Angel Kisses and Riversong Read online




  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Excerpt

  OTHER BOOKS BY LYNNETTE BONNER

  THE SHEPHERD’S HEART SERIES

  Historical

  Rocky Mountain Oasis - BOOK ONE

  High Desert Haven - BOOK TWO

  Fair Valley Refuge - BOOK THREE

  Spring Meadow Sanctuary - BOOK FOUR

  THE PACIFIC SHORES SERIES

  Contemporary

  Beyond the Waves - BOOK ONE

  Caught in the Current - BOOK TWO

  Song of the Surf - BOOK THREE

  Written in the Sand - BOOK FOUR

  THE WYLDHAVEN SERIES

  Historical

  Not a Sparrow Falls - BOOK ONE

  On Eagles’ Wings - BOOK TWO

  Beauty from Ashes - BOOK THREE

  Coming soon.

  Consider the Lilies - BOOK FOUR

  Coming soon.

  Find all other books by Lynnette Bonner at:

  www.lynnettebonner.com

  Angel Kisses and Riversong

  RIVERSONG, Book 1

  Published by Serene Lake Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Lynnette Bonner. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lynnette Bonner of Indie Cover Design, images ©

  www.peopleimages.com, File: # ID1371806

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-942982-09-8

  Angel Kisses and Riversong is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  Proverbs 16:9

  In their hearts humans plan their course,

  but the Lord establishes their steps.

  CHAPTER 1

  Salem Finn propped her elbows on the foyer desk and leaned her head into her palms. She was tired. Actually, tired didn’t even come close. Exhausted. Bone weary. Drained. Add all those words together and multiply them by a factor of one thousand and it might land somewhere in the vicinity of how she was feeling.

  She only hoped that in her exhaustion she wouldn’t make some mistake while caring for Gran. If only her job with D.I.M.E.S. had worked out. The job that would have allowed her to pay for Gran to be in a top-rated care facility. Working for them had been her dream job. But they obviously didn’t feel the same about her since they’d quit calling her after the third interview she’d had with them. Gran could be getting the best medical attention possible. Instead, she was stuck living with Salem as her caretaker, and Salem was stuck hoping and praying that nothing too medically challenging ever happened to Gran. Salem also felt guilty about the fact that she was having to leave Gran on her own in her room more than she would have liked. Remodeling and trying to get a bed and breakfast business started took up a lot of time…and energy.

  She closed her eyes but immediately snapped them open again. A few more seconds with them shut and her night’s guest would find her drooling on her invoices. Then she’d be resigned to greeting him with a crick in her neck to rival Big Bend.

  Thankfully, Gran had fallen asleep without too much fuss tonight, though Salem was still half expecting to hear her bedside bell ring followed by a plaintive request for another cup of chamomile tea, or to have her pillows readjusted, or a cramp in her leg massaged out. But last Salem had checked, Gran had been sleeping soundly—much to her relief.

  Salem lifted the cup from beside her paperwork, and took what she hoped would be a rejuvenating swallow of the tepid coffee. She needed to power through these bills before her very first, and one-and-only, boarder arrived for the night.

  One-and-only.

  Her stomach knotted into an ache. The problem wasn’t necessarily in powering through the bills, it was in deciding which one she should pay, and which ones she might get away with putting off for a bit.

  When she’d taken over her grandmother’s care and decided that her best option was to turn the place into a bed and breakfast, which would allow her to generate an income and still remain near Gran all day, she hadn’t realized just how much work she would need to put into the place to get it going.

  Neither had she realized how much work Gran would be, to be honest. Her grandmother was nothing if not set in her ways. Thankfully, Salem had now renovated and decorated one of the rooms. But having only one room ready for guests was putting a severe crimp in the budget for these first few months.

  Still, it was no small miracle that the one room had booked up immediately after she’d posted the availability online. Even if it was for only one night. She would take it.

  With a sigh, Salem flipped through the stack of bills. Water. Power. Sewer. All those went in the “need to be paid now” pile. The cable bill she tossed into a separate pile, along with the bill for the internet provider. Though…she studied those last two, tapping her fingers against them…guests might get upset if they arrived and had no wifi or cable options in their room. With a little groan, she moved cable and internet to the “must be paid” pile. That left her cell phone bill, which she used as the number for customers to make reservations, so it really had to be paid—she plopped it into the appropriate stack—and the waste management bill. That last one she put in its own little pile. If she put off paying that one for a while, she could maybe store the full garbage bags at the far end of the shed and then haul them to the dump later in the spring.

  She swiped her phone to life, opened her banking app, and checked her balance. She slipped one hand to the back of her neck and squeezed. If she took the payment her upcoming guest paid tonight, she might have enough to get three of the bills paid. If only the man had wanted to stay more than one night. She might have to do some research on which service provider gave the most amount of grace if a bill wasn’t paid on time. The thought sent another curl of apprehension through her stomach.

