Silver Foxes of BWB 1: 40 and (Tired of) Faking It

Chapter One

 “What the fu—uh—freak are you listening to, JD?”

John David Lane laughed at his friend’s fumble for words. Lincoln Young had no problem giving his friends shit, but if he was at his restaurant and there were women present, certain words weren’t leaving his mouth. And since he spent most of his life at the restaurant, it stood to reason that was where he’d called from.

“Nice save,” JD said, thumbing the volume on the radio down and the call on his Bluetooth up. “And what do you mean, ‘what are you listening to’? U2 is classic.” It wasn’t Linc’s favored Def Leopard or AC/DC, but JD preferred to avoid aggravating the headache already banging around inside his skull.

“According to that train of thought, so are we,” Linc grumbled.

“And you’ll always be more classic than me; don’t forget that,” JD reminded him.

The staccato sound of a knife hitting a cutting board filtered through the car speakers. Definitely at the restaurant, then. Linc was the executive chef at a restaurant with three Michelin stars, which was why he’d be taking the lead on food when their new resort was up and running. “I’m a year older, but thanks for rubbing it in my face constantly.” Linc’s muttered “asshole” was just loud enough for JD to hear.

“A year older and a shit-ton grumpier. That’s what happens when you hit middle age.”

Linc’s snarl rumbled through the car. “Keep it up and I’ll come down there on the next available flight and use this knife on you instead of this bok choy.”

JD didn’t bother holding back his laughter at his friend’s expense. When he topped the next hill, that laughter choked off

Black Wolf’s Bluff – 1 mile ahead.

Almost there.

As if he somehow sensed the tension rising in JD’s gut, Linc asked, “How much farther?”

JD took his foot off the gas, slowing as he steered the car onto the exit ramp. “About five minutes from the city limits,” he finally answered. “I’m just pulling off the interstate now.”

“See anything we can use?”

He surveyed the area as he brought the car to a stop at the intersection at the end of the ramp. When the new resort was complete, most of their guests would be coming off the interstate at this exit, whether they arrived here from Asheville, North Carolina, Chattanooga, or Nashville, Tennessee. There were only so many major roads through the Smoky Mountains. And amenities along the way were as few and far between as the interstates.

Unfortunately Black Wolf’s Bluff had been short on amenities when JD grew up here, and it didn’t look like that had changed. “I see a McDonald’s and a gas station.”

The same McDonald’s and gas station, in fact, that he’d stopped at the morning he left this “one-horse town,” filling up his belly and his car on the way to Columbia Business School thirty years ago. His acceptance letter had been the first time his grandparents, who’d raised him, had ever shown pleasure at one of his accomplishments. That moment of pride hadn’t extended to helping him get settled at the university. At eighteen, he’d driven himself to New York alone. Settled in alone. Built his life alone.

Well, not completely alone. He had his friends, the men who had become like brothers to him. He’d made a family for himself as much as he’d built a successful life for himself. New York was his home now. He’d never expected to return to the town that belonged to the family that hated him.

“Don’t think our clientele are going to consider McDonald’s an amenity.”

“Some people aren’t as much of a food snob as you are.” Though Linc had every right to be a food snob given his vocation. JD, on the other hand, wasn’t blessed with Linc’s skills in the kitchen. His friend’s snort of derision accompanied him as he crossed the road and pulled into the drive-through. Cuisine snobbery notwithstanding, he wasn’t planning a trek into Black Wolf’s Bluff proper until tomorrow. He’d stopped at the lawyer’s office in Nashville for the keys to the family mansion, but food wouldn’t be available until he scouted out a grocery store.

McDonald’s it was.

He’d have thought the area surrounding his childhood home might have built up, that things might’ve changed at least a little bit, but he should’ve known better. Nothing changed around here—at least until now. Now he was back, and everything would change. Whether the citizens of Black Wolf’s Bluff wanted them to or not. The resort JD and his friends planned to build would put Black Wolf’s Bluff on the map.

Excitement thrummed in his veins despite the fatigue of traveling all day. A new project always did that to him, but this one… They’d been planning a resort like this for a long time; they’d just needed the right property to do it. JD’s inheritance had given them the land. Now they could get the project off the ground—after he got permission from the planning commission to begin construction.

And he knew from past experience that planning commissions could be total dicks when it came to cooperation.

The sounds of chopping knives, dishes rattling, and Linc barking orders at his sous chefs—and his sneer at JD’s dinner selection—filled the car as JD ordered and picked up his food. He pulled onto the rural highway again, headed northeast toward Black Wolf’s Bluff. Through his speakers, the slam of a door told him Linc had retreated to his office. “I wish you had let me come with you,” Linc said in the sudden quiet. “Or Carter. One of us should be there, at least.”

