All the Days After: 1st in the Foothills Romance Series

By Carrie Thorne

Navy SEAL. Warm, whiskey eyes. Epic abs. Irresistible grin... And, her best friend's heartbreaker brother.

"Just promise me one thing... Don't sleep with my brother."
No problem, right? Sophie Jones has worked dang hard to get her life together after a rough start. She's got it all and wants to keep it that way as she settles into her new job in her new, serene hometown of Foothills, Washington where she can live the quiet life of an accountant... far from her vile, money-grubbing aunt. Trouble is the last thing Sophie wants.

Home from the Navy, former SEAL Asher Sutherland is not the guy he used to be. Although, he doesn't have a clue who he is now. The one thing Asher knows for sure is that he wants Sophie.

One problem. In his wilder days, Asher carelessly broke the hearts of his sister's friends on too many occasions. Neither Asher nor Sophie is willing to hurt Pippa (especially as she's gone a little bridezilla in the days before her wedding!). But, resisting the attraction may prove to be more challenging that either can withstand.

Settle in with a soothing cup of coffee and watch the sunrise in this tempting, satisfying contemporary romance set in the Cascade Foothills in the heart of the Pacific Northwest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carrie Thorne
• Release date: Dec 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463545508

Carrie Thorne

Carrie's living her own happily ever after (with the inevitable ups and downs that go with it!) with her kids, husband, and dogs in the Pacific Northwest, working full time in healthcare, and always wishing the laundry would fold itself. When she’s not rocking the world of romantic fiction, she’s exploring the outdoors, traveling (or wishing she was), or hanging out with her amazing family, quite frankly, she’s a total introvert and you can usually find her curled up in front of the fire or in the hammock with a romance novel. Writing romance is Carrie’s not-so-guilty pleasure. She believes in writing genuine and strong characters, promoting positive ideals, that love and happily ever afters are for everyone, kindness is everything, and she cannot resist a zinging romance.

Book preview

All the Days After

Foothills #1

Carrie Thorne

Copyright © 2019 by Carrie Thorne

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events, locales and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or actual events is entirely coincidental. As with many pieces of fiction, there may be settings in certain long-standing institutions, agencies and public offices, but the details are wholly imaginary. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associates with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

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Contents

All the Days After

1.T-Minus 21 Days

2.~

3.~

4.T-Minus 20 Days

5.T-Minus 12 Days

6.T-Minus 11 Days

7.~

8.~

9.T-Minus 10 Days

10.T-Minus 9 Days

11.~

12.T-Minus 8 Days

13.~

14.~

15.T-Minus 7 Days

16.T-Minus 2 Days

17.~

18.T-Minus 1 Day

19.The Big Day

20.A Long Day

21.All Night Long

22.The Day After

23.All the Days After

Next in the Series: The Next Day

Also By Carrie Thorne

About the Author

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1

T-Minus 21 Days

The offensive red numbers on the clock cast an eerie glow across the room, like a sub on red alert. Sitting on the edge of his bed in the moonlit room, Asher drew in carefully measured breaths. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he shook away the nightmare and tossed on his running clothes.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sleep in late. SEALs had drilled it into him. Awake before dawn. Every day. PT for an hour, minimum. Drills, meetings, planning for the next mission.

Not anymore.

Burning off the nightmare with a punishing run around his parents’ property and beyond, his lungs burned, and his muscles tremored from exertion. The trail was rougher than it had been in his youth, but he knew it in any light. Once the sun crested the horizon, the forested hills beyond would stand out in an epic view, but it was still too dark to appreciate.

As he rounded the final bend, the house came into view, the predawn glow casting off the sleeping windows. Despite the early summer heat, a sharp chill brushed over his sweat-soaked skin like razor blades.

Anything less than the five-mile run, and the unspeakable shit in his head followed him like a wicked shadow all damn day. He almost felt clear-headed when he pushed his body to the limit like this. Could almost remember who the hell he was.

Eight fucking years in the Navy, and he still didn’t know what he wanted out of life. Never did. Maybe never would.

Not like his sister, Pippa. She’d known exactly who she was and what she wanted since kindergarten. I’m going to be a teacher when I grow up. I’m going to marry Lincoln, have three kids, and we’ll live next door to you in Foothills. What kid figures it out that early?

