You Are Here (Harlequin More Than Words) Read online

  More Than Words:

  Bestselling authors and real-life heroines

  Every year, Harlequin’s More Than Words award is given to three real-life heroines, women whose courage and vision have helped change people’s lives for the better. Once again, three bestselling Harlequin authors have written stories inspired by these remarkable women.

  In You Are Here, sixteen-year-old Jennifer Whitman wishes she could just disappear. After her father’s death, her family lost everything, including their home and comfortable way of life. With the help of a local charity, they’ve relocated to downtown Phoenix. But Jenn has unfinished business back in Paradise Valley.

  Sixty-six days ago, Jenn fell in love with seventeen-year-old cowboy William Finnigan...and then he shattered her heart. She’s been avoiding him ever since. But if Jenn wants to reclaim her beloved horse, she’ll have to stop running. Jenn needs to face Finn one last time so she can put her past behind her and truly start over.

  Look for all three ebooks inspired by real-life heroines: Red at Night by Katie McGarry, You Are Here by Liz Fichera and The Gift of a Good Start by Earl Sewell. Visit the Harlequin More Than Words website, at www.HarlequinMoreThanWords.com, or your favorite ebook retailer to download these free novellas today.

  LIZ FICHERA

  More Than Words

  You Are Here

  Dear Reader,

  For a decade, Harlequin has been a leader in supporting and bringing awareness to women’s charitable efforts. Through Harlequin More Than Words we have had the opportunity to celebrate and encourage women who are actively working to improve their communities. Each year we honor three women who have made extraordinary differences in the lives of others, and a donation of $45,000 is divided equally among their charitable causes.

  We are also pleased to spotlight the current Harlequin More Than Words recipients by enlisting three talented Harlequin authors who have written fictional stories inspired by these remarkable women and the charities they support. All three ebooks—Katie McGarry’s Red at Night, Liz Fichera’s You Are Here and Earl Sewell’s The Gift of a Good Start—are free to download at HarlequinMoreThanWords.com and other e-tailers.

  In addition, More Than Words: Acts of Kindness brings together three of the most popular More Than Words stories by three bestselling authors for the first time. Whispers of the Heart by Brenda Jackson, It’s Not About the Dress by Stephanie Bond and The Princess Shoes by Maureen Child will be available at Harlequin.com or on the shelves of your favorite bookstore in March 2014.

  All six of these stories are beautiful tributes to current and past Harlequin More Than Words recipients, and we hope they will inspire the real-life heroine in you.

  For more information on how you can get involved, please visit our website at HarlequinMoreThanWords.com.

  Together we can build strong communities!

  Sincerely,

  Loriana Sacilotto

  Executive Vice President, Editorial

  Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.

  Jubilee Women’s Center

  Name: Cheryl Sesnon

  Hometown: Seattle, Washington

  Recipient’s Related Charity: Jubilee Women’s Center (JWC)

  Website: www.JWCenter.org

  How Cheryl inspires others:

  In 2010, when Cheryl Sesnon learned that Jubilee Women’s Center in Seattle needed a new executive director, she sat down and thought about what she should do. At that point Cheryl had been involved in the nonprofit sector since 1994 at every level imaginable. She had earned her master’s degree in nonprofit leadership and was already the executive director of a highly regarded microfinance training organization.

  Cheryl thought about Jubilee’s mission to help women experiencing poverty build sustainable and fulfilling futures for themselves. Then she thought about the similar struggles she had faced in her own life and why she originally became involved with nonprofit work. Finally, when she looked five years into her future and could only see herself helping homeless women get back on their feet, she knew it was not a hard choice at all.

  Women seek aid and shelter at JWC for a variety of reasons, and Jubilee’s purpose is to provide them all with a better life by the time they leave. JWC achieves this, not only by providing a safe and stable housing environment, but also by offering case management, classes, workshops and support groups, and by fostering an overall sense of community and support among the women who live at the center. Women are encouraged to stay as long as necessary to improve their self-confidence and skill sets before getting their independent, stable housing.

  After seeing countless women turn their lives around thanks to Jubilee, Cheryl knows without a doubt that joining JWC was the best decision she’s ever made.

  About the Author

  Liz Fichera likes to write stories about ordinary teens who do extraordinary things. Born in Park Ridge, Illinois, Liz moved to the American Southwest after college, never expecting to live more than one year among cacti and people who’d never seen snow. She was wrong. To learn more about Liz and her debut YA novel, Hooked, along with her new release, Played, please visit www.lizfichera.com.

  Dedication

  For Cheryl Sesnon and the Jubilee Women’s Center and all hardworking and dedicated people like them who make the world a better place.