JD couldn’t hold back a snort. “I’m fine.” He was; he wouldn’t admit otherwise, to himself or his best friend.

“You say that now, but if you’re not fine, both of us are too far away to be there quick.”

“Just get your bags ready. When I’ve got the planning commission eating out of my hand, you can swoop in and design your dream kitchen any way you like.” Black Wolf’s Bluff wouldn’t know what hit them when they got a taste of Linc’s cooking.

“If you manage to get the planning commission eating out of your hand.”

“And that’s why I’m meeting with Lillian Easton first thing in the morning. We’ve got a fantastic plan; you know we do. With the town mayor for support, hopefully we can get this project moving.” JD could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. The lady mayor, as they’d taken to calling Mayor Easton, didn’t stand a chance.

“I hope you’re right.” Doubt colored Linc’s words.

“Of course I’m right. They don’t call me Mr. Charming for nothing, you know. This is my job. I do know how to do my job.” He might not want to be doing it here, in the place he’d left behind thirty years ago, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. “I’ll have panties dropping with my first steps into town, promise.”

“Speaking of panties…”

The words brought a groan from deep in his chest. The afternoon light became gloomier as he drove farther into the foothills, and he slowed as he racked his brain for the memory of the turnoff toward his family’s land. “Linc…”

His friend, of course, ignored the warning. “So Carter said Alicia was going off on social media last night about men being assholes.”

Shit. Exactly why he hadn’t been scrolling during the long wait at the airport this morning.

“I take it she was referring to you.” Linc’s statement was flat, not a question.

JD grunted. He really didn’t want to talk about his ex or hear about how much of an asshole he was for breaking things off. She’d known from the get-go that he enjoyed her, but he had never misled her into thinking he was looking for anything permanent. His career was his passion, not the women he dated. “She’d have been bored as hell down here anyway.”

Linc’s silence screamed that he wasn’t buying that excuse. Since JD’s divorce in his twenties, when his career first started taking off, all his energy had been targeted toward work. Having a steady girlfriend made sex convenient, but he wasn’t going to invest long term and his friends knew it. He sure as hell made certain the women he dated knew it. A permanent family wasn’t for him. He had his brothers, and that was all he needed. Or wanted.

“Someday some woman is going to knock you off your feet, bro. You won’t be able to walk away then.”

“I’m a bit old for that to be happening, aren’t I?”

“Forty-eight isn’t too old to find someone you care about, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s definitely too old to find someone. And to be a diehard romantic.” Which Linc was, gruff as he might seem. His tatted, buff-as-hell-despite-his-age friend was a widower, and losing his wife a few years ago hadn’t diminished his belief in love. JD couldn’t fathom having that much faith in anything. “I’ve yet to find a woman I couldn’t walk away from, and after this long, that’s the way it’ll probably stay.”

He slowed and put his blinker on—not that there was anyone else on the isolated highway—as he approached the winding road that went up the mountain the Lane family owned.

You mean, you own.

Exactly.

“You know what I can’t walk away from?” he asked Linc. “This project. Now get back to your kitchen and your bok choy and let me get up the mountain. I’ve got a lady mayor to impress tomorrow, and that means settling in and sleep. And shitty food.”

Linc’s laugh was lost as JD clicked off the phone.

HARVEL-BE3QH

Silver Foxes of BWB 2: 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It

Chapter One

So how does it feel to be a coward?

Claire glared at herself in the mirror, hating that she was calling herself names. Hating that she was right. She was too nervous to step out of the bathroom, because that would be the first in a short line of steps heading out of her apartment.

And those steps led to confronting ghosts from the past. Or rather, someone who wouldn’t stay a ghost.

Damn the man.

“Claire!”

She squeezed her eyes closed, blocking out her image, wishing she could block out her friend Erin’s voice as well. Why couldn’t she just stay here, hidden, and forget the outside world existed? This building, the one that held her bakery and apartment, was her haven, her sanctuary. Nothing outside these walls truly required her input, right?

She opened her eyes, gaze locking with the dark eyes staring out from the mirror.

Right. Hiding made her a coward. Got it.

“Claire?” A sharp rap on the closed door told her the time for hiding was up. “You okay in there?”

“Fine!” Okay, not fine, but what the hell. Was lying any worse than being a cowardly lion? Where was a wizard when she needed one? “I’ll be out in just a sec.”

“Good. Want me to get the food ready to go?”

Relief at the reprieve had her shoulders dropping from around her ears. “Please!”

