Chapter 1

One

Ryder

I 'm back.

I twist the single key in my hand and think back to the time when it used to mean home.

With my parents gone, now it's only a shell of a house I'll be passing over to a new family destined to relive my fate when they find there's no growth in this small sleepy Vermont town.

I'm not sure how I feel about riding into the place I grew up in after nearly a decade gone. I had a good full day and a half ride up here from New York City to think about what I left behind.

I loved every minute of cruising the back roads of the Northeast far away from my Boston company. Riding through the reds and golds of the trees and breathing the crisp autumn air is just what I needed to clear my head of all I've lost this year. First, the family I thought I would have and then my dad.

Chilled wind snakes under my jacket. Over the scent of fresh pumpkin and the pine smell of rain, maybe even snow, lingers.

Looking around I honestly half expected it to be a ghost town by now. A place I would ride through, reminisce of in the three point five seconds it would take to cross both county lines and then be done. With its single grocery store it is nearly too small for the one flickering stop light swinging overhead.

Then again, I never imagined I'd be single on what was supposed to be my honeymoon, let alone relieved about it. Proof you should never assume shit in life because it can't wait to prove you wrong at every bend. Trust me. My life is proof of it. After my ex confessed to faking her pregnancy, things between us ended abruptly, killing every plan of building my first crib and diaper shopping. Not many people label me as a homebody, but I am for the most part.

After three tours overseas, I looked forward to building something. A family.

That was six months ago and I can't claim to be broken up about my ex, but I feel a pang of hurt dead center in the chest about what could have been. I felt proposing to the woman who I thought carried my baby was the right thing to do. As it turns out, the cute little gold digger wanted my last name and the bank account that goes with it by any means necessary. Lies included.

I have no time for that now or ever, so I broke it off and packed my shit. Her parting gift was the ring and a handful of memories of what it would have been like to have a Wolfe as her partner.

Looking around, I don't see anyone out on the streets so I might not be too far off base about the ghost town theory after all.

Squeaks and groans pull at the rust holding my current ride together when the driver hits a pothole, pulling me out of my mental funk. I tap my fingers on my leg and issue a sigh that sounds pretty damn disgruntled.

Cracked streets and low rolling fog give off a spooky vibe movie directors pay millions to replicate, but a few seconds after crossing the town's lines it's the sea of orange that has me wondering what veiled portal I've stepped through.

I've never seen so many jack-o-lanterns amassed in one spot. I mean, I like Halloween as much as the next guy I guess. It usually means long rides with cool wind in my beard and the open road ahead of me, which got cut short when my Harley died five miles outside town.

But this takes spooksville to a whole new level. Jagged smiles with lit peepers flicker along the roadside as the old rusted beat-up pickup I'm riding shotgun in crawls to a screeching stop.

"Here we are, son."

Lucky for me an old-timer from my parents' days spotted me and offered a ride. Cell phone reception was a distant memory and I was glad for the help.

"Thanks, Tommy." Never Thomas or Tom. The old apple farmer might be hitting eight decades on this earth, but he liked being called his childhood nickname I recall.

I look out over the hood. "Kandy Cafe, huh?"

As he nods, shaggy gray hair falls over the old man's forehead. "Yep, she inherited and gave everything a little personal touch."

Kandy.

Well damn. My one-time sweetheart was still here? I thought for damn sure she would have fled the small town right after me. So tied up in my own life, I never really looked her up after getting back from the Middle East a couple years ago. After that I threw all of myself into my new securities company.

This is the first time I'm coming up for air and I admit, I miss a lot about the old days.

Hand on the door handle, I take in my new surroundings. No Bentleys or Cadillacs here. Not that it matters. The car—or bike in my case—never makes the man, my dad would say.

In lieu of dirty street curbs and loud horns, there's only crickets and bales of hay lining the diner which overflow into the parking space of the gas station slash mechanic shop next door.

More pumpkins line the edges with ghost and goblin lawn ornaments scattered among them. Beyond the glowing decor the road stretches out to small single-story homes that have seen better days.

"Welcome home, boy." Old Man Tommy turns to me, face crinkled by time and years in the sun working his apple orchard. His plaid shirt is faded and worn in the moonlight. A welcomed sight after hours straddling my bike.

"Thanks," I offer and pop the handle to the door. It grinds open as I step out. We've managed to grab the only parking space. Old model trucks, cars I know my dad would have loved to fix up, and motorcycles line every inch of the parking lot a pumpkin or hay bale isn't occupying.

I guess when it's the only place to get food you don't have to cook, you're damn guaranteed a good turnout.

"Is there a place where I can offload my bike?" I follow Tommy with a glance back over my shoulder at my Harley.

