Peace by Piece

By S.J. McGran

Every life has an expiration date. A ticking clock counting down the seconds until you no longer exist in this world.

Each tick of the clock is louder for me.

I don't have an eternity. I have one year. Just twelve short months.

If life promised an infinity, he could have been my forever and without a doubt I should have been his always.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.J. McGran
• Release date: Jun 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311910790

S.J. McGran

Born November 22, 1987, S.J. McGran is a new author with a penchant for writing, reading and reviewing romance novels.She lives in Toledo, Ohio with her husband, cat and lots of siblings. She is a die-hard Detroit Tigers fan, and has a love for ice cream and pizza.

Book preview

PART ONE

Genevieve

Prologue

On the eve of my thirtieth birthday, I had everything I ever wanted.

I had it all.

I had a stunning apartment in Wicker Park, my favorite downtown Chicago neighborhood. I had an extremely handsome and successful live-in boyfriend, and together we had a cat named Trudy. I had my dream job as an award-winning lead anchor on Chicago’s number one newscast.

I had my health. I had my whole life left to live.

Yes, I had it all.

Then in the weeks following the celebration of the day I was born I lost it all.

I lost it all because a middle-aged man in a white coat with more skin than hair showing on his head and sympathetic eyes told me I was going to lose it all. He even gave me a timeline, a deadline of sorts.

Twelve months. Give or take.

In twelve months, there would be nothing left.

I wouldn’t have my job. The only thing I’ve ever really loved.

I wouldn’t have the fancy apartment with the live-in boyfriend, and the adorably annoying cat.

I wouldn’t have my health.

On the eve of my thirtieth birthday, I had it all.

Or so I thought.

Chapter One

I was faced with few choices: fight or throw in the towel. When faced with those choices I realized a few things about my life and the way I’d been living.

I wasn’t really living at all.

My whole world revolved around work. I lived it. Breathed it. When I slept, I dreamt about work—about the next big story, my next big break. When I was awake, I was constantly thinking, plotting, researching.

I had nothing else. There was only my work.

The first change I made was to quit my job. It hurt nearly as much as the surgery. I felt like I lost a part of myself. A piece of my soul. But, it was something I needed to do. My work had been my life for too long and when you’re given twelve tiny, minuscule months to live you realize work isn’t where or how you want to spend that time.

The next thing I lost took me by surprise. Not that I lost it, but my lack of feelings regarding the loss.

Nearly two weeks after leaving my job I walked into my apartment on a Saturday afternoon my hands full of grocery bags to find my boyfriend, Simon, sitting at the dining room table wearing a pensive look.

Simon checked all the right boxes for me. He was handsome, devastatingly so with his George Clooney good looks. He was older than me by nearly four years, but his graying hair and the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth aged him, albeit gracefully. He was successful, sweet, charming. And, most importantly he always supported my work-before-kids mentality.

I can still hear the conversation we had bouncing off my now empty apartment walls.

We need to talk, he said. I knew it the moment I walked in the room but hearing the words still brought on a bout of surprise. I watched in amazed aloofness as my boyfriend of three years broke up with me. He did it so calmly. So sweetly. And, really, I should have been grateful when he said, We’re not in love, Genevieve. I don’t know that we ever have been.

He wasn’t off the mark. I’d never really loved him—that much was evident in my lack of emotions. I loved my job, the appearance of having a loving man, the designer lifestyle I led, but I’ve never loved him. It wasn’t fair to him, but it was the way it was. I didn’t know if I was truly capable of loving anyone. Or, if I just wasn’t capable of loving Simon.

I’m not strong enough to face this with you, Vieve. I’m just not. I hate that about myself, but I can’t do it. I think it’s best if we part ways now, he said. At least he had the good gracious to look ashamed of his lack of strength.

I simply nodded and told him I agreed. The last thing I needed right now was to worry about him. I had enough to deal with.

Within three days, he had packed up his half of our belongings and left. The man took my cat with him, and I swear that hurt worse than actually losing the man himself.

So, now—a couple of weeks later—I stand in the middle of my luxury apartment I worked so hard to earn with the last of my belongings in my hand. With no income, and no desire to find a way to pay the $2,500 per month rent I decided to back out of my lease. I sold everything—except my clothes and some mementos and nostalgic items—and bought myself a car.

It was time to move on. Time to start living. Time to make the most of the limited time I’ve been given.

Throwing the last of my bags into my trunk I slam it closed and take one last wistful look around at the city I love. Where I’m going there will be no horns blaring, no dirty fumes from all of the traffic, no screeching of trains as they tear through the city. I won’t rub shoulders with someone every few seconds as I walk down the street. There isn’t even a Starbucks where I’m going.

