His Best Friend's Wife

A second chance for his first love

Paul Woodward has always known Annie Finnegan was the one. But when she married his best friend, he moved away from their tiny hometown to try to forget the woman he could never have. When her husband passes away, Paul is heartbroken and wants to be there for the love of his life—but how can he, given the way he feels? As he returns to take over his ill father’s medical practice, though, it’s clear that Annie and her son are the family Paul longs for. As Annie heals and their connection grows, Paul will wait to find out if love really gives second chances...

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime, Paul. I mean it.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in as though he was going to kiss her forehead the way he had yesterday at the clinic. As he moved, she inexplicably tipped her head back and looked up at him. His lips made contact with hers. The kiss lasted a millisecond, brief but electrifying. They both pulled back, startled.

Paul was the first to find his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I only meant to—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said.

Neither had she. Or maybe she had. That would certainly explain why right now she wanted to grab the front of his shirt, pull him close and kiss him again, for real. The mortifying thought made her face feel like it was on fire.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said. Liar.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Riverton, Wisconsin. This fictional small town, steeped in the culture of America’s heartland, is home to the Finnegan sisters—Annie, Emily and CJ—and I am delighted to share the second book in The Finnegan Sisters trilogy.

His Best Friend’s Wife is Annie’s story. She’s the eldest sister and hers is a story about honoring the past while moving on after the loss of a loved one. Although I consider myself to be a city gal through and through, I am fortunate to have grown up in a rural farming community and will always have an affinity for small towns and the simple life. And while I don’t have any sisters, Annie and I do have something in common—our love to cook for family and friends. I hope you’ll enjoy spending time in Annie’s kitchen.

If you read the first book in this series—To Catch a Wife—you’ll know the Finnegan sisters were raised by a single dad. In this book, their father discovers that while second chances may not happen often, they’re well worth the wait.

I love to hear from readers, so I invite you to visit my website at leemckenzie.com, where you can send me an email, sign up for my (mostly) monthly newsletter and learn more about my other books, including upcoming books in this series. Happy reading!

Warmest,

Lee

His Best Friend’s Wife

Lee McKenzie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

From the time she was ten years old and read Anne of Green Gables and Little Women, LEE MCKENZIE knew she wanted to be a writer, just like Anne and Jo. In the intervening years, she has written everything from advertising copy to an honors thesis in paleontology, but becoming a four-time Golden Heart® Award finalist and a Harlequin author are among her proudest accomplishments. Lee and her artist/teacher husband live on an island along Canada’s West Coast, and she loves to spend time with two of her best friends—her grown-up children.

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For Willa

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE RIVERTON HEALTH Center was one of Annie Finnegan Larsen’s least favorite places in the world. A world that was admittedly small and familiar and filled with the people and places she loved. But this place was the exception. Bad things happened here. The only place she disliked more than here was the cemetery.

“I’ll need to see your insurance card.” The triage nurse had yet to look away from her keyboard.

Maintaining her outward composure, Annie plucked the card from her wallet and passed it across the counter. What were the odds that she would come to the clinic in a town where she knew everyone and encounter a nurse she’d never seen before? Anyone who knew her and her circumstances would be rushing to offer comfort and support, but not this young woman. She was fixated on her computer screen.

“Do you still live on River Road?” she asked.

Annie took a deep breath. “At Finnegan Farm, yes. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’m here with my son,” she said. “He fell off a horse this morning. He could have broken bones, a head injury. He needs to see a doctor. Could we please look after the paperwork later?” She wished she had it in her to be forceful, or at least impatient. Instead, she was polite. Too polite for her own good.

Still, something in the sound of her voice must have caught the woman’s attention because she finally made eye contact and glanced around her computer monitor at Annie’s seven-year-old son. Then she swung her gaze to Annie, brows arched, eyes brimming with judgment.

“Mom, where’s Auntie CJ?” Isaac asked, ducking out from under the protective arm she had around his shoulders.

“She’s parking the truck, honey. Keep still, okay? The doctor’s going to see you right away.”

Besides, CJ was more problem than solution. Annie had let her sister convince her that Isaac was ready for junior rodeo, and clearly he wasn’t.

“I don’t want to see the doctor. I want Auntie CJ to take us home.”

“I’m right here, kiddo. How’re you holding up?” CJ, still dressed in full riding habit, minus the helmet, breezed through the double glass doors.

“We’re doing paperwork.” Annie prided herself in always keeping her cool and having a tight rein on her emotions, no matter what the circumstances. Why couldn’t she be assertive, more demanding? If she had those skills, then maybe she wouldn’t have failed her husband. Eric would still be alive and Isaac would still have a father. She had tried to convince Eric that he needed to see a doctor, to find out why he was in so much pain. She should have insisted. No, demanded. Instead, she had taken a step back and let him do the typical guy thing and soldier through the pain.