Flicking the shower on lukewarm to cool his throbbing muscles in the stinging spray, he rinsed off the salty sweat like a damn workhorse under a hose. He didn’t linger, not wanting to miss his favorite part of the day. With a quick teeth-brushing and an attempt to tame his past-due-for-a-trim hair, he considered shaving.

Nah. The stubble suited him more. Maybe he’d grow a full beard one of these days, but that seemed so cumbersome to maintain. Would irritate his dad nicely, though, sporting a full Grizzly Adams. Maybe that uptight sister of his while he was at it.

Yikes, old habits raring back up. All grown up. Thirty threatened around the corner.

Boyish charm had always been his gig. Until he couldn’t stomach it anymore.

Tossing on yesterday’s jeans, he took a whiff of a shirt he found in a laundry bin by the door. Huh. Fresh and clean. His mom was taking it way too easy on him.

His dad was glad he was home, like Mom was. He was almost sure of it. When Paul Sutherland pestered him to take over the family business, countering Asher’s hedging by asking when he was going to do something with his life, what he really meant was: I love you, Son.

Sure. Keep thinking that. As if speeding through college and spending eight years as a Navy SEAL wasn’t something.

What his dad really meant was: When are you going to be more like me?

Asher had been home for a few weeks. Or had it been a month already? Two? He’d totally lost track of time. All he knew for sure was that therapy at the VA was every Monday, then group therapy every Wednesday. He was working his ass off to feel normal again. If that was even a realistic ambition. Had he ever been normal?

Had done pretty well for himself, considering the shit he’d gone through, but he was a work in progress. He didn’t like being unemployed any more than Paul liked it. But his dad didn’t seem to understand that Asher needed to get his head on straight before he could consider becoming a productive member of society. His therapist claimed Paul was trying to help, by giving him a sense of direction.

The coffee put sputtered across the finish line as he padded down the carpeted stairs, silencing his steps as he crossed to the hardwood. His parents wouldn’t be up for another hour or two, thank goodness. He was lucky having them, despite their overexaggerated efforts to be supportive, but he craved the peace and quiet of the mountains as much as the run and the stiff hit of caffeine.

Piping hot cup of coffee in hand, he slipped silently through the glass slider to the front deck. As he had made the habit since coming home, he sat on his favorite Adirondack chair to watch the sun rising over the mountains. Shades of pink, purple, and orange fingered across the craggy peaks as the sun awoke, rising behind the Cascades. Each breath filled his lungs with crisp mountain air, each sip of the robust brew calmed his mind.

It would be hot this afternoon. He couldn’t remember the temperature going over eighty much when he was growing up, and that wasn’t until August. June had barely begun, and the National Weather Service was predicting a sweltering sunny and eighty-two today. Would be drought conditions and nearly a hundred degrees by August, or so they said.

All too soon, the moment came to an end, as was inevitable. Coffee drained, sun burning brightly in his eyes, he headed out to the garage.

Soon, he’d start at Sutherland’s Hardware. Not today.

Not that he could put it off much longer. He’d already been putting it off for twenty-nine years. I just got home… Give me a month… Let’s plan on after Pippa’s wedding… I should be able to start by mid-July.

At no point had he ever indicated to his father that he wanted to take over the family business. Ever. His degree was in political science and his only real experience was in combat.

The driver’s door opened with a rusted creak, and he leaned in and pulled on the worn lever. A clunk vibrated the front of the truck, and the hood of his antiquated pickup snapped up. He clicked shut the door and traced his fingers over the thinning paint as he made his way to the front, then slid his hand under the hood and fingered the lock open.

This old truck had survived worse than whatever noise it was cranking out lately. The rust-bucket had gotten him through high school, college, and the Navy. It had at least another year left, maybe two if he could live with a busted speedometer.

With all the damn new parts he’d put in it, it was becoming quite the bionic rig. He wouldn’t be surprised if it stood up and declared it was an alien here to save Earth from the Decepticons. Wasn’t owning a Transformer every guy’s fantasy?

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License clutched lovingly in her hands, Sophie twirled a sprightly jig around the room. Carefully, however, to avoid tripping over the stacks of boxes which had grown into a complex maze that was formerly known as the living room.

Sophie Jones, Certified Public Accountant. Master’s graduate, financial genius, successful businesswoman. Okay, maybe let’s not go that far just yet, but Sophie couldn’t seem to rein in the thrill of recognition for her accomplishments.