  Jesus, I could really use a little help here? I’m just trying to do the right thing and take care of Gran, but getting this bed and breakfast off the ground is taking more time than I anticipated. And I don’t know how long I can do both on my own.

  Jett Hudson slowed for a curve in the mountain road, rolling his shoulders and willing himself to relax. He’d been keeping an eye on his rearview mirror ever since he’d left the airport, and it didn’t appear that anyone had followed him. Now it was dark and all he could see were headlights. A few cars were travelling the road behind him, but this was only a two lane highway with few places to turn off until they got to the other side of the mountains, so it didn’t mean he had a tail.

  Maybe his stocking cap, tugged low over his brow, and the several days worth of scruff he’d let grow had kept him from being recognized, as he’d hoped. Or maybe it was the fact that he was a quarterback from Florida landing in Seattle. Or maybe he was just as much of a “has been” as he feared, and no one even c
ared about him anymore.

  He jutted his jaw to one side. Since when had he started to care what other people thought about him? He’d never gone into the NFL because he wanted fame or fortune, though both had come. He’d simply followed his heart and worked hard to be able to keep playing a game he loved. He’d done his best to honor God with the talents he’d been given, and he’d fought to keep his privacy because he wasn’t a guy who enjoyed the spotlight. In fact, ‘loathed’ was a much better word to describe how he felt about the constant scrutiny, both from the media and from the fans. But he’d put up with it all because of his love of the game.

  Then he’d taken that hit…

  His leg ached, and he reached down to rub his shin.

  Once again, he heard the crowd noise. The grunt of the onrushing lineman. The unnaturally loud snap of both his tibia and his fibula. The guttural, instinctive cry of shock he’d emitted as his leg collapsed from under him. The gasp and then horrified silence that had fallen over the home crowd in the stadium. He felt the jolt of the ground rushing up to meet him, and then the jagged shards of pain zipping along the nerves from his leg. His thoughts rushed to the end of that fateful day, to the hospital room where he’d first heard those life-changing words “career-ending-injury.” The six months since then had been a haze of surgeries, painful rehab, and the difficult task of resigning himself to his new reality.

  He grunted and slapped the power button for the radio. He cranked it up high and willed the country ballad to wipe his memory clean. Old Blue, the truck he’d purchased with cash at the first car dealership the cabby had taken him to, might be ancient, but she had a first rate sound system. Yet, even with the loud tunes pounding through the cab, the memories refused to be banished.

  Jett scrubbed one hand over his face.

  This trip was supposed to be a time to get away from everything. A time to forget about the past and start looking to the future. What did he do with his life now? He had no idea.

  After seven years in the NFL, with stats to rival those of the greats like Aaron Rogers and Russell Wilson, he hadn’t even been close to thinking about retirement yet. It didn’t matter that seven years practically made him an old man in a sport where the average career lasted about three and a half.

  His five-year plan hadn’t included metal pins holding his leg together.

  With Carrie Underwood crooning in the background, he rounded a bend and the town of Riversong stretched out before him. In the dark he couldn’t see much, but from what he’d read of the place, it was a tourist town that attracted a lot of visitors during the winter months for the Christmas festivals and tree lightings the town put on, but remained fairly quiet the rest of the year. Since he didn’t plan to be around till Christmas, and since this was just about as far from Florida and fans who might recognize him as he could get, he was just fine with that. He hoped he’d be able to spend a few quiet weeks soaking in some relaxation, maybe a few hikes. Some kayaking. Some fishing. But as he always did, he’d only booked one night to start with. That way if he hated the place, he could move on with nothing holding him here.

  He glanced at his phone’s GPS. The road he needed was just ahead. He turned right. About three miles down, he turned left into the drive of the Riversong Bed and Breakfast. The sign was pitifully small and hard to see. He hoped that wouldn’t be an indication of the kind of service he should look forward to. But even if he liked the town and decided to stay, he could always move to a different place if needed. One night wouldn’t kill him.

  He parked in the designated area, cut the engine, and stepped from the cab. Rushing water hummed an undercurrent that was accompanied by crickets and a lone bullfrog.

  A breath eased from him. Yes. This town might be just what the doctor had quite literally ordered. “Take a break from all the media madness. Get away from all the pressure to make a decision about the future. Relax. Try to just accept what happened. That’s an important first step.”

  Accept.

  It was hard not to accept when his leg still pained him with almost every step.

  Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he popped the top on his truck’s lock box and pulled out his backpack and suitcase. He locked both the box and the truck and then made his way to the front door of the log cabin inn. A sign painted on an old chalk board held aloft by a large carved grizzly bear proclaimed that he should come on in, so he turned the handle and stepped into the foyer.

