Married 'til Monday Read online

  Acclaim for Denise Hunter

  “. . . a warm, inspirational tale of ambition, confidence, family, and love.”

  —BOOKLIST FOR THE WISHING SEASON

  “A beautiful story—poignant and heartwarming, filled with delightful characters and intense emotion. Chapel Springs is a place anyone would love to call home.”

  —RAEANNE THAYNE, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR, FOR THE WISHING SEASON

  “. . . sparkling contemporary tale of competing ambitions, wounded personalities, and powerful attraction.”

  —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY FOR THE WISHING SEASON

  “. . . skillfully combines elements of romance, family stories, and kitchen disasters. Fans of Colleen Coble and Robin Lee Hatcher will enjoy this winter-themed novel.”

  —SHONDRA BROWN, LIBRARY JOURNAL FOR THE WISHING SEASON

  “Romance lovers will . . . fall for this gentleman who places his beloved’s needs before his own as faith guides him.”

  —BOOKLIST FOR DANCING WITH FIREFLIES

  “No one can write a story that grips the heart like Denise Hunter . . . If you like Karen Kingsbury or Nicholas Sparks, this is an author you’ll love.”

  —COLLEEN COBLE, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE HOPE BEACH SERIES

  “Denise Hunter knows how to warm up an inspirational romance with sizzling chemistry.”

  —KRISTIN BILLERBECK, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF WHAT A GIRL WANTS, FOR DANCING WITH FIREFLIES

  “Hunter’s latest Chapel Springs Romance is a lovely story of lost and found, with a heroine struggling to accept that trusting God doesn’t make life perfect—without loss or sorrow—but can bring great joy. The hero’s love for her and willingness to lose her to save her is quite moving.”

  —ROMANTIC TIMES, 4 STARS, FOR BAREFOOT SUMMER

  “The Trouble with Cowboys is a fast, fun, and touching read with the added draw of a first kiss that is sure to make my Top 5 Fictional Kisses of 2012. So saddle up, ladies: We have a winner!”

  —USATODAY.COM

  Other Novels by Denise Hunter

  THE CHAPEL SPRINGS ROMANCE SERIES

  Barefoot Summer

  Dancing with Fireflies

  The Wishing Season

  A December Bride (novella)

  THE BIG SKY ROMANCE SERIES

  A Cowboy’s Touch

  The Accidental Bride

  The Trouble with Cowboys

  NANTUCKET LOVE STORIES

  Driftwood Lane

  Seaside Letters

  The Convenient Groom

  Surrender Bay

  Sweetwater Gap

  NOVELLAS INCLUDED IN

  Smitten

  Secretly Smitten

  Smitten Book Club

  © 2015 by Denise Hunter

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8707-6 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hunter, Denise, 1968-

  Married 'til Monday / Denise Hunter.

  pages ; cm. -- (A Chapel Springs romance ; 4)

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8706-9 (softcover)

  1. Marriage--Fiction. 2. Divorce--Fiction. I. Title. II. Title: Married until Monday.

  PS3608.U5925M37 2015

  813'.6--dc23

  2014048040

  15 16 17 18 19 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  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

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  I can hardly believe we’ve reached the last book of the Chapel Springs Romance series! For those of you who’ve been along since the first book, I hope you’ll enjoy catching up with the McKinleys. If you’re new to the series, no worries! Married ’til Monday is written to stand alone. Within the story you’ll also get a sneak peak of Summer Harbor, the location of my next series, and the handsome Callahan brothers.

  I’ve known all along that Ryan’s story would be last, but I had no idea when I started Barefoot Summer that he was still in love with his ex-wife, Abby. While writing Dancing with Fireflies I came across a blog from a divorced man. He was writing about all the things he’d done wrong in his marriage and all the things he’d wished he’d done right. His tone of regret was so heartfelt, I looked at my husband and said, “I’m going to write this man’s story.”

  Married ’til Monday was a book of firsts for me. My first road trip story. My first reconciliation story. For those reasons I expected the book to be challenging, but Ryan and Abby’s story seemed to pour straight from my heart onto the page. It was truly a labor of love.

  Telling you a story is a privilege I don’t take for granted, and I’m ever thankful for readers who make my work possible. So grab your favorite drink, sit back, and let me tell you a story. I hope you enjoy your journey (back) to Chapel Springs!

  Blessings!

  Denise

  Chapter One

  THE ANTIQUE RING HAD BEEN SITTING FORLORNLY ON Ryan McKinley’s kitchen counter for five months. It was an ordinary tale of lost and found, but the customary happy ending stretched just out of his reach.

  He left the room, more to escape the ring than anything, and stopped by the grandfather clock on his way to the stairs. He turned the key in the slot and wound the weight to the top, thinking of Abby again. It had been her job, winding the clock. Keeping the thing going was almost a compulsion with her.

