it happened.

  “Oh, Ian...” A mournful sigh escaped her. “Betty and Veronica won’t hurt you.”

  “Betty and Veronica are bears. That’s all I need to know—and how about the flamingos?” he offered hopefully. “Let’s head over there.”

  Abby slowly shook her head. “There is nothing to worry about. I promise you. I’ll be right there with you, Ian.” And she slipped her hand in his.

  That did it. He couldn’t deny her. Besides, her reasoning rang true; they were just bears in the zoo. Bears in a special habitat, walled off from the humans. Nice bears. Friendly ones—according to Abby, anyway. How bad could it be?

  Five minutes later, Ian stood next to Abby at the shatterproof viewing screen above the grizzly habitat and stared down at the two giant bears below.

  Surprisingly, nothing happened. He didn’t find himself paralyzed with terror. No flashing visions assailed him. He had zero urge to run away screaming.

  “See?” Abby nudged him with her elbow. He could hear the grin in her voice. “You’re just fine.”

  “It appears so.” At least, for the moment.

  The horror might still kick in.

  But he watched the bears a little longer, and still it didn’t.

  He heard himself chuckle. They were enormous, those two bears. And playful. They snuffled and shuffled and slid around in the water, climbing out onto the rocks, rolling in again.

  As for Ian, he felt relaxed and amused, not the least panicked. He had to hand it to the kid. Turning to meet her eyes, he said, “You’re right, Abby. I should have let you drag me here years ago.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Her smile had turned smug. Abby loved being right.

  He shifted his attention back through the viewing screen, smiling at his own fears just as Betty threw back her enormous furry head and let out a roar that showed way too many long, sharp teeth.

  It happened right then.

  Like a stop-motion movie, the images began. They flashed and vanished in front of his eyes. Strobing and pulsing, they filled his head, each more terrifying than the one before it.

  They flipped by faster and faster.

  He was thrown back in time, only a boy and scared out of his mind.

  Shadows on snow, blood on the white. Angry growls, long, piercing claws reaching for him, sharp teeth coming at him...

  His vision zeroed to a tiny circle in the center of an endless night—no stars, no moon—nothing to light the unremitting dark.

  As he sank to the ground, from somewhere far away, he could hear Abby screaming. He needed to comfort her, to promise her that it was all in his mind, that everything would be all right.

  But he couldn’t move. He stared up at a pinprick of blue sky surrounded by darkness.

  And everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWO

  In the blackness, something different happened.

  He was still just a kid, but not terrified, not alone. He tagged after an older boy along a snowy path. Somehow, he knew that the older boy was his brother, Matt.

  Matt turned to him and ordered him to go back to the others.

  His boy self insisted, “Mom said I could come with you,” and he kept following, chattering away about how he thought the huskies that pulled their sled were so cool, with their weird, bright blue eyes. “I want a husky, Matt. I’m asking Mom for one when we get home.”

  Matt turned on him again, glaring. “Just shut up, will you, Finnegan? Just. Please. Stop. Talking.”

  He stared up at his brother and did what Matt said, pressing his lips together so no words could get out. Matt made a sound of disgust low in his throat, turned back around and started walking again.

  His boy self kept quiet after that. He trudged along through the snow behind his grumpy big brother, thinking that Matt was a dick and wishing he had the nerve to say the bad word out loud. He even practiced it, mouthing the accusation—You’re a dick, Matt—but not giving it sound.

  A few minutes went by. He started to find it difficult to keep being mad at Matt. Being mad was hard, and it didn’t feel good. He let his anger go and opened his mouth to say more about getting a husky when he spotted movement from the corner of his eye.

  Blinking, he swung his head that way and saw it was a chipmunk, only white—a white chipmunk. “Wow,” he whispered to himself. “Just, wow.”

  The chipmunk had pale tan stripes and a fluffy white tail. Its white fur made it difficult to spot against the snow. It got up on its rear legs, sniffed the air—and then darted off toward a tangle of bare bushes.

  Fascinated, he took off in pursuit of the cute little creature, veering away from Matt to give chase as it raced across the snow—and wait.

  What was that?

  It sounded like crying...

  The sound brought the darkness back, the snowy world zeroing down to a pinprick of brightness.

  * * *

  Ian blinked and stared up at the girl bending over him. “Abby?”

  She sobbed, “Ian! Oh, Ian, I’m so, so sorry...”

  His vision still blurry, his mind a gray fog, he tried to reach up, to soothe her, but his arms wouldn’t move.

  Someone pushed her back.

  Abby disappeared from his line of sight. Now he frowned up at the tired face of a concerned-looking dark-haired woman. She wore a blue uniform with FDNY over the left pocket and EMT above the right. He managed to form two words. “I’m fine...”

  The woman shook her head and spoke to him. He heard nothing but a flood of garbled sounds until the last word. “...hospital.”

  “Hospital? I don’t need to go to any hospital—Abby!” He called for her. Somewhere nearby, he could hear her, still crying. He struggled again to free his arms, to kick his legs, which wouldn’t move, either. As he struggled, he tried to reassure her, shouting, “I’m fine, Abby! Abby, don’t cry...” He looked up at the EMT and said in a pleading voice, “Really, I’m all right...” He glanced down at himself and put it together: strapped to a gurney. When had that happened?

  “Ian!” Abby called from behind another blue uniform. “I’ll go with you...”

  Yes. If they were taking him anywhere, Abby had damn well better come, too. “Let her come in the ambulance,” he said to the woman bending over him. “She’s only eleven. You can’t leave her here.”

  The woman only patted his shoulder gently and spoke in a coaxing tone. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.”

  As they loaded him into the red-and-white vehicle, he kept saying, “No!” and kept calling for Abby.

  Finally the woman said what he needed to hear. “She’s coming. Stop struggling. She’ll ride along.”

  And then he was in the small, enclosed space—with Abby beside him, her eyes red from crying, but her expression calm and determined. “It’s okay,” she promised him, patting his shoulder with one hand and holding up her jewel-bedecked pink phone with the other. “I’m here, Ian. Right here with you. I’ve called Mom. She’s meeting us at Manhattan General...”

  “Good...” Abby needed her mom, and he needed Ella, too. His longtime friend and, for the last four years, chief operating officer at Patch&Pebble, Ella had a way about her. Calm and no-nonsense, she took every crisis in stride.

  Abby sniffled—but bravely. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “Of course I am. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  She patted his shoulder again. “I feel so terrible. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Honey, you need to sit,” the EMT cut in. Gently, she guided Abby to a bench by the doors. “Buckle up,” the woman said.

  Then she took Abby’s place at his side.

  * * *

  Hours later, the doctors at Manhattan General had asked him an endless array of repetitive questions, run a battery of tests, contacted his own doctor to confer on his condition and concluded exactly what Ian had expected they would. After he’d explained what little he knew of his childhood before his adoptive mother had brought him to America, the hospital’s medical team deduced that the incident was a flashback to past trauma. They advised therapy.