Her Unexpected Hero. Cheryl Harper

her brother and led Winter to end their engagement and showed his true colors.

      Before she’d begged Caleb Callaway, Whit’s brother, to fix everything, except her job and her engagement.

      Winter had had it all together before that.

      Begging was not an option for Winter Kingfisher, but she’d done it for the reserve and her brother, and a chance to keep the life she’d set up.

      She’d been the public outreach officer for the reserve. She’d been juggling Whit’s campaign with one hand and a society wedding with the other.

      Now her hair was a mess, although it had nothing on the rest of her life.

      “This is temporary.” Winter had repeated the same words to herself so many times she was beginning to wonder if they had lost all meaning. “First, I find a job. Since both the reserve and politics seem to be out of the question...” This was where she stalled time and again. “I’m open to suggestions.”

      “I have all the time in the world for you at the library. Unpaid volunteering doesn’t help with the money, but the kids love your story times. You would not believe how many crayon drawings of Rabbit tricking Possum I’ve seen since you told that story two months ago. It’s like you have some special connection to them.” Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever considered teaching?”

      Winter’s immediate panicked reaction, complete with shaking her head so hard her frizzy hair whizzed in front of her face, had them all fighting back grins, until Astrid drawled, “Okay, crossing that off the list.”

      “I like to tell stories. Kids love stories.” Winter balled up her napkin. “That doesn’t make me a teacher. Teachers mold young minds and keep them in their seats. Storytellers waltz in, capture their attention and waltz back out. Me? In front of a classroom all day long? I’d either arrange them into military formation or take cover under my desk. Either way, it would end in tears for one of us.”

      “Not teaching. Not the reserve. How are you with food orders?” Christina asked. “The campground is staffed, but this place could use some help.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your tips would be better if you could fix your hair, though.”

      “I was a hostess at a restaurant in Knoxville all the way through college.” Winter studied the beat-up interior of The Branch. Surely she could manage drink orders and the limited menu here. “How different could it be?”

      As she glanced back at her companions, no one seemed convinced. Before she could argue that she’d discovered quickly how to suggest appetizers and the perfect pairing of wine, Leanne leaned forward. “The skills are different here, hon. Are you good with your hands?”

      “Like, writing?” Winter mimed holding a pen and scribbling on a small notepad.

      “That and often picking up broken things.” Leanne motioned at the big, noisy crowd of fishermen that had come in.

      Sweetwater depended on the tourists attracted to the area by the nature reserve’s trails, campground and lake. During the busy summer season, the main street through town enjoyed a steady stream of families shopping for souvenirs and breakfast, lunch and dinner. Late February was slow on Otter Lake, but there were still groups of folks that visited the campground for a weekend away. Since this was the only place in town serving beer, The Branch was must-see Sweetwater for nightlife.

      “Have you searched for jobs in Knoxville or Nashville?” Macy asked. “I know your parents want you here, but the options open up in the city.”

      She had, but Knoxville was too close to Whit, and Nashville wasn’t close enough to Otter Lake. Moving there might open up a spot for her on Richard Duncan’s campaign team, since she clearly had the insider info on Whit Callaway, but there was no safety net in Nashville. No Otter Lake, either.

      On the other hand, in Nashville, she wouldn’t have to worry about every person she passed on the sidewalk, neighbors who’d known her for her whole life, wondering how she’d messed up everything so spectacularly.

      “I’d like to find something here. For now. Later...” Winter let the sentence trail off. If she managed to win a spot on the governor’s team, Nashville would have to work. Until then, she’d stay home. She loved this place—the reserve’s beauty, the stories of the people who grew up there—and all she’d ever wanted to do was teach other people to love it, too. Working for the reserve and plotting Whit’s race to win the state capital had been a solid plan. “I can wait tables. I’ve always been a good multitasker.”

      “You could pick it up, for sure. And the tips are decent. Unfortunately, the urge to drink them all away means no working here, not for me.” Leanne turned her root beer in a slow circle. “I could talk to Janet. She mentioned finding a part-time salesperson for the art gallery she’s opening next to the souvenir shop.”

      When everyone nodded and pointed in relief, as if they’d been certain she’d be a failure at waiting tables, Winter tried not to take it personally. She’d once taken success as a guarantee, but right now she was riding a wave of disappointment. All things considered, the art gallery was a better alternative for her than delivering burgers and beer.

      “Better to have two chances than one. I’ll ask Sharon on the way out if she needs any help waiting tables.” Winter nodded at the fake smiles surrounding her. “And I’ll call Janet on Monday to find out if she’s hiring. I need more than one option in this job market. I handled a lot before. I can do both of these things.” They nodded, so she did, too.

      And she immediately felt better. Having a plan had always soothed her concerns.

      To do anything more, she had to smooth out her life. Winter tugged her fingers out of her tangled hair, resolved to get herself together.

      When the Callaways were faced with opposition to their plans to build at the reserve, they had targeted her brother as the villain of the story. Because of them, Ash had faced public criticism and the potential loss of his job as head ranger.

      Even though they’d had no real proof of his guilt.

      And after she’d spent years at Whit Callaway, Jr.’s side. Their engagement hadn’t stopped the drive to punish Ash.

      Winter might have expected that from Senior, who valued the family’s standing above almost anything. That was business. Her anonymous release of the environmental-impact plan to the governor had been the same. Just business.

      But the fact that her fiancé had gone along with his father’s efforts to hurt Ash? That’s where the pain came in.

      Her best revenge would be to get so stinking happy that Whit Callaway gnashed his teeth when he remembered her. To do that, she had to get out of her parents’ house. Obviously.

      She had a life to rebuild.

       CHAPTER TWO

      CALEB CALLAWAY WAS certain no man his age should still be summoned to the dinner table like a rebellious teenager. Living in Nashville meant he could come and go as he pleased most of the time. Until a few months ago, he’d dropped in at the family manse whenever the mood hit. His mother celebrated every visit. His stepfather disapproved of his choices, and his brother turned everything into a competition. Going home was work. Holidays were a requirement. Every other day of the year, he lived well and visited the Knoxville Callaways when it was convenient.

      Then Winter Kingfisher had barged into his office, tilted his world sideways with her passion for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and her own family, and convinced him to be some kind of hero. At that point, the Callaway family welcome mat had been rolled up and locked away.

      Not even Christmas had brought about a thaw in the standoff. He’d spent it in Hawaii. Alone. The less-crowded beaches had been nice. Realizing that he was traditional enough to want cold and snow and fireplaces and Christmas ham served at his mother’s table had been surprising.

      The