Winter's Kiss

He didn’t believe in fairy tales

Romantic fantasies and happy endings don’t fit Oakes Bartasavich’s reality. Of course, neither does his breathtaking attraction to Daphne Lynch. From his prestigious career to his volatile family, there’s too much at stake to risk one kiss—let alone one night—with her.

But a snowy Christmas stranded together in Shady Grove, Pennsylvania, shines light on everything he’s fighting to deny. Daphne isn’t just a beautiful temptation. She’s a strong, intelligent, kind woman who deserves a happily-ever-after. One that Oakes isn’t sure he can give her...no matter how much he’d like to.

“I mean it, Daphne. Don’t kiss me.”

She widened her eyes. Blinked innocently. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Oakes said, his voice harsh. “You’re trying to lure me in, messing with my head. Trying to get me to break.”

“Oh, Oakes.” She cupped his face with her gloved hand. “I would never want to break you.”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” he told her gruffly. But he was pulling her toward him slowly. So slowly she could stop him at any time.

“If you say so.”

“But if I do kiss you,” he said, a desperate man fighting a losing battle, looking for a way to justify his actions, “it’s only to prove, again, that there’s nothing there.”

But his words were weak. How could they be anything, but when he was drawing her nearer, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” she whispered.

It was. He wished he could believe it, too. Eyes on hers, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for picking up a copy of Winter’s Kiss! If you’re a return visitor to Shady Grove, welcome back, and I hope you’re enjoying the In Shady Grove series. Hello and welcome to all new readers. The town of Shady Grove is near and dear to my heart as it’s based on my hometown—the town where I’ve lived my entire life, met and married my best friend, and raised our children. I’m so happy to be sharing with you all the very best of what makes small towns so wonderful!

I love everything about the holidays: the decorations and music, the food and family time. I even love the sappy commercials! So when I decided to write Oakes and Daphne’s story, I knew they’d need a bit of holiday magic to achieve their happily-ever-after. Thanks to a winter storm that strands them in Shady Grove over Christmas, they find that magic—along with the strength and courage to fall in love.

Charming, nice guy Oakes Bartasavich is a good man trying to do what’s right. He puts others first and never rocks the boat. Too bad he’s about to be hit by a tidal wave in the form of Daphne Lynch! Daphne is irrepressible, fun and always follows her heart. And her heart is telling her that Oakes is the only man for her. Now she not only has to convince him she’s right, but that together, they can weather any storm life throws their way.

I loved writing Oakes and Daphne’s story and returning once again to Shady Grove and catching up with the people there. I hope you’ll look for the next In Shady Grove book out in August 2016 where Zach Castro, the last Bartasavich brother, finds love and his own happy ending with Shady Grove resident Fay Lindemuth.

For more about future releases and a listing of all my books, please visit my website, bethandrews.net, or drop me a line at beth@bethandrews.net. I’d love to hear from you.

Happy reading!

Beth

Winter’s Kiss

Beth Andrews

While writing Winter’s Kiss, the seventh book in her popular In Shady Grove series, Romance Writers of America RITA® Award winner BETH ANDREWS drank copious amounts of iced coffee, finished off several bags of Dove dark chocolates and shed many a tear over her youngest daughter’s high school graduation (though she isn’t saying whether those were happy or sad tears). When not drinking coffee and eating dark chocolate...oh, and writing, of course...she can be found cheering on the Pittsburgh Penguins, scrolling through Instagram or reading a good book with a happy ending. Learn more about Beth and her books by visiting her website, bethandrews.net.

For Trevor and Hannah Grace.

Thank you for the best present ever!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

IF SOMETHING SEEMS too good to be true, Daphne Lynch’s mother had always told her, then it probably is. Especially if that something is a man.

Hard-earned wisdom from a woman who’d been burned not once, but twice by men who’d swept her off her feet only to stand by and watch as she landed flat on her ass.

Daphne knew her mother had reasons—valid ones—to feel the way she did. To want to protect herself from being let down again. From being hurt. But Daphne didn’t want to live life that way. Afraid to trust. Afraid to love.

Life was about taking chances. Seeing the good that was out there and, most importantly, believing in that good.

So when she’d received an email from her father over a year ago—the first time she’d heard from Michael Lynch in six years—she’d been cautious. She may be only seventeen but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it. And she hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to her and her mother. What he’d done to Zach. She couldn’t. Just as she wouldn’t forget what type of man he’d been.

But she’d also been curious. Optimistic. Willing to give him a second chance. So she’d begun a correspondence with him over the last year. Hopeful, and eager even, to believe him when he’d said he’d changed.

Guess she wasn’t all that smart after all.

