Harlequin Special Edition July 2021 - Box Set 2 of 2
Author: Christine Rimmer; Christy Jeffries; Carrie Nichols
Date: 2021-06-29 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Romance; Contemporary
Description: Harlequin Special Edition July 2021 – Box Set 2 of 2 Harlequin® Special Edition brings you three new titles for one great price, available now! These are heartwarming, romantic stories about life, love and family. This Special Edition box set includes: THE RANCHER'S SUMMER SECRET (A M ontana Mavericks: The Real Cowboys of Bronco Heights novel) by New York Times bestselling author Christine Rimmer Vanessa Cruise is spending her summer working in Bronco. Rekindling her short-term fling with the hottest rancher in town? Not on her to-do list. But the handsome rancher promises to keep their relati
Publisher: Harlequin

Harlequin Special Edition July 2021 Box Set 2 of 2

The Rancher’s Summer Secret

Not Their First Rodeo

The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

Christine Rimmer

Christy Jeffries

Carrie Nichols

Table of Contents

The Rancher’s Summer Secret
By Christine Rimmer

Not Their First Rodeo
By Christy Jeffries

The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog
By Carrie Nichols

MONTANA MAVERICKS

Welcome to Big Sky Country, home of the Montana Mavericks! Where free-spirited men and women discover love on the range.

THE REAL COWBOYS OF BRONCO HEIGHTS

The young people of Bronco are so busy
with their careers—and their ranches—that they have pushed all thoughts of love to the back burner. Elderly Winona Cobbs knows full well what it is like to live a life that is only half full. And she is determined to help them see the error of their ways...

Oh-so-handsome cowboy Jameson John knows he’s considered a “catch,” but he’s never wanted to be caught...until now. His one-night stand with Vanessa Cruise over the winter was meant to be no strings attached. Now, however, he’s mesmerized by brainy, beautiful Van, and she doesn’t want to change the rules!

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Bronco, Montana. It’s summertime, and here in Big Sky Country, we do the Fourth of July up right. It’s called Red, White and Bronco, and it’s a four-day festival celebrating Independence Day.

Born and raised in Bronco, high school science teacher Vanessa Cruise left town brokenhearted nine years ago. She’s returned now and then to visit her family, but she’s vowed to never again make Bronco her home. Yes, it’s true that this year she’s here for the whole summer, teaching summer-camp science to tweens and early teens. But come fall, she’s returning to Billings and the good life she’s made for herself there.

Rancher Jameson John is a Bronco man through and through. No way would he ever live anywhere else. In his younger years, Jameson was something of a player. And Van has a weakness for players—somehow, they always end up breaking her heart.

Well, not this time, Van promises herself. She’s powerfully attracted to Jameson, but no way will she allow herself to fall in love with him.

Jameson, however, is determined to convince his disaffected hometown girl to give love one more chance—with him. And on the second of July, at the Miss Bronco Beauty Pageant, something totally unexpected is about to happen, something that will give Jameson the romantic opportunity he’s been waiting for...

It’s a great year for love here in Bronco. I hope Jameson and Vanessa’s story tugs at your heartstrings and reminds you that love is stronger than all our fears and doubts.

Happy reading, everyone!

Christine Rimmer

The Rancher’s Summer Secret

Christine Rimmer

Christine Rimmer came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at christinerimmer.com.

Books by Christine Rimmer

Harlequin Special Edition

The Bravos of Valentine Bay

Almost a Bravo

Same Time, Next Christmas

Switched at Birth

A Husband She Couldn’t Forget

The Right Reason to Marry

Their Secret Summer Family

Home for the Baby’s Sake

A Temporary Christmas Arrangement

The Last One Home

Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers

Her Favorite Maverick

Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch

A Maverick to (Re)Marry

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

For MSR, always.

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 ONE

Last New Year’s Eve

Jameson John fully intended to ring in the New Year in style.

He wanted to hear some good music, play a little eight ball and, if the stars aligned, take someone sweet and willing home. To make all that happen, he’d jumped in his quad cab and headed straight for Wild Willa’s Saloon.

Perched on Center Street, with the entrance in Bronco Valley and the dance floor in tony Bronco Heights, Wild Willa’s was the most popular bar in Bronco, Montana. At Wild Willa’s, things got loud and rowdy pretty much every night. On New Year’s Eve, however, the fun reached a whole new level.

As midnight approached, the very air seemed charged with anticipation. The sound of boots stomping on hardwood competed with the wail of the fiddle, the beat of the drums and the driving rhythm from the bass guitar.

Tonight, every man wore his best boots and a snap-front dress shirt. Every woman had on her tightest jeans or her shortest flirty skirt. Many wore light-up, sequined cowboy hats. They blew party horns and shouted encouragements at the band. The place smelled of beer, perfume, saddle soap and sweat.

“Hey, cowboy, let’s dance.”

Jameson turned to the pretty blonde who’d just tapped him on the shoulder. She had lipstick on her straight white teeth and a woozy look in those big blue eyes. Like just about everyone else in Wild Willa’s tonight, she’d had one too many.

As for Jameson, in the two hours since he’d walked through the wide, rustic double doors, he’d had a whiskey, neat, and a single beer. He wanted to be sharp, on his best game, just in case he met someone interesting. So far, that hadn’t happened. It wouldn’t be happening with this cowgirl, either.

But the woozy blonde looked sweet and hopeful. He gave her a smile and led her out on the packed dance floor.

When the song ended, another cowboy stepped up. Jameson thanked the blonde and left the floor. He tried not to feel discouraged, but at this rate, he’d have nobody to kiss when the clock struck twelve. Maybe it just wasn’t his night.

With a shrug, he decided he needed a second whiskey and a seat at Wild Willa’s famous Get-Lucky Bar, which formed four loops of stools in a four leaf clover configuration.

Too bad every stool had an occupant. Jameson considered heading for the pool tables. He could order a drink there.

But then, in the split second before he turned for the tables, a guy at one end of the clover got up. Jameson moved in to claim the seat.

“Good luck, buddy,” muttered the other man as he went by. He looked kind of glum, like maybe he’d just been shut down.

Jameson slid onto the vacant stool, with the wall on one side and a curvy brunette on the other.

He signaled the nearest bartender and ordered, “Knob Creek, straight up.”

The brunette turned a pair of velvet brown eyes his way—and he almost felt sorry for that other guy. But then her wide, plump lips stretched in a devilish smile.

The rich, musical sound of her laughter had him forgetting all about that other guy. “Well, if it isn’t the one and only Jameson John.” She raised her glass as the bartender set his drink down. “Hot and handsome as ever, I see.”

Suddenly, his evening looked a whole lot more promising. Apparently, this gorgeous woman knew him. He studied her more closely.

She did look a little familiar. He raised his whiskey and tapped the glass to hers.

“Wait—don’t tell me,” he said. “I know that I know you...”

She laughed again, tossing her head, her thick, wavy hair tumbling down her back, gleaming like polished mahogany. He found himself staring at the smooth olive skin of her throat. “I’m Vanessa,” she said. “Vanessa Cruise.”

“Wow.” He never would have guessed. Tipping his hat to her, he said with frank admiration, “Evan Cruise’s little sister grew up.”

Vanessa had always been cute and smart, but somewhere along the line she’d turned into a beauty—the natural kind, in a silky white shirt and a pair of snug jeans that hugged every gorgeous, generous curve. She had that thick dark hair, those fine eyes to match and freckles, too. Everything about her appealed to him.

She shook a finger at him. “You are staring, Jameson John.”

“Sorry, can’t help it. I like your freckles.”

“Now, there’s an interesting compliment.”

“Freckles seem surprising, somehow, with your skin color.”

“It’s a fallacy that only redheads have them. You know that, right?”

He liked her voice—kind of low, husky. “Tell me more.”

She laughed. “It’s just a reaction to UV exposure. A result of the overproduction of melanin.”

“Well, I like them on you. If I remember correctly, everyone used to call you Van, right?”

“Van or Vanessa, either way.”

“Just checking. I really like Vanessa. It suits you better, somehow. Didn’t you move away?”

She gave a slow nod. “I live in Billings now.”

“A teacher, right?”

“You remembered.”

“English?”

“Science—chemistry and biology.”

“That’s right. Always a brainy one.”

“You’d better believe it.” Her thick, dark eyelashes swept down and up again.

“Home for the holidays, huh?”

She leaned closer. “It’s my last night in town. Tomorrow I head back to Billings.” Her shoulder brushed his arm, and his breath caught. She smelled sweet and fresh, like the roses his mother grew beside the steps of the main house out at the family ranch, the Double J.

“Vanessa.” He touched the brim of his hat, a salute meant to signal he held her in the highest regard. “You mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Go for it.”

“Got a guy in Billings—someone who can’t wait for you to come home?”

She sipped her drink. “Not now, I don’t.”

Something in her tone alerted him. “Did I just hit a nerve? I didn’t mean to—”

“Not your fault.” She waved his apology away with a shapely hand, the nails cut short, businesslike. No-nonsense. Her full, tempting breasts rose and fell as she sighed. “I confess. There was someone, yes. I was trying, you know?”

“I don’t quite follow. Trying to...?”

“What can I tell you? This someone I just mentioned wasn’t my type, but my type kept messing me over. I go for the players and that never goes well. Trevor—that’s his name—was no player. I met him at a science fair. He was so nice. Nerdy and shy, you know? I felt zero chemistry with him. But chemistry isn’t everything, am I right?”

He stifled a chuckle. “Vanessa, I’m not touching that with a ten-foot cattle prod.”

She let out another soft sigh. “I thought I could draw him out, get him to relax and have fun. I thought that he would be true to me and I would slowly come to care for him deeply, to be grateful for his steady ways.”

“I have to say it. Trevor sounds dead boring—and let me guess. You finally had to face the fact that Trevor wasn’t the guy for you?”

She seemed faintly amused. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Just before I came home for Christmas, Trevor dumped me.”

He couldn’t believe it. “No way.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Trevor is a damn fool.”

She leaned close again. The scent of roses beckoned him as she whispered, “He said he couldn’t be with me anymore because he didn’t find me sexually attractive.”

Jameson knew he must have heard wrong. “What man with a pulse wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

She grinned. “Yeah, well. You win some, you lose some, I guess.”

From over by the pool tables, some guy let out a whoop and someone else whistled. Applause followed. The band struck up another song, this one loud and fast.

When the noise died down a little, she asked, “You here with a date?”

“Nope. Just having a drink with a fascinating woman.”

She studied his face for a long count of five before declaring, “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”

He sat up a little straighter. “No, I am not. Trevor blew it, and I’m grateful to that clown. Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here next to me on New Year’s Eve.”

Slowly, she turned her glass on its Wild Willa’s coaster, the one that showed a sexy cowgirl in a short skirt riding a bucking bronc and waving her red hat above her head.

“What?” he asked low. “Say it.”

“You are bad,” she observed. “So. Very. Bad—and I like that about you far too much.”

“Being bad is good, then?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh yes, it is. In the context of this moment, of you and me side by side on New Year’s Eve at the Get-Lucky Bar, being bad is very, very good.”

As the band struck up another fast one, they gazed at each other, eye to eye. Time passed, but neither of them looked away. He saw no reason to speak. He could just sit here beside her, staring into those sultry eyes of hers until next year came around.

Except he really did like the sound of her voice, especially when she kept those eyes on him and spoke to him alone.

He asked about her family.

And she brought him up to speed on the Cruises. Her brother, Evan, owner and operator of Bronco Ghost Tours, had just gotten engaged earlier that night to Daphne Taylor, estranged daughter of the richest rancher in the county. Vanessa’s mother had a boyfriend now, and Vanessa’s grandmother Dorothea, whom the Cruise family called Grandma Daisy, had recently found out that her mother was not her birth mother.

“That is some big news,” he observed.

“And there’s more.”

He couldn’t wait another second to touch her. Prepared to apologize profusely if she slapped his hand away, he guided a thick curl of hair behind the perfect shell of her ear. She didn’t object. Instead, a tiny smile pulled at one corner of that mouth he hoped he might get to kiss when midnight rolled around.

“Tell me everything,” he commanded.

“Well, I’ll tell you this. Grandma Daisy’s birth mother—my great-grandmother—is the Winona Cobbs.”

“Wait. You mean Winona Cobbs who wrote the famous ‘Wisdom by Winona’ syndicated column?” He used to read that column every week. Winona Cobbs gave good advice.

“The one and only.”

“Lots going on with you Cruises.” Things never got that exciting on the Double J.

Lowering her voice and leaning closer to him once more, Vanessa confessed, “I feel a little bit guilty. I ran out on tonight’s family New Year’s Eve party at Daphne’s Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary.” Daphne Taylor was somewhat famous locally—not only for being the only daughter of cattle baron Cornelius Taylor, but also for not eating meat in the middle of cow country and for her rescue farm, where she took in every broke-down horse and runaway goat that wandered by.

“Please don’t get me wrong,” said Vanessa. “I’m glad Daphne and Evan found each other. And my mother, who’s in love with her boss, is happier than she’s ever been before.”

“But?”

“It’s just that seeing the people I love all cozily coupled up only makes me more depressed about my own romantic future—plus, well, the family doesn’t exactly know that it all blew up with Trevor.”

He pretended to look stern. “Holding out on the family. That’s just not right.”

“Maybe not.” She drew her shoulders back. “But I don’t feel up to dealing with their loving concern at the moment, if you know what I mean.” She looked sad.

And he felt bad for teasing her. “I was just yanking your chain. Honestly, I hear you. Sometimes the people you love are the last ones you want in your business.”

She braced her elbow on the bar and propped her pretty chin on the heel of her hand. “Thank you.” She seemed to mean it.

He nodded in acknowledgment. “And I want you to know that your secret is safe with me.”

“Good.” Her expression changed, and he had no idea what she might be thinking as she warned, “And you’d better watch out.”

“Why is that?”

A slow grin curved that mouth, which was so damn inviting it probably ought to come with a warning. “I’m in a mood to forget all my troubles, and I have a weakness for players like you.”

Wait, he thought. Players?

He was no player—yeah, okay, maybe he’d come here tonight in hopes of meeting someone like her. And maybe, back in the day, he’d dated a lot of different women.

But since then, he’d grown up. He’d been married and divorced. He was older and wiser now, a man who’d learned enough about what mattered in life to want more from a woman than a one-night stand.

However...

Apparently, Vanessa Cruise liked players. He didn’t want to mess with the program if she might be considering making his night.

“Vanessa, Vanessa,” he chanted under his breath.

“Hmm?”

“You’re so direct.”

She frowned. “Is it too much?”

“I like it.”

Her frown smoothed out. She signaled the bartender.

How many had she had? It mattered. No self-respecting man took advantage of a woman under the influence.

The bartender stepped close. Vanessa said, “Another club soda with lemon.” Jameson felt relief—and Vanessa must have seen something in his face. “What?”

“You’re not drinking.”

She gave him a half shrug. “I’m my own designated driver—and if I do get lucky here at the Get-Lucky Bar, I don’t want my senses dulled by alcohol. I want to be wide-awake and fully functional when things get thrilling, you hear what I’m saying?”

Did he ever.

She nodded her thanks at the bartender as he set her club soda in front of her. After that, she stared down into the drink for a second too long.

“Hey,” he said gently, and brushed a hand down her arm. “Where’d you go?”

Her soft shoulders slumped as she blew out a breath. “Just tell me the truth. Am I ridiculous?”

“Hell, no.” He said it with feeling. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

She looked at him sideways, kind of pooching out her lower lip, looking a little bit pouty and so damn cute. “It’s hard on the ego, being dumped for a complete lack of sex appeal.”

Jameson felt nothing but outrage on her behalf. “Don’t talk like that. Your ex was the one with the problem.”

“As in, it’s not me, it’s him?”

He stuck to his guns. “That’s right. You’re way too much woman for Trevor.”

She sipped her drink. “Just hypothetically...”

“Hypothetically, what?”

“Well, say we went home together...”

“I’m liking the sound of this.”

She bit the corner of her ripe lower lip before asking sheepishly, “Would you tell me if I was bad in bed?”

Where the hell did that Trevor guy get off, making her doubt her desirability? Mr. Nice Guy was nothing but a jerk. “It’s not an issue. You aren’t bad in bed.”

“Jameson. Get real. You have no way of knowing that.”

They were leaning into each other again, close enough that his sleeve touched hers. It was a simple matter to lean in the necessary fraction closer.

Their lips met.

Her mouth was even softer than it looked, and the scent of her was driving him a little bit crazy. He kissed her slowly, his body heating with sexual need, though he exercised care not to take it too deep. “That proves it,” he whispered, his lips still brushing hers. “You are amazing in bed.”

Her slow-blooming smile foreshadowed really good things. “Tell me you live alone.”

“I’ll go you one better. I’ll show you.” He signaled the bartender for the check.

* * *

Van’s butterflies had butterflies as Jameson settled the bill, helped her into her fleece-lined coat and led her outside, where a light snow was falling.

Wrapping a strong arm across her shoulders, he pulled her in close to him. “Ride with me.”

No way. Tonight would be her first—and most likely only—one-night stand. She intended to do it right. And that meant sober, with her own vehicle to get her there and, when the night was over, back to her brother’s house, where she was staying alone while Evan stayed at Daphne’s.

“I’ve got snow tires on my SUV,” she said. “I’ll follow you.”

Jameson didn’t argue. He walked her to her Subaru, opened her door for her and closed it with care. She watched as he jogged through the thin layer of snow to a black quad cab. Starting her engine, she waited for him to take the lead.

He led her out of the parking lot and down Center Street to the intersection with the state highway, where dirty snow had piled up on the shoulder, but the road itself was clear. The snow came down sparsely, not really sticking.

After maybe ten miles, he took a side road. A few minutes later, they turned onto a wide, well-tended gravel driveway and passed under a rough-hewn sign for the John family ranch, the Double J. In the distance, she could make out the shadows of barns and outbuildings and a big log house. Jameson led her past the turnoff to that house.

The long driveway curved up the gentle slope of a hill and then down to another house, one not quite as large as the log home they’d passed earlier. Of gorgeous, weathered wood and stone, the house had lots of windows and a more modern style than the usual sprawling log homes that most of the wealthy local ranchers favored.

Two of the four garage doors rumbled up and Jameson drove in the first stall, jumping out and signaling her to take the next stall over.

She rolled down her window. “I’ll just park out here.” When it came time to leave, she wanted a clean getaway, one that did not include asking him to please shut the garage door behind her.

He went in through the garage, and she parked in the driveway, meeting him at the front door.

Inside, he took her coat and hung it in the entry closet. “Drink?” he asked, leading her down a wide hallway with a skylight overhead. The hallway opened onto a sprawling, gorgeous combination kitchen and great room. The kitchen end had a stone floor, counters of black granite and warm wood, the appliances the kind any top chef might envy. A wall of windows looked out on the dark, shadowed peaks of the mountains in the distance.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” she said, setting her leather shoulder bag on one of the stools at the granite island.

He pulled her over to the rough-hewn trestle table and moved in close. Really, he was such a gorgeous man. She’d always admired his thick, dark gold hair and celestial blue eyes. He smelled so good, like saddle soap and clean leather—a healthy male in his prime, the kind that lured a woman to mate.

And that reminded her. “I’m on the pill,” she announced, “and really hoping that you have condoms.”

Had that come out sounding painfully abrupt? Maybe. But it had to be said. A woman needed to take responsibility for her safety and reproductive health. No surprise pregnancies—and no STDs, either.

“Yes, I do.” He took her hand. His was warm and thrillingly rough from ranch work. Her heart skipped a beat with anticipation. “This way,” he said in a low rumble.

He led her out of the kitchen area to the open great room, which had a high, peaked ceiling and more gorgeous skylights. Large, comfortable-looking sofas and chairs formed two conversation groups on either side of the plain, modern fireplace.

Across from the fireplace, a staircase with metal railings led down to other rooms below.

“This way.” He led her along the short hallway next to the staircase, where a door opened on the master suite, with its own large bathroom and private deck. The room had a peaked ceiling, too. It was all warm, rough-textured woods, the linens in soothing, soft grays.

She hesitated at the door. He stopped and turned to her.

Before he could wrap her in those big arms, she stepped back. “I have something I need to say.”

He lifted a hand and touched the side of her face. The simple caress thrilled her, sent a tingle rushing through her just from that small, brushing contact. “Tell me, then.”

She suddenly felt awkward and silly and...too young. But she said her piece anyway. “I just need to lay out the ground rules, so we both know where we stand.”

One side of his sinfully sexy mouth quirked up in amusement. “There are ground rules?”

She gave him a firm nod. “Yes, there are. This, tonight, is a special circumstance.”

“Very special,” he agreed, those beautiful eyes gleaming at her, promising all manner of heavenly delights.

“Well, that may be. But I meant special as in a onetime deal. Tomorrow, I head home to Billings.”

“You mentioned that already.”

“And it bears repeating. I live in Billings, and your life is here. And in future, when I come back again to visit my family and you and I happen to see each other somehow in passing, we will not stop. We will not give each other more than a nod and a simple hello. We will never discuss what happened here tonight. No digits will be exchanged. Neither of us will try to contact the other. This is ‘The Night That Never Happened’—” Yes, she actually air-quoted it for emphasis. “—and we need to agree that it is.”

His burnished eyebrows drew together in a doubtful sort of frown.

She barreled on. “Which, er, won’t be a problem for you because you don’t do relationships.”

“Vanessa, I never said—”

“Wait.” She put up a hand. “I won’t get in touch again because that would make you think I want a relationship, which I don’t. As for you, well, you won’t contact me because, um, you’re Jameson John and you don’t do commitment.”

His frown had deepened. “Hey, now. Hold on a minute. I do plan to have a relationship that lasts. I want a family, children.”

“Sure you do,” she teased. “Someday, right?”

“That’s not fair.” He really seemed troubled, somehow, by this subject.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “Sometimes I get a little carried away trying to make a point. I didn’t mean to insult you, Jameson.”

“You didn’t. It’s just, well, yeah. Maybe I was that guy you’re describing. But I’m not anymore. You like players and, back at Wild Willa’s, I wanted to be whatever you needed tonight. But I’m not that guy, Vanessa, not the thoughtless boy you remember from high school. I’ve been married and divorced. I’m settled down now, a grown-ass man. I’m ready for something more than just one night.”

Her heart kind of melted—but come on. She’d just been dumped. A new relationship wasn’t even on the table right now and she needed to make that crystal clear. She gazed up at him defiantly. “Well, I’m not ready for anything but tonight.”

He stared down at her long and hard. Was this it, then? Would he walk her back out to her car and say good-night? She braced herself for that.

But then he shook his head. “I do want you, Vanessa. A lot. And if tonight is all I’m getting, so be it.”

She drilled her point home. “After this, there will be no contact. You and me, we won’t be happening again.”

He caught her hand and pulled her close. “Fair enough.”

“Jameson,” she whispered, pressing her palms to his hard chest as his mouth touched hers.

Oh, he was perfect. Exactly what she needed. This beautiful man to ring in a whole new year, to make her feel gorgeous and wanted for one perfect night. She slid her hungry hands up to encircle his neck.

When he lifted his head, she opened her eyes. They gazed at each other. “Agreed?” she asked again.

His eyes spoke of reluctance to go along with her terms. She shouldn’t allow herself to feel thrilled at the idea that he might hope for more. Yet she did feel thrilled. Just a little.

Finally, he acquiesced. “I agree. Tonight and that’s all.”

Gathering her close again, he shut the door to the hallway with the heel of his boot.

* * *

Much later, when Vanessa woke beside Jameson in his big, comfy bed, it was still dark out. The bedside clock showed ten past three.

A whole new year had begun—and boy, did Jameson John know how to give a girl a really good time. For several dreamy seconds, Van stared at him through the shadows. He lay on his back, sound asleep. Looking at his chiseled profile, she could almost wish that she didn’t have to go.

But they had an agreement. And she intended to keep it.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid out from under the thick down comforter and tiptoed around the room gathering up her clothes. In the bathroom, she dressed and finger-combed her tangled hair.

Then, carrying her boots in order not to make a sound, she crept along the short hallway and across the great room to get her purse from where she’d left it on the kitchen stool.

Her contacts were extended wear, but still her eyes felt gritty and tired. She switched to her glasses—the ones with the large, black frames.

At the bottom of her bag, she found the small notebook and a blue Flair pen she always carried with her. Tearing out a page, she wrote a brief note.

Leaving the note on the island, she headed for the entry, where she paused long enough to put on her warm coat. The front door opened silently on well-oiled hinges when she carefully pulled it wide.

Outside, the sky had cleared, and a light rime of snow made the ground glitter as though scattered with tiny diamonds. She paused on the step to breathe in the fresh, icy air.

And then, with a secret smile on her face and a lightness in her step, she turned for her Subaru.

* * *

Jameson woke alone to pale sunlight—a clear winter morning.

When he reached out a hand, the other side of the bed felt cold to the touch. He stared up through the skylight at the pale, cloudless sky and hated that Vanessa had already left him.

Rising, he pulled on last night’s jeans and went out to the kitchen area to brew some coffee. He found her note waiting on the counter.

Jameson,

I just want to say that you are incredible. Thank you for a perfect New Year’s.

Yours,

Vanessa

Two sentences bracketed with his name and hers.

That’s all he got.

As he crumpled the scrap of paper in his fist, he weighed the pros and cons of breaking her damn rules—right now, today. She wouldn’t have left town yet. He could probably track her down at Evan’s house or her mother’s place on the Bronco Valley side of town.

But he’d given his word not to go after her. He’d promised to walk on by any time he happened to see her again. Plus, she lived in Billings, while he loved Bronco and the Double J. He never planned to live anywhere else.

Beyond all that, maybe she was right. She’d insisted she wasn’t in the market for a relationship. And the last thing he needed was to fall for another woman who couldn’t honestly, openly give him her heart—even a woman as surprising and sexy and smart and charming as Vanessa Cruise.

Jameson drank his coffee, fried bacon and scrambled some eggs. After breakfast, he went out to meet his brothers, Maddox and Dawson. Together, they rounded up some frisky heifers who’d busted through a fence and wandered out onto the state highway. That evening, he had dinner with the family at the main house.

And New Year’s night, in bed alone, he stared up into the darkness and tried to picture Vanessa at home in Billings, lying in her own bed, maybe smiling a little, remembering the night before. Faintly, he smelled roses. He grabbed her pillow and pressed it to his face. Breathing in the scent of her like some sappy lovesick fool, he reconsidered the idea of going after her.

But he did no such thing. She didn’t want to see him again and he’d given her his word he wouldn’t track her down. Jameson John always kept his word.

Eventually, he promised himself, the desire to go after her would fade.

CHAPTER TWO

Present day

The Night That Never Happened turned out to have a day of reckoning, and that day was July 2.

By then, due to her inability to say no to Daphne, Vanessa had been in town for a month. Her brother’s fiancée had mad skills when it came to coaxing people to do things they would ordinarily have no trouble politely turning down. Things like spending the summer in the hometown Van never visited for longer than a week or two at a stretch. Somehow, Daphne had convinced her that she needed to teach science to tweens and early teens out at Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary.

Daphne’s day camp, Young Adventurers, kept a lot of kids busy in the summer while their parents worked. In the mornings, Young Adventurers offered a fun and absorbing curriculum, an opportunity to learn cool stuff about chemistry, math, technology and biology. After lunch, the younger kids could pet the animals and learn about animal behavior while the older ones pitched in on the farm. They all seemed to love summer day camp at Happy Hearts.

And truth to tell, Van loved it, too. She loved it enough that she might not even have minded spending a whole summer in the town she’d left behind—except for the niggling little issue of a guy called Jameson John.

Every day for the past month, Van had wondered and worried, dreaded and anticipated the moment when she would finally come face-to-face with Jameson again.

Yet somehow, one day had followed another and she’d seen no sign of him. She’d even started imagining that she never would.

Wrong.

That gorgeous, sunny, early July day just happened to be the opening day of Red, White and Bronco—because in Bronco, people took their patriotism seriously. Every year, the town leaders and merchants pooled their resources to put on a four-day festival in celebration of Independence Day.

Van and Callie Sheldrick, Van’s summer roommate, had arrived at Bronco Park early to make sure they got a picnic table. A down-to-earth sort of person, both perceptive and warmhearted, Callie worked for Evan at Bronco Ghost Tours. She and Van had quickly become BFFs. In fact, during a girls’ night, just the two of them, a month ago, Van had shared her hardest secrets with Callie.

Today, Bronco Park looked nothing short of festive, with red, white and blue paper cloths on the tables, Old Glory waving from every tree and a whole marketplace of booths selling fireworks and patriotic hats, horns, dishware and souvenirs—along with just about every kind of picnic food and drink known to man. The smells of barbecue, popcorn and cotton candy filled the air.

Maybe twenty minutes after Van and Callie claimed their table, Evan and Daphne joined them, followed by three bright young girls who attended Vanessa’s morning workshops at Young Adventurers. More girls arrived—too many to fit at the table. But one of the girls had brought a blanket. They spread it out between the tables and sat on the grass.

Red, white and blue bunting graced the front of the outdoor stage set up in full view of all the picnic tables. The festival committee had also put out rows of white folding chairs so that everyone would have a place to sit and enjoy today’s main event—the Miss Bronco beauty pageant, held every year on the second of July, right here in Bronco Park.

This year, the contest had sparked controversy, thanks to several of Van’s students at Young Adventurers—the ones sitting at the table with her and nearby on the grass, as a matter of fact. The girls had spearheaded a successful campaign to rewrite the pageant rules. Some people weren’t happy with the changes.

Van thought it was great, and she’d shown up today to support her girls. She’d always made it a point to encourage her pupils to think outside the box. She urged them to transform what they found unfair or even downright wrong about their world and the way it was run. To that end, at Young Adventurers, she held discussion time each morning before everyone got down to work on current projects.

Back in early June, during discussion time, one of the girls had brought up the Miss Bronco pageant. She’d complained that girls from the same families almost always seemed to win, and that didn’t seem fair. A lively chat ensued.

And after that, the girls had done more than talk. They’d created a petition to change the rules and then gone door to door collecting the signatures to make that happen.

Van beamed with pride as the pageant began and Earl Tillson, this year’s host, kicked things off by explaining the new contest rules.

“This year,” announced Earl, “Miss Bronco will be chosen not by the usual panel of pillars of our community, but by an open vote to be held right here, today, as soon as the competition is concluded. Anyone in town can cast a vote as long as they fill out a ballot. Also this year, as a nod to all the single ladies you admire and want to recognize, you’ll find a space on your ballot for a write-in. Any and all unmarried females sixteen years of age or older are eligible.”

“Sixteen years or older?” A skinny cowboy in a purple shirt jumped up from one of the picnic tables. “How much older?”

“Well,” replied Earl, “she would need to still be breathin’, I’ll tell you that.” A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.

That same cowboy argued, “That means any woman, no matter how old, can enter—long as she ain’t got a ring on her finger.”

“Young man,” growled Earl, “that is exactly what it means. As long as any single female person is sixteen, which we all agree is old enough to carry out the duties of the position, that person is welcome to claim her chance at the crown.”

“Well, that is plain wrong, Earl Tillson. We’ll end up with somebody’s single grandma wearing the sash and crown.”

Thirteen-year-old Cleo Davidson, one of Vanessa’s brightest summer students and an organizer in the campaign to make the Miss Bronco contest less biased and more inclusive, put her hands to either side of her mouth and shouted, “It is fair, and it is right!” Several spectators, including the girls seated around Van, cheered in support.

The cowboy bellowed, “No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is!” Cleo shouted back. “Your grandma should have the right to enter.”

“Like hell she should!” yelled the cowboy. “Some old lady can’t be Miss Bronco. It’s a beauty pageant. I love my grandma, but she’s no Miss Bronco.”

Snickers and titters followed that pronouncement.

“Young man, curb your tongue!” Earl, who did a brisk side business as an auctioneer at local livestock shows and estate sales, knew how to take control of an iffy situation. He stared that cowboy down.

Muttering under his breath and shaking his head, the cowboy sank back to his seat.

“Now. Where was I?” Earl straightened his bolo tie. “Ahem. There will be no swimsuit competition.” That brought some serious booing. Earl waited for the yahoos to take a breath before shouting out, “The categories of competition are talent, evening wear, an interview centering around the contestants’ dreams and goals—and a platform for a social cause that has special meaning for each candidate.”

Van felt so proud. Her girls had done well. She beamed at the three across the table from her and turned to give a big thumbs-up to the five sitting on the grass.

And it was right then, as she shifted her focus to the girls on the blanket, that the moment of reckoning found her.

She spotted Jameson. He sat at a picnic table on the other side of the rows of folding chairs. At the table with him, she recognized his dad, his mom and his two younger brothers.

Her mouth went dry, and her face felt too hot. She couldn’t stop herself from drinking in the sight of him. He looked so good, all strong and broad and big and manly.

It seemed almost impossible that she’d actually seen him naked. But she had. And their night together had been beautiful. Perfect. Spectacular.

Yeah. All those things and then some.

But what she needed to remember, the most important thing now...

That night was Over. Capital O.

Just one night, she reminded herself. One night, months ago. Little more than a blip on the radar of eternity. The mere sight of him shouldn’t affect her so strongly.

She was supposed to be over him—no. Wait. She had no need to get over him. There was nothing to get over. They’d had a good time and gone their separate ways.

Except, well...

For her, their one night had been the best night ever.

The sheer sexual excellence of it couldn’t quite be forgotten. Her body remembered and wanted more.

And that meant that her face had flushed with heat and her mind had gone blank as a fresh-washed chalkboard. All of a sudden, a hive full of bees seemed to buzz beneath the surface of her skin.

And he’d spotted her, too.

Their gazes collided—and locked. They stared at each other across the rows of spectators as Earl Tillson droned on up on the stage. Everyone else—Callie, Evan, Daphne, the girls—they all just faded away. Her brain had only one thing in it: a tall, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, golden-haired cowboy.

He gave her that slow smile, and she felt summoned.

She had to actively resist the desire to rise from the picnic bench and go to him, take his hand, lead him away from the crowd to someplace private where they could get up close and very personal all over again.

Not that she would do any such thing.

Uh-uh. Van stayed right there at the picnic table next to Callie.

It was just, well, she’d daydreamed about him way too often—about him and The Night That Never Happened—so much so, in fact, that she’d come to think of that night simply by its initials: TNTNH.

Van shut her eyes. Closing out the very sight of him, she ordered the bees to stop buzzing and her face to stop burning. With a slow, deep breath, she made herself look at him again. With a dignified nod and a reserved little smile, she turned away.

“So you’ve met Jameson?” said a soft voice in her ear.

She turned to aim a bright smile at Callie, who was watching her much too closely. “I did grow up here,” she reminded her friend, who had no idea what Van had been up to last New Year’s Eve. She and Callie hadn’t been that close back then. And now, well, what did it matter? Yeah, she’d shared her hardest secrets with Callie, but Jameson?

He was a good memory, a happy secret. She didn’t need to cry on her friend’s shoulder over him. Plus, Jameson was one night and nothing more.

“Of course I’ve met him,” she said to Callie. “Everybody in town knows Jameson John.”

Was that a smirk on Callie’s face?

If so, Vanessa refused to acknowledge it.

* * *

When the slender, pretty blonde stepped forward from the pack of ten contestants up on the stage, Jameson tore his gaze from the hot brunette across the way. After all, that pretty blonde was his baby sister. Her name was Charity. Along with his brothers and his parents and a lot of other people in the park that day, Jameson clapped and cheered wildly as Earl introduced her.

Charity looked beautiful, as always, in a pretty summer dress, her shining hair loose on her shoulders. Jameson had shown up with the rest of the family to support her in her current bid for the Miss Bronco crown. They all knew she had it nailed this year.

Nineteen now, Charity had been working toward the Miss Bronco title every year since she turned sixteen. Each of those years she’d come closer to winning. She’d taken, respectively, fourth place, third place and runner-up. This year would bring her the crown.

She smiled her brilliant smile and gave a short speech about how she loved her hometown, had graduated with honors from Bronco High and had finished her first year at Valley College. The John family and her other supporters clapped louder than ever when Earl thanked her and she stepped back for the next contestant to take her turn.

As for Jameson, his gaze strayed once more to the unforgettable brunette at the table on the opposite side of the stage. The sight of her had decided him. He might have come today to support his sister, but now he had a second goal—finding an opportunity to reconnect with Vanessa.

Word traveled fast in Bronco. He’d known for a month that she’d moved to town for the summer. Within a week, he’d found out that she was rooming with Callie Sheldrick. He’d ached to head straight for Callie’s place. He wanted to get up close and personal, to intimately welcome Vanessa back to town. He hungered to find out if the sparks between them burned as bright and hot as they had last New Year’s Eve.

But he’d stopped himself from going after her. He’d reminded himself that he’d given his word not to seek her out, that he needed to stick with the promise he’d made New Year’s Eve.

However, seeing her again in the flesh changed everything. To hell with her rules. He wanted to get closer to her.

And one way or another, he would.

For the next hour, he tried his damnedest to sit tight with his family, to keep his mind on the pageant. He got through the interviews, snapping to attention when his sister stepped up. Charity spoke of her dreams and goals with warmth and feeling. She went first in the talent portion and stole the show. Charity played the piano like a virtuoso and she sang like Carrie Underwood—kind of looked like her, too.

Yeah, he might be a tad prejudiced in his little sister’s favor, but objectively, everyone could see that she deserved the crown. People clapped louder and with greater enthusiasm for her than the other nine contestants. Even with the new rules in place, Jameson knew she would win.

As he cheered his sister on, he kept one eye on the woman across the way. He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment. Eventually, Vanessa would get up to say hi to a friend at another table, maybe check out the rows of marketplace booths, buy herself a cold drink or some patriotic trinket. When she did, he would make his move and find a way to get a few words with her.

An hour and a half crawled by after that exhilarating moment when he’d looked over and spotted her sitting with her brother and the others. Now and then, he would slide her a glance, kind of keeping an eye on her. Once or twice, he caught her looking his way.

But she didn’t hold his gaze. And that one measly, cool little smile she’d given him that first time their eyes locked together, well, that was all the smiles he got.

One way or another, he intended to get more.

Finally, she made her move, rising from the table, hovering there a minute to say something to Callie. And then she took off, headed for the two rows of marketplace booths set up facing each other farther into the park, on her side of the stage.

In order not to be too obvious, he waited until she’d made it forty yards or so from her table, before whispering to his brother Maddox, “Be right back,” and setting out after her.

Up on the stage, wearing a determined expression and dressed in a sequined bodysuit, Hermione Sanchez tap-danced to “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy” as Jameson circled around the last row of folding chairs. By the time he made it beyond the far group of picnic tables, Vanessa had disappeared from his line of sight. He walked faster until he entered the marketplace area, after which he slowed a little to check out each booth as he passed it.

Where the hell had she wandered off to?

Not that it mattered. If it took him all afternoon, he would find her. He’d made up his mind to get a word with her, and he wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted.

* * *

Pie.

Van loved it. And she needed it. Jameson had started to get under her skin, the way he kept glancing over at her—the way she couldn’t seem to make herself stop glancing back. He was a blue-eyed devil and her hopelessly hungry libido required a serious distraction from the temptation he posed.

If you asked Van, no finer distraction existed in the material world than pie.

She followed her nose to the booth where the Bronco Ladies Auxiliary sold just about every sort of baked treat known to man. One of the Abernathy ladies, Angela, gave her a tiny sample slice of cherry pie to help her choose between it and the apple raspberry.

Van got right to work on that sample, groaning aloud at the sweet, tangy taste and the perfectly flaky crust. “So good...”

“One of those Dalton boys baked it,” said Angela with a big grin. “He brought us six of them. We cut one up for samples, and four have sold already. We’ve only got one left.”

“I want it.”

“Twelve dollars,” Angela smiled at her tauntingly.

“A bargain at the price.”

Angela beamed. “Vanessa, it is yours.” She started folding a pink bakery box as Van tried to make the sample last.

“Looks good,” said the smooth, deep voice that haunted far too many of her dreams. It came from right behind her.

Carefully, she swallowed her bite of pie before slowly turning to face him. The sight of him so close kind of weakened her knees. In new jeans and a crisp black shirt, he looked yummier than her sliver of pie. “Jameson.” Somehow, she kept her voice casual, friendly—but not too friendly. “How’ve you been?”

“Can’t complain.” He leaned in a little. She got a whiff of soap and leather, and she wanted to reach out and yank him in close just to smell him better. And then he smiled. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Today, she wore the ones with the big tortoiseshell frames. Nervously, she adjusted them. “Sometimes it’s just easier than contacts, you know? Not to mention more comfortable.”

“I get that. You look good in them.”

Too bad she felt so awkward and so completely unprepared to deal with him. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’m thinking you look good in whatever you wear.” He was still smiling.

And she couldn’t stop herself from smiling right back—a real smile this time. He had that look in his eye, that teasing, tempting look she remembered with such pleasure from TNTNH, like she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’ve got a dab of cherry filling,” he said low, for her ears alone. And then, right there in front of God and everyone, he lifted a lean, tanned hand dusted with gleaming gold hairs and rubbed his thumb at the corner of her lower lip. Tingles shivered along every nerve ending she possessed.

Oh, she really shouldn’t have let him do that.

And it got worse. He brought that thumb to his beautiful mouth and gave it a lick. Something low in her belly went liquid. Was Angela Abernathy watching?

Somehow, at this point, Van couldn’t bring herself to care.

She stared at his mouth, admiring his close-trimmed dark gold beard and mustache—a Vandyke, they called it. Like Custer at the Little Big Horn, like David Beckham and Viggo Mortensen. A Vandyke only looked good on a certain type of man.

The rugged, confident type.

“There’s a pie contest on the Fourth,” he said in a low, lazy drawl.

“I remember the pie contest.” She dropped her used paper plate and plastic fork into the trash basket by the pie table. “It’s held right here in Bronco Park at the town barbecue, am I right?” She might not live here anymore, but she knew her Red, White and Bronco events as well as any Bronco native. She sent a glance over her shoulder at Angela, just to see if the older woman had her eye on them. She didn’t. Angela had already packed up Van’s pie and moved on to filling a box with cookies for a good-looking fortyish woman Van didn’t recognize.

“Are you planning on baking a pie to enter in the contest?” asked Jameson.

She faced him again. Had he moved in even closer—or was that merely wishful thinking on her part? “I don’t bake, but I promise you, I will be eating.”

He gave her a slow once-over, sending more tingles spreading through her traitorous body. Some men made her uncomfortable when they looked her up and down. Not Jameson. He just made her yearn.

“A girl who likes her pie,” he said quietly.

“I’ll take that is a compliment.”

“Good. It was meant as one.”

“As I recall, Miss Bronco always judges the pie contest,” she said. At his nod, she added, “I’m betting on Charity to take the crown. She’s talented and so pretty—and she has a way with words, too.”

His eyes gleamed with pride as he said mildly, “I think she’s doing well. And she’s got her heart set on it, that’s for sure.”

“Tell her we’re all rooting for her.”

“That I will...” His voice wandered off into silence. He stared at her, and she stared back. Nobody else existed right then. She knew she should break the sudden spell that mutual attraction and scorching-hot memories had conjured between them.

But it just felt so good, standing there in dappled sunlight, the smell of pie on the air, staring at this beautiful man and almost wishing—

“Here you go, Vanessa.” Angela Abernathy cut off Van’s dangerous thoughts. She held out a pink bakery box. The cherry pie sat inside it. “How’s it look?”

“Too delicious for words.”

Angela tucked in the lid. “That’s twelve dollars even.”

Van traded her the money for the box. “Thanks.”

“You are so welcome, dear.”

“Hey, aren’t you Vanessa Cruise, the one who teaches the summer camp kids out at Daphne Taylor’s animal sanctuary?” The good-looking fortyish woman Van had noticed talking to Angela a moment ago moved closer just as Angela stepped away to wait on another customer. The woman had another pink bakery box in her hands.

“I’m Vanessa, yes.”

“Lurline DuBois.” The woman shifted the bakery box to her left hand and offered her right. Van gave it a shake. “I’m just off my second divorce and ready for a fresh start, if you take my meaning.” Lurline slanted a smirk at Jameson. “How ’bout you, handsome? Got a name?”

Van introduced them. “Lurline, this is Jameson John.”

Jameson, looking wary now, accepted the woman’s hand and let go of it quickly. Lurline gave a loud laugh. “My, my. They do grow you boys up tall and strong here in Montana.”

Was she making a move on Jameson?

For a moment, it looked that way—but then she surprised Van and turned to her again. “I heard about your students, how they got the Miss Bronco rules changed.”

“Yes, they did.” Van spoke with pride.

“I love that. I mean, why are beauty queens always barely more than babies? A real woman ought to toss her hat in the ring, show ’em how it should be done. I’m thinking next summer, I might just enter the contest myself.” Lurline’s eyes twinkled as she tossed her crow-black hair. “That is, if I’m still single.”

“Go for it, Lurline.” Van patted her shoulder—and remembered that cowboy in the purple shirt. He just might have a coronary if Lurline entered next year. So be it. Van’s Young Adventurers hadn’t fought for change so that everything could stay the same.

“Catch you two later.” With a flirty smile and a jaunty wave, Lurline moved along, leaving the two of them staring after her.

“Lurline’s a pistol,” Jameson remarked wryly.

Van met his gaze. They both started laughing.

When the mirth faded to silence and they were left gazing too long into each other’s eyes, he took her arm. She allowed him to pull her out of the Ladies Auxiliary booth, and into a space between that booth and the next one.

Carefully, she eased her arm free of his hold. “I should go.”

“Wait.” He had such gorgeous eyes, so clear, so vivid. So impossibly blue. Those eyes held her captive to memories she shouldn’t allow herself—memories of his rough palm skating down her bare back, of his breath in her ear, his mouth doing incredible things to all her most secret places... “Just a phone number, Vanessa. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Her throat felt tight. She forced the words through it anyway. “It’s a bad idea.”

“No. It’s a good idea. The best idea. I missed you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me to my face right now that since that night, you’ve never thought of me, never wondered what I might be doing, never considered looking me up. Just tell me you’d forgotten all about me. Just say it right to my face.”

“I never thought of you.” It came out flat, completely unconvincing.

He shook his head slowly. “Lying’s beneath you.”

She felt breathless and so sad, both at the same time. “We had an agreement.”

He said nothing for an endless count of five. “Why? That’s what I want to know. Why is it necessary that we can’t get some coffee or maybe get dinner somewhere quiet, you and me?”

“It’s a long story, one I don’t care to share.”

He glared at her. “I’m not giving up.” And then, without another word, he turned on his boot heel and walked away.

She almost ran after him, to argue with him, insist at least one more time that TNTNH was never going to happen again.

Somehow, she kept her feet rooted in place. Clutching her pie, she drew slow, even breaths as she counted to a hundred at a measured pace. Only after her pulse had settled down a little and her stomach felt at least marginally less fluttery did she head back to rejoin her family.

* * *

An hour after Van got back to her table, the Miss Bronco competition came to an end and the voting began.

Volunteers passed out the ballots, along with short pencils for anyone who needed one. Van voted for Charity and felt sure that just about everyone else in the park had, too. Jameson’s sister stood out among the ten pretty young contestants, most of whom, as happened every year, were daughters of the influential families in town. Charity had that special something every beauty queen required. Not only was she gorgeous, she had a megawatt smile and a good head on her shoulders, and she came across as kind and thoughtful, too.

The volunteers moved through the crowd again, gathering the ballots and then disappearing into a tent set up specially for the purpose of tallying the votes.

As they waited for the results, Van got out the paper plates and plastic forks she’d bought on her way back to the table. Carefully, she took her pie from the pink box and proudly held it up for everyone to admire. “Who wants cherry pie? Baked by one of the Dalton boys and it is amazing.”

Evan wanted a slice, and Callie had one, too.

Daphne, a strict vegetarian, voiced her suspicion that the Dalton boy who’d baked that pie had used lard rather than vegetable shortening. “And lard is made from animal fat. I guess I’ll have to pass,” she concluded regretfully.

Van put on a sad face. “I feel so bad for you.” And then she grinned. “But hey. More for me.” Both she and Daphne laughed.

Surprisingly, Van’s students all claimed they weren’t hungry. She found that a bit odd. Her students were always hungry.

And yet, the girls turned down the amazing pie and huddled together on the blanket, whispering to each other. Vanessa wondered vaguely what they might be up to. They giggled and nudged each other and whispered some more.

Whatever secrets they kept snickering over, they seemed to be having a terrific time. Well, more power to them, Vanessa thought as she cut an extra-large, mouthwatering slice for herself. Grabbing a plastic fork, she swung her legs to the other side of the bench.

With her back to the table, she could see the stage better, even if that position made it all too easy to let her gaze stray toward the John family table across the way. Uh-uh. Not going to happen. She kept her eyes trained on the stage.

The volunteers emerged from the tent. One carried an envelope up to the stage and passed it to Earl Tillson, who passed it to the mayor as another volunteer wheeled out a stand bearing two crowns on blue velvet pillows, one larger and more ornate than the other.

Earl called all ten contestants out from behind the curtain at the back of the stage. Last year’s winner, an Abernathy cousin, stood at the mayor’s side holding an enormous bouquet of red roses. The contestants lined up in their evening gowns wearing big smiles, their heads high and their shoulders back.

The mayor announced that Hermione Sanchez had taken fifth place. Her smile all the wider, Hermione stepped forward. To enthusiastic applause, last year’s Miss Bronco handed her a single rose as Earl helped her into her green satin fifth-place sash. Fourth place went to one of the Taylors and third to another Abernathy. Van couldn’t help thinking that the new rules hadn’t changed much of anything, after all. Girls from Bronco’s prominent families seemed to be winning, same as before.

However, she reminded herself, change didn’t happen overnight. She remembered Lurline DuBois and grinned. Next year, the rules her Young Adventurers had pushed for might inspire a whole new group of girls and women to compete.

The mayor announced, “And now we come to the first runner-up. Second only to Miss Bronco herself, the first runner-up is ever at the ready to assist Miss Bronco whenever she’s called to help—and even to step in for Miss Bronco should scheduling conflicts occur. This year, our first runner-up is once again Miss Charity John!”

A slight silence elapsed before everyone started clapping. In that silence, Van felt sure she hadn’t heard right. None of the others had compared to Charity. Of course she should have taken the crown.

But no. Van stared in disbelief as Charity, her beautiful smile a little bit wobbly, stepped forward to accept her single rose, the runner-up sash and the smaller of the two crowns.

“What’s going on?” whispered a woman at the next table.

“Not a clue,” replied another as murmurs of confusion and disapproval rose from the crowd.

Clearly, most everyone thought that Charity should have the big crown.

With a heavy sigh, Van forked up a giant bite of delicious pie. Sometimes the right person lost, but at least there was pie to ease the pain of life’s disappointments.

She stuck that hunk of sweet, tart, saucy cherries and perfect, flaky crust into her mouth just as the mayor announced, “And this year’s Miss Bronco, on a first-time ever write-in triumph, is Miss Vanessa Cruise!”

A gasp went up from half the spectators. Van choked on her pie so hard she sprayed cherries and crust all over her ripped jeans and soft, well-worn T-shirt.

This could not be happening.

Oh, but it was. “Get on up here, Vanessa!” shouted the mayor. “Join us on the stage and claim your crown!”

CHAPTER THREE

As Van brushed bits of crust and cherry filling off her jeans, her Young Adventurer girls jumped up to surround her. Like a flock of birds at a feeding station, they all twittered at once as they clapped and high-fived each other.

Cleo Davidson, wearing a wide, proud smile, grabbed Van’s hand and pulled her upright. “Come on! You need to get up there. They’re waiting for you.”

“Yes!” crowed eleven-year-old Emma Bledsoe. “We did it! We got you written in. You won, Miss Cruise. You will be the best Miss Bronco ever!” She and Cleo high-fived each other yet again.

“Girl power!” shouted twelve-year-old Mandy Highwalker and held up her hand.

“Girl power!” the others hollered in unison, each reaching up to slap Mandy’s palm, one after the other.

Loudly congratulating each other, they herded Van toward the stage. A frantic glance back at the table revealed Evan, Daphne and Callie, staring after her, looking bemused.

Van mouthed, “Help!” at her roomie and Callie gave her a determined smile and a big thumbs-up—whatever that meant.

Numbly, she mounted the side steps leading up the stage.

Last year’s Miss Bronco came to meet her halfway. “Congratulations, Vanessa,” the girl said in a sweet and silky voice. Gently, she took Van’s hand. “This way...” And she led Van to center stage.

Dumbfounded, Van tried to pull herself together, but she felt pretty much immobilized at what had just happened. She ended up staring blankly out at the crowd, registering random facial expressions—everything from glee to fury to total bewilderment.

The former Miss Bronco handed her the winner’s massive armful of roses and then helped her juggle them in order to settle the victory sash across Van’s cherry-stained Science Is Like Magic—but Real T-shirt.

Carefully, after last year’s winner set the crown on her head, Van reached up and straightened her glasses. As she did that, her gaze slid to the John family’s table, where Jameson looked troubled. He probably didn’t know how to feel about his beautiful, talented sister losing to his one-night stand from New Year’s Eve.

His mother looked crushed, and his father shouted angrily, “What’s the damn point, I ask you? This is ridiculous. We don’t need a Miss Bronco who didn’t even bother to compete. How can this be happening when several talented young ladies gave their all for the crown today? And come on, just look at her. Old jeans and a baggy shirt? Look at the expression on her face. She doesn’t even want to be up there!”

Vanessa’s head spun and her stomach roiled. She drowned in a sea of conflicting emotions. She felt pride at what Cleo, Emma, Mandy and the rest of the girls had accomplished. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t help mostly agreeing with Jameson’s dad. The write-in rule sucked. Why hadn’t she realized that earlier and convinced her Young Adventurers that it had to go?

It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t competed. She’d never wanted to compete. And now she wore the crown that Charity John truly deserved.

Random voices called out, demanding a recount.

Earl tried to shout them down, but they wouldn’t be silenced until the volunteers counted every ballot for a second time right there on the stage. As they retallied every vote, Van, the ten actual contestants, the mayor, Earl and the former Miss Bronco stood up there and waited.

That process seemed to last forever and a day. Vanessa spent most of the recount clutching her roses while secretly rooting for the agonizing process to end her unexpected reign before it could really begin.

She did not get her wish. Somehow, her Young Adventurers had convinced a clear majority of voters to write in her name—all without anyone telling Van what they were up to.

When the mayor declared Van the winner—again—most of the crowd applauded with enthusiasm, after which the mayor invited her to say a few words.

A speech? He had to be kidding her.

But he wasn’t.

She pulled it together, praising the skill and heart of the ten real contestants and thanking the people of Bronco, especially her brilliant, resourceful Young Adventurers. Almost all the spectators actually applauded when she finished, so she supposed her impromptu acceptance speech hadn’t been that bad.

At last, Earl Tillson took over again. He thanked everyone for coming and reminded them to get their tickets for the rodeo tomorrow and not to miss the big barbecue on Independence Day or the Favorite Pet Contest July fifth out at Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary.

He added with enthusiasm, “As all of you are probably aware, our lovely Miss Bronco will be hosting all three events. Be sure to attend, folks. Red, White and Bronco is an important and meaningful town tradition, one none of us can afford to miss.”

A last burst of applause followed and finally, the crowd began to disperse.

Van remembered her manners and thanked Earl, the previous Miss Bronco and the other contestants. Before she could make her escape, a woman slipped out from between the curtains at the rear of the stage, marched straight to Van and introduced herself as Maureen Kelly, pageant coordinator. She took Van’s email address and phone number so that she could get in touch with her when necessary.

Maureen promised, “As soon as I finish up here, I’ll email you the list of events at which you’ll be expected to appear. The list includes your duties at each event, what time you’ll need to be there and with whom you should check in when you arrive.”

Though Van longed to rip off her crown, tear the victory sash from her chest, toss the roses over her shoulder and sprint away screaming, she answered politely, “Thank you so much, Maureen.”

When Van finally escaped the stage, Callie, Evan, Daphne and the still-excited Young Adventurers met Van at the foot of the steps. They surrounded her with hugs and congratulations. Evan suggested pizza for all, his treat. Not all the girls could come, but the ringleaders’ parents gave permission. They went to Bronco Brick Oven Pizza and claimed a big table.

The girls were still flying high with the success of their campaign to transform the Miss Bronco beauty pageant. They kept offering toasts, raising their draft root beers high. Van tried to keep a positive attitude in order not to bring her day campers down.

She waited until she and Callie got home alone to let her true feelings show.

“This is awful,” she moaned, bracing her elbows on the kitchen table and burying her face in her hands.

Callie scooted her chair closer, wrapped an arm around Van’s shoulders and gave her a side hug. “It will be fine,” she soothed.

“Fine? There are events,” Van cried. “Starting tomorrow with the big rodeo out at the fairgrounds. I’m supposed to greet people and make introductions and walk around the arena smiling till my face breaks, doing the fancy pageant wave.” She pulled out her phone and checked her email, opening the big file from the pageant director. “Fifty pages here on where I need to be—appropriately dressed, wearing my sash and crown or a flashy hat—for every event I’ll be hosting and/or attending within the next year. I’m even cutting the ribbon at the end of the month when they open the remodeled convention center. They want me to give a speech for that, to talk about change and growth and the power of working together in our community.”

Callie side hugged her a little tighter. “How about if you just breathe deep and take it one step at a time?”

“One step? But there are so many steps. How am I going to be Miss Bronco all year from Billings? Not to mention, being a beauty queen is completely not me. I just keep thinking I need to resign and let Charity take the crown. No one can argue that she wants and deserves to win.”

Callie rubbed Van’s back and asked gently, “You really think you can do that to your girls at Young Adventurers?”

Van groaned. “Oh God, no. But why didn’t they warn me? Why didn’t they at least give me a chance to explain all the reasons that writing me in was a bad, bad idea?”

“Well, because they wanted you to win and they weren’t taking any chances you might say no, that’s why. But you’re right that they shouldn’t have added the write-in rule. It’s not fair that someone who didn’t even enter can beat out contestants who got up there and gave their all for a chance to win.”

“Exactly.”

“The good news is I’m betting we can find a way to change that rule for next year.”

“Next year? What about right now? I’m not beauty queen material. Never have been, never wanted to be.”

“Van. You’re beautiful and smart and not the least bit shy. You’re a teacher. You know how to get up in front of people and make yourself heard.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yeah, it kind of is. You’re just not giving yourself enough credit.”

“Oh, trust me. When it comes to the beauty queen thing, I don’t want any credit. It’s not who I—” A knock at the door cut her off before she could really get her rant on. “What now? Are we expecting someone?”

With a shrug, Callie pushed back her chair and went down the entry hallway to the door. She must have peered through the peephole. A moment later, she darted back into sight. “It’s Charity,” she whispered. “And her hot brother Jameson is with her.”

Jameson. Van’s silly heart pounded too fast. She did not need more time around her annoyingly unforgettable one-night stand. As for Charity, Van wouldn’t mind a word or two with Jameson’s sister. She could smooth things over, at least, confess how crappy she felt about the way things had turned out today.

“Up to you,” Callie said.

“Go ahead. Let them in.”

“Good choice,” Callie said with a nod. She turned and disappeared down the hall again. Van heard her open the door. “Charity.” Callie’s voice was warm, welcoming. “Jameson. Hello. Come on in, you two.”

Van jumped to her feet as Charity and her brother emerged from the narrow hallway. “Hey.”

Charity, so pretty and pulled together in dressy jeans and a lavender top, shifted the giant pink binder she carried to her right hand and took hold of Jameson’s arm with her left. “I had to come. I had to see how you’re doing.” She glanced up at her big brother. “I dragged Jameson along for moral support.”

Jameson patted his sister’s hand and then removed his hat. “Happy to help any way I can.”

Oh, I’ll just bet you are. Van kept her expression calm as she met his gleaming blue eyes. “How thoughtful of you.” She kind of wanted to scream. But she didn’t.

Callie gestured at the table. “Sit down, everyone. Please.”

Charity sat on Van’s left. Jameson hooked his hat on the back of the chair to Van’s right and sat there. Callie took the last seat, the one across from Van.

Charity set her huge pink binder in front of her and gave it a little push toward the center of the table. Then she leaned closer to Van. “I just needed to see if you’re all right. You looked so shocked today—I mean, you handled yourself really well, but still. I could see that you’d been taken completely by surprise.”

Van looked in those blue eyes so much like Jameson’s and felt humbled. “Wait. You’re worried about me?”

Charity put her slim hand over Van’s. “Of course. It’s a big job being Miss Bronco, and it’s not as if you applied for the position.”

“I, well, you’re right about that. And I...” Okay, so maybe Charity had an ulterior motive here. She’d come to suggest that Van step down, leaving Charity to accept the crown she should have had in the first place. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, it sounded like the perfect outcome for Van, too. “Okay, here’s the deal. I had no idea that this would happen, and I can’t help thinking my best move now is to step down and let you claim the crown you so completely deserve.”

Across the table, Callie stiffened. Van knew her friend worried how the Young Adventurers would react to such a decision, but Callie also knew it wasn’t her choice to make. She kept her mouth shut.

Too bad Charity didn’t. “No! Vanessa, you can’t.”

Van blinked. “Huh? But I thought—”

Charity shook her head. Her thick, golden curls shifted and shimmered like a river of silk. “I mean it. You can’t. True, it didn’t go the way we expected it would. I was shocked, too. I really thought it was finally my year.”

“Because you deserve to win.”

“No.” Charity sat up straighter. “That’s just not so. A lot of people wrote your name on their ballots. You are the chosen Miss Bronco, and the truth is I’m just...not.” She grabbed Vanessa’s hand and stared deep in her eyes. “It’s your job, your duty to rise to the occasion.”

“But I don’t even live here anymore.”

“You’re a Bronco girl and everyone knows it—and it’s okay, Vanessa.” She added, with feeling, “I promise you it’s all going to work out. Because I’m going to help you—and I know, I know. Jameson mentioned that you live in Billings now. But really, Billings is not that far away.”

“Jameson mentioned that, did he?” She slanted a dark glance at the maddeningly hot man on her other side. In return, he gave her a slow, knowing smile. Across the table, Callie watched them much too closely.

Charity demanded, “Did you get your schedule from Maureen?”

Confused, Van turned to Charity again. “Uh, Maureen?”

“The pageant coordinator.”

“Oh. Yes. I did.” She tried not to scowl. “All fifty pages of it.”

“Have you had a chance to look it over yet?”

“Well, I...”

“When you do, you’ll notice that the Miss Bronco events after summertime are few and far between. It’s all going to be workable. You’ll see. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been doing this every year since I was sixteen. And I’m going to teach you everything you need to know.”

Wait! No! she wanted to shout.

But she knew she couldn’t. Charity was right, damn it. And the pretty blonde’s passion and enthusiasm for the tradition of Miss Bronco made Van want to grab her in a great big hug—so she did.

Charity hugged her right back.

And then Callie broke out the snacks and cold drinks. Charity opened her giant pink binder, which turned out to be her own personal planner, a blueprint for Miss Bronco success.

For the next two hours, the four of them munched Cheez-Its and trail mix as Charity guided Van through everything from what to wear for her upcoming appearances to the main points she should hit when speaking at various gatherings. Van kept her focus on the job at hand—mostly.

Yet she couldn’t forget who sat on her other side. More than once, she got distracted by his low, sexy chuckle. She would shoot him a furtive glance and then have trouble looking away again. When Charity asked for her phone number, she gave it and then couldn’t stop herself from sliding another look at her top-secret lover from TNTNH. That steady gaze of his was as compelling as ever. And those lips she’d loved kissing way too much twitched at the corners with a hint of a grin. She knew his thoughts exactly—she’d insisted no numbers would ever be exchanged but he’d gotten her digits, after all.

“Come on.” Charity took her hand. “Take me to your room. Let’s decide what you’re wearing tomorrow.”

It felt weird, to leave Jameson and Callie alone. Callie had a look like she might go a little bit rogue and press for answers to questions Van didn’t want her asking.

But Charity gave a tug and Van found herself up out of her chair, following Jameson’s sister down the hall to the second bedroom. They weren’t in there long. She showed Charity a pair of red jeans, her best boots and couple of dressy Western shirts she’d brought with her from Billings. Charity chose the blue one with the white trim and silver stitching, declaring that the silver thread would really pop with her rhinestone crown.

“Me, in a crown.” Van shook her head, readjusted her glasses and grinned. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Charity beamed. “You’re going to look fantastic. You need to be at the fairgrounds at 1:00 p.m., right? I’ll be here at noon to do a final wardrobe and hair check, and then we’ll ride to the fairgrounds together.”

Tomorrow was Saturday. Weekends Daphne welcomed any and all Young Adventurers to Happy Hearts. Van didn’t teach classes on weekends. But on Saturday, as a rule, she dropped by for morning coffee with Daphne and Evan, after which she would stay and help out if Daphne needed her.

“Noon works,” she said. She could easily stop in at Happy Hearts, work for an hour or two at whatever chores needed doing, and still have time to pull herself together for her “wardrobe check.”

As she led Charity back to the main room, she could hear Callie talking about her job with Evan at Bronco Ghost Tours. “He’s a taskmaster, Van’s brother. But in a good way. I like the work. Never a dull moment when ghosts are involved.” Callie laughed. “And did you hear? Van and Evan’s great-grandmother, Winona, has opened a shop right there with us on the premises. She’s billing herself as sort of a cross been a life coach and a psychic. If you need guidance or advice, Winona can help.”

“You’re telling me that the Winona Cobbs has a psychic shop at Bronco Ghost Tours?”

“Essentially, yes,” Callie replied, as Van and Charity rejoined them at the table. “She moved to Bronco from up in Rust Creek Falls after meeting Van and her family down here. Did you hear that it turned out Van’s grandma Dorothea is Winona’s long-lost daughter?”

“Wow,” said Charity.

Jameson slid Van a knowing look. “I did hear that, yes.”

“Anyway, Winona is very wise,” Callie said. “She really does give great advice.” She asked Jameson, “You’ve heard of ‘Wisdom by Winona’?”

“Of course. That column was syndicated. I was a fan back in the day.”

“You should come by, check it out.”

“I just might.” He looked straight at Van then, a lazy sort of look, intimate and smoldering. “Never hurts to get some good advice about all the important things. Money. Love. Whether or not all my secret dreams will ever come true...”

Charity, completely oblivious to her brother’s real agenda, picked up her pink binder and chirped brightly, “Okay, then. Tomorrow. Right here at noon.”

“I’ll be here,” Van promised.

Charity aimed her dazzling smile at her brother. “Jameson, you ready?”

“You bet.” He unfolded his long, strong frame from the kitchen chair, grabbed his hat and followed his sister to the door. “Nice to see you, Callie,” he said as they went out. “Vanessa.” He gave her another one of those scorching-hot looks. Her hormones cried out at all the months of unfulfilled longing. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She pasted on a smile, muttered, “’Bye, now,” and quickly shut the door.

* * *

The next morning, Van found Daphne alone at the kitchen table in the Happy Hearts farmhouse, her sweet yellow Lab, Barkley, snoozing at her feet.

“Where’s Evan?” Van headed straight for the coffee maker. Though Daphne usually drank tea, she had coffee ready for anyone who wanted it.

Daphne worked a bit of hay out of her haphazard ponytail. She always rose before the crack of dawn and went out to look after the animals first. Tea and breakfast came later. “Winona summoned him. She needed some help moving things around out at her shop. It seems the spirits have their own specific requirements concerning what has to go where.”

“Feng shui matters, in this world or the next.”

Daphne nodded. “Apparently so.”

Van smiled at the idea of her often-gruff big brother rushing to do Winona’s bidding. “He can be such a tough guy, that fiancé of yours, but he’s good to his great-grandma.”

“Yes, he is. Hungry?”

“I ate with Callie, thanks.” Van took her usual chair at the table. Barkley got up, came over for a scratch behind the ear and then settled back down next to Daphne. “So what’s going on at Happy Hearts today?”

“You know, I’m almost afraid to say it out loud, but we’re actually pretty much on top of things—for the moment, anyway. As we speak, there are ten young, hardworking volunteers outside mucking stalls, feeding the goats and cleaning out the cat barn.” Yep. Happy Hearts had a whole barn where the cats and kittens lived.

Van felt relieved. “Glad to hear everything’s under control. I can’t stay that long today. I have to head back to Callie’s by ten thirty or so to get ready for the rodeo this afternoon.”

“That’s right.” Daphne set down her mug. “Miss Bronco will be making an appearance.”

“Oh yes, she will—and is it weird that we’re talking about her in the third person?”

Daphne snickered, “You mean, given that she’s you?”

“Exactly. Who knew that would happen? Oh, guess who came to see me yesterday evening.”

“Not a clue.”

“Charity John.” Van brought her future sister-in-law up to speed on her visit from Charity and Jameson, taking care to mention Jameson only as an afterthought, keeping the focus strictly on Charity’s kindness and generosity. “I really like her,” Van added. “She’s not only a truly good person who’s willing to help me get Miss Bronco right, but she’s also given me a whole new appreciation for the, er, Miss Bronco tradition.”

“More people should be like Charity.” Daphne frowned into her empty mug. When she glanced up again, Van saw shadows in her blue eyes. Daphne had something weighing on her mind. “I think I need one more cup,” she said. “You?”

“Please.” Van waited until Daphne had fixed herself more tea and refilled Van’s mug to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Daphne puffed out her cheeks with a heavy breath. “I wish more people were like Charity John. But they’re not. Some get so set in their ways they can’t accept any kind of change at all. And some are just so entitled. Yesterday, when you won the crown, there was some grumbling about how you hadn’t even entered, and you didn’t deserve to be Miss Bronco.”

“I heard some of that. Randall John shouted it right out.” She shrugged. “You have to admit, he kind of has a point.”

Daphne gave her a sideways look. “So you’re not upset about that stuff?”

“No, I’m not. I didn’t enter. It’s completely logical that some people would be pissed off about that. For a half second or so, I even considered stepping down.”

Daphne gasped. “What? No! Don’t do that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. All the Bronco old guard will have to get over themselves. I’ve got Charity on my side, and all my Young Adventurers are looking to me to stand up and be counted for fairness and change.”

“Excellent. That’s what I needed to hear.” Somehow, as Daphne spoke, she visibly deflated until, once again, she stared down into her fresh cup of tea. “I do love your attitude. I love it a lot.” She sounded downright sad.

Van reached over and squeezed Daphne’s arm. “What has gotten you down?”

“You don’t need to hear it.” Daphne stared into the cup some more, her expression glum.

“If you need to say it, I need to hear it. This isn’t really about the pageant, is it?”

Daphne glanced up. She wrinkled her pretty nose. “It’s just my dad. It never ends with him.”

“Wait a minute. Your dad? I thought everything had worked out between you and him.”

Daphne pushed her cup away. “Not exactly...” Cornelius Taylor did not in any way approve of her vegetarianism or that she’d created Happy Hearts, where, her father claimed, she made “pets out of livestock.”

“Daphne, are you trying to tell me that you and your dad didn’t reconcile, after all?”

“Back at Christmas, I felt we were doing better with each other, kind of easing our way onto the same page. But the good feelings didn’t last. He just doesn’t approve of me and it shows. Things have really been going downhill between us again lately.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“Well, for instance, last night, after the pageant, Evan and I went out to the ranch for a family barbecue. My dad got all over me for not eating the ribs and started in about what a laughingstock I’ve made of him with Happy Hearts.”

Van wrapped a comforting arm across Daphne’s shoulders. “That’s just wrong. What is the matter with him?”

“I don’t know. The down stroke is we’re right back where we started, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not giving up Happy Hearts, and I’m never eating animal flesh.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“Yeah, well, my dad just refuses to accept that. At this point, I’m not even sure he’s going to come to our wedding.” She and Evan were getting married in October.

Van took Daphne’s hand and wrapped both of hers around it. “Hey. He’s your dad and he loves you. One way or another, he’s going to be there to walk you down the aisle.”

Daphne’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s pretty much what Evan said.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah, it’s true to you and Evan because of how you grew up. Things were different for me.”

“What are you talking about? We had problems with our father, too. Big ones. Our dad deserted us. He walked out and never looked back.” He’d also taken every cent the family owned right along with him.

“It was awful, what your dad did. But I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about your mom and your grandmother. They would walk through fire for you. And now you have Winona, and she is amazing, too. On the other hand, my mother’s remarried.”

“And lives in Billings, right?”

“That’s right. I hardly see her anymore. My first stepmother is long gone. As for my current stepmother, well, at least Jessica tries. We get along well enough, though I wouldn’t say we’re close. I love my brothers, but they can be as bullheaded as my dad. Sometimes I feel like a cuckoo hatched in a nest of eagles.”

Van couldn’t bear the pain on Daphne’s face. “No. Uh-uh. Come here.” She reached out again. Daphne kind of fell toward her. They hugged between their chairs. Down on the floor, Barkley whined at them in doggy sympathy.

As Van rubbed Daphne’s back and whispered words of comfort and understanding, she found herself thinking how right Daphne was about Van’s family. Life hadn’t always been easy in the small house on West Street where her mom had been forced to move after her dad ran off with all their savings. Yet somehow, they’d scraped by. Never once in all the years in that little house had Van lacked for love or understanding.

Too bad her mom and Grandma Daisy disagreed with her decision to make her life in Billings. They both wanted her to find happiness in Bronco. As for Great-Grandmother Winona, she’d made it more than clear that she agreed with them.

Well, too bad. Not going to happen. Nine years ago, when Van left for college with her heart shattered and her pride in tatters, she’d made herself a promise never to move back. She’d had enough of her hometown, of mean girls who mocked her, of the boy who’d once said he would love her forever—and then made her into an object of ridicule, hatred and derision at Bronco High. She would return to visit the people she loved, but never to stay.

Then again, though her mom and grandmother—and now, her newly found great-grandmother, too—disagreed with her choices, they loved her unconditionally anyway. They would never treat her callously, the way Cornelius did Daphne. As she held Daphne and whispered reassurances that everything would work out with her dad in the end, Van felt gratitude welling toward the two strong women who had raised her, the grandfather she missed every day and the big brother who could be gruff and bossy but always had her back.

And toward Winona, with her generous heart, her ingrained kindness, and the weird and wonderful wisdom she was only too eager to share with everyone she met.

A half an hour later, as Van drove back to the apartment, she tried really hard not to wonder if Jameson would show up with Charity. “He’d better not,” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular. Scowling out the windshield at the bright, sunny day, she staunchly ignored the anticipation in her heart and the silly, fluttery sensation in her belly.

CHAPTER FOUR

Charity, looking gorgeous in dark-wash jeans and a blue shirt with rhinestones glittering on the collar, arrived at Callie’s right on time. She’d pinned her blond hair into a perfectly tousled updo, carried a small suitcase under her arm—and had Jameson in tow.

“Gotta support my little sis.” Faking an innocent expression, he looked right at Van.

Charity patted his sculpted jaw with its perfectly trimmed short beard. “You are my favorite big brother.”

He grinned down at her. “I’ve heard you say the same thing to both Dawson and Maddox.”

Charity let out a peal of happy laughter. “Busted.” She turned to Van and Callie. “I got super lucky in the big-brother department. Now let’s get to work. Callie and Jameson, make yourselves comfortable out here. Vanessa, lead me to your makeup area.”

Van had her own bathroom right next to her bedroom. She took Charity in there. The dinky counter had just enough space for Charity’s small suitcase, which turned out to be a professional makeup kit, the kind that opened out, accordion-style, into tiers. The kit contained over a hundred different eye shadow choices, a wide array of makeup brushes and foundation colors to match any skin tone.

Once Charity had her kit arranged to her liking, she whipped out a white cloth and draped it over Van’s shirt. “Don’t look so horrified. This isn’t a makeover.”

Van glanced heavenward. “Thank you, Lord, for small favors.”

“As your personal Miss Bronco coach, I’m all about you doing you, Vanessa.”

“And I like that. A lot.”

“I’m only going to enhance your natural beauty.” Charity frowned and accused, “You’ve covered your freckles—or most of them, anyway.”

“Sometimes I like them, and sometimes they annoy me.”

“And this is one of those days when you’re annoyed with them?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Charity peered closer. “Are you wearing contacts?”

“I am.” Van pointed her thumb at her chest. “Beauty queen here—not that I don’t love my glasses. I do. But they’re one accessory too many once I add my crown.”

“Yes, I think you’re right.” Humming under her breath, Charity went to work with her fancy brushes and endless pots of blush, lip color and eye shadow. Not ten minutes later, she took a step back. “There. Perfect.”

Van peered at her reflection. She didn’t look made up, but her eyes appeared larger and her skin had a new glow. “It’s great.”

“And so simple.” Charity ran down a quick makeup tutorial tailored to Van’s coloring, skin type and the shape of her face. She insisted that Van keep the brushes and makeup she’d used. “Tomorrow, you can do it yourself. I’ll stop by again before the big barbecue just to give you my seal of approval.”

“Charity, you’re a wonder.”

Charity’s glowing smile shone all the brighter. “Why, thank you, Vanessa.” Next, she primped Van’s hair. “Where’s your crown and sash?”

Van gave her a slow look from under her eyelashes. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think I’ll just pass on those today.”

Charity wasn’t having that. “We both know you can’t do that—well, maybe you can skip the crown. That’s more for formal occasions. And as it happens, I brought over a few pretty hats just in case. You can wear one of them.”

“Do you always come prepared for any eventuality?”

“I try.” Charity put on a stern expression. “But you’re wearing your sash. Don’t try to get out of it.”

Van fluttered her eyelashes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

Jameson whistled in appreciation when Charity led Van back out to the main room. “Miss Bronco,” he said, “you’re even more beautiful than before.”

Was he wearing her down with the hot looks, the flattery and the teasing?

Well, maybe a little. He was always so charming, the very definition of irresistible. No matter how often she reminded herself that she needed distance from the man, a certain rebellious streak deep in her heart couldn’t help looking forward to the next time she might see him.

She desperately wished she could actually forget The Night That Never Happened.

“Your sister knows her way around a makeup kit,” Van said.

Charity seemed pleased. “A few enhancements never hurt. Now let’s get going.”

“Plenty of room in my truck,” Jameson said. “We can all ride together.”

Forbidden images of their night together dancing in her head, Van nipped his suggestion firmly in the bud. “Callie and I will follow you two.”

Charity grabbed her hand. “First, we need to choose your hat.” The four of them left the apartment and gathered around Jameson’s big, black quad cab, from which Charity produced three gorgeous spangled hats. She tossed two of them back onto the rear seat and held up the third. It was snowy white with an actual tiara sewn on above the brim.

“This one,” she declared. “It’s a crown and a hat at the same time.” She placed it at a jaunty angle on Van’s head. “Perfect.” Charity primped a couple of Van’s loose, dark curls in a proprietary manner. Really, Van thought, Jameson’s sister was a sheer delight. “You have your sash?” Charity demanded.

Nodding resignedly, Van held it up.

“All right, then,” said Charity. “We’re ready to go.”

* * *

Jameson felt more than a little disappointed that Vanessa gave him zero chance to persuade her to ride with him. Instead, he had to watch her follow Callie past her silver Subaru to an olive-green Jeep. Vanessa took the passenger side and Callie slid in behind the wheel.

“Well?” asked his bossy little sister. “Are we standing here in the parking lot all day for some reason?”

He turned and chucked her under the chin. “Get in and let’s go.”

The Bronco fairgrounds consisted of a giant, open, graded field on rolling land not far outside town. Both Jameson and Callie found spots in the main parking lot, but he knew that by the end of the day, trucks and SUVs would fill the overflow lot farther out.

Jameson had planned ahead and bought plenty of tickets two weeks before, enough for his whole family and then some. He gave Vanessa and Callie two of the extras so none of them had to wait in line to get them. Once they were through the gate, Charity led Vanessa off to take care of Miss Bronco business. He and Callie climbed the stands to claim enough space for four in one of the rows of benches.

“There they are.” Callie pointed into the arena, where Vanessa was shaking hands with a tall, powerfully built cowboy. Even from up on the stands, that cowboy looked a whole lot like the guy who played the lead role in the Creed movies. “That’s Geoff Burris, isn’t it?” Callie asked.

“The one and only.” Burris, Bronco born and raised, was currently setting the rodeo circuit on fire. Women loved the guy. Jameson sat forward. He watched Vanessa closely for any sign that she found Geoff as fascinating as everyone else did. He relaxed a little when he saw her smile. It was friendly and easy, that smile—with none of the heat he felt when she looked at him. Now, if he could just get her to admit that their one night had not been anywhere close to enough...

Callie said, “I heard we might get the Mistletoe Rodeo right here in Bronco, at the convention center in November. I also heard that Geoff is a big part of why that might happen.”

Jameson nodded, his eyes on the action down below. A couple of the clowns led out a white mare with a thick white mane and tail to match. They gave Van a boost into the saddle. “It never hurts,” Jameson said, “when a homegrown cowboy grows up to be a rodeo champion. Hey, I didn’t know Vanessa could ride.”

Callie shrugged. “Looks that way to me.”

Earl Tillson, apparently the official announcer for all the Red, White and Bronco events this year, introduced the new Miss Bronco. Waving and flashing her pearly whites, Vanessa rode the mare around the arena. God, she was gorgeous—and already coming into her own as a special kind of beauty queen, one with attitude and sass and her own personal style.

By then, the stands were full. The roar of applause, whistles and stomping feet filled the air. One or two yahoos booed. Jameson stiffened and started to rise.

Callie reached across the two spaces they were saving and grabbed his arm. “Easy, cowboy. Some people are still upset about Van’s surprise win. Let them blow off a little steam.”

Scowling, he stayed in his seat and muttered, “They kick up much more sand, I’m dealing with them.”

“So...” Callie drew out the word. “What’s really happening between you two?”

He grunted. “Me and Geoff Burris? Not a thing.”

“Har-har. You and Van. She claims there’s nothing, but she and I have gotten real close the last month or so. I can read her, and I see the way you look at her. There’s something.”

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, Callie.”

“You know you’re fooling no one, right?”

He pretended not to hear that and kept his focus on Vanessa as she finished her circle of the arena and dismounted. One of the clowns led the mare away. His sister joined Vanessa. Charity had already spotted him and Callie. She said something to Vanessa, who nodded. They left the arena.

A few minutes later, they sidled their way along the row toward Jameson and Callie, Charity in the lead, which worked out great. Charity stepped past him and took the seat next to Callie, leaving an empty space with Charity on one side and Jameson on the other. He scooted close to his sister, which left Vanessa the empty space on his other side.

She sat. The rhinestones on her hat caught the afternoon sun and glittered. He wanted to grab her and kiss her.

Of course, he did no such thing. But he did lean her way until his arm brushed hers and the scent of her tempted him. “You looked great out there. Didn’t know you could ride.”

“You’d be surprised at the things I know.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

She met his eyes then, a hint of a smile curving those lush lips of hers. “It’s true I grew up in a split-level on West Street. But back in my teens, I used to work summers out at the Ambling A, saving up for college and to earn spending money. I mucked stalls and fed pigs. That old guy, the cook, Malone?”

Everybody knew Malone. And Malone seemed to know everyone’s secrets. “I know Malone.”

“Well, Malone said it was a damn crime, a Bronco girl who didn’t ride. He kind of made it his mission to teach me.”

Charity bumped his arm. He frowned at her. “What?”

“Callie has to go.”

Vanessa’s roommate held up her phone. “Guys, sorry. Text from Evan. He needs me immediately to make a few emergency tweaks to the tour route for tonight.”

“He always needs you immediately,” Vanessa grumbled.

“What can I say? I’m indispensable.” Callie was smiling. If Evan Cruise made her work too hard, at least she seemed to enjoy the job.

“I’ve made my appearance,” said Vanessa. “I’ll go with—”

“You can’t!” Charity cut her off before Jameson could do it. “Miss Bronco never walks out on the Red, White and Bronco rodeo. We’ll take you home—right, Jameson?”

He hid his satisfied smile. “Of course.”

“Well, I—”

“Stay.” Charity reached across Jameson to pat Vanessa’s knee as Callie said goodbye and headed off down the row away from them.

Jameson leaned into his favorite brunette again. “Hungry?”

Of course, his sister answered before Vanessa could say a word. “Yes! I’m dying for a Coke. Get us both a pop and a hot dog, won’t you, Jameson—and popcorn, too?”

He asked Vanessa, “That sound all right to you?”

She looked at him, her gaze straying to his mouth, then snapping back up again. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He would fetch and carry a thousand hot dogs, bring her kegs full of pop just to get her to look at him the way she was right now—like she couldn’t help wanting to kiss him again.

She fished some bills from a pocket and held them out.

He slowly shook his head.

“I like to pay my own way,” she said.

“I’ve got it, no problem.” He held her dark gaze, thinking how good it felt every time he stared into her big brown eyes.

Finally, she gave in and stuck the bills back in her pocket.

Only then did he rise. “’Scuse me.” She slanted her knees to the side, and he headed off toward the nearest concession booth.

It took a while. When he returned, Vanessa and Charity were whispering together, leaning over the empty seat they’d saved for him. As soon as he reached them, Vanessa scooted closer to Charity, as though his little sister might save her from his bad self.

Hiding a grin, he dropped down beside her and passed out the treats. On the dirt down below, bareback riding and steer wrestling had come and gone. And just after Earl Tillson announced team roping, some smart-ass a few rows back spoke too loudly for his own damn good. “Hey, look. That’s the fake Miss Bronco right there.”

“Yeah,” said some other fool, as Jameson slid his hot dog and root beer under his seat. “Where does she get off, stealing the crown like she thinks she’s got a right?”

Charity, Coke in one hand, hot dog in the other, started to stand to confront them.

Jameson reached behind Vanessa to clasp her shoulder. “I’ll take care of them,” he said quietly. “Be right back.”

“Wait—” Vanessa tried to stop him. Too bad she had both hands full.

And he was already on his feet, mounting the benches, striding straight up between seated spectators, scattering “’Scuse mes” as he went.

The two troublemakers, both of whom Jameson recognized as local kids a year or two younger than Charity, snickered as he reached their row. One of them sneered, “What’s your problem, man?”

“Gentlemen,” Jameson replied in an even tone. “The way I see it, we have two options at this point. You apologize to the rightfully chosen Miss Bronco here and now. Or you and me head on out to the parking lot where we can avoid blocking anyone’s view of the hardworking cowboys down in the dirt and discuss this unfortunate situation at length.” By then, both troublemakers were looking a tad worried.

“Apologize, you fools,” growled a middle-aged man down the row.

The skinnier of the two kids sent a glare at the older man and jumped to his feet. Sticking out his scrawny chest, he blustered, “Bring it!”

The other kid frowned, but he did get up.

Jameson led them out to the aisle and down to the ground. He was halfway to one of the side exits when he heard frantic whispering behind him. Counting silently to himself, he kept walking.

Five seconds elapsed before he heard two sets of boots take off at a run. Jameson turned to watch them flee—through the nearby exit and into the parking lot. He considered giving chase but figured the two had embarrassed themselves enough for one day. He headed back up into the stands again.

“Everything okay?” Charity asked when he sat down.

“Just fine. I think those two boys must’ve left the gas on at home. They ran off before we had a chance to communicate.”

Charity chuckled. “I remember them from high school. All hat, no cattle.”

Down below, a roper flanked and tied—smooth, clean and fast. The stands erupted in applause, the two troublemaking young fools long forgotten.

By everyone but Vanessa. She leaned close. “I am a schoolteacher, you know. I could’ve handled those two kids.”

That gave him another perfect opportunity to look into those deep, dark eyes again. “I know you could. But I see no reason why you have to fight every battle all on your own.”

The next hour and a half passed too quickly. To no one’s surprise, Geoff Burris triumphed, taking home a fine purse and the coveted Red, White and Bronco belt buckle. As they got up to go, Jameson had his mind on how to somehow get rid of his sister and then convince Vanessa to come to dinner with him.

A couple of Charity’s girlfriends came bouncing up just as the three of them were almost to the aisle. “Charity, party tonight out at the Kingston Ranch. You’ve got to come.”

Well, didn’t that just play right into his hand? Charity beamed him her sweetest smile. “I can get a ride home.”

One of the girls batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m driving, Jameson.”

“Fine with me. Vanessa and I will manage.”

Charity gave Vanessa a sheepish look. “Will you hate me for running off like this?”

Vanessa laughed. “Of course not. You’ve more than done your duty as my Miss Bronco coach. Go have some fun. I remember those bonfires. Best time ever.”

Charity grabbed Vanessa in a hug, then took her by the shoulders. “Okay, tomorrow’s the big barbecue. You need to be there by two. I’ll be over at one with extra hats. We can double-check your makeup and wardrobe and I’ll answer any last-minute questions you might have. And then we’ll ride to the park together.”

Vanessa suggested, “I think I can manage on my own if you just want to—”

“Nope.” Charity put up a hand to punctuate the word. She brought that hand to her chest. “I’m there. You can count on me.”

Vanessa grabbed her in a final hug, and then Charity headed off down the row behind her friends.

“Ready, then?” Jameson asked. Vanessa wore a look he couldn’t quite read. Did she plan to insist on hitching a ride with someone else—or maybe calling an Uber? The Uber would take a while. Uber drivers in Bronco were thin on the ground.

Not that it mattered. “We’ve already been through this. You’re riding with me.” Was that too damn caveman? He softened the command with, “Please?”

The smile she gave him then had him almost believing he might finally be getting somewhere with her. “I was just thinking about how smoothly you defused the situation with those boys. I should be more appreciative. Thank you for doing that.” She said it softly, with what sounded like real admiration.

He tipped his hat to her. “It was my pleasure.” He wanted to try his luck, take her hand.

But no. They should talk first. He needed her agreement to change the rules she’d laid down on The Night That Really Did Happen, no matter how hard she tried to pretend it hadn’t.

“After you.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him to the aisle.

It was a scramble, getting out of the parking lot, with everybody leaving the arena at once. They got in line with all the other vehicles.

Once they were out of the lot, she took off her hat and turned to set it on the back seat with the other ones Charity had brought for her to choose from. They’d turned onto the highway into town when she said, “Is there someplace private we could talk?”

Talk? That sounded promising. Maybe they were finally on the same page. “How about a beer?”

She shot him a glance. “At a bar, you mean?”

“I was thinking maybe DJ’s Deluxe.” The bar there was gorgeous, and they could move to the main restaurant for a nice dinner after he got her to agree to go out with him, to see where this attraction might take them.

Another quick sideways glance from her. Then, “I was thinking someplace quiet, just you and me. The turnoff to Bushwhacker Creek’s coming up. Let’s go there.”

He had a blanket in back and he knew a couple of pretty spots along that creek. “All right.”

A few minutes later, he turned onto a dirt road. Not long after that, at a wide bend in the road, he pulled over and parked.

She didn’t wait for him to see to her door but got out on her own. He refused to take that as a bad sign. Vanessa Cruise was an independent woman, and he liked that about her almost as much as he wished she would give in and let him treat her the way a man ought to treat his woman.

He took the blanket from the toolbox in back. They set out along the road until they came to the trail that descended to creek side. After a nice stroll along the bank, they came to a tree-shaded spot he particularly liked.

“This looks good,” he said.

They spread the blanket and sat down. “It’s nice here,” she said, her gaze on the clear, rushing water.

He studied her profile, admired the graceful slope of her nose and the inviting fullness of those lips of hers. He loved her freckles, the darker ones visible even today, with the sexy Miss Bronco makeup masking them. One rode the apple of her right cheek. He couldn’t see that one at the moment, but he knew it was there, waiting to tempt him when she turned her head his way. As for the small constellation of them closer to her mouth on the left side, those he could touch right now with a brush of his fingers—or better yet, the press of his lips, the swipe of his tongue.

If she would let him.

At this point, he couldn’t be sure she would, and that had him hesitating to make his move.

She turned to him. There it was, that lone visible freckle on the apple of her cheek. “I can’t help thinking that there’s still a lot of summer left.” Not near enough, if you asked him. “I’m here till the end of August.”

He actively held himself back from touching her. It took serious effort, but somehow, he managed it. So far, at least. “A lot can happen in two months.”

“Well, I, um...”

“Yeah?”

“Jameson, I think I need to face facts.”

“About...?”

“Well, I keep knocking myself out, trying to make myself forget our one night together...”

Hope burned hot in his chest, but he kept his tone light. “And how’s that working out for you?”

She blew out her cheeks with a hard breath. “Not well. Today, at the rodeo, it all kind of came clear to me—that you are a good guy and I enjoy your company and...” She seemed to run out of steam.

He leaned in a fraction closer to her and her scent of roses taunted him. “Say it.”

“It’s just that I think about you.” Her thick, dark brows drew together. Was that longing he saw in her eyes?

He gave her words back to her, meaning every one. “I think about you. A lot.”

And she smiled with a relieved little sigh. “I kind of thought so.”

He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Did you think I was trying to hide that I can’t stop thinking of you?”

“Um, no.”

“Good.”

“So then...” She gave a tiny cough into her hand, a stall, really, as she braced herself for whatever she’d been working up to saying. “I was thinking today that, if we were to agree to keep things just between us, why shouldn’t we have a little fun together until I leave at the end of August?”

He would have pulled her close right then, except for that last line. “Just between us, you said?”

“Yes. I’m not comfortable with taking it public, but I do want to be with you. I want that a lot. So if you’re willing to keep the time we spend together private, not let anyone else know we’re seeing each other, I would love to go back to your place with you right now.”

“You’re saying nobody can know that we’re spending time together.”

“What?” Her low voice had a definite edge to it now. “I didn’t make that clear?”

He needed some distance. Jumping to his feet, he swept off his hat, beat it once on his thigh, put it back on and stared out at the creek until he felt he could speak without yelling at her. “Vanessa, what is up with you?”

“I told you at New Year’s. I’m not staying in town, and whatever goes on between us is just for fun and just for now.”

He turned to look down at her. “Fine. It’s only till the end of August. That doesn’t mean we can’t have dinner together at a decent restaurant like any other single man and woman who are attracted to each other might do.”

She got up, too. They faced each other across the empty blanket. Somewhere in the bushes on the far side of the creek, a meadowlark loosed its high, plaintive song.

“I just don’t want my family in my business,” she said. “You know how it is around town. If we go out to dinner, people will notice. Word will get back to my mother and my grandmother—and now Winona, too.”

“So what?”

“They want me here, at home and happily married. I just don’t want them to get their hopes up, that’s all.”

He’d had enough of the careful distance between them. Stepping onto the blanket, he reached for her hand.

She didn’t resist. On the contrary, she came into his arms with a soft, willing sigh. “Vanessa,” he whispered into her upturned face, his voice like a growl to his own ears. “You’ve made me wait too damn long.”

She had her soft hands on his chest and her head tipped back at just the right angle. Those beautiful freckles were on full display. “And what am I trying to tell you? I’m saying that you don’t have to wait any longer.”

He swooped down and took her mouth.

She tasted so good, like all the best things—sweetness and heat, laughter and tenderness. For too long, he’d wondered if those things would ever really be his.

Her right hand strayed upward and wrapped around his neck. He felt her fingers sliding into the hair at his nape, and he took the kiss deeper, gathering her body closer, sense memory firing—the way she felt naked in his arms, strong and so soft, more than enough to grab onto, to hold on to. He wanted to take her to the blanket, peel off every stitch of clothing and have her right here, by Bushwhacker Creek, under the late-afternoon sky.

But they still had things to settle between them. He broke the kiss, taking dark satisfaction in her groan of protest as he lifted his mouth from hers. “You don’t want your family to get their hopes up about what?”

She gazed at him, her mouth swollen from his kiss, her eyes dreamy and soft. “That I might, um, fall for a local man and, you know, move back home.”

He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. With the tips of his fingers, he combed the hair back from her temple and asked gently, “I can’t believe that they’re going to get their hopes up because I take you out to dinner. We all have to eat. Sometimes men and women eat together in a restaurant. It doesn’t have to be life changing. It’s only dinner. And your mom and your grandma and wise old Winona, they all seem like pretty sharp women to me. They’re not going to start planning the wedding just because you’re seen around town with me.”

She let out a little groan and rested her forehead against his chest. “You’re right. I know it.” And then she looked up to meet his eyes again. “But I’m not ready to go public with you.”

He dropped his arms from around her and stepped back off the blanket. “When, then? When will you be ready?”

“I can’t answer that. I...” She seemed to catch herself. And then she bit the corner of her lower lip and confessed, “Okay. That’s not so. I’m not ever going to be ready. I can’t do that again. Not now, anyway. Maybe eventually...” She might have used the word eventually, but he heard her real meaning in her voice. In this case, eventually meant never going to happen.

“You can’t do what again?”

“Get stars in my eyes. Start thinking that...” Her voice trailed off. She sucked in a deep breath and said, “Jameson, I want to be with you, but it’s really not going anywhere beyond the end of August. I don’t want to have to talk to my family about how I like you a lot, but it’s only for now. I just want you. I want you and I think you want me and I’m willing to be with you for the summer—discreetly.”

“Discreetly. You mean in secret, sneaking around so no one will know.”

“Fine. Yes. If you want to put it that way.”

He wanted to agree to her terms. He wanted that so bad.

But he also wanted a chance for more.

How could he get more if she wouldn’t even say yes to dinner at DJ’s Deluxe? “No. That’s not good enough.” Dropping to a crouch, he swiftly rolled up the blanket. “Come on.” He rose and tucked the blanket under his arm. “I’ll take you home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

After Jameson dropped her off at the apartment and drove away without once glancing back, Van found Callie inside at the stove. She’d cued up her favorite country-and-western playlist and she bounced around to Haley Mae Campbell singing “Highway Honey.”

“Spaghetti and Italian sausage, anyone?” she asked between verses.

Van longed to grab her and hug her and cry on her shoulder. Instead, she put on a bright face and replied, “Let me wash my hands. I’ll cut up the salad.”

“I bought a bottle of red.”

“We are so livin’ large.”

“Do the honors and screw off the top? I like my wine to have a chance to breathe.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat down to eat.

Callie held up her juice glass of red. “A toast. To you and me and this elegant meal.” Van tapped her roomie’s glass with hers, and they both drank, after which Callie said, “Whatever it is, you should just tell me. We’ll eat our dinner and drink more wine and I will share with you all the wisdom of my twenty-five years.”

Van should have known her friend would sense her need to talk. She set down her glass. “It’s Jameson.”

Callie made a show of widening her big brown eyes. “Shocker.”

“As in you’re not shocked at all?”

“As in when he looks at you—fireworks. And when you look at him? Same. I’m just not getting why you don’t follow up on that.”

“Long story.”

“I understand.” Callie’s teasing tone had gentled. “A story of three players who broke your heart. And the boring guy you decided to settle for, who ended up dumping you, too.”

“Even when you say it kindly, that hurts.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No—and that’s why it hurts. And just for the record, Donnie Bell really wasn’t a player. At least, he didn’t start out as one.” Somehow, that had made his screwing her over in front of everyone at Bronco High all the worse.

Really, Donnie was the worst. He’d hurt her so deeply, cut her right to the core. Because she had loved him with her whole young, naive heart and soul.

A Bronco Valley native who lived down the street from her growing up, Donnie Bell was the love of Van’s life—or so she honestly believed at the time. They were BFFs from early childhood. At thirteen, Van realized she loved him as more than a friend. They shared their first kiss that year, in eighth grade. In ninth grade, they declared their undying love for each other. He asked her to marry him sophomore year. She said yes and he slipped a sterling silver promise ring on her trembling finger. They planned a simple ceremony for right after they graduated from Bronco High.

Handsome and kind, Donnie was all hers. He’d always been all hers. At sixteen, she’d believed in his love absolutely. Donnie Bell would be true until death.

But as he grew up, Donnie’s body filled out with muscle, and his smooth face became square-jawed and manly. More than just handsome by then, he was a real heartthrob.

Donnie not only proposed to Van sophomore year, he also joined the football team. He became a Friday night hero. Still, he had eyes only for Van.

Until senior year.

By then, more than one of the rich girls from Bronco Heights had set her sights on him. Donnie ignored those girls—at first.

But Maura Flannigan wouldn’t give up. She was pretty and popular, and her dad had plenty of money. She went after Donnie with single-minded, unwavering determination. In the end, Donnie let her catch him.

He shattered Van’s trust as well as her heart and her love for her hometown. By the time he and Maura and her posse of popular girls were through with her, Van couldn’t wait to get out. When she left for college, she’d felt nothing but gladness to be moving on, leaving Bronco behind for good.

Callie brushed her shoulder, a fond touch. “I get it. I do. But after Donnie, you didn’t give up, did you? You kept trying.”

Oh yes, she had. Through David and Chaz and Trevor.

Callie spun pasta on her fork. “I mean it. You can’t give up now. You need to give love a fighting chance.” She ate the bite of pasta before concluding, “That’s what life’s all about.”

“Ugh.”

“That sound?” Callie put on a reproachful glare. “That sound is not the least encouraging.”

Van and Callie had spent more than one evening sharing grisly tales of life in the trenches, romance-wise. What Van hadn’t said a word about to her summer roomie–turned–BFF was what had transpired on TNTNH. “I have a confession...”

“I love those.” Callie picked up the wine and refilled their glasses. “Continue.”

Van told her friend everything—about TNTNH as well as all that had gone down by Bushwhacker Creek earlier that evening.

When she finished, Callie said, “You wild thing, you. There we all were at New Year’s, hanging out at Happy Hearts eating vegetarian finger food, toasting Evan and Daphne and their forever love, while you were at Wild Willa’s hooking up with Jameson John.” She offered a high five and they slapped palms. “Way to go, Cruise. That’s how you ring in the New Year, if you hear what I’m sayin’.”

“You’re right. It was wonderful. And he and I both agreed it was just that one night.”

“Please. He likes you. You like him. Step outside your comfort zone and give the man a chance.”

“A chance? Didn’t I just explain that I offered to be with him for the summer and he turned me down?”

“Because you said you want to sneak around.”

“Yes, well, I said I wanted to keep it private, but whatever. He said no. So it’s over without ever really even getting started. No way he’s going to be coming around looking to try again.”

“And yet here you are, missing him already. Because you really like him. And when you really like someone, you reach out and try again. I’ll say it one more time. Give the man a chance.”

* * *

Charity breezed in the door at one the next afternoon looking absolutely beautiful, wearing her usual glowing smile. “It’s gorgeous out today. The perfect Independence Day—and, Vanessa, you look fabulous. I like that shirt as much as the one yesterday.”

“Thank you.” Van tried to ignore the elephant missing from the room. But she couldn’t quite do it. “Where’s Jameson?”

Charity set her makeup kit on the table. “Oh, one of the fences went down out at the Double J, and a couple of steers got out. He’ll deal with that and be along later.”

“I see. Well, I hope it all, um, works out.”

Charity shrugged. “It’s a ranch. Fences are bound to go down now and then.”

Van took care not to lock eyes with Callie. Her friend knew way too much now. And Van had no doubt they would be discussing the Jameson situation again at some point.

Just not this afternoon, with his sister in the room. Besides, what more was there to say? Her fantasy of a hot, secret summer romance had ended without ever getting started.

End of story. Nothing to see here. Time to move on.

Charity picked up her makeup kit again. “Let’s get to it. This won’t take long.”

* * *

Charity, Van and Callie caravanned to the day’s Red, White and Bronco festivities.

