Wedding at The Graff

By Jeannie Watt

Luck of the Irish?

If only!

Collie Flanigan fled Chicago for Marietta, Montana to start a new life after breaking her engagement, but immediately hits a snag. Her ex-fiancé wants the ring back and sends his most trusted confidant and employee to get it. But the ring was stolen from her family years ago, and Collie has no intention of ever parting with the beloved family heirloom.

Collie’s college friend, Michael Donovan, thinks his mission is simple—quietly retrieve the ring to keep Collie out of jail and himself employed. He books a stay at the historic Graff Hotel, where Collie works in housekeeping, intending to quickly persuade her to part with the ring. Not so easy when Michael realizes he’s in too deep. he chemistry between him and Collie is still there, stronger than ever, but their timing’s always been off. Is now finally their time, and will Collie accept his ultimate sacrifice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Mar 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781948342537

Jeannie Watt

Jeannie Watt lives in a historical Nevada ranching community with her husband, horses and ponies. During the day she teaches junior high and at night she writes about cowboys, ranchers and cops. When she’s not writing or feeding the animals, Jeannie enjoys sewing, making mosaic mirrors and cooking with her husband.

Book preview

Author

Prologue

Garrett Hawley dropped the glossy color photo on the Macassar ebony desk and leaned back in his chair, slowly swirling the whisky in his glass. Colleen won’t give it up. She’s convinced my great-grandfather stole the ring from her great-grandfather, even though she has no proof.

Michael Donovan pulled the photo closer. He’d only seen the antique emerald and diamond ring a half-dozen times on Colleen Flanigan’s finger. Once she’d become engaged to Garrett, he’d removed himself from her life. It was the only way he could handle the situation. Tamp down the gut-wrenching sense of loss and move on.

You know, the only reason I gave her that ring is because of Granddad. He suggested it.

Michael raised his gaze. He had not been aware. The late Hugh Hawley Sr. had been both generous and business-savvy. He was the reason Michael had his education, and the reason he had a job at Hawley Enterprises. He was also the reason Michael was tied to the company for three more years.

Yeah. When Dad found out, he came uncorked, but it was too late. Kind of hard to tell your new fiancée you want to trade out engagement rings—especially that ring.

No doubt. The Flanigan Stone, as Colleen had called the emerald, was a Flanigan heirloom that the Hawleys had gotten possession of, either by purchasing or stealing, depending on who told the story. Colleen and Garrett’s marriage was supposed to put an end to the family feud…but things hadn’t worked out that way. If anything, their failed relationship had thrown gas on the fire.

Garrett’s jawline hardened as he swirled the scotch again. Dad wants to have the emerald reset to give it to Serena as an engagement present.

Seems kind of a shame, Michael said. He meant that in many senses. It was too bad that the pristine stone would be pried from its antique platinum-and-white-gold setting. Too bad that high-maintenance Serena Barlow would be wearing it. But Serena had Hugh Hawley Jr. wrapped around her finger, and what Serena wanted, Serena would get. Which meant that Garrett would do what he could to retrieve the stone, which was why Michael was there for the late-night drink in the offices of Hawley Enterprises.

My life is going to be a living hell until I get the damned thing back."

No way that Serena would be happy with another more expensive ring?

Garrett leveled a speaking look at Michael.

I’ll take that for a no.

What you have there is a $50,000 stone. Untreated. Colombian. Do you know how many untreated natural emeralds of that size there are in this world?

Not off the top of my head.

Garrett emptied his glass and set it on the desk. Point one percent. He sounded as if he’d just had the statistic hammered into him, which he probably had, since he and his father had been closeted in Hugh Jr.’s office during the latter part of the day. Michael had assumed it had something to do with procuring new financing for their latest condo project, but apparently not.

Garrett smiled the wry half-smile Michael rarely saw anymore, looking for one fleeting moment like his old fraternity friend—a guy he’d respected and liked. The smile evaporated.

Serena is all about having what other people don’t. Garrett snorted. Kind of like Dad.

