Heirs of the fallen, p.30
Love Inn Books (Freedom Valley Series Book 4): A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance, page 30
love inn books
Freedom Valley Series
Book Four
erin branscom
contents
Also by Erin Branscom
Dear Readers
1. 1. Preston
Edge of Seventeen
2. 2. Paige
Dreams
3. 3. Preston
Go Your Own Way
4. 4. Paige
Rhiannon
5. 5. Preston
Gold Dust Woman
6. 6. Paige
The Chain
7. 7. Preston
Hold Me
8. 8. Paige
Everywhere
9. 9. Preston
Man of the World
10. 10. Paige
Never Going Back Again
11. 11. Preston
I Don’t Want to Know
12. 12. Paige
You Make Loving Fun
13. 13. Preston
Tusk
14. 14. Paige
Sara
15. 15. Preston
Over My Head
16. 16. Paige
Love is Dangerous
17. 17. Preston
Beautiful Child
18. 18. Paige
Think About Me
19. 19. Preston
I Know I’m Not Wrong
20. 20. Paige
Silver Springs
21. 21. Preston
Why
22. 22. Paige
Secondhand News
23. 23. Paige
Little Lies
24. 24. Preston
Love That Burns
25. 25. Paige
Say You Love Me
26. 26. Paige
Big Love
27. 27. Preston
Monday Morning
28. 28. Paige
Wild Heart
29. 29. Preston
Landslide
30. 30. Preston
Songbird
31. 31. Preston
Don’t Stop
32. 32. Paige
Say Goodbye
33. 33. Preston
Sentimental Lady
34. 34. Paige
The Ledge
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
also by erin branscom
Freedom Valley Series
Falling Inn Love
Baked Inn Love
All Inn Thyme
Love Inn Books
Forever Inn Love
Inn the End
Non-Fiction
Writers Inspiring Writers with Jennifer Probst
Love Inn Books
Freedom Valley Series
Copyright © 2023 by Erin Branscom
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and
Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is
prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Made in the United States of America.
ISBN: 979-8-88662-014-6 (Paperback)
ISBN: 979-8-88662-012-2 (ebook)
Editor: Francine LaSala
Copy Editor: Beth from VB Edits
Cover Design: Enni from Yummy Book Covers
Dedication
To Paula, for being an amazing Aunt and loving our family. You’ve been an amazing friend, aunt and I can’t imagine life without you. You’ve taught me so much and been there through the good times and the bad. We don’t deserve you, yet somehow, we hit the Auntie jackpot with you. Everyone deserves a Paula in their lives, you truly are so special. I love you so much. Thanks for plotting this book with me on a plane that time we went to Vegas.
To Stevie Nicks, Aunt Susan wants her Thirty bucks back. The next one is yours, Auntie Sue.
Dear readers,
I had a lot of fun writing this book and I love the Fleetwood Mac theme. If you want to listen to the playlist that goes with this book, you can find it here: https://bit.ly/3PIKGIx
1. preston
Edge of Seventeen
“I need help,” a young woman on the other end of the call tells me. I can hear the emotional hitch in her voice, and I know already that I haven’t had enough coffee today.
I balance the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I pick up an overflowing stack of papers and mail from my desk and walk it to the front of the office to drop onto what should be my office manager’s desk. Though that’s a position I can’t seem to fill. This pile of paperwork is going to be tomorrow’s problem, I think to myself.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I pick up my pen out of habit and rest it against my yellow legal pad as I wait for the caller to respond.
“My name is Paige Mills. I signed a lease for my new bookstore and home and packed up my entire life to come here. I arrived in town late last night to find that the building is now occupied by some other business, and my keys don’t work.”
“Did you contact your landlord?” I ask.
I lean back, squeezing the bridge of my nose. A headache is already forming. I’ve already gotten a few calls like this. Being one of the few attorneys here in the small town of Freedom Valley makes me the go-to for every issue imaginable. I don’t mind, though. I’ll deal with Mrs. Winters, the retired librarian, and her rose bush war with her neighbor any day over what I dealt with daily back in Boston. When I practiced family law and handled some of the ugliest, cruelest divorces and custody cases. It made me really rethink the whole idea of marriage and family, not that I’ve ever had the best role models.
The only person I really consider family these days is Evelyn, and we’re not even related. Though our situations are similar. After Evelyn’s family abandoned her, she became my very first client here. She needed help getting into an assisted living facility and handling her affairs. She’s become special to me over the short time we’ve known each other.