Pip, where are you? It came. I passed, she hollered across the apartment, grinning so wide she could feel the warm breeze from the open windows blowing over her teeth.

What? In here, Pippa Sutherland, her best friend and roommate of the last four years, called back from her bedroom.

Can you send me your Aunt Jane’s number? I want to send her a pic, so she knows her protégé is official. Sophie tried to pause her prancing feet to show Pippa the certificate, but she couldn’t seem to stop the happy dance in progress.

As a child, she’d never dreamed of being an accountant. What kid did? But after tightly managing the household finances, lest dear Auntie Yvette blow their limited income on manicures and highlights, she’d discovered she had a knack for it, and an unhealthy obsession with spreadsheets and checklists. Years of burning the predawn darkness working in coffee shops before heading to the bank, then the vigorous internship at the investment firm in Seattle, she’d earned the snappy prancing victory dance.

Prying the certificate from Sophie’s eager hands, Pippa admired the page and squealed, throwing her arms around her friend with some fancy footwork of her own. Congratulations. I’m so excited. I’ll text you Jane’s info. She’ll be thrilled.

As soon as Jane had heard that Sophie was planning a career in accounting, she’d been begging for her to come join her at Foothills Accounting. Okay, begging might be too strong of a word, but she’d been asking meaningfully. From the moment Sophie had first driven into Foothills as a college kid with too much smog in her lungs, she had wanted to make the move.

Foothills was aptly named, charmingly settled on the talus of the Cascade Mountain Range, just before the elevation rapidly inclined. It was a charming town with delightful people, of which the Sutherlands were a household name. And it was tucked neatly away from the hustle and bustle of the bigger cities that surrounded Puget Sound.

Seattle had been a great change of pace from Los Angeles for grad school, but still too much for Sophie. Foothills was just right, with a population topping eight thousand. Large enough to be able to hide in the crowd, but small enough to not get lost, either.

Tossing her unruly long hair behind her shoulders, she attempted to tame the mass of locks. Neither blond nor brown, but an odd mix of both. Although they were natural highlights, the variety looked like she couldn’t decide what color highlights to add and tried a sampling of every shade of blond and light brown at the salon.

With a flourish, she finished the happy dance with a deep curtsy and plopped onto the foot of Pippa’s bed.

Grin as wide as Sophie’s, Pippa lowered to the wooden chair across from her friend and teased, How much coffee have you had today?

Just two or three cups so far. She bugged her eyes out in dramatic punctuation.

Pippa’s legs did their own goofy wiggle around her desk chair. The teacher and the accountant, ready to take on Foothills by storm. We’re quite the sensational pair.

Rolling her eyes, Sophie chuckled over the irony. Although Pippa could honestly say she’d epitomized the prim and proper, albeit fun, schoolteacher, Sophie couldn’t exactly say the same. But it felt good to have a fancy certificate that announced to the world she was Ms. Stability.

Shouldn’t Lincoln be here soon? I’m sick of living out of boxes. The fridge is completely empty aside from last night’s pizza. Which I already had for breakfast. Sophie grabbed her gurgling stomach and groaned, a pitiful scowl drooping over her face.

Pippa returned the certificate and rested against the back of the chair. Studying her watch, she scrunched her face in careful calculation. Twenty-two minutes. They gave him the runaround at the rental truck office. He actually read every last line of the agreement, proving himself the tenacious attorney already.

You’re sure your parents don’t mind me crashing at their place while I look for a place? You know how these things go. Someone asks to couch surf for a few days, which turns into a few weeks, and next thing you know they’re scratching their belly as they sully the kitchen with grease and crumbs without washing up after themselves, after a year of squatting and claiming they have a lead on a house?

Although she’d asked the same question dozens of times over the last few weeks, she still didn’t want to be a burden. Never wanted to be an inconvenience. Not that she had a complex or anything. Okay, she totally did, but she was really working on that.

Pippa kicked her across the narrow aisle between the bed and her spot on the backwards chair. Stop asking. Trust me, they love having you around. I think they’ve put in for an adult adoption. Your picture is on the mantle between mine and Asher’s. Mom brags about you on Facebook as much as she does her own children.