Because it was now pretty clear that while Michael Lynch had changed physically over the last seven years—his face was puffier and more heavily lined, his once trim frame carried thirty extra pounds, his black hair was threaded with gray—the transformation was only superficial. The man approaching her was older and harder-looking, but he hadn’t changed. Not really.

Not where it counted.

She glanced up and down the long, exterior walkway that circled George Grant High School’s second-floor science wing and overlooked a pristine, tranquil courtyard. No one else was around. Exactly how she’d wanted it. She’d arrived at school early, checked in with the headmaster and asked for permission to slip outside for some privacy to go over her speech. Bad idea. She should have stayed in the cafeteria, where her classmates were assembling.

Sitting in a patch of warm sunlight on one of the wooden benches that lined the school’s wall, she watched her father walk toward her, his gait unsteady enough to have him reaching for the railing of the banister every few steps, his face unshaven. Her fingers curled around her note cards, bending the edges. She prayed like mad she was wrong. That he was walking that way because he’d hurt his leg. That he sported a gray, bristly beard and disheveled hair and clothes because he’d been sick and unable to properly take care of himself.

“There she is,” Michael said. “Class valedictorian!”

His slurred words bounced off the side of the building and floated over the green grass and immaculate flower beds below, scaring two robins into flight. He stopped in front of her, his eyes rimmed red, the stench of alcohol emanating off of him.

Crap. She glanced at the heavens. Thanks for nothing.

Guess she wasn’t getting any help from God. Not with this. Her father was here, right in front of her, big as life and completely wasted.

Daphne swallowed and slowly got to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned and she had a glimpse of what he must have looked like before she was born, before the drink and drugs and his pack-a-day habit had taken its toll. A glimpse that told her, exactly, why her mother had fallen for him in the first place. It seemed not even moms were immune to a pretty face.

Her mom had been more susceptible than most.

“You didn’t think I’d miss my baby girl’s graduation, did you?” he asked.

“You’ve missed every other major event or milestone in my life,” she pointed out. Including the ones during the time when they actually lived in the same house. Birthdays, dance recitals and softball games to name a few. Times when she’d actually wanted him there. Until she’d realized she was better off without him. “So, yeah. I thought you’d miss this one. Especially as you weren’t invited.”

This was all her fault. She never should have told him about being named valedictorian. Shouldn’t have mentioned the date of her graduation. And since she was on a roll, she may as well add “being secret email pen pals for the past fourteen months” and “believing he was sober” to her list of mistakes.

Stupid list. It just grew and grew and grew.

“Now is that any way to talk to your father?” His tone remained friendly, if a bit quieter, but his eyes narrowed, warning her to be careful. Reminding her exactly what he was capable of.

She took a step toward the door leading to the cafeteria. Her one saving grace was that if she screamed, someone would hear. Would come to see what was happening.

Well, probably. If she yelled really, really loud.

Except, once they came, she’d have to explain why Michael was here. Who he was.

Her classmates and teachers would all get a firsthand look at who she’d come from. Her mother, currently sitting out in the blazing Texas sun, waiting for the graduation ceremony to begin, would know that Daphne had been emailing Michael for months. She’d be disappointed. Angry. But that wouldn’t compare to how upset Zach would be once he found out.

And her older brother would find out. No doubt about that. Her mother never could keep a secret. Zach would know how stupid Daphne had been. How she’d betrayed him.

She couldn’t let that happen.

So no screaming or asking for help. She got herself into this mess. She’d get herself out.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she told her father as she took another step away from him.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just wanted to see you. It’s a proud day for a father when his only daughter graduates at the top of her class.”

The worst part? She almost believed him. Wanted to trust he told the truth. How pitiful was that? Maybe her mother had it right. Being cynical really was the way to go. Zach had certainly embraced that concept.

“I don’t want you here,” Daphne told him slowly. Concisely. She lifted her chin. “I mean it. Leave. Or else I’ll tell security to escort you off the premises.”

Because when you went to one of Houston’s snootiest private schools, you could make demands like that. Even if you were there thanks to a scholarship and the generosity of a family that wasn’t your own.

Michael held up his hands as if to show he was harmless, but she remembered the damage those hands could do. The sharp crack of his open palm across her mother’s face. The sickening thump of his fists pummeling Zach.

The memories, combined with the smell of Michael’s body odor and the stale cigarette smoke clinging to him, made her stomach turn. She breathed shallowly through her mouth until the nausea passed. Zach. He’d been her confidant and best friend her entire life. Her protector. He’d kept her safe, was a solid, strong presence, there to lean on when things got tough, lending a shoulder when the only solution was a cry-fest. Whenever she made a mistake—and sometimes it seemed as if she did nothing but—he stepped in, took over and fixed it.

He fixed her. Always.

Thank God he wasn’t here to see this screwup.

