Once Upon a Montana Summer: Once Upon a Summer

CHAPTER 1

MISS STALLING! CALLED a photographer, stepping into her path to make her look up at him.

Adalyn! shouted another, trying to get her to turn his way when she ducked her head.

Numerous flashes from several cameras in the dark hallway nearly blinded her.

Adi groaned, lifted her briefcase like a shield and pushed past them as a third took several shots in a row. They’d found her secret passage—the one she took from the parking garage, around the whole length of the building, in order to get to her office via the elevators.

C’mon! cried a third. Give us a flash of that pretty smile! Let us print some pics that will make that jerk regret his decision!

George, one of the security guards, opened the door at the far end and scowled at the men who followed Adi. You three! he bellowed, waving a meaty hand. Get out of here and leave Ms. Stalling alone! I told you if I found you pesterin’ her one more time, I’d call the cops!

They gave up then, lifting their hands in surrender as they always did. They weren’t breaking any laws—trying to get Adi’s picture or a few words from her—but neither did they want to be barred from entering the property of Smith & Jessen. Because then, they’d lose a key opportunity to sell a picture to People or Us or worse, the tabloid papers. Outside, after work, it was even more of a gauntlet. They’d tailed her car all the way home, to the grocery store, the gym...in a very short period of time, the paparazzi had made her a virtual recluse.

She shook her head. How long would it go on? A year ago, when the season of The One had ended and Adam gave the final rose to Talia and not Adi—the fan favorite—people had rallied around her. Then when producers convinced her to give it a go as the bachelorette and she’d chosen Connor as The One—and he’d immediately proposed—America swooned.

Heck, Adi had swooned too. She’d finally, finally found love.

On national television.

Then, three months later, he broke it off. Adi had nodded, stunned, through his cool apologies in the midst of the recap show, describing it as an unfortunate change of heart.

Shocked, appalled, half the audience practically booed him off-stage. The other half sat in startled silence, perhaps because they secretly hoped that somehow, some way, Connor could be their boyfriend. Or perhaps because they had favored one of the other bachelors for Adi. Who knew?

It was all because of the show, Adi, he’d said afterward, off-stage. You understand. I got swept up in it all. So were you, right? They got exactly what they were after. Capturing two people falling in love. But it wasn’t real, right? It was all just...make believe. A show. A really good show, but more like a movie than real life. You’re with me on that, right?

Right, she’d mumbled, feeling her head nod, as if it had become disconnected from her body. Disconnected from her heart screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

America’s Sweetheart Shattered, was one of the hundred tabloid headlines that stuck in her mind, because she had been shattered. Totally flayed open, Connor’s dismissal like a slice across a heart that had barely healed after Adam sent her home six months prior. She had been so sure that Adam was about to get down on one knee and open a gorgeous Tiffany box with the square-cut diamond she’d always wanted. When he broke it off, sent her home, she hadn’t shed a single tear she was so shocked. She’d been utterly blindsided. All along, Adi hadn’t been able to believe he was drawn to her, choosing her, week after week. And then in the end, she couldn’t believe that he hadn’t chosen her.

After all, he’d said the words.

I love you. Adalyn, I think you’re the one for me.

Said them. Not once, but twice. A good portion of America had witnessed it with her.

She’d made herself watch the episodes to make sure she remembered it correctly, sobbing through every one, especially those last four, watching the tragedy unfold, edited for max impact. At the same time Adam had been confessing his love to her, he’d also been confessing his love for Talia. And then bemoaning the mess he was making to the show’s host, Jeremy Ferris. Seeking advice from his parents about falling in love with two women at the same time, asking who they favored more...but the producers never let the audience see their answer. Had it been them who had turned him against her?

But then abruptly, it hadn’t mattered.

As The One’s next bachelorette, it was her turn to be in control. Her turn to weed through bachelors and send them packing until she was down to five or six serious contenders. Time and again, she just couldn’t seem to escape handsome, charismatic Connor O’Malley.

Oh, Connor. Even the thought of him still made her heart heavy with loss. After Adam had refused her, she really doubted that love would come her way, even in the midst of twenty-four handsome, intriguing bachelors all focused on winning her heart. But from the beginning, it was Connor who drew her. He seemed to have it all. Charm. Passion. Exuberant energy that was contagious. Joy. A respect for her stance of not having sex before marriage—especially as a part of a show—spending all night with her talking and cuddling, never pressuring her for more. Even a measure of faith. As brutal as it was, Adi, he’d said tenderly, God clearly wanted Adam to break your heart. She could still see him there, holding her hand against his broad chest as he stared down at her. "Because you were meant for me."