“Of course I did.” Now she sounds irritated. “I’m not an idiot. The number is out of service. I got scammed.”
“Okay, let’s figure this out,” I say, trying to remain calm, hoping she’ll bring it back down a notch and realize I’m only trying to help. “What’s the address of the building?”
“Three-eleven Main Street.” She sighs like I’m not keeping up.
I’m confused. That’s the address for my new law practice. Is this a prank? Did my brother Blake put her up to this to mess with me? Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always been an immature asshole, despite him being older than me. He’s never taken being an attorney seriously, and he’s only ever taken on about a quarter of the cases I do because he doesn’t want work to cut into his afternoon tee time or trips with various women, usually to gamble in Las Vegas.
Despite working circles around my brother and billing an extraordinary number of hours more than him, my father promoted Blake to partner and left me taking on an even bigger workload while keeping me at my meager junior salary. That’s part of the reason I left. I’m not cheap labor for the family firm anymore.
“Are you even listening to me?” Paige snaps me back into reality. Geez, I really need an office manager to field these calls and help me out here. I can’t even focus.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I counter, still trying to understand why she thought she rented my building.
“Why are you in the building I rented?” she asks.
“I own this building,” I explain. “I’m not renting it.”
“Well, someone must know something. I can’t just lose all my money and have nowhere to go,” she says, growing even more upset. “Do you have proof that you own the building?”
Now it’s my turn to get irritated. “Do you have proof that you leased the building?” My patience gets thinner as this conversation progresses. Theo’s head pops up from where he’s curled up on his dog bed, and he watches me, noticing a hitch in my voice.
“How do I know you’re not the scammer?” she hedges.
“Look, I don’t know what’s happening here, but you need to find your landlord and try to get your money back. I can’t help you.” This conversation is going downhill fast. I need to abort.
“I have no way to do that,” she says. I can feel her getting even more worked up. And honestly, I’m sure I’d feel the same way if I was in her shoes. For a moment I wonder if I do even own the building, but I know I looked over all the contracts myself and closed with a reputable title company. I’m sure the purchase was legitimate.
“You’re the only person I can contact,” she pleads. “He’s gone. You’re here. I need you to fix this. Please.” Her defiant tone now sounds defeated.
“I can’t fix something I didn’t break,” I reply. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to contact your landlord,” I say with finality. “Figure it out.”
“So there’s nothing you can do for me?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Then thanks for nothing!” She abruptly disconnects the call.
I lean forward and put my forehead in my hands. I need help if I’m going to make it work here in Freedom Valley. But first, I need a coffee run. I look over at the counter where I’m supposed to have a coffee bar set up. Even that still needs to be done. I make a mental note to move getting coffee set up in here to the top of my list, but it’s not going to happen today.
I step out into the bright sunshine and head over to the bakery. It’s a beautiful day, but that’s not doing anything to ease my mood. I’m still riled up from that call. I want to help every person I can, but sometimes I can’t if they don’t have the information I need. Besides, her attitude sucked, and I have plenty of other client work right now.
I shake the bad feelings off as I push open the door to Baked Inn Love, the bakery run by my friend Allie. As I enter, I’m greeted by the sweet smell of baked goods and espresso. I close my eyes and breathe. Just stepping in here gives me a serotonin boost.
“Hey, Preston. I’ll be with you in just a sec.” Allie smiles and hands coffees to customers waiting for their orders.
Hands in my pockets, I scan the case and choose a blueberry scone.
“Your usual blueberry scone?” she asks, then pops a lid onto the coffee she’s already prepared for me. “How’s your day going?”
“Yes, please. Good.” My shoulders droop, and I let out a sigh.
“You sure?” she asks, sizing me up as she punches in my order.
“Yeah, just busy.”
“Still no office manager?” She looks concerned.
“No. My only applicant was a woman in her late seventies who didn’t know what Microsoft Word was. I need someone who can at least operate a computer,” I say wistfully.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“I appreciate it.” I take my coffee and scone. On my way out, I notice some other friends sitting by the window. Beth and Mellie. I give them a quick wave.
As I cross the street, my mind is still on the woman who called, and I wonder what she’s going to do. But just as I step onto the sidewalk in front of my building, an older-model Volkswagen van with music playing loudly pulls up. I’m not sure who I expected to exit the vehicle, but when an angry-looking woman with long, curly, wild red hair pops out, I pause.