At Bronco Park, the barbecue experts from all the local ranching families had their smokers and charcoal grills going. The rich, tempting smells of hickory smoke and seared meat filled the air.

Three of Charity’s girlfriends came running up. They wanted her to head over to the row of carnival-style booths on the other side of the barbecue area. The girls couldn’t wait to dunk last year’s high school football hero off his perch and into a giant tub of icy water.

“Go,” Van instructed. “I’m on this. Have fun.”

“But I should take you to the pie tables.” Charity grabbed her hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Abernathy and Mrs. Brandt. They’re heading up the pie contest committee this year.”

“I can see the pie tables from here, and I know both Angela and Mallory. Don’t worry. You have taught me well, and I love pie. There is no problem here. Go with your girls. Win a carnival glass bowl or a stuffed giraffe.”

Charity hugged her—carefully, so as not to mess up her perfectly arranged hair or knock her red spangled cowboy hat askew. “I’ll be back to check on you, just in case you need me...” She was still offering aid and suggestions as her girlfriends dragged her toward the game booths.

“Vanessa! Callie! Over here!” Van glanced toward the sound of her mother’s voice. Wanda Cruise waved at them from a picnic table about twenty yards away.

Callie took her arm. “Let’s go say hi to your folks.”

At the table, Wanda sat with Grandma Daisy and Great-Grandmother Winona. Sean Donohue, Wanda’s boyfriend, had come, too. They’d worked together for years, Sean and Van’s mom. Shortly before last Christmas, they’d finally come out to the family as a couple. Before that, they’d kept their romantic relationship a secret—which people did now and then for any number of reasons, damn it. Too bad a certain thickheaded rancher refused to see it that way.

“Sit with us,” Winona commanded.

Well into her nineties, Winona Cobbs was slender, almost birdlike, with a halo of snow-white hair. She looked frail, and she’d been ill a lot last year when she still lived up north in Rust Creek Falls. Since reuniting with her family, though, Winona had not only miraculously regained perfect health, but she’d also developed a flashy personal style. Today, she wore an electric-green silk shirt and jeans, along with a crystal-bedecked cowboy hat to match.

“You look beautiful, G-G.” Van used the pet name she’d chosen a few months before in order not to have to say “Great-Grandmother” all the time. She took the seat next to Winona.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Winona patted Van’s knee with her spider-thin, wrinkled hand. “Where’s that handsome fella of yours?”

Callie snickered as she slid in on Van’s other side. Van shot her a warning glare and turned back to Winona. “G-G, I don’t have a fella.” Van kept her smile easy and her tone gentle. “I’m a happy single woman, and you know that.”

Winona leaned closer, bringing the faint scent of sandalwood and patchouli. Since she’d opened her little fortune-telling enterprise, Winona had switched from light floral perfumes to more earthy essential oils. “Sometimes, sweetheart, you have to lose in order to win.”

Van decided not to ask what, exactly, that might mean. A quick change of subject seemed the best way to go. “Where are Evan and Daphne?”

Across the table, her mom shook her head. It was answer enough. From over in the large, open area where the men had the smokers and grills going, Cornelius Taylor let out a loud bray of laughter. Beef was the order of the day, with all the local ranchers competing to win the blue ribbon for Best of Bronco Barbecue. Daphne’s dad tended to rule the roost at the Independence Day cook-off—and right now, he and Daphne weren’t getting along. Not surprising she’d chosen to sit this one out.

Van’s mom had set the table with dishes and flatware she’d brought from home. She’d also brought Tupperware containers full of sides, including fresh, oven-baked rolls. As for the savory main course, barbecue, the family would buy that right here at the park. Wanda, Sean and Grandma Daisy got up together to head for the booths that sold the perfectly cooked meat straight from the smokers.

“Hmm,” said Callie. “I think I need to check out the choices while they’re still on the grill. Be right back.”

Van didn’t want to leave Winona all on her own, so she stayed put. G-G regaled her with an update on her new psychic business venture and then sent a meaningful glance toward the barbecue area. “Callie is such a lovely girl...”

“Yes, she is,” Van replied with a nod. Over by the smokers and grills, Van’s roomie had struck up a conversation with one of the Abernathy men—Tyler, if Van remembered correctly. He’d been a year or two ahead of Van in school. As Van watched, Callie laughed at something Tyler said, her gaze shifting shyly away and then back, her cheeks a little flushed. Cutest thing ever. With Van, Callie was always frank and straightforward. Sometimes Van forgot that her friend had a shy side.

Winona remarked, “Don’t those two look good together?”

Van was just about to agree when Tyler’s mom, Hannah, appeared at his side. She had a baby in her arms. With a quick nod at Callie, Hannah passed the baby to Tyler. A moment later, Callie turned to go. Tyler stared after her, but Callie didn’t look back.

“She really ought to just ask him,” Winona said quietly.

Van frowned at her great-grandmother. “Ask him what, G-G?”

But Winona only jumped lightly to her feet. She started taking the covers off the side dishes. A few minutes later, the others, Callie included, returned with clamshell containers of hot, fragrant barbecue.

Van waited for everyone to settle into the meal and start chatting together before asking her friend in a whisper, “So...? Tyler Abernathy, huh?”

Callie leaned in close and answered for Van’s ears alone, “I didn’t see his wedding ring until his mom handed him his baby girl—whose name is Maeve, by the way. Maeve is nine months old and, as you might have noticed, completely adorable. Just like her mother, I have no doubt.”

Van made a sad face. “Sorry, honey.”

Callie grabbed another rib from one of the containers in the middle of the table. “At least the food is the best ever.”

Earl Tillson jumped to the stage where the band would play later. He stepped up to the mike there. “May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Once again, Red, White and Bronco is giving you the best barbecue in Montana, courtesy of our local ranchers. The entries have been judged and the competition was fierce, and I’m up here right now to give you your winners.”

A wave of applause followed.

Earl announced, “In third place, the Double J!” Everybody clapped as Randall John got up to accept the white ribbon. Taylor Beef came in second. Cornelius strutted to the stage to claim the red, his second-born son, Brandon, at his side.

“And in first place, let’s have a giant round of applause for...” Earl drew out the moment before shoving a fist in the air and shouting, “Abernathy Meats!”

It wasn’t much of a surprise. For as long as Van could remember, the Taylors and the Abernathys inevitably won the top two ribbons. Still, the applause level rose higher than before as Tyler and his handsome brothers broke out in cheers. Their father, Hutch, stepped up to take the blue ribbon.

But not everyone approved of the Abernathy win. At the next table over, Van heard a man mutter, “Right. Once again, it’s the Abernathys and Taylors taking first and second place...”

“Surprising exactly no one,” groused the woman beside him.

The complaint was picked up and echoed here and there through the park. One of the Dalton boys, Boone, said right out loud it wasn’t fair. A distant Abernathy relation shouted at him to pipe down.

Earl Tillson put an end to the barbecue controversy by announcing, “And now, I want to introduce you all again to our one and only Miss Bronco. Vanessa Cruise, get on up here and say hi to the folks!”

“Yippee,” she muttered under her breath as she cleaned the barbecue off her hands with a wet wipe. Rising, Van executed a fancy pageant wave at all and sundry. Everyone applauded as she headed for the stage—which was good. Wonderful, even. At least today no one had questioned her claim to the crown or called her “the fake Miss Bronco.”

Not so far, anyway.

Up on the stage, Earl stuck the mike in her face, and she said a few words about the superior quality of barbecue produced by Bronco ranchers and how great it was to see everyone out having a fine time on this gorgeous Independence Day.

“Vanessa,” Earl spoke into the mike again. “It’s my job to ask you the all-important question...”

“Hit me with it, Earl.”

“Are you ready to judge twelve tasty pies created with love and skill and tender care by the best bakers in Bronco?”

“Earl, when it comes to pie, I’m always ready.”

“And ain’t that what we needed to hear, ladies and gentlemen?”

The park erupted in applause, whistles and catcalls.

Earl waited till the ruckus died down a bit to instruct, “Right this way, Vanessa.” He led her to the three pushed-together folding tables decked with patriotic bunting, accented with vases of red, white and blue mums, and crowned with a row of absolutely beautiful pies.

Sometimes the duties of a beauty queen sucked. But judging the Red, White and Bronco Fourth of July pie contest almost made it all worthwhile.

Right then, Charity, carrying her own folding chair, appeared on Van’s left.

Van sat in the chair Earl held for her and beamed up at Charity. “Come on, sit right here beside me. Let’s get to work.”

Such a challenging task, but someone had to do it. Van and Charity took their time tasting each and every pie—some more than once. Just to be sure. They had a great time, laughing together, making a big deal of each offering so that no baker would feel slighted.

A crowd gathered around them, including all the contest entrants and several of Van’s Young Adventurers. Everyone laughed and offered suggestions and encouragements as Van and Charity consulted and argued the merits of each pie, with Van always eager to dig right in and take another bite. Charity held her back, reminding her that they had to respect the “physical integrity” of every pie.

“It’s important,” Charity insisted, “that we don’t eat too much of any one pie, in order that enough of every pie remains to take an attractive picture of at least one large and appetizing slice when the winners are declared. You know we’ll make the front page of the Bronco Bulletin, right?”

Van slung an arm across her favorite runner-up’s slim shoulders and leaned close to whisper, “You’re not only gorgeous and talented and smart, but you also have way too much integrity, even about pie. I mean, nobody has integrity about pie. It’s too delicious. We all just want to gobble it right up.”

Charity giggled. “I love pie, too.” She drew in a big breath and tipped her head at a determined slant. “But we have a job to do here.”

And do the job they did, posing with the winners when Earl announced them. First and second place, a lemon meringue and a spiced apple, respectively, went to women who lived in Bronco Valley. One of the Dalton boys claimed third with a perfectly tart strawberry rhubarb. Each winner got enthusiastic applause, and Van heard not a single muttered complaint about the fairness of the judging.

Was it possible that her detractors were getting used to a girl from Bronco Valley wearing the Miss Bronco crown?

“I think that went well,” Charity declared with an approving nod once Earl mounted the stage again to remind everyone of all the fun still to come, including music and dancing and fireworks after dark.

Van grabbed Charity in a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes, you could.” Charity hugged her back. “But we sure are a great team.”

“Let’s face it. We rock.”

Right then, Charity’s friends ran up to sweep her away.

“Coming,” Charity promised them, then turned to Van again. “So. You have the Favorite Pet Contest tomorrow at Happy Hearts. I’ll be at your apartment at, say, eleven?”

“Just meet me at Happy Hearts, okay? I have Young Adventurers in the morning. So I’m thinking if you could be there by noonish?” The contest started at one.

“See you at noon, then.” With a last quick hug, Charity went off to join her friends.

Van watched Jameson’s little sister go, her thoughts turning bittersweet. She hadn’t spotted Jameson once all day. Had he skipped the barbecue because of her?

Though he’d only turned her offer down yesterday, somehow it felt like she’d been missing him for a long time—missing his sexy smile and that devilish look in his eyes, the look that promised things she shouldn’t even let herself think about.

Because where could it go, anyway? Yes, she wanted to spend her summer nights with him. But really, wasn’t a secret summer fling just asking for trouble? She’d never been any good at casual relationships. Consider TNTNH as an example. She’d finally indulged in a one-night stand—and then spent way too much time afterward trying not to think about the man she’d shared it with.

What made her imagine she’d suddenly become the kind of woman who wouldn’t end up getting attached?

One way or another, she always did. And so far, getting attached had only brought her heartbreak in the end.

“Hello, Nessa.” The familiar voice came from behind her—and no, it wasn’t Jameson’s voice, but the voice of the boy she’d once loved to distraction. The voice she’d once thought she would never grow tired of hearing.

How sad, really, that love could turn into ashes, into nothing but an echo of remembered pain. She didn’t even want to look at him.

In the nine years since Donnie Bell decimated her heart, she’d come face-to-face with him twice. Both times, just the sight of him had cut her to the core.

The first time, seven years ago, he’d given her a big, phony smile. He’d behaved as though she was just some girl he knew once and hardly remembered anymore. The second time, four years later, he’d bragged to her about how his father-in-law, who owned two car dealerships, had put him in charge of the larger one in Bronco Heights, where they sold the luxury cars.

That second time she’d run into him, he’d worn a fake smile, too. And that time was even worse. That time, the fake smile seemed sleazy and he’d had a certain unacceptable look in his eye. She’d felt sick to her stomach thinking he might try to make a pass or something.

If he’d tried that, she would have kneed him in the family jewels without a second thought. In high school, she’d been a lot more trusting. He’d annihilated her heart and then come back for more. She’d believed him when he said he was sorry, that he’d been so wrong, that he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her and that he and Maura Flannigan were finished.

Van had forgiven him.

And then he’d betrayed her all over again.

Now, she just wanted not to have to deal with him. She considered her next move—walk away without looking back? Or face him for the third time in all these years?

“I just thought I’d say hi,” he said.

Her pride won out. Drawing her shoulders up tall, she turned and met the hazel eyes of the boy she’d once trusted completely, the one who was supposed to be her forever.

Not a boy anymore, Donnie still looked good. A little tired, maybe, but strong and tall and handsome. “Donnie. How are you?”

“Fine.” His gaze wandered—down over her body and slowly back up again. “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “What do you want, Donnie?”

A chasm of silence yawned between them. Apparently, he couldn’t decide how to answer her question.

Strange how life goes. This time the sight of him brought none of the anguish the mere thought of him used to cause her. And the complete lack of pain she felt at this moment had her realizing that the impossible had finally happened.

She was completely over Donnie Bell. Only an echo of sadness remained.

And that echo? Mostly from the loss of the friendship they’d shared as kids—the two of them a team, a couple of awkward poor kids from Bronco Valley. Kings of West Street, they used to call themselves. They would race their battered secondhand bikes up and down the block, flying so fast they swore no one could catch them.

Down by the narrow creek that ran behind Donnie’s house, they’d built a fort of willow branches tied together with strips of bark. In their fort, they would whisper to each other of the things they wanted most. A trip to Disney World and a new bike for him. And for her, a good dad, one who didn’t disappear from her life without warning, never to return.

“Just wanted to congratulate you on becoming Miss Bronco,” Donnie said at last, drawing her out of the lost world of memory, plopping her down in the here and now.

“Thanks. It’s an all-new experience for me, and I’m pretty much playing it by ear.”

“Donnie!” a slender, pretty, harried-looking blonde shouted from maybe thirty feet away. Pushing a toddler in a stroller, with a baby in a sling attached to the front of her and a little girl of maybe seven or so running along beside her, Donnie’s wife, Maura, came rushing toward them.

The little girl kept tugging on Maura’s arm. “Mommy, pink popcorn. I want the pink popcorn.”

Maura shushed her and kept on coming. The toddler in the stroller had started to fuss. As Maura pulled the stroller to a stop next to her husband, the toddler squawked louder.

The little girl turned to her father. “Daddy, can you please buy me the pink popcorn!”

“Sure, princess,” said Donnie. He stroked a big hand down her fine blond hair. “Just give us a minute here.”

“Vanessa,” said Maura, bending to stick a binky in the toddler’s mouth and then straightening up with a tight little smile. “Congratulations—on the Miss Bronco thing?”

“Thank you.”

“A lot of people were beyond stunned when Earl called your name the other day. I mean, you didn’t even enter the contest, and you never were exactly the beauty queen type, now were you? But you look great. Have you lost weight?”

Vanessa managed not to roll her eyes. “Maura, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Yes, well, I try to keep fit—and with these three little broncos, what choice do I have? Being a mom’s a big job.” She frowned. “But you never even got married, did you?”

“Nope. Still single. Somebody has to have all the fun, right?”

Maura narrowed her sharp eyes, most likely trying to decide whether Van had just insulted her. In the end, she simply scoffed and turned to her husband. “Come on, now. We can’t stand here forever. My parents are waiting.”

Donnie sent Van the strangest look—a little sad. And way too weary for a man of only twenty-seven. “Good to see you, Nessa.”

“’Bye, Donnie.” Van watched them walk away, the toddler starting to fuss again, the little girl still demanding pink popcorn. Yeah, she really had loved Donnie once. It was young love, fierce and passionate, the kind of love that feels destined to last forever.

But it hadn’t lasted. Donnie had betrayed her. Twice.

And now, for the first time in the years since it all blew apart with him, she found she really wanted to let all the hurt go, get past the memory of the mean girls whispering behind their hands, pointing at her, laughing at first—and later writing rotten things on her locker with red nail polish, calling her the worst sorts of names, tormenting her, putting her through the high school version of hell.

Today, for the first time, she felt she could almost forgive Donnie’s initial betrayal—the one where he showed up one Wednesday morning for advanced biology with his arm around Maura Flannigan after whispering words of love to Van on Tuesday night.

As for his second, more brutal act of treachery, that one still got to her when she let herself think about it. After that second betrayal, she’d stopped being a laughingstock and become the object of outright scorn and hatred. Forgiveness came harder for that.

But it had all happened so long ago. Better to let the hurt go, wish the man well—maybe not for his sake, but for the sake of those three little kids of his. Innocent children needed a loving dad they could count on.

And who was she kidding? No, Van couldn’t completely forgive Donnie yet. But she liked to think she was getting there.

For the next few hours, Van sat with her family, enjoying the brownies and coffee she and Callie had bought from one of the booths. Afternoon faded to early evening, and the first star appeared in the clear Montana sky.

Winona leaned close to her. “Make a wish upon a star, sweetheart.”

“G-G, haven’t you heard? If wishes were rocket ships, we would have settled the far reaches of the galaxy by now.”

Winona chuckled, a dry sound, like leaves rustling together high on a mountaintop where few ever go. “Wishes matter. They shape our dreams. And without dreams, how can we foresee what we need to make happen?”

Van leaned close enough to kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek. “That’s beautiful, G-G.”

“So then, make your wish.”

Van gave in. She closed her eyes and let her wish take form. She did it in gratitude for all she had already—her teaching career, which she adored, a family she treasured, who cherished her right back, and good friends like Callie and Charity—and a couple of her girlfriends in Billings, too.

Dear first star, please send me someone to count on, someone I can trust, someone who will never cheat or walk away. Send me a forever sort of man—and yeah, I know it’s a lot ask, but it’s about time, don’t you think?

So shoot her. Her greatest hope had not died completely. Somewhere deep down, she still nurtured the dream that she might find the right man for her.

“There now,” said Winona. “Didn’t that feel good?”

Van leaned her head on her great-grandmother’s thin shoulder. “Oh, maybe a little bit.”

Winona gave another dry-leaf chuckle. “You’re a tough nut to crack, sweetheart. Oh, look. Here comes that dear girl, Charity, with one of her good-looking big brothers.”

Did Van’s silly heart leap? It might’ve. It definitely skipped a beat when she turned and met Jameson’s sin-blue eyes.

“See, Vanessa,” announced Charity, slipping her arm into the crook of Jameson’s elbow. “He did come.”

“I see that.”

“Welcome, you two,” said Winona. “Sit with us,” she commanded, “for a few moments, at least.”

Charity took the empty space next to Wanda.

Wanda offered her the paper plate with the last three brownies on it. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Charity chose a brownie and took a bite. “Yummy.”

As for the blue-eyed devil named Jameson, he sat next to Van. “Looks like this is the only spot left.”

Van dared to look straight at him. Wouldn’t you know? She’d wished for a good, steady man who would love her forever, and what did she get? Sheer temptation. Did he have to be so hot? “I heard you had some fences down over at the Double J.”

That wonderful mouth tipped up at the corners. “A couple of pesky heifers knocked out some posts.”

“Wait. Charity told me steers were the problem.”

Across the table, Charity chimed in, “I said the steers got loose.”

“And they did,” Jameson agreed. “But those heifers, they were the problem. Dawson saw them headbutting fence posts, like they thought they had horns or something. They’re a temperamental pair. We should have culled them early on.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Charity glared at him—but then she grinned. “They’re funny, those two. They’ve got personality.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Jameson muttered.

“That is exactly what I call it,” Charity replied. “And I do have a say about what happens to them. Wasn’t I the one who fed them by hand when both their mamas died in that freak April blizzard?”

Jameson wore an obstinate expression. His eyes, though? They sparkled with humor. They also stayed focused on Van. “Charity calls them Frilly and Dilly.”

“That’s cute,” said Van’s mom.

“Thank you, Wanda.” Charity’s smile was both sweet and smug.

Jameson grunted. “Please. Personality is the last thing a breeder wants in a heifer. A good heifer is docile. Calm. A docile heifer eats better than a skittish animal. They put up with handling. They produce better meat and calmer-natured offspring. Breeding only docile heifers can dramatically improve the general temperament of a herd within just a few years.”

Van ventured, “Should I even ask what’s going to happen to Frilly and Dilly?”

“Well, I had to put my foot down.” Charity scowled at her brother. “Nobody is eating my babies, and that’s that.”

“They’ll be moving to Happy Hearts,” said Jameson resignedly. “I called Daphne about it today. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll be trucking them over there.”

“I’ll miss them,” said Charity. “But I’m really grateful to Daphne that she’s made a place where heifers with personality can find a loving home.”

The talk turned to other subjects. Winona invited everyone out to see her at Wisdom by Winona. She promised support and advice for anything that might be troubling them—no issue too large or too small—at a reasonable fee. Grandma Daisy, an artist who’d once illustrated a famous series of children’s stories, shared a couple of funny anecdotes about her favorite students in the art class she taught now at the local senior center.

Jameson sat right there beside Van for a good half hour. She took way too much pleasure in his nearness and tried not to act at all interested in him. That would only get the family on her case. They would start in about how she ought to move home. She didn’t need that.

But the clear, cool evening seemed even more beautiful since Charity’s big brother had claimed the space at Van’s side.

As for Jameson, he seemed happy just hanging out, joining in the easy conversation at the table. And each time Van met his eyes, she felt that secret little thrill shimmer through her.

Too often, love had disappointed her. But attraction? That always felt great. There was nothing so sweet as wanting a guy and knowing that whatever did or didn’t happen, he felt the pull, too.

Had he reconsidered the offer she’d made last night?

She couldn’t help but hope so.

The shadows lengthened, and nighttime approached. A six-piece local band took the stage over by the portable dance floor erected in the park every year for the barbecue.

Jameson glanced up at the darkening sky. “Time I checked on the folks. Maddox and Dawson can always use another hand loading the cookers.”

Charity added, “And there’s all the picnic gear to pack up.” The two rose to go.

“Thanks for everything.” Van gave Charity back her spangled hat.

“Tomorrow,” said Charity, settling the hat on her flowing blond curls. “Noon. Happy Hearts.”

“Perfect.” As Van watched them go, she couldn’t help hoping she might see Jameson again that evening.

Meanwhile, Van’s mom and grandmother started putting the lids on the Tupperware. Everyone over fifty seemed to think it was time to head home.

Grandma Daisy spoke of watching the fireworks later from the front yard. “I like to head straight to my bed once the last rocket shoots skyward,” she said with a tired little smile.

After hugs all around, the older folks went on their way.

Van and Callie sat at the table, enjoying the evening together, until one of the Sanchez boys asked Callie to dance. Van got up, too. She stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching, loving the sound of boots tapping rhythm in time to the music.

Some cowboy she’d never met before moved close. “Dance?”

“I would love to.”

They joined the crowded floor for “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” When that one was over, another cowboy stepped up. They danced to an old Kenny Chesney song. As that song ended, she thanked him and turned—right into the arms of the man she’d been waiting for.

The band launched into a cover of “Beautiful Crazy.”

Talk about a glorious moment. Van closed her eyes and gave herself up to the clear night, the glow of the party lights strung overhead, that first star keeping watch far above and the perfect feel of Jameson’s strong arms around her.

“We should talk.” His breath was warm in her ear.

“Hmm.” She brushed the close-cut hair at the back of his neck, reveled in the feel of his skin under her fingers. So what if love never worked out for her? Heat and magic, passion and tenderness—on a night like tonight, those felt like more than enough. “Talk? That’s what you want from me?”

“To start, yeah.”

She pressed her body closer to his. It felt so right when he held her in his arms. All through the long winter, into spring and early summer, she’d missed this.

Missed him.

Just one night. That’s all they’d had. And yet, she couldn’t get the man out of her thoughts.

It’s only for now, she reminded herself. This, between us, it’s for the summer and that’s all.

Did her heart listen?

Never mind about that.

She wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck, stroked her middle finger in that tender place behind his ear. “You know I’m interested. I thought I made that clear last night.”

He nuzzled the hair at her temple. “I love how you smell. Like roses—and something else. Something woodsy, a little sharp.”

“Juniper.”

“That’s it.” He breathed deep. “I like it. A lot.”

“So you wanted to talk about what shampoo I use?”

He chuckled. The sound vibrated from his body into hers. “I wanted to talk about doing things your way.”

Her hopeless heart beat a faster rhythm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Vanessa. You still open to that?”

She looked up into those eyes that were deep and dark now, night-blue. “I am, absolutely. I’m open, Jameson. To you.”

CHAPTER SIX

Now that he had Vanessa in his arms, Jameson knew he’d made the right decision. He’d lain awake half the night last night, staring at the shadows lurking up near the vaulted ceiling, trying to tell himself that he was right and she was wrong, that he’d had enough of trying to get through to her.

But then, a few hours before dawn, he’d finally faced the truth. He wanted to get close to her. And with a skittish woman like Vanessa, a man only had a chance of getting close if he agreed to do so on her terms.

The irony of the situation did not escape him. He’d spent a lot of years having nothing but a real good time when it came to the fairer sex. When a woman got too clingy or started talking marriage and babies, he couldn’t get the hell out fast enough.

And then he finally grew up. He’d started hungering for a family—with the right woman. He’d met Maybelle. They’d married. And from her, he’d learned a painful lesson. In the immortal words of Jon Pardi, “It ain’t always the cowboy that rides away.”

Would Vanessa have him humming the same tune in the end?

It sure did look that way. But a man could never win if he refused to play the game.

So for now, forget the future. He had Vanessa in his arms, and the way she looked up at him, dark eyes soft and hopeful, promised a great night ahead and, just maybe, if he played his cards right, more nights to come.

Whatever happened, at least he’d have a good time while she remained in town. It wasn’t near enough for him. But to have a prayer of more, he needed to stay in the damn game—and keep a check on himself.

She’d made it painfully clear that she had no interest in getting serious. He needed to remember that, needed not to get too attached.

And who could say? Maybe they’d grow closer. Close enough that she’d learn to trust him. Close enough that she’d be willing to change her rules.

Right now, though, he needed not to push her when she refused to budge.

* * *

“You want to stay for the fireworks?” Jameson asked as the song ended and another slow one began.

Van pulled back enough to meet his waiting eyes. “Nope. I was kind of thinking I might follow you to your place.”

The way he smiled at her made her stomach hollow out and hot shivers race up and down her spine. “Get our own fireworks going?”

She returned his smile. “You just read my mind.”

“Damn, woman. I do like the way your mind works.”

She wanted to lift up and fit her mouth to his. But there were too many people around who didn’t need to know that she and Jameson had plans for the evening—intimate plans.

Apparently, his thoughts followed the same track as hers, because he quirked a dark gold eyebrow and said, “I really want to kiss you now.”

She gave him her sternest schoolteacher glare. “But you won’t.”

A low, rough chuckle escaped him. “Just checking. I want to be sure I’m clear on the rules.”

“Simple. Nobody else needs to know, and nobody else gets to know.”

Something happened in his eyes. He glanced away for a fraction of a second. But then he nodded. “Got it.”

“So, I’m thinking you go first. I’ll say good-night to Callie and then I’ll be along.”

“You remember the way, then?”

“Oh yes, I do.”

He pulled her close again. With a contented sigh, she tucked her head under his chin. As they swayed together, he suggested, “Let’s just finish out this song.”

They held each other close—but not too close—until the song ended.

He whispered, “If you get lost, you call me.” And then he was gone.

One of the Dalton boys asked for a dance. It was a fast one. As soon as the fiddle hit the last note, Van went looking for Callie.

She spotted her roomie by the picnic tables and hurried over to say good-night.

When Van reached Callie’s side, her friend leaned in close and teased, “So? Nice dance with Jameson?”

Van couldn’t hide her grin. “Very nice, thank you.”

They shared a long look, and Callie said, “Let me guess. Things aren’t exactly over between you two, after all.”

“You are sworn to secrecy. I really don’t want anyone in my family to know.”

“Haven’t you heard? Secrecy is overrated. You’re a grown woman. Your family really can’t tell you what choices to make.”

“I know. But I don’t want them hoping and dropping hints and, well, all up in my business in their sweet and loving way.”

“I’ll say it again. They can’t make your choices for you.”

“I mean it. Not a word to anyone.” She crooked her little finger and held it out to Callie. “Pinkie swear.”

Callie groaned, but she hooked pinkies with Van. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

“You have a certain look about you. You’re meeting him, aren’t you?”

“I will say this much. Don’t wait up.”

* * *

When Van pulled her Forester into the driveway at Jameson’s house, he was waiting on the front step, his tall frame silhouetted by the inside lights behind him.

Van grabbed her shoulder bag and got out. Shoving the door shut, she ran around the front of the car, eager to get to him. He held out his arms and she jumped into them, laughing, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

Laughing along with her, he spun her in a circle.

In the distance, she heard whistling sounds and a series of loud pops. She pointed skyward, where a streak of red shot high and bloomed into a giant flower of light. “The fireworks have started.”

“You’d better believe it.” His lips met hers. She opened for him, tasting him, her mind a hot, eager whirl of joy and desire.

His big hands cradling her bottom, he carried her inside, not once breaking their kiss as he crossed the great room, finally letting her slide to her feet when he reached the kitchen. She dropped her purse on the counter chair and grinned up at him.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He bent to take her mouth again.

It was another one of those kisses, the endless kind. But he didn’t pull her close, and she somehow kept herself from swaying into him. Their bodies a few inches apart, their mouths fused together, they kissed for the longest time.

When he lifted his head, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, feeling dazed and maybe a little bit delirious.

Then something batted against her boot. She looked down. A skinny, white-spotted brown dog stared up at her. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Meet Slim. He’s a German shorthair—mostly, anyway. Slim’s about a third Weimaraner.”

She bent to take Slim’s long face between her hands. “Hey, buddy.” Slim gazed at her through soulful brown eyes and gave a low, happy whine. His tail slapped the floor as she scratched under his chin and around the back of his ears. “Where were you last New Year’s Eve?”

“At the vet’s, as I recall. Little run-in with a coyote. Slim won the match, but the coyote got in a lick or two.”

She gave Slim a last scratch. Jameson put down a hand, and she took it. A sweet shiver coursed through her as she rose. “I can’t believe I’m really here again.”

He touched her hair—a careful touch, his palm resting lightly against the curve of her skull. “You want something to drink? A snack, maybe?”

She reached up and brushed her fingers along the sculpted line of his jaw, enjoying the feel of his short beard against her fingertips. “Just you.”

He caught her hand. Pausing only to give Slim the command to stay, he led her down the short hall to his room—and kicked the door shut behind him, rousing a memory of that night last winter, of the sheer glory of it. He’d kicked the door shut that night, too.

And she’d promised herself that the wonder she’d shared with him would never happen again. Some promises, apparently, just begged to be broken.

They stood by the turned-back bed in the light of a single lamp. He unbuttoned her shirt and took it away, dropping it on the bedside chair. Quickly, he got rid of the rest of her clothes—or most of them, anyway.

He pushed her down to sit on the side of the bed, knelt at her feet and removed her boots and her socks. Taking her hand, pulling her upright again, he took down her jeans and her panties, spinning them on a finger before tossing them on the bedside chair.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

Without a stitch on, she stretched out on the cool sheet. “Your turn.”

Took him about a minute and a half. Boy, did he look good naked. Since last New Year’s, her memories of him without his clothes had filled her fantasies and carried her to her happy place a whole bunch of times. But her memories had nothing on the reality of him—so beautifully manly, everything broad and hard and cut.

As he came down to her, she reached up and put her hand flat against his chest. He felt so good—the silky heat of his flesh and beneath that, the strong, steady beat of his heart.

“I missed you,” he whispered, as his mouth came down to capture hers.

He settled his body over hers, and her need became frantic—to get her hands all over him, to kiss him long and deep and thoroughly, to give herself up to each thrilling sensation.

She needed to get her hands all over him, and he seemed equally eager to touch her everywhere. They laughed together, rolling from one side of the big bed to the other, hands stroking, grabbing, holding, her long hair tangling all around them.

He cupped her full breast in a big hand, positioning it for his mouth, and then he claimed it, sucking, nibbling—biting, too. She moaned and gathered him tight against her as his other hand strayed down. Outside, far in the distance, she heard fireworks exploding.

“So wet, so ready...” He lifted his head from her breast and took her mouth again.

“Condom,” she commanded against his parted lips. “More foreplay later. Right now, I can’t wait.”

He didn’t hesitate. Sticking out a muscular arm, he caught the knob of the bedside drawer and pulled it open. She helped, taking the pouch from his hand, quickly peeling it open, then pushing him onto his back and straddling him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He stared up at her, eyes glittering, face intent, his fine mouth slightly parted, big chest expanding with each ragged breath. “Like that painting of Venus by that Italian guy.”

“Botticelli?”

“Yeah, that one. So soft and full and gorgeous.”

She bent for a quick kiss before rolling the condom down over his hard, thick length. “There.”

He took over. Big hands clasping her hips, he rolled her under him. She watched his face, loving the heat in his eyes, the strong set of his jaw. He eased his thick, powerful thighs between her soft ones, nudging her legs wider, making room, reaching down to line himself up with her.

“Eyes up here, on me, Vanessa.” He growled the words.

She obeyed, lifting her chin and meeting his unwavering gaze.

He thrust in.

She let out a deep groan of pure pleasure as he filled her. “It’s been too long.”

“Tell me about it.”

And then she was grabbing for him, pulling him down to her, wrapping her legs around him, meeting each stroke, her body quickly rising, heat racing down her spine, blooming outward in a sudden, powerful climax.

“So fast,” she moaned. “I’m going over...”

“Right there with you.” He surged in deep and she felt him, pulsing inside the condom, joining her in a free fall off the edge of the world.

For a few minutes, they simply lay there, panting, holding on to each other.

When he got up to dispose of the condom, he commanded, “Don’t even move. I’ll be right back.”

He wasn’t kidding. Two minutes later, he rejoined her on the bed. “Come here.” Pulling her good and close, he settled his mouth over hers.

The ecstasy started all over again.

* * *

Much later, he tugged the covers up around them.

“It’s after midnight,” she said. “I should go.”

Canting up on an elbow, he smoothed her tangled hair out onto the pillow. “Stay for just a little while.”

She reached up, traced the straight lines of his eyebrows, skated a finger down the bridge of his commanding nose. “Not for long.”

He dropped a kiss on her chin. “What time do you have to be at Happy Hearts in the morning?”

“Eight at the latest. I run my science workshops from nine to noon.”

“If you just stayed here with me, you could—”

She silenced him with the tips of two fingers. “Can’t. I have to pull it together in the morning, full-on hair and makeup, all that, because I need to be Miss Bronco in the afternoon. Your sister will be there, checking my look. She’s the best, and I refuse to let her down.”

“You won’t let her down. You couldn’t.” He kissed her fingertips, caught a thick lock of hair and guided it tenderly behind her ear. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

She let out a low, happy laugh. “Flatterer.”

“God’s honest truth.” He gazed at her so intently.

Sometimes, when he looked at her, she felt...untethered, somehow. Free of all the everyday limitations that held her anchored to the earth. She felt she could sprout wings and fly, go anywhere—even come back home. That she could shed all her doubts and fears, forget the pain she’d suffered in this town, put aside the hard lessons she’d learned in her life. Sometimes he made her feel that she could safely give herself up to him, trust that he wouldn’t hurt her, see where this magic they shared might take them.

But no. She wouldn’t do that. Donnie and David and Chaz and Trevor had schooled her but good. The fifth time would not be the charm—not now, anyway, and definitely not with a man who lived in Bronco. She accepted that.

Maybe someday she would follow through when she wished on the night’s first star. Not any time soon, though.

This, with Jameson, was just for the summer. She would love every minute with him and go back to her real life in Billings when summer ended.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He bent close, rubbed his nose against hers, pressed a featherlight kiss between her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I have to go in an hour. Kiss me like you mean it. Let’s not waste a minute.”

“My pleasure.” He claimed her mouth.

She twined her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the moment.

* * *

Much to Jameson’s satisfaction, Vanessa stayed later than she planned. Like their night last winter, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. But unlike that last time, this time he woke when she left the bed.

He turned on the light and watched her get dressed, watched her cover that curvy, beautiful body he would never get tired of looking at. “Don’t forget your other sock, now.”

She picked it up off the rug, waved it at him and sat on the bed to pull it on. Her boots came last. She stood. “See you.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

She protested that it wasn’t necessary, but then she lingered, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he grabbed last night’s Wranglers and put them on.

Slim was waiting just outside the door.

“Hey, boy.” Vanessa knelt to give the mutt a last scratch behind the ears.

And then she headed for the kitchen where she’d left her shoulder bag. Pausing there at the counter, she took out her contacts and put on a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, turning to wink at him as she grabbed up her bag. “I’m out of here.”

He stepped in close, blocking her way to the door. “I like those glasses.”

She gave him a look, like he’d better not try keeping her here too long. “Um, thank you?”

“They make you look seriously sexy. And also like a really good teacher who won’t let her students get away with anything.”

“That’s me—but with wiggle room. In my class, everybody gets second chances.”

He took a lock of her hair and tugged on it. “I’ll be at Happy Hearts early to drop off Charity’s heifers.”

“Maybe I’ll see you.”

He couldn’t stop wanting to touch her. Lowering his mouth to hers, he brushed a slow kiss across her soft lips. “Oh, you’ll see me. I think I’ll just hang around, help Daphne out with whatever needs doing. I think I should be there for the pet adoption. After all, it’s the final Red, White and Bronco event for this year. Wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“I would like it if you were there.”

“That settles it, then.”

Her dark eyes had that gleam in them. They made him think of her, in his bed, without a stitch of clothing separating them.

He kissed her again. He just couldn’t get enough of kissing her. “Tomorrow night...”

“Jameson, it’s already tomorrow.”

“Tonight, then. Be with me tonight.”

She hesitated. He dared to breathe again when she decided in his favor. “All right. Tonight, then.”

“I’ll grill us some steaks.”

“Sounds good.”

“Be here at six?”

“Works for me.”

He shouldn’t push his luck. But he did it anyway. “I want every night, all through July and August. Every night you’ll give me—maybe some days, too. If you’re not teaching your workshops, if I don’t have fences down, if you’ve got time to spare.”

She laughed. He drank in the sound. “The whole idea is it’s just for the summer. And we play it by ear.”

“I’m aware.” Two months. It wasn’t enough. Now he just needed to make her see that. He tugged on the pointy collar of her fancy Western shirt. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

She laid her hand on his chest and lifted up to kiss him again. “I really do need to go.”

Reluctantly, he stepped aside. He and Slim followed her out. Slim at his feet, he stood on the porch waving as she backed out and drove off.

When he looked down at Slim, the dog whined, a questioning sound. “All right. Go on. Take care of your business and let’s get some sleep.”

* * *

Callie, all dressed and ready for work, was sitting at the table sipping coffee and reading the Bronco Bulletin when Van finished showering, putting on her makeup, getting dressed and fixing her hair just so. Being a beauty queen entailed way too much grooming, in her humble opinion. She’d run through her limited wardrobe of Miss Bronco–worthy Western shirts, so she’d recycled the shirt she’d worn to the rodeo.

“There’s coffee,” Callie said. “And you’re going to need some more sparkly shirts.”

“Yeah.” Van poured herself a mug. “Lucky for me, this is the last event I’ve got to attend in my official capacity till the end of the month. I’ll make time before then to go shopping, maybe go hog wild and get some showy hats and cool boots, too.” She sipped coffee and lifted the cover off the plate Callie had left on the counter. “Yum. French toast.”

“Figured you might be hungry.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Love you, too. Eat your breakfast. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Mother.” She joined her roomie at the table and dug in. “So good. Thank you.”

“Mmm-hmm. Have a nice time last night?”

“I had a wonderful time.”

“Good.” Callie turned the newspaper around so Van could see the front-page news. The headline read, A Miss Bronco Like No Other.

The picture showed Van onstage Friday in her old jeans and T-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, wearing her winner’s banner, looking faintly bewildered as last year’s Miss Bronco placed the crown on her head. “Like no other, indeed.”

“Face it. You’re a star.”

* * *

Van loved teaching high school science. But this summer, she had tweens and early teens in her science, technology, engineering and mathematics workshop—and they were a whole lot of fun.

DIY bottle rockets thrilled them. She’d had the kids collecting two-liter plastic pop bottles since day one. Last week, they’d made the launch pads, which consisted of small sections of two-by-four with a cork nailed to the center of each one.

In the barnlike shed that Daphne had provided for their summer classroom, Van gave a short recap lecture on the chemical interaction between vinegar and bicarbonate of soda.

“Bakers often mix the two in their recipes,” she said. “Vinegar and soda are also useful in homemade cleaning products. In both cases, you have other, neutral substances to contain the interaction. Substances like...?”

The kids shouted out answers. “Flour!”

“Soap!”

“Correct. Last week we mixed vinegar and baking soda and poured the result into a wide open container surrounded by a small mountain of sand. We watched how carbon dioxide rose to the top of the mixture, creating bubbles and foam that looked like...”

“A volcano!”

“That’s right! Today, we make our bottle rockets. With a bottle rocket, you’re confining the chemical reaction in the restricted space of the bottle with only a small opening for possible escape, causing the chemical interaction to do what?”

Several of the boys made exploding sounds, while Emma Bledsoe called out, “Vinegar and baking soda make carbonic acid, which decomposes into carbon dioxide gas. The tight space and small opening are what blows the bottle off the cork.” Not only a fighter for equal rights in the Miss Bronco beauty pageant, Emma was also a budding scientist.

“Exactly,” said Van. “And that makes...”

“The rocket!” crowed more than one of the boys.

They all filed outside to the cleared area in front of the classroom shed and went to work setting up the rocket assembly stations—including the empty bottles with colored tape and markers to decorate them, water and vinegar in measured amounts, baking soda that had to be carefully rolled up in sections of paper towel. And finally, the launching pads with their nailed-on corks.

More than one of the kids had made DIY bottle rockets at home as a family project. Van put one of those students in charge of each station, with Emma running the launching pad station, where the final step had to be done quickly, inserting the nail-mounted cork in the prepped bottle, turning it over to set the launch pad on the cleared space designated for takeoff—and then stepping back fast.

A few of the bottles failed to launch. But most of them soared skyward, sixty feet on average, a few as high as a hundred. It was quite the show. They quickly acquired an audience that broke into applause and whistles each time one of the homemade rockets took off into the sky.

Van spotted Charity in the group of spectators, with Jameson right behind her. She gave them each a big smile, lingering maybe just a little too long on the handsome cowboy with the killer blue eyes and close-cropped, dark gold beard. He actually winked at her, and she tried to ignore the thrill that surged through her in response. She longed to run to him, breathe in the manly scent of him, offer up her mouth for a long, sweet kiss.

Pheromones, she reminded herself. Sexual attraction. No. Big. Deal.

She laughed. He was such a charmer and, really, she couldn’t wait for tonight, just the two of them at his place, sharing dinner followed by a whole other kind of sharing, naked in his bed...

And, oops. She needed not to stare at him with her tongue hanging out when surrounded by a crowd. The two of them having sex with their eyes in public had to stop or more people were bound to figure out that they’d agreed to make the most of their summer nights—together.

She dragged her gaze back to the cleared space as another bottle rocket achieved liftoff. Too bad she couldn’t keep herself from glancing his way again a few minutes later. That time, her gaze snagged on Charity. Jameson’s sister was staring right at her, a pensive expression on her pretty face.

No way, Van decided. Charity knew nothing. And from now on, Van would be more careful about where she let her gaze linger.

Clapping her hands to get her Young Adventurers’ attention, she praised their creativity, growing knowledge and hard work, thanked their impromptu audience—and instructed the class to get going on cleanup.

Half an hour later, Van sat on a stool in Daphne’s small spare bathroom as Charity primped Van for the fast-approaching Bronco’s Favorite Pet Contest.

Daphne stuck her head in the door. “Half an hour to showtime.”

Charity replied, “We’ll be ready, no worries.”

“Missed you yesterday,” Van said.

Daphne gave a tiny, resigned shrug. “Maybe next year.”

“Hope so.” Van gave her friend and future sis-in-law a warm smile.

Daphne tapped her knuckles on the door frame. “Well, I’d better get out there, see how it’s going.” She left them.

“She okay?” Charity asked.

“She’s amazing. But, you know, family problems...”

Charity nodded and didn’t probe further.

Van asked, “So how did it work out with Frilly and Dilly?”

“Daphne had us put them in a pasture out beyond the hay barn with a bunch of ancient cows that Daphne said are rescues, too. I warned her that my heifers can be troublesome. She said not to worry. The cows and the heifers would work it out. When we left them, Dilly and Frilly were grazing side by side with the elderly cows, looking perfectly content in their new home.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Charity smoothed Van’s eyebrows with a brow gel wand—and asked the big question. “So, you and Jameson...?”

Busted. Van didn’t want to lie—not to anyone, really. But especially not to this sweet and generous girl.

She evaded instead, with a vague wave of her hand and a nebulous question. “What do you mean?”

Charity tipped Van’s chin up with a finger and brushed on cheek color. “Not going to talk about it, huh?”

Rather than lie again, she said, “Well, it’s complicated.”

And Charity put down her blusher brush. “I am nineteen, you know. I’ve been to college—yeah, only freshman year so far, but that counts. I’ve been in love and I’ve had my heart broken. I like you, and I love my big brother...” Her smooth brow crinkled with a thoughtful little frown. “And what am I getting at here? That I do know a little about what goes on between women and men. For instance, I know that when people say, ‘It’s complicated,’ they’re in some kind of semirelationship that they don’t want to talk about.”

Now Van felt like a complete jerk. She moaned and dropped her head to the little counter next to the sink.

Charity yelped, “No smearing!”

Van popped back up straight. She’d left a smudge of powder foundation on the edge of the counter. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Charity grabbed the kabuki brush she’d been using earlier and dabbed at Van’s forehead. “There we go. Good as new.”

“Listen...”

“Hmm?”

“It’s just, well, I do like your brother.” She liked Charity, as well—liked her too much to keep lying to her by omission. “I like Jameson a lot and I’m going to spend time with him over the summer.”

That radiant smile of Charity’s bloomed wide. “Ha. I knew it.”

I just...” She fumbled for the right words and settled for, “Okay, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t want my family to know that I’m seeing Jameson.”

Charity put the brush down. “Do I get to ask why?”

“Of course.” Van explained what she’d already explained to Jameson and Callie—that her family wanted her married to a local guy and living in town, and that wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t want them getting ideas that I might move back to Bronco.”

“So what if they do get ideas? Isn’t that their problem?”

Van almost face-planted on the counter again. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re only nineteen.”

“Because I’m right. Am I right?”

“Yes, if they can’t accept that I get to make my own life decisions, it is their problem. But I don’t want to disappoint them. At the same time, I feel awful that I resent them a little. They try so lovingly to run my life.”

Van hovered on the brink of saying more, about what had happened in high school, about how she’d hurt her mother and Grandma Daisy and Evan, too, when things went from bad to worse—hurt them with worry for her. She’d kept her suffering to herself. But they’d known there was more going on with her than she ever told them about. And when they’d tried to get her to open up about the awful things she was keeping from them, she’d lied and said there was nothing.

She’d held on to her pride. It had felt like all she had left. She’d wanted to handle the problem all by herself. And she had.

But Charity didn’t need to hear that old horror story. And Van didn’t want to go there, anyway.

“Let me ask you this,” said Charity. “What if, say, things go really well between you and Jameson this summer and he decides that he might be willing to move to Billings?”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s a Bronco rancher, through and through.”

“But just say theoretically—”

“Stop. It’s for the summer and that’s it.”

“Because you like Jameson, but you don’t like him that much?”

“Your brother is wonderful, he really is.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She thought of Donnie and the awfulness of the way he’d dumped her—twice. Of what Maura and her girlfriends had put her through.

Maybe she’d developed something of a neurosis around the whole idea of ever moving home. Or maybe it was simply that, as much as she longed for love, right now she needed to protect her heart. Keeping the thing with Jameson a secret and putting a time limit on it had the effect of constantly reminding her that it was just for now. It kept her from getting serious.

She met Charity’s gaze. “I like my life the way it is, you know?”

“Relax your lips. Good.” Charity set to work with a lip brush. “So, being single in Billings, that’s a big thrill?”

Van couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter at that one.

“Smeared it—and that was my bad. I shouldn’t have asked you a question while trying to apply your lip color.” Charity dabbed at the corner of Van’s mouth with a round cosmetic pad. “And as for my question itself, sorry.”

“For what?”

“I kind of insulted Billings, and I get that you like it there.”

“Uh-uh. Don’t be sorry. We’re friends. You get to say to me what you really think.”

“Okay, let’s try this again.” Charity commanded, “Hold still, lips parted—I mean it this time. Don’t move.” Neither of them spoke as Charity stroked on Van’s lip color. “Perfect.” She stepped back an inch or two in the limited space. “Jameson really likes you. I can tell.”

Van answered honestly. “And I really like him.”

Charity blew out her cheeks with a hard breath—a very un-Charity-like action. “Well, okay. I just want you to know. He’s a good guy, and I would love it if you two got together in a permanent way, and I—”

“Charity, honestly. How many ways can I say that’s not going to happen?”

Charity showed her the hand. “Excuse me, Miss Bronco. I was not finished speaking.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Please continue.”

“Thank you, I will. I just want you to know that Jameson is someone you can count on. Someone you can trust.”

Van almost scoffed at that one. But then she thought twice.

True, Van used to have a certain idea of him, an idea based on what she’d heard of him years ago. Back then, they all said that he liked a good time, but he didn’t get serious with any girl. Really, though, those had only been rumors. She hadn’t known him then. He’d been three or four years ahead of her in school, a popular, good-looking older boy from a well-to-do family, someone all the girls her age crushed on.

She needed to stop judging him by what she’d heard about him growing up. If everyone judged Van by old rumors, they would probably view her the way Maura seemed to—as someone trashy and dangerous, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to try to steal her man.

“Vanessa,” said Charity sternly. “Stop scrunching your forehead. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Van laughed. “A few wrinkles never hurt anyone.”

“Maybe not. But as rule, Miss Bronco is never wrinkled. Her wardrobe and her skin are always pristine.”

“It’s a whole new Miss Bronco nowadays, and don’t you forget it. She could be anyone, a regular girl—even someone’s single grandma.”

“Of course she could be anyone. But this year, she’s you. And a smooth brow is prettier. Given a choice, you might as well be pretty.” Charity closed up her makeup kit. From the hook on the back of the bathroom door, she took the gorgeous, spangled hat she’d brought from home. “Here, now. Hold your hat and let me fix your hair.” Van sat up straight, cradling the hat on her knees, keeping still as Charity fussed with her hair. “Okay, hat, please.”

Van handed it over, and Charity set it just so on her head.

“There.” Charity studied the final effect. “Perfect. My work here is done. You’re ready to wow them.”

Van spun on her stool and grinned at herself in the mirror. “Bronco’s Favorite Pet Contest, here I come.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Van and Charity walked out together to join the day’s festivities. Held in a pretty, rolling pasture dotted with alder and burr oak trees, Bronco’s Favorite Pet Contest had drawn a good crowd.

“It looks great,” said Charity, and then she went to join Jameson, who’d saved her a seat.

Van agreed with Charity’s assessment. Daphne had gathered her minions—kids of all ages who volunteered at the pet sanctuary, as well as any spectators who happened to show up early. They’d all pitched in to set up folding chairs in rows. They’d hung flags and red, white and blue bunting from every available tree, booth or bit of outdoor furniture, including the judges’ table, the trophy display, the refreshment area and around the podium. Now, they’d all taken their seats, many with pets of their own.

Van took the front-row seat reserved for her and watched as Daphne’s many young helpers, more than half of them summer camp Young Adventurers, emerged from the nearest barn with pets on leashes and leads, in carriers and cages. Everyone applauded as the kids brought out cats and dogs, several pigs, a few goats, more than one exotic bird, and various small, furry creatures, too. Van spotted a ferret, a family of hamsters and a large number of rabbits. The helpers and their charges formed a wide arc behind the podium and the trophy display.

Daphne stepped up to the podium. She thanked everyone for coming and reminded them that all Happy Hearts pets were either rescues or animals born right there at the sanctuary.

“Each of these loving fur babies is available to you and your family. I hope you’ll consider giving one or more of them a caring, forever home.” She swept out a hand to a couple of teenagers seated at the table with the big sign that read Adoption Center. “Toby and Allison are ready to help you adopt the favorite pet of your choice—and now let’s get the contest underway.”

Daphne went on to introduce the five judges, after which she grinned at Van. “I’m going to need a little help handing out the trophies and ribbons, so I want to introduce you all to my dear friend and soon-to-be sister-in-in-law. Ladies and gentlemen, youngsters and pets, let’s give a big welcome to our own Miss Bronco! Show her some love with a round of applause!”

Everyone clapped some more, and one or two whistled as Van got up, waved to the crowd and went to join Daphne at the podium.

For the next three hours, Daphne introduced each category and Van passed out the trophies. Spectators brought their pets forward to compete, and the helpers did the same with the Happy Hearts animals.

The categories of competition changed depending on the species. Cats got points for qualities like dignity and mesmerizing eyes. Dogs were judged on friendliness, best bark and willingness to chase and fetch a ball. The usual animal-competition traits of obedience and conformation didn’t even get a nod. Furry friends at Happy Hearts tended to march to their own individual drums, and few of them had pedigrees. Prizes were plentiful—for the pets brought from home and the Happy Hearts rescues.

A white mutt named Maggie became the star of the day. A border collie/Australian shepherd mix with a brown spot on one eye that reminded Van of a pirate’s eye patch, Maggie barked with the best of them and wagged her tail a lot. She perked her floppy ears and tipped her head sideways when spoken to, as though amused by the humans who surrounded her. She chased a ball when her helper threw it, returning it—not to the helper, but to a little boy and girl in the second row.

“Mommy, Maggie loves us!” cried the little girl as she knelt in front of her chair to give the mutt a hug.

“Daddy, she wants to be with us,” said the little boy, gazing up at his father, hopeful and so sweetly serious.

The parents put their heads together, and Maggie found her home. Rising, the mom headed for the adoption table. Everyone clapped and shouted encouragements as she filled out the papers.

More rescued pets found homes as the contest continued. No one was surprised when the grand prize went to Maggie. When Van tied a big blue ribbon around Maggie’s neck, spectators, helpers and judges alike burst into boisterous applause.

After that, Daphne encouraged them to stroll around the farm where more loving animals waited to find a good home. She offered coupons for discounts on pet supplies available at the Happy Hearts store and a discount card for microchipping at any local vet.

More spectators lined up at the adoption table, checkbooks and credit cards ready. Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary didn’t charge for adoptions, but new owners paid for the veterinary care already provided to the animals they chose. Many made generous donations to the sanctuary, as well.

“Bronco’s Favorite Pet Contest is a hit,” Van said to Daphne in a quiet moment when it was only the two of them not far from the podium.

Daphne nodded. “I’m pleased. So many of our residents have found new homes today—and everyone does seem to be having a really good time.”

“A fabulous time,” Van agreed. She heard a musical trill of laughter. It was Charity, flirting with one of the college boys who volunteered to help out a few hours a day in the summer.

“Charity John’s a sweetheart. And her big brother Jameson set out half the folding chairs and helped assemble my new trophy display.” Daphne gave a dip of her head toward the now-empty display, where Jameson and Evan stood with their heads together.

Talking about what, exactly? Van couldn’t help wondering.

Innocuous man things, no doubt, she reassured herself. After all, Jameson had given her his word not to tell anyone that they were seeing each other. He knew she didn’t want her family to know. No way he would tell her brother that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Van asked, “When did Evan get here?”

Daphne gave a half shrug. “Around eleven. He pitched in setting up, too.”

Again, Van reminded herself that Jameson wouldn’t say a word to her brother about the two of them. Still, her palms felt sweaty and her pulse raced. She was about to march over there and see what the two of them were talking about when a cry went up from near the refreshment tables.

“Maggie!” cried the little boy who’d adopted the white dog. “Come back!”

“Don’t run away!” the little girl pleaded. “We love you! We want you to come home with us!”

Van glanced toward the shouting in time to spot the grand prize winner racing off, headed for a stand of cottonwood trees and the hills beyond them.

Evan yelled, “We’ll get her!” He and Jameson took off at a run. They jumped in Jameson’s truck and kicked up a cloud of dust heading down the dirt road that cut through the cottonwoods.

Over by the tables, the two little kids had tears running down their cheeks. Their parents knelt beside them, trying to comfort them.

“I’ll go see what I can do,” Van volunteered.

“I’ll come with you.” Daphne fell in step beside her, but two teenage boys came running up with a whole new emergency.

“That mare with the bad attitude stepped on Brian’s foot,” one of the boys said. Van remembered Brian—a lanky high schooler, sweet-natured and prone to daydreaming.

“I’ve got the Maggie crisis,” Van offered.

“I’ll be right there,” Daphne promised the boys. “Let me get the first aid kit.”

Van ran toward the group of people gathered around the young family with the two sobbing kids. She worked her way into the center of the crowd.

“Miss Bronco, our Maggie ran away.” The little girl sniffled and rubbed at her wet eyes with a soggy-looking tissue.

“Don’t worry. The search party has already mobilized.” Did Evan and Jameson qualify as a search party? Well, there were two of them and they were searching, so why not?

The little boy mumbled, “Wh-what’s mobilize mean?”

“It means the search party is out looking for Maggie. I’m sure they’ll be back with her before you know it.”

“I miss her already!” cried the little boy.

“Me, too,” the girl chimed in. “I miss her so much!”

Distraction seemed the best option at this point. Van suggested, “While we wait, why don’t we visit the kitten barn?”

Both kids stopped sobbing. They blinked up at her through wide, wet eyes. The little girl sniffled. “Are there a lot of kittens?”

“Yes, I believe that there are.”

Van led the kids and their parents to the cat barn. After a half hour in the kitten enclosure, the parents decided to adopt a sweet twelve-week-old gray tabby. By then, the children had stopped sobbing, at least. They were still worried about Maggie but smiling through their tears at the idea of bringing a new kitten home.

One of Daphne’s helpers provided a cardboard cat carrier, and the family set off for the adoption table once again. Van stood watching just outside the cat barn as Jameson and Evan met them halfway. Maggie the dog was nowhere to be seen. Both men shook their heads sadly as they spoke to the young family. Even from several feet away, Van could hear the regret in their voices.

The little boy opened the top of the carrier so that the men could admire the kitten.

When the family set out again toward the adoption table, Jameson and Evan came toward her.

“No Maggie, huh?” she asked them.

“Sorry,” said Jameson.

Evan gestured toward the stand of trees where Maggie had disappeared from sight. “We thought we might catch up with her in those cottonwoods.”

“But she was long gone when we got there.” Jameson took off his hat and slid it back on again.

“That dog can run.” Evan put his arm around Van and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “But the parents are talking about getting flyers out around town. I doubt Daphne can scare up a picture of Maggie, but a description on the flyer might work.”

Van couldn’t stop looking at Jameson. The warmth in his eyes tempted her. She wanted to go to him, feel his strong arms gather her close in a hug.

But that couldn’t happen. She needed to watch herself, not give herself away.

Fun, she reminded herself. We’re just having fun.

“Where’s my girl?” asked Evan.

Van explained about the injury at the horse pasture, and Evan left to find Daphne.

“You okay?” Jameson asked. He took off his hat again and hit it on his thigh.

“Yeah, just... I hope that dog is all right.”

“I’m sure she is. She’ll either wander back here to Happy Hearts or someone will find her. A lot of people will remember her after today. One way or another, those kids will get their dog back.” He put his hat on again.

They stared at each other. She wondered if he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted to throw herself into his arms.

Finally, he seemed to shake himself. “I need to head back to the Double J. I’ll say goodbye to Daphne and get a move on. See you at six?”

Her heart lifted a little. Tonight it would be just the two of them. She could touch him at will. “I’ll be there.”

Once he disappeared behind the next barn over, Van straightened her shoulders and went looking for Charity, but one of the helpers said Jameson’s sister had left with a couple of her girlfriends as soon as the contest ended.

In the ranch house, Van found her brother and Daphne canoodling in the kitchen. “Okay, you two. Get a room.”

Daphne laughed and turned in Evan’s arms. He kept those arms firmly around her, linking his hands at her waist. “This is my house,” she said, “so technically we’ve got all the rooms.”

Van scoffed. “A likely excuse. What happened at the horse pasture?”

“Brian wasn’t paying close attention and the mare, Prudence, decided to mess with him. What can I say about Prudence? She’s a troublemaker. But she always causes problems in a conscientious kind of way. Today, she didn’t really stomp on Brian’s foot so much as put her hoof on it and press down.”

“Yikes!”

“He’s okay, bruised but otherwise unharmed. I sent him home with instructions to keep it elevated. He’ll use an ice pack on it and take it easy for a few days.”

Evan bent and nuzzled Daphne on the side of her neck. She giggled like a giddy schoolgirl.

Sometimes Van wanted to ask Daphne what she’d done with her real brother. Evan used to be a lot harder to get along with. He had trouble keeping assistants at Bronco Ghost Tours, he was so tough on them. Not anymore. He got along great with Callie now and he catered to Winona, giving her whatever she wanted for her fortune-telling project, always ready to help her change this or move that.

“Clearly you two could use some alone time,” she said to the lovebirds. “I’m out of here.”

“See you tomorrow,” Daphne called after her.

Van waved without looking back.

* * *

“Your mom’s marinating tri-tips,” coaxed Jameson’s dad.

It was ten minutes of six and Jameson hoped to get rid of the old man before Vanessa drove up. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve got steaks of my own to grill.”

“They’ll keep for a day or two. Come on over, have a beer with me and the boys.”

“Not tonight.”

Randall opened his mouth to keep trying, but the sound of tires crunching gravel had him turning to see who had just driven up.

Vanessa’s silver Forester sailed toward them. Jameson half expected her to drive right on by once she spotted his dad, but she turned into the driveway, after all.

Randall said, “Why, that’s Vanessa Cruise,” as she got out of the car, circled the front of it and approached the steps. She’d traded her studded snap-front shirt and dress boots for sandals and a silky purple top. In her hand she carried the hat she’d borrowed from Charity that day.

At Jameson’s feet, Slim wagged his tail and whined in eager greeting. “Stay,” Jameson commanded. The dog dropped to his haunches with another hopeful whimper.

“Hello, Mr. John,” said Vanessa. She looked a little worried. Jameson couldn’t blame her. His dad could so easily put it together that they had something going on. And not only that—the old man had spoken out against her when she won the Miss Bronco crown.

His dad whipped off his hat. “You call me Randall, you hear?” Even Jameson blinked in surprise when his dad said that. Randall sounded downright friendly. And then he glanced at Jameson and muttered, “Shut your mouth before the flies get in, son.” He turned to Vanessa again. Fiddling nervously with his hat brim, he said, “My daughter gave me a talking-to about your win last Friday. She says you are the chosen Miss Bronco and I need to respect that. After giving it some thought, I have realized that my little girl is right. I want to apologize for my rude behavior at the pageant and to congratulate you on winning that crown. Also, since the day you won, I’ve seen you in action—at the barbecue and the rodeo—and you are doing our town proud.”

Vanessa actually looked flustered. “Your daughter is very special.”

“She is indeed.”

“And thank you, Randall.”

He donned his hat again. “Are you looking for Charity?”

“Well, yes.” She gave the old man a big smile with maybe a touch of relief in it. After all, if his dad assumed that she’d come to see Charity, then she wouldn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions about what else she might be doing here. “Charity’s been so great, helping me out, showing me the ropes. She lent me this hat to wear for the pet contest out at Happy Hearts, and I didn’t get it back to her before she left.”

“Truth is, my little girl is growing up. She’s always out with her friends these days. I’m guessing she won’t be home till later tonight—but I will be more than happy to give her that hat.”

“Would you? Thanks.”

Randall took the hat and wiggled his thick eyebrows at Jameson. “Tri-tips?”

“Thanks, Dad. Some other time.”

“How about you, young lady?” Randall offered. “Care to join the John family for the best tri-tips in the county? We’re also serving grilled corn on the cob and a fat baked potato slathered in butter and sour cream.”

“It sounds so good and I appreciate the invitation, but I already have a date tonight.”

“Ah. Another time, then?”

“I would love that.”

With a quick salute, Jameson’s dad turned for his pickup. He waved at them as he drove away.

“That went pretty well,” said Vanessa with a careful smile. She knelt to greet Slim. “Hello, handsome. How’re you doing?” Slim whimpered with happiness as she scratched his ears. “I like your dad,” she said as she looked up and their eyes met.

He gave her a slow smile. “Surprised?”

“A little. I mean, he didn’t seem too crazy about me last Friday.”

“He can be hotheaded sometimes, but he owns up when he blows it—and was it wishful thinking on my part, or did you call tonight a date?”

She rose. “You’re cooking me dinner. Kind of feels like a date to me.”

“So, we’ve moved on from hookup, then? We’re past one-night stand?”

She gave a little snort of laughter. “How about summer romance?”

“That’ll do.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She felt so good in his arms. “For now.” Yeah, he was testing her a little. He wanted to see if she’d jump to denials and insist again that they had an agreement, that she was leaving at the end of August no matter what.

She didn’t. Instead, she said, “I brought wine and brookies.”

“What’s a brookie?”

“Half brownie, half cookie.”

“Did you bake them yourself?”

“Nope. Callie did. Trust me, you’re glad about that. I burn everything I bake.”

He ran a finger down the side of her throat, just to feel the texture of her soft skin. Teasingly, he asked, “But isn’t baking just chemistry—and isn’t science your best subject?”

She gave him an eye roll. “Hypothetically, yes. In practice, I’m thinking there’s a baking gene and I don’t have it. That’s my excuse and let’s leave it at that.”

He kissed her. She tasted so good, and he let his hands stray a little, into the dip of her lower back and then out over the soft, gorgeous twin curves of her bottom. “Where are you hiding these brookies you brought?”

“Well, it’s like this. I kind of freaked when I saw your dad and I left them and the wine in the car.”

“You were scared he would figure out that we’re a thing, you and me?”

“Yeah—and then I went and made that remark about having a date. What was I thinking? He’ll say something to someone and it’ll get back to my mom and grandmother.”

“No worries there, and I mean that. My dad knows how to mind his own business.”

“Well, good, then. I’m glad.” She glanced away and then back.

“Whatever it is, just say it.”

“I feel guilty, that’s all. I made you promise not to tell anyone about you and me...”

“What? You think I said something to my dad? I didn’t.”

“No. Did you hear me? I said I feel guilty. Ergo, the problem is not with you.”

He took both her hands and pressed them against his chest. “Vanessa. Why do you feel guilty?”

“I swore you to secrecy about you and me—and then I told Charity that you and I will be seeing each other this summer. Callie knows, too.”

“Wait. You’re saying we don’t have to be a secret, after all?”

Before he even had a chance to feel happy about that, she shook her head. “I’m saying I told them because they’d already pretty much figured out what was going on. Then I made them both promise to keep the information to themselves.”

He tried to look on the bright side. At least he didn’t have to be a secret to every single soul in Bronco—though really, he didn’t get her continued insistence that no one could know. It made no sense that a strong, smart woman like her couldn’t simply tell her family to back off.

But he wanted her. A lot. He’d spent all of last winter and right on through spring missing her. Something about her really got to him. She made him want to try again. And after the complete disappointment of his marriage to Maybelle, he’d had his doubts that he’d ever want to try again.

He took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get the goodies from your car and I’ll put the steaks on.”

She pulled him back. “What’s your hurry?” Her lush mouth was right there, tempting him.

What could he do but take it? He covered those soft lips with his and drank in her sweet, pleasured sigh.

Really, he could stand here on the front step kissing her forever.

But he made himself pull away. “Wine,” he reminded her. “And those brownie things. We need to get those. I have to feed you.”

She went up on tiptoe and stole another quick kiss. “You seem so determined.”

“I am. You’ll need your energy for the night to come.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Van found being with Jameson downright addictive. He said he felt the same.

They easily fell into a rhythm of spending their evenings together. That first night, Monday, she did pretty well. She climbed from his bed at two on Tuesday morning and went home to Callie’s. But Tuesday night, she slept straight through until seven thirty Wednesday morning and ended up scrambling to get back to the apartment, shower and change and not end up late for Young Adventurers.

Tuesday night, she went against her own rules, taking toiletries and a change of clothes to Jameson’s with her. “Just in case,” she explained when she walked in his door.

He grabbed her hand, led her down the short hall to his room, and into the walk-in closet, where he’d cleared off hanger space and emptied three drawers. “Bring more stuff. Bring all your stuff. I have plenty of room.”

She hung the clothes she’d brought on the empty rod and shook her head. “That’s a slippery slope.”

He hooked a big arm around her waist and pulled her close. After a long, steamy kiss, he nuzzled the side of her neck and argued, “When it comes to you, slippery slopes are my favorite kind. I told you. I want your nights. I want all the nights. All summer long.” He kissed her again.

They didn’t leave the closet for another hour. He had two condoms in his pocket, and to her that seemed altogether too convenient—not that she complained while he had his hands on her.

After the second go-round, when the two of them were lying on the floor of the closet on a makeshift bed of his coats, with a rolled-up pair of overalls for a pillow, she asked him about that. “Did you plan to have your way with me in this closet?”

He gave her a slow, shameless grin. “Yes, I did. In this closet—and anywhere else we happen to be. I’m not fussy. You, me and proper protection. The way I see it, that’s a recipe for lasting happiness.”

Before dinner, he took her out to see his prize breeding bulls and explained that he’d developed the Double J’s artificial insemination program. When she wanted to know more, he led her into the office on the lower level of the house, sat her down at the PC there and gave her a virtual tour of DoubleJGenetics.com.

“We train ranchers in artificial insemination,” he explained. “And the Double J provides AI services to breeders who don’t want to perform the process themselves. We also sell semen. Finding the right sire is the key to the long-term health of any herd. And using semen from new bulls on a regular basis means genetic diversity and that helps keep a herd strong.”

The scientist in her found the whole process spellbinding. She asked a lot of questions, each of which he answered patiently, in satisfying detail, finally teasing her, “Only you would find artificial insemination fascinating.”

He started kissing her, which led to a mutually satisfying interval right there on his desk. Both of their stomachs were growling by the time he put the chicken on the grill.

After dinner, they watched a movie and then went to bed about eleven—but not to sleep. One time was never enough for either of them. And two just seemed like another reason to make love again.

Thursday morning, she was really glad she’d brought a change of clothes. She showered at Jameson’s. He jumped in with her, and not really to get clean. When she finally got dressed and ready to go, it was a little after eight. She drove too fast to Happy Hearts, watching for state troopers. Her luck held. She didn’t get a ticket, and she made it to Happy Hearts on time.

When she got back to the apartment that afternoon, she found Callie making herself a sandwich in the kitchen.

Callie held up a butter knife coated in mayonnaise and faked a look of alarm. “Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

“Very funny.”

“Don’t get defensive.” Callie gave her a coaxing smile. “I’m only kidding. I’m glad you’re having a wonderful summer—and yes, I do consider it my job to give you a hard time.”

“I get that. I mean, what are friends for?”

“Exactly. How about a chicken salad sandwich?”

“I had lunch, thanks. And you’re home early.”

“Evan gave me a few hours off.”

“Wait. Let me guess. You have to work tonight.”

“A couple of rich out-of-towners have booked a large group. And what fun is a ghost tour in daylight? I’ll be lucky to get home by midnight.” She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, peeled it and had a bite. “So, I take it things are going well with you and Jameson?” As Van tried to decide how to respond to that, Callie teased, “Can’t do without him, huh?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

Callie pointed her bitten-off banana at Van. “I like that you always give me definitive answers.”

Van scoffed at her friend’s teasing and then made a sad face. “I do miss hanging out.”

“Me, too.”

“We need a girls’ night.”

“We do, yes.” Callie finished off her banana and turned to dispose of the peel. “But I have to work and you’re going to the Double J.”

“Yeah. There is that. I just came by to grab a change of clothes. For some reason I seem incapable of getting out of Jameson’s bed when my alarm goes off in the morning.”

“Just take a suitcase. Stop making it so hard on yourself.”

“I should be more...” Van let her voice trail off as she sought the right word. “Disciplined, I guess. Last New Year’s, I made him promise that it was only that one night and no more. And now, here we are, having more because I want to be with him, and he wants to be with me. This time, I made him agree that it’s only for the summer and nobody else gets to know. And then you figured out that we’re seeing each other and so did Charity.”

“Van. Don’t. It’s not wrong to be with someone you really like.”

“Yeah, but I need not to get carried away.”

“That’s not true.” Callie regarded her so steadily. “You’re afraid to get carried away.”

Van wanted to go straight to denial. But there was no point. Callie would see right through her. Van trusted Callie and had told her all the painful things she’d never felt ready to share with her own family. Callie knew exactly why she would never return to Bronco to live. “You’re right. I am afraid. I feel out of control over him.”

“And that scares you, to be out of control?”

“Yeah. When I really fall for someone, it never goes well. I don’t seem to know how to do casual. I get all wrapped up in the guy—and then he messes me over.”

“But that doesn’t mean it will never go well. What’s that old saying? You have to kiss a lot of frogs? I’m thinking that it’s possible you’ve finally met your prince.”

“Ugh! Don’t you even.” Van laughed, but it came out sounding nervous and strange. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t believe in princes anymore.”

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth, I promise you.”

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you better.” Callie picked up her sandwich and took a bite.

“I can’t stand here and argue the point with you. I have to get going.” She turned for the hallway to the bedrooms.

“Pack a suitcase!” Callie called after her.

* * *

“You brought a suitcase.” Jameson looked far too happy about that.

Just inside his door, she set the suitcase down in order to properly greet Slim, who kissed her with way too much wet, floppy tongue. “Ew. You’re such an eager guy—but I’m glad to see you, too.” She petted him and scratched his ears and then grabbed the suitcase and rose to her feet. “Callie insisted. What could I do?”

He pulled her close. She dropped the suitcase again as they indulged in a toe-curling, bone-melting kiss.

When he finally lifted his head, he said, “Come on. I’ll help you unpack.”

“Down, boy.” She flattened a hand on his hard chest. “You stay out here. If you go in that walk-in closet with me, we might never come back out.”

“And that’s somehow a bad thing?”

She bent and grabbed the suitcase again. “I’ll be quick.” He had that look, like he intended to follow her. She pointed a finger at him. “You be good.” And she headed for the master bedroom.

When she emerged a few minutes later, he had a glass of wine waiting on the kitchen island for her. She cut up a salad, and he served the meatball stew he had ready on the stove.

The food was delicious. “You’re a good cook,” she said as she spooned up another yummy bite.

He shrugged. “My ex-wife didn’t cook. One of us had to do it.”

She wanted to ask about the ex. But it seemed like a bad idea to go down that road. Too serious. Too much the kind of thing people talked about when they were building a real relationship. She and Jameson weren’t building anything. Uh-uh. They had fun together and it was just for the summer and she needed to keep it light. So she teased, “And here you are, spending your nights with another woman who can barely boil water.”

“Lucky for you I know my way around a kitchen. It’s a long drive into town just to pick up a pizza.”

“Where’s Grubhub when you need it, huh?”

“Exactly. I did have a cook for a while, but that didn’t last. So I do it myself. And I eat at the main house a lot. It all works out.”

She enjoyed a spoonful of stew and felt a little bit guilty. “I’m monopolizing you the past few days.”

His boot touched hers under the table. Even through two separate layers of rawhide and their socks, she felt that contact acutely. “It’s not considered monopolizing when I want you here.”

“Yeah, it is. You may be happy about it, but I’m still monopolizing you.”

He toasted her with his longneck. “I’m so glad we cleared that up.”

She probably shouldn’t ask, but somehow the question got out anyway. “Your parents, your brothers? Have they noticed that my Subaru has been parked in front of your house every night this week?”

“I have no idea. They haven’t mentioned it.”

The doorbell chimed.

Now what? It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought this thing through.

Spend every night with Jameson?

Yes, please! But nobody can know that we’re having a thing.

All righty, then. What happens when the doorbell rings?

She had no idea, because the thought of the doorbell ringing had never so much as crossed her mind.

Jameson chuckled as he stood. “You aren’t going to run and hide under my bed, are you?”

“Am I being ridiculous?”

He’d started toward the door but stopped and turned back to her with a tender, questioning look. “You know, you—” The doorbell chimed again, cutting him off. “On my way!” he shouted, then said gently to her, “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him cross the great room and disappear around a corner into the front hall. A moment later, she heard him talking to someone, the answering voice as deep and masculine as Jameson’s own. And then she heard the door close.

Jameson reappeared—alone—and came back to her. He took his chair again. “Just Dawson dropping off a load of mineral barrels for me to fill in the morning.” Grinning, he added, “And no, he didn’t ask about your car in the driveway.” He picked up his fork.

She groaned. “It’s official. I am ridiculous.”

* * *

Jameson set his fork down without taking a bite.

Ridiculous. The word rubbed him the wrong way, had him wondering who had made her doubt herself, made her feel less than the beautiful, brilliant, tenderhearted woman she actually was.

“No, you are not ridiculous,” he answered firmly, eyes locked on hers.

She forced a laugh. “It was just an offhand remark.”

He didn’t think so. “You asked me if I thought you were ridiculous the night we met, the night you said would be our only night, the one that ‘never happened.’” He air-quoted those last two aggravating words.

Her gaze slid away, and the corners of that lush mouth of hers turned down. “I did?”

“You did. That night, I thought it was sexy, that someone so gorgeous and smart and strong would let me have a glimpse of her shyness, her insecurity.”

Again, she tried to pretend it was nothing. “This conversation has become altogether too serious.”

“Vanessa. Please don’t blow me off. One time was sexy and so damn cute. But now you’ve called yourself ridiculous again. I’m starting to believe that someone has made you doubt yourself.”

He could see the pulse beating—too fast—beneath the silky olive skin of her throat. She gave a half shrug. “Okay, yeah. As you said, I do have insecurities. Sometimes I let them show. We struggled when I was a growing up. Money was always tight. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and sometimes the richer kids made fun of me for not being thin, not having the right clothes, not looking just so.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to live in Bronco ever again? Bad memories from when you were a kid?”

“Essentially, yes.”

He wanted to press her, to get her to tell him more about those memories, about who had made her feel less than beautiful and desirable, smart and bighearted. But he respected her reluctance. He could see that she wasn’t ready to give him her secrets.

Maybe she never would be. And that hurt. The woman had gotten so far under his skin in such a short period of time. It amazed him.

It scared him, too. With Maybelle, he’d been ready to find love and settle down.

With Vanessa, it was so much more than just readiness. He wanted to be the man she needed, the man she wanted to move on to the next step with. The man she turned to in the night, every night. The man she stood with proudly in the bright light of day.

He wasn’t that man. Yet.

But at least for now, he did own her nights. He intended to make the most of whatever time she gave him.

Rising, he rounded the end of the table and held out his hand. Warmth and hope spread through him when she displayed no hesitation to take it. And when he pulled her up, she came happily into his waiting arms.

He lowered his mouth to hers, and she opened to him. She tasted of wine, of desire and, just maybe, the promise of more. All good things—the things that came to a man willing to practice patience when the right woman finally came along.

As he lifted his head, her long, dark lashes fluttered open. He waited for her to meet his gaze directly before making his request. “Give me one thing...”

“Hmm?”

“The Night That Never Happened?”

Those dark eyes went dreamy. “It was a great night.”

“Yes, it was. And I’m hoping we can agree to give that night the appreciation and respect it deserves.”

“And how will we do that, exactly?”

“For starters, let’s give that night a better name.”

She tipped her head to the side, a tiny smile flirting at the edges of her mouth. “Such as?”

He had nothing, really. But he took a stab at it anyway. “The Night That Did Happen?”

“Ugh.”

“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “That’s not my best work.”

“True.” She fiddled with the top snap on his shirt. “How about Best One-Night Stand in the History of All the One-Night Stands Forever and Ever?”

“I love it. But it might be a tad long. Also, it’s seven months later and here you are in my arms. Our first night is disqualified as a one-night stand.”

“A Hookup to Remember?”

He scoffed. “Now you’re insulting the wonder that is us.”

“Best New Year’s Eve Ever?” She popped that top snap. “Our First Night?” The second snap gave way. She pressed her lips to the slice of bare chest she’d revealed. “The Night We Could Never Forget?” She popped two more snaps as she rattled that off.

He tipped up her chin and kissed her again—a deeper, hungrier kiss than the one before.

When she dropped back to her heels, she pretended to sulk. “You are ruining my concentration. My brain doesn’t work when you kiss me like that.”

He bent just long enough to scoop her high in his arms. “It’s okay. Right now, let’s skip the thinking and get down to the action.”

She laughed and grabbed him around the neck. “Wait a minute. We should clear the table first. I’ll do it—after all, you cooked.”

He eased her feet to the floor. “Let me help.” He swept out an arm. Dishes, spoons and glassware crashed to the floor. Slim, snoozing by the fireplace, let out a whine of surprise, followed by a giant yawn.

“Jameson!” Vanessa shrieked as he scooped her up again. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Yeah?” He growled the words against the velvety skin of her throat as he lowered her to the just cleared table. “Wait’ll you see what I do next.”

She sighed as he kissed her. And then she moaned. And before he finished making dessert of her, she screamed his name over and over again.

* * *

That weekend, he took her away—not too far. Just to a family-owned cabin in the mountains a few miles from town. They picnicked in the wildflowers of his favorite secluded meadow and swam buck naked in the icy creek formed by a hidden underground spring.

Saturday night in bed after a couple of satisfying bouts of enthusiastic lovemaking, she stacked her hands on his bare chest and closed her eyes. “I could lie here like this forever.”

He combed her hair back from her temples with his fingers, catching a random swatch of the thick, silky stuff and slowly wrapping it around his hand. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m edging up on feeling frisky again.”

With a big, fake groan, she rolled off him and snuggled up to his side. “You are insatiable.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No way.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He ran his palm up the velvety skin of her back and fiddled with her gorgeous, wildly tangled hair some more. “One more time with you always seems like a great idea. But a gentleman never wears out his welcome.”

She reached up, touched the side of his face in a tender, slow caress. Her fingertips skimmed his short beard, skated higher to brush his bare cheek.

He pulled her close enough to kiss the end of her nose. “You seem thoughtful.”

“Well, I want to ask you something, but maybe it’s too personal...”

He caught those fingers, brought them to his lips and bit the tips, lightly. “Nothing you could ask would be too personal. Go for it.”

“You said you were married...?”

Damn. Finally.

He’d been waiting for her to ask about Maybelle. Not so much because he looked forward to telling her what a fool he’d been, but because he wanted to get closer to her. And he’d learned enough from past experience to know that to get closer, a guy had to open up. He had to show a woman the things he was proud of—and the stuff he could have handled a whole lot better.

“Her name was Maybelle. Maybelle Butler.”

Vanessa frowned. “Her name’s familiar. Should I know of her?”

“Most likely. She’s a rodeo queen, a champion barrel racer.”

Vanessa drew in a sharp breath. “Petite, right? Acres of red hair? And really pretty?”

“That’s Maybelle. Beyond being a star, she’s also a fine horse trainer. Six years ago, at the end of the rodeo season, she showed up at the Double J looking for a winter job to tide her over. My dad hired her on the spot to work with the horses. He liked her. Maybelle’s a charmer. And he was a little starstruck, that the Maybelle Butler had come to work for us. At his insistence, she took the foreman’s cottage not far from the main house. It was empty at the time. My mom liked her, too, and extended an open invitation to dinner with the family.”

“And what about you?” Vanessa asked that with a playful smile. “Let me guess. After Maybelle started working here, you spent a lot of time at the stables?”

“I did. And I went to dinner at the main house just about every night, because Maybelle did, too. What I didn’t know at the time was that Maybelle had had enough of eating dust. She wanted a rancher with a decent-size bank account. She wanted a chance to take things easy, live the good life. She admitted later, when it all fell apart with her and me, that she’d set her sights on me before she showed up on the Double J asking for work.”

“Wait. She went looking for a rich husband and decided you were it?”

“Yeah, but you make it sound so pretty calculated.”

“Jameson,” she chided. “It is pretty calculated.”

He gave it up. “You’re right. But you’d have to know Maybelle. She hadn’t had an easy time of it. She’d been raised in the Bronco area, on a few acres of dry grass and scrub brush ten miles from town—what some would generously call a ranchette.”

“So then, she knew all about you and she’d shown up looking for a job in order to get close to you, in particular. You’re saying that it wasn’t just any rich guy she wanted. She’d set her sights on you.”

“That’s right. She was open about that with me from the start. She said she’d had a crush on me back in high school.”

“You were flattered.”

“You bet I was.”

“Did you remember her from high school?”

“No.”

“Because you hung out with the Taylors and the Abernathys and the other rich kids on the big ranches and in Bronco Heights.”

He tugged on the lock of hair he’d wrapped around his finger. “Is that an accusation?”

“Maybe. A little. I was a poor girl, too. I sympathize with a girl like Maybelle. And please continue with the story. I’m through busting your chops just because you’re a rich guy—for now, anyway. Tell me more about Maybelle.”

“When she was seventeen, she ran away from home in the middle of the night driving the ancient pickup she’d bought from a junkyard and sweet-talked her mechanic boyfriend into fixing up. From her hard-drinking daddy, she stole a horse trailer and the only thing at that run-down ranchette that she loved, a pretty little paint named Fancy Lady.”

“She ran away to ride the rodeo circuit?”

“Yes, she did.”

Vanessa made a sound of approval low in her throat. “Maybelle sounds like a fighter. I like that.”

And I like you, he thought. So much. Maybe more than is good for me.

Twin lines formed between Vanessa’s smooth, dark brows. “Jameson, you look worried suddenly. What’s the matter?”

He shook his head and lied. “Not a thing—and yeah. Maybelle’s a fighter, and I liked that, too.”

Vanessa watched his face so closely. “You fell hard.”

“I did. Looking back, I can see all the ways she and I weren’t a good fit. At the time though, I wanted her enough to tell myself it was true. Essentially, I was ready to settle down, get married, raise a family. Maybelle said she wanted a family, too. So we tied the knot. I thought I had it all.”

“What went wrong?”

“She’d lied about what she really wanted, but not maliciously. I think, first and foremost, she’d lied to herself. Looking back now, I think that pretty soon after the wedding, she began to realize that being a rancher’s wife didn’t work for her, after all.”

“She told you this?”

“Not till much later. Not till the end. She’d thought she wanted a settled-down life, but then she missed the action, the variety of the rodeo circuit. She craved excitement, and she wasn’t getting it living with me on the Double J.”

“Then why didn’t she just start entering rodeos again? Why couldn’t she be a rodeo star and your wife, too?”

“It’s a good question. If she’d faced the problem early on and told me about it, maybe we could have worked it out. But in hindsight, I would say her pride wouldn’t let her do that. She’d really come on strong about hating the rodeo life, being sick and tired of living from one win to the next, wanting to make a home, have a family. Before we got married, she insisted that she wanted to start trying for a baby right away.”

“And you...?”

“I agreed.”

“Because of what you said at New Year’s, right? That you want kids, the whole family thing.”

“Right. But somehow, time went by and Maybelle never got pregnant.”

“How much time?”

“Three years.”

“Did you guys see a doctor, find out what the problem might be?”

“After we were married a year and a half or so, I suggested that. She put me off. She said everything would be fine. We just needed more time, she would get pregnant eventually, we would have the family we’d planned for. I didn’t push. I’m not sure why. I think I was also having second thoughts about our marriage, second thoughts I didn’t want to admit to, not even to myself. I should have been more focused on what was really going on between the two of us. That should’ve come first. But instead, I was all about ‘making a family,’ as though having kids is how you build a relationship.

“It wasn’t really working between Maybelle and me and I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I did finally start realizing that having a baby when everything felt so up in the air wouldn’t be a solution to anything. Maybelle and me, we weren’t big on communication. We were drifting apart, and I knew it and I let it happen.”

Vanessa laid her hand on the side of his face. “I’m so sorry, Jameson.”

He turned his mouth into her hand, breathed a kiss in the heart of her palm. “I didn’t fight for her, for what we had. Somehow, by the time a couple of years had passed, whatever connection we’d shared at first was pretty much gone—and then, near the end of the third year, I found the discarded packaging from her birth control pills.”

Vanessa’s eyes got extra wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah. That’s when I finally decided to talk to her about it.”

“Well, that’s good, that you two started talking, right?”

“It should’ve been, but I was pissed—more than pissed. I was furious. I demanded to know how long she’d been on the pill. She gave my attitude right back to me, said a better question would be when had she ever been off the pill, because she hadn’t.”

“Omigod.”

“Yeah. It was bad. I was mad enough to spit nails, and even though I’d also had second thoughts about her and me, about rushing toward parenthood rather than figuring out how to live and work together as a couple, I didn’t admit any of that. I made no effort to try to talk to her honestly about it. I went straight to an ultimatum. I ordered her to throw her pills away immediately, or it was over between us. And she said, ‘Fine. Have it your way, then. I want a divorce.’”

“Oh, Jameson...” Vanessa cuddled in close. Tucking her head under his chin, she pressed her lips to the side of his throat. “How awful. I truly am so, so sorry...” The words were warm and comforting, like her breath against his skin.

He stroked her hair, then caught her earlobe between his thumb and finger and rubbed it gently. “Yeah, it was a bad moment. I was an ass. Maybelle was scrappy as ever.” Looking back now, after the anger and the emptiness that followed, after the divorce and the slow realization that he and Maybelle never really had a chance, he could almost smile at the memory. “She said it was just as well I found out that she’d never stopped taking her pills. Said she couldn’t go on living this boring life, said that yeah, she was still kind of crazy about me, but being a ranch wife? Not for her. She told me straight out, ‘Jameson, I need this marriage to be over or I will start to hate you, and there’s no good in that.’”

“So...?”

“So, it was more than apparent to both of us by then that the marriage was over—that it was pretty much doomed right out of the gate. She’d lied to me. Looking back, I get why she wasn’t real big on open, honest communication. She’d spent her whole life fighting to make her own way and she had no communication skills whatsoever. Frankly, I was no better. I was a bad husband to her, a guy who never made the effort to find out what was going on with her until it was way too late. I gave her the divorce. We agreed on a onetime settlement. I paid her off, and that was that.”

“How long ago did all this happen?”

“She moved out two years ago. Haven’t seen her since.”

Vanessa tipped her head back. Those dark eyes gleamed at him. Sometimes when she looked at him, he felt she could see inside his head.

Finally, she spoke again. “You don’t seem bitter.”

“I’m past all that, but I was plenty bitter at first. I told myself I hated her. I thought she’d played me good and proper. And she did. But over time, I started to admit to myself that it takes two to make a marriage—a good one or one that fails.”

“Hmm.” Vanessa held his gaze. “I don’t know that she played you, really. It sounds like Maybelle played herself. You were collateral damage.”

“Ouch.”

“What? You’d prefer to think that she played you on purpose, that she used you and took advantage of your trust?”

He laughed then. “Yeah, I would.”

She tucked her head down again and muttered something about men under her breath. He decided not to ask what.

“Hey.” He curled a finger under her chin, lifting her face up so that she looked at him. Once she focused those fine eyes on him, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her pillowy mouth. “You’re tough on a guy, you know that, Miss Bronco?”

“Just calling it the way I see it.”

He rolled to his back and pulled her with him, so all that lush softness ended up on top of him, tempting him. He wanted her again. But then, he always did.

She asked, “You really think I’m too tough on you?”

Gruffly, he commanded, “Kiss me,” and lifted his head to capture her lips.

She pulled back to grin down at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“All right. You’re a little too tough on me, maybe.”

“Aww. Poor baby.”

“No guy likes to think of himself as collateral damage, like he’s just an incidental bad result from a woman working through her problems.”

“I hear you. But, Jameson, isn’t it always that way when love doesn’t work out? For both people, really? They’ve been writing songs about collateral damage forever. From ‘You Always Hurt the One You Love’ and onward. People hurt each other because they’re too busy struggling through their own crap to be careful of the other person’s heart. To me, that seems better somehow, than to mess someone over on purpose. At the end, Maybelle said she was still ‘kind of crazy’ about you. That means she really did love you. She just wasn’t very good at loving.”

“Maybelle being ‘kind of crazy’ about me is not anything that I would call love.”

“I only mean she still cared about you. The way you just told it to me, even at the end she seemed to have real affection for you. That’s something, isn’t it? That matters.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Who can say? Whether she played me or I was just random damage of her acting out her own personal drama, it didn’t work out. I felt really bad for a while. But I’m over it now.” He eased his fingers up under the heavy fall of her hair and wrapped them around her nape. “Right now, I want you to kiss me. A kiss would make everything so much better.”

“How, exactly, is a kiss going to fix anything?”

“Trust me. It will.”

“A woman knows not to trust a guy who says, ‘trust me.’”

“Do it anyway.” He guided her head down so that their lips almost touched. “Make my night. Your kiss is the solution to all the world’s problems.”

“Oh, you are a silver-tongued devil, Jameson John.”

“Kiss me, Vanessa.”

On a sweet little sigh, she covered his waiting mouth with hers. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and wished for things he would probably never have.

CHAPTER NINE

After that night at the cabin, the night Jameson opened up to her about his marriage to Maybelle Butler, Van stopped trying to tell herself she needed to pull away. She gave up feeling guilty for not maintaining a certain emotional distance from him.

His honesty about what had happened in his marriage had gotten to her, weakened her resolve not to let him too close. She fully accepted now that, if he’d once been a player, those days were gone. Though she continued to insist that they not go public in Bronco, she gave herself up to spending every moment she could with him.

The next weekend, they made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Bozeman and stayed at the Armory Hotel in a beautiful, restful suite with a king-size bed and sheets so soft she hated to get out of bed in the morning. In Bozeman, they did all the touristy things. They hiked the Bridger Foothills National Scenic Trail, visited the Museum of the Rockies and the American Computer and Robotics Museum.

Hand in hand, they strolled Main Street downtown, stopping to window-shop and so she could pick up a couple of souvenirs. It was so good, just to be with him out in the open without worrying that someone might see them together and say something to her mom or Grandma Daisy.

Getting away alone, just the two of them, had her giving more thought to her own insistence on secrecy. Van started to see that her fear didn’t really center on her family. She would never move home just because they pressured her to.

The problem lay in her own vulnerable, hopeful heart. Once she outed her relationship with Jameson in her hometown, she would become so much more likely to let herself go further, to start imagining a future with him, to long for a real, lasting bond with him.

That way lay trouble. Tempting, lovely trouble—but trouble, nonetheless.

To give her trust again, take a chance on love again...

No.

The risk still felt greater than the possible rewards. To give in, let herself fall and believe that he would be there to catch her...

It was asking too much of her battered heart.

As the second week of July became the third and she spent every moment she could steal at Jameson’s side, Van somehow managed to cling to their original agreement—that it was only for the summer, that at the end of August she would walk away.

So what that the pull between them only seemed to get stronger? So what that she loved being with him, in bed and out?

So what that sometimes she could almost picture a life with him, right here in Bronco, close to her family?

She had her life all worked out, and love would not mess with it. Not this time. She’d been hurt once too often. No way was she headed for heartbreak again.

The weekend after their Bozeman getaway, Van and Jameson decided to stick close to the ranch. Saturday morning, she woke with his arms around her and knew she wouldn’t be heading for Happy Hearts to have coffee with Daphne and Evan, wouldn’t be there later to help with whatever chores needed doing.

She felt a little bit guilty about that...

But not guilty enough to leave the warm shelter of Jameson’s arms.

“Mornin’.” His voice was sleep-rough and arousing, as was the feel of his warm palm skating over the curve of her hip and easing inward in search of all her womanly secrets.

She gave them all up to him. Twice. Once with his face buried between her thighs as he coaxed a powerful orgasm from her using his clever mouth and thrillingly rough, hardworking hands. And then, a few minutes later, she surrendered again, this time with him buried deep inside her, rising with her to the top of the world, soaring over the edge into free fall only seconds after she did.

For a while, as the sun rose and sent fingers of golden light easing in around the edges of the blinds, they just lay there together. She felt so close to him, happy and unguarded, completely content.

Which might have been the reason why, later, after breakfast, when they sat at the long table in his kitchen together, relaxing over that second cup of coffee, she failed to evade when he said, “Sometimes lately, like this morning, I get the feeling you’re learning to trust me at least a little.”

“I do trust you,” she answered softly with a smile to match. “You’re a good man, Jameson, you really are.”

He gazed at her so steadily as he offered his hand. She took it. They wove their fingers together across the tabletop.

“What is it, then?” he asked. “What happened to you? I know you joke about the players who did you wrong. And I’m sorry for all that. But there’s something else, something deeper, I think. Something that happened right here, in Bronco. Something that you can never quite get past, never completely forgive.”

She didn’t look away. “You’re right. My worst heartbreak happened here.”

“Will you tell me about it?” He said it so gently, not expecting her to give him her hardest truth, but asking her to share if she might be willing.

That he’d asked so quietly, so hopefully—it mattered. She couldn’t deny those deep blue eyes, couldn’t refuse him the answer he sought.

She did pull her hand from his, though. She retreated to her side of the table, withdrawing from him, surrendering to her instinct for self-protection. “You would have to promise not to do anything about what I tell you—not to try to track down the people involved. I need your word that you will just leave it alone.”

“The people involved?” He kept his voice carefully controlled—but not carefully enough. “What the hell happened, Vanessa?”

“That.” She pointed at him. “Right there. You can’t do that. You can’t protect me from something that happened years ago, something I’ve dealt with in my own way. If I tell you this story, you have to let it be.”

“I can’t promise you—”

“If you can’t agree to let it go after I tell you, then I won’t tell you.” He just glared at her until she prompted, “Yes or no, Jameson? Will you keep my confidence about this or not?”

“Damn it, Vanessa.”

“Yes or no?”

He blew out a hard breath. “All right. Yes, I’ll keep your confidence. You have my word.”

She rose and poured herself yet another cup of coffee. When she held out the pot, he nodded. Once she’d topped him off and put the pot back, she took her seat again.

How to even begin? “When I was thirteen, I fell in love with my best friend...”

Taking care not to use any names, she told him about her love for Donnie Bell. Jameson sat there, barely moving, his gaze holding hers, as she spoke.

“I believed,” she said, “I really did, that he and I were forever. That nothing could rip us apart...”

Jameson listened, eyes locked on her, never once glancing away, as she told him everything, how the boy she loved betrayed her for a prettier, more popular girl, a girl with a rich dad who could offer him a better future. She told how Donnie came back to her—for one night—and then betrayed her all over again the next day.

“The new girlfriend and her friends, they were brutal. They called me a lot of ugly names, said I was a cheat and a man stealer, a lowlife, a loser and, well, you know—all the awful words they use on girls sometimes. They tripped me in the halls, scrawled really disgusting things on my locker, even broke into it, tore up my stuff and then lit it all on fire.”

He asked why the school hadn’t done something.

“Nobody talked and nobody got caught. I knew who did what—they made sure that I knew—but that doesn’t mean I could prove anything.”

“What about the guy?” demanded Jameson, his eyes hard now, angry, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Seems to me like he was the lowlife.”

“Jameson.” She adjusted her black-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose. “It was high school. I was an idiot to go back for more with him, to believe him when he swore he’d made a big mistake and he would never, ever hurt me again. I should have learned my lesson about him when he dumped me the first time.”

“Just give me that douchebag’s name.”

Had she known that was coming? Yeah. “Not going to happen. You gave me your word that you would stay out of it.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“A few of my closest girlfriends, a therapist I saw a few years later—and now you. Other than that, no one.”

“What about your mother, your grandmother, your brother?”

“No way. Evan would have hit the roof and gone after my old boyfriend just the same as you want to do right now.”

“A man needs to protect the people he—”

“Stop. Look, my family knew it hadn’t worked out with that boy and that I was heartbroken over it. But that’s all they knew. It was my battle. I fought it. And it’s long over now.”

“It’s not over if you won’t ever even consider living in Bronco again because of what happened back then.”

“Stop. I mean it. You’re just proving to me why I never should have told you a thing.”

Silence. A bleak one. They scowled at each other across the suddenly yawning span of the tabletop.

Finally, his expression softened. He asked gently, with care, with respect, “Tell me the rest?”

“Not if you’re going to go all caveman on me.”

“You’re right. I gave my word, and I will stick by it. I’ll keep my shit together.”

She probably shouldn’t tell him. What good would it do, really, to share her ultimate teenage humiliation with him?

But she really did care for him so much now. She wanted him to understand why she was who she was, why she could only go so far with him. “You know Digger’s Trail?” In densely wooded wilderness a few miles from town, Digger’s Trail wound upward into the mountains.

“Yeah, I know it.”

“I used to go there to get away by myself, when things were rough, when I needed to be alone. Before we broke up, I would go with the boy who dumped me. Anyway, a few weeks before high school graduation, those girls who were bullying me, they followed me up there...”

Even nine years later, it made her heart beat a lurching rhythm in her chest, caused sweat to break out on her upper lip, to remember it, the way they’d surrounded her, slapped at her, mocked her, called her all the usual hideous, cruel names.

“They had a rope. They overpowered me and tied me to a tree. They put a burlap sack over my head and left me there.”

“My God. For how long?”

“A few hours. Eventually, a couple of tourists found me.”

“Tell me you went to the sheriff.”

“No, I did not. The tourists tried to talk me into reporting the incident. I refused. I thanked them. I said I was fine, and I went home.”

“Fine? You weren’t fine.”

“No, I wasn’t. But that’s what I did, the choice that I made at the time. I was eighteen and I had my pride, and I decided to handle it myself.”

“How badly were you injured?”

“Not at all—not physically, anyway. All they did was slap me around and back me into the tree so that one of them could throw the rope around me and they could tie me up.”

“It was still an assault.”

“Yeah. But I’ll say it again. I did what I did, and it was a long time ago.”

“But you did retaliate?”

She nodded. “That night, I broke into the school, jimmied open their lockers, tore up what was inside them and poured pancake syrup on what I’d already ripped to pieces. Nobody caught me, and I felt vindicated.”

“And then what?”

“And that’s all. Believe it or not, after that, it was over. Those girls never bothered me again and the boy stayed clear of me. Looking back, I think maybe those girls actually scared themselves with what they did to me on Digger’s Trail.”

“You could have been attacked by a cougar or a bear. You could’ve—”

“I know. And after that, I was angry for a long time. Nobody messed with me. Everyone left me alone, and I was fine with that. I was through with Bronco High and the boy who broke my heart and those mean girls and everything else about this town. I left for college in the fall, and I moved to Billings as soon as I graduated. I’ve lived there ever since.”

He got up, circled the table and went to stand above her. “Come up here. Please.” He held out his hand.

She eyed it cautiously, but then finally put her fingers in his. He pulled her up and into his arms. With a sigh, she leaned into his solid strength. “I did get therapy. I worked through it. I really am okay.”

He held her a little closer. She felt his lips brush the crown of her head. “You’re a fighter, that’s for sure.”