She probably watched that particular scene on the show fifty times, wanting to know if she had dreamed it. After all, he said it hadn’t been real. But it sure looked real in that moment.

He’d won her. Proposed on that final, beautiful episode—shot in idyllic Bali.

And then on the recap show he seemed to spontaneously decide that it was over, famously breaking their engagement...in front of 9.5 million enthralled viewers.

Never had a bachelorette with her own show so famously lost at love.

Stalling Stalled Out, read one of the headlines. The Ice Princess Forever Alone, read another. Sex Could Have Saved Stalling was yet another—a direct quote from one of the bachelors who hadn’t been as patient as Connor.

Adi sighed and leaned her head against the elevator wall, blessedly alone for a moment as she was lifted to the fifteenth floor. Adam had made her believe it, that she was going to be the last girl with a rose...and a ring. Connor had made her believe it, that this was her time, her second chance at love. She’d fallen in love with both, hard. And now, now she just couldn’t see how she was going to pick herself up again. All of America seemed desperate to hear that she was in love again, finding her own happily-ever-after. That’s why the paparazzi still followed her. They even printed pictures of her with male colleagues with captions like Third Time’s a Charm?

But honestly?

Honestly?

Adi didn’t know if she would ever be whole, in love, or happy again.

Maybe I’ll be single for life.

She’d had to do the required post-show promotions. The after the final rose show with all the women that Adam had rejected—in which she remained mostly silent while the others bickered and complained and whined, and managed to only dab her eyes once as she answered direct, probing questions from Jeremy Ferris, with the most minimal of responses.

By the time she did that same show with Connor, she knew things weren’t the best between them. They’d begun to bicker and they couldn’t seem to recapture any of the magic that had been so intense while they were filming. But she’d supposed it was a transition time. Hadn’t other couples who’d made it counseled them, telling them to expect just that? Apparently Connor wasn’t as convinced it was a stage, because when they were once again on stage, he chose that moment to end their engagement.

In front of all those viewers.

Horrified, she shut down.

She refused to go on The Late Show that night and then the Today show the next morning. After all, she’d already done that after Adam, forcing a smile and shrugging. Telling America what she felt—she’d been foolish, believing him. Trusting him. Couldn’t they assume she felt the same with Connor? Did they really have to see her, in all her abject humiliation, in full freefall? She’d risked a lawsuit, refusing to appear. Only America’s collective commiseration with Adi—and their wrath toward Connor—seemed to buy her some grace with the producers and her boss.

By contractual agreement, Adalyn couldn’t ever state she wished she’d never been on the show. But that was what she felt, and what she hoped every viewer surmised. Let it be a warning to you, girlfriends. Never, ever, ever risk your heart like I did.

Adalyn had graduated summa cum laude from college. But in life? She felt like a complete idiot. A loser among losers.

The elevator reached her floor, eased to a stop and dinged as the door opened. Pretend to be okay, Adi, she told herself. You’ve got this. She lifted her chin, pulled back her shoulders and strode down the hallway, greeting the receptionist, Gracie, by name before turning left and walking toward her cubicle. But her boss, Rhett Jessen, rapped on the glass wall of his office as she passed by, waving her in, even as he continued his conversation via wireless headset and paced.

She peeked in, making sure he really meant for her to enter, and, when he gestured to the seat in front of his desk, she obediently sat down. His glass door whirred shut, the glass a thick grade on wide, brushed nickel hinges. She crossed her legs and tried not to fidget, waiting for him to finish his conversation.

Good morning, Adalyn, he said as soon as he hung up. He moved around his desk to sit down in a sleek metal chair that looked cool, but not all that comfortable.

Good morning, Rhett, she returned, forcing a bright smile.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one foot over the opposite knee. As usual, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine, all the way from the top of his perfectly trimmed, blond hair down to his four-hundred dollar shoes. He wore his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing tanned skin. From tennis? Or a tanning booth? Adi wondered idly, trying to get her mind off of why he had called her into his office.

Rhett rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. Adalyn, I hear that the paparazzi gave you a hard time again this morning.

She sighed. They found that east walkway I’ve been taking from the garage to the elevators. Security chased them out.

Rhett frowned. This has all been much harder on you than I could’ve imagined, he said.

Was that all the apology she was going to get? Sure, she’d caught a few of the previous seasons of The One, but she’d never thought about applying to go on the show. But the network was a client of her marketing firm, and one day a producer had caught sight of her walking by. They’d called her in and the producer had chatted her up, encouraging her to apply. Even if you don’t find love, he’d laughed, you’d have the inside scoop for our account.

What choice had she really had? Especially after her boss encouraged her to follow through? All along, Adi fought the desire to lay the blame entirely on Rhett Jessen’s shoulders for her painful losses. Only the idea that he clearly felt remorseful kept her coming to work every day. He’d remember, surely, what she had sacrificed. In time, maybe that would pay off, with a glass-walled office of her own.