"She'll wait, son. The pie won't. Trust me. Get a move on, Marine." Tommy waves his hand for me to follow before disappearing inside.

I cock a smile at knowing my father's one-time friend served his country, too.

I push the diner door open as a gust of wind barrels down off the mountains, pushing loose straw and fallen leaves in behind me.

I take in a lungful of air. Pumpkin hits me first followed by the unique scent of mountain air this far north and something so delicate I have to pull in another breath to appreciate it fully.

Her.

Overhead a witch's cackle greets me. Inside the diner, all conversation stops. Heads turn my way long enough to get a look at the oddball before turning back to steaming mugs of coffee.

I freeze, hand on the door, standing halfway inside. If I thought the Pumpkin King vomited all over the outside of this place, it has nothing on what's going on inside.

Faux web clings to every corner with tiny spiders trapped in the middle. Booths already covered in black leather blend right in with the carved pumpkins dotting almost every available space. Jars of candy corn and cinnamon sticks cover the remaining counterspace with sparkly orange and black ribbons tied off around the rims. There's hardly enough room for a man to place a cup of coffee on.

"Shut the door!" a female calls out.

I scan the patrons, trying to place it, but all I see are hunters, farmers and truckers on their way through. Every last one of them male.

I jerk the door closed, and a collective sigh of relief settles across the men as conversation kicks back up. The main word on their lips is something to do about pie, which has my stomach growling.

Booths really aren't my style so I glance toward the diner's counter, searching for an empty seat.

"Theo, you best move over and show some of those manners your mama taught you," the same female calls, still sight unseen from the kitchen, hidden by the narrow service window.

A man in green overalls and orange plaid—a running theme tonight—slides over, leaving me a stool empty. I've been away for long enough that not many recognize the man I've grown into so I don't take it personal when my former neighbor pulls his hunter green hat down over his eyes and mutters something I can't make out.

Presumed newcomers aren't always welcomed in a town this small.

Judging from the emptiness of the town and the fullness of the diner, the mechanic I'm looking for must be in here.

I lower my heavy frame onto the stool nearest the kitchen doors and grind my teeth when the wood creaks under my weight. This seating wasn't exactly built for my muscular, six-foot-four frame but I make do.

"Fresh pie! Coming through! I have apple and pumpkin tonight!" A shapely feminine ass bumps the swinging doors open, but instead of seeing a sweet face, I'm greeted by two large trays laden with pies held up in both hands.

Not a single male moves to help the woman.

Assholes.

"Let me help." I stand, taking a tray off her hands.

Dark brown hair, a heart-shaped face and beautiful violet eyes stare up at me, outrage shining up at me from their depths.

Well shit.

"Don't you dare try and sneak off with my pie," she grounds out, snatching the try back.

Her generous breasts are squeezed into a white frilly thing that feeds into a bigger white frilly thing reminding me of Cinderella before the stroke of midnight. There's so much compression on the top half I can't help but take in the delicious way her breasts are pushed up like treats to savor.

I have an overwhelming urge to take the trays from the sassy-mouthed diner owner and sweep her into my arms for a long overdue hug. And then plant one on her. Not exactly my MO but nothing about being here is normal. Only thing keeping my hands to myself is the scowl of disapproval plastered on her pretty face. Like she can read my mind.

"Kandy."

I say her name, drawing out the tail end, and I notice the second she sees past my beard, roughened exterior and into my eyes. I don't quite fit in the corporate world much to my brothers' chagrin. Never quite got around to shedding the look of a SEAL to fit what others thought a business man should look like.

Tonight, here, is no different. My biker jacket, heavy boots and black jeans make me look like an outsider.

But it doesn't seem to bother Kandy.

She gives me a quick once over before the blush on her cheeks fades and she's walled off whatever emotion put that blush there to begin with.

Probably the same memories flooding my brain and then the reminder of me leaving.

Interesting. What's more interesting is why she's serving pie in a bona fide wedding dress to begin with. Halloween night is supposed to be for children, and I don't see one of those half pints walking around here. So what's up with the costume?

"Have a seat, Hot Shot." Those violet eyes flash up at me. "Don't ever try to get between these men and their pie again or you might suffer the consequences. Not a threat. Just a fact."

Damn. Just like the old days . Her mouth moved and my cock got hard as a rock.

I offer a cocky smirk and tip an invisible hat, John Wayne style, that earns me no brownie points. But I do get a twitch of her lip and that counts for something. "Yes, ma'am."

