Secret Heart Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Series Guide

  Author 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

  Cbapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Secret Heart

  by

  Amity Lassiter

  Copyright © 2017 Amity Lassiter

  ISBN: 978-0-9939240-6-4

  Editor: Keriann McKenna

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  MAILING LIST | FACEBOOK

  HEARTS OF THREE RIVERS

  THE BAYLORS

  Runaway Heart (Dane & Ren)

  Homecoming Heart (Noah & Emma)

  Secondhand Heart (Finn & Lily)

  THE MONTGOMERYS

  Secret Heart (Nate & Layla)

  Lawful Heart (Banks & Norah)

  Guarded Heart (COMING 2019)

  HEARTS OF HEROES

  A Cowboy SEAL's Bride (Lane & Miranda)

  Author Note

  I began writing Secret Heart before my wedding in 2015, feeling confident it would be published shortly thereafter. My life has been a veritable adventure since then, with the purchase of a new home as well as the birth of my littlest and most favorite cowboy, Caleb. To say this book is long overdue would be an understatement. I know I have lost readers along the way who got tired of me crying wolf waiting for "soon" to become an actual date, but I am thankful for those of you who stuck it out and are reading it now, almost a year and a half since my last release. I wouldn't be anything without my readers. I hope you love Nate and Layla's story just as much as I loved telling it. xoxo, Amity

  —ONE—

  "You are a lifesaver," Layla Sullivan said with a sigh of relief as she opened the door to Kerri Maddock.

  The teen smiled back, holding her hands out. "I know."

  Without hesitation, Layla handed over Mason. The baby's feet kicked in excitement as the girl held him to her chest, stepped into the house and closed the door behind her. Layla double checked for her keys and cell phone, patting her pockets before she grabbed her purse to check for her wallet.

  "You're fine, go," Kerri insisted, following her into the kitchen with Mason on her hip. The girl offered her a gentle smile.

  How much harder would these last eight months have been without her? At this rate, she was sure the baby would grow up believing he had two moms, but she didn't trust anyone as much as Kerri.

  "It's gonna be a late one," she said, wincing. As if she could just call in for no babysitter; she needed this extra shift so badly she was convinced it had been divine intervention when she got the call. Danny hadn't given her much notice, but she'd been praying for some way to find the money to fix the thermostat on the car, which she was certain was on its last leg.

  "I know. I brought my overnight bag; I'll just crash on the couch."

  "Okay," Layla breathed, pressing a kiss to the infant's forehead and crushing the teenager in a hug. "Thank you. Be good, I love you, have fun."

  Kerri lifted Mason's hand to wave. "Love you too, mommy!"

  She checked the time on her phone once more and waved to her gurgling son, then shut the door behind her and took the two steps off her porch in one long stride.

  At the car, Layla paused and checked her reflection, smoothing her hands down over the little pooch of belly she was still self-conscious about. The uniform at Danny's was white-t-shirt-painted-on-blue-jeans; that outfit looked cute on just about every spunky bartender except for one who had always been taller and bigger than the other girls, and was eight months post-partum. It seemed like she'd been hustling since the day Mason was born trying to provide a life for them, leaving little in the way of time for personal improvement. They were finally on somewhat of an even keel, but a missed shift or a mechanical failure could throw everything off balance, which was why she was thankful for small miracles and any extra shifts she could pick up.

  She slid behind the wheel of her ancient Ford Fiesta and wasted no time getting to Danny's Bar, Three Rivers' favorite and only watering hole. There were a handful of cars in the lot—the after-supper crowd hadn't shown up yet, but there were a few die-hards that chose to drink their dinner. She wasn't judging; they always slipped her a couple crumpled dollar bills for her disinterest. She pulled into a spot near the service entrance and jumped out, jamming her keys into her purse as she jogged toward the door.

  Danny Thatcher met her in the hall with an armload of beer headed for the coolers out front. "Thanks again, Layla. I'd have covered, but it's the missus' birthday and I gotta take her out on the town."

  Smiling, Layla stashed her bag in the storage room and grabbed another box of domestic beers, following Danny out behind the bar. "No problem. You know you can call me anytime, Danny."

  "I call you every time, Layla." The older man laughed and shook his head.

  "I appreciate it," she said, taking a moment to covertly survey the patrons and the state of their drinks. A couple of regulars had parked at stools at the bar and she nodded a greeting when she caught their eyes. The bar job meant good money and she was in need, but it had the beneficial side effect of upgrading her social status from the equivalent of leper to the equivalent of hobo. Those in the community who might not have given her the time of day before now at least made polite small talk while she poured their drinks.

  "I know, sweetheart." Danny squeezed her shoulder, and she felt her hairpin trigger tears pricking her eyelids. Danny Thatcher had been kinder to her than he needed to be, especially since she'd discovered she was pregnant and going through it alone. In a town where not everybody afforded her that kindness, he'd become something of an aspirational father figure to her. Her own family hadn't stood by her as steadfastly as her employer had, and that was saying something…about the character of all involved.

