Sweet September Skye

By Verity Norton

Sweet September Skye: Book #2 in the McCullough Romance series.

Missing her family and her horse, Skye McCullough has returned home to Canden Valley to live and work in the family pub, a perfect venue for flirting with the cowboys who wander in for a beer as they're passing through town. But she is very selective. She will only go out with the ones with whom she is certain to have no future.

The moment Nick Callen happens into the local pub for directions to the river, he is smitten with the sassy bartender. So much so that he uproots his writer's life in San Francisco to move to Canden Valley and tend bar alongside her. But getting Skye to go out with him is a challenge for which the highly-successful journalist did not bargain. After almost five tormenting months of watching her flirt with oversized and under-intelligent men, he finds a way to get her to agree to go on one date--an all-day, all-night date. By the end of their night together, she is beginning to thaw. After all, the man did learn to ride a horse for her.

There is a reason Skye has kept her distance from the intelligent bartender who can hold his own in any verbal sparring competition. The cowboys are safe. Nick is anything but. He is someone she could fall for, and that's the last thing she wants. After suffering the tragic loss of her first love at only sixteen, she has put up barricades that would give Fort Knox a run for its money. The feisty, outspoken bartender is determined never to fall in love again.

Nick finally learns that beneath the brazen rebel who is anything but sweet, lies a vulnerable, frightened tender heart. Nick's challenge is to not only show Skye that she's safe with him, but that she's ready to let herself fall in love again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicity Nisbet
• Release date: Oct 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463240946

Verity Norton

Verity Norton is a native Californian, but when she moved to an island in the Pacific Northwest she fell in love with rainy days and the island lifestyle of reading and writing by candlelight and depending on a woodstove during power outages. She also writes children’s books, young adult, contemporary fiction, and mysteries under the name Felicity Nisbet. [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Skye McCullough pulled her refurbished blue Mustang over to the side of the road and stared down the street at the tiny village. Damn. She was a sucker for this stupid valley. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t leave for long. And every time she left, she wanted to come home after a day away.

Of course, missing her horse had a lot to do with it. So did the cowboys with roaming paws with whom she was inclined to take off. She had thought it was going to be different this time, that he would be different. But then, she always thought that.

She glanced from one side of the street to the other. It was a short street which made the center of the village feel more like a square. Along one side was her Aunt Emily and Uncle Palmer’s pub where she worked. Beside that was the book café where she spent most of her breaks. Down the street and facing her was the Canden Valley General Store, owned by her grandparents, temporarily being run by her brother Sean. Along that same street was the Thistle and Ivy Bed and Breakfast, owned by her parents and named for her mom, Ivy. Beyond that was her Cousin Anne’s dance studio.

She shook her head in disgust. Her family owned half the businesses in Canden Valley. No wonder she kept trying to escape. A breeze caught her long hair, blowing it softly in her face. Along with the breeze came the sweet scent of jasmine and rose, a combination she loved, and only one of the reasons she knew she would have a difficult time leaving the valley.

She continued driving for a half block, pulled into a parking spot, climbed out of the car, slammed the door shut behind her, and headed for the pub.

Hey, cuz. Swinging her braided bag in a circle, she let it land in the middle of the pub table.

Hey yourself, cuz. Good vacation? Anne McCullough Jameson looked up from her cup of tea and her dance magazine and reached out to give her cousin a welcome home hug.

Skye plopped down in the chair beside her. Not really. Okay for a while. Actually the first day was fine, but—

Let me guess. You got bored.

Am I that predictable?

What do you think?

Skye looked across the room toward the bar. Hey, Nick, bring me a root beer.

Jackson Nicholas Callen pushed his glasses higher on his nose and glowered at the reason for his bad mood. The old nineteen twenties lyrics his grandfather used to sing, Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue, flowed through his mind, only she was closer to five-foot four. But damned if she didn’t have the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Her long dark brown McCullough hair only made the blue more striking. It was true of the whole clan of McCullough cousins—at least all the ones he’d met so far—but for some reason, Skye’s eyes were the deepest blue of them all, and her dark hair was just a little bit darker with just a few more flecks of auburn and gold, and it was just a little big thicker and a little bit softer, he was sure.