And kind of like Garrett, himself. The reason Garrett had swept Colleen off her feet was because she was jaw-droppingly beautiful and Garrett collected beautiful things. Showed them off. But in addition to being beautiful, Colleen was intelligent and hardworking, witty and fun.

The perfect woman in Michael’s mind. Or she had been. Times had changed. She’d changed. But the fact that she’d changed didn’t keep Michael from feeling a stab of alarm when Garrett said, I’m going to have to unleash Finley. The head of legal for Hawley Enterprises. I’ll have to pay for his hours myself. Garrett reached for the crystal decanter and held it up. Michael shook his head and then Garrett poured another two fingers of Oban into his glass. No way Dad is going to let the company pay for what he calls ‘my mistake.’

Garrett grimaced as if mentally calculating the lawyer’s fee. Not that he couldn’t afford it. Michael understood his boss didn’t like to make mistakes, and if he did, he hated his father rubbing his face in them.

Am I here so that you can unburden yourself? Michael asked. He doubted that was the case given the way his relationship with Garrett had evolved.

I want you to talk to her.

Excuse me? Michael now wished he had scotch in his glass.

She’ll probably listen to you more than she’ll listen to me. Another of those rare half-smiles. Our relationship is acrimonious. Garrett put his forearms on his desk and leaned forward. If you agree to go to Nowhere, Montana, and convince Colleen to give the ring back—convince her I’m serious about a charge of grand larceny—I will make it worth your while.

Go to Montana and meet with Colleen? The thought shook him.

How?

Let’s just say a big chunk of the down payment you just dropped on that condo will reappear in your bank account.

Michael’s eyebrows lifted, even though he made it a point not to show emotion during business dealings. That could get into some serious money. More than the ring was worth, but quite possibly less than the lawyer would charge.

Totally worth it to get my dad off my back, see Serena happy and…you know. He gave a small shrug before leaning back and finishing his second scotch, which Michael read to mean that he wouldn’t mind seeing Colleen squirm. She’d hurt his pride and given Hugh Hawley Jr. the ability to say ‘I told you so’ to his son.

I’ll need a more exact number than ‘a big chunk,’ Michael said. But even as the words left his mouth, he knew that the amount they agreed upon wouldn’t matter. He’d fly to Montana because he was concerned about Colleen doing battle with the Hawleys. She could be stubborn and headstrong, and the emerald was an emotional thing for her. Colleen Flanigan was not above cutting off her nose to spite her face, as his gran would say.

He didn’t want to see her get herself into trouble, because despite his efforts to the contrary, he still wasn’t over her.

Chapter One

A whiff of damp air hit Michael Donovan’s nostrils as he opened the door at the bottom of the basement stairs. The upper floors of the historic Graff Hotel in Marietta, Montana, had been expertly renovated. Rich dark wood walls and columns, coupled with sparkling crystal light fixtures and a gleaming marble floor, created a comfortable yet elegant ambiance. The narrow hallways and low ceilings of the basement, on the other hand, left something to be desired. But according to Bob, the chatty deskman, the basement was next on the renovation list, and the new and improved staff break room had already been relocated there. And that was where Michael would find Colleen.

Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?

Michael looked up to see a petite dark-haired woman leaning out of a doorway several yards ahead of him. I’m looking for Colleen Flanigan. I’m an old friend.

An old friend? The woman frowned at him as if debating whether to believe him. She wasn’t going to be as easy to convince as the guy manning the front desk.

Bob said I could come down and make arrangements to meet Colleen after work. Should only take a minute.

Why didn’t Bob call her to meet you upstairs?

I wanted to surprise her. Actually, he’d wanted to meet her alone and convince her that he’d come in peace. He’d thought it would be easier to be alone in the basement than in the busy lobby, but no. He still had an audience, and a protective one at that.

The small woman crossed her arms over her chest as a teenage kid a good head taller than her stepped out into the narrow hallway.

Who’s Colleen? he asked.

I think he means Collie, the woman said without breaking eye contact with Michael. Or do you?