  "Now you get gone. Don't keep Rita waiting. I've got this."

  "I'm loading the cooler!" Danny protested. "Give me twenty minutes."

  "Fifteen," she quipped back, then turned to greet a Tuesday night regular. "Hey, Dell."

  Ten minutes later, Danny had finished loading the cooler, facing bottles on the back of the bar, and refilled her ice tray. Layla turned to her employer. "Okay, you. Out. For real."

  "All right, all right," Danny said, laughing, and gave Layla a quick hug. "You're the best.
"

  "You know it."

  Planting her hands on her hips, Layla drew in a breath, inhaling the smell of whiskey and old polished wood. She felt more at home behind the bar than she did in most other places these days. It had been a steep learning curve, but six months later, she had a handle on just about any problem that might cross her during a typical shift, including her brother, sitting at the back with a couple of his buddies. She nodded to him the same way she nodded to the other regulars because that was about all Jimmy Sullivan was to her anymore—a regular at her bar. The bell over the door sounded at the entrance of another patron and Layla's next breath hiccupped in when she turned.

  Though she hadn't seen it in almost eighteen months, she would have recognized that face anywhere.

  "Nate Montgomery," she breathed out again, a silly little quiver moving in her belly when she remembered the last time she'd seen him. It had started in this very bar, but under entirely different circumstances. And had ended with something entirely different than this meeting would.

  "Layla Sullivan." A slow smile drew across his features. Despite his somewhat disheveled appearance, it was handsome as ever. He'd put on a bit of weight, in a kind of mature, grown up way. And he'd grown a beard—in the years they'd known one another, she'd never seen him anything but clean-shaven—but it suited him. His hair hadn't seen a trim in quite a while, either. She knew, because she'd always paid attention to the handsome younger Montgomery brother, this was out of character. But either way, he looked happy to see her, and she…well, she wasn't unhappy to see him. "Imagine that. I expected Cutter."

  "Cutter went to Denver." It had been a surprise for everyone, but she was thankful—it opened up space for her here at Danny's, which, hour for hour, ended up being much more lucrative than her shifts at Turner's or Dr. Fields' office, though she still hung onto the latter for the few benefits it offered.

  "I just missed him, then."

  "What can I get you?" she asked, turning over a rock glass on the bar top.

  "Just a beer. And I'll buy you an Old Fashioned." He nodded to the glass.

  She pulled a bottle of beer from the front cooler and shook her head as she slid it across the bar to him. "I'm afraid I can't accept. I know you can't buy me just one drink, and I'm right at the beginning of an eight hour shift."

  He raised a brow at her under the flop of hair nearly covering his eyes as he hunkered down around the bottle she'd given him. Eighteen-months-ago-Layla would have said sure, and been properly flattered. But today-Layla knew the Old Fashioned tasted like the heady adventure she'd begun, and the brief moment she'd felt desired by one Nate Montgomery, local celebrity bull-rider. And today-Layla was somebody's mama and didn't want to turn out like her own. Finally, she shifted and pulled a second beer out of the cooler, cracking it open and raising it to him.

  "This one's on you."

  He offered her a full smile this time, and lifted his bottle in response. "That's more like it."

  *

  There was a little part of Nate that had hoped to see Layla sitting on one of the barstools just the same way she'd been the last time he'd been in town. He was pleasantly surprised to find her behind the bar, in those blue jeans and that t-shirt that hugged her curves, a little softer and fuller than last time, in all the right ways. She'd been a blonde the last time he'd seen her—had been all her life—but she'd dyed her hair this rich mahogany color that shone under the lights of the bar. She'd been great as a blonde, but this sexy, self-assured brunette he watched move down the bar to tend to another patron was something else entirely. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

  Since junior high, he'd had a soft spot for Layla Sullivan, Three Rivers' proverbial girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks. She was a good girl who tried hard, but kept getting crushed down by life. He and his brother could have easily ended up the exact same way had it not been for Nan taking them in and raising them right.

  Layla finished looking after the other patrons at the bar about the same time he finished his bottle and when she glanced back to check on him, he lifted it to indicate he wanted another.

  "So what brings you back to town?" she asked, conveniently zeroing in on the exact thing he wasn't interested in talking about. It was the small-talk bartenders were supposed to make, so he couldn't blame her. She leaned one hip against the bar while she wiped down glasses from the dishwasher installed under the counter. Her question was casual. His answer wasn't. The real one, anyway; injured in the finals, followed by recovery, bankruptcy, and homelessness. So many words that would have killed an easy flirtation dead. He'd been beyond sure everyone in Three Rivers knew his business, but apparently he was wrong, or she was just too polite to let on. There was a good chance it was the latter, but the former wasn't impossible either.

  He wet his lips and took a mouthful of his beer, stalling for time as he worked out his response.

