Falling For The Hometown Hero

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_ac198ccd-98fd-55ad-8fa2-d5cbe13612dd)

His dream had come true.

As a kid growing up in Ouray, Colorado, Kaleb Palmer dreamed of owning a Jeep tour company. Of sharing the history and beauty of the San Juan Mountains with others. That dream had kept him going during the darkest time of his life and, finally, it had become a reality.

The online reviews said Mountain View Tours had terrible service.

The whispered words of a passerby echoed through his mind as he leaned the freshly painted wooden sign that read Under New Ownership beside the entrance. If they only knew. He’d had plenty of experience overcoming adversity.

Returning to the open bay of the garage, Kaleb tugged a shop rag from the back pocket of his jeans and rubbed the smudges of red paint from his fingers.

Excitement coursed through his veins, as it had so many times since purchasing Mountain View Tours a few months ago. It would take time to rebuild the company’s tarnished reputation. And with the Jeeping season lasting less than five months, time wasn’t exactly on Kaleb’s side. There were loans to be paid, and he would not let his investors down. How could he when they’d given him the courage and financial backing to follow his dream?

The late afternoon sun had him rolling up the sleeves of his tan work shirt as he looked out over Main Street, surveying Ouray’s colorful Victorian buildings. Now that May had arrived, businesses that had closed for the winter were primping for the upcoming high season. All over town, folks were painting, planting flowers and sprucing up in preparation for the thousands of people who would flock to the Switzerland of America over the next few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black motorcycle easing alongside the curb in front of his business. A potential customer, perhaps. Either way, his pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t just any motorcycle. It was a sleek BMW K 100 LT, a touring motorcycle that put all other motorcycles to shame in his book.

As a teenager, he yearned for the day he’d own one and had even contemplated purchasing that very model once he left the army. How he’d longed to conquer the Million Dollar Highway that wound its way through the mountains south of town, leaning the machine into every hairpin curve.

Of course, that was back when he had two legs.

Absently rubbing his left thigh, where his stump and prosthetic met, he watched the leather-clad, undeniably female figure dismount the bike that was bigger than her. Was she traveling alone or waiting for someone to join her?

The woman removed her helmet then, allowing her dark hair to tumble halfway down her back.

Kaleb’s breath left him. He swallowed hard, the reaction taking him by surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had that kind of effect on him. Especially one he’d never met.

She looked up and down the street, allowing him a glimpse of her face. Much younger than he would have expected. And while he couldn’t put his finger on it, there was something about her that intrigued him. The determined square of her shoulders, the confidence in her stance.

Again wiping his hands, he pretended not to notice as she left her helmet on the bike and started in the direction of Mountain View Tours’ front office. Maybe this was the day he’d book his first tour.

Leaving his fanciful thoughts in the shop along with his rag, he slid past one of his new tour trucks—bright blue and specially outfitted with open-air seating for nine—opened the office door and went inside.

“Afternoon.” He moved behind the crude particleboard reception counter. “Welcome to Mountain View Tours.”

“Hi.” The woman unzipped her black leather jacket, her smile wide as she took in the front office. “I’m looking for Kaleb Palmer.”

A dozen scenarios sprang to his mind as to why a beautiful motorcycle-driving woman would be looking for him. A relative of one of the men who’d been with him that fateful day in the Afghan desert, perhaps?

“I’m Kaleb. What can I do for you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it without saying a word, her expression seemingly perplexed. Her hazel eyes fell to the concrete floor, before bouncing back to his. “Sorry. I guess I expected someone older.” Pink tinged her cheeks as she held out her hand. “I’m Grace McAllen.”

Her firm grip wasn’t the only thing that surprised him. Granted, he’d shared only one phone call and a couple of emails with Grace, but with her husky voice, military background and no-nonsense approach to business, he never imagined his new office manager would be so...pretty.

Scratching his head, he glanced at the calendar on the wall. “I must be mixed up on my days. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“No. You’re correct.” She took a step back. “I just pulled into town and thought I’d drop by before checking in at the campground.”

“You’re staying at the campground?” Not something he would have expected from a single woman.

“Why not? I have a camper.”

He peered out the window, noting the low-profile trailer hitched to the back of her motorcycle.

“Don’t let appearances fool you.” She’d obviously caught his stare. “It’s a pop-up. Much bigger than it looks.”

That was good, because it still looked pretty small to him. However, he was six-three and liked his space.

“Cool.” He turned his attention back to Grace. “So would you like to start working tomorrow, then? Or would you prefer a day to familiarize yourself with the town?”

“Tomorrow is fine.”

“Good.” He rounded the counter to join her in the open space that was flanked by a vintage Coke machine and a particleboard brochure rack that matched the desk. “The faster we can get you up to speed, the better I’ll feel. And I figure the best way to start is with a couple of informal tours. I’ll give you a firsthand look at what we do and, in turn, better equip you to assist customers.”

“Sounds reasonable.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked him in the eye. “I haven’t been to Ouray before, but if the drive up here is any indication, I can hardly wait.”

“I like your enthusiasm.” Kaleb had prayed long and hard that God would lead him to the right employees. Those who would share his love for this area and pass that zeal on to customers. “Most of the passes are still closed, but we can make a run up to Yankee Boy Basin. Which also happens to be one of the area’s most popular destinations.”

“What time should I be here?”