Yes. Collie, he said. She hasn’t gone by that recently. He hadn’t called her Collie since her engagement to Garrett. It had helped him to think of her as Colleen.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. If you’d like to give me your name and wait upstairs in the lobby, I’ll see if Collie has time to see an old friend on her break. Shouldn’t be more than five or ten minutes from now.

Michael let out a silent breath. This was not a woman to mess with. He tried a smile. Maybe you can tell her someone wants to see her? I really do want to surprise her.

Total truth.

The woman opened her mouth to answer when Michael heard a door open behind him. He automatically turned and then felt something akin to a kick in his stomach as he came face-to-face with his quarry.

Collie came to an abrupt stop when she saw him, her gray eyes widening and her face flushing as recognition slammed into her. For a moment all Michael could do was stare.

Gone was Colleen, the polished gallery manager with her dark red chignon, and in her place was the Collie of old, neatly dressed in her hotel uniform with a loose auburn braid falling over one shoulder and wispy tendrils softening the angles of her cheeks. This was his Collie.

Michael. She took a half step backward, pressing a palm to her chest.

He automatically lifted a hand, as if to stop her from turning and fleeing, felt the kid move behind him, and instantly lowered his arm.

What are you… Her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Please tell me you aren’t here because of Garrett. That you’re here because of me.

I am here because of you.

And only me.

Michael swallowed. He couldn’t lie to her.

Garrett sent you. It was an accusation he couldn’t deny, and he wasn’t going to try.

Collie—

Don’t you mean Colleen? she countered rapidly. Collie is a dog. Remember? Her full lips twisted as her eyebrows lifted. Woof. Woof.

The last words came out flatly, with no hint of the fiery emotion lighting her eyes. Dark gray eyes should be cold and steel-like, but Colleen Flanigan’s eyes were anything but. The tiny flecks in her irises were like small white-hot sparks, lighting the stormy depths.

Garrett had wanted his fiancée to have a more polished name than Collie. He’d pointed out that Collie Hawley simply wouldn’t do, and Collie had agreed. However, Michael knew that Garrett had disliked her diminutive from day one, and after Collie had agreed to go by her given name, Garrett had teasingly told her that it was all for the best because a collie was a dog. Woof. Woof. And she hadn’t decked him. Testimony to how much she had changed since the days when she and Michael had studied together.

What do you want me to call you? he asked.

If you’re here for the reason I think you’re here, I don’t want you to call me anything. I want you to leave. Her voice was low and adamant and again he sensed that the kid behind him was about to take him out if he made a wrong move.

You need to hear me out, Collie.

A laugh erupted from her beautiful lips. For my own good, no doubt.

It’ll benefit both of us. He left her to draw her own conclusion and, after a few tense seconds, her expression shifted, but not in the direction he wanted. No sudden acknowledgment that she was in a lose-lose situation and needed to negotiate her way out. No sign of you got me, let’s talk. None.

He couldn’t say he was surprised.

Collie took a step forward and pointed a finger at the middle of Michael’s chest. "We have nothing to talk about, Michael. Not. One. Thing. You go back to Hawley Enterprises and tell Garrett that I refused to talk to you. She lifted her chin and, even though he had a good eight inches on her, he got the distinct impression that she was looking down at him. I can’t believe you’ve come to do this." Her voice shook a little, telling him that she was both angry and hurt.

It had to be me, and we need to talk, he repeated. You know Garrett won’t let this lie.

Lie, she said musingly. What an interesting choice of words. You might ask him about lies. She turned on her heel and headed back down the hall to the door she’d emerged from a few minutes earlier, her back straight, her auburn braid moving with each step. Ask him who really owns the ring.

Would you like help finding your way out? the woman standing behind him asked in a no-nonsense voice. Michael turned, his attention instantly caught not by the small woman, but by the kid towering over her, a grim expression on his young face.

Uh…no. But it was time for him to regroup, and he’d just as soon do it without the kid attempting to manhandle him up the stairs.

All the same, the woman said primly, Mateo will help you find your way out.