She was a chef; she never went anywhere, including a backyard barbecue, without gobs of food. Except this backyard barbecue was being held to celebrate her best friend Lily’s recent engagement to JD Lane—and the arrival in Black Wolf’s Bluff of JD’s best friend, Lincoln Young.

The man who’d stolen Claire’s dream almost a decade ago.

“All right, girl.” She stared down her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Chocolate, that’s what her eyes reminded her of. Her favorite dark chocolate ganache, rich and shiny, gleaming in the bright sunlight. She’d always loved chocolate, from the time she was a little girl. She’d worked hard since her divorce to establish an actual friendship with that face, those eyes, to make sure that her first ally was the one staring back at her from the mirror every day, first thing in the morning. She wouldn’t let Lincoln Young steal that from her. He’d stolen enough already.

So no more of the word coward, okay?

“Okay.” She smiled. It might not reach her eyes yet, but it would. She just had to keep working at it. Straightening her shoulders, she gave herself a wink. “Let’s go.”

“Claire!”

She rolled her eyes at her reflection. “Coming!”

“Well get a move on, will ya?”

Erin didn’t tolerate delays well. She was a general contractor, a good one, and she knew how to herd cats. Even if there was only one cat, and that cat was as reluctant as all get-out to leave the safety of her bathroom.

Her friend was right, though. Claire gave her reflection a final survey, pleased that she looked damn good, forty years old or not. Minimal, effective makeup, curly hair bouncing around her shoulders—her favorite feature aside from her eyes—a light button-down and fitted skirt that showed off her curves. In her opinion it was impossible for a pastry chef to be stick-thin unless it was pure genetics—and her genetics laughed at stick-thin figures, so she was out of luck there. But she’d come to terms with her weight in the past few years—another benefit of age. Plus she had great legs. She might be short, but legs didn’t have to be long to be great. Hers were shown to advantage in the strappy berry-colored sandals that matched her shirt, the slightest heel perfect for walking on an uneven lawn while still giving her some lift. She couldn’t have chosen better armor for what was ahead.

She was as ready as she’d ever be.

A deep, full breath, then she grasped the doorknob and stepped out. Her apartment was small, a one-bedroom that fit above her bakery on Main Street in Black Wolf’s Bluff, and it took no more than a dozen steps to move from the bathroom to her tiny kitchen where Erin waited. Her friend sat at the miniscule bar, a glass of sweet tea sweating in front of her. Old-fashioned baked beans and fresh-baked sourdough, a bowl of coleslaw—the kind with mayo, not vinegar—and a carrel of cupcakes waited beside her.

“’Bout time,” Erin groused. She stood from her stool, smoothing down her pants legs. Erin’s love of overalls was a religion, but at least today she’d traded denim for cool linen over a thin silk shirt, the outfit elegantly draping her tall, athletic frame. “What was taking so long?”

“Just running late.” So it was a bit of a fib. No one else knew about her history with their new-in-town guest, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to share.

The shrewd way Erin eyed her said she might be running out of time on that. “Something’s been off with you lately, and it isn’t just your timing.”

Claire opened the fridge to grab the pan of strawberry-pretzel salad. That the move kept her from having to meet her friend’s eyes was a bonus. “Nothing is ‘off.’”

“Yes, it is.” Erin’s stare dug into her as she crossed the kitchen to add the dessert to the pile. “What’s going on? Are you worried about the expansion?”

“Absolutely not.” Total truth. She’d wanted to expand her bakery for years now, not just physically but pushing more into her art, adding more upscale pastries that the customer base here in her small hometown simply didn’t have an interest in and often couldn’t afford. The chance to add a second store in the upcoming Black Wolf Resort and feature her pastry skills in their top-notch restaurant would allow her to do exactly that. “I’m ready.”

“For the expansion or to go to Lily’s?” Erin teased. She finished the final swallow of her tea on the walk over to the sink, than added the glass to the top rack of the dishwasher. “And we’re not going until you tell me what’s up.”

“Wasn’t it you just nagging me about being late?”

Erin shrugged, a smile teasing her mouth. “Being late will just draw more attention when we finally do arrive.”

Claire blanched.

Erin arched a brow. “I knew it was something about this barbecue that was getting to you. You’ve been like a cat on a hot tin roof since Lily started discussing it. What’s going on?” Moving closer, she gripped Claire’s bare arm softly, frowning down at her. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She did know. The problem was, she wasn’t sure spilling her guts would help. But she also knew that look in Erin’s eyes; it meant she wasn’t getting out of here without some kind of explanation.

Erin leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re not intimidated by having a high-profile chef here, are you? Because you shouldn’t be. He might be from New York City”—Erin gave those three words the quirky cowboy accent from the Old El Paso commercials Claire remembered from the ’90s, making her snort—“but that doesn’t mean he’s better than you.”