Seeing the perfect bow of her lips again brings back fond memories of times going up to the town's lookout point, Kandy's Peak. Named after her by us high schoolers back in the day because she dragged all of us up there on summer nights. And a few nights it was just us. Nothing happened past second base, but it came close. I got my first taste of Kandy up on that hill, and damn, does seeing her bring back some good times.

It isn't hard to imagine the pretty red of her lips wrapped around my dick again. But the hard look in her eyes says I might be just as likely to get the bite of her teeth this time around.

I look on as she bustles around, getting plates and forks. She's different. I notice it in the set of her shoulders. Pinned back, ready to take anyone on. The Kandy I knew didn't have it in her to be a hard ass. But time changes people.

I back away, hands up. This is not the hill I want to die on today.

I return to my seat, watching her pass out slices of pie topped with whipped cream to the men licking their lips like starved wolves. You'd think they'd never seen pie before. Or a lady in a pretty dress.

As she busies herself, I sit back and appreciate the once slight curves that have filled out the girl I used to know into the woman I'm seeing today. White satin clings to her ample breasts, and despite the chilled weather she's opted for a bare arm look. The thing pushing her breasts up hugs a feminine yet not-too-thin waist and from there I can only imagine what's under all those fluffy layers.

When it comes for my turn, Kandy slides a plate my way and bolts for the swinging doors. But not before our gazes lock and our fingers brush together. In that one second everything we shared in the past links us together again. I don't know how, but I swear a zing of current passes between us. Maybe it has something to do with it being All Hallows' Eve and the veils being weak and all that magic stuff we hear growing up.

Sounds like utter bullshit, but I lived through war, lost men I considered family and now a parent. I work damn hard not to take anything for granted and this, when our fingers brush together, slams into me harder than a two-ton bull doing eighty.

Sure as the pie sitting in front of me.

In a flurry of white, as fast as she came in, Kandy slips away.

I signal to Tommy who is at a booth behind me. "What's with the wedding gown?"

"Keep your voice down, son? You want to ruin it for all of us?" Theo cuts in. He gets a good look at me and recognition dawns but he doesn't say much to the point of me being Wolfe's boy, just a curt, "Never mind the why, just enjoy the pie, boy."

But the guy beside him, someone new since I left, leans in, eager to spill details. "Today was supposed to be her wedding day. But, about an hour before the wedding this morning, Kandy found her maid of honor blowing the groom. Messy stuff. Kandy ran both of them out of town with her shotgun." He points to a double-barrel standing in the corner of the diner and I give a low whistle.

"Okay then."

I think I have a new appreciation for the pretty brunette.

"We all figure she'll get over it at some point. But in the meantime, she's angry baking and we're here to reap the benefits. Tommy over there asked if she wanted to change outta her dress. That he would tend to the diner while she did. Bad idea."

Tommy chuckles from behind me.

"She tossed a pie at his head and went back to baking."

"Best pumpkin pie I ever tasted. Don't tell the missus I said that."

"Theo," another man chimes up in a gruff whisper, "...you left out the best part."

Theo, plate in hand, comes to stand beside me, all grins. "Oh, yeah. You see, the real reason she's pissed is because she was waiting for her wedding night. According to the wife, our Kandy there hasn't been so quiet about what she's been looking forward to in marriage." His voice drops lower on those last words, and he shrugs with a sullen look on his face that says he feels for the girl. "Now she's sworn off all men. Been cursing the gender all day. Since she's not off relishing the evening as a new bride, she's channeling all that energy into her pies."

"You boys done talking about me behind my back?"

A hot pair of eyes appear in the slit of a service window and shoot my way. My hands go up in innocence.

Theo digs eagerly into his pie and says through his full mouth when Kandy ducks away, "And let me tell you, she's got a lot of energy. This makes about the fourth batch."

As the men around me proceed to devour their desserts, I reach for my fork to get my first taste of Kandy's pie.

Oh, heaven help me.

My eyes roll back before the first bite has a chance to hit my stomach.

Pumpkin, flaky crust, just the right amount of spice and a mouthful of whipped cream all hit my taste buds in a burst of Autumn flavor.

Fuck, they don't make it like this in the city.

I don't even try to show manners. I flip my fork and lick the back, getting all the crumbs understanding the decor now. And why these men probably haven't moved from their stools all day.

I never knew anyone wanting a Halloween wedding before, but of course Kandy would be my first.

An unfamiliar possessiveness steals over me as Theo's story plays over in my mind. If I ever get a chance to clock the dude who hurt her, he'll wish he'd kept his dick in his pants.

I narrow my eyes as I watch one guy's gaze dip down to Kandy's cleavage as she refills his coffee mug. As she makes her rounds filling cups and dropping a sarcastic comment or two, I notice mine aren't the only eyes following her.