Trying to not bite her fingernails, a nasty habit she officially quit five years ago, Sophie glared at the chipped polish and settled for letting her knee vibrate at a critically high frequency. But Asher just got home what, a month ago? They must have their hands full helping him get settled now that he’s back from the Navy.

Rolling her eyes lovingly, Pippa reached across to still Sophie’s frantic knee jiggle. It will be a full house, but that’s the way they like it. I worry more about you having to live in the same house as my reprobate brother. You’ll find a place by the end of the summer, but he’ll probably be the belly-scratching squatter still there in ten years.

He can’t possibly be the immature slut you’ve made him out to be. He’s a college graduate and was a Navy SEAL. Those guys have to be at the top of their game and an insane work ethic.

I know, Pippa said, grumbling with an upside-down smile. "It’s hard to imagine someone doing that much of a one-eighty. Do you know how many of my friends he’s slept with? How many never spoke to me again because he didn’t return their calls? And I’m not just talking in high school. Remember Hannah?"

"Hannah was a slut, and we should never have roomed with her. When I couldn’t make it home with you that Christmas, she jumped at taking my ticket, after hearing your Navy SEAL brother was going to be there. Seriously, they write romance novels about those guys."

Exactly my point. He knows he’s the subject of an entire trope of dirty books.

Sophie leaned back on her hands and rolled her eyes. I have way too much on my mind these days to even consider a fling, and absolutely not with your brother. I love you too much. If it helps you relax a bit, I promise to not have sex with him. Sophie crossed her heart and raised her hand in a heartfelt, albeit sarcastic, salute.

Despite her many trips to Pippa’s parents’ house, she’d never met Asher. According to Pippa, he maintained an almost laughable affinity for women—particularly Pippa’s friends.

A picture of him in his uniform resided next to hers on the mantle. She could certainly understand the fuss. Maybe, just maybe, on lonely nights, she let her imagination wander and allow a fantasy or two about the sexy SEAL. Not that she’d ever tell Pippa, and she told her best friend everything. Hell, their periods were synced to the day.

You can be friends with him. She feigned a teasing smile, but Sophie knew it was no joke. Pippa and her brother had butted heads enough over the years, and the loss of a few friendships due to Asher’s dating habits had been a huge strain on their relationship.

Rising from the bare mattress, Sophie gave her friend a squeeze on the shoulder. I would love to take offense, that you think I would choose one night with your brother over a lifetime of friendship with you. But I know you have a bit of a complex about the whole thing—

Mouth open to defend herself, Pippa couldn’t get her thought out. Sophie talked right over her, holding a finger up to silence her.

Which I understand. And I’m going to pretend you didn’t imply that I’m a faithless friend and a slut. Sophie rolled her eyes and nudged her friend.

I don’t think you’re a slut or a faithless friend. Pippa raised an eyebrow and nodded plottingly. Actually, you could be the one to put Asher in his place. All gorgeous with those long lashes and long legs. A heartbreaker that will finally leave the desperate single men of Seattle in peace, so they may spend their nights pining away for some other supermodel disguised as an accountant. When you refuse his come-ons, can you film it? I can’t wait to see the look on his face when a woman doesn’t fall at his feet.

You need help. Sophie circled her hand around her face and lack of bust. Appreciate the compliment. I like me. But… no. Plain, lanky, and comfortable in my pale skin.

Billy Idol’s White Wedding blasted from Pippa’s phone. With a squeal of delight, she hopped out of the chair and answered, Hey, my sexy fiancé. Come on up. Our muscles are primed for heavy lifting. Ending the brief call, Pippa gazed about the room. Let’s get out of this dump.

It wasn’t exactly a dump, but the apartment was in the untrendy section of the university district, far from the ritzy shopping centers. Although their apartment may be musty and tiny, she’d miss it. End of an era.

She blinked back the threatening tears. The best friend she’d ever had was getting married in three weeks to a great guy. Yes, precisely three weeks. Pippa had shared her digital calendar, which included a daily countdown alert. Sophie was really happy for her. Not even that awkwardly jealous, smiling-and-nodding happy. She was genuinely thrilled for her friend.

Pippa had planned their futures as she planned everything else, meticulously and boisterously. Sophie didn’t mind. Uncertainty was far scarier than a well-mapped plan. Being included in Pippa’s life and family over the last few years had been huge for her. Landing a friend like Pippa had almost made up for the years with Yvette.

