A Country Kind of Love: Huckleberry Ridge Romance, #1

By K.T. Raine

Second chances ... and the secrets that sabotage them

 

CeCe Bixby's life is in flux. After being abandoned by her husband six years earlier she's managed to cope by focusing on her work as a reporter and on being a good mom to her young son. When her name is leaked in connection with a dangerously controversial story, a fresh start in small town Huckleberry Ridge, Idaho feels safe ... until she meets her new landlord, a handsome widower who just may wield the key to her tightly sealed heart.

 

Shane Wickham is shackled with regret. Ever since playing an unintentional role in his wife's death, he's denied himself a second chance at happiness. But once he meets his attractive but fearful new tenant, he feels compelled to help her, and his firm resolve to keep his distance begins to crumble.

 

Despite an undeniable attraction to Shane, CeCe is terrified to lower her guard and expose herself and her son to the risk of more heartbreak. And though Shane secretly longs to put yesterday behind him, his guilt won't allow him to pursue the possibility of new love.

 

Can they find a way to forge a future together, or will regret and deception doom the chance to repair two damaged hearts?

 

A Country Kind of Love is the heartwarming first book in the Huckleberry Ridge Romance series. If you enjoy clean, feel-good stories with relatable heroines and swoon worthy heroes, then you'll love K.T. Raine's tender tale.

 

Buy A Country Kind of Love for your happy ever after today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.T. Raine
• Release date: Mar 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215032138

K.T. Raine

Always a sucker for a happy ending, KT Raine writes clean and swoon worthy romance from her home in beautiful north Idaho, where she lives with her husband and their beagle-mix rescue, Stella. She's the author of Holding Out for Special, and the Huckleberry Ridge Romance series. 

Book preview

Chapter 1–CeCe

T ake the next left , Cody commanded, pointing for emphasis, his tone making it clear just how much the ten year-old relished calling the shots.

CeCe raised a hand from the steering wheel long enough to salute her son. Roger that. She slowed, hugging the narrow shoulder of the county road to allow a hay-laden pickup truck to pass before carefully swinging the Durango wide to make the turn onto Tompkins Road. What’s next, boss?

Cody eyed his phone. Stay on Tompkins for half a mile, then take a left onto Snowberry Lane. Then our destination will be on the right.

Wonderful, CeCe said, the simple word not even close to expressing the depth of her relief. After 415 miles, she could survive one more. She sat a little straighter as the oppressive weight of anxiety began to lift from her aching shoulders. Another few minutes and they’d finally be home—well, to their new home anyway.

The two day trip from Boise to Huckleberry Ridge, Idaho, had been quite the slog for someone who’d never pulled a trailer in her life. CeCe had given away a number of belongings she didn’t want to, just so the remaining things would fit in a 12 foot cargo trailer. Anything larger would have required her to drive a U-Haul truck and tow the SUV behind—a terrifying and totally unacceptable prospect. 

Even the 12 footer made the steering and braking sluggish and slow to respond, and CeCe had spent the whole journey white-knuckled, expecting a blown tire, engine trouble—something—to go wrong at any moment. Thank goodness most of the trip had been freeway miles, with the most traumatic part maneuvering through gas stations.

Cody’s sulking hadn’t made the trip any less painful, serving only to reinforce CeCe’s knowledge that she wasn’t a good mother. A good mother wouldn’t spring a surprise move on her son, uprooting him from the only home he’d ever known with a made up explanation and only ten days’ notice. A good mother would know how to soothe his frustration and resentment, how to make her only child happy. Sometimes it felt as though CeCe’s life had become one big pile of parental guilt.

But things were going to be better in Huckleberry Ridge. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. 

CeCe studied the passing scenery as they puttered along Tompkins Road, marveling at the difference in climate from one end of the state to the other. It was September 6, still summer back in Boise with daytime temperatures near 80 degrees. But up here in the north, the gorgeous fall colors were already in full display, the gold, crimson and red leaves glistening under a blue-bird sky as if they were trying to out shine each other. The outdoor temperature gauge showed 64 degrees. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect.