  Not with him. The hands of the clock had been poised precisely at twelve past seven for almost a week. He set the pendulum in motion and shut the antique door, twisting the key as the familiar ticking filled the big, empty house. He needed to go for his run. Stretch his legs and let t
he thumping of his feet on the pavement beat the thoughts of her out of his head.

  He couldn’t get his mind off her lately. The clock, the ring . . . the house. He’d already called himself a million kinds of fool. Buying his ex-wife’s dream house had been a mistake, just as PJ had warned.

  A knock sounded at the door, and he sighed in relief at the distraction.

  PJ’s wide smile greeted him as he swung the door open. Speaking of his sister. “Is it a good time?”

  His eyes fell to the covered dish in her hands. “It’s always a good time for food.”

  PJ breezed past on her way to the kitchen. “It’s not meat and potatoes, sorry. Cole doesn’t like crepes, so you’re my guinea pig.”

  “It’s a chore, but somebody has to do it.”

  In the kitchen PJ lifted the lid, and the sweet smell of chocolate drifted his way. Since dinner had come in a Stouffer’s box, Ryan’s stomach growled in appreciation.

  PJ had started the Wishing House Grille in Chapel Springs right after culinary school. It had come complete with a free house and the man of her dreams. His baby sister had always led a charmed life.

  He grabbed two forks from the dishwasher and handed one to PJ.

  She eyed it skeptically. “Clean?”

  He gave her a sour look as he dug into the dessert. The warm confection practically melted on his tongue. “Mmmm. Not bad.”

  PJ took a dainty bite. “Just enough hazelnut, I think. Maybe a little more vanilla?”

  “I give it a 9.5. The details are yours to figure out.”

  As they finished the crepes PJ caught him up on the family, which from her perspective consisted mostly of their siblings’ love lives. The love bug had bitten hard in the McKinley tribe the last few years. First Madison, then Jade, and now PJ. Two of them were married, with PJ not far behind, he suspected. And he, the oldest, still batching it. Or rather, batching it again.

  When they’d had their fill of crepes, they placed their forks in the farm sink.

  “I better run. Need to get to Hanover before the store closes.” PJ grabbed her purse while Ryan put the lid on the leftovers.

  “Oooh, pretty.” She extended her arm, waggling her fingers.

  His gaze fell to PJ’s finger, where Abby’s ring lay glistening.

  “Who’s this beauty for?” she asked. “Are you holding out on me?”

  Ryan shoved the Tupperware lid down hard, making it click with a loud snap. “Take it off.”

  “Geez, okay.” She pulled the ring, grimacing as it stuck there through a few more twists and pulls.

  “Seriously?” he said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” She turned on the water and soaped up her hand. “It looks old.”

  “It is old. It was Abby’s grandma’s.”

  PJ gave another tug, and the ring came off. She rinsed it, along with her hands.

  Ryan eyed the drain. “Careful!”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  When she finished, Ryan snatched the ring from her.

  “What are you doing with it?” she asked.

  He put it back by his cell charger. “I found it when I moved.”

  Abby had been so distraught the week she’d noticed it missing. They’d turned the house on Orchard upside down looking for it. She’d never been close to her parents, but her grandmother had meant everything to her. Her passing had been hard on Abby. It was the closest she’d come to crying in the years Ryan had known her.

  “Are you going to give it back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to. It was her grandmother’s. Just stick it in the mail. I think I can get her address if you need it.”

  “I can’t stick an heirloom in the mail.”

  “So you’re going to take it to her?”

  “I don’t know, PJ. Why do you think it’s been sitting there for five months?”

  “Soor-ry.” PJ hitched her purse on her shoulder and left the kitchen.

  Ryan followed, rubbing his forehead with his index finger. The dang ring had been stressing him out. He’d been praying about it, but he couldn’t seem to find any peace. He really should just stick it in the mail and forget about it. One less piece of Abby in his life.

  At the door he gave PJ an apologetic smile. “Sorry I snapped.”

  “It’s okay. Let me know if you need the address—or if you just need to talk.”

  “I will.”

  The phone rang, and PJ looked over his shoulder. “You kept your landline?”

  He shrugged.

  “Better get it then.”

  They said good-bye, and he crossed the living room. He knew the landline was redundant, a needless cost. But it was the only way Abby would know to reach him if she wanted to.

  Stupid, McKinley.

  But then he seemed to have a heavy dose of stupid when it came to Abby.

  He grabbed the phone from the cradle, but he didn’t recognize the number on the screen. “Hello?”

  The pause nearly prompted a repeat.

  “Ryan? Hello, de-ah. It’s Lillian. I didn’t expect to catch you home.”