Sophie shouldn’t have bothered fighting back the hot liquid streaming from her eyes. After greeting her fiancé briefly, not quite overdoing the PDA, Pippa turned and looked around the apartment. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Pippa ran across the apartment to Sophie. I don’t want to go. I’m going to have to be a grownup now and go home to a smelly boy every night.

Right here. Lincoln waved from the kitchen. Don’t worry about me. I’m not offended. I do stink sometimes. The women ignored him. In a loving way. He was good-natured and a good fit for Pippa’s wound-too-tightness.

Wiping away the pesky tears that soaked her cheeks, she hugged her friend. You get to work your dream job as a teacher and make a life with the man you love. Maybe make a few adorable babies soon. Even if he does smell sometimes. He didn’t, but he was an easy, affable mark.

After a few sniffles and another round of tears, Pippa pulled away. Lincoln knew his fiancée well and had already started carrying boxes out to the moving van. When he returned from load number one, his very handsome friend, Grady, followed bearing a stack of steaming boxes of pizza.

Lincoln put one arm around Pippa and kissed the top of her head. I hope you don’t mind. I dragged Grady up from Foothills. I figured we could use a hand.

Mustering up her appetite, Sophie endured yet another meal of pizza. She loved pizza, but it might be time for a break. Grady made eyes at Sophie immediately, as he seemed to be more and more flirty each time she saw him. Glancing to Sophie subtly over her folded slice, Pippa raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head. Grady was ridiculously handsome. Ocean blue eyes, surfer blond hair, incredible body he’d toned to perfection. An attorney that had graduated from law school last year, he was a great conversationalist. And, rumor had it, was good at everything.

He was an old friend of Lincoln’s from Foothills, and his business partner, so she’d only met him a few times. She’d be seeing a lot more of him in the future. The pair had opened their own law firm in Foothills a block or so down from Foothills Accounting.

Pippa seemed to think he was her soulmate. She liked him. A lot, really. Maybe once she was settled, she’d give it a chance?

Stalling. She knew what it was. She really did like him. Hell, he was perfect. Everything a woman could want.

She looked across the kitchen at him. Grady folded a slice in half and munched the neat bundle and crossed the room, scooping a heavy box into his open arm. As he moved for the door, he glanced hopefully at her. He really was appealing, in so many ways. What the hell. She flashed a flirty smile. He winked and ducked out with the package.

Shit. She was so screwed.

He just… She didn’t get that heat deep in her belly when he walked into a room. Her heart didn’t skip a few beats, forgetting its rhythm, when he winked at her. She’d never felt those things, but knew they were imperative when considering a permanent mate, according to the Navy SEAL romances, anyway. Maybe she would react differently when the stress of the last few months was gone?

Love at first sight was a stupid notion anyway, one she did not buy into. Not even in response to a few stupid photographs of a man she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—be with that had burned into her brain.

2

~

Four hours on the road and Sophie was sick of white and yellow lines on asphalt. It should only have taken an hour, two at the most, but, thank you Seattle traffic, it had taken four. She was sick of living in the city. Case in point. Although she’d always lived in the city, she was a country girl at heart.

You didn’t have to be raised in the country to know it was for you. The first time she’d stayed at Pippa’s folk’s place in Foothills, as usual, she had been the first one out of bed. That sunrise, the glow over the mountains illuminating the trees lining the high peaks. She’d fallen in love.

Despite the mind-numbing traffic, she hadn’t lost sight of the moving van. Lincoln was easy to follow, ensuring there was always room for all of them. That included Pippa’s car being towed behind the moving truck, and Grady following in Lincoln’s car behind Sophie in her own car.

Their cozy caravan made a dusty wedding and grad-school graduate parade across Western Washington. Lincoln had been staying with Grady in Foothills for the past two months since he’d finished law school, but after the wedding, he and Pippa would move into a rental house, just the two of them. High school sweethearts reunited by no mere coincidence, they were eager to finally start their lives together.

Pippa was habitually a pragmatic planner and, Sophie suspected, she was born that way. She and Lincoln had broken up after high school, not wanting to sacrifice their careers for young love. Pippa went away to UCLA for her undergrad, where she’d met Sophie. When Pippa discovered Lincoln was going to Seattle U’s law school,