Come get it yourself, he snapped, loud enough for her to hear.

Skye made her way over to the bar to grab the root beer he’d set down on the counter. What’s your problem?

He bit back the word, You, and turned away from her so he wouldn’t have to see the look of satisfaction on her face after her time away with that jerk of a cowboy she’d gone off with for the better part of a blasted week.

Skye stood on her tiptoes and reached across the bar to swipe his hair. I see you’re your usual uncombed and unshaven self. Get any sleep lately?

Not a lot, Nick grumbled. He avoided looking up for fear that she would know the reason for that. The minute Skye had walked out the door with her cowboy of the month, Nick was doomed to suffer insomnia. Hell, he was doomed the minute he’d first walked into that goddamned pub four months ago.

Well, I’m back now, Skye said. That should help ease your mind— and your work load.

Yeah, right, he grumbled again.

Skye shrugged and headed back to join her cousin. He’s in a mood.

Anne smiled and shook her head. For someone who prided herself on being one of the more intelligent McCullough cousins—at least more intelligent than the McCullough men whom she had a proclivity for calling idiots—without even trying, Skye could be very dense.

So, anyway, it was fun being in San Francisco. Saw a lot, did a lot, but—

You still ended up staying with Alex.

Skye felt her face flush. He told you?

Un huh. Said you turned up on his doorstep your first night in the big city.

Yeah, well, what can I say? I got bored with that guy before we even made it to San Francisco. And so she had made her escape and stayed with her cousin and cut her trip short. Even working at the pub and joking around with Nick was better than being pawed by the hunk from Tennessee. At least when the sullen bartender wasn’t in a mood.

Your brother was kind enough to take me in and give me his stash of BART tokens, a cable car pass, and a map to the city.

Alex is good that way. So you’re glad to be home.

I suppose, she admitted with less enthusiasm in her voice than she actually felt.

Anne’s cell phone rang and she snatched it from her jeans pocket. After glancing down at the number, she stood up I’ll just be a minute.

A new man in her life? Skye watched her cousin’s face become more animated as she walked across the room to talk in private.

Skye leaned back in her chair and reflected on her drive home. So what if she had been struck by the stupid nostalgia bug as soon as she turned onto the Canden Valley Highway? Although she’d only been away five days, a blanket of warmth had engulfed her as she had neared the village where she had grown up, just like a horse who was getting closer to the barn—or the feeding trough.

Try as she might, Skye could not imagine ever feeling at home anywhere else. She would miss her horse too much. And, of course, the dogs. And the organic farm and herb garden that she helped her brother and father with on rare occasion. Okay, the family too.

It wasn’t fair. After growing up with two intact and reasonably well-adjusted parents, normal grandparents, two tolerable siblings, three sets of aunts and uncles and thirteen cousins, how would she ever feel as at home and as much a part of a community as she did here? Sophie, her soon-to-be sister-in-law, didn’t know how good she had it, having one parent, no siblings, and no extended family. Skye snickered at the irony of her unspoken words.

The truth was, she knew exactly how lucky she was. She had been born and welcomed into an incredible family. And she knew enough to appreciate that fact, even if no one would ever hear that from her.

How could she miss a stupid village that contained little more than a post office, bank, gas station, a two check-out-stand market, one used book store and café, and a hardware store? And of course, the McCullough businesses.

Okay, so what if she missed the pub? And she missed work and she even missed Nick? Something else no one would ever hear from her.

This wasn’t exactly a new phenomenon. She always got homesick when she was away on one of her reckless rendezvous with a sexy man she picked up in the pub. She always started her days off or her vacations with total attraction, and relief to be getting away from all that was familiar and comfortable. But one day into her break—actually more often only one hour in—she was ready to go back to drawing pints and provoking and sparring with Nick.