She looked up at him then. “And believe it or not, the experience has helped me as a teacher. I’m pretty sensitive to what goes on with my students. If someone’s being bullied, I usually pick up on it and I take the necessary steps to make it stop. I make sure the offender is dealt with and the victim gets help.”

“That’s good.”

“I think so.”

“That old boyfriend of yours still needs his ass whupped, though.”

“Not by you, he doesn’t.”

“I need to ask...”

Something in his voice sent a shiver racing down her spine. “What?”

“The guy who messed you over. Was that Don Bell?”

She gaped up at him, feeling panicked and also immobilized.

And he knew. “All right, then. Don was the guy and his wife, Maura, she was the ringleader of those girls who attacked you on Digger’s Trail.”

Van managed one word. “How...?”

He gazed down at her for the longest time before he answered. “At the barbecue on the Fourth of July, I saw you talking to them. You looked like you couldn’t wait to get away.”

She held his gaze, and she drilled her point home. “I mean it, Jameson. You gave me your word. Do not go after Donnie—or Maura, for that matter.”

“You don’t have to worry. I keep my promises. Besides...”

She wasn’t sure she liked the look in his eyes. “Besides what?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue what to do about Maura. I don’t beat up women, and I’m guessing the statute of limitations has run out on what she did to you. As for Don Bell, I saw his face when he looked at you. He knows what he lost. I’m thinking that’s payback enough for that sucker.”

She was the one gaping now.

Because she believed him.

And not only about what he wouldn’t do to Donnie Bell.

She believed in his good heart and his kind ways. She believed that he cared for her, that his word meant something to him, and he would always keep it, that he would never thoughtlessly hurt her.

She loved being with him, in bed and out. Lately, when she didn’t keep a good rein on herself, she could almost picture a life with him, right here in Bronco, close to her family.

But she had to remember that was only a fantasy and fantasies ended in pain when things went bad. She just wasn’t ready go there again. One way or another, it never worked out.

She only needed to hold on to reality. To enjoy this time they had together. And, when the end of summer came, to do what she’d promised to do—walk away.

CHAPTER TEN

Gently, Jameson eased Vanessa’s glasses off and set them on the table. Then he kissed her.

The kiss heated up fast. They ended up in the bedroom once more, naked on the tangled sheets of his bed, holding on tight to each other in a bright pool of morning sun.

After the lovemaking, she closed her eyes.

He held her in his arms as she slept. She looked so peaceful. He stared down at her beautiful, freckled face, and the truth hit him like a damn wrecking ball, square in the chest.

He was in big trouble with her. He loved her.

And she’d been hurt one too many times.

She’d made it way too clear. No matter what he did to try to get through to her, she wouldn’t let it happen for them. She would leave as she’d always said she would, head back to Billings at summer’s end.

Maybe if he moved to Billings...

He couldn’t believe he’d actually let himself consider such a thing. He’d always been a Bronco man through and through.

But sometimes a man had to prioritize, be willing to make changes to get what he wanted most. He could buy good land up there. It was only a couple of hours away from Bronco, and he could come home often, help out here when needed—and run the family AI business from the new place.

A cynical voice in his head mocked, It doesn’t matter what you do. She’s not up for forever, fool.

He knew it in his heart. She liked what they had right now, liked getting close, but with a definite end date.

Lovewise, in her life, the hits had just kept coming. She didn’t have it in her to give love another chance.

He knew it. He got it. And still, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that somehow the two of them might make love work.

* * *

Through the layers of sleep, Van heard her cell ring.

She blinked and opened her eyes to see Jameson smiling down at her. “Sorry. I drifted off.”

“No problem. That’s what weekends are for.” He grabbed her phone off the nightstand and gave it her.

“Thanks.” The display, a little blurry without her glasses, said Mom. She put the phone to her ear. “Hey.”

“Hello, honey. You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”

“I stretched out just for a minute. Guess I must’ve dropped off.”

“You’re always on the go. You deserve a nap now and then.”

Still canted up on an elbow above her, Jameson gave her a teasing smile.

With a playful nudge, she pushed him back to his own pillow. He settled on his side facing her and shut his eyes—apparently stealing a catnap while she talked to her mom.

Wanda asked about Happy Hearts and how the summer camp was going.

“Really well. We’re on the reptile unit now. Everyone loves the snakes and lizards.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” said her mom. “You’re a marvel with those kids.”

“I do have fun with them. Most of them are still at that age where the natural world is fascinating and new. Chemical reactions give them a big thrill, and they get all excited just spotting a lizard sunning on a rock. How’s everything at home?”

“All good.”

“G-G?”

“Amazing as usual.”

“And her new fortune-telling business?”

“Bite your tongue,” Wanda chided. “Your great-grandmother does not tell fortunes. She dispenses wisdom. She claims her connections to the paranormal world are real and based on solid science and that her knowledge of human nature goes much deeper than mere fortune telling.”

Van laughed. “G-G will always defend her pseudoscience to the death.”

“Do not use the word pseudoscience in your great-grandmother’s presence.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And, honey, I was wondering...”

“Hmm?”

“The summer is flying by. I know you’re busy, but we don’t see you enough.”

Guilt took a serious poke at her. She hadn’t seen her mom, Grandma Daisy or G-G since the barbecue on the Fourth. How was that possible? Almost three weeks had slipped by during which she’d spent every spare moment with Jameson.

She needed to get a grip on herself. Half the reason she’d let Daphne talk her into teaching the Young Adventurers for the summer was the opportunity it would give her to spend more time with her family.

Sitting up, Van pulled the sheet with her to cover her breasts as Jameson sat up and poked a thumb back over his shoulder, indicating that he would leave her to her conversation. She gave him a nod. He rolled off the bed and reached for his jeans.

“You’re right, Mom. I miss you guys.”

“Come to dinner tonight.”

She slid a glance at Jameson. He was watching her, frowning a little as he zipped up his Wranglers. He mouthed the words, “Everything okay?”

Was it? Not really. She’d been ignoring her family to spend all her time with him. That had to stop. But she gave him another nod anyway. He turned to go. When he opened the bedroom door, Slim sat waiting on the other side. The dog gave a loud whine.

“That sounds like a dog,” said her mother, as Jameson went out, silently pulling the door shut behind him. “Are you at Callie’s?”

Van lied by sidestepping the question. “Dinner, huh? Sure. What time?”

“Oh, honey. That’s great. Six?”

“I will be there.”

“Bring Callie...” Wanda’s voice trailed off and then she added kind of coyly, “Or another friend, if you’d like.”

Van cringed. Bringing Jameson to dinner on West Street? Not going to happen. That would mean way too many questions she didn’t feel like answering. Plus, it would give Jameson the wrong sort of signal—the kind of signal that didn’t fit their agreement to spend time together privately, with no one else the wiser. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you then.”

“Wonderful.”

They said goodbye.

For a minute or two, Van just sat there, clutching her phone against her chest, staring blindly out the slider that led to a sunlit deck. She felt out of sorts, apprehensive—but why?

Because she couldn’t just lie around in Jameson’s bed forever, she decided. She needed to stop gazing at nothing and get moving.

Tossing back the covers, she put on her clothes and straightened the bed.

In the kitchen, she found Jameson shutting the dishwasher door after loading in the breakfast dishes. She grabbed her glasses off the freshly wiped table, put them on and then knelt to give Slim a little love.

When she rose, Jameson came to her. He framed her face in his big hands and brushed a kiss on her forehead, just above the bridge of her glasses. “How’s your mom?”

“Good, thanks.”

“Everything okay with the family?”

“Fine, yes.”

He guided a thick swatch of her hair back over her shoulder. “It’s a warm day. How about we tack up a couple of horses? I’ll show you a pretty, private spot I know right here on the Double J. It’s up in the foothills, a little swimming hole. Deep enough for diving with a nice, grassy bank at water’s edge to spread a blanket on.”

She thought of her real life, of the family she’d essentially been ignoring, of all the ways she’d grown too attached to this beautiful man, of what she’d just revealed to him back there in his bed.

Her family didn’t even know about all that. The ones who did know were women—women she trust. She’d never told anyone else. Especially not the men she’d believed herself in love with—not David or Chaz or even open-minded, mild-tempered Trevor.

Only Jameson...

Really, she needed to put a check on herself. She’d said she would go to dinner at her Mom’s tonight. And she wasn’t about to bring a date.

She needed to pull back a bit, get herself some space, stop neglecting the people she cared about—the ones who would be there for her at the end of the summer when this thing with him came to its natural end.

Jameson asked gently, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was just thinking that I’ve got a million things to do at Callie’s. And then my mom asked me over for dinner tonight. I haven’t seen the family for weeks, so of course I said yes. I would love to see that swimming hole. But really, I think I ought to pull myself together and get going.”

He seemed to be studying her, but when he spoke, his tone was mild. “Of course. It’s important to spend time with the family.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll get some work done around here today and take my own advice, join the folks for dinner at the main house.”

“They probably wonder where you’ve been the past three weeks.”

He had that thoughtful look again as he asked, “Later tonight, then?”

She felt this tug, like a hungry little ache in the vicinity of her heart, as though a strong, secret thread held her bound to him, a thread that pulled her toward him. She wanted tonight with him. She wanted all the nights with him. “Yes—I mean, if that’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” He touched her cheek, a slow, light caress. Her nerve endings heated and fired in response. “What time?”

“Nineish?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay, then. I’ll just grab my stuff and get going.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa came out of the bedroom with her suitcase.

Jameson played it easy and cool, though he had a bad feeling about this. She seemed withdrawn. He worried that she’d find some reason not to keep her date with him tonight.

But then he reminded himself that they both needed to pay attention to the other people in their lives. He had work he’d been putting off in order to spend more time with her.

Today, he’d get stuff done, burn ditches, check fence lines, move ornery cattle to fresh pastures. And tonight—unless she freaked and didn’t show—he would find his reward in her arms.

He kissed her at the door, took comfort in the way her body pressed, warm and willing, against him. After her SUV disappeared down the ranch road, he went back inside to change into work clothes.

In the closet, he saw that she’d taken all her clothes with her.

Not a good sign.

They needed to talk—about changing the rules. About taking the next step.

Too bad he had no idea how to broach that loaded subject with her. At least he still had weeks left of summer to find a way to convince her that they could have it all if she’d only give them a half a chance.

* * *

When Van let herself into the apartment, Callie wasn’t there. She gave her roomie a call.

“Honey, I’m home,” she teased when Callie answered.

“Who is this?” Callie razzed her back. “How did you get this number?”

They laughed together and Van said, “I tore myself away from my sexy secret cowboy lover.” She put on a sad voice. “But you’re not here and I’m all alone.”

“Yeah, I’m working till four.”

“What about dinner? I’m going to Mom’s and you’re invited.”

“I would love that.”

By four thirty, when Callie got home, Van had done laundry, cleaned the apartment top to bottom, showered and changed.

Callie took one look at her and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...” She hardly knew where to start.

“When your voice trails off like that, there’s only one thing to do. Have a glass of wine with me and tell me everything.”

Callie poured the wine. They sat on the sofa and Van cried on her friend’s shoulder because her fun summer romance had grown way too important to her.

When she finally fell silent, Callie asked, “What exactly are you telling me? Does he want to break it off?”

“No. Not at all. He’d have me there with him 24/7 if possible.”

“So then, this is a problem, because...?”

“I’m getting way too attached. It’s dangerous for me to get attached. When I get attached, something always goes wrong.”

Callie made prayer hands. “This could be the time it doesn’t go wrong. Have you thought about that?”

Van tipped her head back with a groan. “You shouldn’t put up with me. You’re the best friend ever, way too wonderful and patient with me. I know you’re right. I do.” She tapped at her temple. “In here. It’s just, well...”

“Love has not been kind to you. I get that. Come here.” Callie reached out.

Van sank into a much-needed hug. “Thank you,” she said when they broke apart.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“For being here, being my friend.”

“I just wish I could convince you that sometimes things actually do work out.”

“I hear you.” A change of subject was definitely in order. “Let’s talk about you. How are things at Bronco Ghost Tours?”

They spent a half hour catching up and left for the house on West Street early.

The whole family was there—including Evan and Daphne. Van took pleasure in watching her mom and Sean together. Her mom seemed genuinely happy with Sean—as happy as Evan was with Daphne. Grandma Daisy talked about the series of watercolors she was working on, and G-G demanded that they all pay her a visit at Wisdom by Winona.

Van loved them all a lot, and she enjoyed the evening.

Except...

Thoughts of Jameson kept intruding. A day away from him and she couldn’t wait to throw herself into his arms again. She needed to get a grip on herself, chill a little when it came to him. She needed to give more time to her real life.

For instance, tomorrow. She ought to head over to Happy Hearts early, have coffee with Daphne and Evan, hang around to help muck out some stalls, gather and prep the necessary materials for upcoming projects at Young Adventurers.

Really, she needed to leave the Double J in time to sleep in her own bed for a change. Using Jameson’s house as her home base had to stop.

* * *

When he heard Vanessa’s SUV pull up to the house at nine that evening, relief washed over Jameson, cool and soothing as a dip in a cold creek on a blistering summer day. He’d started to worry she wouldn’t show.

But he opened the door, and she ran to his arms. He kissed her hard and deep—and took her straight to bed.

Later, he got them each a longneck and they drank them right there in bed. She laughed at his story about Slim tangling with a garter snake that bit him on the nose and wouldn’t let go. He asked about her family, and she said everyone was fine.

They started kissing again and that led to more lovemaking. Around midnight, she fell asleep in his arms.

He woke sometime later, alone in the bed. “Vanessa?”

No answer. The bathroom door was wide open, with nothing but darkness inside. He got up and pulled on his Wranglers. With Slim at his heels, he went out into the main room.

No sign of Vanessa. He didn’t really have to check the driveway for her Forester to know she was gone. But he checked it anyway.

He stood on the front step staring at the empty driveway. At his feet, Slim gave a sad little whine. He looked down into those big, soulful brown eyes. “It appears she took off, buddy.”

Back in his room, he sent Slim to his bed in the corner and picked up his phone. No voice mail, no text. He started to call her. But come on, what would he say? Would he end up begging?

Vanessa, please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.

No.

He needed to wait for the right moment to get into it with her. Two o’clock on Sunday morning wasn’t it. He let it go, though he had no idea when he would see her again, if at all.

The next day was pretty bad. More than once, he had to quell the powerful impulse to whip out his phone and call her—or worse, to jump in his pickup and go looking for her.

He didn’t do it.

A man had his pride, after all.

* * *

Van knew she needed to put up or shut up—to actually talk to Jameson, try to work it out with him, however that might end up going. Or to leave him alone.

Working it out, though? The thought simply paralyzed her.

Because she’d tried to work it out so many times in her life before. And every time, she ended up messed over and left behind. Maybe for once, she should try a different way.

They’d agreed where this was going when they started in together. She’d wanted it to last until the end of August.

But she needed to face facts here. The longer she let it go on, the more she would suffer when it ended.

All that day, she waffled between letting last night be their final night and simply staying away—or going to him, trying to talk to him, to explain to him, to somehow get him to see that she needed to walk away now, that sticking through another month would only make it harder to say goodbye.

Explaining herself to him—or just disappearing. Both options seemed weak and wrong and selfish. Probably because both options were all three of those things.

Around five, alone in the apartment with Callie still at work, Van made her decision. She would stay away. He deserved better than to have to deal with her baggage and excuses.

Ten minutes later, she grabbed her keys and ran out the door.

* * *

Feeling pretty damn low, Jameson sat on the front step with Slim. As he watched the cottony clouds roll by in the wide, blue sky, he kept thinking he ought to drag himself inside, find something for dinner.

So far, he hadn’t budged an inch.

“Come on, boy. Let’s rustle up some grub.”

He was just about to get up and go inside when Vanessa’s Subaru came flying over the last ridge on the access road from the highway. Kicking up dust devils, the silver SUV raced right for him. When she turned into his driveway, she hit the brakes hard, spun the wheel and sent a wild spray of dirt and pebbles flying in the air behind her.

Slamming to a stop inches from the garage door, she jumped from the car and ran around the back end of the vehicle as he rose to his height from his perch on the step. Beside him, Slim let out a whine that might have been a greeting but sounded more like pure apprehension.

“Stay, boy,” he said low. “It’s okay.”

Slim plunked his haunches back down as she strode up the front walk.

Stopping a few feet from him and the dog, she dragged in a big breath, swiped a wild curl of hair out of her eyes and announced, “All right. I get that we really do have to talk.”

“Come on inside.” He spoke softly, soothingly, the way he would to a nervous filly. Turning, he pulled open the door for her.

She marched past him into the foyer. He ushered Slim in behind her and took up the rear. She only got as far as the grouping of oversize sofas and easy chairs around the fireplace. Halting beside the low, long coffee table, she knelt to greet Slim, who dropped to his butt and sat looking up at her hopefully as she stroked his forehead and rubbed his skinny back.

“Right here is fine.” She gave Slim one last pat on the head and then rose.

With a low whine, his tail dragging a little, Slim headed for his water bowl. Even the dog knew something bad was happening.

As Slim lapped up water by the counter in the kitchen, Jameson gestured toward a chair. “Let’s sit down.”

“No, thanks.” She stuck her hands in her pockets, her eyes not quite meeting his. “I’ll stand.”

Judging by the frantic look of misery on her face and the rigid set of her shoulders, he didn’t hold out a lot of hope for whatever she planned to say—and that made his gut twist in a knot. She hadn’t even dumped him yet, and already he was feeling the pain.

Desperate to make the moment go in a better direction, he said, “I’ve got an idea...”

She blinked. Apparently, she hadn’t banked on him making suggestions before she finished telling him goodbye. “I, um, what?”

“Let’s go out, you and me. Right now. We’ll have dinner at DJ’s Deluxe or that great French place, Coeur de l’Ouest. If you’re in the mood for casual, we can get pizza or stop in at Bronco Burgers. It doesn’t matter where we go, just that we do it. Let’s walk out of here together and go where we want to go and not hide away here like we’re some dirty secret.”

Those frantic eyes looked as if they might bug right out of her head. “What are you talking about? We’ve been through this. You said you understood.”

“No. I never said that. I don’t understand. I want to be with you, so I did things your way. But your way isn’t working. It’s time we changed things up. Time you got past whatever’s holding you back. You’re not eighteen, with a cheating ex-boyfriend and a bunch of mean girls on your ass. You’re not dealing with Don or David or Chaz or Trevor. You’re with me, and I want to be with you. You are a brilliant, beautiful, grown-up woman, and I think, if you would just get out of your own damn way, you would see that you want to be with me, too.”

“No. You’re not listening. You refuse to see. I’m not going out openly with you in this town. I can’t do that, and you know I can’t.”

He answered with a sad shake of his head. “Come on, Vanessa. We both know you damn well can go out with me tonight. You just won’t, and that’s the plain truth.”

Now she looked a little less frantic and a lot more miserable. Her rigid shoulders slumped. “Okay. You’re right. I won’t. That’s what I came here to tell you. I considered just staying away, but that felt all wrong.”

“And this, what you’re doing now—that’s somehow right?”

“It is right. It’s the right choice for me.”

“Wrong.”

She pressed her lips together and glared at him. “Will you let me finish?”

He returned her glare. “You go right ahead.”

“I just... I realized I needed to say it straight to your face, Jameson. Because this isn’t anything against you, it really isn’t. You are the most amazing man and it’s not—”

“Wait. Are you about to hit me with some tired phrase that women always use when they show a guy the door? Are you about to say that it’s not me, it’s you? If you are, save it. I don’t need to hear that crap. I know it without your saying it. Because it is you. If we don’t work this out, that’s on you. I’m knocking myself out here to get through to you, and you’re giving me nothing but arguments that don’t hold water and a bunch of lame excuses.”

“I just... I can’t...” She caught herself. “I mean, I won’t. I won’t go there again. I won’t take that chance again. I just need to face reality here. It never goes well. It’s always a disaster. I’m a disaster, romantically speaking.” Her wonderful face was a portrait in pain.

His growing exasperation melted away. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow him to get one step closer than where he stood now, ten feet from her, at the end of a long gray sofa.

Again, he tried to get her to reason it out. “It’s what life is, Vanessa. You fail and fail and every time you fail, you have to pick yourself up and try again. You can’t give up—or you’ll never succeed.”

“It’s just not the same for you. You failed once. I just keep doing it over and over. It always has a bad ending for me, and I have to learn to protect myself at least a little. The way I see it, if we walk away now, at least we have a great memory of how good it was for a while.”

He hardly knew where to go with that. “But why walk away when we’re just getting started? Why walk away when we could have so much more? I’ve got no intention of messing this up. I want to be with you. I’m open to you. I want it all with you. I want to take this thing between us wherever it goes. I love—”

“Stop. Right there.” Her face had paled, her freckles standing out in sharp relief.

How could he get through to her if she refused to hear the words? “You’re not even going to let me say it?”

“No, I am not. There’s no point in saying it. It won’t change anything. You know where it goes. We’ve been through this. In August, I go back to Billings and we both get on with our lives.”

“Just, please, give it a chance between us, Vanessa.” Damn. He’d descended to begging. This was bad. Really bad. Still, he gave it one more shot. “Just say yes to dinner at DJ’s. That’s all I’m asking for. One step at a time.”

She made a strangled sound, a sound full of pain. Behind her black-framed glasses, her eyes gleamed with moisture. A tear got away from her and dribbled down the curve of her cheek. Angrily, she swiped at it. “I can’t. I’m sorry. No.”

No.

And where did that leave him?

Screwed, that’s where. “So I guess that makes me collateral damage once again, huh? You said it and I agreed with you. This really isn’t about me. This is on you, Vanessa. And I’m tired. I’m done. I don’t want to give up on you. But what else can I do? A man needs to know when to call it quits.”

“Yes.” Her voice was so small, so lonely. “You’re right. It’s not going to work, and it’s good that you can see that.”

They stared at each other.

There was nothing more to say.

He walked away from her, to the kitchen area and the wide window with a view of the mountains, their craggy peaks reaching into the sky. “Just go,” he said over his shoulder.

“Goodbye, Jameson.” The words came out ragged but way too damned determined. He heard her footsteps retreating. The front door opened and clicked shut.

He refused to turn from the window until he knew she’d gone. His soul ached at the sound of her car starting up, the engine revving as she shifted and backed out. Finally, she must have put it in Drive. He heard the faint sounds of tires crunching gravel. He stared at the faraway mountains as the sound of her engine faded away.

Behind him, Slim whined. To Jameson, that whine—forlorn, bewildered—said it all.

He turned and met Slim’s worried eyes. “It’s okay, boy,” he lied. It was not in any way okay. “We did what we could.”

Slim followed him over to the long gray sofa. The dog sat and stared up at him through sad, soulful eyes. Dropping to the cushions, Jameson put his head in his hands. With another mournful whine, Slim rested his head on Jameson’s knees.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Van got home before Callie. She went straight to her room and threw herself across her bed.

She cried for over an hour, stopping now and then to blot her streaming eyes and blow her nose—only to start sobbing all over again.

Finally, Callie tapped on her door and asked apprehensively, “Van?”

She considered trying to tell her friend she was fine. But it would be a flat out lie, a lie that Callie wouldn’t buy, anyway. And Van desperately needed the comfort her friend would give her—comfort she knew she didn’t really deserve.

She grabbed the tissue box again. Too bad it was empty. With a low moan, she called, “It’s not locked!”

Callie pushed open the door enough to poke her head through. Her pretty face fell. “Oh, honey. What’s happened?”

Van cast a sad glance at the pile of used tissues in drifts all around her and held out the box. “I broke up with Jabesud, ad I’b all out of tissues.”

“Oh, sweetie...” Callie came to her, swept a pile of tissues off the bed, dropped down beside her and wrapped her in a hug.

Half an hour later, Callie coaxed her into the kitchen and pulled out a stool for her at the counter. “Sit. This calls for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Van blew her nose with a tissue from the fresh box Callie had found in the hall cupboard. “I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad. Tomato soup and grilled cheese are what Dr. Sheldrick ordered. You will sit there and take your medicine, are we clear?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Callie whipped up the comfort food and served them both at the counter.

“Thank you,” muttered Van after she’d savored the first gooey bite of grilled perfection.

Now Callie looked at her sternly. “I love you a lot. But you’ve made a giant mistake breaking up with that man.”

Van sipped a spoonful of soup. “Noted. Can we talk about something else now?”

Callie changed the subject, and Van loved her all the more for letting it go. Later, they streamed a movie and shared a giant bowl of popcorn.

In the morning, Van got up and went to Happy Hearts. She kept it together, getting through the day’s workshop, hanging around afterward to muck stalls and groom horses, mostly sweet old nags who would no longer be breathing if Daphne hadn’t provided them a loving place to live out their twilight years.

“Stay for dinner,” Daphne urged when Van came in from the stables. “The family is coming.” She meant Wanda, Grandma Daisy and Winona, not the Taylors. The situation between Daphne and her dad had not improved.

Van started to decline the invitation, but why? It wasn’t as though she had somewhere else to be. Callie didn’t need to spend another evening babysitting her. This way, she would have a reason to keep a smile on her face—either that, or she would have to get honest with the people she loved.

No. Never mind honesty. They didn’t need to hear how she’d gotten way too serious about a Bronco man. They wouldn’t understand her original plan anyway, how it was all supposed to be fun and casual, something she could easily walk away from. And then she’d gone and let her heart get involved and so had he—which meant she’d had to end it a month early.

None of that would make a lick of sense to them.

Really, would it make any sense to anyone? When she laid it all out like that, she just felt like a fool on top of having a broken heart—one she’d inflicted upon herself.

No.

She would be cheerful and upbeat, and none of them would ever have to know.

It didn’t go quite as Van planned. She tried to keep her attitude light and easy, but the family knew that something had gone wrong for her. They each found an opportunity to speak to her privately, to ask what she had on her mind and reassure her they were there for her any time she needed them.

In response, she hugged them and said that she loved them and lied through her teeth, promising she was totally fine.

She felt bad about the lying.

But then her mom took her aside last. It was just the two of them, at the kitchen table.

Wanda asked softly, “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

And it was too much. Van couldn’t bring herself to tell one more lie. “I’m doing my best, okay? Just putting one foot in front of the other.”

“Is that really enough for you?”

“Of course not. But it’s where I am right now—and please don’t start in about how I need to find a nice local guy and move back home. I like my life in Billings. It’s a good life.” And it was. Still, her heart ached to think of returning to her pretty little condo in August. Somehow now, after Jameson, the thought of going back to Billings felt hollow at the core.

Her mom took her hand, turned it over, and gently stroked her palm. “I know you’ve made a good life there. And, yes, I do wish that you would decide to move home. But that’s your decision. I promise I’m not trying to live your life for you.”

“Well, I just don’t think you approve of my choices.”

“That’s not so, honey. I don’t always agree with you, true. But I admire you. You’re a terrific teacher. You have a big heart. You’re generous with your time and talents and you’ve made a meaningful, productive life for yourself. I respect your right to do things your own way.”

Van felt ashamed. “Thanks, Mom. I did really think you were judging me.”

“I’m not. We’re not.”

Van sagged in her chair and said in a small voice, “I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions. Over the years, though, you and Grandma Daisy have gotten on me now and then about how much happier I would be in Bronco.”

“We love you. We want you close. And you’re right, your grandma and I have made it painfully clear we wish you would move home. I promise you, though, we do get that it’s your decision where you live, how you live. As long as you’re happy with your choices, we’re happy too.”

Van told her mom the truth. “Well, I’m not all that happy right at the moment. Does that mean you’re going to start in on me to move back here?”

Her mother’s laugh was soft and knowing. “Not a chance. I am getting your message loud and clear and I will take it to heart, I promise you. Yes, I want you happy. But I do understand that I can’t give you happiness. You have to claim it for yourself.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Hmm. That leaves me telling you again that I respect your choices. And that I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

They gazed at each other for the longest time. Van was the one to scoot her chair closer to Wanda’s. She laid her head on her mother’s shoulder with a sigh. “I love you, Mom.”

Her mother’s arm was warm, comforting around her. “And I love you...”

* * *

Back at the apartment, Callie met her at the door. One look at her friend’s determined expression and Van longed to spin on her heel and get out of there.

“This way,” said Callie. She took Van by the arm, led her to the sofa in the living area and gently pushed her down. “I realize I didn’t come on strong enough with you about the Jameson situation.”

“Wait. What? Strong enough?” Where was shy, unassuming Callie when Van needed her? Ordinarily, Van loved that her friend always told her the truth. Right now, though? No, thanks. “Callie, I told you, there is no Jameson situation.”

Callie braced her hands on her hips. “Denial is not a good look on you.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Great. You don’t have to talk. Just sit there and listen. Let me say what I need to say, and then we can leave it alone.”

With a heart-heavy sigh, Van slumped into the couch cushions. “Get it over with, then.”

“Thank you.” Callie dropped down next to Van and shifted to face her. “I just want you think about it. Think about how Jameson treats you, how much he wants to be with you. I think, if you just push your fears aside and look at what he does, how he communicates, all the ways he treats you thoughtfully, with real care, you will see that he’s nothing like the men who hurt you.”

“Callie. Those guys were all good to me, too. At first.”

“As good as Jameson?”

Van hated that question. It had her thinking of all the ways Jameson treated her right. Cooking meals for both of them, rearranging his schedule to be with her, planning weekend getaways—to a secluded cabin with all the amenities, to a luxury hotel—getaways that followed her rules of no contact with anyone else in Bronco.

“Okay,” she muttered darkly. “The man’s a real prize. So far. But that doesn’t mean he would stay that way if I hung around.”

“What it means is that you need to give the guy a chance.”

“You know how many times you’ve said I should give Jameson a chance?”

Callie scoffed. “Not enough times, apparently. Because you’re still not hearing me.”

“Oh, but I do hear you, loud and clear. I hear you and I simply refuse to go there. I will not give my heart again and end up getting it back in pieces.”

Callie seemed to be running out of steam. She gave it one more valiant push. “Truly, Van, you know you have to keep trying. Not all men are like your dad and those other four losers whose names I don’t even want mentioned ever again. You’ll never get what matters if you give up now.”

“Then I’ll never get what matters.”

Callie let out a dejected little moan. “You are just making me so sad.”

Van took both her hands. “You are the best friend ever. I love that you’re trying so hard to convince me to do what you think is right. It just, well, it isn’t right for me. And I have to do what works for me.”

Callie hung her head.

Van pulled her close in a hug. “Thank you. I mean that.” She took her friend by the shoulders and held her away enough to capture her gaze. “Now, can we stop talking about this. Please?”

“All right.” Callie gave a weary nod. “I’ve said what I needed to say and you’re still dug in. I give up. Have it your way.”

Callie kept her word. Over the next few days, she never once mentioned Jameson.

Too bad Van thought of him constantly. And she remembered everything Callie had said, damn it. She couldn’t stop thinking of all the ways he’d shown her how much he cared. And she couldn’t stop missing him, stop reaching for him in the middle of the night.

But she didn’t take her friend’s advice. She stayed away from him. Her fear of getting hurt again had more power than her longing to make things right.

* * *

On Wednesday, the third day after Vanessa dumped him, Jameson woke before dawn to the sound of the doorbell ringing. He almost pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep, but it was time for him to get up and get to work, anyway.

The doorbell chimed again as he stuck his feet in his jeans, zipped up and pulled on an old Grizzlies sweatshirt. “I’m coming! Hold your horses!”

With Slim at his bare heels, he headed for the door.

It was his mom. “Hey.” He put on a smile. “You’re out and about early.”

She folded her arms across her middle and tilted her chin high. “Chicken-fried steak tonight. It’s your all-time favorite, and I am frying it up for you. We never see you. Tonight you are coming for dinner. Be there. Six o’clock.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but turned on her boot heel, ran down the steps, jumped into the old pickup she often used around the property and drove off.

He didn’t want to go. He just wanted to work and be left the hell alone. But once roused to action over one of her children, Mimi John wouldn’t quit. If he didn’t show up tonight, she would march back over here, Dawson and Maddox in tow. And when she ordered his brothers to drag him bodily to the main house right this instant, they would do it, no questions asked.

Bottom line on this issue: he would end up at dinner with the family whether he wanted to go or not.

He went. At least he got chicken-fried steak with country gravy and buttery, light-as-a-cloud mashed potatoes for his trouble.

All three of his siblings showed up. Charity sat next to him. When she thought no one was paying attention, she whispered, “Everything all right, big brother?”

“Sure. Yeah. Fine.”

“I should talk to her...”

He looked at her dead-on. “Don’t.”

She gave him the sad eyes, but she left it alone after that.

A few minutes later, his dad said, “Jameson, we haven’t seen that silver Subaru over at your place the past few days. Everything all right?”

Jameson gave his dad the same look he’d given his sister—the one that said Randall should drop that subject now.

His dad pretended not to get the memo. “A man can’t be sitting around waiting for what he wants to come to him. He’s got to go out and go after what’s his.”

Jameson glared at the spot between his father’s bushy gray eyebrows. “Dad. I mean it. Don’t.”

His family knew better than this—and no, he wasn’t surprised they’d all noticed the absence of Vanessa’s car in his driveway. Of course, they all knew that he’d been seeing Vanessa. Nothing got by any of them. But as a rule, they had the good sense not to butt in on his business.

His mother settled the matter by chiding mildly, “Randall, let it be.” And then she changed the subject. “How’s the gravy, Jameson?”

He gave his mom a slow nod. “The best. Thanks, Mom.”

The rest of the dinner went by without incident in that no one else tried to bring up the sudden absence of Vanessa from his life. He really didn’t want to talk about her.

Too bad not talking about her didn’t stop him from thinking of her all the time. He conjured images of her at Happy Hearts leading her Young Adventurers in some new science experiment. He kept remembering her face at the moment she won the Miss Bronco crown, so horrified and absolutely adorable, spitting a giant bite of pie all over her old T-shirt and jeans. Even pissed off on behalf of his sister, he’d thought Vanessa was about the cutest, most bewildered Miss Bronco he’d ever seen.

He loved the way she treated Slim, always taking time to greet the mutt properly, give him a good scratch around the neck as she let him lick her face. She asked Slim how he was feeling and then listened as if he actually answered her in English. Vanessa was the kind who always made sure Slim got plenty of kibble. She took him out to do his business any time he whined at the door.

Slim missed her. The sound of a vehicle driving by out front would have him racing to the door. Plunking his butt down, staring hopefully at that shut door, Slim would wait for her to come through it.

Since Sunday, she never did.

For Jameson, nights without her were the worst of all. He woke often with his hand stretched out into the cool expanse of sheet where her lush, soft body damn well belonged.

He needed to do something, change something, make a move.

But he couldn’t think of any move that would get through to her, help her to see the light, get her to accept that he loved her and wanted to be with her. That she was the one for him, that he was all hers, the man different from all the others, the one who would never let her down.

Thursday morning, he remembered he hadn’t picked up the mail in a while. He drove out to the mailbox and gathered the stack of bills and flyers and worthless junk. Back at the house, he tossed his keys on the kitchen table and went through the envelopes and advertising circulars, tossing most of it in a pile to discard.

At the bottom of the stack, he found a flyer for Winona Cobbs’s new psychic enterprise. Printed on deep purple cardstock with bright yellow lettering, the flyer announced that Winona could be consulted at her new shop, Wisdom by Winona, located on the premises of Bronco Ghost Tours.

Life! Love! Happiness! the flyer proclaimed in giant shouty yellow caps. The flyer announced that consultations, consolation and excellent advice could all be attained in a visit with Winona.

Jameson stared at that flyer for a good five minutes. For half that time, he was shaking his head. He admired Winona, but that didn’t mean he would ever waste good money on a visit to a fortune teller.

He tossed the flyer on top of the junk mail stack—and then snatched it right up again. Sticking it in a back pocket, he scooped up his keys from where he’d thrown them on the table and headed for the door.

At Bronco Ghost Tours, he found that Winona had her own separate building. The discovery brought relief that he wouldn’t have to go near the office or the gift shop, where he might run into Vanessa’s roommate or even her brother, Evan.

It was something of a shed really, Winona’s shop—a very charming wooden shed. Painted turquoise, the rough plank siding had been decorated with stars and crescent moons. Wisdom by Winona, announced the sign above the heavy purple door. To either side of that door, thick curtains covered the old-fashioned double-hung windows. He couldn’t see anything inside.

Jameson stood on the step for a few minutes, growing more and more unsure that he had any right to be here. Really, seeking out Vanessa’s great-grandmother could end up being just as awkward as meeting up with Callie or Evan.

In fact, the more he considered going through that purple door, the more certain he became that showing up here was a bad idea. Better to just get out. He turned for his quad cab—and heard the door open behind him.

“Jameson John,” said a husky voice with only the slightest quaver of age.

Slowly, he turned back to face her. “Winona. Hello.”

Wizened and bright-eyed as ever, Winona wore an outfit worthy of his ex-wife, the rodeo queen, including purple jeans, boots to match and a jewel-bedecked purple shirt. On her head she wore a purple turban accented with an enormous gold brooch in the shape of a crescent moon.

“About time you came to see me.” With a gleeful little laugh, Winona reached out her skinny, wrinkled hand and grabbed his arm. “Don’t dally on the step, young man. Come in, come in. We need to get moving on this.”

This, what? he would have asked, if only his throat hadn’t suddenly locked up tight.

A moment later, he found himself on the other side of the door. Winona gave that door a push. It swung shut, and semidarkness descended. The only light came from dim bulbs in ancient-looking lamps. Jameson breathed in the heavy scent of incense. It burned in several brass containers set on small tables next to faded wing chairs.

Apparently, this was some kind of waiting room—a very purple waiting room almost completely enclosed in purple velvet curtains. Anchored in the center of the ceiling, the curtains draped outward to the top of the walls. From there, except for where they parted above the door, they hung straight to the floor.

“Winona.” He had to pause to clear his throat. “This is very, er, atmospheric.”

The old woman glanced around with a grin. “Designed it myself. The older I get, the more I love purple.” Her grin flattened out. “Unfortunately, Evan is insisting that I’ll have to move indoors. He says we can’t possibly keep this sweet little shed warm through a Montana winter.” Before he could sympathize with her, she brightened right up again. “All right, then. Let’s get started, shall we?” She lifted a hidden split in the curtains, revealing another door that led to a second room. “This way.” Ushering him over the threshold first, she followed him in, shutting the door behind them.

He breathed a little easier. No incense burned in this room. And there were no draperies back here, either, just clean walls of a pale, soothing robin’s egg blue.

Winona signaled him to take one of the two chairs at a central table of simple bleached pine. “Sit, please.”

He sat. Winona perched on the chair across from him.

Feeling nervous as a sinner in church, he coughed into his hand again—and suddenly realized he hadn’t taken off his hat. Swiping the thing from his head, he turned to hook it on the back of the chair.

When he faced Winona again, her piercing dark eyes watched him, seeming to see right to the center of him. Did she find him lacking somehow? “I, uh, always enjoyed that column of yours.”

“Thank you.” She reached across the table and took his wrist. “Down to business.” Turning his hand palm up, she cradled it in her birdlike claw. Bending her turbaned head close, she hummed low in her throat. “Hmm...”

Alarm jangled through him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She glanced up, sharp eyes pinning him again. And then her face softened. Her voice changed, became gentle, soothing. “Let’s just sit quietly, shall we?”

He longed to leap up and run out, but he heard himself answer calmly, “Sure.” As he said the word, his urge to run faded. A sort of peacefulness stole through him.

They sat. Minutes ticked by. He felt truly unconcerned, relaxed, certain now that something good would happen. He only needed to be patient, to let the truth unfold at its own chosen pace.

Gently, Winona touched the tips of his fingers one by one. She bent even closer and stared at his open palm.

Again, she made that humming sound.

“Hmm... It appears to me, Jameson, that you are the kind of man who likes to take charge. You don’t care for ambiguity, and you do not like to wait.” She glanced up, and their gazes locked. “Has there ever been a time when you didn’t get what you wanted?”

He took a while to consider her question. “When I was younger, no. Things came easily to me back then.”

She chuckled. The small, spare room seemed to fill with light. “You’ve led a charmed life?”

He glanced around, trying to figure out where the extra light had come from. There were windows on three of the walls, each with white lace curtains drawn shut, letting muted light in that didn’t seem to have gotten brighter. And the two lamps on side tables gave about the same amount of light as before. Still, the room did seem brighter.

Winona shook a finger at him. “Pay attention, please, Jameson.”

He blinked and sat up straighter. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Answer my question.”

“About my so-called charmed life?”

Winona beamed. “That’s the one.”

“Ahem. Well, yeah. Looking back, I’d have to say that I’ve had it really good.”

“Until...?”

“I got married. It didn’t work out. We divorced. She moved away. I felt disappointed in myself, you know? That I never really understood her. And then, once she was gone, I didn’t even miss her all that much. I started to wonder if there was something missing in me. If I would ever find someone to be my one. To be my only.”

Winona held his gaze again. “There is nothing missing in you, Jameson.”

Hope rose like a bubble in his chest. He swallowed. Hard. “There’s not?”

“Nope.” She popped the p, looking almost childlike at that moment. “You’re on the right path. Patience is required, though. You can’t have what you want until the one you want is ready.”

“Before she left...” He realized he should clarify. “I mean the one I want. Not my ex-wife.”

Winona’s smile turned serene. “I know what you mean.”

Did she? He really had no idea. But in this quiet, bright little room, just Winona and him, alone, well, it seemed like the right choice to take her at her word. “I started to tell her how I really feel for her. I wanted to let her know what’s in my heart...”

Winona said nothing. She waited for him to finish.

He did. “Because I love her.”

“But you didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

“You changed your mind?”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t let me say it—and I let her stop me. I shouldn’t have let her do that. I should’ve said it anyway.”

Winona touched his curled-up fingertips again, and he relaxed them until they opened as before. “Timing matters,” she said. “That might seem wrong. It might even seem unfair. But sometimes, there’s no point in saying your love out loud if the one you love can’t hear you yet.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Winona lifted one narrow shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Think on it.”

“I will.” He stared into the old woman’s eyes. And the truth just popped out. “It’s Vanessa. I’m in love with Vanessa.” There. Finally. He’d said it. And it felt damn good to say it, so he said it again. “I love your great-granddaughter.”

Winona granted him an angel’s smile. “Yes. I know.”

Huh? That made no sense at all. “I don’t understand. Vanessa said she didn’t want her family to know about us. I’m surprised that she told you.”

“She didn’t. Vanessa never said a word. But I have spent many years watching and learning. Sometimes the secrets of the heart are open to me. I simply know things—secret things, the things we all try to hide about ourselves. That first time I met you, at the barbecue on Independence Day, I knew then that you were already falling in love with my great-granddaughter. And the moment I looked in your blue eyes today, Jameson, I knew that it had happened, that you are in love with Vanessa.”

He had no idea what to say to that. Maybe no words were necessary. After all, Winona clearly had him pegged.

She said, “Sometimes I know the deepest secrets, the ones in people’s hearts, the ones they haven’t even shared with themselves. For instance, Vanessa...”

He leaned in, eager for anything the old woman might share. “Yes, what? Tell me.”

Winona lowered her voice to a whisper. “Vanessa’s been hurt. Love hasn’t been kind to her.”

“I know that. She told me.”

“She told you because, deep in her wounded heart, she does trust you. And she’s hiding the truth from herself. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Whoa. Slow down a second there. What truth are you talking about?”

“Why, that she’s in love with you, too.”

Should that news have surprised him? It didn’t. He believed that Vanessa loved him—and that loving him scared the hell out of her. What he needed to do next to get through to her, that was the real question.

“And you must be patient,” Winona said.

“Yeah,” he replied glumly. “You mentioned that already.”

“Patient and available, too.”

“Oh, come on, Winona. How can I be available when she’s already dumped me?”

“Find your opportunities. She misses you.”

He shouldn’t get his hopes up, but Winona could be so damn convincing. His pulse quickening, he sat up straighter. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes. She loves you and she misses you, she absolutely does. So show up. Let her see exactly what she’s missing.”

“Winona, even if I could get her to agree to be with me again, it wouldn’t be for real, you know? She doesn’t want anyone in town to know about us. And I went along with that for a while, I did. But enough is enough. I just don’t want to be a secret anymore.”

“Of course you don’t. And you shouldn’t have to be.”

“So, how do I make her see that?”

“Patience. Don’t stay away just because she insists on terms you can’t accept—but don’t push, either. She has to come to you in her own time.”

He let out a groan. “You don’t ask much, do you?”

“Jameson, you have to lose in order to win.”

“Winona, what does that even mean?”

For that he got her most beatific smile. “All will become clear. In time. Right now, you need to show up. Your very presence will serve to remind her of all that’s at stake.”

“Show up where? Are you saying I should stalk her?”

“Of course not. There will always be opportunities for you to be where she is.”

“Right,” he said bleakly.

“Don’t descend into cynicism,” Winona warned gently. “Love is on the line, Jameson. Above all, you mustn’t give up the fight.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next day, Saturday, Van and Callie were sitting at the kitchen counter sipping second cups of coffee at eight in the morning when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Van got up and went to answer. A glance through the peephole showed her Charity John’s smiling face. She pulled the door wide to find Jameson’s sister, resplendent in dress jeans and a gorgeous Western shirt, clutching the handle of her makeup kit. “Just thought I’d drop by in case you could use a little extra primping for the ribbon cutting today.” The newly remodeled Bronco Convention Center had its grand opening that morning at ten. Miss Bronco was slated to do the honors.

“It’s so good to see you.” Van stepped back. “Come in.”

Charity entered the narrow entry hallway. Van shut the door and grabbed her in a quick hug, one made awkward by the case caught between them. “How ’bout some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

There were only two stools at the counter, so the three of them sat at the table for a while. At eight thirty, Callie left to run errands, promising to see them both at the ribbon cutting.

“I bought some dressy shirts and hats,” Van reported. She led Charity down the hall to her room, took her new Miss Bronco wardrobe from the closet and laid the various pieces out on the bed.

“I love them,” the younger woman declared. She fingered the sleeve of one of the shirts. “I think this bronze color is amazing, and I love the gold beading. It’s perfect for your skintone. You can wear the chocolate-brown studded jeans with it, the dark boots and dark hat with the gold-colored crystal beading.”

Van put the other pieces back in the closet.

“Let me do your makeup, just like old times,” said Charity.

Van laughed. “Old times meaning four weeks ago?”

Charity grabbed her in another hug. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Van took her hand. “All right. Enough with the hugfest. Let’s get to work.”

In the bathroom, Charity plunked the makeup kit on the counter. She took off Van’s glasses, tipped up her chin and studied her face. “Your eyes are a little red.”

She hadn’t been sleeping. Her bed just felt so empty without Jameson beside her. “The contacts have been bothering me,” she lied.

“You have eye drops?”

“Of course.”

“Use them. And I think you should wear glasses today.”

“Miss Bronco in glasses?” Van put on a snooty voice. “Is that done?”

“You are Miss Bronco, and you wear glasses—so the answer is yes. It is most definitely done. I think those tortoiseshell ones will look best with that gorgeous shirt...” Charity’s voice trailed off. She seemed to gather her courage.

“What is it?” Van demanded.

“I just need to say something. Please don’t cut me off.”

Van drew a long breath. “All right. Go ahead.”

“You could have everything. You’re so smart and you are loved, Vanessa.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what went wrong between you and my brother, but I do know that whatever it is, you can fix it. You can make it right. I know him. You can trust him. He will never, ever mess you over.” Charity pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed gently at her eyes.

“Okay.” She gave a delicate little sniffle. “That’s it, all I needed to say to you—I mean, except that, no matter what happens, I really want us to still be friends.”

“Always,” Van vowed, as it came to her that her deepest hurts were truly healing, in no small part due to her friendship with Charity. “And I...”

Charity looked at her through hopeful, shining eyes. “Yes? Oh, Vanessa. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Could she?

She went for it. “The truth is, I have been thinking about Jameson. Constantly. And Charity, you are so right. He’s a good man, the best. And I do need to let my old hurts go.”

Charity nodded hard. “You need to make room in your heart. Room for happiness.”

“I do.”

“But...” Charity’s smooth brown crinkled. “What hurts are we talking about here, exactly?”

Van gave a tiny shrug. “Well, for starters, disappointments in love. There have been a lot of those in my life so far.”

“Jameson won’t be one of those guys. He knows how special you are. I meant what I said a minute ago. Jameson will not let you down.”

“I know he won’t.” Van felt strangely breathless. She’d blown it with him. She really had. She’d been too busy protecting her wounded heart to let him in. “He’s different. I know it. You’re right about that, too.”

Charity took both her hands. “I really think you two are meant to be together.”

Van couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “You’re such a romantic.”

Charity drew her slim shoulders back. “I am, and proud of it—and don’t stop now. Tell me what other past hurts are bothering you.”

Van confessed, “Well, in my life there have been some extremely mean girls.”

Charity groaned. “Ugh. The mean girls. They’re the worst. You have to stand up to them, show them they won’t get you down.”

“You’re right. And I did. And it was a long, long time ago. Long enough that there’s no excuse for me not to get past it. Luckily for me, now I have you and Callie and Daphne. Good women and wonderful friends with open minds and big hearts. I feel so grateful for you and for them.”

“Oh, Vanessa!” Charity cried, grabbing her in another, tighter hug. “I feel grateful for you, too.”

It all seemed so clear suddenly. She’d judged her hometown by the heartbreak she’d suffered in high school. She’d run away and refused to return except for short family visits—because of a boy she’d trusted with everything who then threw her away, because of a group of jealous, vindictive high school girls.

But already, from last Christmas through this summer, she’d forged some wonderful relationships with terrific women right here in Bronco. She’d met Jameson, a man she knew she could count on, even as she refused to let herself trust him. She needed to stop blaming her hometown for Donnie’s betrayal and the vindictiveness of Maura and her crew.

She needed to be braver. Truer. To be more like the Bronco women she loved—open, authentic, full of love and understanding, proud to step up and live their convictions.

“What?” Charity took Van’s face between her slender hands. “You look stunned. Are you okay? Did what I said upset you?”

“Upset me? No! I’m good. Really, I am. As a matter of fact, I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.” Even the ever-present ache of loss that had dragged at her since she’d walked out Jameson’s door last Sunday had somehow lessened, at least a little. “And what you said about Jameson, I was listening. I really was. And I know you’re right. He’s a fine man. The best. I promise to take what you said to heart.”

Charity stroked Van’s hair. “I’m glad.” She hugged Van again. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. I hope you know that.”

“I do. And thank you. You know I’m here for you, too.”

Charity beamed. “Yes, I do.” She turned to her makeup case. “All right. Let’s get you ready to wow them at the ribbon cutting.”

* * *

Charity had plans with her friends for that afternoon, so she and Van drove separate vehicles to the convention center.

When they arrived, the parking lot was already more than half-full. Charity honked and waved Van into the first empty space.

Van parked, jumped out and ran to Charity’s side window. “I’m good from here. I’ll be watching for you in the crowd.”

“I’ll be whistling and waving.”

Van reached in and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’re the best.” She stood for a moment, watching the back end of Charity’s cute little pickup until it disappeared down the next row.

Twenty minutes later, she sat in a row of folding chairs on a raised platform erected in front of the new convention center. The mayor and other dignitaries filled the chairs to either side of her. Below the stage, a brass band played a patriotic anthem, and beyond the band, the plaza that surrounded the center was packed with the citizens of Bronco.

All the flags and bunting from Red, White and Bronco had been repurposed to celebrate the dedication of the center. In the distance, the craggy peaks of the mountains pierced the wide blue bowl of the sky. A nice breeze stirred the flags to full, waving glory.

After three rousing Sousa marches, the band took a break, and the speeches began. Van spotted Charity and her parents in the crowd, but she didn’t see Jameson. The ever-present ache in her heart intensified.

She needed to make things right with him. She’d messed everything up with her fears and her doubts. And oh, she did miss him so.

Was it too late for them? Had she finally found the right man for her and then destroyed their chance for happiness by walking away?

Right then, over at the podium, the mayor swept out his arm toward the row of folding chairs. “And now, let’s give a big Bronco welcome to the little lady chosen to do the honors today. May I introduce our own Miss Bronco, Vanessa Cruise!” The crowd on the plaza erupted in cheers, whistles and excited applause. “Come on up here, Vanessa, and say a few words.”

Vanessa played her part. Rising, she swept off her sparkly hat and gave the crowd a big, wholehearted Miss Bronco wave.

They clapped all the louder. She felt their acceptance. Some might have mocked her win at first. But she’d slowly won them over by simply being herself and putting her whole heart into the job.

Leaving her hat on the chair, she approached the podium. The mayor tipped his hat to her and stepped back.

She adjusted the mic and began, “Hello, Bronco!” Again, a surge of applause washed over her. She waited for it to die down a little and then parroted the few remarks she’d planned, all about fresh starts and the importance of community, of people supporting each other, working together. At that point, she was supposed to take the giant pair of scissors from the mayor, step to the ribbon and cut it in two.

But in that split second before she turned to accept the scissors, she realized she had more to say. “I’ve learned so much since becoming Miss Bronco.”

She paused for a slow breath. Out on the plaza, you could have heard a feather float toward the ground. She frowned. “Yeah, okay. I admit it. I didn’t enter the pageant to win this honor, and there were ten wonderful contestants who did enter, each of whom had every right to feel a little cheated that I ended up with the crown.

“But every one of those contestants has treated me kindly. Every one of them would have made a great Miss Bronco, I have no doubt. However, thanks to my wonderful, brilliant Young Adventurers out at Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary, here I am.” The whistles and shouting and wild clapping started up again, louder than ever.

The second the sound died down a little, she continued, “And I wear the Miss Bronco crown with pride, thanks in great part to the coaching and encouragement of my fabulous runner-up this year, Charity John. Thank you, Charity!” The crowd went wild.

Again, Van picked up as soon as the wave of sound leveled off. “I know I’m not a traditional beauty queen, but every woman has beauty within her, and none of us should be afraid to let the world see what we know and feel inside.” Her voice died in her throat.

But her heart took wings.

Because right then, she saw him—saw Jameson, way back from the platform, working his way toward the front of the crowd. His eyes...they were only for her, locked on her so intently. He wore a look of great tenderness, one that seemed to speak straight to her heart, to say it was far from over between them, after all.

Her vision blurred. Careful of her makeup, she lifted her glasses enough to dash the tears away. And then, drawing her shoulders back, aiming her chin high, Van spoke her truth out loud and proud. “I have known heartbreak. Way too much heartbreak. And this summer, in Bronco, you all have taught me how to get over it—not by hiding what I feel, but by sharing it. I’ve been so afraid to lose my heart again...” She paused, half expecting the mayor to grab her arm and drag her away from the podium.

Nobody moved. The mayor made not a peep. Out on the plaza, the crowd that seemed to contain everyone in town watched her through wide, rapt eyes.

“However,” she said, her gaze locked with Jameson’s as he kept moving closer, “sometimes you have to lose in order to win.” Another lightning bolt of understanding struck and she found herself remembering something she’d said to Jameson that day he revealed the sad secrets of his failed marriage. She repeated it now, slowly. Clearly. “And sometimes people hurt each other because they’re too busy struggling through their own crap to be careful of the other person’s heart. I have done that. Everyone messes up now and then. The real progress happens when we learn from our mistakes.”

Again, she paused. She drew a deep breath and pictured G-G’s beautiful, wrinkled face. Oh, she could feel it now, Winona’s love and approval. Winona would be so proud that she’d finally found her own path.

“So I’m just going to say it, right here, right this minute in front of the whole town.” She smiled at the man who’d almost reached the platform now. “I have lost my heart to Jameson John—and I’m finally seeing that loving him is the best thing that could ever have happened to me. Because this time, I’ve lost my heart to the right man, a man I can count on, a man worthy of my trust.”

“Vanessa!” Jameson leaped onto the speaker’s platform. “I love you!” he shouted, striding straight for her.

The crowd cheered louder than ever. They whistled and threw their hats in the air as the man she loved swept her into his arms.

“I love you,” she said, and he swooped down to claim her mouth with his. They kissed for a long, sweet time, the crowd egging them on with more whistles and catcalls.

When they finally came up for air, she said “I love you so much, Jameson,” in barely a whisper. Their kiss had knocked her glasses askew. He carefully settled them more firmly on the bridge of her nose.

Behind them, the mayor took matters into his own hands and cut the ribbon. Not that either Van or Jameson cared.

Holding her close, Jameson dipped his head even closer, close enough to speak directly into her ear. “And I want you to know that I honestly don’t care where we live as long as I’m living with you. When you leave at the end of the summer, I’m going with you.”

“No need!” She had to shout the words to be heard over the clapping and shouting from the plaza. “I’m ready, Jameson, ready to come home for good. I’m applying for a job at Bronco High. One way or another, I’m going to be living here in our hometown.”

“With me.” It was an outright demand. “Openly.”

“Yes, absolutely. With you, for the whole town to see. I love you so much. I’ve missed you so terribly.”

“Never leave me again.” His eyes were blue fire.

“Never,” she vowed. “I’m sorry I made you a secret. But your willingness to keep it just between us for a while did give us time, at least, to know that we’re meant for each other.”

“I agree.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I thought it over, back the night of the rodeo, after I turned down your offer at Bushwhacker Creek. I figured out then that I would never get a chance with you if I didn’t bend a little.”

“So that was you, bending, when you showed up at our table during the barbecue on the Fourth?”

“Yes, it was—and dear God, I love you.” He touched her cheek with a gentle hand, causing a riot of glorious sensation to flash like sparks across her skin.

“And I love you,” she said yet again. “All my disappointments, all my bad boyfriends, my questionable romantic choices, they led me finally to you. Every time I lost at love, I was only getting closer to finding the real thing. Now, I can’t wait to see where the future will take us.”

“Together,” he said in a rough rumble.

“Always,” she promised as he pulled her close for another endless, tender kiss.

* * * * *

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ISBN-13: 9780369710024

The Rancher’s Summer Secret

Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Christine Rimmer for her contribution to the Montana Mavericks: The Real Cowboys of Bronco Heights miniseries.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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“Your sons are very caring and kind and wonder...wonderful.” Violet’s voice quivered and she drew in a deep breath before she continued. “You’re very lucky to have them.”

“That’s what everyone told me after Brie died.” He looked up at the afternoon sky, the sun starting to make its way closer to the Teton mountain range. “How lucky I was to still have a piece of her.”

“No, I meant you’re lucky to have them period. Even if your wife was still here, I would tell you the same thing. Your children are a blessing. You’re a very fortunate man, Marcus. Not everyone will get to have that same experience, let alone twice.”

His heartbeat stopped before picking up speed. “Back at the church, right before you, uh...threw up...you seemed really surprised that I had twins.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him, as though the answer should have been obvious. “Because we were supposed to have twins. There were two babies when I miscarried.”

Marcus’s knees buckled and his hand propped against the hood of the SUV was the only thing that kept him from going down.

* * *

TWIN KINGS RANCH: A homecoming to remember...

Dear Reader,

When I ventured out of my fictional town of Sugar Falls to start the new Twin Kings Ranch series, there was one character I couldn’t leave behind. Freckles, the owner of the Cowgirl Up Café, has a big personality and dispenses advice as quickly as she dispenses hot buttermilk biscuits. She’s almost like a fairy godmother of sorts, but with way more sass, formfitting clothes and hair spray.

My own godmother is a lot like Freckles in that she always shows up. Aunt Bonnie (who is technically my mom’s cousin) rarely misses a baby shower, a birthday party, a graduation or even a funeral. She is not only front and center with a side dish and a happy smile, she’s usually behind the scenes, as well—organizing the meals, assisting with the planning and giving rides to the aunties or whoever else needs a lift. Aunt Bonnie might not match Freckles when it comes to eyeshadow layers, but she definitely brings the fun-loving attitude and the sage advice.

In Not Their First Rodeo, Marcus and Violet finally get a chance to have their story told. And just like the first two books in the Twin Kings Ranch series, Freckles is showing up for the King family with her comfort food, her matchmaking skills and her irreverent humor.

For more information on my other Special Edition books, visit my website at christyjeffries.com or chat with me on Twitter at @ChristyJeffries. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love to hear from you.

Enjoy!

Christy Jeffries

Facebook.com/AuthorChristyJeffries

Instagram.com/Christy_Jeffries/

Not Their First Rodeo

Christy Jeffries

Christy Jeffries graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mommyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at christyjeffries.com.

Books by Christy Jeffries

Harlequin Special Edition

Twin Kings Ranch

What Happens at the Ranch...

Making Room for the Rancher

Sugar Falls, Idaho

A Marine for His Mom

Waking Up Wed

From Dare to Due Date

The Matchmaking Twins

The Makeover Prescription

A Proposal for the Officer

A Family Under the Stars

The Firefighter’s Christmas Reunion

The SEAL’s Secret Daughter

Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

His Christmas Cinderella

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

To my own fairy godmother, Bonnie Johnston Holbrook. You have boundless energy and the biggest heart. You’re the glue that keeps our extended family together and my heart smiles every time I see you. Thank you for always showing up (and for always buying my books). Love you to the moon and back.

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

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

Marcus King hated funerals.

As the sheriff of Ridgecrest County in Wyoming, he even avoided traffic details for cemetery processions, often assigning a junior deputy for the task, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the painful reminder that death could happen to anyone at any time. A fact he knew only too well, having lost his wife five years ago.

However, Marcus hadn’t been able to avoid this particular memorial service, with thousands of mourners lined up outside the crowded church and millions more at home watching live on their televisions. Celebrities, national heroes and world leaders were all crammed into the too-small First Congregation of Teton Ridge, watching somberly as the president of the United States gave the eulogy for her second-in-command.

Vice President Mitchell “Roper” King had been many things to many people, but to Marcus he’d simply been Dad.

And how did one escape his own father’s funeral while hundreds of news cameras were strategically placed both inside and outside the church to capture every tear, every sniffle, every flicker of emotion that crossed the faces of those who had known and loved Roper King the most?

Well, not everyone in attendance felt that way, Marcus thought as he shifted in the tight confines of his pew to angle his head toward the opposite side of the building.

“Stop squirming in your seat,” his brother Duke whispered out the corner of his mouth. “You’re not five anymore.”

“I’m checking on my sons,” Marcus replied before giving a curt nod to his twin boys sitting with their younger cousin in the pew behind them. “They’ve got to be bored out of their minds.”

Six-year-old Jordan and Jack were hanging in there like a couple of champs, though. Sad, but hiding their restlessness way better than their old man. Probably because their aunt had promised all the kids doughnuts and brand-new iPads loaded with their favorite video games if they could keep still during the nearly one-hour service.

Marcus glanced past his sons’ honey-blond heads to the packed pews behind them and caught a glimpse of the upper corner of a woman’s face.

No. That couldn’t be...

Surely she wouldn’t come to the funeral, especially knowing Marcus would be there. He craned his neck to get a better look and felt his brother’s elbow ram directly into the cold piece of steel secured in place below his rib cage.

Duke stifled a curse, and their mother gave them both a withering stare through her sheer black veil. When she returned her attention to the president speaking in front of the flag-draped casket, Duke muttered, “Did you seriously wear your duty holster to the service?”

“I always wear it,” Marcus said, tugging on the lapels of his uncomfortable suit. “Just in case something comes up and I need to respond to a call.”

“You’re allowed to take the day off.”

Yet Marcus never took time away from work. At least, not mentally. This was his home, his county. These people, most of them visitors, were ultimately his responsibility until they all returned to their own worlds. He glanced down at his watch. Hopefully, that would be in less than fifteen more minutes. They just needed to get through the video montage and then the procession before he could—

“Where’s Tessa going?” His brother nodded to where their sister was rushing down the center aisle toward the small vestibule that led to the front doors.

“I’ll go check.” Marcus began to rise, but his mother, who was on his opposite side, quickly shot her arm across his midsection, just like she used to do when she’d driven him to school or baseball practice and had to slam on the brakes.

“Don’t you dare stand up and cause a bigger scene.” She spoke quietly, but firmly. “We have people stationed outside who can see to her.”

The Secret Service agent positioned in the shadows behind the organ put his hand over the clear wire of his earpiece. Marcus had attended the pre-op briefing earlier today with several deputies from his department, as well as numerous other law-enforcement personnel from neighboring counties. Right now, he would’ve given anything to know what was being transmitted over the radio communications. The agent made eye contact with Marcus and gave a very discreet thumbs-up before resuming his stance.

Which meant he had to stay put and actually deal with the grief of losing his father. Instead of thinking about something simple like logistics and security perimeters, he had to think about how much he was going to miss seeing his dad’s proud, but crooked smile. How he was never going to hear that rugged, but reassuring voice give him any more words of advice. Damn it. Marcus wanted to mourn in private, on his own schedule. Certainly not in front of a crowd.

The final ten minutes of the ceremony seemed to last longer than the first fifty, but finally the pallbearers, consisting of members of each branch of the armed services, carried the casket down the center aisle. His mother followed, supported by the president who’d been sitting in the front pew on the opposite side. That left Marcus to walk next to the first gentleman while mourners nodded their condolences at them as they passed each row.

If there was anything Marcus avoided more than funerals, it was politicians. Sure, the president and her husband were polite enough, and his father had made numerous friends with elected officials and cabinet members over the years. But there were plenty of people who’d traveled all the way to Roper King’s small hometown in the middle of Wyoming just for the opportunity to be seen rubbing elbows with some of the most powerful leaders in the country.

Like the senior senator from the great state of Texas. And wherever Senator Cortez-Hill went, her famous husband followed, causing even more of a stir with his celebrity status as a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Perfect. The only thing that would make this day even more unbearable was if they’d brought...

Oh, hell. There she was.

Violet Cortez-Hill.

Marcus’s lungs seized, and his knees threatened to buckle as his eyes locked on hers. It had been her sitting way back here, after all. And she was even more beautiful than she’d been the last time he’d seen her—almost fourteen years ago. Her black hair was still silky straight, but slightly shorter, and framed her heart-shaped face. Her light bronze complexion still smooth and flawless, and her narrow nose still regal. But her cheekbones were sharper and more defined, and her green eyes held more wisdom and cynicism. His gaze flickered lower to her lips, which were drawn tight, as though she was holding her breath as she boldly returned his stare.

He should’ve listened to his instincts earlier and volunteered for traffic detail. Funerals didn’t just force people to publicly confront their grief and their own invincibility. They often forced people to confront mistakes from their pasts. And now he was face-to-face with his.

Why had Violet come? Didn’t she know how uncomfortable this would be for all of them?

A hand clasped his shoulder and propelled him forward.

“Keep on moving, Lover Boy,” Duke grunted from behind. Marcus hadn’t heard the nickname in years, and instead of sending him on a trip down memory lane, it immediately snapped him back to the present.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he squared his shoulders and followed the procession down the aisle, outside the church and into the bright January sunshine and the even brighter lights of the news cameras. He shoved his dark sunglasses on just in time, once again wishing he could be anywhere but here.

As the casket was loaded into the back of the hearse, he felt the small hands of his boys, each on one side, taking his bigger palms in theirs. Marcus couldn’t afford to think about anything but taking care of his children, being the support that they needed through the devastating loss of another family member. He’d told his children that it was okay to cry, that it was okay to be sad. They’d both been so young when their mother had died, their grieving process had been somewhat delayed. As though they’d known they were missing something but didn’t quite understand who or what until later. Losing their beloved grandfather, though, had the potential to stir up all sorts of feelings they’d yet to deal with about their mom’s death.

Marcus’s dad had once been his rock, and now more than ever he was determined to provide the same stability to his own sons.

“Where’s Aunt Tessa?” Jordan whispered, concern permanently etched across the serious boy’s brow. “She left real quick, and her face was all white.”

“Maybe she was hungry and wanted to get something to eat,” Marcus replied, doubting the excuse before he even said it.

“Well, I have to go pee, and I don’t think I can hold it,” Jack announced much louder. Despite being older by three minutes, Jack was the free-spirited twin. The impulsive one that counterbalanced his brother’s tendency to worry about every little thing. “She better not eat all the sprinkle doughnuts before we get there.”

Marcus bit back a groan, yet he couldn’t help but also feel a sense of relief. His sons were actually handling the funeral crowd much better than expected. Being a single father, he’d dealt with plenty of tears and tantrums in the past and knew it came with the territory. Today, though, he’d much rather deal with doughnuts and bathroom breaks.

He squeezed their hands and said, “Let’s go back inside and use the restroom. Then we’ll go see if they have any more snacks left in the MACC staging tent.”

In fact, it felt good to have something concrete to focus on, to have a task at hand. Plus, it didn’t hurt that his sons’ requests gave him the perfect excuse to get away from everyone in the crowd and check on his sister all at the same time. While he was there, he could ask his deputies stationed in the Multi-Agency Command Center temporarily set up behind the building if they needed anything from him.

Marcus chanced a glance behind him at the guests spilling onto the church steps to see if anyone was watching them, then told his kids, “Come on. Let’s hop over those bushes by the sidewalk and double back to the side door. It’ll be the quickest way.”

It would also be the only route that guaranteed he didn’t come face-to-face with the woman who’d made him stop in his tracks earlier.

The woman who used to hold his heart in the palm of her hand.

* * *

Violet Cortez-Hill knew when she’d landed at Jackson Hole Airport it would only be a matter of time before she’d see Marcus King, the man who’d once been her best friend and her first love.

Everyone probably would have understood why she couldn’t find time to attend the funeral in Wyoming. But she was in between high-profile cases right now, and after fourteen years, it felt cowardly to use work as an excuse just to hide behind all those emotions that belonged in the past. And nobody had ever accused Violet of being a coward.

Besides, she’d spent so much of her adolescent summers with the older King children when their parents had forced them to attend the same political events, and she had adored their father, Roper. How could she not be here to pay her respects in person? To offer any support she could.

Yet, when her eyes had locked on Marcus’s during the final procession, she’d been slammed with a million memories. It felt as though a wave had crashed into her, practically knocking her back into the hard, wooden pew.

How was it that he’d grown even more handsome over the years? That his shoulders had gotten broader and his face had gotten more chiseled? The teenager she’d once dated used to wear ripped jeans, T-shirts with goofy slogans and an old ball cap from Dorsey’s Tractor Supply. Yet the man who’d stopped in the middle of the aisle to stare at her with openmouthed shock wore an expensive tailored suit and a short, neat haircut, looking nothing like the guy she used to know. Unfortunately, his nearness still caused her pulse to spike with the same level of attraction as it had all those years ago.

His brother Duke had given him a shove and Violet was left to stand there and wonder if the few seconds they’d made eye contact was really long enough for her to conclude that his reaction to seeing her had been just as intense as hers. She fought the urge to rub away the dull ache in her temples, telling herself that Marcus’s response was simply due to his surprise.

The church was small and the aisle narrow, so it took ages for the rows in front of them to empty. As the rest of the mourners filed out of the church, Violet whispered to her mother, “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

“Now?” Senator Eva Cortez-Hill said through her teeth as she nodded somberly at the other politicians and A-list celebrities making their way down the aisle. “All the networks have cameras outside, and it would be a great opportunity for you to get some coverage before my next election.”

“Mom, we’ve already been over the fact that I have no intention of running for superior court judge. Now’s not the time to rehash that argument.”

“You aren’t hoping to run into you know who, are you?” After all these years, her mother still couldn’t bring herself to say Marcus’s name.

“Of course not, Mom. That’s all in the past.”

“Fine. But be outside in five minutes. Our car will be the third one behind the president’s in the motorcade, and the Secret Service won’t want to wait.”

Violet nodded before going in the opposite direction toward the vestibule hallway that led toward the restrooms. Her family had been in the public eye for as long as she could remember, so the cameras and parades of vehicles and formal appearances were certainly nothing new. Yet, that didn’t mean she relished living her life in the spotlight, even if she was good at pretending otherwise. In fact, being a public defender, representing some of the most heinous criminals in the justice system, she’d quickly learned how to mask any facial expressions that might give away how she was truly feeling inside. Every day, she sat beside strangers in orange jumpsuits accused of an array of charges and didn’t hesitate to defend their right to a fair trial.

So then, why was she currently ducking into the bathroom of a small church in the middle of Wyoming? Why was she hiding out in a cramped powder room that hadn’t had its floral wallpaper or framed cross-stitch decor changed out in at least four decades?

Violet braced her hands on the pink-tiled counter and stared at her reflection over the sink. “Because the last time you saw Marcus King, your world fell apart shortly after.”

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she felt a stinging pressure building behind her eyes, the telltale sign of a migraine coming on. Yanking out her phone, she saw the text from her father asking if she was okay. She fired a quick response.

I’m fine. Go on without me and I’ll catch up with you guys later at the airport.

She dug around in her purse for the pills her doctor had prescribed for migraines. Even though taking them made her feel as though she were admitting defeat, she knew that it was smart to stay ahead of the pain and the accompanying nausea before it got worse. Turning on the water, she cupped her hand under the faucet and took a deep drink.

Next, she reapplied her lipstick and tried to ignore how pale her cheeks looked in the fluorescent lights and pink-hued surrounding of the ladies’ room. Checking the time on her phone, she convinced herself that the motorcade was likely long gone, hopefully with Marcus in one of the first vehicles. She could slip outside and pretend nothing was amiss.

And then do what?

Ask a reporter for a ride in a news van? Call a cab? Did they have Uber in Teton Ridge? Okay, so maybe this wasn’t one of her better thought-out plans. This was why she tried not to let her emotions get the better of her.

“C’mon,” she told herself in the mirror. There were hundreds of people in attendance at the funeral. Surely someone would be heading her way. “For God’s sake, what’s with you? You’re smart. You’re resourceful. You’ve just been named one of the top litigators in Lone Star Docket magazine. Finding a ride to the airport should be the least of your problems. Get it together, damn it.”

Finally the pep talk worked. She ran a hand through her dark hair and turned to the door. Straightening her spine, she left the safety of her temporary hideout with her head held high.

Only to slam into the very man she’d been trying to avoid.

Marcus’s hands were firm and strong on her shoulders as he caught her, then immediately released her when his surprised face recognized hers.

“Violet.” His voice was deeper than she’d remembered, and his solemn tone was definitely less playful. But at least it wasn’t accusatory, which might have been how she would’ve sounded if he’d shown up at her father’s funeral.

She drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore his citrus and leather–scented shower gel, still familiar after all these years. “Hi, Marcus. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

A storm of emotion passed behind those blue eyes of his, as though fighting to remember why they were both here in the vestibule of the First Congregation of Teton Ridge. Her stomach roiled and twisted in a storm of its own, and she didn’t know if it was a symptom from her impending migraine or a symptom of standing inches away from her ex-boyfriend.

Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck before giving her a curt nod. “Thank you.”

She wanted to ask him how he was holding up, but the slight shadow of his sunken cheeks told her that he wasn’t doing well. The stiff resolve in his square jaw similarly told her that he wouldn’t admit it.

Clearly, neither one wanted to be the first to run away from the history between them. She could make an excuse about needing to catch her ride, but what if he followed her outside and saw that everyone had already left?

Speaking of the motorcade, why was he still here? Why hadn’t he ridden in the family limos with his mother and siblings? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but he crossed his arms over his chest, his defensive posture suggesting he was more than willing to stand there silently and wait her out.

He reminded her of a court bailiff or a guard at the jail who stood by stoically as she interviewed one of her clients, annoyed by the assignment and pretending not to be counting the minutes until he could be out of her presence.

The longer Marcus remained planted there staring at her, the more her pulse pounded with annoyance. Was he not even slightly curious about what had happened to her? Or at least willing to be polite and pretend he cared?

What made it worse was that Violet desperately wanted to ask him all kinds of questions about his life. To find out what he’d been doing since he’d vanished from her life without so much as a see ya fourteen years ago.

Yet she doubted he’d be forthcoming with those answers, either. Instead she said, “I saw Tessa leave the service early. I hope she’s okay.”

Even to her ears it sounded like she was fishing for information rather than simply trying to engage him in conversation. But the alternative would have been to either stand there silently and let the awkward tension build or to dash away as though she had something to hide.

Plus, she had always been fond of Tessa and was legitimately concerned about his sister. Marcus might not be willing to talk about himself, but he’d never been able to hide his concern for his family.

For the first time, his eyes darted away from her, and he cleared his throat. “Tessa wasn’t feeling well, and a Secret Service agent took her to the command center tent to have the medics examine her.”

“Oh, no. I could go check on her,” Violet said, taking a step back. In fact, the migraine medicine wasn’t kicking in as quickly as she’d hoped, and the nausea bubbling inside her was growing worse. Having grown up around big events like this, she knew there’d be a staging area behind the church that would be quicker to access on foot. The thought of some fresh air and an anti-nausea pill had her pivoting to leave.

“Actually.” His voice was commanding and held the slightest warning. Violet paused midturn as he continued. “I’m going to be heading that way when I get done here. I’ll let her know you were concerned.”

The subtle, yet presumptive, instruction wasn’t lost on Violet. Marcus clearly didn’t want her going in the same direction as him. Or maybe he didn’t want her having any contact with his family. Which was too bad because the MACC tent was usually staffed with first responders and government employees who would be more than willing to assist her in finding alternate transportation to the airport.

Her neck stiffened with irritation, and she lifted her chin. “In that case, don’t let me keep you.”

He rocked back on the heels of his expensive leather cowboy boots but didn’t make a move to leave. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Violet felt the color drain from her face. Had there been someone else in the ladies’ room when she’d been in there giving herself a pep talk in the mirror? Was it his wife? She’d inadvertently heard through the political grapevine that he’d married a while ago, but she’d stopped herself from ever confirming the fact. In fact, she’d practically made it a personal mission to avoid any news about Marcus. After their breakup, she’d told herself that she had more important things to focus on and he didn’t deserve the headspace. But maybe that had been a mistake. Violet wouldn’t go into a courtroom without briefing the relevant facts of the case, so why had she shown up on his home turf so unprepared?

Instead of a wife coming out of the ladies’ room, though, the door to the men’s restroom sprang open, and two young boys spilled out.

“Jack didn’t use any soap when he washed his hands,” one of the children quickly said to Marcus.

“That’s cuz I finished before Jordan and didn’t touch the flusher, Dad.”

“Dad?” Violet heard herself squeak as her eyes darted between the identical boys and Marcus. “They’re...yours?”

She tried to swallow as a sickening wave threatened to upend the contents of her stomach. She put a hand to her lower abdomen as though she could stop the building discomfort, or at least the ghost of a long-ago pain.

“Yes,” Marcus said, putting an arm around each boy as all three sets of matching blue eyes blinked skeptically at her. “These are my sons. Jack and Jordan King. Boys, this is my...uh...an old friend of the family.”

“They...” Her throat spasmed, and she waited a beat before trying again. “They’re twins.”

It was more of a statement than a question. And an accusatory one at that.

“Yes,” Marcus replied slowly, one blondish-brown eyebrow lifting. “Why do you look so shocked? It runs in my family.”

She felt the perspiration dotting her upper lip even as a chill raced down her spine.

Because once, they were going to have twins.

She almost admitted as much aloud, but she was already shoving her way back through the restroom door, barely making it into the stall before the contents of her stomach tore through her.

CHAPTER TWO

“Hey, lady? Are you okay?”

Violet was shocked to see one of the boys holding the stall door open, watching her closely after she’d finished heaving and flushed the toilet. She was even more shocked to see his twin brother and their father behind him in the cramped confines of the ladies’ room.

Marcus must’ve known how awkward it was for him and his two young sons to have witnessed her indelicate moment, because he said, “You left the door open. Jordan was worried and wanted to come check on you.”

She nodded because what else was she supposed to say? Get out? Leave me alone? She might’ve easily been able to say something like that to Marcus, but not to his young sons, who were so obviously concerned about her. Scratch that. One son was obviously worried. The other son peeking out behind his dad’s hip was wide-eyed, and his lips were curled down in disgust—as though he, too, might vomit soon.

“Is it a foodborne illness?” The one who must be Jordan asked the question. There was a small crease above his freckled nose as his narrowed eyes assessed her. “Or maybe a viral gastro-testnal infection?”

Violet blinked several times at the child’s attempt to use proper medical terms. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

She delicately stepped around him to make her way to the sink before carefully dipping her head down to rinse out her mouth and splash water on her flushed cheeks. Yet the boy followed her, his serious expression reflected at her in the mirror as she used a paper towel to dry her face.

“Do you have a fever?” he asked. “Or diarrhea?”

“Okay, Doctor Jordan, let’s give Miss Cortez-Hill some space,” Marcus said as he steered both of his boys toward the door, which was still wide-open. He glanced over his shoulder and told Violet, “Sorry about the intrusion. Jordan’s been really into WebMD and those emergency-room documentaries on TV lately. He ran in here before I could stop him.”

“Thank you for checking on me,” she told the boy. Even with all the humiliation still radiating through her, something tugged at Violet’s heartstrings. Of course, she would’ve preferred some privacy, but she wasn’t immune to the concern or the curiosity of the child, who did look pretty worried. Her hand shook slightly as she unwrapped one of the pastel breath mints some nice church lady had set out in a glass bowl on the counter. By the time she reapplied her lipstick—for a second time—her fingers were barely trembling. Her hair and eye makeup were beyond repair, she thought as she gave herself one last look in the mirror, but at least her migraine was already subsiding. The sooner she got away from Marcus and Teton Ridge, the better she would feel.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be anytime soon. The man and his sons were still there, waiting for her in the empty lobby area. She glanced out the wooden double doors leading to the steps outside and saw that many of the cars and news vans were long gone.

“You’re able to walk by yourself so far.” Jordan rushed to her side with his hands up, like a pint-size spotter to prevent her from falling down. “That’s a good sign.”

“I’d probably get dizzy and throw up, too, if I had to walk around in those kinds of shoes.” Jack, the other twin, frowned skeptically at Violet’s high heels. “Maybe you should just go barefoot.”

Violet bit back a smile. “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine now. I promise. I just get these little headaches every once in a while, and they make my tummy unhappy.”

“Those are called migraines,” Jordan said with confidence. “Our teacher gets them every time we have rainy-day schedule at school and says they’re caused by stress.”

“Is stress like pneumonia?” Jack asked his brother. “Can we catch it if we’ve been in the bathroom with her?”

As his sons began a discussion on contagious diseases, Marcus dragged his hand through his short-cropped blondish-brown hair. Violet remembered he’d once worn it much longer, and it used to hold more traces of sun-bleached blond. Now, there were several stubby gray strands near his temples.

“Sorry,” he said to her over the boys’ heads. “You know how inquisitive kids can be.”

His words were probably well-intentioned, but they pierced her heart all the same. Actually, Violet didn’t know much about kids at all. She’d grown up an only child, and after everything that had happened when she and Marcus had split up, she’d shied away from interacting with young children when she could avoid it. It was just too painful. She shook her head. “Please don’t apologize for them. I think it’s sweet that they care so much.”

Unlike their father, who hadn’t bothered checking on her fourteen years ago when she’d miscarried their twins.

“I’d like to say that they usually don’t follow strangers into the bathroom and try to diagnose them, but this is the third time. This school year.”

“Oh.” She blinked several times.

“We didn’t follow Mr. Burnworth into the bathroom,” Jordan pointed out. “He was standing behind the bakery counter, and his face and mouth were all hard and mean-looking, and I asked him if he needed a tetanus shot because he might have lockjaw.”

Violet studied the boy. “You sure know a lot about this kind of stuff for only being... How old are you?”

“We’re six and three-quarters,” Jordan replied proudly, revealing a missing top tooth.

“That means we’re almost seven,” Jack explained, holding up the corresponding fingers. “We’re gonna have a big birthday party at the ranch, and you can come if you’re not contagious.”

“That’s not for two more months, though,” Marcus jumped in. “I’m sure Miss Cortez-Hill will be going back to Dallas way before then.”

She jerked up her chin. “How did you know I live in Dallas?”

Marcus shrugged, but not before she caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt, maybe, because he quickly masked it by saying, “I figured it was a safe guess, seeing as how you were never one to stray too far from where your parents wanted you.”

The pointed jab was a red herring meant to distract her from the fact that he was trying to downplay something—likely the fact that he’d just overplayed his hand. Some of the best attorneys in Texas had tried the same diversionary tactic in the courtroom with her and failed miserably. She wasn’t about to let the guy who broke her heart get away with it. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or maybe you’ve been keeping tabs on me, Marcus King.”

His eyes rolled a bit too dramatically and she had her answer, even if he tried to deny it. “It’s hard not to when our parents have always run in the same political circles. Or at least used to.” Marcus glanced away a little too quickly, but not before she saw the shift of emotion pass across his face. He cleared his throat, then added, “Speaking of which, we really need to get going. We’re due at the ranch for the graveside service.”

“Of course. Please give your mom my condolences and tell her... Wait. The motorcade already left. Shouldn’t you have been in one of the family limos?”

“Dad hates limos,” Jordan said. “We hadta come in the patrol unit because Dad is always on duty. You want to ride with us?”

“Yeah,” Jack added before either of the adults could respond. “You can sit in the front seat and turn on the siren if you want.”

Patrol unit? Siren? Violet reassessed Marcus’s dark tailored suit, his broad shoulders narrowing down to his waist and the shadow of a bulge directly above his right hip. Her ex-boyfriend was now a cop. And he was currently wearing a gun and holster at his own father’s funeral. He’d always been a fun-loving yet responsible guy. But perhaps he was taking his job a little too seriously.

She was about to explain that she hadn’t planned to attend the graveside service—which was supposed to only be for family and close friends—but before she could politely decline, Marcus answered on her behalf. “Boys, I’m sure Miss Cortez-Hill has other plans.”

She realized this was the third time he’d referred to her as Miss. Either he was assuming that she couldn’t possibly be married—which was a little insulting—or he knew her marital status the same way he’d known where she was living, which made her wonder what else he knew about her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like allowing him to have the upper hand anymore. Or dictating her plans.

“Actually, I’d love a ride,” she told the boys. Then she looked their father directly in the eyes and said, “Thanks for the thoughtful offer.”

* * *

Marcus steered his county-issued SUV through the gates of the Twin Kings Ranch, nodding at the Secret Service agents stationed at the front entrance. His family’s working cattle ranch was over fifty-five thousand acres, and it took almost ten minutes to follow the main road past the house where he’d grown up, and then wind up to the private cemetery plot on a grassy bluff overlooking the Snake River.

His jaw throbbed from the way he’d kept his back molars clamped into place, nearly grinding them together as he tried to ignore the familiar scent of Violet’s jasmine perfume. The same one she’d worn when they’d been eighteen. Or maybe his head was just pounding from his sons’ incessant chattering the entire ride from the church.

Apparently, Violet’s migraine had eased up. She was facing the back seat as much as her seat belt would allow and patiently answering the twins’ rapid-fire questions about her favorite ice cream (mint chip—no surprise), her favorite superhero (Wonder Woman—again, no surprise), her dog’s name (she didn’t have a pet—somewhat of a surprise considering the fact that she’d always loved animals) and if she played any sports (running—very surprising since she’d always hated going for jogs with him when he’d been training for boot camp).

The one question that his children didn’t ask was if Violet had any kids. Marcus should’ve been thankful that his normally inquisitive twins weren’t bringing up such a painful subject. After all, he’d tried to put that unfortunate business behind him, even when he’d occasionally hear news about her from his parents or his sister Tessa, who’d interviewed Senator Cortez-Hill several times on her show. But when he’d introduced her to Jack and Jordan, her face had gone completely pale, as though she’d seen a ghost.

It could’ve been a simple case of her not feeling well, because she’d rushed into the bathroom right after. Yet there had been something else. He could sense it, lurking beneath the tension of their already-uncomfortable reunion. Marcus was suddenly dying to ask her about it. Even if it meant reliving the past.

He backed into the last turnaround spot on the dirt road leading up to the cemetery. It was unseasonably warm for mid-January in Wyoming. Most of the snow from the New Year’s storm had already melted, but they’d still have to hike a few hundred yards in the uneven terrain to reach the gravesite.

“I’m sure there would’ve been room for more vehicles up ahead,” Violet said as she tried to navigate around a mud puddle in the middle of their path, her expensive-looking high heel sinking into the damp earth.

“In case of an emergency, though, I need to be able to get my car out quickly.”

She made a deliberate show of scanning the dozen or so Secret Service agents surrounding the immediate area, before jerking her chin toward several military personnel dressed in full uniform. “You think you’re the only person here who can respond to an emergency situation?”

“I’m the sheriff of Ridgecrest County and responsible for the safety of all the residents and businesses. So my duty extends well beyond this ranch.”

“You’re also Roper King’s son. I’m sure you can take a day off for your father’s funeral,” Violet said, right before stumbling when her heel caught on a hidden rock.

He quickly grabbed her elbow to steady her, and a current of electricity shot through his hand and up his arm. Marcus nearly released her just as quickly but thought that would suggest he couldn’t handle his response to touching her. Instead, he commanded his brain to think of her the same way he’d think of old Mrs. Crenshaw, who held up traffic for at least five minutes every time she slowly crossed Stampede Boulevard, the main street running through town. “Like my son said, I’m always on duty.”

She paused to stare at him, and he forgot all about traffic and little old ladies as his pulse picked up speed. To Violet’s credit, she didn’t pull away from him, either. But he could tell from the rosy-bronze hue spreading along her upper chest and neck that she was equally affected by his touch. It was the same way she used to flush with heat when they were younger and he’d kiss her just above her—

“Why is your skin all reddish like that?” Jack asked Violet before Marcus’s inappropriate thoughts could gain any more steam.

“It looks like a rash. Do you have any allergies?” Jordan wanted to know, and Marcus silently cursed himself for allowing his young son to spend so much time researching medical ailments.

Violet cleared her throat, but her blush only intensified. “None that I know of.”

Marcus felt his mother’s eyes on them and realized the minister was already speaking to the much smaller crowd who’d arrived from the church before them.

He nudged his sons forward toward the two rows of chairs. “There’s a couple of empty seats behind Gan Gan. Why don’t you guys go sit down? Quietly,” he added. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Thankfully, Jack and Jordan obeyed, which only happened about 75 percent of the time. Probably because they were too overwhelmed by the sadness of all the adults around them.

The boys sat next to their young cousin and their Aunt Finn, who was great at whispering jokes and keeping the tears at bay during the most solemn of ceremonies.

Marcus didn’t want this building tension between him and Violet adding to his sons’ distress on an already emotional day, so he didn’t immediately follow them. But that left him standing beside Violet during the most emotional and intimate part of the funeral proceedings. Not just beside her but mere inches away since his hand was still on her elbow.

He could hear her soft breathing during the gospel singer’s rendition of “Amazing Grace.” He could feel the rigidity in her arm during the bugler playing “Taps.” He flinched with her during the twenty-one-gun salute. And somehow, he found his own hand intertwined with hers as they lowered his father’s casket into the ground. Just as his throat constricted with emotion, Violet lightly squeezed her fingers around his palm, giving him a boost of strength.

Roper King’s death had been quite a shock for all of them, but even more so for Marcus, who was still angry at himself for not being more aware. Even though Roper had been bigger than life and damn near invincible, he was also older and they all should’ve been better prepared for the inevitable. Especially coming only a few years after another loss that had been much more life-altering.

In fact, the family burial plot was the last place he should be holding hands with Violet. Shame immediately washed over him, overshadowing his grief. He quickly untangled his fingers from hers and edged away, unable to keep the gruffness from his voice when he said, “I have to go.”

His footsteps were heavy and weighted with guilt when he joined his mother and siblings as they filed into a line to pay their final respects to his father—the man who had taught Marcus how to be a man, how to be a husband and, most importantly, how to be a dad.

Truckloads of flowers had been delivered to both the ranch and the church and were still being silently unloaded behind a cluster of mourners. His immediate family made their way to the cars that would take them back down the hill to the main house and the catered reception his mother had planned for only their closest relatives and friends. However, Marcus grabbed an arrangement of pale pink roses and walked over to a headstone, feeling the weight of his sadness settle deeply onto his shoulders.

* * *

Violet stood there awkwardly as the remaining mourners filed past Roper King’s open grave. Once, she’d thought of the younger Kings as the siblings she’d never had, but who knew what Marcus had told them after he’d all but abandoned her all those years ago.

Not that any of them would ever be less than cordial to her if she was to approach them. But at that moment, she didn’t feel right intruding on their grief just to ease the guilt of attending such an intimate service that was clearly only meant for close family and friends—neither of which she could claim. At least not anymore.

She saw Tessa King walking with a man she didn’t recognize but looked to be Secret Service. A second man she did recognize—a young up-and-coming congressman from California—approached Marcus’s sister, and Violet heard a camera shutter clicking away behind her.

Only preapproved members of the press would be allowed to be here to document the private ceremony, so Violet didn’t think anything of it. Instead, she tried to focus on how she was going to get back down the hill and possibly catch a ride to the airport.

There were several men wearing cowboy hats standing around a late-model pickup with the Twin Kings Ranch logo on the door. Roper had been loved by everyone, especially his private employees, so it would make sense for many of the ranch hands to be in attendance. Maybe she could ask one of them for a lift, because she certainly wasn’t going to ask Marcus for one.

Her palm was still tingling from where his hand had clung tightly to hers during the final moments of the service. She’d seen a tear slip beneath the rim of his dark sunglasses, and despite all the heartbreak he’d once caused her, she couldn’t make herself walk away from him when he’d seemed to need support most.

Not surprisingly, when everything was said and done, he’d dropped her hand and simply walked away from her. Just like he had all those years ago. Leaving her all by herself, to figure out where to go from here.

Jordan, the twin with the seemingly encyclopedic knowledge about medical conditions, approached Violet cautiously. “Are you still having your migraine? If your blood pressure feels high, you might need to sit down.” The boy scrunched his nose at the folding chairs now being loaded into the back of the ranch truck. “Or I can walk you back to the car.”

Actually, Violet’s head had been the least of her worries this past hour. Her medication had thankfully taken effect before they’d left the church, and she didn’t have to force a smile at the sweet boy who seemed to genuinely care about her health. “No, I’m all better. In fact, I was just thinking I feel so great I might walk down to the main house.”

Then she could ask someone in the stables to call her a cab.

“But that’s, like, fifty miles away,” Jack, the other twin, said as he approached with much less caution, narrowly missing tripping over an old wooden headstone. “And our aunt says there’s only one chocolate cake at the house without nuts. I hate nuts, so we have to get down the hill fast before all the good desserts are gone.”

Most of the cars were already pulling away, and she finally noticed that it was just her and the twins left. She looked to her right and left, then asked, “Where’s your dad?”

“He’s over there with our mom.” Jordan pointed to a spot behind her, and Violet squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look. Was Marcus still married? He hadn’t been wearing a ring, but some men didn’t wear them. Maybe their mother had ridden here in a family limo. Maybe she’d been sitting in the second row with the boys the entire time.

Violet slowly turned around, bracing herself for an awkward introduction. But instead of seeing Marcus speaking to a woman, she saw him standing under the shady branches of an old sycamore tree, placing a spray of pale pink roses in front of a white marble headstone.

Jack slipped his smaller hand in hers, and she was surprised that her fingers reflexively curled around his. “Now Grandpa is in Heaven with Mommy.”

CHAPTER THREE

Marcus was seriously looking forward to grabbing a bottle of sixteen-year-old single barrel bourbon and heading straight into his own wing of the house to zone out in front of the television with the boys as they rewatched one of their favorite movies. It had been a hell of an afternoon and they all needed a comforting, yet familiar distraction. But first he needed to figure out what to do with his ex-girlfriend.

After a silent ride down the hill from the cemetery, the boys eagerly ran inside the main house to join their Uncle Duke, who’d been waiting for them on the porch. His brother must’ve seen them together before leaving the cemetery and known Marcus would need a few moments. Now it was just him and Violet standing in front of his SUV in the wide parking area near the steps of the kitchen porch.

“Uh...do you want to come inside?” he asked against his better judgment. After all, his mother would give him hell if she knew that Violet was here and he didn’t at least extend an invite.

“I really shouldn’t,” she said. “In fact, I already missed my flight back to Dallas and should get to Jackson Hole soon if I’m going to try and get another connection tonight.”

He nodded, equally disappointed—and oddly relieved.

“Listen,” she started, then tilted her head and paused. As though she was thinking better of whatever she’d been about to say. He lowered his chin and was about to encourage her to keep going when her soft lips parted. “I’m sorry about your wife. I saw you,” she explained when he blinked several times, clearly startled. “You were placing flowers on a grave, and one of the twins told me—Jack, I think. I know it’s none of my business, but how did she pass away?”

“He told you?” Marcus experienced the sour taste of dread every time someone mentioned his wife. Part of the reason he hated funerals so much was because it not only reminded him of what he and his sons had lost but how everyone had treated them afterward. Marcus hated reliving all the pitying looks and tut-tuts about how tragic it was for him to be a widower so young and for the boys to be without their mother. While he wanted to appreciate their well-meaning sympathy, all it did was reinforce his own doubts about his ability to be a single father. Over the years, though, he’d found the best way of dealing with questions about Brie’s death was to be as matter-of-fact about it as possible.

“She had a brain aneurysm. The twins were only eighteen months old, and yeah, it was quite a shock. One of those freak things that nobody can explain. I think that’s why Jordan is so obsessed with medicine. He’s naturally curious and started reading at a young age. He had all these questions about his mom and why she died, and I guess none of our explanations made sense to him. So he started looking for his own answers.”

“Your sons are very caring and kind and thought...thoughtful.” Her voice quivered, and she drew in a deep breath before she continued. “You’re very lucky to have them.”

“That’s what everyone told me after Brie died.” He lifted his face to the afternoon sky, the sun starting to make its way closer to the Teton mountain range. “How lucky I was to still have a piece of her.”

“No, I meant you’re lucky to have them, period. Even if your wife was still here, I would tell you the same thing. Your children are a blessing. You’re a very fortunate man, Marcus. Not everyone will get to have that same experience, let alone twice.”

His heartbeat stopped before picking up speed. “Back at the church, right before you uh...threw up...you seemed really surprised that I had twins.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him, as though the answer should have been obvious to him. “Because we were supposed to have twins. There were two babies when I miscarried.”

Marcus’s knees buckled, and his hand propped against the hood of the SUV was the only thing that kept him from going down.

“You...miscarried?” His voice was much louder than he’d expected, and one of the caterers carrying a stainless-steel tray from their van looked across the driveway at them.

“Of course I miscarried.” Violet blinked several times, her black spiky lashes like tiny daggers to his heart. “Wait. You didn’t think I...that I had an abortion?”

Marcus scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “I didn’t know what to think because I never heard from you. All I knew was that you took the pregnancy test right before I left for boot camp, and then nothing else. At my graduation, I asked my parents if they’d heard from you, and my dad said your mom had gone out of her way to talk to him on Capitol Hill. She wanted to pass along a message that you’d made a tough choice—” he used his fingers for air quotes “—but were so glad you did because you were loving college life and could finally focus on your future. At first, I was so pissed, and then the betrayal set in. Not at your decision, but at the fact that you couldn’t even bother to tell me yourself.”

Her tone grew steely. “I did make a tough choice, Marcus. I chose to have your babies. But in the end, the decision was out of my hands. Either way, how could you think that I wouldn’t have told you what happened?”

Confusion snaked through him, making everything go blurry, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. All these years, he’d assumed Violet had changed her mind about him and the future they’d discussed. He’d believed she’d moved on with her life, and even though he’d been hurt, he hadn’t judged her. They’d only been eighteen, after all. “Then why didn’t I know?”

“I knew they’d taken away your phone in boot camp. It wasn’t like I could call you and talk about it. The best I could do was send you a letter right after it happened.”

A letter? He began pacing as he absorbed her words. He’d gotten only a few letters from his parents, but none from anyone else. Not even his friends back home.

His hands flew up in the air in frustration before clasping on top of his head as he stretched out the tension exploding in his shoulders. “I never got it. I swear, Violet, if I had known you’d miscarried, I would’ve gone AWOL to be by your side.”

Suddenly, his frustration turned to a sharp anger. How could she have thought so little of him? He was about to ask her exactly that when his youngest brother came slamming out of the kitchen door.

“Hey, Violet, what are you doing here?” Mitchell Junior, better known as MJ to his older siblings, was the baby of the family. “I haven’t seen you since that time you and Marcus took me to the Spring Fling Festival, and you guys made me sit by myself on the Ferris wheel so you could make out.”

“I don’t remember that,” Marcus snapped, annoyed at his little brother’s interruption of their emotionally charged conversation.

“Unfortunately, I do remember that.” Violet’s frown made it look as though she was cringing. “That was pretty selfish of us. Didn’t you end up puking halfway through the ride, and the operator made us hose out the car where you were sitting?”

Now, that part Marcus remembered. Violet had taken MJ to the bathroom to clean him up, and Marcus had been left with a traveling carny named Smoke or Blade or some other nefarious moniker who took a cigarette break as Marcus fought an old garden hose to scrub out his kid brother’s mess. It was what he’d deserved for not taking better care of his younger brother.

“Where are you going?” Marcus asked his brother.

“Aunt Freckles doesn’t like Mom’s soy butter, so she gave me some money to go to the store and get some special brand. She said to sneak out of here before Uncle Rider finds out where I’m going and asks me to get him a can of dip.”

Uncle Rider, their dad’s twin brother, was a tough-as-nails eighty-year-old cowboy struggling to follow his doctor’s advice to quit chewing tobacco. Aunt Freckles, Rider’s estranged wife, loved cooking for her extended family almost as much as she loved driving her former husband crazy.

It wasn’t until the kid drove away that Marcus remembered the market in town had been closed today for the funeral. The only businesses that had stayed open were the gas station and the liquor store.

That should’ve been Marcus’s first clue that things were only going to get worse from here.

* * *

Violet was still reeling from the revelation that Marcus hadn’t known she’d miscarried.

She was even more upset that he’d spent all these years assuming she hadn’t wanted their children. So much hurt and heartache could have been cleared up if only they’d been able to talk to each other all those years ago. She’d been about to say as much when his younger brother had come outside and interrupted their heated conversation.

Which was probably for the best. Clearly, the day of his father’s funeral wasn’t the best time or place to argue about the secret they’d hidden from his family or to angrily rehash all their old mistakes. She looked at her watch. Damn. She should’ve asked MJ for a ride into town. No way was she going to make the last flight out at this rate.

The kitchen door opened, and Jordan poked his head outside and looked directly at Violet. “Are you getting another migraine?”

“Who has a migraine?” a woman asked. Violet would have recognized that voice anywhere.

Sherilee King.

Marcus’s mom had been the quintessential politician’s wife. A woman with impeccable manners and no tolerance for anyone who didn’t have her family’s best interest at heart. Despite her closeness with the rest of the King family all those years ago, Violet had never been able to tell if Sherilee liked her or hated her—probably a little of both—and always wondered if Marcus’s mother had somehow influenced his decision to not contact Violet after the miscarriage. Obviously, she didn’t have to wonder about the second part any longer. According to Marcus, it was her own mother who’d caused the damage. Still. The protective matriarch of the King family was a force to be reckoned with.

Growing up the daughter of the powerful and vocal Senator Cortez-Hill, Violet was well-accustomed to female role models with strong opinions. But Sherilee King was one of the few women who Violet considered downright intimidating. Or at least she used to feel that way when she’d been a teenager and had binge-watched all The Godfather movies with her father. Marcus’s mom had the uncanny ability to give off a serious mafia boss–type of vibe while looking like an upscale suburban housewife. Like she could order fancy designer cupcakes for the women’s-club luncheon just as easily as she could order a hit on someone for daring to wear sneakers under their gown to one of her black-tie galas.