Lincoln did have more talent than she did, at least as a chef; she had enough self-awareness to acknowledge that. Heck, he had more talent than 95 percent of the food experts in the world. Lincoln Young hadn’t gotten where he was in the culinary world on looks and charm alone, although he had plenty of that to go along with his genius. When it came to pastry, though, that was a whole other deal. Creating desserts people melted over was her passion, and though pastry chefs like the ones she’d studied under during her time at the Institute of Culinary Education in New York City might top her, no way could Lincoln Young ever beat her in a pastry stand-off. She knew that from personal experience.

Not that she’d tell Erin that.

“No, he doesn’t intimidate me,” Claire assured her. Not a total lie. He didn’t intimidate her on a professional level, but on a personal one? She refused to think about that. “Lincoln will oversee the restaurant”—at least at first, since he had a Michelin-starred restaurant and a celebrity-chef career to manage elsewhere—“and that would make him somewhat my boss, but no, I don’t think he can fault me where my food is concerned.”

Erin began gathering bowls and pans onto the small cart she’d brought to carry everything. “Good, because he shouldn’t. I know I’m no expert, but I’ve never tasted anything better than your food, Claire.”

Erin had never been out of the South, so she’d never experienced the wonders of the New York food scene, but her friend’s words touched her heart. “Thank you, Erin.”

Her phone buzzed in her skirt pocket, and Claire fished it out. Her heart took a nosedive as she read the text.

Dinner is almost on the table and everyone is here. Where are you?

“Is that Lily?” Erin asked as she finished transferring the last of the food.

“No such luck.” Following behind her friend as she steered the cart toward the back door, Claire typed rapidly in response: Mama, I told you tonight is Lily and JD’s engagement party. I won’t be at family dinner tonight.

Her mother’s response had her lips tightening before she thumbed her phone off and slid it back into her pocket.

A knowing look sparked in Erin’s eyes. “Mom giving you a hard time again?”

It would be funny if it wasn’t so painful. “Missing family dinner for time with my heathen friends?” Her eye roll shouted exactly what she thought of that label. No, her mother hadn’t said it exactly that way, but Claire read the subtext just fine. “Why would she give me a hard time about that?”

Erin snorted. “We’re more fun anyway.”

Her friend wasn’t wrong. Most family dinners were spent with her mother fawning over Claire’s brothers’ children and giving Claire disapproving looks anytime she discussed her business. According to her family, her place in the world was barefoot and pregnant while her husband “provided” for her and the brood of children she was obligated to provide in turn.

Yeah, she’d tried that route. To say it hadn’t worked out was the understatement of the century.

She moved around Erin and the cart to open the door, doing her best to ignore the ache behind her breastbone. “Y’all are definitely more fun,” she threw over her shoulder. “And you have alcohol.”

“You know it!” Erin pushed her load onto the stair landing, then waited for Claire to lock up.

Her friend’s response lightened Claire’s mood. She usually limited herself to two drinks at any gathering—she was definitely a lightweight when it came to alcohol—but she might have the first one quick when they got to Lily’s. Anything to ease the nerves that resumed with a vengeance as they maneuvered the cart down to the car and began to load the food into the back seat of Erin’s truck. She had little choice but to move forward if she wanted the opportunity at Black Wolf Resort, and that meant facing Lincoln Young head-on.

Who knew? Maybe she’d get lucky and their time together so long ago would be lost amid the excitement and demands of the jet-setting life he’d lived for the last nine years. Surely he’d forgotten one shy little pastry-chef intern by now.

Lincoln Young probably wouldn’t even recognize her.

But as they began the short drive over to Lily’s house, she knew the likelihood of that happening was nil. She’d never been that lucky.

HARVEL-LQXQF

Silver Foxes of BWB 3: 40 and (So Over) Fixing It

Chapter One

Carter Deveraux was going to kill his sister. No more blind dates, no more harassing him till he agreed. He wouldn’t have to put up with Emma’s pestering because she wouldn’t be around to pester him anymore. He would make sure of it.

“Carter?”

The woman standing beside his table had to be at least half his age. Maybe more, given he would be fifty in a few months and she didn’t look like she was out of her teens. That might just be the clothes, though; the barely knee-length plaid skirt she wore was more suited to a Catholic schoolgirl than a dinner at a restaurant listed in the top ten of New York City. Come to think of it, so was the tight white button-down. And God almighty, she was wearing knee socks.

Thank God he hadn’t taken her to the Prime—Linc would never let him hear the end of this.

He belatedly realized he was still sitting and came to his feet. “Chloe?” Was that the name Emma had given him? Or maybe it was Zoey? All the women she’d set him up with were starting to run together at this point, which probably meant he should take a long, long break from dating.