With a sigh that wavers between resigned and excited, I hop into my sedan and pull away from the city that has been home to me most of my adult life, and head across the country to the place I plan on calling home, if only for a little while.

In just over a day—twenty-seven hours to be exact—I’ll be standing on the banks of Flathead Lake in Jewel Creek, Montana.

From the big city to the country. Weston Ranch here I come.

Chapter Two

After what feels like a small eternity I’ve finally made it. 1700 miles, twenty-seven hours, and a whole lot of flat land later I’m finally here.

The wrought iron gates and arch proudly boasting the name Weston Ranch beckon me forward. A smile tugs at my face. It’s been years since I’ve last been here. I grew up on this ranch, spending many summers here with my aunt and uncle.

As I drive the mile long dirt path, that takes you from the main road to the lodge I have to ask myself why I’ve never come back. What took me so long?

Creeping along the bumpy road I take in the views on both sides of my car. Wooden fences line the drive, keeping the lush green grass and evergreen trees off the road. The hills go as far as my eye can see, and are speckled with black, white, and brown dots that I can only assume are the cattle they raise here. The mountains stand proudly in the background, giving it a picturesque view.

I want to soak this in. I want to remember this view. I no longer have the luxury of taking advantage of the small things, and so I make a promise to myself to take a moment and enjoy… everything.

Stopping my car right in the middle of the road I climb out and take a deep, fulfilling breath. Walking around the hunk of metal, I perch myself on the hood and I look around and take it all in for long moments. Eventually, I close my eyes as I breathe in the fresh air and for the first time in years I feel like I take my first full breath.

The quietness hits me first. There are no horns, no people babbling on their cell phones. I hear the wind rustle the trees closest to me, I hear the birds singing to each other. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the cows in the distance mooing and the dogs barking at them to move.

This is exactly what I needed. Quiet. Fresh air. No distractions.

The longer I lay there and absorb everything the faster I fall into relaxation. An exhausting car ride and the most peaceful atmosphere have an almost melting effect on my body. It’s blissful.

Excuse me, ma’am. Are you alright? A deep voice hits my ears, slightly startling me from my moment of peace. The voice is the perfect mix of velvet and sandpaper. It’s gritty and smooth and sexy. I want to ask the stranger to whisper sweet nothings or dirty sentiments into my ear—it’s a voice that was made for both.

I almost don’t want to open my eyes for fear that the face might ruin the fantasy of his voice. But as he clears his throat and I hear his feet shuffle in the gravel I realize, unfortunately, I have to open my eyes before the man thinks I’m dead. Or rude.

A zip of electricity runs through me when I finally force my eyes open. I had nothing to worry about. The fantasy only gets better when I come face-to-face with the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

His blue eyes shine brighter than the blue sky behind him. His dirty blonde hair is shaggy and messy, practically begging my fingers to run through it. His square jaw is outlined with the perfect amount of stubble, and his full lips are titled in a polite smile.

Moving my eyes down I notice the bulging biceps hidden beneath the red and blue checkered flannel shirt, despite the rising spring temperatures. One hand is holding a black cowboy hat to his chest, and I’m drawn to it for a moment. First I focus on the large hand holding that hat, and then I start to wonder just how sexy he’d look if he were actually wearing the hat, instead of holding it. Continuing my perusal, I move my eyes from his hand and find a trim waist that tapers off into strong thighs, covered by tight, holey jeans. Black boots polish off the look.

This is a cowboy. This is exactly what you picture when you hear about sexy cowboys. This man.

What was I saying about no distractions again?

He clears his throat and looks at me, this time his eyebrows draw together in worry. Or confusion. Ma’am?

Oh, sorry. I blush. I actually freaking blush. I’m fine, I’m just taking in the view. And as if I’m having an out of my body experience I let my eyes wander down is body lewdly, but unabashedly. But, thank you for asking.

He takes a step forward and I tense up. I have no idea why—especially when his appraising gaze makes me want to melt into a puddle right here on the hood of my car. I’m not vain enough to call myself beautiful. However, I’ve worked in show business long enough to know that I’m decent looking.

I’m taller than average—coming in at about five foot eight—but, I’m thankful for my added height, as it helps balance out my curvy hips and ass, that rock a size fourteen pant. I have long auburn hair that has just enough natural wave to it that I rarely use a curling iron. My green eyes are outlined by a thick set of eyelashes.