Without seeing me, she heads to the front and presses her face to the glass, cupping her hands round her eyes so she can see better. She tries the handle and finds it locked.
“Can I help you?” I offer. I’m not sure I can deal with another angry woman today. I’ve hit my limit.
She whirls around as if she recognizes the sound of my voice. “Are you the attorney I talked to on the phone?” she asks, her green eyes fiery and sharp.
My breath hitches. She’s so stunningly beautiful and so, so angry. I don’t even know what to say, so I nod. That’s it. That’s literally all I’ve got. This woman has rendered me speechless.
Seconds probably pass by, but it feels like minutes.
“What?” she asks, her hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you talking?”
I frown, wondering why she’s here. But I’m curious, so I lean against the door to my office and shrug. “What would you like for me to say?”
“Well, you can start by explaining how you’re in the building that I rented for my bookstore. I see you still have boxes everywhere. How do I know you really own the building and aren’t just a squatter?”
I resist rolling my eyes because I know it will likely fire her up even more, but then I think that might be even more entertaining, so I continue. “Because I have the keys.” I shrug as I slide one into the lock and open the door. Then I call over my shoulder, “Do you have the keys?”
She sighs. “The keys I have don’t work.”
“Hmm, imagine that.” I sip my coffee.
She grinds her teeth and flips her wild hair behind her. “What’s your name?”
I smile at her; I can’t even help it. She’s getting cuter the angrier she gets. “Preston Steele.”
“Can you prove this is your building, Preston Steele?”
“I have the title, deed, and the keys. What do you have?” I counter.
Her eyes narrow. “I have a lease that says I rent this building. I gave all my money. . .” She pauses. I can tell she’s trying not to cry now, and I soften.
“You know what? Never mind. You’re supposed to help people. You’re an attorney. Except you don’t help people. So just forget it, Preston Steele.” Her voice wavers as she turns and stomps in the direction of the bakery. I watch as she goes, unsure of what to say. I don’t know what to do to help her out here, but now I’m invested.
I know that her problem is likely to become my problem as I watch her head directly to the table where Mellie and Beth are sitting, and Allie quickly joins them.
I’m so screwed.
2. paige
Dreams
What a total shit show. I came to town looking forward to setting up my new bookstore, and instead, I found out that my bookstore is now someone’s new law office. And that someone wouldn’t help me when I confronted him about it. And he’s also really hot. But that’s beside the point. So I did what every sane person needs to do to recalibrate and figure out what her next step is. I went to get coffee and carbs. Because I need those to plan my next move. These days, I pretty much run on coffee, and I’m pretty sure that’s what flows through my veins at this point. Iced coffee, anxiety, and the dire need to get this bookstore up and running ASAP so I can pay my bills. And I have a lot of bills right now. Hence the anxiety. And to top it off, I’m now going to have to find a part-time job to keep up.
Getting carbs and coffee actually became the catalyst for my new life here in Freedom Valley. When I first learned about my predicament, I stormed into Baked Inn Love for sugar and solace and ended up making friends who are supportive and as excited as I am for my bookstore to open. And it turns out that they know the jerk who bought the building that was supposed to be my bookstore. They referred him to me for help! To be fair, it probably isn’t his fault I got scammed.
I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get my money back or if I can keep my grandpa Harry safe at the Freedom Valley assisted living facility for another month. Sheila, the office manager at the facility, is constantly on my back. She seems to be itching to get Harry thrown out for any infraction she can dream up. Being a minute late on payment being one of them. I wonder if she treats all the families of the residents this way or just me. She seems to have it out for Harry. Just another bump in the road I’ll get over.
Speaking of the road, I’m currently living in my retro, let’s say “loosely” renovated Volkswagen van and have been for the past several years to save money for said bookstore that has now officially been put on hold. The insulation is crap, and it gets very cold or very hot in there, depending on the weather. I’ve lived the most frugal lifestyle in order to put every penny into this new business. I’m beginning to question whether any of this was even worth it. I feel like I’m watching my dream go up in smoke. My chest tightens, and I rub my knuckles over it, trying to relax and remember to breathe.
Now back at my van with some more things planned, I open the side door and check on Pancake in his carrier. “Hey, buddy. We found a place to stay,” I coo at him as I reach in and scratch his big floppy belly. “That big bad wolf who stole our bookstore building won’t get the best of us. We’ve got this, don’t we?”
