MICHELLE CELMER

      lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden weeding or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm real hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

      Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her Web site at www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at P.O. Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017.

      To R.D.R.

       We miss you.

      Contents

      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

      One

      “Dress it up however you like, Conway, but behind all your money and fame, you’ll always be trailer trash to the people of this town.”

      The line went dead and Matt Conway snapped his cell phone shut, fighting off a sense of unease. He should have expected his homecoming would ruffle a few feathers, that some people from his past would never accept him, yet it still stung. Despite everything he’d accomplished, he felt like a vulnerable kid again.

      Shaking off the all-too-familiar sensation, he clipped the phone on his belt and gazed around the partially constructed restaurant interior, dragging a bandana across his sweaty brow. He breathed in the scent of freshly cut pine, waiting to feel the satisfaction, the deep sense of accomplishment he’d more than earned. This was to be restaurant number twenty in the Touchdown Bar and Grill chain, yet this one erected in his hometown of Chapel, Michigan, held special meaning. It was a symbol.

      The kid who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks now owned sprawling homes in three different countries. He’d traded in the beat-up vehicle of his youth for a medley of vintage cars any collector would salivate over. He had achieved nearly every financial goal he’d set for himself.

      So why, he wondered, would a man who had accomplished everything he’d set out to do feel this…dissatisfaction? Why would he feel deep down that he was still, as his mystery caller had so succinctly put it, trailer trash. He worked longer hours, pushed himself to the absolute limit, yet that gratification, that feeling that he’d finally arrived, eluded him.

      He was sure this restaurant would be the key. If he ever finished it, that is. Each day dawned with a new problem to delay construction further. They were set to open on Labor Day, only two months away, and were already three weeks behind schedule. He had too much riding on this. While there was always the possibility a restaurant could fail, the odds were stacked against him this time.

      Chapel, Michigan, population ten thousand, wasn’t exactly known for its trendy night spots. Touchdown would either bring in patrons from surrounding areas and boost revenue for the city, or it would flop within the first year.

      It was a risk he was willing to take. A risk he had to take.

      Someone called his name, and he turned toward the voice, grinning when he spotted his best friend, Tyler Douglas, standing in the doorway. Ty cleared the space between them in two long strides and pulled Matt into a bear’s embrace, slapping him hard on the back. “Damn it’s good to see you. What’s it been, almost six months since I visited California?”

      “At least that.”

      “So how does it feel? Your first return home in what, eleven years?”

      “Things have changed a lot.” But not so much that he didn’t get the same feelings of inadequacy. The impression that when people looked at him, they would forever see his parents. In California, people saw a man who had everything he could possibly want.

      Honestly, he couldn’t decide who was more disillusioned.

      “I should have known you couldn’t sit around and watch without getting your hands dirty.” Ty spun in a slow circle. “They’ve come a long way since construction started.”

      “Thanks for keeping an eye on things for me. And I can’t thank you and your parents enough for selling me the property. I know it’s been in your family for a long time. Sitting right on Main Street, I couldn’t ask for a better location.”

      “Are you kidding? You’re part of the family.” Ty leaned against a stud that would eventually support the wall separating the dining area from the game room. “As a matter of