When the older woman stepped around her grandson and out onto the porch, Violet managed a weak smile and a wave.

“Hi, Mrs. King.” Violet didn’t dare address her by her first name. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Mr. King was always so kind to me whenever we saw each other, and I’ll always have fond memories of him.”

Sherilee’s face softened into a brief smile, but then her professionally styled hair stayed in place as her head moved right to left, scanning the long driveway and parking area the size of a strip mall. “Your mother isn’t here, is she?”

“No, ma’am.” Violet shook her head quickly, her own uncombed hair falling into her face. It was no secret that Sherilee King and Eva Cortez-Hill were friendly with each other when the media was present, but when the cameras were gone, they were like a pair of rival gang leaders waiting for the other to throw the first verbal punch. “My parents left after the church service. I was just about to call for an Uber or a cab so I could catch a later flight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherilee said, causing Violet to immediately feel ridiculous. The woman put an arm around her grandson, lovingly pulling the concerned boy against the side of her tailored black pencil skirt. “And don’t be so formal. One of Marcus’s deputies or our stable foreman can give you a ride to the airport. Unless you have your dad’s private jet on standby, you might be hard-pressed to find an open seat on a commercial flight. But if you have a migraine, you should come into the house and lie down. Marcus, go get Violet a glass of wine or something stronger to take the edge off.”

Jordan lifted his serious face to his grandmother’s. “Actually, Gan Gan, alcohol wouldn’t be very good for Miss Violet if she has a migraine.”

“What about a soda?” Sherilee consulted the young child as though he was wearing a white lab coat and had an advanced medical degree. “The caffeine might help?”

“You know, my headache is long gone,” Violet said before Marcus’s mom and son could finish their unsolicited medical assessment. “Truly, I’m fine and don’t want to impose any more than I already have—”

“Dear,” Sherilee said as she put up a palm, her enormous diamond ring flashing in the afternoon sun as she interrupted, “it’s been a rough day for all of us, okay? Now, Jordan here is worried about your health, and he’s going to keep coming outside to check on you until he’s convinced you’re better. You’ve always been a good girl, despite having a hardheaded shark for a mother. You don’t want to worry the boys needlessly, do you?”

Violet’s mouth was hanging open as she tried to figure out if she’d just been praised or chastised. Likely both.

“Marcus, why are you still standing there?” Sherilee asked. “I said bring Violet inside.”

“Mom, please. She’s a grown woman.” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to throw her over my shoulder and carry her through the door if she doesn’t want to go.”

“Do you see what I have to put up with, Violet dear?” Sherilee rubbed her smooth forehead, which was reputed to have been surgically enhanced by some of the top cosmetic surgeons in the world. “The older my kids get, the more rebellious they are.”

That was twice Sherilee King had called her dear, making Violet much more tempted to accept the offer of a cold drink and maybe even the piece of chocolate cake without walnuts Jack had mentioned earlier—if any was left. Plus, drowsiness was one of the side effects from the medication she’d taken earlier and was just now starting to kick in. She could use some caffeine, come to think of it...

“You think I’m rebellious?” Marcus asked his mom, who flicked her wrist dismissively at him. Clearly, this was an old argument she didn’t have the patience to hear again. Yet, her son was determined to continue as though he was itching for a fight with someone and anyone would do. “What about Finn and Dahlia? What about MJ? Did you know he just—”

“Stop,” Violet whispered, cutting Marcus off mid-sentence. “If you start listing all of the transgressions your siblings ever committed, we’ll be here all night. Besides, your mom’s right. It’s been a long day for everyone. I’ll come inside for a bit and get something to eat and drink, and then I’ll be on my way.”

He threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “Fine. But I have every intention of finishing our earlier conversation.”

An hour later, Violet had been heartily welcomed into the bosom of the King inner circle as though she hadn’t been gone for fourteen years. All three of Marcus’s sisters—Tessa, Dahlia and Finn—hugged Violet the moment they saw her.

His brother Duke, still wearing his Navy dress uniform, lifted her off her feet and spun her around. When he set her on her feet, he whispered, “I was waiting for Marcus to get over the shock of seeing you again before coming over and saying hi. Thanks for coming. It means a lot to have you here.”

Duke was only a year younger and, as far as she knew, had been the only King who’d known about her pregnancy. It was likely he’d also assumed the worst about her just as Marcus had. So it gave her a boost of confidence to know that he was glad to see her.

Duke introduced her to his handsome and charming husband, Tom, who was a surgeon in the Navy. After Jordan’s insistent prompting, Tom asked Violet a few routine questions before assuring his young nephew. “It is my professional opinion that the patient is not suffering any long-lasting effects of her earlier migraine.”

“I think someone should go tell Dad,” Jack said. “He keeps staring over here at Miss Violet and frowning.”

Duke chuckled. “Don’t worry about your dad, kiddos. He’s probably just grumpy all the brownies are gone already. Why don’t you go see if the caterers put out any more?”

Marcus’s boys finally went off to the dessert table with their cousin Amelia, and Violet was surprised to realize she was actually way more comfortable than she’d expected to be. Surrounded once again by the family she’d loved so much, she finally began to relax. There was no way he would bring up the subject of her miscarriage or their breakup with so many witnesses.

The main house at the Twin Kings was nearly twelve thousand square feet, and there were still plenty of friends and neighbors in attendance at the reception following the funeral. She ate a little food, said hello to a few of the people she already knew and then found an unoccupied sitting area in the corner where she could escape from the curious glances and scroll through her phone as she tried to hold back several yawns. As long as Violet pretended to ignore his stormy stares from across the hotel lobby–sized living room, she was able to avoid Marcus—for the most part.

Thank God he had his back to her when he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, because it was the one time she hadn’t been able to look away. His shoulders rolled back in circles as he stretched, and her palms suddenly itched to feel the tense muscles underneath and slowly massage away the day’s stress.

Instead, she chugged her watered down iced tea in an effort to make her mouth less dry and her cheeks less warm. She needed to get out of here before she lost complete control.

Eventually, Violet was able to catch the attention of a Secret Service agent who was going off duty, and she snuck out of the Kings’ house through the busy kitchen without so much as a goodbye.

It was better this way, she thought, as she rode in the back seat of one of the catering vans that was returning to Jackson Hole. No awkward goodbyes, no promises to keep in touch when everyone knew they wouldn’t.

Plus, she wanted to talk to her mother in person and ask her if she’d really implied that Violet had had an abortion. Not that she didn’t believe Marcus, but she wanted to find out why on earth her mom had done such a thing.

Oh, who was she kidding? The woman would argue that she’d been trying to protect Violet. And the truth was that her mom had been the one to physically take care of her when she’d slid into a postpartum depression afterward.

But confronting anyone would have to wait another day.

Sherilee King had been right when she’d warned that most of the commercial flights out of town were full. Even most of the hotels were packed with avid skiers who’d booked their vacations in advance, as well as guests who’d come to pay tribute to the former vice president. Violet was lucky to get a room at a nondescript chain motel and hoped she’d be able to rent a car the next day and drive to an airport in a bigger city.

Even though the medication she’d taken earlier had wiped out the worst of the headache, it had left her a little groggy, especially after the events of the day. It also helped her fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. When her cell phone rang early the following morning, Violet struggled to open her eyes and tapped the green button before her brain had the chance to wonder who was calling her from a Washington, DC, area code.

“Violet! You haven’t left town yet, have you?”

“Mrs. King?” Violet squinted at the bedside clock that read 7:03 a.m. “What’s wrong?”

“I need a criminal defense attorney.”

Technically, Violet was a public defender, which meant she wasn’t for hire. But if Sherilee King had the resources to track her down, then the woman already knew that fact and wasn’t about to let a little thing like retainer fees or state bar requirements stop her. Violet sat up in bed and asked, “For yourself?”

“No, not for myself.” The woman muttered a curse. “For MJ. Marcus went and arrested his own brother last night. How soon can you get down to the Ridgecrest County Courthouse?”

* * *

“I know what you’re trying to do, Mom, and it won’t work,” Marcus said as he followed his mother up the wide back-porch steps of the main house on the family’s ranch later that morning. “Hiring Violet to represent MJ is not going to make me drop the charges.”

“I’m trying to save my youngest son from being framed for a crime he didn’t commit,” Sherilee snapped back at him before stomping into the kitchen. “You know what would happen to a young, impressionable kid like MJ in prison.”

“MJ is not going to prison,” Marcus practically growled in frustration. “He was charged with underage drinking and resisting arrest. It’s a misdemeanor.”

His mom’s professionally shaped eyebrows lifted. “If it’s no big deal, then why are you still holding him in a jail cell?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a big deal. MJ went out drinking with Deputy Broman’s eighteen-year-old daughter last night. When her dad busted them, MJ punched the man—a sworn peace officer on duty.”

“So says Deputy Broman.” His mother pointed a manicured finger at Marcus’s chest. “You know that guy has it in for our family. How do you know he isn’t making this up to make you look bad before next year’s election?”

“Besides the fact that Broman has a black eye and MJ had a blood alcohol level of twice the legal limit? My deputies wear body cameras, and I saw the video footage.”

“Damn it!” His mom picked up one of Aunt Freckles’s famous homemade biscuits, slathered it with honey butter and then loaded it down with a couple of cold pieces of leftover bacon before shoving half of it in her mouth. So much for her claimed vegan lifestyle. Sherilee King only ate like this when she was under extreme stress. Her lipstick was still covered in crumbs when she asked, “Okay, so how about we compromise. You give MJ a warning or a ticket or something and release him to my custody?”

“As if that’ll teach the kid a lesson.” Marcus snorted. “Listen, Mom, I know you don’t want to hear this, but MJ has been flying under the radar and getting away with stuff us older kids never would have gotten past you and Dad. Do you have any idea how blatantly biased it would be for the county sheriff to turn a blind eye to illegal behavior just because it’s his kid brother doing it? If we don’t make him face the music now, his next arrest could possibly be a felony. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is for my kids to look out for each other. To protect each other.”

Marcus refused to cave. “Well, this is my way of looking out for him. Consider it an intervention.”

Marcus suddenly realized that none of his adult siblings were stepping foot in the kitchen right now. What did they know that he didn’t?

“And that’s why I hired Violet to represent him.” His mom put her hands on her hips, and he saw a quick flash of a knowing smirk, a determined glint in her eye. “Because maybe you need an intervention of your own.”

A cold shiver raced down the back of Marcus’s neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were in the briefing room with the Secret Service agents just a few minutes ago.” His mother jerked her head toward the custom-built bunkhouse across the main road. The one that housed their father’s assigned security detail whenever he’d traveled from Washington to visit the family home. “This has the potential to become a really big deal, and you can’t be on duty all the time. You can’t designate yourself the family protector when there is too much other stuff going on. If it wasn’t tough enough dealing with your father’s death and funeral, now we’ve got the media scandal of the year with Tessa fainting in that agent’s arms yesterday. It’s only a matter of time before all those reporters lined up outside the gate find out about MJ, too.” Her tone softened. “Look, Marcus, I get it that you want to teach him a lesson, and I’m sure you’re right. But now’s really not the best time to do it.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Then maybe MJ should have picked a more convenient time to polish off a liter of vodka before trying to make it to second base with Deputy Broman’s daughter.”

“Allegedly,” someone said in the doorway behind Marcus. He turned to find Violet following his aunt Freckles into the kitchen, and his adrenaline spiked at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

Her jet-black hair was in a high ponytail on top of her head, and her beautiful face didn’t have a trace of makeup, causing her to appear just as young and carefree as she had been all those years ago when they’d naively thought they’d be together forever. However, her professional tone and the adversarial squaring of her shoulders reminded him that she was all grown up now and clearly ready to go to battle against him.

“Excuse me?” he asked, realizing too late that he should have kept his mouth shut.

“My client allegedly drank vodka with Deputy Broman’s daughter. Although, he might be willing to stipulate to the circumstances surrounding the second-base allegation, since it will prove that the arresting officer had questionable motives for making the arrest in the first place.”

So that’s how she wanted to play this. Marcus drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore the unexpected sting of betrayal. Unfortunately, he opened his mouth once again before his emotions were completely under control. “I’m not shocked that an attorney would twist the facts to their advantage. What’s shocking is that my mom got you to agree to this.”

“You can call it twisting the facts.” Violet lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and he noticed she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. “I call it a fair trial, something everyone is entitled to under the United States Constitution. There’s this little part in there called the Sixth Amendment, which guarantees all defendants a right to an attorney. Even when those defendants are little brothers who piss you off.”

Marcus felt his nostrils flare as he expelled a frustrated breath. “I never said MJ doesn’t have a right to a fair trial. Or to a lawyer. I just don’t see why it has to be you.”

“Because if you were arrested, Marcus, you would want the best representing you.”

“The best?” Marcus knew she’d always been wickedly smart, but when had she become so presumptuous? Or so full of herself? The Violet he’d once known had been sweet and humble and slightly shy. In fact, she’d been scared to death to tell their parents after they’d sat staring at that positive pregnancy-test stick for what had seemed like days. However, now she was anything but shy—proudly facing off against him in the heart of the King domain, looking like she was ready to start her cross-examination. And apparently he’d somehow managed to land himself in her witness stand.

She gently clasped her hands in front of her, a tactic he knew was meant to seem disarming, and asked, “You mean to tell me that when you were keeping tabs on me all these years, you never came across my acquittal record at trial?”

“I wasn’t keeping tabs,” Marcus defended himself. He knew he’d slipped yesterday when he’d made a reference to her living in Dallas and introduced her to the boys as Miss Cortez-Hill. But it wasn’t like he’d actively searched for information about her. “It just so happens that I follow a lot of baseball commentators online, including your dad. It’s not my fault that he posts about you a lot on his social-media page.”

“Oh, I heard about people doing that online-stalking thing.” Aunt Freckles’s eyes widened knowingly, which caused her unusually long false lashes to flicker against the brightness of her heavy green eye shadow. “They get these fake accounts so they can secretly follow people and snoop around in their business. I think the kids call it catfishing.”

“I think you mean creeping.” Marcus cringed as he shook his head. “But I wasn’t doing that. Or catfishing, or anything else so desperate.”

“No one said you were, darlin’.” His aunt tutted through her bright magenta lipstick, then adjusted the cropped lime-green sweater that didn’t quite meet the waistband of her jungle-print yoga pants. The woman had to be pushing eighty, yet had a tendency to dress in tight, revealing clothes that would make most eighteen-year-olds blush. “I was just pointing out to Violet that us single gals always have to be on the lookout for men with bad intentions.”

“Oh, no, Aunt Freckles!” Violet turned to his aunt before Marcus could further defend himself or his intentions. “I didn’t realize you were single now. I thought for sure you and Uncle Rider were going to get back together.”

“Why do you care?” Marcus asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance lacing his voice. Of all the things he and Violet should be discussing, this was a topic that could wait a bit longer. “Are you a divorce attorney now, too? Maybe my family can get some sort of group rate.”

“Nobody has time for your snide comments right now, Marcus.” His mother reached for another biscuit and the butter knife. “Violet needs to go to her room and change so we can get to the courthouse in time for the bail hearing this afternoon. We need to make a strong defensive case right out of the gate so I can get my baby home where he belongs.”

“It’s more of a formality than a hearing,” he corrected, trying to ignore the muscle ticking beside his eye. In fact, once Judge Calhoun sets the bail amount, Marcus had planned to post the bond himself. That way, MJ would be released to Marcus’s custody, and then he could drive the boy home and have a heart-to-heart talk with him. “Besides, I thought you wanted to keep the arrest out of the media. Having Violet there would only draw more attention to... Wait. Did you just say she was going to her room to change?”

“Well, I certainly can’t change here in the kitchen,” Violet replied, placing her hand over the wide V of her exposed neckline. Marcus’s eyes drew to the soft, tanned skin there before immediately pushing away the sudden inappropriate thought of her taking off that rumpled black dress.

“I meant a room here.” Marcus’s muscles flexed instinctively. “At this house?”

“You know there isn’t a suitable hotel in Teton Ridge,” his mother said, her slight smirk flickering again. “Naturally, Violet is going to be staying with us at the Twin Kings.”

Freckles clapped her hands together before reaching for an apron. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Yeah, except you’re all forgetting that things didn’t end so well back then.” Marcus heard his mother’s angry gasp, as well as a tsk from Freckles. Yet his boots echoed his own annoyance with each angry step across the polished wood floors as he stomped to the door, determined to get as far away from this potential disaster as he could. “And that was back when we were at least on the same team.”

When he yanked down on the handle to make his escape, his sister, brother and uncle—who’d apparently been pressed against the other side of the door listening—tumbled into the kitchen together.

Marcus muttered a curse, then strode to his SUV without so much as a goodbye.

It looked like he and the twins would temporarily be moving into their old cabin on the ranch. Because there was no way he was staying under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend.

His life was complicated enough as it was.

CHAPTER FOUR

Violet spent the morning filing paperwork with the Wyoming Bar Association to allow for pro hac vice status so she could temporarily practice law in the state. Since she was licensed in Texas, Roper’s trust and estates attorney in Cheyenne had agreed to act as her local cocounsel, which really just meant that he was vouching for Violet while not coming to Teton Ridge himself.

Then she texted one of her coworkers who lived in the same condo complex back home, asking her to ship some of Violet’s professional attire to the Twin Kings Ranch so that she wouldn’t have to continue borrowing Sherilee King’s couture designer suits. Although wearing Chanel to the county courthouse might not cause as much scandal as the cheetah-print sequined tube top Freckles had lovingly loaned her this morning.

In between all the busy work, Violet had also spent a significant amount of time wondering why she was even going through all this trouble when it was so clear that Marcus didn’t want her there. Not that she cared what Marcus wanted. She wasn’t doing this for him.

And yet, the more he opposed her presence, the more Violet was determined to stay. So what did that say about her? That she was spoiling for a fight, as well?

Maybe. Maybe, after all these years without answers, she was.

Clearly, though, she wasn’t the only one with a chip on her shoulder. There was no way Marcus would’ve responded with such hostility if his mother had hired any other defense attorney. So then, why was he so angry that it was Violet who’d be doing their family this favor?

Probably because he was harboring some other sort of resentment toward her. The old Violet would have wanted to talk to him, to get to the root of the matter and try to resolve whatever issues were coming between them. But the new Violet had spent the last fourteen years fighting to make herself heard, and she was no longer in the mood to listen. At least not to Marcus, who’d never bothered to contact her after he got out of boot camp to hear what she had to say.

So now that she was standing behind the defense table inside one of the few courtrooms at the Ridgecrest County Courthouse, Violet was even more annoyed to see her ex-boyfriend on the opposite side of the aisle.

“Your Honor,” Violet faced the older, gray-haired judge sitting on the bench, “my client is a young man with a promising future and long-standing ties to the community. In fact, he lives in the same house as the sheriff seated behind the prosecutor. Their property is currently under the protection and surveillance of several federal agents, who have been assigned to trail the defendant wherever he goes. Mitchell King Jr. is neither a flight risk nor a danger to the community at large and should be granted bail while he is pending trial.”

“Miss Cortez-Hill,” the judge said patiently, “the court is well aware of who the defendant is related to and where he lives. In fact, one judge already had to recuse herself from this case because she was the team mom for the defendant’s Little League team ten years ago. So unless the parties are going to file a motion for a change of venue, I’m going to allow bail, as is standard for similar charges. But I’m also going to add a gag order restricting all parties from speaking about the case to the media or anyone else outside of this courtroom. I’m not going to have this esteemed institution turn into a full-blown circus just because of the defendant’s famous family name. If there’s nothing else pending, court is recessed for the day.”

Judge Calhoun left the bench, his high-top sneakers under his robe suggesting that he was on his way to the rec center to play pickup basketball. At least, that’s what she’d gathered from her earlier meeting with the prosecutor who’d purposely let it slip that he played in the same senior league with the judge and they often traveled to tournaments together.

This was a small town, and she was the outsider.

MJ, who had been allowed to change into the clean clothes his mother had brought him, sagged back into his wooden seat as he rubbed the dark shadows under his eyes. “Does this mean I get to go home?”

“Yes.” Violet nodded at him and then leaned closer as she lowered her voice. “But as long as I’m your attorney, you are going to be staying at home and staying out of trouble. No more drinking, and no more dates with that deputy’s daughter. In fact, consider yourself on quasi–house arrest.”

MJ jutted his chin across the courtroom at Marcus. “Is that what big brother told you to tell me?”

“No. That’s what I’m telling you. If I’m going to represent you and put my professional reputation on the line, then you’re going to act like the model citizen that I know your father raised you to be.”

At the mention of the late Roper King, his tall eighteen-year-old son slouched sheepishly in his chair. But then something sparkled behind his tired eyes. “Is it true that Marcus didn’t want our mom to hire you?”

Violet could deny it, but it was important to establish honesty in an attorney–client relationship. If she wanted MJ to be honest with her, then she needed to be truthful with him. Besides, she was staying at the family ranch, and he was a smart kid. He’d figure it out for himself soon enough. “That’s correct.”

“Fine. I’ll do whatever you say as long as it pisses him off.”

“Whatever is going on between you and your brother is between the two of you.” Violet stacked a file onto her notepad, making a mental note to have her friend send her briefcase, as well. “I’m not going to tell you that you need to get along. But I will strongly warn you that it is not in your best interest to purposely antagonize the man who eats lunch with the district attorney at Biscuit Betty’s every Wednesday.”

“You’ve been in town less than twenty-four hours, and you already know my schedule?” Marcus asked as he casually planted a hip on the defense table.

Refusing to let him tower over her from his perch, she stood and collected the leather tote bag she’d borrowed this morning from Tessa. But standing only brought their faces closer together. She gulped before squaring her shoulders. “I make it my business to know everything I can about my opponents.”

“Really, Violet? Opponents? You make it sound like we’re enemies when, at the end of the day, we both want what’s best for MJ.”

Now MJ rose to his feet. The teen was taller than Marcus by a couple of inches, but the gangliness of youth was still present in his thinner frame. “What’s best for me is that you stop treating me like a little kid.”

“Yeah, well, this is what happens to grown-ups when they break the law, MJ.” Marcus stayed comfortably seated, suggesting to his younger brother that he wasn’t the least bit threatened by his height or his irritation. “They go to grown-up court and face grown-up consequences. Welcome to adulthood.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw MJ’s fist clenching, and she immediately put a calming hand on his tense arm. “MJ, will you please go check on your mother? Someone needs to intercept her before she tries to follow Judge Calhoun out to his car. Let me handle your brother.”

Sherilee King had never met someone who didn’t soon owe her a favor, and small towns like this were already ripe for issues of alleged impropriety since everyone knew everyone. The last thing she wanted was a hint of any additional scandal. If Violet was going to win a case, she was going to do so on the merits of the case and her arguments—not on any accusations that outside influences swayed the judge.

MJ gave a tense nod before going after his mother, leaving Violet alone with Marcus.

“And how exactly do you plan on handling me, counselor?” He crossed his arms across his chest, the bulge of his biceps pushing against the fabric of his tan county-issued shirt. Why did he have to look so damn good in his uniform?

“It’s a figure of speech, Sheriff. Don’t make it awkward.” She slung the leather straps of her borrowed tote over her shoulder and started walking toward the exit.

She wasn’t surprised to find Marcus on her heels, holding one of the narrow courtroom doors open for her, as he replied, “Then don’t make this into some sort of battle where one of us has to lose.”

“This battle between you and MJ was obviously brewing well before I got here.” She held her breath as she squeezed past him, knowing she’d be a goner if any part of her body so much as grazed against his. “So unless you’re following me to offer a sweet deal on behalf of the prosecutor, someone is going to eventually lose. I assure you that it won’t be me.”

“You may have one of the highest acquittal rates over in Dallas, but even the best criminal defense attorneys can’t win them all.” He must’ve seen the shock on her face when he caught up to her because he added, “You’re not the only one who knows how to research your so-called opponent.”

The fluttering sensation in her stomach was probably due to her missing lunch and not the way his eyes drank her in as he admitted that he’d also spent some time this morning researching her. Or at least her court record.

Luckily, the cool mountain air snapped her back to reality as she stepped outside the courthouse. “At least you can admit that we’re on opposing sides. Just remember that it’s your brother at the center of this fight, Marcus. Not me. When all of this is over, I’ll be back in Dallas with another acquittal under my belt, and you’ll still be here in Wyoming dealing with the fallout of your already strained family relationships.”

Marcus made an unconvincing harrumph sound. “Unlike some people I know, I’ve never been afraid of challenging my family members. Tell me, Violet, does your mother know you’re staying in Teton Ridge for the foreseeable future?”

“Look, I know that my mom wasn’t always welcoming to you when we were younger.”

“She led me to believe you had an abortion, Violet. That’s how badly she wanted to get me out of your life.”

“Trust me, I have that on my list of things to discuss with her. I will do that in my own time and in my own way.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this the road you want to go down, Marcus? Because as soon as you challenge someone, they’re bound to challenge you back. Then you’ll have to explain why it was so easy for you to believe her and walk away.”

“You think I—”

“Violet!” One of the twins yelled from the sidewalk at the bottom of the concrete stairs. It was Jack, because he shook free of Dahlia’s hand and accidentally stepped on Sherilee’s foot as he rushed by his grandmother to sprint up the steps. Jordan was the rule follower and stayed safely at his aunt’s side, licking a vanilla ice cream cone while sending Violet a happy wave.

Jack had what looked to be melted chocolate ice cream around his mouth, and Violet tried not to wince as he hurtled into her with a tight hug. Should she hug him back? It wasn’t that she was opposed to physical displays of affection or to chocolate stains. But this was a borrowed suit, and she hadn’t seen a dry cleaner on Stampede Boulevard.

When Jack looked up at her, he smiled his gap-toothed grin. “I thought you left yesterday without saying goodbye to us.”

At that, she did hug him back, rather awkwardly with a pat on his head. She was equally touched by his words, yet slightly confused. The poor child had been growing up without a mother, and he’d recently lost his grandfather. Of course he would have some separation-anxiety issues, although Violet would never have anticipated he’d react so strongly to a random woman he’d just met yesterday. Still, he deserved to be comforted.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I was in a hurry to catch my ride and shouldn’t have been so thoughtless. Will you forgive me?”

“Okay,” the boy said simply. “Can I sit next to you at dinner tonight?”

Violet glanced at her watch. To her surprise, it was nearly four in the afternoon.

“Here you go, Jack.” Marcus pulled a clean napkin out of his back pocket and casually handed it to the boy. Clearly, he kept a supply of them on hand for this exact purpose. “I don’t think we’re going to have dinner at the main house tonight.”

“But we always have a fancy sit-down dinner when Gan Gan is in town.”

Marcus’s sigh reverberated in his throat. “I know. But with Aunt Tessa and Aunt Freckles and now Miss Cortez-Hill staying there, it’s kind of a lot of people.”

As though hearing her grandson invoke her name, Sherilee limped up the few stairs separating them, pretending she didn’t have a dusty sneaker print covering the expensive Italian leather toe of her high heel. “Don’t be ridiculous, Marcus. Of course you and the boys will still be having dinner with—” she paused just long enough to give Violet a pointed look that brooked no argument “—all of us at the main house.”

“Yes!” Jack pumped a fist in the air before yelling back to his twin. “Hey, Jordan, Violet is gonna sit by us at dinner.”

At least someone was happy about it, she thought, trying not to let the excited boys see an ounce of apprehension on her face. Now she would have to endure another round of dysfunctional family dynamics with the Kings.

* * *

“You apologized to my son earlier today,” Marcus said to Violet later that evening as they were having predinner cocktails in the great room of the main house. He took another drink from his bottle of craft ale, his second of the night.

Violet’s hair was out of that ridiculous tight bun and hung softly down her back. She shoved a loose strand behind her ear, and despite the taste of beer still fresh on his tongue, his mouth went dry. All too swiftly, he recalled the silky feel of her hair in his hands as he... Ahem. She’s speaking, idiot. “Of course I did. It was rude of me to leave last night without saying goodbye.”

“It’s weird, though. Usually he has a short attention span when it comes to new people.” In fact, neither of his sons had mentioned Violet yesterday after she’d left, and Marcus had assumed they’d easily forgotten about her until his sister Dahlia had dropped them off at the courthouse after school. But saying as much would be admitting that he didn’t have a good read on his own children. Because clearly, they did remember Violet, especially Jordan, who’d spent the last fifteen minutes quizzing her on the side effects of her migraine medication. Instead Marcus clarified what he meant. “Adults normally don’t go to great lengths to apologize for something kids are likely to forget anyway.”

“No? Well, they should.”

He’d noticed that she was somewhat stiff when Jack had hugged her earlier on the courthouse steps. Even now she looked as though she would rather be wearing anything other than the painted macaroni necklace that Jordan had made at school today. His son had ceremoniously given it to her just before joining his brother in the dining room to make sure the place cards their cousin had drawn were still in the right spots. “Do you spend much time around children?”

“I’m an only child, remember?” Violet looked away quickly, refusing to meet his eyes. “No nieces or nephews or big family gatherings like this.”

“Yeah, but surely you have friends with kids?”

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the stem of her wineglass. “Um, I guess.”

“You don’t know if your friends have kids?” he asked playfully, trying to ease this growing tension between them. “Or you don’t have friends?”

Her eyelids lowered slightly, and her lips pursed together, as though she was about to deliver a scathing remark. Warmth flooded Marcus’s bloodstream, and he wished he could take a picture of her in that exact second because she was absolutely gorgeous when she was in lecture mode.

“Of course I have friends.” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her tone. But at least she was no longer trying to ignore him. “But the ones I spend the most time with don’t usually bring their children with them to work.”

“You mean your coworkers?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to antagonize her or pity her right that second. “Don’t you ever hang out with people outside the job?”

“I don’t do much hanging out at all, Marcus. Or is this your way of asking me about my dating life?”

“Well, I wasn’t asking about it specifically, but if you want to talk about it, we can.” Although, he honestly didn’t want to hear about any other guys who might be after her. He was sure there were plenty.

Before she could reply, though, his sons ran into the room with Aunt Freckles on their heels.

His aunt cupped her hand around her mouth and hollered, “Dinner’s ready, gang!”

“Really, Freckles?” His mother chastised her former sister-in-law. “I’ve seen farmers call their pigs to the slop troughs with a more civilized tone.”

“If you’re more comfortable with me treating you like a pig, Sherilee, I’m happy to oblige.” Freckles winked a bright blue eye-shadowed lid at Finn, who hooted with laughter at their mother’s sputtering.

Finn and Freckles seemed to share the same desire to shock Sherilee King whenever the chance arose. And Marcus adored his aunt and his sister for it. Sure, he loved his mother, but the King matriarch needed to come off her high horse every now and then. As long as the two women didn’t team up against him, he was fine.

“Now, now, ladies.” Duke took their aunt’s arm and twirled her toward the dining room, leaving Finn to walk with their frowning mother. “I’ve been waiting nearly five years for your famous chicken-fried steak, Freckles. I’m sure the only pig at the table will be me as I load up my plate.”

Marcus’s brother was the consummate peacekeeper of the family. He was the perfect son who could never fail at anything. Finn was always attempting to dethrone poor Duke from his good-natured pedestal with her smart-alecky comments and constant teasing, but he usually shrugged her off like a pesky fly.

“Hurry to your chair, before Dad gets there.” Jack and Jordan each took one of Violet’s hands in their own and tugged her toward the dining room. “He’ll put all the mashed potatoes on his plate if you don’t get some before him.”

Violet threw a look over her shoulder at Marcus, a smirk tugging one corner of her lip upward. “Oh, he still does that?”

It wasn’t until they were all seated at the table that he was able to defend himself. “What do you mean ‘he still does that’?”

Instead of speaking directly to him, though, she told his sons, “One summer when we used to be in the Junior Diplomats Club, we were at a fancy state dinner for this group of foreign dignitaries and their children. The servers brought out our plates while I was still on the dance floor. When I got back to my seat, half of my potatoes au gratin were missing. Your dad denied it was him, but he still had cheese on his fork as he tried to quickly swallow down the evidence.”

“What kind of junior diplomat steals food off someone else’s plate at a state dinner?” Finn tsked, pretending to be scandalized.

“I was a sophomore in high school and going through a growth spurt. Besides, as I recall, Violet was so busy dancing with the French ambassador’s son and swooning with the rest of the girls over his accent that I didn’t think she’d notice.”

Violet gasped. “You were jealous of Jean-Henri?”

At this point, everyone at the table was watching them, and Marcus hated being the center of attention. His incredulous sniff caused his chest to jut out in defiance. “No, I wasn’t jealous of that guy. He might’ve had all the girls convinced he was a decent dancer, but he couldn’t dribble a soccer ball to save his life. The European delegates lost the final match that year, and everyone probably forgot all about him after he flew back to Paris.”

“You mean Jean-Henri Laurent?” Duke refilled Violet’s wineglass. “He’s a professional soccer player now. His team won the international finals last spring. So you must be the only one who forgot about him, big brother.”

Violet laughed at that.

Dang. Now Marcus couldn’t decide if she was more beautiful when she was angry or when she was laughing. Probably when she was angry because he could still remember her laughter when they were younger. But this level of heat was a new side to her he hadn’t quite grown accustomed to.

Not that he was accustomed to seeing her at all lately. Luckily, he was able to sit across the table from her and silently study her as everyone else around them talked and argued and put on quite the display of squabbling and teasing.

He forgot how overwhelming his family could be to outsiders, although Violet wasn’t technically an outsider. They’d spent many of their adolescent summers together, so she certainly had no trouble interjecting into the multiple conversations going on around the noisy table.

“So how long is everyone staying in town?” Violet asked.

“Well, I was hoping to return to my ship yesterday afternoon, but the former second lady over there—” Duke used his fork to gesture toward their mother at the head of the table “—made a call to one of her buddies at the Pentagon, and now my commanding officer insisted I take another week of leave.”

Tessa, whose panic attack yesterday had resulted in quite a media scandal involving the handsome and heroic Special Agent Wyatt, buttered a freshly baked roll. “I was also supposed to be back in Washington today, but our strong-willed mother insisted that I stay on the ranch and keep a low profile. Hopefully, the press finds something new to interest them soon, and I can leave in a couple of days.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Finn said around a mouthful of fresh green beans. “I live on the Twin Kings, and I oversee the cattle operation. Which surprisingly lowers our mother’s ability to control my life.”

“How? I live on the ranch, too,” Marcus pointed out. “Yet that doesn’t stop Mom from her attempts to interfere in my job.”

“I’m not interfering or controlling.” His self-proclaimed vegan mother scraped her fork along her gravy-smeared plate with a bit too much force. “I’m simply orchestrating better options for my children.”

“What about you, Aunt Freckles?” Violet smoothly shifted the subject before all the King siblings could voice their objections to their mother’s careful rephrasing of history. “I heard you have a successful restaurant in Sugar Falls now. When do you have to go back to Idaho?”

“Oh, I’m here for as long as my kiddos need me,” Freckles explained as she passed a second gravy boat containing the untouched vegan version to Uncle Rider. He sniffed it then grimaced before passing it off to Sherilee.

Marcus’s uncle twisted an end of his bushy gray mustache and winked at his estranged wife. “And here I thought you were staying because you couldn’t get enough of me and my skills in the bed—”

“Whoa, you two!” Finn interrupted. “There are young children present.”

Marcus tossed his white linen napkin onto his plate in surrender. “That’s probably my cue to get the boys home.”

A defiant crease appeared between Jack’s tired eyes. “But we want to hear more about the famous soccer player Violet got to dance with.”

“He wasn’t famous when Violet danced with him,” Marcus said before realizing how petulant he sounded. “It was way back when we were still in high school.”

“Did you and my dad go to school together?” Jordan asked Violet.

“No, I went to a boarding school near Washington, DC, and your dad went to Teton Ridge High.”

“So then, how did you used to hang out all the time if you lived in different places?” Marcus could see the wheels spinning in Jordan’s mind.

“We actually only saw each other once or twice a year at these boring events for children of politicians. Your dad and I were mostly pen pals.”

“What’s a pen pal?” Jack asked before using his sleeve to wipe the fruit punch off his upper lip.

“It’s someone who lives far away, but you keep in touch by exchanging correspondence with them,” Violet said, likely not realizing that she was speaking to a six-year-old with a limited vocabulary.

“What’s correspondence?” Jack clearly wasn’t letting up.

Jordan stage-whispered to his twin, “That means Dad slided into her DMs.”

Several gasps came from the adults at the table while Finn snorted rather loudly. MJ finally looked up from his phone with a huge grin across his face. Apparently, the boys’ vocabulary wasn’t as limited as it should be.

Marcus jerked his head sideways at his little brother. “I’m assuming you’re the one who taught my impressionable children that expression?”

MJ’s grin immediately turned into a snarl. “So now you’re blaming me for that, too?”

Violet sat up straighter, as though she was going to defend her client from Marcus’s latest allegations. But before she could launch her opening defense, Finn made a chopping motion with her palm, like a referee trying to break up a fight.

“It was me, Marcus,” Finn said with an unapologetic grin. “The boys overheard me and Freckles talking about... Well, suffice it to say that we didn’t know they were listening.”

“What’s a dang DM?” Uncle Rider asked, causing another snort from Finn.

“It means direct message, you old coot.” Freckles rolled her eyes. “When you’re interested in talking to someone on social media, but you don’t want everyone seeing what you write, you slide into that person’s direct messages. That way you can have a private conversation.”

“Well, nobody better be sliding into your DMs,” Rider told Freckles, not picking up on the fact that the twins still only understood the literal definition instead of the more commonly known flirtatious implication. “You’re still a married woman. Technically.”

“Are you married, Violet?” Jordan asked.

She took a rather long gulp of her wine, and Marcus realized he was holding his own breath waiting for her to answer. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I’m not married.”

“Do you have kids?” Jack asked next and Marcus’s heart twisted.

“Boys, it’s not polite to ask so many personal questions,” he quietly cautioned his sons. Especially when Marcus already knew the painful answer.

“It’s okay.” Violet’s half-hearted smile didn’t quite reach her sad eyes. “I appreciate their curiosity. No, I do not currently have any children.”

They still hadn’t really talked about the babies they’d lost, and Marcus swallowed the guilt rising in his throat.

“Do you ever slide into anyone’s DMs?” Jordan asked, causing Marcus to nearly choke.

“I go out on dates occasionally. But I’m usually too busy with work and don’t have much time for social media.”

Ah ha! It only took forty-five minutes of uncomfortable family bantering and an inquisition by a couple of six-year-olds to get the answer she’d dodged earlier.

“Dad says he’s too busy to go out on dates, too,” Jack replied. “He used to be married to our mom, but now he’s called a widow. Like the black poisonous spider.”

“Widower,” Jordan corrected.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “He’s like a black widower, but not poisonous. So that means that you can slide into his DMs again if you wanted to.”

This time, Finn wasn’t the only one at the table who snorted. Even diplomatic Duke didn’t bother to hide his laughter. Marcus thought he was immune to being embarrassed by his family, but a flame of heat seared the skin of his neck and shot to his face.

Violet toyed with her macaroni necklace, causing the paint to smear on her fingers and her white blouse. She didn’t seem to notice, though, because her eyes were too busy darting from the faces of his eager sons back to his.

Great. She was probably thinking this was some sort of setup. That he was a lonely, single father using his kids to pick up women because he couldn’t get a date on his own. In fact, he’d had plenty of offers from plenty of women, but with two young sons at home, the timing just never felt right. He wanted to set the record straight; however, it had been a long day, and he was on the verge of saying something that Violet could later hold against him.

“Okay, nobody is sliding into anyone’s DMs. Boys, thank your aunt Freckles for a lovely dinner. You have school tomorrow, and we still have to go over your math worksheet before bedtime.”

Or before his family came up with more random comments that would make Marcus seem additionally ridiculous and pathetic. Violet already thought badly enough of him as it was.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite subdue that unexplainable need to prove himself to her. As his sons were making their way around the table distracting his family with goodbye hugs, Marcus stopped behind Violet’s chair on the way out and lowered his head until his mouth was level with her ear.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, then whispered, “Just so you know, I’m not some sorry sack who can’t get a date. I’m just careful with who I bring home to meet my over-the-top family.”

Her head tilted slightly, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Probably a good call considering her lips weren’t all that far from his as she replied somewhat breathlessly, “It’s none of my business, either way.”

“Well, I’m making it your business. You said you like to have all the facts, and those are the facts.” He couldn’t stop the suggestive tone creeping into his voice as he added a parting shot. “Use that information however you see fit, counselor.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“There’s just not a lot of room at Gan Gan’s house right now,” Marcus told his sons Tuesday morning when they asked why they had to remain with him at the cabin for the whole week. In reality, even with Tessa and Aunt Freckles temporarily staying there, there was plenty of room. The truth was Marcus didn’t want to keep running into Violet.

Besides, the cabin wasn’t really a cabin at all. It was a house of nearly three thousand square feet in a secluded area less than a mile from the main driveway on the Twin Kings Ranch. And technically, it was their home. Marcus and Brie had built it right before their wedding, and everything inside—from the custom-designed drawer pulls on the kitchen cabinets to the floral upholstered rocker in the den—had been picked out by his wife.

Twice now, he’d been embarking on what he’d thought was a new journey with a woman he loved, eager to share his life with someone. And twice those relationships had ended in disaster. Different journeys and different disasters, obviously. Yet both times he’d had to move forward on his own, which was always easier if he didn’t look back at what he’d lost.

He’d thought about redecorating a few times, to make it seem like less of a shrine to his late wife; however, he’d never gotten around to making any changes. Partly because Marcus had needed so much help with the pair of toddlers—and managing his grief—after Brie had passed away.

As a single dad, he’d become increasingly dependent on his family for backup. His sister Dahlia, who lived in town and had a five-year-old daughter, usually picked up the twins after school and brought them to his office. Uncle Rider loved entertaining the boys with riding lessons and old rodeo stories, and Finn was always happy to keep an eye on her nephews whenever Marcus had to work late.

Although, his youngest sister’s inappropriate sense of humor was proving to be more of a bad influence now that the kids were repeating the outlandish things she said. And then there was Marcus’s mother, who was a little too supportive when she was in town for occasional visits. Now that his father was gone, it was time to accept the fact that Sherilee King had returned to Wyoming full-time. She doted on her grandkids even as she drove her own children crazy with her unsolicited opinions and high-handed interference in every aspect of their lives.

“But everyone at Gan Gan’s will miss us,” Jack pointed out.

“I’m sure they’ll get used to it.” Marcus looked at the twins’ pouting faces in his rearview mirror. “We have a perfectly good house that nobody is using, and you guys are getting old enough to ride your bicycles to the main house to visit whenever you feel like it.”

“I don’t like my plain ol’ bike anymore.” Jack crossed his arms under the shoulder strap of his seat belt. “It doesn’t go as fast as a 50cc-engine motocross dirt bike would.”

“Motorcycles are dangerous,” Jordan reminded his brother for the hundredth time.

“Only if you crash them.”

“Jack, you crash everything.” His twin wasn’t wrong. Jack was not only impulsive, he was also the most accident-prone child in the history of Teton Ridge Elementary School. And he was still in the first grade. The school nurse had Marcus on speed dial. They’d taken so many trips to the nearby hospital for sprains, stitches and casts, the staff informally referred to the pediatric exam room as the Jack King Suite.

Sure, Jordan first took an interest in medical conditions after learning about the cause of his mother’s untimely death. But then Jack’s frequent visits to urgent-care offices and emergency rooms really took that fascination to a whole new level.

“Aunt Finn said she’d teach us how to drive a Polaris,” Jack said, referring to the smaller all-terrain vehicles the ranch hands sometimes used for hauling supplies. “Could we get one for me and Jordan to drive to the main house? I’ll wear a helmet.”

“I’m not riding with you on an ATV.” Jordan shook his head. “Even if Dad says yes, I won’t go. Not even with a helmet.”

“Fine, then.” Jack stuck out his tongue at his brother before plopping his elbow on his windowsill, stubbornly cupping his chin in his hand. “I’ll just take my slow, boring bike to the main house to see Violet then.”

“Why do you want to visit Violet so badly?” Marcus asked as he pulled his SUV into the drop-off line at the elementary school.

“Because she doesn’t ever get to be around kids,” Jack said, as though that explained everything.

Marcus reached for the stainless-steel travel mug in his center cupholder. He was going to need a lot more coffee this morning to decipher the logic of an almost-seven-year-old. “So you think you two are doing her a favor by rewarding her with your presence?”

“Gan Gan says we’re a delight,” Jordan replied, not picking up on the sarcasm. “And Aunt Freckles says being around us keeps her on her toes. Don’t you think Violet wants to be on her toes?”

Suddenly, Marcus flashed back to a memory of the summer before his senior year in high school. He and Violet and two thousand other so-called junior global ambassadors had been invited to attend the International Summit at Sea. The event sounded prestigious but really was just a bunch of teenagers attending lectures and seminars all day on a cruise ship anchored in international waters with no cell-phone service. He and Violet had been so bored with the evening’s organized activities that they’d snuck off in search of an adventure and stumbled upon the ship’s beauty salon, which had been closed since there weren’t any paying customers on that particular trip. There’d been a bet—for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was—and he’d lost and had had to paint Violet’s toenails for her.

Social Scene Red.

That had been the color she’d selected from the wall of nail polishes. Unfortunately, the end result looked more like Crime Scene Red after he’d made a sloppy mess with his too-big fingers and the way-too-tiny brush. But Violet had only laughed and proudly worn her flip-flops the rest of the weekend, showing off those smudged red toenails like they were works of art.

Now, all these years later, it finally occurred to Marcus that Violet hadn’t been proud of his paint job. She’d been proud of winning whatever bet they’d had. Had she always been this competitive and he’d never noticed it? He was still wracking his brain for the terms of that wager when a horn blasted behind them.

All the cars in front of him had pulled forward, and the crossing guard was waving for him to follow along. Most of the time he parked and walked the boys to their classroom. But yesterday, Jordan had commented on how all the big kids got dropped off at the curb. Now Jack was begging for a motorcycle, of all things. What would they ask for tomorrow? Probably a six pack of beer. Or, in Jordan’s case, a 401(k) plan.

Why did it feel like his babies were in such a hurry to grow up? And why did the realization suddenly make him feel so lonely?

Sighing, Marcus put the SUV in Park and turned to give them each an awkward half hug through the narrow opening separating the front seat from the back seat. “Good luck on your spelling tests. And eat the celery sticks I packed in your lunch.”

“Did you put peanut butter and raisins on them like Aunt Freckles does?” Jack, the picky eater, asked. Thankfully, they weren’t trying to grow up too fast.

“Yes,” Marcus said, trying not to think of how old the raisins he’d found in the cabin’s cupboard were. He really needed to go to the market instead of picking up last-minute supplies from the pantry in the main house like he’d done last night. “Don’t forget. Aunt Dahlia is picking you guys up again today.”

He gave the boys a final wave before driving to the county building that housed both the courthouse and the annexed sheriff’s station. Deputy Broman had just returned from his overnight patrol shift, still sporting the black eye from MJ’s attempts to resist arrest. The man was also still carrying a decade-old grudge from the safety academy when Marcus had beat him out as the top-scoring recruit, earning the Chief’s Commendation Award at their graduation. Things hadn’t improved in their professional relationship when Marcus had later won the election for county sheriff in a landslide and become Broman’s boss.

Despite his deputy’s attitude toward Marcus, though, the man was a dedicated cop and followed procedure by the book. He also knew how to write an ironclad arrest report that Violet, or any other attorney, would be hard-pressed to dispute in the courtroom.

“Morning, Broman,” Marcus said as he used his electronic key card to open the secured back door only accessible to employees. “Uneventful shift, I hope?”

“As much as can be expected. It’ll be nice when all those media vans camped outside the Twin Kings get whatever story they came for and leave.” Broman had been complaining about the influx of news reporters snooping around town since before the funeral. Each time he commented on it, Marcus heard the underlying implication that it was somehow the King family’s fault that the department’s limited staff and even more limited budget had to be stretched thin to cover the additional patrol duties. Luckily, most of the local shops and restaurants appreciated the extra business, though. “Oh, and we got a noise complaint about Jay Grover again. Apparently he fired his fourth divorce attorney and went on another Taylor Swift binge. The neighbors are getting pretty tired of him getting drunk and blasting bad breakup songs at three in the morning. He was already passed out by the time I got there, and his Bluetooth speaker battery had died, so I left it for you guys on the day shift to handle.”

“Okay. I have a few calls to make this morning, and then I’ll drive over to Grover’s house and have another chat with him. Speaking of lawyers, though, MJ’s defense attorney is meeting the prosecutor here this afternoon to look at the body-cam footage from the night of his arrest. Can you make sure the toxicology reports are printed out before you leave?”

“No problem.” Broman shifted his gear bag higher onto his shoulder as he passed through the door and inside the building. “Hey, is it true that your baby brother’s lawyer is also your ex-girlfriend?”

Marcus clenched the door handle tighter before forcing his fingers to relax. It was bad enough that his law-enforcement duties were suddenly completely at odds with his brotherly duties, and that no matter what he did in this situation, someone would be pissed at him. Yet now he had the unfortunate bonus of dealing with Violet, on top of an already-precarious balancing act. All he could manage was a tense nod of acknowledgment before he retreated to his office.

The bulk of Marcus’s morning was spent dealing with a sullen and hungover Jay Grover; pulling over the mayor’s wife to give her another ticket for blowing through the new stop sign at Frontier Drive and Stampede Boulevard; responding to a call at Burnworth’s Bakery where Mrs. Crenshaw was refusing to leave until Mr. Burnworth, the notoriously temperamental baker, honored an expired coupon for 50 percent off a blueberry muffin; and explaining to Mr. Watterson at the Weathered W Ranch that his overweight pygmy goat (and not a rogue gang—as he had called them—of vegan teenagers) was responsible for tearing up his vegetable garden.

At one o’clock, Marcus grabbed a chicken sandwich to go at Biscuit Betty’s, then buried himself in his office to finish reviewing operation reports from the prior weekend. Next, he went through his employees’ time sheets and approved the overtime pay for the extra shifts they’d had to pull for all the Secret Service task-force meetings and security briefings related to the funeral. Due to Tessa’s little media scandal with Agent Wyatt and all the lingering news agencies sticking around, his deputies had earned some hefty overtime checks this week.

By the time Rod D’Agostino, the front-desk volunteer, announced Violet’s arrival, Marcus was already regretting his decision to hold this particular meeting at the station.

“The DA called to say he can’t make it, but that other attorney is here.” Rod had been a homicide detective in Chicago before retiring and moving to Teton Ridge with his wife, who wanted to get away from the big city. Unfortunately, the small-town life didn’t hold much interest for an old-school cop like Rod, and Mrs. D’Agostino was so sick of listening to true-crime podcasts at home, she’d begged Marcus to let her husband volunteer at the station a few days a week.

“The junior cadets from the high-school program are holding their monthly training in the community room,” Rod reminded him. “Do you want me to put her in the interrogation room? I can come in there with you as your backup in case she gets a little slippery with all that fancy lawyer talk.”

“It’s called the interview room,” he corrected Rod, who was clearly missing his days as a detective on the police force. “And since we aren’t charging her with any crimes, it’s probably safe enough for me to meet with her in my office.”

“Suit yourself.” Rod shrugged. “I’ll be out here listening to the feds on the encrypted scanner if you need me.”

As he straightened his desk, Marcus made a mental note to call the Secret Agent in charge at the ranch and advise him that Rod had figured out how to hack their frequency.

When Violet walked in, Marcus almost dropped the stack of time sheets he’d just signed. Someone must have sent her some clothes, because the outfit she had on definitely wasn’t from Sherilee King’s closet.

The silky-smooth fabric of the black pants hugged every curve, from the low-riding waistband all the way down to the cropped ankle length, showing off spiky five-inch heels. The matching jacket was fitted and hinted at being professional if it wasn’t for the daring V-neck of the blouse under the four buttons holding the outer garment closed.

Technically, one might be able to call the articles of clothing a business suit. But the way Violet wore it gave Marcus very unbusinesslike thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” Violet immediately asked. “Your nostrils are all round and huffy, like you can’t get enough air.”

Marcus sniffed and shook his head. “Uh, nothing. I was just thinking that your outfit doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen in a courtroom. At least not here in Ridgecrest County.”

“Considering the fact that our judge was wearing sneakers and basketball pants under his robe at the last hearing, I’ll consider myself overdressed. Besides, only one box of my clothes arrived and the dressiest material in Finn’s closet is flannel. I had to borrow this shirt from your aunt Freckles.”

That certainly explained the plunging V-neck. Marcus shook his head to clear it.

Violet placed her briefcase on the floor and gestured to the chair across from his desk, reminding him of his manners.

He extended his hand. “Sorry. Please have a seat.”

She sat down and crossed her legs, drawing his attention to the high heels that would become highly impractical as soon as the next snow fell. Her shoes made him think of her toes, which made him think of what nail-polish color she had on underneath, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, “What was the bet that I lost?”

She lifted both eyebrows. “You’re going to have to narrow that down for me. You used to lose bets to me all the time.”

He frowned. “First of all, that’s highly unlikely, since I rarely take bets that I might lose. Second, I’m talking about the one at that Summit at Sea cruise. Right before our senior year in high school. Remember that empty beauty salon?”

Violet’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, and she quickly busied herself with searching for something in her briefcase. “Are we here to talk about some old bet or about your brother’s case?”

“Well, we were going to talk about the case. But now that it’s obvious you’re trying to avoid the subject, I would much rather discuss that bet.”

“Fine.” She finally dragged her eyes to his. “We’d snuck off from that global pyramid team-building workshop, and you were making fun of me for bringing my Shirley Temple with me.”

“That’s right! They closed all the bars on the ship and were only serving preapproved mocktails. I remember my roommate was the Secretary of State’s son. He smuggled a bottle of tequila in his suitcase and was charging kids to spike their drinks. So did I dare you to chug it or something?”

“No. You bet me that I couldn’t tie a knot into the stem of a cherry. With my tongue.”

Now he felt the heat rise to his own cheeks. And other parts of his body, as well. He remembered her skillful mouth and her agile tongue oh so well, and his body was responding as if he was eighteen all over again.

As if to drive him further to distraction, she opened her soft lips ever so slightly and let out a breathy sigh. Her next words snapped him right back to the present, though.

“So am I here to talk about a past bet you lost to me, or am I here to talk about a current case your absent prosecutor is going to lose to me?”

* * *

Violet would’ve had to be blind not to see how uncomfortable Marcus was as he shifted his weight in his office chair. His eyes kept dropping to her mouth, and despite their growing animosity toward each other, the attraction was clearly still there. Her stomach did a little dance at the realization that she was having such a physical effect on the man who had let it be known to everyone at the ranch that he didn’t enjoy having Violet in town.

The only time she ever used her looks or her femininity to gain the upper hand—either in her personal life or in her career, which took up most of her personal life—was when she wanted to lure some good ol’ boy attorney into underestimating her. Then she could strike when they weren’t paying attention and win an argument or even an entire case.

It was tempting to use the same strategy against Marcus because all his focus seemed to be on the personal history between them. He might want to secure the upper hand in some sort of imagined verbal battle between them, but that desire was distracting him from the only issue that mattered.

MJ.

She cleared her throat. “So I hear you have a body-cam video of my client that the prosecutor is planning to introduce as evidence.”

“Yes.” Marcus straightened his already-straight shoulders. “Along with witness testimony.”

“Who is the witness?”

He rubbed the back of his neck before admitting, “Kendra Broman.”

Violet frowned. “The daughter of the deputy who made the arrest?”

“She’s also MJ’s girlfriend.”

“So you’re admitting she has divided loyalties. Why would she be willing to testify against her boyfriend?”

“She’s not testifying against him,” Marcus tried to reason. “She’s only testifying to what she saw.”

“Was Kendra drinking that night?” Violet asked rhetorically. She knew the answer because MJ had admitted as much to her.

Marcus straightened some already-neat papers on his desk. “I believe the arrest report implies that she was.”

“Right. The arrest report that her father wrote. Interesting that there was no Breathalyzer done on her, yet there was one done on my client. So how much did Kendra drink that night? How often does she normally drink? And with whom? Has her dad ever caught her drinking before? How does her dad feel about her dating MJ? Has she ever heard her father talking about his distaste for my client or for my client’s family?” Violet paused only long enough to let her rapid-fire questions sink in. “Do you see where I’m going with this, Marcus? If the prosecution puts Kendra on the witness stand, I’m going to have to ask her these questions. In public and under oath. She’s barely eighteen and in love with a boy her father disapproves of. We both remember how that feels. Don’t make me put Kendra through a cross-examination when the body camera can deliver the exact same evidence.”

Marcus studied her, the deepened crease above his nose highlighting his serious blue eyes. “Your father disapproved of me?”

Of course that was the part of her speech he focused on. Violet rolled her eyes. “No, my dad adored you. It was my mom who had an issue with our relationship. Although, to be honest, she would’ve disapproved of me having any boyfriend that distracted me from my future prospects. She still does.”

“Well, she got what she wanted in the end, didn’t she?”

Violet swallowed down the sting. “You mean when I miscarried her grandchildren? Or when she had to take an emergency absence from the Senate to take care of me when I was on bed rest for two weeks afterward? She never left my side, crying whenever she thought I was asleep. I know what she said to your dad that day was unconscionable, but she was also the person who told me not to be disappointed with you, Marcus. She reminded me that you were going through a lot of stress with boot camp, dealing with the added worry that you were risking your life joining the military. I know you don’t like my mother, Marcus, but even she’s not that much of a monster.”

He shoved a hand through his short hair. “No. God, no. I just meant that her plan for you and your life wasn’t derailed too much by our relationship after all.”

“Derailed?” The stinging sensation didn’t go away. “That’s how you want to describe what happened? I was in the hospital for three days, and the father of my children never so much as called.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Yeah, I know you didn’t get my letter. But learning that now doesn’t lessen the pain I felt back then.”

“I felt plenty of pain back then, too, Violet.”

She sucked in a deep breath, but the air between them was so thick with tension, it didn’t bring her any clarity. “Listen, we can’t keep bringing up our past every time we see each other. We’re both here to do a job. Even if we can’t agree on how the other should do their job, we should at least agree to put on our professional pants and try to act civil. For MJ’s sake.”

His eyes dropped to her hips, then traveled slowly down her legs. “You call those your professional pants?”

A jolt of electricity shot through her limbs, and she immediately stood up as though she could shake away the feeling.

“What’s wrong with these pants?” Following his gaze, she ran her hands along her hips to check for rips or stains. His soft groan was barely audible, making her suddenly realize his issue. “Wait. You haven’t suddenly become ultramodest in your old age?”

“No. Of course not. I just meant that it was easier to think of you a certain way when you were wearing my mother’s clothes.”

“What a woman wears shouldn’t affect how you think of her.”

“I know that. And if you were any other woman, keeping my thoughts under control wouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately, I have the privilege of already knowing exactly what is under those pants. So it’s a lot more difficult setting those kinds of thoughts aside when my brain and that tight fabric is so intent on reminding me.”

A shiver raced through Violet at his admission, and instead of retreating and putting some distance between them, she took a step forward and placed her hands on his desk. “You think you’re the only one who has to deal with thinking about what someone looks like under their clothes?”

That didn’t exactly come out the way she’d intended, which made her all the more defensive.

He stood and adjusted his black leather duty belt. “You mean my county-issued uniform I’m required to wear for my job?”

“Uniforms are supposed to fit...well...uniformly. But your biceps look like they’re going to bust through the sleeves at the slightest flex. And unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of already knowing what’s under that polyester-blend fabric because you clearly weren’t bench-pressing as much back when we were eighteen.”

This time, his groan was louder when he stepped around his desk. Violet’s brain was shooting up all the red flags it could muster, but her legs were acting of their own accord. Before she knew it, she’d met him halfway and was in his arms, her lips pressed to his.

Oh, hell. She was kissing Marcus King.

Again.

It felt so familiar and yet so new and thrilling all at the same time. They had been each other’s first so many years ago, learning how to kiss with just the right amount of pressure and curiosity. Clearly, their mouths hadn’t forgotten all those stolen minutes of practice and eagerly molded together as their tongues made up for lost time.

His hands spanned around her waist, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as the rest of her body melted against his. She sighed as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. He tasted like coffee and misspent youth, and she was at risk of drowning in that familiar passion all over again.

She pulled away only slightly, needing to give herself a second to think about what had just happened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as his warm breath fanned her forehead.

“God, was it always this good between us?” he asked, resting his lips against her temple.

“I think so.” She shuddered, letting her palms slide down to his defined pectoral muscles. “But we were both so young back then and didn’t know anything else. I remember being able to feel your heart beating in double-time against my skin, just like it is now. Except we were usually wearing a lot less clothing. And there wasn’t usually this coming between us.”

Tucking his chin, Marcus watched as Violet’s finger traced along one of the points of the star-shaped badge on his chest. She lifted her face to his and was about to pick up where they’d left off when an announcement blared over the intercom.

“We gotta Code Twin heading your way, Sheriff.”

CHAPTER SIX

Marcus had only seconds to jump away from Violet before his office door busted open and Jack spilled the contents of his rocket-ship backpack all over the floor. Jordan was right behind with their aunt Dahlia and little Amelia bringing up the rear.

“Oh, hi, Violet.” Jack smiled before dropping to the floor to collect his scattered belongings. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Violet smoothed her slightly tousled hair and blinked several times. “I, uh, didn’t know I’d be staying this long.”

“Why’re your lips all red, Dad?” Jordan asked as his brother shoved a handful of crumpled-up papers and a half-eaten banana back into his backpack. “Do you have a fever?”

“Or did you get a frozen slushy at the Mighty Mart?” Jack, whose brain went to sugar before medical conditions, was now intently staring at him, as well. “I thought Mrs. Contreras said they were out of the cherry flavor.”

“Uh, no,” Marcus said before dragging the back of his hand across the lower half of his face. Judging by the absence of any lipstick left on Violet’s full lips, he knew exactly why his mouth was so red. And so did his sister.

Dahlia gave a little snort before depositing a lunch box in the shape of a T. rex on the chair. “Sorry to interrupt what must be an important and, by the looks of it, very professional meeting. But Amelia has her ballet lesson in about five minutes, and she refuses to do her pirouettes when her cousins are there to distract her.”

“I don’t blame her.” Marcus winked at his niece, then shot his sister a warning look. “Obnoxious family members getting all up in your business are the worst.”

Steering her daughter toward the door, Dahlia paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Hey, Violet. Tessa and Finn are coming by Big Millie’s for happy hour this evening if you need a girls’ night out.”

“Can we come?” Jordan asked his aunt.

“Then it wouldn’t be a girls’ night out.” Dahlia wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe your dad could take you guys to get a slushy at the Mighty Mart, instead. He looks like he could use a bit of cooling down.”

When their aunt had left the office, Jack turned to Marcus. “But I wanna go with Violet to happy hour.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m going yet,” Violet replied before Marcus could. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“To keep Uncle MJ out of Daddy’s jail?” Jordan asked.

“That’s right,” Violet nodded.

The back of Marcus’s throat vibrated as he swallowed down a frustrated groan. “For the record, I’m trying to keep Uncle MJ out of my jail, too. And any future jails. By teaching him a lesson.”

“You mean like when Coach makes us run extra laps when we mess up at soccer practice?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah, kind of like that.”

“How does that teach you not to mess up?” Violet’s smooth forehead, the one he’d just pressed his own against, creased with confusion. “It seems like it would only make you tired and prone to make more mistakes.”

Marcus shook his head. “But if there aren’t consequences for your actions, what’s to stop you from making the same mistakes over and over again?”

“How about having a patient coach or mentor or maybe even...oh, I don’t know—” Violet dramatically shrugged her shoulders “—say, a big brother who guides you and steers you in the right direction?”

“So this is my fault?” Marcus crossed his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the way her eyes widened at his biceps. Remembering her earlier admission, he flexed his muscles slightly. “I’m supposed to be babysitting MJ, in addition to dealing with the rest of my family’s antics? All while working sixty-plus hours a week at my job and raising my kids on my own?”

Violet’s gaze snapped back to his face. Possibly at the reminder that he was a single dad. “Nobody said babysitting.”

“Keegan’s mom did,” Jordan announced out of the blue. “At the bake sale, I heard her tell the other parents that you needed to hire a real babysitter so you could go out with a real woman like her.”

Violet arched a brow at Marcus, and he resisted the urge to tug at his collar as he explained, “Their friend Keegan’s mom has been very determined lately to get me to join this little group she formed called Single Socials. It’s not really my scene, though. Just in case you thought it was.”

“From what MJ tells me, you don’t have much of a social scene at all.” Violet smirked, and Marcus silently cursed his baby brother for opening his big mouth.

“I told Ms. Parker we didn’t need a babysitter because we weren’t babies,” Jack said, while balancing on his knees in his father’s office chair and spinning fast in circles. “But then she said that all grown-ups need to spend alone time with other grown-ups.”

“You’re a grown-up and a real woman,” Jordan told Violet. “Maybe you should spend alone time with my dad.”

After the DM-sliding conversation the other night, Marcus should’ve been immune to his sons’ embarrassing announcements. He wasn’t. And neither, apparently, was Violet. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed several times as her face went nearly crimson. Ha. That’s what she got for implying that he needed to socialize more.

“Actually, uh, your father and I, uh, have already spent plenty of alone time together for the day,” she finally managed.

Marcus’s mind immediately skipped back to the kiss that had been interrupted when the boys had arrived. He cleared his throat and added, “In fact, it’d probably be better if we didn’t spend any alone time together at all.”

Her head gave the slightest twitch, as though his words had stunned her. Hell, he’d stunned himself with the harshness of his statement. But the truth was that he couldn’t trust himself around her. And if he wanted to keep her at a distance, then it was better that he maintain some sort of battle line between them.

“You’re probably right.” Violet’s smile was polite, but her eyes held a note of calculation. “After all, I already accomplished what I came here to do.”

She said goodbye to the twins and was gone for a full five minutes before Marcus realized he’d might’ve just been played. It was two hours later when he confirmed it.

Marcus had been so distracted by Violet’s visit to his office, he’d driven the boys home without remembering to stop at the grocery store. He was standing in front of the still-empty fridge contemplating going to the bunkhouse for dinner when his cell phone rang.

“So I just had an interesting chat with defense counsel in your brother’s case.” Reed Nakamoto, the prosecutor who hadn’t shown for the meeting earlier today, jumped right into it. “I thought you said she was your ex-girlfriend.”

“I don’t think I said either way.” At least not to Reed or to anyone else. But small-town news traveled fast. “Why? What’s up?”

“Well, Miss Cortez-Hill seems to think that you and she have some kind of understanding. That you’re on the same page and don’t want me calling Kendra Broman as a witness.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it the same page.” Marcus swung the fridge door closed, annoyed that he didn’t even have so much as an expired bottle of beer in there. “Violet made some good points about the damaging effects it could have on Kendra if she has to suffer an embarrassing cross-examination.”

Reed tsked. “I told you from the get-go that there was a lot of potential for conflicts of interest in this case, Marcus. You insisted we treat your brother the same way we would treat any other defendant and not give him any special favors. So I’m going to insist that you don’t do any more favors for your pretty little girlfriend without running them by me first.”

“I didn’t do anyone a favor, and I didn’t agree to anything. She came to see the body-cam footage, a meeting that you were supposed to attend, by the way.” If Reed had been there, there definitely wouldn’t have been any heated looks or make-out sessions.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I ran into Judge Calhoun at Biscuit Betty’s, and a group of us headed over to the rec center for a game of three on three.”

So the DA shooting hoops with the judge in the case wasn’t considered a conflict of interest, but the sheriff meeting with the defense attorney in a county office was? Small-town boundaries were more of a suggestion than a written rule, but the man was right. Marcus had always done things by the book, and he didn’t appreciate anyone suggesting the hint of impropriety. Even if the one doing the suggesting was doing the same thing or worse.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, Miss Cortez-Hill brought up not needing Kendra’s witness testimony, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That was the gist of our meeting.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly it. Other things had happened in that office, as well, but Reed didn’t need to know all of that.

“Okay, good. Just between you and me, the defense counsel is probably right. In this instance. But we need to be careful with these big-city attorneys coming into town and sweet-talking us into deals.”

“Nobody’s sweet-talking me, Reed.”

Marcus’s fingers were gripping the cell phone so hard, it was a wonder the thing hadn’t snapped in half before he could disconnect the call. Normally, he was proud of his department’s three-year record for not having any complaints or lawsuits filed against them due to deputy misconduct. He wasn’t about to have his ethical standards called into question because his ex-girlfriend had distracted him before going over his head to get what she wanted.

Right now, he needed a burger, he needed a beer and he needed to have a few words with Violet Cortez-Hill, Esquire.

“Come on, boys,” Marcus called down the hallway, grabbing his coat. He might have to forego the beer since he didn’t want to waste time changing out of his uniform. “We’re gonna go to Aunt Dahlia’s and crash the girls’ night out party.”

* * *

After leaving Marcus’s office, Violet had gone straight to the tiny one-room law library in the basement of the courthouse building. The phone reception down there must’ve been terrible because her phone pinged to life with notifications as soon as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby floor two hours later.

The first voice mail was from her mom. She could listen to that later. She tapped on the screen to hear the second message, which had just come in fifteen minutes ago. “Hi there, Miss Cortez-Hill. It’s Reed Nakamoto calling you back again. Listen, I just got off the phone with Sheriff King and, as much as I’m willing to cut young MJ a deal and avoid a trial, I just don’t think I’m gonna be able to get the sheriff on board. Let’s talk more tomorrow and see if we can find some common ground.”

It could be that Reed was just that bad at plea deals, trying to play the good cop to Marcus’s bad cop. Or it could be that Marcus was seriously being this stubborn. Probably it was a little bit of both. Either way, she wasn’t in favor of any deals that didn’t include the dismissal of all charges. And if she could ever get Marcus and the district attorney in the same room together, she’d tell them both exactly that.

Clenching her jaw in frustration, Violet was really in no mood to deal with her mom’s message at the moment. Yet as she shoved open the heavy door leading outside to the courthouse steps, she couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. That there might be some sort of accident or emergency, since her mother usually only texted between their weekly calls. Sighing, she put the phone back to her ear.

“Hey, angel. It’s Mom. I was just thinking that once my campaign kicks off in a couple of weeks, I’m not going to have much time off. What do you think of a girls’ trip? Remember that time we took off and went to Punta Cana? Just the two of us? That was fun.” It was also the first June after the miscarriage, and her mom had known that it would be a difficult time for her daughter since summers had always been a big deal for Violet and Marcus. “Anyway, look at your schedule and get back to my aide, Yvonne, with your availability. Oh, and maybe we should bring Senator Valdivia with us. She has a daughter your age and, coincidentally, has just been appointed chair of the senate judiciary committee. I told her you might be interested...”

Violet groaned, cutting off the message before the end. Her relationship with her mom was complicated, with equal parts of love and frustration. When Eva Cortez-Hill was being just a “normal mom,” things were great. They could do regular mother-and-daughter things together—shopping, spa days, vacations—and they got along fine. But when her mom was being “the senator,” she was nearly insufferable. The tricky part was knowing when one role was about to switch to the other so Violet could get out in time to save herself.

The old-fashioned streetlamps had just come on, and looking down Stampede Boulevard, Violet saw the vintage sign for Big Millie’s Saloon in the distance. Yep, she definitely needed a cocktail after today’s events. She also needed to vent to any King whose first name wasn’t Marcus.

“Hi, Vi.” Dahlia extended arms in welcome from behind the hundred-year-old refinished walnut bar she now owned and ran. “Let me get you a drink as a thanks for helping my baby brother out of his latest scrape with the law.”

“Much to the annoyance of your big brother,” Violet responded. “He isn’t here, is he?”

“Not yet.” Tessa smiled and patted the empty seat beside her.

Violet let out a deep breath as she plopped herself onto a gold leather–covered bar stool. She’d heard that the Wild West–era saloon and former brothel had been fully refurbished, but she was impressed with how Dahlia had managed to make the place seem trendy while keeping the decor true to its historic roots. “In that case, I’ll take a glass of any wine you already have open.”

Dahlia drew a bottle from under the bar, and Freckles breezed out of the kitchen carrying two double burgers loaded with every possible topping listed on the limited bar menu.

“Hey, Aunt Freckles,” Violet said, immediately feeling more relaxed at the sight of the older woman’s friendly face. “If I’d known you were here cooking, I would’ve left the courthouse earlier. Did Mrs. King kick you out of her kitchen?”

“No, darlin’.” Freckles wore a crisp white apron over her tight zebra-print blouse and even tighter jeans. “I needed a break from Rider. That old coot has been getting a bit frisky lately. Trying to prove there’s still a little gas left in his tank, if you know what I mean.”

Marcus’s three sisters covered their ears, despite the fact that they should’ve been well-accustomed to the older woman’s candid comments.

“Aunt Freckles,” Dahlia scolded as she lowered her cupped palms, “we can’t unhear those sorts of things.”

Violet hid her smile behind a large sip of wine while the King women continued to banter. Someone asked where Duke had gone, and she didn’t have the heart to rat their brother out and admit that she’d seen him on her way into the building. He’d been standing outside the heavy oak front door, huddled under his puffy down jacket and quietly arguing with someone on his cell phone.

Violet’s guest room at the ranch was next to Duke’s, and two nights ago, she’d accidentally overheard him pleading with someone on a video call to let him be the one to tell Tom what had happened. Her interest had obviously been piqued, but then her own phone had rung with an incoming video call from her mom, and she’d spent the next ten minutes strategically holding the camera lens at an angle that wouldn’t give away her location.

Not that she was keeping her presence on the Twin Kings a secret from her mother. In fact, it could be that her mom already knew something was up and that’s why she’d called again today with the idea for a mother-daughter vacation. Guilt. She was still processing Marcus’s claim about the senator leading him to believe Violet had had an abortion all those years ago, and she wasn’t yet sure how she wanted to confront her mom. Until then, Violet wasn’t going to mention the name Marcus to either of her parents.

As if her thoughts had summoned the man, Marcus’s twin boys tore through the entrance of Big Millie’s.

“We’re here for girls’ night,” Jordan said by way of greeting.

“Will you watch our jackets?” Jack flung their coats at the empty bar stool near Violet, before both boys ran toward the billiards table. Their father was right behind them, still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. His face was drawn tight, his lips pressed together. He was pissed about something and headed straight for Violet. His sisters immediately stood up, as though they intended to intervene.

Marcus rolled his eyes, shaking his head at their united front. “Now you’ve got my sisters protecting you?”

“I only need protection from credible threats.” Violet rose to her feet and stepped between Tessa and Finn. “And you, Sheriff King, are no threat.”

Agent Grayson Wyatt, who was assigned to tail Tessa, appeared out of nowhere and asked, “Is everyone okay over here?”

Marcus gave a tense nod but didn’t break eye contact with Violet. Her heart thrummed in anticipation of whatever verbal confrontation he’d come to wage. With so many witnesses currently surrounding them, they could engage in a true sparring match and not get sidetracked into another distracting make-out session.

“You know what this party needs?” Aunt Freckles clapped her hands together so hard Violet feared one of the woman’s false red fingernails would fly off. She pointed at the jukebox that was playing a fast-tempo George Strait song. “Dancing!”

Freckles, using a surprising amount of strength, shoved Tessa directly into Agent Wyatt’s arms. Dahlia, the only single woman safe behind the bar, had the audacity to smile in amusement.

“Finn, you go with Agent Doherty,” Freckles continued, and Violet’s blood drained from her face because she knew exactly what was coming next. “And Marcus, you and Violet can talk about whatever you need to talk about on the dance floor.”

Talking one-on-one with Marcus was the last thing Violet wanted to do. Standing so close to him as he whirled her around a bunch of barroom tables was even less appealing. Unfortunately, though, she was now stuck doing both.

The only alternatives would be to fake an injury, which would worry Jordan, who kept glancing in her direction. Or to refuse, which would be the same thing as admitting that Marcus had any sort of effect on her. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction.

“I thought this was supposed to be a girls’ night out,” she said when they were finally out of earshot.

“And I thought that you would fight fair,” Marcus replied before spinning her under his arm and deftly pulling her back without missing a step. He was surprisingly more adept at leading her in a fast-paced two-step than he had been during their first waltz at her quinceañera.

“First of all, why does everything have to be a fight with you?” Before he could answer, she added, “And who are you to decide what’s fair?”

“Okay, so maybe I phrased that wrong,” Marcus admitted, his jaw tight. “But you showed up at my office looking hot as hell and maybe I’m a little pissed at myself for thinking things could be different when you kissed me like that.”

When her brain finally processed what he said, he was twirling her under his arm again. She ducked her head for a second spin and accidentally brought her high heel down on top of his boot. He flinched but didn’t stop dancing.

“I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.” Violet forced a smile at Jack and Jordan, who waved to her from the billiards table where they were playing pool with a couple of off-duty Secret Service agents. “And how would one kiss make a difference between us? Did you think it would erase everything else that has happened?”

“That’s another thing. We’ve never even talked about what exactly happened fourteen years ago. Every time it gets brought up, someone interrupts us.”

“So is that why you’re here?” Violet pivoted on the two count, forcing him to go backward so that she was leading. “You came tearing through those doors all hell-bent on rehashing our past? Because I really don’t think now is the best time to have that conversation with half of your family as an audience.”

“No, I came here because Reed Nakamoto thinks you sweet-talked me into not calling Kendra Broman as a witness.”

“The way he tried to sweet-talk Judge Calhoun into extending the preliminary hearing during their impromptu basketball game today? I don’t care how many free shots Reed purposely misses, my motion to dismiss has already been filed.”

“Was that before or after you made that comment about letting my badge come between us?” Marcus asked, then quickly continued, “Because I might get easily distracted by your kisses, but at the end of the day, I still have a job to do.”

“I filed it this morning, and how you do your job really isn’t any of my concern. I meant the badge was literally coming between us, Marcus. I could feel the points of your star poking into my boob.”

Maybe mentioning her breasts was the wrong thing to say right that second, because his eyes dropped to the open lines of her suit jacket where her skin was flushed, rising and falling with each angry breath expanding her rib cage.

He made a growling sound before quickly looking at something off in the distance. The song on the jukebox changed, but he continued to dance, albeit at a slower pace. She should pull away, but deep down Violet liked the power she had over him. Maybe subconsciously she had been trying to seduce him. She’d certainly thought of it for a split second. But he was also trying to seduce her with the way his forearm locked around her waist and skillfully held her in place against him.

“I have a serious question,” Marcus said, as though their conversation up until now hadn’t been all that serious. “And it’s a little off topic.”

Normally, she’d welcome the chance to switch the subject; however, she had a feeling this one wasn’t going to be any less antagonistic. Or personal. But she wasn’t about to back down now. “Go ahead.”

“What do you think your mom is going to do when she finds out you’re still here with me?”

“I’m not with you. Why would she think that?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The judge issued a gag order, and we’ve managed to keep things out of the press so far. But eventually the senator is going to find out you’re here in Teton Ridge.”

“Of course she’s going to find out. And it won’t be from the press. I’ll tell her when I decide it’s the right time.”

“Will she make you go home to Texas?”

“Marcus, I’m a grown woman. I pay my own bills and make my own decisions. Nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to do. Including my mother.”

He made a scoffing sound. “I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive. You have no problem telling me how I should feel about my family. Hell, you’re being paid to interfere in my relationship with my mom and my brother.”

Violet shook her head. “I’m not being paid. I agreed to represent MJ pro bono.”

“Oh, come on. My family has more money than they know what to do with, and public defenders are notoriously underpaid.” He paused a beat, as though he’d just recalled that her family was nearly as wealthy as his. “So what’s in it for you? The chance to get me back for something I never even did?”

“That’s cute how you think my being here has anything to do with you,” she replied. “I’m simply helping out an old family friend by using my legal expertise and doing what I was trained to do. Pissing you off in the process is just an added bonus.”

“What an interesting coincidence that your job involves freeing the very same people who break the laws that my job requires me to enforce.”

“Coincidence? Again, you’re giving yourself too much credit if you think my career choice had anything to do with you. Unlike you, I hadn’t been creeping around on the internet trying to figure out what you did for a living.”

“I wasn’t creeping.” Marcus’s expression was so insistent, he looked like his sons when they asked for seconds of dessert. “But speaking of what you do, whatever happened to your dream of becoming a prosecutor?”

“That dream crashed around the same time my dream of becoming a mom was shot down.”

“You mean when we lost the babies?” His quiet statement caused the righteous air to suddenly whoosh from her lungs.

She quickly recovered, though. “You say we, as though both of us went through such a traumatic experience together.”

“Physically, no. Obviously, you had it way worse than me, and now I have to live with the fact that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. But just because I didn’t know all the circumstances at the time doesn’t mean I didn’t suffer a loss.” Marcus’s eyes seemed to glisten, and his voice grew wobbly but more passionate as he stopped dancing altogether. “Vi, I wanted our babies as much as I once wanted you.”

Her knees gave out, and she might’ve stumbled if he hadn’t been holding her so firmly against him. She’d been so hurt by the silence all these years that she’d never really considered the possibility that he would’ve been equally upset about losing the babies—the ones that he’d apparently wanted. All this time, Violet had assumed he’d been relieved to dodge the young-fatherhood bullet.

No wonder he’d made those earlier comments about her relationship with her mom, considering her mother was the one who’d led him to believe the worst. Violet was pretty damn mad at the woman herself. But like she’d told Marcus earlier, she would deal with her mom in her own way. This wasn’t the best time or place to be unpacking all these emotions they’d never fully processed.

Finn and Duke crashed into them as they attempted an ill-fated swing lift. When had the song changed to a fast-paced one again? And when had Duke come back inside the bar?

Violet quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone had been watching their tense exchange. Yep. Several pairs of eyes were, in fact, on them. Including Jack’s and Jordan’s. She cleared her throat and stepped out of his arms. “I think that should be enough dancing to satisfy Aunt Freckles. I’m going to go finish my wine.”

And maybe a shot of something stronger.

For the millionth time that week, Violet silently cursed herself for not leaving Teton Ridge when she’d had a chance. She liked it better when she didn’t have to think about running into Marcus King on a daily basis.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Marcus’s pain-filled words were still playing in Violet’s head later that following week as she set up a temporary workstation inside the unused pool house at the Twin Kings. Not that MJ’s case required that much time or effort since they were still in the pretrial stage. Normally, Violet managed several ongoing cases at once, and most of them involved much bigger charges and stakes. But since she’d taken a personal leave of absence from her job to handle MJ’s case, she had to be in constant communication with the other attorneys in her office who were covering the clients on her caseload.

Tessa had claimed her father’s old study for research, and Sherilee had set up some sort of public-relations headquarters in the west wing of the house. So that left the glass-enclosed pool house that wasn’t in use during the winter months. The temporary office smelled faintly of chlorine and sunscreen yet had a massive custom-built river-rock fireplace taking up an entire wall. The design was intended to be used during the seasons when the weather allowed for outdoor entertaining, but it worked well for keeping the place heated now that they were well into February.

Violet moved a few pool noodles off a chaise lounge and fired up her laptop. Of course, the first email she responded to required her to type the word once and she immediately lost her train of thought.

Once.

I wanted our babies as much as I once wanted you.

That’s what Marcus had said to her when they’d been dancing. Clearly, he didn’t want her anymore. Not that she wanted him. Obviously. But it’d be nice if they could at least get along.

She’d thought they’d turned a corner that night at Big Millie’s when he’d let his guard down and opened up about losing the babies. But then the following day, she’d run into him at Burnworth’s Bakery and he’d pretended he didn’t even know her. In fact, several times last week she’d seen him on duty patrolling the small town of Teton Ridge, and the most he’d been able to manage was a brief nod in her direction.

It was almost as though he didn’t want anyone in town seeing them being even slightly friendly toward each other.

Then, last Sunday, she’d gone out for a run on one of the many trails crisscrossing the vast ranch and saw him and the twins riding their bikes toward the main house. The boys were excited to see her and Jordan immediately wanted to know if she wanted a tour of their “brand-new” cabin.

“Well, it’s not real brand-new,” Jack clarified. “We used to live there before when our mom was alive, but me and Jordan don’t remember that from way back when. But we have a Nintendo Switch and you can play the red controller if you want. It has motion controls and rumbles in your hands so you can feel when you go over the bumpy track.”

Violet had tried not to blink too much at the casual mention of their mom in passing. “I think I may have to brush up on my video game skills before I take on the responsibility of the red controller. Maybe some other time?”

Marcus had let out the breath he’d been holding, looking visibly relieved. “Speaking of added features.” He nodded at her smartphone on the elastic holder around her bicep. “How’s your GPS reception on that thing? The open pastures on the west side of the ranch make it hard to get lost. But the trails on this side are way narrower and confusing for people who didn’t grow up here.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky, and I’ll wind up lost,” she’d retorted. He hadn’t cared about her safety or her sense of direction all last week when he’d ignored her in town. Yet now he suddenly felt the need to patronize her with his knowledge of the rugged tree-lined terrain.

So now that she’d set up an office in the pool house and wasn’t in town at the law library as much, she was making more of an effort to be the one who ignored him. Violet responded to several emails and had a video conference with one of her clients turned state’s witness housed in protective custody at the West Tower Detention Facility. When she ran out of tasks, she returned to the main house to find out Sherilee had insisted Marcus and the twins come for a family meal that night.

The twins, as usual, had been excited to see Violet, regaling her with stories about their school day. Their father, as usual, was much harder to read. Marcus’s family might be a little pushy, but nobody was forcing him to be here. She had to give him credit for at least making the attempt to keep things as normal as he could for his children.

As they took their places in the dining room, Violet watched Marcus reach across the table to help Jack pour his lemonade into one of the fancy crystal goblets Sherilee insisted everyone use. Then he silently helped Jordan spread the cold pat of butter across his crumbling biscuit. Violet wondered if he would’ve been as gentle and loving as a father to her twins, had they survived.

Guilt caused her chest to tighten. Of course he would have been. The man was born to be an amazing dad. It was his role as ex-boyfriend and big brother that could use a little work.

“You have any plans this weekend, MJ?” Freckles asked.

“No!” both Marcus and his mother said in unison.

MJ threw his napkin on the table. “So I’m a prisoner in my own home now?”

Sherilee returned MJ’s napkin to him as if he’d accidentally misplaced it. “I thought we agreed that you’d keep a low profile and not leave the ranch until things calm down.”

“You mean you and Sheriff Trust-No-One over there agreed,” MJ replied, displaying his most angst-filled teenaged glare in Marcus’s direction.

“I’m pretty sure your defense attorney would recommend the same thing.” Great, now Marcus was drawing Violet into their petty squabble.

Violet took a sip of her ice water, wishing she hadn’t declined the predinner cocktail hour, before speaking directly to MJ. “Only because I think the judge would look more favorably on you not drawing any attention to yourself by leaving the ranch. Unless, of course, you were going to a job or a college class, perhaps.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a job. And I’m not going to college,” MJ announced, making his mom gasp. He looked Sherilee in the eye and added, “Ever.”

“I can give you a job,” Uncle Rider offered. “Plenty of stalls need mucking.”

“So my only choices are house arrest and forced labor. I’d probably have it better in prison.”

Violet’s left eye twitched. She thought about the client she’d just spoken with via video chat. The woman had been in and out of institutions since she was twelve years old and was facing ten more years if she didn’t cooperate with prosecutors to implicate her pimp as the head of a human-trafficking ring.

The young man sitting before her had no idea what a real prison smelled like, let alone felt like. MJ’s pessimistic attitude—while understandable—was probably the biggest contributor to his current predicament. He was young, privileged and way too sheltered to have such a big chip on his shoulder. He was also drifting through life aimlessly with no goals and way too much free time on his hands, which only gave him more opportunity to stew.

“Peyton’s mom’s boyfriend was in prison,” young Amelia said. “She went to visit him every month, and there was a big, mean dog that sniffed her mom to make sure she didn’t sneak any keys or bad stuff into him.”

“Really?” Dahlia tilted her head at her daughter. “Peyton’s mom told me that her boyfriend lived in Montana.”

“They have prisons in Montana,” Rider said. “Got an old rodeo buddy who did a dime in the state pen back in the seventies. Said it was the worst stretch he’s ever done. But he did meet his wife there. She was a guard. So I guess it worked out for him.”

“Anyone else see a problem with the direction of this conversation?” Duke nodded subtly at the wide-eyed expressions on his nephews’ faces. “Maybe we should change the subject to something that is a little less Shawshank Redemption.”

“So if I can’t leave,” MJ said returning the topic back to himself, “can I at least have some friends over to hang out?”

“Like who?” Sherilee might’ve lifted a sculpted brow if her Botoxed forehead would’ve allowed it.

MJ shrugged. “Like Kendra?”

“No!” Marcus and Sherilee said in unison. Again.

MJ turned pleading eyes toward Violet, who seemed to be his only ally at the table. Or at least the only person legally contracted to represent him. She sighed. “I don’t see a problem with Kendra visiting as long as you guys are properly chaperoned and only engaging in activities suitable for teenagers.”

Finn plopped another spoonful of chicken and dumplings on her plate. “Violet, you might need to define what your expectations of a suitable activity is.”

“I don’t know. What do eighteen-year-olds do for fun nowadays?”

“The same thing we used to do when we were that age.” Marcus stared expectantly at her, and Violet’s face felt as though it was going to catch on fire.

Sherilee choked on her wine, while Freckles and Finn giggled like schoolgirls.

“In that case, count me out as a chaperone.” Duke sat back in his chair and rubbed his flat stomach. “Mom and Dad used to make me tag along with Vi and Marcus to keep an eye on them, but I always ended up getting ditched.”

“Why would they ditch you, Uncle Duke?” Jordan wanted to know. “You’re the funnest one in the family, and you’re real good at playing football and Uno and video games.”

“Because back then, your dad and Miss Violet preferred to play a two-person game called—”

“Twister,” Violet interrupted Duke just in time, which made Finn and Freckles giggle even more. Even Dahlia had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

Duke held up his hands innocently. “Hey, I was going to say Battleship. But that might be a better description for the game you two are currently playing.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at his brother but didn’t dispute the fact that he and Violet were, in fact, acting like adversaries who wanted to sink each other.

“Yeah, we get it. Marcus and Violet hate each other,” MJ said, causing Jordan to gasp with concern. “But can we focus on me and my situation for a second?”

“It’s okay,” Marcus said softly as he patted his son’s shoulder. “Violet and I are old friends who just squabble sometimes. We don’t really hate each other.”

Jack’s eyes sought Violet’s across the table, and she nodded in confirmation. At least she could reassure the boys, even if she couldn’t reassure herself.

MJ, though, continued, “You guys can’t keep me and Kendra away from each other forever.”

Rider wiped some sauce off his bushy mustache. “I think your girlfriend’s dad might have something to say about that. Or did you forget that you sucker punched her old man?”

“I apologized. Besides, it’s not my fault Deputy Broman hates our family. At some point, he’s gonna have to get over it because I love his daughter and eventually we’ll find a way to be together no matter what. We’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Did you ever actually read Romeo and Juliet?” Marcus asked.

“I read most of it. We had to do a book report on it my sophomore year.”

Violet felt another migraine coming on and pinched the bridge of her nose. In an effort to present her client in the most favorable light in court, she’d gone through MJ’s high-school transcripts and was disappointed to see so many below-average grades and comments from his teachers about how smart he was but how rarely he turned in assignments.

“Yeah, well, if you’d ever finished something you’d started, you’d know that things don’t work out too well for that particular pair of star-crossed lovers.” Marcus tilted back the rest of his beer and swallowed before adding, “In fact, it rarely does.”

Whoa. That second dig was definitely directed at her. Forgetting her earlier reassurance to Jordan and Jack about not hating their father, Violet narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Do we really need all your extra judgments thrown in for dramatic flair?”

“What extra judgments?”

“Oh, you know, the dig about MJ not finishing what he starts. Then the bonus commentary about young love rarely working out.”

He held up his open palms. “I was merely stating the facts. Romeo and Juliet were in love, and it didn’t end so well. I’m sorry if that hits a little too close to home for you, Violet.”

“Well, if we’re going to state facts, then let’s talk about how Romeo totally overreacted. If he had just been patient and thought things through instead of jumping to conclusions, Juliet would’ve gotten up and explained everything. But your boy had to act all rash and assume the worst and turn the whole thing into a tragedy.”

“How do you know Romeo wasn’t also dealing with Juliet’s mom planting seeds of doubt in his head?” Marcus argued. “Telling him that her daughter was better off without him?”

“If that was the case, then he should’ve realized her mom didn’t want them to be together in the first place,” Violet countered. “The seeds of doubt should never have taken root.”

“All I’m saying is that it might’ve been nice if she’d written him a note or something letting him know what was going on.”

“She did write a note. How was she to know that he never got it?”

“Wait. Are we still talking about Romeo and Juliet?” Rider asked. “Freckles made me watch the movie once, but I fell asleep before it got to all of that.”

“Yeah, this story sounds boring,” Jack said while trying to balance his spoon on his nose. “Is it time for dessert yet?”

And just like that, Freckles retreated to the kitchen to serve up the banana cream pie to the kids. Sherilee followed to make sure her sister-in-law was only using the dairy-free whipped topping instead of real cream.

Apparently, nobody else wanted to listen to Marcus and Violet rehash the story of their breakup using euphemisms from a literary classic, either. The entire King family jumped at the chance to clear out of the dining room without bothering to make a single excuse for their abrupt exits.

Violet and Marcus remained in their seats across the table from each other, the tension between them having been stretched to their limits, but now sagging. Like a deflated party balloon.

“We never used to fight like this before.” Marcus finally broke the silence. “It doesn’t feel right to be at odds this way. But at the same time, I can’t stop myself from getting sucked into even the slightest argument. I’m really sorry, Violet. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Do you remember the first time you asked me out?” she shifted forward in her seat.

He tilted his head at her before staring up at the ceiling for several seconds. Finally, he shook his head. “I remember going to the movies a handful of times, and playing mini golf, and driving to Six Flags when we tried to set Duke up with your roommate from boarding school and he came out to us before we got on the first roller coaster. Oh, and that one time you talked me into taking you to the Justin Timberlake concert and caught me singing along to all the lyrics I pretended I didn’t know. But I can’t think of the first time.”

“That’s because you never did ask me out, Marcus. It just sort of happened, like it was a given that we were together. We never really had to work at having a relationship before.” She sighed. “Every time I look at you, I see the boy you used to be. I mean, in a more manly body, but it’s still you. Except it’s not, because you’re so different now. We both are so much more cynical, for good reason, which means being around you isn’t as natural as it used to be. The problem is that my brain doesn’t want to accept that, so my tongue lashes out.”

His chest expanded, and even from a distance she could see his pupils dilate. “Maybe your tongue needs something else to keep it occupied?”

Adrenaline spiked through Violet, causing her to briefly calculate whether it would be faster to walk around the table or to just hurdle over the draped white linen tablecloth and crystal goblets to get into his arms.

Luckily, the sudden appearance of Jack and Jordan carrying two plates of pie into the dining room saved her from doing something she’d later regret.

* * *

Having been both an eighteen-year-old virgin and now a thirty-two-year-old experienced man, Marcus had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Violet Cortez-Hill. He was no longer an impulsive youth, though, and knew full well the potential consequences of allowing history to repeat itself.

Not that Marcus wanted to go down that road again. Especially not after the unwarranted lecture he’d gotten from Reed Nakamoto about not letting Violet sweet-talk him into anything. He’d purposely stayed away from her every time he’d seen her in town, just so that nobody could say something was going on between them.

Still, it was getting awfully hard to avoid the woman when they were living on the same damn ranch. Especially when his sons loved seeing her so often and his mom kept insisting on her torturous and chaotic family dinners. Plus, deep down, he didn’t really want to avoid her. He wanted to go back to how things used to be. But that would never happen until they got everything off their chests.

On his way home from work Tuesday, he was driving past the main house and saw Violet walking from the stables in the direction of the pool house. The kids had told him all about her new office space and how they’d helped her decorate with their homemade art and trail finds. Oh, and some colorful beach towels to make her feel like she was back in sunny Texas. It sounded like she was already homesick.

Violet waved, so he slowed the cruiser and asked, “Have you seen the boys? My mom picked them up from school, but she isn’t answering her cell phone.”

“Mrs. King said she had some sort of meeting with Special Agent in Charge Simon in the conference room attached to the agents’ bunkhouse. She asked me to watch the twins for a few minutes, and they wanted me to see their new horses.”

Marcus put the SUV in Park and climbed out. “So they’re in the stables?”

“Well, they were. But then Uncle Rider offered to take them out on the trail. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t go with them, but I didn’t have any suitable shoes or riding clothes, so I decided to stay back.”

He glanced at her fitted black pants and suede fashion boots with the fur trim. Nobody was going to confuse her for a cattle hand, but he’d seen people climb into the saddle wearing a lot worse. Then a memory clicked into place. One of him taking a sixteen-year-old Violet out on her first ride. Marcus had stupidly wanted to show off one of their prime stallions, a young, spirited buck who, unfortunately, attempted to mount Violet’s mare. While she was riding her.

But that was so long ago. Plus, she’d gone to an elite boarding school in Virginia with a world-famous equestrian program. Surely she couldn’t be...

“Wait. Are you still afraid of horses?”

“I’m not afraid of them,” she said, then lowered her voice as a gelding in the outside corral passed by. “It’s just that they don’t really like me all that much.”

“How can an animal not like you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they sense my nervousness.”

Marcus bit back a grin. “Have you ever gotten back in the saddle again?”

“Of course. When I was in college, I decided to conquer my fear once and for all. It was spring break, and a group of us went to Cancún. The resort had horseback riding on the beach, so I figured having a change of scenery wouldn’t trigger my traumatic memory of that awkward day with Fabio.”

Marcus winced. “Yeah, the name of the horse should’ve been my first clue that he wasn’t ready for a leisurely trail ride.”

“If it’s any consolation, I chose a small, unassuming-looking horse named Gidget the second time around and she wasn’t much better.” Violet must’ve seen the confusion on his face because she held up a hand. “No, she didn’t try to mount anything. She just thought she was a surfer and kept rushing into the waves and rolling around in the sand. Again with me on her back. So suffice it to say that horses are one of the few creatures who refuse to acknowledge my commanding presence.”

Marcus allowed his eyes to wander down the snug fabric encasing her long legs. Violet certainly had a commanding presence that was becoming increasingly more difficult for him not to acknowledge.

“You know, Fabio’s still here. He’s an old man now and sired so many colts, we had to finally retire him. He’s over in Shady Acres.” Marcus put his arm over her shoulders to steer her away from the outer corrals. “Come on. I’ll take you to see him, and you’ll realize that he’s not so threatening anymore.”

“Shady Acres?” Violet angled her head sideways as she questioned him, but she didn’t pull away.

“Yeah. You know, from the TV show Golden Girls? Finn loves to name the horses and the different wings of the stables after her favorite sitcoms. If I remember correctly, the horse you were riding that day was also named after a character in that show. Blanche. Which explains why Fabio couldn’t stay away from her.”

Violet let out a full-bodied laugh, and Marcus instinctively pulled her in tighter. This. This is what it used to feel like between them. They would playfully tease and crack jokes and walk completely in step with each other. Violet fit perfectly beside him.

In fact, he was tempted to take her the long way around the stables just so they could keep walking like this. But Finn had carved wooden signs above each row of stalls, and Rider believed in putting the older horses front and center so that nobody forgot how hard they’d once worked for the ranch. So Shady Acres was the first section they came across, and Fabio was in the third stall down.

“No way,” Violet said when she saw the once-palomino-colored muzzle was speckled with gray. “This can’t be him. What happened to his flowing golden mane?”

“Let’s just say that, nowadays, he likes his food much more than he likes the ladies. He managed to get his head stuck in one of those self-feeding hay nets. His mane was all tangled up in the netting, so we had to buzz it off. It hasn’t grown back yet.”

“He certainly looks way less threatening now. Don’t you, boy?”

“Here.” Marcus pulled an apple-flavored oat biscuit out of his inside jacket pocket. “Give him this, and he will love you forever.”

Violet wrinkled her nose. “You keep horse treats in your uniform pocket?”

“I’m a sheriff in a small ranching town. Half of my job consists of interacting with citizens who are either riding livestock, herding livestock or complaining about someone else’s livestock. I’ve got dog treats in the other pocket. Now, hold your fingers out straight like this.”

Violet’s palm was stiff when he handed her the biscuit, and Marcus slid his hand under hers to coax her into relaxing. A zing of awareness shot through him at the feel of her warm skin. She must’ve felt it, too, because she shuddered delicately. Or maybe she was afraid of Fabio’s protruding teeth coming her way.

“It’s okay. Just hold yourself steady.” Standing behind her, Marcus put his other hand on her waist so she’d know he was right there with her to intervene in case something happened.

But as expected, Fabio took the treat, smacked his lips as he chewed, then snorted in appreciation. Violet’s body relaxed against Marcus, and he let his fingers splay around the curve above her hip, his thumb grazing along the soft, stretchy fabric toward her waistband.

“That wasn’t so bad.” She sighed, and it took him a second to realize she was talking about the horse.

Or maybe she wasn’t.

The back of her neck was resting against his shoulder, so when she tilted her face to look at him, her smiling lips were inches from his. Marcus groaned before claiming her mouth with his own.

Unlike two weeks ago in his office, though, this kiss started out tentative and slow. As if neither one wanted to be the first to lose control.

But as their tongues explored deeper, his fingers followed suit, and soon his hand was nudging under the hem of her sweater. Violet gave a breathless moan and twisted so that she could face him, which only pressed their bodies closer together.

The unmistakable whirling of an engine sounded outside, and Violet pulled away slightly. Her breath was warm, and her voice was raspy as she whispered, “Is that the helicopter?”

“Probably.” He moved his lips to her cheek and pressed light kisses along her jawline. After a daring paparazzo had chartered a local sight-seeing chopper to get some long-range aerial photos of Tessa, the Secret Service agents had been doing routine air patrols around the ranch twice a day.

When his mouth dipped lower to her neck, she threw her head back and moaned. Her fingers were stroking underneath the lined collar of his jacket, holding his head in place as she gave him full access to the tender spot where her pulse was beating out a frenzied tempo. Marcus was so intent on what he was doing, he barely heard her whisper, “What if someone catches us?”

“Come on, we can go in here.” Marcus had noticed that the stall across from Fabio’s was empty, and he pulled her inside. He rolled the solid wood sliding door closed, but that only hid them from the chest down. There was a pile of straw in one corner that looked clean, and he steered her in that direction. “We’re going to have to hunker down if we want to stay out of sight.”

Violet’s laugh was low and throaty as she sank into the pile as though it was a regal throne. “This reminds me of the time our families were both staying at Camp David for that Department of Defense conference, and we snuck out of our cabins and hid in the archery shed. Except you’re a much better kisser now.”

“That’s because I remembered to take out my retainer this time.” Marcus lowered himself over her, determined to prove how much better he was at everything. She eagerly embraced him, lifting her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Her sweater rose, and he slid both of his palms higher, caressing the silky warmth of her bare skin until his hands were just below her breasts.

They were lying side by side, facing each other, and his arousal strained against his uniform pants as she pressed herself against him. Without breaking their kiss, Violet’s fingers began to work at the heavy clasp of his leather duty belt.