As he pulled out the woman’s chair, trying hard not to stare down the deep vee of her open shirt, he amended that thought. A permanent break would be best, at least if it was Emma engineering the dates.

“Zoey.” She smiled up at him, her lips a soft pink that reminded him of his cousin’s youngest daughter. He tried hard to shake that thought as he returned to his seat.

“I apologize, Zoey. It’s nice to meet you.”

Their waiter came by with the bottle of Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc he’d ordered before Zoey arrived, and Carter resisted the urge to card his own date to verify her age.

And he’d thought having a ten-year-old son made him feel old. He couldn’t resist rubbing a hand over the beard that covered his jaw—a beard that was more white than dark blond these days—as he stared down at the menu. Emma had to have set him up with Zoey just to mess with him. This wasn’t about making up for Carter being alone while Thad was with his mother for the weekend. This was about Emma fucking with her older brother, and when he finally escaped this nightmare of a date, he was going straight to wherever his sister was and strangling her.

After they ordered, Carter poured Zoey a glass of the wine, sticking to water himself. “Where did you say you knew Emma from?” His sister seemed to know everyone and made friends as easily as other people breathed.

Zoey fingered a strand of her silky blonde hair, which he had to admit was eye-catching as it fell over her shoulders. “We met at Zen.”

Of course they had. Emma’s favorite bar, right around the corner from her apartment. Sometimes he thought she spent more time there than she did at home. Of course, she didn’t cook, so Zen’s above-average kitchen made meals convenient. And everyone loved her there. Literally the entire bar lit up when she came in.

That was his sister for you. Life of the party—and the source of trouble, always.

“Oh. When was that?”

“Last week.”

As Zoey told the story of meeting a group of friends at the bar, then striking up a conversation with Emma over martinis, he resisted the urge to lecture her on the dangers of trusting people in the city, particularly on dates. He wasn’t her parent, after all.

Not that she seemed bothered by their age difference. She was currently fingering her wineglass as she stared up at him adoringly. That look had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“So…you’re a daddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m a father, yes.”

She traced the soft curve of her glass, the long pink tip of her fingernail matching that baby-pink lipstick. “Do you believe in corporal punishment?”

He choked on the swallow of water he’d taken just to give himself something to do with his hands. “Do I what?”

She glanced up at him from beneath unnaturally long lashes that framed soft, innocent-looking blue eyes. “You know…spanking.”

His lips tightened. He really was going to strangle Emma. “No. No, I don’t spank my boy.”

“Boy?” Zoey straightened in her seat, the flirtatious facade falling away in favor of a confused pout. “You have boys?”

“I have a son.” Surely Emma had told her. Oh, not details about Thaddeus, of course, but that he had a child.

She tilted her head, and a lock of golden hair curved over one side of her face. “But have you ever wanted a baby girl?”

“Sure, maybe.” Although he was getting a bit old for that. His ex, Rachel, hadn’t wanted children until her career had been well-established. She’d also been ten years younger than him. Bringing home a newborn was a totally different thing at thirty than at forty. He was definitely feeling his age with Thad rapidly approaching his teen years.

At least his son hadn’t decided he was too old to cuddle with his old man yet.

“How about now?”

His gaze jerked from the cut-crystal glass he held to the woman across the table from him. What the hell was she talking about? “Now?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, the flirtatious curve of her lips dotted perfectly in the center with a drop of her wine. He watched in horrified fascination as her tongue sneaked out and swiped up the last lingering bit. “Now. There are plenty of baby girls available if you just…look around.”

Baby girl.

Daddy.

Baby girl.

Daddy.

Spanking.

“No.” The word shot from his mouth with zero finesse. “No, definitely not now. Not—”

Zoey’s flirtatious look shattered, laughter taking over. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

He couldn’t stop staring as Zoey leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach as if it ached as she laughed and laughed. Each time the sound eased off, she’d take another look at him and off she went again. He was beginning to get irritated when she finally caught her breath enough to explain.

“I’m sorry, Carter.” Chuckles bubbled up, interrupting her words. “I thought I could do this, but I just can’t keep it together. The look on your face…”

More laughter. What was wrong with his face?

And then he remembered.

“She put you up to this, didn’t she?” he asked sourly. He’d even considered the idea earlier. The Catholic schoolgirl outfit—and that’s definitely what it was, he could see now—had tipped him off, but he’d never considered Zoey being in on it.

And thank God she was. Saved him from some very awkward conversation after the baby-girl comment.

He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing hard. Now that he thought about it, strangling might be too good for Emma.