  The familiar Maine accent of Abby’s mom stunned him. Why was she calling? “Lillian. What a surprise.”

  A terrible feeling swelled inside. What if something had happened to Abby? Before he could ask, she spoke again.

  “How are you? We haven’t spoken in so long.”

  “I’m fine. You know Chapel Springs. Nothing much changes around here. How are you and Bud?”

  He pressed his finger between his brows. He’d hardly spoken to Lillian when he and Abby had been married. How bizarre that she’d call now, over three years after their divorce.

  “Oh, we’re just fine. You know, getting ready for the party. I don’t suppose Abby’s there.”

  He frowned. “Ah, no . . .”

  “I didn’t think so. But I’ve been trying to reach her on her cell, and you know Abby. She hardly answers the thing. Maybe it’s best that I reached you anyway.”

  This was all too weird. Surely the woman wasn’t suffering from dementia. She had to be still in her fifties.

  “Well, Abby told me you can’t come to the anniversary party, of course, but I was so hoping you’d change your mind. Work will always be there, and it’s been years since the two of you visited.”

  His brain stalled. His mouth worked.

  “I don’t like the idea of Abby driving all that way alone.” She lowered her voice. “And you know her relationship with her dad is . . . difficult. I’d feel so much better if she had your support.”

  “My support . . .”

  “I know we haven’t been close, but I’d really like to change that. I miss my only child. And maybe the time away would be good for you both. A little vacation.”

  He scratched his head. “I’m, ah . . . I’m a little confused, Lillian.”

  He heard a muffled conversation, as if she’d covered the mouthpiece. A moment later she was back.

  “Bud wants to talk to you, de-ah. Here he is.”

  “So I hear you can’t take a few days away from your busy schedule to celebrate our anniversary.”

  Ryan had forgotten how Bud could deliver a teasing remark with just enough raw edge to make you squirm.

  “Congratulations, Bud. Sounds like you have a nice party planned.”

  “Well, it would be if I could get my son-in-law to drive our daughter over. Lillian has her heart set on it.”

  Son-in-law? Why did they both—it was as if—he knew Abby wasn’t close to them. Was it possible she hadn’t told them about the divorce? None of this made sense.

  “Cat got your tongue, son?”

  “No, sir. When was Abby planning to arrive? I, ah, don’t have the schedule handy.”

  Bud repeated the question to Lillian while Ryan’s mind turned. Maybe this was the opportunity he’d prayed for. His chance to see Abby again. To return the ring.

  Yeah, McKinley. That’s all you really want.

  “Day
before the party.” Bud was back on the line. “Next week, the twenty-fourth. Now are you gonna bring her home or what?”

  Lillian scolded him in the background, then she was back on. “We would so love to have you both.”

  Next week. His mind spun. His coaching staff could get along without him for a few days. The thought of seeing Abby again made his heart pound in his chest. Dried up his throat. Made some part of him he hadn’t realized was dead and buried come alive again.

  He pictured her in his mind’s eye. Not the way she’d looked when he’d met her, when he’d courted her. But the way she’d looked after. When she’d come to love him. The planes of her face softened, her green eyes no longer wary and distant, but open. Hopeful. Her red curls wild around her creamy-skinned face, her cute freckles peeking out on her nose.

  “Ryan, are you there?”

  “Yeah.” Everything was coming up Abby lately. Maybe God was trying to tell him something. He felt that urging in his spirit.

  Is that You, God? Is this what You want?

  His heart settled as peace washed over him. Everything seemed to be pointing the same direction. The ring, the phone call . . .

  Maybe he was just crazy, but he was going to do it.

  “All right,” he said, squeezing the phone tight. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Two

  IT WAS PAST EIGHT, THE SUN JUST SINKING BELOW THE Indianapolis skyline, when Abby McKinley pushed through the heavy glass doors of Wainwright Investigative Services. She was more tired than she wanted to admit, and it was only Monday.

  As she entered the office the air-conditioning hit her, a relief after sitting in her hot car with nothing but a stiff, hot breeze and her camera for company.

  Her boss sat behind his desk, frowning at his computer screen, his salt-and-pepper hair ruffled as if he’d just run his fingers through it.

  She walked straight to Frank’s cluttered desk and dropped the Owens file next to an empty bag of Doritos.

  “Already?” he asked.

  She shrugged, taking a seat at her own desk and opening her e-mail while Frank flipped through the file. “Nice pics. So it wasn’t the pool boy?”

  “Too obvious. It was an old boyfriend. Reunited on Facebook and hooked up two months ago.”

  “You’re a genius.”

  It wasn’t that hard. A little surveillance, a little garbology, a little IT on the home computer. People left a trail whether they wanted to or not.