Resolve fills me as I hold my temper at bay, fighting off the urge to slam my fist into the face of the next guy that smiles up at her, only to be rebuffed immediately by the feisty woman.

The men finished their pie, tucked money by their plates, and drifted away one by one, calling their thanks and pledging to be back tomorrow for more.

"Take care, boys. Be safe out there," she whips out never taking her eyes off whatever task she's doing at the moment. As the last man filed out, Kandy emerged from the kitchen and began stacking empty plates on her trays.

I head for the door too, but instead of leaving, I flip the sign on the window to closed.

"No more pie until tomorrow, Hot Shot." Kandy doesn't bother looking up from clearing tables as she speaks to me. Damn, you'd think I'd get a little more from her after being gone ten plus years. Did the high school crushing we shared for one another mean nothing?

I am mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she occupies herself with clearing plates and empty mugs. Is it my imagination or is there a bit more of a swing to her step now that the place is empty?

"I'm not here for pie, Kandy." My words aren't entirely true—I'd take more pie if she offered. I want more pie and all the cream I could handle, hopefully that will come later. There is another female I need to take care of first.

"My bike broke down and I need a mechanic. Know if the one over there has a number?"

Kandy sits her heavy tray down, shaking out her arms. "I see. Were you just going to pass through then? Not stop in and say hello at least? I guess you really don't remember us small town folks, huh?"

What the hell is she talking about?

"It's not like that."

She cocks a brow and the little dimple at the corner of her mouth dips, causing me to groan. I loved that about her smile. She has no idea how much it affected me back then and still does apparently.

She leans a hip against the counter and crosses her arms.

"Then tell me how it is. I haven't seen you in ten years. Closer to eleven really. And then all of a sudden you ride in only because your bike broke down. What's a girl to think?"

I cross the diner and come to a stop a couple of feet away from her. Strands of brown hair have fallen out of the twist she has her hair pulled into, and her bridal makeup is a little less than fresh. Flour spots stain her dress and cover a good portion of her right cheek.

She's beautiful and thank the fates, not married. As selfish as that sounds. It's probably better I keep that to myself.

"I was going up to my parents' place to pass over the keys and deed to the new owners."

"Yeah, your mom called. Said you'd be coming through. I didn't believe her at first. But here you are. Because your bike broke down."

Damn it. "I was coming back," I try to explain but her back is already facing me.

She collects the tray and starts for the back, but I take the tub of dishes from her and swing it over my shoulder. "Lead the way."

For a second it looks like she might fight me on it, but I've spent ten years commanding bad ass men and I have a killer bulldog face.

It doesn't seem to faze her though.

My determination hardens and that's not the only thing either.

Tough Kandy holds her ground, and those sculpted arms of hers cross over her chest again.

"I see you're still as bossy as ever. Fine. Sink is in the back." She holds open the kitchen doors for me and lets me pass.

I nod and deposit the heavy load of dishes by the sink and contemplate washing them when she shouts, "Don't even think about it. You do and then Theo won't have a reason to come in tomorrow morning for free pie and coffee for washing all the plates."

Got it.

I walk back out and take her hand in mine, loving the feel of how soft the pads of her fingers are against my palm.

"I was going to stop in after I finished. See you, your parents. Maybe stay a day or two and just visit." None of that was on my mind. I didn't even know if Kandy still lived here, but now that I have her vanilla scent playing with my scenes and her pumpkin pie in my belly, it's all I can think about. The two of us rekindling a little of that old fire.

Her eyes find mine, and I see sadness there in place of the spunk and spice.

She brushes strands out of hair out of her face. "My parents passed about a year ago. Mom first, Dad shortly after. I swear it was from a broken heart."

I pause.

"Damn, I'm sorry, Kandy."

I grip her hand a little tighter.

Looking for anything to change the topic, I turn back to what brought me here instead of riding on through. "The mechanic. Think he's in, sweetheart?"

A cocky smile is back and spreads across her red lips. She drops another load of dishes on the counter, grabs a worn denim jacket off the hook by the entrance, and shrugs it on over her wedding gown.

"Um, yeah. You can say that."

I shake my head. "Meaning?"

"I am the mechanic."

"Fuck me," I breathe, as visions of her curves draped over my bike plays through my mind. How can they not? White dress and all. The picture is so vivid, I fight to keep from leaking pre-cum in my pants.

"No, thank you. I'm in a committed relationship with my vibrator. Let's take a look at your bike so we can get you on the road." Her haughty tone tells me just how happy she'd be to see the back of me. Which again...burn.

I hide my grin from her. Suddenly my stay in Pineville, Vermont is looking a lot more promising.