Home To Family

He felt a sweet sense of expansion in his chest…and a piercing sense of alarm at the same time.

At that moment she lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m so sorry, Matt.” He saw the pity in her eyes. The one thing he didn’t want. From anyone. But especially not from Leslie.

He pulled his hand out of her grasp and somehow managed to shrug. “It shouldn’t happen to anyone, but I’m sure I’ll adjust,” he said. “Pity doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Matt, I wasn’t—”

“I should go,” he said, stepping away from her. “You should go inside, too. There’s no point in standing out here in the cold. It’s been good to see you again, Les.”

He knew that inside the house friends and family were waiting, full of questions and curiosity. There would be whispers in quiet corners and surreptitious looks. He would have to listen to well-meaning but unrealistic predictions about his future.

But how bad could any of that be compared to what he’d just seen in Leslie’s eyes?

Dear Reader,

When I first set out to write the HEART OF THE ROCKIES series, I was pretty certain about the stories I wanted to share for Nick, Rafe and Addy. Matt, however, presented a bit of a problem.

As the middle brother, his personality was a mystery to me, and no clear-cut vision of who he really was developed as I started to flesh out his character. He seemed to have no problems, no axes to grind, no points to prove, not a single roadblock standing in his way to happiness. An easygoing charmer, Matt seemed to be the “golden boy” in the D’Angelo family, the one the gods seem to love and look out for, the fellow who never has to work very hard for anything. A woman would love to find a man like that. But the problem is, who wants to read about a man who’s that perfect? Not very interesting, if you ask me.

But that’s the great thing about being a writer. Characters can morph into anything you need them to be. In short, I decided to rock Matt’s world. Because of one small twist of fate on a snowy winter night, he’s forced to discover that not everything comes easily in life. That eventually even the luckiest people in the world have to face adversity and find new ways to triumph.

Of course, he doesn’t take this journey willingly. Or alone. It takes a woman from his past, Leslie Meadows, to help him see that he’s still the same man she fell in love with years ago, and he doesn’t have to be perfect to be the man for her. Most of all, she helps him see that together they can overcome any trouble that comes their way.

I hope you enjoy Matt and Leslie’s story, and that you’re finding the D’Angelo family as much fun to read about as I had writing them. I love to hear from readers. Visit me at www.aboutannevans.com or e-mail me at [email protected].

Best wishes,

Ann Evans

For fellow critique partner Lori Harris.

Thank you for years of encouragement, and the occasional, much-needed kick in the pants.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I HAVE TO STOP for a coffee,” Matt D’Angelo said.

Beside him in the passenger seat, Shayla shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Just a quick one. If I don’t, I’ll never make it.”

Shayla swung a look in his direction. He could see she was about to object again, so he gave her one of his most winning smiles. They’d been dating only three months, but he knew Shayla was crazy about him, and he wasn’t above using that knowledge to his benefit.

As he expected, she gave him a playful, censuring scowl. “You’re completely addicted,” she told him. “You know that, don’t you? And we’re already late. Your folks are going to worry.”

“Mom and Pop know what the traffic is like this time of year. They won’t look for us until after dark.”

This was true. It was December twentieth and the usual delays of Christmas travel and snowy weather had put them behind since early this morning. They’d had to de-ice the plane in Chicago before take-off, and by the time the bumpy, overcrowded flight made it into Stapleton in Denver, the swill in Matt’s stomach—a cup of weak decaf from an airport kiosk—had long soured. Now the Eisenhower Tunnel along the Interstate-70 corridor would be slow-going, crowded with skiers heading for the slopes and families making their way to holiday reunions with friends and family.

Matt took his hand off the steering wheel and reached across the front seat to rub his fingers along the back of Shayla’s neck. “Come on, Shay. How can you be so cruel to someone you’re crazy about?”

That got the reaction he expected. She gave him a sharpened look, eyes wide. “You’re way too full of yourself. I’m not that crazy about you.”