*

Colleen leaned back against the heavy wood door of the backup storage room where she’d been searching for a case of new mop heads when she’d heard voices and stepped out to investigate, only to receive the shock of her life.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together. Even though she was certain Michael was gone, she still pressed against the door as if barring it against her former friend. Angelica was probably wondering why she’d turned and walked back into the small room at the same time Michael and Mateo had headed for the stairwell, but she’d needed a moment.

More like an hour, and even that might not be enough.

During her last conversation with Garrett before leaving Chicago for Marietta, she’d asked him to do the right thing and allow her to keep the ring that had once belonged to her family—the ring that meant so much to her grandmother, the woman who’d raised her after she’d lost her parents in a car crash. He’d flatly refused, explaining that his dad wanted to use the stone for his own engagement. Hugh Hawley Jr. was going to pry the stone from its original setting and put it in something more suited to his bride-to-be’s modern tastes.

It hurt to even think about it.

Collie swallowed and then pushed the hair back from her forehead with both hands as she fought to get hold of herself.

The gig was up. The Hawleys were coming after the stone, as she’d known they would. This day had been inevitable, but she hadn’t expected Michael to be part of it.

The Michael she’d known and cared for wouldn’t have been a part of it.

She tilted her head back and blinked back tears, which was crazy. She and Michael hadn’t been close for a while now, not since she’d become engaged. He’d kissed her cheek after the announcement—his lips cool against her skin—wished her well and then, for all intents and purposes, removed himself from her life. Her trusted friend and study partner—gone.

She’d made a few overtures. Asked him to coffee and out for drinks, but he’d gently turned her down and eventually she’d gotten the message. Their relationship had ended when she’d become engaged to his boss.

It’d been hard to accept, but looking back, it’d had to be that way. Garrett wouldn’t have allowed his wife to have a male best friend. People might talk, which was a stupid concern, but Garrett spent a lot of time worrying about public image. She hadn’t recognized that small fact—and a lot of other stuff—in the beginning, when she’d been head over heels for the guy. Because she’d chosen Garrett, Michael had no choice but to step aside.

But he could have given you a little closure—right?

He hadn’t. What really fried her was that after her engagement, when they met at the Hawley Enterprises offices, which were in the same building as the gallery she managed, he’d called her Colleen. She’d hated it. She should have never been Colleen to him after all the time they’d spent together, but she was.

People change.

Yeah, they did. And sometimes forever.

After she called off the wedding, she’d hoped to hear from Michael, but he continued to keep his distance—no ‘I told you so,’ no ‘hey, want to talk?’ It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Garrett wouldn’t be happy with Michael picking up their friendship, and Michael still had to work closely with the man. He’d made a commitment to the company—signed a five-year contract in return for forgiveness of the healthy financial debt he’d incurred with his graduate studies. Yes, Michael had reason to keep his distance, but it still stung.

Well, he was back now, and it wasn’t to pick up the friendship. He’d come on a mission from Garrett, and the fact that he’d come on a mission not only hurt, it annoyed her as well. Right now, she was focusing on annoyance, because it felt better than hurt.

Collie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then took a chance and cracked the door open. As she expected, the hall was clear. Time to face Angelica, thank her and explain, then get herself upstairs for her meeting with Walker Wilder, the events coordinator for the hotel, who probably wanted to talk about decorating the ballroom for the St. Patrick’s Day Dinner Dance.

As soon as she stepped out into the hall, Angelica did the same, waiting near the door of the staff break room as Collie walked down the narrow limestone-walled hallway.

Mateo is making certain that your friend finds his way out of the hotel.

Collie had a sudden, horrible thought. What if he’s a guest?

Angelica gave a small nod. That would be a wrinkle.

Collie smoothed the curling tendrils that had escaped her braid from the sides of her face. A big wrinkle.

She glanced at the clock above the sofa and saw that she had ten minutes before her meeting with Walker. More than enough time to debrief Angelica, who was probably piecing together all kinds of theories concerning the scene