CJ slung an arm around Annie’s shoulder and led her and Isaac to the row of black leatherette chairs that lined two walls of the small waiting room. “Sit. I’ll handle this. We’ll have Isaac in to see the doc before you know it.”

“He should be in there already. He could be—”

“Annie, I’ve got it. Sit, relax. Okay, I know you’re not going to relax, but at least try to chill for a couple of minutes. Isaac’s fine. Look at him. He’s fine.”

Annie sat, guiding her son into the seat beside her, resisting the urge to pull her little boy onto her lap. Common sense told her that he was all right—he was walking and talking and insisting he wanted to carry on with his riding lesson—but what if he wasn’t? He was her son, her only child, and he was so little and so special and he didn’t have a father.

She tried to listen in as CJ spoke to the admitting clerk, then realized that her sister was deliberately keeping her voice low so Annie couldn’t hear. She was probably telling the woman that Annie was the one who needed medical attention.

Annie focused on the double doors that led to the ER, willing them to open and a nurse, or better yet, a doctor, to appear. She hadn’t set foot in this place in months, not since rushing her husband here with scarcely time to watch him take his last breath. Now she was here with her son, her precious boy and her only remaining link to Eric. Falling off a horse was not good. She should never have agreed to riding lessons, even though CJ was the teacher, and an excellent one at that. But Annie was his mother and it was her job to keep him safe. Given that this little daredevil was so much like his father, she had her work cut out for her.

CJ took the chair next to them, gently ruffled Isaac’s already unruly blond curls. “It’ll just be a few minutes. How do you feel?”

“I wanna go home and go back to the stable.”

Annie met CJ’s questioning gaze. “We’ll talk about that later, after—”

Stacey McGregor emerged from an office behind the front desk. “Annie, Isaac. Hi.”

Annie was instantly reassured by the familiar voice and the woman’s brisk efficiency.

“What’s this I hear about someone falling off a horse?”

“That was me!” Isaac said before Annie could respond, bouncing up from his chair. “I’m learning barrel racing ’cause I want to be in the junior rodeo.”

“CJ’s giving him lessons,” Annie said, gently pulling her son back into the chair. She and Stacey had graduated from high school together. She was an excellent nurse and great with kids, having three of her own.

Stacey kneeled in front of Isaac and attempted to smooth his unruly curls. “Horseback riding? I’ll bet you want to be a cowboy when you grow up.”

“Yup. I’m gonna have a hat and a lasso and everything.”

“I’ll just bet you will.” Stacey shifted her smile from Isaac to Annie. “A blue-eyed heartbreaker of a cowboy, that’s what he’s going to be.”

Isaac giggled, and Stacey stood and took his hand. “Come with me. I’ll take you and your mom in to see Dr. Woodward.”

“Oh. He’s still seeing patients?” Annie asked. She’d heard that Riverton’s long-time family physician had recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Heartbreaking news, but surely he wasn’t still practicing medicine?

“Sorry, I guess you haven’t heard. Not Doc Woodward Senior. His son.”

“Paul? He’s back in Riverton?” Annie followed Stacey into an examining room, simultaneously reassured to hear her husband’s best friend was in town and here to look after Isaac, and a tiny bit disappointed he hadn’t called to let her know he was home. She had always liked and admired Paul. It would have been good to hear from him. Keeping in touch with Eric’s past made her feel more connected to him. Although Paul had been away from Riverton for years, he was an important part of that past. She wondered if he knew that Jack Evans, her husband’s other best friend, was also in Riverton and about to marry Annie’s other sister, Emily.

“He dropped in to the clinic yesterday, just briefly, on his way into town.” Stacey tucked Isaac’s chart into the plastic holder on the door. “Today is his first shift.”

Okay, that explained why he hadn’t called. He probably hadn’t even unpacked.

“Can Auntie CJ come, too?” Isaac pleaded.

“Of course she can.” Stacey beckoned her to follow. “How’s everything out at Finnegan Farm?”

“Everything’s great,” CJ said. “Busy. My summer riding camp is winding down. We’re boarding two new horses, and I just took in a rescue horse from a farm near Pepin. What about you?”

“Everything’s good. I’m looking forward to having my kids in school next week. Even Ben’s looking forward to getting back to teaching. I mean—” She cast a worried glance at Annie.

Annie was quick to brush aside the woman’s concerns. “I know exactly what you mean. Eric used to get as excited about the start of a new school year as he looked forward to the end of the previous one. It’s a thing with teachers. Please tell Ben I said hello.”