  "Been too long since I've been home. Nan wouldn't quit calling." That wasn't a lie. She had called him every day through his hospital stay and rehab. She'd even driven up when the doctors told him to quit riding bulls if he wanted to live a day past thirty, but only because Shorty Mac had called her when he'd gone off the rails, ripping up his house when the foreclosure notice came on the same day.

  "You know she comes by every Wednesday afternoon and brings me flowers from her garden?" Layla's lips tipped up in a sweet smile when she spoke of Nate's grandmother, encompassing exactly the way every person in Three Rivers felt about the woman. She somehow managed to keep tabs on just about everyone—what was ailing them, who was celebrating, who needed an ear or a shoulder or a secret keeper—and he was pretty sure the fundraisers she spear-headed kept the local high school's rodeo and football teams afloat.

  He was a little surprised to hear she was visiting Layla regularly, though, especially from Layla instead of Nan. While she was kind to everyone, Layla's parents weren't notoriously easy to get along with. Even sweet-natured, long-suffering Nan steered clear of Rhonda and Gary Sullivan when given the opportunity, she just did it with a smile instead of a scowl.

  "No shit. You still living out there past Lee's Creek with your mama and daddy?"

  She shook her head—another surprise. The Sullivans had always kept a tight rein on Layla; their greatest resource, with her good work ethic and sweet nature, unlike her ne'er-do-good-brother he'd noticed sulking in the shadows tonight. Turned out more had changed in Three Rivers than him.

  "No, I have the old Jenkins place on a rent-to-own. It's not perfect, but it's mine. Well, sort of. In a few years." She smiled and shook her head, and he could see a proud blush blooming across her high cheekbones. It looked as good on her as that t-shirt did.

  "Yessir." He shook his head and took another pull from his bottle. It seemed while he'd been working his way down the ranks—from successful bull rider to unemployed, broken down, and coming home with his tail between his legs—she'd been working her way up. "Hey that place is older than Nan. Is it in decent condition?"

  She shrugged, smiling. "It needs a little love…but everything is mostly functional. When I have a little more time on my hands, I'll get at the wish list, like the ugly wallpaper."

  "Flamingos in the bathroom, right?"

  "I feel like somebody's watching me when I'm taking a shower."

  Laughing, he shook his head. He loved the ease between them; a lifetime of growing up in the same small town would do that to you. He wasn't some hotshot bull rider she was trying to impress, he was just Nate Montgomery, the kid who'd brought chicken pox to their first grade class. Maybe she remembered him as the boy who asked her to dance at the prom when her date from the next town over had abandoned her to smoke weed in the parking lot. He hoped she remembered him as that, and not the sonofabitch who'd had a one night stand with her eighteen months ago and then stayed away until now.

  "Well, I'll be around for a while, maybe I'll help you get some of that wish list looked after."

  Her mouth straightened and she took
a little step back, crossing her arms over her chest. The warm, comfortable air between them suddenly turned frosty. What'd I say?

  "I'm fine, I'll get to it." She smiled, one that didn't touch her eyes like the last few had, and moved down the bar, mixing a drink for another patron. She spent another thirty minutes preoccupied at the other end of the bar which looked a hell of a lot like unnecessary make-work projects, and purposely kept her shoulders angled away from him so he couldn't catch her eye. What the hell?

  Finally, convinced she wasn't coming back, he slapped a twenty—twice what his beers had been worth—down on the bar, climbed off the stool carefully, and slipped out the door.

  —TWO—

  The knock on Layla's screen door could only be one person. She'd told Nan a million times to just holler and come on in, but she insisted.

  "It's open!" she shouted from her spot on the floor, sitting cross-legged, and reading to Mason.

  Nan breezed into the house like a breath of fresh air, setting the fresh cut flowers and casserole dish she'd brought on the countertop. Mason lifted his arms, laughing at the sight of Nan and she crossed the floor and swung him up onto her hip like a natural. Nan said she came to bring the flowers and lunch, but Layla was pretty sure it was an excuse to play with the baby. Nan told her he was a 'trick baby'; a child who was so happy and good about sleeping and everything else, it would convince you to have another right away. Layla wasn't counting on that happening anytime.

  "Hello, hello!"

  "You're in a good mood." Layla chuckled, prying herself up off the floor with some effort. She watched as the pair settled at the kitchen table together, Mason's chubby fingers creeping to Nan's cheeks.

  "It's my lucky day. I get to see all my favorite men. Banks came by for breakfast, now Mason, and Nate's all settled into the basement apartment," Nan said to the baby, then turned her eyes to Layla. "I'm just so glad to see him."

  "I bet. He was by the bar last night." Layla started unpacking the casserole the older woman had brought and rummaged in the fridge for the ingredients for a little tossed salad to go with it. She left out the bit about how her stomach fluttered with excitement, even now, thinking about Nate coming into Danny's the night before, and also, the part where she did her best to crush those butterflies. And just for good measure, she didn't make eye contact, because the older woman was the most perceptive person she knew and just a sniff of Layla's feelings would set things into motion she wasn't ready to deal with.