It wasn’t as if he was completely innocent. He had his own way of getting her back, albeit with more subtlety than she was prone to using. According to Sophie and Anne, he was cute. Actually, if she recalled that conversation correctly, Sophie had called him gorgeous and hot and easy on the eyes. Something like that. But then Sophie was in love with Skye’s big brother Sean so her opinion could not be trusted. By Skye’s standards, he wasn’t exactly a hunk. Not like the men she was attracted to. He wasn’t over six feet tall and he didn’t spend hours a day lifting weights.

She glanced over at the unaware bartender. Nick was closer to five-foot eleven, muscular yet slender. He was more like a Jude Law—James Franco blend, she decided, with a little Hugh Jackman thrown in, with brown hair and green eyes. He did have beautiful eyes, she had to admit. Deep green, although they were hard to see behind the glasses he insisted on wearing half of the time. But hot? How could Sophie think that when most of the time he forgot to run a comb through his thick sandy brown hair or to draw a razor across his solid chin. Ruggedly handsome, Anne had called him. Skye snickered to herself as Anne continued her conversation. There was definitely a new man in her cousin’s life. She should be so lucky.

Just as Nick looked in her direction, Skye focused on the root beer bottle in front of her. Most of the time, including today, he looked like he’d been up half of the night. Doing what, she couldn’t imagine, stashed away in his apartment over the pub.

She shook her head, still wondering how Sophie and Anne could think he was so cute. He couldn’t hold a candle to the hunks that she migrated toward. Although he did have some redeeming qualities, she admitted. She did enjoy jousting and sparring with him. If nothing else, working with Nick guaranteed witty and intelligent dialog. That was a lot more than she could say about her collection of sexy hunks.

Sorry about that. Anne settled back down to her cup of tea.

A new man?

Anne laughed. She knew where her cousin’s mind was. A new photo spread.

Ah, my cousin, the famous dancer.

I wish. Well, maybe after this photo spread— So, back to you—why do you find it necessary to let everyone think you were on a week-long love fest with some hunk who picked you up in the family pub?

Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation. Skye raised a single eyebrow. You know everyone thinks I’m a wild flower child straight out of the sixties. Sorry to disappoint you.

Anne shook her head and leaned closer to look her cousin in the eye. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Sorry it didn’t work out. Again.

Yeah, well, the company got old fast.

Maybe you’re choosing the wrong company.

Duh. But unfortunately they’re the ones I’m attracted to.

What part of you?

Skye sat upright and stared at Anne who was just a year and a half her senior. I can’t believe you said that!

Why? Just shows that your blunt honesty is rubbing off on me. Sorry, but it’s true. Try focusing a little higher. Like on your heart and mind? Then maybe you’ll find a keeper.

Anne was right. Anne was always right, except when it came to her own love life, of course. They were both afflicted with the same flaw, being insightful and astute when it came to everyone else’s love lives but their own.

When Anne’s brother Alex had brought Sophie Weldon to Canden Valley to meet the family, Skye and Anne both knew he might as well give it up. His heart still belonged to his first love, Cassie. Skye knew too that her brother Sean and Sophie were perfect for each other, as annoying as it was. And even at thirteen, she knew her oldest cousin Matt was marrying the wrong woman. She knew Charlotte would leave him and run off to the big city. Of course, she was wise for her age, or so her family kept telling her. Precocious, they called her. And she knew Anne would dump every man she got involved with, the week before she left for her dance tour. Talk about predictable.

No wonder they were best friends as well as best cousins. The only difference was that Anne actually picked guys with some semblance of potential and she let them stick around for more than a day.

Skye took a long sip of her root beer and set down the bottle. You’re one to talk. Turning the attention on the other person was always a useful tactic.

True. Maybe we both need to rethink this. Anne closed her dance magazine.

This?

Our lives, Skye. Our lives.