The internet described Huckleberry Ridge as a friendly, safe, rural community of 10,000, surrounded by the Kootenai national forest and crisscrossed with endless hiking and biking trails. A sportsman’s and outdoor lover’s paradise.

No question about the rural part. The town was surrounded by gently mounded hills full of pine and aspen, with steeper, heavily forested peaks behind. Small pastures dotted with grazing cattle, deep, wide ditches full of wild flowers, lots of four-wheel drives and two-lane roads. A Wal-Mart, Target and Best Buy interspersed with lots of little mom and pops.

She was starting to believe the friendly part as well. Two people had waved as they rolled through the main street in town. The first time CeCe figured it must be a fluke, the person mistaking them for someone else. Then it happened again a block later. She’d been too surprised to wave back. Not that Boise was unfriendly. But in a city of a quarter million people ... well, strangers didn’t generally wave.

And as for the community’s claim to safety—well, CeCe could only pray that part was true, too.

This is Snowberry, Cody announced a moment later, gesturing left. Turn. What are snowberries anyway?

CeCe didn’t answer for a moment, her focus on driving. The side roads around Huckleberry Ridge were definitely narrower than she was used to, most with little to no shoulder and fairly steep drop-offs. All she needed was to turn the trailer over the last quarter mile of their journey. She successfully completed the turn, but swerved too late to avoid the generous pothole in her lane.

Cody made an exaggerated grab for the dashboard as they bounced through it. Jeez, Mom!

Sorry, sorry. I didn’t see it in time. She puffed out a breath. Anyway, a snowberry is a native shrub that produces little white berries. She didn’t bother to add her knowledge came from Google. Maybe she’d score a point for being smart. These days she was sorely in need of points when it came to Cody. Related to the honeysuckle, she added.

Can you eat ‘em?

Nope. Not unless you’re a bird. But hopefully we’ll get to enjoy lots of huckleberries.

Cody wrinkled his nose. Are those the big, bumpy black ones?

You’re thinking of blackberries. Huckleberries are the little purple ones. You’ve eaten them, you just forgot.

Oh, yeah, that pie Penny made us, right?

CeCe felt a pang. Too bad she couldn’t have thrown her best friend in the U-Haul. She missed her already. Yep. Those were huckleberries.

She eagerly scanned ahead on the sparsely populated road, locating the duplex a few seconds before the phone announced their arrival. Her heart sped up. Sitting a little way back from the road, the blue and white duplex stood out like a small oasis in a sea of giant pines and firs. It looked well maintained and clean, with two single attached garages in the middle to put space between the units, and short, straight driveways leading to both. Excitement buzzed through CeCe’s fingertips. There it is! Ours is the one on the right. It looks a little bigger than it did on the rental website, huh?

Cody shrugged, seemingly unimpressed. Looks like a house, I guess. Then his hazel eyes flared and he leaned forward fast enough to make his seatbelt lock. Hey, why is there a cop car parked at the other place?

CeCe’s head jerked up. What? Where do you ... Oh. Her breath quickened. How in the world had she missed the intimidating black and white SUV with Idaho State Police boldly emblazoned along its side? She willed herself to stay calm. Only Penny, and a few other trusted individuals knew she was moving to Huckleberry Ridge. CeCe had signed the rental lease under her maiden name of Bixby. Besides, she reminded herself, she had no reason to fear the police. Keeping part of your life private was not a crime.

She turned to her son with a cheerful smile. I dunno. Maybe he’s just there visiting somebody. Or ... you never know, maybe our neighbor’s a trooper.

Her mind replayed the few conversations she’d had with her new landlord—Shane Wickham. Their discussions centered on practicalities like CeCe’s referrals, lease terms and specifics about the half of the duplex she hoped to rent. They didn’t discuss who lived in the other half. Thinking about it now, she guessed it might have been smart to ask. 