“I will, for sure. Have a seat,” she said to Annie and CJ. “Isaac, can you climb up here for me?”

He nodded, and scrambled up onto the examining table.

“My goodness, you’re getting tall. What is your mom feeding you?”

Isaac giggled.

Annie watched from the edge of her seat, worried he could tumble off the high table if he didn’t sit still. She felt her sister’s hand curl over hers, silently reassuring.

“Are you looking forward to school next week?” Stacey asked.

Isaac nodded vigorously. “I’m gonna be in second grade.”

“Are you? So is my daughter, Melissa.” She held up a digital thermometer. “I’m going to slip this in your ear so I can take your temperature, okay?”

More nodding. “I know Melissa.”

“I thought you might.” The thermometer beeped. She looked at the digital display and then showed it to Isaac. “See those numbers, little man? Perfectly normal,” she said, noting them on his chart.

This offered Annie no relief. Fever was not a symptom of a concussion or, heaven forbid, a brain hemorrhage. She knew because, even against her own better judgment, she had looked them up on her phone while CJ had driven them to the clinic.

“Would you like to stay up here?” Stacey asked Isaac, handing him a couple of small coloring books that came with a colorful assortment of animal stickers. “Or jump down and sit with your mom?”

“I’ll stay up here.” Isaac opened one of the books. “Do I get to keep these?”

“You sure do.” Stacey turned to Annie. “Dr. Woodward’s just finishing up with another patient and then he’ll be right in to see you.”

“Thanks,” Annie said. She stood and moved to stand next to her son in case he started to feel light-headed, which was one of the symptoms they had to watch for.

Dr. Woodward. Paul. They had all known one another for most of their lives, although she and Eric hadn’t seen much of Paul since he’d left for college and then went on to study medicine at one of the universities in Chicago. He had stayed there and had been practicing at a big-city hospital ever since.

Eric had always been a man of action, a little impulsive, even. By comparison, Paul studied the angles, thought things through. Eric’s spontaneity had been tempered by his friend’s careful consideration of everyone and everything around him. She was beyond relieved that Paul was here. If anyone would take extra-special care of Eric’s son, it would be his best friend.

“See, Mom? This book’s got dinosaurs. This one’s Diplodocus. That’s one of the plant eaters. Can I really take these books home with me?”

“Stacey said you could so, yes.”

Isaac peeled the sticker off the sheet and stuck it to the matching shape on the coloring page. This was a good sign. His fine motor skills wouldn’t be so precise if his vision was blurred, another of the worst-case-scenario symptoms. She smoothed his hair and listened to him chatter about each dinosaur as he applied stickers to the page. Brontosaurus, Stegosaurus, Tyrannosaurus rex. Then he opened the second book.

“Jungle animals,” he said. “Is this a parrot?”

“I think that’s a macaw. Parrots have smaller beaks.”

“Maca-a-a-w,” he said, peeling and attaching the sticker to the page. “Caw, caw, ca-a-a-w.”

The door opened. “Someone told me there was a little boy in here who’s fallen off a horse. I wasn’t expecting a crow.”

Isaac giggled. “Uncle Paul!” He held up a hand and Paul high-fived it.

“Annie. How are you?” Paul asked.

Annie took one look at him and felt her spine soften. He opened his arms for her and she melted into them. She had forgotten how it felt to lean on someone, rest a cheek against a hard chest, breathe in a male scent with just a hint of woodsy aftershave. She pulled away. She should not be having inappropriate reactions to one of Eric’s best friends.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, leaned in and kissed the cheek that had just sought comfort on a shoulder that was broader than she remembered.

“Oh, Paul. It’s so good to see you. You have no idea.” She looked into eyes that were not green, not brown. Hazel, she decided. She had never noticed the color before. Now she was sure would never forget them.

The tip of her nose turned pink—she could feel it. Her face didn’t turn red the way a normal person’s did. Only her nose. Anytime she was embarrassed or flustered, or whatever it was she was feeling at that moment, she ended up looking like Rudolph on a bender. To cover it, she brought the fingertips of one hand to the bridge of her nose.

“Good to see you, too.” He kissed her again, on the forehead this time, and turned to Isaac. “And who is this young man?”

“I’m Isaac.”

“No way. Isaac Larsen’s a little guy about this tall.” Paul demonstrated by holding out his hand.

“Grandpa says I’m growing like a weed,” Isaac offered, setting aside the sticker books.

“Your grandpa’s right about that. Are you taking good care of your mom?” Paul asked, offering his hand to Isaac.

“Yup.” Isaac accepted the handshake and gazed up at him. “I feed our dog and help bring in eggs from the chicken coop. Me and my dad used to do that, but he died.”