Once I’m not America’s most famous failure at love. She could make it, she thought.

I never imagined, Rhett said, rising and going to the window, then looking back over his shoulder with his arms crossed, that it would cost you so much. You have to believe me, Adalyn. He eased back toward her and perched on the edge of his desk, casting her a fatherly, concerned look, though he was only about forty-five to her twenty-four.

I believe you, she said. Some, she thought.

I thought it’d be an adventure for you, he said, waving his hand. A chance to see some exotic places. Flirt. Play. I didn’t expect...Well, I didn’t expect you’d—Adalyn, I never thought you’d get your heart broken. Twice. A tinge of red moved up his jaw and cheek.

It’s okay, Rhett. Everyone gets their heart broken sooner or later, right? Most people just don’t do it on national TV. Twice.

Right, he said eagerly, seizing the out she’d offered. And you’re through the worst of it, thank God. It won’t take long until the paparazzi ease up too. They’ll move on to the next season’s contestants before long.

Yes, she said, but inwardly she was calculating. Another three or four months before the next season begins to air.

She could make it, she thought.

He cleared his throat. "Adalyn, the partners and I have discussed this. We think you should take a leave of absence. Paid, of course. We feel responsible for this...discomfort in your life."

She blinked at him. Discomfort? Leave of absence?

"I feel responsible," he said.

But there was something in his tone that told her. The way he shifted in his seat. Her presence made the partners uncomfortable. Guilty.

But Rhett, she said, mind whirring, I’ve already been gone so long to tape the shows and all the follow-up publicity. I need to get back into work. Get back into the swing of things, and my mind off of all that’s happened. Please. I need this, Rhett. She blinked back tears she refused to allow. "I need to be here. It’s a bit of normalcy when my whole world seems to have gone crazy."

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath. Here’s the thing, Adalyn. I’ve suggested that we put you on several accounts, but each of those account managers have respectfully asked that we not include you. They all feel like you’d be a...distraction. At the moment, you’re more of a curiosity for clients, rather than an asset. I won’t compromise your professional dignity in that way.

No. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. After all she’d wagered and lost, now her job was in jeopardy too? When Rhett had casually mentioned a chance at an account manager position as late as last year?

Rhett, she said, eyes shifting madly back and forth, trying to figure out a solution, I-I need this job. You’re not firing me, are you?

No, no! He lifted his hands. "We want you here. In time I plan on helping you figure out how we might redeem some of the hard-won knowledge you gained on The One. Put you in charge of that account at some point—wouldn’t that make sense? You’ll be back in the saddle after a break, Adalyn. I know you will. But I just think some time away, time to let this all settle down and fade, would be a good thing."

Fade. As if memories of Adam and Connor, their kisses—their sweet, silky promises—would fade from the sharp, jagged images they were now. As if she could forget her humiliation. As if she could forget her heart shattering into a hundred different pieces.

Isn’t there someplace you could go? Rhett asked, rubbing his cheek with long, manicured fingers. Someplace where the paparazzi can’t find you for a while?

Someplace where Smith & Jessen would be out of the limelight too, she translated.

Montana, she thought, then quickly pushed it away.

She wasn’t a coward. She wouldn’t run away from this. She had a job, a future, and sure, it might be uncomfortable for all of them, but she would make them find their way forward, with her. They owed her that, at least.

Rhett, you’ve already allowed me paid leave to be a part of the show and to see through the publicity requirements. I’m done with that now. I’ve done all that you—and most of what the producers—have asked of me. Now I’m asking you to keep me on here. Give me something to do that will occupy my mind. Help me by keeping me busy. In the background, if necessary, but busy. As in eighty-hours-a-week busy. It’s—It’s what I need. Please? She hated that her voice cracked on that word.

Rhett took a deep breath. His jaw muscles clenched, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He walked back around the glass desk to his chair. He sat down and sighed heavily, steepling his fingers before him. Look. It’s paid time off. Who in their right mind would turn that down? He huffed a laugh and lifted his hands. When she didn’t respond, he said, I’m afraid this is non-negotiable, Adi. Talk to Mary. She’s been covering your calls and will continue to do so. Email her anything she and the account managers need to know about. Wrap things up today, collect anything you can’t live without and go home tonight. Rest. Recover from all this...And then we’ll see you in mid-September. We’ll pick up where we left off. Okay?

Okay, she forced herself to say. Thank you. But as she left his office, her mind was crying, Why did I say thank you? This is the last thing I wanted. The very last thing.

CHAPTER 2

AT THE END OF THE DAY she numbly walked into Mary’s office.