Cool, Cody said.

CeCe nodded as she considered his comment. Maybe he was right. There might be some real benefits to having a police officer next door—if he or she did indeed live there. Who would have the courage to bother her then?

She slowed to a crawl as she approached the driveway, a new fear making her sweat. It would make the most sense to back the trailer in so it would be near the house for unloading. But she’d spent the last forty-eight hours making sure to never get in a position where she needed to back up. And the thought of doing so now was overwhelming. If it meant carrying things a little farther ... so be it. They’d made it to Huckleberry Ridge. In one piece, no less. No accidents. No breakdowns. That’s all that mattered.

CeCe felt like doing a victory dance as she shut off the car.  We’re here, and I am so glad.

Cody rolled his eyes high enough to make his brows disappear beneath his unruly bangs. "I’m glad the trip’s over. But I’m not glad to be here."

CeCe deflated a bit. I know, sport. But give it a chance, okay? Please? She reached to brush the dusty blond hair from his eyes, but he ducked away. CeCe let her hand drop. Such a short time ago he’d been her best buddy—always tagging along like a shadow, wanting to sit close to her on the couch, drawing her pictures or picking her little fistfuls of dandelions. She had no idea where that little boy had gone or if she’d ever get him back ... but she sure did miss him. She pasted on a bright smile. What do you say we go check things out, huh?

She slipped out of the car, arching her back in a long, leisurely stretch. God it felt good to be out from behind the wheel. She breathed in the earthy, damp smell of recently watered lawn and the woodsy smell of the forest. It smelled wonderful. Clean. Like a fresh start. A gentle breeze stirred the leafy shrubs near the mailbox, and the sweet twittering of chickadees sounded from somewhere nearby. Other than the birds, it was quiet—almost startling so compared to their apartment in Boise which fronted one of the busiest corridors in the city.

CeCe glanced farther up Snowberry Lane. It really was more of a lane than a road, short and not very well maintained. She could see only three other homes—the closest one partially hidden behind a towering pile of firewood.

What are you doing, Mom? Cody called from the front steps. Bring the keys.

CeCe pressed her lips together, grabbed her purse and marched toward him. "Bring the keys please, okay? You don’t have to be so demanding."

He huffed out a sigh. Well, sorry. I just wanna see inside.

So do I, but I don’t have a key yet. Mr. Wickham said he’d leave it in the flowerpot by the door. She nodded toward a half whiskey barrel full of pink chrysanthemums. Right there, I’m guessing. CeCe gently probed the soft dirt beneath the flowers, her fingertips coming into contact with something metal. She flicked off a bit of soil and handed over the key. There you go, sport. You get the honors.

Cody unlocked the door and CeCe stepped in behind her impatient son. The slightly pungent smell of fresh paint hit her nostrils, and she felt a thrill as she appraised the spacious living room with its speckled brown carpet and crème walls. Nice! Bigger than she’d been expecting. Cody took a cursory glance around before sprinting from the room to check out what lay beyond. CeCe ventured into the kitchen.

She put her fingertips to her cheeks as she took in the granite countertops, stainless steel island and wooden cabinets galore. She opened one of the cabinets. The door felt heavy, solid. Pine, maybe? Or oak. Lovely, whatever they were. A large window above the sink let in abundant light and a fan circled lazily over the empty space where the kitchen table would go.   CeCe spread her arms and turned in a slow circle, fighting back the urge to cry. Yeah, it was dumb. But she couldn’t help it. Everything was so much nicer than she’d allowed herself to hope for $900 dollars a month. Sure the pictures online looked great, but staged pictures always did. A place like this back in Boise would cost a minimum of $1500, maybe more. She released a shuddery breath. Maybe things really would be okay, after all. Maybe the decision to move here would prove to be a good one.