But before she could get it undone, they heard voices entering the stables. Violet’s eyes flew open, and she put a finger to her lips, as if Marcus needed the warning to stay quiet. He was rock hard, and there was straw sticking out of Violet’s hair at all angles. Anyone who saw them would know exactly what they’d been up to.

The voices—at least three of them—grew closer. Violet whispered into his ear, “Do you think you can shift your weight back the other direction? Your gun is digging into my hip.”

He responded through clenched teeth. “If I shift back to where I just was, it won’t be my gun pressing into you.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she reminded him of Jack when he was a toddler and thought that if he couldn’t see anyone around him, then nobody could see him, either. Marcus used his elbows to lift his torso enough to roll away but then froze at the rustling sound of the straw surrounding them.

“Shhh,” she said. He didn’t think it would be possible to make her blush more than she already was, but then he realized the rosy color spreading up her neck wasn’t from embarrassment. It was whisker burn.

The voices were now right outside their row of stalls. He recognized the annoyance in his sister Tessa’s tone before realizing who she was talking to. He slowly shifted to his knees so he could see out one of the slats.

Congressman Davis Townsend, better known as Congressman Smooth to the rest of their family members. Nobody understood what Tessa saw in the up-and-coming politician, who was clearly using her to get closer to the famous King name.

From the sound of things, the congressman was upset about all the media hype surrounding Tessa and Agent Wyatt, who was now standing by quietly as Tessa rejected Townsend’s not-so-romantic proposal. Suddenly, the conversation turned angry.

“Together, we could’ve gone further than Roper King could ever have hoped,” Townsend said, and Marcus’s blood rang in his ears. Nobody was going to disrespect his dead father on the very ranch that his legacy had been built upon.

Marcus started to rise, but Violet tugged on his hand. Her whisper was hushed yet firm. “Let your sister handle this, Marcus. She’s been bottling everything in lately and needs to speak her piece.”

As if to prove Violet right, Tessa finally snapped. “My dad got exactly as far as he wanted, Davis. And, for the record, he hated people who needed to use someone else to get ahead.”

“I was never using you. At least, not any more than you were using me.”

“How did I use you?” his sister asked. She was a political analyst with a prime-time show interviewing some of the most powerful world leaders. At least she was finally acting like herself again. “I’d love to hear this.”

“Tessa King had the reputation of being a cold, cutthroat bitch before I came along. I humanized you. Being in a relationship with me made you at least seem like a real woman.”

Marcus was on his knees and ready to spring into action, his fists clenching at the insult to his sister. He didn’t think he could stay silent much longer.

“I think you need to leave now, Congressman Townsend,” Tessa said.

“But your mother invited me—”

“Miss King has politely asked you to leave,” Agent Wyatt interrupted in a direct, deliberate voice. “I’ll have the command center radio your pilot so you can fly out of here on your own accord.”

“Or else what?” Davis’s chin lifted.

Oh, hell no.

Wyatt was more than trained to handle the situation on his own, but Marcus was a law-enforcement officer as much as he was a brother. Challenging a sitting member of the House of Representatives would be a risky career move for the agent, who’d already gone above and beyond his duty keeping Tessa safe.

Plus, Marcus was not about to let some sanctimonious prick stay on his family’s property a second longer. He was out of the stall before Violet could pull him back.

It took every ounce of training for Marcus to keep himself reined in as he purposefully approached the congressman. “Or else we can escort you from the premises in the back of the Ridgecrest County Sheriff’s unit.”

She should’ve stayed put, but Violet stepped to his side, risking her own reputation by backing him up. Marcus’s chest swelled with pride and appreciation.

Three pairs of eyes darted back and forth between them. Instead of giving anyone the chance to question what he and Violet were doing there in the first place, Marcus continued, “Before you make your choice, it’s only fair to warn you that the back seat of my squad car doesn’t have tinted windows. I’m sure the press stationed outside the gates would love to get a great shot of you back there.”

Townsend took a step back in retreat and flashed his ridiculous fake grin. “We’re good. I was just leaving.”

The congressman turned to go, and Marcus followed to make sure the man actually left the premises, not just the stables. Violet kept up with Marcus’s determined strides, and right before they exited into the daylight, she slipped her palm into his, gave his hand a firm squeeze and then dropped her arm to her side before they went outside.

He wished he could’ve glanced in her direction to see what she was thinking, but he had to keep his eyes trained on the back of Townsend’s head.

Initially, he thought the hand squeeze was a silent promise to finish what they’d started back in the horse stall. But then, in his peripheral vision, he spotted his sons and Uncle Rider cooling down their horses in the outer corral.

More than likely, she was simply giving him the warning that they now had an audience. Playtime was over, and they were back to being adversaries.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Violet finished her list of exhibits for the pretrial hearing and closed her laptop before deciding to take a long run to clear her brain. She’d tried to put Marcus out of her mind for the past few days but couldn’t stop thinking about how close they’d actually come to both literally and figuratively having a roll in the hay.

She especially couldn’t stop thinking about how his initial response had been to protect Tessa during his sister’s argument with her ex-boyfriend. Even with emotions running high, Marcus had been extremely professional in the way he’d handled the trespassing congressman, considering the fact that Violet herself had wanted to punch the jerk.

Marcus truly did have his family’s best interests at heart, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that he just wanted to protect his siblings. All of them. Including MJ. Now if she could only convince him that the way he was going about looking out for his brother would surely backfire.

She passed an old tree with a faded carving in its trunk along with an arrow. RKx2 was here. Finn had explained to Violet that as boys, their father and Uncle Rider used to carry pocketknives and scratch their initials into trees along their favorite trails so that they would know where they’d already explored.

“RKx2 is a lot shorter to write than spelling out Rider King and Roper King every time,” Finn had said. “If you follow the arrows below the initials, they’ll always point you toward the stables so you can’t get lost. They were adults, though, when they purchased the western acres. So if you ever end up on that side of the ranch, you better have a GPS because there aren’t any RKx2 markers over there.”

Every time Violet went for a run, she always tried to follow the marked trees on the east side, since it gave her a better sense of direction. However, seeing the carving today gave her an unexpected sense of comfort, as well. Marcus’s father had been one of the smartest and most diplomatic men she’d ever known. Sure, he was a politician and could smooth talk with the best of them. Yet, he always knew the right thing to say and exactly when to say it.

“Hey, Mr. King, if you’re up there listening, maybe you could give me the right words to talk to your oldest son.” She felt silly making the request aloud. Mostly because her job was to come up with convincing arguments. So she added, “Preferably at a time when he’s willing to actually listen.”

She was only a mile into her run when she passed the small road leading to the family cemetery and saw Marcus’s patrol vehicle parked at the top. Her heart skipped several beats. She hadn’t expected the opportunity to talk to the man to pop up this soon.

Violet paused, jogging in place. She shouldn’t interrupt him while he was visiting his father’s grave. But then again, she had asked Roper King himself for a sign. What should she say, though?

After arguing with herself for several minutes, she finally decided to continue her run, taking the two-mile loop path skirting a cluster of trees. She told herself that if Marcus was still there when she returned this way, then she would approach him.

Violet wasn’t the fastest runner to begin with, and despite slowing her pace, his vehicle was still there when she finally made it back to the crossroad. Ugh. Even though she’d yet to come up with the right words, she was going to have to say something. Otherwise, she’d regret wasting the opportunity and then spend the rest of the day kicking herself for not having the courage.

And Violet didn’t want any more regrets when it came to Marcus King.

Rolling her shoulders a few times before walking through the gated path, she expected to find him standing in front of the newest—and biggest—granite headstone in the cemetery. When she realized he was standing in front of his wife’s headstone, though, Violet froze before trying to quietly backtrack her steps.

Unfortunately, Marcus had already turned his head and spotted her.

She lifted her hand in a wave before realizing that maybe that wasn’t the most appropriate greeting under the circumstances. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I was just hoping to catch you...” Not alone. Don’t say alone. “I should’ve waited until you were done with your visit.”

“I was pretty much done.” Marcus rocked back on his boot heels. “What’s up?”

Violet should’ve brought up the subject of MJ, but instead said the first thing that popped into her head. “Tell me about her.”

Judging from the surprised expression that crossed his face, he clearly hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “About Brie?”

Damn it. Maybe that was out of bounds. “I mean, only if it’s not weird.”

“Everything has been weird since you arrived, Vi. So why would we want to go back to normal now?” Marcus let out a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I might as well tell you all about her since she knew all about you.”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. “You talked to your wife about me?”

“Yeah. I used to talk to her about everything. I mean, not initially. We’d gone to high school together but never really hung out back then. According to her, she had a crush on me, but everyone knew I was in love with someone else who lived far away.” Marcus obviously meant Violet, but she didn’t want to make this conversation about her, so she nodded, and he continued, “I was a mess after I got out of boot camp. I had a one-week leave before starting my advanced individual training school, so I came back to the ranch to get over...whatever had gone wrong between us. Duke was playing in some garage band back then with Dahlia’s ex-husband and talked me into coming to one of their gigs. Brie was there, and she came over to say hi. I ended up crying in my beer the whole night and telling her all about us. Or at least the version of us that I knew at the time.”

Violet didn’t like the feeling of jealousy blossoming inside her. Not because Marcus had shared the details of their relationship with another woman, but because Violet hadn’t been able to do the same. Her mother had insisted that they needed to keep the whole thing quiet so that it didn’t affect her senate reelection bid. The only other person who’d known was her dad, but he had a tendency to revert to baseball jargon during emotionally vulnerable moments. And nobody wanted to hear “Sometimes you hit a few foul balls before you get that grand slam” after a bad breakup.

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, “Brie asked if I wanted to keep in contact while I was at AIT and assured me that she wasn’t interested in some sort of rebound fling. I guess she thought I seemed like I could use a friend. Mostly we just followed each other on social media and would text every once in a while. Then, when I went on deployment, she started sending me care packages and little notes and funny cards. I never really stopped thinking about you, but talking to Brie helped keep my mind off what I’d lost. When my four years was up, I came back to Wyoming. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to fall in love again after you, but she won me over. Being with her just seemed...easy.”

Of course it was easy. Brie didn’t have a famous mother trying to keep them physically and emotionally separated. Violet glanced at the headstone, then asked, “Do the twins get to see her family often?”

“Actually, she was raised by her grandparents. Her grandma passed away right after high school, and her grandpa moved into an assisted-living place out in Cheyenne before we started dating.”

“Oh, that must’ve been hard for her. To feel so alone at such a young age.”

Marcus nodded. “Probably, but Brie never showed it. She was one of those glass-half-full kind of people. Always had a smile on her face, never said anything bad about anyone. My mom joked that she would’ve been the perfect politician’s wife, but Brie never had those kinds of ambitions. Which was good, because I didn’t, either. She seemed happy being married to a small-town cop and loved being a mom.”

Violet heard the quiet part out loud. Brie didn’t bring along the baggage of an interfering family. Unlike Violet, who had a controlling mother and who—in Marcus’s mind at the time—had chosen her career over their children.

He’d fallen in love with Violet’s exact opposite. She’d seen a few framed pictures of Brie and Marcus back at the main house, and even appearance wise, the women had completely different coloring and dressed very differently. A shiver of rejection made its way down Violet’s spine.

“I really am sorry for your loss, Marcus. That must’ve been so hard on you and the boys.” She bit her lip. “They must really miss their mom.”

His jaw was rigid as he gave a stiff nod.

“And again, I’m sorry for interrupting your visit.”

“More like a therapy session.” He lifted his face to the sun before shrugging. “I’d been avoiding this place for years before my dad died. In fact, I was dreading his funeral for this very reason. I hated the reminder of what I’d lost. What my sons had lost. But that day at the graveside service, I saw her headstone without so much as a flower on it, and it made me realize that I shouldn’t have allowed my hurt to keep me away. Since you’ve gotten here... I don’t know how to explain it, but it just felt like I should be filling her in on everything going on. The boys, MJ, you. She was a good wife and mother, but more than anything else, she was always a great listener. A great partner.”

Violet inhaled deeply, unsure of this raw emotion gnawing at something inside of her. It wasn’t quite jealousy, despite the fact that she clearly would never be able to fill Brie’s shoes when it came to being a loving mother or a doting wife—not that anyone was trying to compete with the memory of a dead woman. Nor was it the implication that Violet’s sudden appearance had reopened all of Marcus’s old wounds and talking to Brie was again the one thing that seemed to bring him any sort of comfort.

Rather, hearing about Marcus’s wife and how much he’d loved her made Violet feel more remorse than anything else. Like she was causing him to be disloyal in some way to Brie. She never would have kissed him knowing he wasn’t ready to move on.

She glanced at the freshly turned earth of Roper King’s gravesite. There were two flower arrangements which were too fresh to have been leftover from the funeral weeks ago. There was also a collection of little trinkets lined up along the granite ledge, such as a set of gold pilot wings, a thirty-year sobriety chip and a small US flag in a weighted stand.

But the item that caught her attention was a freshly cut log leaning against the headstone with RKx2 carved into the bark. Perhaps Rider had simply stopped by to visit his brother. Or maybe it was another sign from Marcus’s father. It didn’t matter, though. There was no way she was going to talk to him about MJ right now. In fact, maybe she’d misread the earlier signs, and Roper King was actually trying to tell her to return to the main house and give his son space.

“Can I give you a ride back down the hill?” Marcus asked.

“No, thanks.” She forced a polite smile. “I still need to finish my run.”

Marcus had his own demons and hardships he needed to face without her chiming in with her two cents every time they disagreed. It was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn’t Violet’s place to be his voice of reason. She’d forfeited that opportunity to another woman long ago.

* * *

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Aunt Freckles asked Marcus the following Friday evening when he dropped off the twins at the main house for the weekly meal that was becoming a bit too frequent. It was also a bit too tension-filled—even by King standards—now that peacekeeping Duke had returned to duty on his aircraft carrier.

“Nah. I’m covering a shift for one of my deputies who needed the night off.”

“What a coincidence.” Freckles pursed her coral-painted lips. “Violet won’t be here for dinner, either.”

“Where’s she going?” Marcus asked more suspiciously than he’d intended.

“I didn’t ask, seeing as how she’s a grown woman and it’s not my business.” Freckles challenged Marcus with an impish grin.

“Is that your way of telling me that it’s not my business, either?”

“Of course it’s his business,” Sherilee King said sarcastically as she came striding into the kitchen. “Didn’t you hear, Freckles? My son is the sheriff of the whole entire county and thinks he’s in charge of everything and everyone in his jurisdiction.”

Marcus didn’t give his mother the satisfaction of rolling his eyes. He was not going to engage in the same old argument that neither of them would win.

“Now, Sherilee, don’t give the boy such a hard time for doing his job.”

“Thank you, Aunt Freckles.” Finally someone was on his side.

But before he could relish in his triumph, Freckles pointed an oven mitt in his direction. “And you don’t give your mama a hard time for doing her job and protecting her babies.”

“You mean baby, singular,” Marcus corrected. “Only one of her young cubs is getting the full mama-bear protection, and it certainly isn’t me.”

“Oh, I’m protecting you, Marcus.” His mother reached for the hunk of cheddar Freckles had been shredding for her baked macaroni and cheese casserole. His mom only ate dairy products when she was stressed. Or when she was annoyed. Or when she thought no one was watching. She chewed before adding, “You’re just too stubborn to see it.”

“You’re protecting me?” Marcus snorted. “How? By undermining my job and my role in the community? Or by installing my ex-girlfriend in our family home to argue with me at every turn?”

“You think I’m enjoying all the increased tension around here?” His mom slapped a manicured hand on the counter. “Every time I turn around, you’re squabbling with Violet, or Freckles is bickering with Rider. Even my sweet Duke was getting testy on some secret phone call before he left. And then there’s troublemaking Finn egging everyone on like she’s an announcer at the state rodeo. My husband—the love of my life—just died, yet my home is filled with so much damn chaos and shouting I can’t even hear myself think.”

“You eat any more of my cheese, Sherilee, and you’re going to have plenty of time alone to think. In the bathroom.” Freckles took the wedge of decimated cheddar away from her sister-in-law. “Besides, Rider and I don’t bicker. We engage in verbal wrestling, which isn’t nearly as fun as our mattress wrestling—”

“Really, Freckles?” His mom thankfully interrupted his aunt. “Do you have to be so graphic all the time?”

“Stop being such a prude, Sher. You have six kids, so it’s not like you didn’t have a little fun in your marriage, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m not going around bragging about it to the whole damn world.”

“Give it a rest, you two!” Marcus suddenly went from defending himself to refereeing a forty-year dispute between the biggest verbal combatants in the entire King family. He lifted his brow at his mother. “And you accuse everyone else of arguing?”

“This isn’t an argument,” his mom countered. “This is a discussion. Right, Freckles?”

“Yep. Just a little conversation to clear the air.”

“Oh, so now you guys decide to agree?” This time, Marcus did give in and rolled his eyes. “To gang up on me?”

“We’re not ganging up on you, darlin’.” Freckles tsked. “We’re demonstrating healthy dialogue. Showing you there’s nothing wrong with voicing your feelings and concerns.”

“I talk about my feelings,” he said, thinking of his trip to the cemetery the other day. It was the second visit he’d made to see Brie since his father’s funeral, which was incredible progress considering he previously hadn’t been there in over five years.

This time, his mother was the one rolling her eyes. “Perhaps you should try talking to someone who is alive, Marcus. Someone who will actually give you the advice you don’t think you need.”

“Ouch,” Freckles said as she tossed some shredded cheese into a simmering pot. “That was harsh, Sherilee. True. But harsh. No wonder the kids get so frustrated with you.”

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on my children?” His mother and aunt continued their so-called healthy dialogue with such intensity they didn’t seem to notice Marcus slipping out the back door.

His head was throbbing, his stomach was buzzing with hunger, and now he was working a night shift to avoid having dinner with a woman who wasn’t even going to be there, anyway.

No. He wasn’t avoiding Violet. He was just... Hell. He didn’t know what he was doing. Marcus stared at his tired reflection in his rearview mirror. Talking to Brie had always used to make him feel better, but maybe his mom was right. There was a difference between venting and actually receiving feedback.

He’d told Violet that Brie had been a great listener, which was true. But his wife had also never talked about what was bothering her. She avoided conflict whenever possible and rarely challenged him with a differing opinion. Or told him something he hadn’t wanted to hear. Being with Brie had been almost too easy at times. Too simple.

Yet nothing was simple anymore.

He’d always used to talk to Violet when they were younger, but it might be too late to go back to being friends now. Especially after their recent kisses proved that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself whenever he was around her. That left his only options as fighting with her or avoiding her.

Unless she was avoiding him first.

Why wasn’t she having dinner with his family tonight? He pulled out his phone to text her before realizing he didn’t have her number.

Before he could give it another thought, a call came over his handheld radio. “Be advised we have reports of an altercation taking place at Teton Ridge High School.”

It could be worse, he told himself as he drove toward the highway. Nothing could top last year when the varsity basketball team was in the playoffs and Marcus had to arrest his former math teacher for streaking across the court during the fourth quarter wearing nothing but blue and gold body paint.

Then the radio crackled to life again and the dispatcher added, “Make that two altercations. And some possible vandalism. All units, please respond.”

Crap. Marcus switched on his siren before advising dispatch he was en route. At least this was a public-disturbance call that didn’t involve anyone from his family.

* * *

If Violet had to sit through one more antagonistic family meal with Marcus, she’d probably scream loud enough to shatter the crystal chandelier in the formal dining room of the main house. Last Friday, Connor Remington, the new owner of one of the neighboring ranches, had come to dinner and had spent the whole evening exchanging flirtatious glances with Dahlia. But the only glances Violet received across the table that night were seething glares from Marcus, who had just found out that she’d filed a motion for discovery to have his department’s Breathalyzer tested for accuracy. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the insinuation that his equipment wasn’t maintained properly.

Not that Violet was an entirely innocent party when it came to their petty bickering. She’d known the Breathalyzer results were likely accurate because MJ had admitted to her that he’d had quite a bit to drink before getting arrested. Still, she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t pursue every possible avenue of defense. Besides, if she was too busy fighting with Marcus, then she didn’t have time to think about how damn attractive he always looked in his sheriff’s uniform.

At least that had been her initial strategy dealing with her ex-boyfriend who was making her feel all sorts of things she probably shouldn’t.

Now, though, her strategy was to escape him altogether by hiding out in an overheated and overcrowded high-school gymnasium, watching a high-stakes basketball game she had absolutely zero interest in.

She couldn’t even claim that she was only there hoping to find some character witnesses for MJ’s case. When Roper King had become vice president, MJ had been forced to move to Washington, DC, and attend a private school, where he hadn’t exactly excelled.

No, Violet had come to the game because the only thing to do on a cold Friday night in Teton Ridge was to get a drink at Big Millie’s or go to a high-school sporting event. And since she’d already been to the saloon, she’d thought she’d give basketball a try. Plus, she might run into Reed Nakamoto or Judge Calhoun at the game, which would hopefully give them the impression that she wasn’t a total outsider from the big city.

It wasn’t until halftime that Violet finally saw Judge Calhoun. She was behind him in line at the concession stand, and one of the parents wearing a Fling Rock High School sweatshirt dropped a tray of nachos on the judge’s brand-new white high-top sneakers. Some heated words were exchanged, and the next thing Violet knew, punches were flying and she and another woman were pulling the judge from a brawl he’d caused by his overreaction to a few accidental drops of nacho cheese.

Several other parents stepped in to break up the fight, but the sound of approaching sirens could already be heard from the parking lot. The small concession area of the gym filled as the bleachers cleared and everyone came to see what was going on. There was a lot of finger-pointing over who’d thrown the first punch, and eventually Violet found her way to a nearby bench to try to wipe off the ketchup that had gotten all over her suede boot when someone lost their hot dog in the altercation.

“That’s the woman who saw everything go down, Sheriff,” Violet heard a woman say, and her stomach dropped.

No, she thought to herself, refusing to look up so her eyes wouldn’t confirm what her gut was already telling her. He wasn’t supposed to be on duty. He was supposed to be having dinner at the Twin Kings. But when she saw the black utility boots approach her, Violet knew exactly whose legs would be attached to them.

Marcus.

“Oh, hey,” Violet said a little too nonchalantly. She crumpled the red-stained napkins in her hand as she stood to meet him.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, concern evident in his blue eyes as he searched her face for injuries. Her heart did a little flip. She liked this compassionate and nonaccusatory version of Marcus.

“No. It’s just ketchup. The lady in line behind me got drenched with orange soda, so I’ll consider myself lucky.”

Marcus scrubbed at the lower half of his face, but not before she saw the grin he was trying to hold back. When he got his expression under control, he said, “I wish you’d told me that you were coming to the game tonight. I would’ve warned you to avoid the concession stand and the restrooms during halftime.”

“The restrooms, too, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. People take their high-school games pretty seriously around here. Broman is currently dealing with the fight in the ladies’ room, and I’ve got two other deputies searching for some seniors in the parking lot who were letting the air out of the tires on any car with a Fling Rock bumper sticker.”

“Well, kids can pull stupid pranks when school pride is on the line.”

“No, not seniors in high school. Senior citizens.” Marcus bit his lower lip, probably to keep himself from joining Violet as she snorted with repressed laughter. He was the sheriff and had to maintain at least the image of being in control of an otherwise chaotic situation. “I knew I shouldn’t have volunteered to cover this shift tonight.”

So she’d been right, and he wasn’t supposed to be on duty. Not that she was trying to keep track of his schedule. “At least you can’t blame me for adding to your troubles this time.”

“No, but I heard you were at the center of it. Mrs. Singh said you two broke up the fight in here.”

“Who?” Violet craned her neck to see around his shoulder.

Marcus pointed to the woman who’d helped Violet hold the judge back. She was using a napkin to blot orange soda off a letterman’s jacket embroidered with a beaker and the words TRHS Science Squad. “Mrs. Singh. The chemistry teacher.”

“Oh, right.” The crowd was finally dispersing, and it sounded like the second half of the game was beginning. Violet squinted at the handful of people watching them, including the scowling parent from the rival high school who’d spilled the nachos on the judge. “What happened to Judge Calhoun?”

“He should be in the back of a patrol car by now.”

“No!” Violet’s head jerked back to face him. “Did you seriously arrest a judge, Marcus? The one presiding over your brother’s case?”

Marcus rested his hands on his duty belt. “Did he throw the first punch?”

“Yes.”

“Violet, I told you that I do things by the book, and nobody in this town gets special treatment. It’ll be up to the prosecutor’s office to decide if they want to file charges.”

What had been an almost comical situation had suddenly taken a very serious turn. A dull ache formed above Violet’s temple as she considered the possible ramifications of this. “But there are only two circuit judges for the entire county. And one already recused herself from the case. If Calhoun gets removed from the bench due to judicial misconduct, it could take months for the state to appoint someone else to hear MJ’s case.”

Marcus rolled his shoulders dismissively. “Then it takes months.”

She searched his eyes for some clue that he was hoping to delay the trial to get her to give up and return to Dallas. “I’m not leaving just because the trial date gets extended. Do you seriously think you can play nice and get along with me for that long?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “But it’s out of my hands. I have to do my job, Vi. Even if the end result means prolonging all this damn sexual tension between us.”

A tingle went down the back of her neck. At least he was acknowledging that he was having the same reaction to her presence as she was having to his. Really, she should be relieved that, as the sheriff, he was acting impartially and beyond reproach. Judge Calhoun really should be held to the same standards as everyone else in town.

Violet gave herself a little shake. “Fine. Do you need my witness statement?”

“Actually, do you think you can come to the station and give it? We’re short staffed, and I don’t want our volunteer Rod processing Calhoun’s book and release all by himself.”

Violet’s stomach fluttered in hunger. In her efforts to avoid him at the family meal, Violet had missed out on one of Freckles’s home-cooked dinners only to get herself caught up in the middle of some small-town basketball rivalry. Now she was starving, and she was going to end up spending the bulk of her evening with the very guy she’d been trying to dodge in the first place.

“Sure,” she said before she could overthink it. “But I’m going to stop at Biscuit Betty’s on my way there. I haven’t had dinner yet, and suddenly nachos and hot dogs don’t sound all that appetizing.”

“Perfect. Will you grab me a chicken biscuit while you’re there? Maybe a side of potato wedges?”

She tilted her head, not sure if she was quite ready to play that nicely yet. “Will you stop pretending to ignore me whenever we’re in public?”

“I’m not ignoring you.” His voice grew low and seductive as he stepped closer to her. “In fact, I’m very aware of your presence, and it takes every scrap of control I possess not to pull you into my arms and kiss you senseless every damn time I see you. But we both have opposing jobs to do, and people expect us to stay in our lanes and not get too chummy.”

She stared at him in shock. “So all those times you start arguments with me, that’s just for show?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like arguing with you.” He smiled. “I just like kissing you more.”

Marcus winked at her before walking away to interview the remaining witnesses. Violet’s stomach went from rumbling to doing somersaults. If she were being honest with herself, she enjoyed kissing him more than arguing with him, as well.

But since he’d pointed out that they were supposed to be at odds, she couldn’t very well bring him dinner without raising a few eyebrows. So when she stopped at Biscuit Betty’s on her way to the station, she ordered enough food to feed the dispatcher, the volunteer and all the deputies on duty. Then she thought about Judge Calhoun and anyone else the Ridgecrest County Sheriff’s Department might’ve arrested at the game and doubled her order.

When the young server gave her the total amount due, Violet smiled and said, “Sheriff King wanted you to put it all on his tab.”

CHAPTER NINE

There was no kissing for Marcus last Friday night after the brawl at the high-school basketball game. Judge Calhoun had been booked at the station and then released, but instead of going home, the man had sat at the front desk with Rod discussing the difficulty of getting stains out of white leather sneakers. Of course, Calhoun was talking about cheese sauce, and Rod was talking about blood splatters. But at least there were no hard feelings from the judge regarding his arrest. In fact, he said he had been planning to retire soon anyway so he could fulfill his lifelong dream of attending a game at every NBA stadium in the country.

Violet delivered the chicken biscuit as promised—as well as enough food to feed everyone who’d ever worked within a two block radius of the county buildings—and then gave her statement. But Marcus’s deputies had processed five other arrests from that night, a record for his small department, and he hadn’t been able to talk to her alone.

He got his bill from Biscuit Betty’s the following day and nearly laughed at his ex-girlfriend’s audacity. No wonder two of the people they’d brought in had jokingly asked Violet to be their attorney. He had no idea if she’d agreed to represent them, but she was certainly busy doing something, because he’d seen her at least three times that week filing documents at the courthouse.

It wasn’t until the following Friday that Marcus finally got a chance to talk to Violet alone. Or at least not in front of the entire town.

His sister Tessa had been on the Junior Olympic diving team when an accident in high school had derailed her career. Agent Wyatt had secured the use of the heated indoor pool every day this week after the rec center closed to the public so that Tessa could practice diving again. Their mom and Aunt Freckles had insisted on turning this week’s family dinner into a pool party and picked up a dozen pizzas from the Pepperoni Stampede in town.

“I thought you weren’t going to ignore me in public anymore,” Violet said to Marcus after the boys jumped into the water.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he replied, still in his uniform. He’d stopped by the cabin after work to grab the boys’ swimsuits but didn’t want to make them wait while he changed. “I’m standing right here talking to you. In a public building.”

“Technically. But you know that I’m referring to the four times you saw me at the courthouse this past week.”

“I only saw you three times,” he corrected before realizing he’d walked right into her trap.

One corner of her mouth turned up in a gotcha grin. “So then, why didn’t you speak to me?”

“About what?” He lifted his eyebrow with a challenge of his own. “Did you want me to discuss the red lipstick you were wearing on Tuesday morning and how it’s my absolute favorite color on you? Or perhaps we could’ve talked about the high heels you were wearing on Wednesday afternoon and how they made your legs look a million inches long? Maybe I should’ve complimented your windblown hair yesterday? Told you that it reminded me of the time I pulled it out of all those bobby pins at your homecoming dance right before we—”

She shoved a half-eaten slice of Hawaiian pizza into his mouth to keep him from saying anything else in front of the kids, who were splashing around in the shallow end. “Ew, I hate pineapple on pizza.”

“I know.” She wiped her hands on a napkin as they stood shoulder to shoulder. “So the only thing you can think of talking to me about when you see me in town is my appearance?”

Marcus finished chewing before replying, “It’s not the only thing. But it was either that or ask you whether you had agreed to represent the same people my deputies had just arrested the previous weekend. I figured the first topic would get you all heated and aroused, and the second would get you all heated and pissed off. As much as I like to see you all hot and bothered, I figured it was best to not say anything when there were so many people around.”

“You were right about the second, but not about the first. Both topics would’ve been condescending with zero chance of arousal.”

“Really?” he asked, trying to get her to make eye contact with him. When she wouldn’t, he smiled to himself. “Then why are you aroused right now?”

Violet carefully studied something off in the distance, refusing to give him so much as a side-eye. “Who says I am?”

“Your neck is all flushed, and your cheeks are getting rosy.”

She swiped the back of her hand across her face, as though she could wipe away her telltale blush. “It’s just warm in here. There’s not much air circulation.”

She’d shed her tailored suit jacket earlier, and he tilted his own head forward, purposely dropping his gaze to her breasts. Or more specifically, to her hardened nipples, which were perfectly outlined under the thin fabric of her silky white blouse. He waited for her to notice the subject of his gaze, then lowered his mouth closer to her ear and whispered, “That usually only happens when you’re cold. Or when you’re aroused.”

She gasped and quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Hey, you asked.” He smiled innocently then took another bite of pizza. Dang. He forgot about the pineapple. He tossed the piece into a nearby trash.

When he returned to where she was standing, she was the one smiling innocently. “For the record, I did agree to represent two of the people you guys arrested last week.”

“So you’re staying in town longer?”

“We’ll see. Judge Calhoun will likely plead guilty to a lesser charge because he’s anxious to avoid trial and start his retirement trip.”

“Are you kidding me? You agreed to represent Calhoun?”

“Yes. But I charged him a notably high retainer. The other client I’m representing pro bono.”

“Who’s that?” Marcus asked, yet he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“Rose Roosevelt.”

Marcus smacked his palm to his forehead. “The woman who accosted the ref in the locker room after the game?”

“No, the concerned mom who followed the referee off the court to explain that his bad call was going to affect her son’s stats, which would in turn affect his chances of earning a much-needed college scholarship.”

“Violet. Rose’s son plays second-string center and can’t block a shot without fouling someone. Jumping on the referee’s back and trying to put him in a choke hold isn’t going to get the kid a college scholarship.”

“Marcus, she’s a single mom.”

“Who committed an assault and battery.”

“Allegedly,” Violet corrected him.

Marcus rolled his eyes. “So are you taking the case because you feel sorry for her? Or are you doing it just to have something else to argue about with me?”

“You know—” Violet made a tsking sound before shaking her head “—arguing with you really isn’t as enthralling for me as you seem to believe it is.”

“Then why do you keep coming up with new ways to do it?” he asked.

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re just spoiling for a fight?” she replied. But before he could reply, Jack interrupted them.

“Hey, Violet, watch this!” his son shouted before he did a cannonball into the water.

“That was great.” She smiled and gave a little clap, which only encouraged Jack to want to show off more daring tricks. After each one, the boy would look to her for more applause.

“Hey, Violet.” Jordan bounced up and down on his toes. “I’m trying to figure out how much lung capacity I got. Time me to see how long I can hold my breath.”

Marcus and Violet stood side by side a foot away from the pool’s edge. There was a huge clock on the opposite wall, but Violet kept glancing at her wristwatch, giving Marcus the impression that she was counting down the seconds until she could politely leave.

“Do you want to come swimming with us, Violet?” Jordan asked when he emerged from the water thirty seconds later. “I watched a video on how to do CPR so I can save you if you start drowning.”

“Well, that’s very reassuring, Jordan, but I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

Jack lifted his goggles. “You could borrow one from Aunt Tessa or Aunt Finn.”

Great. Marcus could barely take his eyes off Violet when she was wearing business attire. If she put on a bathing suit, everyone in this rec center would be watching him to see his reaction. In fact, his mom and aunt were all the way on the other side of the pool, making no secret of their interest in his and Violet’s current interaction. He knew she didn’t have the heart to tell either of his sons no, so he spoke up. “Hey, buddy, Violet would rather hang out up here on the deck and watch you guys play.”

Both boys pouted, their little shoulders sagging in defeat. Violet, who clearly wasn’t used to telling children no, whipped her head in Marcus’s direction. “How do you know what I’d rather do?”

He pivoted as he stepped in front of her, blocking his sons from witnessing yet another one of their disagreements. Facing her, he whispered, “Really, Vi? I’m trying to get you off the hook here.”

“I don’t need you to get me off any hooks, Marcus. You don’t get to decide what I do, and you certainly don’t get to speak on my behalf.”

“Oh, come on.” He put both of his hands on top of his head as he lifted his face to the ceiling in frustration. “This is a prime example of you once again finding some bogus reason to argue with me. If you had wanted to go swimming, then you clearly would’ve brought a bathing suit.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right.” Violet took a step closer to him and slowly lifted her hands to his shoulders, letting her palms gently slide down to his chest. “And if you hadn’t wanted to go swimming, then clearly you wouldn’t have acted like such an overbearing ass.”

The next thing Marcus knew, he was falling backward with too much force to regain his balance. He heard the powerful splash before feeling the heavily chlorinated water surround him and pull him below the surface. Luckily, he was in the shallow end and was able to quickly find his footing and stand up. Unluckily, he was still dressed in his full uniform, heavy boots and duty belt full of gear, including his semiautomatic handgun and full ammo cartridges.

When he shook the water out of his ears, he could hear the twins and his niece Amelia shrieking with laughter. Or maybe that was Finn and Aunt Freckles. The acoustics of the tiled walls caused all the howling and cheering to echo around him.

Violet remained at the edge of the pool, humor reflecting in her eyes as she stared down her nose at him, the upward tilt of her mouth smugly reassuring him that she wasn’t the least bit sorry that she’d shoved him into the pool. She must’ve seen him lift his hand to the surface because she quickly jumped back before he could send a retaliatory spray of water in her direction. She even had the nerve to giggle at her superior reflexes before taunting him. “You missed.”

“You’re safe for now,” Marcus promised her. “Just remember. Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Violet watched him intently, though, clearly not trusting him to not come after her for payback. He took advantage of her rapt attention by unzipping his soaked jacket and pitching it onto the deck. Next, he worked on the buttons of his uniform shirt, maintaining eye contact with Violet as he shrugged out of the waterlogged fabric and threw it on top of the jacket. He had to peel his white T-shirt off his torso and over his head before adding it to the pile, but his effort was rewarded when he saw Violet’s tongue dart out as she licked her lips.

Good. Now she might understand why he’d been so reluctant to approach her in town when he already couldn’t take his eyes off her. Satisfaction, and maybe a touch of pride, caused his chest muscles to stand at attention. When she jerked her eyes up to meet his, he gave her a satisfied wink.

Then, because he hadn’t gone swimming with his sons since summer break, he turned to the kids and asked, “Who wants to play rocket launcher?”

* * *

“So now that Tessa’s gone back to Washington, DC—” Freckles stood in front of Violet holding a small tray with a chicken-pesto sandwich, pasta salad and a slice of homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie “—Roper’s old study is available for use. It might be a little more comfortable than this.”

Violet moved aside some papers on the wicker patio table so Marcus’s aunt could put down the tray. “Actually, I’m pretty comfortable out here in the pool house. But I’ll gladly move into the study if that makes it easier for you to bring me lunch. Your pie is still the best, Freckles.”

Violet had long ago given up on trying to convince the older woman that she didn’t need to provide lunch every day, let alone bring it across the yard and to the pool house. It was clear that Freckles was missing her restaurant back in Idaho and truly enjoyed serving home-cooked meals to whoever she thought needed it.

“Oh, you know me, darlin’. I like the chance to come outside and get away from Sherilee bugging me in the kitchen.”

“Good. Because the Wi-Fi is surprisingly strong out here, and it’s much quieter away from the rest of the family. Plus, the twins already helped me decorate.” Violet pointed to the numerous drawings taped to the shelves that used to hold sunscreen and beach towels, as well as the pine-cone and feather collections lining the wet bar.

“Those boys are really taken with you.” Freckles plopped herself down on one of the cushioned chaise lounge chairs, extending her feet in front of her. The eighty-year-old woman was wearing five-inch wedged sandals, and Violet wanted to know how she managed to walk in those things. “You know, according to Rider, Marcus has never brought a woman home since Brie passed.”

“I think we both know he didn’t bring me home, either.” Violet unfolded the napkin and put it in her lap. Besides, just because he hadn’t brought a woman to the Twin Kings didn’t mean he hadn’t dated anyone since his wife’s death. Not that it was any of Violet’s business.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking ’bout, darlin’. Those boys lost their mama before they even knew her. Now they have you here giving them all your attention.”

Violet’s hands went all cold and clammy, and she nearly dropped her fork. She was the furthest thing from being a mother figure to anyone and wouldn’t know how to act like one even if she’d tried. She cleared her throat. “They’ve grown up with Finn and Dahlia and even Sherilee taking care of them.”

“Yeah, but it’s different having a woman here who isn’t related to their daddy. Plus, they’re smart boys. They can tell there’s something going on with you and Marcus. Just like the rest of us can.”

“Really? Because here I was thinking that their dad and I can’t even stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“Yeah. About that. The boys’ birthday party is coming up. Sherilee has already blown through her secret stash of ice cream, stress-eating over the event. This is the first party she’s thrown since the funeral, and a lot of townspeople will be here. Any chance you and my nephew can call a cease-fire for the day?”

Violet was gripping her sandwich so firmly a slice of chicken fell onto her lap. “Actually, I planned to fly back to Texas next week to take care of some personal business.”

“You know, I always thought that was interesting. You living in Dallas.”

“What do you mean? Lots of people live there.”

“Sure they do. But your mama’s family is from San Antonio. You went to boarding school in Washington, DC, college in California and law school in Boston.” Freckles didn’t miss a beat. And she’d once accused Marcus of creeping around the internet. “So why put down roots in Dallas?”

“I wouldn’t say I put down roots exactly.” Violet had a feeling the canny older woman was trying to steer this conversation somewhere, so she answered cautiously. “I have a nice condo and a good job, but I could be a public defender anywhere. Most of my friends from school are spread all over the globe. I guess Dallas just seemed to be a nice middle ground, so to speak.”

“You mean it was far enough away from your mama in Washington but also close enough in her home state that she couldn’t give you too much of a hard time. I get it. I did the same thing when I wanted to get out from under my parents’ thumbs.” Freckles arched one orange-tinted brow. “So when are you gonna tell her you’re here?”

Great. Now the rest of the King family thought Violet was afraid to confront her mother, too. She wasn’t, but that didn’t mean that she could simply handle the senator the same way she handled everything else. Violet sat up straighter. “I’ll see my mom next Friday night, and I’ll tell her then. Unfortunately, I won’t be back in time for the party.”

“But the twins will be heartbroken if you’re not here.” Freckles clutched one manicured hand dramatically to the left side of her enormous bosom, which was barely contained in a hot-pink velour tracksuit.

Violet remembered the first time Marcus’s sons had invited her to their birthday party. It was the afternoon of Roper’s funeral. The boys had talked nonstop about it since then, and she’d never told them that she wouldn’t be attending. She sighed. “They’ll be more heartbroken if I’m fighting with their dad the whole time.”

“Marcus isn’t going to fight with you in front of all the guests.” Freckles stood up easily in her heels and walked to the door. Before she left, she added, “After all, he learned his lesson about getting mouthy with you after his little dip in the pool last week.”

Ugh.

Violet had tried not to think of the incident at the rec center. Sure, she’d been impressed with how little reaction Marcus had shown after she’d shoved him into the pool. In fact, he’d been such a good sport he’d stayed in the water and played with the kids, launching them into the air as they squealed in excitement.

But not before he’d all but done a quasi-striptease for her benefit. Sure, he’d wanted to get out of his wet clothes, and nobody else at the rec center had probably thought anything of it. However, the way he’d watched Violet as he’d slowly peeled off his shirt would’ve been downright provocative if they hadn’t had most of the King family and half the Secret Service team surrounding them.

She shook her head to clear her mind of the mental image. Instead, she tried to remember the twins’ excitement at having their dad play with them and insisting that she watch them do backflips off his broad shoulders. Freckles was right. Jack and Jordan, for whatever reason, really seemed to enjoy having Violet around. It probably would break their hearts if she was a no-show for their party.

Okay, so she’d go home, attend her mom’s fundraiser and then come back for their birthday. Maybe a week or so apart—truly apart and not running into each other on the ranch or in town—would give her and Marcus time to cool themselves down enough that a cease-fire wouldn’t even be necessary.

* * *

“I promise to be back before the party,” Violet told Jack when she walked them out to the back porch on Sunday evening after dinner.

“But what if you’re not back in time?” Jordan wanted to know.

“Then I’ll call you.” She looked to Marcus for some backup. However, his expression was almost as skeptical as his two sons’.

“But what if you forget?” Jack asked.

“Then you can call and remind me.” She knew the boys were fond of her, but when she announced at dinner that she would be going to Texas for the week, she hadn’t expected them to declare that they would miss her. She was touched that they cared so much, and yet she was also sad that they clearly had their doubts about her returning. Of course, they would have separation issues given the death of their mother and, more recently, their grandfather.

“Can I call you to tell you what we did in our science lab this week?” Jordan asked.

She smiled. “Of course.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “Can I call you to tell you how many laps I ran during PE?”

“I’ll be waiting by my phone.” She squeezed back.

“Can we call you to tell you how many times Uncle Rider says a bad word?”

“Maybe that would be better in a text message. I have a feeling he’s going to say quite a few while I’m gone.”

“Okay, boys.” Marcus bit back a grin. “Give Violet a hug and then hop in the car. It’s a school night, and we still need to hunt down Jack’s missing library book that’s due tomorrow.”

Violet wanted to hold on to the children and never let go. But their hugs were over too soon as they raced to their father’s patrol vehicle.

Marcus didn’t immediately follow his sons, and Violet suddenly wondered if he was expecting a goodbye hug, as well. Instead, he asked, “So are you going to tell your mom I said hi?”

Contrary to his accusation—and Freckles’s assumption—Violet had every intention of telling her mom she’d been staying in Wyoming to handle MJ’s case. Telling her about Marcus would be a whole other issue.

“That might not be the first thing I say to her,” Violet replied. After all, she had to be strategic about when and how the discussion happened. “But I’m sure your name will come up at some point, Marcus. The thing you have to keep in mind about my mother is that she’s a United States senator. She’s been shutting down her opposition on the Capitol floor at the national level and brokering trade deals at the global level since both of us were in diapers. It doesn’t take courage to confront my mom—it takes skill.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at his boots. “Look, if something comes up and you can’t make it back before the birthday party, that’s okay. The boys will be fine.”

The fact that he was already giving her permission to disappoint his children didn’t sit well with her. Were his expectations of her really that low? She used her finger to lift his chin until his eyes locked on hers. “I’ll see them on Saturday. You can bet on that.”

* * *

On Monday, she’d spent most of the flight to Dallas going over how she was going to approach the topic with her mom. Then she’d rewritten and rehearsed her speech several more times before Friday’s big event.

“You look beautiful, angel,” Violet’s father said when she descended the stairs at the hotel ballroom. The black-tie fundraiser was in full swing with hundreds of elegantly dressed guests enjoying the open bar and decadent appetizers, while a ten-piece orchestra played big-band dance tunes. Her dad gave her a tight squeeze, then kissed both of her cheeks. “That mountain air has been agreeing with you.”

Violet narrowed her eyes. “You know.”

“I had a hunch something was up when you didn’t leave the funeral with me and your mom that day. That hunch grew when I realized you were only responding to my texts instead of FaceTiming with me like you normally do. Then I stopped by your office last week after my sportscast to surprise you with lunch, and your assistant filled me in.”

Scanning the room, Violet saw her mother talking to a well-known socialite who was feeding bits of beef Wellington to the Pomeranian in her arms. “Did you tell Mom?”

“Do I look like a rookie playing in the minor leagues?”

She reached up and straightened her dad’s bow tie. “No. You look very handsome. As usual. So, do you think she’s going to overreact?”

“Not tonight. There’ll be too many important donors here to keep her from batting an eye at any curveball you send her way. But don’t be surprised when she calls you tomorrow to lecture you about your life choices.”

“I already did my scouting report,” she said, easily reverting to the familiar baseball euphemisms of her childhood. “I talked to her press secretary. Mom has a packed schedule the next two days, and then you guys fly to Geneva for that climate meeting with the United Nations.”

“Smart girl.” Her dad gave her a pat on the back. “You locked in your game-day strategy.”

“Game-day strategy for what?” her mom asked, having escaped the socialite with the fluffy dog.

“My new case,” Violet said before kissing her mother’s cheek. “Is that dress from the designer I suggested?”

Unable to resist a compliment, her mom ran a hand over the red sequins. “Yes. You were right about the color. I needed to update my style.”

“I usually am right about most things, Mom.” Violet smiled as the conversation began exactly as she’d planned it. But then she saw someone out of the corner of her eye and completely forgot what she was going to say next.

Congressman Davis Townsend was standing with a gray-haired couple on the other side of the dance floor, but he was staring directly at Violet. The last time Violet had seen him, Marcus had been escorting him from the Twin Kings. Crap. There was no way a kiss up like Townsend wouldn’t make his way over here eventually.

Plus, her dad had now slipped away to the buffet table and she might not get another one-on-one opportunity like this tonight. She needed to explain the Twin Kings situation to her mom before the congressman brought it up. Instead, she blurted, “Did you tell Marcus’s father that I had an abortion?”

“Violet,” her mother admonished between clenched teeth. “Now isn’t the time to discuss this.”

Crap. She’d been saving that topic for later in the conversation, but now she’d have to adapt and forge ahead. “Well, we could have discussed it fourteen years ago, but you took matters into your own hands then. So now we can talk about it on my terms. I’ll start. You shouldn’t have lied about what happened. Even if you thought you were doing it for my own good.”

“For the record, I never used the A word,” her mom said as she smiled at someone across the room and did a finger wave. “It’s not my fault the boy chose to believe what he wanted.”

“Why would he believe anything else? He never got any of my letters at boot camp.” Violet narrowed her eyes. “Or did you have something to do with that, as well?”

This time, her mother did gasp before quickly recovering her composure. “Of course I didn’t have anything to do with that. In fact, I picked up the phone several times to call the base commander and demand that they put Marcus on the phone immediately. I almost flew out there in person to knock some sense into him for ignoring your letters like that. You think I wanted to see my only daughter suffering?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t want to see us together. You were ultimately responsible for his silence afterward and didn’t do anything to change that. Why didn’t you ever approve of him, Mom?”

“Because no matter how well-connected his family was, I knew he was going to hold you back. He made no secret that he hated politics and desired nothing more than a small-town life. I wanted so much more for you.”

It was turning into the same argument they’d had a million times before. Violet sighed. “But I wanted him.”

“I know you did, angel.” Her mom reached out and gently stroked Violet’s bare upper arm. “You don’t think I remember how devastated you were? I was there. I saw what you went through. If I could’ve taken on that heartache for you, I would’ve traded spots in a second. But there was nothing I could do to ease your pain. The next time I ran into Roper King, I wasn’t about to give him or his son the satisfaction of thinking you were still pining in agony for some childhood crush. So, yes, I implied that you’d handled things and moved on with your life.”

“He was a lot more than a childhood crush, Mom. Marcus loved me and was just as devastated as I was.”

“Then why didn’t he come and see you? Why didn’t he fight for you?”

“Probably the same reason I didn’t fight for him,” Violet admitted, her heart still heavy as she wrestled with that truth. “We were young and hurting and didn’t know how to overcome the obstacle of someone who was trying to keep us apart.” She looked at her mother squarely. “Just keep in mind neither one of us are children anymore.”

Her mother straightened, once again schooling her expression from concerned mother to perfectly composed senator. “I know. I saw him staring at you at Roper King’s funeral. He’s still handsome, I’ll give you that. But if I hadn’t intervened back then, you’d be living on a ranch in the middle of Wyoming right now with no hope of a judicial career, let alone a political one.”

Violet took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing server. “Funny you should mention that, Mom. Because I’m currently living on a ranch in the middle of Wyoming with absolutely no intention of doing any other job than the one I’m currently doing.”

For the second time of the evening, her mother gasped, and she whipped her head toward Violet. “You’re kidding me.”

“Senator Cortez-Hill.” Davis Townsend had finally descended on them. “What a beautiful party.”

“Congressman.” Her mom quickly recovered with a forced smile. “Have you met my daughter, Violet?”

“We saw each other a couple of weeks ago at the Twin Kings, but we weren’t formally introduced.” The man’s smirk suggested he wasn’t as embarrassed as he should’ve been, which meant he was hoping to gain something by bringing up their unfortunate meeting now. “Although, you didn’t look quite as...put-together in the stables that day as you do tonight.”

There it was. The man was trying to establish some sort of pretense of a friendship with Violet that would get him one step closer to her very powerful mother. His mistake was in thinking that Violet would be so embarrassed by being caught in a compromising position with Marcus, she would feel resigned to play along with his little game.

“Oh, was that you?” Violet blinked innocently, enjoying the way his fake grin faltered at thinking someone didn’t recognize him. “Normally, the Secret Service provides those of us living on the Twin Kings with a daily list of authorized guests expected to visit. I don’t remember your name ever being on it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see one of my former law-school professors over by the bar, and I wanted to consult with her on several federal trespassing statutes I’m currently researching.”

Violet lifted her head victoriously, walking away just as another donor approached her mom. She’d gotten thrown off her course for a second back there, but she was leaving the fundraiser having accomplished what she’d set out to do.

Overall, her trip to Dallas had been a success. Violet had spent some time in her office updating her cocounsel on several outstanding cases. She’d watered the plants at her condo and sorted through the mail that her neighbor had been putting aside for her. She’d even had after-work drinks with a few friends from work. But most importantly, Violet had confronted her mother about interfering in her relationship with Marcus all those years ago and made it clear that she would be in Wyoming for the foreseeable future.

Now all she had to do was fly back to Twin Kings and get through a birthday party for a couple of seven-year-olds without shoving their father’s head in the cake.

How hard could it be?

CHAPTER TEN

“My mom said she and Aunt Freckles brokered a temporary truce with you for the day,” Marcus told Violet Saturday afternoon as he tried to wrestle a disposable paper tablecloth into place without tearing it.

“I believe Freckles’s word was cease-fire,” Violet said, lunging to catch the cardboard dinosaur centerpiece before it hit the ground. “Maybe you should use some tape to keep the wind from blowing stuff all over the place?”

“Or maybe we should’ve just had the party at the Pepperoni Stampede like we do every year?” Marcus looked up at the deceptively clear blue sky, hoping the forecasted March rainstorm wouldn’t arrive a day early. “Nobody hosts a kid’s birthday outdoors in Wyoming until after spring.”

“The boys wanted an inflatable obstacle course and a Jurassic Park theme. That’s kind of hard to pull off at the local pizza place.” Violet used a toy brontosaurus as a paperweight to hold the flimsy centerpiece in place. “Besides, your mom needs something to focus on besides MJ’s court case.”

“Oh, is my mother driving you nuts?” Marcus couldn’t help giving her an I-told-you-so look. “Who would’ve ever imagined that?”

“Mrs. King tried to invite the new judge to the party, Marcus. It’s totally inappropriate.”

“So is letting MJ have Kendra Broman here as his plus-one,” he pointed out. “I heard you were the one pushing for that.”

“They’re under strict orders to stay in plain sight under the party tent at all times. Besides, there’ll be at least a hundred people here watching them.”

“Like that ever stopped us?” Marcus said.

Her shoulders gave a little shudder, as though a shiver of awareness had just raced down her spine. Instead of taking the bait, though, she moved on to the next table with the decorations blown into disarray. Marcus jogged over to the box of party supplies Finn had delivered earlier and found a roll of tape.

“Here,” he said, passing the tape to her before holding the blue paper tablecloth steady. “Let’s try your idea.”

They worked together quietly for several minutes, and it felt almost...nice. By the time they got halfway through the decorations, though, Marcus couldn’t stop himself from asking the question he’d been dying to know. “So how was your trip to Dallas?”

“It was productive,” Violet replied, studying his face. “But what you really want to know is if I spoke to my mom. I did. She admitted that she’d purposely misled you after you got out of boot camp.”

“You didn’t believe me?”

“No, I did. But I still needed to confront her on it.”

“Did she apologize?”

Violet crinkled her nose as she focused on untangling a plastic T. rex from the strings in the Happy Birthday banner. “Of course not. Nor will she. My mother will always think she acted in my best interest. But at least now she knows that I’m aware of her interference and that you and I are moving past that.”

“Moving past that?” Marcus’s hands stilled and his throat constricted. He had to swallow several times before he could ask, “As in getting back together?”

“I meant moving on and getting closure.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised at the sudden hollowness inside his rib cage. That couldn’t be disappointment, could it?

Violet met his eyes across the table, her grin somewhat mischievous. “But I might’ve let her believe that we were getting back together.”

His chest pinged back to life, yet he refused to sound as hopeful as he felt. “And why would you do that?”

“Because it’ll serve her right to think her efforts to keep us apart all those years ago were in vain.” Violet knelt to tape a corner of the tablecloth to the leg of the folding table. She was still on her knees when she smiled up at him. “Plus, every so often, I need to remind her that she isn’t in control of my life.”

Oh, man, Marcus was a sucker for that smile. It was infectious, and he couldn’t help but grin in response. “So let me get this straight. You’re using me to piss off the senator?”

“Do you mind?”

“It depends,” he said, squatting in front of her. He heard the breath catch in her throat, and he lifted his hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “What do I get out of this deal?”

“Hey, Dad,” Jack hollered as he zipped through the open field and toward the tables at a full run. He tripped, then got back up and resumed his breakneck pace. “The inflatables are here!”

Jordan was a few paces behind his brother. “I think we should have rules for the bounce house. Like only one person at a time. So nobody gets hurt.”

“Are you sure you’d rather be a doctor instead of a lawyer?” Violet asked the boy.

“Why can’t I be both?” Jordan replied, causing a burst of pride in his dad.

“I’m gonna be a monster-truck driver when I grow up,” Jack said, then both boys sprinted back toward the driveway.

Marcus stared at Violet as she watched his sons. Her soft expression could only be described as smitten. She sighed. “It’s hard to believe they’re only seven.”

“Tell me about it.” He jerked his thumb toward the party-rental trucks. “Anyway, I better go see about the delivery. Maybe make sure nobody brought a dunk tank. I wouldn’t want you to send me into the water again.”

“Are you kidding?” Violet chuckled as her eyes scanned the length of him. A current of awareness raced through him as she made her appraisal. “I never get to see you in anything other than your uniform. I plan to take a break from arguing with the sheriff today and simply enjoy watching you in your dad jeans.”

“These aren’t dad jeans.” Marcus feigned outrage as he rose to his feet. “They’re actually quite fashionable.”

“I meant that they’re jeans and you’re in dad mode today. I’m going to sit back and appreciate both.”

“In that case, I’ll try to give you something worth watching.” Strutting away, he did his best impression of strutting down an imaginary runway, relishing the way her laughter echoed in his ears as he moved on to the next task.

* * *

It turned out Violet didn’t simply sit back during the party at all—either as a spectator or a guest. She finished decorating the tables, read over the waivers for the inflatable course before ensuring each parent signed one as soon as they arrived, helped Freckles carry out platters of food and then took a turn as the line judge during Finn’s impromptu dodgeball contest.

Marcus didn’t get a single second to talk to her because there was constantly something that needed to be done. Anytime he did get a chance to slow down for a second, there was Melissa Parker trying to corner him and invite him to yet another Social Singles event. In fact, he’d just escaped her when he passed the empty bounce house and noticed one of the stakes had come out of the ground. That couldn’t be good. He fixed it, then poked his head inside the safety netting and was surprised to see Violet sitting cross-legged in the corner.

“Vi?” he asked as he awkwardly climbed inside toward her. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She held up her canvas sneaker. “This went missing during the potato-sack race. Amelia told me she saw Keegan Parker throw a bunch of shoes into the bounce house. It was so quiet in here, I figured I deserved a few minutes of downtime after getting trampled during the piñata.”

“Yeah, standing in front of the rope line at the exact second the candy busts out is a rookie mistake.” Marcus plopped beside her, causing Violet to bounce into him. She didn’t immediately straighten so they ended up leaning against each other. Or sagging against each other, depending on who asked. “It’s almost as dangerous as taking the stick away from the blindfolded kid who won’t stop swinging.”

“Are birthday parties always this much work?”

“Only when my children invite half the town and Finn organizes the games. As soon as that first minivan full of guests arrived, I was already cursing myself for not taking my mom up on her offer to hire a professional event planner to do everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because it was supposed to be a simple seventh-birthday party, and I’ve always wanted my kids to have as normal a childhood as they could. Unfortunately, their Gan Gan doesn’t seem to have any concept of what constitutes normal.”

Violet chuckled. She leaned her head back against the netted wall behind them, and Marcus caught a glimpse of half of her face. He did a double take, then lifted his hand to her chin. “What happened to your cheek?”

“Oh, I was going for prehistoric fairy, but the face painter ran out of glitter for the scales and went back to her car to get more supplies. The water-balloon battle broke out behind me, and I decided it was every person for themselves at that point. I made a run for it and have been hiding in here ever since.”

He used his thumb to caress her jaw, which was smeared with greenish-brown face paint. “You are such a good sport. A lot of the other moms decided to hang back under the heat lamps in the tent drinking Dahlia’s Irish coffees. Yet you’re out playing with the kids and getting your hands—and face—dirty in the process. No wonder my sons adore you.”

Something flashed in her eyes, but she quickly blinked it away. “If I’d realized cocktails and heat lamps were an option, I might’ve planned my day differently. But I’m not a mom, so I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into.”

She’d tried to make a joke out of it, but he heard the sadness in her voice and wanted to kick himself. “No, it has nothing to do with you being a mom or not. And I shouldn’t have made an insensitive comparison like that. It was more of a reflection on who you are as a person. You treat the twins as though they’re on the same playing field as you. You never talk down to them or make them feel as though their opinions don’t matter just because they’re children. But you also don’t expect them to be perfect little adults all the time. They know you respect them as individuals, and that makes them want to be around you even more. What I’m trying to say is...” He paused long enough to swallow down his own emotion. “Thank you for being yourself with my children and for letting them be themselves with you.”

Her lashes grew damp, and she wiped the corner of her eye. “I appreciate you telling me that. Most of the time, I feel like I’m just trying to keep up with them. They’re so smart and so compassionate, and I love how everything is black and white with them. I know this is weird, but sometimes it feels as if they’re the ones teaching me how to be a better version of myself.”

“Well, I already like this version of you,” Marcus said as he lowered his face to hers. But before his lips could touch hers, something thumped the back of his head. It was another avalanche of footwear.

“Stop stealing all our shoes, Keegan,” Jack yelled as he chased a bigger boy across the field.

“Hey, Dad, Miz Parker is looking for you again,” Jordan said as he popped his head inside the bounce house. “Oh, hi, Violet. I didn’t know you guys were playing in here.”

“We weren’t really playing, we were—” Marcus got cut off when several more kids tumbled into the bounce house and sent him and Violet careening into the air. She managed to get to her feet before Marcus did and shot him an unapologetic grin before hopping in sync with the other kids.

“Popcorn in the middle,” someone cried out as the group formed a jumping circle around him. The higher they got, the more he flipped and flopped like a kernel of corn in a hot pan of oil, unable to get himself upright.

“Pop! Pop! Pop!”

Violet’s smile was wide, and her voice joined the chants a bit too eagerly.

Marcus would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t already so dizzy. Yeah, she seemed to be keeping up with his sons just fine.

* * *

“How are you still standing upright?” Violet asked Freckles as she padded into the kitchen an hour after the birthday party had ended. The older woman was still buzzing around the counters, putting leftover food into storage containers and loading the dishwasher. Violet couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this exhausted. How did the children have so much energy?

“Because I know how to pace myself, darlin’.” Freckles handed Violet a glass of cabernet and a chocolate cupcake. “You were running around with those kiddos nonstop today. Did you even sit down once?”

She flashed back to her ten minutes alone in the bounce house with Marcus. But before she had time to give their near kiss too much thought, Uncle Rider spoke up from his slumped position on one of the kitchen chairs.

“How ’bout me? I ’bout threw out my damn back lifting dozens of little buckaroos on and off the ponies all afternoon. Or maybe I hurt it when I went down that blasted slide on the inflatable obstacle course.”

“I’m surprised you could get that—” Freckles pointed a serving spoon directly at Rider’s very prominent belly “—ten-pound belt buckle of yours over the rope wall.”

“Figures you’d know how much this buckle weighs, considering how many times you’ve taken it off—”

Violet quickly interrupted Rider. “One nice thing about a small-town community is having most of the guests stay after the party to help clean up.” She took a long gulp of her wine, letting the liquid relax her from the inside out.

“You can say that again.” Freckles snapped a lid onto a plastic container full of smoked brisket. “Speaking of cleanup, I see you were finally able to get that face paint off.”

“After quite a bit of scrubbing and a lot of hot water,” Violet replied before biting into her cupcake. Freckles had given her some industrial-strength makeup remover and insisted she go take a shower while Marcus loaded all the unwrapped gifts into his SUV to take back to their cabin. She wondered if he was still at the main house or if he’d already gone home. She took another drink of wine, then said, “I saw the boys and Amelia setting up their sleeping bags in the den. Are they staying the night?”

“Yep. They were so hyped-up on sugar and overstimulation I told Marcus to leave them here for a sleepover so he could go on back to his cabin and enjoy a little bit of peace and quiet. Oh, no.” Freckles frowned. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Normally, the woman was all smiles and sassy comebacks, so seeing creases of concern rather than laugh lines around her mouth immediately made Violet pause. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I forgot to send Marcus home with any food. I didn’t see him eat a thing today at the party, and Lord knows what that man has in the fridge at that cabin of his. Rider, grab the keys so you can run some leftovers to him.”

Rider made a grumbling sound as his hefty frame slouched even lower in his chair. “Woman, I don’t think I could walk to my truck right this second, let alone climb inside it.”

“Well, I can’t drive in the dark with my sense of direction,” Freckles replied.

“You don’t seem to get lost finding my cabin every night,” Rider mumbled before clearing his throat. “But, yeah, I guess Marcus’s place is a little farther out.”

Both pairs of eyes swung toward Violet, and she held up her palms. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know how to get there.”

“Rider can draw you a map.” Freckles batted her false eyelashes. “Please, darlin’. You know I’m gonna worry myself sick if one of my kiddos goes hungry.”

Violet swallowed down the remainder of her wine to keep herself from pointing out that the so-called kiddo in question was a grown man who knew how to get himself to the market in town. But Freckles was the same woman who insisted on bringing a tray of food to Violet every day in the pool house whenever she worked through lunch. Plus, a small part of her wanted to see where Marcus lived.

“Fine,” Violet said before stifling a yawn. “Let me go get my boots and jacket.”

She had to act at least a little put out, otherwise they might get the impression that she was eager to see Marcus. When she returned to the kitchen, she picked up the very detailed map Rider had somehow managed to draw in a short amount of time, as well as a large brown paper bag loaded with enough food to feed half the cattle hands on the Twin Kings. On her way out the door, she grabbed the keys to one of the ranch trucks because there was no way she wanted anyone seeing her rental car coming or going from Marcus’s place.

The sun had set over an hour ago, but even the star-filled Wyoming sky couldn’t hide the fact that Marcus’s cabin wasn’t a cabin at all. It didn’t have a single log or river rock making up its architecture like most of the other buildings on the ranch. Rather, it was a large one-story spread in a modern hacienda style with high arches, white stucco walls and a red tile roof. It reminded her of her grandfather’s estate outside of San Antonio.

The front door opened before she’d even made it out of the driver’s side, and the sight of Marcus standing there shirtless on his porch took her breath away.

Nope, those certainly were not dad jeans.

“Are the boys okay?” he asked, his eyes searching the dimly lit interior of the truck as he crossed the cold ground in his bare feet.

“Yes! Sorry to worry you. Freckles sent me to deliver some dinner. She was convinced you might starve to death if I didn’t come straightaway with barbecued ribs, smoked brisket and what feels like ten pounds of corn bread.”

“Well, that was very thoughtful of my aunt,” Marcus said as he easily took the heavy bag from Violet, “considering she just stocked my freezer yesterday with a tray of lasagna, a tub of beef stew and at least eight chicken pot pies.”

Violet squeezed her eyes shut before shaking her head. “Why do I feel like I’ve totally been played?”

“Because Freckles is just as crafty as my mom and twice as subtle. Especially when she gets Rider to play along with her schemes. Did you eat dinner yet?”

“I didn’t even have time to eat lunch today. I’m operating on half a cupcake and a glass of wine, which probably explains why I so easily fell for your aunt and uncle’s ploy to get me out here.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want all their strategizing to go to waste.” Marcus jerked his chin toward his front door. “Come inside, and I’ll share some of this potato salad with you.”

Following him into his house would be a huge mistake. They could barely control themselves around each other when there were people right outside his office or the stables or even the bounce house. His place was at least a mile away from anyone accidentally stumbling in on them, offering a false sense of security from the risk of getting caught.

Which, now that she thought about it, actually made it the perfect place to finally lose control. Nobody would have to know. They could release some of their pent-up sexual tension and maybe get whatever this was out of their systems.

Violet took one step. Then another. Before she knew it, Marcus had the front door closed behind her, and the bag of food was forgotten on the floor as he pulled her into his arms. Apparently, his thoughts had been on the exact same page as hers, because he angled his mouth over hers and murmured, “Just this once.”

Violet would’ve nodded earnestly, but he was already kissing her. Holding her face securely in place as his tongue stroked hers, encouraging her lips to open wider to accommodate him. She allowed her hands the opportunity to finally explore the bare skin of his chest and then his wide shoulders. She’d been aching to trace the ridges of his defined muscles and feel the silky dark blond hair under her fingertips, but it wasn’t enough. If his body felt this good against her palms, it would feel even better against all of her.

Without breaking the kiss, she tore off her coat and went to work yanking her top higher. In her haste, one arm got stuck in her sleeve, and Marcus pulled away long enough to help her get first her sweater and then her camisole over her head. When she was standing in front of him in just her bra and her jeans, he stared appreciatively at her breasts before lifting his eyes back to hers.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

She nodded before unclasping her bra. “But we can’t let anybody find out.”

His only response was to reach behind her and flip the dead bolt into the locked position. She pulled his mouth down to hers again and sighed as her aching nipples finally pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Marcus lifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her through the entryway and toward what must have been the formal living room. She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror hanging over the fireplace mantel, both of them still wearing their jeans.

As he lowered her onto an oversize sectional, Violet’s fingers wrestled with the button on her waistband and then her zipper. She couldn’t get her pants over her hips soon enough. Marcus was undoing his fly just as eagerly but then paused. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. The lab results from my last physical were clear, but I don’t have any protection.”

They were both older and wiser this time around and knew better than to leave birth control to chance. She relaxed against the sofa cushions and said, “I’ve had my IUD for a few years, and I got screened when I saw my doctor in Dallas earlier this week. Just in case...”

“Just in case you couldn’t keep your hands off me?” Marcus asked playfully as he finally shoved his own jeans lower. His arousal sprang forward, and Violet slid her palms down his rib cage and then to his narrow hips, pulling him closer.

“It’s not my hands you need to worry about,” she said breathlessly as he settled himself between her thighs.

“I know. It’s that wonderful mouth of yours.” He claimed her lips in another kiss as he entered her.

Violet shuddered at the familiar sensation of Marcus filling her. It had been fourteen long years since they’d done this together, but it felt as normal to her as breathing. He pulled back slightly, and she drew her knees up on either side of him, causing his next thrust to go even deeper.

Marcus groaned before setting a tentative pace. But Violet didn’t want to go slowly. This ache, this coil of unsatisfied need, had been building inside of her ever since she’d seen him again. Now that her release was finally within her grasp, she wanted to race to it.

Clinging to his shoulders, she rocked her hips in a faster tempo. His breath quickened while hers came out in short pants. His arms slid under her waist, pulling her tighter against him right as she shattered through the finish line.

* * *

“You know, I can’t ever remember a time when we actually took our time making love,” Marcus told Violet as he lit a fire in the fireplace. He’d been so incredibly spent in her embrace that he’d remained there for nearly fifteen minutes before realizing that if they stayed like that any longer, they might catch a cold. “When we were younger, there was always such a rush because we were afraid of getting caught.”

“I’m still afraid of getting caught.” Violet pulled a decorative throw blanket over herself. “The last couple of times we started anything, someone in your family walked in and nearly busted us.”

Marcus never bothered to use this room since it was supposed to be for formal occasions. Suddenly, though, he couldn’t imagine a more formal occasion than having Violet back in his arms. And she looked so beautiful lounging there in her afterglow, he had no intention of carrying her back to his rather informal bedroom.

“Well, I can assure you that the twins won’t bust us tonight. Once they fall asleep, they’re out cold until the morning.” The fire blazed to life behind him, instantly warming his bare backside as he turned toward her. “So we’ve got at least a few hours to slow things down for round three.”

“Round three? Did I miss the second round?” Violet stretched, one dusky nipple popping out from under the blanket. Marcus felt himself stirring to attention already.

“No,” he said before rejoining her on the sofa and pulling her onto his lap. “That round is starting right now. Then we can refuel with some dinner before we take our time.”

Violet laughed throatily as she hooked one leg around his hip and lifted herself astride him. It wasn’t until midnight that they finally dragged themselves to the kitchen to reheat the food they’d abandoned by the front door. Along with most of Violet’s clothes.

“You’re right,” Violet said as she stood in front of his open fridge. “This thing is so well stocked, I can’t even find room for these leftover containers. And it’s not even premade meals in here.”

“I’m actually a pretty decent cook, you know.”

“Since when?” Violet arched a brow.

“Since always.” He grabbed their heated plates from the microwave and carried them to the living room. Violet followed with two glasses of wine.

“You never cooked for me,” she said as they settled under the blanket in front of the fire.

“Because we usually only saw each other when we were on vacations with our parents,” Marcus reminded her. “There were always restaurants or private chefs around.”

“You didn’t have a private chef here on the Twin Kings?”

“We have a cook for the ranch hands at the bunkhouse. But my dad never liked anyone but family in our kitchen. His grandma ran a moonshine operation out of Big Millie’s Saloon during Prohibition and was extremely suspicious of strangers snooping around what she referred to as her recipes. She instituted this rule that only people with the King last name were allowed to cook in the family kitchen.”

“But there were caterers at the funeral,” Violet said, oblivious to the smear of barbecue sauce on her chin. “I know because I caught a ride with one to my hotel in Jackson Hole.”

“Yeah, my mom pushed for caterers to be an exception when my dad first started running for office and they had to host occasional parties on the ranch. My dad did a lot of the cooking, but after he became governor, he never really had the time. And nobody wanted to eat what my mom came up with for meals.”

“So you had to learn to cook for yourself?”

He nodded, swallowing a bite of corn bread. “And my siblings, when my parents were on the campaign trail. But only if we didn’t feel like eating in the bunkhouse. The rule only applies to the main house.”

“How did I not know that? That’s a pretty big responsibility, Marcus.”

He shrugged. “I’m the oldest. It comes with the big-brother role.”

“Is taking care of them still your responsibility?”

“Logically, no. But old habits die hard.”

They ate several more bites in silence before Violet paused and faced him. “Even MJ? Other than the time he threw up on the Ferris wheel at the county fair, I don’t ever recall you having to babysit him or hang out with him at all when we were teenagers.”

A familiar guilt gnawed at Marcus. “He was born when I was fourteen. I remember being mortified to tell my friends that my parents were having another baby because then everyone would know that my mom and dad were still having sex. And eww. Who wanted to admit that to their buddies? MJ was an infant, and I was starting high school. I was busy with homework and playing sports and doing all those leadership camps in summer, seeing you whenever I could get the chance. I rarely took care of him. MJ went wherever my mom went, and she and my dad were traveling a lot more for his campaigns. Us older kids stayed here with Rider, although he and Freckles were already separated by then. I joined the Marines and was gone for four years. When I came home, MJ was spending more time at the governor’s mansion in Cheyenne than here in Twin Kings. After that I had my own family, and he and my folks moved to DC and, well, we just never really bonded.”

“Do you think his arrest is going to help you in the bonding process?”

He sighed. “No. Maybe. All I know is that I should’ve been a better big brother to him back then, and I wasn’t. I’m doing what I can now.”

Violet studied him over the rim of her wineglass. “What if MJ doesn’t want a big brother? The same way you resented having a little brother all those years ago.”

“I didn’t resent it, exactly.” He thought about MJ bringing up the story about going on the carnival ride alone so Marcus could sit with Violet. The guilt settled in deeper. “I just had other things going on. I’m trying to make it up to him.”

“Okay, think about it this way.” She tucked her feet under her legs. “The first five Kings were an already-established, tight-knit group before he came along. You and MJ might’ve had the same parents, but you grew up under such different circumstances. He doesn’t have all those shared experiences that bonded you older siblings. In a way, it’s almost as though MJ was inadvertently raised as an only child. When you look at it from his viewpoint, it’s not fair to suddenly insert yourself into a role that existed in name only. Especially not after he lost his father so recently.”

“I lost my father, too.”

“Yes. But you had thirty-two years with Roper King. MJ only had eighteen. I remember you when you were that same age, Marcus, and you would’ve been just as lost as your brother is now. You need to give him time and space to deal with things in his own way.”

This. This is what his mom had meant when she’d said that Marcus needed someone who wouldn’t just listen to him but would tell him the things he needed to hear. He’d been so focused on his own guilt for not being a better big brother to MJ, he hadn’t stopped to think of what it had been like for the teen to feel as though he’d never really fit in with the rest of them.

Still. That didn’t mean Marcus was going to sit back and let MJ ruin his own life. But maybe Violet was right and he’d been approaching it from the wrong angle this whole time.

“Hey.” He gave her a quick kiss, then wiped the sauce off her chin. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me see things from a different perspective. For challenging me.”

She took his plate from him and set it beside hers on the coffee table. Then she returned his kiss. “And here I thought you were the challenging one.”

“I tried to be. But you’ve clearly already worn me down.”

“I hope you’re not too worn-down. I was promised a round three.”

Marcus groaned before proving that he was a man of his word.

They never even made it to the bedroom before dawn slowly crept up on them. The sun shone into the wide windows of the living room, and Violet stirred in his arms, then fell right back to sleep wedged between him and the sofa cushions. After the birthday party yesterday and then all their lovemaking last night, she had to be exhausted. Marcus eased himself from the sectional without waking her and went to the kitchen to start the coffee maker before getting in the shower.

When she’d shown up at his door yesterday evening, Marcus had told himself that it would just be this one time. But now that they’d spent the night together, there was no way that he would be satisfied. Maybe the twins would want a sleepover at the main house again tonight. No, that wouldn’t work. It was Sunday, which meant they had school tomorrow.

He’d call and check on them when he got out of the shower, and if his mom insisted on keeping them for the day, then maybe he could convince Violet to stay a little longer.

But when he came out of the bathroom, Violet was already wide-awake and talking to someone on her phone. Marcus could only hear one side of the conversation, yet that didn’t make him feel like any less of an eavesdropper. Especially since Violet seemed to be on the receiving end of an interrogation.

“No, Mom, I flew back to Wyoming Friday night after the fundraiser,” Violet said, and Marcus’s blood couldn’t decide if it wanted to run hot or cold.

“I’ll be staying here until after MJ’s trial.” Then another pause.

“Of course they have other attorneys in Wyoming. But I’m doing this as a favor to their family, which is the least I can do after you interfered in their oldest son’s life all those years ago. Plus, Sherilee is trying to keep it out of the press, which I know you can relate to, considering you didn’t want anyone knowing what your daughter was doing when she was that same age.” Wow. That was both strong and logical. Good for Violet.

“Yes, Marcus is here.” At this, he straightened his spine and took a few steps closer to announce his presence. But something held him back.

“He lives on the Twin Kings, so I see him quite regularly.” Violet’s tone was practically boastful, so maybe she really did want to get her mom all riled up. Another point for Violet.

“I don’t know if we’re getting back together, but—” There was a heavy sigh, which meant the senator must’ve interrupted her. Marcus held his breath as he waited for Violet to defend him. To defend their relationship.

Instead, Violet replied, “I know my life is in Dallas, Mom. I have no intention of throwing away my career. Speaking of careers, what time is your speech with the Girls in Technology organization?”

The subject had changed and that was it. Feeling deflated, Marcus let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Violet had been so close to telling her mother to mind her own business, but then she’d done what she always did with the senator: acknowledge the concerns without denying them and then steer the conversation to a neutral topic. Marcus almost didn’t recognize this version of her, since he hadn’t seen it on display since they were teens. He’d gotten too accustomed to the Violet who’d passionately argued with him about something as inconsequential as a William Shakespeare play or the suitability of pineapple as a topping for pizza.

Or maybe she wasn’t fighting her mother on the issue because she was in complete agreement with the woman. Either way, Violet clearly planned to return to Texas when MJ’s case was over. Marcus was no longer a naive recruit at boot camp holding on to the hope that they had a future together. They both wanted different things out of life, and that was okay.

However, there was one thing they’d never really talked about, and he wasn’t quite ready to let her leave until they had.

He went to the kitchen to pour them both some coffee, then returned to the living room to find her dressed in her clothes from the night before. He handed her a cup, then sat beside her and tried to keep his voice as bland as possible.

“Listen. Um, you mentioned something last night. About having an IUD. And I was just wondering...” He swallowed past the apprehension that threatened to cut off his words. He had to know. “Is having kids still a possibility for you? I mean physically?”

He heard the slight catch in her throat, almost a hiccup sound, and hurried to explain himself. “God, I didn’t mean that to sound so intrusive. It’s just that we’ve discussed what happened with us after the miscarriage, but we never really talked about...you know, the actual thing itself.”

Violet bit her lower lip, then looked around the empty house, as though to confirm their conversation wasn’t going to be overheard. Or interrupted again. “As far as I know, yes, I can still have kids. But there could be risks, and I don’t know if I could handle going through that again.”

He slipped his free hand into hers, pulling their joined fingers onto his lap. “Will you tell me what happened?”

It took her a few seconds, but finally she nodded. “When you left for boot camp, I thought I was only a few weeks along. At my first doctor’s appointment, though, they did an ultrasound and told me I was at eleven weeks. With twins. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t get that initial letter at boot camp because I was already freaking out that this was more than we’d anticipated, and I didn’t want to tell my parents yet. But I didn’t hear back from you, so I started thinking that maybe you were more panicked than me. I sent another letter the following week, trying to sound more upbeat and positive. By that time, I’d convinced myself that we were so blessed and were going to be amazing parents, and I’d even started thinking about decorating a nursery in some imagined home we didn’t even have yet. But still no response from you.”

While Marcus gently held her palm in one of his hands, his other fist tightly gripped the mug handle, wishing he could go back fourteen years ago and punch someone. “Most of my drill instructors were pretty decent, and I was so careful not to let anyone know who my father was because I didn’t want them to treat me differently. But we had this one staff sergeant who was such a jerk. One of those guys who kept track of how many recruits he could make cry in a day. He figured out who I was early on. He must’ve been smart enough to allow all the envelopes with the name King on the return address through, because I never got suspicious that anyone was messing with my mail. They took our phones away as soon as we checked in on the base, and we never had internet access. It killed me not knowing what was going on with you, but other guys in my unit were getting breakup letters and I tried to be relieved that at least you hadn’t sent me one of those. I did manage to write you a couple of times. I’m guessing you didn’t get any mail from me, either?”

Violet shook her head, then sighed. “It’s not like you could’ve done anything about it anyway. When I got my next ultrasound at fourteen weeks, they could only hear one heartbeat. The doctor explained that since our twins were identical, they were sharing the same placenta and sometimes only one of them got enough nutrients to survive. She tried to reassure me that I could still carry the surviving baby to term but said that we’d have to do a procedure to remove the other one since it was too late in my pregnancy for my body to naturally expel it.”

“Oh my God, Violet. I can’t even imagine...” Marcus swallowed the knot in his throat. “I am so sorry that you had to go through that alone. I should’ve been there.”

Her eyes were damp, but her chin jutted forward. “I’m not going to lie. That was one of several thoughts that went through my mind. ‘How can I do this without Marcus?’ ‘How am I going to tell him that I lost one of his babies?’ Then it was ‘How dare he not be here to go through this with me!’”

“Aw, Violet.” Marcus let go of her hand long enough to put his arm around her and pull her closer. “I know that neither one of us had planned on being parents so young. The pregnancy was a shock, but it was also thrilling. Thinking about you and our child—I didn’t know it was more than one at the time—was what got me through boot camp. I wanted to have a family with you. But I would never have blamed you for the miscarriage.”

“Now I know that. But at the time, I was such a mess of emotions in that exam room, the nurse had to call my mom since she was the only person listed on my emergency-contact form. I’d been such a coward for not telling my parents about the pregnancy before then. But my mom never said a word. She arrived right as they were about to take me in for surgery. At first, the procedure went as expected and I tried to console myself with the fact that we would still have one baby. But they kept me in the hospital overnight because there was too much bleeding, and by the next day, the second baby was gone. I was devastated and inconsolable, but I was also postpartum, and a heavy fog of depression set in along with everything else.”

He stayed silent, letting her continue.

“That first week out of the hospital was a blur. I was just an empty shell. My mom had to hold a cup of water up to my lips to get me to drink fluids. She brushed my hair and changed my pads because even getting myself to the bathroom was an overwhelming task. Eventually, the depression lifted as my hormones evened out, but then came the denial and the anger and all those other stages of grief you hear about. The odd thing was, it was my mother who defended you. Who told me that you were probably under too much stress with boot camp and a potential military deployment. When I didn’t hear back from you, well... We all know what happened after that.”

He let out a deep, shuddering breath. “I know that we can’t go back and change things, but...” Pausing, he dragged his hand through his still-damp hair. “Man, I wish I would’ve been smarter and more understanding, and not so damn stubborn.”

“Me, too. We both were young, and our emotions got the better of us.”

He lifted one brow. “You say that like we’re not going to let our emotions get the best of us this time.”

“That’s because we’re not, Marcus. This...” She pointed at him and then back at herself before making a circular motion at the rumpled blanket on the ground. “This is just us getting the physical stuff out of the way so that we can think clearly about everything else going on in our lives. We both have people depending on us, and we can’t afford to get too caught up in what might’ve been.”

Marcus knew better than anyone that there were no guarantees in relationships. By now he’d built enough of a wall around his heart that he wasn’t going to leave his happiness up to fate. He would have to be satisfied with making the best of their time together while they had it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Explain to me again why your mom and Freckles think that all of you need to go to Washington, DC, to get Tessa and Agent Wyatt together,” Violet asked Marcus as they stood under the hot spray of the shower inside the pool house.

It was supposed to have been just one night of lovemaking. At least that’s what Violet had told herself. But then one night had turned into a hot-and-steamy thirty minutes in the front seat of his patrol unit, which had led to an interesting encounter in the dusty file room at the courthouse. Now it was almost a game for Violet and Marcus to find secret locations where nobody would discover what they were up to. Her office at the pool house was usually off-limits because it was too close to the main house, and when the boys came home from school, it was the first place they looked for her. But it was still morning and Sherilee and Freckles had left the ranch for the day to talk Dahlia into what sounded like an ill-conceived plan. Romantic, Violet thought, but also very ill-conceived.

Marcus rinsed the soap off his face, then resumed his explanation. “My mom is getting the Presidential Medal of Freedom at the White House for all her charity work when she was the second lady. If the whole family isn’t there, Tessa will immediately get suspicious. Even Duke is taking leave to fly in.”

“How’s Duke doing, by the way?” Violet switched spots with him, so she could rinse off, as well. “He seemed pretty sad when he left the ranch.”

“I think something is going on with him and Tom. I tried to bring it up when he was here, but he said he couldn’t talk about it.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was,” Marcus agreed. “Actually, it was kind of a punch in the gut because we’ve always talked to each other about everything.”

“I meant that’s rough for Duke.” Violet squeezed the excess water out of her hair. “But sure, let’s make it about another bruise to your already-fragile big-brother ego.”

“I agree with you one time about one sibling and you never let me live it down.” Marcus cut in front of her to block the hot water. She turned the faucet to cold then ran for her towel, leaving him to yelp as she jumped out of the spray.

“So how long are you guys going to be gone?” she asked, trying not to stare at his abs as he rubbed the dry towel over them.

“Just one night. We fly out in the morning, stay the night in DC, then bring the jet back on Sunday.”

“I bet MJ will be excited to get away from the ranch for a while. Even if it’s only for twenty-four hours.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I can’t take the boys. MJ has a lot of old school buddies in Washington, and he always used to slip his Secret Service tail when he was living there. I’m going to need to keep him occupied so he can’t get into any more trouble.”

She noticed that Marcus said keep him occupied, which implied participating in an activity together rather than acting as his jailer. That was progress at least. She bent forward to wrap her wet hair in a separate towel. Someone was going to start wondering why Violet was going through so many beach towels when the outside pool was only forty degrees. When she flipped back up, she asked, “So then, who’s going to watch the twins?”

Marcus tucked his chin and gave her a wide-eyed helpless stare.

Violet gulped. “Me?”

“That would be amazing, Vi,” he said a bit too quickly. “Thanks so much for offering.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know full well that wasn’t an offer. I’ve never so much as babysat a child, let alone supervised two of them for twenty-four hours straight. At least not by myself.”

“But you hang out with the boys all the time, and they love being around you. Plus, they’ll be sleeping for at least nine hours of your shift. Probably.”

“Shift?” Violet crossed her arms. “Am I getting paid for this?”

“I can pay you in other ways.” He began kissing her neck, and she giggled before hearing a noise outside. They jumped apart, neither one of them wanting anyone to catch them. After several heart-pounding seconds of nobody knocking on the sliding glass doors, Violet finally let out a relieved breath.

“We can talk more about the details tonight,” Marcus said as he pulled on his uniform pants. “I’ll owe you big for this. And so will Tessa, if things work out between her and Agent Wyatt.”

The rest of the afternoon, Violet vacillated between being thrilled and being nervous as hell. She was flattered that Marcus trusted her enough to leave his sons in her care. At the same time, she was seriously concerned that Marcus trusted her enough to leave his sons in her care. What was she going to do with two seven-year-olds for a whole day?

The situation got even more complicated when Marcus called her later that night to fill her in on the latest. Apparently, Dahlia’s ex-husband, Micah, was going to be coming into town to stay with their daughter.

“The thing is,” Marcus continued, “Dahlia’s apartment above Big Millie’s is only two bedrooms, and even though she and Micah get along great, she thinks it would be awkward for him to sleep at her place. Micah and Amelia are going to stay at the main house at the Twin Kings. So would you mind staying at my cabin with the boys?”

Micah Deacon was a famous musician, but Violet had never met the man. According to Dahlia, Micah was a doting father who was as active as he could be in Amelia’s life, considering he lived in Nashville for work and spent a lot of time on tour with his band. It sounded like Micah could probably use some quality alone time with his daughter. Plus, Violet didn’t like the idea of having a stranger witness all the babysitting mistakes she was bound to make with Jack and Jordan.

She tossed and turned all night trying not to think of all the things that could go wrong. When that failed to lessen her anxiety, she took one of her migraine pills and figured she might as well get a couple of hours of sleep before reporting for her so-called shift.

The following morning when she arrived at the cabin, Violet wished she had insisted on staying at the main house. Jack and Jordan were, of course, thrilled to see her, but Marcus was rushed and unfocused and kept rattling off last-minute instructions as he put away a box of cereal in the fridge and a gallon of milk in the pantry. She followed him from the kitchen to the front entry and then back to the kitchen when he realized he’d left his suitcase by the recycle bin.

“If you need the first-aid kit, it’s in the right-side cabinet in the master bathroom,” he said as they made their way to the front door. Again. “But if it’s something more serious, then just drive to the hospital in Jackson. They already have both boys’ insurance cards on file because we make a lot of trips there. If it’s worthy of 9-1-1... Crap, I forgot Rod was covering for the dispatcher this weekend. Try not to call 9-1-1.”

Violet gulped. “Is this supposed to be putting me at ease?”

“Don’t worry. You guys should do fine.” His emphasis on the word should wasn’t any more reassuring. But he continued babbling out instructions. “Freckles stocked the fridge again, but the boys might try and talk you into going to the Pepperoni Stampede. I keep a bag of quarters in the top drawer of the mudroom for the arcade games. But don’t let Jordan near the salad bar because the manager gets annoyed when he starts talking about salmonella and E. coli in front of the other customers. And Jack isn’t allowed to use the claw machine because one time he climbed inside and...never mind. I’m supposed to be at the airfield in ten minutes. Okay, what am I forgetting?”

It suddenly occurred to her that Marcus was just as nervous about leaving his children overnight as she was about watching them. Surely, that had to be more stressful for him than anything she was going through. She threw back her shoulders with a confidence she didn’t quite feel and asked, “So where should I sleep?”

“Oh.” He paused. Then looked over his shoulder toward the formal living room where they’d slept the one and only time she’d been to his house. He took the small travel bag she’d packed and said, “Follow me.”

They went past the dining room and then a smaller family room where the boys were sprawled out with blankets watching TV and eating cereal. An arched hallway led to what must be the bedrooms, and Marcus turned into the first doorway on the right. The room was furnished nicely, but it was also very nondescript. There were no photos, no books, no personal touches to give it the appearance of actually having been lived in. It was a guest room.

Okay. So Marcus was sticking her in a guest room. Violet wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but her heart sank. No. She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. It was probably better for the boys to see her sleeping in here rather than in their father’s bed, anyway. How would she explain that sort of thing to them?

He set her bag on the dresser, then pulled her into his arms and gave her a deep kiss. “I really wish I could make this goodbye a little longer, but I’m already running late. Call me if you need anything.”

And with that, he was gone.

Violet resisted the urge to go down the hallway to explore the rest of the bedrooms. Instead, she tentatively approached the family room, took a deep breath and asked the twins, “So what do you guys want to do today?”

* * *

There were several outlandish ideas and a few disagreements, but in the end, Violet sat down at the coffee table in the family room with a yellow legal pad and treated this discussion as she would any other settlement conference.

“Okay, so Jack’s suggested activities are bungee jumping, dirt-bike racing and going to that new axe-throwing place in Jackson Hole. Jordan, your suggestions are the Discovery Center, dinosaur-bone excavating and going to the pharmacy in town to use their blood-pressure machine.” Violet waited until both kids nodded in agreement before continuing. “Now, let’s see which of these options are going to work best for our needs. According to the Let Loose Adventures website, you have to be fourteen to jump off the bridge over Snake River. The Discovery Center looks interesting, but it’s all the way in Casper, and we’ll never make it back in time to watch that superhero detective show you guys were telling me about.”

It took another thirty minutes of negotiating, but they finally compromised on taking one of the four-seater ATVs—with Violet, not Jack, driving—out exploring for caves and ancient artifacts. Jack was very impressed with her ability to do what he called sick burnouts, and Jordan was very excited to find a femur bone he was convinced belonged to a nineteenth-century buffalo, as well as several arrowheads. One of the boys’ birthday gifts had been a pair of Nerf bows and pad-tipped arrows. So Violet set up an impromptu archery range, which was way safer than throwing axes, and held still while Jack attempted to shoot an apple off her head. On their way to dinner at the Pepperoni Stampede, they stopped by the pharmacy, and Jordan explained to her that her blood pressure was—surprisingly—in the normal range at 105 over 68.

It turned out, the only person who had sustained any sort of injury that day was Violet. And it wasn’t until after she’d put the boys to bed and gone back to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine, intending to toast herself to a successful day of babysitting. A little too anxious to celebrate her victory, her thumb slipped on the condensation of the bottle, and she jabbed herself with the corkscrew.

It was a small gash, but started bleeding again every time she bumped it. Marcus had said the first-aid kit was in the master bathroom; however, Violet had been trying to avoid that particular part of the house.

It was either go get a bandage or risk having Jordan wake up and see a pile of discarded paper towels soaked with her blood. The poor boy would probably insist on giving her stitches himself. Violet steeled her spine and quietly made her way down the hallway.

When she got to the door, though, a heaviness made her stomach queasy.

The king-size bed was covered with a fluffy floral-patterned comforter and throw pillows in assorted sizes and colors. There was a silver frame on the dresser holding a different wedding photo than the one she’d seen in the main house. In this picture, Marcus and Brie were happily staring into each other’s eyes. Just when Violet had gotten over feeling like an impostor babysitter this morning, she now felt like an intruder in another woman’s house.

Turning to the bathroom, she quickly made her away across the plush rug, wanting to get in and out of there as soon as she could. She knelt and opened the right-side cabinet, reluctant to see any other personal items, and was relieved that the only thing on the shelf was the first-aid kit. She quickly found a bandage and wrapped it around her thumb, before deciding to grab a couple more for backup. She certainly didn’t want to come back in here if she didn’t have to. But when she stood up in front of the vanity mirror, she could see the reflection of the enormous walk-in closet directly behind her. The door was slightly ajar, and behind it, a row of Brie’s clothes were still hanging there.

So this was the reason Marcus hadn’t taken her to his bed that first night she’d spent here. And why he’d installed her in the guest room today. The master bedroom wasn’t necessarily a shrine to his dead wife, but her presence could still be felt.

Violet’s phone rang in her pocket, startling her. She saw Marcus’s name on the screen and swallowed down her panic. There was no way he could possibly know that she’d been in the master bedroom snooping around.

No. This wasn’t snooping.

It was discovery. She had known all along how much he’d loved Brie. This only served as a reminder that Violet could not allow herself to fall for a man who was no longer hers.

* * *

“Hello,” Violet said, when she finally picked up. Marcus had waited for so many rings, he’d half expected the call to go to voice mail. But hearing her voice on the other end sent a wave of contentment through him.

“How’re the boys?” Marcus leaned back against the pillows of his hotel bed.

“Asleep. We had a fun and busy day. I’ll send you some of the pictures I took. How is everything going over there?”

“Good, actually. My mom and Freckles’s plan actually worked. Grayson proposed to Tessa right there in the Rose Garden, and the media finally got the buzzworthy story they’d been waiting for. MJ and I went out to dinner, just the two of us, and then he took me to this random yoga studio on the other side of the Potomac. He said he used to go there when he wanted to get away from all the tourists and what he called the political noise. I had no idea he was into yoga.”

“Good! I’m glad you guys are spending some time together and getting to know each other.”

“I know, I know. As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right about our relationship.” Marcus grinned listening to her chuckle in response. “But don’t get too used to hearing me say it. Your client still has to go before the new judge.”

Secretly, Marcus was hoping for another delay in the trial. The longer Violet stayed on at the Twin Kings, the more time he had to convince her to... What? Give up her life and career and move to a small town in Wyoming to be with a single dad who’d once broken her heart?

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to our day in court. I might even decide to call you as a character witness on your brother’s behalf.”

“Good try, counselor. But I think I’ve already proven that I’d make a terrible character witness. I’m as impartial as I can be when it comes to enforcing the law.” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, debating whether he should even risk saying his idea out loud. Why not? If it meant keeping her in town longer, it was worth a shot. He cleared his throat. “In fact, with the way my family has been behaving lately, I might even have a couple of new clients for you.”

“Oh, no. What happened?”

“Do you want me to tell you as the sheriff? Or as a big brother who couldn’t stop laughing when I first heard the story?”

“Definitely the big-brother version.”

“You know how Dahlia has been seeing that new rancher out on the Rocking D? The one who my mom made stay for dinner a couple of Fridays ago?”

“Connor Remington?” Violet asked. “I thought I was the only one who’d figured out that there was something going on between him and your sister.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” Just like they all had probably figured out he and Violet were sneaking around again. “Anyway, somehow my sweet little niece Amelia convinced both Micah and Connor to rescue some stuffed animal from Jay Grover’s place. When he wasn’t home.”

Violet’s jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me that your sister’s boyfriend and her ex-husband broke into someone’s house? Together? And you’re laughing about it?”

Marcus snorted. “I don’t know why I think it’s so funny. Dahlia is furious. Deputy Broman is annoyed because my family is indirectly involved. Again. And I’m out of town and can’t do a thing about any of it.”

“No, you can’t,” she agreed. “Which might be a good thing. You don’t always have to be the fixer.”

He let out an exaggerated breath. “I wish I could fix us, Vi.”

There was no response, and he looked at his phone to see if the call had been disconnected. It hadn’t. “Are you there?”

“I’m here.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

Had he gone too far?

“Are you going to answer my question?” he asked.

“Was it a question? Because it sounded like a statement.”

“I guess it was.” He ran his hand through his hair. “What I should’ve said was Do you think I can fix us?”

“No.” Her one-word response would’ve sent him to his knees if he wasn’t already lying down. Then she continued, “I think that you alone can’t do anything, Marcus. If anything needs to be fixed, it would take both of us to do it.”

Okay. That sounded slightly more promising. “Do you think we should try?”

“Before I answer that, let me ask you a question.”

“Go for it.”

She paused, further increasing the suspense already zapping through his nerve endings. Then she threw him for a loop by asking, “Why didn’t you ever take me to your bed?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Here at your house. We slept in the living room the first night. Then, today, you put my stuff in the guest room. Is there a reason you don’t want me in your bed?”

“That is my bed, Vi. That’s the room I use at the cabin,” he said. When she didn’t respond right away, he added, “Go look in the closet. All my uniforms are in there.”

He could hear some background noise and then the unmistakable slide of the closet doors.

“Oh. You don’t use the master bedroom?” As soon as she said the word master, he pictured the room in his head and wished he hadn’t waited so long to go through Brie’s stuff.

“No. But I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking, Marcus?”

“That I’m some sorry sap that can’t move on from the memory of his dead wife.”

“Are you?”

A blast of air expelled from his mouth. “When Brie died, it hit me hard. She was my best friend and the mother of my children. Sure, living in our house without her was overwhelming at the time. I had two toddlers and a full-time job. Moving into the main house with the rest of my family there as a sort of built-in backup helped me get through those first couple of months. I told myself that the twins and I would move back into the cabin at some point, and I even talked to Dahlia about helping me redecorate. But she’d just had Amelia and was in the middle of refurbishing Big Millie’s. Eventually, months turned into years, and I became the sheriff. Looking out for everyone else took priority. A couple of winters ago, Tessa’s TV network was holding a national coat drive, and I thought it would be the perfect time to finally go through Brie’s clothes and give them away. Finn came to help me, and we made it halfway through the closet when I got a call from the preschool telling me that Jack got his head stuck in the opening of the puppet theater.”

He heard what might’ve been a snort of laughter on the other end.

“Anyway, I thought Finn had stayed back to finish the job, not that it was her responsibility. It wasn’t until you moved into the main house that the boys and I returned to the cabin full-time. I didn’t really want the boys running in and out of the master bedroom and getting sad seeing all their mom’s stuff. So I took the spare bedroom and figured I’d get around to dealing with the rest later.”

“Oh.”

That was it? Marcus thought. All Violet could say was oh?

No. He wasn’t going to be the only one put on the spot in this conversation. If they were going to talk about the things standing between them, then he had a few things he wanted some clarity on, as well. “Now can I ask you a question?”

“Hold on. I’m still processing,” Violet replied. Processing what? Whether she believed him or whether she thought he was holding on to way too much baggage? At least thirty more seconds went by and then she said, “Okay. Go ahead and ask.”

“Does your mom still think you’re moving back to Dallas when MJ’s case is over?”

“I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t.”

“You might want to consider talking to her about that,” Marcus suggested.

“Why?” He could hear the dread in Violet’s voice, which would’ve made him laugh if he wasn’t worried about how she was going to react to his warning.

“Because my mom saw her at the Capital Grille today having lunch with the chairman of the foreign-affairs committee. Mom handed over her real estate agent’s card and told the senator to start looking at investing in a vacation home in Jackson Hole so that she could come visit you more often.”

“Crap,” Violet said. Then added, “Double crap. That’s my mother ringing through right now on call-waiting. I’ve got to do some damage control. We can talk about this tomorrow when I see you at home.”

The call disconnected, and he would’ve been left feeling dejected that she’d referred to explaining things to her mother as damage control. Except he wasn’t disappointed. Instead, a thrill of excitement shot through him.

She’d said home. Not your home. Not your family’s home. Just home. As though she was already thinking of it as her own.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Why do our moms do this, Marcus? We’re thirty-two years old, and they’re still using us as pawns. Clearly, we need to stage some sort of intervention to prove once and for all that neither one of them are calling the shots on our relationship.”

Violet was pacing back and forth in his office after Connor’s and Micah’s bail hearings. The charges were probably going to be dropped, but that didn’t mean Violet was backing down as his adversary. At least not in public. But first she needed to deal with the latest development of their quarreling mothers.

“Our relationship?” he asked. “You mean the one we’re currently involved in?”

“Sure. That one.”

“No, Violet. I want to hear you say it.”

“Don’t you think we’re a little too old for me to call you my boyfriend?”

“You think I’m your boyfriend,” he sang. “That means you wanna be my girlfriend.”

“This is so mature.” Violet narrowed her eyes. “Besides, when we were on the courthouse steps a few minutes ago, I didn’t hear you telling Dahlia, Connor and Micah that I was your girlfriend.”