Okay, I know what’s going on here. You’ve been bit by the wedding bug. Watching Sophie and Sean all lovey dovey and cute together, planning their wedding, has gotten to you.

And it hasn’t gotten to you?

Please. You know I’m not the romantic type. Besides which, I never plan to get married. But I figure with my big brother taking a vow, I’m next on the hit list. Just hoping that since I’m scarcely twenty-five and one of the McCullough cousin tweenies, I’ll be granted some respite and they’ll leave me alone . . . at least for a little while.

Tweenies? When did you come up with that?

When I decided I needed an easier way to remember all of us.

Anne knocked Skye’s elbow off the table where it was resting, causing her to fall forward. You’re a nutcase, you know that? So, who are the other tweenies and what do you call the rest of the cousins?

Skye leaned back in her chair, a safe distance from Anne. Okay, the oldies—she continued despite Anne’s smirk—are the ones hovering around thirty—Matt, Alex, Sean, and Megan. You and I and Kelly and Morgan are the tweenies.

Hey Morgan is only twenty-two.

Yeah, but he’s mature.

So, what are the rest called? Something really original and clever like the youngies?

Skye snarled at her. As a matter of fact, yep—Kayleigh, Kieran, Mairi, and your little sis and bro, Allie and Aidan.

What about your little brother?

I think we need a separate category for Sloan.

But he’s twenty, only a year younger than Allie and Aidan and older than Kayleigh and Mairi.

Yeah, but a lot less mature.

Anne wasn’t going to argue with that. Skye and Sean’s little brother was definitely enjoying his youth.

So, you see, Skye concluded. We tweenies have plenty of time and plenty of oats to sow.

Nick brushed by their table, glancing at Anne and ignoring Skye. More tea, Anne? he asked.

Sure, Nick. Thanks. When he walked away, Anne smirked at Skye’s miffed expression. Oats to sow? she teased. You’ve obviously been hanging out with the grandparents too much. So, why did you really come up with these categories? Considering that we all grew up together it’s not like you don’t know everything there is to know about the McCullough cousins. And to make it even easier, all our parents picked one letter to be the first initial for each set of siblings. Very considerate of them if you ask me.

Skye forced her attention away from the moody bartender with whom she would be forced to work that evening. For Sophie. She’s still reeling with the knowledge that she’s marrying into a family with fourteen cousins.

That’s because she’s an only child—no siblings, no aunts or uncles or cousins. Or father.

We’ve fixed that for her, Skye said happily. At least we will have, once she’s a McCullough. She’s pretty cool, I have to admit. I’m really happy for my big brother. Skye covered her mouth. Sorry. Insensitive of me.

Anne shook her head. It’s fine. I’m good with her marrying Sean.

Even though she was engaged to your brother first?

You know I adored Sophie the minute Alex brought her home to meet us. I was really happy she’d be joining the family, but—

She wasn’t right for Alex?

More like he wasn’t right for her.

So, no hard feelings?

None.

Good, because she wants us to be her bridesmaids.

I’d love to. But I do think it might be wise if Sean didn’t ask Alex to be a groomsman.

Actually, I think he was going to ask him to be best man.

You’re kidding.

Yeah, I am.

Glad to hear it. We don’t need a McCullough rumble at our first wedding in twelve years. So who are the groomsmen? Anne asked.

Matt, Sloan, and— Skye looked up and nodded toward the bartender who was carrying Anne’s fresh cup of tea.

Anne stifled her laugh and smiled at Nick’s blatant effort to ignore Skye and at the confused look on her cousin’s face. This was good for her, Anne decided. Skye needed a man to ignore her for a change. Only problem was, she wasn’t sure the gorgeous bartender would be able to keep it up for long. In fact, as smitten as the guy was, she would be very surprised if he managed to keep it up for more than a day.

Chapter 2

Nick stared at the computer screen in front of him. Blank. Dammit! She’d done it to him again. This was the third article she had sabotaged. If he wasn’t careful, the sassy minx was going to destroy his career as a journalist, not that she even knew he was a journalist. For all Skye McCullough knew, he was a bartender—and not a very good one, at that. Although he was getting better at it, he mused.