Hey Mom, come check it out, Cody called, the lightness in his voice a pleasant surprise. It was the most excited she’d heard him since before she’d broken the news they were moving. She hurried down a short hallway, taking notice of a bathroom and storage closet, before reaching the end where it split off into two bedrooms. What is it, sport?

The boy stood at the window of the room on the left, holding back the brown and black checked curtains. Check it out, he repeated. There’s sheep.

Sheep? CeCe moved to stand beside him, squinting at the bright sunshine pouring through the glass. She gave a startled laugh as she took in the small, grassy pasture behind the duplex, complete with a small red barn and five large, wooly bodies grazing nearby. Oh, wow. You’re right.

It’s like ... a farm, Cody said. You moved us to a farm.

Well, I knew it was out in the country. But I don’t remember reading anything about livestock. She grinned at her son. Cool, huh? Something different. She glanced around the room. So, is this the bedroom you want?

He shrugged, still fascinated with the sheep. Yeah, whatever. The other one’s probably the same.

CeCe ambled across the hall to confirm and realized he was wrong. This room was a bit larger, with a generous walk in closet and a window that looked out onto Snowberry Lane—definitely the bedroom she’d choose for herself. Okay, she called. I’ve got dibs on this one. So what do you think of this place? Pretty nice, huh?

It’s okay, Cody said, as though he didn’t want to sound overly pleased. Do you think those sheep are friendly?

She bit back a curious smile. He’d never expressed much interest in animals, not even asking for a puppy or kitten like most kids. He was too absorbed in video games and advanced Lego sets. Don’t know, sport. Sheep aren’t my area of expertise. She wandered back down the hall to check out the bathroom in greater detail, stopping to examine the storage closet on her way. The lower portion was open, with three wide shelves up above. Plenty of room for her vacuum and steam cleaner on the bottom. Maybe extra sheets and blankets on the shelves? Or towels, if the bathroom didn’t have enough storage.

Two solid raps sounded on the front door.  

CeCe instinctively jumped. Had she even closed the door after following Cody in? Probably not. She hurried back to the living room. A man stood just inside the entrance—a rather tall, lean, well-built man—wearing jeans, dusty boots and a plaid work shirt with sleeves rolled partway up. His stance was casual and non-threatening, but CeCe’s breath still hitched anyway. Oh, hello?

He raised his hand in a friendly gesture, removing his ball cap to reveal neatly trimmed dark hair. Hi, there. You must be CeCe. I’m Shane Wickham.

Oh, yeah, of course. Our landlord. CeCe hoped her smile hid her shock. He was her landlord? Why had she assumed he’d be older ... much older? And not nearly as good looking? What was it her dad always liked to say—ask if you need to, but never assume?

And neighbor, he said, jerking a thumb toward the left. I live in the other half of the duplex.

Oh, okay, she said. I guess I never thought to ask on the phone. Nice to meet you.

CeCe clasped her arms over her middle, suddenly afraid of how rumpled she must look after two days of travel. She willed her heart to slow. I really like it so far. The house, I mean, she added nervously. It’s so clean and ... And what? ... spacious.

Shane glanced around with a slow nod as if seeing it for the first time. Yep. Yep, it’s pretty nice. He placed his cap back on and rocked on his heels. How was the move?

CeCe released a small laugh. Honestly? Extremely long and stressful because I’ve never pulled a trailer before. But we didn’t have any problems, thank goodness.

Ah, he said. Gotcha. Nice rig, though.

Rig? Must be north Idaho lingo. Oh, the Durango? Yeah, thanks.

Cody suddenly appeared at her side and she clutched his arm like a lifeline. This is my son, Cody. Cody, this is Mr. Wickham. He owns the duplex and he lives in the other side.

The boy’s eyes sparked with immediate interest and she braced for what she knew was coming. Hey. So who does the cop car belong to?

CeCe flushed at her son’s brashness,