“MJ’s trial starts tomorrow, and we were out in the open. Everyone expects us to stick with the routine that we can’t get along. No special favors, remember? As soon as that’s over, we can come clean and let everyone know.”

“Do you seriously think your family doesn’t already know what’s going on with us?” This was the first time they’d been able to speak alone since he’d returned from Washington, and neither one had wanted to mention what was said during that emotional phone call the night before. “If your mom is giving my mom business cards for Jackson Hole real estate agents, then she knows.”

“Not everyone in my family has figured out that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Stop calling yourself that.” Violet tried to sound disapproving, but deep down, her stomach got all fluttery when he said the word.

“Make me,” he said, acting even more juvenile as he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

Violet’s attempt at a stern expression turned into a sigh as he traced his lips down her neck in a series of light kisses. A booming knock sounded on his door, and they jumped apart before Rod entered the office.

“Here’s that surveillance footage a so-called anonymous source gave the DA to get those charges reduced to trespassing.” The V-shaped crease between Rod’s overgrown eyebrows was meant to remind Violet that he didn’t approve of defense attorneys fraternizing with law-enforcement officers. The few times she’d been at the sheriff’s station, the older volunteer’s hawk eyes followed her wherever she went, as though he was expecting her to do something sneaky and nefarious, such as take an extra handful of M&Ms from the candy bowl on the front desk.

“Oh, thanks, Mr. D’Agostino.” Violet held up a thumb drive with the video of Jay Grover breaking into his ex-wife’s house the same night Micah and Connor had broken into his. Reed Nakamoto had known the case would be flimsy and had been eager to reduce the charges to trespassing well before he’d found out the alleged victim was going to make a very unreliable witness. “I brought my own copy to show the sheriff. But I’m certainly not an anonymous source. Just a concerned citizen hoping to see justice done.”

“Hmph,” Rod said before turning and purposely leaving the office door open. Probably so that he could keep her clearly in his sight.

“Concerned citizen?” Marcus asked. “As in a permanent citizen of Teton Ridge?”

Violet’s stomach fluttered again, but then the sensation moved to her chest and caused a tight knot of anxiety. “I know what you’re trying to get me to say, Marcus. But I’m not ready to commit to anything yet. Especially nothing as big as uprooting my life and moving to Wyoming.”

An obvious cough sounded as Rod passed by the open office door on his way to the copy machine.

“Sorry about that,” Marcus mumbled. “Rod thinks that every time you stop by, I’m consorting with the enemy. He’s worried that you’re going to use your big-city defense-attorney charm to manipulate me into doing your bidding.”

“How does he know I haven’t already?” Violet gave the man a friendly wave on his way back to the desk, almost enjoying feeding into his suspicions about her ulterior motives. Then she raised her voice so that Rod could hear. “So you think about what I said, Sheriff, and I’ll meet you later tonight at our usual location. I’ll be sure to bring that special thing you requested.”

While Violet and Marcus both knew that neither of them had broken any ethical rules by being together, let him be the one to explain to his staff that their usual location was the main house at the Twin Kings for a family dinner. And the special thing he’d requested was a plum pie from Burnworth’s Bakery.

Turning on her heel, she tried not to laugh at Marcus’s painful groan behind her as she walked away. Too bad. He couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t call her his girlfriend in private, while at the same time want everyone else in town to think that their relationship was only professional until after the trial. He’d have to decide what he wanted—and soon.

* * *

Later that evening, Violet was sitting in the formal living room at the main house, having predinner cocktails with Tessa, Dahlia and Finn as Sherilee King shoved glossy bridal magazines under their noses. Duke had flown back to Wyoming with the family after meeting them in DC and was now trying to include Grayson, Tessa’s new fiancé, and Connor, Dahlia’s boyfriend, in a conversation that wasn’t all about Micah’s and Marcus’s glory days on the high school football team.

Freckles was in the kitchen doing what she loved, and Rider was doing what he loved—taking Jack, Jordan and Amelia out for a ride on their horses. Violet tried to focus on what Sherilee was saying about bridesmaid dresses and flower arrangements, but she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Marcus. Every time their eyes met, his filled with a heat that promised what he intended to do to her once he finally got her alone.

MJ was too nervous about the trial starting tomorrow, so he’d gone back to his bedroom to be alone. And probably to call Kendra. Violet was just thinking that she should probably head back to her room, as well, and put the final tweaks on her opening statement. But before she could make her excuses, Micah strode into the room, his eyes filled with panic, and announced, “Hey, Rider and the kids aren’t back yet. They were expected at the stables over thirty minutes ago.”

Marcus immediately turned to Violet, and she watched all the color drain from his face. It was nearly dark, and his uncle’s rides with the children never lasted this long. This wasn’t good.

“I’ll go find them.” Connor, who had once been a tracker in the military, was the first to head to the door.

“We’ll all come,” Finn said, taking off after him.

Marcus was also gone before Violet could cross the room to him. Everyone was hurrying to the stables, and she tried not to think of the kids lost somewhere on the trail, all alone in the dark.

Mike Truong, the stable manager, was already saddling horses, while Marcus and Grayson were organizing who would be going on horseback and who would be taking the ATVs. Many of the riding trails on the ranch were too narrow for vehicles, and Connor and Finn immediately rode off on horseback with radios clipped to their belts.

“I’ll take Dahlia to the airfield to meet the helicopter pilot,” Duke said. “We’ll get a searchlight up in the air so you guys on the ground can see where you’re looking.”

Even Freckles had come from the kitchen, prepared with granola bars and protein snacks to put in the emergency-kit backpacks. Sherilee did the same with bottles of water before hopping into the back seat of a departing ATV at the last minute. No way was the King matriarch going to sit back and wait patiently for her grandchildren to be found.

Violet stood there in the stables, watching helplessly as everyone sprang into action and got their job assignments. She couldn’t ride a horse, and there were only so many ATVs. Only a few Secret Service agents remained on the ranch, and along with the other cattle hands, they knew the trails and the terrain way better than her. Other than being an extra set of eyes, she couldn’t really offer the search team much value. But the boys were out there, possibly alone, and she needed to get to them as soon as possible. She didn’t want to waste time changing into her running shoes, so she grabbed a flashlight and a radio from the table of supplies and was about to set out on foot when Marcus’s voice stopped her.

“Violet,” he shouted, anxiously looking around the stables for her.

Up until now, he’d been methodical and organized and completely in command as he gave everyone instructions. She imagined that, as the county sheriff, he’d participated in numerous search and rescues. But this was different. These were his own boys who were lost. How was he holding himself together?

“Over here,” she said, rushing over to him.

There was the slightest flicker of panic in his eyes, but he quickly blinked it back when he saw her. “I’m taking Micah in one of the ATVs. I need you to stay here in case the kids and Rider come back while we’re all still out there.”

“Oh. Okay.” Logically, Violet knew that her assignment would be just as important as the others. But she hated just sitting there not doing anything. So she pushed away her own fears and forced a confident smile she didn’t quite feel. “In fact, I’ll probably see them before you guys, because I’m sure they’re already on their way back so they can sneak in a few of Freckles’s lemon bars before dinner.”

He nodded and sucked in a deep breath, probably to calm his racing thoughts. Violet pulled his head down for a parting kiss then added, “Be careful. And don’t worry. When they get here, I’ll take care of them. I promise.”

Tessa and Grayson set up a command center in the conference room attached to the bunkhouse where the Secret Service agents stayed. The radio reception was much better there, plus there were maps and whiteboards to track everybody’s progress. Freckles, who had to be just as worried about Rider as she was about the children, returned to the kitchen to prep more food in case it ended up being a long night. Not that anyone could eat at a time like this. But it was probably good to have someone stationed at the house just in case they went straight there.

Violet was left alone in the stables and found herself pacing back and forth as she waited for word. She listened intently to every transmission across the radio, her nerves becoming more frayed each time a voice came on the air to report another dead end.

No. Don’t think about the word dead.

“Why is it taking so long?” she asked Fabio, who was hanging his head over the stall door watching her. To keep herself occupied, Violet grabbed a bucket of treats that looked like the oat clumps Marcus carried in his uniform pocket and went down the rows of stalls, feeding one to every animal who hadn’t gotten to ride out for the search.

She was nearly back to Fabio’s stall when it dawned on her that she was supposed to be afraid of horses. Her spirits perked up, but before she could celebrate her small victory, the radio cracked to life.

“I have the boys.” Finn’s announcement caused Violet to jump up in celebration, sending a few extra oat treats Fabio’s way. “They were southwest of the Peabody Trail. They’re tired and thirsty, but still in their saddles.”

“Where’s Amelia?” Micah demanded, the engine of his and Marcus’s ATV revving in the background of the radio transmission.

“The boys say Rider got hurt and couldn’t ride,” Finn advised. “Amelia stayed to watch over him while the boys rode back to the stables to get help. But they got lost.”

“Do they know where they left Amelia and Rider?” This time it was Dahlia’s voice, but Violet couldn’t tell if she was in the helicopter already.

“Negative,” Finn said. “We’ll get these two back to Violet. You guys keep looking.”

Violet wanted to weep in relief that the boys were safe, but there were still two people missing. Plus, Marcus had to stay with Micah. He couldn’t abandon the search for Amelia and Rider just because his own sons had been found.

“I’ll take care of them,” she repeated her promise from earlier to Fabio.

The engine of an ATV grew louder, and Violet ran to the stable doors. An agent was driving with one boy in the front seat and the other in the back sitting next to MJ. Even in the fading light, she could see the drying trail of tears down Jack’s dirty cheeks as he frantically unbuckled and launched himself out of the vehicle and directly into Violet’s arms.

Her heart went to pieces, and she wanted to hold the child close to her until she could make sure he was truly safe. But she also had to check on his brother. Jordan was the usually cautious twin, but he wasn’t even unbuckling himself. He was sitting stiffly in his seat, MJ speaking quietly to him.

Freckles was hurrying across the driveway with a plate of cookies and a stack of blankets. Violet set Jack on his feet, letting Freckles wrap him in a quilt and crush him in a hug, her own sparkle-stained tears running down her face.

Violet immediately went to Jordan’s side. She noticed he had a piece of fabric holding his right arm in makeshift sling. “What’s wrong, Jordan?”

The boy was pale, and his lips made a grimaced line as he refused to answer.

She looked at MJ, who ran a hand through his hair before shrugging. “When we were transferring him from his horse to the ATV, his arm hit the roll bar, and he let out a scream. He wouldn’t let any of us check it out. I could tell he was in a ton of pain from the bumpy ride, so I convinced him to let me use this sling to hold it in place.”

“Want me to call for an ambulance?” an agent asked her.

“No,” Jordan yelled, finally finding his voice. He turned pleading eyes to Violet.

Everyone was looking at her to make a decision that really wasn’t hers to make. Deep down, though, she had a feeling she knew exactly what was wrong. “Let’s get you out of that seat and get you something to eat. Then, you can tell me how you’re feeling.”

The boy squished his face in pain as Violet eased the holster seat belt away from the shoulder of his injured arm. Violet didn’t think she was strong enough to lift him without jostling him even more, so MJ helped. When he was out of the ATV, MJ walked him to the bench just outside the stables and sat him down next to his brother.

Freckles went back to the main house to get some lemonade in case the boys were dehydrated. The agent explained that he had to go back and get their horses, and MJ added, “I should return to the search. Are you sure you’re good here?”

“We got it.” When the ATV pulled away, Violet knelt in front of Jordan. “Are you ready to tell me why you don’t want anyone to look at your arm?”

Jordan sniffed, tears filling his eyes. “Uncle Rider got hurt real bad. The fire department only has one ambulance, and Uncle Rider needs it more than me.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Jordan. But you might have a pretty serious injury there yourself. Don’t you think we need to get that fixed?”

He bit his lower lip, and Violet realized she had to try a different tactic. She turned to the boy’s twin, who was lovingly drying Jordan’s tears with a corner of the blanket.

“You’re pretty good at diagnosing stuff, Jack. What do you think is wrong?”

Jack, who never paid attention to any of the medical documentaries his twin watched, shrugged. “Maybe he sprained his wrist?”

“It’s not my wrist. It’s a sub-cromal pinge-oment,” Jordan corrected.

Violet had absolutely no idea what that was, but it sounded serious. And painful. She’d promised Marcus that she’d take care of his sons, and that was exactly what she was going to do. “How about if instead of calling an ambulance, I drive you to the hospital? Your dad can meet us there after they find Rider and make sure he’s in good hands.”

The boy tried to shrug but winced in pain. Violet held her breath, not wanting to push his decision. “Okay, I guess.”

Aunt Freckles was returning with two insulated cups and a couple of bottles of water tucked into her apron pockets.

“All right, then. Aunt Freckles, can you please load up the snacks and the blankets in the car for us?” Violet forced her voice into a calmness she didn’t feel. “We’re just going to go on a little drive over to the hospital and let the doctors take a peek at Jordan’s sub pingement situation.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Jordan insisted to the older woman, as though she hadn’t been listening in on the radio this whole time and knew full well that Rider was in trouble.

“Of course you don’t, darlin’.” Freckles smiled her wide grin, her bright lipstick proving to be much longer lasting against tears than her smeared mascara.

“You’ll like the CT-scan machine, Jord,” Jack eagerly told his twin as Violet pulled onto the main highway. Jack then rattled off all the emergency-room procedures that he’d experienced in the past five years. Instead of being distracted, though, Jordan’s little face grew even more pale as he listened in terror.

Violet pushed her foot harder on the gas and prayed she was making the right choice.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Marcus knew this emergency room almost as well as he knew the Ridgecrest County Courthouse. The desk nurse greeted him and, before he could ask, said, “They’re in room 107.”

“Thanks, Cathy,” he replied, striding down the hall.

When he got to 107, the door was open, and the curtain partition was pushed aside. Violet was sitting in a chair beside the bed, showing Jordan a video on her phone. Pausing a second, he watched them without saying anything. He let the wave of relief crash through him and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they were all okay.

“Dad!” Jack paused from spinning in circles on the doctor’s stool. “It wasn’t me this time.”

“So I heard.” Marcus had found out over the radio that his sons were safe, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them with his own eyes. He squeezed Jack to him before turning to look at the hospital bed. Not wanting to cause any discomfort to Jordan, Marcus had to settle for ruffling his hair. “How’s the patient doing?”

“Sorry I got hurt, Dad. Is Uncle Rider okay?” Of course Jordan would be more concerned about his dad’s feelings and his uncle’s condition than his own.

“Don’t be sorry, buddy. Accidents happen. Uncle Rider is in surgery right now, but he should be fine. Amelia is fine, too. She’s with Aunt Dahlia and everyone else in the lobby, waiting to hear from the surgeon. But I’m more worried about you. What’s going on in here?”

Jordan looked at the digital machine beside him. “My blood pressure is in the normal range. Pulse and oxygen are fine. They already did an MRI, and we have to wait for the results.”

“In fact, the doctor should’ve been here a while ago.” Violet stood. “Maybe I should go down the hall and find her.”

“Hey.” Marcus took several steps toward the foot of the bed and grabbed Violet’s hand before she could leave. He lowered his voice. “MJ said he could tell it was bad, but Jordan wouldn’t say anything. Thank you for taking charge.”

“Of course.” Violet squeezed his fingers in response, but she made a subtle side-eye look toward the boys, as though she was warning Marcus that they had an audience.

They locked eyes for several seconds, and then Jordan asked, “Are you guys gonna kiss?”

Violet immediately tried to pull away, but Marcus wouldn’t release her hand. He maintained eye contact with her while asking his sons, “Why? Do you want us to?”

“Yes!” Both of the boys cheered, but Jack did so with more energy and crashed his spinning stool into the blood-pressure machine.

He lifted his brows at Violet. “They want us to kiss.”

“How about we just shake instead?” They were already holding hands, so Violet pumped her arm dramatically.

“No!” the boys chorused. Jordan even giggled.

“We could compromise with a hug?” Marcus suggested, pulling Violet into his arms. God, she felt good. After everything he’d been through tonight, he didn’t know how much he’d needed to hold her until she was pressed against him. Apparently, she’d needed a hug just as badly, because she wrapped her own arms around his neck and let her head fall to his shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Mrs. King?” A young doctor that Marcus didn’t recognize stood in the doorway holding a clipboard. Violet pulled away from his embrace and looked around the room in confusion before finally realizing the newcomer was speaking to her. “I’m Dr. Yu, and I just got your son’s MRI scans from the radiology department. Is now a good time for me to come in?”

“Oh, I’m not... He’s not my...” Violet started, but Jordan prevented her from saying anything else.

“Is it a sub-cromal pinge-oment?”

The doctor tilted her head to the side. “How do you know what subacromial impingement is?”

Violet finally managed a reply. “He does a lot of medical research.”

“Well, you’re close. It’s actually a dislocation. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, but I didn’t hear a popping sound,” Jordan replied. “Shouldn’t I have heard a popping sound?”

“Not always.” The doctor turned to Violet. “So how did the injury happen?”

“Oh.” Violet waited for Marcus to take the lead on speaking to the doctor, but he’d only just arrived and still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. Dr. Yu looked expectantly at Violet. “Uh, he and his brother were riding on their horses, and the trail was getting dark. They had to go under a low-hanging branch, and Jordan was worried Jack wouldn’t see it. So he reached to push it out of the way, and his sleeve got caught. The horse kept going, and his arm got jerked backward.”

“Ouch,” Dr. Yu said, and Marcus winced in agreement. “I know the physician’s assistant already did a cursory eval, but do you mind if I examine him?”

The doctor continued to direct most of her attention to either Jordan or Violet, who she clearly assumed was the mother of the twins. Marcus would’ve been slightly insulted that his role as the father had been dismissed in favor of the mother if he hadn’t been enjoying watching Violet easily answer the questions.

“Okay, Dad.” Dr. Yu finally spoke to Marcus. “I’m going to need you to sit behind Jordan and help him stay in position like this.”

“Mom—” Dr. Yu said to Violet, and at this point nobody corrected her “—I’m going to need you to hold Jordan’s good hand in yours so he can squeeze it real tight. Now, I’m going to simply rotate your arm and move everything back into place on the count of three.”

“Wait. Can I do it?” Jack asked.

“No!” Marcus, Dr. Yu and Jordan all yelled at the same time.

“Maybe I should take Jack out to—” Violet started, but Jordan interrupted.

His eyes were wide, and his small fingers were digging into her hand. “Please stay with me.”

“Of course I’ll stay with—”

Pop!

Dr. Yu had taken advantage of the distraction, and Jordan barely made a yelp.

“Was that it?” the boy asked.

“Yep. All done. You did great.” The doctor again looked at Violet. “He’s going to need to keep it elevated and iced. Do you have children’s ibuprofen at home?”

“We can stop at the pharmacy and get some,” she replied easily.

“Does he play any sports?”

“He’s supposed to start baseball next week.”

“You’ll have to tell his coach that he can participate in the running drills, but no throwing for at least four weeks.”

“Got it,” Violet said, then looked at Marcus. “Hear that, Coach? No throwing for four weeks.”

The doctor finally glanced at Marcus, and he wanted to tell her that he was also her patient’s parent, not just the coach. But with the exception of being the muscle to hold Jordan in place, all the questions and directions were given to Violet. Which was really for the best because Marcus was too emotionally drained to remember all the instructions.

“He’ll have to wear a sling for a few days. Do you need a note for school?”

“Any documentation you could give us would be great,” Violet said, always thinking of the legalities.

“That didn’t take as long as last time when I got my cast,” Jack said when the doctor finally left. “Can we get some ice cream on the way home?”

“Sure,” Violet said without even consulting Marcus. For a woman who’d been reluctant to babysit for a few hours, she was certainly warming up to the motherly role she’d been thrust into.

Cathy, the desk nurse, at least gave Marcus one parental duty. He got to sign the discharge paperwork.

The four of them left the emergency room and stopped in the hospital lobby to check in with the rest of the family. Duke saw them coming and signaled Marcus and Violet over to talk, while Jordan showed off his new sling to everyone else.

“Rider’s out of surgery, but they’re going to keep him in ICU.”

“ICU?” Marcus shuddered. Connor had found Rider and Amelia first, but Marcus and Micah had arrived soon after. Rider had still been pretty lucid when they’d called for medical transport.

Duke nodded. “He broke a rib, and it punctured one of his lungs. Freckles is back there now with him. The surgeon said the prognosis is good, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of your kids because I know Jordan would worry.”

“You’re a good uncle,” Marcus said, then pulled his brother in for a fierce hug. His second hug of the evening. “I know I usually don’t say this, but I’m glad you’re in town.”

“Why? Because I’m the only one in the family with a pilot’s license and could provide aerial support during the search?”

“No, because Kendra Broman just came in the door, and someone needs to make sure her daddy doesn’t come in here looking for MJ.”

“Big brother isn’t going to stick around and keep watch on everyone?” Duke asked, and Violet snorted. “This is certainly unexpected.”

“I’m taking the rest of the night off. I need a few hours alone with my family to focus on what I almost lost.” Marcus wrapped his arm around Violet’s waist and pulled her against his side. “Come on, boys. We’re heading back to our cabin.”

* * *

Violet should’ve been in her room at the main house planning for her opening statement at the trial tomorrow. Instead, she was at Marcus’s house kissing a very sleepy Jordan good-night. Jack had fallen asleep in the truck on the way home with his half-eaten ice-cream cone in his hand, and Marcus was trying to get his chocolate-stained shirt off without waking him.

When she and Marcus left the room and shut off the hallway light, he asked, “Beer or wine?”

“Definitely wine.”

He went into the kitchen, and she collapsed on the living-room sofa, thinking over everything that had happened that night. When he returned with her glass, she asked, “Why did you let the doctor think that I was Jordan’s mom?”

“Because you were acting like his mom.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” she insisted, not wanting Marcus to think she was angling to take the place of his children’s mother. She wouldn’t have even known how to fill that role.

“I know. I meant you were doing all the things that parents normally do in those situations. My brain was still on overload from earlier, so I was grateful one of us could properly function. You were great at comforting him and making decisions and advocating for him.”

“Well, he was doing a pretty good job advocating for himself. Man, that boy knows his medical terminology.”

Marcus chuckled, then took a sip of his beer. “He also knows that he can count on you. He could’ve easily told Finn or MJ about his arm, but he waited and told you. Not that he didn’t trust his aunt and uncle to take care of him. But because he knew that you would listen to his concerns and not override him or tell him he was silly for not wanting to call for an ambulance. I told you before that my boys not only adore you, they respect you.”

Violet knew the conversation would have to take place sooner or later. She couldn’t let the twins think that she was going to continue being in their lives if she had even the slightest doubt that things might not work out with their father.

She took a deep breath and faced him. “You told me that one of the reasons you married Brie was because she was so easy to get along with. But Marcus, I’m not her, and I’m never going to be her.”

“Have I ever made you feel as though you needed to be? As though I didn’t want you to be completely yourself?”

“The girl I used to be, or the woman I am now? Because I’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Like you’re more argumentative? Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

“Do you know how I got this way?” she asked.

His mouth lowered into a frown. “Because I hurt you.”

“Yes and no. It’s important that you understand that even if we get back together, even if we try to move past all the hurt we once caused each other,” she paused so that he would know that she, too, was taking some responsibility for their breakup, “there are going to be times when we still won’t agree.”

He lifted his knee onto the cushions to better face her. “Then help me to understand where you’re coming from.”

“We both know that my mother is overbearing and controlling and—” Violet exhaled “—frankly, a lot like your mother. Except you grew up with other siblings, who taught you how to argue, how to fight back. I had the desire, but I didn’t have the training or the courage. Even back then, there was a part of me that knew I shouldn’t have given up so easily. That I should have fought harder for you. Or at least fought harder to confront you. But I was young and hurt, and before I knew it, you were gone. I convinced myself that you might not be worth fighting for, but that I was. In law school, I finally found my voice. I learned how to negotiate, how to persuade and, more importantly, how to argue. And I was good at it. Distinguished law firms recruited me. The district attorney told me I could have my choice of assignments. My mom had arranged for me to clerk with the Supreme Court. You know what I chose, though?”

“To represent the people who you thought needed you most?”

“Well, that was a small part of it. But mostly I became a public defender because those were the hardest cases to win. I needed the challenge. I needed the fight because I had spent too much of my life not fighting for the things I believed in.”

He picked up her hand. “Did you believe in us?”

“Back then?” She only paused to take a breath. “One hundred percent.”

“What about now?” he asked.

“Right now?”

“Yes, Violet Cortez-Hill. Do you believe that we can figure out a way to fight for each other this time?”

“What are you saying, Marcus?” She didn’t want anything to be said in the heat of passion or in jest. They both needed to lay all their cards out and talk about their expectations.

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “At one time in my life, I thought I wanted things to be easy. I don’t regret my marriage to Brie because she gave me what I needed at the time. Truthfully, we gave each other what we needed. Plus, she gave me my children. But now I need something else in my life. I need you, Violet. My boys need you. Hell, my whole family needs you. I know that things won’t be perfect and that we will have our ups and downs. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. You bring out the best in me, and you challenge me to be the kind of man that I want my sons to be. I loved the girl you once were, but I love the woman you’ve become even more.”

Her heart filled with a lightness, and her mind was spinning. Marcus loved her. He wanted her in his life. Normally, she knew all the right things to say. But right now, all she could manage was “I love you, too.”

“Then stay here,” he said, before picking her up and carrying her to his bedroom. She had a feeling he meant stay in Wyoming, not just in his bed. And as he shut the door behind them, she realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Except preparing for trial tomorrow. Ugh. They’d just had an intense, adrenaline-fueled night, topped by an emotionally healing conversation about their future, and Violet was going to have to leave to get ready to oppose Marcus in court in the morning. Well, not Marcus exactly. Just the deputy who worked for him and the county prosecutor.

When Marcus started kissing her, though, Violet decided that she could probably stay one more hour. Maybe two.

* * *

Before dawn the following morning, Marcus was thinking about what he was going to cook Violet for breakfast when a pounding knock came from his front door. If something had happened to Rider in the middle of the night, one of his family members would’ve called.

“I’ll go see who it is,” he told Violet when she stirred in his arms. “But I’m not going to keep it a secret that you’re here.”

Last night, she’d told him she loved him. This morning, the boys would wake up and see she’d spent the night. After the trial ended, everyone would know that they were together, and they could stop all this sneaking around.

Turned out, there was no need to pretend otherwise. When Marcus opened the door, MJ was on the other side and strode inside. “Is Violet awake? I need to talk to her.”

“Is everything okay?” Violet asked, coming down the hall in the sweater she’d been wearing last night—inside out—and a pair of Marcus’s boxer shorts. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and her face was filled with concern. “Is it Rider?”

“Oh, um, sorry. Rider is good. He was already awake and asking Freckles to sneak some biscuits and gravy into the hospital for him. The surgeon is moving him out of the intensive care unit later this morning. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to plead guilty today.”

“Whoa,” Violet said, not so subtly jerking her chin toward Marcus. “This might be a conversation that needs to take place somewhere else to maintain attorney–client privilege.”

“I can go get some coffee started,” Marcus offered, but MJ cut him off.

“No. I want you to hear this. You were right. I needed to grow up and start taking responsibility for my actions. Dad had always steered me in the right direction, and I used to sit back and let him. I know that sounds like a cry for attention, and maybe it was. But the more I acted like I needed guidance, the more Dad gave me. Then, right after my high-school graduation, Dad seemed distracted. You guys were all busy with your own lives when he first got sick, but I knew something was up with his health before then. I put off college last fall because I wanted to stay close to him. I thought that maybe if he thought I needed him badly enough, he’d fight whatever was wrong with him and stick around. When he died, though, I started thinking that maybe I should’ve been the one to fix him, rather than the other way around.”

Sounded like Marcus wasn’t the only one in the family who thought he needed to fix things. But he let MJ continue.

“I was angry and I was emotional and I was stupid. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk after the funeral, and I shouldn’t have punched Deputy Broman. Dad would’ve wanted me to accept the consequences of my actions, and I’m doing him a big disservice and causing everyone else in the family a bunch of grief by drawing out this trial any longer than it needs to be.”

Neither Marcus nor Violet said anything, and MJ released a big breath. “Well, now that I got that off my chest, I think I’ll go get that coffee started. I bet you guys will need it for the rest of this conversation.”

Marcus whispered to Violet, “Shouldn’t you be giving him some sort of lawyerly advice right now?”

Violet whispered back, “I think he could use some brotherly advice more.”

“Right.” Marcus nodded and started toward the kitchen.

Violet caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Except not so much advice as more of a listening ear. Just listen to his feelings, and let me handle the legal stuff.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, MJ was pulling a box of sugary cereal out of the pantry. “Sweet. Mom never lets me keep Sugar Loops at the main house.”

“So what happened to make you change your mind about pleading guilty?” Marcus asked, then grabbed three bowls out of the cupboard. They might all supposedly be grown-ups now, but nobody said no to Sugar Loops.

“You know when you took that yoga class with me in Arlington?”

“Took the class?” Violet brought the milk container to the table. “Marcus, you said you went there, but you never told me you actually did yoga.”

“You want me to show you my planks?” He flexed his arms.

“Ew, gross.” MJ set the box down so he could plug his ears. “You guys sound like Uncle Rider and Aunt Freckles.”

“No, we don’t!” Marcus shuddered, then shook his head. “Anyway, you started thinking about changing your plea when we were in DC?”

“Yeah. You were asking me about my electives in high school, and I told you about that biomedical science class. You said it sounded pretty interesting. So I started doing a little bit of research, but there’s no way I could go to school for all the years it would take to be a doctor. Then last night when Jordan got hurt, I made him that sling, and it helped. Agent Franks and I made it back to where Rider was just before the medical evac team got there, and I got to ride in the helicopter with them. Man, I watched them save Rider’s life, and I thought, hey, I could do this, too. I stayed up talking to Kendra at the hospital, and she convinced me I should become a medic. One of the guys on the flight last night told me that he was in the Army Reserve and that EMTs can pretty much get any job they want if they have a combat background. I have to figure out if the military will take me with a criminal record, though.”

“Have you met our mother?” Marcus asked. “She has half of the joint chiefs of staff on her speed dial.”

“I want to go about it the right way, though,” MJ said, which made Marcus even more proud. “I don’t want any special favors because I’m a King.”

Violet finally spoke up. “Now this is where I come in with the legal advice.” She explained that misdemeanors could often get expunged from the record after time was served. She thought she could get Reed Nakamoto to agree to twelve months of probation, and if MJ successfully completed that, she could file a motion to expunge. After that, the recruiter’s office would have to decide whether or not they’d be willing to accept MJ, but who were any of them kidding? Sherilee King would make some phone calls whether any of them wanted her to or not.

* * *

By the end of the day, Violet had gotten MJ only six months of probation—with credit for house arrest the past three months he’d been confined to the Twin Kings—she’d picked up the twins from school and she’d stopped by the Pepperoni Stampede to pick up dinner for the four of them.

“Day one and you’re already setting the bar pretty high for this girlfriend gig,” Marcus said when he opened the pizza box. “Wait. Did you get pineapples on purpose?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a sly grin, then yelped when he started chasing her around the kitchen table. “I told you I wasn’t going to make things too easy for you.”

He changed directions at the last minute and caught her in his arms. She was now laughing breathlessly, and the boys started chanting, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

But she took matters into her own hands and kissed him. The boys cheered, and she whispered, “I love you, Marcus King.”

His heart felt as though it was going to explode. When the boys heard the opening song to their favorite movie, they took the pizza box into the family room, leaving Marcus and Violet in the kitchen.

“Do you love me enough to stay together even when we live so far apart?”

“The main house isn’t all that far,” she replied. “Not even a whole mile.”

“I meant when you go back to Texas,” he said, trying not to hold his breath. “To your career and your life.”

“As long as there’s a courthouse nearby, my career can be anywhere I want it to be, Marcus. And since you and the boys are in Wyoming, then I guess my life will be here, as well.”

“Are you serious?” He grinned, his wildest dreams coming true before his eyes. “You’re staying here at the Twin Kings with us?”

“Yes. But on one condition.”

“Name it,” Marcus said.

“We hire a wedding planner. There’s no way I’m running interference between our mothers when they start trying to get the upper hand on reception venues and invite lists.”

His laughter echoed in the kitchen. “Is that a proposal, Miss Cortez-Hill?” he asked. “Are you asking me to be your husband?”

“No, it’s the preliminary stages of a pending negotiation. We can wait until after the boys go to bed before you deliver your counteroffer.”

“No counteroffer,” he replied. “I accept. I’m not letting you get away ever again.”

EPILOGUE

“I don’t know why you can’t get married at the First Congregation of Teton Ridge like everyone else in the family,” Sherilee said to Marcus after most of the guests had left. The immediate King family was still sitting around several large tables at Big Millie’s, which had been closed tonight so that Tessa and Grayson could hold their wedding rehearsal dinner there, much to Sherilee’s chagrin. “You could still have your reception in Texas at a later date if it’s so important to Senator Cortez-Hill.”

“I got this,” Violet whispered, then patted Marcus’s knee before turning to his mom. “Mrs. King, my mother is already heartbroken that I’m moving to Wyoming full-time to open my own law practice. The least we can do is compromise by following my family’s tradition and have the ceremony at St. Thomas’s in San Antonio. Look on the bright side, though. Think of how crazy Aunt Freckles is going to drive my mom when it comes to planning the reception dinner.”

Sherilee seemed to mull the idea over. “I might pay to see that. But I’ll talk to our church secretary about their open dates. Just in case.”

Marcus pressed his smiling mouth against Violet’s forehead. “Good try, counselor. You can’t win every case.”

“I didn’t get married at the First Congregation.” Dahlia raised her hand from behind the bar. She and Connor had enjoyed a very small, outdoor ceremony at his ranch, the Rocking D.

“Not this time, you didn’t,” Finn mumbled from her stool where she was nursing a melting margarita.

“Don’t be jealous that your twin has got you beat two times over when it comes to finding great guys,” Micah said.

“One great guy,” Finn corrected, then turned to Connor who was helping his wife wash glasses behind the bar. “You’re a saint for putting up with Dahlia’s ex-husband, Con.”

“Someday you’ll have your chance to walk down the aisle, too, Finn.” Micah was one of the few people who could really get under the tough cowgirl’s skin. “As soon as you can find someone who wants to put up with your sassy attitude.”

Tessa held up her hands in a time-out sign. “Can we please have at least one night with no major family arguments?”

“Nope.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, right.” A chorus around the bar.

“Keep in mind, Mom,” Marcus said, his voice raised as he slung an arm around his younger brother, “MJ is going to be my best man, and it’ll be easier for him to attend the wedding after he gets out of boot camp if we get married in Texas.”

The heavy oak door opened, and all eyes turned toward the entrance.

“Sorry we’re late,” Duke said as he and Tom shrugged out of their coats. Tom was wearing his dress blues, and Duke was still in his flight suit. But at least they were together.

Amelia, Dahlia’s daughter who often asked more questions than Jack and Jordan combined, yelled across the room, “Hey, Uncle Duke and Uncle Tom. Do you guys have your baby yet?”

There were several gasps as everyone’s heads pivoted from Amelia to Duke to Tom and then back to Amelia again. Finally, Duke smiled and put his arm around his husband.

“So you guys might’ve noticed that we haven’t really been ourselves lately. For a while now, Tom and I have been looking into adoption. We had gone through the whole background process and were hopeful a couple of times, but then things would fall through at the last minute. It was pretty heart-crushing, and we were about ready to throw in the towel on the whole idea of ever becoming parents. But...”

“But?” Sherilee was clasping her hands together hopefully. It was no secret that she wanted as many grandchildren as possible.

“But then someone came through with the incredibly selfless offer to be our surrogate and, well, there’s going to be a new addition to the family in six months.”

Their mother squealed and danced around in a circle with whoops of happiness. Everyone else joined in with hugs of congratulations, and Dahlia popped the cork from a bottle of champagne.

“Wait!” Sherilee yelled over the noise. “You haven’t told us anything about this surrogate. Who is she? Where does she live? What’s her vitamin regimen? Does she do Pilates? I’m going to need the name of her obstetrician and her nutritionist.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Duke said, then nodded to where Finn was sitting quietly at the bar, apparently drinking lemonade out of her margarita glass.

“You... You’re... Wow...” Micah stuttered, putting into words what everyone else in the room was feeling. Completely stunned.

“It’s not like I had anything else going on, anyway,” Finn snapped at him. Then she pushed herself off the bar stool. “Besides, I couldn’t let my other siblings get all the attention.”

There was more cheering and more champagne and more hugs.

Violet wrapped her arm around Marcus’s waist and whispered in his ear, “Maybe we should wait to make our announcement. I don’t want to take away from Duke and Tom’s special moment.”

Marcus lovingly placed a hand on her belly. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride, and I promise that I am going to be the most amazing father to our children.”

Violet lifted her chin toward where Jack and Jordan were playing swords with the pool cues. “You already are.”

* * * * *

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ISBN-13: 9780369710048

Not Their First Rodeo

Copyright © 2021 by Christy Jeffries

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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www.Harlequin.com

Radar looked to the pair and then back, tilting his head. Gabe clucked his tongue. “What makes you think I’m even interested?”

Wagging his tail and panting, Radar pressed against Gabe’s leg.

“Okay, sure, she’s cute and I didn’t see a wedding ring.” Yeah, okay, he might’ve checked. He noisily blew out air between his lips. Why did he do that?

“But even if she’s single, she can’t be more than early twenties. That’s too young.” Are you sure? his inner voice taunted. Because the way that heart-shaped butt filled out those jeans and those hips swayed as Addie walked away didn’t look too young.

Radar started forward as the pair put more distance between them, and Gabe tightened his grip on the leash. Glancing up, Radar tried out his forlorn life is so unfair whine. How was a guy supposed to hold out against that oh-so-expressive head tilt and impressive vocal range?

* * *

SMALL-TOWN SWEETHEARTS: Small towns, huge passion

Dear Reader,

As an animal lover, I enjoy including them in my stories, but that old Hollywood adage about not working with kids or animals because they steal the scene also applies to writing!

As soon as he appeared on the page, Radar became a character in his own right and all the prewriting plans I had for him went out the window. He had his own agenda, but luckily, it aligned with mine for Gabe and Addie.

Thank goodness my local veterinarian is not just my cats’ doctor but also a fan of my stories. Once she got over her initial dismay at what I was asking, she was helpful and wrote down all sorts of information. Please note that no dogs were injured during the writing of this story.

I love to hear from my readers. You may email me at authorcarrienichols@gmail.com. I’d love to hear about your furbabies.

Carrie

The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

Carrie Nichols

Carrie Nichols grew up in New England but moved south and traded snow for central AC. She loves to travel, is addicted to British crime dramas and knows a Seinfeld quote appropriate for every occasion.

A 2016 RWA Golden Heart® Award winner and two-time Maggie Award for Excellence winner, she has one tolerant husband, two grown sons and two critical cats. To her dismay, Carrie’s characters—like her family—often ignore the wisdom and guidance she offers.

Books by Carrie Nichols

Harlequin Special Edition

Small-Town Sweethearts

The Marine’s Secret Daughter

The Sergeant’s Unexpected Family

His Unexpected Twins

The Scrooge of Loon Lake

The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

This book is dedicated to the wonderful vets and staff at Banfield Pet Hospital Hixson. They have not only taken wonderful care of my beloved furbabies but helped with my fictional one.

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

“C’mon, what’s wrong with that one? Looks like a perfectly good bush to me.” Former marine staff sergeant Gabe Bishop sighed as he glanced at what seemed like an endless row of forsythia bushes. Their bright yellow blooms created a natural fence between the still-dormant grass of someone’s lawn and the cracked concrete of the sidewalk where he stood.

“Just pick one...any one...” He rubbed a hand over the scratchy stubble peppering his chin. “Please.”

Suspending his search for the perfect spot to relieve himself, Radar lifted his head to give Gabe a long-suffering look. As if his human companion should understand the protocols by now.

“I should be training you—” Gabe yawned “—not the other way around.”

He still had to lug in all those storage boxes crowded in the back of his Jeep Sahara. But what he longed for most was a hot shower after being on the road for close to twenty hours, fueled by truck-stop coffee and a quick nap at a rest area.

The animal went back to examining the bushes and Gabe sighed again. “You can bet marine dogs perform on command.”

Radar whined his displeasure and Gabe regretted the disparaging remark. The dog might bear an uncanny resemblance to the Belgian Malinois the military favored, but Radar had been only the camp mutt, a mascot of sorts. Despite the circumstances, Gabe considered Radar’s contribution to their squad every bit as valuable as sniffing for explosives. Radar’s mere presence had boosted the morale of those men and women stationed so far from home, family and everything familiar.

Gabe might have told himself he’d been honoring a promise while he fought bureaucratic red tape to get the dog stateside, but that was simply an excuse.

The truth was he hated to think of what Radar’s fate might have been if he’d been abandoned after command had ordered the evacuation of their forlorn desert outpost. Yeah, like he wouldn’t have done his damnedest—promise or no—to get Radar to safety.

Radar had never been an active marine, and since his honorable discharge last Friday, neither was he. Even if he was no longer addressed as SSgt. Bishop in daily life, that identity would always be a part of him. A rank he was proud to have attained. Once a marine, always a marine. Oo-rah!

The irony didn’t escape him that civilian Gabe was a lot like Radar—searching for a perfect bush. Huh. “Sorry, buddy. I—”

A drilling clatter had him tensing and scanning his surroundings for anomalies. Same blue-collar neighborhood lined mostly with single-family brick ranches and a few duplexes like his rental unit. Nothing had changed from five minutes ago. So, what—?

The noise sounded again. Spotting a red-bellied woodpecker drumming an aluminum rain gutter, Gabe relaxed his guard and snorted a laugh. Looked like Radar wasn’t the only one intent on marking his territory this sunny April afternoon.

He shook his head. Such vigilance. What had he been expecting? This was Loon Lake, a place that travel brochures had dubbed quintessential New England. It boasted of a grass-covered town square and the ubiquitous eighteenth-century white clapboard church with a soaring steeple. Brick-fronted small businesses with colorful awnings and antique-looking streetlights crowded along Main Street. Despite appearances, the awnings and white-globed lamps were new.

Gabe grinned. How much squabbling had taken place before the town council voted to approve those lamps? He may have been barely twenty when he’d left for basic, but he knew residents enjoyed nothing better than arguing over mundane details. Pa had come home from those meetings grumbling about—

Radar pulled on the lead, jerking Gabe out of his thoughts and back to practical matters, like getting back to the rented duplex to finish unpacking so he could settle in and begin his new life. Whatever that might look like. With his pa gone, he had no relatives in Loon Lake, but the town was still home.

He tried to turn them around, but Radar dropped down on his belly in the middle of the sidewalk. Gabe tugged again on the leash, but the dog wouldn’t budge.

“What have I told you about mission creep?” he asked, referring to a shift in objectives that resulted in further commitment and time. The dog whined and Gabe shook his head. “Fine, a couple more blocks, but that’s it. I can haul your seventy-five-pound butt home if I have to. Don’t think I won’t.”

Radar rose and did a full-body shake, his tags jingling merrily. Gabe narrowed his eyes at the dog’s actions—looked like this human needed to practice his alpha-dog skills. They continued to the end of the street and turned to follow the sidewalk along a wider, busier road.

Sure, they didn’t have to worry about snipers or improvised explosive devices, but being so exposed made his scalp prickle. He disliked that feeling of being watched, even benignly, and he’d already pegged the woman across the street as a curtain twitcher.

At least no one had shown up on his doorstep with casseroles or baked goods—yet. And with any luck, they wouldn’t. He’d had enough handouts in his childhood to last a lifetime.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, dog. Why come home if I wanted to avoid attention?” Truth was he’d been yearning for something familiar, and his memories of growing up in Loon Lake weren’t all bad. And frankly, after being away for a decade, he assumed the residents’ memories of the kid with the free lunches and hand-me-down clothes would have dimmed. Even if the legacy of the teen who’d learned to cover embarrassment by acting tough and getting into trouble hadn’t been erased.

After Radar had marked a tree, a lamppost and an azalea bush—apparently those were acceptable—Gabe succeeded in coaxing him to head toward home. As they approached their street, a school bus stopped with a squeal of the air brakes and a hiss as the pneumatic door swung open. Hoping to get away before any kids got off, he pulled on the leash, but Radar sat on his haunches, once again refusing to move. Damn, but he was going to have to establish who was in charge in this relationship.

The dog stared intently at the bus, his ears thrust forward. When he whined, Gabe gave him a pat on the head. “I guess this is your first time seeing one of those, huh?”

A bespectacled boy wearing a gray T-shirt, jeans and black Chuck Taylor high-tops bounded off the steps. The kid’s mouth formed a giant O and he made a beeline toward them, his backpack bouncing around his thin shoulders. Gabe zeroed in on that backpack and tensed, but Radar whimpered and pressed against him, grounding him, bringing him back to the moment and their surroundings.

“What a cool dog, mister.” The boy, who appeared to be around six or seven, dropped to his knees and thrust out a hand to pet Radar on the head. “Is it a he or a she? What’s his name? Is he yours? What kind is it?”

As Gabe was trying to decide which question to answer first, running footsteps pounded on the pavement behind them. Reacting to the threat, he spun around. A woman sprinted toward them, a blond ponytail tied high on her head bouncing along behind her. He assumed a protective crouch and unconsciously reached for his hip—for the weapon that had been his constant companion for the past decade.

Radar whined and once again broke the spell. Although the dog hadn’t acted in any official capacity, he’d alerted them to enemy advances on the compound, saving them from surprise attacks. But no hostiles or suicide bombers looking to kill them here. Trying to get his heart out of his throat, he swallowed and straightened up.

“Theodore Andrew Miller, what do you think you’re doing?” The woman skidded to a stop, her pink-and-purple sneakers scattering pebbles. She gulped in air. “What have I told you about approaching strange animals?”

“But it’s not a strange animal. It’s a dog.” The boy scrunched up his face, and the tops of his brown-framed eyeglasses shot past his eyebrows. “See?”

Gabe coughed to disguise the laugh that had bubbled up, and the woman threw an angry scowl in his direction. She had pale blue eyes, a small turned-up nose and freckles sprinkled high across her cheeks. And, oh yeah, she was spitting mad. And kind of young to be this kid’s mother. But who was he to judge? Especially considering his past.

“Teddy, I saw you rushing up to him with your hand out,” she said. “That dog could’ve bitten your fingers off.”

Her scolding may have been directed at the boy, but Gabe bristled as if those words had been tossed his way. People could think what they wanted about him, but he wasn’t about to allow anyone to label Radar a menace. “Ma’am, my dog wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “How was Teddy supposed to know that?”

Okay, so she had a point. He scratched the scruff on his cheek, debating how best to proceed. “If it helps, I’m not a complete stranger to—”

“You’re a stranger to us,” she said, critically eyeing him up and down as if he and his dog didn’t belong on this well-tended street.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but my dog is leashed as required by law. Your boy approached us, not the other way around. So, if anyone’s to blame, it’s him.” Heat crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks. Could he get any lower, shifting fault to a kid? Even if it was the truth.

The boy held up a hand, turning it over several times, and Gabe winced at the burn scars on both sides.

“See,” he said. “The dog didn’t bite me.”

“This time,” the woman said.

“Will your dog be happy to see me from now on, just like today, mister?” The boy plunged his fingers into the thick fur on Radar’s neck.

Gabe nodded, but there wouldn’t be a “from now on” if he could help it. He planned on a hassle-free civilian life. His immediate future would consist of finding a job and maybe catching up with a few friends from school.

“See? It’s okay because the doggy’s going to be nice to me the next time too,” the boy said, sounding like that settled the matter. Radar drummed his tail on the sidewalk, and the kid gave him a hug.

The woman closed her eyes, and her lips moved as if she were counting or praying for patience at the child’s literal directness. Gabe cleared his throat, and her eyes flew open.

“Teddy, you know better than to talk to strangers. Especially ones with—” she threw another mistrustful glance at Radar “—dogs.”

Gabe tightened his fingers around the leash. Okay, now he was pissed. He may have found her appealing in a fresh-faced, wholesome sort of way, but her attitude was sticking in his craw. “Look, lady, I don’t know what you have against dogs, but—”

“I have nothing against dogs,” she rushed to supply. “But, as I’ve explained to Teddy, some predators use them to lure unsuspecting children. It, uh, it was nothing personal,” she said, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks, highlighting all those tiny freckles. “I apologize if it came across as an insult.”

He clamped his mouth shut on the stinging retort that had sprung to his lips. Huh. Her reasoning made sense. How could he argue against child safety? He wouldn’t, because he was leaving, getting away from her, her strangely alluring freckles and her kid. He’d go home and take that shower and clean up as he’d planned before Radar had hijacked the mission.

Aside from moving and opening the rest of those storage boxes, the most drama scheduled for today was plopping on the couch and watching some spring baseball, maybe sipping a cold brew. Whether that cold brew would be coffee or beer had yet to be determined. His gaze roamed over the woman and those blue eyes shooting fire at him.

Beer was in the lead.

“You weren’t even at the stop when the bus came,” the kid said, as if sensing a weakness he could exploit.

“You’re right—that’s my fault. That last batch of cupcakes took longer to bake than I anticipated.” She grimaced. “And, of course, this is the first time in a month that damn bus has been on time.”

Gasping, the boy unfolded and sprang up like a marionette whose strings had been pulled taut. “Uh-oh, you have to put a quarter in the jar for using that word. You made me last week, so it’s only fair that you do too.”

“I have a feeling I owe more than a quarter after nearly suffering a heart attack. C’mon, Teddy, we need to get home.” She held out her hand, her gaze darting between the boy and Radar.

The kid scowled. “But I didn’t even get to find out the dog’s name or nothin’.”

“His name’s Radar,” Gabe told him. Maybe that would pacify the child and he’d allow her to lead him away.

“There. You know his name. Let’s go.” She had a death grip on the boy’s hand and began marching away but threw a cautious glance over her shoulder.

Teddy twisted around and raised his free hand. “Bye, Radar. Bye, mister.”

“What happened to the jacket you had on this morning?” the woman asked as they walked away.

“I dunno... Musta left it at school.” The response drifted back to them, and Radar gave a low woof, then whined.

“Listen to you.” Gabe rubbed the soft fur behind the dog’s ears. “You’d think you were losing your best friend in the world.”

The woman was saying something, but they were too far away to make out the words, and Radar whined again.

“Forget it, dog,” Gabe muttered. “We don’t need any part of whatever they’ve got going on. From now on, we’re in a no-drama zone.”

Radar looked to the pair and then back, tilting his head. Gabe clucked his tongue. “What makes you think I’m even interested?”

Wagging his tail and panting, Radar pressed against Gabe’s leg.

“Okay, sure, she’s cute and I didn’t see a wedding ring.” Yeah, okay, he might’ve checked. He noisily blew out air between his lips. Why did he do something as silly as scan for a sign that she was off-limits? He wasn’t even looking for any sort of relationship.

Radar made a nonmenacing growling noise deep in his throat.

“Look, even if she’s single, she can’t be more than early twenties. That’s too young.” Are you sure? his inner voice taunted. Because the way that heart-shaped butt filled out those jeans and those hips swayed as she walked away didn’t look too young.

Radar started forward as the pair put more distance between them, and Gabe tightened his grip on the leash. Glancing up, Radar tried out his forlorn life-is-so-unfair whimper. How was a guy supposed to hold out against that oh-so-expressive head tilt and impressive vocal range?

“Forget it. I’m not in the market. Even if I was—which I’m not—my thirty going on fifty is definitely too old for all that fresh-faced innocence.” He snorted. Was this what his life had come to? From maintaining the discipline and efficiency of the men under his command with field training exercises to arguing with a dog over a woman?

Radar auditioned a different sound, but Gabe stood firm. “What do you know? You’re a dog. My guess is she had your undying devotion when she mentioned she baked cupcakes.”

He patted Radar on the head and exhaled. “Temptation, thy name is woman.”

Radar looked up at him and Gabe shook his head. “Yeah, I have no idea where that came from either.”

But he did know the blonde walking away was temptation, and in his experience, that path generally ended with trouble.

Thankfully, those scrapes were nothing more than teenage antics, like the time he’d tried to hijack a rival school’s stuffed mascot. Those shenanigans could be traced back to his desire to impress a certain cheerleader. Tracy Harris. Yeah, he’d impressed himself right into a shotgun wedding upon graduation.

He knew better now, and this woman, with that sweet face, had to be the kind of woman who was all in...marriage, kids and forever. So he was going to avoid her—and temptation. Getting the rest of his life on a good track was his first—and last—priority.

He had enough old mistakes on his conscience.He didn’t want any new ones.

Been there. Done that.

* * *

Even though Teddy was unharmed, Addie Miller’s heart continued its staccato rhythm as they headed toward home. Seeing her brother running up to that humongous dog and being too far away to do anything had scared the holy—Oops! She owed the swear jar enough quarters for one day. Nothing like feeling helpless to bring out her potty mouth. She may have needed that tough exterior as protection in the past, but now that she was responsible for Teddy, she needed to set a good example.

Inappropriate language aside, she’d had to acknowledge the sickening truth. If something had happened to Teddy today, the blame would’ve been hers and hers alone. How could she have allowed baking cupcakes—or anything at all—to distract her?

Queasiness roiled her stomach. Were her promises meaningless too? Was this how she made up for not being there for Teddy in the past?

If he’d gotten mauled by a dog or snatched by a stranger, that would make her no better than their mother, Michelle. And she’d owe an apology to those social workers who’d warned her she’d been ill-equipped to take on such an enormous responsibility, caring for her much younger half brother at her age. She couldn’t magically change how many years she’d been on this earth, but she could step up and do what was necessary.

She glanced at Teddy’s hand in hers and, seeing the burn scars marring his hand and wrist, choked back a sob. Although she’d been away at college when he’d plunged his hands into scalding hot water, she blamed herself for not being there to prevent it. The fact her brother’s care had been her mother’s responsibility, and not hers, never mattered one whit to Addie’s conscience.

“Addie?” Teddy squeezed her hand and frowned. “It’s okay. Radar didn’t hurt me. He was a really, really nice doggy,” he added in a wistful tone.

Addie blinked against the burn in her eyes. “I’m sure he was, but—”

“—dogs are expensive,” he finished for her and kicked a pebble across the sidewalk until it disappeared into a thicket of forsythia bushes. “Joey Johnson said people give puppies away for free when they don’t want them. Maybe we could get one like that.”

“Even if we did, veterinary care costs lots of money.” Her conscience was a hot poker, jabbing her for using the trite excuse. “It wasn’t just about the dog, sweetie. That man you spoke to was a stranger. Do you remember how I’ve asked you not to talk to strangers?”

Teddy’s chin hiked up. “You talked to him.”

“Yes, I did, but I’m an adult and—”

He pulled his hand from her grip, crossed his arms over his chest and stuck them under his armpits. “But you’re my sister. How come you get to act all adult? Make rules for me and stuff like that? Joey’s older sister doesn’t do that.”

Because you deserve a responsible adult in your life. Tag, she was it. “I was lucky enough to be born first, and you know how much I like having you live with me. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded but stuck out his lower lip. “But it’s still not fair.”

Life rarely is. She ruffled his hair, a gesture Teddy said was for babies, but even as he ducked to get away, she saw his lips twitch as he fought a smile.

“If you like having me live with you so much, why won’t you let me walk home from the bus stop alone?” His expression turned calculating. “I’m big enough, and besides, all the kids on the bus laugh because they know you’re my sister.”

Her stomach flip-flopped. She understood that he might find her presence embarrassing. How many times had Michelle embarrassed her by showing up at school functions high, inappropriately dressed or hanging off the arm of some guy who was most likely her dealer? Oh, how she’d longed for a mom who volunteered to bake cupcakes for school parties or chaperoned field trips.

She sighed. Was it too much to ask that Teddy wait until after the hearing for permanent custody to go through a rebellious phase? She didn’t trust their mother to keep her word about not fighting it. The family counselor she’d spoken with had assured her that Teddy’s actions were a good thing. Testing boundaries meant he felt safe living with her. “I understand how you feel, sweetie, but maybe we—”

“Hey, look! Radar is following us.”

She whipped around, and sure enough, the man and his dog had closed the distance between them. This time she concentrated on the owner. He was at least two, maybe three, inches over six feet, with thick brown hair that spiked on top but was cut shorter on the sides. He had straight dark eyebrows above a hawk nose and generous lips surrounded by a thick sprinkling of dark stubble. How had she not noticed he had the most amazing hazel eyes? Or that despite the dusty and torn clothing, he didn’t look as disreputable as she’d first assumed. How had she not noticed any of those details before now?

Maybe because the dog had scared the crap out of you. Still does.

She turned back to her brother. “Teddy, why don’t you run on ahead? I frosted a cupcake for you and set it aside. And you can play some Mario Kart.”

“Why?” Teddy’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What’s going on that you don’t want me to know about?”

“Nothing is going on.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. To think she’d been thankful when Teddy had started coming out of his shell, had started feeling comfortable enough to question her. “You’re the one always begging me for more video-game time.”

“But I want to see where Radar is going.”

So did she. She’d resided here long enough to know everyone on the street at least well enough to wave when they drove by.

And she’d definitely remember both of them.

CHAPTER TWO

Man and dog caught up to them before she could order Teddy inside. The animal sat at the man’s feet when he stopped. Obedient, but excited shivers coursed through its body.

Was it possible for a dog to yearn? If so, this one did it every time he glanced at Teddy. Her heart constricted. She was still fearful, but maybe it was time—past time—to face this fear straight on and put it behind her.

If only... She reached out blindly for Teddy’s hand because fears weren’t wished away.

“Are you lost, or did you need something?” she asked, trying to sound polite, but it came out as more of an accusation than an inquiry.

The man held his hands up, palms out, the leash threaded through the fingers of one hand. “Neither one. We’re just minding our own business and going home.”

He had large, calloused hands with blunt-tipped—Wait... What? “Home?”

He nodded and pointed. “This is us, the duplex up there on the left.”

He was indicating the house with brick on the bottom, blue clapboards on the upper half and black shutters. One of only two multifamily dwellings on the street, it was well cared for, and like the other homes, it was set back to allow for a decent-sized front yard. Despite being only a renter, she felt a sense of pride being able to offer her brother such a stable—

“Oh boy! Did you hear that?” Teddy tugged on her hand, bringing her back to the current situation. “Radar’s moving in with us.”

Teddy did a little dance and the dog’s plumy tail waved in an arc as if he too was celebrating this happy news. The dog who was invading her space.

Clearing his throat, the stranger rubbed a hand across his mouth and met her gaze. Those mesmerizing eyes seemed to both mock and challenge her. As if he had read her mind.

“Did you know only 5 percent of the population have hazel eyes?” she asked.

“What?” He blinked and frowned, furrowing the skin between his brows.

Her face flamed. Damn her encyclopedic brain that collected trivia. Her thirst for knowledge came in handy at her job as a library assistant, but not so much when the information she retained spewed back up at the most inopportune times. “Nothing. I—”

“She was talking about eye color and—”

“Teddy, why don’t you go inside...? Now.”

“But—but—”

“You may as well listen to her.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Radar and I are heading to the previously unoccupied side, if that makes you feel any better.”

No, it didn’t make her feel any better because that enormous dog would be living... Right. Next. Door.

Teddy scrunched his nose. “What does un—unoccupied mean?”

“Empty,” she answered automatically, her mind still processing the fact they were her new neighbors. She shook her head. “But—but I spoke with Natalie a few days ago and she didn’t tell me anyone was moving in.”

He lifted a broad shoulder in a negligible shrug. “You’ll have to take that up with the person who actually owns the house.”

“Sam’s mom owns the house,” Teddy said, the man’s sarcasm going over his head. “Are you and Radar new in town? We used to be new, didn’t we, Addie?”

“Actually, I grew up in Loon Lake, but I’ve been away for over ten years,” the man said.

“Wow, that’s a long time.” Teddy’s eyes widened. “Were you in jail, like—?”

“Teddy! You’re being rude.” She squeezed his shoulder but felt like a hypocrite because he was asking the questions she was too polite to voice. Exactly who was this new neighbor and where had he been for ten years? Her curiosity was justified because she had social workers combing through her life, checking Teddy’s living arrangements. Really? Like that justified being nosy or judgmental about a stranger?

And underneath all that justification was the fact that Teddy’s life experiences—like her own—had him making the leap from absence to jail.

Teddy hung his head. “Sorry for being rude.”

“I’m sure your mother will be relieved to know I wasn’t incarcerated. I—”

“Addie’s not my mother.” Teddy’s head popped up. “Even if she acts like it and I live with her. She’s just my sister.”

She winced at his use of the qualifier just. Despite what anyone said, she didn’t need him testing her authority. Not now. Could he say something like that to a social worker or judge?

“Then your sister will be happy to know I’ve been in the marines, not jail.” He quirked an eyebrow at her as if to say he’d known she’d been as curious as her brother.

Teddy’s eyes lit up. “The marines! Was Radar with you too?”

She tried to disguise her relief and... “The marines? That means you must be Gabriel Bishop, the war hero everyone has been—”

Oh God, Addie, just shut up. Running your mouth isn’t helping.

“I see gossip is still the number one sport in Loon Lake,” he said with a cynical twist of his lips.

Before Addie could form a response, Teddy rambled on. “Is Radar a war hero too? Did he wear all the cool stuff like I seen in that movie about the military dog? Remember that movie we saw, Addie?” Teddy leaned closer to the dog, trying to drag her with him. “The one in the movie had a vest and goggles just like the soldiers, but they were all dog-sized. Does Radar have all that ’quipment?”

“No. He didn’t have any of that. He was—” The dog woofed and tilted his head to look up at his owner, who reached down and scratched him behind the ears. “But he was every bit a member of our squad. He was one of us.”

That canine mouth pulled back into a giant, goofy smile, and for the first time in fifteen years, she felt something other than petrified of a dog.

“Wait till I tell the other kids I live next door to a war hero and a marine dog.” Teddy bounced on his toes. “Does Radar—?”

“Teddy, why don’t you go inside?” she suggested again. “You can have that cupcake now and play some Mario Kart before setting the table for supper.”

“But—but—”

“The offer of video-game time can be rescinded at any time.” She gave her brother a warning look.

Radar whined as if he too was objecting. Gabriel Bishop shook his head at the dog. “Don’t you start.”

Despite the uncomfortable situation, Addie grinned at the dog’s expression of dismay. She glanced up and her gaze met her neighbor’s. Swallowing, she said, “Kids, huh?”

Gabriel’s gaze held hers, and his mouth slowly curved upward until he was smiling at her. That simple gesture sent tingles skittering across her skin until he broke eye contact with a frown. But that smile... Talk about panty-melting.

Huh, maybe the dog wasn’t the biggest threat to her peace of mind after all. But still, she’d feel a lot better if he owned one of those purse-sized pups instead of a big mean-looking one.

No, that wasn’t fair. She spared a look at the dog. Yes, he was big, and that size alone was scary, but the way he was looking at Teddy bordered on adoration. How could she argue against that?

“Like I said, Radar and I are going inside, so you might want to listen to your sister.”

The dog whined but trotted up the sidewalk to follow his master into the house, but not before giving Teddy one last doleful glance before the door shut.

Teddy heaved a put-upon sigh. “Can I have two cupcakes and play for two hours?”

Had Michelle even considered limiting Teddy’s time watching television or playing video games? She should put her foot down, order him into the house. Letting him take advantage of her guilt wasn’t healthy. “One cupcake now and another after supper.”

A speculative gleam shone in his pale blue eyes. “What about Mario Kart? I don’t have any homework.”

“An hour and a half. And I don’t want any arguments when I ask you to dry the dishes after supper.”

He did a fist pump and ran ahead into the house. She glanced at the previously unoccupied side of the duplex—the one where that big dog now lived—and sighed. She’d work on setting stricter rules with Teddy. But first, she needed to get tough with herself and work on getting over her fear of dogs.

She would be doing it because overcoming it would be a step toward being the person Teddy needed her to be. All that self-improvement had nothing to do with those eyes flecked with brown, green and blue.

“Believe that and you’ll be buying beachfront property in Arizona,” she muttered and went into the house.

Once inside, she headed into the kitchen. Teddy had devoured a cupcake and left the plate on the counter, leaving not so much as a crumb behind. She set the dish in the sink and checked on him in his bedroom, where he was already playing his game. Shutting his door against the electronic noises, she pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

“I know why you’re calling,” Natalie said by way of greeting when she answered and added, “And I’m so sorry for not letting you know,” before Addie could even speak.

Addie didn’t pretend to misunderstand what Natalie was talking about. They had been friends ever since Addie had moved to Loon Lake. They’d bonded over single parenthood and formed their own supportive network of friends and single parents. “No apologies necessary. It’s your place and I don’t have any business putting my two cents in.”

This wasn’t about making Natalie feel guilty, so she injected lightness she wasn’t feeling into her voice. “I was just surprised to learn I had a new neighbor.”

“When I saw your name pop up on the caller ID, I realized I should have given you a heads-up. But since you’re not upset, then I guess that means you’ve seen Gabriel Bishop.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him.” Not some of her finest moments. First, casting the new neighbor—an honest-to-goodness war hero, according to absolutely everyone who’d come into the library this past week—in the role of potential child snatcher. Then, instead of apologizing for her mistake, she’d stood there and spouted eye-color trivia at him. “But I meant no apologies necessary because it’s your property and you can do what you want, rent to whomever you want.”

What had gotten into her? She was usually more astute at reading people, but seeing Teddy with that big dog had flustered her, and all reasoning and logic had fled. She may feel justified in her reaction to seeing Teddy talking with a strange man, but letting it turn her into a shrew was unacceptable.

Natalie chuckled. “And the fact he’s a hunk—and single, I might add—doesn’t hurt, huh?”

Addie rolled her eyes even though her friend couldn’t see her. She’d had it up to here with matchmaking. Her Harlequin ladies—the nickname she’d given the women who frequented the library and left with stacks of paperback romances—were on a mission to get her fixed up. Would they still feel the same if they knew her secret or would they redouble their efforts? She hadn’t even confessed to Natalie that she was still a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-two. It was nothing to be ashamed of, so she wasn’t even sure herself why she hadn’t told anyone.

Every week the ladies presented her with another choice. Loon Lake might be a small town, but its supply of single guys under the age of forty was starting to feel inexhaustible. Not that she didn’t sometimes yearn for the closeness of having someone special to share her life with, but she wasn’t going to be like their mother and bring a parade of unsuitable men into Teddy’s life. She knew from childhood experience how confusing that could be. Of course, there’d been times when she’d been grateful that they’d disappeared because—

“Hey? You still there? I’m sorry if—”

“Stop apologizing!” Addie shook her head to clear the lingering thoughts from her past. “I’m not upset. Just...”

“Distracted by thoughts of a certain mouthwatering marine?” Natalie sighed. “If you weren’t such a good friend, you’d have to fight me.”

“Oh please.” Addie tsk-tsked. “You are so in love with your husband you glow.”

“Don’t they say that about all pregnant women? I have a feeling Gabe could—”

“Will you cut that out?” Addie interrupted huffily but softened it with a laugh. Natalie and Des Gallagher were one of the happiest couples she knew, so all of this was Natalie’s attempt at matchmaking. All the blissfully married couples she knew were as bad as those ladies at Colleen’s Cut and Caboodle.

As if all those speculative glances cast in her direction by the library patrons each time Gabriel Bishop’s name was mentioned weren’t enough, now she had her good friend trying to matchmake. She needed to steer the conversation back toward her original purpose. Much safer territory. “I was surprised you rented it now, because you said you planned to get repairs and renovations done first. You mentioned talking to Ben McNamara about doing them.”

“Oh, I did, and, hmm, you know Ben’s hot and he’s—”

“Stop it,” Addie said before her friend could get carried away.

“Okay. Okay. I did ask Ben, but he’s super busy with those Victorians on the other side of town. He gave me some names, but before I had a chance to talk to anyone else, I bumped into Brody and Mary at the Pic-N-Save.”

Brody and Mary Wilson had transformed their farm on the outskirts of town into Camp Life Launch, a summer program mainly for children being raised in the foster care system. Although Addie’s own time in the system had been brief, it had changed her, and she volunteered at the camp whenever she could. To repay her, the Wilsons allowed Teddy to attend some of the camp sessions to help Addie with childcare during the summer break from school.

“Anyway,” Natalie continued, “Brody told me that Riley Cooper had told him that Gabe was looking for a place. The one Gabe was supposed to rent fell through when the owner’s niece had a quickie wedding and decided she wanted it.”

Addie snickered. “The Loon Lake grapevine in action.”

“You got that right. Anyway, when I told Des, we decided to offer the place to Gabe. He was relieved to find another place, especially one that was partially furnished. He was so grateful, he agreed to do some of the renovation work along with any other issues that pop up. You’ll have a maintenance person living on the premises.”

“That’s a good deal for both of you.” Addie paced the kitchen, straightening the napkin holder and salt and pepper shakers on the small maple kitchen table before moving on to the living room.

“And not a bad deal for you since he’s—Oh, I don’t know—” Natalie heaved an exaggerated sigh before continuing, “Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick.”

Good grief. Did everyone think she couldn’t attract a man on her own? “I meant it’s a good deal because it shortens Des’s honey-do list.”

“Which is why I am grateful for Gabe’s willingness to take on the repairs and renovations. Ever since that national magazine did a feature on glass artists, Des has had more work than he can handle.”

Natalie’s husband was a gifted glass sculptor and had been a onetime, self-proclaimed scrooge until Natalie and her young son, Sam, burst into his life. Now he was a dedicated family man. Addie bent down and picked up a stray LEGO, placing it on the coffee table. At least she hadn’t stepped on it. “But that’s good, right? He deserves to have his talent recognized.”

“Yes, it’s very good. I’m just sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time Gabe was arriving. I meant to call you yesterday but fell asleep right after supper. I’d forgotten how tiring this first trimester is.”

“Well, you just take care of yourself.” Addie knew how excited her friends were about the pregnancy. And she was elated for them, but she couldn’t help feeling envious and wondering if it would ever be her turn.

Natalie snorted. “No need to worry about that. Des is worse than a mother hen, and even Sam is waiting on me. I feel like a queen.”

“As well you should,” Addie told her, happy that Natalie had found love with a former naval aviator, whose career had been cut short when he’d received life-altering injuries. Her friend had lost her first husband in a tragic accident, which had also left her young son with a traumatic brain injury that had resulted in the boy being nonverbal.

They talked a few more minutes before ending with a promise of getting Teddy and Sam together soon. Natalie and Sam had lived on the other side of the duplex before she married Des, and the two boys had bonded over their love of LEGO bricks.

Back in the kitchen, she rooted around in a cupboard next to the refrigerator until she found a plastic storage container. She began frosting the cupcakes she’d left to cool while she picked up Teddy from the bus stop. She’d save some for her and Teddy, with the rest going to the monthly library meeting. The laminated sign Addie put on the door read Coffee & Conversation, but everyone in town referred to the meetings as Drinks & Drama. Small-town life’s double-edged sword. People had your back in times of trouble but loved nothing more than to argue over mundane details of how to enact those plans.

As she frosted the cupcakes, her thoughts kept going back to her new neighbor. From what she could recall from the library patrons, Gabe had been awarded medals or ribbons or whatever it was that marines got for bravery on the battlefield. He’d said the dog wasn’t military, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t done something heroic too. Maybe saved his life or something. Was that why he’d been so offended on the dog’s behalf?

Great. She’d insulted two of America’s finest in one day. Nice going. More snatches of this past week’s gossip floated around in her head. She frowned. Not all of it had been flattering. Several ladies had lowered their voices and spoke of rowdy behavior and police involvement, but obviously nothing serious enough to keep him out of the military.

Retired schoolteacher Trudy Canterbury had clucked her tongue when recalling that Gabe had gotten married like “five minutes after graduating high school.” Shaking her head, Trudy had added his wife had divorced him about “five minutes after he’d deployed.”

Having your wife divorce you while you were off fighting for your country couldn’t have been easy. And now, thanks to her and her big mouth, she’d verified that he’d been the subject of town gossip.

Instead of putting the cover over the cupcakes, she set it aside and reached into one of the overhead cabinets and took down a plate. It was inexpensive melamine but one of her favorites. He probably wouldn’t notice or care about the sunflowers or goldfinches, but using it made her feel better. Like an apology inside another apology.

She took out three cupcakes and arranged them on the plate. Did she even want to see Gabe Bishop again this soon? As if not seeing him was an option, considering he lived next door. It wasn’t as if she could avoid him forever. And, knowing he nor the dog were a danger to Teddy, talking to him again wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Except that would also mean seeing Radar. But nothing in this life ever came without cost.

“Think of it as exposure therapy.” Yeah, because that had worked so well in the past. She snorted. Maybe if she’d actually, really exposed herself...

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her peace offering and went out the front door to the rectangular cement stoop the side-by-side duplexes shared. Throwing her shoulders back, she crossed the oh-so-short distance separating her from the dog.

Thankfully Teddy was in his room playing video games. Groveling would be embarrassing enough; she didn’t need an audience. She could set an example about taking responsibility by apologizing for her mistakes some other day. No doubt another teaching moment would arise in the next dozen or so years.

Her new neighbor’s wooden door stood open, so she knocked on the glass of the storm door. Repairing or replacing the broken doorbell had been on Natalie’s to-do list, so she didn’t even bother with it. As she waited, she turned her head and glanced toward the house across the street in time to see the lace curtain in the front window fluttering. Are you getting all this, Mrs. O?

A widow in her eighties, Maureen O’Malley was one of the ladies who congregated weekly at Colleen’s Cut and Caboodle. Come Thursday, you could bet Addie’s visit to the new neighbor would be discussed as the regulars had their hair washed, styled and sprayed. Maureen was also the street’s unofficial neighborhood watch. Nothing got past Mrs. O. What she didn’t observe personally, she got from plying the gregarious mail carrier with her ricotta cheese cookies. Not many were strong enough to hold out against those frosted morsels of heaven.

Grinning, she turned back and—Yikes! The dog—Radar—was on the other side of the glass. He didn’t bark or growl, just stood there watching her with an intenseness she found jarring. How long had he been there eyeing her? He seemed to be looking directly into her. Hey, at least he wasn’t smacking his lips. Did he know how frightened she was? Heck, Mrs. O could probably see her knees knocking without the aid of her trusty binoculars.

The dog’s nose began to twitch. Gulping, she did her best to control her reptilian brain reaction. Definitely flight—fight wasn’t even on the menu.

Calm down. The dog was probably more interested in getting at the cupcakes than doing anything to her. Right? If she was lucky, the scent of the treats would mask the smell of her fear. Not that it mattered since dogs were also masters at reading body language. She groaned inwardly. Sometimes she hated her penchant for retaining bits of trivia.

“Did you know your sense of smell is around forty times greater than mine? Heck, you can probably pick out the individual ingredients even through this door. Red velvet cake batter has cocoa powder, vinegar or buttermilk, and it’s the chemical reaction between them that—”

“Did you want something?”

Addie startled at the deep male voice and nearly dropped the plate. The cupcakes bounced and she clutched the dish tighter. She raised her gaze to Gabriel Bishop, who now stood behind his dog. He’d not only changed his clothes but shaved, and if his damp hair was any indication, he’d showered too. Whoa. He cleaned up nice. Maybe Natalie and the library ladies knew what they were talking about. Down, girl. She bit her lower lip to contain the nervous laughter that bubbled up. “I...I...”

He scowled. “Did you need something, or did you come to give my dog a baking lesson?”

“Actually, we were talking about his sense of smell. Like I was telling him, dogs have up to three hundred million olfactory receptors in their noses and—Uh, well, never mind.” Oh yeah, this wasn’t embarrassing or anything. Her face hot enough to melt the cream cheese frosting on the cupcakes, she thrust out the plate. “Here, I came to give you these.”

An emotion flickered across his face and disappeared before she could interpret it. The glower that replaced it was all too easy to read. Why couldn’t she prevent trivia from dribbling out when she opened her mouth?

“Why?” he demanded, his straight brows clashing together.

“Why?” she echoed. Okay, embarrassment had tainted her presentation, but his reaction seemed out of proportion to her lack of grace. She shuffled her feet. “I wanted to apologize for my—” she swallowed “—earlier behavior. I—”

“Apology accepted. Was there anything else?” The dog whimpered and he gave Radar a pat on the head.

“You, uh, you don’t want the cupcakes?” They weren’t Maureen’s coveted cookies, but they weren’t bad. Teddy loved her red velvet cupcakes, and her little brother wasn’t one to spare her feelings with spurious praise.

“I don’t need chari—Uh, I mean, that’s not necessary.” He curled his palm around the edge of the inner wooden door and started to push. “The apology was sufficient.”

“Oh. Well, um...” She took a step back as the door swung shut with a firm thunk. “Ohh-kaay.”

She stood for a moment staring at the closed door. She stuck out her tongue, then called him a name that had her owing the swear jar another quarter—Ha! Considering Teddy had had to give up a quarter for saying “damn” while playing a game, she probably owed it some serious folding cash. A few more encounters like this with her new neighbor and she’d go broke. Of course, that wasn’t exactly a long ride.

CHAPTER THREE

Gabe stood in the center of the room and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze trained on the front window. She—what had the kid called her? Addie?—was crossing the street with her plate of cupcakes. Probably going to visit the curtain twitcher to report his rude behavior.

Radar made his I’m-not-happy-with-you noise, a cross between a woof and a growl, before ambling over to the window, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He stood panting, his breath fogging the glass, and watched their neighbor—or more likely those cupcakes she was carrying—sashay across the street.

“Yeah, I get it. I acted like an ass.” Gabe sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Bed,” he ordered the dog.

Taking out your bad behavior on an innocent dog is beneath you.

Radar went to his dog bed and threw himself down. He lowered his head to his paws and breathed out a canine sigh. Gabe snort-laughed. That dog belonged in Hollywood.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. She can call them red velvet if she likes, but I could plainly see those cupcakes were chocolate. Dogs can’t have chocolate.”

Radar lifted his head, gave a low woof and lowered it again.

“Hey, I didn’t make the rules.”

No, but he could have been polite and accepted her offering. Instead, seeing her had slammed him back nearly two decades.

Back to that day when he’d opened the door of their trailer to his classmate Alan and Alan’s mom. She’d been clutching a covered casserole dish, offered presumably because his pa had been injured on the job and unable to work.

He may have forgotten what food was in that dish, but branded on his brain was the woman’s appalled expression as she’d glanced around the dilapidated trailer and junk-strewn yard. Her expression had morphed into pity when her gaze met Gabe’s. What ten-year-old boy wanted to be pitied in front of his peers? That was the first time he’d experienced feeling ashamed of his circumstances, but not the last.

Seeing his new neighbor standing at his door with an offering had not only thrown him into his past but had him thinking serving his country hadn’t changed a damn thing. As if she were saying he didn’t belong on this neatly tended street. Of course, she’d been making a simple neighborly gesture.

Yeah, she looked like the do-gooder type. He rubbed a hand over his face. Closing the door on her hadn’t been his finest moment. About on par with placing blame on the kid earlier. And ordering Radar into his dog bed. What was it about that woman that had him acting like a first-class jerk?

He knew the difference between apologizing or being neighborly and charity.

Shoving both hands into his back pockets, he watched as the curtain twitcher answered her door. The elderly woman smiled and nodded her head, obviously pleased to accept the cupcakes he’d refused. Damn, but he was a fool. The question was, what was he going to do to make up for his behavior? It wasn’t this woman’s fault he had issues—apparently unresolved ones—from his childhood.

“Got any ideas, dog? Short of only going out under cover of darkness to avoid her, what can I do? I signed a year’s lease on this place.” His financial situation wasn’t dire. He still had a good chunk of combat pay squirreled away, but forfeiting a year’s worth of rent wasn’t possible. Not after all the dough he’d shelled out getting Radar here. Not that he begrudged a penny of that money.

The cupcakes disappeared inside the house along with the humans. Radar glanced up and woofed in response.

“Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say. You didn’t hurt her feelings. You were happy enough to see her and her cupcakes.”

He picked up one of the boxes he’d dragged in earlier and set it on the coffee table. Like the initial rental that had slipped through his fingers at the last minute, this apartment had come partially furnished. Loon Lake might celebrate him as a supposed war hero, but when it came to renting a furnished place to a guy with a seventy-five-pound dog, his status wasn’t all that impressive.

* * *

Two days later, Gabe flattened the last cardboard storage box, glad the task was done at last. Unpacking had taken much longer than he’d expected. Mostly because he hadn’t anticipated the flood of memories that had been in storage for so long. Those things included a few keepsakes from his mother, who had passed away from cancer when Gabe was six. After his pa’s death during his second deployment to Afghanistan, he’d disposed of or donated most of the contents of their mobile home, except for small items he’d boxed up and put into storage. At that time, he’d vowed to deal with them in the future.

“Welcome to the future,” he muttered, glancing over at a dozing Radar.

Surrounded by a bevy of new toys, the dog had supervised the proceedings from the comfort of his bed. Gabe shook his head at the sight. Looked like he needed to avoid the animal aisle at Pic-N-Save unless he was shopping for pet food.

Maybe he should stay out of local businesses entirely. He’d run into Sheriff Grayson Granger at the Pic-N-Save despite going first thing in the morning to avoid as many customers as possible. The sheriff had recognized him. No surprise there. The surprise was that the man had been genuinely pleased to see him, offering his hand.

Gabe had half expected the sheriff to slap on a pair of cuffs when he’d stuck out his own to shake. But Granger had pumped Gabe’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder to welcome him home and thank him for such meritorious service.

While he appreciated the sheriff’s forgiveness for youthful transgressions like underage drinking and some graffiti tagging, both of which he’d paid for. One with getting sick from drinking bourbon straight from the bottle and the other with having to clean up what he’d spray-painted. Looking back, he had to say he’d gotten off light. Not sure if it was a small-town thing or if his pa making him apologize to the sheriff had helped. But he hated all the war-hero nonsense. Since when did doing what he’d been trained to do count as heroism? He threw himself onto the sofa. If he’d been a true hero, he would have saved more than his own life. Radar would be with Tom and—

A wet nose nudged his hand. Radar whimpered and rested his head on Gabe’s knee. The dog looked up at him with adoration, not a hint of reproach. Sighing, he rubbed Radar’s ears. Why was everyone so willing to forgive him? What had he done in his life to deserve such magnanimous absolution? He’d escaped a teenage marriage by joining the marines and he’d literally escaped death in Afghanistan by winning a coin toss.

Radar’s ears twitched and he broke away. Trotting to the door, he sniffed around the bottom. Gabe may not be able to rattle off numbers regarding the dog’s olfactory receptors, but he did know Radar recognized the person on the other side, because his tail was working like a metronome. Radar sat and stared at the door in anticipation. Finally someone knocked.

Sighing again, he dropped the flattened cardboard on the pile and went to check. With careful timing, he’d managed to avoid his neighbors since shutting the door in the woman’s lovely face. Several times he’d thought about going over to apologize, but he hadn’t gotten past the thinking stage.

Maybe this would be his opportunity. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled open the door, vowing to use the manners he’d been taught.

Teddy stood on the other side of the glass. Okay, he wasn’t disappointed. Nope. He’d only hoped it was her so he could apologize for his boorish behavior. Yup, that explained it.

As soon as he unlatched the storm door, Radar pushed his nose out. Gabe made a grab for his collar, but the dog was faster and wriggled through the space, showering the kid with sloppy kisses.

“It’s so good to see you again. I missed you so much,” Teddy told the slobbering dog.

“Yeah, it’s been a whole two days,” Gabe said. You’d think by the way they greeted one another that the pair had been cruelly separated for months instead of days. What had gotten into Radar?

Teddy lifted his head. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Forget it,” Gabe said. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he was in a bad mood. He’d regretted acting like such an ass to his pretty neighbor. He didn’t want to subject her brother to the same treatment. What harm would it have caused to have taken her cupcakes? Instead, he’d been petty.

Teddy hugged Radar, who hadn’t stopped squirming and nearly knocked the giggling kid onto his butt on the cement steps outside the door.

Great. The last thing he needed was to have to explain scrapes or injuries to the boy’s sister. No telling how she’d react. Especially if Radar was to blame. And it would be his fault for repaying her apology with rudeness.

“Sit,” he ordered Radar before dealing with the boy.

Teddy scrunched up his face and glanced down. “Here? But...”

Gabe bit the inside of his cheek. “I was talking to Radar.”

Radar obeyed, but ripples of excitement continued to course through his entire body.

“Wow. He listens real good. I’ll be sure and tell Addie.” The boy dropped to his knees and put his arms around the dog. “She keeps saying dogs are too expensive. I said we just won’t take it to the vet, but she says that’s not the way good parents should behave,” the boy parroted his sister.

Gabe rubbed a hand across his mouth. The kid did a pretty good imitation of Addie.

Teddy rested his cheek against Radar’s fur. “I think she just doesn’t like dogs too much.”

The movement caused the sweatshirt sleeve to pull up and expose those scars marring the child’s hands and wrists. Yeah, definitely burn scars. Gabe grimaced. Not fresh, but the kid couldn’t be more than six or seven. How did—? He pushed those thoughts aside. Not his business. And he wasn’t making it his business either. He needed to get his own life in order, not get involved in someone else’s.

Gabe glanced down at the boy. He really shouldn’t be encouraging drop-in visits. “Was there a reason why you came?”

“Oh yeah...” The kid sprang up and straightened his shoulders. “Hello, Mr. Bishop. I’m Teddy from next door. I tol’ Addie you already know that, but she said I needed to be polite and that maybe it will rub off on you. Uh—” He scratched his scalp. “But I think I wasn’t s’pose to say that last part, because she said it real low and I’ll bet she doesn’t know I heard her. You won’t tell her I tol’ you, will you?”

Gabe coughed into his hand. He didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings by openly laughing. Something about this kid made his chest tighten, like the time he’d had pneumonia. The past couldn’t be changed, so he had tried hard not to dwell on all that emotional stuff over the years. But if he’d survived, his own son would have been only a year or two older than Teddy, so comparisons were inevitable. Would he have been a chatterbox? Or a dog lover? Would he and Tracy still be together?

“...to ask if you had a wrench we could borrow. She also said to just come back if you said no or shut the door in my face. But I said you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t, would you?”

Gabe rubbed a hand over his chest. To be honest, closing the door on the kid had been his first instinct. Something about Teddy and Addie set off alarm bells. Like getting involved with either would drag him further than he wanted to go. Not only was she young, but responsible for a kid. He doubted she was out for a good time.

“For starters, you can call me Gabe.” Yeah, that’s a big step toward not getting involved. “Now, did your sister say why she needs a wrench?”

“She’s trying to get the water turned off under the kitchen sink.”

The boy was busy petting Radar and telling his newfound friend how much he’d missed him, so Gabe prompted him. “Why is she doing that?”

“Because the handle thing on top broke.” Teddy buried his fingers in Radar’s fur. “It was real cool. I heard Addie yell a bad word, so I paused my game and ran into the kitchen. I was gonna make sure she put money in the jar, but water was spraying up and...” The boy paused to draw in a breath. “Addie was getting wet trying to stop it, so instead I got the bucket she uses to wash the floor, and she put it over the water. It didn’t stop it, but now it’s going into the sink instead of into the air.”

Gabe scooped his keys off the small table in the hall. That sounded urgent and like something he could help with. That was even better than a simple apology. “I have a toolbox in my Jeep. I’ll get it.”

“Addie was so mad I didn’t even tell her she owed the swear jar. Good thing the clipboard lady wasn’t there today. I heard Addie tell Sam’s mom that the lady scares her, and she has to be careful what she says in front of her.”

Gabe had no idea what the kid was talking about but nodded as if he did. He stood at the open door and pressed the key fob to unlock his Jeep sitting in the driveway.

Teddy looked up at him. His light blue eyes seemed to be searching for reassurance. “I thought being an adult meant you didn’t have to be afraid of stuff like that anymore. What about you? Were you afraid when you were in the war?”

Oh kid, don’t look to me for answers. Any answers to anything. Gabe clenched his jaw. How had their simple conversation morphed into this? Yeah, he needed to put some distance between him and the child. And his sister. She was obviously responsible for her brother and needed someone she could rely on. His divorce proved he wasn’t reliable. “Why don’t we save this discussion for another time?”

“Why are people always saying that?”

“Because right now your sister needs help getting the water shut off.”

He definitely didn’t want to get involved in their family drama, but he could take a look at her leak. It was part of his agreement with the landlord and had nothing to do with his neighbor’s bright blue eyes or those freckles begging to be kissed.

“Can Radar come with us?”

“Did you say there’s water on your kitchen floor?”

“Just a little from before we got the bucket over it.”

“Even so. I don’t think we need Radar adding to your sister’s troubles by having a dog tramp through wet floors.” Gabe pointed to Radar. “Radar, bed.”

The water was a good excuse, but he also agreed with Teddy that his sister didn’t like dogs much. Or maybe just his pet. Or him. But that was okay because he wasn’t getting involved.

Teddy stuck his bottom lip out in a serious pout and Radar began to whine. Damn, but those two were killin’ him. How had he gone from being the sergeant dubbed tough as a woodpecker’s lips to pushover in record time? And what happened to keeping his distance and not getting involved?

“How about you two play outside? I have a tennis ball you can throw. Radar likes to play fetch.”

“Really?” The boy’s face lit up. “Hear that, Radar? We can play ball.”

Radar woofed his agreement.

Gabe shook his head. You would’ve thought he’d promised to take the kid to a theme park, but it felt strangely satisfying to make the kid happy with such a simple gesture. The strange tightness in his chest had eased and he couldn’t help grinning when he retrieved one of Radar’s tennis balls.

“Um...” Teddy made a face. “Maybe I should tell Addie first.”

“I’ll let her know,” Gabe said and handed Teddy a ball. “You’ll just be here in the front yard.”

“Yeah, she forgets I’m not a baby anymore.” He ran down the steps but Radar stayed in the same spot, looking at Gabe as if seeking permission to follow.

“At ease,” he said, and the dog tore off after Teddy and the ball. That had been one of the commands Tom had taught Radar. Gabe smiled, but the memory was bittersweet.

He watched for a moment while Teddy threw the ball. The kid could use some pitching lessons. Did he not have anyone to toss the ball with and give him pointers on holding it? Maybe he could—No. None of his business. He opened the back of his gray Jeep, then grabbed his tool chest and the cardboard box of assorted fixtures Natalie had given him.

He’d find out what was wrong with his neighbor’s faucet and fix or replace it because that was the neighborly thing to do. After that, he’d stick to his side of the duplex and mind his own business.

* * *

Gabe let himself into Teddy’s side of the duplex and glanced around. The living room was the same size as his and had similar-looking, hand-me-down furniture. Had he ever lived in a place with brand-new pieces?

He didn’t know Teddy and Addie’s family situation, but taking responsibility for a younger sibling couldn’t be easy. As the product of a single-parent household from the age of six himself, he knew it could be a struggle.

Unsure of his welcome after their last encounter, he shifted the box under his arm, gripped his tool chest tighter and headed for the kitchen. He hefted both onto the scarred wood of the table and opened his mouth to announce his presence, but nothing came out. He forgot why he was here. His attention was riveted on the heart-shaped butt sticking out from the open cabinet under the sink as she knelt on her hands and knees.

“Well? Did he have a wrench?” she inquired and started to shimmy backward. “Teddy?”

Gabe swallowed and found his voice. “He did, but if the shut-off valve is stuck, you need Channellock pliers, not a wrench.”

She made a startled noise and got up before clearing the cabinet. He winced at the noise her head made when making contact with the wood but couldn’t prevent a grin at the curse words she uttered.

“Better not let your brother hear you use that language. He seems pretty keen on that swear jar.”

“It’s on the honor system,” she muttered distractedly and scooted out the rest of the way and scrambled to her feet, facing away from him as she grabbed a towel and wiped her face.

Good thing she had her back to him. He figured it was best not to let her see him grinning. He was probably in enough hot water with his attractive neighbor as it was.

He wiped off the grin and cleared his throat. “What exactly happened?”

“The faucet has been dripping, and when I tried to turn it off a bit tighter, the handle snapped off. It was like the Old Faithful geyser in here.”

Opening the tool chest, he lifted the tray out and set it aside. The pliers would be on the bottom along with a small can of WD-40. His pa might not have noticed what a mess their yard was, but he’d kept his tools in pristine condition. “That’s what Teddy said. Did the shut-off valve break too, or is it just stuck?”

She folded the towel and put it on the counter. “Stuck. After what had just happened, I was careful not to force it too much.”

“Good. It should just be a case of loosening it. I’ll spray it first with some, um...” He glanced up as she turned around and had to clamp his mouth shut around what would most likely be an embarrassing sound.

Her T-shirt was soaked and plastered to her chest, giving him a peek at what appeared to be a pink lace bra. Pink was suddenly his new favorite color.

As an officer and a gentleman, he should look away, turn his back, something. Except he was no longer an officer.

And obviously not a gentleman either.

Yeah, he should look away. He really, really should. He should be ashamed of himself. He really, really should.

“Some what?” she asked, using her fingers to explore the back of her head and pulling the shirt even tighter across her chest.

Her puzzled gaze met his while he was still doing the whole fish thing of opening and closing his mouth.

“You—you, uh...” He swallowed and waved a hand in her general direction.

She glanced down at herself and turned beet red. “Yes, well, if you, uh, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and dry off.”

He nodded like a bobblehead doll and called himself all kinds of jerk as she turned and fled. Damn. His teenage self had had smoother moves. And look what that had gotten him. He and Tracy Harris couldn’t keep their hands off one another. So much so he found himself married and anticipating fatherhood at eighteen. He cursed and reached for the pliers. Turning back toward the sink, he spotted a clear glass jar with a white screw-on lid. It held an impressive array of coins and a few bills. It’s on the honor system. He patted his front pocket for loose change and dropped it in. With a snorted laugh, he hunkered down to get under her sink.

CHAPTER FOUR

On her way to her bedroom, Addie stopped to grab a towel. Safely alone, she peeled off her wet clothes and draped them over the hamper in the corner. The loose change she’d shoved into her jeans’ pocket at the Pic-N-Save fell out and hit the floor with a jingle.

She stooped to retrieve the coins. Those belonged in Teddy’s jar. Despite referring to it as Teddy’s, she’d instituted the whole thing as much for herself as for him. As if to prove a point, most of the money in it had come from her.

Even though she no longer needed that tough outer shell since she’d left her mother’s world behind, some habits were hard to break. The swear jar was christened the day she’d gotten called to the school for Teddy’s own inappropriate language.

Setting the coins on the dresser, she used the towel to dry off and put on a more sedate white bra. Not that it mattered now. She’d already given the sexy new neighbor a show. Why had she let Natalie talk her into buying such racy underwear that time they’d taken a girls-only shopping trip a few months ago? It wasn’t as if there was anyone but her to see it. At least, no one until today. She hurriedly finished dressing in dry clothes.

Catching her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, she frowned. It was her day off from the library, so she hadn’t bothered with any makeup. Maybe that was a good thing since she’d just taken an unexpected shower at the kitchen sink. Still... What was the harm in a little lip gloss?

Plenty. After the show you put on, do you really want to go back in there looking like some femme fatale? What sort of message would that send?

Her? A femme fatale for wearing lip gloss? Shaking her head at her silliness, she hurried back to the kitchen before she gave in to the urge to drag out her neglected stash of makeup. She was supposed to be concentrating on the upcoming hearing in family court, not on the hot former marine next door. Growing up, she’d never been anyone’s priority, and she didn’t want that for Teddy.

The men in her mother’s life always came before her children. Eventually, getting high came even before the men, unless they were keeping her supplied. So her children were ranking a distant third.

She stopped short in the doorway when she saw legs and scuffed tan boots sticking out from under the sink. It took her a moment to realize the water was no longer gushing from the broken faucet. “Ooh, you fixed it.”

As a distraction from thinking about what was attached to those long limbs, she dropped her Pic-N-Save change into the jar. There was a jingle as the coins dropped.

He scooted out from under the sink and stood, wiping his hands on the dish towel she’d left on the counter. “I got the water turned off. The fixing part comes next.”

“At least you stopped Old Faithful.”

He hitched his chin toward the empty bucket she’d overturned onto the spurting faucet handle. It had been redirecting the water into the sink. She’d even placed a can of beans on top of the bottom of the bucket to keep it in place. “Inventive solution.”

“Actually, Teddy suggested it. Probably saw it on television.” She grinned. “Who says watching cartoons is a waste of time?”

“Not me.” He chuckled and folded the towel.

Her stomach flip-flopped at the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he laughed. Afraid her reaction to him might show in her voice, she cleared her throat before speaking. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“It was my pl—” he started and stopped. Swallowing, he continued, “Uh, just keeping up part of the bargain.”

Her face grew warm. Like shutting the door in her face, was he deliberately shutting down any friendly overtures? He couldn’t think she’d staged the wet T-shirt incident, could he? “Well, I still appreciate it. I guess I’ll need to pick up some new faucet handles.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re not going to tell me you walk around with replacement faucet handles.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Laughing, he opened the box on the table.

“But—but...” she sputtered. His deep laugh had sent ripples straight to her tummy, leaving her incapable of coherent speech.

He poked around in the box. “Actually, Natalie gave me a box of supplies she had for her planned upgrades of this place. So, I can exchange them right now, if that works for you.”

“It does, and Teddy will be relieved. He had a fit one time when I filled a water bottle from the faucet in the bathroom.” Good Lord. What was wrong with her? Why did she just say something so inane? It wasn’t as if they shared anything more than an address.

Good grief, what must he think of her?

“You made him drink bathroom water?” He glanced up and stared at her, eyes wide. He shook his head. “How could you?”

“Not you too! It comes out of the faucet just like—” His laughter interrupted her and she shook her head. “I almost fell for that.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He pulled some items from the box and went back to the sink.

She fiddled with the neck of her sweatshirt. Maybe she should have been more receptive to those ladies’ matchmaking attempts—then she’d have had more practice with flirting. Was that even what they were doing? Flirting? Or was she misreading what had just happened?

She dropped her hand. “Speaking of Teddy, I should go check on him. He must’ve gone straight back to his video game. Now that Sam has moved, he doesn’t have anyone to play outside with.”

He turned back toward her. “Then you’ll be pleased to know he’s in the yard playing fetch with Radar.”

Some guardian she made. She was in here flirting, thinking of only herself, and hadn’t given a thought to Teddy’s whereabouts. “You left him outside—all alone—with that dog?”

“That dog’s name is Radar and he’s mine.” He scowled at her.

Heat flared in her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but he continued before she could form an apology.

“Like I said before. Radar isn’t a threat to Teddy... God knows why, but they seem to have developed a sudden and deep connection.”

She had trouble getting enough air into her lungs. In her rational mind, she knew he spoke the truth. Just because the dog scared the wits out of her, that didn’t mean he was a menace. She could probably be confronted with Lassie and be just as afraid. “I can see that but—”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, your brother is not a toddler needing constant supervision while playing in the front yard.”

He had no idea what could happen when a child was left unsupervised. Unfortunately, she knew all too well. She pointed toward the window over the sink. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s all sorts of things out there that could hurt him.”

He glanced out the window, then back to her. “Like what? Grass stains? Sorry. I’m not seeing it. It’s a peaceful street.”

“You have no idea how unsafe the world can...” Her voice trailed off when he raised an eyebrow. Her shoulders drooped. Well, didn’t she look like a shallow fool? How many tours had he served in a war zone? Good going, Addie. “Right. Afghanistan.”

He ripped open the seal on a small box. “You have every right to be concerned for his safety. I’ve seen his scars.”

“I should have been there.” The words were out before she could stop them. Her mind whirring, she studied her feet. What was she doing? Why would she admit such a painful feeling to a virtual stranger?

Because their mother had been clean since Teddy’s birth, Addie had accepted a college scholarship and moved away. Unfortunately, without Addie’s help, Michelle couldn’t cope and fell back into old habits. Addie should never have trusted her enough to leave. But she had, and Michelle had left a pan of boiling hot water in the sink and Teddy had tried to sail his toy boat in it when their mother left the room.

He cleared his throat. “Even when we are, sometimes we can’t prevent the bad stuff from happening.”

Her head popped up at his quietly spoken words, and her gaze collided with his and held. She saw what was probably reflected in her own eyes. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. No other words were spoken. They weren’t needed, but she did wonder what memory had caused those emotions to appear in his eyes.

Although they were almost strangers, she sensed something meaningful had passed between them. As if they were letting the other see a piece of themselves they didn’t normally show the rest of the world.

The refrigerator’s ice maker dropped cubes into the bin in the freezer, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“How about this?” He held out his hand. “Hi, my name is Gabe Bishop, and I’m your new neighbor.”

She looked at his hand for a second, then grabbed it and shook. “Nice to meet you, Gabe. I’m Addie Miller, and I live here with—”

“Addie! Hey, Addie.” A door banged, followed by sneakers slapping on the floor. Teddy appeared in the kitchen, wide-eyed, disheveled and panting. “Radar just saved my life.”

“What? What are you talking about?” She rushed to her brother and hunkered down in front of him, checking him for signs of fresh injury. “Are you okay?”

“I threw the ball and it went into the street and—”

“Oh, Teddy, you didn’t.” She couldn’t shut down the gut-churning thoughts of what might have happened. He was standing in front of her—unharmed—and yet her mind insisted on playing scenarios that would have sent Teddy to the ER.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Gabe asked, glancing between them.

“Radar ran right in front and tripped me,” Teddy finished.

Gabe set the new faucet handle next to the sink. “I’m going to venture a guess and say you attempted to run into the street after the ball.”

She was her mother’s daughter, responsibilities forgotten whenever a man was on the scene. She tugged Teddy closer. “Twelve percent of all traffic deaths in this country involve pedestrians,” she stated by rote but gave a squirming Teddy a fierce hug.

“Yuck, Addie,” Teddy protested. “I’m too old for PDA.”

Addie wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. “How do you even know what that means?”

“I get around,” Teddy said as he took a step back and shrugged. “I know stuff.”

Gabe snickered, covering it with a cough. Addie glanced toward the sounds, but instead of seeing him, Radar filled her field of vision. The dog sat patiently next to his owner. Her heart began beating against her chest as if trying to escape her rib cage. Thoughts crashed inside her head. The dog. In her kitchen. In her space.

She inhaled. That dog had protected Teddy, she argued with herself. Determined, she swallowed back her fear and forced herself to look Radar in the eyes. “Thank you, Radar, for protecting Teddy.”

The dog thumped his tail and looked up at Gabe, who rubbed the fur between the large ears. “Good job.”

She turned her attention to Gabe, not easy with the animal in the room. Gabe seemed to be studying her. Had he guessed her secret? Yeah, it wasn’t exactly a big mystery. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or guilt that made her guard her secret. Embarrassment because she was an adult afraid of a dog. Yes, in certain circumstances she might be justified in being afraid of a dog like Radar, but this wasn’t one of those. And guilt because her fear prevented Teddy from getting a fervently wished-for pet of his own.

Her fear stemmed from being bitten as a child. But she was now an adult and should be able to conquer her phobias. An incident from her youth shouldn’t be ruling her life as a grown woman. Even the physical scars had begun to fade with time.

Gabe raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Oh yeah, he knew, but he also seemed to be asking her if she was okay. She nodded and managed a bit of bravado with a thin smile. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to attaching the new faucet handle. He wasn’t going to out her in front of Teddy.