When he looked again, Zoey was still struggling to control her amusement. Her laughter made him feel about the same age as Methuselah.

“She did put me up to it,” Zoey confirmed. Her bright smile dimmed a bit as she watched him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His chuckle was still a bit reluctant. “You, I don’t mind. Emma…”

“She’s in for it later, I gather?”

“Definitely.” From the corner of his eye he noticed their waiter approaching with full plates of food and sighed, releasing his pent-up irritation at his sister—for now. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy dinner.”

And they did. When Zoey dropped the flirtatious facade, he found a pleasant young woman—still far too young for him at twenty-four—who was easy to talk to and spend time with. She told him how she’d met Emma during a “munch” her BDSM group was having at Zen, how Emma had overheard a bit of conversation and introduced herself. Which didn’t surprise him at all. And the sense of fun he got from Zoey told him exactly why she’d agreed to this blind date.

“Besides”—Zoey shrugged as they lingered a bit, waiting for dessert—“you never know when an older guy is going to be interested in someone a bit younger.”

“I don’t think it’s difficult to find an older man who’ll go for a younger woman.” That seemed to be the preferred scenario with too many men he knew.

“But not you, huh?”

“My son is nearly half your age, Zoey,” he told her.

Her laughter said she didn’t take offense. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

After dinner, he hailed a taxi in the early evening rush of traffic, settled Zoey inside, and prepaid the fare before giving her a wave as she drove away, all the while thinking about how many times in the past year he’d sent a woman home in a taxi, either after dinner or after something else. He wasn’t celibate and he had no objections to a little fun, but women didn’t stay overnight on the rare occasions Thad was with his mother and Carter found someone he was interested in. After this, though, he felt like a moratorium on dating was a necessity to cleanse his palate.

A daddy?

As he waited at the corner for the light to change, he snatched his phone from his back pocket, then crossed the street with the crowd, beginning the ten-block walk to his penthouse. His temples tightened with a headache as he clicked on his sister’s name and waited. Emma picked up just as he came to the next cross street.

She was already laughing.

“I guess you thought that was funny.”

“I don’t even have to hear your version of what happened to know it was damn hilarious,” Emma said, her laughter nearly choking her. She always reminded him of sunshine, which allowed her to get away with far more little-sister shit than he would like to admit. Today, though, he’d forgotten his sunglasses and wasn’t in the mood.

“Putting Zoey in that position wasn’t funny.”

Emma’s laughter didn’t dim the least bit. “She was in on the whole thing. How’d you like the outfit, by the way?”

He growled.

Emma snickered. “Lighten up, Daddy.”

“If you’d like I can come over there and show you what corporal punishment is all about.”

“Don’t think so,” Emma sing-songed. “Even our daddy couldn’t get away with that.”

Not that he’d tried much. Emma was a force of nature, bowling all of them over. When she got her head wrapped around an idea, there was no shaking it. Unfortunately his dating life was the idea she’d wrapped around, and she wasn’t letting loose.

He had to stop appeasing her.

“Tell me you didn’t have a little fun,” she said. “You could be at home in that New York loft, looking out on a bustling city with silence behind you. With Thad at his mom’s…”

“It’s quiet. I know.” He sighed, releasing his irritation with his breath. “I actually do like quiet every once in a while.”

“You’d wallow in it if I let you.”

“At least next week I’ll be gone and you won’t be able to throw any new prospects at me.” He and Thad were headed to the Tennessee mountains to see JD and his new fiancée. Apparently the mansion was surrounded by woods that would be perfect for Thad to get out and explore. Even if the idea of woods gave Carter hives. Talk about quiet. He definitely wasn’t a woods kind of guy. He wasn’t sure why JD seemed to enjoy it so much. Or Lincoln, who thrived on the adrenaline of his constantly packed Manhattan restaurant.

Guess sex could adle any man’s brains.

“Watch it or I’ll follow you down there,” Emma warned.

He shut up and let her babble on about meeting Zoey, which led to various other topics in a stream of consciousness he could barely follow. Yes, he was definitely looking forward to getting away next week. He loved his family, but their mission to make sure he was happy since his divorce was getting a little too intrusive.

Especially Emma. Maybe he’d get lucky and his cell phone wouldn’t get reception at JD’s place.

Emma was winding down about the time he reached the door to his building. “I’m about to hit the elevator, Sis. I’ll have to catch you later.”

“You better. I plan to get all the juicy tidbits from Zoey in the meantime. Bye!”

Carter groaned. Of course she would. And every last moment would be dissected until she found just the right pieces to rib him about.

Great.

When was he leaving?