The middle-aged woman frowned at seeing her face and came around the desk and shut the door. Goodness, she said, taking her elbow. You look awful, Adi.

Thanks, Adi said with a sardonic smile.

What’s up? Mary asked.

More like what’s down, she said. I just got back to work and now Rhett wants me to take another leave of absence. Until September!

Mary’s eyebrows lifted and she pursed her lips. Might not that be good, Adi? A little rest after all this mess?

Maybe, Adalyn said, shaking her head. I just can’t see it. I really was looking forward to being back to work. Putting my mind on other things, you know?

I get it. But if you want to trade, let me know, Mary quipped. I wouldn’t mind a long summer vacation. Sunshine and long walks. Seeing someplace new. Think about all you could do.

Maybe, Adalyn said again, inwardly not agreeing at all. She’d only been back to work for five days! Couldn’t they just give it another week or two?

Listen, it’s been a crazy week. But I just ran through the phony email and phone extension voicemail we set up for you to ditch the paparrazi, she said, moving to a stack of notes. Adalyn blinked. They’d set up phony phone extensions and an email? But then that made sense. They probably were bombarded.

Do you know a Jonah Perry? Mary asked.

Adalyn shook her head.

Nicholas Ruvacaba? Lucas Borland? Riley Knapp? Jonathan Dangle? Trevor Solk? Cole Turner? Kyle Bygness?

No.

Yeah, she said smugly. They tried to make it sound like they were your friends. Probably paparrazi. Or men convinced they’re your true special guy.

Probably. She’d already received hundreds of fan letters from men who swore they were ready to propose themselves. A lot of them began, Dear Adi, this might sound crazy...

Mary moved those messages aside. Oh, what about Leila Ragland? Or here—this Chase Rollins? He’s called every day for a week.

Adalyn blinked and sucked in her breath. She reached out her hand for the message. Chase? He’s an old friend. I wonder what he wants?

Mary handed her the slips. Oh, Adi. I’m sorry, she said, concern lining her face. He said something about your grandfather.

Gramps? Adalyn said, her heart lurching. What? What did he say?

He said your grandfather’s been in poor health. But Adi, if you had heard what those others said...some mentioned your mother. Others your sister or brother—and I know you don’t have either of those. These vultures will say anything to get to you.

It’s all right, she muttered. I’ll call Chase as soon as I get home.

Don’t worry about a thing, Mary said, coming around the desk. Call me once in a while and I’ll update you on how things are going. Or just if you need a friend, okay? I hope your grandfather is okay.

Me too, Adalyn said, accepting the older woman’s motherly hug.

She went to her cubicle, looked around and decided there was nothing there she would miss for a few months. She said a brief goodbye to a few buddies, grabbed her purse and hurried down the hall.

She took a deep breath, realizing she’d been holding it, when the doors opened and there were no photographers in sight. Hey! See that, Roger? she said to the evening security guard.  It’s over. I must already be all washed up on the tabloid front.

Yeah, he said with a grunt. Maybe they’ve gone back to their Kardashian beat.

Let’s hope so, she said, walking now more confidently, shrugging off the urge to crouch down and make sure she could dart between cars if anyone showed up, armed with a camera. But her harassers appeared to be absent.

Where’s your car? Roger asked, huffing a little. I’ll walk ya out. He was a good thirty pounds overweight and spent most of his day behind the central security desk or in the golf cart they used to patrol the building and the parking garage.

Just up here, and over a row, she said.

They made their way between cars, then over. And that’s when she saw them. A line of red rose petals, some obviously crushed beneath the tires of departing cars and scattered, but the trail still visible. She could smell them then, that sickly, rich scent that she had once associated with love, with favor, and now only knew as rejection and pain. Roger paused and looked at her, his hands on his belt.

She steeled herself and moved toward her car. There were more and more petals the closer they got, some even strewn across the hood. And in the handle of her battered, ten-year-old Subaru door, was a perfect, long-stemmed red rose.

Bile rose in her throat and she looked around in horror. Was this some sick joke?

Roger raised his right hand to her as he bent to speak into his radio, worn at the shoulder. We’ve got a situation here in Row F of the parking garage, he said.

No, no, she said, waving at him and forcing a smile. What was he going to report? A flower situation? That hardly sounded menacing. It’s okay, Rog. She pulled the rose from her handle and flung it backward, not caring where it landed. Probably someone in the office playing a prank on me. Or just some weirdo fan of the show.

Some weirdo who has figured out where you work, Roger grunted, still looking about from under his heavy, fleshy eyelids in suspicion, hand on the holster of his gun. She saw, with some alarm, that he’d unsnapped it. He pulled out a flashlight