“Can Radar and I go back out and play? I promise I won’t run into the road,” Teddy said, reaching out to give Radar a pat on the head. “And besides, it was old Mr. Peterson driving. Even you say turtles could beat him down the street. And you never say anything bad about anyone.”

Good thing, or it would be all over Loon Lake in a heartbeat. She made a mental note to not only curb her swearing but not to engage in any gossip. At least around her little brother.

A tingling sensation swept up the back of her neck. How was it that Teddy heard all the stuff he wasn’t meant to and yet appeared to be tone deaf to the things she told him directly? Like not to talk to strangers or dart into the street. How was she supposed to keep him safe if her cautions went in one ear and out the other?

“I shouldn’t have said that about sweet Mr. Peterson. Don’t repeat it to anyone. Please.” What sort of things did he spill to the social worker? Or the court-appointed advocate? As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. “How can you play without a ball?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” His shoulders slumped and he patted Radar. “I’m sorry for losing your ball.”

“Maybe you should also apologize to Mr. Gabe.”

Gabe shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“I didn’t mean to lose the ball. Honest.” Teddy pushed his lower lip out. “I can go right now and—”

“No, you can’t. You stay out of the road. Next time it might be a less sedate driver.” She shuddered to think what could have happened. She glanced at Radar and silently thanked him again.

“Don’t worry about the ball. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Gabe gathered up his tools. “I’m going to test turning on the water. Then Radar and I are going home.”

“Ooh, can I watch?” Teddy stopped petting Radar to gaze up at Gabe. “It was really cool before, with water squirting everywhere.”

“Yeah, real cool.” Addie rolled her eyes, but secretly she had to admit it had all turned out okay in the end.

Yeah, you can say that because you got to see Gabe at work.

Teddy puffed out his chest. “I was the one who came up with using a bucket on the water.”

“That’s what your sister said. Very clever. Put her there, sport.” Gabe fist-bumped with a beaming Teddy. “Do you want to test the faucet?”

Teddy did a little bounce. “Can I? Really? Did you hear that, Addie?”

Seeing the excitement and admiration on her brother’s face at such a mundane task gave her a fleeting moment of anxiety. Lots of boys grew up to be well-adjusted, successful men in female-only households. Plus, he had Des Gallagher and Brody Wilson in his life. True, her friends’ husbands were busy with their own growing families, but they definitely made excellent role models.

Teddy grunted as he leaned over the sink to turn the water on. “It works. Look. It works.”

She nodded. “I see that. We need to thank Mr. Gabe.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gabe. Maybe now you could show me how to fix stuff so I can help too.”

* * *

Gabe was at a loss for words. The earnest pleading in Teddy’s expression as he looked up tugged at something Gabe had kept buried deep inside. And it stung. This kid shouldn’t be looking up to him, and yet the admiration in his gaze filled a spot he hadn’t even known was empty.

He’d been about Teddy’s age when his pa had allowed him to help around their home. He could almost taste the pride he’d felt when Pa had put that flat-head screwdriver into his open palm. He could still feel the smooth wood of the handle, the indentations where his father’s initials had been carved into the wood.

“Mr. Gabe?”

Gabe blinked as he came back to the present.

“Teddy, why don’t you go to your room? You can finish playing your game before supper.”

“But...”

Radar leaned against his leg and Gabe winced. Obviously, his silence had spoken volumes, and it probably said something he hadn’t meant to relay. Hurting the boy’s feelings was the last thing he’d intended. He inhaled deeply, hoping his voice didn’t betray his riotous feelings. “Next time I do a job that requires an extra set of hands, you’ll be the first person I think of.”

“Really?”

Radar snuffled and Gabe laughed. “You’re right, Radar. Teddy will make a great helper.”

Addie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Did she think he was just placating her brother? More important, was that what he was doing? Saying something to make the kid happy, then not intending to follow through? He made a mental note to find something he could ask Teddy to help with. “Here. We’ll shake on it. How’s that? Radar, shake hands with Teddy.”

Radar offered his paw to Teddy, who was beaming as he took it. “Wow. That’s so cool. Radar shook hands with me. Did you see that, Addie?”

“I saw. That was really cool,” she said, her tone infused with a sense of wonder.

How many times a day did Teddy say that? He’d barely spent any time with the boy, but he’d bet this was a pattern with him. And yet she was able to react without spoiling his enthusiasm.

He needed to remember he wasn’t in a position to get involved with anyone, and especially not a woman who was responsible for a child. But it was that dedication to her brother that drew him to her. He swallowed. He was finding way too many things to admire about Addie Miller.

“Did you teach him to shake hands?”

Teddy’s question broke into Gabe’s musings, and he shook his head. “Wish I could take credit. A good buddy of mine, Tom, taught him just about everything he knows.”

“If your friend taught Radar all that stuff, how come Radar lives with you? Did he teach him for you? Like at school? Why doesn’t Radar live with him?”

Because life and death came down to a flip of a coin and a moment in time I’d give my life to go back and change.

“Tom died, so now I take care of Radar.” He hoped that would satisfy the boy.

Radar whined as if he’d understood the reference to Tom.

Oh man, why had he mentioned Tom? He should’ve taken credit and left it at that. He suspected a simpler approach with Teddy worked best.

Judging by his scars and how his earlier questions alluded to fear, Teddy must’ve experienced some of life’s ugliness. He had no idea what Teddy’s mother suffered from, but the kid hadn’t had an easy life. And he suspected neither had his sister. Was that why, even in a town like Loon Lake, the woman was so protective?

Teddy bent down to hug Radar. “I’m sorry the man who taught you all that cool stuff died. Our mom didn’t die, but she kept getting sick, so I live with Addie now. Just like you live with Mr. Gabe now. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll see.”

Damn, but that kid, whom he barely knew, had the ability to scrape him raw emotionally. If he wasn’t careful, these two would be drawing him in, and he sure as hell had no business going there. Even if she didn’t have responsibility for her brother, Addie definitely looked like the forever type. And he was obviously missing the gene that made him a good bet for the long haul. Just ask the Marine Corps. When he’d joined, he’d intended on being a lifer but got burned out after a dozen and didn’t reenlist. He’d promised his ex-wife a lifetime too and that promise had ended in less than two.

“Mr. Gabe?”

Gabe blinked and refocused his attention. He couldn’t help but smile at the expectant expressions not only on the boy but Radar too. “Yes?”

“Can Radar and me play again sometime?”

“I think Radar would like that,” Gabe said, and Radar woofed his agreement. “But we have to make sure it’s okay with your sister.”

Teddy balanced on his toes and gave his sister a pleading look. “Can I, Addie? Can I?”

Radar’s attention was fixed on Addie too, as if understanding his stake in the conversation. But that wasn’t possible, was it? And what the hell happened to not getting involved? Between the boy and Radar, he was being sucked in.

She sighed. “As long as Gabe doesn’t mind.”

Ah, so she’d caught how he’d said Radar would like it and left himself out of the equation. What was wrong with him when he was around her? Why did she bring out his inner rudeness?

Feeling everyone’s gaze on him, he said, “I don’t mind.”

Teddy scuffed his toe on the vinyl flooring. “And, uh, maybe I could, like, help you again next time you work on something?”

“Teddy, why don’t you go finish your video game? I’m sure we’ve wasted enough of Mr. Gabe’s time.”

Yeah, she’d caught his less-than-enthusiastic response to Teddy playing with Radar. Snapping his fingers at the dog, he opened the door to the backyard. “Patrol.”

Radar hesitated and Gabe nudged him out the door. “You can play with Teddy tomorrow.”

Teddy hadn’t said a word, but his shoulders were hunched forward as he started to leave the room.

Gabe heaved a sigh. “Teddy, wait.”

The marines had taught him better. So had his pa. He had to remedy the situation, needed to figure out how to live next door to Addie. He was a grown-ass man and a former marine, so why was it so hard to keep his reaction to his new neighbor under control?

CHAPTER FIVE

Gabe scratched his chin. Did he want to do this? Not really, but his reluctance to get involved faded away when confronted with the hopeful expression on the boy’s face.

“I may have something tomorrow, if Addie says it’s fine. Come over when you get home from school. Okay?”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes widened, and he turned to his sister. “Can I, Addie? Can I?”

Addie nodded and the boy grinned from ear to ear. “Gee, thanks, Mr. Gabe. What about maybe tonight? I—”

“You have Cub Scouts tonight. Remember?”

The boy’s shoulders drooped again. “Oh yeah.”

“You like Cub Scouts, and Mr. Gabe already invited you for after school tomorrow,” Addie said.

The boy gave him an assessing look. “You won’t forget by then? Sometimes grown-ups forget so they don’t have to do stuff.”

“I won’t forget.” In his peripheral vision, he saw Addie move closer to Teddy. Gabe put a hand to his chest. “You have my word on it.”

That seemed to satisfy the boy and he loped off to his room.

“Sorry about that,” she said after Teddy had left. “That was sweet of you, but I’ll understand if you don’t want him getting in your way. I can make some excuses if—”

“I’ll keep my word.” Did she think he’d string the kid along? Why not? He hadn’t exactly been Mr. Congeniality around her. She opened her mouth and he rushed in before she could say anything. “As long as you don’t think I’m taking advantage of him if I let him help me wash my Jeep.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said with a nod. “He can’t get into too much trouble with that.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Obviously you’ve never seen a preadolescent boy wash a car.”

“You may have a point.” She grinned, carving deep dimples into her cheeks. “But thank you anyway.”

Trying not to embarrass himself over those dimples, he shrugged. Where was all this cool resolve he’d promised himself a few minutes ago? Talk about running hot and cold. No wonder she expected him to weasel out of a promise to Teddy. “Hey. I’m the one getting the free labor.”

Her blue eyes softened as she continued to smile. Gabe swallowed a groan, starting a mental list why getting involved with Addie was a bad idea. Over a decade had passed, but except for the more stable financial standing, he wasn’t in a much better place than when he’d married Tracy. He was approaching thirty now, and yet here he was, back to figuring out what to do with his life, picturing the community-college brochure waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He still wasn’t convinced his decision not to reenlist after Tom’s death had been the right one. Maybe cutting and running was his MO when things got tough. If so, then he had no business in a relationship. With anyone.

“And, just so you know, I wasn’t doubting your word. It’s just that Teddy has not always been able to rely on the things people have said to him.”

Her words broke into his musings. A sudden urge to know more about her came over him. After all, he wanted them to be friendly neighbors. Yep, that was it. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Her head snapped back. “I have always tried to—”

“No! I said it wrong.” Way to go, Gabe. “What I meant was, do people break their promises to you?”

He began packing up his tools before he could ask more stupid questions and get in deeper with the lovely neighbor, his lack of control being what it was.

“I’m not seven.”

His head snapped up. “No, you’re not.”

Was that his voice? It sounded more like a rusty rasp, thanks to his memory of exactly how adult she was playing in his head. In vivid detail and bright saturated colors on a continuous loop.

She blushed, making her freckles stand out in contrast. He had never thought he’d be attracted to freckles. Or dimples. Or women who blushed.

“Well, I don’t know how to thank you for coming to my rescue.” She cleared her throat. “I baked another batch of red velvet cupcakes, if I can tempt you.”

She was tempting all right, but he ordered himself not to go there. Concentrate on the cupcakes.

“Red velvet? Are those the ones with chocolate and—” he tried not to make a face “—vinegar?”

A flash of humor crossed her features. “Don’t say it like that. The acidity of the vinegar or buttermilk is what causes a chemical reaction with the cocoa powder and gives the cake a reddish color. But you have to be sure the pH balance hasn’t been neutralized like with Dutch-processed cocoa powder or the reaction won’t occur. Anyway, I used buttermilk instead of vinegar because I like the tangy taste paired with the mild chocolate and vanilla and...”

Her voice had trailed off.

“Gotcha.” Someone throw him a life preserver! He was drowning in those dimples.

“Sorry. I’m a librarian.” Now she looked more embarrassed than amused. “Information is my game.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping to put her at ease again. “So, conversations with you will be like auditioning for Jeopardy!?”

“Look at you, putting your answer in the form of a question,” she said.

“And you’re a fountain of information.” He was rewarded with another blushing smile. A sense of humor. He liked that. Are you sure you want to find out even more things about her? chided an inner voice.

“More like a babbling brook of useless trivia.” She laughed.

Gabe’s gut wasn’t the only part of his anatomy that reacted to her expression and the sound of her clear, sweet laughter.

“So, would you like some?”

A breathless “Oh yeah” slipped out before he could prevent it. But judging from her puzzled reaction, they were on totally different wavelengths.

Now it was his turn to blush. At least, judging from the warmth rising up his neck to his cheeks, he figured he was. What was he? Seventeen again? Hell, he—Oops.

He hitched his chin at the swear jar. “You said that was honor system?”

“’Fraid so.”

He dug into his pocket for some coins, found none and pulled out his wallet. “You were talking cupcakes, right?”

“Of course. What did you think I meant?”

“Cupcakes,” he said but opened his wallet and stuck a bill in the jar. “And, yes, please. I want to apologize for not accepting them the first time.”

“I thought maybe you didn’t like cupcakes. Of course, you could have given them to the dog after I left, except they have chocolate in them, and—”

“—chocolate is toxic to dogs,” he finished. “See? You’re not the only one capable of trivia.”

“But that one isn’t so trivial.”

“Not to a dog owner. No.” He shut his tool chest and secured it with a snick. “I heard the microbrewery on the town square sponsors trivia nights. Maybe we could put all that knowledge to work sometime.”

You call that noninvolvement?

Maybe she’d refuse and—

“They do, but it’s on Tuesdays.”

She moved past him and he caught the scent of grapefruit. “You don’t like Tuesdays?”

She pulled a plastic container and cover out of a cupboard. “It’s a school night.”

Ah, yes. Teddy. She was responsible for her brother. And he was steering clear of that sort of commitment. “Summer’s coming.”

“You’re right—it is. That will give me time to brush up.” She arranged cupcakes in the container and put the cover on with a snap sound. “I’m weak when it comes to sports knowledge, though.”

“That’s where I come in,” he said and accepted the cupcakes, setting them on top of the cardboard box. “I’ll be the strong one when it comes to those categories.”

Do you even know what noninvolvement means?

* * *

Once in his own kitchen, Gabe set Addie’s cupcakes on the counter and took off the cover to grab one. They smelled delicious. Thank goodness she’d renewed her offer.

Radar stood at his feet and watched, unblinking, while he peeled off the paper surrounding the cake part. The dog crowded closer and pressed against Gabe’s leg as if to remind him of his presence.

“Sorry, bud, but these are for me. You can’t have chocolate in any form whatsoever.” He walked across the small kitchen and ran the flat of his hand over the motion-activated cover on the trash can, tossed the paper in and waited for it to close. His life would get more complicated if that dog ever figured out how to get the lid to open. A feat that wouldn’t surprise him. Radar was uncannily smart—he’d had to be to survive life on the streets in Kabul—but he was still a dog and not above rooting through the trash.

Just like no matter how much he warned himself about his appealing neighbor, he hadn’t been able to stop his reaction to seeing her lacy bra.

And now he had to go buy supplies to wash his Jeep with her brother. But the kid wasn’t so bad, and it was obvious he was thirsty for some male bonding. His father had always made time for him. Even when he’d probably been dead tired from working two low-paying jobs.

Although he hadn’t gotten the chance, he liked to think he’d have been as good a father to his own son as his pa had been to him. He sighed and pulled open the refrigerator. It had been easy to block out thoughts of the past while trying to stay alive in some war-torn hellhole.

He tried to imagine what his life would’ve been like if his son had lived, if he and Tracy had stayed together, if he hadn’t joined the marines. Would they have been on a street like this, tossing the ball around in the front yard? Would he have been able to provide for his family?

When the economy had taken a downturn and construction work dried up, they’d moved in with his pa. He’d already been contemplating the military when Tracy lost the baby at almost eight months. That plan had then gotten shelved, at least temporarily.

He shook his head. What was he doing standing here with the refrigerator door open?

Grabbing a longneck, he ambled into the living room with Radar on his heels. He sank onto the couch, put his socked feet on the coffee table and grabbed the remote for the new television he’d splurged on. Maybe some baseball in high-def would help occupy his thoughts, keep him from playing what-if.

* * *

Addie deposited items on the polished wood counter of Loon Lake General Store. She’d run in to grab a couple of things while Teddy was at his Scout meeting.

“I hear Gabe Bishop moved into the other side of your duplex,” Tavie Whatley, the seventysomething owner of the store, commented as she rang up the items.

“Yes, he did.” Last thing she needed was another person trying to matchmake her with Gabe. And the elderly shopkeeper was anything but subtle. The woman had her hand on the pulse of practically everything in town. She was the person you called when you wanted results. Many referred to the woman as a benevolent dictator. Her heart was in the right place, but her methods could be a bit heavy-handed.

“Is it true he’s got a military-type dog with him? I hear tell he dragged that dog with him all the way from Afghanistan.”

“Yeah, the dog is from Afghanistan,” Addie answered cautiously, wondering where this was heading. She glanced at her watch. Pic-N-Save was farther away from the church where the Scouts were meeting, but it may have been faster after all. The Pic-N-Save cashiers were friendly, but most didn’t give her the third degree.

“Since he’s your new neighbor and everything, I was thinking we should get him to help get Pets for Vets off the ground.”

Addie bit her lip. Pets for Vets was the most ambitious project ever discussed at Coffee & Conversation. Not only would the program be expensive, but it would require more expertise than anyone who attended the meetings had. The purpose would have been to provide pets to veterans wanting companionship and the comfort animals could provide. “I didn’t realize we were going ahead with that. I thought we’d decided it might be more than our little group could handle.”

“Harrumph. Now that Gabe is back and has his own dog, it’s the perfect time to revive this.” Tavie patted her sprayed helmet of gray hair.

“I get that a program like that would be a great help to some of our local veterans, but I only mentioned it in passing because of that television segment. I thought I was making conversation about a charity that provided comfort animals to veterans. I certainly wasn’t championing doing anything like that with our little group.” She needed to learn to keep her big mouth shut. She should know by now that nothing was ever just conversation if it was said within earshot of Tavie.

“But it’s a perfect idea. Give yourself some credit, Addie.” She bagged up the purchases.

“I really can’t take credit for this.” She held up her hand. Really and truly she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Sure you can.” She reached out, her gnarled fingers covering Addie’s. “Tell Gabe to come to the next community meeting and we’ll take it from there.”

She picked up her bags but paused at the door. “Well, I—”

“Sorry to rush you, sweetie, but I gotta be closing up. Ogle will be wanting his supper.” Tavie came from behind the counter and opened the door, making the old-fashioned bell jingle merrily.

Five minutes later, Addie found herself banished and standing in the parking lot as the older woman shut off the lights inside the store. How exactly had she gotten railroaded into asking—excuse me, telling—Gabe to come to the community meeting at the library?

She swore as she opened her car door. “And I’m not putting any money in the stupid swear jar. So there,” she told the universe as she got behind the wheel and started the engine.

Yeah, who was she kidding? She’d meant what she said about using the honor system.

She made a mental note to check up on that charity. Maybe she could contact them and find out more about it.

Her new neighbor hadn’t said Radar was a trained comfort canine, but she couldn’t help noticing that the dog appeared to have sensed his master’s moods and reacted. She may not have thought about it at the time—too busy being frightened of the dog—but she’d observed the animal leaning against Gabe’s leg. Was that some sort of signal?

She pulled into the parking lot of the historic white church just as the kids were coming out of the side door that led to the meeting area in the basement. Teddy came out with one of the leaders and she rolled down the window and waved. Her brother spotted her and ran to the car.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked after he’d climbed onto the booster seat. She didn’t pull out of the parking spot until she heard the click of the seat belt.

“A stupid block of wood.”

Oh dear, sounded like Scouts hadn’t gone well. Thinking that he could make friends and build some normal childhood memories, she’d encouraged him to join. This wasn’t the first time she’d worried about a decision. Nowadays, she questioned her choices a lot.

“They must’ve given you a block of wood for a reason.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. Teddy stared out the window, arms crossed. And, oh my God, he looked like he might start crying. Addie, what have you done?

“They said it’s to make a miniature race car for the Pinewood Derby. But it’s just a stupid block of wood. I asked if I could make one outta LEGO bricks ’cause I know how to do that, but Joey’s dad said no. Then Joey tol’ Brandon that I didn’t have a mom or dad...just a sister.”

She had trouble dragging air into her tight chest. Why did kids have to be so cruel? “Where was Mr. Johnson when Joey said this?”

“He was on the other side of the room, helping Timmy tie a square knot.”

Yeah, a kid like Joey knew enough not to say mean stuff in front of adults. “Who’s Brandon?”

“A new kid. Now he probably thinks there’s something wrong with me,” he said and sniffed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever think that. There’s lots of kids who don’t have parents to live with.”

“None at my school.”

Her throat began to clog and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. What was she supposed to say? She had a feeling telling him he was special was the wrong thing.

In the end, she simply told him she was sorry. What else could she say? She’d talk with the family counselor again for some advice. The fact she had lots of people in her life she could turn to didn’t alleviate the sadness of not having parents to turn to for advice.

She pulled onto their street and slowed as they got near their home. “Maybe I could help you make a pinewood racer.”

“Do you know how?” His question sounded like an accusation.

“Not yet. We’ll look it up. I’m sure we can find a video to show us how—”

“Look, Addie, look. Mr. Gabe and Radar are outside in the yard. Do you see them?”

“Yes, sweetie, I see them.”

She pulled into the driveway on her side of the building with a sigh of relief. At least Teddy was temporarily distracted from his problems. For the moment, anyway.

He undid his seat belt. “Hurry, Addie, hurry. Before they go back inside.”

She gathered up her bags and exited to let him out. Teddy was off like a shot as soon as she opened his door.

Radar looked to Gabe, who nodded. Evidently that was all the signal he needed, because Radar ran to Teddy, and they greeted one another with barks and giggles.

“You found it,” Teddy shouted, holding up a tennis ball.

Gabe motioned to the dog. “He did.”

“Did he look both ways before crossing the street?” Teddy asked as he picked up the ball.

Gabe nodded. “We did.”

“You remember that yourself next time,” she cautioned and shook her head. “Sometimes I think it goes in one ear and out the other.”

“I’m sure my pa thought that about me at his age.” Gabe chuckled. Sobering, he shook his head. “And a decade later, for sure.”

Was he referring to his early marriage and divorce? She wanted to ask, but there wasn’t any way she could dress up pure curiosity as concern.

He pointed to her bags. “Do you need some help with those?”

“No, there’s nothing that can’t keep.” She set them on the stoop.

“Look, Addie, look. We’re playing ball,” Teddy called and threw the ball for the dog.

“I see that.” She lowered herself to the top step and heaved out a sigh. “One of these days, I’m going to change my name and not tell anyone what the new one is.”

Gabe threw his head back and let out a brawny burst of laughter before sitting next to her. “You’re very good with him.”

She pulled her knees up and rested her arms across them. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d been with us on the drive over here.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Some of the kids were making fun because he lives with his sister.”

“Do you have permanent custody of him or something?”

Normally she wouldn’t be discussing this with a virtual stranger, but there was something about sitting on the steps in the fading light of an unseasonably warm spring night. “You heard him tell Radar that his—I should say our—mom was sick. She’s been in rehab. Not for the first time. Which is why I’ve filed for permanent custody. We’re waiting for the hearing in family court.”

He blew his breath noisily between his lips. “That’s a lot to take on at your age.”

“I’m older than I look.” She fisted her hand. Maybe telling him wasn’t such a good idea.

He reached over and took her curled hand in his. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. You’re what? Twenty-one? Most people your age are trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up.”

“I’m almost twenty-three,” she said but found it hard to concentrate with her hand in his warm, calloused one. She fought the urge to lean against him.

“You’re using the prefix almost and adding time to your age.”

“Maybe I ought to start counting my age in dog years. I’d be what? One hundred and fifty-four.” She rubbed her temple. “No. Wait. That would make me three and a half.”

He barked out a sharp laugh. “Whoa. That’s way too young.”

“Yeah, well, I guess everyone seems young when you’re ancient,” she shot back without any real rancor. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Almost thirty-one,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“See? Ancient,” she said, but she wasn’t sure he’d even heard her. His attention seemed to be on her lips.

He leaned closer, and instead of pulling back, she moved toward him, her hand still in his. Saliva flooded her mouth at the thought that he might kiss her. Would he? How would those full lips feel on hers? Would the stubble on his face be soft or—?

“Addie? Hey, Addie.”

She jumped back at the sound of Teddy’s voice. Folding her hands, she rested them on her lap where they couldn’t get her into any trouble. She swallowed, twice. “What is it, Teddy?”

“Can I ask Mr. Gabe if he knows how to make pinewood racers?”

“Do you want him to ask?” she said out of the side of her mouth.

“What are they?” he whispered back.

“I haven’t had a chance to look up to see how it’s done, but it’s a small block of wood that gets turned into a race car.”

“Wood? I can probably work with that.”

She turned toward Teddy. “You may ask.”

* * *

Addie yawned after tucking Teddy in bed and switching off his light.

After the Scout meeting, Teddy had been sullen, but Gabe had quickly changed that when he’d used his phone to look up pinewood racers. He showed Teddy pictures of finished miniature cars and they discussed which ones appealed to him.

What a difference that thirty minutes in Gabe’s company had made. By the time they’d come into the house, Teddy had been excited for the derby.

Time had nothing to do with the difference in Teddy’s attitude.

“Give credit where credit is due. It was Gabe and Radar,” she reminded herself as she pulled Teddy’s door shut.

She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake getting involved. And not just for Teddy’s sake. He wasn’t the only one whose heart could be broken.

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning, after a brief stop at the local vet, Addie drove out to Brody Wilson’s farm. Her passenger, safely secured in a cat carrier, was vocalizing her displeasure at her predicament.

“I don’t like this any better than you,” she told the feral cat and sneezed twice.

So much for the meds she’d taken before this outing. At least her cat allergy was merely annoying, not life-threatening. Despite what might be an allergy to cats, she hadn’t minded capturing the scrawny creature when it started hanging around the dumpster in the library parking lot. They’d set out the trap so they could have the cat checked by the local vet. That had been nearly two months ago. The feral feline had been reasonably healthy for a stray. But also very pregnant.

Since the weather had still been cold, Dr. Greer had agreed to board the cat until she gave birth and nursed her kittens. The vet and her staff had made sure the babies were socialized with people so they could be adopted. Unfortunately, the mama cat, which Addie had named Agatha, was too feral to be adopted out.

After reading an online article, Addie felt as though she’d found a solution. The item had talked about such cats being rehomed on farms. When she brought it up at a library meeting, Trudy Canterbury had suggested taking the cat to Brody Wilson. Everyone agreed, saying Brody’s farm was virtually an animal sanctuary.

Several people had relayed to her a story about the time Bill Pratt, a local farmer, had brought a calf to Brody in hopes that he’d take her. The mama cow had rejected her offspring, and so it would need to be bottle-fed in order for it to survive. It seemed Bill’s young granddaughter was very concerned about the animal’s future. Bill had assured the youngster he’d find the calf a good home. Someone had suggested Brody because he’d taken in a pair of abandoned alpacas and nursed them back to health. Bill Pratt told everyone that Brody had assumed responsibility for the young cow in order to impress Mary. Evidently it had worked, because Brody and Mary were now husband and wife. Brody had adopted Mary’s young son, Elliott, and was raising the boy as his own.

Addie glanced at the cat carrier and frowned. Tavie had assured her that she’d cleared it with Brody. Maybe she should’ve called him too, but she’d been running late and didn’t want to keep the vet waiting.

“How did I get into this, anyway? Me and my big mouth,” she said as her ancient Toyota rumbled over the cattle guard at the end of Brody’s driveway.

Everyone had stepped forward with helpful advice and monetary donations, but when it came to taking the cat to Brody, they were all suddenly too busy. They said they thought she was just the right person to take the cat out there, since she’d made the suggestion in the first place. So here she was, with a scrappy cat and a batch of cupcakes to sweeten the deal.

“A spoonful of sugar, right?” she said to Agatha.

Her answer was an angry yowl from the cat carrier.

“Now, don’t be like that. Brody has a heated barn, and if the town scuttlebutt is correct, he also has a soft spot for strays. He and Mary both. As a matter of fact, I think all his animals were homeless at one time.”

She parked next to the two-story white farmhouse, its shiny red metal roof gleaming in the morning sunshine. A covered porch with wind chimes hung from the rafters ran across the front of the home and wrapped around one side. A cedar play set with a swing sat in the side yard, evidence that this was a family home as well as a business.

Brody and Mary Wilson ran summer camps for children being raised in the foster care system. Although Addie’s own time in the system had been short, she, like Teddy, had been forever changed by the experience. So she admired Mary’s vision and Brody’s hard work transforming his farm and setting up a nonprofit to make Mary’s dreams come true. She also admired Brody’s relationship with his adopted son. It was plain to see he doted on the little boy, and Elliott worshipped his dad.

“You wait here,” she told the cat as she opened the driver’s door. The cat hissed in response. “Yeah, I know, silly me. Where else are you going to go?”

Good grief, she was beginning to sound like Gabe with Radar, the way she was chattering away to the cat.

She started up the sidewalk toward the house and glanced over to the barn and the gray Jeep parked there. Was that Gabe’s? What was he doing here? Not that it was any of her business where her neighbor spent his time.

As a former Army Delta Force sergeant who’d served in Afghanistan, Brody probably had a lot in common with Gabe. It wouldn’t be surprising for them to form a friendship.

“And it’s none of your business,” she reminded herself. Gabe was her neighbor. The fact he’d been helping, first with her leaking faucet and then with Teddy’s race car, didn’t give her the right to keep tabs on him.

The wooden screen door opened with a creak and drew her attention away from the Jeep and back to the house. A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a chambray work shirt and faded denim stepped onto the wide porch. Before the door shut, a young boy with a mop of dark curls and wearing footed dinosaur pajamas scurried out and went to stand next to Brody.

“I’m El-ee-ot,” the boy said, turning to her and holding up three fingers. “I’m this many olds now.”

“Hello, Elliott. Wow, three years old. You know what that means?” She smiled at the winsome little boy, who shook his head. “It means you’re old enough to come to story hour at the library. We read stories and do crafts. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Mama says no.” The boy tilted his chin down and frowned. “Mama says I gotta use the potty first.”

Brody ran his hand over the riot of curls in a tender gesture. “But we’re working on that, aren’t we, big guy?”

“Alice don’t got to,” Elliott said in a put-upon voice and scowled up at his dad. “How come I gots to?”

Brody sighed as if that was an old argument. “Your sister is just a baby. She doesn’t know better and you’re a big boy now.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Elliott pouted. “No fair.”

Addie rubbed a hand across her mouth to wipe the smile off her face. She loved seeing the two of them together. It told her that there were men in the world who made wonderful dads to children who were not theirs biologically. Could she hope for something like that for Teddy? And myself, she thought as her mind went straight to Gabe.

Don’t go there, she warned herself. Weaving possibilities around her sexy neighbor could lead to disappointment, and she was responsible for protecting Teddy’s tender heart.

She smiled at Elliott. “Well, the crafts and stories will be there whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush.”

She recalled her mother’s impatience when Teddy had been potty training. Addie had taken over. That should have been a warning sign of their mother’s instability, but she’d ignored it.

Brody patted his son on the shoulder. “It’s okay, bud. Go in and get dressed.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Elliott gave her a heart-melting smile and a wave. “Bye-bye, liberry lady.”

“Bye, Elliott.”

Brody watched him go back inside. Shaking his head, he turned back to her. “It will happen eventually, right?”

“The average age for boys to master toilet training is thirty-one months.” Brody raised an eyebrow and she continued, “Sorry. It’s the librarian in me. All this trivia roiling around in my head. Sometimes it overflows and comes out through my mouth. Yuck, that sounded gross, didn’t it?”

“Considering what we were talking about...” Brody took a toothpick out of the pocket on the front of his shirt. He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. “So, what brings you all the way out here this morning?”

Hadn’t Tavie called or was Brody giving her a hard time for the pure enjoyment of it? If so, she could play along. “I’m here to talk about a fantastic employment opportunity.”

“What? How did you even hear about it?” He scratched his head. “Anyway, I’m sorry to say you’re a couple hours too late. It’s been filled.”

“What?” Had someone else from the group sneaked out here before her to rehome a feral cat as a barn cat?

He shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Forgive me for saying this, Addie, but he was more what I was looking for.”

Her throat tightened as she glanced over her shoulder at her car. What was she going to do now? The cat was totally feral. No one would adopt her. “Are you sure you couldn’t use another one?”

“Another one? I’d love to help you out but...” Brody frowned. “What happened to your job at the library? I would have thought that—”

“Oh no! I think there’s been some sort of miscommunication.” She exhaled and chuckled. “The job isn’t for me. It’s for Agatha.”

“Agatha?”

“She’s been hanging around the library and—”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Hold on. What exactly are we talking about here?”

“The feral mama cat we rescued. I thought Tavie was going to call and explain it to you.” Addie huffed out an annoyed breath. “She said she was going to reach out.”

“Yeah, it’s never good when Tavie calls me.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I may not have returned her message yet.”

“Great.” Her shoulders slumped. “If you didn’t talk to her, then that means I’ve shown up here—out of the blue—trying to dump a stray cat on you.”

He moved the toothpick around his mouth. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” What was she going to do? After telling Teddy all this time that they couldn’t afford a dog, it wasn’t as if she could take the cat back home with her.

“Addie?” He held up his hand. “Just explain what’s going on.”

“I promise this isn’t so bad. We all chipped in and had Agatha spayed after her kittens were weaned,” she said, wanting to make sure he didn’t think he was going to be responsible for placing kittens.

Brody pulled another toothpick from his pocket, touched the one in his mouth, grimaced and put the wrapped one back into his pocket. “Exactly how many kittens am I expected to house?”

“Oh no, I’m not asking you to take kittens. They’ve all been weaned and placed in good homes, so that just leaves the mama. Agatha’s recovered from her spaying, but she’s totally feral, so placing her with a normal family is out of the question.”

He gave her an affronted look. “Are you calling my family—?”

“Absolutely not.” Good Lord, talk about messing this up in every way possible.

Note to self: never let anyone volunteer you for anything again.

Maybe she should have asked for Gabe’s opinion. After all, he’d gone to Afghanistan and had returned with a dog. She didn’t know the specifics, but even with her fear, she could see that Radar was devoted to Gabe and he to the canine.

What was she thinking? Yes, he’d helped out with Teddy last night, but she couldn’t start running to Gabe every time she had a problem, expecting him to help solve it.

Brody quirked an eyebrow. “So, what are you asking me to do?”

She needed to quit mooning over Gabe and get this back on track. “Well, considering you have a nice barn and outbuildings, we were hoping you could use a good mouser. We thought she’d make a great farm cat. She could live in the barn and be out of the elements in winter and be fed regular meals. We also chipped in and bought cat food so—”

“Okay. Okay. You’ve sold me. We were meant for one another. Any more convincing, and I’ll need waders.” He rolled the toothpick in his mouth and narrowed his eyes. “What I want to know is, who is this we you keep talking about?”

“Mostly the attendees of the Coffee & Conversation meetings at the library and a few generous patrons who heard about what we were doing.” A donation box at a few key locations in town hadn’t hurt either.

“I see.” He lowered his eyebrows at her. “Miss a few meetings, and suddenly there’s a Brody’ll-do-it list, is that how it works? I’m not the only one in Loon Lake with a barn. What about Bill Pratt of Hilltop Farm? Why couldn’t he—?”

“He already has several barn cats,” she said and swallowed her laugh. Bill had been gleeful while relaying the story of the calf to her.

“Is that what he told you?” He pointed the toothpick at her. “Let me guess. He was at the meeting.”

She nodded and he shoved the toothpick back into his mouth.

“He was, and you weren’t there to object when your name came up.” Relief unfurled the knot in her stomach. Brody might grumble and complain, but it went against his nature not to help. Just like Gabe jumping in to help Teddy turn his block of wood into a race car.

He tsk-tsked. “I guess I assumed you’d have my back, Addie.”

“What can I say? I’m only one person.”

“No wonder your meetings are so popular,” he said but moved off the steps. “People go to protect themselves.”

“That, and Natalie’s baked goods.” Her red velvet cupcakes were good, but the disappointment in the room was palpable anytime attendees discovered Natalie—and, more important, her treats—wasn’t going to be at the meeting. The red velvet cupcakes—the ones she’d risked missing Teddy at the bus stop for—couldn’t hold up against anything her friend chose to bake.

“Yeah, as soon as poor Des tasted those, he was well and truly captured. Poor guy was—What?” he asked, all innocence when she shot him a glare.

“He wasn’t captured. That’s a terrible thing to say,” she told him but ruined her scolding by laughing. “They fell in love. Just like you and Mary.”

“Not the same at all.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what Natalie sees in a grump like Des. As for me, Mary and Elliott couldn’t resist my charming personality.”

He held up a finger when she opened her mouth to respond. “Ah, now, Addie, don’t forget I’m the one you’re asking to do a favor.”

“Got it. Charming personality.” She smothered another laugh.

They might be teasing and joking around, but the forever families both Des and Brody had created gave her hope that someday she might find that. Once again, Gabe came into her mind’s eye and she shoved him away. She and Teddy were a package deal.

“Speaking of Des, why didn’t you take the cat to him? He has a barn.”

“True, but as you said yourself, he’s such a grump. Whereas you, with your charming personality...”

“I’m going to have a moat and a drawbridge installed at the end of that driveway,” he muttered but followed her to her car.

She used her key fob to unlock the trunk.

His mouth dropped open. “You brought the cat in your trunk?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “The cat is in a carrier on the front seat. The food is in the trunk. You can carry the food and I’ll get Agatha.”

With a grunt, he removed the humongous bag of dry kibble and the carton of canned food from the trunk. “Remind me again—what’s wrong with this cat? Other than its name.”

She opened the passenger door and grabbed the carrier. “There’s nothing wrong with her or her name. She was never socialized, so she’s skittish around people.”

“Only because she hasn’t met my Mary yet. She’ll have that cat eating out of her hand in no time.”

“And here I thought you were the charming one in the family.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thin ice, Addie, thin ice.” He shifted his bundle and thrust his chin at her, but ruined the gesture with a huffed-out laugh. “If this cat’s not into people, how do you know she’ll stay long enough to eat all this food?”

“Well, if your charismatic personality doesn’t win her over, I’m sure a dry barn on rainy days or long winter nights and a consistent food source might. That should go a long way to convincing her to make this her new home.” Maybe she should try again to convince Teddy to settle for a cat. She sneezed. She’d put up with what appeared to be an allergy if it would make Teddy happy. Except the last time she’d mentioned it, he’d said he’d be happy with a cat if he also had a dog.

“Tell me she’s not going to be a threat to Serenity.”

“What?” She set the carrier down while she sneezed several more times.

“Mary’s crow, Serenity.”

“And you’re giving me grief over a name?”

Brody grunted. “Mary named it.”

Chuckling, she picked up the carrier and resumed following Brody toward the barn. “That’s right—I forgot she rescued one and earned its undying gratitude. Crows have the intelligence of a seven-year-old, so they’re probably smarter than the cat. I don’t see it as a problem.” Let’s hope. “Hear that, Agatha. No messing with the crow.”

At the barn, Brody set the bag and box on the ground to roll open one of the giant double doors, releasing the scent of hay, horses and sawdust. Addie blinked to adjust her eyesight from the bright sunshine to the dim interior. Hooks holding things like bridles, halters, shovels, a pitchfork and numerous tools lined much of the rough wood walls. Although she hadn’t had a lot of experience in barns, she figured this one was scrupulously clean.

Brody picked up the cat food and hefted his burden higher. He pointed toward a partitioned room with an open door in one corner of the vast barn. “Let’s get everything set up in the office. I’ll get a metal trash can to keep the food safe from critters.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she confessed.

“Well, if Agatha—we may have to revisit that name—does her job, then there shouldn’t be any critters to get into the feed.”

“I guess you have a point.” At least he was being good-natured about her essentially showing up and dumping a cat on him. She didn’t know the full story of Gabe and Radar, but it couldn’t have been easy getting the dog to this country. Another admirable quality. As if she didn’t already have enough to admire about him.

“And there’s nothing wrong with Agatha’s name,” she felt compelled to add.

“Uh-huh. I have a wooden box we can put an old blanket in to make a bed,” he said as he led her into the office and placed the bag just inside.

He closed the door with his foot and set the canned food on a large metal desk cluttered with paperwork. “I figured we could put out some food and leave her in here for a bit so she knows this is where it is.”

“Good idea. I’d hate for her to bolt before she gets to know the place.” Addie set the cat carrier on the floor.

Brody opened a desk drawer and pulled out a ceramic ashtray. “Don’t worry. It’s clean. Been clean for a few years now.”

He dumped the contents of one of the cans into the makeshift dish and set it down. “I’ll open the cage and let her come out when she’s ready.”

“She’ll probably wait for us to leave.” She unzipped the opening to the carrier and stepped back, but the cat, for all her vocal complaints, huddled in the corner.

Yeah, she could relate. After her experiences, she found trusting people difficult—especially when it came to Teddy. She saw her friends together, Brody with Mary and Natalie with Des, and yearned for a close, loving relationship of her own. Of course, that would mean learning to trust again. If she couldn’t open up, she might end up in a solitary life like Agatha.

“So, you can call me with any questions or if you have any problems. She’s been to the vet recently, so she’s up to date on that. If you have any issues with, um, with—”

“We can afford to take care of it.” His brow pulled into an affronted frown. “If that’s what you were trying to say.”

You and your big mouth. First, she insulted Gabe and let him know the local gossip had been about him, something she deeply regretted. She hadn’t meant to hurt or insult anyone. “Sorry. I only meant—”

He held up a hand. “It’s okay. Getting the camps up and running wasn’t easy, but even with the expansion, we’re on solid footing with them now. Mary makes sure to keep us afloat. She leaves no stone unturned when it comes to finding grant opportunities.”

“That’s right. You do some weeks for kids with cancer.”

“Yeah. Liam and Ellie McBride help out a lot with that.” They left the office and he started to shut the door behind them but paused and looked to her for confirmation.

She nodded. “Keep it closed for a short while.”

“Gotcha. She needs to get her bearings.” He eyed the surrounding area. “I could put in a cat door. That might help.”

Addie smiled. No wonder everyone had suggested bringing the cat here. Did Gabe have a soft underbelly like Brody? Was that how he’d ended up rescuing Radar and doing what was necessary to bring him to this country? He’d certainly been offended on the dog’s behalf when she’d suggested that Teddy could have been bitten.

“You can wipe that Cheshire-cat grin off your face right now, Addie Miller. This is not an animal sanctuary and I am not a pushover.”

Still grinning, she made an X over her heart. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

He scowled, but his eyes held more amusement than annoyance. “So, when is the next meeting?”

“Meeting? I—Oh, you mean at the library. Next Tuesday at noon.”

“I guess I’d better make a note of that.”

She shrugged. “You could always send Mary.”

“Ha! She’d have me signed up for everything.”

“And you wouldn’t be able to say no to her.”

He heaved an exasperated sigh, but his face turned all soft. “I haven’t figured out a way yet.”

As they stepped from the barn, a dog bounded around the corner in a blur. Heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Addie darted behind Brody so he was between her and the animal. She went rigid with fear.

“Halt,” came a sharp order from somewhere on the other side of the building, and the dog immediately obeyed and went down on all fours.

Breathe, damn it, breathe.

Brody frowned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Relax. That’s just Radar. He won’t hurt you.”

It took a moment for the information to implant itself in her brain. Yes, it was Radar.

She relaxed slightly when she recognized both dog and owner’s voice. She might not have conquered her fear of dogs, but instinct told her Radar wouldn’t hurt her.

“Gabe is here?” Which was a stupid question because not only had she recognized his Jeep earlier, but she’d just heard his voice.

Her breathing still shallow and her legs wobbly, she fought to regain control over her apprehension.

Despite their short acquaintance, she found the thought that Gabe was nearby comforting.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gabe swore as he slammed the cover on the clipboard he’d been using to make notes in the expanded bunkhouse. Radar surely couldn’t get into any trouble on Brody’s farm, but Gabe figured he’d better check to see what had attracted the dog’s attention.

Radar had been entertaining himself chewing on a Kong chew bone while Gabe worked. The dog’s ears had perked up, and he’d dropped the toy, dashing off.

He’d yelled for the dog to stop but couldn’t be sure Radar would obey the command. If he wasn’t going to behave, bringing him along in the future would be out of the question. This morning all he’d been doing was working up an estimate. Brody had wanted to hire him for some finish work on the bunkhouse expansion. He wasn’t sure if working construction was what he wanted long-term, but for now, it would get him out of the house. Maybe even prevent all those extreme thoughts of his tempting neighbor.

As he came around the side of the barn, he understood Radar’s enthusiasm. At least the dog had obeyed his command and was lying with his belly on the ground. But his tail was brushing the dirt, kicking up little dust plumes.

“Sit,” he said, and the dog sat up, but he didn’t release him. Addie’s fear was plain, despite what he assumed were attempts to conceal it.

He vowed then and there to help her overcome her fear. If she let him. Some instinct told him she didn’t trust easily, but he’d give it his best shot.

Because it was the right thing to do and not because he couldn’t stop thinking about those dimples when she graced him with a genuine smile. Or how much he wanted to kiss those freckles.

Yeah, he was a real humanitarian.

“He must’ve heard your voice and took off. Probably hoping Teddy was with you.”

She shook her head. “He’s in school. I was just dropping off a homeless cat.”

“Dropping off a homeless cat?”

“It had been hanging around the library, and I was worried about it. Unfortunately, it’s feral, so it needed a special placement. Brody has agreed to let it stay in his barn. It will make a good mouser. I couldn’t stand the thought of it languishing in a shelter or—” she shivered “—having to be put down. At least this way I’ll know it’s safe, warm and fed.”

“So, you do like animals...just not dogs.” He’d suspected that fear was the motivation for her reactions to Radar.

Her head snapped up. “I never said I didn’t like dogs.”

“So, it’s not dogs in general...just mine,” Gabe said, and Radar whined as if in agreement.

“Now you’re making assumptions. Both of you,” she said, straightening her shoulders.

He scowled. The fact she was including Radar when she spoke made his stupid heart pump a bit faster. Just like when she’d thanked him for preventing Teddy from running into the street.

“Sorry, guys. As fascinating as this is—” Brody cupped a hand around his ear “—I hear my Mary calling me.”

“Sorry. I—”

“I didn’t mean to—”

They looked at Brody as if he’d appeared out of thin air.

Removing the toothpick from his mouth, Brody guffawed and shook his head. “Just what I thought. Love to stay and referee—I mean, chat—with you two kids, but duty calls.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes and glowered, not appreciating Brody’s smug expression. As if he saw something Gabe couldn’t. Or didn’t want to. Working construction and getting involved with a woman he had no business getting involved with. Talk about déjà vu.

All the guys had been enamored with Tracy back in high school, and he, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, had won her attention. Dating Tracy had fed his ego.

And we know where allowing the little brain to think for the big brain ends up.

He tensed when Addie gave Brody a hug. Radar whined and gave him an accusing look, as if telling Gabe it was his fault she was hugging someone other than him. He included the dog in his sour thoughts.

Yeah, because he’d been thinking the same thing. He wanted her hugging him, not another man. Was that his ego talking again?

“Thanks so much for taking the cat,” she said and pulled away from Brody.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a regular saint,” Brody replied and turned to Gabe. “I’m sure you can testify to that.”

Gabe cupped his ear. “Is that Mary I hear?”

Brody made a face. “Point taken. Got what you needed?”

Gabe nodded. “I’ll get some figures written up and give you a call.”

Brody nodded and turned his attention to Addie. “And don’t worry. I’ll check on your cat in a bit.”

She raised her brow. “My cat?”

Brody harrumphed. “Agatha, you say? Sounds like a maiden aunt.”

“Or the greatest mystery writer that ever lived,” Gabe said.

Her eyes widened and he did his best not to preen when she rewarded him with a dimpled smile. Score one for those hours spent in his bunk reading mysteries to escape from his reality. Both during his time in school and again in Afghanistan.

“And that’s my cue to leave. Play nice, you two.” Chuckling, Brody headed toward the house with a backward wave. The side door to the farmhouse opened and closed, but Gabe only had eyes for the woman in front of him.

She motioned with her hand in the direction of her car. “Well...I guess I’d better get going too.”

He fought the urge to reach out and physically stop her from leaving. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re on your way to work.”

“I’m not. I had some personal time coming, so I took today off. I wasn’t sure how long this would take me.” She took a step toward her car.

Radar looked up at him and whined.

Say something. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been to Aunt Polly’s since returning home. Are the pancakes still as good?”

She gave him a quizzical glance. Which he totally got because he wasn’t sure where this was going. Served him right for giving voice to the outlandish thoughts in his head when she was near. He glared at the poor dog as if this was all his fault.

“I don’t know what they were like before you left, so I may not be the best judge,” she said. “But Teddy and I love them. My favorite are the buckwheat ones with warm maple syrup.”

His gaze zeroed in when she licked her lips, and he swallowed a groan. “I was always partial to gingerbread with whipped cream.”

“Teddy always wants whipped cream on his. He doesn’t like maple syrup.”

Gabe clutched his chest. “What? That’s practically sacrilegious in these parts.”

“Tell me about it. We’ve been accused of being flatlanders because of it,” she said, using Vermonters’ term for non-natives.

He laughed along with her. He quite liked that laugh, especially if he was the one making her do it.

He’d been six years old when his mom died, but he recalled Pa saying over the years how much he missed her laugh. “Your ma would’ve laughed at that,” Pa would say with a sad smile. He hadn’t really appreciated his father’s sentiment...until now. It wasn’t simply the sound of Addie’s chuckle but the way her blue eyes sparkled and the way her cheeks dimpled.

This wasn’t simple ego. He had a deep longing to connect with Addie the way he imagined his father had with his mother. If his mom had lived, would he find it easier to connect with a woman now?

Radar pressed his cold wet nose against Gabe’s hand, jerking him out of his head. She had taken a few steps toward her car.

“Um...” he began.

She stopped and glanced back with an air of expectation. Yeah, what was he doing?

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to go for pancakes? Well, I mean, you don’t have to have pancakes. I just thought you, uh, might like to go to Aunt Polly’s.”

Radar looked up at him. Okay, dog, you’re right. That was a bit pitiful, but it had been a while since he’d asked a pretty girl on a date. Date? No, this wasn’t a date...exactly. More like two neighbors going for coffee. It wasn’t even noon, for crying out loud.

She studied him for a few seconds. He wasn’t holding his breath. Nope. Not at all.

“Okay. I’d like that.” She gave a decisive nod. Glancing at her car, she said, “I’ll meet you there?”

His breath whooshed out. “Sounds good.”

See, it’s not a date. It wasn’t even noon and they were going in separate cars. The fact it wouldn’t make sense to leave either vehicle here at Brody’s farm was beside the point.

“Retrieve your bone,” he said to Radar and pointed in the direction they’d come.

Radar tore off that way, his tail wagging wildly. Gabe had barely gotten the passenger door open when the dog came loping back, jumped in and dropped his bone on the passenger seat. He settled himself next to the black rubber chew. Inching forward, he fogged the windshield with his whining and panting as Addie drove her Toyota down the driveway.

Gabe slipped into the driver’s side and started the car. Radar divided his attention between watching Addie’s Corolla and giving Gabe what were clearly accusing looks.

“Cut me some slack, will ya? I know it wasn’t my smoothest delivery, but she agreed to meet me at Aunt Polly’s. So it’s all good.”

He couldn’t be sure, but the dog seemed to understand, because he finally settled back to enjoy the ride. Gabe also enjoyed it. He found the countryside with its rolling hills and grazing cattle soothing after having been in dusty brown, war-torn areas for so long. Once in town, he admired the tidy, brick-fronted businesses and their bright awnings. Several buildings, including the church, dated back to the Revolutionary War, he knew.

Did the town still go all out decorating for Christmas and Independence Day? Main Street in Christmases past had always been awash with lights and wreaths with giant bows. His memories of Christmas were surprisingly pleasant. His pa had done his best to see that Gabe had received at least one frivolous gift, or, as he’d called it, a not-socks gift. Flags and bunting replaced the wreaths on the Fourth of July. His father had taken him to see the town’s fireworks display. He recalled holding tight to Pa’s hand, trying not to flinch at the loud explosions and failing. If his son had survived, would they have done the same? He liked to think he’d have held his son’s hand in reassurance too.

He slowed as soon as he spotted Addie waiting at the entrance to the popular café.

“I told you she’d be here,” he said to the dog as he pulled into a diagonal parking spot in front of the town’s popular eatery.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but you’ll have to wait outside.”

The dog made his life-isn’t-fair whine and hung his head.

Gabe jumped out of his Jeep and fed the parking meter before he looped the leash handle over the meter. Reaching back into the vehicle, he pulled out the new gadget he’d bought online. It was a portable water bottle with attached dish. He set it down in front of Radar and promised to sit by the window to keep an eye on him just in case. Although, he wasn’t overly worried because this was Loon Lake and not many people would want to mess with a dog of Radar’s size. Yeah, he did a good imitation of a guard dog, but the pup was a big softy.

Radar had no choice in his appearance, but Gabe had, by choice, taken on a disguise. First as a troublemaking teen and later as a badass marine.

Yeah, they were two of a kind.

* * *

Addie couldn’t help the little shiver of anticipation as Gabe tended to Radar. When was the last time she’d had a real honest-to-goodness date?

Slow down, girl. This isn’t exactly a date.

It might not be, but she’d worn a silly smile on her face the entire drive to town from Brody’s place. When Gabe had first mentioned Aunt Polly’s, her pulse had increased and her head had filled with will-he-or-won’t-he? thoughts. You’d think she was some teenager wondering if the cute boy in class would ask her to the prom.

Her appreciation of his qualities had increased when he’d picked up on her naming of the cat, and he hadn’t laughed. Or at least not so anyone would notice.

And when he had asked if she wanted to go for pancakes, she’d had to take a moment to compose herself. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself by appearing too eager.

Whatever you do, don’t refer to this as a date, she cautioned herself as he approached. “Radar looks so disappointed at not being able to join us for—” not a date, Addie! “—uh, for pancakes.”

Gabe glanced back at the Jeep. “I guess he’ll be okay. I promised to bring him a treat if he behaved.”

“We can sit by the window,” she said, and her insides melted at the way Gabe’s hazel eyes softened when he looked at the dog.

This man really had a good heart. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d be stealing hers. And maybe the dog too, because he no longer seemed as scary as he had that first day. “Did that satisfy him?” He shrugged and she continued, “Even if he’s only of average intelligence, he’s capable of learning approximately one hundred and sixty-five words.” She groaned inwardly. Why was she quoting trivia again? This might not be a date, but it already had developed all the awkwardness of one.

“What if he’s above average? I’ve never owned a dog before, but I’m pretty sure this one is exceptionally smart,” he said and winced. “Of course, I probably sound just like your typical proud pet owner.”

“If he’s extra-smart, he probably knows two hundred and fifty or so.” Of course, she had no idea how much Radar might have picked up or how long Gabe had had him. “What about you?”

His lips twitched. “I guess I’d have to say I’m about average intelligence.”

Warmth rushed into her cheeks. “I meant, do you think he understood?”

“Whew.” He swiped a hand across his forehead. “For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to make me recite which one hundred and sixty-five words I’ve learned.”

She laughed as he opened the door to the café. She hadn’t had much experience with a man teasing her, but she liked it. Sure, her male friends liked to kid, but that was different. This was definitely different. As was her reaction.

Between trying to keep her mother clean and Teddy taken care of, she hadn’t dated in high school. However, once on her own in college, she’d intended to explore guys the way most girls had in high school, maybe even shed her innocence. But her college career hadn’t lasted long enough to do either.

She passed him as he held the door for her and was hit with a variety of familiar smells emanating from the restaurant. Coffee, cinnamon and vanilla.

Since it was the slow time between breakfast and lunch, the half-dozen stools in front of the long counter held only two customers. The tables in the middle of the dining area were empty, and only a few of the booths along the front were occupied.

A trim gray-haired waitress greeted them with a cheery “good morning.” Her hands full with a coffeepot in one and two plates stacked with pancakes in the other, she inclined her head toward a vacant booth near the windows facing the street. “Have a seat and I’ll be over in a jiff.”

Although he didn’t actually touch her, Addie noticed Gabe raised his hand so it hovered behind her back as they made their way to the booth. He dropped it as she slid onto the bench seat. He sat opposite her and pulled out the plastic-covered menus that nested between the napkin holder and condiment bottles.

She accepted the one he offered and set it on the table in front of her. “I don’t know why I’m looking at this. I always end up ordering the same thing.”

He nodded. “It’s been a while for me, but these items look familiar.”

“Did you miss Loon Lake while you were gone?”

He tilted his head from side to side. “Yes and no. I was glad to leave when I joined the marines, but once I decided to muster out, this was where I wanted to come. That probably makes no sense.”

“I can certainly understand it. I had never lived here, and yet I was homesick for a place just like Loon Lake. I’d say I was nuts, except the Welsh have a word for it. They call it hiraeth.”

He gave her a quizzical frown. “What’s that?”

“I can’t roll my Rs, so I know I’m not pronouncing it correctly, but it’s something like hye-ree. Anyway, it’s translated as nostalgia or homesickness, but it can also apply to yearning for a place that never existed or that you’ve never experienced personally. I found what I’d been longing for when I moved here.”

“Sorry for the wait,” the waitress said as she set two ruby-red, pebbled-plastic tumblers filled with water on the table. “Good to see you, Addie, and welcome back to you, young man.”

“Nice to see you, Vera,” Addie responded. And thank you for rescuing me before I made a fool of myself. She mentally kicked herself. What was she thinking, talking about an esoteric concept like hiraeth with a hot guy, a former marine at that? Not that he wouldn’t understand, but she bet he wasn’t as interested as he pretended. “How are you enjoying those cozy mysteries?” she asked the waitress.

“Very much. Thanks for tracking them down for me.” Vera leaned closer to Gabe. “I love Addie and our library, but if I want anything racy, I travel over to Burlington or St. Johnsbury, where no one knows me.”

“Vera, you know I don’t check out books and tell,” Addie joked.

“I know, but people here have long memories. I still blush whenever I see Pastor Cook’s wife.” Vera lowered her voice as she leaned over the table. “She asked what I thought of a certain sexy book when it was hot outside. Ha! Get it? Hot. Sometimes I kill myself. You’ve read it, haven’t you, Addie? I thought—”

“Hey, Vera, quit horning in on Addie’s date and get over here and refill my coffee,” an elderly man in overalls and a flannel shirt called from across the café.

“Quit your yapping and wait your turn,” Vera shot back. She pulled her pad and pencil from her apron pocket. “Have you decided yet?”

They gave their order and Vera scurried away to give the grumbling customer a piece of her mind along with his coffee refill.

“I’d forgotten how entertaining small-town places like this could be,” Gabe said and shook his head at the goings-on.

Should she bring up the fact someone had called this a date? Or should she just ignore it? Like that time he’d almost kissed her. She might be ignoring it, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten it. Nor had she stopped imagining it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Addie unwrapped her straw. What the heck—she may as well clear the air. “Just so you know, I don’t consider this a date.”

His head snapped back. “You don’t? What activities do you think constitute a date?”

Buzz. Wrong choice, Addie. “Well...no. I just meant...”

He reached over and captured her flailing hand. “We don’t have to label this. How about we just enjoy our pancakes, hmm?”

She exhaled. He was holding her hand, so perhaps she hadn’t spoiled whatever this was after all. “Deal.”

He gently squeezed her fingers before releasing her. “Tell me how long you’ve suffered from cynophobia.”

She inhaled sharply. Why was she surprised? She shouldn’t be, because Gabe was an intelligent guy, a battle-tested marine, so he was observant and capable of assessing situations he was in. “You know that I’m afraid of dogs?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I guessed as much, and you’ve just confirmed it.”

She gazed out the window at the activity on Main Street, aware of his intent gaze on her. After getting her thoughts in order, she turned back to him. “I was around Teddy’s age when I was bitten. I still have the scars on my stomach and thigh.”

His expression grew serious. “What happened?”

“We lived in a duplex—not as nice as ours, but that’s beside the point. I was playing by myself in the yard and a neighbor’s dog had been roaming freely. I liked dogs and approached it, and it bit me...twice.”

He touched his mouth. “Were they serious bites?”

“I was treated in the ER. It was my own fault. I shouldn’t have—” She broke off and shook her head. Angry that even after all this time she was ready to parrot Michelle’s words. She was no longer seven years old and she was no longer a dutiful daughter. She couldn’t be if she was to save Teddy. “No. It wasn’t my fault. I was just a kid, but I swear I didn’t do anything to the dog to create such a reaction.”

He watched her intently. “What made you think it was your fault?”

“I didn’t, but my mother made me say it was my fault.”

“Why would she do such a thing?”

She inhaled in an attempt to get her riotous emotions under control. “Because she was off getting high when it happened, and when the authorities opened a case file, she didn’t want to be charged with neglect. She made me tell the social worker that I had disobeyed her and went over and teased the dog. I—”

“Here you go.” The waitress was back with two plates stacked high with pancakes. She set the plates in front of them, frowned, then switched them. “If you need anything else, just holler.”

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

Vera gave them a sly smile as she wiped her hands down the front of her apron. “Enjoy,” she said and left.

Addie buttered her pancakes, then made a small pool of syrup next to the food on the plate. She sliced off a piece and dipped it in the puddle. Sensing his gaze on her, she paused with the fork partway to her mouth and smiled. “That way, I can get a consistent amount of syrup in each bite.”

He nodded his head in salute. “Ingenious.”

“Or an unquenchable sweet tooth.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said and began to eat.

Her heart tripped up at his words. What did he mean by that? Why would he want to remember that about her? Maybe he was collecting information about her the way she was about him.

“Getting back to what we were discussing, I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience.” He took a sip of water. “No wonder you’re afraid of dogs.”

“She had me convinced it was my fault.” Was this why he’d invited her? So they could discuss her fear? “Not only that, but my anger about what happened and the way my mother forced me to accept blame are wrapped up in how I feel about dogs. And I’ve felt that way about them ever since.”

He finished his pancakes and pushed the empty plate aside. “I won’t let Radar invade your space, if that will make you feel better.”

“No, don’t do that, please.” She reached across the table and touched his hand as it rested in the empty spot left by his plate. “I hate that I’m afraid. I’ve wanted to overcome it for a while now. Especially since Teddy loves dogs so much.”

“He doesn’t know you’re afraid?”

She made a face. “Having to confess something like that to my baby brother isn’t something I relish. Especially since I’m trying to establish my authority over him.”

He flicked his wrist so her hand now rested under his, and his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “You may not want to hear this, but I think it would be best to come clean with him. However, in the meantime, I’d be willing to help you overcome your phobia.”

“Do you know what to do?”

“I’ve been studying up on it.”

“You have?” Embarrassment disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and an unexpected warmth surged through her at the tenderness in his touch. Her heart expanded at the thought that he would go to all that trouble for her. He could have said her fear was her problem and she needed to solve it, which had been her mother’s attitude.

Color rose on his cheeks. “A little bit. It’s amazing what you find on YouTube.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

“So, what happened with the neighbor’s dog and your mother?”

“I never went near the dog or the neighbor ever again. As for my mother, she eventually went into detox. Not that it took. Well, I shouldn’t say that. It took for a while. Until it didn’t.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. Both of you,” he said, releasing her hand when Vera appeared at their booth with the check.

Addie started to reach for the bill, but he was faster.

“I invited you, so it’s my treat,” he told her.

“Then let me leave the tip,” she said as she dug into her purse for her wallet.

“Deal,” he said and went to the register by the door to pay.

As they left, she couldn’t help feeling hopeful over Gabe’s willingness to assist her. She’d thought he’d laugh at her predicament, but he’d seemed genuinely interested in working with her to overcome her fear.

* * *

The entire time Gabe was interacting with the cashier, he was acutely aware of Addie. After setting some bills on the table for the tip, she went and stood by the door to wait. He smiled at the thought of her waiting for him. As if this were a date. Yeah, he’d told himself it wasn’t, but as soon as she’d denied it, he’d balked like a rookie pitcher. Date or no, spending time with her was something he enjoyed.

Returning his wallet to his back pocket, he met her at the door. “Would you like to work with Radar after we get home? I’m assuming you might not want Teddy distracting us. He’s in school, right?”

“Yes, he is.” She smiled and nodded. “That would be great. And, yes, I think it will be easier without an audience.”

“So, the backyard, then?” He followed her to her car.

Laughing, she said, “Yeah. I don’t need Mrs. O’Malley watching me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The curtain twitcher?”

“She’s really sweet, but also very...” Addie pulled on her bottom lip.

A pleasant hum sang through his blood at the sight. What he wouldn’t give to be tugging gently on that full lip. He reached past her to open her door for her and cleared his throat. “...observant?”

“Exactly.” She slipped into the driver’s seat. “See you in a few?”

“Sure thing,” he said and closed her door. Who knew such a simple act of courtesy could feel so satisfying?

Flexing his fingers, he watched as she backed out of the parking spot. He had yearned to touch her again before she left, wanted to feel her warm, soft skin under his fingers. Would she be that way all over?

He shook his head in an attempt to shake loose those thoughts. He had no business getting involved with her. She was too young, too caught up in trying to raise her brother. He’d help her with her fear of dogs and then step back.

“Excuse me.”

A voice broke into his thoughts. He’d been standing inert in the middle of the sidewalk, and a mother with a baby stroller was trying to get past him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and went toward his car.

Radar, who’d been sitting patiently next to the parking meter, greeted him enthusiastically. Gabe pulled a crumpled napkin from his pocket and uncovered a small piece of bacon.

“Now remember...” Gabe glanced around. “This never happened. Bacon probably isn’t any healthier for you than it is for me, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Radar practically inhaled the treat.

“Did you even taste it?” Gabe laughed as he opened the driver’s door. “And sit on your own side.”

The dog whined but jumped in and moved to the passenger seat. After putting the portable watering dish away, Gabe slipped behind the wheel and started the Jeep.

“We’re going to help Addie overcome her fear of dogs, so I’m going to need your cooperation.” He checked traffic and pulled out of the parking spot. “You’ll have to remain calm and submissive. Be on your best behavior. Got that?”

Radar gave a low woof as if in agreement with the plan, and Gabe laughed. He’d taken on the task of getting the pup stateside and assuming ownership to honor a fallen friend, but he hadn’t honestly anticipated how much he’d come to care for him. Gabe had considered Tom one of his closest friends, but Radar was also becoming an integral part of his life.

Just like your new neighbors.

Because he automatically included Teddy. And wasn’t that something.

* * *

Addie stopped her pacing long enough to glance out the window for the familiar dark gray Jeep.

“You can do this,” she told herself. It would be worth it to spend time with Gabe, right?

The Jeep drove past and she inhaled deeply to calm her nerves. A knock sounded at her front door several minutes later.

She swung it open and gave them both a somewhat shaky smile. “C’mon in. We can go through the kitchen to the backyard.”

“Radar, heel,” he said as he stepped inside. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, be sure to let me know.”

“Did you study up on this too?”

His amused gaze met hers. “Why? Do I sound like a YouTube video?”

One of the videos she’d watched about overcoming phobias had talked about replacing bad memories with good. Looking into his eyes, she decided she was halfway there already.

“Maybe I’m just listening like I’m watching one,” she said as she led the way through the house and out the back door.

Once outside, Gabe touched her arm. “I’m serious. We’ll take this as slow as you want. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Thanks. I hate that I have this fear. All my life when I’ve seen people with their dogs, I’ve always felt as though I was missing out.” She disliked being allergic to cats and afraid of dogs. There were a lot of things in her life that she’d been unable to control, but this fear felt like something she could, should be able to manage.

He had Radar come and sit near her.

“I’m told that the best way is for you to act like a human but to think like a dog,” he said.

“How does that work?”

“I’m not totally sure, but it sounded good when the Dog Whisperer said it.” He winked.

By the end of an hour, Addie was convinced Radar was the most patient, chill dog she’d ever encountered. Calm and submissive had been Gabe’s words to describe him, and she had to agree.

Although she was quaking inside, she reached over and stroked the velvety fur between Radar’s ears.

Of course, she realized that not all dogs were like Radar, but she didn’t have plans to interact with every one she met.

As a reward for being so cooperative, Gabe gave the dog his favorite chew toy and released him to go and play with the bone.

“I did it. I was able to pet Radar without suffering a heart attack.” As happy as Radar, she threw her arms around Gabe without conscious thought. What was she doing? She felt heat creep up her neck into her face. Even her ears were warm. She would have pulled away, but his arms went around her before she could.

Pulling her close, he fitted her body to his. “I have thought about this ever since Teddy interrupted us.”

“Me too,” she admitted, his words giving her courage to admit her feelings. She wasn’t in this alone. “Why do you think I suggested the backyard instead of in full view of the street?”

“I like the way you think,” he said and lowered his head until his lips were inches from hers.

“Like a dog?” she asked.

He laughed, and his breath blew warm on her face. She put her hands on his chest and over his heart until his lips finally brushed across hers. His lips were firm but gentle. She opened her mouth, and his tongue swept in to brush against hers. More, she wanted more.

Not a total innocent, she’d been kissed before, but those had felt more like adolescent fumbling compared to this.

He lifted his mouth and whispered, “I think you’re vibrating.”

“What?” She pulled herself out of her haze, reluctantly moving away so she could look up at him. “Oh, it’s the alarm on my phone. I set it so I wouldn’t forget to meet Teddy at the bus stop.”

“I guess I was a bit premature with my self-congratulations, huh?”

* * *

She laughed, which was the response Gabe had been going for. It helped lighten the mood, and he loved the sound of it.

He couldn’t decide if the interruption of this intimate moment was a good thing or not. After his disastrous first marriage, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let anything like that happen again. Sure, he’d married Tracy after getting her pregnant, but he hadn’t stuck around; he had failed her. Worse still, with the clarity of hindsight, he could see that most of his feelings regarding Tracy had involved teen hormones. And the fact that the homecoming queen had shown interest in the kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

In contrast, Addie seemed like the type of woman who would expect him to be a stand-up guy, and he knew his past actions proved he was anything but. He’d just have to explain about his track record and she’d probably run a mile. But he sure liked kissing her. Her kisses were like a drug, one he could become easily addicted to.

Sure, his attraction involved hormones, that was a fact of life, but his feelings toward her went much deeper than that.

He kissed her again, a light peck on the lips, because he couldn’t help himself from tasting her one more time. “Would you mind some company on the way to the end of the street?” he asked.

Gabe stepped away from her before he was tempted to deepen the kiss. Tempted? He already was that. And not just tempted to keep on kissing her. Was she wearing another lacy bra today? he wondered.

He shouldn’t be doing this at all. Never mind again.

“More exposure therapy?”

She’s speaking. Pay attention. “Hmm?”

She grinned as if she’d known his thoughts had been elsewhere. Of course, if she’d known exactly where his thoughts had been, she might not be smiling like that. Or maybe she—

Radar woofed and forced Gabe out of his head. “If you don’t want him to come with us to pick up Teddy, I can put him inside.”

The dog whined as if he understood he might be left out. He looked to Addie as if he also understood the decision was up to her.

She reached over, gently stroked his head and stepped back, inhaling deeply to calm herself as they’d practiced. “It’s okay. He can come.”

Gabe put Radar’s leash on him, and they walked through the side yard to the front of the house. He couldn’t help but notice that, across the street, Mrs. O’Malley’s curtain was moving.

“We have an audience,” he said in a stage whisper.

Her hands flew to her mouth and he burst out laughing. “That gesture’s not gonna help us look innocent.”

She elbowed him but grinned. They fell into a companionable silence for the first part of the walk, but every so often their shoulders would bump. The occasional contact thrilled him, but it went deeper. He felt close to her, a kinship he hadn’t felt with anyone since leaving the marines. Like they were linked by common goals and shared objectives. “How did Teddy get the burn scars on his hands and arms?” Acid filled his throat and entered the back of his mouth. Oh man, why in the world had he asked that? Of all subjects to pick, why that? “Forget it. I know it’s none of my—”

“It’s okay. It’s not a big secret or anything. It happened when I was away at college. Michelle—our biological mother—had left him unattended. He pushed a chair over to the sink to sail a toy boat I’d sent him. She’d left a pan of hot water there and he received severe burns when he plunged his hands in to retrieve the toy. The neighbors heard his cries and called the police. They couldn’t find Michelle, so of course child services were called in.”

Wanting to lend her whatever strength he could, he took her hand. “Child services contacted you?” he prompted.

“No. One of the neighbors had my cell number and called me right after 9-1-1.” She sighed. “I just wish she’d contacted me sooner. I would have come home so I could’ve prevented Teddy from getting burned in the first place. It’s all my fault for sending the boat. But he’d kept talking about one when I called, so I found one and mailed it. I figured he’d get a kick out of it.”

He winced and swore under his breath. “That doesn’t make it your fault.”

“I believed her when she said I could trust her. She was done with that stuff for good. Clean and sober. So, I went off to college, left Teddy in her care and—”

“Hold up right there.” He stopped and turned to face her. “How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“You did what millions of people your age do. Going off to college is like a rite of passage for so many high school graduates.”

She sighed. “I know, but one of the times I called her, she mentioned how she’d met someone...” She shook her head, her pretty eyes clouded. “I should have come straight home, checked him and the situation out. I knew what happened when she got involved with the wrong guys. I was selfish.”

Gabe put his finger across her lips. “She was the mother. You were his sister...practically a kid yourself. Why did you feel it was your job to protect him?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I’d always done when I was home and what I could have done once again, had I been there.”

He thought about Tom and that stupid coin toss that had changed everything. They’d argued good-naturedly about whose turn it had been to go into the convenience store. The toss of a coin made Gabe the winner and Tom had to go inside to pay for their drinks. He paid all right, but with his life. Yeah, he knew about guilt, irrational or not.

For the first time since returning home, he had the urge to tell someone about it, but before he could say anything, the school bus arrived.

Just as he had on that first day, Teddy scrambled off the bus and raced over to his sister and Gabe. He once again threw his arms around Radar.

Gabe glanced at Addie, who winced, so he hunkered down so he was eye level with the boy. He touched Teddy’s shoulder to be sure he had his attention. “It’s good that you and Radar get along so well, but you need to know that not all dogs are as happy to see you as he is.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I’m just saying that you should find out if the dog is friendly before you reach out.”

“But you said Radar wouldn’t bite me,” Teddy said, and Radar woofed in agreement. “You even tol’ that to Addie.”

“And that’s true, but not all dogs are like Radar, so make sure you ask the owner if it’s okay first.” Gabe lifted his fist. “Deal?”

Teddy did a fist bump. “Deal.”

Gabe’s heart lurched. Most people might consider this an inconsequential moment, but to him it was anything but. He’d never considered himself a sentimental guy, but he might have to revisit that opinion since meeting his new neighbors.

Gabe glanced at Addie, who mouthed a thank-you and seemed to relax a little. He grinned to himself. Yeah, this was a special moment. Small in the scheme of things, but special to him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Teddy said. “The other kids on the bus didn’t believe me that I live next door to a hero dog and that he likes me. Now they have to believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter if the other kids believe it or not,” Addie said. “As long as you know it’s true.”

Teddy thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “But it’s better when they know it too.”

“You’re right. I guess it is.” She laughed and reached out her hand. “Want me to take your backpack for you?”

He handed it to her. “Mr. Gabe? Can I hold Radar’s leash?”

Gabe glanced at Addie, and after she nodded, he handed over the leash. He fell into step beside her as the dog and the boy led the way along the sidewalk.

“Addie, look, I’m walking Radar.”

“I see that, sweetie.”

Gabe leaned closer. “Thought of a new name for yourself yet?” he asked, referring to her earlier wish for anonymity when Teddy kept using her name.

She thought for a moment, then laughed as if she was recalling her comment too. His stomach did a little somersault.

Another little moment, but monumental in the way it made him feel. Like maybe he hadn’t lost everything when he’d lost his son. Maybe second chances were real.

Teddy turned back. “What’re you guys laughing at?”

“I’m just happy that you’re getting to walk Radar,” she told him.

“Mr. Gabe, did you find something for me to help you with today? You said you wouldn’t forget. Remember?”

“You’re right. I had planned to wash the Jeep today, but it’s still kinda chilly outside.” The kid looked so dejected, though, that it broke his heart. “I haven’t played ball with Radar yet. Maybe you could help with that.”

The kid lowered his chin. “Is that really like helping you? It doesn’t sound much like it.”

Busted. He looked to Addie for guidance.

“As much as you love dogs, you should know they require lots of exercise,” his sister told him.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

He waited until Teddy was chattering away to Radar about how they were going to play ball before saying quietly to Addie, “He might have those physical scars, but he seems happy and very well-adjusted.”

“Thanks. I still wish I’d been there to prevent the accident.” She slowed her steps, letting her brother get even farther ahead with the pup. “What did you mean when you said even when we’re there, sometimes we can’t prevent the bad stuff from happening?”

“Oh, that.” He’d been referring to his being outside the store, only feet away, when Tom was killed. He’d been close enough that he could still smell the cordite, feel the shock waves that had blown him off his feet, taste the soot that had rained down. Did he want to give her an answer? It would mean explaining what had happened, how he’d escaped with his life by winning a stupid coin toss. Just because she’d opened up to him didn’t mean he needed to bare his soul. Not yet, anyway—not unless he was going to become a permanent part of her and Teddy’s lives. And that wasn’t going to happen.

CHAPTER NINE

Addie mentally kicked herself for spoiling the otherwise touching moment with her probing. His resulting silence told her he didn’t want to share. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Remember I mentioned my buddy who taught Radar all those commands? He was actually the one who first rescued Radar too. His name was Tom.” She nodded and he continued, “We were out on routine patrol through town—”

“In Afghanistan?”

“Yeah. Whenever we were in that part of town, we stopped at this little family-owned store. They had those slushy drink machines. We couldn’t get those in camp, so we’d stop, but we couldn’t both go in. Someone had to stay with the vehicle. The person going in would pay. This one day, we stopped and argued over whose turn it was to pay.”

He winced as if the memory was painful. Inhaling, he continued, “We flipped a coin. Tom lost, so he went into the store. I was waiting outside, standing by the vehicle, when the whole world exploded. I was knocked off my feet by the blast.”

Emotion rose in her chest, clogging her throat. Her mother might not have died, but Addie had lost her to the drugs, so she understood that helpless feeling.

“It was a suicide bomber. Everyone inside the store died.” He shook his head. “I was how many feet away from Tom? And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

She wanted to hug him to her, console him, but settled for placing her hand on his arm as they arrived at the duplex. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been terrible. Were you badly hurt?”

“I survived.”

She squeezed his arm. “Teddy and I are glad you did, and I’m sure Radar is too.”

“If I’d lost that coin toss, Radar would be with Tom now.”

“And I’d still be afraid of dogs,” she reasoned. “You may not think what you did—rescuing Radar like that and bringing him back to America, then starting to help me get over my phobia—is that big of a deal, but believe me, it is, and I—”

“Mr. Gabe?” Teddy interrupted, distracting Addie from her concern over Gabe. “Do you have Radar’s ball?”

“Sure. Let me get it,” he said and slipped into the house.

“Are you gonna watch me play ball?” Teddy asked.

“Of course. Let me get a couple chairs from the carport.” She retrieved two canvas seats. There was just enough room for the both of them on the cement pad in front of the two doors.

Gabe came back out, raising an eyebrow. “Are we the bleachers?”

“Yup.”

He tossed the ball to Teddy, who made a running grab for it, but tripped, and the ball went over his head. He started giggling when Radar trotted over and dropped the ball on him.

For the past year, she’d envied her friends for the families they’d formed, but now she was experiencing some of that happiness.

Watching Teddy laughing and playing relieved some of the burden she’d been dragging around like an old suitcase, and she blurted out, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing Radar into his life.”

He shifted in his seat. “Look, if you’re saying that because—because of what I told you before, I wasn’t looking for sympathy, reassurance or anything at all when I said it.”

“What? No.” His reaction shouldn’t have surprised her because she knew a lot of veterans wanted to put things behind them. “I’m saying it because I can’t help second-guessing everything I do with regards to Teddy.”

“Why?”

“I want to keep him safe, but I also want him to have a normal, happy childhood.”

“He’s a bright, inquisitive boy. I would say you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“But I’m not his mother...even you said that. What if I’m damaging him?” Okay, so maybe she was having trouble letting go of some of that guilt. After all, she’d had it for a long time. If she’d been able to prevent her mother from relapsing, Teddy’s life would be so different now.

“Are you asking me if you’re damaging him by keeping him safe, giving him a secure environment to grow up in?”

“Well, if you’re going to put it like that...” she said.

Unwilling to explore the feelings he’d churned up, she abruptly changed the subject. “Have you lived your whole life in Loon Lake?”

“Before I joined up, yeah. But I didn’t grow up on a street like this.” He glanced around the neighborhood. “And it wasn’t across town in one of those big Victorians either, if that’s what you were wondering.”

She hadn’t thought that, but he was starting to sound defensive, so she kept silent. She had a feeling her probing earlier had forced a confidence he now regretted. Plus, she didn’t want him to stop talking about himself, about his life. Why she wanted to know as much as she could about him was something she was trying not to examine too closely. For all her talk about resisting the town’s matchmaking efforts, she realized she was taking an avid interest in All Things Gabe. After that kiss and the time he was spending with Teddy, she could admit to herself her interest in him was swiftly becoming more than avid.

“We lived over on the east side on that road that leads to the secluded end of the lake.”

“Isn’t that the area where someone built that gorgeous log home?” She’d checked out the apartment above the garage after Ellie Harding had moved out, but the place wasn’t big enough for both her and Teddy.

He nodded. “Yeah, but it’s changed a lot in the past few years. There weren’t any houses that impressive back then. The trailer is gone now, but Pa and I lived in a single-wide on an empty lot. No manicured lawns or ornamental bushes, just lots of dirt.”

She turned her head toward him and took a moment to admire his profile. God, but he was gorgeous. Not pretty-boy handsome but... Natalie’s words popped into her head. He seemed to be lost in the past, staring straight ahead, but not as if he was actually seeing the street or the trees in front of them.

“We moved around a lot, sometimes in the middle of the night when rent was due. Your place may not have been glamorous, but it sure beats a cheap motel,” she said, imagining their trailer was a lot better than many of the places she’d lived in when Michelle was using.

“Maybe, but the front yard was nothing but a graveyard for dead lawn mowers and snowblowers. Pa never gave up hope of getting those rusted castoffs running again. He called them ‘precious metals waiting to be mined.’” He shook his head. “Precious, my ass. It was all junk, plain and simple. And if he did manage to get one running, instead of selling it, more often than not, someone had a sob story and he’d end up giving it away, or practically free.”

“Sounds like he was caring and compassionate.” She laid her hand on his arm.

“Yeah. Too bad his only son was such a disappointment,” Gabe said bitterly.

She squeezed his arm. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. His dream was for me to go to college. He didn’t get a chance to go himself and really wanted that for me. Make something of myself. He hoped I’d get a baseball scholarship. I might have had a chance...not for the major leagues, though. I wasn’t that good.”

“What happened?”

“I got the homecoming queen pregnant. Instead of going off to college, I got married and found a job working construction.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “Listen to me. I sound like a Bruce Springsteen song.”

“You a Springsteen fan?” He might think of what he did as a cliché, but she knew not all men took responsibility for their actions. She knew two who hadn’t. She and Teddy might not share the same biological father, but both men had one thing in common. They’d skipped out. As an eighteen-year-old, Gabe must have been scared by marriage and pending fatherhood, and yet he’d acted with honor. That earned him her respect, even if the marriage hadn’t worked out.

He shrugged. “My pa was, so I grew up listening. You?”

“Oh yeah...”

“What? I would have thought he was before your time.” He gave her a puzzled glance.

“Remember, I’m one hundred and something in dog years.” She couldn’t contain her laughter any longer and he joined her.

She was relieved that he wasn’t still upset over having confided in her earlier. Her conversation with Tavie Whatley last night, about inviting Gabe to their community meeting, popped into her mind. And not for the reasons the other woman had suggested. Ogle, Tavie’s husband and a Vietnam vet, had managed to get a lot of the local veterans to open up to him. And Gabe could use someone to talk to, someone who understood what he’d gone through, someone who could provide advice on transitioning back to civilian life. They probably said things to Ogle they wouldn’t to others. Maybe Gabe could come to terms with what had happened to him in Afghanistan, as well as the circumstances of his childhood and failed marriage.

“Has anyone invited you to our Coffee & Conversation meetings yet?”

He frowned. “Not that I know of.”

“Well, now I’m inviting you.” She smiled. A spoonful of sugar, right?

“Why?” he asked, giving her a side-eye look.

Maybe she should have bribed him with a real sugar treat. “Why not? Wouldn’t you like to get involved in the community? I think it’s a great opportunity to get to know people and help out those less fortunate.”

“I’m really not interested.”

“Oh,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Until he’d refused, she hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on him agreeing.

She had to ask herself why it meant so much to her for him to integrate into the community. Had she wanted it for him or for herself? If he was invested in the town, he’d stay, maybe take another chance at creating a family.

Gabe stood up. “You two about done? I hate to break it up, but I have to work up some figures for Brody.”

“Of course. I have to see if Teddy has homework before supper.” And she wanted to think this over in private.

Even as a child, she’d never been one for fairy tales. So why was she suddenly letting herself act as if her life could be one? Teddy needed to be her top priority, and her dream of having a happy family like her friends needed to stay just that—a fantasy and nothing more. Giving her brother a stable foundation in a safe neighborhood was what she needed to concentrate on, along with finishing her degree and becoming a full-fledged librarian.

* * *

Once inside, Gabe called himself all sorts of names. Why had he acted like that? He hated that he’d put that look of hurt on her pretty face. But when she’d talked about people getting together to help the needy, he imagined they’d be looking at him. He had nothing against the good people of Loon Lake, but he could only think how they would be remembering him as one of those less fortunate. His childhood was over. He had no wish to dredge up all those old memories and the way they made him feel.

Looked like Radar wasn’t happy with him either and made his displeasure known by grumbling low in his throat. The dog probably knew he’d acted like a jerk, but after talking about what had happened to Tom, Gabe felt off-kilter. What was it about Addie that made him want to share bits of himself he’d always kept hidden?

Then she’d talked about those community meetings, and it had gotten under his skin.

He went into the kitchen, took two pieces of leftover pizza and a soda from the fridge and threw the food on a plate. After putting the plate in the microwave, he dumped some dry kibble in Radar’s bowl and refilled the water dish.

Was she getting supper too? Would she be sitting down to help Teddy with homework? He imagined she would be the type to check over the boy’s lessons.

The dog plunked himself down in front of the water dish and noisily lapped up water. The microwave dinged and Gabe took the pizza out. He grabbed the clipboard he’d used at Brody’s to take notes and went to the small desk he’d set up in the living room for his laptop.

He’d told Addie he was going to work on figures for Brody, and that was what he’d do. He wasn’t going to think about that kiss. Or how much he’d like to do it again. Or how he should go and apologize for his behavior. He had nothing to apologize for. He was under no obligation to go to her meeting just because she’d invited him. So why did he regret refusing?

He ate the pizza without tasting it while working up an invoice for Brody. Laughter drifted to him from the apartment next door. What were they laughing at? He shook his head. None of his business. And he wasn’t feeling left out. Nope. Not at all.

His phone dinged with an incoming text and he jumped on it.

The text was from an old school friend he’d bumped into when he’d picked up his pizza yesterday. He was at the courts and asking if he’d like to play some basketball. Normally, he’d say no, but maybe this was just what he needed to get out of his own head.

Radar wasn’t too happy that Gabe was leaving without him, but his owner didn’t want to have to worry about his dog while playing hoops.

He’d jumped on the distraction and initially it had felt good to connect with old friends. But he’d been gone too long, seen too much to pick up where they’d left off. He realized he had more in common with new acquaintances like Brody Wilson and Des Gallagher than the guys he’d hung out with in school. The fact Brody and Des had both seen action was responsible for their instant brotherhood.

But he’d joked around and shot some hoops. He might even have gone with them for beers after the game if he hadn’t twisted his knee.

He’d laughed off falling on his butt when the knee gave out but still used it as an excuse to skip extending the evening. He pulled his Jeep back into his driveway, cut the engine and grimaced. Opening the driver’s door, he inhaled and swung his legs out of the vehicle. He tested his left knee by putting weight on it and swore when pain shot through the entire leg. His knee felt similar to the time he’d sprained his ACL. He didn’t think—No, make that he hoped that wasn’t the problem. Although it hurt like hell, it wasn’t quite that bad.

He slowly made his way into the house, hoping the old lady across the street wasn’t watching. He didn’t need the whole town knowing how stupid he was for playing in a pickup game and getting injured at his age. Huh, maybe that had put up the weird invisible barrier between him and his old friends. Was it his experiences that made him feel so much older than those guys?

Radar greeted him at the door and whined when he shut it. Great. The dog probably needed to go out and relieve himself.

“My stupidity isn’t your fault. I’ll let you into the backyard, but don’t go far.”

He laboriously limped through the house and into the kitchen. If he hadn’t been rude to Addie, maybe he would have spent the evening with her and Teddy.

“Make it quick,” Gabe told the dog as he opened the back door and switched on the spotlight that was supposed to illuminate the area. Nothing happened. He groaned and said a few words that would have had him filling Teddy’s swear jar.

Fixing that light was one of the things on his list of repairs. Unfortunately, it involved climbing the ladder to reach the bulb attached to the highest peak on the corner of the building. About all he was able to do at the moment was shuffle around. He was hardly the role model that someone like Addie and Teddy deserved in their lives.

Radar bounded out the door, his nose to the ground.Then he raced to the edge of the yard near the trees that backed up to the property line.

“Great.” Gabe leaned against the doorjamb, trying to keep his weight off his now-throbbing leg. Story of his life. He had no one to blame but himself. It was his responsibility to change the light. He’d been responsible for Tracy’s pregnancy. Same with Tom. He’d been the senior officer and could have ordered Tom to stay with the vehicle. He’d been blaming the flip of a coin, but it was ultimately his fault.

Sighing, he called for the dog and received an answering bark. He whistled a few moments later with no response. What was causing Radar to ignore his commands? He couldn’t handle a misbehaving dog. What made him think he would be a good influence on an impressionable boy like Teddy?

* * *

“Addie, did you hear that?” Teddy asked, getting up and going to the back door to look out.

“What, sweetie?” She finished loading the dishwasher, added detergent and latched it shut.

“I think I heard Radar barking. Out in the backyard.”

She went to stand next to him and put her arms on his shoulders. “It’s possible. He lives here. Gabe might have let him out to relieve himself.”

“You mean, to take a whiz?” he asked, giving her a mischievous look.

“Where in the world did you hear that?” She pushed his shoulder.

He grinned and ducked his head. “At school. A lot of the kids say it.”

“Well, it’s not very nice.”

“What do you want me to say? Take a—”

“Don’t you dare.” She shook her head. Was this what she had to look forward to, raising a boy? Would Gabe have known how to handle this? And why was she thinking in terms of his help? He might enjoy kissing her—and she believed he did—but that was a far cry from wanting to step up and take responsibility for a seven-year-old boy. “Let’s not talk about going to the toilet at all right now.”

“But you said I could ask you anything.”

“And you can. And you did, and I answered.” She sighed and pushed him toward the table. “Finish your homework if you want to watch TV before bed.”

“But you didn’t say what I could say.”

“You can say he’s using the bathroom.”

“But Radar is outside, not—”

A knock at the back door interrupted him. “Maybe it’s Mr. Gabe and Radar.”

Teddy had the door open before she could react.

It was indeed Gabe and he looked a little worse for wear. His pallor was a bit gray and he had deep grooves around his mouth. She started to reach out but pulled back. If he was in pain, and she believed he was or had been, she wanted to comfort him, but would he accept it or push her away? He’d pushed her away once tonight; she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to put herself out there again.

“Come in. Is Radar with you?” Teddy stuck his head out the door.

Gabe nodded and limped in holding on to the doorjamb.

Unable to help it, she rushed to his side. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He nodded. “A reminder that I’m getting too old to play pickup basketball.”

“Do you need anything? What can I do?” She realized she’d been trying to herd him inside and he was resisting, albeit shakily. She had to remind herself she was not responsible for taking care of Gabe, no matter how much she felt the urge to do so.

He sucked in a breath. “I’m not here about me. It’s Radar. I don’t suppose there’s any twenty-four-hour emergency vets in town.”

“Why? What happened to him?”

Teddy pulled his head back in. “Is Radar okay?”

Gabe massaged the back of his neck. “He got into something he should’ve left alone.”

Her mind filled with all sorts of horrors, just like it had the time Teddy said he’d almost run into the street. She hated the thought of anything happening to the dog. Being afraid was not the same as not liking the animals, though. She didn’t want to see Radar or Gabe come to harm.

Gabe put his palm against the wall, obviously needing the support. “Come.”

Radar came to the open doorway. For a moment, she didn’t register what she was seeing. The dog’s snout was full of porcupine quills. He slowly swung his head back and forth trying to dislodge them.

“The poor thing,” she said, her stomach tightening in sympathy for the poor creature.

“Do they hurt?” Teddy asked.

Gabe nodded. “I’m sure they do. Don’t touch him. I don’t want those quills getting worked in any farther.”

“Are you gonna pull them out?” Teddy asked, and Radar whined.

Gabe shook his head. “I think that’s a job best left to a professional. I understand it’s not as straightforward as it seems.”

“Oh my God, he looks so pitiful.” Addie cupped her palm over her mouth and shivered. “I think he’s going to need sedation.”

“Why?” Teddy asked.

“Because if he jerks while they’re trying to remove them, he might break the quills. The quills are actually designed to work their way in deeper, so they need to be taken out in one smooth pull with pliers. They can migrate to other parts of the body.” Sometimes she hated her encyclopedic brain.

“Who designed them?” Teddy scrunched up his face.

“Mother Nature, I guess,” she said.

“What happens if they do break?”

“The vet will need to switch to sanitized tweezers to...” Her voice trailed off and she glanced up.

Gabe shifted his stance. “This is all my fault. I trusted Radar to come straight back, but he’s still a dog and dogs chase porcupines. Damn. I spent so much time concentrating on keeping him safe from snipers and IEDs that I forgot to take into consideration the more mundane dangers lurking here at home.”

“To what?” Teddy demanded.

She frowned at her brother. “To what what?”

Gabe cleared his throat and winced as he looked at a pathetic Radar, his snout full of quills. “I think your sister was talking about using tweezers to dig the pieces out.”

“Ew,” Teddy said, and he made a face. “That sounds—”

“I don’t think we need to discuss this right now, Teddy.” She glanced at Gabe. The poor guy looked positively queasy. Her earlier annoyance at his dismissive behavior after their kiss evaporated.

“But it’s happening now,” Teddy whined.

Despite the circumstances, Gabe laughed at his comment. Her gaze met Gabe’s in a common understanding that they were protecting Teddy from the gory details. This silent communication passed between them as they stared at one another over his head. Was this what it was like to be intimately close to someone? Sharing moments without the need for words?

“I think your sister is getting grossed out, so maybe we can talk about it later.”

“Hey, I...” Addie started to object, but Gabe winked at her and she understood what he was doing. She smirked at him and said, “I guess we’ll both have something to discuss later.”

“Agreed, but first I need to find emergency veterinary care.”

“We don’t have a twenty-four-hour—Wait. I do have Dr. Greer’s personal cell number. We were on a committee together last year for the annual Independence Day celebration. I’m sure she’d be happy to help an animal in distress.” She grabbed her phone off the counter and scrolled through her contacts.

“I hate to put you on the spot, but do you think you could call her?” He gave her a pleading look. “Radar didn’t get into this mess by himself. I should have gone outside with him, called him back immediately when he darted off.”

Radar sat, watching patiently while Addie tried to reach the vet. Her heart went out to both man and animal.

Teddy hunkered down in front of Radar, his hands between his knees, avoiding touching the dog. “Learning lessons is no fun, huh?”

Addie drew in a sharp breath. Was that what Michelle had told that little boy, a sweet child in pain, when he’d gotten burned? Oh, she had no doubt that was where that sentiment had come from. Their mother had been quick to tell her that she hoped she’d learned her lesson after she’d gotten bitten by the neighbor’s dog. It was her responsibility now to undo the damage Michelle had done to Teddy—and to her.

CHAPTER TEN

Gabe shifted his weight, easing off the sore knee as much as possible to relieve the pain. Whatever his discomfort, he was pretty sure Radar was in a heck of a lot more, and that was on him for getting them into this mess. But none of that mattered now because Addie was there and willing to help, despite his earlier treatment of her.

Evidently the call had gone through, because she was speaking with someone, explaining the situation. The tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders drained away. He hoped to have the chance to make this up to her.

“Uh-huh,” she said and gave him a thumbs-up.

His heart did that stumble thing he associated with Addie and he sagged against the wall. He might not be seeing his bed or even his couch as he’d planned, but at least Radar would receive the necessary treatment. He’d been fooling himself when he’d said he was honoring a promise when he brought the dog home. Truth was, Radar had burrowed deep into his heart and he’d walk to the ends of the earth to see that he was taken care of. How many times had Radar brought him out of his dark thoughts? Retrieved him from the nightmare of war and brought him back to reality without any formal training?

Addie set her phone on the counter. “She says she’ll meet us at her office. She’s going to try to contact her vet tech too. She mentioned he might need anesthesia when they go to get all of the quills out.”

He straightened up and away from the wall, pulling out his own phone to call up the GPS. “Where is her office?”

“I know exactly where it is. Teddy, go get our jackets from the closet by the front door.”

The boy sprang up, his expression hopeful. “We’re going with Mr. Gabe and Radar?”

She glanced over at Gabe, her chin at a determined angle. “You don’t look like you’re in any state to drive yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. As much as he wanted to protest, she was absolutely right, so he nodded. “Okay, but we should take my Jeep. I have a crate for Radar in the rear.”

She bit her lip. “Is it a stick?”

“The car?” He shook his head. “No.”

“So, I get to ride in Mr. Gabe’s Jeep?” Teddy asked, as if it were some sort of treat.

“I thought I told you to go get the jackets,” she said and picked up her purse from the kitchen table. “Unless you prefer I call Mrs. O to see if...”

“I figured that would get him moving,” she said as Teddy ran from the room.

He marveled at how she’d kept a cool head and did what was necessary. Sure, he’d helped her with her phobia, but she wasn’t miraculously cured, and yet she wasn’t letting it prevent her from helping them.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said, and Radar whined. Even the dog recognized how special this woman was. “Make that we can’t thank you enough.”

She waved her hand. “It’s what neighbors do.”

“I also owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For earlier. I was rude when you invited me to your meeting.”

“It’s not my meeting. It happens to be held at the library and—”

“Here, Addie.” Teddy came back with two jackets and handed her one. “Mr. Gabe? Will it cost a lot of money to get Radar fixed?”

Radar whined as if the question had been weighing on him too.

“Teddy.” Addie’s tone held a note of warning.

“I was gonna say that maybe we should take the swear jar with us, just in case. You know, if Mr. Gabe needs extra money to help pay. If that’s okay with you, Addie. You’re always saying how much money it costs when you take a dog to the doctor.”

Addie gave Gabe an apologetic look and opened her mouth, but before she spoke, he said, “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I appreciate your generous offer.” He glanced at the dog. “And I’m sure Radar appreciates it too.”

“Well, we’d better go. We don’t want to keep Emily waiting,” Addie said and handed her car keys to Teddy. “Get your booster seat from our car so we can put it in Gabe’s.”

He felt a bit disoriented sitting in the passenger seat of his own vehicle, but it did feel good, being off his knee.

“Is everyone buckled in?” Addie asked before starting the Jeep.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe said.

“Yup,” came Teddy’s response.

A whine from the crate in the back was Radar’s reply.

Teddy giggled. “Radar answered too. Did you hear that, Mr. Gabe?”

“I certainly did.” Gabe chuckled and glanced at Addie, who met his gaze before she backed out of the driveway. The gloom and doom he’d been feeling earlier had lifted; it had eased the moment Addie had asked what she could do to help.

All rational thought fled when he got lost in her sparkling eyes, which looked as if the sun were shining through them. He felt warmth flood his face. Where the heck had that corny thought come from? And at a time like this, no less?

“Mr. Gabe?”

“Yes?”

“Do you like Addie?”

“Teddy,” she groaned.

“What? Last year, when I tol’ you I liked Ashley Cook from my school, you said I should tell her.”

“Yes, but...” She stopped at the end of their street and waited for traffic before pulling out.

What was he supposed to say to a seven-year-old? “Yes, I have feelings for your sister, but they’re not exactly appropriate, at least not enough to admit to a young boy about his sister”?

“Well, to answer your question. Yes, Teddy, I like your sister,” he said and paused before adding, “Very much, in fact.”

Now he’d gone and done it. Home less than a month and admitting to having feelings for a woman. And not just any woman, but one who was responsible for an impressionable boy. Returning to Loon Lake, he hadn’t intended to live a celibate life, but this was definitely not what he’d planned either.

“That’s good ’cause Addie likes you.”

“Teddy,” she said in a pained tone.

Gabe arched an eyebrow and looked over at her. “Is that true?”

She briefly took her eyes from the road to look at him. “Yes,” she said shortly and shifted her concentration back to her driving.

“See?” Teddy leaned back in his seat. “It worked. Just like with Ashley Cook.”

“Yes, it, uh, did,” Gabe said and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. When he could talk without chuckling, he said, “And a little child shall lead them.”

“Huh?” came from the back seat.

“Nothing,” they both responded at the same time.

He had a feeling Teddy’s definition of liking was a bit different from his. His encompassed a whole range, from lustful thoughts to enjoying sitting on the front stoop with her and talking about everything and nothing.

Addie switched on the blinker and pulled into the turn lane.

“We’re here,” she said, sounding relieved as she drove into the parking lot.

The veterinarian’s office was located in a newer one-story, detached building with a brick facade and white-painted trim. Addie parked the car next to the door.

A petite woman wearing a white lab coat over light green scrubs met them at the entrance. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The pin under the front pocket said Dr. Emily Greer, DVM.

“Thank you so much for meeting us,” Addie said as they embraced.

“I’m glad I was able to come,” the vet replied.

Teddy ran up to her. “Hi! Remember me?”

Dr. Greer gave him a hug too. “Of course I remember you, Teddy. You came last year with your sister to the July Fourth celebration and helped me set up my booth.”

“Radar came all the way from Afghanistan,” Teddy told her.

The vet grinned. “My, my, he came a long way.”

“Oh, he didn’t come today.” He shook his head. “He came a long time ago. At least two weeks, huh, Mr. Gabe?”

“At least two weeks,” Gabe said, grateful Teddy had distracted them while he practically crawled out of the car. Not good for his manly image.

Addie introduced Gabe to the vet, and they exchanged pleasantries.

“I guess I’d better meet the patient.”

* * *

Gabe switched off the ball game on TV when Radar abandoned his post on the couch to run to the front door. It had been three days since their injuries, and both were healing nicely. Radar more so than him, since Gabe was still limping a bit—like now as he followed the dog to the door.

Dr. Greer had removed all the quills without any breaking, so she hadn’t had to resort to digging any out with tweezers.