  And for anyone who’s hit rock bottom but has found her way back.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  Yesterday

  The fluorescent-orange flyers were everywhere and each one had my picture on it. They were taped to utility poles and bus stops and mailboxes. I found them inside grocery stores and on corkboards in coffee shops. There was even one stapled on a crowded bulletin board right above the free real-estate magazines at the Circle K in my new neighborhood. The bright paper drew people like horses to water. And to think I could have almost bumped into him inside the Circle K while he was papering my world. I shuddered to think that only five minutes or an hour ago, we shared the same air.

  Bright flyers littering neighborhoods usually asked for help finding a lost puppy or kitten. This orange one always said the same thing right below my high school junior-year class picture, the one taken just five months ago. The one I gave him for his wallet. “If you see Jennifer, please contact Finn immediately. No questions asked. Reward offered.” Followed by a familiar cell phone number.

  But that was before.

  I was no longer the Jennifer in that school photo with shoulder-length brown hair and eager eyes. I was light-years from that girl. Jennifer and I may have shared the same features but the distance reflected in our eyes could span continents. Now I went by my middle name, Abigail—Abby, my preference. And unlike a puppy or kitten, I wasn’t ready to be found. No, scratch that. I didn’t want to be found. Period.

  So I ripped down the o
range flyer from the board and stuffed it in my pocket. Then I pulled my gray hoodie over my head as people brushed my elbows with their gas receipts, lottery tickets and giant soda cups. I tightened the string on my hood even though the afternoon sun shimmered above the pavement like water. Then I walked outside and blended in with the traffic noise and car horns.

  You’d think in Phoenix, the sixth largest city in the United States, it would be easy to disappear among two million people in a place with roads and highways that stretched forever in every direction, surrounded by enough wide-open desert to swallow up an ocean.

  You’d be wrong.

  Chapter 2

  Sixty-Six Days Before

  I was riding my quarter horse, Honey, in the corral when I spotted the boy looking in my direction, all six foot two of him. Again.

  He’d been staring at me for the past few weeks and whenever I’d return his stare with a disinterested lift of my brow, he’d turn and pretend to be occupied with the intricacies of a rope knot or polishing a saddle. But I wasn’t blind.

  His name was William Finnigan but everyone around here called him Finn. His family owned the Finnigan Boarding Stables, the place where we’d boarded since the day my parents surprised me with a horse for my twelfth birthday. Well, Honey really wasn’t a surprise. I’d begged my parents for a horse and riding lessons after I’d devoured Black Beauty. Back then, ask and you shall receive pretty much defined my reality. It turned out that horses weren’t a short-lived hobby for me. I loved Honey more than just about anything else, even school, after I got over my initial fear of getting bucked off.

  I was guiding Honey between hay bales and over low exercise hurdles, feeling pretty feisty about my riding skills and happy that my newest suede cowboy hat stayed perfectly in place. There were two other riders in the corral, another kid younger than I was, struggling with an ornery black pony, and a woman as old as my mom, riding a gorgeous chestnut stallion, but there was plenty of riding room for everybody.

  Finn stood outside the corral with the red barn behind him. It framed him like a postcard. In my periphery, he leaned against the white wooden fence that surrounded the corral, one dusty brown boot propped on the first slat. His tanned arms slung over the front of the fence, his biceps pressing against the slat. His cowboy hat hid his eyes and mop of blond hair but I knew his eyes were as piercingly blue as the desert sky. Funny how only a year ago I wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Somehow when I wasn’t looking, Finn had turned into a man.

  I took a chance and rode closer to where he stood as I wove Honey in and around a line of hay bales. Maybe it was the way the corner of his mouth fought back a curious smile. Maybe it was the way he’d become bolder about staring at me. Maybe I was feeling braver, too, but I knew today had to be different. I rode so close that I could kick him in the head if I wanted to and knock some sense into him.

  “You wanna go for a ride?” Finn said, surprising me, when my boot got to within kicking distance.

  My breathing hitched as I pulled back on the reins. Say what? After a respectable one one thousand, two one thousand, I answered. “With who?” I said with Academy Award–worthy nonchalance, turning from side to side, as though another boy with an equally adorable smile would magically appear.

  But Finn’s invitation pounded inside my chest.

  He spread his arms. “You’re looking at him.”

  My eyes narrowed. I wanted him to beg a little. “Where would we ride?”

  “Around here?” He said it as if I were crazy for asking. He tipped his hat higher on his forehead with a forefinger. “I know trails that the rattlesnakes and roadrunners don’t know about.”

  “Snakes don’t scare me.”

  “Never said they did.” He crossed his arms and squinted up at me, waiting.

  “Where’s your horse?” I knew that he had two. They had their stalls on either side of Honey in the Finnigans’ barn. Sometimes Finn would muck their stalls at exactly the same time I mucked Honey’s but he never said a word to me when he worked, pretending I wasn’t around, no doubt, pretending to be Aloof Stable Guy. Finn had a tan stallion named Buster and a copper-colored quarter horse that he brought to rodeos most weekends. I’d overhear Finn and his little brother talking about them inside the barn, where everyone’s voices echoed, boasting about the barrel-racing medals he’d won or the team-roping ribbons. Sometimes I was pretty sure he talked loud enough so that I’d have no choice but to hear every detail. He’d even pin his ribbons to the walls in his stalls, which I supposed wasn’t all that unusual. The stalls belonged to his family and he could do whatever he wanted. But still. Of course, only if tortured would I ever freely admit that I watched all of his rodeo competitions on YouTube.