I watch his eyes trail from my bare feet—my flats long since lost on the long drive—up my jean covered legs. His gaze pauses just long enough on my chest for me to notice, but not long enough that it’s rude or salacious. He doesn’t stop until he’s looking me right in the eye. His blue eyes hold heat, desire. It’s a heady feeling. His perusal making me feel both sexy and self-conscious.

Are you staying here? I just nod, unable to find my voice as I get lost in those clear eyes. He smirks at me and it borders on cocky, but falls safely back onto the sexy side of the imaginary line. He takes another step in my direction, switching his hat from his right hand to his left as he holds his now free hand out in greeting. I’m Levi. I work on the ranch, he says in that voice again.

I slip my hand into his and goose bumps travel the length of my body. My smooth hand is encompassed in his much larger, much rougher hand. It’s calloused from long days on the ranch, and damn if it isn’t appealing. I can only imagine what it would feel like running along my body.

Internally giving myself a headshake I do my best to dispel the dirty thoughts racing through my mind about this stranger. Levi. Geez, even his name screams sexy cowboy. He cocks an eyebrow at me and I realize he’s waiting for something. Oh, right. My name. Genevieve, I say giving him my full first name though I have no idea why. I never introduce myself by that name.

Hmm, that’s a beautiful name. He smiles. And my heart stops. How long are you staying, Genevieve? My name rolls off his tongue and I no longer wonder why I introduced myself that way. My subconscious must have known my name would sound like sex when he said it, and it wasn’t wrong.

I shrug my shoulders as I hop down from my car, his hand still in mine guiding me down. As long as it takes, I guess. I flash him a wide smile at my cryptic answer and I see his brow wrinkle in confusion.

At that moment, I decide to take a risk, to do something I haven’t done in a long damn time. Something I’m completely unpracticed in, but it’s kind of like riding a bike, right? At least, I hope so.

I’m going to flirt with this sexy cowboy. Just because I can. Because this is my new life. This is who I am now. I’m carefree. A risk taker. A grab-life-by-the-horns kind of girl.

Because if you can’t take risks when you’re dying, when can you?

Brushing past him, I purposely pause and glance up at him from under my lashes. Dropping my voice a little I whisper to him, It was so nice meeting you, Levi. I’ll be seeing you. Wrenching my hand from his grip I find it in me to turn my back to him and walk away.

Sliding into my seat I turn the ignition and wait until he steps back from my car. Just as I’m about to pull away he puts his hat back on and gives me a nod with the cutest dimpled grin peeking through, and I swear my panties dampen from the sight alone.

Coming back here. Calling this place home again. Deciding to live life to the fullest may just be the best decision I’ve ever made.

Chapter Three

When I finally pull away from the adorable, sexy Levi, I continue my drive down the long, dirt path until it comes to a stop in front of the lodge. Again, I find myself momentarily stunned as I sit here and take it all in. They’ve done a few upgrades since I’ve last been here, but overall it looks the same.

The lodge itself is huge. The mountains behind it nearly dwarfed by its size. The stacked logs that form walls, the wrap around porch full of rocking chairs, and the blossoming flowers surrounding it give it that rustic feel I remember. The large windows and the balconies spread around the building give off the relaxing vacation vibe.

Spinning in a circle I take in the rest of the grounds. Smaller, private log cabins line each side of the lodge. The fields give way to the pastures where my aunt and uncle have raised cattle for as long as I can remember. Horse barns sit off to one side, the big red doors wide open, the horses roaming the closed in fields. To the other side there’s a large fire pit, surrounded by log benches and stacks of firewood—I can remember countless hours sitting beside that fire listening to my uncle tell stories, to the old ranch-hand strumming his guitar. Those were some of my favorite nights. Some of my best memories as a child.

Stepping onto the porch I grab the large metal handle of the front door and step into the lodge. I let out a little gasp at just how gorgeous it really is. For a moment, I can’t decide if it’s always been this beautiful inside, or if they’ve done work in the last decade and a half.

The door opens to a massive open space, the walls and ceilings match the outside—with the exception of the deer heads and skins mounted as decorations. Off to the right is a sitting room that, despite the size of it, feels cozy and homey. Large, mismatched, leather couches and chairs are scattered about. A massive stone fireplace sits in the middle of it all and reaches all the way to the ceiling of the room.

Stairs sit directly in front of me that lead to the upstairs bedrooms, the second floor is open with a railing that wraps all the way around the lodge, letting the guests see down into the living and dining areas.

To the left of the entryway is a large dining room with large wooden tables, encouraging you to sit and share a meal with a stranger. Just beyond that is a large bar, and then swinging doors that lead to the kitchen.