Gabe was using the RICE method of rest, ice, compression and elevation to take care of his knee, and it was responding.

“You’d tell me if it was someone other than Teddy, wouldn’t you, boy?” he said to the dog as he reached for the knob.

Gabe laughed when Radar gave him a look that said he knew his job. Sure enough, Teddy was on the other side, his hand poised to knock. Gabe’s chest swelled at the sight. He looked forward to the boy’s company as much as he enjoyed Addie’s.

So why had he done little to encourage seeing her except in passing in the days following their emergency trip to the vet? Sure, he’d been staying off his feet to heal his knee, but that was only part of it. Had it been because he’d admitted liking her? Or worse yet, her admitting she liked him? Which was scarier?

Oh man, thoughts like that just illustrated how deep his feelings went.

“How did you know I was here?” the boy asked as Gabe opened up.

“Radar told me.”

“He did?” The boy giggled and hugged Radar. “How’d he do that? He can’t talk.”

Wanna bet? Gabe grinned and replied, “He came to the door to let me know you were here.”

Teddy scrunched up his face. “But I didn’t even get to knock before you opened it.”

“True, but dogs hear better than we do,” he told Teddy. “They hear sounds four times farther away than we do, so he must’ve heard you coming.”

Teddy slowly shook his head. “Now you sound like Addie.”

Gabe laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I—What have you got in your pocket? Radar keeps trying to stick his nose in it.”

The boy put his hand in his hoodie and held up a clear sandwich bag with cookies shaped like bones. “Look what I made.”

“You baked those?” Gabe smiled but wasn’t sure where this was heading.

“Yup. Well, Addie helped. Can I give one to Radar?”

Radar threw Gabe a hopeful look and whined.

“I don’t normally let him have human food, but I guess one won’t hurt. They don’t have chocolate or raisins, do they?” Did Addie even know Teddy had brought the cookies over? She knew chocolate was toxic for dogs and would never willingly feed it to Radar. She might be afraid of dogs, but she would never harm one.

“No. Addie looked up a bunch of dog recipes and used the best one.”

“Dog recipes? You mean those are dog cookies?”

“Yeah, but Addie says it’s okay for people to eat them too. I tried one and it was kinda yucky.” He made a face. “I told her they were pretty bad, but she said it won’t kill me. And she said dogs’ taste buds are different than ours.”

“These aren’t really cookies but dog biscuits?”

The boy held the bag up. Radar sat at Teddy’s feet, his eyes on the bag. “You can try one if you want. I did.”

“So you say, but I think I’ll pass.” Gabe chuckled, but Addie’s gesture made all sorts of mushy stuff happen in his chest. Truth was, he’d missed their company and was through avoiding spending quality time with them. “Why did you and your sister make these?”

“I asked if we could buy some for Radar, and she said making them would be more special. She said it’s like when I make stuff during art at school or when the library has arts and crafts. She says she likes those cards better than store-bought.” Teddy paused for breath and opened the bag. “Do you think that means they’re more special? Do you think Radar will think they’re more special?”

“I’m sure Radar will enjoy the ones you baked for him.” And Gabe wouldn’t be rude enough to refuse them as he had with the cupcakes. He’d sooner eat a dog biscuit than hurt the kid’s feelings. And he’d do anything to protect the boy. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t his own flesh and blood. This bond went deeper than duty.

“Addie says if Radar likes them, we’ll fix more for her library thing.”

“She’s going to feed dog biscuits to the library patrons?”

“Well...they are homemade.”

“But—”

Teddy burst out laughing. “Gotcha!”

It seemed the kid had a sense of humor. “Very clever.”

“Not really. I said the same thing you did to Addie, and that’s what she said. I didn’t make it up myself. Can I give one to Radar?”

“Sure. Hold it on your open palm and let him take it.”

Teddy did as he was told, and Radar looked to Gabe, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. He put the dog out of his misery and nodded. Radar gently removed the treat from Teddy’s hand and wolfed it down in two bites.

“He liked it.” Teddy held up the bag. “Addie said not to give him too many. She said that was for you to decide. You will let him have more, won’t you, Mr. Gabe?”

“I will.” He nodded solemnly and accepted the bag. “What is your sister doing today?”

“She’s cleaning up the mess we made in the kitchen baking the dog biscuits.” Teddy hunkered down to pet Radar. “Did you watch any videos about making a race car for Cub Scouts?”

Teddy was looking at him as expectantly as Radar had the bag of homemade dog treats. Although he’d never been a Scout himself, he now knew about all there was to know about the Pinewood Derby. It was a toss-up who was more excited, him or Teddy.

“I did. And I need to be sure I have all the things we’ll need before we start building it.”

“You mean it? You’ll really help me?” Teddy asked, and Gabe nodded. “It’s spring break, so I don’t have school next week. Do you think we could do it then?”

“I think that can be arranged. Will you be home every day?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Addie says she’s taking vacation days so I don’t have to go to the library with her or stay with that Mrs. O’Malley. I told Addie I was old enough to stay by myself, but she says no. What do you think, Mr. Gabe?”

Knowing better than to get in the middle of that, he held up his hands. “I think your sister knows best.”

“My mom used to leave me alone, and I was just a little kid then.”

Gabe was at a loss for words. What could he say to the boy? That his mother had been irresponsible and Addie was anything but?

“My mom says if I go back to live with her, she promises not to do that again, but she breaks her promises. You won’t tell Addie I said that, will you?”

“Well, I—”

“I think our mom likes to break her promises, ’cause she does it all the time.”

Gabe shifted in discomfort. “Have you talked to your sister about that?”

He shook his head. “I think Addie believes her because she says Mom can’t help it because she’s sick. But I’m not a baby. I know she does bad things.”

“I think you need to talk to your sister about this.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Gabe asked.

“’Cause it’s like when a little kid believes in the Easter Bunny or the tooth fairy. I’m not supposed to tell the adults I know something’s a lie.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s exactly the same thing. Your sister is an adult,” he reminded Teddy.

“I’ll think about it, but I don’t want to ruin anything for her. Can Radar and I play ball now? Addie says if I do, she’ll come and sit on the steps to watch us.”

“Sure.” And he could sit on the steps with Addie. God, he must have it bad, when lounging on the front stoop with a woman sounded like fun. Huh, it must’ve been longer than he’d realized since he’d been with someone.

In between deployments, after his pa had died, he’d stayed on base, hung out with other marines. He’d gone out with women, but those few times could be best described as hookups, nothing resembling a proper relationship.

“Mr. Gabe?”

“I’ll put the biscuits away for now. I bought Radar a Frisbee. Would you like to play with that instead of the ball?”

“Okay. Can you show me how to throw it?”

“Sure thing, bud.” If someone had told him that he would enjoy showing a seven-year-old how best to throw a Frisbee, he would have thought they were nuts. But being able to share things with Teddy gave him a good feeling. It was not the same as serving his country but important nonetheless.

He may not have appreciated it enough, but his pa had always been there for him, even when he’d messed up and gotten into trouble as a teen. Sure, the old man hadn’t lectured, but he’d taken the time to set him straight. He might not have had all the newest gadgets or expensive clothes like the other boys, but his pa had given him what mattered. And now he found he wanted to do that for Teddy. Give him the gift of time, listen to him and let the boy know he was important.

He’d just finished giving Frisbee-throwing pointers when Addie came onto the front stoop. He limped over to the chairs she’d already set up. Radar and Teddy both paused in their game of fetch. Radar’s tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, and Gabe swore the dog wore a smug expression. Oh man, Bishop, you are losing it.

* * *

“Addie, look. We’re playing Frisbee. Mr. Gabe taught us.”

“I see that, sweetie.”

Addie looked at Gabe and her heart melted. He’d been so patient with Teddy. She needed to be careful or she’d be falling for her neighbor. If it wasn’t already too late. Which did not make sense, because she barely knew him.

She noticed he made a face as he lowered himself into the chair.

“How’s the knee?”

“Getting better,” Gabe replied, adding, “I made a pact with Radar. He’s to stay away from porcupines, and I’ll refrain from playing basketball.”

She loved his sense of humor. “How about a game of trivia instead?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Unless you can’t handle it.”

“Bring it.”

“You ready?” She rubbed her fingers on her chest and blew on them.

“What two countries share the longest international border?”

“The US and Canada. Pfft. You can do better than that.” He puffed up his chest and motioned toward his pecs with his open hands. “Get rough. I can take it.”

But could she? She remembered those calluses on his hands and wondered what they would feel like in certain other places on her body. Get back into the game, she ordered herself. “Who wrote The Silence of the Lambs?”

“Look at you. Going all librarian on me.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Thomas Harris. Now, how about I quiz you? I like to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

“Bring it, Marine.” She lifted her chin.

“When does the Marine Corps celebrate its birthday?”

“November tenth.” She blew on her fingertips.

After playing several more rounds and calling it a draw, Gabe said, “Teddy tells me he’s off school next week.”

“He is.”

“Maybe the three of us could do something. Go for pizza, maybe take Teddy to indoor miniature golf. I think he’d like that.”

And so would I. That sounded just fine to her—in fact, more than fine. It sounded like a plan.

* * *

The next day was unseasonably warm, so when Teddy dropped by to see if he could help with anything, Gabe suggested they wash the Jeep together. He sensed that Teddy wanted to talk about something.

Although he hadn’t thought about it at the time, washing his pa’s old heap with him hadn’t done a thing to improve its appearance. Washing it had been an excuse to spend time together and for Pa to impart wisdom without appearing to lecture.

“Everyone says you got medals and stuff for bravery in Afghanistan,” the boy muttered.

“It’s true I was awarded a distinguished service medal, but I was just doing what the marines taught me.” Gabe increased pressure as he rubbed the soapy sponge over the hood and side panels. What was he supposed to say to the kid? The last thing he wanted was to glorify war, but neither did he want to lie. “I’m not sure I’d call doing my job being brave, though.”

“Oh.” Teddy’s shoulders slumped, and he scuffed the ground with the toe of his sneaker.

“Why did you ask, bud?”

Teddy lifted his bony shoulders and let them drop. “I thought maybe you could teach me.”

“To be brave?”

The kid nodded.

“What makes you think you’re not already?”

Gabe thought about the burn scars on the boy’s hands and arms but didn’t want to call attention to them. Did the other kids pick on him for that? Gabe knew firsthand how cruel other children could be. He recalled the first time someone teased him because he didn’t have a mother. As if he were to blame for her death when he was six. Teddy was staring at his feet. Did he get teased for living with his sister? “Have kids been bullying you for something?”

“Not me but my friend Sam. Some bigger kids called him ‘dummy’ because he can’t talk.” Teddy shrugged again. “It’s not his fault. He got hit by a car when he was really little, and that’s how come he can’t talk. But he’s a real good LEGO builder.”

Gabe nodded, proud of Teddy for befriending Des and Natalie’s son, Sam. Before spending time with Teddy, he wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel like this about a boy who wasn’t his biological son. He had to swallow to dislodge the lump in his throat before he could speak. “You don’t need to talk to assemble LEGO bricks, huh?”

Teddy’s face brightened. “Yeah. He put together an airport set all by hisself, and he’s real good at finding the pieces we need in the big bucket.”

“Did you tell your teacher about the other boys?”

He shook his head vigorously. “They said if I snitched, they’d know it. Addie says that if you stand up to bullies, they will back down. But girls sure are different, ya know what I mean?”

Gabe cleared his throat to stop the laugh that threatened to emerge. “I think I do, bud. Can you get the hose and hand it to me?” Gabe pointed to where he’d left the implement. He felt as though he were tiptoeing his way through a minefield. He was honored Teddy had come to him, but he worried about saying the wrong thing. What did he know about giving advice to a kid, really? Would he have automatically known what to say if his own son had lived? Would having raised him from infancy given him special insight, or would he have the same fear of messing up, saying the wrong thing?

Teddy ran over to the hose and picked it up by the nozzle and handed it over. “Girls say mean things and pull each other’s hair and stuff, but us guys don’t do that, do we?”

“Sometimes, bud. But I don’t think your sister wants you to get in trouble for fighting either. I could give you tips on how to defend yourself if someone tries to start a fight with you.”

Teddy shrugged. “I learned to do that pretty good in one of the places I went to before I came to live with Addie.”

Gabe winced at Teddy’s matter-of-fact tone. They had a lot in common, because circumstances had made both of them vulnerable as children. In very different ways, of course. He had never been in any physical danger, just suffering dented pride at having to accept charity. Teddy, however, had suffered much worse and had the scars to prove it. What else had the boy been through in his relatively short life? No wonder Addie was so protective. “Okay. Then what are you asking me?”

“Teach me how to be brave. Whenever I stand up to those bigger kids, I feel... I feel...” He glanced around as if afraid someone would hear him. “I’m scared.”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Hel—” He cut himself off before he swore, adding, “Heck, I was scared most of the time in Afghanistan.”

The boy’s eyes grew larger behind the lenses of his glasses. “You were?”

Gabe nodded and adjusted the nozzle. “Being scared has nothing to do with bravery, Teddy. Sounds like you were being courageous when you stood up for your friend Sam.”

“How was I brave if I was scared the whole time?” Teddy shook his head and hunched his shoulders forward.

“Facing your fears and not giving in to them is what being brave is about.”

Teddy scowled. “How can that be true, if you’re afraid at all?”

Gabe waved the hose back and forth to rinse the soapsuds off the side of the Jeep. “You said you were afraid, but you still stood up to the boys picking on your friend. I tell you, Teddy, that’s the definition of bravery.”

Teddy thought for a moment, then smiled. “For real?”

“For real.”

Gabe was glad he could help the kid. It gave him a good feeling.

Except what he felt was a heck of a lot more complicated. Good didn’t even begin to describe his feelings for Teddy and his sister. Complicated with a big C was more like it.

He was wading into deep water and couldn’t be sure of keeping his head above it. If he drowned, he could take Addie and Teddy with him.

Hurting either of them was the last thing he wanted.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Addie put up the Tea & Talk sign she’d laminated on the door of the community room. The meeting was held at the library on a monthly basis, although the name alternated. The vote to name the group had been deadlocked, with no one wanting to give an inch. She laughed. It was nice to think that was one of the most controversial things in her life. She’d been the one who’d come up with the compromise. Every once in a while, she’d put up the wrong sign to see if anyone noticed. Someone always did and called her out on it. She’d act like it had been an honest mistake and correct her error, secretly chuckling to herself.

Despite the hot tempers over the name, good things were accomplished by the group. They discussed projects that benefited the residents of the town. At Christmas, they decorated an “angel tree” at the library, where children were allowed to hang holiday wishes. Then benefactors would select a paper angel and fulfill what was written on it. The majority of the messages were from underprivileged children or from parents who couldn’t afford to give presents that year to their youngsters. But the library also partnered with adult social services to grant the wishes of elderly people with limited means or no close relatives.

With the porcupine incident and school break behind her, she’d given up trying to interest Gabe in today’s meeting. They’d been getting along so well she didn’t want any controversies to threaten their budding friendship. She had to admit, at least to herself in the dead of the night when she couldn’t sleep, how much she’d grown to care about Gabe in such a short time.

What if he didn’t share her growing feelings? Or panicked and pushed her away? She needed to protect Teddy from getting hurt if he grew too attached to Gabe. The children always suffered when the adults mismanaged their relationships. She didn’t want her brother to become collateral damage.

She’d just set a stack of the minutes she’d printed out from last month’s gathering on a small table by the door when someone bumped into her. It was her friend Natalie.

“You were deep in thought.” Natalie grinned. “Does it have anything to do with what’s been happening with you and our war hero?”

Addie tried to act innocent. “What do you mean?”

“I heard you and Teddy were seen with Gabe at the pizza parlor. And that he and Teddy were playing video games.”

Addie cursed her light complexion. She didn’t need to see a mirror to know she was blushing like some schoolgirl. “Well, he does live next door to me, so our being seen together isn’t exactly notable.”

Except it was more than that and she was worried. What if Gabe didn’t share her growing feelings? Was she strong enough to protect her and Teddy from heartbreak? Teddy wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love. She drew in a sharp breath. Oh my God, she’d fallen in love with Gabe. It was too late for both of them and she—

“Earth to Addie. Are you even listening to me?” Natalie bumped her again. “I said that’s not what I heard.”

“What? What have you heard?”

“You were seen playing mini golf, and I also heard something about you and him at the vet. For someone who doesn’t like dogs, you going with him to Dr. Greer seems like something.”

“I told you I don’t dislike dogs... I just exercise a healthy dose of caution around them.” But not even she believed that statement at this point.

“Uh-huh,” Natalie said and made a noise in her throat.

Addie sighed. “Gabe’s dog and Teddy have bonded.” And she and Gabe had bonded, too...like she never had with a man before.

“Considering how hot Gabe is, I’d say that’s fantastic. Gives you an excuse to hang out. Or am I missing something?”

“You’re not missing anything. It’s a good thing, Teddy spending time with a guy like Gabe and a dog like Radar.”

“So?”

“I’m not sure getting involved with someone right now is in our best interest.” That was her go-to excuse. Like telling Teddy they couldn’t afford a dog. She could count the number of dates, let alone actual relationships, she’d had on one hand.

Probably accounts for the reason you’re still a virgin.

“Because of the upcoming custody hearing?”

“Yeah.” Not to mention the whole I’m-still-a-virgin thing. Admitting her fear of dogs was one thing. Admitting she was like some old maid from one of those historical romances her Harlequin ladies were always checking out was another matter. She wasn’t even quite sure how she’d gotten to be twenty-three and not done it. Maybe thinking in euphemistic terms like done it would explain it. She felt like some sort of throwback, and she didn’t even have the threat of being labeled with a scarlet letter as an excuse.

Admitting her cynophobia to Gabe was hard enough... Imagine admitting this! What would he think of her? Would he finally see her as too young and put an end to their growing friendship? How would that affect Teddy? Her little brother would hate to be cut off from Radar and Gabe.

“Maybe you being in a relationship would help you relax and open up a bit,” Natalie suggested.

“Being married or engaged might, but shacking up with my neighbor, not so much.”

Natalie clucked her tongue. “Well, sure, when you put it like that...”

“How else would I put it? Besides, my first responsibility is to Teddy.” She refused to have boyfriends or even father figures coming in and out of his life. She didn’t want him growing up thinking that was how men behaved around women. Sure, not all relationships succeeded, but having revolving-door ones wasn’t what she wanted to teach him either.

“Not to the extent that you should forgo having a life for yourself. We all make sacrifices for our children, but self-martyrdom isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I know, but not all of us can easily find a great guy like Des.” How hard had she actually looked? Even when their mom wasn’t using, a lot of the care for Teddy had fallen on her. Or had Addie simply used their mother’s addiction as an excuse after seeing so many unhealthy attachments? She had to admit that going on a few casual dates would hardly harm Teddy or give him the wrong idea.

Natalie hooked her arm through Addie’s and sighed. “He is pretty wonderful.”

Addie laughed and nodded. Her friend was definitely smitten with the former naval lieutenant. Somehow Natalie and Sam had managed to turn the town scrooge into a family man. They even ran a successful hippotherapy business on their farm on the edge of town.

Natalie pulled out a covered container from the tote bag she had and opened the cover.

Addie looked up from measuring grounds into the coffeepot, her mouth already watering. “Ooh, what did you bring this month?”

“I baked some cranberry bars.”

“And Des didn’t eat them all?” Addie knew Natalie’s husband had a sweet tooth.

“Ha! I had to make a double batch or he wouldn’t have let me out of the house.”

“He isn’t coming?” She set the coffee to brew.

“No. He’s still swamped with orders for his crushed glass ornaments.” Natalie pulled out a seat. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Expansion of our shut-in meals program.” Addie sat next to her friend.

“Are there people we’ve missed?”

“Not people but pets. What if we expanded it to include their animals too?”

People started filing into the meeting. After greetings were exchanged and everyone sat, Addie began explaining the suggested program revisions.

“You want to bring meals for dogs?” someone asked.

Addie grinned. “Not meals. Dog and cat food. We could bring dry and canned.”

“What made you think of this?”

Addie shook her head. “I didn’t really think of it myself... I read an article about it and thought it was a good idea. The piece I saw was about dogs, but I think we should include cats. I know some of our seniors have both.” In reality, though, she knew what had sparked the idea. Gabe and Radar.

Marian Benedetti, an avid cozy-mystery reader, with a preference for the ones having covers featuring cats, lifted her eyebrows at Addie, a smile playing about her mouth. “So, this has nothing to do with a certain hunky hero being seen around town with a dog?”

“Absolutely not.” Uh-oh. She may as well have announced to these meddling ladies that she had the hots for Gabe. Yeah, the skepticism around the table was palpable now. “Gabe isn’t a senior citizen, nor does he need anyone’s help to feed his dog.”

“Oh, on a first-name basis, are we?”

Of course we are. We’re both adults and this isn’t a Jane Austen novel. The sarcastic reply came bubbling up, but she clamped her lips around it. She didn’t want to alienate any of these people, even though she did wish they’d mind their own business.

She drew in a calming breath. “As I was saying, I know Ogle helps deliver meals to people who can’t make it to the weekly luncheons at the church. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking dog or cat food too.”

A few people asked questions and Addie made some notes. “We’ll talk to him. We should check with Pastor Cook. We might be missing some seniors, or there may be some who feed themselves but could benefit from the extra help with pet food. I’ve noticed some people boxing up some of their meal at the weekly luncheons at the church. I always thought it was so they could have the leftovers for supper or the next day, but I sometimes wonder how many save some of it for their pets.”

“See what you started? And I thought you didn’t like dogs.” Natalie playfully bumped shoulders with Addie.

Addie felt heat rise in her face. “It’s not that.”

Since confessing to Gabe about her fear of dogs, she didn’t feel as embarrassed to admit it aloud. Gabe didn’t laugh or pity her. Instead, he helped her. Like they were comrades in arms—or partners in life. When Natalie gave her a questioning look, Addie shrugged. “I was bitten as a kid and have carried a fear of dogs ever since.”

Natalie nodded, her expression understanding. “That’s understandable.”

It was, wasn’t it? Why had she always tried to keep her phobia a secret? Maybe it had more to do with what had happened after—her mother’s response to her injury—than the actual dog bite. The attack had made her afraid of canines, but what had happened as a result had made her afraid to admit the weakness. Because of her injuries, social services had been called. Addie had felt the need to take on the burden of responsibility for having her and her mom come under such scrutiny. As if admitting things or asking for help was wrong. Maybe it was time to place the guilt where it belonged. With Michelle, who was the parent.

Addie shook her head to clear her thoughts and listened as Ellie McBride talked about helping the seniors at the skilled nursing facility feel more involved in town activities.

“Maybe we can have a weekly activity session at the library. Addie?”

“You mean like the story hour we have for the kids?” She began making notes as Ellie explained her ideas.

A disturbance caused Addie to glance up from her note taking. Gabe hovered in the doorway, looking around hesitantly at everyone. The pencil in her hand snapped in half as their eyes met across the room. Did she possess the ability to hide her newly acknowledged feelings of love, or was it written all over her face?

Natalie leaned closer. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming.”

“That’s what he told me,” Addie whispered back.

* * *

Gabe paused before entering the room. Did he really want to join them? He was doing this because, as much as he’d hated being the object of charity as a kid, the people of Loon Lake were kind, generous people, and ignoring them now that he didn’t need their help would be rude. But he’d considered staying home because he didn’t want the attention or the exposure.

Yeah, okay, Addie had wanted him to get involved. Coming to the meeting had nothing to do with the disappointment that had briefly shadowed her eyes when he’d refused her invitation. He’d remembered she’d worn the same expression when he’d turned away the cupcakes.

What was it about her and her expressive blue eyes that made him want to avoid disappointing her? It wasn’t as if he owed her anything. But he had to admit to himself that something about being with her and Teddy had softened his heart. He wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, even if that meant getting more involved with the town and their nosy neighbors.

Before he could retreat, Ogle Whatley had spotted him and was heading across the room toward him. Too late to turn back now. As well as owning Loon Lake General Store with his wife, Tavie, Ogle owned the local towing and repair garage.

“So good to see you back safe and sound, son.” Ogle grabbed him in one of those guy hugs. Letting go and stepping back, the older man said, “Glad you could make it to the meeting. Our Addie didn’t think you were going to be here. She mentioned that you’ve been busy with repairs and upgrades to Grace Pierce’s place.”

Gabe frowned, trying to place the name.

“Grace was Natalie’s grandmother. She left the place to Natalie when she passed away,” Addie said as she came to stand next to him, bringing her fresh scent with her. He still hadn’t quite figured out how she always smelled like grapefruit. Shampoo, maybe? Whatever it was, it had him spellbound.

“Sorry I haven’t gotten over to see you since you’ve been back,” Ogle was saying.

“That’s okay. I wouldn’t have expected you to go out of your way.”

“As much as your dad helped me, coming to see you was the least I could do. Of course, I may have ulterior motives.”

“My pa helped you out?” Why didn’t he know about this?

“I like to keep my eye on some of our vets and offer up what I can whenever necessary. Your dad started by repairing a snowblower for one of my Korean vets. Then when a case of gout curtailed some of my activities, he took over my route.”

“Route?” He tried to recall his pa mentioning any of this and couldn’t. Guilt burned in his gut that he hadn’t made the effort to get home more often before his father had passed away. He owed his pa for trying his best as a single parent. It was too late to repay his father, but maybe he could pay it forward in another way.

“Not everyone can make it to the weekly luncheons for one reason or another, and I make it a point to deliver a meal. Not to mention the missions Tavie sends me on. Your dad took over those missions too.”

“He did?”

Ogle nodded. “He was the first person she called to help when she needed it.”

Gabe straightened his shoulders. Knowing his pa had been someone people turned to for help filled him with pride. “I didn’t realize how involved he was.”

“Yeah, he said how proud he was of what you were doing and wanted to help out our veterans. I sure do miss him.”

“So do I.”

Ogle clapped him on the shoulder. “Like I said, he preened like a peacock over your service and all that you did.”

Despite the sudden thickening in his throat, the tightness in his chest eased. Maybe he hadn’t disappointed his pa after all.

“Too bad your dad won’t be here for the parade, but I know how proud he was of you.”

Gabe swallowed. Ogle’s expression was open and honest. Had his pa gotten over his initial disappointment at his son picking the military over—? Wait. “What parade?”

Ogle chuckled, his Santa Claus–like belly jiggling. “We still have a parade for Memorial Day, and of course you’re going to be our grand marshal.”

“I am?” He groaned.

This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come to this meeting. Nor did he want to get involved. All this hero talk made him uncomfortable. Anything he’d done was far from heroic. He couldn’t even take credit for Radar. Tom was the one who’d rescued the dog and had even devised the plan to bring him to the US. All Gabe had done was honor his friend’s dying wish.

Guilt ate at him to think he was enjoying the companionship and comfort from Radar when it was Tom who should be doing it. And he’d left his wife for the military after they’d lost their child. Was that the behavior of a hero?

Addie and Teddy should watch out; he was bound to let them down too. No matter how much he was coming to care for them both.

* * *

Gabe stayed to help Addie clean up after the meeting. She appreciated his presence and the fact he’d stuck around.

“I have to admit I was shocked when you showed up,” she said as she locked the room.

He shrugged. “I gave it some thought and decided you had a point. If I’m going to be around for a while, I should try and assimilate.”

“I’m glad you came.”

He smiled, warmth flooding his body at her words. “I got to see your official librarian persona.”

“I guess I need to confess that I’m only a library assistant, since I haven’t graduated yet. I quit after my first year. But I’m taking online classes.”

“What made you want to be a librarian?”

“I always considered the library to be my sanctuary when I was a kid. And I wanted to be able to give other kids, and everyone else in the community, that type of positive experience.”

Gabe felt the sting of guilt at how he’d grown up, not regarding his home as a sanctuary but instead feeling ashamed of where they’d lived. That front yard full of dirt, weeds and rusting hulks. At least his home, as embarrassing as it might have been for him, had never been a place to fear or feel unsafe, like theirs was for Addie and Teddy. His pa may have struggled with low-paying jobs, but he had never raised his hand in anger at his son or abandoned him to use drugs. As a matter of fact, since his return, Gabe realized he was seeing his father in a whole new light. Instead of being an object of scorn or pity as Gabe had always feared, his dad had been genuinely liked and admired by the residents of Loon Lake. And rather than just accepting charity, his father had worked hard to give back to the community and veterans. Gabe now felt ashamed of his feelings back then. But even though he couldn’t change his past, he knew he could change his future—maybe be like his pa, going from taking help in the past to giving back now.

“Were...?” He cleared his throat and started again. “Were things always so bad for you as a kid?”

“Only when she was using. There were times when she’d get clean, and things would be good for a while. But she always had trouble finding a job that paid enough, so we tended to live in sketchy areas.”

“You didn’t grow up in Loon Lake?”

“No. Nothing like this. I used to pass by streets like this one and wish I could live there.”

Welcome to the club, he thought, but said, “You must be proud that you can bring Teddy up in a place like this.”

“Yes, I was so relieved to get the job here. Everyone said I could make more money working at a bigger library, but for me, it wouldn’t be worth it. Despite what I sometimes say, I consider Loon Lake a wonderful place.” She glanced at him, her cheeks dusted with pink. “Although, I guess if you’re looking for trouble, you can find it, even in a place like this.”

“Ah, I see some of my youthful transgressions have been discussed.”

“They didn’t keep you out of the marines, so I have to assume they weren’t that bad. Or you simply didn’t get caught.”

He grinned. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she said.

“It doesn’t?”

She sighed. “I know you’re not a bad influence on Teddy—far from it—but I need to keep a close eye on him. I want him to grow up without getting into trouble. I know I have a tendency to smother him, but I can’t help it. Maybe once the judge rules on permanent custody, I’ll be able to relax a little.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she laughed before sobering. “Or maybe not.”

“Is it because of those scars?” he asked.

“I can’t help feeling that if I had been there, I might have prevented it.”

“What made you comfortable enough to leave?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Although she was obviously trying to hide it, she’d been hurt by his question. Those words probably sounded more like an accusation than a simple question. Time for damage control. “Addie, I didn’t mean that the way it—”

She held up a hand. “You’re right. I never should have left.”

He grabbed the hand she was holding up. “No. I need you to listen to me before you get it in your head that I was accusing you of anything. I’m not. You’re Teddy’s sister. None of what happened to him was your fault. It wasn’t your responsibility to protect him. It was your mother’s.”

“But I knew what she could be like. I should have—”

“Didn’t you say that she’d been clean for a long time?”

“She had been. At that point, anyway. I honestly don’t know what happened after I left.” She shook her head. “Well, I do,” she muttered, bitterness lacing her tone. “She met some guy and he was a recreational user. My mother doesn’t seem to understand that she’s not a recreational user. Just like an alcoholic can’t have just one drink. From what I can gather, he dumped her when she started using again, which only compounded the situation.” She choked back a sob. “I should have stayed.”

“Why? What could you have done? Honestly?”

She gave him an are-you-nuts look. “I could have prevented him from getting scalded.”

“Are you saying I should have known that Tom was going to be killed that day he walked into that store?” he retorted.

“No, of course not.”

He put his arm around her and held her close. “See? It doesn’t mean we should stop ourselves or other people from living their lives.”

“He’s been wanting to walk home from the bus stop alone, and I can’t quite work up to that,” Addie said. “I keep thinking of all the bad things that could happen.”

“Bad things happen in this world, and we can’t prevent them all.”

“I do the best I can to prepare him for them.”

“True, but you might want to let him make some mistakes on his own,” he said softly. He didn’t add that it might help the boy cope in the future when the mistakes got bigger. No matter what that doctor had told him about Tracy losing the baby, he’d always wonder if he could have done something to prevent it.

She sighed. “You’re right, but the thought of him walking home all alone from the bus stop...”

“Maybe we can work something out,” Gabe suggested. He had an idea.

“Like what?”

“Well, I know the old lady across the street keeps a pretty keen eye out for the goings-on in our duplex. Are there any other people who could, say, be on the lookout at the time he’s due to walk home?”

“There’s a retired widower between here and the bus stop.”

Gabe nodded. “We could check with him... Maybe he’d be willing to take a look out his window too. Would that make you feel a little more secure?”

“That might just work.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Do you know what kind of dates your sister likes to go on? Or if she ever has any?” Gabe asked Teddy and winced. Huh, that question had sounded a bit more subtle when he’d practiced it in his head. Not that he’d had much experience discussing dating with a seven-year-old. After setting up a tool bench in the carport, he and Teddy were working on his wooden car for the Pinewood Derby, turning the block into something that resembled a race car. He’d helped the boy make a paper pattern so they could cut the block into the shape Teddy wanted.

For the past week, Teddy had been walking home by himself from the bus stop on the days that Addie was home. When she worked, the school bus dropped him off at the library, where he did his homework, read or helped the younger kids on craft days.

Teddy scrunched up his face as he cut the paper. “Whaddaya mean dates?”

Yeah, what did he mean? He demonstrated how to put the pattern against the wood and trace. “I was just wondering if there’s anything you think your sister would consider special.”

“Special?” Teddy’s tongue sneaked out between his lips as he concentrated on using the pencil to draw around the pattern onto the wood.

After Teddy finished tracing, Gabe clamped the wood to the table they were using. He got out safety goggles and a child-sized pair of work gloves.

Teddy looked askance at the safety items. “What’s that for?”

“For you. I made sure my marines were properly equipped before sending them on a mission.”

“You mean I’m like one of your marines?” the boy asked. Gabe nodded and Teddy grinned from ear to ear.

Gabe used the coping saw to get the cuts started before handing the little saw to Teddy. “Here. You take over and finish the cutting.”

He helped Teddy keep the blade straight as the boy sawed through the wood. It took a while, but the block eventually turned into a wedge shape. “Now we need to sand the rough edges.”

Gabe demonstrated how to rub the sandpaper over the edges.

“It sure takes lots of sanding, huh?” Teddy held up the sanded piece and turned it over in his hands. “This is really cool. Tell me again why we need to put those weight thingies in it?”

“Because a heavier car will run faster. Do you know what inertia is?”

“Uh-uh.”

Gabe scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Your car needs to build up speed going downhill to sustain it along the flat part. It will eventually slow down on the flat part, but if it’s going really fast, it should make it to the finish line before it stops.”

“So, we can put lots of weight on it?”

Gabe shook his head. “Sorry, bud, but your car can’t weigh more than five ounces total, so we’ll get as close as we can without going over.”

He felt frustrated at not being able to get any information out of Teddy, even though he knew it wasn’t realistic or fair to be pumping the kid for it. He supposed he could approach her friend Natalie, but that sounded embarrassing.

More embarrassing than begging a child for the details of his big sister’s love life?

He’d discovered Addie’s birthday was coming up, and he wanted to take her on an honest-to-goodness date. What he and Addie had been doing so far on their own could be classified only as hanging out. They’d done a lot of that lately. When Teddy was in school or off with friends, they worked more on getting her increasingly comfortable with Radar. When Teddy was there, they tossed the ball around, watched movies, ordered pizza.

As much as he enjoyed time spent with Teddy, he wanted some alone time with Addie. He wanted to explore what had started growing between them, maybe take it to the next level. Only way to accomplish that was with adult time.

“...for me, Mr. Gabe?”

Gabe glanced up from the package of decorative derby-car accessories he was attempting to open. “I’m sorry, bud—what?”

Teddy pointed to the package. “You got that ’specially for my car?”

“Sure. We want it to look cool while it’s going fast.”

The boy made an inarticulate sound and jumped off the stool he’d been perched on. Reaching out, he threw his arms around Gabe.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his words muffled in Gabe’s midsection.

Gabe blinked and swallowed against the clog in his throat. He patted Teddy on the back awkwardly. “You’re entirely welcome.”

Radar wandered over and whined, refusing to be left out.

The boy pulled back, surreptitiously rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Giving the dog a hug too, Teddy giggled when Radar repaid him with sloppy kisses. He wiped his face and went back to his stool, then bent his head over his wooden car as he continued to sand it. Gabe blinked a few more times, and once the package came into focus, he finished opening the accessories. They worked in silence for a few minutes.

“Why was you asking about Addie?” Teddy asked suddenly.

“Oh, I was just wondering if anyone has taken her somewhere that she really liked. You know, it’s her birthday coming up, and I thought I should know what she enjoys doing.” He should be ashamed of himself, grilling Teddy about Addie’s dates.

“You mean like the time she went with Mr. Ogle to that petting zoo? She said they were going to see about getting animals for the live nativity. She said that was a lot of fun, but they ended up using Brody Wilson’s cow and his alpacas. I don’t know if that counts.”

Gabe barely restrained a chuckle. He should have realized that—

“Oh wait. I know. I know. She said she’d like someone to take her to the opera.”

Opera? Attending the opera was about the last thing Gabe wanted to do. Is this really about you? Or about giving Addie what she wants? She’d sacrificed so much for her brother that she deserved something special for herself. “Well...if you’re sure.”

Teddy’s head bobbed up and down. “Yup! I heard her say so herself.”

“Thanks.” He nodded, but his response lacked the enthusiasm of Teddy’s.

After Teddy had gone home, Gabe opened up his laptop and checked. Looked like the Boston Lyric Opera was the closest to Loon Lake. He checked on dates and times. He hesitated a moment, staring at the Purchase Tickets button. Addie’s sweet face appeared before him and he hit the selection. He’d survived basic training, numerous combat deployments and a bomb blast. How bad could a few hours at the opera be?

* * *

Addie made sure she oohed and aahed over Teddy’s car. He and Gabe had worked on it for two days. Although the little racer was impressive, she could tell Gabe had allowed her brother to do much of the work himself. Just one more reason she was falling in love with Gabe. And she was. She might still be coming to terms with her feelings, but she couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

Teddy ran to his room to put his car on his bookshelf.

“Thank you for helping him,” she told Gabe.

He shrugged. “I enjoyed it as much as he did. I came back with him because I have something to ask you.”

“Me?”

“I know your birthday is coming up and I wanted to do something special. Since you will soon be officially twenty-three. No more almost about it,” he said and chuckled.

She shivered as the sexy sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “I’ve given up on the dog-years thing. So, what did you have in mind?”

He licked his lips and shifted slightly. “It, ah, would just be the two of us. If that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely,” she said, then felt a twinge of guilt over how quickly she’d forsaken Teddy. “I mean, I—”

“No guilt. You deserve to be spoiled a little.” He reached out and cupped her cheek.

She leaned into his touch. “Thanks. Do I get a hint at what this surprise is?”

“I can tell you a little bit about it, and if you’re still interested, we can finalize plans.”

“O-okay.” Still interested? What could he have planned? Her heart sped up. Did his plans involve taking things to the next level? Because hers did.

“It will involve going to Boston.”

“I like Boston.” Maybe they were on the same wavelength.

“Enough to stay overnight?” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. “I can book a suite...separate bedrooms if...if, ah—”

“That won’t be necessary.” She shook her head.

His Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed. “Okay. We can come back that night. It will be late but—”

“No, no. I meant one room is fine.” Good grief. She was making a mess of this. Well, wasn’t every day that a woman lost her virginity, so some nervousness was expected. Right? At least, that was the plan. “For both of us, that is.”

Relief suffused his features, and he gave her a seductive lopsided grin. He leaned down and—

“Addie! Hey, Addie,” Teddy called from the other room.

He touched her nose with his. “I’ll go and make the hotel reservation.”

“And I’ll call Natalie to see if Teddy can stay with them.”

“Good idea.” His gaze met hers and he hesitated.

“Addie?” Teddy called again.

She watched him go and couldn’t stop grinning as she went to see what Teddy wanted. She didn’t know what Gabe’s surprise was, but she knew how the evening would end. Even knowing she would have to confess her secret to him didn’t diminish her excitement.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Addie asked for the umpteenth time after dropping Teddy off at the Gallaghers’ to spend the night with Des, Natalie and Sam.

“To Boston,” Gabe replied for the umpteenth time.

The stars must be in alignment because her birthday and the opera fell on the same day. Plus, she’d been granted the day off from work. A sure sign their friendship was evolving into something more.

“I know that, but you said later tonight was a surprise.” She shifted in the passenger seat to face him. “How will I know how I’m supposed to dress if I don’t know where we’re going?”

He headed toward the interstate, wondering if he should have come out and told her, but the thought of surprising her had appealed to him. “You said you packed a nice dress.”

“I did.” She sank back into the seat. “You know you didn’t have to splurge on a suite in the city. You could have booked something in one of those budget places by the highway on the outskirts.”

He shrugged. Part of his reasoning had been to avoid being presumptuous. A suite with separate sleeping arrangements seemed a safer bet. He still wasn’t sure if they’d be utilizing the second bedroom. Either way, he intended for this time to be special. It was about Addie, not him. “It’s your birthday.”

After he’d driven through town and picked up the interstate, he reached over and took her hand and interlocked their fingers.

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “No one has ever done anything special like this for me.”

Her words reminded him of Teddy’s, and he smiled, happy he could make her feel as special as she was.

* * *

Gabe negotiated the heavy Boston traffic acutely aware of the woman seated beside him. He had trouble swallowing, as if his mouth was full of sand kicked up by rotor wash in the desert.

He couldn’t remember feeling this nervous about being with a woman, even in high school. Was it because ignorance had been bliss back then? Or was it because his feelings for Addie outstripped anything he’d previously felt, including those for Tracy?

He pulled into the parking garage for the hotel, glancing over at Addie before he reached for the ticket. She smiled but her lips trembled ever so slightly. Was she nervous as well?

After parking the Jeep and helping her out of the car, he shouldered their overnight bags and rested his hand on the small of her back as they headed for the elevator.

This was either going to be epic or a giant flop, he thought as he pressed the button for the lobby and the doors slid shut.

“Good afternoon,” the hotel clerk greeted them as they stepped forward in the line. “Sorry for the wait.”

“Looks like you’re having a busy weekend,” Gabe said and pulled out his wallet.

The clerk nodded. “There’s a lot of people in town for La Bohème. They’re only doing several performances this season.”

Addie nodded. “Most critics consider it his best.”

Gabe handed his charge card to the desk clerk and turned to Addie. “Who?”

“Puccini.”

Damn, but he was in over his head with all this opera stuff. Ask him batting averages of this year’s starting lineup for the Red Sox and he’d sound knowledgeable. But this? He signed the papers the clerk handed over.

“He’s the one who composed it,” Addie said. “It’s not just an opera but a symphony too.”

Huh, maybe this was a good thing after all. He took her hand as they made their way across the lobby to the bank of elevators. “So, you really enjoy this opera stuff?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been. Never gave much thought to it. Why?”

“But you enjoy listening to it?” he asked as they stepped into the elevator.

“Can’t say that I do.”

The elevator doors slid shut, and he narrowed his eyes, suspicion thumping in his chest. Why had Teddy told him this was what she’d wanted more than anything for her birthday? Had he been had by Teddy, or had the boy made an honest mistake?

“You seemed to know a lot about this Puccini guy.”

Grinning, she tucked her hand around his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now that I know a little bit about a lot of things?”

The elevator glided to a stop and the doors opened. “Are you saying you’re not into opera?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but the only opera I knew before was from watching an old Seinfeld episode.” She squeezed his arm before letting go. “Is this my surprise? Are you a closet opera fan?”

He inserted the key card into the lock. The electronic mechanism whirred and clicked. He pushed open the door and indicated for her to go before him.

“What a gorgeous room,” she said and twirled around, arms held wide.

“About this opera thing...” He shut the door and set their bags down. May as well come clean. “I’ve already bought tickets.”

She dropped her arms and went to him. “I admit I am surprised by your choice. I’d have figured you more for baseball and hot dogs. But it’ll be great.”

Yeah, great. What he wouldn’t give for the crack of a bat and a cold beer. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. Served him right for taking dating advice from a seven-year-old.

“Teddy,” he muttered sotto voce.

She tilted her head. “What’s he got to do with all this?”

“He’s the reason we have opera tickets.” He sighed. “I asked for his advice, and that is what he suggested.”

She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

She threw her arms around him. “This is the best thing anyone has done for me. I feel like Cinderella.”

His arms held her close when she would have pulled back. “But—”

She cut off his protests with her lips on his.

“Best birthday ever,” she said against his lips.

Not about to let a chance to kiss Addie pass him by, he pressed his lips to hers and coaxed her mouth open. Their tongues dueled and sent his pulse surging through his veins.

He hated to pull away, but blood was starting to leave his brain and he wanted her to enjoy every bit of the evening before things got out of hand.

“I made dinner reservations at an Italian restaurant nearby,” he told her and rested his forehead against hers.

“Then I’d better get dressed.” She started for one of the bedrooms but turned before entering. “I thought you were going to get us a regular room.”

He shrugged. “They were booked up, so I kept the suite.”

Dimples scored her cheeks. “Okay. Just checking.”

That smile made him weak in the knees.

Later that evening when he was sitting listening to music he didn’t understand in shoes that pinched, he thought about that kiss and how the evening would end.

He reached for Addie’s hand. Maybe Teddy’s advice wasn’t such a disaster after all. Making a mental note to tell her again how beautiful she looked tonight, he squeezed her hand and she turned to him and smiled.

* * *

Although she’d enjoyed her very first opera, during the stirring performances, Addie’s thoughts kept straying to how this evening might end. He’d kept the suite, but she didn’t think there’d be a need for the second bedroom.

The entire evening was overshadowed by what would be coming at the end of it. At least, she hoped it was coming. Should she tell Gabe? If he changed his mind, then what?

Stop being such a drama queen, she cautioned herself. People didn’t actually die of embarrassment.

If she didn’t tell him, would he be able to figure it out? Were normal guys—not those larger-than-life heroes in books—able to tell?

What was she even thinking? Of course she had to tell him.

And now that they were making their way back to the hotel, one thought kept racing through her mind. Tell him. That insistent voice in her head wouldn’t be quieted.

But all her good intentions vanished when they entered the common area of their suite and he shut the door, reaching for her.

He brought his mouth down on hers, and she opened immediately for him, her tongue meeting his. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he began walking her backward to the bedroom he’d used to get ready.

Once there, he frowned at her dress. “How does this work?”

Feeling giddy from his kisses, she giggled. “It’s a wraparound. See?”

She undid the garment and let it fall open, then tossed it onto a chair by the bed with much more bravado than she was feeling. Maybe fake-it-till-you-make-it wasn’t such a good idea here.

“Mmm, very user-friendly,” he said, his eyes widening.

“You can thank Diane von Furstenberg.” She waved her hand. “Don’t ask.”

“Okay.” He laughed, shucked his jacket and toed off his leather dress shoes with a deep sigh.

“What?”

“Those pinched,” he said and undid his belt.

Oh dear, things were progressing at a faster pace than she’d anticipated. She really needed to confess.

He pulled down his pants while unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed aside the shirt and removed his socks. Clothed in nothing but navy blue boxer briefs, he took her into his arms.

She could feel how ready he was. Physically she was because her panties were soaked from just watching his haste to undress. But the fact she was still thinking about it made her wonder if she was mentally ready. “You’re wearing the pink lace bra,” he groaned. “I have been having dreams about it.”

They fell silent for several minutes as they explored one another’s bodies. Addie reveled in being able to run her hands over his impressive chest. She lightly traced several angry-looking scars, her heart aching for him.

She looked up at him. “The blast?”

He nodded, and when he opened his mouth, she put her fingers over it and began kissing each scar.

Groaning, he laid her on the bed. “My turn,” he whispered and removed her bra. He sucked on one nipple, then the other. He slowly worked his way down her stomach and circled her belly button with his tongue. His fingers dipped under the waistband of her lace thong, and she shivered with unexpected sensation. But she jerked her head up and out of the delicious delirium...

“Gabe...”

He lifted his head, his pupils flared and dilated. “What is it?”

“There’s, uh, something I should probably tell you.”

He scooted up so his gaze was even with hers.

When he frowned, she drew in a deep breath, fear coiling in her gut. “I’ve never...you know...”

She motioned her hand back and forth between them. Talk about embarrassing. She shouldn’t have even brought it up. Would he have been able to tell? Did guys even notice those things? It wasn’t as if this were one of those Victorian romances where women knew next to nothing. She understood the difference between fantasy and real life. And considering her age, she was a virgin because she’d never had sex, but it had nothing to do with a certain belief. She’d been ready years ago. She’d wanted her first time to be with someone special, and that special someone hadn’t come until now.

“Uh, Addie?” he interrupted her musings. “Could you be a little more specific?”

Her face on fire as much from what she’d been thinking as from the situation, she blew out her breath. “I haven’t...had sex before. Ever.”

He sat up. “You’re telling me that you’re a virgin?” Shock was written all over his features, and she cringed.

“Yeah. That.”

“But you’re twenty-three.”

“That’s why it’s a bit embarrassing,” she admitted.

“I knew you were too young for me,” he muttered and swung his legs over the side of the bed. No!

“Now, hold on.” She grabbed his arm. “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind? Is that what’s going on here? And how the hell am I too young for you? How do you figure that? I’m twenty-three, no more almost about it, and you’re thirty. Seven years is nothing.”

“I was thinking more in terms of—”

“No,” she interrupted, swatting his arm. She knew where this was going and wasn’t going to let him get away with it. “You don’t get to pull that life-experiences card. I’m sure you suffered a lot of horrific, life-changing things in Afghanistan, but my childhood was not all about Mom, apple pie and family togetherness.”

“You’re right about your experiences being different from mine, but—” He pressed a finger over her mouth when she opened it. “Let me finish. Yes, I was going to say different, but no less traumatic.”

“Okay, but I’m confused. If you agree I’m not some clueless kid, does that mean you want to continue?”

“I definitely want to continue.” His gaze met hers, and he made what sounded like a groan deep in his throat. “But I have to be sure. This is a big step for you...bigger than I had imagined when I planned this.”

“Well, I need to get rid of my status at some point,” she muttered. “I certainly don’t want to die a...virgin.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are librarians allowed to use that sort of language? Not to mention all the money you’ll be owing the swear jar.”

She frowned. “You mean virgin?”

“I was referring to that verb you were thinking of using as an adjective.”

She shook her head. How did...? “But I didn’t say it out loud.”

His sudden, deep-throated chuckle sent tingles down her spine, and she shivered.

“You didn’t have to say the word. It was on your face.” He placed his fingertip on her cheek and lightly traced the freckles.

“Don’t you want to,” she joked, changing the pitch of her voice, “boldly go where no man has gone before?” She wanted him badly, but she wasn’t sure how to proceed. It wasn’t as if she’d done any of this before.

He burst out laughing. “I’m not sure about the boldly part.” He frowned. “But you do know your status has nothing to do with how I feel about you and this, right? Whether or not you were a virgin, I’d still want to be with you. I care about you.”

“I would hope so.”

“You’re special, no matter what,” he said and lowered his head.

Taking his time, he used his tongue all over her body, licking and teasing parts she had no idea were so erogenous. Who knew the backs of her knees were so sensitive? Or that spot where her neck met her shoulder? His tongue was magic, and he knew how to use it.

“Gabe,” she begged. Was that hoarse whisper hers?

“Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know what...” She squirmed. “...to ask for.”

Evidently he knew, because his fingers found that spot that craved his touch. “Is this it?”

“Yes. Please.” She wasn’t above begging. “Gabe...”

“Let it happen, Addie.”

And she did. She understood the reference to fireworks in those books.

He removed his boxer briefs and scooted up. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.”

He reached over her to the bedside table and grabbed the condom he’d left there earlier. “These are pre-lubricated, but I don’t think we need it. Still, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“This is the twenty-first century. I know to expect some discomfort the first time.”

He rolled the condom on and slowly entered, filling her, but then stopped. Was something wrong? Why had he stopped? Despite the discomfort, she liked the fact he was filling her. She knew physically the act would be similar with someone else, but the fact it was Gabe stretching her made her heart do a little flip-flop.

“Uh, Gabe? I know this is my first time and all, but aren’t you supposed to be moving or something?” Why was she expecting him to do it all? “Is it my fault? Am I supposed...? I mean, am I not...?”

“It’s me.” He groaned. “If I don’t do box scores in my head to slow this down, it’s gonna be over soon.”

“Oh. But that’s okay. We’ve got all night. I mean, in all those books—”

He made a noise that was a cross between a groan and a laugh. “Exactly what books have you been reading?”

“The good ones?”

He laughed and started to move. It ached a bit at first, but then delightful sensations soon began to rocket through her body. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Want me to raise my left hand like at the dentist?” she gasped. “Sorry—am I killing the mood?”

He grabbed her left hand and brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. “What happens here is between us, and we can be any way we want.”

“Was that a yes or a no to raising my hand?” she teased.

“You tell me to stop and I will.”

“Oh no. Please don’t stop now that it’s getting good.”

He lifted up on his elbow to look into her eyes. “Just getting good?”

She smiled dreamily. “It was all good before...very good...excellent.”

“And now?”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “What’s better than excellent? Transcendental?”

He hooted a laugh.

“Don’t stop. I’ll keep quiet.”

“But, sweetness, if you’re quiet, how will I know if I’m being transcendental or not?”

She lifted up and kissed him.

He used his finger to bring her to the brink again and waited until she’d tumbled over before he thrust one last time and cried out her name.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Afterward, he pulled her into his arms and brushed the hair back from her face. He’d done his best to make it as good for her as it had been for him. But he also knew that was impossible, because no matter how gentle he’d been, she’d experienced discomfort.

She’d thrown him for a loop when she’d admitted this was her first time. He’d been scared but concentrated on making it good for her. In doing so, he’d made it ground shaking for him. For the first time, he’d not only experienced physical satisfaction, but the tenderness of the moment shifted something inside him. So, in essence, it was a first for him too.

An idea occurred to him and he got out of bed. “Be right back. Stay there.”

She laughed. “I have no plans to go anywhere.”

In the bathroom, he ran warm water onto a washcloth. Back in the bedroom, he showed it to her and gently ran it over her body, kissing and caressing as he went. “This may help if you have some discomfort.”

He threw it into the sink after they were done. Crawling back into bed with her, he pulled the covers over them and held her. “Sorry if my surprise was a bit off the mark.”

She rubbed her cheek against his chest as she curled into him. “Considering I had a surprise for you too, it’s okay. I actually enjoyed it. What about you?”

“Oh, I definitely enjoyed it.”

She lifted her head to look at his face. “You may well turn into an opera buff.”

“Oh. You were talking about the opera.”

She laughed and he kissed her nose. A feeling that defied description rose in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with all the tender feelings rising up. It was like when Teddy had thrown his arms around him but even more indescribable.

She threw one of her legs over his. “Tell me about your dad. You mentioned a few things but not much. I overheard what Ogle said about him at the meeting.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I forgot to thank you for making me go.”

She lifted her head. “I did not make you go.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but you did, because it was either show up or have you disappointed in me.”

“Really?”

“Yup. But I’m glad you invited me. Ogle told me things I didn’t know about Pa, things I wouldn’t have realized on my own.”

“What do you mean? You must’ve known your dad was pretty special.”

He wasn’t proud of his feelings from back then, but he wanted her to know him, even if it meant telling her things he’d have preferred not to. She meant too much to him now. “I wasn’t a very good son.”

“I don’t believe that for one minute.”

“It’s true. I was ashamed of where we lived. All that junk in the front yard and the fact he always had low-paying jobs. What kind of son did that make me?”

“A normal kid. Want to talk about being ashamed...? My mother was an addict who exchanged sex for drugs. As for you and your father, I would say you were embarrassed. I think there’s a big difference between that and being ashamed. You said he did the best he could after your mom died, and I heard the caring in your voice and saw it in your eyes.”

“I disappointed him.” He shook his head, flooded with memories. “His greatest wish for me was to go to college so I could do better than him. Instead, I got a girl pregnant, had to get married and joined the marines. Never made it to college.”

“Well, no matter what you say, I heard Ogle saying how proud your dad was. Quit blaming yourself for acting like a teenager when you were eighteen.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he told her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should quit blaming yourself for what happened to Teddy. If anyone was at fault, and I’m still not sure about that, it would be your mother.”

“But if I had been there—”

“Don’t.” He took both her hands in his and squeezed. “You were a kid yourself.”

She made noises with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “I was eighteen.”

“Exactly.”

“You were in the marines, taking responsibility, when you were eighteen.”

“Actually, I was nineteen when I joined the Corps.”

“Because you wanted to provide for yourself and your wife.”

He snorted, unable to give himself a break, even if he’d been confronting someone else in the same situation. He’d said they needed to cut themselves some slack. Teenagers often acted their age. “More like running away.”

“How is joining the marines running away?”

How often had he run away from those feelings gripping him, threatening to overwhelm him? The fact they’d lost their son—even one he hadn’t gotten to know—rubbed him so raw he’d suppressed it, fed himself platitudes.

“Losing the baby changed everything. Tracy changed... I changed. I was sorry about the late-stage miscarriage, but deep down I’m ashamed to admit I was probably relieved. God—” he ran a hand over his scalp “—isn’t that a terrible thing to admit?”

“You were both young and tried to do the right thing.” She shook her head. “Maybe everything would have worked out. You have no way of knowing and shouldn’t beat yourself up over being young.”

“So should you. Why is my situation any different than yours?” he shot back.

“Maybe you’re right.” She heaved a deep sigh. “But I can’t believe she divorced you while you were serving your country.”

He knew the town had been outraged on his behalf. To his great shame, he’d done nothing to change that. Maybe it was time he did. “That’s not totally accurate.”

“Oh?”

“History has been known to get rewritten by the folks in Loon Lake.”

“Like that children’s game of telephone.”

He nodded. “Exactly. I came home before deployment, and we pretty much called it quits, so the divorce proceedings were just a formality. Neither of us was happy, and we’d gotten married only for the baby’s sake.”

“She still shouldn’t have done that, in my opinion.”

“Don’t make me out to be the injured party here. I’m the one who took the coward’s way out and left when things got tough.”

“Joining the marines for a better future wasn’t cowardly. You said yourself how hard it was getting steady employment once the economy took a downturn. You were doing what had to be done to secure a better future.”

“I literally abandoned her,” he said bluntly. “There’s no way to sugarcoat that.”

“I hate to say this, but a lot of marriages falter after the death of a child.”

“That may be true, but I didn’t put enough work into it. Just like playing baseball or going to college, like my pa wanted.”

“How old were you when you got married?”

“I had just turned eighteen.” He shook his head. “Barely out of high school.”

“You did the honorable thing by her. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had to. She was pregnant and...scared.”

“Loon Lake might be small-town, but it wasn’t the 1950s.”

“What’re you saying?”

“That I think you acted honorably. And you each moved on when you realized there was nothing left for you in your marriage. Now you’re free to be happy.”

She snuggled closer, and pretty soon her breathing had evened out. He lay awake wishing he could be different, be the kind of guy who stuck. For her. And for the kid. But could he ever be the man she wanted him to be?

* * *

The next morning, he shifted, trying to ease away from her, but he ended up waking her.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “You can ignore it.”

She laughed. “I thought all guys had a morning—”

He put a finger over her mouth. “This is an Addie one. Not simply a morning one.”

She blushed and grinned. “That’s nice to know. Are you planning on doing something about it?”

“I thought you might be too sore.”

“It’s okay,” she told him. “Do you have another condom?”

“I may not have been a Cub Scout like Teddy, but I am prepared.”

“That’s good to know,” she said and turned toward him.

Oh God, how he loved this woman, he thought as he pulled her into his arms. His heart began to pound as he realized what he’d just admitted to himself. For a moment he froze, letting that knowledge sink in.

“Gabe? Something wrong?”

He looked into her eyes, saw the worry in them and kissed her forehead.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. For once, everything is right.” And he set about showing just how right things were with her.

* * *

Gabe was turning onto his street when his phone dinged, indicating a text. He pulled into his driveway and checked the message. It was from Addie, asking him to come ASAP. He frowned. It had been two weeks since their trip to Boston. Despite his fear of letting her down, things had seemed to be going well. They’d been spending all their free time together, doing family things like watching movies on school nights and mini golf on the weekend. He’d even managed to help Teddy with his homework a few times.

The more times they were together, the more he believed he could be in it for the long haul. When he thought about the future, he thought in terms of Addie and Teddy.

With Addie’s encouragement, he began studying for his contractor’s license.

After parking his Jeep, he didn’t even bother to go to his place but let himself into her place. “Addie? What’s going on? I got your text.”

“In here.”

He followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen.

She stood by the sink. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She looked and sounded relieved to see him, filling him with pride. He went to her and took her into his arms. He patted her back when she sagged against him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She nodded and pulled away. “I just had a bit of a fright.”

He wanted to take her back into his embrace. She felt so good, like she belonged, but she backed away. “Tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a snake on the step leading to the carport.”

“What?” He started to get a queasy feeling in his stomach. He hated snakes. Yeah, a walking Indiana Jones cliché. He’d heard it all before and therefore did his best to keep it hidden. Huh, a lot like Addie with her cynophobia.

“I couldn’t find my wallet, and I was going out to see if I’d left it in the car. I opened the door and glanced down, and there it was. Just curled up on the step.”

He shrugged. “Sounds to me as if it was simply minding its own business. Not hurting anyone.”

“Yeah, well, it can mind its business elsewhere.”

“So, you want me to kill a snake because it innocently wandered into your carport?”

“Absolutely not! I don’t even like killing bugs. I always feel so guilty after.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

“After?” He had the urge to take that bottom lip between his teeth. Go for it, his inner voice urged. Create a distraction and maybe the stupid thing would slither away. Problem solved. “So, you do kill bugs.”

“This isn’t about whether or not I kill bugs. I’m asking you to deal with the snake.”

“Want me to call it an Uber and send it over to Montpelier? Is that far enough away?”

“Go ahead. Make fun.”

“You’re asking me to risk my life for a snake?”

“Vermont doesn’t have venomous snakes... Well, unless you count the handful of timber rattlesnakes over in Rutland County.”

“What?” He blinked. “You mean there are poisonous snakes in Vermont?”

“Like I said, there are over in Rut—”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me they respect borders?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and the speculative glance she gave him had him shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Do you have a thing about snakes?” she asked.

He shook his head, unwilling to hand over his man card that easily. “No. I just think they should be allowed their freedom.”

“And I agree, as long as it’s not anywhere near me.” She glared at him, but her eyes contained a mischievous glint. “Ophidiophobia.”

He wet his lips and repeated the word. “Hmm. Sounds interesting... What is it?”

She made a noise with her tongue, but a grin lifted her lips. “That’s what the fear of snakes is called.”

He huffed out a breath. “I am not afraid. It’s just a healthy respect.”

“Of course,” she said and nodded. “Just like I had a healthy respect for dogs.”

“That’s different,” he scoffed, but he returned her grin. His pride wasn’t such that he was insulted. Besides, even if he was, she was too cute for him to stay annoyed.

“Oh? How is that different?”

“Snakes don’t have fur and big brown eyes.”

“Maybe this one does.” She pointed to the door. “You should go check it out.”

“I’d rather check out something I’ve been thinking about since your wet T-shirt show.”

He leaned forward and brought his lips closer to hers. She parted her lips in anticipation of—

“Addie? Can I—? Whoa.” Teddy skidded to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen. “What’re you guys doing?”

Gabe closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Talk about embarrassing. He and Addie had briefly discussed what they were going to tell Teddy about their relationship but hadn’t done it yet. Looked like they’d run out of time, but he’d follow her lead.

Addie jumped back and tugged on the front of her shirt. “We—” She cleared her throat. “We were discussing Gabe’s fear of—”

“I’m not afraid of—”

“Mr. Gabe ain’t afraid of nothing!” Teddy stuck out his chin.

“Gabe’s not afraid of anything,” Addie said.

Teddy looked confused. “That’s what I said.”

“Gee, it’s a relief to see we’re in agreement over my lack of fear of snakes.” He wasn’t above smirking at her.

“I wasn’t referring to your fears but correcting Teddy’s double negative.” Addie narrowed her eyes at him.

“What’s a double negative?” Teddy demanded.

“It means you said Gabe wasn’t afraid twice in the same sentence.”

“Well, the kid knows what he’s saying.” He’d been trying to lighten the mood, but, judging from her expression, his technique needed work.

“Teddy, your two negatives turn it into a positive.”

“Huh?” Teddy scrunched up his face.

“It means he is afraid of snakes.”

“Why is it okay for you to be afraid of dogs but not for me to feel the same about snakes?”

The only sound in the room was Teddy’s shocked gasp.

* * *

Addie’s stomach dropped below her knees. She was sure Gabe had been teasing. Nevertheless, she shot him a quelling glance. But she was afraid to look at her brother for fear he’d see the truth written on her features.

“Addie? Is it true?”

“Teddy, look, I can ex—”

“No!” Teddy shouted. “You lied to me. You said dogs were expensive, but that’s a lie. You just don’t want me to have one. I don’t want to live here anymore. Mom says I can have a dog if I go live with her.” He turned and ran out of the room.

A door slamming reverberated through the house. Torn between running after him and letting Teddy cool off, she turned helplessly in a circle.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, halting her and guiding her toward a chair. Gabe pulled it out with his foot. “Give him a few minutes to cool off.”

She sank onto the seat. “I should have been honest with him from the beginning.”

She pressed her fist against her mouth. He hunkered down in front of her and pulled her hand away and held it in his.

“I f—messed up, and I’m sorry,” Gabe murmured. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. That’s my responsibility. I should have taken your advice sooner and been totally honest with him about everything.” She sighed and got up. “I’d better go speak with him.”

“Want some help?”

She shook her head. “It’s my responsibility. I’m his guardian. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m going to go let Radar out. He’s been cooped up all day.”

She nodded and went into Teddy’s room. She knocked but didn’t wait for a response that might never come.

He was lying on his bed, his face in a pillow.

She sat on the bed and touched his back. “I’m sorry. It was wrong to mislead you. I know that now. I’m not wrong about how expensive dogs can be, but I should have explained about my fear. I hope you will still want to live with me. Once I finish my college degree, I might be able to get a job as head librarian and we can see about affording a dog. But I can’t make any promises.” She patted his back and smoothed a hand over his hair. “I am sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me.” No response whatsoever.

She sighed and got up to leave. She made it into the hall and was going to close his door.

“Addie?” He turned over.

Addie’s heart ached when she saw his face. She could tell he’d been crying. She’d been too afraid to give in to tears because once they started, she might not be able to stop them. “What is it, Teddy?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t want to live with you.” He sniffed and sat up. “Please don’t hate me.”

She stepped back into the room and he sprang off the bed.

“Oh, Teddy, c’mere. I love you. I could never hate you, no matter what you said.” She opened her arms and he ran into them. They clung to one another. Taking comfort from each other.

Teddy lifted his head. “Even if Mom gets better, I want to stay here. Please don’t send me away.”

“I would never do that. I promise.”

“I was just a stupid kid when I got burned. I wouldn’t do anything like that again. I promise. Please don’t send me away.”

“You can be with me forever, sweetie. That’s why we have to go to court.”

He gazed up at her, searching her face. “Is it still okay to love her? Even if I don’t want to live with her?”

“Of course it is, sweetie. She’s our mother.” She blinked back tears. She’d struggled with some of the same things. Gabe had been right. They should have been honest and talked things out. “You know our mom isn’t a bad person.”

He shrugged. “Everyone said she’s sick.”

“In a way, I guess she is. She has a drug problem. Do you know what that means?”

“A policeman comes and tells us about that stuff in school.” He nodded and sniffed. “You would never do that, right?”

“No, I wouldn’t, but I also shouldn’t have lied to you. It’s just that when I was your age, I was bitten by a dog. I know you love dogs and probably can’t understand that I was afraid of them.”

He touched her hand. “I’ll bet it’s like how I didn’t want to take a bath after I got burned. I was afraid to touch the water in case I got burned again.”

“I guess you do understand. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you, Teddy. But I’m working through my fear, thanks to Gabe and Radar. Just like you did with the hot water. We’re both brave, right?”

“Yeah. And the social worker lady kept telling me you were too young to take care of me, but I said that wasn’t true and that you would never act like Mom. And that’s what I’m going to tell them when we go to talk to that judge person.”

She hoped so. Because now she couldn’t imagine her life without Teddy—or Gabe—in it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Addie paced the living room waiting for Teddy. She’d agreed to Gabe’s plan to let Teddy walk home from the bus stop alone that afternoon. Usually, on the days she was working, he took the bus that dropped him off at the library, where he did his homework, read or helped with the younger kids doing crafts.

She spotted him coming down the sidewalk, but this wasn’t his normal gait. Something was wrong. She just knew it.

She flung the door open and ran down the steps. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his shirt was ripped. He looked as if he’d been in a fight.

“Oh my God, Teddy, what happened to you?” As if she didn’t already know. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hoping to get the blood flowing. She felt as if she’d never feel warm again. How could she have let this happen?

She hunkered down in front of him. His eye was an angry red and violet, the edges already starting to turn yellow. “Oh, Teddy, look at your eye.”

He shook his head. “Addie, you know I can’t see it without a mirror.”

He has the beginnings of a black eye. She closed her own. This couldn’t be happening. And on the day before their court appearance. She would be standing before a judge with Teddy sporting a giant bruise on his face.

“I’m sorry, Addie.” His face crumpled. He held out his twisted glasses in the flat of his palm.

“There, there. Glasses can be replaced.” She pulled him close for a hug. She was just glad he was all right.

He sniffed. “I should have taken them off like Mr. Gabe said.”

“What do you mean, like Mr. Gabe said?”

“He was showing me some...some defensive moves and said to always remove my glasses so they don’t get broke.”

Gabe had been showing Teddy how to fight? When the judge asked how he got the black eye, would he tell them that his sister’s friend was teaching him to fight? She’d be labeled as a negligent parent, just like their mother. Teddy was in her care; he was her responsibility, not Gabe’s. How dare Gabe do this to her? He knew the hearing was tomorrow. He knew how tenuous her situation was.

She groaned. This was all her fault. She should’ve taken better care of Teddy, listened to her instincts, not let someone else influence her.

“Here he comes now.”

Sure enough, the Jeep was pulling into the driveway.

“Teddy, go in the house,” she said shortly. “I’ll be in, and we’ll put some ice on your eye.” See if they could mitigate the damage.

“But I want to show Mr. Gabe my—”

“Not now. Go inside,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone even.

“But, Addie—”

“Now, Teddy.”

He muttered something about fairness, twirled around and stomped into the house.

A car door slammed and she drew in a deep breath, barely able to control her fury. Who did he think he was? He’d gone behind her back and betrayed her. Served her right for ever getting involved in the first place. She’d had misgivings in the beginning. Why had she allowed herself to get sucked in? She was no better than their mother, letting a man come before her duty to Teddy.

“What’s going on?” Gabe strolled across the lawn toward her. “Is Teddy okay?”

“No, he’s not. He came home with a black eye and busted glasses.” She shook her head, striving for calm but not achieving it.

“Is he hurt?”

“It’s nothing permanent.” She shook her head. “I knew letting him walk home alone was a mistake. The school didn’t contact me, so I can only assume this happened at the bus stop.”

“Did you ask him?”

No, she hadn’t. Not really. Which made her the most irresponsible parent ever. Her one job was to keep Teddy safe and she’d failed.

“Not yet,” she admitted.

“Boys get into scrapes.” He put a hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off.

She didn’t deserve to be comforted. She’d brought all this on by being lax with Teddy—and letting a man she barely knew take on a paternal role with her brother. Her brother, her responsibility. Not his. “Is that what you did? I know you’re the big war hero now, but it seems like everyone has a story to tell about the things you did as a teen. Are you trying to turn my brother into a delinquent like you?”

Oh God, Addie, what are you doing, lashing out?

She held up her hand. “Look, I didn’t—” But the damage had already been done; Gabe looked stunned and hurt. It was as if the connection between them had been severed by a sharp knife.

He held up his hands, palms out. “You’re right. I’m a lousy role model for a kid.”

“No. Honest, I didn’t mean it.” She hated the pleading note in her voice but couldn’t help it.

He shook his head. “No, you’re right. We should both go inside before we say something we might regret.”

Too late. “Yeah, I should go check on Teddy.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell Teddy I hope he’s okay. And don’t worry—I’ll stay away from him from now on. From both of you.”

“If you want...” Tears pricked at her eyes. She couldn’t imagine losing Gabe now, but she had to do what was best for her brother. She hadn’t meant...

He shook his head. “I’m going inside, Addie. You should too.”

She nodded and watched him walk away. He went into his home without a backward glance. She stood motionless for a moment, staring at his closed door. Her world had just ended...not with a bang, but with the closing of a door. She felt dizzy, sick to her stomach. Would she ever be whole again? Not having Gabe in her life would be like not having Teddy.

Teddy. She needed to check on him, get some ice on his eye.

He was in his room, sitting on the end of the bed, staring at his glasses in his lap. She joined him and sat next to him. Picking up his glasses, she said, “I’ll see if we can salvage these until we can get new ones.”

“I’m sorry, Addie.”

She put her arm around him, hiding her face in his hair so he wouldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears. “I know you are. Want to tell me why you got into a fight?”

“That new kid, Brandon, was making fun of Sam because he can’t talk. I tol’ him that not being able to say stuff without his tablet didn’t make him dumb. But he kept saying it did, so when we got off the bus I tol’ him to take it back, and when he wouldn’t, I punched him in the stomach.”

She winced but resisted scolding. “Then what happened?”

“He’s bigger’n me and he punched me back. I was gonna still fight him, but he ran away.”

She sighed and hugged her brother. “You know I don’t condone fighting—for any reason.”

“I know, but...” He shrugged.

“But I am proud of you for standing up for Sam. You are a good friend.”

“I like Sam.”

“So do I.” She squeezed him and kissed the top of his head before standing up. “We’ll put some ice on that eye. Maybe it won’t look so bad tomorrow.”

“What if it does?”

“All you can do is tell the truth.” She squared her shoulders. And that was all she could do too—to Gabe, to herself and to the judge. Even if that meant she lost the man she realized she loved...forever.

* * *

After ministering to Teddy’s eye and leaving him eating ice cream at the table, she straightened her spine and walked the few steps to Gabe’s place.

She knocked on the door and tried to gather her thoughts. How could she make this right? What if she’d hurt him beyond repair?

“Hey,” he said when he opened the door. “How’s Teddy?”

“Nothing wrong that a bowl of ice cream and some Gorilla Glue can’t fix,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Glue?” His tone lacked inflection. His face was as blank as his voice, his body held rigidly straight.

She managed a wobbly smile. “For his glasses.”

Radar came over and sat next to Gabe in the doorway. Steadying her nerves, she reached out to pet him on the head. “He’s probably looking for Teddy.”

Gabe grunted in reply and looked away, refusing to make eye contact.

Okay, well, this might take a bit more than a simple apology. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I was wrong and I want you to know that.”

He shrugged, reminding her of Teddy when he was trying to pretend his feelings weren’t hurt. She should have thought before she said anything. Too late now.

“I shouldn’t have interfered,” he said.

“Teddy’s skirmish had nothing to do with him walking alone from the bus stop. I was wrong not giving him some responsibility. He was fighting because a kid was picking on Sam Gallagher.”

“The one who is nonverbal?”

“Yeah. Teddy was sticking up for him. I can’t blame him for that. And it isn’t your fault either. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was angry, but not at you—at myself. I didn’t have any right to say those things.”

“People sometimes say how they honestly feel when they’re angry.”

She shook her head vehemently, trying to make him see that she’d just been worried for her brother. “No. This was bound to happen. Maybe it’s better to have happened at the end of the street. Teddy might have gotten himself suspended if he’d fought at school. And you’re not a bad role model, Gabe. Far from it, in fact.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “What about tomorrow’s hearing?”

“There’s not much I can do about it except tell the truth and pray. Like you say, boys get into scrapes, and I have to trust that the judge will understand.”

“He might not have, if I hadn’t encouraged him.” He raised his hands, palms out, in front of him. “I’m not a good candidate to be a father figure to a seven-year-old boy. I can’t get my own sh—stuff together. How am I supposed to set an example? I can’t even stop swearing.”

“My brother doesn’t need some saint or war hero. Maybe he just needs someone to look up to who’s good and kind and decent. It doesn’t matter if you make mistakes. God knows I’ve made plenty.”

“It’s not just—”

“Except it is! That’s exactly what it is.”

He shook his head. “I’m not following you.”

“Teddy needs to know that someone will be there for him...day in and day out. Someone who won’t disappear for hours and leave him to fend for himself. Like our mom,” she added bitterly.

Gabe took a step back. “Is that what happened?”

“He won’t talk about it. But it’s what happened to me, so I have to assume she left him on his own a whole lot too.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, which she waved around. “Look, I see why you don’t want to get involved. We’re a package deal, me and Teddy, and we come with a lot of baggage.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m the one who is messed up. I already have one failed marriage. I don’t want another.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, has there been a proposal? Did I miss that?”

“You know what I mean.” A muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You were a kid when you got married. How can you blame yourself for that?”

“If things were so great, why did she divorce me?”

It was like talking to a brick wall, but she had to try. “I don’t know. Did you ask her?”

“I just signed the papers when she sent them.”

“And you’re the one preaching to me about talking with Teddy...being open and honest. And you couldn’t even confront your own wife?” The words had left her mouth before her brain could catch up. He made her react in ways she couldn’t control.

“You’re right. I have no right to offer any advice to you or your brother. That’s why this won’t work. I’m the last person you should be listening to.”

Desperation clawed at her chest. She hadn’t felt this helpless since that dog had clamped his jaws around her. She laid her hand on his arm. “But don’t you see? That’s why you’re perfect for us. You’re offering guidance you’ve learned from experience. I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I took your advice and was honest with Teddy. I told him that I didn’t want to alienate him from Michelle but that I also didn’t trust her.”

“He doesn’t trust her either.”

“Did he tell you that?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to break my promise to him not to tell, but I couldn’t let you two go on at cross-purposes.”

“And I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“At least something good came out of this.”

Her heart began to pound as his words sank in. “What do you mean? You’re making this sound like it’s the end of something.”

“Something that never should have started. I knew better than to get involved with someone like you.”

Confusion flooded her mind. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

“Someone who expects...expects...” Gabe waved his hands in the air.

“Expects what?” She had an ominous feeling about this. She wanted to cover her ears, block out what he was about to say, but she couldn’t do that. She was done with running from the truth—now and forever, whether it was about her family or why she’d feared dogs for so long. And if Gabe didn’t want to be with her, even after all they’d shared—well, she’d just have to deal with that too. Just like she’d dealt with everything else in her life.

“Happily-ever-after,” he said, sounding as if the concept left a bad taste in his mouth. “I don’t do forever... Ask my ex. Ask the Corps. Things get tough and I bail.”

“I never asked you for happily-ever-after.” But she could admit to herself she wanted it. How she longed for it—with him.

“But you expected it.”

“No, what I expected was just ever after. I can make my own happiness.” She swallowed past the clog in her throat and blinked. “You can choose to be a part of it or not.”

“I guess I choose not.”

She started to leave but turned back. “I’ll try to explain it to Teddy. He’ll be devastated.” She inhaled and struggled to get the next words out. “But you know what they say—kids are resilient, so don’t worry about us.”

* * *

Gabe stood in the middle of the room after she’d left, fighting the urge to go after her.

Why? So he could mess up her life too?

A cold wet nose shoved into his palm. Radar made a new noise. A sort of grumble. “What’re you? My conscience?”

Radar whined and Gabe shook his head. “It’s for the best.”

So why did doing the right thing have to hurt so damn much? Like a big black hole had opened in his chest, sucking up all the oxygen and making it hard to breathe. He staggered to the couch and threw himself down. Slumping over, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands.

Are you trying to turn my brother into a delinquent like you?

Addie’s words echoed in his head and he groaned. The truth hurt. He shook his head. No, that wasn’t true. He’d tried his best with Teddy, but his best wasn’t good enough. And that was worse. Knowing he simply wasn’t the right man to guide Teddy into adulthood had him wishing that black hole would suck him up, put him out of his misery.

Radar crowded close and tried to lick his face. Gabe lifted his head and absently stroked the dog’s ears.

The cold truth was that there was only one reason the thought of losing Addie hurt so much. He was in love with her. It wasn’t the kissing or the fantastic sex; it was everything. Sitting on the steps and playing trivia fed something in his soul as nothing else had ever done.

He sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his face. Great timing, Bishop. He was in love—the forever and ever kind—with Addie.

And that was why he had to let her go. His heart was screaming at him to go and beg her to forgive him. But he had to be strong. His first instincts had been right. He wasn’t the guy for them. They needed a guy who wasn’t a screwup, a guy whose past wasn’t fodder for town gossip.

For once in his life, he’d do the honorable thing and truly mean it. He’d let them go, let them find somebody worthy of them. A woman like Addie needed her equal in life.

* * *

Gabe was still telling himself it was for the best two days later. He’d done his damnedest to avoid Addie and Teddy in the intervening time. He had to assume the court proceedings went well, because Teddy was still next door. If he weren’t such a coward, he’d go and ask or call her. But even though he loved them both, he wasn’t what was best for them.

Radar jumped from the comfort of his dog bed and ran to the front door. Sure enough, a knock sounded.

Teddy stood on the stoop. His heart flipped over at the sight of the boy’s healing black eye behind a new pair of glasses. Radar whined and nudged him as if to hurry him to open the door. The kid was probably here to ask if Radar could play. As much as he wanted to stay away from temptation, he was going to have a hard time telling the boy a flat-out no. After all, he’d come to care for Teddy like the boy was his own son.

Breathing deep, Gabe opened the door. “C’mon in.”

Teddy shook his head but greeted and hugged Radar. “I just came to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

Teddy took a deep breath and launched in. “You told me that I shouldn’t let being scared stop me from doing the right thing, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. With Addie, I mean.”

“This is different.” Was it? Was it really any different from what he’d told him? Was he protecting Addie or himself? “Where’s your sister?”

“Addie’s on the phone. She thinks I’m in my room, playing a game.”

Teddy, with hands on hips and a mighty glower on his face, made quite the sight. “What happened at the hearing? Are you and Addie okay?”

“The judge says I can live with Addie forever if I want, but that’s not what I came to say. Addie says you and her are taking a break, but my friend Ashley says that really means you’re broken up. She said that’s what her mom said when her dad left. But her dad never came back to live with them. Is it true that you’re broken up?”

Gabe felt a pang of guilt. “It’s complicated, Teddy, and—”

“Yeah, that’s what Ashley said you’d say.”

Gabe jerked his head back. Was his personal life a subject of discussion on the school playground? Before he could recover to form an appropriate response, Teddy started talking again.

“I wanted you to know that standing up to those kids when they picked on Sam was scary, but I did it, and now they leave Sam alone. I got a black eye, and it hurt, but it was worth it and I’d do it again.” Teddy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Telling all those strangers why I wanted to live with Addie was scary, but I did it. Seems to me some of the best stuff is the scariest.

“Addie told me that she was scared of dogs because, she said, you said it was the right thing to do. So how come you can go around telling everyone else what to do and to not be scared, but then you hurt my sister because you’re a coward?”

Well, this was a novel experience. He was used to military brass busting him, not a seven-year-old. One thing was the same, though. He’d have to swallow his feelings and not lash out. And besides, Teddy was right. “Is that what she told you? That I was a coward?”

“Nah. She said stuff to make you look good, but that’s what Addie does. Maybe you fooled her, but you ain’t foolin’ me. You’re scared and you don’t want to be, so you broke up with my sister. But guess what—we don’t need you.”

Hearing those words felt like ice stabbing his heart. “Teddy, I’m sorry, but sometimes—”

“And you know what else? I think the way adults handle things is stupid.”

The kid had him there. This wasn’t the first time he’d bailed when the going got tough. He tried to tell himself this was different. That Addie was young and had her whole life ahead of her. And what are you? his inner voice asked. Sure, he was a few years older than her, but she’d gone through a lot in her young life and was probably more mature than him. She’d been willing to put her life, her dreams, on hold to take care of her little brother.

He believed Teddy when he said Addie hadn’t bad-mouthed him. As Teddy said, that was what Addie did. The kid was right about something else too. He didn’t deserve someone like Addie, but he was selfish enough to want her. What did that make him?

Radar looked from one to the other and began to whine. Teddy looked as if he might start crying at any minute, but he straightened up and faced Radar. “Gabe will have to explain to you why, if we won’t be able to be friends anymore. It’s up to him, but you’ll always be the bestest dog in the world to me.”

He hugged the dog and gave him a kiss on top of his head. Then he turned and left, going back to his side of the duplex and shutting the door quietly behind him. Leaving Gabe’s heart broken into a million little pieces. So many pieces, he doubted he’d ever be able to even find them all if he tried.

Radar stood in the still-open doorway and cried. Talk about a pitiful noise. Finally, he gave Gabe a glower to match Teddy’s, hung his head and slunk back to his bed. If Gabe didn’t already feel like crap, this would do it for sure. He shut the door, wondering if he was shutting out the best part of his life.

Once Addie thought it over, she’d probably be glad to be rid of him. He didn’t exactly have a very good track record when it came to relationships. He couldn’t even stick with the marines all the way to a full career and military retirement. He could have told her to ask Tracy. Gabe knew people in town tended to blame her for the divorce because they liked thinking of him as some sort of war hero. So of course, it couldn’t have been his fault. When, in reality, it rested squarely on his shoulders. Tracy probably thought so.

He’d been reckless when he’d gotten Tracy pregnant. Maybe marrying her had been reckless too. He just hurt everyone he came in contact with—and he cared about Addie and Teddy too much to hurt them anymore.

Gabe spent a restless night, but by the next morning, he’d made a decision. He found Radar in his dog bed, his head on his front paws, looking like he carried the weight of the world.

Gabe jingled the leash, but the dog didn’t budge. “So, you’re still mad at me? How about if I told you I not only came to a decision, but I also have a plan?”

Radar made noises deep in his throat, a cross between a whine and a growl, but he crawled out of bed and trotted over.

“Let’s hope when all is said and done, Addie is as forgiving as you.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Gabe shuffled his feet as Tracy held the door open and stared at him. She looked good. Older, more mature, of course. Her long brown hair that she’d always been so proud of was now chin length. But she was unmistakably still the same woman he’d married—and left—years earlier.

What had made him think this was such a good idea? He’d contacted old classmates until someone was able to give him her current address in a fashionable Boston suburb. He cussed and mentally dropped money into Teddy’s swear jar. Except he didn’t have the right to do that anymore.

“Gabe? Is it really you? How did you find me?”

“In the flesh,” he said, expecting her to slam the door of the modest two-story home in his face. When she didn’t but continued to stare at him, he cleared his throat. “Guess you never expected or wanted to see me again.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve wanted to contact you over the years but always chickened out.”

“Really?” He would have figured she’d been glad to see the last of him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her admission that she’d thought about him over the years.

“Yes, really.” She touched his arm. “Come in. Please.”

His first instinct was to tell her this was all a mistake and to run. As fast and as far as he could. But Teddy’s accusing voice calling him a coward shouted in his head, and he grabbed the door his ex-wife was holding. “Thanks.”

He followed her into an elegant living room. As he glanced around, he thought of Addie and Teddy’s living room with its mismatched, flea-market furnishings, a room that was lived-in and charming. A room he wanted to share with the two of them—forever, he knew, if he could figure out a way to make that happen after the stupid stuff he’d said. But first he needed to close the book on the past. He recalled seeing one of those motivational posters that said something to the effect that you couldn’t see the future if you were always looking back. Well, he was done looking back. Addie and Teddy were his future—if he could get over his own history.

Tracy pointed to an upholstered wingback chair. “Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee or anything?”

He shook his head. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he could keep anything down. “No, thanks. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No. My son won’t be home from his playdate for at least an hour.”

“You have a son?” Why should he be surprised? Of course she’d moved on, because that was what people did. And what he finally hoped to do too.

“Yes. Greg is five. He’ll start kindergarten next fall.”

“I’m happy for you.” And he meant every word.

“What about you? Do you have any kids?”

“Not yet.”

She smiled. “That sounds like you have plans.”

“I’m hoping so.” If Addie would have him and Teddy forgave him. He’d find a way. Marines got things done even when missions went sideways.

“Gabe, I want you to know I regret not reaching out to you before officially starting the divorce proceedings. I know we’d called it quits that last time you came home, but it still felt wrong somehow.”

“To be honest, I was pissed when I got the papers, but I was also relieved,” he admitted. “For that feeling alone, I think I deserve your scorn. I’m ashamed to even admit it.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Gabe, but I don’t hold any animosity toward you. At first I did, but only because you were able to escape and I wasn’t.”

“Escape?” he questioned but had to admit the word was an apt description. His feelings of relief at getting away from the mess he had made of his life had mired him in guilt.

She shrugged. “We were kids in over our heads. I know that now.”

“I was scared but thought I’d done the right thing by marrying you.”

“You did the honorable thing, but I’m not convinced it was the right thing. We were too young. And once we lost our child, there was nothing left holding us together.”

Tracy’s words about honor echoed Addie’s. God, how he missed her and Teddy. He could see by Tracy’s expression, the tone of her voice, that she was happy. Probably settled in a relationship based on love and commitment. Oh, how he longed for that with Addie and Teddy. He wanted to be there through good times and bad, building a life in Loon Lake, raising Teddy and adding to their family when the time was right.

“Do you have someone special in your life? The way you said ‘not yet’ made it seem like there is someone.”

He sighed. “I did, but, well, it’s complicated.”

“Do you love her?”

“I do.” Huh, that was easy to admit. Why was he able to acknowledge that to his ex-wife and not to the one woman who actually mattered?

“Then I think you should be telling her, not me. I don’t know what you did to make you say ‘it’s complicated,’ but you should know, an apology goes a long way.”

“This may take more than an apology.”

“Want to talk about it? Maybe I can help?”

“You’d do that?” He was surprised. She really had forgiven him.

“Sure.” She shrugged. “You’re not the enemy, Gabe. You’re not even a bad guy. Like I said, we were kids. I hope you haven’t been shouldering guilt all this time.”

“I was the one who was able to escape and leave you to deal. I’m not proud of that.”

“Well, considering I was pushing you away, the fact you left didn’t come as a surprise. Even if you’d stayed, I can’t say that we would have been able to make the marriage work long-term.”

“That may be true, but I still wanted to apologize to you.” She might be letting him off the hook, but he needed to follow through on why he came. He wasn’t letting himself off the hook. He needed to complete the mission, so he could go back to Addie and Teddy with a clean slate.

“Apologize?” She frowned and tilted her head. “For what?”

Did she truly not blame him? “For running when stuff got tough.”

“Why would you think you owed me that? I initiated the divorce. If anyone should be saying they’re sorry, it’s me.” She touched her open palm to her chest.

“But I abandoned you.”

She shook her head. “And here all this time, I thought you’d joined the marines.”

Okay, she had a point. Why was she so willing to forgive, though, when he couldn’t do the same for himself? “But then I went overseas and left you to deal with everything here.”

“It wasn’t like my waitressing job was enough to support us.” She shrugged. “And we had no medical insurance. You did what you had to.”

“Then why the divorce?”

“We got married because I was pregnant. When I lost the baby, I didn’t see any reason to stay together. I’m sorry. I...I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did. I’ve carried the guilt of that.”

“I know it may not have seemed like it at the time, but I did grieve the son we lost,” he said softly. They’d barely had time to deal with losing their son when he’d shipped out.

He’d pushed away or stuffed down his grief, but even in Afghanistan, those feelings had sneaked up on him. He’d see local women with their children and be overcome, trying to deal with how raw and hollow he felt.

“Then put him to rest.” She reached out and touched his knee. “Took me a while and a good therapist, but I’ve moved on and I’m happy. I’d like to think you were too.”

“Is that your son? He’s cute.” He pointed to a picture on a side table. “All I can manage at the moment is a dog.”

“Do you have a picture of your dog?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really. I’m curious because there was a lot of emotion behind your statement.” She laughed. “That’s what three years of analysis can do.”

“I’m sorry about your therapy. I—”

“Getting help was about me. Not you. And it was a good thing, so no need to apologize. Sounds like maybe you should consider it.”

He grunted and pulled out his phone. Therapy? Would it help him get Addie back into his life? He’d do whatever it took to work through his issues—as evidenced by the fact he was with Tracy right now. He scrolled through his saved photos until he came to his favorite. He handed her the phone.

“Who is the boy?” She raised her head from the device to look at him before she handed it back.

“My neighbor’s kid,” he said quickly and glanced at the picture before slipping the cell back into his pocket.

“Oh? Sounds like more.”

He shrugged and chuckled. “It’s just that it was a case of love at first sight for the boy and the dog.”

“You look kinda smitten too.”

“Teddy’s a good kid. Been through a lot in his young life. He lives with his sister because their mom is a drug addict.”

“His sister? How old is she?”

“Twenty-two—no, make that twenty-three. Her birthday was last month.” He couldn’t help remembering that night after the opera. He laughed. “Teddy got it into his head that Addie wanted to go to the opera. Not sure where he got that notion, but I bought tickets and went to my first-ever opera.”

“Gabriel Bishop at the opera?” She looked at him with amused wonder. “I would have paid good money to see that.”

“I went. Turns out she isn’t any more of an opera fan than I am.” He grinned and shook his head. “We’re still not sure what gave him that idea.”

“Maybe he was playing a joke on you.”

“I wondered that at first, but he was so proud of his suggestion, we knew he’d been serious. Neither one of us had the heart to tell him the truth.”

“Sounds pretty serious to me.”

He opened his mouth, but the denial died before it made it past his lips. Who was he kidding, except himself? The tightness that had dogged his chest since leaving Loon Lake finally began to ease. He inhaled deeply. “I love them.”

“Do they know that?”

“Not yet.”

She smiled at his simple statement and took his hand. “You know, I felt guilty for a long time too. Then I met Mitch and decided to forgive myself, to have a family and a future with someone I loved. Isn’t it time for you to do the same?”

Maybe it was. All that time spent feeling guilty suddenly seemed like such a waste. Teddy called him a coward. Damn, but the label fit. He’d used his failed marriage as an excuse over the years, when it was really fear that had kept him from giving his heart again.

Teddy was 100 percent right. He was a coward...and would continue to be unless he told Addie and her brother how he really felt about them.

After he said goodbye to Tracy, he used the key fob to unlock the Jeep’s door and opened it. He stood for a moment beside the vehicle, looking back at the house. It looked like a happy home and he was glad for Tracy.

He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. One that he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying around all this time. Sure, he’d regretted the way he’d handled things, but he had done such a good job of pushing it into the background that his relief came as a surprise.

Getting in his Jeep, he started the engine.

“I have to do something to make this right.”

He pulled away from the curb without a backward glance. He was through living in the past, through letting old mistakes—especially ones made when he was a teenager—ruin his future. He’d hurt both Addie and Teddy, and it wasn’t going to be easy to win them back, but he wasn’t going to give up. Failure wasn’t an option.

* * *

Back in Loon Lake, he stopped at the Pic-N-Save and purchased a bouquet of flowers. He figured they couldn’t hurt. If she wasn’t in a forgiving mood, she could always throw them in his face.

Checking his watch to be sure he had time to beg forgiveness before Teddy came home, he knocked on her door. And he thought he’d been nervous standing on Tracy’s doorstep. This was way worse. Tracy was his past. Addie was his future.

She opened it, and he could have sworn she looked glad to see him. At least she hadn’t slammed the door in his face. And she hadn’t even seen the flowers yet. Of course, the way he was squeezing those stems, he’d probably strangled the life out of them.

“Gabe.”

“Before you say anything, I want to apologize for acting like such a jerk.” He swallowed. “And to tell you I went to see Tracy, my ex.”

“You did?” She motioned him in.

He nodded. So far, so good. “I did. I needed to face the past in order to move forward. I needed to put that to rest.”

“How did it go?” She moved into the living room.

He followed her. “It was hard but easy too. Huh, I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

She sat on the sofa and pointed to the spot beside her. “It makes perfect sense. You have a lot of history together.”

He sat beside her but resisted the urge to touch. He needed to clear the air first. “We were able to talk about what happened. I guess you could say we were finally able to grieve together for the son we’d lost. She made me understand that feeling guilty was preventing me from moving forward.”

He swallowed and shifted, edging toward her. “And I definitely want to move forward...with you and Teddy.”

“I want that too. I guess I was dealing with my own guilt over what happened to Teddy and I thought I had to give up my future to atone. I think that’s why I have such trouble trusting. But since the judge granted me permanent custody of Teddy, I’ve tried to relax a bit. Michelle didn’t even show for the hearing, so I guess I fretted for nothing.” She sniffed and touched his arm. “I want you to know I have absolute faith in you. Gabe, I would trust you with our future.”

She pointed at the drooping flowers. “Were those for something?”

He loosened his death grip on the wilting bouquet. “They were for you, but I swear they looked better in the store.”

She gave him a smile that quivered. “Maybe they’ll perk up in water. Do you want me to—?”

“No! I mean, I need to say something more first. You can laugh or kick me to the curb, but I need to say it.”

“Yes?”

Okay, this wasn’t quite as easy as it had been when he’d rehearsed it in his head. He swallowed. “Addie Miller, I love you and...and I love Teddy as if he were my own. I would be honored to call him my son and to make it legal, if you agree.”

Her face crumpled and she began to cry. Oh no, not crying. Please. What was it about women’s tears that lowered men’s testosterone levels? He tossed the flowers aside and he did the only thing he could—pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He rubbed his hand in circles over her back as she sobbed against his shoulder.

She lifted her tearstained face to his. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay. You can let it out. I think you’ve been holding in a lot of stuff for a long time. You won’t have to carry your burdens alone ever again.”

He continued to rub her back to comfort her. He hated her tears, but if that was what she needed for healing, then he’d put up with it. But, by God, after today, he’d do his best to never give her a reason to cry again.

As her tears subsided, he brushed the hair off her face and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “Sorry I’m not the kind of guy who carries a handkerchief to assist ladies in distress.”

She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“That’s a good start, because you’re not getting rid of me. I love you.”

She caressed his face. “And I love you.”

* * *

Several hours later, they sat on the front steps watching Teddy and Radar playing with a Frisbee. It had taken a little convincing to get Teddy to forgive him, but with Radar’s help, he’d managed it. A sincere apology hadn’t hurt, either.

His chest expanded as if trying to contain all the things he was feeling. Happy and proud that he’d figured out how to put his life back on track before it was too late. He’d made mistakes in the past and, no doubt, would again, but he’d never do anything to jeopardize his family’s happiness. His family. He liked the sound of that.

He was still figuring out what he wanted to do, unsure if construction was for him in the long haul. It was good, honest work while Addie pursued her dream of a degree in library science. Thanks to his pa and the time they’d spent tinkering with those castoffs, Gabe had agreed to help Ogle open and run a small engine repair business next to his garage.

He watched Teddy toss the Frisbee for Radar and silently thanked his pa for everything he’d taught him, including how to be a good dad to Teddy.

Addie turned to him. “I have something to ask you...and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. No pressure.”

He took her hand. “Do what?”

“I think you should be the one to accompany Teddy to the Cub Scout lock-in.”

“Are you sure?” He squeezed her hand.

She nodded. “It’s only fair. I know how hard you two worked on the Pinewood Derby race car. I hate to swoop in at the last minute and snatch all the glory when you guys win.”

“You’re that confident we’re going to triumph?” He joked, but he knew how important this was. Teddy was her heart. She was granting him access to her heart, making him truly a part of their lives. And he wanted to seize the moment with all the joy he felt.

“I have confidence in you,” she said and leaned over to kiss him.

He kissed her back, knowing her statement was about more than just the race car.

“Yuck, you guys.” Teddy paused his game and shook his head. “Quit the mushy stuff.”

Gabe pulled back and laughed. “Never.”

EPILOGUE

Six months later

Gabe touched the box in his pocket as he paced and waited for Teddy. Head on his paws, Radar lay in his bed, his eyes following him as he crisscrossed the room.

Why was he so nervous? Although he and Addie maintained their own places, they’d been practically inseparable ever since their reconciliation. Many a morning he’d left her place before sunrise to return to his side of the duplex. They wanted to set a good example for Teddy—both of them. Although, he wasn’t sure who was fooling who. The kid was as sharp as a tack. And Gabe couldn’t be prouder of him if he’d been his own son. Which hopefully one day he would be. He and Addie had discussed adopting Teddy, so they’d officially be his parents.

Radar jumped up and ran to the door with Gabe on his heels.

“Hey, Gabe. I’m here like you told me this morning.”

Gabe had asked Teddy to come straight to his place after school. He grinned at the boy.

“You are.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Teddy nodded solemnly, and he and Radar went to sit on the couch.

“You know your sister and I have been...have been...”

“Together?” Teddy supplied and grinned.

Gabe laughed. “Yeah. I’d like to make it, uh, permanent.”

Teddy scrunched up his face. “Huh?”

“I’m going to ask your sister to marry me.”

Teddy jumped up and whooped, causing Radar to dance around and bark.

Relief swept through him and Gabe laughed at the two of them. “Does this mean I have your permission?”

“Oh yeah! Does this mean Radar and I are brothers now?”

“I guess it does—if your sister says yes.”

“She will.” He nodded. “Does this mean I could...maybe...like call you Dad?”

Gabe tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat so he could respond. Teddy was looking up at him, no doubt waiting for an answer, and he couldn’t get his voice to work, so he knelt and opened his arms.

Teddy threw himself at Gabe. “Dad.”

“Son,” Gabe managed to choke out. He couldn’t believe how right that sounded, how it made him weak and strong at the same time. In that moment, as he hugged Teddy, he thanked his own pa for setting such a good example.

Radar pushed his nose between them, wanting in on the action. They both laughed and pulled apart enough to include the dog.

“How about we make the dad stuff official too?” Gabe suggested.

“What does official mean?”

“It means I would be your dad forever.”

“What about Addie?”

“We’d both adopt you and she’d be your mom.”

“Hear that, Radar? I have a real mom and dad now and we’re all gonna live together forever and ever.”

The doorbell rang and Radar rushed over, barking.

“Radar, stop,” Gabe ordered, and the dog immediately stopped barking and sat down in front of the door.

“Hey, come on in,” Gabe greeted Des Gallagher.

“Sorry if I’m late.” Des came in but didn’t shut the door. “Sam’s in the car.”

“No. Perfect timing.”

“What are you doing here, Mr. Des? Why is Sam in the car?”

“I’ve come to invite you to play miniature golf with Sam and me. Afterward, we’re going for pizza. How’s that sound?”

“Right now?”

“Sure. That’s why I’m here to pick you up.” Des turned to Gabe. “I thought you were going to speak to him.”

“I did... I am.” Gabe shrugged. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“What part?” Teddy asked.

“The part where you come with Sam and me,” Des told him.

“But—but it’s happening now. I’ll miss it,” Teddy said.

“What’s happening now?” Addie asked from the doorway. “What’s going on?”

Gabe started laughing. When was the last time any of his plans had gone off without a hitch? He sighed and got down on one knee. “This is what’s happening now.”

Des leaned down and whispered something in Teddy’s ear.

“Yuck. Mushy stuff. I’m going with Mr. Des and Sam.”

Addie watched Teddy and Des leave, then turned back to Gabe, who was still down on one knee.

“Addie Miller, will you marry me?” He took the box out of his pocket and opened it.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and threw her arms around him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He slipped the simple but elegant diamond solitaire on her finger. She threw her arms around him again, and he hugged her tight and kissed her as pure joy flooded his body.

Radar sat on the floor next to them and woofed. They both laughed. Addie reached out to pet the dog and whispered, “Thank you, Radar.”

* * * * *

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ISBN-13: 9780369710062

The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

Copyright © 2021 by Carol Opalinski

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