Because today’s mistake came in the form of six feet of what she knew could quickly turn into a mean, belligerent drunk. A ghost from their past she was sure Zach only wanted to forget.

And she’d practically invited Michael back into their lives again. Into her life. As if she’d forgotten how he’d hurt Zach. How Michael had taken his anger and bitterness out on him. How Michael had hated her brother for the simple reason that Zach was another man’s son.

Tears stung Daphne’s eyes. Sweat formed between her breasts. Oh, God, what had she done?

“I don’t mean any harm,” Michael said. “If you want to me go, I will. I just... I wanted to see you. Tell you how proud I am. I mean...look at you.” He gestured to her black cap and gown. “You’re all grown up. Graduating today and starting college in the fall. You’re doing real well for yourself.”

She raised her eyebrows. She was seventeen. If by “well for herself” he meant the minimum wage she earned at the fast-food restaurant where she worked, then yeah, she was kicking butt and taking names. Unsure what to say, she fell back on the manners her mother and Zach had instilled in her. “Thank you.”

But instead of getting him to move on his way, her words seemed to please him. He stepped closer and she shifted farther away, realizing too late he’d maneuvered her back against the wall, blocking her escape. “See, the thing is, I’ve hit a...rough patch...and could use your help.”

“My help?”

He nodded. “Five grand should cover it.”

Her eyes widened. “You want me to give you five thousand dollars?”

“Seems the least you can do, seeing as how I supported you all those years.”

Her jaw dropped. He hadn’t been a part of her life since she was ten. Even before her mother kicked him out, he’d spent his wages on booze and drugs. Not on his family. “I don’t have five thousand dollars,” she told him.

“You can get it easy enough.”

“Uh...no. I can’t.” Her duh may have been silent but even a drunk like him could hear it being implied.

“But we both know you can.” He edged closer and she shrank back, hating her cowardice. Her weakness. “Come on now. You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

And she knew what he was saying. “You think Zach is going to give me five thousand dollars?”

“If you ask him he will. He’ll do anything for his baby sister.”

She shook her head, the corner of her mortarboard scratching the wall. “No. Not this.”

“Why not? We both know he has it. And more.”

Yes, her brother had money. Lots and lots of it thanks to being one of four sons of the superrich Clinton Bartasavich, Sr. But Zach refused to use the money in his trust fund on himself, preferring to make his own way in the world.

Letting his father know he wanted nothing from him.

“Even if I thought Zach might agree to this, I would never ask him to give me that much money,” Daphne said, though she knew without doubt that he would. If she told him she needed money, he’d gladly hand it over. Would take care of her, just like he always did. “I’m not some charity case going around with my hand out, letting other people take care of me.”

She worked for everything she’d accomplished—following the example Zach had set for her. It hadn’t been easy earning the spot of valedictorian, but she’d done it by studying twice as much, twice as hard as her peers. All while working double shifts to pay for trips to the mall and to keep gas in the ancient Subaru she’d bought after her sixteenth birthday.

She wasn’t like her father.

And her point couldn’t have been clearer if she’d jabbed her father in the heart with it.

Michael grabbed her arms above her elbows, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. “You think you’re better than me?” he whispered harshly, his foul breath washing over her. He shook her. Hard. Rapped the back of her head against the wall with a sharp crack, dislodging her graduation cap. She grew dizzy, fear coating the back of her throat. He yanked her forward, lifted her onto her toes. “I’m your father. You owe me.” Another shake, this one snapping her teeth together. “You ungrateful little bitch. You’re nothing, you hear me? Noth—”

His words were cut off, his hands wrenched from her as a rocket slammed into him, pushing him into the wooden-slat banister across from her.

Gulping in air, Daphne took a shaky step away. She stared, wide-eyed and confused at her father, now bent backward over the railing, his face pale, his hands desperately clawing at the forearm currently lodged, quite solidly if she did say so herself, against his throat.

No, it hadn’t been a rocket that had saved her. But a man. A handsome, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man in a tailored, grey suit who’d come at Michael like some bastard-seeking missile sent by the wrath of God.

“Are you okay?” Oakes Bartasavich asked her over his shoulder, all calm and collected, as if slowly crushing another person’s windpipe was just one of those things he did every day.

Maybe she was concussed. Hallucinating. Or else she’d stepped into some alternate reality, where Zach’s older half brother, a mild-mannered bajillionaire law student who used his words instead of his fists, swooped in and saved the day.

“Daphne,” he said, his voice a bit sharper, his green eyes narrowed. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes.”

His expression darkened to something very scary and un-Oakes-like before he turned back to Michael. “You son of a bitch,” Oakes hissed, leveraging more of his weight against her father’s throat, practically bending him in half. Michael’s eyes bugged out and he made horrible, gagging, gasping sounds.