He smiled as he recalled that auspicious day when he was en route home from a camping trip, and he had made that fateful decision to stop at the pub for the second time, and request a job application. The first time he had stopped was the week before en route to the river. That was when he had seen the help wanted sign posted in the pub window. But after two minutes he had given up even attempting to fill out the application. Drinking an occasional beer was his only experience in a pub. Instead of completing the application, he had sought out one of the pub owners, Palmer Burnett, and thrown himself at his mercy.

While Palmer was studying the application, Nick had stared at his reason for being there—the adorable bartender. He had made the mistake of stopping at the Canden Valley pub to ask directions on his way to Canden River. That was all it took. A three-minute conversation with her and he was doomed. While attempting to commune with nature and write a story, all he could think about was Skye McCullough. Of course, he didn’t know her name at the time. He didn’t even know her marital status, but considering that she was not wearing a ring, he was hopeful.

"You have a master’s degree in journalism?" Palmer asked him.

"Yep."

"Why would you want to tend bar and wait tables? We only have servers during lunch and in the evenings so you’d be waiting tables too. Ah, I get it. You’re writing a story on British pubs in the U.S."

"No, it’s not for a story." Although an idea started forming in his mind at that moment.

"Okay, so answer me this—why should I hire you?"

He could lie, but why bother? The truth was his only hope. Because I’m in love with your bartender. She’s not the one quitting, is she?

Palmer looked across the room at his niece. Skye? No, she’s not quitting. Then he smiled, his eyes dancing with mischief. How long have you known her?

"I talked to her for three minutes a week ago," Nick said.

Palmer chuckled and patted him on the back. Well, well. He looked him up and down, as Nick imagined a rancher would a horse at an auction. You’re not exactly her type but who knows, you might be just what she needs. Good luck, lad.

Nick’s eyebrows had furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief. I’m hired?

"You’re hired. But do me a favor. My other bartender is leaving in a week. I can cover his shifts for another week after that. Take the time to learn how to draw a pint, pour a glass of wine, the difference between white and red, and learn as many mixed drinks as you can."

"I’ll do that. No problem." He could go back to the restaurant where he’d worked to put himself through college, serving meals and avoiding the bar.

"Good. Because Skye is a very bright girl. I have two applicants who actually know how to mix drinks. If you don’t figure it out fast, she’ll notice."

Nick reached out and shook his hand. Thank you. He pushed back his chair and stood up. I’ll be back in two weeks.

"If you need a place to live, there’s a studio apartment above the pub that will be vacant in a week’s time. Furnished. Seventy-five bucks a week."

"Perfect."

"Do you want to see it?"

"Does it have electricity?"

Palmer laughed.

"If it has a decent-sized bed and a desk, electricity and running water, I’m a happy man. Just need a place to sleep on occasion and a place to park my computer so I can write. But let’s keep that bit of information between the two of us, if you don’t mind."

"No problem. Are you famous?"

Nick chuckled. In some circles. Maybe it would be best to go by my middle name—less recognizable. He started toward the door, turning just before he opened it. If you don’t mind my asking— Why did you hire me?

Palmer smiled and winked at him. Because she’s my niece and I’d like to see her with someone who is her intellectual equal—for a change.

Nick had thought about that comment many times over the past four months. It hadn’t taken him long to understand what Palmer was talking about. Clearly Skye McCullough was attracted to good-looking men who had one thing on their minds. What he didn’t understand was why. Nor did he understand why he had stuck around this long, watching her go off with mindless jerks. He’d never considered himself a masochist in the past, but he was quickly losing all respect for himself. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he turn in his notice, pack his bags, and head back to the peace and quiet of the city? He laughed out loud at the oxymoron. And the irony. But the truth was, compared to working in a country village with Skye McCullough, the noisy and crowded city seemed like serenity.