  Off to his left, he could see a well-appointed kitchen, and just ahead stood a large L-shaped reception desk. A small chrome bell sat on the marble. “Ring it for service” was printed on the placard next to it. Since there wasn’t a soul in sight, he stepped toward it, but soft snoring froze him mid-reach.

  He peered over the top of the chest-height counter. Sure enough. A woman with long blond hair had crossed her arms beneath her head and fallen fast asleep on the desk. On second thought, she was so small, maybe she was just a girl. Another soft snore slipped from her.

  Jett pursed his lips and glanced around. The town might be just what the doctor ordered, but he doubted he’d be staying more than the one night at this B&B. The welcome had been less than exuberant.

  He glanced back at the woman. He hated to disturb her, but he hadn’t slept for nearly twenty hours, and he was ready for some shut-eye. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, so it was either wake her or sleep on the couch he could see just ahead in the great room.

  He frowned.

  Rubbed the back of his neck.

  Considered how good a hot shower sounded about now.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  CHAPTER 2

  Salem jolted upright, scooping the blinding curtain of hair out of her face. She grimaced. Oh the pain in her shoulder. Rotating it didn’t help much, so she stretched it out to one side and rolled her head. And that was when her gaze landed on the guy peering at her from the other side of the counter. Her mouth opened on a gasp and her hands fumbled across the desk like she might find a reset button. She scrunched her eyes shut and gave herself a little shake.

  But when she refocused he was still there. Still looking at her.

  A wayward blond curl dangled in her vision like a taunt.

  Realizing she was frozen in place and frowning at her guest like he was an intrusion into her nap, she leapt to her feet. “I’m so sorr—ah!” One of her legs was soundly asleep. She balanced on her good foot and leaned against the desk for support.

  The guy tossed a glance over his shoulder toward the front door, like he wished he could make a run for it, then turned his inscrutable gaze back on her. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “No. Please. Forgive me.” She tried to remedy the situation by stretching out her hand to give him a welcoming shake, but she noticed that his focus had fastened to her shirt. Her gesture died mid-air as she looked down to see the bright pink sticky note she’d been jotting numbers on stuck to the top of the Celtic cross on her navy blue t-shirt. “Amazing” and “Grace” intersected on the cross. She snatched the sticky note off and crumpled it into her palm. Just a little bit of God’s amazing grace would go a long way right now. Maybe it could open up a worm-hole beneath her desk and suck her into another universe.

  The guy’s expression turned from unreadable to downright grumpy. “Well, like I said, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But I’m Jett Hudson. I have a reservation.”

  Her leg was still half asleep, but Salem lurched into motion, scooping papers out of the way so she could find the iPad she’d need to swipe his card. The thing was nowhere under any of the piles she moved. She scooped her hands into her hair, and squeezed. This was turning into a disaster. Think. “Yes. You have a reservation.” Lame. She’d had the iPad right here before she started on the paperwork. “I just need to find…” She moved another stack of papers. She remembered picking it up and thinking she would need it handy when her guest arrived.

  The man shifted from one foot to the other and gave a weary exhale.
>
  She swept a gesture over the desk. “I was doing paperwork and—never mind.” Her lips twisted into a grimace of mortification. The drawer! She yanked it open and withdrew the iPad, lifting it in a gesture of triumph.

  He had the grace to smile, even if it was only half-hearted.

  With quick strokes she pulled up the registration app. “I’ll just need to run your card.” She clamped her teeth on her lower lip to keep herself from flowing into nervous chatter.

  The guy dug out his wallet and passed her the card.

  It only took her a few moments to hand him a receipt to sign, and then she stood and pulled the room key from the next drawer down. Stepping out from behind the counter, Salem held out one arm, gesturing him toward the back of the main floor. “You are in the Serenade Room, which is right this way. Can I help you with any bags?”

  He shook his head.

  Trying not to limp on the leg that was still groggy, she led him through the great room, and past the dining room, thankful that at least everything, right down to the décor in the center of the large oak table, was neat and tidy. After the dining room there was a short hall. Two rooms connected off of it. His was the one on the right with the full view of the river from the private deck.

  She pushed open the door and held the key out to him.

  But his gaze was honed in on something in her hair, and he didn’t seem to notice the key. Feeling her humiliation rise, Salem scooped a hand over her head, hoping to smooth whatever errant curl he must be staring at.

  His focus dropped to hers for just a moment as he leaned down and set his bag just inside his door. He straightened and held up one finger, stepping closer to her. “You just have a…”

  Salem held her breath as the man invaded her personal space. His guitar case, still slung over one beefy shoulder, protruded at an angle and gave her somewhere to focus. He leaned closer still and tugged at something in her hair.

  Only a moment later, he stepped back and held up a paperclip. “New fashion trend?” His lips tipped into a little smirk, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes that took some of the sting from it.