  “Got Buster all saddled and ready to go,” Finn said.

  I scoffed. “What? So you figured I’d say yes?”

  He flashed a smile, an unapologetic one this time. The kind that could curl my toes because of the mystery behind it. I wasn’t sure where his smile would take me but I definitely wanted to find out. “Wasn’t expecting. Just hoping,” he said.

  I waited another respectable ten seconds, hoping he’d squirm a little more.

  Finn hooked his thumbs in his front belt loops, looking up at me with a tilt of his head.

  Finally I said, “Well, go get Buster. What are you waiting for?” I clucked to Honey and snapped the reins as Finn opened up the corral gate to let me out.

  A smile broke across my face the second I passed him. I felt as if I could fly across the desert.

  Chapter 3

  Fifty-Five Days Before

  I wished that Finn and I could see each other during the day, like by the school lockers or in study hall or over greasy pizza in the cafeteria like normal people, but Finn and his younger brother, Wallace, were homeschooled. That was why I lived for afternoons at the stables, even more than usual, the more I got to know him. But even Mother Nature stopped cooperating with me. Shorter days meant shorter horseback rides, which meant less Finn Time.

  Finn and I were riding our horses along one of our favorite trails, the one where we couldn’t hear nearby traffic or see tile rooftops, only endless creosote bushes, tumbleweeds and saguaros. It was just us and our horses and my heartbeat that thundered against my rib cage whenever I got within twelve inches from him. I was convinced Finn could hear the excitement thundering in my chest. Or was it anticipation? Whatever it was, Finn was beginning to own it.

  The farther we rode from the stables, the quieter the desert got, until I figured Finn could hear my thoughts, too, which would have been totally embarrassing because I loved watching him ride. His body moved like music in the saddle as his head shifted from side to side beneath his cowboy hat, surveying the dirt for rattlesnakes or coyotes or whatever danger he thought might lurk and spook the horses. I loved that he took care of us. I felt warm and safe riding with him.

  That was the moment when he stopped his horse and waited for me to pull up alongside him. When I did, he reached a long arm over and grabbed my saddle horn before Honey’s nose passed Buster’s, murmuring to the horses to slow.

  “What is it?” I sat higher as the horses rubbed sides, my heart still thundering with all of my embarrassing thoughts of Finn playing on repeat inside my head. “You see a snake or something?”

  “I’ve got to go to New Mexico with my dad for a few days,” he said, out of the blue.

  “Oh,” I squeaked. Wasn’t expecting that. My breath tightened and not just from the colder fall air. His news made me ache from missing him, even though he sat right beside me. “What for?”

  “Rodeo in Gallup.” Finn had been saving his winnings from barrel-racing and team-roping competitions for college. They weren’t much, but as Finn said, every little bit helped. Like me, he wanted to become a veterinarian, another thing among a dozen that we’d
learned we had in common during our now-almost-daily afternoon trail rides. You might not have known it from looking at him, but beneath his broad chest and cowboy bravado, Finn was crazy smart. His ACT scores were higher than mine and I thought my twenty-eight was boast-worthy. A part of me thought that Will Finnigan was too good to be true.

  “When?”

  “We leave Friday with the horse trailer.”

  “So I won’t see you Friday after school?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll miss you,” I said, angry that my voice caught a fraction.

  “I know.” He fought back a smile.

  “You know?” I looked away and rolled my eyes at his uncharacteristic smugness.

  Finn didn’t reply. “Jenn?”

  I still wouldn’t look at him, which I knew was angry and silly but I couldn’t help it. I hated to think I wouldn’t see him for three whole days. It might as well have been three centuries.

  Finn pulled both reins taut with one hand so the horses barely moved. His other hand left my saddle horn and reached for my shoulder.

  My breathing stopped the instant the heat of his hand reached my shoulder.

  Then he leaned across his saddle so that I had to look at him. We locked eyes.

  He tilted his head and pressed his lips against mine, whispering “Jenn” between our mouths. I got dizzy when his lips touched mine, warm like his hand. I forgot how to breathe. Sounds disappeared. Colors blurred. The wind stopped and time froze.

  Our first kiss.

  When he pulled away, we opened our eyes at exactly the same time. It was like the Earth turned in slow motion. I swallowed and then said, “What took you so long?”

  Finn’s chin pulled in and he smiled that crooked smile that made everything flutter inside my stomach. “Waiting for the right moment.”

  “You chose wisely.” My eyes dipped back to his lips.