HARVEL-6CNR3

Silver Foxes of BWB 4: 40 and Flashing (the Scotsman) A Small-Town Over-40 Christmas Story

Chapter One

“For someone who flies all the time, you sure hate planes with a passion,” Carter said.

Gavin Blackwood frowned at his best friend and business partner. “Nog planes. Seats. It’s the fuc”—he caught himself with a glance down at Carter’s wide-eyed son, Thad—“er…seats.” He shook out his aching legs as the three made their way down the concourse toward what would hopefully be an acceptable breakfast. Airport food was almost as minging as airplane seats.

Okay, call him a snob. He preferred the term particular, but whatever. He spent most of his life traveling, so it seemed counterproductive to also spend it denying that he enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. Multiple times he’d considered learning to fly himself or hiring a private plane, but why add to the greenhouse emissions for himself when he could spread the burden across a full flight?

“Was business class not comfortable for some reason?” his friend asked, guiding Thad into the line waiting outside the restaurant.

“I didn’t end up in business class.” And coach fucking sucked. There, he could say it in his head without corrupting young minds. Travel brought out the grump in him when not much else did. What he didn’t tell Carter was that he’d given up his business-class seat to a young mother with a crying babe halfway through the eight-hour flight. Long legs or no, he hadn’t been able to stand the wee one’s pitiful cries when he could provide a small amount of comfort.

The hostess found them a table, and the cheerful chatter of happy travelers wrapped around him as Carter and Thad settled on food. The holiday decorations and the joy of people on the way to their Christmas celebrations helped lift his mood, as did the cocktail he ordered with his breakfast. It might be ten a.m. in New York, but it had been noon when he left Scotland eight hours ago. That made it time for drinking back home despite the eggs and rashers on his plate. Carter and his son had arrived at the airport early for their flight in order to share a meal before the three of them took the next leg from New York to Nashville. Then it was a four-hour slog of a drive from Nashville to Black Wolf’s Bluff, where they should arrive right on time for JD and Lily’s rehearsal dinner tonight.

The thought of his friends’ Christmas Day wedding lifted his spirits even more. December was his favorite time of the year despite what was usually wet, gloomy Edinburgh weather, perhaps because he received a perverse delight out of loving something his father hated. Having lived around the bah-humbug attitude of his da all his life, he’d thrown himself into the Christmas spirit from a young age. He couldn’t think of a better time of year for a wedding, particularly in the lovely Tennessee mountains. They were even predicting snow.

The next leg of the journey felt twice as long despite taking half the time. Carter urged him to catch some z’s, but dealing with jet lag frequently had taught him to keep himself awake as long as possible for the early hours of the day in whatever location he found himself. When they landed in Nashville, Carter drove the SUV east toward the small town that JD had grown up in, so Gavin allowed himself a short nap in the car to get him through the evening’s festivities. By the time they exited the interstate and passed a McDonald’s Thad informed him was the landmark that meant they were “almost there,” he was awake and ready to be out of a moving vehicle of any kind for a good long time.

On a long stretch of winding road strangely reminiscent of rural Scotland, bare of any landmarks, Carter slowed and made a left turn that took them up a mountainside. Fresh pavement formed a three-lane road Carter informed him had been put in place in October when he and Thad first visited. In the back seat, Carter’s son was bouncing within the confines of his seat belt as they made their way up. The altitude put pressure on Gavin’s ears much like the airplane rides had. About halfway up the mountain, a stone fence appeared alongside the road, leading to stone pillars holding an open gate. Through the entrance was a large manor house, its wings spread to either side in a wide vee.

JD Lane stepped onto the small portico as they drove into the courtyard. His friend’s tall frame fit with the elaborate home his family had built years ago. Coming back to this town and this house had not been easy for the man, but he’d found a happiness none of them expected when he’d met the mayor of Black Wolf’s Bluff, Lily Easton. Now the two would be married in a few short days.

JD jogged out to welcome them as Carter parked the SUV. “Hey!” He snatched Thad up for a hug when the ten-year-old tried to zoom past him. “What’s your hurry?”

Thad laughed, squirming in his “uncle’s” hold. “I want to see Erin.”

“Well, give me a hug first.”

After JD squeezed a hug out of him, the boy sprinted uphill to find Erin, Carter’s girlfriend—although Gavin suspected the relationship was more serious than the term girlfriend signified.

“Don’t go up that mountain in the dark without me,” Carter called.

“Aw, Dad!”

Carter gave his son a stern look. “You can wait two minutes.”

And two minutes was all it took for Carter to unpack the SUV and turn to follow his son up the hill.

“Abandonin’ me so soon, brother?” Gavin asked his departing back.

Carter turned around but kept walking backward, a grin lighting up his face. “No offense, but you aren’t as good-looking as Erin.”