The back wall of the lodge is the only thing that isn’t made of wood. Instead, it’s made of large windows giving you the most breathtaking view. A covered porch is just beyond the large windows and doors and is full of checkerboard tables, rocking chairs, and swings. Beyond that is a large grassy area that ends at a crystal clear pool. The edge of the pool nearly disappears as it’s met with a small beach area and the dark blue waters of Flathead Lake. The lake seems to go on forever until its shoreline finally collides with the mountains.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a view so beautiful.

Beautiful isn’t it? Damn, that voice. Closing my eyes on the view in front of me, I visualize the view I was first met with when I arrived.

I was actually just thinking I’ve never seen something so beautiful, I respond quietly. Turning on my heel I let out a light gasp as I come face-to-face with those blue eyes that rival the color of the lake behind me.

He studies me for a moment. His voice coming out quieter than I’ve heard it when he finally speaks again, Me either. The way his eyes bore into mine, his proximity to me, and the heat radiating off him let me know he’s no longer talking about the view.

My cheeks heat as I blush again. I glance away unable to hold his gaze any longer. At least not without melting into a puddle of lust.

What is wrong with me? A man has absolutely never affected me like this before. Then again, I’ve never really given men much of my time. I’ve been here for exactly twenty minutes and already I appreciate more. Already, I’m slowing down.

So, Genevieve. Let’s get you checked in, yeah? I nod my head in agreement, but all I really want to do is demand that we stand here forever and he says nothing but my name over and over again.

I stand rooted to my spot on the floor as he walks away from me to head to the reception desk. I watch his thick fingers move over the keys quickly. Occasionally he glances up at me and flashes me a smile and I don’t even care that every time he does it I get caught staring. Show me a woman that’s able to look away from this man and I’ll show you one that is either blind or senile. Because no sane woman would waste even a second of time looking at anything other than this fine specimen of a man standing in front of me.

Weston? He asks glancing from me to the computer in front of him.

Giving him an embarrassed smile I look up at him, Guilty.

His eyes widen slightly before he laughs. It’s a hearty laugh. Manly. You aren’t the little Vieve that Stella and Jim have been talking about all week are you?

I grimace at the use of the nickname my Uncle Jim has always used for me. Jim is my father’s only brother. He and my Aunt Stella were, unfortunately, unable to have their own children, so they’ve always treated me like one of their own, and have affectionately called me Little Vieve for as long as I can remember.

Guilt washes through me. While I’ve done a decent job of keeping in touch with them via phone and email, I’ve done an awful job at visiting. I was at least twelve or thirteen the last time I was here. It’s no wonder they are still calling me Little Vieve despite the fact that I’m now the age they were the last time they saw me.

That’d be me, I mumble to Levi.

He grins at me and I’m torn between wanting to smack the smug smile off his face or kiss those perfect lips. You’re right, Genevieve fits you so much better. He goes back to the computer doing whatever it is that needs to be done in order to check me in, and I go back to checking out the view—both Levi and the view just beyond the windows.

Vieve, is that you? Glancing over my shoulder I’m hit with a bout of nostalgia as my Aunt Stella makes her way through the lodge to get to me. She looks exactly the same though several years older. Her once blonde hair is a gorgeous shade of silver, her skin is withered and tanned from years in the sun. Her bright blue eyes fill with tears the closer she gets to me, and once again that guilt washes through me.

Hi Aunt Stella, I say with unshed tears of my own trapped in my throat. I stride towards her until we both meet in a graceful tangle of arms. Wrapping her in my arms I notice how thin she’s gotten. How are you? I’ve missed you.

Oh, Little Vieve. We’ve missed you, too. She unwraps me from her tight embrace, her hands holding my shoulders as she inspects me from head to toe. Although, I guess we should stop calling you little. You’re all woman now.

I just laugh. She’s still the same Aunt Stella. Sweet, blunt, adorable. Yeah, unfortunately, I grew up. I didn’t really want to, but such is life I guess, I sigh.

Her eyes light up and she tilts her lips in a full-out grin. Damn girl, I missed you. Glancing over my shoulder she talks to Levi. Who I miraculously forgot was still standing there. Levi, will you take Vieve’s bags to cabin number four? I have about a decade’s worth of catching up to do with my favorite niece.

Yes, ma’am, he drawls and I swear he has to know what those two little words sounds like coming off his tongue.

Stella wraps one arm around my shoulders and starts to guide me toward the kitchen. Unable to stop myself I spare a glance over my shoulder, only to find Levi’s eyes trained on my