Annie’s breath caught in her throat.

“I know.” Paul’s tone was solemn. “I still miss him.”

Listening to their exchange made Annie’s chest tighten. Although they hadn’t seen much of Paul in person, she had known he and Eric kept in touch, mostly by email and the occasional phone call. Of course Paul would miss him. After the funeral she should have done a better job of staying in touch.

“So, tell me about horseback riding.” Paul took a seat on a wheeled stool that brought him to eye level with her son.

“Auntie CJ’s giving me riding lessons.”

“That’s pretty cool. English or western.”

“Western.” Isaac’s enthusiasm was contagious. “I’m gonna be barrel racing at the junior rodeo and when I’m bigger I’m gonna be a real cowboy.”

Paul laughed, then exchanged a quick smile with Annie before he turned his attention back to her son. “What’s your horse’s name?”

“Zephyr.”

“Good name for a horse.”

Annie forced herself to stop hovering and took the chair next to CJ, who was rolling her eyes.

What? Annie mouthed.

CJ placed a hand over her heart and pretended to swoon, and it was Annie’s turn for an eye roll. Behave!

“Can you tell me what happened this morning when you were riding Zephyr?” Paul asked.

“I fell off.”

“You did? Is Zephyr a bucking bronco?”

Isaac giggled again. “Nope. But I’m gonna ride one when I’m a grown-up cowboy.”

Over my dead body, Annie thought.

“Were you wearing a helmet?” Paul asked.

Isaac nodded.

“Good.” Paul pulled a small instrument out of his pocket. “This is a flashlight.” He demonstrated by pressing on it and generating a beam of light. “I want you to look right at me so I can take a look at your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Yup.”

“Good job,” he said, slipping the penlight back in his pocket. “Pupils dilating just the way we like them to.”

Annie knew his comments were more for her benefit than her son’s. She appreciated his thoughtfulness even while she ignored CJ’s I-told-you-so elbow jab.

Paul held out his hands, palms up. “Now I need to see if you’re strong enough to be a cowboy. Can you press down on my hands as hard as you can?”

Isaac enthusiastically demonstrated his superhuman strength, repeating the test by pressing up, out and in against Paul’s hands. He laughed when one foot and then the other swung involuntarily in response to a tap to the knee with a little rubber hammer.

“Dude, have you been working out? Lifting weights?” Paul asked. “Training for the Olympics?”

“Nope. I help my grandpa, though. He has a wheelchair and he lets me push him around sometimes.”

“How’s your grandpa doing?” Paul looked to Annie for an answer as he ran both hands along her son’s arms, then gently flexed them at the wrist, elbow and shoulder.

“He rides horses, too,” Isaac said before she had a chance to answer.

Clearly surprised, Paul looked to Annie for confirmation.

“He’s amazing,” Annie said. “And yes, he rides. CJ runs a therapeutic riding program at the farm. Our dad was her test case and now he helps with the kids from time to time.”

“Kids with disabilities often lead sheltered lives,” CJ said, jumping into the conversation. “Seeing a man get from wheelchair to horseback and canter around the ring can be a real eye-opener for them. And for their parents, who can sometimes be a little overprotective.”

“No doubt,” Paul said. “Good to know about your program, too. Do you take referrals?”

CJ grinned. “You bet I do.”

Annie watched as Paul had Isaac lie back on the exam table and flex his legs while he talked to CJ. Apparently all checked out there as well.

“Can you sit up for me, champ? Good stuff. Now, do you remember how you landed when you fell?”

Isaac pointed to his left shoulder.

Paul turned to CJ. “Where was he riding? In a field, on a gravel road?”

“Oh, no. I give lessons in a covered arena. The floor has a thick layer of wood chips.”

“So you had a pretty soft landing,” he said to Isaac. “Can you peel off your T-shirt so I can take a look at that shoulder?”

Paul didn’t offer assistance, and Annie had to resist the urge to jump up and help. Instead, he closely watched Isaac’s movements as he bent and twisted and wriggled his way out of the shirt. Paul popped the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears and held up the chest piece.

“Do you know what this is for?” he asked.

“Listening to hearts.”

“That’s right. I can hear what’s going on inside your lungs, too.” He reached behind Isaac, ran the tip of a finger along her son’s shoulder blade as he did. “Can you take a big, deep breath and hold it for me?”

Isaac’s narrow chest swelled.

“Good, that’s it. Now breathe out.”

Isaac let out a whoosh.

Paul moved the stethoscope. “Again.”

After several repetitions, he draped the stethoscope around his neck and examined her son’s shoulder more closely before he turned to Annie.