Nick leaned back in his desk chair and groaned. Maybe he should write about that, about falling for someone you’d only talked to for three minutes. Unfortunately it wasn’t his forte. He wrote about rivers, trees, animals, fish, mammals—mostly the endangered kind—not brazen women who ate men alive. Yes, he did write human interest stories, but not about love-struck journalists masquerading as bartenders.

Give up, he said aloud and pushed back his chair. He always did better when he wrote immediately after waking up in the morning. Or at midnight, after closing the pub. Not right after Skye McCullough had returned from a five-day love fest with some idiot she’d picked up at the pub.

But who was he to judge those idiots? No one was behaving as idiotically as he was lately. Annoyed with himself, he grabbed his aluminum water bottle and his car keys and headed down the stairs. He tossed the bottle in his Jeep, backed out of his parking spot behind the pub, and headed down the highway. He tried not to check out the cars parked in front of the pub, but his eyes betrayed him. Skye’s ancient sky blue Mustang was nowhere in sight. She must have headed home after sharing the sordid details of her love life with her cousin. A wave of nausea swirled up in his stomach and he grabbed the water bottle and took a gulp.

Dammit! You have got to stop thinking about her! he yelled as he headed west on the highway toward the ocean. Usually he headed for the river and the hills, but today he needed a change of scenery. He needed the ocean. He needed to exorcize Skye McCullough from his mind.

Palmer had understood when he asked if he could leave for a while. It was that slow period in the late afternoon so he didn’t need him. He was happy to cover for him, he had said, as soon as he had come out of the back office and had seen Skye sitting there at the table with Anne. Palmer had even told him to take the whole night off if he wanted. He would stay late himself if need be and work with Skye.

Damned tempting, Nick thought. If he hadn’t suddenly turned into a masochist, without hesitation he would have taken him up on it. He still might.

When he reached Winslow, he pulled off the road adjacent to the bluffs above the ocean. The August fog had burned off and rewarded him with one of those cool crystal clear days that they rarely saw in summer. He trotted down the steps to the beach and trudged through the deep sand until he reached the hard sand where he started running.

Inhaling the fresh air, he ran for close to an hour. When he stopped, he sat down in the sand and watched the waves breathing in and out. Consistent and powerful, he thought as he stared intently. They knew what they wanted. They knew where they were going. No questions. No turmoil. Just patterns of power. He could learn something from the ocean. Maybe he would write about that.

He snatched his tiny well-worn notebook and pencil from his back pocket where they lived and began writing. After twenty minutes, he tucked it back inside his pocket and stared some more. Good idea, he thought, to come here. To get away. From her.

He had joined the Sean McCullough masochist club, he decided, hitting himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. He had watched Sean moon over Sophie while she was engaged to his Cousin Alex. He too, had thrown himself in the path of the woman he loved, every chance he got, despite the torture. He had even invited her to work with him at the store. I’m no better than Sean, Nick thought. Maybe Skye’s right. Maybe the McCullough men are idiots and they’ve rubbed off on me.

When he headed back up the hill to his Jeep, he knew exactly what he needed to do. It was simple really. He needed to find Palmer and tell him he was quitting. He had suffered enough at the insensitive hand of his niece. He was leaving, heading back to the city and to women who actually appreciated him. There were plenty of those. He was bombarded with phone calls and emails from two women he’d met just before making the insane decision to take the job at the pub and uproot himself and move to Canden Valley. And of course, there were Sarah and Angie and Fiona all of whom he had taken out a couple times. They were still calling and emailing. Of one thing, he was certain. He would be welcomed home with open arms.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a long swallow, tossed it onto the passenger seat and started up the Jeep. That was exactly what he was going to do. He was done watching Skye McCullough flirt with half the men who came into the pub and running off for weekends and week-long trysts with her favorite picks. Enough was enough.

He would explain to Palmer why he couldn’t give him two weeks notice, certain he would understand. And he would apologize to Sean for not being able to be in his wedding.