“No, wait.” Crap. She rushed over and touched Oakes’s upper arm, surprised by how solid his muscles were, how...bulky. She had no idea he was so built. She tugged on his sleeve until he looked at her. “I meant, yes, I’m okay. I’m not hurt.”

But he didn’t seem to be getting it, just stared at her, rage in his eyes, his mouth a grim line. Was he in shock? Or pushed over the edge? Either way, it was up to her to talk him down. She stepped closer, sort of...stroked his arm, trying to soothe him out of this temper. Trying to bring back the man she knew. “Oakes, I’m not hurt. Really. Please let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Not worth Oakes getting into trouble over, or worse, being arrested for assault or whatever people got arrested for when they attacked drunks on the grounds of a private high school.

Finally, thankfully, Oakes blinked. He stepped back and lowered his arm. Michael sagged against the banister.

“Call 911,” Oakes told Daphne.

“What? No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no.”

He speared her with a narrow, dark look. Who was this man? Oakes was usually all smiles and charm. In the four years she’d known him she’d never, not once, seen him get even remotely angry. He was always patient, laid-back and...well...even. No ups or downs for Oakes Bartasavich. He was like the calmest of lakes. Placid.

And now he looked as if he wanted to slam her father’s head against the concrete floor, oh...a dozen or so times.

“He assaulted you,” Oakes said in a tone most people used to explain things that are obvious. The sky is blue. The sun rises in the east. “He should be arrested.”

“Assaulted?” Michael repeated, his voice raspy. “You attacked me.” He drew himself up, obviously feeling confident, if not downright cocky, now that Oakes hadn’t killed him. “The only one getting arrested will be you.”

Oakes whirled on her father. “You had your hands on her.”

“We were just having a little disagreement, that’s all.” Michael glanced at her. “Isn’t that right, Daphne?”

Both sets of eyes were on her. Waiting. Both expecting her to do, to say, what they wanted.

One of them would be disappointed. She was sorry it had to be Oakes.

“I just want him to leave,” she told Oakes softly, refusing to lie outright to him about what had happened. “Could you...could you please just make him leave? Like I said, he’s not worth the trouble.”

“You heard her,” he told Michael. “Get out of here. Now.”

Michael smoothed back his greasy hair. Attempted to straighten his shirt, but nothing short of a miracle would accomplish that. Edging away from Oakes, he stopped by Daphne. Spoke quietly. “We’re not done, little girl.”

She flinched, wanted to move, but was frozen. Luckily, Oakes wasn’t. He stepped between them, all big and broad and protective. A wall between her and her mistake. “You know who I am,” he said to her father.

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement, but Michael sneered and answered him anyway. “You’re one of them Bartasavich bastards.” He inclined his head toward Daphne. “Like her brother.”

“You know who I am,” Oakes repeated. “So you know what I’m capable of. My stepfather is a judge. My father has connections across the country. If you so much as look at Daphne again, if you so much as come close enough to breathe the same air as her, I will make sure your life is more of a living hell than it already is. There’s no place you can hide from me. Do you understand?”

“I ain’t scared of you, boy. Or your family.”

But he looked scared. He looked terrified.

“If that’s true,” Oakes said, “then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

Michael swallowed before his face twisted and he turned back to her. “You’re the one who’s not worth it,” he told Daphne before pushing past her and walking toward the exit sign.

She watched him go, her arms hugged around herself.

You’re not worth it. What if that was true?

Oakes touched her shoulder, his hand warm and light. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She faced him and his hand dropped away. “You know.” Her voice was tight with unshed tears so she stopped. Cleared her throat. “You know who he is.”

“I suspected,” he admitted. “When I got a better look at him.”

Oh, God. Heat bloomed in her face. She was probably as red as a freaking stoplight. “How?”

He shrugged, all elegant and out-of-place on a school walkway in his expensive suit. “I recognized him from the few times he was with your mom when she dropped off or picked up Zach from Dad’s house.”

Zach had been forced to stay with his father, Clinton Bartasavich, every other weekend and at least one holiday a year until he’d turned eighteen. She guessed it made sense that Oakes, along with his and Zach’s two older half brothers, had been there, too.

“I’m sorry, Daphne.”

She frowned. She was the one who should be apologizing. Begging for forgiveness, from him and Zach and her mother. “For what?”

“That your father tracked you here. Today, especially.”

That was her out. All she had to do was stay quiet. Or, better yet, thank him for coming to her rescue, maybe make some vague comment about Michael showing up as if she’d been completely surprised to hear from him, see him, after all these years.

“He didn’t track me down,” she blurted. As usual, her words were well ahead of her thoughts. “I mean...he did track me down. But he didn’t...track me down. You know?”

“No. I have no idea.”

She curled her fingers into the material of her graduation gown. “It’s just...he knew I was here because I sort of...told him.”