“What? I don’ believe that.”

“Believe it.”

“Dad!”

“Duty calls,” Carter said to Gavin. His face held no hint of regret.

“I don’ think it’s duty so much as”—he looked past Carter to Thad and his wee listening ears and held back the word on the tip of his tongue—“somethin’ else.”

“You know it.” Carter gave him a sarcastic salute. “Bye.”

Gavin chuckled as he hauled his carry-on inside.

“Ya’ve completed a lot more of the renovations than I realized,” he observed as JD showed him to a room.

“The manor should be complete by February. No thanks to Linc throwing us off schedule.”

“Oh?”

“Carter didn’t tell you that story?” JD chuckled. “Linc decided on his first visit to preempt Erin’s construction plans and start on the complete gutting of the kitchen so he would have an excuse to horn his way into Claire’s bakery.”

Gavin grinned. “Sounds like that twat.”

The kitchen was spectacular; Gavin had to give Linc that much credit. Chrome and stainless steel sparkled in the bright overhead lights as he and JD entered after stowing his things upstairs. Lily, JD’s fiancée, sat at the bar countertop, a glass of what he presumed was sweet tea—given that they were in the South—condensating at her elbow.

Gavin held out his arms. “Lily, love!”

“Gavin!”

They hadn’t met face-to-face before now, but he and Lily had spoken via chat and video calls with JD several times. The bride-to-be stood to give him a welcome hug. Gavin threw in a quick kiss on the cheek just to hear JD complain. Lily’s amused look said she knew his game well. He imagined Linc played the same one—JD was nothing if not predictable.

Settled at the bar with a hot tea, also sweet, he and Lily chatted about wedding details for a while, JD joining in between work phone calls.

“No one wants to lose the chance to talk to him before he goes offline,” Lily explained.

“And when is that?” Gavin asked.

“Right now,” JD said, clicking his phone off. He walked around the island to give his fiancée a quick kiss. “No more work till we get back from the honeymoon. My new admin is more than capable of handling anything else.”

“With Christmas four days away, everyone else will be going offline soon too.” Lily lifted her glass and sipped her tea, humming as the cool liquid hit her tongue.

JD cleared his throat, shifting behind the island. Gavin hid a smile. Good to know the sparks were alive and well for his friends.

Lily, seeming oblivious to her effect on her fiancé, glanced at her watch. “I need to get ready so I can swing by and pick up Scarlett on our way to the restaurant.”

Gavin paused, teacup halfway to his mouth. “Anythin’ I can help with?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask.”

Gavin gave her his flirtiest grin. “Put me to work, please.”

JD grunted his displeasure. “Yes, Lily, put him to work.”

Gavin winked at Lily from the side JD couldn’t see.

Lily chuckled but shook her head. “My friend Scarlett needs a ride to the rehearsal dinner, but navigating these hills can be a PITA.” She shot JD a frown. “I wouldn’t ask someone who’s never been here to drive them at night.”

Gavin scoffed. “Have ya no’ seen roads in Scotland? One lane and two cars, my bonnie lass.” He laid the brogue on thick.

“Let him go, Lily,” JD said. “Maybe he’ll get lost and we won’t have to put up with his flirting all night at the rehearsal dinner.”

Lily gave her fiancé a look.

JD gave her an insincere smile in return. “No, seriously, please send him. He can practice his playboy act on your single friends instead of you.”

Gavin’s ears perked up. “Single friends?”

Lily’s eyes sparkled. “That got your attention, huh?”

“It did.” He splayed a dramatic hand over his heart. “Did Carter not tell ya why I came to Black Wolf’s Bluff?”

“For our wedding?” JD interjected.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “O’ course not.” He turned his attention back to Lily. “Every time one of my friends comes here to visit, they find their dream woman. Why should I be any different?” Not that he was looking for a dream woman, if one even existed for him. His father, on the other hand, had been married six times. Gavin had put strict boundaries around his own love life for that very reason, long ago. But he wasn’t above a good time while he was here.

After a moment of thought, Lily gave in. “I should probably be offended by the fact that our wedding isn’t a priority—”

“Now, I never said that.”

“You didn’t not say it either,” Lily pointed out, her amusement plain. “So I’ll give you the directions, but no funny business with my friend, got it, Gavin? I don’t want any heartbreak after my wedding when you fly back off to Edinburgh.”

“Sure now, Lily. This charm is a weapon that must be wielded with care. I promise to leave all the female residents of Black Wolf’s Bluff with whole hearts.”

“You’d better.” After giving him directions as well as the address for his GPS, Lily sent him down the mountain toward town in JD’s SUV.

HARVEL-BE3QH